I Will Touch the Skies – A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter 342

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A/N: Been busy with exams and papers, but I'm back.

CHAPTER 342

Like thunder, adrenaline coursed through my veins, each drop a cold reminder that the good times could only last so long before the other shoe dropped and happiness turned out only to be a drop in a bucket. Shortly after sitting at our table, I noticed her in the room, legs crossed as she browsed through her phone without a care in the world. Temperance—Dragonair, Whimsicott… Legendaries, what else?—was as striking as I remembered. I'd only seen her in real life once during one of Emilia's contests. Tall, long-legged and pretty enough to be a model, with how every part of her face seemed to be perfect. Her platinum blonde hair framed it very well. It was difficult to explain the way she was… arranged. It was as if every inch, every minute detail had been meticulously placed to appear flawless; it was like looking at a painting instead of a person. Cold and impersonal. That was just her physical appearance—her eyes and body language were human. Sunny and feeling.

My mouth felt dry, and my tongue felt awkward in my mouth. I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering, and Maylene touched my arm like it was made of glass. "We can leave; there are other pizza places around." She discreetly glanced toward Temperance, then back at me. My skin felt fragile. I wanted Buddy wrapped around it. "No need to stick around."

There was a restrained chitter in the back of my head. Mesprit couldn't be less obvious if they tried— Sorry, I heard. When Maylene noticed my silence, she grabbed my hand. "Grace?"

"Sorry. I think we should stay."

Quiet, then words. "I hate it when you look like this," she said. Her fingers were warm.

Around us, the pizzeria buzzed with a warm and lively energy. The crackle and roar of the wood-fired oven added a rustic charm, the faint aroma of charred crust and bubbling cheese wafting through the air. Bursts of laughter and excitement, theorizing about the Conference, squealing at how good the food was or a cool moment in one of the countless battles taking place.

"Do what?"

Maylene traced the ridges of my knuckles, letting her finger settle in each groove. "Disallow yourself to avoid a painful experience 'cause you think you deserve to get hurt."

I tried looking at Temperance—I just couldn't bear to for more than a few seconds, as if she were the sun. It was not jealousy; there was no longer much of that. It was mostly guilt and fear. How much did she know? What horrible things must Cecilia have told her about me? No, Cecilia wouldn't. But would she? Who cares what she thinks, a small part of me wanted to say, but then came remembrance of all the wrong I'd done.

But I was also a little fine. It didn't feel like I was back in Coronet killing grunts in the cold, or in a battle of wits with Rood and Mallory. It felt like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin into a dark place nobody could see how dirty I was. It was something I hadn't felt in a while, even when speaking to Cecilia herself in that Item Store. Maybe it was because—because she was Cecilia, and this was a stranger who possibly knew everything about me. As if she'd shone a piercing light into the shadows, and the creatures lurking there so comfortable in the dark scattered, their scrabbling claws and frantic movements betraying their panic.

"We can stick around," I repeated slowly. Noticing the coming protest, I added, "remember when we met again after all those months and I let you yell at me because I deserved it?"

Maylene's hand clenched around my own, and her body tensed. "That—"

I took off my Explorer hat, placing it on my lap. "We can't deny it. We can pretend it's not there all we want, pat ourselves on the back at how happy we are—and we are." I bit the inside of my mouth and leaned against a palm, hair slipping down my arm. "But it was ultimately the greatest betrayal of a person I love… loved—love," I settled, "but not like you." It was different now that so much time had passed. Not fading per se, but transformed into something that barely remained romantic. "So if her new girlfriend wants to yell at me, then I'll take it."

"...she could say things that could impact your career," Maylene leaned in to whisper.

"Yeah. She could have all along already, but she didn't," I muttered back. "I think it'd be fine."

"I know, I'm just worried about you."

I smiled at her, slightly tired. "Yeah. Me too."

