The moonlight shone upon the flames widespread across the Stygian warehouse in rituals. The azure sky provided not nearly as much glow, depending on the white moon to illuminate the myriad of sleepful buildings, stores and houses of the Johto region. Because the night was alive, and for the night to be alive meant the millions of inhabitants of Johto were dead in their slumber, which meant no one could hear the relentless cries for rescue of subdued women and children alike. Some roamed about the streets feeling haunted, while others were taken captive, be it by their own minds or another person.

Clang!

Her loud, agonizing scream came in reflex to the pressure of the wrench stabbed against her leg once again, but rather than being injured by the weight of the jaws she was more irritated by the abrupt ending of her pleasant dream of escape and international success as a Pokémon coordinator. Needless to say, reality was often disappointing.

She had subconsciously learned the first strike was the hardest to endure. She had withstood several different forms of assault already, with several different tools of torture. So her body had become numb to affliction, and her eyelids were almost shut close for certain. She only wished for an end to this rewinding distress, despite also holding death in high regards.

She shivered in coldness, being stripped down to just her bra and underwear, forgetful of how she lost her primary clothing. And she couldn't move her fingers, nor was she able to feel the dampness of the chains compressing her wrists. Her throat plead for water, and as her weak vision met with the surface she made out two humored men in black uniforms standing in front of her, both about the same height of 5'6.

"Rise and shine, wench." She could hear the raspy voice out of only her left ear, and accordingly this welcoming remark came from the man on her left side. He stood with his arms crossed and his grin smug, the man standing aside him less enthusiastic and more tiresome. She could see neither of their eyes well, both shaded by their identical black caps.

Groaning softly in response, and hurting as she tried opening her mouth with her teeth gritted against each other, she could register another voice speak, but this time from her right ear: "It's the fucking nighttime, dude." The man on her right sighed and covered his face with his hands, muttering something in his monotone about rehearsals.

But the man to her left rolled his shoulders as if he didn't care. "Eh, whatever." He opened his right hand as the wrench he held hit the ground. And the girl was able to hear the same clanging sound from earlier, this time from both her right and left ear.

She then managed to blink, processing the information transferred into her mind. Team Rocket She had journeyed far and she had seen much, so noticing how indistinct the two men were from each other and confirming by the emblazoned R-shaped symbol on their chests she saw that they were unmistakably Rockets - the nefarious criminal organization who sought to enslave Pokemon as weapons of war, for purposes of world domination among other wicked reasons.

But what she did not understand was her current position; her dangling off the ground by a short distance while unable to extend her toes out to touch the damp surface. She tried spinning herself around but found she was too weakened to do so, releasing another faint groan in spite of her failure. What's wrong with me?

What perturbed the girl even further was her lack of clothing, unable to recall removing her attire at any given time in the past few days - unable to remember much of anything. Why am I like this? Since she was a Pokémon coordinator and lacked a decent sense of navigation, she would often find herself deserted in the middle of nowhere in search of the next town to partake in contests. That being the case, she wasn't going to swim or bathe in the dirty ponds of the regional valleys, and so she was given no reason to take off her clothes. Now, considering the situation at hand she had come to the unwanted revelation that she was either raped or abused just for the sake of being abused, which only managed to worsen her ailing mental state.

Furrowed brows, the grunt on her left side spoke in a less playful tone, "Hey," and he reached out for his prisoner as he wrapped his left-handed cold glove around her slim, scarred neck, beginning to choke her, "Say something." And the girl's face started turning blue after she griped in reaction to the sudden pain. She felt as if the faint life inside of her was dying out second by second as his hold tightened. And she thought of nothing, nor did she put up any struggle, wishing only for an end to her suffering.

Her lips were then set apart by the same grunt. "Say aah," He cooed, examining her insides. The girl tried gargling up saliva to give him a taste of his own medicine, but found she was far too weak for such an attack. Shaking his head in dissatisfaction, the grunt then closed her mouth and gave her a few light slaps on her face before giving up on his ordeal entirely, walking backwards towards his partner.

"It's no use," He said as he folded his arms, turning his head towards his partner, "The bitch isn't saying anything."

