Hey all.
Just a warning that this next chapter's going to be very sad, and cover a rather agonizing period of Bianca's life. I myself had a pet slowly succumb to cancer over the course of about a year, and I'm basing a lot of Emboar's decline in this chapter off of that experience.
Chapter 12
"So… it's nothing to be concerned about?"
The doctor who'd been examining Emboar hummed under his breath as he pulled away from Emboar's form, who was looking down at him with curiosity. That and worry.
"I didn't necessarily say that. More that I'm having difficulty diagnosing any particular issue with Emboar. Aside from some muscle weakness, he seems to be in perfect health, and issues with muscle strength can be caused by about a thousand things. Most of them completely harmless, that pass within a few days or weeks."
"I… okay." Bianca allowed herself to take a deep, steadying breath. "But for now, Emboar should be taking it easy?"
The doctor gives a gruff nod. "I'd say so. Just to be on the safe side."
Well, there went Bianca's plans of leaving that day.
Still, she wasn't upset. Not truly. Emboar's health, even if this was likely only a cold or minor malady of some sort, was more important than her own wishes to obey a schedule. It wasn't like there was any real schedule she needed to keep anyhow. There was a tournament at the end of the year for Unovan hopefuls, but it was already cresting towards the middle months, and Bianca hadn't left yet.
Perhaps it would be best to simply shelve such ideas for now, and try and make sure Emboar recovered as quickly as possible.
Yes. That seemed like the best plan of action for the moment.
/
When she came in that morning to work, Professor Juniper was initially quite cross with her. Once she explained the situation, however, the woman apologized to her, and invited her to participate in the research they were partaking of that day.
It wasn't exactly stimulating; they were still studying the eggs of Luvdisc, just as they had been some few months ago, but at the very least they'd made some minor discoveries, so that was neat.
She'd made the decision to leave her Emboar in her mother and father's care for the day, just to watch over him and make sure nothing happened. She had always been a bit of a worrywart, and even knowing she likely could've kept him in his Pokéball and everything would have been fine… well, sometimes it was better to be safe than sorry.
She was confident her parents could watch Emboar, too. They'd always gotten along well. Her mother had been a Pokémon trainer in her day, albeit a largely average one. She'd followed a similar trajectory to Bianca, gathering a few gym badges and a solid team, before eventually coming to realize she preferred something else.
Or, well, that was Bianca's arc as she'd once seen it. Nowadays she had begun to suspect her inadequacies, real or otherwise, had been the reason behind her quitting training.
It wasn't until the end of the day that Professor Juniper finally cornered Bianca for a one-on-one to get a full explanation of the situation, and Bianca filled her in as best she could.
"So, they don't think it's anything major?"
"That's what the doctor said." Bianca responded with a nod. "I guess I just… I worry. I've never seen Emboar look so tired."
"Mm. Well, then again, Emboar's never actually gotten sick before, has he?"
"No, he hasn't." Bianca conceded.
"Then that's probably why it terrified you so much. All of a sudden, this invincible figure in your life showed some weakness. But that's normal. Not everyone can be strong all the time; hell, most people aren't."
Bianca giggled, more than willing to lose some of the stress she'd been experiencing that afternoon in her mentor's joking attitude. "I suppose you're right."
"Have I ever not been?"
"Well…"
"Hey, don't actually answer!"
Bianca couldn't help cracking up.
She exited out of the laboratory some few minutes later, shucking off her lab coat – which she'd brought herself to work for the first time in years – and slinging it along her shoulder.
She took it back to her home, even if she could've left it in the lab. Leaving it would have been like… like a silent admission from herself to the world that she'd likely be back tomorrow.
And she wasn't willing to do that just yet.
She arrived home and immediately checked on Emboar. For the most part, he seemed to be largely unchanged. He greeted her happily, however, and had clearly been being spoiled by her parents all day if the bib he had around his neck was anything to go by.
"It's good to see you." She said, before looking over at her parents and chuckling. "I suppose you caved under his 'feed me' eyes?"
"How can you say no to him!?" Her mother lamented, and Bianca chuckled fondly.