A waiter came up to us soon after this to offer us water, and we spent some time perusing the menu. Maylene settled on a classic margarita pizza we'd share while she got a side salad and I got mozzarella sticks. Obviously, she judged me for the choice, but it was more her being astonished that I was getting more cheese. Every so often, I'd look at Temperance, but she didn't even look to be staring at me. Had I just been paranoid? No. Having her eat lunch at the exact same spot I was at the same time?

It would be too much of a coincidence for this story.

Whatever she was preparing, I needed to be ready to receive it with an open heart.

—

Hm.

Temperance hadn't really known what to expect when coming here to observe. She'd heard so much about Grace Pastel from Cecilia's mouth—perhaps too much, at times. An idea of the girl had formed in her head like she'd been spinning yarn endlessly, each story and detail adding to the bundle until it became a big, fuzzy ball of impressions. Temperance sliced through her primavera pizza with her knife and fork and observed the girl out of the corner of her eye. For one, she was smaller than expected, not in height, but in presence, at least at first glance. The way Cece spoke about her was akin to a giant one could neither ignore nor look away from. She spoke of an aura that was frankly not there.

Second, Temperance had not expected Grace Pastel to be so unbothered by her presence besides a few glances her way that had faded away as lunch went on. It was somewhat frustrating, how she was so uncaring and laughed with Leader Maylene. They teased each other with food, made Lillipup eyes at each other, and frankly did not appear to care whatsoever for her. It wasn't as if she'd expected them to get up in arms about her mere presence, but a little bit of emotion beyond surprise would have been nice.

Temperance did not consider herself a bitter or vengeful person, yet for Cecilia, she would have loved to see Grace squirm in her seat. Just to give her a little jolt for the amount of hurt she had dealt to Cece and how the Unovan struggled to even connect to people now because of her besides her two old friends. She had not offered her broken heart to reforge connections anew with the endless people Temperance suggested, using her departure to Unova as an excuse when they both knew it was because she would rather keep someone at arm's length or destroy existing relationships because she thought they would eventually throw her away in a fit of betrayal.

Grace was laughing. Enjoying herself. Footage of her battle on Temperance's phone showed her fooling around as if she didn't even care for the results of her tournament. No one had abandoned her, no one knew what she had done, and besides the speed bump that was her controversy with the way she obtained her eighth badge that fed into the nepotism accusations, the little blonde was on her way up in the world. If it were up to Temperance, she would have leaked everything and further obstructed Grace Pastel's career.

But it wasn't up to her. Cecilia would never forgive her. Bless her heart, she was kinder than she had a right to be.

Temperance blinked. Her pizza was getting cold, and she'd only eaten half of it. The utensils' metal was chilly around her digits, and her hands felt numb. She hadn't expected to be the one getting worked up visiting the girl. Emotions were something to be tamed and controlled unless she was alone or with Cecilia. A well-placed flash of anger or stream of tears had won her countless contests when in line with the theme of her performance. Why did her fingers shake so? Why did she find herself hyper-focusing on the pores on her skin, the unevenness in one of her nails, the shape her mouth made as she chewed?

Yes.

Because simmering dislike or hatred toward another could never stray too far from her own self for long.

Yet she was used to living like this, thus Temperance finished her pizza without a word or complaint. As she inserted her card into the payment terminal a waitress had brought her, the coordinator found her eyes meeting Grace's for the first time—different. This was different. There was depth to the green not seen before; sunlight filtering through a forest canopy. A certain intensity that the girl could seemingly turn on and off, an unsettling aversion to blinks, and maybe, just maybe, the slight edge of a well-maintained blade against your neck. Where had this been? This… glare. Was it a glare? Subdued to leave a place for love for her girlfriend during their date, perhaps?

"Thank you for eating at Le Four en Flamme!" The waitress shook Temperance out of her daze and grabbed the terminal. "We hope to see you again during the Conference!"

"Of course," Temperance said, making sure her voice did not stutter. "Would you be so kind as to direct me to the bathroom?"

—

"Stop looking at her like that."

