Fan Fiction & Writing
Pokémon My Guardian Angel (PG-13)
Started by Phantom Kat January 29th, 2010 5:31 PM- 4965 views
- 30 replies

^ Made by my good friend, Natalia ^
Okay, this is my second attempt at a chaptered, fan fiction story here on Pe2K. After going through the idea in my mind and chapter through chapter, I have the whole story laid out and ready to be typed. Many thanks go to my good friend Natalie for kicking my butt into gear after months of not doing anything with the idea. I am determined, hell-bent, on making this my first finished, chaptered story ever.
Also, this story was partly inspired by Darth Murkrow’s Chronicles of the Shards A very good, well-written fan fic that deals with the Legendary Pokémon. Sadly, Darth has gone inactive, but it's still a really good read!
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Sites Posted On:
- Pokemon Elite 2000
- Serebii
- FanFiction.Net (as PhantomKat7)
- PokeCommunity
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Notes:
PG-13: This story is rated PG-13 for violence, death, and some language here and there (nothing vulgar, though). There’s nothing in here extremely graphic, but there will be descriptive scenes.
Legendaries: This fan fic revolves heavily around the Legendary Pokémon, and not just a few, but about a good 70% of them are involve in one way or another. If this isn’t your cup of tea, or you’re hoping for the Legendaries to take a back seat in the plot, I suggest you don’t read.
Updates: I write slowly, very slowly, and then there are times where I don’t have time to write. If I don’t update in a while, it merely means I don’t have the time to write, not that I forgot or abandoned this story. Starting November though, I expect to be writing a lot more, so stay tuned for that!
Comments: Comments are greatly appreciated. I’m having fun writing this, but it’s more fun to write it and know that other people are enjoying the ride as well. Even if you only read a snippet of a chapter or just browsed through a few lines, please comment; it’ll make my day. ^-^
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Character Profiles: Be warned; they contain spoilers!
Spoiler:
Legendary Pokémon
Arceus (Gender: Male) He is the Father of the Legends and the rest of the life on Earth. Arceus has great faith in the Council of Legends, so there are times where he will attend and immerse himself into other matters. This leads to him being unaware of situations and problems that arise in his absence. His heart is kind to all and, most of the time, masks the fact that he wields great power. This, for example, leads Mew to believe his father is soft and unable to make important decisions. Arceus is the only one who deals out Judgments to souls; he is unaware of Mew and Celebi’s business in Purgatory.
Mew (Gender: Male) Mew is one of the oldest children of Arceus and an active member of the Council of Legends. In the blink of an eye, he can hide his cynical personality under the façade of righteousness and understanding that he uses to manipulate the current situation to his favor. Whenever things are going his way, his mood shifts into cruel playfulness. It has been revealed that he wants to eliminate sinned and unworthy souls in Purgatory in order to convince Arceus that he can lead Earth into more prosperous times. Mew is so dedicated to his duties as a Legend that he will go to great and dangerous measures to accomplish his goal.
Celebi (Gender: Female) Celebi is also one of Arceus’ oldest and most trusted of children, and she is Mew’s loyal partner. Although her steel resolve is unwavering, her temper is short; those who lit her anger face an onslaught of her power. The only one who keeps her in check is Mew, whom she will forever see as her big brother. Though she has discovered there are things in Mew’s grand plan she does not fully agree with, her admiration and loyalty to him dispels the uncertainties.
Jirachi (Gender: Female) Jirachi, in comparison to most of her Legendary ilk, is young and a bit naïve when it comes to judging those around her. She tries her best to make the rest of the Council of Legends hear her out, and even when they don’t, she’ll go to great lengths to try and fulfill her duty as a Legend.; this causes her to overlook the consequences. Jirachi is the one who tries to stop Mew and Celebi from destroying souls in Purgatory, but she had no choice but to escape when her brother and sister almost killed her in their quest to see their plan through.
Deoxys (Gender: Male) An alien who had crash landed on Earth after being forced to escape his exploding, meteor home, he was trapped by Mew in a cave while the Council of Legends decided whether to let him stay on Earth or force him back into space. After fleeing his prison and colliding with the territorial Rayquaza, Arceus took him to Birth Island, where he will live unless ordered otherwise by the Council. After finding out that Jirachi had vouched for his stay on Earth, Deoxys promises to himself that he will one day repay the debt.
Other Beings
Death (Species: Dusknoir ; Gender: Male) Death is, besides the Dusclops guards he has under his command, the sole ruler of Purgatory, and on top of wielding the normal Dusknoir abilities, he also has the power to transport the souls of the dying to the realm of the waiting and build illusionary villages for them to settle in as they wait for Judgment. Death has some contempt to the Council of Legends for he believes they are just upholding their guardian duties to the living realm of Earth and forget Purgatory and its inhabitants. The only one who has gained his trust is Jirachi when she came into Purgatory for his help. Currently, he is waiting for the right soul to come along and help him with his Purgatory duties.
Mark Antony Colfax (Species: Human Soul ; Gender: Male ; Age: Eternally 25 ; Died on October 29th, 1725) Mark Antony was a prominent, young Sergeant of a Johtonian regiment during the Region War. After a disappointing battle, Mark Antony led a handful of soldiers towards where he believed a Kantonian regiment rested. However, things did not go as planned, and he ordered his men to retreat while he was warped near New Bark Town by a Pokémon that was supposed to be under his control. When he got his bearings, he found an injured Jirachi and trekked through a bombarded New Bark Town to get her to the Pokémon Center. He was forced to leave her to her devices when the Center was found destroyed, but shortly after doing so, Mark Antony was captured by the very Kantonians he first sought and executed.
Mark Antony is always confident about himself and is insanely loyal to his region of Johto. Most of the time, he comes off as cold, especially towards those who don’t know him, and his trust is hard to gain. His attitude towards those he doesn’t know is indifferent. Even after his death, he greets a Kantonian with a scowl and a glare.
Arceus (Gender: Male) He is the Father of the Legends and the rest of the life on Earth. Arceus has great faith in the Council of Legends, so there are times where he will attend and immerse himself into other matters. This leads to him being unaware of situations and problems that arise in his absence. His heart is kind to all and, most of the time, masks the fact that he wields great power. This, for example, leads Mew to believe his father is soft and unable to make important decisions. Arceus is the only one who deals out Judgments to souls; he is unaware of Mew and Celebi’s business in Purgatory.
Mew (Gender: Male) Mew is one of the oldest children of Arceus and an active member of the Council of Legends. In the blink of an eye, he can hide his cynical personality under the façade of righteousness and understanding that he uses to manipulate the current situation to his favor. Whenever things are going his way, his mood shifts into cruel playfulness. It has been revealed that he wants to eliminate sinned and unworthy souls in Purgatory in order to convince Arceus that he can lead Earth into more prosperous times. Mew is so dedicated to his duties as a Legend that he will go to great and dangerous measures to accomplish his goal.
Celebi (Gender: Female) Celebi is also one of Arceus’ oldest and most trusted of children, and she is Mew’s loyal partner. Although her steel resolve is unwavering, her temper is short; those who lit her anger face an onslaught of her power. The only one who keeps her in check is Mew, whom she will forever see as her big brother. Though she has discovered there are things in Mew’s grand plan she does not fully agree with, her admiration and loyalty to him dispels the uncertainties.
Jirachi (Gender: Female) Jirachi, in comparison to most of her Legendary ilk, is young and a bit naïve when it comes to judging those around her. She tries her best to make the rest of the Council of Legends hear her out, and even when they don’t, she’ll go to great lengths to try and fulfill her duty as a Legend.; this causes her to overlook the consequences. Jirachi is the one who tries to stop Mew and Celebi from destroying souls in Purgatory, but she had no choice but to escape when her brother and sister almost killed her in their quest to see their plan through.
Deoxys (Gender: Male) An alien who had crash landed on Earth after being forced to escape his exploding, meteor home, he was trapped by Mew in a cave while the Council of Legends decided whether to let him stay on Earth or force him back into space. After fleeing his prison and colliding with the territorial Rayquaza, Arceus took him to Birth Island, where he will live unless ordered otherwise by the Council. After finding out that Jirachi had vouched for his stay on Earth, Deoxys promises to himself that he will one day repay the debt.
Other Beings
Death (Species: Dusknoir ; Gender: Male) Death is, besides the Dusclops guards he has under his command, the sole ruler of Purgatory, and on top of wielding the normal Dusknoir abilities, he also has the power to transport the souls of the dying to the realm of the waiting and build illusionary villages for them to settle in as they wait for Judgment. Death has some contempt to the Council of Legends for he believes they are just upholding their guardian duties to the living realm of Earth and forget Purgatory and its inhabitants. The only one who has gained his trust is Jirachi when she came into Purgatory for his help. Currently, he is waiting for the right soul to come along and help him with his Purgatory duties.
Mark Antony Colfax (Species: Human Soul ; Gender: Male ; Age: Eternally 25 ; Died on October 29th, 1725) Mark Antony was a prominent, young Sergeant of a Johtonian regiment during the Region War. After a disappointing battle, Mark Antony led a handful of soldiers towards where he believed a Kantonian regiment rested. However, things did not go as planned, and he ordered his men to retreat while he was warped near New Bark Town by a Pokémon that was supposed to be under his control. When he got his bearings, he found an injured Jirachi and trekked through a bombarded New Bark Town to get her to the Pokémon Center. He was forced to leave her to her devices when the Center was found destroyed, but shortly after doing so, Mark Antony was captured by the very Kantonians he first sought and executed.
Mark Antony is always confident about himself and is insanely loyal to his region of Johto. Most of the time, he comes off as cold, especially towards those who don’t know him, and his trust is hard to gain. His attitude towards those he doesn’t know is indifferent. Even after his death, he greets a Kantonian with a scowl and a glare.
Soundtrack:
- coming soon!
Fan Art:
- coming soon!
PM List:
- Kyuu-chan
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My Guardian Angel
Book One: Threads
Chapter 1: To Know Your Place
My Guardian Angel
Book One: Threads
Chapter 1: To Know Your Place
Against the black backdrop of the sky, shards of fine, crystalline ice flew from the passing comet and showered the night. The Hoenn air thrummed and vibrated as the colossal boulder of heated stone fell from space and into a deserted field off the coast of Gulf Kaiorga. The garnet trail of fire that had streaked across the sky and made the luminescent stars hazy flickered and eventually went out as the comet sizzled and cooled off in the ten-foot crater of charred earth and grass it had created.
Curious Taillow flew from the canopies of the trees that dotted the vast meadow to inspect this oddity. Were Pokémon fighting, and this giant stone was the result of one of their attacks? Or were humans invading their home from above? They crowded around the massive rock, flat, yellow beaks to one side as they cocked their heads in interest. Their ruby chests and necks seemed to glisten with the strange, ethereal glow the copper comet emitted. Navy feathers began to puff out; forked tails twitched anxiously. This rock was strange, foreign… alien. The dozens of birds looked at each other with wide, jet-black eyes. Was investigating this weird object such a good idea?
CRACK!
The foot-tall Pokémon jumped into the air with ear-shattering shrieks. Even their high-pitched wails of fright, however, weren’t shrill or loud enough to drown out the series of cracks that splintered the air. Now high in the air, they checked the comet with panicky glances. On the boulder, they saw spider-web cracks that widened and grew until, eventually, slabs of rock began to split and fall to the ground. The air around the comet morphed from uncomfortably warm into the blistering heat that had consumed it when it was in flight. More animalistic screeches were let out as most of the Tiny Swallow Pokémon high-tailed it back to their safe nests. Those who lingered behind finally took flight when a teal-colored tentacle wiggled free from the meteor’s core.
Soon, a ruby one joined in on the dance for freedom. Next, a green hand popped out. Together, the tentacles and the hand grasped either side of the comet, desperate to destroy the prison that still trapped the body they were attached to. Pulling as one, they caused the rock to grunt until, with a Herculean effort, the comet was split into two. Steam immediately rose when the core of the meteor, brimming with heat, was exposed to the Pokémon World’s cool air and breeze. The fog was blown away, though, when the creature inside rose into the air and greeted this new planet with pinprick pupils. His blue-green, oval head swiveled this way and that. The two trapezoid-shaped ears he bore were perked and alert. When it was clear that there was nothing around (other than the quivering foliage of trees), the alien landed outside the crater with thin and spindly legs. Deoxys, as he had always dubbed himself, looked down and quizzically felt the carpet of greenery. How strange, was his thought. Deoxys looked back at what had been his home for the past three years. The meteor looked just like how his asteroid home had after that nearby star collapsed: broken and empty. However, he was alive; he had survived, and maybe this strange, new rock could replace his home, even if its ground was soft and its stars weren’t so bright and close.
The space dweller turned away from the cold pieces of stone at the bottom of the crater, the amethyst sphere in his chest reflecting the dying embers of his home, and began to rise into the air. With one last look at the field he had disturbed, Deoxys began to fly north, not knowing where he was going but positive that he could find somewhere to rest and recharge.
For a long while, all he passed were forests teeming with Pokémon and more vacant fields. Once or twice, he stopped to inspect the creatures until they were scared enough to run back to their homes. They fascinated him, made him want to explore more. He had always been the only living thing in his small asteroid. Interacting with others, even if it was merely a “greet and run,” made him feel a bit less lonely.
It wasn’t until he stumbled upon a village that his interest was truly piqued. Dozens of quaint wooden houses were spread along the area, most of them sporting fences that surrounded them and their acres of land. The dirt-paved roads were empty at this time of night, the windows of the houses dark. When he flitted around, he saw more of those Pokémon creatures huddled in the small, rectangular barns behind some of the houses. Although he saw some feathery creatures of orange asleep in wired coops outside the barns and chocolate-colored puffballs that sported two dozing heads near the rooftops, what really made him stop and stare were the pink creatures huddled in the middle of the fenced field. Plump and round, they were sleeping peacefully and unaware of the chilly gust that swept their home. Occasionally, the wind would make their long tails move, causing the bells at the ends to tremble a short tune before they went quiet again. Stray leaves would also pass and snag themselves on the two, small horns that protruded from each head; their four udders would wobble with each snore. Despite all of that, they slept on with no idea that a curious alien was creeping towards them.
Deoxys descended into the swaying, canary-yellow crops on the other side of the Miltank herd, hesitant about coming any closer. Unlike the other Pokémon he had encountered, these were asleep, and he could observe them for a while if he was careful. He didn’t want to scare the bovine off by just popping in.
Twin tentacles began to move the stalks of grain aside…
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” echoed a voice.
Small pupils darted to the right and left until the foreign being figured out the words had come from behind him. Deoxys whirled around, tentacles and hand poised at his sides. Eyes narrowed as he saw the newcomer lazily float in the air. Yes, he was curious about what this foot-tall creature was, but anybody who managed to sneak up behind him was dangerous, as dangerous as those collapsing stars. The more he watched the bipedal, salmon-pink Pokémon hover in front of his face, the less curious and more alert he became. The crop stalks hardly moved when the creature’s long tail brushed against them, and those celestial blue eyes would never leave him, even when the stranger’s small and pointed ears twitched to some faraway sound. Not even he, Deoxys, could be so silent and stealthy.
Finally, after an eternity of black and blue eyes locked together, the furry creature spoke. “Now that I have gotten your attention, let me introduce myself; I am Mew, one of the great Arceus’ oldest children.”
Mew swept one of his short arms in a bow before straightening up again. Deoxys cocked his head, managing to understand the deity’s words but still confused as to why he was here. Mew floated in closer, his cerulean gaze no longer so humble. The wind that had blessed the farm seemed to still until all Deoxys could feel was the psychic’s presence; even the Miltank’s chiming bells could no longer be heard.
“Since your landing on our planet, you have been watched by unseen eyes,” the New Species Pokémon breathed, then grinned when he saw Deoxys’ eyes widen in shock. Mew backed up but still kept his satisfied smirk; his tail curled around him, as though it was a snake slithering around its master. “We don’t know how things work where you come from, but we have an order here, one that you now must follow if you plan to stay.”
Deoxys, though able to understand Mew’s speech after analyzing the language the Pokémon he met in the forest spoke, could not speak Pokémon tongue. Instead, he slipped out of his defensive position and inclined his head, showing he understood. Where else was he supposed to go if he was run out of this planet? He was not sure his body could endure another long trip through space. Luck had been on his side; no meteor showers or passing asteroids had hit him. What if his luck had been spent?
The pink pixie widely smiled a smile of superiority. “The Council of Legends will be glad to hear you’ve agreed to listen.”
Then, Mew flew up, high above the now swaying crops. Deoxys followed the Psychic-type’s movements with his eyes until Mew motioned with a flick of his tail for him to do the same. Cautiously, the alien floated up and joined the god at his side. Once again, Deoxys got the feeling of every living thing freezing to make Mew’s powerful presence known.
“Do you see the mountain range in the horizon?” Mew asked, almost ethereally with the absense of a breeze.
The ruby and aquamarine creature craned his head to see the ridges of brown, but a steady glow of lights on the other side of the mountains caught his eye. They bathed part of the night sky a milky-white, seemingly unwavering. Deoxys started in mid-air. Was that a star? By the blinding light that surrounded it, it looked liked it was about to collapse.
Deoxys began to back up, only to be stopped by a force he couldn’t see. Limbs paralyzed and the orb in his chest dimming, Mew faced him and disapprovingly shook his head. His eyes, brimming with the psychic energy he wielded so easily, never left his face as he circled the trapped creature.
“No, no, none of that,” he scolded in a condescending manner, unaware of Deoxys’ worries. Gazing back at the mountainous range before them, he continued to tell his captive, “There are a multitude of caves that you can hide in while the Council of Legends decides where to place you. You’ll be safe from humans, and there are no Pokémon in the mountains who will be able to bypass the shields I will place.”
A series of unintelligible squeaks and screeches broke the quiet: Deoxys was trying to verbally communicate his protests since his body could not. Doduo began to stir from where they roosted. Miltank softly mooed, questioning why their sleep was being disturbed. Now sporting a deeply-etched frown, Mew snapped his fingers; Deoxys’s mouth was shut with an audible snap. In a deep crevice of his mind, Mew could imagine Arceus reprimanding him for being so harsh to this queer being. However, he didn’t care at the moment. The fact that a less powerful creature was disobeying his orders made him grind his teeth in anger.
With his tail now whipping around his frame like a hissing Arbok, Mew narrowed his eyes and took hold of one of Deoxys' frozen tentacles.
“I guess you will have to be taken there,” he sighed, as though forced to talk to a disobedient child. Mew shut his eyes in concentration, and right after he felt his power bubbling and coursing through both of them, their images flickered and disappeared with a twinkle of light.
Deoxys sensed that he was tumbling and turning. Head spinning, he felt himself being compressed from many different directions, making him struggle for each breath. With his vision dark and his body still immobile, he could do nothing but stumble and fall into a heap when his frozen feet touched ground. Being roughly pulled up, Deoxys suddenly regained his mobility and vision. Immediately, without even taking a glance at the cave they had materialized in, the asteroid dweller flew away from Mew. His whole body still quivered from the deity’s psychic energy, a chilling reminder of how powerful Mew was, despite his childish appearance. The way Deoxys backed up to the rocky wall of the cave actually made his kidnapper chuckle.
“This is where you stay, for now,” the furry psychic said nonchalantly, indicating the damp walls, the stalactite-infested ceiling, and the stalagmite-covered floor. Deoxys looked around but was unable to see more than the dripping points of the structures through the blanket of darkness. He had lived on an asteroid, where stars and moons always bathed his home in a veil of light; why was this creature putting him in such a polar-opposite place? As anxious as he was, though, Deoxys was no fool, so he chose to stay quiet, merely breathing in the stale, unmoving air that suffocated him.
“I’ll come back to announce what our verdict is.” Mew, invisible in the blackness, faced the direction the cave entrance was located at. Deoxys stared blankly at where he assumed his kidnapper was, then jumped back when a trail of glowing violet appeared a couple of feet away. The tendril of power avoided the rocky outcroppings with ease until it rounded a bend and disappeared a second later. A glimmer of light that stopped to steadily let out a sheen of fuchsia told Deoxys that the barrier Mew had mentioned was in place.
“Stay here,” were the final words he heard before, just like that, he was left in his grim prison.
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Even when Mew Teleported into Arceus’ Chamber, the biggest and most elaborate room in the Hall of Origin, and let out a disgruntled sigh, not a sound could be heard. The Species Pokémon gazed at the moon-white walls and the granite pillars that stretched thirty-feet high to connect with the sloped dome that was the ceiling. Already he felt the dampness and decay of the cave fade away to become a distant memory in his mind. With the light that shone from the curved windows of the ceiling warming his fur, the ancestor of all Pokémon floated beyond the six pillars in front of him (the ones that formed a circle in the middle of the room) and into the center of the chamber, where the golden outline of a star invaded a part of the smooth, limestone floor.
Immediately, he heard the clicking of talons and the flap of wings from up above. Ho-Oh and Lugia, perched on two of the six pillars that did not connect with the ceiling, let their conversation die to gaze at him, silver and rainbow-colored feathers glimmering as they craned their heads. Celebi jumped down from on top of a pillar and became a blur of emerald as she descended towards the floor in a lazy spiral. The small hedgehog that was Shaymin wrinkled her nose when the pixie of time fluttered too close for comfort and scurried towards Cresselia, who was floating beside her grim counterpart, Darkrai. Jirachi shook her head with a small smile and went over to comfort Manaphy, who had been frightened by Celebi’s dizzying antics.
Of course, no matter how many Legendaries there were in the room, the pixie of ancestry could never ignore the great god in the center. With his flowing silver fur putting the polished walls to shame, their ten-foot-tall father was automatically the center of attention.
Then again, Mew thought, his spinning, golden wheel that encircles his waist and the four jades on each point always seem to magnify his majestic features.
“Arceus,” Mew addressed the Alpha Pokémon when he halted in mid-air. He gave a bow and held it, allowing him a view of the god’s pointed, topaz hooves. “I talked to the alien, as you requested.”
Every member of the Council of Legends drew in closer, their breaths hushed.
Was this strange creature a danger to Johto if he was allowed to stay? Lugia and Ho-Oh thought as one.
Was this alien powerful enough to possibly become a Legend? Celebi thought with a deep scowl on her face. The prospect of ruling alongside one who wasn’t even a Pokémon was a sour one.
Could this foreigner possibly take advantage of the weaker creatures in this world? Cresselia wanted to know.
“Please, do not jump to conclusions,” their quadruped leader calmly told them. As their father, he could feel their agitated thoughts, their worries, and immediate mistrust as though they were his own. His children relaxed though still shared meaningful glances. When it was clear their minds were relatively silent, Arceus returned to Mew. “What have you observed?”
The Kanto pixie straightened and said with a hint of boredom, “This alien is like a human child: curious and lost. He doesn’t seem too intelligent or resourceful.” Mew inclined his head to the side, a frown now stretched taut over his face; he was clearly frustrated that he didn’t have Deoxys completely figured out. “Power wise, it’s hard to tell. Even when my Psychic immobilized him, I could not delve into his mind to see how powerful this creature is. If I was able to, I might have also been able to decipher his strange language. I did manage to catch the name “Deoxys” very briefly through telepathy, however.” With a final sigh, Mew was done.
Not a minute had stretched of silence before Lugia spread his three-tipped wings and descended carefully to the ground. His long tail swished back and forth in his anxiousness, the two navy-colored spikes at the end threatening to send Shaymin and Jirachi flying. “We cannot allow this creature, this “Deoxys,” to stay,” he gruffly voiced. His coal-black eyes glittered with determination, and the two rows of blue spikes along his back were raised. Craning his long and elegant neck, he saw Ho-Oh, still on the pillar, nodding in agreement. “To underestimate his power is foolish. Who’s to say he’s not masking his abilities? Johto can lie in ruins if we’re too proud and dismiss the possibility.”