The night went by peacefully. Emboar was sat on her father's favorite rocking chair, which was something her dad would have never allowed him to do under normal circumstances.
But there were some benefits to being sick, it seemed.
That was how the next few days went. Bianca would leave in the morning to go to work, fully expecting that that would be her last day in the laboratory for a while, and take her lab coat back with her at the end of the day. Professor Juniper was so nice to put up with her during that time, as Emboar's condition mostly stagnated.
In the end, around a week after he'd first fallen, Bianca took him back to Nuvema's Pokémon center, and the same doctor that they'd seen the previous time, to get another assessment.
"Again, it's hard to make any resounding statements. I think we can rule out a cold, or any other more common passing affliction. It's entirely possible your Pokémon injured himself without realizing, or punctured a lung perhaps, resulting in a constant shortness of breath. I'd like to go ahead and do a deeper scan than I did last week, and see if we can't spot something."
Bianca nodded her head, and went to wait out in the center's main room while Emboar and the doctor went and did their tests.
Bianca wouldn't deny that she was nervous, now more than ever that they'd confirmed Emboar's condition wasn't a simple thing. Before she'd been hoping it was a simple cold or flu. Now it seemed more likely that it was a more serious condition.
That kernel of darkness within her only seemed to be growing.
The more the minutes stretched on, the more Bianca's imagination ran wild. What if it was some terrible disease, and Emboar was dying? What if it was cancer, and he had only a few months? What if–
Emboar was brought back out about a minute into her worrying, and she flew up to see what the doctor's prognosis was.
"Again, he's the picture of health. It's too early to rule anything out, or to really nail down any particular condition. He could just have some form of chronic muscle weakness, or he could've hurt something internally that's causing this now. Maybe his diaphragm or lungs were injured."
Bianca was fairly certain the man had said the same thing the last time she'd been by. Again, it did little to assuage her.
"You weren't able to recognize anything?"
"Like I said before, Miss, it's simply that there are so very many things that could be leading to your Pokémon's current condition. As much as I'd love to make a resounding statement perfectly diagnosing him… if I made an incorrect call, that could lead to harsh complications later down the line."
Bianca pursed her lips, even if she knew she couldn't particularly disagree with the man.
"As much as I'd rather give you an answer right here and now, I simply can't in good conscience deduce anything more than that the situation is more serious than we initially believed. What that means, I don't know. For now, continue letting your Emboar rest. We'll see what we can do from there."
Bianca nodded her head, even as she let Emboar rest within its Pokéball for the time being, and made her way out of the Pokémon center, and towards her home. She stayed only long enough to drop the Pokéball off, before she took her labcoat and headed back to the lab.
Even still, she brought it home with her that night.
/
A week passed without any changes. Emboar's condition didn't get better, but it didn't get worse, either. Some of the researchers that worked with her at Professor Juniper's laboratory commented on what they believed the issue might be.
One suggested that the problem could be pneumonia, and that one of her own Pokémon had suffered similar conditions, albeit with some more obvious complications that had made it easier to diagnose. Another mentioned that she had had an Infernape who had ruptured their diaphragm, and how that had resulted in an immediate lack of energy.
The real trouble, of course, was that Pokémon could not speak. They could give answers to questions, and they were intelligent, certainly, but they couldn't fully communicate their exact symptoms, and in cases like this one, that was becoming an obvious and evident issue.
Her routine began to take on a familiar shape. She would make her way to the laboratory in the morning. She would fill her coworkers in on any changes – there were usually none – and then she would get to work. She would assure them that no, she didn't think she'd be staying much longer, and that once Emboar felt better – which would certainly be any day now – she would be heading out.
A week passed. And then another.
Emboar's condition stagnated. Or, well, that was what she would've wanted to say. But in truth, Emboar stagnated. He stopped moving. He sat on her father's chair and didn't move most hours of the day. When he did, it was with an obvious effort that had never been present before.
Bianca wasn't really sure when, exactly, it happened. But one day she left her lab coat in the laboratory.
She didn't bring it home again.
/
It took around a month after that for the reality of the situation to hit Bianca.
Emboar wasn't getting better.
