Story 20 - Under Poison Rain, written by: SaadTheConjurer
Bloomgrotto Village had been a gorgeous land of thriving greenery and flowers in full bloom. Had been, Moss the Shaymin kept stressing to himself.
It was hard to see that under the gigantic miasma of red, blue, and purple swallowing the sky, never mind the increasing rainfall of poison that burned through the fields.
For now, the shade of the gnarled tree that overlooked it all protected him from the elements. Intricate wooden huts, cottages, and more elaborate forms of buildings stood in a trance while Pokemon milled around, ushering children and spurring families to hasten the evacuation. Flowerbeds reeled as poison's touch rained from the choking heavens. The flora persisted, but soon plant life would give in to acidic death.
At least the poison's light for now. With a grimace Moss turned his hedgehog snout toward the surrounding forest, then to the treetops. Then toward the freak sky above — was it night now? The wretched, colorful sheens of the poison clouds made it hard to tell — and then further still. All the way to the horizon, seeing something that wasn't there.
The visage of a humongous dragon — a spindly monstrosity hailing from a world beyond. Its ability to turn into a hand-serpentine horror and shoot beams of sheer energy, able to cleave valleys out of mountains. Its alien screams and endless hunger for the lifeforce of Pokemon. Worst of all, its fearsome power to inject its power into another, temporarily turning the target into a maddened, giant-sized version of itself that would turn against its allies for a brief time.
Eternatus, the Legendaries had dubbed it.
The poisonous rains were far worse near the source of this living calamity — the difference between touching a warm cooking pot and being in the centerpiece of an inferno. Moss had been asked to help stave off the beast, assisting the other Legendaries with defensive duty.
On cue, the ache in his forehead redoubled, Moss thrusting his head into the grass for comfort. Natural Cure took care of the poison-induced sickness Eternatus struck him with, yet the pain persisted like a phantom. And for what, really? His meager Air Slashes and Energy Balls were but pinpricks to that colossal marauder.
But as Moss observed the villagers making their final rounds, calling to their neighbors and packing up the last of their things, dodging pellets of poison trying to brand them from above, he shook his head. You gave them hope, and maybe a little time too, he reminded himself. Even powerful Legendaries like Solegalo and Regigigas struggle against that thing's sheer defenses. Arceus himself is working up a sweat, trying to contain it.
With a sigh he pulled himself up to his tiny height, pulling himself away from the gnarled tree and bracing as a drop of acidic rain sizzled against his hind leg. The closer Eternatus got, the greater the damage would be to Bloomgrotto Village. The rain would probably chip this place away in a few days — maybe two? Three? If they were lucky, five?
May as well get one last look at it all before leaving.
Down the dirt paths Moss went, keeping his head low as the rain continued. Pokemon ran past, giving him swift acknowledgements, and he absentmindedly returned their greetings and well-wishes. Grotle, Leavanny, Simisage, Treeverant, and so on. Friends and acquaintances alike.
His legs moved on their own accord to dodge a growing puddle of toxic rain in a ditch in the road. There was the town hall, a humble structure of bricks and stone that could've been mistaken for any other house. The public garden, where fruits and vegetables grew plenty for the villagers to share as needed. The little alleyway where goods were sold behind makeshift stalls of carts and wooden stands.
On and on and on. Moss went through it all like he was traveling in a lucid reverie, until something gave him reason to wake up from his watchful slumber. Ahead was a large field of flowers, arranged in a pretty picturesque form — a scene disturbed by the poisonous raindrops that burnt its petals with sickening indifference.
There a young Flabebe floated on her lonesome, holding tight to her own flower as to shield it from the same result. Her body shivered under the harmful rain, but she remained regardless, staring at her flower field with lifeless eyes. "Rose?" Moss called.
Rose the Flabebe turned over, bringing back the tiniest spark of energy to her expression. "Old Moss!" she said.
Moss restrained a snort — sixty years wasn't that old for a Mythical. "You shouldn't be here," he lightly chided. "What are you doing?"
Rose looked at him, then to the flowers. Then to him, then the flowers. Him. Flowers.
"They're dying," she whimpered. "Can you help them?"
A sad smile creased Moss's face. She was thinking about his abilities to purify lands and make flowers bloom, wasn't he? The poor thing. "I don't think I can protect them," he told the young girl. "Not as long as the rain keeps up."
Dejection soured the girl's mood. Whatever hope she had seemed to have, it wilted in a heartbeat. Her face dropped all the way to the ground, the petals of her red flower drooping. "Why did the Eternatus monster have to come?" she lamented.
And then her face shot upward, indignant and defiant. "He's ruining my garden."
It was such a sudden shift in tone, not to mention how silly the words sounded, that Moss found himself chuckling. Most Pokemon would be panicking about the fact that a terrible creature had dropped from the highest recesses of the heavens, descending upon their land to sap it of its energy and devastating entire towns in its wake. This young lady, though?
She was miffed about the big scary monster of doom messing with her flower garden.
Kids. "Some things can't be helped, you know," Moss told Rose. "Even the strong Legends can't do much against that monster. They certainly didn't need me since I couldn't do much at all."
"I wish you could." With a sniff Rose watched the flower garden, almost as she was staring at a graveyard. "Will the village stay?"
Maybe. Maybe there would be enough of the village remaining when — or if — this calamity blew over. Maybe they could repair it. He had purity powers, and with a little aid from everyone, Bloomgrotto could survive.
But in the likely case it didn't? "Let me tell you a little saying we Shaymin have, dear Rose," Moss whispered into her ear. "'Things come and go, and the wind goes with the flow.' Everything has a beginning and an end, you know? Sometimes you have to let go."
Rose giggled. "Sounds like a rhyme," she said with a tinge of amusement.
Moss made a face at her, before pointing with his paw at the garden. "Not everything can stay forever," he went on. "And that's okay. What matters is if we can keep a smile at the memory and keep moving on, okay? Why don't you remember the garden we lost here, so that when you get a chance to make another, you can make it even better?"
The Flabebe nodded, Moss pleased to find her face much brighter than it was moments earlier. Maybe he wasn't much of a fighter, unable to be useful enough to help the Legendaries, but at least he had the ability to make the little ones stay in good spirits even in times like this. Wasn't that worth something?
"Now come along," he urged. "We don't want your mother worrying sick over you."
Rose took in the village for a moment, and so did Moss, seeing the empty streets as an unforgiving sky of neon colors sprinkled it in murky, acidic rain. Their home, once a cozy place of beauty, reduced to this haunted land that would soon become a toxic wasteland. The flower-loving girl closed her eyes, allowing herself to let go.
"You'll help me with the new flower field?" she asked.
Moss gave her his warmest expression, one filled with the kind of love expected from a grandfather. "Why wouldn't I?" he responded. "For you and the other kids, I would do a lot of things."
The girl's cheerfulness was complete. A wheeze escaped Moss as Rose tackled into him with her full body weight, plus the flower. "You're the best, Old Moss, you know that?" she said, stars in her eyes as she imagined the possibilities of what a new and improved garden could look like.
It made Moss's day. Neither the throbbing in his forehead, nor the unyielding rain, nor the lingering screams of Eternatus could overshadow him as he escorted her toward the rest of the villagers.
The undying memories of their home trailed after them.