Cresselia came forward, the violet, celestial rings attached to her sloped back and arms shining while the twin crescents on either side of her head glowed like stars against the sky. Raising her yellow beak towards the Johto trio masters, she nodded to them before saying, “Lugia and Ho-Oh make a convincing argument. By disregarding this otherworldly being solely on Mew’s account, Pokémon and humans alike will be endangered. If we force Deoxys to return to space, we can avoid any possible catastrophes.”
Arceus acknowledged her words with a bow of his own head, then saw that the shadows next to him shivered and moved. He gracefully moved to let Darkrai have the floor. The Pitch-Black Pokémon let his forest-green orbs sweep over the Council of Legends, as though they all opposed his unspoken thoughts, then focused on Cresselia. The ruby spikes around his neck bristled ever so slightly; the billowing white shadows on his head lengthened. “Should we run out Deoxys, without evidence that he’s the monster you’re speculating, simply because he could endanger the humans?” Darkrai sent a sharp glare towards Lugia and Ho-Oh, the tattered edges of his body wildly flapping with unseen wind. “Wasn’t it humans who destroyed the Tin Tower? Isn’t it humans who pollute the lakes that Suicune purifies?”
Ho-Oh flapped her garnet wings so hard that the emerald tips threatened to fall. Like a flaming phoenix, the Rainbow Pokémon landed on the chamber’s floor. With golden tail feathers fanned out behind her, Ho-Oh regarded the nightmare creator with a steely, amber gaze. “Do not drag your past into Council affairs, Darkrai! You know perfectly well you were banished from Alamos Town due to your own nightmare-spreading frenzy.”
Fisting his hands, the Sinnoh Legendary growled, “You seem to forget that at the time there had been a hallucination-inducing sickness spreading. My nightmares were simply amplified, although it seems that humans and you neglect to take their epidemic into account.”
Shaymin hopped closer to the center but was unable to ask her brethren to cease their feuding. As powerful as she was, to be looked down upon by the others, especially those already with heated tempers, made her lime-green fur and the lilac flower nestled among it shake. The Gratitude Pokémon turned her white snout towards Arceus, but the god merely stood back and watched his children settle it out. Manaphy beside her also stayed back and settled for twirling her antennae with her flippers and watching the ends glow. The blood-red gem on her cerulean abdomen flickered, meaning she was unsure about what to do about the quarrels as well.
“Shouldn’t we consider the fact that Deoxys could be capable of intelligent conversation? That we may be able to understand him?”
Jirachi floated to the scene, much to Shaymin’s relief. Long, butterscotch-yellow tassels fluttered behind her small gray body as she rose into the air and faced her quarreling brothers. “Is it really fair to choose Deoxys’s faith for him if he is able to communicate?” The wish granter turned when someone slightly scoffed, making the two teal wish tags on her star-shaped head flutter.
Celebi, who had been silent behind Mew until now, came forward. The cerulean-tipped antennae in his swept, green hair bobbed with his scornful chuckles. Delicate filmy wings flittered as the time traveler joined the Council. “Jirachi, tell me if I have missed your point completely,” hints of sarcasm were evident in his tone and in his china-blue eyes, “but exactly what would the Pokémon world gain if we let this creature stay? Even the weakest Pokémon have something to contribute. This Deoxys hasn’t shown a speck of usefulness, yet you are offering to let him choose his position in the matter?”
The Hoenn Legendary frowned for only a second before composing herself. “What I’m merely saying, Celebi, is that we should not judge Deoxys’s mental capacity without a second thought to the matter. Yes, he may not seem resourceful, powerful, or useful now, but by observing him longer, we may come to a sensible and thought-out conclusion-”
“Is that what you really want, Jirachi?” barked Ho-Oh, the golden feather crest on her head bouncing with each harsh word. “Do you really want to let Deoxys stay long enough for him to be able to show what’s he capable of? At what cost would that be? Destroyed towns? Interference with weather patterns? Possible time rips? All for the sake of deciding whether he can stay or not?” Lugia brushed his wing against his counterpart’s to sooth her sizzling temper.
“No, it is not,” the Wish Pokémon responded curtly. Jirachi tiredly rubbed the top point of her head, the only point that did not harbor a wish tag, and looked over at Arceus. She respected his decision in keeping out of Council matters (other than giving the final verdict in decisions), but she wished that he would assert his authority over his children more often. Maybe that way, Council meetings would not turn into battles of self-interest and prejudice.
“We cannot endanger the Pokémon and human populace merely to welcome in a curious alien,” the Time Travel Pokémon drawled. “It is, after all, our duty to protect this world.”
Shaymin growled beneath her breath as Jirachi, taken aback at her sister’s cynicism, formed an uncharacteristic scowl and began to say, “We are not welcoming anybody, yet we are not supposed to rightly refuse someone a chance to establish themselves on Earth.”
“Our duties don’t always allow us to be fair with everybody,” Mew replied loudly so that his voice echoed against the pristine walls of the chamber for everybody to hear. Calm and cool, he hovered beside Celebi and continued, only the slightly narrowing of his eyes betraying his kind façade, “We must put Earth and its inhabitants first and foremost in all of our decisions, not outsiders. You cannot allow kindn…”
The Kanto Legendary trailed off. His whip-like tail stiffened when a horrendous chill ran down his spine. Small ears flew back at the same time Mew let an undignified snarl rise from his throat. Dismissing Jirachi with a mental flap of his hand, he faced Arceus, bowed, and said with a hint of a growl, “My barrier has been shattered. Deoxys has escaped.”
Arceus nodded once, his jade eyes troubled.
Panic made Deoxys’ heart flutter in his chest. Though knowing he shouldn’t, the alien looked back.
Amethyst glittered all over the cave mouth he had just left, remnants of the barrier that had kept him prisoner. Rocks had turned to pebbles and pebbles to dust before he had managed to exert all his power and escape. Was he tired? Deoxys wasn’t sure. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and kept him flying farther away from the ocher mountain range. Yes, he was out, but did that mean he was in the clear? He bet his tentacles that he wasn’t.
Water had stretched below him, calm and undisturbed, but now, a mass of land took its place, along with a flare of bright, and familiar, light. Deoxys halted and let out some frightened calls that pierced the air. He had been so hell-bent on escaping the cave before Mew could notice, so afraid he would be taken again, that he hadn’t noticed he had been flying right into the heated star that was ready to implode. Frozen with fear and indecision, he looked back at the mountain range then towards the halo of light that seemed to touch the dark sky. The double-edged sword loomed in his mind’s eye, spinning and spinning close. Would getting incinerated be better than whatever Mew had in store for him?
Deoxys chanced a look below him, automatically squinting to see through the blinding glare. Were those creatures moving down there? Moving in the core of a boiling star? Despite every nerve of his body telling him to fly the opposite way, Deoxys inched closer; he faintly noticed that he didn’t feel the heat of the celestial light. Yes, there were creatures moving around the rectangular, silver protrusions of the star! The space dweller felt his mind flip in shock. How was it possible?
Suddenly, Deoxys was propelled backwards by an invisible gust. Flipping before stopping when the shock of the hit dwindled, he steadied himself and wildly looked around for his attacker. He caught sight of a green serpent, its blood-red fangs bared and the yellow rings adorning its spiked body glowing with rage, before another Air Slash nicked him in the abdomen and sent him spinning downward. Rayquaza, ruler of Hoenn’s skies, clenched his three-clawed hands and followed his target. His spade tail swished as he stopped himself in mid-descend; an aurora had appeared in the night sky.
As the otherworldly lights of purple and pink danced alongside the stars, Deoxys began to change, the sphere in his chest going out. His tentacles and hands thickened into slabs as thick as his body but as flexible as his first limbs. Spindly legs bulged as his chest and head hardened and grew until the alien was encased in a suit of red and green armor. The violet orb flared to life and was ready to serve its Master’s Defense Forme.
Rayquaza snorted in indignation, the emerald plates on his body spinning while the twin, flat-ended spikes on his head twitched. “You dare trespass in my domain, no doubt to attack the fair city of LaRousse, and then mock me by putting on disguises?” he roared, fire-yellow eyes on the verge of smoldering. All twenty-three-feet of him bristled as he reared and let loose a torrent of sapphire energy.
Deoxys shielded his body with his broad arms. Specks of burning blue and white showered his head. While he closed his eyes and felt the specks burning his face, his arms unpleasantly tingled. Ignoring the smell of charred skin, Deoxys endured the last of the Dragon Pulse before beginning to flee towards the city. The Sky High Pokémon snarled at the sight and flicked his tail. A gust picked up around him, its chilly breeze doing nothing to cool his out-of-control temper, and with another slap of his tail, it was sent cantering towards the scared foreigner.
Deoxys felt himself be picked up by the Twister, then tossed around as the currents grew faster and stronger, eventually merging into walls of spiraling white that never let him go. The captive, curled into a protective ball, saw from the center of the twenty-foot-high funnel a blur of green coming his way; those electric eyes, already envisioning him at the bottom of the ocean, left him with no doubt.
He was going to have to fight for his freedom.
Tendrils of fuchsia wove through the threads of night a second time. Deoxys’ bulky arms thinned into two tentacles while his head lengthened back into an aerodynamic spike. Chest and legs were now thinner and raven-black. His jewel began to glow and power his Speed Forme.
Tentacles whipped about his head, too fast to be effected by the violent gusts that swirled all around him. Then his body began to spin in unison and against the Twister’s current. The wind fluctuated and began to unweave itself from the tight cone it had shaped. Wobbling as though on a shaking spindle, the Twister collapsed and thinned out until only wisps of air caressed Deoxys’ face. Seeing the trespasser close his eyes for a second of bliss made the dragon’s blood boil. With a malicious grin, he slithered towards the morphing creature and clamped down his midnight-black jaws…
On nothing.
The serpent started, and calculating eyes searched the sky for the red menace. Before Rayquaza could draw a breath, tentacles were wrapped and tightened around his windpipe. Deoxys straddled himself on the beast’s neck and refused to let go. The deity roared in anger and haphazardly flew around to try and buck the alien. With the wind beating his face, Deoxys flipped forward, his grip on the Legendary still strong. Infuriated eyes narrowed into slits when Rayquaza found Deoxys now sitting on his snout.
“You cowardly little-!”
Then all the hot-blooded Flying-type could see was stars, his head ringing from the Zen Headbutt that had cut off his rant. Deoxys reared back in pain, cringing and mentally cursing himself for not realizing that a recoil was obvious when he was so close to Rayquaza. Magenta sparks still dancing around his head, the Psychic-type flew high into the air and looked down, then quickly regretted it.
The speedy alien looked away, but it did not clear the horrible image that had assaulted his eyes. With fangs alight with the aurora above, he saw them for all their ganet glory. Their points, sharpened into non-existent ends, had been dripping with saliva as thick as the fury in his horrible, golden eyes.
BAM!
With the Scary Face still etched into his mind, Deoxys felt himself falling. As gravity took him to the unforgivable ocean below, pain wove its way through his chest. The sticky, neon-green liquid that was his blood sluggishly dripped down from the slash on his neck and down towards the cracked gem in his chest. Deoxys raised a tentacle to the orb, feeling its energy dim, spreading weakness and exhaustion throughout his body. Not daring to touch the throbbing wound that wound around his throat, he struggled to stop his descent, forcing his eyes to stay open and scout for his enraged foe.
There he was, circling above him like a vulture at high noon. Fangs were split into a satisfied smirk as Rayquaza watched the outsider steady himself. That expression screamed that he wouldn’t be let go, not until ten thousand leagues separated Deoxys from the sky. Green and garnet tentacles twitched with mixed emotions. On top of fearing for his life, he was outraged that everybody on this planet wanted to control him, subdue him. Was he being here such an enormous inconvenience? Or were they all simply trying to eliminate any outside competition they saw in order to keep whatever hierarchy of power they had in this planet intact?
It didn’t matter. He had traveled for light years, through forming galaxies and asteroid belts, in order to find a place he could call home.
This place was it, and he wasn’t going to be forced back into space, to be cold and alone, by this beast!
Extremespeed propelled him towards the snake that dared run him from his home. The wind that had whistled with his fall went silent until he no longer felt a breeze. His beating heart, Rayquaza’s breathing, all had disappeared in the vacuum his attack created. Even the tremendous thump! that reverberated when the Dragon-type was sent flying had been totally muffled. When Deoxys did stop, the black that surrounded him returned to be the night sky. The gentle lap of waves returned, followed by his enemy’s now labored breathing. So riled up he was that it took him a moment to realize that shimmering, broken dragon scales were raining down.
By that time, the silhouette of Arceus caught his eye. Hidden behind a haggard and fuming Rayquaza, he came towards Deoxys with the calm aura that made the asteroid dweller lower his writhing appendages. As effortlessly as though he had wings instead of hooves, the Alpha Pokémon hovered between the two beings.
“That outsider should be punished!” spat the sky ruler. Although hunched up to stop the aching on his bruised side, he still bared his fangs and narrowed his eyes with every word. “How dare he come upon LaRousse with his evil intentions. If not for me-!”
“You,” his creator cut in, authority ringing in that single word, “should have been with the rest of the Council, as I had asked. Ruler of the heavens you may be, your duties as a Legendary are just as important. Besides, Groudon and Kyogre can guard Hoenn for the time you are gone.”
Arceus flew towards Deoxys, glancing from the rivulets of green blood that ran down the side of his neck to the lithe body that had managed to stand against Rayquaza’s own.
“If you choose to stay here, you must obey the laws of our world. Though it’s still not certain whether you will be allowed to make your home on Earth, I will lead you to a place where you may rest and live away from the rest of the Pokémon. Foreigner you may be, you do not deserve this hostility.”
“Home on Earth… rest of the Pokémon…”
Deoxys stared then nodded numbly. The aurora above LaRousse faded away when he morphed back to his Normal Forme. Maybe, just maybe, these “Pokémon” creatures weren’t all so bad, if he managed to stay away from those that were.
“What about you, Arceus?” Rayquaza asked at length. “Haven’t you abandoned your duties if you are here?”
“Do not worry. I assigned Mew and Celebi temporary charge. As my oldest and wisest children, they will make sure the meeting will continue as smoothly as it should.”
A/N: Deoxys originally wasn't going to be a big part of the story (he was only going to have one apperance), but I revised my plot to include him in later chapters. With that aside, comments and criticism are greatly appreciated! ^-^
Next chapter? The Council meeting goes on, but Mew and Celebi decide to touch upon a different, more controversial topic that may very well endanger the human race.
Jirachi floated to the scene, much to Shaymin’s relief. Long, butterscotch-yellow tassels fluttered behind her small gray body as she rose into the air and faced her quarreling brothers. “Is it really fair to choose Deoxys’s faith for him if he is able to communicate?” The wish granter turned when someone slightly scoffed, making the two teal wish tags on her star-shaped head flutter.
Celebi, who had been silent behind Mew until now, came forward. The cerulean-tipped antennae in his swept, green hair bobbed with his scornful chuckles. Delicate filmy wings flittered as the time traveler joined the Council. “Jirachi, tell me if I have missed your point completely,” hints of sarcasm were evident in his tone and in his china-blue eyes, “but exactly what would the Pokémon world gain if we let this creature stay? Even the weakest Pokémon have something to contribute. This Deoxys hasn’t shown a speck of usefulness, yet you are offering to let him choose his position in the matter?”
The Hoenn Legendary frowned for only a second before composing herself. “What I’m merely saying, Celebi, is that we should not judge Deoxys’s mental capacity without a second thought to the matter. Yes, he may not seem resourceful, powerful, or useful now, but by observing him longer, we may come to a sensible and thought-out conclusion-”
“Is that what you really want, Jirachi?” barked Ho-Oh, the golden feather crest on her head bouncing with each harsh word. “Do you really want to let Deoxys stay long enough for him to be able to show what’s he capable of? At what cost would that be? Destroyed towns? Interference with weather patterns? Possible time rips? All for the sake of deciding whether he can stay or not?” Lugia brushed his wing against his counterpart’s to sooth her sizzling temper.
“No, it is not,” the Wish Pokémon responded curtly. Jirachi tiredly rubbed the top point of her head, the only point that did not harbor a wish tag, and looked over at Arceus. She respected his decision in keeping out of Council matters (other than giving the final verdict in decisions), but she wished that he would assert his authority over his children more often. Maybe that way, Council meetings would not turn into battles of self-interest and prejudice.
“We cannot endanger the Pokémon and human populace merely to welcome in a curious alien,” the Time Travel Pokémon drawled. “It is, after all, our duty to protect this world.”
Shaymin growled beneath her breath as Jirachi, taken aback at her sister’s cynicism, formed an uncharacteristic scowl and began to say, “We are not welcoming anybody, yet we are not supposed to rightly refuse someone a chance to establish themselves on Earth.”
“Our duties don’t always allow us to be fair with everybody,” Mew replied loudly so that his voice echoed against the pristine walls of the chamber for everybody to hear. Calm and cool, he hovered beside Celebi and continued, only the slightly narrowing of his eyes betraying his kind façade, “We must put Earth and its inhabitants first and foremost in all of our decisions, not outsiders. You cannot allow kindn…”
The Kanto Legendary trailed off. His whip-like tail stiffened when a horrendous chill ran down his spine. Small ears flew back at the same time Mew let an undignified snarl rise from his throat. Dismissing Jirachi with a mental flap of his hand, he faced Arceus, bowed, and said with a hint of a growl, “My barrier has been shattered. Deoxys has escaped.”
Arceus nodded once, his jade eyes troubled.
_____
Panic made Deoxys’ heart flutter in his chest. Though knowing he shouldn’t, the alien looked back.
Amethyst glittered all over the cave mouth he had just left, remnants of the barrier that had kept him prisoner. Rocks had turned to pebbles and pebbles to dust before he had managed to exert all his power and escape. Was he tired? Deoxys wasn’t sure. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and kept him flying farther away from the ocher mountain range. Yes, he was out, but did that mean he was in the clear? He bet his tentacles that he wasn’t.
Water had stretched below him, calm and undisturbed, but now, a mass of land took its place, along with a flare of bright, and familiar, light. Deoxys halted and let out some frightened calls that pierced the air. He had been so hell-bent on escaping the cave before Mew could notice, so afraid he would be taken again, that he hadn’t noticed he had been flying right into the heated star that was ready to implode. Frozen with fear and indecision, he looked back at the mountain range then towards the halo of light that seemed to touch the dark sky. The double-edged sword loomed in his mind’s eye, spinning and spinning close. Would getting incinerated be better than whatever Mew had in store for him?
Deoxys chanced a look below him, automatically squinting to see through the blinding glare. Were those creatures moving down there? Moving in the core of a boiling star? Despite every nerve of his body telling him to fly the opposite way, Deoxys inched closer; he faintly noticed that he didn’t feel the heat of the celestial light. Yes, there were creatures moving around the rectangular, silver protrusions of the star! The space dweller felt his mind flip in shock. How was it possible?
Suddenly, Deoxys was propelled backwards by an invisible gust. Flipping before stopping when the shock of the hit dwindled, he steadied himself and wildly looked around for his attacker. He caught sight of a green serpent, its blood-red fangs bared and the yellow rings adorning its spiked body glowing with rage, before another Air Slash nicked him in the abdomen and sent him spinning downward. Rayquaza, ruler of Hoenn’s skies, clenched his three-clawed hands and followed his target. His spade tail swished as he stopped himself in mid-descend; an aurora had appeared in the night sky.
As the otherworldly lights of purple and pink danced alongside the stars, Deoxys began to change, the sphere in his chest going out. His tentacles and hands thickened into slabs as thick as his body but as flexible as his first limbs. Spindly legs bulged as his chest and head hardened and grew until the alien was encased in a suit of red and green armor. The violet orb flared to life and was ready to serve its Master’s Defense Forme.
Rayquaza snorted in indignation, the emerald plates on his body spinning while the twin, flat-ended spikes on his head twitched. “You dare trespass in my domain, no doubt to attack the fair city of LaRousse, and then mock me by putting on disguises?” he roared, fire-yellow eyes on the verge of smoldering. All twenty-three-feet of him bristled as he reared and let loose a torrent of sapphire energy.
Deoxys shielded his body with his broad arms. Specks of burning blue and white showered his head. While he closed his eyes and felt the specks burning his face, his arms unpleasantly tingled. Ignoring the smell of charred skin, Deoxys endured the last of the Dragon Pulse before beginning to flee towards the city. The Sky High Pokémon snarled at the sight and flicked his tail. A gust picked up around him, its chilly breeze doing nothing to cool his out-of-control temper, and with another slap of his tail, it was sent cantering towards the scared foreigner.
Deoxys felt himself be picked up by the Twister, then tossed around as the currents grew faster and stronger, eventually merging into walls of spiraling white that never let him go. The captive, curled into a protective ball, saw from the center of the twenty-foot-high funnel a blur of green coming his way; those electric eyes, already envisioning him at the bottom of the ocean, left him with no doubt.
He was going to have to fight for his freedom.
Tendrils of fuchsia wove through the threads of night a second time. Deoxys’ bulky arms thinned into two tentacles while his head lengthened back into an aerodynamic spike. Chest and legs were now thinner and raven-black. His jewel began to glow and power his Speed Forme.
Tentacles whipped about his head, too fast to be effected by the violent gusts that swirled all around him. Then his body began to spin in unison and against the Twister’s current. The wind fluctuated and began to unweave itself from the tight cone it had shaped. Wobbling as though on a shaking spindle, the Twister collapsed and thinned out until only wisps of air caressed Deoxys’ face. Seeing the trespasser close his eyes for a second of bliss made the dragon’s blood boil. With a malicious grin, he slithered towards the morphing creature and clamped down his midnight-black jaws…
On nothing.
The serpent started, and calculating eyes searched the sky for the red menace. Before Rayquaza could draw a breath, tentacles were wrapped and tightened around his windpipe. Deoxys straddled himself on the beast’s neck and refused to let go. The deity roared in anger and haphazardly flew around to try and buck the alien. With the wind beating his face, Deoxys flipped forward, his grip on the Legendary still strong. Infuriated eyes narrowed into slits when Rayquaza found Deoxys now sitting on his snout.
“You cowardly little-!”
Then all the hot-blooded Flying-type could see was stars, his head ringing from the Zen Headbutt that had cut off his rant. Deoxys reared back in pain, cringing and mentally cursing himself for not realizing that a recoil was obvious when he was so close to Rayquaza. Magenta sparks still dancing around his head, the Psychic-type flew high into the air and looked down, then quickly regretted it.
The speedy alien looked away, but it did not clear the horrible image that had assaulted his eyes. With fangs alight with the aurora above, he saw them for all their ganet glory. Their points, sharpened into non-existent ends, had been dripping with saliva as thick as the fury in his horrible, golden eyes.
BAM!
With the Scary Face still etched into his mind, Deoxys felt himself falling. As gravity took him to the unforgivable ocean below, pain wove its way through his chest. The sticky, neon-green liquid that was his blood sluggishly dripped down from the slash on his neck and down towards the cracked gem in his chest. Deoxys raised a tentacle to the orb, feeling its energy dim, spreading weakness and exhaustion throughout his body. Not daring to touch the throbbing wound that wound around his throat, he struggled to stop his descent, forcing his eyes to stay open and scout for his enraged foe.