And that scared her more than anything ever had.
She spent her days traveling to and from her home to either the Pokémon center, or her job at Professor Juniper's lab. Most of the time, the latter simply waived her away, and told her she had more important things to be focusing on than work at that time. She honestly loved the Professor, and how understanding she was, but she didn't quite have the heart to tell her that she would've preferred to work; just to have something to devote her time into, to sink into, to keep her busy, and her mind off of the possibilities that they might be facing.
Because Emboar wasn't just not getting better. He was getting worse.
It was a steady decline, of course. Emboar wasn't collapsing as he had the day that they'd run up the hill together, but at the same time, he seemed more and more out of it these days. It had been two months and a week or two since she'd postponed her trip around Unova, since they'd essentially put their dream on hold once more, and Bianca…
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing. She didn't have a clue.
In a way, Emboar was someone she'd always looked up to. Seeing him like this hurt. It broke some part of her deep down inside that she couldn't even fathom, or process. As if the very motivation for her doing all of this, her dreams and feelings, were degrading along with Emboar.
She… she wasn't willing to give up, however, she refused.
Emboar was going to get better. He had to get better. It was only a matter of time until they diagnosed exactly what the problem was, and then…
Then they could work towards curing Emboar. Towards making sure he was back in tip top shape.
And then they could… they could…
/
"…What?"
The doctor she'd been going to for the last three months had a grim expression on his face as he looked at her, then. His words… they were heard, she'd processed and understood them, but she just…
She couldn't believe them. Wouldn't.
"We believe that Emboar has a form of rapid onset ALS. This is causing his motor neurons to decay."
Bianca's mouth flapped open, and hung there. She wanted to say something, but she just… wasn't quite sure what. Or how. She… she had heard of ALS before, of course, but she didn't quite know what it was aside from knowing that it was bad news.
Really bad news.
"I… okay… I…" Bianca swallowed, shaking her head to try and snap herself out of whatever haze had settled over her brain. "Well, what are our next steps, then? What should Emboar and I be doing to combat this?"
"Well…" The man visibly swallowed, before looking down at a clipboard in front of him and beginning to read off treatments. "A strict physical therapy plan will need to be put in place. Exercising Emboar's muscles to keep strength within both his core and his extremities for as long as we can. He'll likely want to have braces for his arms and legs; if he were a human, I would suggest making sure the home is set up for someone who can't easily move around, but a Pokéball will make maneuverability easier, so that's something at least."
"Okay…" Bianca was out of it. Her head was pounding, a headache hitting her all of a sudden. One question kept coming to the forefront of her mind, and she finally found the strength to ask it. "That's all well and good, but… how long will it be before Emboar begins to recover."
There was a moment, then, where the doctor in front of her paused. As he stared at her, as if what she'd just said hadn't quite registered for him; a mirror of their earlier exchange. His expression dimmed further, then. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
And already, Bianca knew the answer to her question.
She knew. She wasn't really sure how she knew, but she did. The desolate expression on the man's face, the way that he couldn't quite bring himself to say what she knew he had to; was going to…
Her heart split in twain. All around her, the world felt like it was falling to pieces. Somewhere, she heard the sound of a distant bell ringing, ringing, as if sounding the end.
"Miss, I…" The man finally spoke.
"Emboar isn't going to get better."
/
She placed Emboar inside of his Pokéball, and walked back towards her family's home in somewhat of a daze. She hadn't cried, or screamed, or done much of anything. She'd heard that happened, sometimes, when one experienced a particularly world-shattering grief. Sometimes the body would just… refuse to take that information into account.
Just to keep going. Just to make it a bit further.
She walked through the center of Nuvema town and sort of blankly stared ahead of her. Her eyes did not move. Her gaze did not change. It remained forward, distantly aimed towards the horizon.
She wasn't really there.
Around halfway to her parent's home, she crashed straight into someone in front of her. She was decently certain that she apologized to them, but it was a stunted thing. She wasn't even sure if she said anything at all.
She tried to stand, afterwards, but she couldn't quite manage it. She simply… sat there awhile. On the ground beneath her, staring down at the grass, watching the wind play with the individual blades.