My stare did not drift away from Temperance for a second as she calmly paced herself to the bathroom, even as my eyes burned. "Like what?"

"Like that girl owes you something," Maylene said, finishing her salad. She'd quite loved pizza, and it had been really funny when she'd tried worming herself out of asking to eat here again a few times before the month ended. "It probably unsettled her—and you know, she doesn't actually owe you anything."

Looking back at my girlfriend, I answered, "she does. She can't just show up here, look at me, and then do nothing." I blinked away the sunspots in frustration, running one of my hands over Mimi, who was a metallic ring around my index finger. Occasionally, the steel type had sent vibrations up my finger to soothe me—when they hadn't been begging to eat the forks. "It's like she doesn't even care about the shape of things!"

"Grace, you're basically asking to be emotionally scathed so you can feel bad about it afterward because you think it'd be a way to balance out the bad we did."

I paused my coming retort. Sometimes, Maylene could untangle things and put them in such a simple phrase. "That is—kind of right. But—"

"What we did is already done. It can't be undone no matter who you let yell at you. At us," she finished after a short pause. "What if she really did come here by pure coincidence, and then looked at you once or twice because she didn't expect to run into her girlfriend's ex?" Maylene leaned forward on the table. "What if you're just being paranoid?"

"...I dunno."

"Look, this is the best-case scenario," she gently pressed.

"Feels like an itch I can't scratch." Or like a loop meant to be linked together that would never be tied. A broken circle, so maddening and taunting in its simple resolution. "But you're—right?" Teeth clamped down on my lips. "Sorry, I said it, but I really can't bring myself to believe it. But I can try."

She was right, anyway. If Temperance really wanted nothing to do with me, then I'd look terribly nosey following her into a public bathroom for no reason and even more of an asshole than I already was.

"Thank you for trying." A smile so gentle made it nearly all worth it. Nearly. "Let's get the check—and Grace?"

"Hm?"

"Don't let this cloud your mind," Maylene said. "You can get out of groups. You can. You just can't be thinking about anything else; immerse yourself in the fight, and you'll win."

I nodded.

The fuel had not run out yet, and hopefully, it never would.

—

Knuckles, white.

Face, strained.

Foot, tapping.

What was she doing here?

Temperance stared herself down in the mirror, ignoring blemishes and imperfections as best she could. Had she not run here, she would have let emotions get the better of her and confronted Grace Pastel in public. The ensuing drama would no doubt have sullied her Conference run, but it would have rippled and harmed herself, as well as Cecilia. And what of their relationship when it inevitably leaked? Maybe a curious eye had noticed all of the exchanged stares and was already writing a Chatter post about it. All she'd come here for was to observe and sate her curiosity, yet she'd come close to letting her wings burn up in the sun. Temperance wasn't thinking right—she'd almost been drawn into a confrontation by that girl's simple look. For her to be provoked so easily? Something about her eyes—something about the way she looked felt like falling into a deep, dark well you'd never climb out of if you started playing her game.

Legendaries, she'd gotten unsettled and angry at a girl playing dress-up in a kid's costume.

"You are master of your own destiny," she mumbled under her breath. "Do not get drawn into meaningless drivel and keep honing your craft. You are as close to perfection as anyone will ever get—and if you aren't yet, then eventually, you will be."

A mantra repeated a thousandfold throughout her teenage years, one she had not spoken out loud since the beginning of her new relationship. Cecilia… Temperance would tell her when she came back, though she would omit the part about tracking her down. A little white lie that would not hurt a Cutiefly.

The two girls were paying for their meal when Temperance walked out—splitting the bill. Maylene noticed her first, then Grace noticed Maylene noticing her, or at least that's what it looked like to the coordinator. Temperance's eyes twitched when Grace looked at her, and she paced away, leaving the restaurant with her phone in hand. Phones were a woman's greatest tool. With enough training, it allowed her to look busy or appear unbothered when she was the opposite of that. She sent a text to Cassandra asking her not to speak of this with anyone else and basically ignored her when thirsty for drama as she always was, Cass asked her all of the details of how their meeting had gone down. 'It was meaningless', she answered, avoiding the question, 'but at the very least, I satiated my curiosity and learned about her first-hand.'

