View Full Version : Dignity

March 30th, 2005, 9:27 PM
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokmon.
Rating: PG (or K+ at ff.net whatever the hell that. Fanfiction doesn't need it's own rating system thank you very much *rolls eyes* Can't you just feel the love I have for ff.net now lol?)

Er. Yeah. Enjoy.

The shrieks and screams of fans were unbearable but he kept his determine, smug face plastered on, like a mask. What he felt inside was anger. Furious rage ran through his veins, mixing in with his blood, tainting it with malice and disdain. Through gritted teeth, he returned his fallen Swampert who was defeated by his opponent's Blaziken. If only that Beautifly wasn't able to spread her toxic spores from her wings, poisoning his Swampert. If only he held on one more minute . . . If only . . .

He was sure that he would of had this battle in the bag.

Yet . . .

He lost. Brendan Birch was finally defeated.

Eyes narrowed into slits, he glared icy cold daggers at the victor. The summer sun beat hotly at his back like a sinster eye glaring at him with distate, and he wished that he could summon angry, dark thunder clouds that would match his sullen mood. It would cool him down and it would also rain on the winner's parade.

Shrugging his backpack onto his shoulder, he walked across the rocky battlefield, ready and on guard for any put downs that his opponent might give him. The wind ran its hands through his snowy white hair as if it were to sooth him as he trod over slowly, tiny pebbles crunching beneath his feet.

His opponent was already swarmed by paparazzi, so he waited at the outlines, not eager enough to push his way through but mentally edging the crowds away with his mind. At last, the hordes of fans died down until he was the only one left.

Apparently, the victor did not have the courage anymore to talk to him.

Bloody coward.

Brendan shoved his hands into his pants' pockets and kicked a nearby boulder in frustration, scraping the rubber on the top of his shoe. He looked at the empty, trashed stands that were filled with thousands of people only an hour ago. He could hear their roar of triumph, their cry of defeat. He could imagine the waving of their flags that flapped loudly in the wind and the posters decorated brightly on neon-colored paper, hoping to catch the battler's attention. The screaming rung endlessly through his ears like a grandfather clock chiming twelve, the pictures not fading from his memories.

Ruby eyes cast toward the ground, Brendan trudged his way out of the arena and into Ever Grande's Main Road. The streets were buzzing with excitement with people dancing along the cobblestone streets, balloons decorating the sky with their bright colors, and laughter sounding its shrill cry of excitement everywhere. They didn't seem to take notice that the understudy of the Hoenn League was standing there in the crowded streets. They didn't seem to care.

The trainer felt depressed that no one regarded him, but was relieved that he wouldn't have to be bombarded with questions about losing to his friend or how it felt to come so far and then get his dreams squashed in a matter of forty-five minutes.

Shaking his head, he strolled down the streets, avoiding the dancers, and into the hotel room the League provided the trainers. Climbing up the steps to the third floor, Brendan found his room, the first door on the right. He fished the key out of his backpack and opened the door.

Slamming the door behind him, Brendan took off his backpack and threw it onto the floor with a hard thump. He collapsed onto the bed, reached for the remote control, and turned on the television. The T.V. flickered before his eyes, showing reports of the big battle today between his opponent and him. Brendan felt his eyes narrow in anger at the sight. That didn't happen! He did not sacrifice his Aggron for nothing! He did not send out his Mightyena with only half his health! He did not want to lose!

Not at all.

What he did not understand was why everyone saw the mistakes he made in the battle, but not the accomplishments he achieved. Like how his Swampert practically cracked the field in half with a mighty sweep of his Iron Tail or the way that his Absol's Shadow Ball completely wiped out his opponent's Tropius. But that's T.V. for you, always trying to keep the media happy, and not telling the horrid, yet good, truth.

Rather ironic in his opinion.

The white-haired trainer sighed, downcast, defeated. He jumped up out of bed and walked over to the window, gazing at the festival below him. Light flashed, bells rung, fireworks exploded in the night sky; he wished that this celebration was for him. Yet wishing for things were for fools, and he was no fool. Not anymore.