There he was, circling above him like a vulture at high noon. Fangs were split into a satisfied smirk as Rayquaza watched the outsider steady himself. That expression screamed that he wouldn’t be let go, not until ten thousand leagues separated Deoxys from the sky. Green and garnet tentacles twitched with mixed emotions. On top of fearing for his life, he was outraged that everybody on this planet wanted to control him, subdue him. Was he being here such an enormous inconvenience? Or were they all simply trying to eliminate any outside competition they saw in order to keep whatever hierarchy of power they had in this planet intact?
It didn’t matter. He had traveled for light years, through forming galaxies and asteroid belts, in order to find a place he could call home.
This place was it, and he wasn’t going to be forced back into space, to be cold and alone, by this beast!
Extremespeed propelled him towards the snake that dared run him from his home. The wind that had whistled with his fall went silent until he no longer felt a breeze. His beating heart, Rayquaza’s breathing, all had disappeared in the vacuum his attack created. Even the tremendous thump! that reverberated when the Dragon-type was sent flying had been totally muffled. When Deoxys did stop, the black that surrounded him returned to be the night sky. The gentle lap of waves returned, followed by his enemy’s now labored breathing. So riled up he was that it took him a moment to realize that shimmering, broken dragon scales were raining down.
By that time, the silhouette of Arceus caught his eye. Hidden behind a haggard and fuming Rayquaza, he came towards Deoxys with the calm aura that made the asteroid dweller lower his writhing appendages. As effortlessly as though he had wings instead of hooves, the Alpha Pokémon hovered between the two beings.
“That outsider should be punished!” spat the sky ruler. Although hunched up to stop the aching on his bruised side, he still bared his fangs and narrowed his eyes with every word. “How dare he come upon LaRousse with his evil intentions. If not for me-!”
“You,” his creator cut in, authority ringing in that single word, “should have been with the rest of the Council, as I had asked. Ruler of the heavens you may be, your duties as a Legendary are just as important. Besides, Groudon and Kyogre can guard Hoenn for the time you are gone.”
Arceus flew towards Deoxys, glancing from the rivulets of green blood that ran down the side of his neck to the lithe body that had managed to stand against Rayquaza’s own.
“If you choose to stay here, you must obey the laws of our world. Though it’s still not certain whether you will be allowed to make your home on Earth, I will lead you to a place where you may rest and live away from the rest of the Pokémon. Foreigner you may be, you do not deserve this hostility.”
“Home on Earth… rest of the Pokémon…”
Deoxys stared then nodded numbly. The aurora above LaRousse faded away when he morphed back to his Normal Forme. Maybe, just maybe, these “Pokémon” creatures weren’t all so bad, if he managed to stay away from those that were.
“What about you, Arceus?” Rayquaza asked at length. “Haven’t you abandoned your duties if you are here?”
“Do not worry. I assigned Mew and Celebi temporary charge. As my oldest and wisest children, they will make sure the meeting will continue as smoothly as it should.”
_____
A/N: Deoxys originally wasn't going to be a big part of the story (he was only going to have one apperance), but I revised my plot to include him in later chapters. With that aside, comments and criticism are greatly appreciated! ^-^
Next chapter? The Council meeting goes on, but Mew and Celebi decide to touch upon a different, more controversial topic that may very well endanger the human race.
Buoysel
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PokéCommunity Supporter Crystal Tier
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Also Known As kcander90, quilzel
Trust me, I'm a Professional*
Age 32
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Kansas City
Seen August 4th, 2015
Posted April 12th, 2015
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Curses!
I clicked on the link and read a few lines. I must read more, but I can barely keep my eyes open now. t-t
I'll read and review in the morning, so far (two paragraphs in) looking really good.
EDIT: Well that was certainty inserting. Your description is top notch. I really like how each character has a well thought out personality. It was interesting to read. I am a little curious as to where you are going with this story. You said that Deoxys originally didn't have a bigger part. Which makes me wondering what exactly is this story about. Is it just about the day to day lives of the legendarily?
I clicked on the link and read a few lines. I must read more, but I can barely keep my eyes open now. t-t
I'll read and review in the morning, so far (two paragraphs in) looking really good.
EDIT: Well that was certainty inserting. Your description is top notch. I really like how each character has a well thought out personality. It was interesting to read. I am a little curious as to where you are going with this story. You said that Deoxys originally didn't have a bigger part. Which makes me wondering what exactly is this story about. Is it just about the day to day lives of the legendarily?
I really need a new signature.
Originally Posted by 157
[ Original Post ]
Curses!I clicked on the link and read a few lines. I must read more, but I can barely keep my eyes open now. t-t
I'll read and review in the morning, so far (two paragraphs in) looking really good.
EDIT: Well that was certainty inserting. Your description is top notch. I really like how each character has a well thought out personality. It was interesting to read. I am a little curious as to where you are going with this story. You said that Deoxys originally didn't have a bigger part. Which makes me wondering what exactly is this story about. Is it just about the day to day lives of the legendarily?
I'm glad you think my description is good; I try to describe as best as I can but without blatantly listing everything or creating a jumble of sentences that don't make sense. Yeah, originally, Deoxys was only going to come out for like, two chapters, then left alone, but a reviewer on another site suggested that I could somehow incoporate Deoxys more since he already seemed a well thought-out character. The result turned out well, and it resulted in some later chapters being less filler-like. I'm glad I did it.
Well, I can't reveal too much (:p), but the Legendaries have a huge role in this story. This story is basically about the lust for more power among them, those who try to stop them, and those who seem to caught in the middle of it all. Later on, you'll be introduced to the human main characters.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you stay tune for more! :3 Chapter two will probably be posted around Wednesday. I want to give people a chance to notice my story first before I start posting the chapters I've already written. ^^;
- Kat
Chapter 2: Proposition and Consequence
For a while, silence reigned over Arceus’ Chamber. The Legendaries looked at each other in mute shock before redirecting their gazes at the spot their father had disappeared from. None of them really thought that Deoxys was capable of such power, even when they considered the fact that he had survived a travel through space. To break through Mew’s barrier (or obliterate it, as some of them saw it) was something only a select few could hope to manage. And then, they realized with a start, he had enough power still to hold his own against Rayquaza, the most ruthless of their brethren. It wasn’t until the psychic remnants of Arceus’ portal settled to the floor and disappeared that a deity finally spoke.
“That alien,” Ho-Oh managed to say, his regal features stuck somewhere between fury and awe. “That alien…” She trailed off, not knowing how to put what just happened into words. Instead, Ho-Oh straightened and screeched to her kin, “See what this Deoxys is capable of?! He bypassed Mew’s barrier, faced Rayquaza, and lived to tell about it!” Lugia quieted his sister and decided to continue the declaration in a calmer manner.
“Deoxys is powerful. Dare I say it, as powerful as some of us here. Now that we know what he’s capable of, do we still want him on Earth?”
The trio master directed his last question towards Mew and Celebi, the only ones not gathered around the center. Now, though, both pixies rose into the air and hovered above their siblings. The creases in their brows and the firmness of their chins had not changed since Arceus named them the Council’s temporary leaders.
“Do you not see?” Mew asked of his brothers and sisters with a slight shake of his head. “Did you not hear Arceus’ words as he projected them to our minds? Deoxys’ fate has already been sealed; Father decided upon having the alien join us as a Pokémon. Is there any use in foregoing this meaningless debate?”
None could deny Arceus’ words just as no one could deny his fatherly nature. With what Deoxys had been through, Arceus was sure to treat him as his own child; even some of the Legends sympathized for Deoxys’ wounds and shook their heads at their brother’s horribly violent nature.
“Now,” Celebi announced, stoic expression morphing into a satisfied smirk. “Mew and I have a more pressing matter to attend to, one that involves humans rather than Pokémon. I am, of course, talking about Purgatory.”
With all eyes on her, the time manipulator ascended and seated herself on a pillar’s top. Feeling very much like a queen upon her throne, she nonchalantly waved a hand in the air. “Purgatory, as we all know, is a world separate from our fair Heaven,” Celebi motioned to the Hall of Origin, the center of the world above the clouds, “and from Earth.”
As Mew joined Celebi at her side, Jirachi floated back towards the shadows and pursed her lips in disapproval. They were delivering their “proposal” as though reciting a script. Exactly for how long were they thinking about this?
“Purgatory,” Mew continued, unaware of the wish granter’s thoughts, “is used to hold human souls until their one-on-one Judgment with Arceus. Will they be reincarnated as humans, as Pokémon, forced to be the servants of Death’s minions, allowed permanent residence in Heaven, or destroyed?”
Mew’s becoming playful, Jirachi noted, the pillars’ shadows hiding her scowl. Which means he’s enjoying whatever they’re planning.
“However, despite the efforts of Arceus, Death, and his Dusknoir guards,” contempt rang when Mew mentioned the Grim Reaper then quickly disappeared, “too many souls are accumulated in the dimension, and with more and more humans dying in their Region War in Johto, souls are going to spend centuries in Purgatory. Those of sinful humans get worse, and those of the pure are stained by them.”
“Our proposition,” Celebi picked off before the Legendaries could speak, “is to destroy those sinful souls without Arceus’ Judgment, thus sparing the pure and keeping Purgatory orderly.”
Jirachi could feel her jaw dropping open in shock and outrage. Before she banish the surprise and react, Darkrai chuckled hollowly.
“I must say,” he remarked, sounding as gleeful and snide as Celebi had moments ago. “That has to be the most remarkable idea either of you have ever proposed.”
Cresselia frowned at the smile her counterpart wore. Their relationship had always been shaky, for their views conflicted since their creation, and now, she cocked her head with a cynical glare. “Enlighten me on exactly how this idea is so magnificent,” she commanded dryly.
The Dark-type didn’t miss the look. Instead of countering with his own, sarcastic remark, he spoke while motioning with his hands, “A sinful soul will always be a sinful human, even when their memories are wiped when reincarnated.” It wasn’t fact but merely his opinion. To his advantage, it was also Cresselia’s, who always looked out for humanity to try and keep them all as pure as possible. “Do you want those sinful souls to be reincarnated again and again to plague towns and cities? If what Mew says is true, pure souls will turn sinful in Purgatory, which will just make this cycle deadlier.”
The Lunar Pokémon, for the first time in a long while, could not find something in Darkrai’s words to complain or correct. Cresselia tilted her head in thought until she finally found the words she was looking for. She agreed with everything he said, but that didn’t mean she had to admit it so bluntly. “There might be truth to your words, Darkrai,” she carefully said (Cresselia saw the Pitch-Black Pokémon give an all-knowing grin). “But how do we go about deciding which souls have sinned? Arceus has been the solve giver of Judgments since time began.”
Again Jirachi opened her mouth to speak, and again her chance was snatched away.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ho-Oh asked loudly, slightly annoyed. “Mew and Celebi have already thought about that. They are the ones who are going to make those extra Judgments. Arceus is likely to say yes, seeing as how they are his first created.”
“Do you have any other candidates in mind?” Mew offered, arms crossed.
The phoenix chuckled and shook her head. “No I don’t, so you don’t have to get off your pedestal. As long as you don’t get rid of half of Purgatory’s population at once, I have no qualms.”
“Yes,” Cresselia agreed. “As long as the sinning souls are disposed of with no mass wipeout, I suspect that this will be very beneficial.”
“Sounds good, sounds good,” Manaphy chorused, no longer quiet now that the majority of the Legendaries agreed. She admired her older brothers and sisters and trusted their judgment more than her own.
“Enough! Absolutely not!” Jirachi finally cried, her long, butterscotch tassels billowing behind her like flames when she soared to the center of the chamber. Jirachi locked her eyes with Mew and Celebi (both unaffected by the dragger-like glare) and then to the rest of the Council. “You are proposing to destroy souls, what Arceus reserves only for the truly horrible, to simply stop them from mingling with the ones you consider pure?! We cannot, will not, resort to a holocaust because of bias.”
The dual-type looked over to Shaymin, who was staring up at her with wide, green eyes. Jirachi’s confidence waned at the sight. Yes, her Grass-type friend was shy and timid when among the oldest Legendaries, but she still expected her to back her up. Still, Jirachi’s determined voice rang when she demanded, “Do you, Shaymin, also see that this is not the way to fix Purgatory? That this is a crazy notion!”
Though her snow-white face hid it well, the Gratitude Pokémon blanched. Shell-shocked, her stare automatically went to the two Legends running the show. Mew and Celebi simultaneously raised brows, challenging the smallest of their siblings to defy them. Their cold, stony expressions made Shaymin shirk back. They were centuries older than her, and every wise and powerful year shone in their narrowed eyes. Young and inexperienced as she was, was it smart to speak against them?
“Shaymin…”
Turning, the hedgehog met Jirachi’s amber eyes. It wasn’t the betrayal in them that stung her heart but the plead that laid in their depths. To see Jirachi so vulnerable and knowing she was the cause was too much for Shaymin to bear. She guiltily lowered her eyes and said nothing.
“I will inform Arceus of our decision, then,” Mew announced. “Sinned souls will be Judged and disposed off in an orderly manner to bring order to Purgatory.” He paused and glanced at the chamber’s occupants. “This meeting is over. Thank you all for your time.”
Shaymin looked up, an apology forming on her lips, but Jirachi had already teleported away without a simple farewell.
_____
Jirachi had never been one for violence, but the moment she got away from Heaven, she wanted to slam her fist against a wall again and again until it crumbled. Frustration, betrayal, and anger coursed through her veins like white fire, making the two wish tags on her headdress tremble. Fisting her hands, the Legend took a couple of deep breaths and calmed down. She was not Rayquaza or Ho-Oh, who resorted to violence when faced with blood-boiling situations. Jirachi was calm, level-headed, and dealt with problems in a rational manner.
With that mindset, the Steel-type looked around her, slightly comforted by the cave she called home sweet home. But again, she didn’t want to wallow in her emotions. There was a half-formed plan weaving in between her thoughts, one that she would have called desperate at any other time, and going through with it might help solve this mess. Jirachi flew past the glowing, green crystals embedded in the rocky walls, past the trickle of water that filled the small pond at the center of her home, and to the forest outside. Flying through the tree canopies that hid the cave entrance, she hovered at the edge of the thick forest.
Morning was breaking on the horizon, but the cluster of trees and their leafy foliage blocked out the thin rays of growing sunlight. The giant, deathly-still grass was covered in shadows as dark as the nearly-black trunks of the trees. Somewhere among all of the plants, there were Bug Pokémon; she could hear their morning chatter all around, like a never-ending symphony that did not want to be found. If the overgrown canopies didn’t cast enough of a shadow, the mountain in which her home was carved into blanketed the area in velvet-black.
“I’ll be back,” she told the forest and its unseen singers. A small part of her didn’t even want to go. It would be so easy to just go along with the rest of the Legends’ decision.
Then Jirachi remembered the conniving glint in Mew and Celebi’s eyes and dismissed the ridiculous idea.
She breathed in the smell of oak and rot before holding her short hands before her. Jirachi called upon every star, every moon, and every galaxy hidden behind the sun’s glare into the tips of her fingers. Power she had only wielded a handful of times flooded into her palms, lighting them up like miniature suns. Closing her eyes, the psychic envisioned the invisible veil that separated Earth from her destination. With the celestial energy in her hands, she brushed her fingers against the air and could feel the barrier. She felt death, sin, and the purity of all the souls that had passed from this world to the next. Goosebumps rose all along her arms; her wish tags stood on end.
Jirachi moved her hands counterclockwise, tracing a circle to carefully undo the seams of the barrier. Although her ability to manipulate space allowed her to do so, the barrier still fought her, screaming, You are not Death! You are not his servants! Why do you wish to enter, stranger? But she kept on until she had completed the portal and left her home to enter Purgatory.
“I will not be long,” she told the portal. Through the beads of sweat that trickled down her forehead and into her eyes, she saw the tattered edges of the veil flapping, revealing and obscuring the forest scenery on the other side. With some flicks of her wrist, the edges slithered to the center of the opening and wound around themselves until only the light of Earth could be seen through the cracks. Though it was safer, she dared not completely close it; what if she was too tired to create a new portal after her business was taken cared of?
It wasn’t until she was sure that the gap between Purgatory and Earth was strong enough to keep souls and Pokémon out yet weak enough for someone of her power to re-open it without too much trouble that she noticed the odd sheen of red on her hands. Startled, she turned them but found it wasn’t blood. When the glow was seen on her abdomen and legs, Jirachi was quick enough to figure out that the source of color was coming from up above.
A scarlet and orange sky greeted her to this strange and new dimension. The wisps of gray that never seemed to move did nothing to remind her of the sky on Earth. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs of gloom from her thoughts, Jirachi looked at either side of her. To her right, she saw a mountain range that she could not help but compare to Rayquaza’s fangs: sharp and a blood-stained garnet. Beneath the landmarks, there was nothing but barren fields of hard, cracked earth.
While the scene on the left wasn’t much better, there was some kind of spiral that reached for the sky. The hesitant Pokémon took off in that direction, knowing from talks with Arceus that Death lived in a tower of some sort. The flight was dreary and tedious, as there was nothing to see except mile after mile of desolate land. Once or twice, she could have sworn that she saw a human walking below her, but upon a second glance, the wandering soul was gone like the nonexistent wind in Purgatory. As though to reassure her that she wasn’t going crazy, she spotted Dusclops guards every couple of minutes. Their gray, stocky bodies stuck out like sore thumbs over the yellow plains.
At least they’re always there in case I need directions, she couldn’t help but think tartly. She had spent less than an hour in Purgatory and already the scenery (or lack thereof) annoyed her to no end. She loved lush, secluded forests and the freeness of outer space, not this dimension that made her feel as though she was trapped in some twisted, frozen hourglass.
With no warning, the flat desert beneath her dipped to form a large and deep valley. Here, she saw souls, all of them in the guises of the humans they once were, walking around the village hidden in the deep bowl of earth. Jirachi, startled by the sight of the wooden houses, complete with fences, gardens, and mailboxes, stopped dead in her tracks. If it wasn’t for the gruesome sky, the parched terrain, and the Dusclops guards and their servants around every corner, she would have thought she had accidentally taken a wrong turn and ended up back on Earth. Things like leisure conversations going on in the streets and kids playing in their yards could be seen everywhere. They had work buildings, churches, and schools (all of them worn and weather-beaten as though they had been taken straight from their places on Earth) to allow them to live life as they would have before their deaths. The souls didn’t even seem to see the guards or the world they lived in as they went about their “lives.”
All of it boggled the Legendary’s mind until she focused on the tower at the far end of the valley. Flying above houses and buildings, she reached the odd structure. With stones a decaying gray, it started normally enough with a thick, wooden door built into the cylindrical base. When she slowly flew up, the tower veered off to the right, then to the left, then back again like a drunken serpent. In the process, the tower walls ranged from missing some bricks to having nothing but the twisting, stone stairwell inside. Jirachi shot towards the room on the tower’s tip, which was curiously enough intact (even the pointed roof had most of its dusty-red shingles). Dodging the bricks that had decided to separate from the walls and stairwell to float around, she perched on the sole window of the room. Unsure of how to announce her presence, she tried knocking on the stone, but when she heard the knock was quieter than a pin drop, Jirachi decided to call out into the dark room.
“Hello?” she tried. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Death, but I need to urgently talk to you. It’s of grave importance.”
There was no answer. Jirachi leaned in, squinting against the overwhelming gloom that covered every inch of the place. Other than a faint, metallic glint in one of the walls, there was nothing but black, black, and more black.
“Hello?” the Legendary repeated, more hesitant than ever.
Again, only silence answered. Putting a hand against the window’s edge and the other on her forehead, Jirachi mentally slapped herself for her stupidity. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that Death might be out collecting souls or attending pressing matters in other parts of Purgatory. She might be waiting for weeks, even months, for him to return; she could already imagine countless souls destroyed by that time.
“Yes?”
With a yelp, Jirachi jumped back from the Pokémon that suddenly materialized in her face. Almost tripping on her tassels, she gripped the side of the window and straightened herself with as much dignity as someone who had just been scared senseless could muster.
“Good day,” she greeted the phantom inside the room. The red eye centered in his cylindrical head narrowed as the three silver spikes on either side of his neck flared out; he was not happy. He rose higher into the air, exposing his rotund, dark gray stomach and the golden zigzag on it that stretched into a frown. Getting a glare from both his ruby eye and the two yellow ones on his abdomen, Jirachi decided to square her shoulders and respond with her own, firm look.
“Death,” Jirachi addressed the Dusknoir. “I have something urgent to discuss with you. It has to do with something the Council of Legends agreed upon no more than a few hours ago. I-”
“I have no interest in talking with you, Jirachi,” Death told her. He turned and flapped a thick, gray hand to her as parting. “Good day to you, too,” he added sarcastically.
Jirachi grinded her teeth at the slap to the face. She was not going to tolerate another dismissal. Soaring into the room after him, she pointed a finger at the ghost’s back and barked, “Death, this is a serious matter that cannot be ignored!” When he did not turn, the space wielder ordered in a booming yell, “Halt and face me, Death! Do not walk away from a Legend!”
The Ghost-type obeyed, though his grinning eye and the short laugh that echoed from deep within his stomach still taunted her. “Jirachi, you have no right to call yourself a Legend while Purgatory is in this state. Do you see forests and meadows from where Shaymin has blessed the land with her power? Are there any stars that you and Cresselia have put or any oceans that Lugia has brought forth with his rains? You and your ilk are just hatchlings with power.”
“This is not Earth,” the dual-type hotly responded.
“The souls that reside here think it is,” was the reply. Dusknoir approached her, only to pass by and peer out the window. Jirachi turned and looked on from behind, watching the wandering dots below. “There are houses and buildings to try and simulate their past lives on Earth. We have even created illusions of a soul’s family and loved ones to fool them further. Throughout their stay, they believe they have never left Earth. In this manner, when their time to be Judged finally comes, they will be as though they barely moved on. Or so, that was the plan.”
Here, he glanced at her, sadness softening his glare. “Eventually, some notice the lack of weather, of changing seasons, and life beyond them. Eventually, they come to realize that this is not Earth and that they have died. They call it ‘Hell’ and make their way out of their settlements and into the open land. Most of the time, my guards manage to return them and enchant them anew. Other times, souls are lost in the harsh vastness of Purgatory. Of course, when their Judgment comes, Arceus always manages to find them. By that time, they have wallowed in their ill discoveries for many long years, however.”
Entranced by the oblivious souls, Jirachi shook her head and sighed. “I never knew that. I always thought… Never imagined…” She trailed off, shook her head at her own folly, and turned to the melancholy reaper. Death began to wander back into the room, which Jirachi now saw was bare for anything but a scythe hanging on a wall; it’s curved blade had been the shine she had seen earlier.
“I came here to help, Death,” she began again, drifting a few steps behind him. “The Council of Legends, or rather, Mew and Celebi, intend to steadily wipe out those souls they think of as sinned; they believe Purgatory is too crowded and unorganized. I am afraid that Arceus will agree to this because they are his oldest children and thus, the wisest. Is there anything you can say or do to prevent this?” Her voice had dropped an octave when she began her plead. “It seems that I’m the only one who objects, and my voice goes ignored without anybody else’s to aid me. I have no doubt in mind that this will end badly for the human race.”
Death’s eye narrowed. “It’s true that Purgatory becomes crowded, even with other settlements besides this one spread throughout the dimension. Dusknoir guards are only used to make sure no rips in the barrier occur and to keep the souls in their proper areas. They do not have the power that I do, the power to lay enchantments needed to raise the land for a new settlement. I would create many more if my job of collecting souls did not drain my power and time. Even now, though I’m here, I can do nothing more than teleport.”
Jirachi raised a hopeful brow. “So if a Legendary was able to have your powers, this crisis could be solved? With more homes and room for the souls, could we avoid this looming catastrophe?”