She understood that she did not want to face her parents with this. Not yet. Not first.
There was someone she wanted to talk to, but they were gone. There was someone else she wanted to talk to. They were…
She looked at the sky, for she'd lost track of the time, and needed a general barometer. It was dark, and the moon was out.
It was night. Professor Juniper's lab had closed.
She would be home, then.
Bianca made her way there.
She just sort of… was there eventually. She wasn't sure how long it had taken, but she'd arrived. The door opened without her knocking, or perhaps she had. Professor Juniper saw her, and she opened her lips and spoke.
"Bianca, honey, are you okay?"
It was such an innocent question, and it felt like it deserved as innocent an answer. Yet Bianca could not grant one. She could not, without lying, without telling false truths, and she had never been the type.
"He's… he's not…" Flew out past her lips, and though she tried to push more out… she couldn't.
Professor Juniper, as always, saw through her. Her expression… shifted. She saw as the woman, as Bianca had earlier, understood what she was trying to say. She watched her brow come together, watched her eyes fill up with tears. Watched as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Bianca's body.
She held her there, in the entrance to her home, for a very, very long time. Bianca… didn't do anything.
She didn't cry. She didn't scream, or shout, or tell the Professor anything else. She didn't make so much as a sound.
She didn't have to.
/
Bianca wasn't quite sure how long it was before they stepped inside of the Professor's home. She sent out Emboar, and gave him the couch while she sat down on the Professor's floor.
The Professor, funnily enough, had known Emboar for longer. She'd been the one to first go out and catch him, after all. She'd brought him to the three of them – Hilda, Cheren, and Bianca – as a Tepig, and Bianca had chosen him, then.
Inevitably, Emboar was much closer with Bianca, but that didn't mean he had no connection with the professor at all.
That showed in the way that the Professor reached out, and hugged Emboar, and quietly cried into his shoulder. Emboar was such a kind soul, as he'd always been. Despite that it should have been he relying on them, he comforted the Professor, and wrapped his arms – somewhat stubby as they were – around her.
Bianca just watched, unsure as to how she felt.
"I'm sorry…" Professor Juniper spoke as she pulled away after a while, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "I shouldn't be making you comfort me, I just…"
Emboar gave a quiet bellow, seemingly reassuring the Professor that she had nothing to worry about.
If anything, that seemed to hurt the woman more.
That was how the night went, really. The Professor spoke calmly to the both of them after she'd calmed down, and Bianca was able to give her some of the facts of the situation. She did so in a detached manner, almost uncaringly. Bianca scared herself, then, with how far away she felt from who she was.
Professor Juniper didn't seem to feel the same way, however. She didn't say anything at all. She didn't comment on Bianca's inability to feel sorrow for her own Pokémon's fate. She didn't comment on Bianca's inability to share in their conversation, or be present at all.
She didn't say a thing as Bianca realized she'd been there for nearly four hours, and probably had to go home.
She called Emboar back into its Pokéball, and stood in somewhat of a rush. The Professor stopped her, however. She held her in place, even when Bianca tried – she wasn't sure why – to brush her away.
"Bianca?"
"What?" She said, and it shocked her how rude that sounded.
"Perhaps you should stay here for the night?"
"Huh?"
"I think… I'd like to be with you, tonight." The Professor spoke, her eyes filled with sympathy. "You don't seem to be in the best way right now."
Ah, so it wasn't that she hadn't noticed, she'd simply not commented on the obvious. Bianca wasn't really sure what to say.
She was just about to decline, to head back to her home, to lock herself in her room and sit in silence while her parents worried about what had caused such a thing, before the Professor said something that had her cracking.
"You don't have to bottle it all up, Bianca." Professor Juniper spoke. "You don't have to be strong. Not for Emboar's sake, not for my sake, not for your own sake, either. You can feel. It's important to let yourself feel."
Bianca opened her lips to respond, but again noise did not come.
No.
No that was a lie. It came.
It was simply a guttural sound. Something she couldn't have reproduced if she tried.