The other grunt rolled his eyes as the girl gasped for air. "Oh, yeah," He started, "Get her to talk by making her not able to talk." He snickered as he finished his speech. "Fucking genius."

However, his partner didn't hesitate to retort. "Not like you got any better ideas." And to this response the former responded, "Pretty sure I do." The two then began to butt heads like children arguing over an expensive toy, neither mature enough to back down from an argument.

Meanwhile, the helpless girl hadn't ceased panting, musty warehouse air entering her lungs sporadically. Her neck felt loose, as if it a bone inside it was crushed. And her arms and legs felt benumbled, as did almost every part of her body. Despite this, she still had her eyes and nose. Now her eyes were directed not at the arguing henchmen, but rather the skylights above, the disappearing stars staring back at her. And with her nose she could smell dying flames, sweat falling from her head and off her nose as her eyesight shifted from the dark of the night and toward her slavers, who continued to verbally assault each other. Fire was widespread across the warehouse, but they did not seem to care, perhaps emboldened by their kidnapping.

And as the girl panted less and studied her surroundings more, she felt one of her left fingertips scrape the coldness of the chains she hung from. She was not sure if she meant to feel anything or if her body moved on its own, but she wished to mend to her bruising neck. But she could feel no muscles in her bones, nor could she escape from the predicament she had awakened to. Everything hurts, everything hurts. And as she again tried to spin herself around she groaned loudly, catching the attention of the two grunts, who in reaction quit arguing and turned to her with their faces red in anger, eyes-narrowed.

"Hey!" They shouted in unison, "Don't try to escape while we're in the middle of an escalation, prisoner!"

Alarmed by their shouts, the girl's eyes diverted from the skylights and she was able to hear herself shriek in reaction to the sudden shift in motion. One of the indistinguishable men approached her with a stern look on his face, releasing the grip they held at the other person's skull. She shook her head immediately, eyes much wider now, and fearing another displinary act. As she saw him come inches closer to her, she put her head down in cowardice, closing her eyes in anticipation of being hit, or worse. I am so screwed. This was the same one who had suffocated her earlier, so she had no reason to believe her torture would be any less brutal now.

But instead of resorting to any unnecessary tactics, he simply put his index finger and his thumb below her chin and began moving it around. Her chest stiffened as she then opened her eyes to his shadowy gaze and could see the black in his pupils shaded by his cap.

"How do we dispose of her?" He inquired, tone nevertheless smug.

While her physical expression came with no unqiue reaction to his remissive choice of words, still blatantly frightened by the grunt's towering position, her mental self was deteriorating into a looping demise. Her mind was in a different place, racing from purgatory to hell and back in seconds. And she wanted her suffering to end, but she did not want to die. What did I ever do to deserve this anyways? She gulped as his presence overcame hers.

His partner shrugged. "I don't know," he said, "I mean, there's a lot of ways we could do that, but that's not what I'm worried about. I'm more concerned if there's something she's still not telling us." But raising his voice he stated, "However, there's a good chance her vocal cords were damaged earlier on when she was struggling against us, and since we've obtained all her Pokémon, we probably aren't taking any risks by killing her."

After that remark, the girl could not feel her heart pumping in her chest. She had not heard its beat since the wrench came in contact with her leg. She had come to the conclusion that she was not alive, despite not being dead. And despite being neither dead nor alive, she shouted in her head: But I don't want to die! Of course, she knew she was not yet deceased. But she felt it coming in the distance, and she did not like it. She felt a lot of things, despite her physical self's numbness. Fear, lonesomeness, and suffer. And she felt as if she could remember things, but not fully. Well, in truth, she could recall parts of her past, like minuscule details preserved within her brain. She knew what her profession was, she knew she knew people - but she did not know who. And she did not know what she had done to deserve such brutal treatment. She was sure she was not a bad person. But, that itself could have been her overconfidence speaking volume. If there's a god, won't you come and save me?

