This was my entry for this year's Small Writing Competition.
Al groaned at the sunlight roasting his eyes through his eyelids. He rolled over, almost mistaking the scentless hotel sheets for his mother's that always smelled like cinnamon and lemon and had the soft quality only knitted sheets had. He almost thought that his mother was shaking him awake, that Dmitri and already eaten and JC was being fussy and he had to calm him down. Almost, just almost, but then reality returned to him.
"Al, I want breakfast!" he whined, shaking Al so badly it felt like an earthquake struck him. Al shot up, grabbing his little brother's wrists with one hand.
"Alright, I got it Jameson—stop already!" he snapped. Jameson glared at him but didn't say anything else, backing away so Al could slide out of bed. "Just let me take a shower," he muttered. "And don't leave the room or open the damn door," he added.
"Fine!" Jameson said, equally irritated. Al went to the bathroom and slammed the door; dealing with a thirteen-year-old piss-Durant was as about as healthy for his sanity as, well, a thirteen-year-old piss-Durant, namely Jameson-Charles. He took a long, scalding-hot shower, scrubbing the last of last night's mud and blood from his skin and hair. When he was sure he was clean he shut the water off—he was being charged by the drop after all, the bastards—and changed into a long-sleeved beige shirt and jeans. When he exited the bathroom he realized that Jameson wasn't there.
"I swear," he muttered, throwing their belongings into his navy blue luggage and slinging it over his shoulder. He made it as far as the front desk, checking out of the place, when he heard a loud commotion in the dining room. He sighed and turned to assess the damage his pinheaded little brother caused this time.
"Give me—ack—back my Pokémon!" Jameson yelled, jumping in his attempt to retrieve Al's PokeBall belt from a taller boy's hand. The boy just chuckled and raised his arm higher.
"What're you doin' with Pokémon anyway, brat? They'd be better off with me—"
"Hey," Al said, crossing the space between them quickly and grasping Jameson's shoulder, pulling him behind his back. "I think you have my property." Since he came eye-to-eye with the older boy, the boy took him as more of a threat.
"Hmph," he snorted, shoving the belt at Al's chest before hurrying away. Al kept his grip on Jameson's shoulder as he steered him through the lobby and to the hotel's entrance, then he whacked him on the crown of his head.
"Ouch!" Jameson exclaimed, grasping fistfuls of his sandy-blond hair. "Why?"
"Why would you even ask that? You disobeyed me—twice, actually, within five seconds. That's a new record for you—are you proud of that?"
"I told you I wanted breakfast," he huffed.
"And how in hell did that warrant you taking my Pokémon?" Al snapped. Jameson shrugged, petulant. "Look, Jameson, these aren't playthings; these are my specially-trained hunting Pokémon, not Pokémon for stupid little Trainer battles, alright? Now come on, I've got a mark." He looked up then, his grey-green eyes shining hopefully. They burned at Al sometimes with their resemblance to their mother's, but the burn scar taking up most of his face burned at Al more.
"You mean I get to see it this time?"
"Of course not—you're staying behind as always." Jameson's face darkened again.
"I wanna help," he complained. Al fell silent, watching the passersby walk past or drive past, oblivious to their casual conversation about his vendetta.
"For what, Jameson?"
"For the same reason you do it," he replied in an unusually sober tone. Al worked his jaw, thoughtful, then he pushed Jameson forward, leading him onto a side street where there were less people to overhear them.
"Jameson—"
"You, you know, off Legendaries because they've taken everything from us, right?" He took Al's worn photograph from the mesh pocket on his luggage, smoothing it on the palm of his hand. In it was an aged capture of Claire, their mother, who very much resembled Jameson (then called JC) with their similar messy hair and stubborn nature, and Al and his older brother Dmitri, who had their father's dark hair and blue eyes and penchant for grudges. "They took Mom and they took Dmitri… I want my revenge too, Al!"
"Maybe so," Al murmured, "but that's my choice and my consequence; I want better for you, Jameson."
"You think too much of me," Jameson said, shaking his head. Al realized that he was pretty damn serious and sighed.