Instantly, feeling washed back in. She knew where she was. She knew who she was. She realized what had happened, and she understood the reality of Emboar's situation.
It hit her like a freight train, and before she even knew what had happened, the Professor had her against her, holding her gently, but powerfully enough to keep her on her feet as the world came down around her.
And finally, five hours after the fact, Bianca processed the fact that Emboar was going to die.
She screamed, then. Screamed like she hadn't in her life. She fell apart utterly and completely, sinking into the Professor's arms and collapsing. Professor Juniper didn't say anything. Didn't try and reassure her, or tell her that it would all be okay.
She'd never been the type to lie, either.
/
Bianca persisted in going to work over the course of the next few days. Professor Juniper had explicitly told her not to, of course, but she'd conceded to Bianca when she'd made it clear to her mentor that in the end, she needed the distraction that work could bring her.
Any moment she wasn't thinking about Emboar's fate was a good one.
Of course, said moments lasted so little time, and were so few and far between, that they were virtually nonexistent. Every once in a while, she would grow entranced in studying the makeup of Luvdisc eggs, but usually five or six seconds later she snapped back to reality.
Emboar was going to die.
Her first Pokémon was going to die.
She returned home in the evenings to her parents doting on Emboar as much as they could. Professor Juniper, as kind as she was, had told the two of Emboar's diagnosis the night that Bianca had stayed with her. It had kept Bianca from having to have such a conversation with them, and she was grateful for that alone.
But every time she saw Emboar… she was reminded of how fragile he'd suddenly become. Gone were the days of her Pokémon possessing near limitless energy, and a boundless spirit. He was confined to the couch at most moments, and could only really travel from the living room to the door without someone helping him.
And in a way, watching that… it was strange, but it felt like Bianca was degrading, too. Her own energy, her own spirit, it was falling away every day. Every time Emboar struggled to do something he hadn't the previous day, every time Emboar grimaced in pain doing a once mundane task…
Bianca felt herself breaking.
The weeks stretched into months. Bianca assisted as much as she possibly could with Emboar's physical therapy. She stopped going into work, and spent almost all hours of the day at Emboar's side. She was with him as he exercised his arms, and his legs. She was with him as he kept his lungs as healthy as he could, and his other major organs strong.
Emboar was watching her, too. He was smiling for her sake, doing his best for her sake, even though she could tell he was in pain. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he didn't have to be strong for her sake, but… well, she never did.
Because in the end, when Emboar pretended to be strong, she could almost believe it.
/
Something happened, a few months later, that had Bianca's spirits sailing.
Emboar started to improve.
She wasn't sure such had ever happened before. ALS was always supposed to be a terminal condition, and yet… suddenly, Emboar could run farther, faster, and stronger when Bianca was around. Emboar's caregivers hadn't seen anything like it before.
Bianca… she felt as if some god had answered her prayers.
A week into such improvements, and Bianca started to genuinely believe that maybe, just maybe, Emboar might survive this after all.
And it was then that she made a mistake that she would regret for the rest of her life.
Because one day, while Bianca was with Emboar, and her Pokémon was doing its therapy… she looked up, and saw the hill they'd always climbed, the hill they'd always run up.
And she had an idea.
After all, it was an incline, yes, but it wasn't steep. It was a challenge, yes, but nothing terrible. And Emboar's strength was returning. The doctors didn't know why, and his tests weren't showing any signs of muscle regeneration, or a halting of the degenerative disease, but regardless, Emboar looked different. He seemed different.
So, she made her decision. She pointed towards the hill they'd always gone up, and she asked Emboar, "What do you think, big guy?"
It was strange to look back on such a moment and see all of the signs she'd blinded herself from seeing. The way that Emboar's expression had briefly contorted, with pain, and doubt, but most of all, determination. The way that he'd stood – wobbly but able – and made his way towards her.
Then, he'd bellowed happily, as if nothing was wrong at all.
Bianca had been so content to accept only that last offering.
She'd started slow going up the hill, looking back constantly. Emboar was following, albeit hesitantly, slowly. It was the most weakness he'd shown in a week and a half, at that point, and instantly, Bianca wondered if this was really such a good idea at all.