And she thought more about what the grunt had said. My Pokémon... She attempted to trace back to the simpler times momentarily, instead finding only the blurred faces of familiar but indistinguishable monsters who she knew she'd seen before but couldn't process fully into her brain. I can't remember any of them... She felt the two fingers leave her chin as the grunt's partner gestured him to come his way. Wait, they said something about a struggle. But what does that mean? And that implied many things. The first thing she thought of was that the two might have defeated her Pokemon in a battle, and then subsequently took advantage of their defeated state by capturing them all, and, not risking any survivor's remorse, they subdued and tortured her as well, but the stubborn girl did not go down without a fight. Or perhaps they disguised themselves as friendly faces and presented themselves as mere bystanders. Then when she was not paying attention, they stole her PokéBalls and when she learned of this she became furious and retaliated against the two but was far outmatched by their combined masculine brute and was taken captive in their warehouse. Both were just logical conclusions she'd come up with in her head, but whether or not they were true didn't matter as much to her as did escaping and retaining her memories.

And so the pair of Rockets had traded laughter before their voices quieted down a little and they began whispering to each other secretively. The enchained girl could only observe the exchange in horror as one then gestured to the other he had received a transmission from an upper floor. Proceedingly he marched upstairs, coughing some as she heard a door slam behind him. The remaining Rocket slapped his hands together and reached leftwards for a torn cerise shirt and a bucket of water. The girl felt her heartbeat for the first time that day as he neared her with a blank expression.

"Now," He spoke, and she could see the red in his eyes with his face only some inches away from hers, "I'm not a doctor, but if I had to guess, I'd say your vocal cords suffered irreparable damage when you lashed out against us earlier on," And after confirming her previous suspicions he brought the torn shirt over her face with his left hand, covering her eyes and mouth, carrying the bucket of water in his right, "At least, you better hope that's the case, or else things like this are just gonna keep happening to you." His lips twisted as her eyes widened and her lips tightened behind the smelly cotton, "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

She shook her head furiously, bracing for the pain. No, this can't be how I die. He could hear her muffled grunts as he grasped her mouth within the shirt and held her head back, slightly tilting the bucket forward as water enveloped the fabric and she felt the numbness of her face be drenched away by it. She wanted to struggle, but could not move a thing, his careless strength and the unbreakable chains holding her against her will, not to mention the substantial amount of torture immobilizing her nerve system. And she felt as if she was drowning, yet unable to fully drown - not able to maintain her breaths as the liquid overtook her throat and her lungs let up. And she only saw the color black as she slowly drifted out of consciousness.

When the girl awoke again her captives were no longer with her. She sensed someone in her vicinity for sure - she knew they had not left for certain, but where they hid she did not know either. Since her eyelids were reluctant to open she relied on her sense of hearing to gain information. And she had not heard as much as mutter, and she could no longer smell the fire. But, admittedly, she was not sure if the fire was still present or if her sense of smell had stopped functioning too. She could only remember little from before, her mind struggling to maintain its memories. She could remember being tortured with water, but had no clue how many hours had passed since it happened. However, she noted she was less cold than she was previously, which led her to think the night may have passed. And she could not recall much of the exchanges between the grunts. Because much like before, everything was a blur, and nothing was definite.

She was still quite frightened. She had never drowned before, or, to be more precise, she had never felt the sensation of drowning. The numbness she felt from before was still present, but unbeknownst to her the bruises she suffered had turned into scars. Her cheeks were stained with streaks of tears, and she had blinked several times before fully opening her eyes, wincing as she did. She blew an annoying strand of hair from blocking her vision and subsequently scoped the area.

The fire was no more, and the men weren't there, just as she suspected. That's good. She peered upwards, curious how everything was looking outside. The sky was no longer dark, and the grey clouds were like a moving traffic. Her stomach growled as she diverted her gaze and realized she had not eaten in a while. At least she suspected her abductors did not care so much as to feed their captives. She held that thought and wondered if she was the only person they had abducted. She sure hoped not.

