The first thing you told me after lifting me out of that cage was how you dreamed of joining the League. I wasn't sure what that meant, but you looked so happy I figured it couldn't be anything bad.
Fighting was my thing, anyway. Joining you gave me all the excitement and challenge I could ever want, and more. Sometimes I'd drag you into a match that I knew I didn't stand a chance in, only for you to scold me afterwards. You always let me know you weren't mad, just worried.
That was fine. I could handle it.
We did okay from then on, especially once we figured out how to pick our battles wisely. But with just me on your team, you and I both knew we'd never make it big. There was only so much a Zangoose could do, and I wasn't the young and energetic starter most trainers begin their journeys with.
You knew you'd never become a professional without a complete team, but you just couldn't take the responsibility. For some reason, I was the only Pokémon you ever decided to keep.
That was fine. I could handle it.
Your family berated you more and more as they realized you were barely earning enough to support yourself and me. They kept hounding you until, with tears in your eyes, you gave up your dream and settled down to get a 'real' job. You even offered to let me return to the wild, but… how or why could I ever do that? I was going to stick by your side, even when I understood I wouldn't be fighting anymore.
Your new job was dull, and so was being home alone without you. Neither of us was happy with the new way of things, but there was no changing it. The toll it took on you was the heaviest. I could see the tension on your face as you barely mustered a smile whenever I welcomed you home after a long day.
Some mornings you couldn't get out of bed, so I learned how to make toast and fill a bottle with water so you wouldn't waste away.
That was fine. I could handle it.
You started taking some kind of medicine, and for a while, things got a little better. You even started talking to me again. I didn't notice how much I'd missed hearing your voice until I went days without it. I remember the last thing you said before drifting off one night: "I'm sorry, Wodan."
I knew the pills helped you sleep, so I figured you'd be out for a while after taking the entire bottle.
That was fine. I could handle it.
I made myself comfortable in my usual spot atop your chest and waited for you to wake up. I stayed, even though I could tell your pulse and breathing were weaker than I'd ever felt… and even though deep down, I knew what it meant when, after several days, you weren't breathing anymore and started smelling like old food.
I waited until the others came to visit and found you. I fought to hold them off, told them to leave you alone the best I could, but once they saw you were holding my ball I couldn't stop them anymore. I had just enough time to look back at you before I was recalled.
They thought I was infected with something. It took them days of testing and watching me to understand I wasn't about to go off and attack anyone at random. No one listened to me.
That was fine. I could handle it.
It was only days after you were gone that I understood what you'd meant, when you apologized to me that night. I'd spent so long hiding everything and trying to be strong, to keep you from worrying, that I'd never fully realized you were doing the same all those years.
And just like when I'd pick a fight I knew I couldn't win, just to try and make you happy, you lost the longest fight of all – even though I was still the last thing on your mind.
I couldn't handle that.
I don't know how long it's been since you last hugged me. But it doesn't matter. Now when Cassie or one of the others helps me groom my fur, I try not to think about the way you always used to. They're great, but… I'll never have another friend like you.
That's fine. I forgive you. We'll see each other again someday.