The truth was, it only left her with more questions she was sure she would never get an answer to. Cecilia's stories mainly shared Grace's positives, and her own negatives and how she had screwed things up, blaming herself constantly even as a victim of emotional terrorism—Arceus, it was infuriating. Temperance was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed time pass. Once, she had been in the restaurant, and now, she was in front of her hotel, a towering spire of opulence and service to the wealthy. Cross-armed, her finger tapped endlessly against her elbow during the elevator ride up. Knowing her, Cecilia must have been hard at work workshopping her following battle. Temperance wanted to see her before anyone else.

She enjoyed the peace and quiet of their admittedly awful hotel room, away from the activity of Ronaldo's penthouse he had rented out for the month. An excuse, Temperance knew, to facilitate weaning herself off the group sooner rather than later. There she was with her Scizor next to her, who had grown to be something of an emotional stabilizer. It was a little odd—most trainers with a psychic available often picked that one to forge their closest link.

"You took a while," Cecilia said, yet she did not turn from the desk she sat on. Scizor just nodded at her—not respectfully, but a curt one just to be polite. "How was lunch?"

It was difficult not to think it was being said in an accusatory tone. Temperance knew there was no way her girlfriend knew anything yet and that her nerves were playing tricks on her. She knew how Cecilia got when she was angry or accusatory. She loomed tall, cornering her despite barely moving a finger, and her eyes narrowed into white slits that could spell doom in Temperance's heart.

"Decent. Feels good to be alone once in a while, and the pizza was okay," Temperance said. She dropped her purse on the bed she had not slept on even once and looked out the window. "Grace was there. She noticed me."

Fight, flight or freeze—Cecilia was a fighter that would rather see the world and herself burn than to deal with a loss save for this particular topic. Temperance cracked each individual finger to fill the dead air and gave some thought to her words while Cece could barely even turn her head in her direction.

"You don't have to worry." For reassurance, the coordinator dragged a chair next to the desk and wrapped an arm around her girlfriend's waist. "Nothing of note happened. We just… awkwardly stared at each other for a little bit."

The Unovan finally got control of her fingers back. She slowly wriggled them over her keyboard, rewinding the video of her next opponent to beginning of one of his Gym Battles—he was a second year from what Temperance knew. Cecilia gulped, her fists closed and she took a deep breath. "If that was the end of it, then that's fine." Scizor whirred, a metallic grunt from deep within. "How was she doing? Was she okay? Seeing you?"

"Does it matter?" Temperance asked. So much pain, and she still cared. She still cared.

"No." Cecilia bitterly smiled, lowering her head slightly. "It does not." A pause followed. "I'm going to go see Cynthia again after my battles this evening, so I might not be available. Is that okay?"

Temperance let out an abominable sound. It was somewhat of a groan, but the attempts to restrain it had allowed it to grow long-winded and high-pitched. No such sound should have ever come out of her. "I'd like for us to spend more time together, the two of us."

"Hmmm." The long and teasing hum made Temperance's heart squeeze. Who else would draw that out of her? Who else? Nobody. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" Cecilia let her stew in the warmth of rejection for a few seconds before laughing. It was deep, commanding, and whimsical, and everything. "Fine." The warmth from her smile spread throughout her body, allowing her to relax and loosen up. "Let's go out on a date, just the two of us."

"What about your battle?"

Cecilia closed her laptop. "I'm ready." Scizor hissed at her, clearly disagreeing and thinking that there could always be more to be done. "Oh, please." Cecilia leaned back into her chair and stretched. "I have the script ready, I have a general knowledge of how Samuel fights, and I have the ultimate weapon at my disposal."

The bug type grunted, as if to ask what that was.