With a sigh that was half sad, half frustrated, the ghost laid a hand on the hanging scythe and said, “I’m sorry, but I do not trust a Legendary to wield this power. Purgatory is my domain, and I will rule it only beside a being who will follow my orders and nobody else’s. They need to be loyal, trustworthy, and most of all, understand the true value of power and responsibility.” Death traced the two, v-shaped cuts engraved on the edge of the scythe’s blade then ran his fingers down the four-foot-long ebony handle. “I have this made and waiting for the soul that I deem worthy to be all of that, but no one of that nature has come.”
Deflated, the space Legendary asked, “Is that the only way you would be able to prevent this mess?”
“There’s nothing else I can do. The Council has made up its mind.” When Death saw Jirachi lean against the wall, drained from everything she had to endure that day, he floated up to her. “Is there anybody else who disagrees with this?”
The Psychic-type looked up, surprised to see Death sympathetically staring down at her. She only answered with a mumbled, “I’m sure that Shaymin shares my opinion; I could see it in her eyes, but she’s much too timid to talk against Mew and Celebi.” The harsh thorn of betrayal dug into her heart.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that there are truly Legendaries out there who are not wrapped up in their own issues, even if they do not speak out,” the Grim Reaper admitted. At the smile she heard weaving through his words, Jirachi faced him again and realized he wasn’t as cold as she previously thought. The face on Death’s stomach didn’t seem as angry, and that harsh shine to his eye was gone. “I apologize for assuming you were one.”
As much as the words chased away the ill feeling of betrayal, Jirachi dismissed them with a weak wave of her hand. “You were right to assume. Like you said, look at this place! No stars, no moon, no atmosphere, all of the things I could have created centuries ago are absent. It’s my responsibility to take care of Pokémon and humans alike, even when Earth is no longer their home, and I did not uphold to my duties.”
“It’s never too late to start,” Death advised. “You can still give Purgatory and its residents all of that.”
“But first I have to sort Mew and Celebi’s mess out!” she cut in, again anxious. Jirachi now hovered above him and glanced out the tower’s window. “No matter what it takes.”
“What do you plan to do?” Death probed. He unhooked the scythe from the wall and began to skillfully swing it about. It was a habit he had formed over the past century. The paranoia that the perfect assistant would come yet the scythe would be dull and powerless, unable to be used, haunted him like a nightmare. As he inspected the ivory skull nestled at the top, Jirachi looked away from the hollowed, pitch-black eye sockets.
“Talk to Arceus about alternate ways to improve Purgatory’s state,” she answered. “Either he wasn’t aware of what we Legends can do for this dimension or he neglected to mention it, he will listen. He might also be willing to help with finding you an assistant.” Jirachi bowed and said, “Thank you for your help.”
The reaper met her eyes. “Go fulfill your duty, Legend.” He closed his eye and nodded towards her. “Though I am powerless, I feel not all is lost for the souls in Purgatory.”
His version of a compliment, Jirachi realized with a small smirk.
With a wave, the psychic flew out the window. When her tassels fluttered out of sight, Death took one last look at his scythe and placed it back on its hook on the wall. He was sure that one day, it would be in hands other than his own. Until then, he would rule over Purgatory with nobody but his shadow at his side.
Sitting on the ledge of a mountain so much more different than the one back home, Jirachi could see the Purgatory village in the distance. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the faint glow of power that kept the barrier rip from opening. It was so close, but in a way, it was so far from her grasp.
With a short flight, she could be back on Earth, in her cave, or soaring through the skies to find Arceus.
Yet something compelled her to stay.
Jirachi glanced at the ruby and orange sky and couldn’t help but compare it to a melancholy sunset. With the clouds never moving and the harsh glare forever beating down on the hardened plains, she truly wondered whether this dimension was frozen in time. Leaning back, she immediately straightened when she felt the sharp rocks protruding from the mountain’s rocky, garnet surface.
“This is so different from Heaven and Earth,” she thought aloud.
What must it feel like to look up and see no moon or sun? That, more than anything, made Jirachi shiver. Didn’t these souls deserve the same world as the souls in Heaven? Didn’t they have the right to live under a cluster of stars and a joyous sun just as those deemed worthy enough to live in an internal paradise did?
Yes, she answered her question. Yes they do.
“Where have you been hidden?” Jirachi asked the forsaken world. “I could have helped sooner.”
“You! Up there!”
The wish granter grasped the edge of the ledge and looked down. Ten-feet below was the madly waving figure of a male soul. When the Pokémon just continued to stare, he jumped up and down and resumed his shouting.
“You! Legend! There’s something you need to know!”
“What is it?” Jirachi questioned, coming down. “And how did you kn-?”
“Never mind that!” the man shouted. He adjusted his collapsing top hat over his sandy-brown hair. Everything from his suit, dark dress pants, and polished shoes were covered in a fine layer of yellow dust (Jirachi even had to wonder if brown was his natural hair color). If he had been alive, he would have been huffing and puffing. His semi-translucent form and the fact that that he was in Purgatory told the Legendary he was a soul, and because of that, the stranger kept on talking in the same anxious tone without a hitch to his breath. “My friend is in trouble! I don’t know where he is!”
“Be calm, be calm,” the Steel-type told him. “Where was your friend sighted last?”
“Celebi and Mew took him!” the being cried, ignoring her words. Jirachi stiffened at the names and began to demand where this had happened, but the silver-eyed man (for all souls lost their eye color when they passed on) was too caught up to stop. “They just took him! I knew they were coming back for me, so I high-tailed it!”
“Where did-?” the Legend started to say but was cut off. Déjà vu settled into her; hadn’t she been interrupted enough today?
“I’m lucky to have made it this far! I saw no Dusclops guards anywhere…”
“But where did this take pl-!”
“… They might be behind me as we speak! I swear that-!”
Uneasy and nervous to the point of trembling, Jirachi snapped and took hold of the soul by his shirt collar, screaming in his face, “For the love of Arceus, from where was your friend taken?!”
The soul clamped his mouth shut and obediently pointed to another small range of mountains behind him. He was then unceremoniously dropped to the dirt when Jirachi took off towards the bloodied needles, her psychic aura brimming with ferocity.
A/N: Okay, I couldn't wait. xD
And meet another very important character of the story: Death. Jirachi and Death's discussion turned out very different than I had expected, as well the revelation of the scythe and Purgatory itself. I'm very happy how it came out. I just hope I don't stray too much from the outline I already have. xD
There's a pun in there, if somebody can spot it. :p
Oh yes; I'll be making profiles of the three worlds (Purgatory, Earth, and Heaven) soon and will add more as the story progresses.
What it's in store for next chapter? A very dangerous fight that will include the basis of our plot.
With a yelp, Jirachi jumped back from the Pokémon that suddenly materialized in her face. Almost tripping on her tassels, she gripped the side of the window and straightened herself with as much dignity as someone who had just been scared senseless could muster.
“Good day,” she greeted the phantom inside the room. The red eye centered in his cylindrical head narrowed as the three silver spikes on either side of his neck flared out; he was not happy. He rose higher into the air, exposing his rotund, dark gray stomach and the golden zigzag on it that stretched into a frown. Getting a glare from both his ruby eye and the two yellow ones on his abdomen, Jirachi decided to square her shoulders and respond with her own, firm look.
“Death,” Jirachi addressed the Dusknoir. “I have something urgent to discuss with you. It has to do with something the Council of Legends agreed upon no more than a few hours ago. I-”
“I have no interest in talking with you, Jirachi,” Death told her. He turned and flapped a thick, gray hand to her as parting. “Good day to you, too,” he added sarcastically.
Jirachi grinded her teeth at the slap to the face. She was not going to tolerate another dismissal. Soaring into the room after him, she pointed a finger at the ghost’s back and barked, “Death, this is a serious matter that cannot be ignored!” When he did not turn, the space wielder ordered in a booming yell, “Halt and face me, Death! Do not walk away from a Legend!”
The Ghost-type obeyed, though his grinning eye and the short laugh that echoed from deep within his stomach still taunted her. “Jirachi, you have no right to call yourself a Legend while Purgatory is in this state. Do you see forests and meadows from where Shaymin has blessed the land with her power? Are there any stars that you and Cresselia have put or any oceans that Lugia has brought forth with his rains? You and your ilk are just hatchlings with power.”
“This is not Earth,” the dual-type hotly responded.
“The souls that reside here think it is,” was the reply. Dusknoir approached her, only to pass by and peer out the window. Jirachi turned and looked on from behind, watching the wandering dots below. “There are houses and buildings to try and simulate their past lives on Earth. We have even created illusions of a soul’s family and loved ones to fool them further. Throughout their stay, they believe they have never left Earth. In this manner, when their time to be Judged finally comes, they will be as though they barely moved on. Or so, that was the plan.”
Here, he glanced at her, sadness softening his glare. “Eventually, some notice the lack of weather, of changing seasons, and life beyond them. Eventually, they come to realize that this is not Earth and that they have died. They call it ‘Hell’ and make their way out of their settlements and into the open land. Most of the time, my guards manage to return them and enchant them anew. Other times, souls are lost in the harsh vastness of Purgatory. Of course, when their Judgment comes, Arceus always manages to find them. By that time, they have wallowed in their ill discoveries for many long years, however.”
Entranced by the oblivious souls, Jirachi shook her head and sighed. “I never knew that. I always thought… Never imagined…” She trailed off, shook her head at her own folly, and turned to the melancholy reaper. Death began to wander back into the room, which Jirachi now saw was bare for anything but a scythe hanging on a wall; it’s curved blade had been the shine she had seen earlier.
“I came here to help, Death,” she began again, drifting a few steps behind him. “The Council of Legends, or rather, Mew and Celebi, intend to steadily wipe out those souls they think of as sinned; they believe Purgatory is too crowded and unorganized. I am afraid that Arceus will agree to this because they are his oldest children and thus, the wisest. Is there anything you can say or do to prevent this?” Her voice had dropped an octave when she began her plead. “It seems that I’m the only one who objects, and my voice goes ignored without anybody else’s to aid me. I have no doubt in mind that this will end badly for the human race.”
Death’s eye narrowed. “It’s true that Purgatory becomes crowded, even with other settlements besides this one spread throughout the dimension. Dusknoir guards are only used to make sure no rips in the barrier occur and to keep the souls in their proper areas. They do not have the power that I do, the power to lay enchantments needed to raise the land for a new settlement. I would create many more if my job of collecting souls did not drain my power and time. Even now, though I’m here, I can do nothing more than teleport.”
Jirachi raised a hopeful brow. “So if a Legendary was able to have your powers, this crisis could be solved? With more homes and room for the souls, could we avoid this looming catastrophe?”
With a sigh that was half sad, half frustrated, the ghost laid a hand on the hanging scythe and said, “I’m sorry, but I do not trust a Legendary to wield this power. Purgatory is my domain, and I will rule it only beside a being who will follow my orders and nobody else’s. They need to be loyal, trustworthy, and most of all, understand the true value of power and responsibility.” Death traced the two, v-shaped cuts engraved on the edge of the scythe’s blade then ran his fingers down the four-foot-long ebony handle. “I have this made and waiting for the soul that I deem worthy to be all of that, but no one of that nature has come.”
Deflated, the space Legendary asked, “Is that the only way you would be able to prevent this mess?”
“There’s nothing else I can do. The Council has made up its mind.” When Death saw Jirachi lean against the wall, drained from everything she had to endure that day, he floated up to her. “Is there anybody else who disagrees with this?”
The Psychic-type looked up, surprised to see Death sympathetically staring down at her. She only answered with a mumbled, “I’m sure that Shaymin shares my opinion; I could see it in her eyes, but she’s much too timid to talk against Mew and Celebi.” The harsh thorn of betrayal dug into her heart.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that there are truly Legendaries out there who are not wrapped up in their own issues, even if they do not speak out,” the Grim Reaper admitted. At the smile she heard weaving through his words, Jirachi faced him again and realized he wasn’t as cold as she previously thought. The face on Death’s stomach didn’t seem as angry, and that harsh shine to his eye was gone. “I apologize for assuming you were one.”
As much as the words chased away the ill feeling of betrayal, Jirachi dismissed them with a weak wave of her hand. “You were right to assume. Like you said, look at this place! No stars, no moon, no atmosphere, all of the things I could have created centuries ago are absent. It’s my responsibility to take care of Pokémon and humans alike, even when Earth is no longer their home, and I did not uphold to my duties.”
“It’s never too late to start,” Death advised. “You can still give Purgatory and its residents all of that.”
“But first I have to sort Mew and Celebi’s mess out!” she cut in, again anxious. Jirachi now hovered above him and glanced out the tower’s window. “No matter what it takes.”
“What do you plan to do?” Death probed. He unhooked the scythe from the wall and began to skillfully swing it about. It was a habit he had formed over the past century. The paranoia that the perfect assistant would come yet the scythe would be dull and powerless, unable to be used, haunted him like a nightmare. As he inspected the ivory skull nestled at the top, Jirachi looked away from the hollowed, pitch-black eye sockets.
“Talk to Arceus about alternate ways to improve Purgatory’s state,” she answered. “Either he wasn’t aware of what we Legends can do for this dimension or he neglected to mention it, he will listen. He might also be willing to help with finding you an assistant.” Jirachi bowed and said, “Thank you for your help.”
The reaper met her eyes. “Go fulfill your duty, Legend.” He closed his eye and nodded towards her. “Though I am powerless, I feel not all is lost for the souls in Purgatory.”
His version of a compliment, Jirachi realized with a small smirk.
With a wave, the psychic flew out the window. When her tassels fluttered out of sight, Death took one last look at his scythe and placed it back on its hook on the wall. He was sure that one day, it would be in hands other than his own. Until then, he would rule over Purgatory with nobody but his shadow at his side.
_____
Sitting on the ledge of a mountain so much more different than the one back home, Jirachi could see the Purgatory village in the distance. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the faint glow of power that kept the barrier rip from opening. It was so close, but in a way, it was so far from her grasp.
With a short flight, she could be back on Earth, in her cave, or soaring through the skies to find Arceus.
Yet something compelled her to stay.
Jirachi glanced at the ruby and orange sky and couldn’t help but compare it to a melancholy sunset. With the clouds never moving and the harsh glare forever beating down on the hardened plains, she truly wondered whether this dimension was frozen in time. Leaning back, she immediately straightened when she felt the sharp rocks protruding from the mountain’s rocky, garnet surface.
“This is so different from Heaven and Earth,” she thought aloud.
What must it feel like to look up and see no moon or sun? That, more than anything, made Jirachi shiver. Didn’t these souls deserve the same world as the souls in Heaven? Didn’t they have the right to live under a cluster of stars and a joyous sun just as those deemed worthy enough to live in an internal paradise did?
Yes, she answered her question. Yes they do.
“Where have you been hidden?” Jirachi asked the forsaken world. “I could have helped sooner.”
“You! Up there!”
The wish granter grasped the edge of the ledge and looked down. Ten-feet below was the madly waving figure of a male soul. When the Pokémon just continued to stare, he jumped up and down and resumed his shouting.
“You! Legend! There’s something you need to know!”
“What is it?” Jirachi questioned, coming down. “And how did you kn-?”
“Never mind that!” the man shouted. He adjusted his collapsing top hat over his sandy-brown hair. Everything from his suit, dark dress pants, and polished shoes were covered in a fine layer of yellow dust (Jirachi even had to wonder if brown was his natural hair color). If he had been alive, he would have been huffing and puffing. His semi-translucent form and the fact that that he was in Purgatory told the Legendary he was a soul, and because of that, the stranger kept on talking in the same anxious tone without a hitch to his breath. “My friend is in trouble! I don’t know where he is!”
“Be calm, be calm,” the Steel-type told him. “Where was your friend sighted last?”
“Celebi and Mew took him!” the being cried, ignoring her words. Jirachi stiffened at the names and began to demand where this had happened, but the silver-eyed man (for all souls lost their eye color when they passed on) was too caught up to stop. “They just took him! I knew they were coming back for me, so I high-tailed it!”
“Where did-?” the Legend started to say but was cut off. Déjà vu settled into her; hadn’t she been interrupted enough today?
“I’m lucky to have made it this far! I saw no Dusclops guards anywhere…”
“But where did this take pl-!”
“… They might be behind me as we speak! I swear that-!”
Uneasy and nervous to the point of trembling, Jirachi snapped and took hold of the soul by his shirt collar, screaming in his face, “For the love of Arceus, from where was your friend taken?!”
The soul clamped his mouth shut and obediently pointed to another small range of mountains behind him. He was then unceremoniously dropped to the dirt when Jirachi took off towards the bloodied needles, her psychic aura brimming with ferocity.
_____
A/N: Okay, I couldn't wait. xD
And meet another very important character of the story: Death. Jirachi and Death's discussion turned out very different than I had expected, as well the revelation of the scythe and Purgatory itself. I'm very happy how it came out. I just hope I don't stray too much from the outline I already have. xD
There's a pun in there, if somebody can spot it. :p
Oh yes; I'll be making profiles of the three worlds (Purgatory, Earth, and Heaven) soon and will add more as the story progresses.
What it's in store for next chapter? A very dangerous fight that will include the basis of our plot.
Buoysel
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PokéCommunity Supporter Crystal Tier
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Also Known As kcander90, quilzel
Trust me, I'm a Professional*
Age 32
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Kansas City
Seen August 4th, 2015
Posted April 12th, 2015
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I certainly enjoyed this chapter just as much as the last, if not even more. I found it annoying that it was in two posts. I finished the first and though to my self "hell of a cliffhanger, just left off mid conversion" Then I scrolled down a little and noticed that a second post. lol
I am pretty sure that you have more then enough space in one post to fit it in as it is not a supper long chapter.
I am pretty sure that you have more then enough space in one post to fit it in as it is not a supper long chapter.
I really need a new signature.
Originally Posted by 157
[ Original Post ]
I certainly enjoyed this chapter just as much as the last, if not even more. I found it annoying that it was in two posts. I finished the first and though to my self "hell of a cliffhanger, just left off mid conversion" Then I scrolled down a little and noticed that a second post. lolI am pretty sure that you have more then enough space in one post to fit it in as it is not a supper long chapter.
Sorry about the two posts for one chapter thing. PokemonElite2000 has a 20K limit for each post, which made me split this chapter (and others) into two posts. I don't know if this forum has the same limit, but I'll see when I post the next chapter. The last thing I want is a confused reader. ^^;
- Kat
Buoysel
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PokéCommunity Supporter Crystal Tier
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Also Known As kcander90, quilzel
Trust me, I'm a Professional*
Age 32
Male
Kansas City
Seen August 4th, 2015
Posted April 12th, 2015
2,006
posts
15
Years
Originally Posted by Phantom Kat
[ Original Post ]
I'm really glad you liked it. :3 This is also one of my favorite chapters, and it's probably because of Jirachi and Death's conversation. Sorry about the two posts for one chapter thing. PokemonElite2000 has a 20K limit for each post, which made me split this chapter (and others) into two posts. I don't know if this forum has the same limit, but I'll see when I post the next chapter. The last thing I want is a confused reader. ^^;
- Kat
I really need a new signature.
Chapter 3: Where their Loyalties Lie
More than ever, Jirachi felt she was trapped in a cursed hourglass. The sands of time were pouring down much too fast, disrupting the flow and threatening to shatter the delicate glass. Celebi and Mew had started destroying souls; she felt it deep in her heart. Curling her fingers, she stole a glance at the dreary, ruby sky above her, knowing that Arceus was still beyond the frozen clouds, helping Deoxys find a home.
While sand billowed around her speeding frame, obscuring her view, her emotions were unmoving. The anger and horror had been frozen in place the moment the male soul had weaved his tale. There was no time to think things through or wonder how her brother and sister were bold and conniving enough to do this. Even if she did, Jirachi didn’t think she would ever come to a conclusion. Both of them had always been a mystery, preferring company with each other and Arceus rather than with the rest of their brethren. Were they snobbish? No, she didn’t think that was the case. Arrogant? Possibly, but the way they held themselves and manipulated the conversations around them made it seem as though they had a right to be as controlling as they were.
Manipulative. Controlling. Maybe Celebi and Mew didn’t portray themselves as arrogant siblings but rather manipulative and controlling parents that wanted to morph their children into the mold they saw fit, even if it meant going behind Arceus’ back.
Jirachi snapped back to the present, a slight shiver traveling down her spine; she felt a source of great power near, though she couldn’t be sure whether it was one of her siblings. More alert than ever, she looked around.
Before her eyes, looming closer and closer, was the mountain range. The light brown, almost orange, fangs of stained earth ran towards the right and left, each fiercer looking than the others. Their sides, from afar, seemed to be worn smooth until only a faded rust reflected the glaring sky above. It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized that the mountain sides were actually slabs of rock overlaid over one another, much like cracked roof shingles. There were points in the strange pattern that splintered pieces of stone rose up from the mountain, and when they overlapped, piles of the needle-like structures laid precariously in the shadows the rock slabs caused.
“Wait… those aren’t shadows,” she realized, before clamping her mouth shut; if Mew and Celebi were around, she didn’t want to reveal her location just yet.
They’re caves, the Legend continued mentally. She then corrected herself upon a closer look. Or more like alcoves or caves in the mountain.
With nothing but the wind the flight created whistling through her tassels, Jirachi dared to swoop closer to the mountain side. Sure enough, what she had thought were shadows turned out to be pitch-black openings hidden by the shingle-like rock slabs and the protruding stone needles that crisscrossed the entrances. The Legend paused and looked around. The soul’s friend was nowhere in sight and neither were her headstrong siblings. Mentally, she cursed herself for not drilling him for more information. Yes it was urgent to stop Mew and Celebi, but going in with nothing but blind rage was a mistake on her part.
And here she thought she was levelheaded and rational.
With a sigh mounting on her lips, Jirachi weaved through upturned rock slabs, grasped the stone needles, and peered inside the overwhelming darkness. She wished she possessed night vision or that it was safe enough to call forth a psychic orb of energy to light her way. Unfortunately, neither was an option, so she had to settle for squinting her eyes and rubbing noses with the needles. Her ears strained for a sound, any sound that told her that this mountain was the one the soul had come from. If she had to search every mountain in this chain until she found her brother and sister…
A gust of wind hit her face before it was gone. Jirachi blinked, then looked inside the cave with shining eyes. There was no wind in Purgatory, so somebody inside had caused the gust, not a passing gale. Her breathing slowing until it only rattled in her throat, Jirachi carefully wheedled herself through the gaps the needles made. Grunting softly, she reached into the cave and pulled herself in using the protruding stalagmites for support. One broke midway though her squirming, however, and losing her balance, she fell into the cave with a sharp cry of pain.
In a crumpled heap, the Legend picker herself up, bumping against the point of a needle that had chipped off and slashed her side. If it was stained red, she couldn’t see it in the shafts of light that filtered in; everything under the Purgatory daylight had a crimson tint to it. Throwing it aside, she tried to hover, only to have her head collide with the roof.
“These are Arceus-forsaken tunnels, not caves,” she whispered bitterly, faintly realizing she sounded like Ho-Oh or Darkrai.
With one hand on the tunnel wall, she walked in deeper, the other in front of her and feeling for those stalagmites that were scattered around. More than once, some of the cave wall chipped off in her grip, and she would wrinkle her nose as plumes of dust surrounded her. When it happened for the fifth time, a seed of fear bloomed in her chest. The possibility that the tunnel could cave in at any given moment was now mocking her. With steely determination, though, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and kept on stumbling through the dark. Just like every other misgiving she had since her arrival in Purgatory, it had to wait and could not be pondered on at a time like this.