"You'll have to do exactly what I say when I tell you to, alright? We have to work as a team for this. Legendaries are strong, fierce; we have to outsmart them, which is going to take gumption."
Jameson screwed his face up for a moment, then he snorted a chuckle that turned into full-blown laughter. "Gumption…where did you even get that from?"
Arceus, Al thought, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
——————
As the sun descended over Ilex Forest, the daytime Pokémon slunk to their homes, clearing the area for the moment. Al crouched down behind a large bush, tying his black bandana around his forehead and throwing a spare at Jameson. "What's this for?" he asked.
"Keep your voice low," Al hissed. "And it's made to prevent Psychic-type Pokémon from sensing us."
"How?" he whispered, tying it around his neck.
"It's made of Dark-type material, now listen: the target is Celebi, who appears at this shrine when nobody's around to see it." He indicated the shrine in the clearing ahead of them. "I'm going to use One to launch the specially-made net at it, stopping it from time traveling or using any Psychic-type moves or abilities, and Three will use Smokescreen to incapacitate it. Then—because you want to help so bad—you'll clip its wings."
"I'll clip its wings?" he repeated, eyes wide. "Won't that be bloody 'n' stuff?"
"It's a damn Grass-type, Jameson; it's full of chlorophyll. Remember, you have to do what I say, and I expect you to do so. If you really don't want to do it, have your Sandshrew do it."
"F…Fine, Al."
"Good." Al released One, his first Ditto, who bounced to attention. He fed it the compressed net and it used Transform to become a gun.
"That doesn't hurt them?" Jameson whispered, amazement in his eyes.
"Doesn't matter if it does." He shifted so he could peer through the bush's leafs for his mark. "And stop asking so many damn questions; I have to focus."
No sooner than when the last word left his mouth, the air in front of the shrine rippled, and from out of it poured several Celebi. Al gritted his teeth, falling back on his behind. "Damn; I didn't expect so many." He swore under his breath before feeding two backup nets into One's mouth. The Celebi chattered happily, swirling in the air and tagging each other and throwing Berries around and having a good time. The sight of it sickened and angered Al, and though he hated to admit it, made him remember.
"Tag! You're it!" Al laughed, tapping Celebi's little paw before racing across the grassy hill. Celebi laughed as well, twirling around before chasing him down and slapping his cheeks softly.
Now you're it, Al! it said, giggling as it flew onto the gutter of his house. He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"That's not fair! You're too high up!" Celebi just continued giggling, which made him giggle as well. It suddenly gasped, then it vanished from sight as Dmitri opened the back door, skateboard in hand.
"Who were you talking to, Al?" he asked, perplexed. Al stopped laughing but couldn't wipe the grin off of his face.
"Nobody; nobody at all."
Al shook his head hard, trying to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand. He raised his gun and fired the first net; it caught four Celebi (thankfully, he made them large to begin with), causing them to fall to the ground in a squirming heap. The others, sensing danger, began to scatter; he quickly released Two and ordered it to stop them. It Transformed into Raichu and waited until Al secured a Ground-type band to Jameson's wrist before using Thunder. The lightning bolts stopped the Celebi in their tracks, which was when Al exchanged the remaining nets for dark darts and shot them in their sides. He gritted his teeth as the thunderclouds hovered overhead, feeling lightheaded at the consequent memory.
Dark clouds gathered above Littleroot Town, lightning lashing at the ground and bringing up clots of it as it went. Al ran forward into the town, wanting to warn Birch and everybody of what was going on. He remembered Celebi talking of a new Legendary Pokémon, an unpredictable and powerful one, but neither of them expected it to come to Littleroot Town, such a small and obscure place—
Lightning struck inches away from him, searing his clothes and causing him to fall on his race. When he raised his head he saw a tall person standing right in front of him, then he realized it wasn't a person—not by a long shot. It was tall and purple and looked a little like Mew, but it wasn't, it really wasn't. It looked at Al for a second with bright red eyes before picking him up without touching him and throwing him to the side. He hit the ground hard, feeling his arm crack beneath him, and lost consciousness for a second. When he opened his eyes, the three bird Legendaries were attacking it, creating more lightning along with fire that lit up trees and houses and ice that froze the people as they tried to run.
