Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its contents.
He still put me in the ball.
Was he justified?
I did nothing out of place!
You were thinking of running away.
But he did not know that! He had no reason to put me in it at the time!
He knew you would attempt to do so.
I still had shown no sign of running; how could he be justified if I had not yet done anything?
You were plotting to do so, and he knew it. He would have to be ignorant to overlook the possibility—the probability—of it.
But I hadn't! Humans have not the right to contain me, anyway!
I banished both voices of reason. My mind had been at war since I was released from the ball. I felt like it was being ripped apart.
I was angry. I was angry at Damion, at the ball, at myself, for making myself so docile. It was disgusting. I disgusted myself.
I lagged behind the group purposefully. Solitude was found only in isolation. And with my mind roiling as it was, I wished for nothing more than solitude.
Damion was trying to ignite a conversation between himself and Dante, with no success. The latter simply didn't seem interested in conversing, he was too absorbed in fiddling with his Pokedex. Damion relented after a final, failed attempt and, with a shrug, took out a map to trace their progress.
Pippo rode upon Dante's shoulder, gazing at the world around it. I still had doubts about the intelligence of the creature, as it still had not cared to speak a word, but it really didn't concern me enough to pursue the creature and spark conversation with it. I was too busy puzzling over my own problems to waste time on such a creature.
I was so confused. I didn't want to be docile. If I remained docile, I would be practically surrendering myself to the Trainer as its slave.
Go willingly, Lord had said. Ha. I couldn't help but snort with amusement every time I thought of the bird. And look where that had gotten me.
If only I'd realized that he didn't mean to 'go willingly'. He'd meant to sell my heart to the human boy. I understood that now. Perhaps if I hadn't taken it so literally, I wouldn't be in my present situation!
No. That was a lie. Either way, I would be in this situation. I'd gone 'willingly', and I was in the ball. If I'd resisted, I'd just have been put in the ball more often. If I'd resisted, though, would I have a greater right to walk with my head held high? Should I resist, since either way I'd be in the ball in the end, anyway? But it wouldn't even do anything more than doing nothing does! I'd vanish from existence, and my effort would be for naught!
I sighed heavily. So caught up in my thoughts was I that I didn't notice the large pebble in my path. I tripped over it. With a strangled roar, I took the trouble to run back to it and kick it, sending it hurtling into the woods. Was the entire world out to get me?!
A growl sounded from the bushes, where the pebble had landed. Damion and Dante turned to see what was going on. From the undergrowth emerged a small, four-legged creature with patches of brown and cream-colored fur. It was a rather nasty-looking Zigzagoon, frightening for its species, that glared out at me from within the black mask of fur across its face. It bared its fangs at me and rose up on its hind legs, ready to thrash out sharply with its claws. It growled and advanced towards me, wishing to slash me to shreds. Apparently it wasn't happy that my pebble had landed in its den.
Well, I wasn't happy either. I had a Poke Ball, unlike this creature, and I . . . I, Rayquaza . . . surely was displeased with this creature threatening me.
My rage must have shown through my eyes because the Zigzagoon faltered. Damion was starting to come forward, no doubt to "aid" me in battle. Pah. I would show him that, not only would I pick my own battles, I would fight them, too. Alone.
Before the Zigzagoon could figure what to do next, I rammed myself into its stomach and sent it hurtling backwards. It flew into the bushes. With a snarl, I made to gave chase, but the creature was already running away with its tail between its legs.
With the battle over, I returned my attention to the path. I hated leaving the job of the battle undone, but I had not the heart to pursue it. Besides, pursuing it too far may only get me in the Poke Ball. It was only then that I realized I had used a small bit of Rage's power without even noticing.
I faltered, needing to catch my breath. Even that small bit of Rage could tire my body. But, this pleased me. If only a small bit of the power of Rage could do that, then my Rage was most definately gaining power.
Damion looked at me strangely. I glared back up at him. I had fought on my own and I had been victorious in seconds. Let him make of that what he would.
For a moment we just stared at each other as if this was a trial of wills. Then, with a sigh, he pulled the map again from his pocket and returned to the head of the group.
I returned my attention to my own matters and fumed. How dare that foul excuse of a Pokemon challenge me. Me! And think that, going into the battle, it could win! I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve any of this!
I shut my eyes and shook my head, frustrated. I didn't deserve this, so why was this happening to me! I shouldn't be here. I should be in the sky! I squeezed my eyes shut even more, wishing desperately that this could all be a bad dream that I would wake up from one day and forget.
At least shutting my eyes kept out the world around me, even if it did nothing to ease my raging thoughts.
"You are not a typical Pokemon, are you?"
I opened my eyes to glare at the source of the statement. Pippo was plodding on all fours beside me.
"No, I am not," I snarled. Wanting to be left alone, I snapped my teeth down near where the Treecko's ears would be. It didn't back away and only tilted its head, examining me. A growl rumbled deep in my throat, so forceful that it shook my entire body.
"Very well," the Treecko said, and distanced itself from me. I allowed my growl to subside, but the fact that it still dared to be within ten feet of me when I had made it so obviously clear that I wished to be alone was unnerving.
However, when it showed no sign of further conversation, I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly. Pippo's interruption had turned my mind away from my problems for the moment, and I decided to keep it that way for now. I would further ponder my next course of action later.