She twisted her wrists in a hopeless pursuit of escape, instead injuring herself and grunting in a small pain. This kind of helplessness isn't something anyone should feel. She wanted to cry but couldn't, her mind in several places at once and herself unwilling to adjust to the matter at hand. She tried to sniffle, but her nose felt numb when she did. She had no clue how she had gotten here, or what predicament might have led her to such a state. She had no memory of what occurred in the previous couple of days, and when she tried to remember her head began hurting, worsening her turmoil. Now, subconsciously, she knew she had family, she knew she had friends, and a dream to hold onto - but she didn't know where they had gone or if they even knew of her whereabouts. She wanted to believe they did not, because she wanted to believe that if they did then surely they would have come to her rescue. At the moment, however, she wasn't too sure of anything, nor was she given reason to be.

And many faces flashed within her brain, a few of whom she recognized and a few of whom she did not. They mostly wore optimistic expressions, things like smiles and smug grins of victory. Some were vague, meaning she was unable to infer whether they felt happiness or sadness, their lips neither tilted downwards nor upwards, rather just shut close. The problem was the images disappeared too fast, like lightspeed. As quick as they came, the quicker they went. She couldn't fully register much of anything until she saw one particular picture that caught her interest.

What she found most familiar was the image of four adolescents whose ages varied rested on the soft grass and staring up at the dark sky above as a curiosity-stricken Pikachu stood gazing in the middle of their circle. Their pack consisted of three males and one female. The oldest male she suspected to be around seventeen or eighteen, and his expression bore less amazement than the others too, his eyes shut and his lips sealed. Since he was the oldest he was less prone to being entertained by natural commodities, she figured. The second boy she noticed was raven-haired, and in his eyes was a spark of life. He wore his cap backwards, lightning bolts on his cheeks as birthmarks. The third boy was much smaller than anyone else, and looked around eight or nine. He had greenish hair to match his attire, a fair complexion and wore big, round glasses. He might have taken a particular liking to a star, or the glowing moon, because he was pointing upwards in wonder. And his guise was pure childlike innocence, something she longed for. Now the girl she had found to be the more reminiscent than the others, her hair long and brown and hanging out from both sides of her red and white bandana. Her eyes were like blue diamonds and she had a fair complexion, feeling no more wonderful than the two youngest boys.

Who is she? As the image faded from her brain she had no doubt in her mind that she had seen this girl before. Problem was, she couldn't remember when or where she had met her. But in desperation she felt that if she could find this person she would receive some real answers. She didn't know for sure, but she had a feeling. Those kids... They must have been the said friends she thought she had. Because they looked far too innocent to be considered enemies, and she could sense some memories gradually reshaping within her brain. Of course, she also had no clue what her own name was, or what place she currently was held captive in, but she had to believe in something, lest she had nothing to keep living for. Why am I here? She thought to herself, before confronting the real question. Who am I?

Footsteps emanated within the corridors of the undersea temple with several cascades pouring out from high peaks, beginning to overflow in its interiors; lavender surfaces inscribed with ancient transcripts sinking deeper into the ocean floor as two kids, one male and one female, race from its flooding walls in the pursuance of an newfound friend, to which a blue blur leaps pass a trio of water fountains and cheerfully surfs into the next chamber. And the boy and girl ran in rhythm with each other, hearts full of worry and expressions similarly stern, feet pounding against the ground simultaneously as they hit another hallway, losing sight of the small creature's long antennas.

Coming to a sudden stop in her tracks based off the direction the Pokémon was headed, the restless girl gazed into the next expanse in a worrisome wonder. "Manaphy, where are you going?"

Momentarily halting alongside her, the boy came to a quick conclusion. "Manaphy must be trying to save the temple!" His Pikachu chirped in agreement, its paws attached to the boy's right shoulder. And the girl nodded, needing no further elaboration. She was confident in him as she was in Manaphy's motives. Afterwards the children ran for the next corridor, before finding themselves atop an annular circumference split in between a waterfall leading from where they previously were; again stopping abruptly in the sight of various glowing crystals set within the circular surface of an enormous crown-like monument in separate rows, bordered by mahogany layers and glowing light-blue.

"The sea crown!" Exclaimed the boy, nevertheless amazed by its almighty structure. But his face never lost its serious expression as he knew its impressive illumination could soon be overshadowed by the flooding waves immersing in the castle.