"Celebi…where…" he whispered, horrorstruck. Through the black spots appearing in his vision he saw his house on the hill, his Mom and Dmitri holding three-year-old Jameson as they tried to run. He tried shouting at them but his voice was weak, and he couldn't do anything as the strange Legendary, attacking the birds with Psychic, turned to them. He swallowed, feeling tears run down his face in fear, and saw a green light. Celebi! he thought, relieved. It'll help!
He saw Celebi materialize just behind his family, then it shook its head before disappearing again. His heart dropped to his feet as Moltres' Flamethrower scattered from the strange one using Protect, and the flames raced towards Al's family at record speed. He closed his eyes, hearing their cries above all of the other noise and feeling them deep in his body, and opened them one more time. They were lying on the ground, charred and immobile, but someone was still moving when he passed out again. Jameson was still moving.
"Al!"
Al realized that he missed a Celebi, and that one was staring at him with its eyes glowing brightly. He didn't have time to get Six's PokeBall before it grabbed him psychically and tossed him forward, slamming him into a thick oak tree. His thoughts scattered from the pain of it and he slid to the ground, seeing doubles. Jameson hopped over the bush, racing towards him, which was when the Celebi turned to him.
"No—Jameson, get away!" Al yelled at him. Jameson shook his head stubbornly, drawing his PokeBall from his pocket.
"Spooks, I choose you!" He released his Gastly, who cackled and surrounded Celebi's head, choking its oxygen supply off. Meanwhile, Jameson checked on Al, pushing him until he was sitting up. "Your head is bleeding," he said, eyes wide as he touched the side of Al's head. His small hand came back red with blood.
"I don't know why you still care," Al muttered. "I've done nothing but yell at you and order you around."
"I care because you're my brother!" he snapped. "Don't ask dumb questions like that again!"
Al remembered waking up after that Legendary—Mewtwo, he learned later—lost the fight or won the fight or whatever, and Littleroot was just a bunch of frozen and burned and seared ruins with a handful of survivors. He was one of them; Jameson-Charles was another, although Moltres' fire had permanently marred the left side of his face. He swore that day that he'd guard Jameson with his life, and that he'd get rid of those damn Legendaries by himself. He never wanted Jameson to help him—it was dangerous, suicidal even, and extremely difficult—but it looked like he didn't have a choice.
"We're a team now," Jameson said, raising his fist. "We're a team in this now, alright, Alastair?" Al knew that he couldn't convince Jameson otherwise; he only used Al's full name when he was completely serious.
"Fine," he conceded. Suddenly Spooks collapsed with the other KO'd Celebi; the one that he had was staggering in the air drunkenly but still conscious and very alive. It raised its paws and suddenly vines extended from the ground, latching onto Al and Jameson's arms and legs and pulling them apart. Al felt the vines crawl up to his neck and used all of his strength to hit Five's PokeBall. "Five!" he shouted as soon as his Ditto was released. "Shred!" Five looked at him with its confused Ditto face. "I said shred! Listen to me!"
His Ditto were specially trained; One was trained to become guns, and the rest of them were trained to become a single highly-trained Pokémon of different types. Five was usually a Water-type—not at all made for cutting vines—but he couldn't reach any other PokeBalls, and the vines were starting to compress his chest. Five transformed into a Greninja and used Water Shuriken, slicing through the vines enough for him to break free. Seeing this, Jameson released his Sandshrew, who cut through his vines easily with his claws.
"Five, Toxic." Five spread its webbed hands as a purple haze surrounded Celebi; it staggered again as the poison started beading on its skin.
"Bucky, Poison Sting!" Jameson called, getting to his feet. Bucky raised his paws and fired his claws at Celebi, who recoiled when they pierced its skin, creating more poison.