Without my own thoughts to turn my attention to, I couldn't help but overhear what the humans were saying. They had recently started an argument over the map. Damion was saying something about sticking to the main path, while Dante wanted to cut through the woods.
"I don't get it," Damion said in annoyance.
Dante heaved a sigh of exasperation and traced a path across the map. "Look. If you go through here, you can get to Rustboro a few hours earlier than by taking the main path, and you won't have to deal with the mess of Petalburg."
"But I want to go to Petalburg. Don't they have a Gym there?"
"Well, yeah," Dante said. It was obvious that he hadn't expected this turn of events. "But, uh, isn't the Gym there Norman's?"
"Yeah," Damion said, confused. "Last time I checked."
Dante let go of the map and retreated a few steps, walking alone again. "Norman's one of the more experienced Gym Leaders."
"I'm aware of that," Damion said, rolling up the map and pocketing it. "But I thought it would be worth at least looking at. Who knows when we might be able to come back?"
Dante relented and shrugged, showing that he really didn't care one way or another. It didn't apply to him, after all. "Whatever."
"Well," Pippo said sarcastically as Dante and Damion distanced themselves again. "Isn't this a happy group?" When I showed no sign of acknowledging its statement, it sighed. "I suppose you truly wish not to speak?"
My silence should have been answer enough, but it pressed forward, seeking an answer. "I said, do you truly wish not to—"
"I know what you said!" I bellowed. "No, I have no desire to speak. Now leave me be!"
Pippo shrank back. Silence ensued. After a few more moments, it ran up to Dante and jumped to his shoulder. It didn't speak with me again while we were walking. Rather, it contented itself with glancing at me every now and then.
I resolved to ignore it and tried to enjoy my newfound peace. But I couldn't. It wasn't the peace I was used to. It wasn't the sky and, even worse and of more importance, my indecision over how to react to the problem posed by the Poke Ball continued to plague me.
The Treecko tried to approach me again that night, while camp was being set up. While Dante and Damion struggled with the tent, it visited me while I lounged among the thick, aged roots of a giant tree. It had giant, leafed branches that reached out overhead like a canopy, so the moonlight that filtered through was dappled across the grass. The humans really didn't even need a tent, but it was cloudy and they were expecting rain. Whether or not it rained, however, did not apply to me, because I would no doubt be in the ball by the time the first drops began to fall.
It was very frustrating. I could run, and be put in the ball sooner than usual. Damion was making sure to keep an eye on me as they set up the tent. Or, I could not run, and still be put in the ball. Out of the two, I would pick to run away. At least it was making a stand. But this baby Bagon body tired easily after a day of walking. It was far from my beloved body that could fly for weeks on end without rest.
Besides, I didn't know if I should make a move, and what that move should be. What to do . . . what to do . . .
I stood up and rammed my head into the tree, sending a tremor through it that shook a few leaves from its branches. I roared miserably, desperately, angrily. Damion paused to look at me, sighed, and then returned to the tent.
It was then that Pippo appeared, bounding onto one of the curling roots to stare down at me. "I have been meaning to ask you. May I call you P.K.?"
It received a stony glare in response. "No. No, you may not. You may call me Rayquaza, and Rayquaza only."
"Oh. That's too bad. I found it rather fitting."
I snorted.
"It stands for Powder Keg."
I was already so, so unbelievably angry and confused, and now I was unsure if I had just been offended; I opened my mouth to fire an attack at it, my Hyper Beam, but nothing came out.
For a moment I was sullen. It was so easy to forget that I was a Bagon when, for so long, when I felt angry and confused all I'd had to do was open my mouth and the problem would be destroyed.
But I recovered quickly and jumped at the Treecko. It was too fast for me and leaped over my head, attaching itself to the tree trunk. It was conveniently just out of my reach.
I screeched in fury. I was so sick of Pokemon taking advantage of my weaknesses, weaknesses that weren't even mine! It was the Bagon, it was the stupid, thrice-cursed Bagon, that prohibited me from attacking anything like I would in my former body.
Why was this happening, oh, why was this happening to me!
I wanted to wail. I wanted to release such a blood-curdling scream that could just stop time and stop everything so that this horror wouldn't go on living.
Pippo fiddled with a loose bit of bark on the tree trunk regretfully. "I am sorry," it apologized. "My intention was not to—"
"Silence!" I rammed myself against the trunk again, shaking the tree, though the Treecko had no trouble with retaining its hold. There! Let it defy me again if it dared.
I ran away from the tree and settled down in the grass, breathing heavily. I felt like something big, something explosive, was bottled up inside of me, barely contained. But I didn't know how to ignite it. I didn't know if I wanted it ignited. I poked and prodded at it as if I could get a response, but it was like a volcano in slumber. Nothing could prompt it forward until its time came.
Damion and Dante had managed to finish with the job of setting up the tent. They had set up their bedrolls. I glanced up to the stars, wishing that I could again be among them, and I saw that the moon was high in the sky. That meant that it was time for me to return to the ball.
I stood up to meet my demise, holding my head high and proud as Damion approached. He took out the ball. "I'm sorry, Ray," he said. "I know you really hate this ball, I do. But if I don't do this, I know you'll run away. I've tried to think of an alternative, but . . ."
He shook his head and, with a final, grim sigh, held the ball before him. In the second I had left, I glared at him with hatred so strikingly pure that no other emotion could touch it. Then it vanished along with myself as the white light consumed me.