Yet Emboar saw her expression. He saw her hesitance, her fear, and responded with a low, reassuring bellow.
He was okay, he seemed to say. They could keep going.
So, Bianca did.
They traveled further; the incline grew steeper. Emboar panted heavily, but he waived away Bianca's concern. Then, he stopped panting nearly as hard. His body seemed to adjust somehow.
He had improved, just as things seemed. Bianca was over the moon.
So, she went a little faster. She turned, and urged Emboar to follow her with a giddy expression on her face.
Her Pokémon smiled at her eagerness. It was the first time she'd seen a smile – a real smile – on Emboar's face in months.
Emboar did as she'd asked. It kept up. Even as Bianca rushed ahead a bit, and waited for Emboar to catch up. Even as he did so, and briefly, for just a moment, pushed himself to get ahead of Bianca.
And that was all the evidence Bianca needed to think that they could race again, just as they always had.
So, she ran. She went as fast as she could. She practically flew, and she was nearly certain that, had it been during any of their other competitions across the many, many years they'd been coming up this hill, she'd have finally won just one of them with her performance that day.
And she made it to the top. She looked out over the sea of flowers, and the grass swaying in the wind. Everything was perfect. Picturesque as always. The Pokémon were chirping, and buzzing, and calling out. The sun shone in the sky, with not a cloud inside.
It was going to be alright, Bianca thought. It was going to be okay.
Emboar was going to be–
She heard a sound, then, like a great tree being felled. The sound of something great and majestic and proud crumbling down to its knees, and giving one final lament.
Bianca turned, and saw her Emboar's slumped form upon the ground.
…But that… she could remember thinking, then, that such was wrong. On a day like this one? When the skies were clear, and blue, and lovely? When the temperature was balmy, and the entire world seemed good.
There wasn't an interim moment between her standing there, shellshocked, and having recalled Emboar into his Pokéball, and sprinting back towards Nuvema. She wasn't certain if any time had existed at all, then. Perhaps Dialga itself had known how important such a thing was, and allowed her then and there only to bend its laws.
She was in the Pokémon center. A doctor was trying to calm her down, or to ask her questions, or maybe he was shouting at her. Bianca wasn't sure. She was fairly certain she'd been screaming herself, because her throat was hoarse, but she couldn't remember what she'd screamed, or even if, so she didn't focus too much on that.
She focused more on the way that the various doctors all around her, surrounding her, began fretting very restlessly about her Pokémon. Emboar was on a stretcher, and being wheeled into what seemed to be an emergency section of the Pokémon Center.
Bianca was there in the next moment.
It couldn't have been a moment, though. Simply because Professor Juniper was there, and so were her parents. It couldn't have been a moment, because suddenly Emboar was plugged into a thousand different devices, all monitoring different parts and places of his body.
And she was watching him die right in front of her. She held Emboar's hand, heard him give one weak, final bellow, and that was it.
Emboar passed away on a bright, sunny day. The sky had been clear, the world had felt right.
And Bianca was broken.
/
It had to have been several hours before Bianca's screaming and sobbing began to take on any form of coherency. When it did, she begged to see the doctor who she'd been discussing Emboar's improving condition with throughout the week. She needed to see him.
What she'd seen hadn't been false. It couldn't have been. Emboar had seemed fine. He'd seemed better, and like he was going to make it. Like all of this had been some terrible nightmare. One she'd simply wake up from, and forget within a day. They'd be off on their journey, and they'd meet all kinds of people, and see all kinds of things.
They'd be together, because of course they'd be. They had to be.
Anything else was a false reality. A fake.
"Emboar… I don't… he was better! He was getting better!" She practically screamed the final sentence as the man came into the room. Bianca was fairly certain that Professor Juniper had ahold of her, because there were hands on her shoulders, although she wasn't cognizant enough to really gather whose they were.
The doctor in front of her looked tired. Exhausted. More than that, he looked sorrowful. He talked with a soft voice, despite her screaming, and tried his best to keep her calm, despite the messy tears running down her face.