After what seemed like an eternity of hearing nothing but her own breathing, the hint of a chuckle came to her ears. It grew louder when she quickly shuffled through the tunnel, not even pausing to avoid the rocky outcroppings in her way. The edge’s sudden appearance was more than enough to stop her. Jirachi gripped a stalagmite, hid behind it, and tried to see what was going on among the shadows.
She managed to conclude that what laid in front of her was one huge, empty chamber dotted with tunnel entrances. Then, a bright, emerald light chased away the darkness. Behind the luminous Celebi came Mew wrapped in light of bright magenta. The two Legendaries shared a look that spoke of the responsibility they had decided to take on and of the satisfaction they were going to get out of it. Both effortlessly meandered towards the human figure suspended in the middle of the gargantuan, hollow room of stone. Glimmering tendrils of pink and green held him up by his arms like a rag doll. Locks of ebony hair were limp over his extremely pale face, but the light his chains shed illuminated the terrified look he was trying to hide. With his white dress shirt torn in numerous places, his leather vest held on by a single button, and dust-coated black pants and shoes, he looked as tired and haggard as his friend.
“I think you should be honored,” Mew started, putting a finger under the soul’s chin and tipping it so that they were face-to-face, “that you should be the first one to be Judged by us.”
Frantic, gray eyes looked away from the deity’s piercing blue. Celebi scowled and forcibly took the man’s face in her hands, forcing him to lock gazes with her. “Don’t turn away from Judgment, coward!”
The word ‘coward’, more than anything, made the soul react. Faded eyes hardening, he dared to retort, “I’m no coward!”
“Yes, you are by far the bravest soul who has graced the planet,” Mew mocked him, disgust spreading over his facial features like a plague. “You, who left your family for dead when your house was consumed by flames.”
Just like that, the man’s face was wiped of its indignation. A feeling of guilt and remorse now assaulted his eyes. “I went for help,” he tried to explain. When silence met his ears, he burst out, “I went for help!”
Mew and Celebi shared an unconvinced glance then returned their gazes to the soul. “You ran when there was a chance to lead your family out,” Celebi spat. “You heard their cries from the smoke-filled rooms. You are a coward unfit for a second chance of life, Willard McGrady.”
“I WENT FOR HELP!” Willard bellowed, willing the Legendaries to understand. Ghostly tears leaked from his shut eyes and trailed down his cheeks, before falling down into the black abyss below. Despite the fact that his tears turned to rivers, Willard could not feel them. He had discovered long ago that each tear was merely a phantom of a real one he had shed back on Earth; he had cried so much when he lost everything that even two hundred years later, Willard could still cry.
“Unfortunately for you,” Mew dryly quipped, coming closer, “help never came.” The god floated over to Willard’s right, where bindings of rose-pink constricted his wrist.
“So there’s no afterlife for you, and there never will be,” the Grass-type said on a fading breath. She floated towards the soul’s left, the bright, jade chains that wrapped around his left wrist beginning to tighten until a tendril of power slithered down his arm and towards the man’s neck. Willard had settled for letting his tears cascade down his face in silence, but upon feeling the chain extend and wrap around his windpipe, he let out a gasp. Not only was the energy snake beginning to cover his eyes as it wound itself around his neck and then up his face, but he was suddenly freezing cold. Willard shivered when he felt Mew’s bindings wound around his right, paralyzed fingers. They were mocking him, treating his soul like a toy that could be cast away when bored with, but he was too horrified to care.
“Uggh!” Celebi grunted, pushed away by an unseen force. She flipped backwards, the green chains on their captive ceasing their movement, and touched her chest. Spots of blood appeared on her emerald and lime-green torso, and her hand hovered over a cut before she grasped the air and pulled. The invisible star materialized in between her fingers, and the rest of the Swift attack on her chest vanished in a sudden flare of aura, leaving nothing but crimson cuts. Mew stopped the manipulation of his own chains and instead locked glares with the figure that had appeared in the chamber.
“Jirachi,” Celebi growled when her sister rocketed out of her hiding spot. “How dare you interfere?!”
“How dare I?!“ Jirachi screeched. She closed in on them, her body alight with a crystalline shade of azure. “You have no right to do this!”
“Delaying the inevitable is foolish!” Celebi barked back.
But the space dweller dove straight towards Willard and grabbed his left wrist, sending a surf of her aura into him. Cerulean destroyed pulsating green with multiple flashes of white.
The dead man yelled when he felt himself falling. Fear coursed through his still heart, and he looked up to the pink bindings that held him up, his free arm dangling uselessly at his side.
Without warning, Mew zipped by his face and clobbered his sister with a Mega Punch. A teeth-chattering crack! reverberated in the room, making Willard clamp his mouth from crying out in shock. His very hairs stood on end, and even the fear running through his body stopped dead in its tracks. Jirachi stopped her fall and soared back up, a hand gently cradling her stinging jaw. Tasting the blood that stained her lips, she stared at the Kanto legend with mixed emotions. However, when Mew stared back with a cold but otherwise emotionless expression, her anger rose a notch. She had hit Celebi with a Swift attack, but the pain the Johto legendary felt was laughable; if anything, the Swift was just a way to announce her presence.
But Mew… Jirachi had felt the power behind the punch and knew that if she hadn’t tilted her head at the last second, her jaw wouldn’t just be broken but lodged somewhere in the wall behind her. Mew hadn’t even batted an eyelash when the sound of shattered bone split the air.
“You will not harm him!” she declared, trying her best to bypass the lisp her broken jaw now created. The blood on her mouth dribbled and flew when she faced Celebi, then Mew, in her rage. “I still sense Arceus with Deoxys; you have not told him of this matter, and therefore, you have no right to perform your ‘Judgment.’” Jirachi almost spat the last word. She paused, the ache in her jaw bringing a forlorn look in her eyes. “Truthfully, I do not see why you think you must resort to this matter. I have found out by Death that by merely beautifying the landscape and bringing life to the atmosphere, the pure souls will not grow hostile.”
“Little sister,” Celebi addressed her, “do you truly think that a simple change of scenery is going to change them? Why do you think there are wars? Dictators? Murders? Second chances are useless.”
“I’m not saying it will vanquish human evils. I’m saying that placing the human race in peril solely because of an opinion is dangerous and ill-though out.” Jirachi gritted her teeth. “And to go behind not only your fellow Legendaries but Arceus himself! You’re no harbingers of salvation but manipulators who have tasted power and want more!”
Mew cocked his head, and his eyes would have been coated in that innocent gleam he mastered if a congratulatory smirk wasn’t present on his face. “Manipulators? Spot on, Jirachi, spot on.” His faux smile was gone and replaced by a scowl. “But do not mention power as though it’s an object; power is a title. Celebi and I truly know that we can help the Pokémon World. We have so much to offer, so much to correct! But with Legends such as hot-headed Ho-Oh and grudge-ridden Darkrai, Earth will never prosper as how we want it.”
“And when Arceus is ultimately left to decide, he doesn’t have the heart to sacrifice,” Celebi put in, her hand aloft. Tendrils of green lifted Willard again, and much to his horror, the binds tightened with every word the angry pixie hissed. “But with this eradication, it’ll become easier to convince the rest of the Legends to bigger things. Arceus will see our potential!”
“If he doesn’t, the rest of the Legends will back us up.” Mew said it with such certainty that Jirachi felt her wish tags stand on end. Hovering in the middle of the chamber, with her jaw sending agonizing bolts of pain throughout her face, she could finally start to imagine what lengths Mew would go to get what he wanted.
Despite her older brother’s unwavering determination, she stood her ground. “I’ll never allow you to do such a thing. Arceus and the rest of the Council will know about your doings before the day is done.”
The Psychic-type, unsurprised by her words and tone, closed his eyes and shook his head. “You and Arceus are much alike. You think with your hearts and are unwilling to sacrifice for the greater good.” He opened his eyes, Mew’s ears flicking back. With an unbecoming snarl set loose from his throat, he shouted, “But you will not stop us!”
Without another word, Mew thrust his glowing hand into Willard’s intangible chest. Ignoring the cold that swirled inside the depths of the soul, he spread his fingers and let snakes of power slither freely. Willard yelled in agony and arched his back as the sensation of being ripped apart flooded him from every direction. The chill that came with being dead began to intensify, began to smother him and make him gasp in desperation.
“No!” Jirachi dove towards them both but was thrown out of the way by a flurry of pulsating leaves. The Hoenn legendary pushed herself forward, one arm protecting her face, as the leaves danced around her to leave stinging cuts that tore her tassels and dotted her body with blood. Amber eyes squinted through the storm of jade then widened when Celebi rammed into her. With her breath punched from her lungs, she couldn’t stop her sister from trapping her against the cave wall. Before she knew it, the rocks were digging into her spine, and the blood dripped down from the cuts on her face to blind her. Still, Jirachi met Celebi’s stony blue eyes.
“We must rid ourselves of our nuisance of a sister, Celebi!” their brother yelled above Willard’s pained bellows. “Jirachi will never agree with what we’re doing! She’ll ruin our plans!”
The Grass-type turned around, mouth dropping open in shock. “Kill, Mew? You want us to kill our sister?”
Mew shoved his other hand inside Willard, and it slid in easily. The soul was growing weaker and translucent; already the man’s screams began to fade into the forgotten crevices of the mountain. The tendrils of pink were like magma, fire-hot and writhing, looking for a way to escape but knowing they were not allowed to. Now, the deity grasped two of his power vines and told them, Break free!
Jirachi tried to lurch into action; she sensed Mew’s sudden spike of energy and saw Willard’s eyes widen into saucers. Celebi put a hand on the Legend’s chest and called upon a Leech Seed to entangle Jirachi’s limbs and secure theme against the wall. The Steel-type struggled against the twine-like plants, grimacing as they slithered and steadily took her energy. As helpless as she was, Jirachi couldn’t help but witness Mew’s snakes do as they were told.
Willard burst into fragments of twinkling light, his screams masked by the sound of the energy vines bursting forth and fiercely whipping each other in their dance of freedom. As the disappearing shards rained down and his yells were lost among the shattered remnants of his soul, Mew fisted his hands and called his power back with a wiggle of his fingers.
“Yes, kill, if that is what it takes to keep the Pokémon World in one piece,” he finally said. He whirled around and locked eyes with the frozen and horrified Jirachi. “You brought this on yourself, Jirachi. Your duty is to help your brethren keep order, make decisions and sacrifices, but you have not. What use are you, then? They’ll be more Legendaries, but there’s only one Earth.”
Celebi, absorbed by Mew’s words, doubled over when Jirachi elbowed her in the stomach. The slip of concentration loosened the Leech Seed vines enough for her sister to escape, the plants left torn and limp by the Confusion she had sent running through them in her burst of adrenaline.
“Arceus will know about this!” she yelled, whipping around towards her brother.
Only to get a Psychic in the face.
Rivulets upon rivulets of amethyst light assaulted her, manifesting a ringing in her ears that made her briefly black out. Gasping like a fish out of water when she could force her eyes open, the Steel Legend felt bolts of paralysis grip her limbs. As she fell like a stone, Celebi and Mew popped into her view, their hands aglow with unleashed power. Jirachi fisted her hands, which made her entire torso shutter in protest, and sharply flew up in a twirl of yellow and pulsating blue. The cerulean grew brighter and climbed up the trembling, rocky walls, dislodging boulders that soon cascaded down upon Mew and Celebi. When she saw that they dodged the debris with ease, she reached out and swept her arms down. Immediately, the rocks fell with the intensity of meteors.
Jirachi flew towards the tunnel she came from, flinching when she heard Celebi’s yelp of pain. When the walls of the tunnel surrounded her, she shook off the guilt blooming in her chest and instead intensified her aura so it was powerful enough to destroy the obstructing stalagmites in her path. Dust sprinkled her face, making her determined eyes water, but she plowed through. Her second plan of the day was tumbling in her head. If she could get out of Purgatory and back to Earth, Arceus would not be hard to lo… She stopped the thought. She had no idea where their father was, only that his presence was accompanied with that of Deoxys’. Could she afford to wait until he came back to Heaven?
A growing light behind her answered her question.
“Don’t think you’ve best me!” Mew’s ringing voice hollered in rage.
Jirachi did not let her eyes stray until she felt intense heat on her back. Whipping her head around, she saw Mew flying towards her, his palms harboring an unstable Shadow Ball. Like his anger, the maroon tendrils were out of control and whipping the air. When their eyes met, the sphere grew brighter, tighter, and it was thrust into Jirachi’s stomach. Mew held the Shadow Ball against her abdomen, watching with an anger-contorted face the way her third eye fluttered madly behind its eye lid. Jirachi grasped her brother’s wrists with twitching fingers and let her long-winding tassels touch the tunnel’s walls. The ceiling started to gain thin, splintering cracks, and the stalagmites not destroyed by her began to collapse into piles of rubble.
“Release me, or rubble will soon rain down!” she gritted through her teeth. The growing Giga Impact made dust shower them both.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Mew outright laughed at her, the tension in his face gone and replaced by his sly smile.
“You’ll never do anything like that,” came Celebi’s voice. The time traveler popped out from behind Mew with a scornful chuckle, although the grin on her face after she grew silent was less enthusiastic than her brother’s.
“Neither will you!” their sister retorted, her voice beginning to break as she strained to endure the slowly burning Shadow Ball while maintaining her Giga Impact under control.
Celebi’s face darkened, and she punched Jirachi in the abdomen with her own glowing fist. The volatile Shadow Ball flashed white before propelling Jirachi backwards in an explosion that made the roof above their heads collapse in chunks of stone. She crashed through the tunnel’s entrance, through the stone needles she had carefully squeezed through before, and rolled down the mountain side with her torn tassels wrapped around her body. Stopped by one of the mountain’s upturned slabs, Jirachi wiggled her hands out of the tassel-cocoon she was in and pulled herself up using the rock’s edge. A sharp pain split her body in half, but she did not dare look down at her scorched stomach.
Celebi and Mew materialized above her. Ruby cuts and dust peppered their bodies, but the U-Turn had allowed them to escape relatively unscathed. Jirachi hunkered down, hiding her small form in the shadows, and turned towards where she thought her half-sealed portal laid in the sky. With no time and space to bend in Purgatory, she could not Teleport away from this mess. A frantic flight was her only option.
It’s not the only one, a thought broke in. I could fight just enough to slow them down and escape.
Her heart clenched in indecision. Mew and Celebi were a part of her, and she was a part of them. To fight them would be like fighting herself.
“The shadows do not suit you, Jirachi.”
The wish granter gasped and looked up to see Celebi’s mocking, azure eyes. She tensed, waiting for Mew’s arrival, but when it didn’t come, she questioningly searched the skies.
“I wanted a word with you, in private,” her sister hissed, jovial eyes now slits, “which is why I sent Mew to the other side of the mountain to look for you.” Celebi descended until she was standing on the raised slab of stone Jirachi was hiding beneath. “Understand this, Jirachi: I am not like you. What separates you and I is that I see Mew’s plan in all its glory, and I will do what it takes to help him see it through.”
“You are not ready to do such a thing,” Jirachi fiercely whispered back, discreetly wounding one of her tassels around her injured third eye. Celebi, too consumed by her anger, did not notice.
“Why do you say that?” she barked.
“I can see the indecision in your eyes, the slight hesitancy in your actions. I do not know what has come over Mew, but you are not him…” Her true eye began to painfully open beneath her tassel. Jirachi hid her wincing by plastering a mocking smirk that rivaled Mew’s. “You are just like me, Celebi, and Mew will realize it. Maybe Ho-Oh will take your place.”
“How dare you!” Celebi screeched. She lunged at Jirachi like a wild Persian. Jirachi jumped into the air and waved her tassel aside to let loose her Flash Cannon. The Grass-type had a second to squeak in surprise before she was slammed against the rock slab by the silver crescent of power. Jirachi dodged one of the many stones that took flight in the explosion and ignored how the pile of rubble below her shifted and groaned. Instead of guilt swelling up inside her, it was fear. Mew and Celebi had proven by now that they did not share her morals.
The word kill echoed back into her mind, and it wasn’t until now that it made her blood run cold.
Jirachi’s wish tags fluttered in warning. Feeling the spike of power behind her, the Steel-type sharply leaned to the right and dodged the Water Pulse the incoming Mew launched at her. Without even taking aim, she pointed her pale fingers and snapped a Thunderbolt into existence. Crackling and hissing like a firecracker, the bolt of topaz disappeared then materialized above Mew’s head. The cat-like Legendary managed to twist his body out of the attack’s path, but his tail got zapped and allowed the electricity to race up his spine. Though he grounded his teeth and his right eye threatened to twitch, Mew continued to chase Jirachi; the burnt tip of his tail left a trail of smoke in his wake.
Jirachi wrinkled her nose at the increasing smell of scorched fur; Mew was catching up. From the corner of her eye, she saw Celebi flying to their brother’s side. With the aura that surrounded her now emerald tongues of flames that fluctuated with her anger, the forest guardian was a chilling sight. When Jirachi looked ahead, a glimmer of silver was visible against the red backdrop of the sky.
The portal! The pure elation and utter relief was like wind beneath her wings.
Until she felt the wind caressing her face and whipping her tassels and wish tags about. Jirachi softly gasped as a crisp, bright green leaf danced around her head. In the blink of an eye, the wind had picked up to trap her in a twister made up of the most beautiful forest leaves she had ever set eyes on. Once she turned and saw the time traveler’s eyes alight with revenge, however, Jirachi was reminded of the Leaf Storm’s approaching wrath.
She had to get out.
Fast.
Up and up she decided to go. The dew on the spinning foliage glistened like sharpened knives the closer and close they got. With the twister beginning to close in on itself, it began to get dark. A deep roaring filled her ears and made her breath rattle in her chest. Just when it seemed that Jirachi would reach Purgatory’s hellish sky after all, the Leaf Storm spun faster and began to fall apart like a house of cards. The tip of the cyclone was now a tumbling mass of leaves that smashed her through a collapsing wall.
The Hoenn Legendary took a deep breath and briefly relished the shadows’ absence, only to be overwhelmed by the swarm of leaves that struck her body. Pain flared up whenever a leave touched her skin and refused to let go. Like parasites, she felt them drain her of energy and leaving behind the most awful burning sensation. By the time Mew came up to her, Jirachi was clothed in the acidic leaves from head to foot. Celebi had her eyes shut and was quivering with the effort to maintain the powerful attack (although Jirachi guessed it was her anger that made her shudder like the leaves she was controlling).
Now only able to hover just feet off the ground, Jirachi reared her fist back for a Thunderpunch. Mew was much faster, though, and hit her squarely on the stomach with his own Sucker Punch. She spun in the air then stopped herself long enough to hit her brother with an Iron Head. The metallic cling that rang when she hit his head and made him fly back in a daze set her teeth on edge. Above them, Celebi slumped in exhaustion, causing her aura to recede into a thin veil of light around her body. Immediately, the leaves on Jirachi’s body shriveled up and fell in a shower of dead copper leaves. The space dweller hissed as the inflamed welts they left behind throbbed, but she was now able to reach the portal.
“A weakened portal,” Mew remarked as he snaked after her. His tail came slamming down on her in a powerful Pound attack, only for his target to spin away at the last second. The New Species Pokémon snorted at her small feat. “That was a good idea; you’re going to need it.”
Jirachi waved a hand over the shimmering platinum vines and watched as they unwound themselves to reveal a washed-out image of Earth. The blurry trees and faded mountains in the background were like a breath of fresh air. She began to fly through, then was shoved forward from behind. Both her and Celebi tumbled over the long stalks of grass. Just as her sister twisted her arms behind her back, Jirachi felt the presence of space and time all around her. The infinite and powerful feeling flowed through her veins at her telepathic command, rekindling her ability to Teleport.
But another power, one she knew as well as her own, blocked hers right in its tracks. Celebi swallowed her with her aura as Jirachi lay face down on the earth. The Steel-type began using Cosmic Power, and her growing aura pushed out Celebi’s green. The fairy of time was flung back, and Jirachi propelled herself into the air.
She smashed face first into the ground when Mew landed an Ice Punch on her exposed back. For the first time throughout the whole battle, her scream of pain was loud and shrill. That single punch sent a shockwave of agony towards every bone in her body, followed by an icy sensation that bit into nerves. It reminded her how exhausted she was, how the slashes that adorned her body bled and throbbed. If any other Pokémon had injured her so, the cuts would be superficial, the pain laughable! Jirachi, ruler of the Regis, manipulator of space, could not be taken down so easily.
Yet that was the difference between normal Pokémon and them, the Legendaries, the gods. Pokémon would attack, but it was only their elemental powers or their bodies that would inflict the pain. Mew, Celebi, and the rest of her ilk, on the other hand, infused their attacks with their aura, even when it didn’t seem like it. They knew where to concentrate it, where it would hurt the most.
Jirachi cringed. The Mega Punch felt like it had snapped her spine in half. The cold had now transformed into sheets of ice that spread and cascaded down her arms, reawakening her infected injuries so they could burn anew. She lay still on the ground, trying to concentrate and gather enough power to Teleport. She doubted that she could pinpoint Arceus’ location in her state. In her mind, she saw her power sputter like a flame, threatening to die out and leave her alone. Anywhere that allowed her to hide and recuperate would be good enough.
“I can’t allow you to get away, not while you still have the idea of telling Father of what you saw,” came Mew’s eloquent, calm voice.
“But kill, Brother?” she cried, struggling to get up. When had she gotten so weak? Now that she was still and no longer flying and fighting for her life, the adrenaline in her had waned until she could only feel pain and her tired limbs. “Do you truly think that the solution is to kill me?”
Jirachi turned her head to try and see the furry Legend but only managed to glimpse his tail among the skyscraping grass; it was slowly curling and uncurling, a sign that Mew was deeply contemplating something. Celebi was seen in the shadows of a tree, mentally restraining herself from doing anything until Mew reached whatever decision he was juggling.
“You’re not going to quit, are you?” When the Wish Pokémon realized it was an actual question and not one of his usual trailing statements, Jirachi firmly shook her head.
“I promised you, Celebi, and our great father that I would stop this ridiculous scheme.”
Mew landed on the forest ground without a sound. When Jirachi could no longer hold her head up, he knelt and lifted it so that their eyes met. She expected everything and anything except for his soft, melancholy pools of blue. Did he truly care for her? Was he pitying his confused sister? Or was it all just another façade he had perfected over the centuries? She never found out because his next words dashed all thought.
“My dear sister, you are a slave of Father’s morals and philosophies. I love you, but you will always be loyal to him and his ideas, not to this Earth and its inhabitants.” He lowered her head and backed up until he jumped and hovered in the air, all the while keeping eye contact. “Your loyalty burns strong within you, so it’s only fitting that you burn along with it.”
He waved a hand, and the grass directly below him started to smoke and burn. The greenery around the fire lit up and began to spread their tongues of fury before the first ringlets of smoke could reach for the sky. Among the hungry trails of garnet, Jirachi could make out slivers of Mew’s rose-colored aura. The smoke and flames thickened as they advanced and made the air hazy and hot, blocking her view entirely. In the blink of an eye, the Heat Wave was upon her.
Mercilessly, the inferno washed over her body, heedless of her yells and screams. It melted the ice that half incased her, but the small relief of cool water evaporated away soon after. Crackles and dull roars filled her ears and muted her cries, dropping her into a silent world that only allowed her to smell her burning skin and feel the intense heat that crept up every inch of her body. She couldn’t move without feeling as though her muscles were going to stretch and melt away. A careless breath would lead into an endless fit of coughing, which would then leave her gasping for air.
In her desperation, she managed to convert her remnants of power into one small orb of light that enveloped her. The sphere’s lilac walls blocked the wave of heat and masked her pain with a veil of numbness. Blissfully shutting her eyes, Jirachi was Teleported from within the hell on earth.