"Passion so strong even the blistering sun or thoughts of Grace cannot keep me down for long, darling," she triumphantly declared before getting up. Temperance was still sitting, but she enjoyed… seeing her active. One of Cecilia's hands traced the side of the coordinator's face, and she leaned down into a kiss Temperance wished was longer. "Let me take you into town and let's buy each other an outfit. We can theme it to mean something, and we can try to guess what it is. Three strikes."

Butterflies were still dancing in Temperance's stomach as if they were celebrating life itself. "Don't you need to save—"

She was so close.

"For you, I'll do anything."

The statement left her a mushy pile of love blended with bliss, barely capable of thought for a moment. It was sweeping, yes, but she had said it so forcefully it was impossible for your breath not to shiver. That lie by omission did not seem so white after all. The guilt, it suddenly consumed her. Crawled out of the butterflies swarming her insides and brought with them a tight knot twisted endless times until it was impossible to unmake save for the magic words that next spilled out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry—I hid something." Ashes and poison laced her tongue. "I was… curious. Curious about the history between you and Grace. Curious about if she was as great as you spoke of her—a flawless girl who had only been hurt," Temperance sighed. "I followed her. I didn't talk to her, but—I followed her into the restaurant."

Not anger. Not acrimony. Not anguish.

Disappointment. You could see it in her eyes despite them being white as snow, in her body that turned from being akin to wound up on a string to slack like a leaderless puppet. She did not stumble back, but Cecilia exhaled through her nose long and hard before she looked at Scizor, and the bug type shook his head, his red plates gleaming under the sun filtering through the window. It was morbid to say, but Cecilia was even more beautiful at that very moment. A broken doll, but a doll nonetheless, looming a head above her.

"Thank you for telling me," she said. "I forgive you." She did not. She clearly did not. "Let's get going."

A flurry of statements followed.

"I'm sorry," Temperance lamented.

"I know."

"I won't do it again."

"I hope so."

"Do you still love me? Even as awful as I am?"

"I do. I must have done something wrong—"

Insanity. Temperance gripped her girlfriend by the wrist and dragged her close while Scizor hissed at her. "Listen closely." Why had she done this? Added to the list of people who hurt her, and for what? "My fuck up is not your fault, it is entirely on me." Cecilia glanced away—it was difficult to tell. "It's on me," the coordinator repeated. "Do not let your own head convince you otherwise. You're a brilliant girl, one who deserves the world, but who has been scorned by it at every turn, and I have added to the pile."

"Don't."

"It's true. We've never talked about it in depth, have we? Not since that first night we spent together. I will not force the matter, but listen well, Cecilia. I believe in the strength of the human spirit, that spark that makes the Cynthias of the world. I will not claim you to be close to her, or to even understand what that spark it fully, but—there is a path laid down for you in your homeland, and it starts here, at the Conference. Do not let my mistake squander it. Please."

Cecilia waited before answering. "I will not." Her cold hands touched Temperance's face once more, tracing below her chin. "I would not forgive myself for it, nor would my team."

Thank God.

—

"Challenger? You've won."

The referee's word snapped me out of my battle lust, and I realized that I was no longer in a fight. Already, I'd been supporting myself on my knees, sweat clinging to my forehead and tongue parting my lips, ready to see what kind of Pokemon my opponent would bring out next. He'd been a third year, one who seemed to be following the path of slow and steady growth instead of explosive progress, and the battle had been close. 3-2, with only Buddy remaining, by the end. He had played the role of the cursed weapon very well, draining more and more from the field and myself as he continued being of use. An artifact of some sort found in one of my adventures—gosh, I could not wait to play another role tomorrow!

My opponent recalled his Umbreon from the field and left without a word. I somewhat missed the intimacy of smaller tournaments, where trainers shook hands after a battle and sometimes even spoke for a little while. A victory was delicious, yes, and scraping one always got the fire burning high and hot, but this felt so impersonal. Not that I'd expected him to want anything to do with me with how I had tried to cripple his team so he would be at a disadvantage during his next fight. An explorer had to make sure her enemies wouldn't be able to get back on their feet so she could loot their possessions, after all!