"Bucky—" "Five—" Al glanced at Jameson when they spoke concurrently, then they exchanged a smile. "Shadow Claw!" they finished. Five and Bucky both tackled Celebi with Shadow Claw, knocking it to the ground so it joined its friends, KO'd. Al returned Five and Jameson returned Bucky.
"We gotta clip all of their wings?" Jameson asked. Al shook his head.
"We just have to find the original Celebi; killing it would get rid of all of the others."
"How do you know which is the original?"
Al took a deep breath, remembering playing with it those ten years ago. "Just trust me, Jameson." He crouched down, examining the ones he caught with the dart first, then the others that were still squirming within the net. Immediately, the one at the top of the pile caught his eye. "It's you," he whispered, eyes widening fractionally. It whimpered at first, then recognition showed in its eyes.
Al, it said telepathically. I'm sorry, ten years ago I—
"Save it," he interrupted, stepping back. "Jameson."
Jameson stepped forward with Bucky, who reached his claws through the holes in the net to grab Celebi's small body. it continued pleading with Al, trying to remind him of when they used to play together. "I was eight years old, live-loving, and so naïve," he told it. "Now I know what the world is like—what you all are like—and I couldn't care less. Jameson, hurry up."
Bucky's claws dug into Celebi's skin, creating a thick pour of chlorophyll from its back and mouth as its eyes rolled back in its head. It was still breathing as the Celebi around them started fading away, one by one, until it was the only one left, and then it just disappeared. The shrine disappeared too, which made sense; Celebi didn't exist, so there was no point of a shrine there. Jameson blinked, returning Bucky, and turned to Al.
"Why are we in the forest?" he asked, confused. Al sighed; time paradoxes were strange, i.e. how he still remembered Celebi when there wasn't anything left of its existence. Just to be sure, he checked his PokéDex, entering Celebi's number; there was a beep and the PokéDex just showed a question mark.
"…No reason," he sighed, closing the page on another part of his childhood. "We have other marks to get to."
Jameson gasped. "We?"
"Yes," Al said, then smiled a little. "We, as a team."
Together
Al groaned at the sunlight roasting his eyes through his eyelids. He rolled over, almost mistaking the scentless hotel sheets for his mother's that always smelled like cinnamon and lemon and had the soft quality only knitted sheets had. He almost thought that his mother was shaking him awake, that Dmitri and already eaten and JC was being fussy and he had to calm him down. Almost, just almost, but then reality returned to him.
"Al, I want breakfast!" he whined, shaking Al so badly it felt like an earthquake struck him. Al shot up, grabbing his little brother's wrists with one hand.
"Alright, I got it Jameson—stop already!" he snapped. Jameson glared at him but didn't say anything else, backing away so Al could slide out of bed. "Just let me take a shower," he muttered. "And don't leave the room or open the damn door," he added.
"Fine!" Jameson said, equally irritated. Al went to the bathroom and slammed the door; dealing with a thirteen-year-old piss-Durant was as about as healthy for his sanity as, well, a thirteen-year-old piss-Durant, namely Jameson-Charles. He took a long, scalding-hot shower, scrubbing the last of last night's mud and blood from his skin and hair. When he was sure he was clean he shut the water off—he was being charged by the drop after all, the bastards—and changed into a long-sleeved beige shirt and jeans. When he exited the bathroom he realized that Jameson wasn't there.
"I swear," he muttered, throwing their belongings into his navy blue luggage and slinging it over his shoulder. He made it as far as the front desk, checking out of the place, when he heard a loud commotion in the dining room. He sighed and turned to assess the damage his pinheaded little brother caused this time.
"Give me—ack—back my Pokémon!" Jameson yelled, jumping in his attempt to retrieve Al's PokeBall belt from a taller boy's hand. The boy just chuckled and raised his arm higher.
"What're you doin' with Pokémon anyway, brat? They'd be better off with me—"
"Hey," Al said, crossing the space between them quickly and grasping Jameson's shoulder, pulling him behind his back. "I think you have my property." Since he came eye-to-eye with the older boy, the boy took him as more of a threat.