______
Throughout his space travels, Deoxys had seen beautiful, icy comets and extraordinary galaxies that spanned for light years, but when Arceus showed him Birth Island, he blinked and automatically determined it rivaled many of space’s wonders. Quirking a smile, he left the floating Arceus and descended onto the small island. When the tree’s emerald canopies came within his reach, he caressed their huge, broad leaves then their tall, lanky trunks. The palm trees, unaware of this strange creature, kept on swaying on the light, salty breeze that came from the east, the rising sun bathing them in the growing rays of orange. Deoxys touched the ground and looked down in surprise.
Arceus’ red eyes softened and immediately thought back to his Legendary children; it was on this island that he had seen their first smiles, their first bouts of curiosity. Already, as the alien ran through the light-beige sand with his tentacles, he thought of Deoxys as one of his own.
“You’ll learn that Earth has many things to offer,” the great deity told him as he came down beside him. Arceus nudged him so that Deoxys focused his attention on what laid a couple of hundred feet away. Red and green tentacles obediently went to his sides, and his eyes began to analyze the cave that was nestled between numerous palm trees. He floated towards it, following Arceus and the hoof prints that trailed behind him. After a while, Deoxys, too, began to walk, if only to watch his own footprints appear in the glistening sand.
“This place, Birth Island, is a very special place to me,” Arceus spoke, his voice as smooth as the deep-blue ocean that surrounded the untouched haven. “It is here where I created my Legendary children. These sands were Groudon’s means of getting used to the earth. The ocean around us was the home of Manaphy’s first waves.”
Wistfully, the Alpha Pokémon looked around him then at his newest charge. Deoxys had been watching the fistfuls of grass that dotted the area shudder in the breeze until Arceus had stopped speaking. He now looked up, understanding deep within him that Birth Island was more important than its peaceful surroundings let on.
They now left the warm sunlight to be wrapped in the cave’s comforting chill. Unlike the mountain’s cave, this one, Deoxys pleasantly found, was not dank and cramped; the tunnel was spacious enough for both him and Arceus to go through without bumping into the stalactites above. Though his visibility decreased the deeper (and lower, for he felt a change of altitude) they went, cracks in the rocks above them allowed in shafts of light to light their way. The DNA Pokémon felt the rays and compared them to suns that were just the right distance away.
“This is going to be your home for now, and your permanent one if the Council comes to the consensus that you are allowed to stay,” the god said, the echo in his voice magnified by the cave. The authority that was always in it sprang up to be heard. “No one will disturb you, for only myself and my Legendary children can find this place, and they do not come here. They did, when they were young, but all but the youngest have put Birth Island into the deep recesses of their minds.”
A spacious chamber of stone, as large as Arceus’ own, opened up before them. Deoxys’ eyes widened when he saw crystals of all sizes embedded into the walls of his new home. Their pulsating, turquoise light provided the room with a slightly ominous atmosphere that reminded him of his asteroid home and the many stars he would see from all directions. He flew to the center of the chamber and looked up to where a constant trickle of water seeped in to form the pond he hovered above. The water shimmered with the light that the cave crystals gave off, yet the tranquility was somewhat broken by a low sound. Deoxys could hear the constant pounding of the ocean’s waves on the north wall of the cave. His heart leaped in excitement at the realization. No longer would he live in constant silence.
Arceus announced his coming by the clap of hooves against the stone floor. “Though this is your home, you are welcomed to explore the rest of Birth Island.” The Normal-type chuckled as he looked at the chamber. “If I remember correctly, this is where Jirachi spent most of her time during her first century. According to her, her home in the mountains looks much like this.”
At the mention of the wish granter, Deoxys cocked his head in confusion. Arceus noticed this and smiled down at him. “You have much to owe her for. If it hadn’t been for my daughter’s words, I fear the Council of Legends would have decided right then and there to banish you from our planet. Even if they do not admit it, most of them were affected by her stand. Jirachi spoke of giving you a chance to live among us, and if you could, speak for yourself instead of letting us do it for you. ”
“Jirachi…” the outsider tried to say, but all that came out was screeches only he could understand. Deoxys frowned. Here was someone he had never met defending him, and he couldn’t even communicate the gratitude that now weighed his heart?
With that thought forefront in his mind, he extended one of his tentacles and wrapped it around Arceus’ neck. The god did not attempt to get away but merely watched as the foreigner scrunched his face in concentration. Arceus did, however, breathed a small gasp when images of galaxies, stars, and everything in between flashed before his eyes, and his ears were bombarded by screeches identical to those Deoxys vocalized.
He could understand them now.
“A copy of my DNA is now within you,” were the suddenly intelligible words when the tentacle was retracted from around his neck. Deoxys’ smile was giddy; he had never conversed with anybody before. “My language is now yours.” After getting his excitement under control, he solemnly said, “Tell Jirachi I’m grateful for her defense. Being among all these amazing sights and creatures truly vanishes my lonely times in space. As beautiful as they are, galaxies will not respond back.”
Arceus mirrored the chuckle attached to his last words before nodding. “I’ll tell her that.” With a farewell that told him he would return once he had word of what the Council decided, the Creator teleported away in a column of cerulean brilliance.
“Jirachi…” Deoxys now said aloud. He gazed at a particularly large crystal on the wall, its luminous depths entrancing him and making him wonder what kind of Pokémon this Legendary “Jirachi” was. “Rest assured that I’ll repay you for your kindness.”
With the words left lingering in the air, Deoxys wandered out to explore Birth Island, unafraid of the risen sun.
_____
A/N: The battle scene was like pulling teeth: a slow and painful process that's worth it at the end. This chapter is very important, so I was taking extra care that it was written how I wanted it to be. Mew and Celebi certainly turned out better than I thought, so that's a plus. :)
What about Chapter Four, you may ask? Well, though Jirachi, Mew, or Celebi are not in this one, you're going to be introduced to our second main character of this fan fic, and let's just say he's not the nicest guy around. And remember that war the Legends mentioned that the humans were currently in? You're going to be dragged right in the middle of it.
Originally Posted by Phantom Kat
[ Original Post ]
but a reviewer on another site suggested that I could somehow incoporate Deoxys more since he already seemed a well thought-out character.
That was me! :3 Anyway, yeah. I read this again, and it was still just as good (if not better) than on the other forum. Admittedly, I sort of stopped following it there, but now I've read the PokéCom chapters again and I wanna see more. |D

Originally Posted by F.F. Giratina
[ Original Post ]
[raises hand]That was me! :3 Anyway, yeah. I read this again, and it was still just as good (if not better) than on the other forum. Admittedly, I sort of stopped following it there, but now I've read the PokéCom chapters again and I wanna see more. |D
:D I'm glad to hear that you're reading again. And yesh, you shall have more! If nobody but you and 157 comment, I'll post the fourth chapter on Saturday. After all, what's the point of waiting to post a chapter if nobody else chooses to read?
*goes back to working on Chapter Six*
- Kat
Chapter Four
The Dividing War
The Dividing War
Present Day: October 29th, 1725
“You Kanto scum!” cried a voice hoarse with exhaustion and thirst.
“Scum?!” came an equally harsh, cracked retort. “You Johtonians are as blind as ever!”
Only the two soldiers heard the exchange above the thrumming of bullets and the clang of metal that ravaged the once peaceful settlement of Cherrygrove, Johto. Most, if not all, of the abandoned, wooden cabins were either burning or beginning to give off foul-smelling, silver smoke, and it was clear they were going to end up like the charred and trampled remains of the settlement’s flora. Whatever official or government buildings that were still standing were used as temporary headquarters or watch posts, though that didn’t mean they didn’t sport crumbling walls or collapsed halls.
Mark Antony Colfax heavily sighed from on top of his Rapidash mount, the grip on his reins tightening. The sergeant hated to admit it, but things were not going well for the Johto side. Where were the hearty soldiers he had trained? Where were those eager and loyal Johtonians from his trusty Regiment 66 that were willing to do anything and everything for their region? It seemed that his soldiers had grown tired and lazy during the two years of constant fighting. Mark Antony closed his amber eyes and jumped off the white, one-horned stallion. The flared bottom of his high-collared, silver uniform fluttered like a proud flag, and by the glint of his unsheathed sword, the dirty row of buttons that led from his collar to his yellow waist sash glittered like gold. Beneath the fringe of his spiky, chestnut hair, Mark Antony scanned what lay in front of him. If the constant haze of smoke that had settled over the battlefield bothered him, he didn’t show it. Instead, a wry grin made its way across his handsome features.
“Hawkeye,” he addressed his horse Pokémon, “charge in there with a Fire Spin.”
With her brimming, orange and red mane and tail of fire now seething with a low hiss, Hawkeye galloped forward. Before the Kantonians behind the targeted, wooden shack could reload their rifles, the Rapidash’s fire shackles around her hooves flared to join the rest of the writhing storm of scorching ruby. Mark Antony watched the collapsing pile of wood burst into flames and heard the horrified yells for only a second before he raised his sword high in the air.
“Regiment, fallback!” The twenty-five-year-old’s voice rang and penetrated the whizzing gunfire like a knife. With a turn of the heel, he ran towards the direction of their headquarters, the kicked up dirt furthered dirtying his leather boots and gray pants; the golden stripe down each pants leg was hardly visible beneath the grime. In a flash of white and dimming scarlet, Hawkeye rode up towards her master. Mark Antony swiftly regained his seat on the saddle and turned the Fire Horse Pokémon around to make sure his troops were retreating.
They were, but their runs were slow. Those who had riding Pokémon were at the rear of the retreat, making sure no Kantonians decided to follow them to take down a few more soldiers. Much to their relief, the opposing side was also retreating to their headquarters: the abandoned hospital on the other side of the small town. Their red and blue uniforms, as bloodied and torn as the Johtonians’, were soon out of sight. An angry Mark Antony watched them go and had the irresistible urge to rip his faded green headband and throw it on the floor. Here they were, already counting all the soldiers in need of medical attention and worrying about their diminishing first aid supplies, and the Kantonians had a hospital to go back to! It made his blood boil as hot as his Pokémon’s mane.
“Come on, Regiment!” he cried while turning Hawkeye to the front. “Back to the base!”
Two years ago, Mark Antony would have been answered by tired groans, but the regiment had learned by now that any complaints would only further fuel their sergeant’s ire. Mark Antony got only half-hearted nods in response instead, not that he noticed. His hardened eyes were set on the two-story building in the distance, its spiral that grew from the dome ceiling amazingly intact. On it, bronze miniatures of Ho-Oh and Lugia intertwined and looked down at the faded white building and the dug watch posts that surrounded it. To his relief, the soldiers on watch were alert and uninjured, and they raised their heads when the Pokémon beside them perked their ears at the approaching army. Leaving the base in the hands of a few watchmen and their Pokémon was risky, but it had turned out fine in the end. Still, he was going to leave more men behind. Cassius Bradley, the Kanto Regiment 12’s lieutenant, was crafty. If he left the base so vulnerable a second time…
“Sergeant Colfax?” came a voice to his right.
Corporal Edward Cox pulled up beside him on his own Rapidash, green-gray eyes troubled beneath his locks of messy, dirty-blonde hair. His uniform of a silver jacket and pants were in better shop that Mark Antony’s, although the sash that had been around his waist was gone; Edward had resorted to carrying the sheath of his sword in one hand. Mark Antony turned towards the thirty-year-old man.
“Yes, Corporal?”
“Do you intend on continuing to the settlement of New Bark?”
Mark Antony considered the carefully-voiced words for a moment before replying, “I don’t know yet. We need to talk it over.”
Edward let a small frown overtake his features. “Do you think we can take it?”
The young sergeant looked over the walking troops. “I used to think we could defeat Cassius’ regiment in a night,” he answered, the hint of a growl rising in his throat. “But I don’t know what to expect from them anymore.”
“They’re human, Mark Antony,” Edward told him, looking at the same troops but with empathy in his gaze. None of the privates could hear their conversation over the chats among themselves. Relieved chuckling and thankful prayers that they still lived to fight another day hummed in unison with muffled footsteps of boot against mud. The corporal’s stare drifted towards the slate-gray clouds above them, idly wondering if the incoming rain would douse the fires they left behind. “And so are you.”
“So because we’re human we need to have our expectations lowered?” The chestnut-haired man fixed Edward, the only person of a lower ranking that could get away with speaking to him in such a manner, with a leveled gaze. “You’re expecting us to lose against Cassius’ regiment?”
“Oh no,” the man said with a chuckle, which startled the mare he was riding. “I fully expect us to win. Cassius is much too arrogant for his own good, and his soldiers are no better.”
Mark Antony smiled a bit and laughed. “Haven’t you always said that I’m the arrogant one?”
Edward returned the grin. “Yes, I have.” He then became sober. “Which is why I fear you’ll push these soldiers too far too soon.”
Amber eyes narrowed in irritation. “We’ll decide on a plan of action once we get to base.”
Edward sighed as he watched Mark Antony pass; he knew his superior had already made his decision.
______
The regiment was now gathered in the once grand foyer of the town hall, their mounts tied up outside and receiving some well-deserved rest. Inside, those who weren’t huddled against the walls to be tended for their injuries or outside on their watch posts were waiting for their sergeant and corporal to speak. They leaned over the railings on the second story, their body weights threatening to send the rusted bars to the floor, while others decided to lean against the granite pillars that supported the second story and the dome roof. All of their faces were as serious as the visages of the mayors painted in the faded and ruined portraits on the walls and floor. By now, they didn’t expect any words of praise, and the encouraging remarks Mark Antony would shout were always a bit intimidating, especially with the wild look he would gain in his eyes.
“Regiment,” Mark Antony started from where he was in the middle of the foyer, a desk set in front of him and Edward stationed at his right. The twenty-five-year-old paused and looked down at the map he had spread over the wobbling desk. Worn until the edges fluttered at the slightest touch and the drawings and notes on the parchment were recognizable only to the writer, Mark Antony analyzed it once more, eyebrows creased, before he continued. “Tonight did not go as planned.” He briefly glared at the dirt-washed carpet on the floor, its once glorious ruby now a pathetic shade of gray. It was not like him to state the obvious, but the bitter taste of defeat was still fresh in his mouth. Edward was watching him from the corner of a worried green eye.
Although it isn’t the sergeant I’m worried about, he dryly thought with a glance at the soldiers. Even those who were being bandaged shared a look of dread.
“The Kanto regiment was better prepared, better organized, while we were scrambling like ants. In Johto! Cassius’ regiment was supposed to fall tonight, but we fell short.” Mark Antony’s cold glare swept the room. “Are you all really loyal to Johto?”
“Of course we are!” a voice shouted. A private from the second floor leaned even closer to the center, half of his body precariously dangling over the rail. The man regained his composure after his companions muttered to him to behave. Though his face was in shadow, his rigid stance and balled fists showed his anger. When he spoke, his voice was as strained as his whitening knuckles. “We fight for Johto! We fight for our people!”
When Mark Antony said nothing to his disrespectful private, more and more similar shouts rang out. All made the walls of the building shake with the men’s pride. Even those who could not get up from where they laid injured on the floor banged their fists or clapped their hands in support. Edward narrowed his eyes in annoyance, something that went unnoticed by the now excited regiment, and was about to shout for them all to get at attention until he caught sight of his sergeant’s steadily reddening face.
“Idiots,” the amber-eyed man muttered under his breath. He then faced his regiment again and shouted as he slammed his fist against the desk, “YOU IDIOTS!”
The yells stopped only for Mark Antony’s booming voice to overthrow the silence.
“Patriotism?” he scoffed at them. “Over the past year, the Kanto forces have taken over our border and majors towns like Blackthorn and New Bark. We have been behind their tails and doing nothing to hinder them for all this time, and yet you all stand here, shouting about loyalty and pride? Instead of spreading your cockiness about, learn to focus in the battlefield! Learn to steel your nerves in the heat of the fight! If not, leave this regiment and face those citizens left homeless after Kanto’s ruthless takeovers!” He gritted his teeth, his face receding to its normal peach color as he regained his cool temperament. Was he cold when he spoke to his privates? Yes; he knew it from day one, but he never thought the day would come when he would lose his professional poise.
“Our goal had been to take down the Kanto regiment tonight. We failed, which is why in a few hours, we will attack again while they are recuperating at their hospital base. First, a handful of you will go with me and Corporal Cox to scope out the area, and then all those who are able-bodied will go and carry out the attack once the signal for an all clear is sent.” Mark Antony raised a hand to silence the already rising protests and finished with, “Those who will go scouting will be informed in an hour after I and the corporal discuss the matter. You are all dismissed.”
Without another word, Mark Antony snatched the map from the desk, turned his heel, and walked down the hall to the right and entered his office, Edward trailing behind him.
_____
“They’re right, you know,” the corporal told the sergeant, taking a seat on the beaten sofa that took up the right wall of the small office. Behind a scarred nose, Edward looked at the younger man taking a seat behind a desk. To his trained gaze, Mark Antony looked as worn as the peeling cream wallpaper and the scuffed hardwood floor of the room.
“Right about what?” the distracted man dryly asked, spreading his map again but this time studying it so deeply his brows became one fine line of concentration.
“They’re right that this is a suicide mission,” Edward elaborated, although he suspected he didn’t need to. As distant as Mark Antony acted, he knew the sergeant was well aware of what his men thought.
“In what way is this a suicide mission?” Mark Antony asked, still not looking up from the map and his tracing fingers. “Our men are capable enough to carry this out. They just need to be pushed and reminded that this could very well decide whether Kanto will gain control of Johto.” Now, he did look up, his mouth set as fine as his eyebrows. “And if I’m not mistaken, weren’t we supposed to discuss our candidates for the scouting mission?”
Edward took no notice of the question, though he did mentally smile; it seemed that Mark Antony realized that this was a continuation of their previous conversation. Instead, he fished out a cigarette from one pocket, a lighter from another, and began to smoke. With the freshly lit joint now dangling from one side of his mouth, he said, “You know fully well that there are not many men left without injuries. With lack of medical supplies and food, by tomorrow, they won’t be able to lift their weapons without shaking. They’re capable of carrying out this mission but for how long? Long enough to defeat Cassius’ regiment before their surprise wears off?”
Mark Antony intertwined his fingers and met Edward’s eyes. Those sounded more like facts than questions to him. “We trained our regiment hard, all for tonight. Even if they’re not in top condition, we can’t just wait and fight another day. With Cassius, if we let him go, I don’t think they’ll be another day.”
“But it’s not just Cassius, is it, Mark Antony?” Again, his question was more of a statement. Edward tapped off some of the cigarette’s ashes as he watched the officer’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits, his fingers tensing into claws that dug into his skin.
“Of course it’s not just Cassius,” he replied tartly. “It’s all of those Kantonian forces, all of Kanto itself, that needs to be stopped. They invaded our land, believing that Johto hid Sinnoh refugees from their last petty scuffle with them. They started driving out citizens from their homes to search despite us insisting we had no refugees on our lands. They were the ones that forced us to attack them, and then they have the audacity to blame the destruction of our towns on our refusal to cooperate?” He scoffed at the acid-filled retelling of the past two years of war, then spat, “May Arceus curse them.”
With a sigh that expelled a cloud of smoke, the corporal straightened, his cigarette now held between two of his fingers. This time, he chose not to say anything. Mark Antony must have cruelly laughed at the privates’ pride in their region because his own was so strong that it put theirs to shame. Edward had not doubt that it was this overpowering feeling of regionality that had propelled Mark Antony to the top and made him this intelligent, if intimidating, man. His decisions had always carried some risk.
But nothing like this.
Then again, what did he expect in this crucial period in the war?
“I know what you’re thinking, Edward,” came the voice that startled the older man from his reverie. “I can see it in that distant gaze of yours.”
Mark Antony, for the first time in a long while, wore a smile free of arrogance and cockiness. The grin was sad in the way the young officer softened his eyes as he recalled a memory that already seemed like decades ago.
“You’re wondering how one of the army’s drummer boys became this cold-hearted sergeant at such a young age. What could cause a man to become so emotionally detached in such a short amount of time?” Edward averted his friend’s gaze. To be frank, the sudden change in Mark Antony’s usual steel eyes unnerved him. Still, he heard the man’s words as clear as day.
“I saw, even at that young age, how Kanto was waiting for us to slip up and give them the opportunity to snoop in our business and meddle for a chance to gain control. That scuffle they helped us with against Hoenn in 1607? After it was over, their embassy here grew larger, both in government officials and in stationed military. What happened when some of our plans for military weapons were stolen by the pirates of the Orange Islands in 1700? Kanto helped us get them back but kept a copy of them as payment for their help. They were manipulators then, and they will continue to threaten our land of Johto if they are not stopped.”
With that said, Mark Antony stood up and made for the door. “Now come, we made our decision as to who will accompany us on our scouting mission.”
It wasn’t until his superior opened the door that Edward blinked and spoke up. “We? I didn’t decide anything.”
All the slightly frazzled blonde received was a smug grin.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have talked so much, huh?”
_____
A/N: ("regionality" is a made-up word from "nationality". Just thought it would seem silly to put nationality when the land masses are considered regions.)
I know, a pretty short chapter, but I accomplished what I wanted to in this chapter. Really, it's more of an introduction to a new character than anything. I was going to add a bit of Chapter Five, but I wanted the focus of this chapter to be Mark Antony, not what happens later. And yes! Finally, Mark Antony arrives! Been waiting to write his chapter since I finished outlining the story back in September.
What is in store for the next chapter? Why Jirachi comes back, but she's not in the best of shape. With Mark Antony's help, she makes a history-altering decision.
Most, if not all, of the abandoned, wooden cabins were either burning or beginning to give off foul-smelling, silver smoke, and it was clear they were going to end up like the charred and trampled remains of the settlement’s flora.
For some reason, I really like this sentence. I think it's the part about the silver smoke. : D
Where were the hearty soldiers he had trained?
No space between word and question mark.
“I don’t know yet. OR “I don’t, yet.
Didn't know what you were trying to do there.Normally, I get very iffy about the whole 'war in the Pokémon world' plotline, but here I think you handled it well enough that other than the region names (which couldn't be avoided) I didn't have to stop and think about how alien and out-of-place this region war was, which I did have to do on multiple occasions for different (and much more popular) stories on other forums. Props for that. However, isn't it expected for men in such high military status as Mark Antony to have a certain amount of coldness, just to be able to keep his soldiers in line? I didn't see any especially chilly behavior coming from Mark Antony (geez, that's a long name) and since the private discussion between he and Edward involved that concept so much, it just seemed a little strange to have them bring up a major problem that I couldn't identify but was expected to. OF course, that may just be my lack of knowledge concerning militaries, but meh.

Originally Posted by F.F. Giratina
[ Original Post ]
For some reason, I really like this sentence. I think it's the part about the silver smoke. : DNo space between word and question mark.
Didn't know what you were trying to do there.
Normally, I get very iffy about the whole 'war in the Pokémon world' plotline, but here I think you handled it well enough that other than the region names (which couldn't be avoided) I didn't have to stop and think about how alien and out-of-place this region war was, which I did have to do on multiple occasions for different (and much more popular) stories on other forums. Props for that. However, isn't it expected for men in such high military status as Mark Antony to have a certain amount of coldness, just to be able to keep his soldiers in line? I didn't see any especially chilly behavior coming from Mark Antony (geez, that's a long name) and since the private discussion between he and Edward involved that concept so much, it just seemed a little strange to have them bring up a major problem that I couldn't identify but was expected to. OF course, that may just be my lack of knowledge concerning militaries, but meh.