Spectators clapped, cheered, and a minority of them booed, but I allowed it to wash over me like water off a Ducklett's back. There was no point getting hung up on things so long as I had a good time. My energy was better spent on things I could affect. That was one loss, one win in my favor, and I'd need to keep that relatively tilting in favor of wins to have a chance out of groups.

And there'd be another battle today. Three per day for every trainer until each group finished every fight.

Even as I recalled Buddy after some encouraging words, I was raring to go for more. What was this when compared to the gauntlet that was Coronet? Nothing! And this time, it was fun, and there were so many people better than me to learn from and so many of my friends were here and oh, Arceus, had this lunch not happened it would have felt like I'd be on my way to sprouting wings.

Yet it had.

I couldn't shake the edge off. My eyes darted at every corner seeking to find Temperance whenever I was on my own. There was no doubt within me that without Maylene to stop me, I'd have confronted her in that restaurant. Had she come up to me while alone, I would not have cut it short or run off. It was an uncontrollable vice that had me realize something about myself that was somewhat terrifying.

Instead of sticking around with my friends or girlfriend, or studying my next opponent, I allowed myself time to think. I would tell Maymay after, of course, but it had been a while since it had just been me and one of my family members. Sweetheart and Princess were in one of the League's specialized Centers given that I'd used them in the battle, and so were the Pokemon I had used in the fight against Pearce. Cass—who had been healed from the previous battle—Buddy, and of course, Mimi, remained. Sunshine too, but he was often asleep at this time during the afternoon, and I didn't want him to hear me whine constantly. I'd tell him about it later.

The Lily of the Valley Island held a singular river that flowed from the mountain's peak all the way down to the ocean, a cascade and violent flow of water that was impossible to swim through for anyone but water types or Pokemon well accustomed to these conditions. There had been a few trainers hanging about—those who like me could never stay away from the still of the wilderness for long. Without Princess to fly me up here, I'd needed to rely on Cass, but even so, my legs were sore from how much I moved around during battles, putting every ounce of energy I had into my explorer character, but this hike. It was good physical activity, so at least Maymay would be proud. I allowed myself a few seconds to think about her cute face and smiled.

The sound of the water rushing by—Legendaries, it was so loud, roaring like a beast that never tired as water crashed into stone and created foam. But there was a certain calm to it as well. How it had flowed this path or something similar for hundreds or maybe thousands of years, and how it would continue long after you were dead. A comfortable consistency, maybe. However, even it would end eventually. Like everything else.

"Cass," I asked, voice cutting through the noise. "How long do you think this river will last for?"

Under my explorer hat, the psychic's eyes lit up, and they continuously mumbled 'calculating' until they suddenly stopped. Error. I am not sufficiently equipped in potamology to answer this, they levitated a bit of water, crushing it into a tight ball until it heated up and turned to steam in the air, but it would depend on numerous factors such as such as the river's flow rate, sediment composition, surrounding vegetation, and even the seasonal variations affecting water levels and temperatures. Apologies for failing.

Out of the water, Buddy poked his head out. His red, glinting eyes stared silently at me, and he remained still even in the strong currents. Water froze at the edges of his body.

"Do you think we could, like, put a lasting mark somewhere here?" I asked. "Obviously it wouldn't last forever, but maybe we could make it stick for a few decades. Hell, how about a hundred years?!"

Cassianus blared like a machine. I'm afraid that would go against the Wilderness Conservation Act, last updated in the year 2009, my King, and the Sinnohan government does not recognize your legal immunity as a monarch. A sad, defeated tune flowed through the air. It was a nice idea, however.

I kicked dirt into the river and pouted. "Hmph. Stupid laws and their stupid reasonings." That was an exaggeration. I knew, of course, that without this particular law, our wilderness would be damaged far more than I could probably imagined, by corporations, local governments, and snotty trainers like me. With a saddened smile, I lowered myself and hugged my knees. Mimi reformed their body and crawled up my hand with a worried mewl.