Feelings stirred up uncomfortably in his stomach, and Brendan felt the sudden urge to go back to the festival and maybe try to have some fun. It was better than sitting around, moping in sorrow, having a dark cloud smile down jeeringly at him. He placed his one-strap backpack over his shoulder again when he reached the door, making sure to lock the door behind him before going down. He had the feeling that some paparazzi were trying to dig up some dirt on him, and what better place to start then his room? He walked down the carpeted steps and exited the hotel building, instantly greeted with the mixed scent of different foods. Forcing his lips to tug into a smile to trick those around him, he watched two small children chased each other down the streets. He grinned again as an elderly couple linked arm in arm walked passed him, but he frowned soon after when he saw . . . her.

His opponent and best friend, May.

She was yards away from him on a stage decorated with streamers, balloons, and confetti that rained down upon her fair head. She stood out even though she was wearing nothing special, just her regular red t-shirt, black biker shorts and the same old bandana tied around her chestnut hair. Pools of cobalt eyes seemed to sparkle with delight, and she had a calm demeanor about her, very different from the past Champions who always had a beaming smile etched on their face that reached from ear to ear.

Brendan felt a swarm of butterflies flutter uneasily in his stomach as he walked closer and closer to the girl Pokmon Master. His heart throbbed in his chest, and he began to sweat, clueless as to why though. Finally, he reached the front of the stage and gazed up at May who was busy giving a speech to the hundreds of her fans.

"I would also like to thank-" May's eyes spotted a flash of white hair in the front row, and she glanced down, sapphire eyes meeting that of ruby, though, the ruby eyes were completely void of emotion. Pangs of fright smacked her hard, but she dared not lose her cool, especially in front of her fans.

Brendan peered into May's deep blue eyes, not smiling, but not glaring either, and he tried to seek the emotion within her, trying to read her soul. He rarely blinked as if locked in her trance as his arms laid lifeless at his sides, the gentle, southeastern zephyrs combing through his hair.

The crowd was getting restless; why did the new champion stop in the middle of her speech? One little boy a few feet away saw Brendan in the front, and instantly, he knew why.

"Hey! It's the loser that lost to May!" the little boy piped up in a laughing manner.

The crowds gasped, and all eyes landed on the white-haired trainer whose eyes were still cast upwards to their new champion. It was silent for a moment until one person began to laugh. Another one joined in, and another and soon, the entire crowd of fans were laughing.

At this, Brendan blinked twice and snapped out of his trance. He was clueless to why they were laughing all of a sudden. Did May say something funny without him noticing? After listening to the laughter for a few more seconds he realized . . .

They were laughing at him.

Why they were laughing about he didn't know. But that question was answered also when various people shouted all the mistakes and goof-ups that Brendan made during his battle with May. About the face he made when his Absol fainted, about the way his Swampert tripped on a boulder and landed head first in the pool of water, about every little detail!

It hurt.

Not because the fact that he was being made fun of by people he didn't know.

But the fact that his best friend did nothing to stop them.

Brendan reached for a Pokball but realized that he left his Pokmon in the Center. Instead, he pushed his way through the endless crowd of people and ran back into the hotel. He sprinted up the stairs, unlocked his room and slammed the door behind him so hard that it felt like the floor has a spasm of fear from the quivering boy trainer. Brendan leaned on the back of the door and slid down, his bottom meeting the dirty, carpeted ground. He didn't cry; he wouldn't give those people called 'fans' the satisfaction of it.

He also wouldn't let them have the chance to mock him anymore. Not ever again.

They say Brendan Birch left one clear summer's night with his backpack and his Pokmon. But they forgot the most important item of all . . .

His dignity.


Yes, I do know the ending is horribly abrupt. :) I do hope you liked it though.

LaTeR dAyZ!

March 31st, 2005, 5:43 AM
*snorts* That was actually one of the better endings, IMO. I've seen some just stop almost in the middle of the sentence.

unbearable but he kept his determine, smug face

I believe that the correct word would be "determined", not "determine".

she glanced down, sapphire eyes meeting that of ruby, though[,] the ruby eyes were completely void of emotion.

Comma thing.
Is this a one-shot? I didn't see anything about that, yes or no.
I liked it. You managed to keep the story moving at a good pace, yet it wasn't one of those "helostgotmadneverspoketoheragainleftevergrandecitywithhisdignity"'s, ugh. I especially like the part where he sees her making her speech. I spotted a coupla spelling/grammar mistakes other than the two I pointed out, but it wasn't too bad otherwise. I better leave before I hit spam central. SB