The restless girl studied her surroundings until she became satisfied with her search, finding Manaphy down below within the Sea Crown tugging its arms on a crystal that was strangely out of place, and she saw that near him were two more crystals in an abandoned bag. The aquatic Pokémon could not move a single one of them by even an inch, despite the fact that its arms were longer than its body and so were the crystals.

"Down there!" She shouted. The boy's eyes darted earthwards in reflex to her statement, to which he then shared viewership of the Mythical's heroic efforts. Then a gush of water rose from the growing inundation, almost blocking the both of their vision. But when the girl could again see her Pokémon subsequently she confirmed, "Manaphy's trying to get the temple back to the way it was before!" And in regards to the small Pokemon it had not yet lost the will to save its friends and the undersea temple itself, still struggling to make any action.

In the top row of the Crown there were three crystals embedded within hexagonal shaped-holes; a first row. In the second row there were four crystals, and in the third there was six. In the row of crystals closest to the surface there was formerly twelve gems, the boy noticed, but now there was just eight. His eyes shifted from the girl as he spoke with his fists clenched and his smile genuine, "And that's what we're gonna do too."

The girl returned a grin of her own and the children nodded in unison. And then for a quick moment they attempted to peer into the abyss of the sea moving up and down in ocean waves - they could not see it. By the second things were worsening, but they feared nothing. And maintaining that same optimism the pair leaped off the edge, diving headstrong into the waters. And its pressure built up against the girl's chest while they swam - the waters almost forced her body past her destination, until she felt the soft touch of the boy's hand grasp her own. He had faced more difficult tribulations than this, but she had not. Then her eyes met his momentarily as he pulled her onto the platform of the Sea Crown. With an affirming look on the boy's face they turned to their striving Pokemon friend to lend a helping hand.

After inserting whatever diamond they could find into whichever empty slot, the children glanced at each other in unease. There was still an unoccupied aperture left without a crystal of its own, and they realized that none could be left unattended to as the flooding had not yet ceased - in fact, it was growing more immense by the minute. A drop of water fell from the boy's long hair and made a delightful small splash onto the flourishing puddle having reached where he and his friends stood.

"We need one more," said the girl in a shaky tone, now holding a nervous Manaphy close to her chest; her own eyes filled with discouragement. She could hear the downpour raging as if the devil had showered in the rain.

"Did Phantom have one?" The boy inquired, staring into the seamless void. His Pikachu's ears fell down in disappointment.

But she did not respond, distracted by the torrent of sea submerging upon the Crown. The boy tilted his head slightly before redirecting his attention onto the surface. They both stiffened, and her reflection became blurrier as the waters passed her skin. And she could not feel when the water reached her soaked legs, but she knew when to run. Her lips opened the same instant she heard the boy yell for them to escape the monstrous waves. Subsequently they turned, Pikachu in his arms and Manaphy in her arms, and they ran for a nearby exit.

And in the midst of their escape they never bothered to look back. The winding pathway wherein they were fleeing a sudden death was long and winding, and indistinguishable in appearance along with nearly every other room in this deathbed of a castle; all had the same tiresome combination of depressing bright colors, painted on the walls, surface and ceiling made of a sustaining thousand year-old timber. To say the least, the inability to comprehend any differences between the chambers was anxiety-inducing for the boy, who had the innermost responsibility of leading his friends to an escape route. He was slightly ahead of the girl, but she wasn't much far behind. He could still comprehend her pants as the two turned left into another hallway, the weight of their respective Pokémon partners adding to their burden. Neither knew where they were running to, but they figured the floods would eventually settle down should they have kept doing so. Lost, the children made a few more twists and turns before taking the stairs and finding themselves in a familiar room from much earlier, with statues and fountains and things of the sort.

"Not again!" The girl remarked, legs never letting up.

"We just ran through here..." The boy said, mentally cursing himself out. But he could not complain, and neither could she. In spite of this the distressed pair continued on running - desperate to reunite with their friends, but a bit more desperate to stay alive.