"ALS isn't something anyone recovers from. It simply doesn't happen. It is the body literally breaking down. It cannot be recovered from by its very nature. It can halt for periods, but… Emboar's improvements were likely false readings."
"What do you…" She trailed off, even as the man visibly swallowed.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but it's more likely that your Pokémon wanted to make things seem better than they were. It likely acted as if it was feeling better so that you would be happier. It understood that it was nearing the end of its life, and didn't want you to suffer as well."
It was a knife to the gut. Bianca felt the air leave her; she felt the world come crashing down.
"He wanted to see you smile again."
Emboar had pretended for her sake. He had wanted to make her feel better. All of it, acting as if he wasn't in pain, seeming as if he had been recovering, all of it…
It had been for her?
The doctors had said Emboar had likely had a few more months, and instead of that, her Emboar had tried to cheer her up.
And she had forced him up that hill. She had forced him to run, to follow along behind her as she pretended everything was fine. As she got lost in her own little world. As he tried desperately to keep pace.
He was dead. Emboar was dead, and it was all her fault.
/
Bianca didn't do very much for the next month or so. She was sort of in a daze the entire time, flitting in and out of sleep. It likely didn't help matters that everyone in her life wouldn't stop giving her their condolences, trying to cheer her up, and just…
Treating her as if she was solely defined by her grief.
It became hard for even her to think otherwise.
Every night she would sit there in her bed, and she would stare over at the bag she'd packed for her trip. She hadn't touched it in months, almost half a year now. Ever since Emboar had gotten sick. Ever since he'd begun to decline, it had sat there, almost waiting.
She looked at it, and bile welled up within her throat.
So, one night, Bianca emptied the bag back out in a fit of anger and rage and heartbreak. She threw out her clothes, and her winter jacket from Professor Juniper, and the fifteen or so Pokéball's she'd had set away. She dropped the potions on her bed, and shelved her TM set, and a gym badge case she'd splurged on that she'd been excited to see.
And once she'd finished, she stared down at the empty bag. She stared at it for a long time, until she took it up and thrust it into the back of her closet, behind trinkets and oddities she hadn't touched in years.
And she shut the door on that foolish dream for what she thought would be forever.
/
She'd failed her Pokémon. That was the thinking that led Bianca to make her next few terribly rash decisions. She wasn't a deserving Pokémon trainer; she couldn't help but think. She wasn't someone who had the right to raise Pokémon, or train them.
So, when Cheren arrived into town, coming to speak with her on Emboar's passing, probably, Bianca decided that enough was enough.
"You… Bianca, are you certain of this?"
"I am." She said, her eyes dead, her heart more so. "Take them. I don't deserve them."
In Cheren's hands were her teammates. Musharna, Simisage, Mienshao, Stoutland, and Chandelure – in their Pokéball's, of course. It was wrong to look at them there. It felt horrible. The most pain Bianca had felt since Emboar's passing.
But it was the right thing to do.
They deserved better than her.
Everyone did, in truth, but at least her Pokémon… at least they she could give a better existence to.
"Take them back to Aspertia. Give them a better life than I can." She said, and tears built behind her eyes even as she wiped at her face, and tried to hold her emotions in. "Just… I can't…"
"Bianca, I feel I must urge you to reconsider–"
"I can't. I just can't, Cheren."
"You're going to regret this, Bianca. I'm telling you, keep your Pokémon, and let them comfort you–"
"Shut up!" She'd shouted; screamed at Cheren. "You don't… don't talk like you know me, Cheren. Don't talk like you're her…" Bianca had regretted the words the second they'd left her mouth, and yet, staring up at Cheren's tightly wound form, she found herself unable to apologize, or take back what she'd said. Instead, she just shook her head, and turned around.
"Take care of them for me."
She made to walk away. She wanted to run, more likely. She wanted to leave such a decision behind, to forget about it, to separate herself from anyone else.
Yet Cheren gave off a noise of surprise, and in the next moment, the sound of a Pokéball opening could be heard.
Bianca turned back around, and saw her Chandelure hovering in the air, just in front of Cheren.
Her soul creaked, then, like an old fence left out for years in the rain, ridden with rust and decay.