"Hmph," he snorted, shoving the belt at Al's chest before hurrying away. Al kept his grip on Jameson's shoulder as he steered him through the lobby and to the hotel's entrance, then he whacked him on the crown of his head.
"Ouch!" Jameson exclaimed, grasping fistfuls of his sandy-blond hair. "Why?"
"Why would you even ask that? You disobeyed me—twice, actually, within five seconds. That's a new record for you—are you proud of that?"
"I told you I wanted breakfast," he huffed.
"And how in hell did that warrant you taking my Pokémon?" Al snapped. Jameson shrugged, petulant. "Look, Jameson, these aren't playthings; these are my specially-trained hunting Pokémon, not Pokémon for stupid little Trainer battles, alright? Now come on, I've got a mark." He looked up then, his grey-green eyes shining hopefully. They burned at Al sometimes with their resemblance to their mother's, but the burn scar taking up most of his face burned at Al more.
"You mean I get to see it this time?"
"Of course not—you're staying behind as always." Jameson's face darkened again.
"I wanna help," he complained. Al fell silent, watching the passersby walk past or drive past, oblivious to their casual conversation about his vendetta.
"For what, Jameson?"
"For the same reason you do it," he replied in an unusually sober tone. Al worked his jaw, thoughtful, then he pushed Jameson forward, leading him onto a side street where there were less people to overhear them.
"Jameson—"
"You, you know, off Legendaries because they've taken everything from us, right?" He took Al's worn photograph from the mesh pocket on his luggage, smoothing it on the palm of his hand. In it was an aged capture of Claire, their mother, who very much resembled Jameson (then called JC) with their similar messy hair and stubborn nature, and Al and his older brother Dmitri, who had their father's dark hair and blue eyes and penchant for grudges. "They took Mom and they took Dmitri… I want my revenge too, Al!"
"Maybe so," Al murmured, "but that's my choice and my consequence; I want better for you, Jameson."
"You think too much of me," Jameson said, shaking his head. Al realized that he was pretty damn serious and sighed.
"You'll have to do exactly what I say when I tell you to, alright? We have to work as a team for this. Legendaries are strong, fierce; we have to outsmart them, which is going to take gumption."
Jameson screwed his face up for a moment, then he snorted a chuckle that turned into full-blown laughter. "Gumption…where did you even get that from?"
Arceus, Al thought, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
——————
As the sun descended over Ilex Forest, the daytime Pokémon slunk to their homes, clearing the area for the moment. Al crouched down behind a large bush, tying his black bandana around his forehead and throwing a spare at Jameson. "What's this for?" he asked.
"Keep your voice low," Al hissed. "And it's made to prevent Psychic-type Pokémon from sensing us."
"How?" he whispered, tying it around his neck.
"It's made of Dark-type material, now listen: the target is Celebi, who appears at this shrine when nobody's around to see it." He indicated the shrine in the clearing ahead of them. "I'm going to use One to launch the specially-made net at it, stopping it from time traveling or using any Psychic-type moves or abilities, and Three will use Smokescreen to incapacitate it. Then—because you want to help so bad—you'll clip its wings."
"I'll clip its wings?" he repeated, eyes wide. "Won't that be bloody 'n' stuff?"
"It's a damn Grass-type, Jameson; it's full of chlorophyll. Remember, you have to do what I say, and I expect you to do so. If you really don't want to do it, have your Sandshrew do it."
"F…Fine, Al."
"Good." Al released One, his first Ditto, who bounced to attention. He fed it the compressed net and it used Transform to become a gun.
"That doesn't hurt them?" Jameson whispered, amazement in his eyes.
"Doesn't matter if it does." He shifted so he could peer through the bush's leafs for his mark. "And stop asking so many damn questions; I have to focus."
No sooner than when the last word left his mouth, the air in front of the shrine rippled, and from out of it poured several Celebi. Al gritted his teeth, falling back on his behind. "Damn; I didn't expect so many." He swore under his breath before feeding two backup nets into One's mouth. The Celebi chattered happily, swirling in the air and tagging each other and throwing Berries around and having a good time. The sight of it sickened and angered Al, and though he hated to admit it, made him remember.
