Story 10 - A Burning Desire, written by: Viroro

Sometimes, when he could manage to sleep at night, Kicks remembered the fireworks.

It was one of the grandest excesses he'd seen the Kingdom of Everburn indulge into in his fifteen years of life. The whole night sky was lit up by Pokémon-shaped explosions, all coming together in the most flattering "Thank you" message ever displayed. He recalled gazing at the sky together with Marshall, thinking of their future together.

His friend kept insisting they didn't need it, that they didn't do anything remarkable. He was always the modest one, from the moment Kicks found him unconscious and amnesiac in the Castle Gardens.

But Kicks knew they deserved it. They had gone to hell and back and put everything at stake for the world to live another day.

They were the heroes of the Flame Continent.

If only that was still true.

"He's there! Don't lose him!" the contingent of Bisharp shouted as they pursued him through Glory City's labyrinthine alleys, blades sharp and ready to slice.

Kicks adjusted his brown cloak and the bright azure shard hidden underneath, leaping over boxes, walls and roofs with the nimbleness of an escape artist. The Royal Guard didn't know the streets the way he did, and it was his biggest advantage in the chase.

As he hopped across buildings, with one Double Kick after another bringing him further ahead of the Bisharp, he saw the citizens below staring after him. Several of them were mistrustful; others, confused. There was a minority that seemed compassionate, as if they realized, or at least wondered about what motivated the Raboot.

But all of them stared at the sky, tinged a deep crimson even in the dead of the night. Shadowy tendrils spread from the gaping hole in the firmament, in a sick parody of an eclipsed moon.

All of them recognized the Void Event. And they all knew who to blame.

Kicks didn't linger over that as he slung back in the darkness beneath, hiding behind scattered boxes to make the Bisharp lose sight of him. He had something to do; everything else could - would- be fixed later.

The Bisharp marched forward for the straight path they believed Kicks took. The Raboot listened to the metallic clattering of the soldiers's steps, his sensitive ears twitching in wait until he couldn't hear the Bisharp anymore.

Kicks could breathe again, pressing his paw over his thumping heart. He had no time to rest, however, and soon hopped back for a nearby alley and a path known only to few.

Infiltrating Everburn Castle wasn't difficult for Glory City's youngest and most successful thief. He was proud to have found a way to sneak in when he was just twelve, with even Captain Ironside wondering how could not be found.

He, of course, never told him of the way Glory City's sewer system made for an easy entry point from the lower quarter to the castle. It smelled foul, but it was the easiest way into the city's most fortified area.

Kicks still remembered all the whining Marshall did, how a Marshtomp couldn't stand the odor or the humidity. He almost felt like tossing him into the drink to shut him up. He laughed; back then, Marshall felt like just a weirdo to exploit.

He should've cherished that time more. He couldn't believe how things changed afterwards.

As a tremor shook the area the Raboot hung his head, avoiding the splashing water and sprinting through the familiar path. The exit was close enough.

Kicks knew he was playing with fire. He was heading for the first place someone would expect him to be, and the Raboot hoped it was blatant enough for no one to search there first.

Who would've thought he'd go meet his best friend right then, after all?

A few hops later, Kicks reached a gateway leading inside the Castle Gardens and its path lined up by luscious hedges. A few Bisharp were patrolling the area, all of them missing out on the shrubbery hiding Kicks's personal shortcut. He laughed it off, and slunk into the shadows again.

Kicks was thankful for the sheer amount of hiding places the way-too-ostentatious architecture gave him as he jumped from column to arch with ease. None of the guards noticed him, and the Raboot found his way to his destination.

For a second, he felt like he was there again, in the middle of a sunny day, where a Marshtomp taking a nap all stretched messed up a perfectly good attempt to rob the Kingdom's treasury.

And now in that same spot stood a statue of a Marshtomp, holding a torch high with pride, with flowers and a plaque celebrating him. The crimson skies and looming shadow only made it look more impressive, in a way.

Kicks hopped back on ground level, his gaze darting back and forth. Luck favored him, for no guard appeared to be nearby. Whether for happenstance or for lacking manpower, the Raboot didn't care; he didn't have time to waste, anyway.

And so he sighed, looking back at the statue. A smile formed beneath his high collar.

"Hey, Marshall. Been a while, hasn't it?" He raised a paw, walking to take a better look at the sculpture.

Marshall would've probably made some stupid pun on Mawile in return, or told him of how crazy something completely mundane was. He laughed at the unmade joke; the sculpturer deserved mighty props for even making him look remotely serious.

"Sorry if I didn't come before. Just... been busy." The Raboot exhaled, fiddling with his cloak.

His heart was still racing, and his gaze fell on the shard he brought along. It looked a tad shinier, all while the sky was dyed a deeper crimson. He had no idea what the exact relation was; perhaps Marshall would've had the answer. The Marshtomp was always feeling these artifacts and events and explaining them to him, and he couldn't ask the Princess about it anymore.

Kicks shook his head. So much for having been an 'every Pokémon for himself' guy growing up.

"It's funny. We met here just about one year ago... and now we're here again." The Raboot looked up at what the statue held, and snorted at the visual. "Still can't believe you of all Pokémon got the Torched Honor."

It was long overdue, of course; the Water-type proved key in saving the Kingdom many times over, and eventually the whole world, and all he got was mockery until the very end. Kicks wondered if King Charles ever planned to make a matching statue for him, or if that would've been too much for that crusty Charizard to approve of.

Or perhaps they knew only one of them needed something to be remembered by.

He clenched his paws, his smile dying into pursed lips. "You could've told me, you know. That you would be gone."