Mark Antony is a long name. xD Blame the fact that when I started brainstorming this fic, we were reading "Julius Caesar". I didn't want to make him THAT cold, just harsh. I guess I've been watching too much Full Metal Alchemist, where the military leaders aren't so cold to their subordinates. Then again, I'm not knowledgable when it comes to militaries. ^^;
*goes to fix mistakes*
- Kat
My review for your fic is as follows...
It is an excellently written piece of fan-fiction, but I do have just one thing I want to bring up with you, Phantom Kat. I believe there were at least two, possibly three, times where you said Celebi was a male Legendary... which contradicted the character profiles and your earlier mentions of Celebi being a female. I can’t tell you where the mistakes were, because on the night I read the fic, I was very tired and only just made it to the end before I started to struggle with my eyes.
Other than that, well done.
It is an excellently written piece of fan-fiction, but I do have just one thing I want to bring up with you, Phantom Kat. I believe there were at least two, possibly three, times where you said Celebi was a male Legendary... which contradicted the character profiles and your earlier mentions of Celebi being a female. I can’t tell you where the mistakes were, because on the night I read the fic, I was very tired and only just made it to the end before I started to struggle with my eyes.
Other than that, well done.

Credit goes to Sgt Shock for my signature and avatar
Buoysel
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PokéCommunity Supporter Crystal Tier
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Also Known As kcander90, quilzel
Trust me, I'm a Professional*
Age 32
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Seen August 4th, 2015
Posted April 12th, 2015
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Mark Antony scanned what laid in front of him
lay I do believe
The regiment was now gathered in the once grand foyer of the town hall, their mounts tied up outside and receiving some well-deserved rest.
This is at least the third or fourth time that you have referred to their Pokémon as “mounts.”
Otherwise interesting chapter, you portray the war as brutal, yet you mange to keep the actually fighting out of it (for now).
I may not always post, but I’ll keep reading.
I really need a new signature.
Originally Posted by Kyuu-chan
[ Original Post ]
My review for your fic is as follows...It is an excellently written piece of fan-fiction, but I do have just one thing I want to bring up with you, Phantom Kat. I believe there were at least two, possibly three, times where you said Celebi was a male Legendary... which contradicted the character profiles and your earlier mentions of Celebi being a female. I can’t tell you where the mistakes were, because on the night I read the fic, I was very tired and only just made it to the end before I started to struggle with my eyes.
Other than that, well done.
Originally Posted by 157
[ Original Post ]
lay I do believeThis is at least the third or fourth time that you have referred to their Pokémon as “mounts.”
Otherwise interesting chapter, you portray the war as brutal, yet you mange to keep the actually fighting out of it (for now).
I may not always post, but I’ll keep reading.
And as for mounts, this is one of the definitions from dictionary.com:
22. a horse, other animal, or sometimes a vehicle, as a bicycle, used, provided, or available for riding.
And yeah, not so brutal, but it will get more detailed in the next chapter and the chapter after that. ^^; Thanks for reviewing, and it's okay if you don't always review. I'm just happy that you're enjoying the story. :3- Kat
Buoysel
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PokéCommunity Supporter Crystal Tier
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Also Known As kcander90, quilzel
Trust me, I'm a Professional*
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Kansas City
Seen August 4th, 2015
Posted April 12th, 2015
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Originally Posted by Phantom Kat
[ Original Post ]
And as for mounts, this is one of the definitions from dictionary.com:- Kat
I really need a new signature.
Originally Posted by 157
[ Original Post ]
It was just getting redundant that's all.
- Kat
EDIT: Done. :D Redundancy begone!
Song for this chapter: Negai, Yami no naka de from Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha.
Even after the sun had completely set, the air was saturated with acrid smoke. Mark Antony looked at the distant view of the battlefield from the cover of a row of bushes. Behind him, Corporal Cox and six of their finest men waited for him to speak. As they did, their eyes analyzed the surroundings, a part of them wondering if the trees were even real. The small forest they were currently hiding in had been far enough from their battle with the Kantonians to escape a fiery fate. To see leafy canopies and flourishing bushes after days of traveling through wastelands and abandoned towns was enough to take their breath away.
“The direct route to the hospital is too dangerous,” their leader finally spoke, his whisper a smidge louder than his men’s bated breath. “We’ll have to go around it, through this forest, in order not to be seen. It’ll take longer, but this is why we’re here: to find out what is the best route for the regiment to take.”
“Sir,” a private spoke up. Though his voice was soft, it was not hesitant; he was one of a handful of soldiers that did not fear the sting of his superior’s words. “With the Kanto regiment at their base, we may have the opportunity of raiding the Pokémon Center for food and medical supplies.”
Mark Antony turned, a thoughtful expression on his face. Pokémon Centers were a fairly new business in Johto and might not have much medical supplies to offer; they had only been built when the war started for traveling Johtonian regiments to heal their fighting and scouting Pokémon. Then again, little medical supplies were better than no supplies at all. Without saying a word, he regarded the man who had spoken then looked back out into the battlefield. Try as he might, the twenty-five-year-old man could not see the aforementioned building.
He grinned. “It doesn’t seem it was anywhere near the battlefield. Perhaps the Center escaped being torched to the ground.”
Again, Mark Antony turned around, but this time, a determined frown was etched on his features. “The Center is not among the burned and collapsed buildings I see, but it could be in another part of Cherrygrove. Keep an eye out for it; our men and Pokémon are in dire need of supplies.” The sergeant walked onto the dirt trail his men were on. Unsheathing his sword, he told them, “And just because this forest seems desolate, it does not give you reason to let your guard down.”
All eight of them, their weapons in hand, began to walk through the beaten path carved out by forest Pokémon. The blood stains and mud that coated their uniforms were hidden beneath the shadows of the trees’ canopies; any moonlight that did seep through the smoke and dense leaves bathed the thin, almost-black tree trunks. The sound of their muffled footsteps was in unison with the faint rustle and chirping of Pokémon hidden around them. The men ignored the buzz of nature. As long as they didn’t spot the flash of red and blue that made up the uniform of a Kanto-owned Pokémon, they didn’t consider themselves in any danger.
An hour had gone by in silence until one private stopped with a startled gasp and sniffed the air. While everybody else turned to look at the soldier with raised eyebrows, Mark Antony smelled what had alerted the private. The faint odor of charred wood and leaves that drifted on the wind was accompanied by a stronger smell of burning meat and spices. Mark Antony stepped forward a few paces and squinted, trying to pierce the gloom.
When he couldn’t, he leaned on his sword and simply said, “There are some people camped a little way’s off. They could be Cherrygrove citizens who stupidly decided to ride out the takeover or stationed Kanto soldiers on the lookout for us. Either way, we have to be the ones with surprise on their side.” Mark Antony gave Edward a glance, who nodded in acknowledgment.
“Okay, Private Kisubo and Private Toren, both of you…”
As the corporal assigned positions, Mark Antony leaned against a tree, still trying to see past the thick black that covered the forest. A couple more steps forward did nothing to help. As nonchalantly as though he was mounting his horse, he sheathed his sword and nimbly heaved himself up a tree limb. With his boots now precariously balancing him on a thick branch, he straightened and looked towards where the campfire aroma was coming from. Mark Antony tipped his head for a better look at a flicker of red he saw from the corner of his eye.
It was gone by the time he turned.
Edward’s faint words faded completely when the sergeant’s curiosity took over. One hand hovered over the hilt of his sword while the other laid over the trunk of the tree for support. Mark Antony sniffed the air, then frowned. The odor of smoke and meat was weak; the stillness of his bangs and the tied ends of his headband told him it was because something had interrupted the breeze that carried it. The branch he stood on creaked as he turned around to tell Edward. Mark Antony froze, though, when the screech of a raptor tore the air in two. He whirled around, narrowly avoiding falling eight feet to the ground, and whipped out his sword. The bird of prey flapped himself out of his dive at the sight of the blade but still brandished sharp, ivory talons.
“Kanto,” Mark Antony hissed at the sight of the ruby vest on the Pidgeot. The beige bird whipped his head back, the flowing scarlet and diamond-white feathers on his scalp writhing like snakes, and gave a great downbeat of his wings. Whatever breeze Mark Antony had felt before intensified into a tremendous gust that knocked him off his feet. The man grabbed the tree branch he had been standing on as he fell, but the Pidgeot grabbed it in his talons and snapped the limb like a toothpick; a taunting trill was let loose from the Pidgeot’s rose-colored beak at the sight of the human’s shell-hocked face. The forest rushed around him in a mix of colors until Mark Antony landed back-first on the ground.
“Sergeant!” Edward exclaimed, running to his friend’s side.
“I’m okay,” his superior muttered as he jumped to his feet despite his throbbing spine and chest. Steadying himself with a quick breath that sent a ripple of pain to a possibly-broken rib, he looked over to his privates. When he saw they merely avoided the Pokémon’s gusts and talon swipes, he yelled, “Don’t hop around like schoolchildren! Fire! Fire your weapons! The enemy is already aware of our approach!” The disappearance of the campfire smell told him that much.
Fired shots made the trees around them quiver. The privates, now braver with the command to defend themselves, took cover behind the trees, the canopies’ shadows hiding their well-toned forms. Edward had his own sword out and was poised for any incoming attacks, including those of Kantonian soldiers. Mark Antony’s grip on his own blade tightened in frustration. The Pidgeot was deftly dodging the whizzing bullets with an Agility that allowed him to weave through the canopies and fire an attack whenever he was seen. One of the privates was caught off-guard when a Gust came at him from behind. The attack swept him off his feet and straight into the tree he was hiding behind. The Flying-type let out a screech of triumph before propelling himself towards the fallen soldier, talons menacingly curled. In the blink of an eye, a shooting pain ran through the Pokémon’s stomach and up his chest to settle as a burning sensation that made him shriek in agony. Mark Antony came in running, the empty sheath of his dagger shoved into a strap in his boot, and kicked the Pidgeot squarely in the abdomen.
“Damn bird,” the spiky-haired man spat at the grounded flier. Mark Antony pinned the massive fighter by running his sword through one wing and standing on the other. When he looked down at the bird’s pained chocolate eyes, what little sympathy he could have felt was shoved to a dark crevice of his mind. Pokémon were intelligent creatures, and those who didn’t want to obey their masters could escape. The Pidgeot that writhed at his feet chose to follow his master.
He leaned over and yanked the dagger from the Pidgeot’s stomach. Ignoring the agonized wail, he did the same with his sword and turned towards Edward, who had come up to him with the rest of their troop in tow. “The Kantonians are closing in,” the corporal told him, only the slightest dimming of his eyes betraying his cool exterior; the privates that helped their nearly-knocked-out comrade to his feet weren’t so discreet. “We need to move out.”
“You’re right,” Mark Antony agreed, nonchalantly cleaning his sword and dagger on the grass before placing them in their sheaths. “We’re not sure if the camped Kantonians are two or two dozen. Only a fool would take the chance with our numbers.” Looking towards the west, he traced the path they had taken so far in his mind and knew with certainty that there was a barren expanse of land that bordered the River Cerre a little way’s from where they were. If they reached the desolate field, any Kantonian Pokémon would lose the cover of the shadows and tree canopies.
Then again, they themselves would be left wide open.
If only our scouting Pokémon hadn’t been killed off in that Blackthorn battle, Mark Antony thought with gritted teeth. We could have found out how many Kantonians we’re actually facing!
“Everybody!” he said aloud. “Retreat to the west! If we make it out of the forest, we’ll leave the Kantonian Pokémon without cover! Corporal Cox, lead them out!”
Edward blinked and demanded upon seeing Mark Antony’s eyes alight with fiery determination, “Sergeant! What are you planning to do?”
“I plan to hold them off long enough to give you guys a running start.” When the blonde opened his mouth to retort, Mark Antony insisted, “I can take care of myself, you know. If you don’t go right now, you’ll kill us all.”
All Edward could do was nod and dash towards the west, barking a sharp order to the privates to follow him. The younger men looked at their officer with expressions muddled with confusion and shock but obeyed. Mark Antony watched them go, and when their backs disappeared, he dashed towards the wounded Pidgeot, one hand going for something that was latched beside his sword. The bird rose one dark-brown wing, a trill that was more pathetic than threatening stuck in his throat.
Or is it the blood bubbling in its chest that is making that sound? he idly thought, eyes as emotionless as his expression.
From his sash, he unclipped a ball about the size of his hand. The sphere was clunky at best with both halves made of dark-black metal that already began to rust in spots; the man concluded after a moment that it weighed as much as his sword. Despite its flaws, Mark Antony still took a moment to revel in the invention, finding it, for the umpteenth time, hard to believe that it contained a living, breathing Pokémon. When he had received it from one of the military scientists a few weeks back when his regiment was stationed at Blackthorn, the central headquarters of Johto’s military, the mere thought that this capsule contained a Pokémon was ludicrous. If that hadn’t caused doubts, the claim that this “Poke Ball” allowed humans to gain the Pokémon’s complete and utter obedience did.
But whatever misgivings he had about the new invention would have to wait until the Kantonians were stopped in their tracks.
Pidgeot began to struggle against his exhaustion and weakness when the man before him took out his sword. Mark Antony stabbed the raptor in the chest then rolled him over on his stomach when the body became lifeless. As a second though, he ripped the Kanto vest off and threw it off to the side; looking at it had made him sick.
Pressing the button in the center of the Poké Ball, Mark Antony felt the sphere wobble in his palm before its top half opened to let out a stream of white light. Ivory changed to dusty-gray as the light solidified into a three-foot-tall bipedal creature of crudely-stitched cloth. Blood-red eyes blinked up at the human, a muffled hiss making his yellow, zipped-up mouth quiver into a hideous scowl. The Banette used its stubby legs to back and crouch defensively, his stub of a golden tail bristled like a broom and the wisp of cloth that curled from behind his three blunt, head spikes whipping ominously behind him. Mark Antony stood in front of the Hoenn Pokémon, unaffected by the murderous glare that was sent his way.
“You see this?” he demanded, thrusting the Poke Ball into Banette’s view. “I have control over you. I am your master. If you decide to disobey, I’ll kill you on the spot. Disobedience to the Johto side is alliance to the Kanto side.”
Only an agreeing grunt left the furious Ghost-type.
“Good.” Mark Antony could now hear the Kantonians’ raucous yells of attack. They were growing close enough for him to be able to feel the thundering hooves of a Rapidash; he was not going to wait long enough to be able to see the rider. He stared down at the possessed doll, then pointed at the feathery corpse. “I want you to animate that body. Make it seem as real as you can.”
Banette grinned evilly; it was time to release his pent-up anger. He gripped the zipper of his mouth with one of his tattered fingers and pulled until a cackle was ripped free. Even as he pulled out a handful of nails from his maw, his maniacal laugh still rang through the grim forest, his eyes as bright as rubies. The military officer watched as Banette took the nails, all of them coated in a thick-layer of rust, and stuck them into his torso, arms, and throat. It wasn’t until he saw the wounds open and the blood trickle into pools of red that Mark Antony realized that it wasn’t rust that covered the phantom’s tools.
A tuneless hum now overcame the animated marionette. He hovered above the Pidgeot’s corpse and let his blood drip onto the body, eyes now simmering coals that illuminated the inch-long nails embedded into his body. The corpse twitched as its cream feathers were soaked to become a grotesque shade of poisoned garnet. It lifted itself into the air, head still bowed down, its own blood drowning the grass. Banette lifted his hands above his head and twitched his fingers. Wings shook then spread. Talons slashed at invisible foes. With a flick of his wrist, Pidgeot’s head snapped into position.
Mark Antony unconsciously stepped back, horror making his eyes widen and his face to become pallid. Even when his ears heard the bark of an order, he couldn’t will himself to take control. The Pokémon in front of- No, he couldn’t call it one of Arceus’ creatures, not anymore. Whatever he had in mind when that scientist told him Banette could move the dead, this was not it.
The shot of gunfire made him jump into action. Forcing himself to look straight into the eyes of the bird, of Death himself, the twenty-five-year-old commanded, “When the Kantonians arrive, attack.”
Banette gave a barely perceptible nod from within his trance, his mouth still agape in a silent shriek. Mark Antony walked around the Pokémon and took cover behind a tree, the Poké Ball back in place and his sword held in both hands. As he waited, kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, his eyes couldn’t help but travel to the Pidgeot.
When their eyes had met, the bird’s gaze had been glossy and clouded over by the white veil of death. The sword wounds no longer shed blood, but they leaked viscous body fluid that stank of decay. Feathers that had been stained with the Marionette Pokémon’s blood had fallen to the ground to curl up like withered leaves, leaving the corpse’s back almost completely bare. It was a vile monstrosity, but Mark Antony had no choice but to rely on the faux Pidgeot. He could never hope to defeat the incoming Kanto soldiers, even with Banette’s help. Ingenuity and the element of surprise had to be used to their fullest potential if he wanted to get out alive, even if it meant going against nature herself.
The ground trembled once more. Mark Antony pressed himself closer to the tree and the shadows it cast, a white-knuckled grip on his sword. He was unaware that the still-possessed Banette extended the tree’s shadows so that it covered the officer in inky darkness until he couldn’t see the shine of his blade. As the tendrils of black slithered and hid his form from view, the Kantonians broke into the clearing in a thunderous orchestra of galloping hooves and running feet. A single beat of time later, all sound ceased to exist.
Then, “By Arceus… What abomination is this?”
“Sir, it’s alive!”
“It’s… Damn it, sir! It’s one of our own!”
Banette swept his arms in an arc, that same, malicious guffaw escaping his unzipped mouth. Pidgeot flapped his wings, spreading the odor of rotting flesh into the air, and rocketed towards the shell-shocked Kanto soldiers. At the same instant, Mark Antony flew from his shadowed perch, sword at the ready. Expertly, he ducked Pidgeot’s massive wings as they flapped for a second time, avoided the bird’s sharp beak as it lunged at a soldier, and ended up to the side of the group of twenty Kantonians. The man nearest to him turned around, mouth agape in surprise, but was quickly rendered helpless when Mark Antony slashed at his legs. Going down as a crumpled heap on the ground, the Kantonian writhed in agony as Mark Antony kicked the man’s gun to the shadows.
“What the?!” the leader exclaimed, drawing his own sword out from its sheath. He ran at the Johtonian but was then knocked back by Pidgeot’s wings. While Mark Antony knocked a soldier’s rifle from his hands, he saw the red-haired, navy-clad leader regain his footing and rush at him again, this time with two more soldiers on either side of him. Mark Antony backed up then jumped towards one private and aimed for his abdomen. Much to his surprise, the other solider was faster than him and slammed his rifle into the backside of his head. The sergeant stumbled and barely managed to avoid falling to the forest floor. Mark Antony rushed to pick up his fallen sword when the sound of a fired shot blasted in his ears.
“Ugggh!” he yelled and withdrew his right hand, cradling it to his chest. The bullet wound bled rivulets of blood that stained the front of his silver uniform scarlet. Mark Antony fell to his knees at the sensation of needles running through every nerve in his throbbing hand. For the Kantonians, the moment of distraction was enough. The leader raised his sword, emerald eyes narrowed; the two soldiers raised their rifles and aimed.
Branches of trees bent then snapped off as Banette commanded Pidgeot to unleash a Twister. Mark Antony quickly latched onto a nearby tree trunk as the wind whipped his clothes and hair in an attempt to send him to the next region. From the corner of his shielded eye, he saw the three men collide with the trees behind them. Unfortunately for them, they were not unconscious. They were fully aware of their breaking ribs and the echo of a broken skull as they were slammed into the trees, picked up again by a well-aimed Gust, and then thrown towards the rest of the soldiers.
“Thanks,” Mark Antony huffed towards Banette once the hurricane gale settled until only the broken branches and fallen leaves on the forest floor twitched. Miraculously, his sword had been lodged between two rocks instead of being blown into a nearby canopy. On his feet again, he pulled it out, ignoring how his hand screamed in protest; the bullet still wedged in the shattered bone of his hand felt like it burrowed deeper. The twenty-five-year-old bit the inside of his cheek, successfully fighting back the urge to dig the shrapnel out himself.
When he turned towards the Ghost-type, an audible gasp left his mouth. Mark Antony saw Banette twitch the invisible strings of his dead puppet in a way that made Pidgeot gain a ravenous light in his eyes. He stepped back once, and that’s all the initiative Banette needed to give the mental order.
Pidgeot reared his head and flew over the two soldiers and their leader, who were too injured to move. The soldiers fired round after deafening round, but they could only watch in dismay when their bullets lodged into the bird’s unfazed corpse. Soon, they were out of sight when the massive raptor was on top of them. Talons dug into their chests for a perch before Pidgeot’s beak tore into meat and muscle. Those who were able-bodied ran away from the gruesome scene, their faces as white as sheets.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mark Antony bellowed at Banette, his hands shaking at the sight he had just turned his back to. He had seen death and gore just as much as he had seen the sun rise and set for the past two years, but the sight of humans being so mercilessly murdered by such an unfeeling creature sent chills running down his spine.
The possessed toy looked at him with eyes that tauntingly danced within blood-red flames. He raised a hand, and Mark Antony was lifted into the air.
“You’re under my command!” the Johtonian shouted, livid with anger and fear. Already he felt that his limbs were not under his control. They were as frozen as the blood in his veins.
Banette sneered at the human’s claim. With a twitch of a finger, he unhooked Mark Antony’s Poké Ball and held it aloft. Within seconds, it was crushed into pieces of metal that rained down upon the screaming, dying men. At the sound of the Poké Ball’s remnants hitting the ground, the ghoul grinned in satisfaction.
“You vile creature,” Mark Antony spat, ignoring how the bullets fired at him by the surviving Kantonians were eerily deflected back at them with nothing but Banette’s hellish gaze. What was this twisted Pokémon planning to do to him?
His world was suddenly tipped backwards with another silent command from the phantom. Mark Antony’s sword clattered to the ground when he was jerked back by an invisible string at the back of his skull. The chill that had settled on his limbs spread to his chest and grew until he found it agonizingly difficult to breathe. Like a fish out of water, he flailed and wished for air, growing increasingly terrified. From head to foot, he was numb, and not even the burning of his hand and broken rib were there to remind him that he was still conscious. Mark Antony didn’t doubt for a second that Banette could kill with the bat of an eye.
Every color of the forest suddenly rushed at him in an overwhelming wave of hues. Green turned to black. Brown turned to black. Through the sea of midnight, Mark Antony only saw Banette’s cold eyes of fire.
When Mark Antony woke up, he saw the night sky above him was lit with orange. For a moment, he thought the sun was rising, but when the smell of gunpowder flooded his nose, he sat up, tensed. The fire among the stars was from war weapons, not the sun.
“What in Arceus’ name?!” he exclaimed. Mark Antony then began to harshly cough, which made his injured ribs rattle painfully. Mark Antony held his uninjured hand to his chest, greedily sucking in air. His whole body shook now that it wasn’t frozen by Banette’s power, and a giddy chuckle slipped out of him. The normally level-headed man sat there and laughed at the fact that he was still alive. This time, it wasn’t his training or intelligence that got him out of a scrape. The only reason he was still breathing was because Banette chose to spare him, for whatever reason. His fate was decided by a creature that was supposed to be under his control.
At the thought, he immediately became sober, then furious.
“That bastard,” Mark Antony shakily growled, cursing the scientist that had given him the Poké Ball with every fiber of his being. “That incompetent, lowly bastard!”
He would have sat there for hours if a glance at his blood-stained uniform didn’t remind him of who he was. Mark Antony stood up, but unlike the last time, his feet still wobbled and threatened to send him toppling to the ground. Stubbornly, he shook his head to dispel any lasting memories of Banette and looked around. A curse was muttered when Mark Antony didn’t find his sword.