"Tag! You're it!" Al laughed, tapping Celebi's little paw before racing across the grassy hill. Celebi laughed as well, twirling around before chasing him down and slapping his cheeks softly.
Now you're it, Al! it said, giggling as it flew onto the gutter of his house. He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"That's not fair! You're too high up!" Celebi just continued giggling, which made him giggle as well. It suddenly gasped, then it vanished from sight as Dmitri opened the back door, skateboard in hand.
"Who were you talking to, Al?" he asked, perplexed. Al stopped laughing but couldn't wipe the grin off of his face.
"Nobody; nobody at all."
Al shook his head hard, trying to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand. He raised his gun and fired the first net; it caught four Celebi (thankfully, he made them large to begin with), causing them to fall to the ground in a squirming heap. The others, sensing danger, began to scatter; he quickly released Two and ordered it to stop them. It Transformed into Raichu and waited until Al secured a Ground-type band to Jameson's wrist before using Thunder. The lightning bolts stopped the Celebi in their tracks, which was when Al exchanged the remaining nets for dark darts and shot them in their sides. He gritted his teeth as the thunderclouds hovered overhead, feeling lightheaded at the consequent memory.
Dark clouds gathered above Littleroot Town, lightning lashing at the ground and bringing up clots of it as it went. Al ran forward into the town, wanting to warn Birch and everybody of what was going on. He remembered Celebi talking of a new Legendary Pokémon, an unpredictable and powerful one, but neither of them expected it to come to Littleroot Town, such a small and obscure place—
Lightning struck inches away from him, searing his clothes and causing him to fall on his race. When he raised his head he saw a tall person standing right in front of him, then he realized it wasn't a person—not by a long shot. It was tall and purple and looked a little like Mew, but it wasn't, it really wasn't. It looked at Al for a second with bright red eyes before picking him up without touching him and throwing him to the side. He hit the ground hard, feeling his arm crack beneath him, and lost consciousness for a second. When he opened his eyes, the three bird Legendaries were attacking it, creating more lightning along with fire that lit up trees and houses and ice that froze the people as they tried to run.
"Celebi…where…" he whispered, horrorstruck. Through the black spots appearing in his vision he saw his house on the hill, his Mom and Dmitri holding three-year-old Jameson as they tried to run. He tried shouting at them but his voice was weak, and he couldn't do anything as the strange Legendary, attacking the birds with Psychic, turned to them. He swallowed, feeling tears run down his face in fear, and saw a green light. Celebi! he thought, relieved. It'll help!
He saw Celebi materialize just behind his family, then it shook its head before disappearing again. His heart dropped to his feet as Moltres' Flamethrower scattered from the strange one using Protect, and the flames raced towards Al's family at record speed. He closed his eyes, hearing their cries above all of the other noise and feeling them deep in his body, and opened them one more time. They were lying on the ground, charred and immobile, but someone was still moving when he passed out again. Jameson was still moving.
"Al!"
Al realized that he missed a Celebi, and that one was staring at him with its eyes glowing brightly. He didn't have time to get Six's PokeBall before it grabbed him psychically and tossed him forward, slamming him into a thick oak tree. His thoughts scattered from the pain of it and he slid to the ground, seeing doubles. Jameson hopped over the bush, racing towards him, which was when the Celebi turned to him.
"No—Jameson, get away!" Al yelled at him. Jameson shook his head stubbornly, drawing his PokeBall from his pocket.
"Spooks, I choose you!" He released his Gastly, who cackled and surrounded Celebi's head, choking its oxygen supply off. Meanwhile, Jameson checked on Al, pushing him until he was sitting up. "Your head is bleeding," he said, eyes wide as he touched the side of Al's head. His small hand came back red with blood.
"I don't know why you still care," Al muttered. "I've done nothing but yell at you and order you around."
"I care because you're my brother!" he snapped. "Don't ask dumb questions like that again!"