So the two ran down a meandering set of stairs, where they thought they had finally got rid of the flood's wrath. But before they could catch their breaths, they hesitantly made another turn as they saw it had again neared them. This time they took a right towards an even longer pathway, and so once they had entered a different and yet no less complex room than before; a room with a familiar fountain wherein engraved in the middle was an unfamiliar statue of twin infants shooting bow-and-arrows, the children went up another set of stairs and Pikachu chirped as if he had noticed something peculiar. The boy and the girl alike inadvertently turned their heads rightwards when they heard his cry, noticing a diamond in the middle of the fountain below the steps which they stood upon. And this gem was either an exact replica of the ones they had helped Manaphy with before or it was the one that they were not able to find - not until now, at least.

With a much brighter expression now, he stretched out his arms and gripped the gemstone in his hands with ease. "Got it!" And Pikachu was a quite small creature, so at the moment he was holding onto the dumbstruck boy's shoulder. "But how'd it get here?"

Contrarily to him, the girl was not as relieved. She had the same fearful look in her eye from earlier. "I'm not surprised with all the flooding going on." And she could sense a storm of the sea brewing nearby, but she said nothing.

Satisfied with the response he was given, the boy dismissed his own question altogether and said: "So, now all we do now is put it back." But as soon as he said this the children could both feel the temple trembling abruptly, as if an earthquake was born. And looking onwards to the endless amount of waters pouring in together through different entrances, the chase was resumed.

So there comes a certain point in a man's life where he is ordained to make a self-defining decision; some sort of an epiphany which is held over his head eternally as either a burden or a blessing, but more often the not the former. This often occurs out of the blue, and ironically most humans are hopeful about a revelation of the kind ensuing them once, but regardless they run like tiger's prey when towers tip over and begins crumbling upon them; unable to see with dust clouding their eyesight.

Now, children are simple-minded creatures. They see everything in black and white, and think of everything as right and wrong no matter what the context may be. Their minds are less mature than adults, because they are burdened with much less stress. They do not know what struggle is, nor do they want to. They are raised up by overprotective adults who seek to preserve their child's innocence but in return makes them weak. So their reasons for doing things are corresponding only to their dogmatic views and selfish needs.

But the fight in this particular child knew no boundaries. He could not be considered a product of childlike innocence breaking down upon encountering crumbling buildings, but rather a soldier who in a paramount of mental distress was abandoned by his comrades in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea and drowned helplessly in the ocean, only to be revived a hundred years later by the faint, vague will to be alive. Was he foolish? Unquestionably. And he was stubborn, proving himself on many occasions to be an unfathomable moron. But he had decided in the midst of this disaster that he would not allow his friends to die, tucking his chin alongside the girl as they stopped in their tracks, nowhere else to run and able to feel the blood pumping inside his chest.

They had reached a dead end - this room was bigger and wider than the one before, but had a stream of water pouring in from several entrances; more than enough for the children to be washed away in. For a moment they simply stared into the watery deep gazing back at them with hidden eyes, building upon itself little by little for what felt like seconds. And they saw a capsule of an army green color near a relatively short set of stairs half-way covered by the waters. The boy raised an eyebrow in examination of this.

"It's the Phantom's," he said, then tilting his head upwards as the girl had witnessed a cascade make a sudden violent splash from afar. Reactively she let out a gasp of worry, hugging Manaphy closer to her chest in reflex. The pair gulped, then looked back, and then realized they had reach the point of no return, as the waters rampaged from both behind and in front of them. The girl shook her head slowly, afraid of death. To this, the boy narrowed his eyes a bit before confirming to himself what he had to do.

"May!"

Her eyes then rolled over to where she heard him call her name, and she saw that he had pulled the capsule onto the entranceway surface where she was. He had an ambiguous expression on his face when he said, "Get in here, it's Phantom's," and she felt him take her hand once more as her body gravitated toward the capsule by his own will. He had given her no time to think over anything, and in a momentary lapse of thought she had subconsciously allowed him to lay her down in the capsule while she continued to secure her aquatic partner in her arms. Her eyes lifted as she regained assertiveness over herself and felt Pikachu be set aside her. The boy closed the shuttle as he carried the crystal over his right shoulder.

"You guys just sit tight in there and wait!"