If he closed his eyes, Kicks could still see it. Them talking of their future, watching the fireworks. Marshall's body vanishing into light, and the tears in their eyes. A final hug between them, and Kicks's voice strained in calling back to him.

Kicks all alone in the flowerfield, crying his heart out.

"We worked so hard to secure the shards of the Eternal Flame. No one believed in us, but we had each other, right?" He swallowed, his paw trembling over his still thumping heart. "We would've always had each other. That's what brought us forward."

They became Team Trailblazers almost on a whim. A way to prove their worth to the world. His plan to rob out the royal treasures somehow turned into helping poor Pokémon and being entrusted with the map of the items holding reality together, to secure them for everyone's sake.

It looked like the plot of a fairy tale, a story far above a measly orphan and an amnesiac idiot from nowhere, of meetings with legendaries and high stakes battles. All while almost everyone thought they were kids in over their head.

They probably were. Kicks sure was.

But they still made it.

"You numbskull. A silly Marshtomp that makes stupid jokes and is dumber than a sack of bricks." The Raboot laughed it off, giving a kick at the statue's base. "The only idiot stupid enough to believe I had any clue how to find out about his past."

He thought the Marshtomp would've just been a weird curiosity, an easily duped fool that he would see no issue backstabbing and leaving behind in his next robbery attempt.

And then they helped out that Scraggy kid. And then the Garbodor mother. And before he realized it that stupid Marshtomp made him a dang hero.

Marshall looked so proud when he gave him the cloak as a gift. A kind gesture for no reason.

He clasped the fabric tightly. "And I was the bigger idiot, thinking you and I would be together forever."

Kicks's eyes glazed over the plaque's epitaph, only making out some of the indentation's way too wordy praise. Talk of being a beloved hero, an inspiration for everyone, and the pride of the Kingdom of Everburn. Kicks frowned, and he caved the platitudes in with a Blaze Kick.

No one else was there when he was gone. No one but Kicks really knew who Marshall was.

No one else tried to understand what happened to him.

The Raboot met the statue's eyes again.

"I did my own research, you see. About humans in this world. How often they're summoned, only to then be snatched back to their own reality once the deed is done. Outsiders, readymade for an adventure. And the useful sidekicks that help their quests."

He had to pester the Princess for ages, and Kicks always felt she just allowed him in the library to humor him. But it helped him understand so much.

He wasn't alone. He wasn't the first, and he wouldn't be the last.

Kicks blunted the inscription further with a mighty Double Kick. The dull thuds of the bent metal were almost satisfying.

"It's just... cruel. Bringing someone here, making him the friend you always wanted... and then they're gone. Who decided this was right?" He glared at the sky for the answer he'd never get.

No matter who did, they were wrong.

His paw hovered towards the ever-brighter light source he carried, the jagged, misshapen shard that looked made of a crystalized blue flame. He held it up so the statue could see it. Marshall always found it beautiful to stare at the shards, ever since they recovered their first from the Temple of the Waves.

Shattering the Eternal Flame again felt almost dirty.

"Princess Cinder didn't get it. No one did. But it was the only way." Kicks gulped, the words as much for his friend as they were for himself. Getting a chance to look at it was easy; much harder was to leave with the whole Temple of Sunlight's security on him.

And even harder was to stare at the blood red skies above. The tendrils of darkness snaked in every direction, ready to grasp the Earth and consume everything into primordial nothingness.

Thus Kicks gave Marshall a self-assured smile, paws on his hips.

"I know, it looks bad. But it did so before, as well." He held the shard with pride to match his grin. "And we defeated the Void Entity back then! And we'll do it again, together!"

He vaguely recalled all the blabbering of the Entity. How it was a personification of negative whatevers and other pretentious mumbo-jumbo, and how it would never be gone so long as they existed. All he and Marshall managed to do was push him back for a while, before the next human and the next Pokémon were forced to deal with it.

Whoever was in charge of that stupid cycle should've thanked him for the favor. They already got a pair of heroes suited for the job, and who knew, maybe this time they would even find a way to get rid of it for good!

He could just imagine one of that silly fish's cheesy declarations. Nothing was impossible, when Marshall and Kicks are together! The trailblazers of a bright future!

And they would make said future bright together once again.

He smiled, waiting for him to materialize like he was never gone in the first place. That was how it was supposed to work, right?

As another quake hit the castle, Kicks's smile cracked as much as the statue's base. His gaze wandered back to the sky, the infernal crimson even more piercing.

It looked bad, worse than it had before. Clearly, it was a sign a hero was needed. It had to be.

Kicks remained alone. He held the shard closely, a spiderweb of faults forming over it.

The Raboot swallowed.

"... We will be together, right...?" He forced a smile, his body quaking in place. "You... you will come back, right...?"

Nobody answered. It was just him, a damaged landmark, and the sick firmament above him. And then, the shard of the Eternal Flame shattered in pieces, like embers in a strong wind.

And Kicks fell on his knees, his gaze empty, almost bowing to whatever deity was above him.

"Please... please come back. I need you! The world needs you! Marshall the Marshtomp, the Hero of the Flame Continent! Leader of Team Trailblazers! The dumbest and most selfless idiot out there!"

His voice cracked, tears streaming all the way to the ground, begging for an answer. For a sign that he didn't do this all for nothing.

He received none. Just the tendrils of darkness invading the sky, forming uncanny shapes. They almost looked like unholy fireworks, celebrating the end of everything.

"Please... I'm sorry..."

He didn't know who it was for. For himself, for Marshall, maybe for the whole world.

It didn't matter, however. Because nobody listened. Nobody came.

And as he sobbed and shook until his voice gave out, Kicks realized it really was the end of the story.

One he never deserved to be the hero of.