Buddy, meanwhile, saw right through me. He calmly stated that I was overcompensating for something and that there was obviously an issue on my mind. When I hesitated—why even hesitate, when I'd come here to talk about it?—he blew a small stream of cold water on my head. With a squeal, I fell back and laughed.

"Stupid."

His eyes narrowed with a playful murderous stare, and he called me stupid back.

I believe we're all stupid in the grand scheme of the universe, considering the forces at play, Cass said.

Mimi chimed.

I snorted, picking the steel type up and placing them on my head. "How bad is it, you think," I mumbled, "that I miss being in danger?"

Mimi screeched, tail sparking with electricity; Cassianus started to list the numerous ways safety was preferable to crisis after crisis; Buddy's eyes darkened, and this time not in a joking manner.

"It's not like I'm going to seek it out. I'd never do that." It would be an utter betrayal of who'd I'd become and cause immense pain to the people I loved. "It's just—you know. I saw Temperance today—Cecilia's new girlfriend," I reminded Buddy. He'd always been bad at remembering names of people he would never care for. "And you know something that relatively small," I pinched my fingers together, "is nothing compared to what I'd been through. But in the moment, it's terrifying. Like I'm about to go through so much pain. And now that it's done and over with, and I'm done with being scared, I miss it. It's a sick kind of feeling. I feel so happy here. My friends are here, I have the most wonderful girlfriend whose family likes me, and we're all having fun with the battles." I nudged my head toward my team. "So why the hell am I whining? Why can't I help but feel like I'd feel more at home in a cramped cavern fighting for my life every waking moment than here?"

Two of Cass' eyes narrowed, and the Claydol floated close until I could smell the clay. The human brain is so peculiar.

I traced a line in the wet dirt on the riverbank, then a few others until I was left with a sword. Mimi created a needle on the tip of their arm, mimicking the drawing, and my finger gently touched their head as I ignored Mesprit's squeals of glee. "The first thought that came to my head when I saw her wasn't 'oh, Arceus, she's gonna chew me out', it was 'oh, Arceus, she's going to kill me. What Pokemon does she have again? Dragonair, Cottonee…' blegh. Then I blanked. Could have been fatal."

Buddy shook his bulbous head and said that now I was just being silly.

"I know." I clenched my forehead. "I know that it's stupid, but I have toiled long and hard to put the idea that I was just a weapon out of my head, but every time there's some amount of tension, it keeps rearing its ugly head back. You know, the next time someone tries to kill me, I think I'm genuinely going to be relieved."

This time, Buddy floated out of the water, creating a splash that would have soaked Cass had they not shielded us. The water type rammed himself against the psychic barrier, his body spilling over as he dared me to say that again, and—

A voice to my side around a hundred feet away.

"What the fuck?! Dude, are you okay—"

The barrier solidified, my hand went for my Pokeballs, and I bit down on my tongue to focus.

But it was nothing. It was never anything.

"I'm fine!" I yelled back to the trainer. He'd been grabbing one of his Pokeballs, probably a dark type. "No worries." He muttered something under his breath, and left further upriver. "See what your antics got us?" I said before shrinking under his watchful eyes. "Sorry. I won't say it again, that was stupid."

And please never do that again when I'm involved, thank you, Cassianus asked the ghost before one of his hands gently hit me in the head. They were heavier than they looked. And yes. Perhaps it would be wise to be more tactful with your words.

"Yeah…"

It was a lot, wasn't it? Being happy was just a lot.

But I owed it to myself to try to remain here for as long as humanly possible. I would grip the edge even if my nails bled, even if someone stepped on my hand, even if there was no more strength in my arm, and I would do my best.

"Let's stay an hour before we head back." I pulled out my laptop from my back to start studying my next opponent. Not Marley yet, but the fight was inevitable. "Sweetheart is gonna be so jealous she missed this."

---