And the last she saw of him was a reassuring grin as he turned rearward and ran off into hell. In an immediate reaction to this, she yelled out his name but in return was no response. She could not feel that the inside of capsule was cold and uncomfortable, nor could she feel the teardrop trailing down her cheek. As things were, she was already both of those things. But surpassing that feeling of a cold discomfort was loneliness and fear. And as the shuttle began to float away and its windows reflected only the color blue, that emotion never ceased.

Gasp!

She awakened with her eyes closed and was no longer undersea as she dreamed she was. She coughed in reaction to the sudden ending, inadvertently inhaling dust. She could not breathe right then, and her lungs struggled to maintain their usefulness. She twisted and turned as if she was living a nightmare, and she let out a painful, not a tired groan. She still felt as if she was waiting for the boy who had gone to save the temple. But once she was able to flutter her eyelids, she came to focus on a familiar sight.

And of course, this was the dreaded sight of the scarred walls within the old, worn-out warehouse. Mentally she sighed at this, still unwilling to accept her fate within this practical prison. The light shone down on her from below, still grey from earlier. Because the sky was the same color and she felt no more relieved of her stress than she did before she slept she came to the conclusion that only a few minutes had gone on since she had passed out again. And just like before, her captives still were not with her.

To this she raised an eyebrow. Did they leave? She certainly hoped so. She couldn't bear much more pain, feeling as if her spirit completely faded in just this short time. And she wished for a savior, but knew nobody would come. As she tried to yell she found her voice crack echoed slightly inside the building. Her throat was sore, and furthermore she could not tell if the grunts were permanently gone or if they had simply elevated to an upper floor. But she did not want to take the risk of catching their attention again, so she resorted to doing nothing. Maybe that's not such a good idea after all. So she only waited in silence as minutes passed, contemplating what she had dreamt of.

She could remember clearly what she had seen; towers of rain within the erupting temple, but what she could recall most fondly of was the boy who had grasped hold of her hand and saved her from drowning. She knew she had seen him before someplace, or somewhere, but she saw no clue as to where he might've seen her too. And she felt as if she owed him an unpardonable debt she could never pay, perhaps due to her own inability to do for herself. Wildly desperate and equally weakened, she was no more than damsel in distress waiting for a savior of sorts, and so the very image of this boy's smiling face remained in her head as she studied long and hard about him.

Ash... She could at least certainly recall his name. She knew he was someone close to have appeared in her dream, and she knew that despite her not knowing herself she owed him an incredulous debt. Because truth be told, she knew not whether what she saw was truly a dream or perhaps a memory, or a vision from a past life, but she concluded that he had surely not rose up out of nowhere either. He called me May. He had also indeed provided her with a first name, something she had sought but was able to find earlier on. And so what she did was she whispered this name, mustering the might necessary to do so and thereafter suffering a slight strain in her throat as an aftertaste to her endeavors.

But to her luck and misfortune when she heard herself speak she was granted another memory, wherein she and him were bickering like meddling children in the midst of a rain forest. They had turned their backs to each other and they had crossed their arms. As for why they started arguing in the first place, she did not know. But she knew he had done something to upset her, because she had raised her voice and lashed out at him. 'I can't stand you, Ash Ketchum!' And he did not hesitate to retort. 'Gee, I'm heartbroken!' And their traveling companions whose faces she could not make out simply sighed, because these were inherently tiresome affairs. But like always, she saw that before the sun settled she and him had reconciled with warm eyes.

Then she saw a third memory wherein herself and him fought in a Pokémon battle in front of the world. The bout between the pair ended in a draw, and the crowd went wild in an uproar of applause. The medal which they both were given as a commemoration of their victory was sliced in half. Each held their half and side by side they stood with the same honest smile, because the medal had not lost its worth. But then the image of that faded and she found herself in reality again, the depressing circumstances in which she withstood never ceasing to haunt her as the sound of footsteps gradually became less distant.

"Well, well..."

And she stiffened, frightened by the sudden resonance, and gaped as the imposing figure stood before her.

"Look who's finally awake."

Yeah, I don't own Pokemon. And I don't know anything about the creepy spam I've been getting all over my reviews either, it's quite bothersome though.