Chandelure gave a wispy noise towards her, and even if she couldn't quite understand what it was saying, she was able to parse the meaning, regardless.
It didn't want to go.
Bianca bit down on her bottom lip so hard that blood filled her mouth. "Chandelure…" She whispered. "Go with Cheren. You'll… you'll be happier with him than with me."
Her Pokémon shook its head, before gliding towards her, seemingly trying to embrace her.
She would not allow it. She couldn't. Because if Chandelure embraced her, then she wouldn't be able to do this. She'd break, and she'd keep her Pokémon by her side. And if she kept them…
They'd sit in a drawer, alone, without company. They'd sit within their Pokéball's and do nothing at all. She'd abandon them anyways, she knew that. At least this way… at least this way, she was doing the right thing.
Cheren was a better trainer than she'd ever been, anyways.
So, she shouted "Don't!" at her Pokémon, and watched as Chandelure stopped in its tracks. She heard it give off a quiet whimpering hiss, and she felt her own eyes spilling tears onto her cheeks.
But she would not falter. Could not. This was the right thing to do. For her Pokémon, if not herself.
She tried to say something, tried to say anything, but she couldn't. Instead, she ran. Even as the sounds of Cheren's voice telling her to wait sounded out, even as her Pokémon cried for her, begged her to come back, she ran. And she broke as she made it to her home. As she pushed her way into her room, and fell to the floor, and sobbed openly and without the ability to hold back.
And that was it. She'd given up.
Her Pokémon were gone. Her bag was empty. Her spirit was broken.
Her dream was dead.
/
Present Day
"Bianca…" Cynthia spoke under her breath as the two of them boarded the woman's private jet, and sat down.
"I… gave my Pokémon to Cheren." She finalized the story. "Because if I hadn't, then they would've just… sat there. I wouldn't have used them. They'd have been bored out of their minds, stuck in their Pokéball's, or in the PC at the Pokémon Center. It was better this way."
"…Are you sure?"
Bianca hesitated, before eventually shaking her head. "No. I'm not. But it's not like I can go back and change my mind now, is it?"
Cynthia sighed. "I suppose not."
They were silent a while after that. Cynthia seemed to want to comment on something, and Bianca… well…
She remembered what Barry had said about Cynthia. About how she'd been the type to solve all of her problems on her own. And how, because of that, she felt everyone else should do the same.
Bianca didn't feel that way, and so… maybe she should just come out and ask?
"What is it?" She asked, and Cynthia startled.
"Hm?"
"You want to say something. I know you do."
"That…" Cynthia sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck as she seemed to think her wording through. "I'm not sure, exactly. It's more a feeling. I think you made a decision that you hated at the time, and one that you shouldn't have."
Bianca nodded her head, happy at least that Cynthia was honest with her. "Mm. Maybe I shouldn't have."
"…But like you said, that's not worth talking about, is it?"
"Not at the moment, no." Bianca shook her head. "I… maybe someday, I'll go see Cheren about my Pokémon. But not now. I'm… I'm not ready to do something like that. Not yet."
Cynthia nodded her head, and she seemed to gain some hint of life, then, as she looked over at Bianca and asked, "Well… do you know where you want to go next, then?"
"Actually… I believe I do."
"And where's that?"
"There was… there was a gym leader who helped me a long, long time ago. Someone who gave me confidence, who reassured me that I could do whatever I set out to. And because of that… I think I want to see her now that I've begun to reclaim some piece of the old me."
She looked up at Cynthia, and smiled, weak as it was, as best she could.
"Let's head to Nimbasa City."
End Chapter 12
That's that on the Bianca flashback. It ended up a bit shorter than I'd thought it would be, which is good, since I don't like writing sad stuff.
Anyways, we're off towards our next gym leader in Nimbasa city. No points for guessing who, though I'm not just going to say it.
See you all... maybe next week? Technically, Cinderella is finishing up tomorrow, so I'm free to put these chapters out weekly. My classes might still keep this biweekly, just cause they're a lot of work, but I could keep these chapters a bit shorter and put them out weekly if you guys wanted? Feel free to leave a comment - in fact, please do!