Al remembered waking up after that Legendary—Mewtwo, he learned later—lost the fight or won the fight or whatever, and Littleroot was just a bunch of frozen and burned and seared ruins with a handful of survivors. He was one of them; Jameson-Charles was another, although Moltres' fire had permanently marred the left side of his face. He swore that day that he'd guard Jameson with his life, and that he'd get rid of those damn Legendaries by himself. He never wanted Jameson to help him—it was dangerous, suicidal even, and extremely difficult—but it looked like he didn't have a choice.
"We're a team now," Jameson said, raising his fist. "We're a team in this now, alright, Alastair?" Al knew that he couldn't convince Jameson otherwise; he only used Al's full name when he was completely serious.
"Fine," he conceded. Suddenly Spooks collapsed with the other KO'd Celebi; the one that he had was staggering in the air drunkenly but still conscious and very alive. It raised its paws and suddenly vines extended from the ground, latching onto Al and Jameson's arms and legs and pulling them apart. Al felt the vines crawl up to his neck and used all of his strength to hit Five's PokeBall. "Five!" he shouted as soon as his Ditto was released. "Shred!" Five looked at him with its confused Ditto face. "I said shred! Listen to me!"
His Ditto were specially trained; One was trained to become guns, and the rest of them were trained to become a single highly-trained Pokémon of different types. Five was usually a Water-type—not at all made for cutting vines—but he couldn't reach any other PokeBalls, and the vines were starting to compress his chest. Five transformed into a Greninja and used Water Shuriken, slicing through the vines enough for him to break free. Seeing this, Jameson released his Sandshrew, who cut through his vines easily with his claws.
"Five, Toxic." Five spread its webbed hands as a purple haze surrounded Celebi; it staggered again as the poison started beading on its skin.
"Bucky, Poison Sting!" Jameson called, getting to his feet. Bucky raised his paws and fired his claws at Celebi, who recoiled when they pierced its skin, creating more poison.
"Bucky—" "Five—" Al glanced at Jameson when they spoke concurrently, then they exchanged a smile. "Shadow Claw!" they finished. Five and Bucky both tackled Celebi with Shadow Claw, knocking it to the ground so it joined its friends, KO'd. Al returned Five and Jameson returned Bucky.
"We gotta clip all of their wings?" Jameson asked. Al shook his head.
"We just have to find the original Celebi; killing it would get rid of all of the others."
"How do you know which is the original?"
Al took a deep breath, remembering playing with it those ten years ago. "Just trust me, Jameson." He crouched down, examining the ones he caught with the dart first, then the others that were still squirming within the net. Immediately, the one at the top of the pile caught his eye. "It's you," he whispered, eyes widening fractionally. It whimpered at first, then recognition showed in its eyes.
Al, it said telepathically. I'm sorry, ten years ago I—
"Save it," he interrupted, stepping back. "Jameson."
Jameson stepped forward with Bucky, who reached his claws through the holes in the net to grab Celebi's small body. it continued pleading with Al, trying to remind him of when they used to play together. "I was eight years old, live-loving, and so naïve," he told it. "Now I know what the world is like—what you all are like—and I couldn't care less. Jameson, hurry up."
Bucky's claws dug into Celebi's skin, creating a thick pour of chlorophyll from its back and mouth as its eyes rolled back in its head. It was still breathing as the Celebi around them started fading away, one by one, until it was the only one left, and then it just disappeared. The shrine disappeared too, which made sense; Celebi didn't exist, so there was no point of a shrine there. Jameson blinked, returning Bucky, and turned to Al.
"Why are we in the forest?" he asked, confused. Al sighed; time paradoxes were strange, i.e. how he still remembered Celebi when there wasn't anything left of its existence. Just to be sure, he checked his PokéDex, entering Celebi's number; there was a beep and the PokéDex just showed a question mark.
"…No reason," he sighed, closing the page on another part of his childhood. "We have other marks to get to."
Jameson gasped. "We?"
"Yes," Al said, then smiled a little. "We, as a team."