I guess I have to make due with this, he mentally sighed while slipping out his dagger from the sheath attached to his right boot. The small weapon felt like a twig in his calloused hand.
“Now then…” The amber-eyed man trailed off when he didn’t recognize any of the surroundings landmarks.
What landmarks? a snide part of his thoughts quipped.
For once, Mark Antony had to give that part of his mind some credit. Indeed, the only landmarks near him were the hundreds of charcoaled tree stumps that had long since finished smoldering. Looking down, the sergeant kicked up the blackened dirt and watched how it crumbled off in heavy clumps riddled with burned pieces of leaves.
“A battle took place here,” he muttered to himself. Mark Antony observed the wide expanse of field, now nothing more than five miles of scorched land, then a nearby tree stump. He traced the smooth grooves at the top. “Battle Pokémon cut this whole forest down in order to battle unhindered. Fire Pokémon then incinerated the fallen trees into ash.”
Mark Antony’s eyes clouded over, and even when he looked up to glance at the town a couple of miles from the dead forest, they were unfocused with thought. Faintly, as though he was recalling a legend from an ancient tome, the fire that engulfed the buildings further fueled the thought that kept turning in his mind.
There was no doubt about it. The only force with such strong Pokémon on its side was Cassius’ Kanto regiment. Charizard, Arcanine, Pinsir, Scyther, they were all rumored to be under his command. They had defeated a Johto regiment in this very spot and were now laying waste on New Bark Town. Even from this far, Mark Antony could make out the Johto flag mounted on top of the most important research facility in the region. It was not down, but he was sure that if he blinked, it would be lost in a sea of flames…
“But wait!” Mark Antony yelled out in surprise, the realization literally knocking him off his feet. Sitting on a stump, he stared at the hell-consumed town with wide eyes. He tried to speak, but his mouth had gone paper-dry.
But Cassius is back at Cherrygrove! he silently reasoned, hands now gripping his locks of matted hair and staining them with blood. How could he be here, in New Bark Town, so quickly?! Mark Antony breathed in the smell of the deceased forest in an effort to calm down.
Something else dawned on him.
This battle has been fought days ago… We’ve been deceived! Cassius was never in Cherrygrove! That was their plan! They led a part of his regiment for who knows how long to derail us from Cassius’ path!
“I should have seen Cassius with my own two eyes,” the officer rasped, gripping the hilt of his dagger so tight he thought the bullet in his hand would rip right through. Whatever pain that racked his hand was washed away by his fury. Mark Antony jumped to his feet, the stinging of his ribs just making him growl in frustration, and faced the fire-stricken sky. “Damn it all! Damn it all to Hell!”
And that was when Mark Antony saw something fall from the heavens.
As bright as a miniature sun, it lit the smoke-filled clouds when it streaked through them. Mark Antony leaned forward, mouth agape in awe. He squinted and tried to see past the veil of light that surrounded it. After a second, he flinched. Whatever kind of energy it was, it hurt to look at it for long.
“It’s a fallen Pokémon,” he reasoned, anger momentarily shadowed by hope. His legs automatically began taking him to the west, where the strange object was falling towards. “It was probably shot down.”
His jog turned into a sprint, then a full-fledged run that sent pangs of pain to run rampant through his chest. More than once Mark Antony had to force himself to keep running or fall victim to his injuries. If this was a Pokémon, he could possibly force it to help him back to Cherrygrove. Though his stomach tied itself into anxious knots at the mere thought of another Pokémon, he knew there was no other choice. Walking back would take him at least two days, yet that was if he wasn’t spotted by Kantonians. With nothing but a dagger he could barely grasp in his shot hand, the chance of returning back on his own was laughable.
“They’ll trip over themselves for the chance of capturing the elusive Mark Antony Colfax, the youngest sergeant to date,” he couldn’t help but remark. He unconsciously chose that moment to grip his dagger too tightly and suffer the excruciating pain of the bullet grinding against his cracked hand. Mark Antony let out a gritted curse and continued running, deciding to keep his mouth firmly shut from now on.
Then the air trembled and gave a low hum like the plucked string of a cello. Mark Antony stopped as he saw the streak of light suddenly plummet like a missile about a mile from where he was. The hum evaporated then came back as a sonic boom that threw him into the air. The twenty-five-year-old was flipped backwards and thrown on the ground, where he gripped his chest and squirmed in agony. When Mark Antony opened his tearing eyes, he held his breath, his body paralyzed in a half-crouched position. Try as he might, though, all he heard was silence.
“Dead?” Mark Antony asked in a rare moment of ineloquence.
He half-crept, half-jogged the quarter mile to the twenty-foot wide crater on the outskirts of New Bark. The closer he got, the hotter it became. By the time he looked over the rim of the crater, a sheen of sweat was visible on his brow. Every upturned rock and clump of dirt was seething with heat, and as Mark Antony stood up, the sole of his boots sent a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. With every hair on his head standing on end, he gazed at the undistinguishable lump in the middle. Was that small mass of yellow and gray really a Pokémon that could help him? Again, his stomach did unpleasant back flips. The earth around him, burned scarlet with whatever energy aura the creature had been surrounded by, simmered and crackled in warning.
“Death by Pokémon or by Kantonians?” his voice sounded, almost inaudible among the consistent sizzling of the earth.
Mark Antony gripped the double-edged sword and decided to approach the listless Pokémon.
As he began to walk towards the middle of the impact site, the charred dirt left behind clear imprints of his footprints before collapsing into fine crumbs. Sweat now dribbled into his eyes and to the front of his uniform to mix in with the blood that stained it. Mark Antony gripped his jacket and fell to his knees. Each breath was now labored and struggling to leave his parched mouth. Through hazy vision, he saw the lifeless Pokémon was no bigger than an infant. Uncertainly, he stood up and walked towards it, each step now hissing with heat. Mark Antony grunted when sweat trickled down his hand to pour into his bullet wound.
“You… better… be… helpful,” were his exhausted and frustrated words that made his ribcage ache.
Once he got his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, he looked down.
“What…?”
For a moment, Mark Antony really thought he was looking down at a baby. The small Pokémon was wrapped in two tattered tassels the color of gold while her small eyes fluttered against unpleasant dreams. Without even thinking about it, Mark Antony scooped up the bundle and looked into the Pokémon’s silver face and the bloodied cuts that marred it. She trembled in his arms, and the two cyan tags that dangled from the tree star tips on her head shook as though to dispel the nightmares that plagued her.
“What are you?” he finished, words now soft and difficult to get out. Vertigo claimed him and forced him onto his knees again. However, even through his blurry and unfocused eyes, the Pokémon’s injuries were as clear as day. He traced a rather large gash on her cheek and felt her flinch.
You’re hurt, he mentally said now that his mouth only allowed him to release raspy breaths. Mark Antony looked down at the Pokémon, seeing helplessness and fear in that shuddering mass of injuries. Yet, despite the defenselessness, he sensed the inkling of something that told him this was not a Pokémon that should be manipulated for human gain. A sacred being was in his arms, and the thought of forcing her to do anything was lost.
Immediately, the overwhelming heat dissipated around them. Mark Antony, his breathing hard, saw the Pokémon’s face was strained with effort.
/ I am Jirachi, / came the telepathic call. The human felt the edges of his brain fizzle at the power’s touch. Goose bumps rippled his flesh.
“Jirachi?” Mark Antony echoed, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue in the same manner he recited the names of the Pokémon deities of his region; he didn’t know what made him realize that Jirachi deserved the same amount of respect as Johto’s Legends.
/ I beseech you; help me. / Amber eyes opened to gaze at their potential savior. / My body cannot last much longer. /
“What can I do?” the sergeant asked, oddly detached from the scene. He felt like the little kid he was so long ago reenacting one of his old bedtime stories. It should have felt silly, but with the gravely-injured Jirachi in his arms begging for his help, it felt anything but.
/ Hide me away so I can recuperate. /
“You’ll die,” he bluntly told her. “I’ll get you medical help instead.”
Either Jirachi found his frank words true or she had no energy to retort, she simply closed her eyes.
/ I leave my life in your hands, human. /
“Mark Antony,” he told her. “That’s my name.”
But Jirachi had already fallen into a restless slumber.
Mark Antony held the psychic close and looked towards New Bark Town. Somewhere in the midst of battle was a Pokémon Center that could save the life of this goddess of the sky. Were the chances of reaching it in one piece good? No. Even if he somehow managed to get to it without being shot on the spot, there was no guarantee the building was still in the hands of the Johtonians or even still standing.
“I have to try, though.” Mark Antony then looked down at the sleeping Legendary, each difficult breath rattling in her chest. “Are you really a deity like the Beasts of Legend?”
Jirachi only shivered in response.
A/N: I was going to wait until I finished Chapter Six to post this chapter, but after seeing that Chapter Six was going to take a bit longer than I thought, I decided to post this chapter right now.
The first episode of Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha is so similar to this chapter: unsuspecting human finds an injured creature in need of help, but at the same, it's more than it seems; the human then goes off to a medical facility. I thought the similarity between the two was so cool. ^^
Everything except the meeting with Jirachi was improvised writing. I SO did not expect to put in such a creepy scene like Banette's. It was a nice addition, though.
Chapter Six: Mark Antony makes his harrowing journey through New Bark Town with an injured Jirachi in his arms.
P.S. I put up a PM list for anybody who's interested in being notified when I post a new chapter. :3
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Chapter Five
Supernova
Chapter Five
Supernova
Even after the sun had completely set, the air was saturated with acrid smoke. Mark Antony looked at the distant view of the battlefield from the cover of a row of bushes. Behind him, Corporal Cox and six of their finest men waited for him to speak. As they did, their eyes analyzed the surroundings, a part of them wondering if the trees were even real. The small forest they were currently hiding in had been far enough from their battle with the Kantonians to escape a fiery fate. To see leafy canopies and flourishing bushes after days of traveling through wastelands and abandoned towns was enough to take their breath away.
“The direct route to the hospital is too dangerous,” their leader finally spoke, his whisper a smidge louder than his men’s bated breath. “We’ll have to go around it, through this forest, in order not to be seen. It’ll take longer, but this is why we’re here: to find out what is the best route for the regiment to take.”
“Sir,” a private spoke up. Though his voice was soft, it was not hesitant; he was one of a handful of soldiers that did not fear the sting of his superior’s words. “With the Kanto regiment at their base, we may have the opportunity of raiding the Pokémon Center for food and medical supplies.”
Mark Antony turned, a thoughtful expression on his face. Pokémon Centers were a fairly new business in Johto and might not have much medical supplies to offer; they had only been built when the war started for traveling Johtonian regiments to heal their fighting and scouting Pokémon. Then again, little medical supplies were better than no supplies at all. Without saying a word, he regarded the man who had spoken then looked back out into the battlefield. Try as he might, the twenty-five-year-old man could not see the aforementioned building.
He grinned. “It doesn’t seem it was anywhere near the battlefield. Perhaps the Center escaped being torched to the ground.”
Again, Mark Antony turned around, but this time, a determined frown was etched on his features. “The Center is not among the burned and collapsed buildings I see, but it could be in another part of Cherrygrove. Keep an eye out for it; our men and Pokémon are in dire need of supplies.” The sergeant walked onto the dirt trail his men were on. Unsheathing his sword, he told them, “And just because this forest seems desolate, it does not give you reason to let your guard down.”
All eight of them, their weapons in hand, began to walk through the beaten path carved out by forest Pokémon. The blood stains and mud that coated their uniforms were hidden beneath the shadows of the trees’ canopies; any moonlight that did seep through the smoke and dense leaves bathed the thin, almost-black tree trunks. The sound of their muffled footsteps was in unison with the faint rustle and chirping of Pokémon hidden around them. The men ignored the buzz of nature. As long as they didn’t spot the flash of red and blue that made up the uniform of a Kanto-owned Pokémon, they didn’t consider themselves in any danger.
An hour had gone by in silence until one private stopped with a startled gasp and sniffed the air. While everybody else turned to look at the soldier with raised eyebrows, Mark Antony smelled what had alerted the private. The faint odor of charred wood and leaves that drifted on the wind was accompanied by a stronger smell of burning meat and spices. Mark Antony stepped forward a few paces and squinted, trying to pierce the gloom.
When he couldn’t, he leaned on his sword and simply said, “There are some people camped a little way’s off. They could be Cherrygrove citizens who stupidly decided to ride out the takeover or stationed Kanto soldiers on the lookout for us. Either way, we have to be the ones with surprise on their side.” Mark Antony gave Edward a glance, who nodded in acknowledgment.
“Okay, Private Kisubo and Private Toren, both of you…”
As the corporal assigned positions, Mark Antony leaned against a tree, still trying to see past the thick black that covered the forest. A couple more steps forward did nothing to help. As nonchalantly as though he was mounting his horse, he sheathed his sword and nimbly heaved himself up a tree limb. With his boots now precariously balancing him on a thick branch, he straightened and looked towards where the campfire aroma was coming from. Mark Antony tipped his head for a better look at a flicker of red he saw from the corner of his eye.
It was gone by the time he turned.
Edward’s faint words faded completely when the sergeant’s curiosity took over. One hand hovered over the hilt of his sword while the other laid over the trunk of the tree for support. Mark Antony sniffed the air, then frowned. The odor of smoke and meat was weak; the stillness of his bangs and the tied ends of his headband told him it was because something had interrupted the breeze that carried it. The branch he stood on creaked as he turned around to tell Edward. Mark Antony froze, though, when the screech of a raptor tore the air in two. He whirled around, narrowly avoiding falling eight feet to the ground, and whipped out his sword. The bird of prey flapped himself out of his dive at the sight of the blade but still brandished sharp, ivory talons.
“Kanto,” Mark Antony hissed at the sight of the ruby vest on the Pidgeot. The beige bird whipped his head back, the flowing scarlet and diamond-white feathers on his scalp writhing like snakes, and gave a great downbeat of his wings. Whatever breeze Mark Antony had felt before intensified into a tremendous gust that knocked him off his feet. The man grabbed the tree branch he had been standing on as he fell, but the Pidgeot grabbed it in his talons and snapped the limb like a toothpick; a taunting trill was let loose from the Pidgeot’s rose-colored beak at the sight of the human’s shell-hocked face. The forest rushed around him in a mix of colors until Mark Antony landed back-first on the ground.
“Sergeant!” Edward exclaimed, running to his friend’s side.
“I’m okay,” his superior muttered as he jumped to his feet despite his throbbing spine and chest. Steadying himself with a quick breath that sent a ripple of pain to a possibly-broken rib, he looked over to his privates. When he saw they merely avoided the Pokémon’s gusts and talon swipes, he yelled, “Don’t hop around like schoolchildren! Fire! Fire your weapons! The enemy is already aware of our approach!” The disappearance of the campfire smell told him that much.
Fired shots made the trees around them quiver. The privates, now braver with the command to defend themselves, took cover behind the trees, the canopies’ shadows hiding their well-toned forms. Edward had his own sword out and was poised for any incoming attacks, including those of Kantonian soldiers. Mark Antony’s grip on his own blade tightened in frustration. The Pidgeot was deftly dodging the whizzing bullets with an Agility that allowed him to weave through the canopies and fire an attack whenever he was seen. One of the privates was caught off-guard when a Gust came at him from behind. The attack swept him off his feet and straight into the tree he was hiding behind. The Flying-type let out a screech of triumph before propelling himself towards the fallen soldier, talons menacingly curled. In the blink of an eye, a shooting pain ran through the Pokémon’s stomach and up his chest to settle as a burning sensation that made him shriek in agony. Mark Antony came in running, the empty sheath of his dagger shoved into a strap in his boot, and kicked the Pidgeot squarely in the abdomen.
“Damn bird,” the spiky-haired man spat at the grounded flier. Mark Antony pinned the massive fighter by running his sword through one wing and standing on the other. When he looked down at the bird’s pained chocolate eyes, what little sympathy he could have felt was shoved to a dark crevice of his mind. Pokémon were intelligent creatures, and those who didn’t want to obey their masters could escape. The Pidgeot that writhed at his feet chose to follow his master.
He leaned over and yanked the dagger from the Pidgeot’s stomach. Ignoring the agonized wail, he did the same with his sword and turned towards Edward, who had come up to him with the rest of their troop in tow. “The Kantonians are closing in,” the corporal told him, only the slightest dimming of his eyes betraying his cool exterior; the privates that helped their nearly-knocked-out comrade to his feet weren’t so discreet. “We need to move out.”
“You’re right,” Mark Antony agreed, nonchalantly cleaning his sword and dagger on the grass before placing them in their sheaths. “We’re not sure if the camped Kantonians are two or two dozen. Only a fool would take the chance with our numbers.” Looking towards the west, he traced the path they had taken so far in his mind and knew with certainty that there was a barren expanse of land that bordered the River Cerre a little way’s from where they were. If they reached the desolate field, any Kantonian Pokémon would lose the cover of the shadows and tree canopies.
Then again, they themselves would be left wide open.
If only our scouting Pokémon hadn’t been killed off in that Blackthorn battle, Mark Antony thought with gritted teeth. We could have found out how many Kantonians we’re actually facing!
“Everybody!” he said aloud. “Retreat to the west! If we make it out of the forest, we’ll leave the Kantonian Pokémon without cover! Corporal Cox, lead them out!”
Edward blinked and demanded upon seeing Mark Antony’s eyes alight with fiery determination, “Sergeant! What are you planning to do?”
“I plan to hold them off long enough to give you guys a running start.” When the blonde opened his mouth to retort, Mark Antony insisted, “I can take care of myself, you know. If you don’t go right now, you’ll kill us all.”
All Edward could do was nod and dash towards the west, barking a sharp order to the privates to follow him. The younger men looked at their officer with expressions muddled with confusion and shock but obeyed. Mark Antony watched them go, and when their backs disappeared, he dashed towards the wounded Pidgeot, one hand going for something that was latched beside his sword. The bird rose one dark-brown wing, a trill that was more pathetic than threatening stuck in his throat.
Or is it the blood bubbling in its chest that is making that sound? he idly thought, eyes as emotionless as his expression.
From his sash, he unclipped a ball about the size of his hand. The sphere was clunky at best with both halves made of dark-black metal that already began to rust in spots; the man concluded after a moment that it weighed as much as his sword. Despite its flaws, Mark Antony still took a moment to revel in the invention, finding it, for the umpteenth time, hard to believe that it contained a living, breathing Pokémon. When he had received it from one of the military scientists a few weeks back when his regiment was stationed at Blackthorn, the central headquarters of Johto’s military, the mere thought that this capsule contained a Pokémon was ludicrous. If that hadn’t caused doubts, the claim that this “Poke Ball” allowed humans to gain the Pokémon’s complete and utter obedience did.
But whatever misgivings he had about the new invention would have to wait until the Kantonians were stopped in their tracks.
Pidgeot began to struggle against his exhaustion and weakness when the man before him took out his sword. Mark Antony stabbed the raptor in the chest then rolled him over on his stomach when the body became lifeless. As a second though, he ripped the Kanto vest off and threw it off to the side; looking at it had made him sick.
Pressing the button in the center of the Poké Ball, Mark Antony felt the sphere wobble in his palm before its top half opened to let out a stream of white light. Ivory changed to dusty-gray as the light solidified into a three-foot-tall bipedal creature of crudely-stitched cloth. Blood-red eyes blinked up at the human, a muffled hiss making his yellow, zipped-up mouth quiver into a hideous scowl. The Banette used its stubby legs to back and crouch defensively, his stub of a golden tail bristled like a broom and the wisp of cloth that curled from behind his three blunt, head spikes whipping ominously behind him. Mark Antony stood in front of the Hoenn Pokémon, unaffected by the murderous glare that was sent his way.
“You see this?” he demanded, thrusting the Poke Ball into Banette’s view. “I have control over you. I am your master. If you decide to disobey, I’ll kill you on the spot. Disobedience to the Johto side is alliance to the Kanto side.”
Only an agreeing grunt left the furious Ghost-type.
“Good.” Mark Antony could now hear the Kantonians’ raucous yells of attack. They were growing close enough for him to be able to feel the thundering hooves of a Rapidash; he was not going to wait long enough to be able to see the rider. He stared down at the possessed doll, then pointed at the feathery corpse. “I want you to animate that body. Make it seem as real as you can.”
Banette grinned evilly; it was time to release his pent-up anger. He gripped the zipper of his mouth with one of his tattered fingers and pulled until a cackle was ripped free. Even as he pulled out a handful of nails from his maw, his maniacal laugh still rang through the grim forest, his eyes as bright as rubies. The military officer watched as Banette took the nails, all of them coated in a thick-layer of rust, and stuck them into his torso, arms, and throat. It wasn’t until he saw the wounds open and the blood trickle into pools of red that Mark Antony realized that it wasn’t rust that covered the phantom’s tools.
A tuneless hum now overcame the animated marionette. He hovered above the Pidgeot’s corpse and let his blood drip onto the body, eyes now simmering coals that illuminated the inch-long nails embedded into his body. The corpse twitched as its cream feathers were soaked to become a grotesque shade of poisoned garnet. It lifted itself into the air, head still bowed down, its own blood drowning the grass. Banette lifted his hands above his head and twitched his fingers. Wings shook then spread. Talons slashed at invisible foes. With a flick of his wrist, Pidgeot’s head snapped into position.
Mark Antony unconsciously stepped back, horror making his eyes widen and his face to become pallid. Even when his ears heard the bark of an order, he couldn’t will himself to take control. The Pokémon in front of- No, he couldn’t call it one of Arceus’ creatures, not anymore. Whatever he had in mind when that scientist told him Banette could move the dead, this was not it.
The shot of gunfire made him jump into action. Forcing himself to look straight into the eyes of the bird, of Death himself, the twenty-five-year-old commanded, “When the Kantonians arrive, attack.”
Banette gave a barely perceptible nod from within his trance, his mouth still agape in a silent shriek. Mark Antony walked around the Pokémon and took cover behind a tree, the Poké Ball back in place and his sword held in both hands. As he waited, kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, his eyes couldn’t help but travel to the Pidgeot.
When their eyes had met, the bird’s gaze had been glossy and clouded over by the white veil of death. The sword wounds no longer shed blood, but they leaked viscous body fluid that stank of decay. Feathers that had been stained with the Marionette Pokémon’s blood had fallen to the ground to curl up like withered leaves, leaving the corpse’s back almost completely bare. It was a vile monstrosity, but Mark Antony had no choice but to rely on the faux Pidgeot. He could never hope to defeat the incoming Kanto soldiers, even with Banette’s help. Ingenuity and the element of surprise had to be used to their fullest potential if he wanted to get out alive, even if it meant going against nature herself.
The ground trembled once more. Mark Antony pressed himself closer to the tree and the shadows it cast, a white-knuckled grip on his sword. He was unaware that the still-possessed Banette extended the tree’s shadows so that it covered the officer in inky darkness until he couldn’t see the shine of his blade. As the tendrils of black slithered and hid his form from view, the Kantonians broke into the clearing in a thunderous orchestra of galloping hooves and running feet. A single beat of time later, all sound ceased to exist.
Then, “By Arceus… What abomination is this?”
“Sir, it’s alive!”
“It’s… Damn it, sir! It’s one of our own!”
Banette swept his arms in an arc, that same, malicious guffaw escaping his unzipped mouth. Pidgeot flapped his wings, spreading the odor of rotting flesh into the air, and rocketed towards the shell-shocked Kanto soldiers. At the same instant, Mark Antony flew from his shadowed perch, sword at the ready. Expertly, he ducked Pidgeot’s massive wings as they flapped for a second time, avoided the bird’s sharp beak as it lunged at a soldier, and ended up to the side of the group of twenty Kantonians. The man nearest to him turned around, mouth agape in surprise, but was quickly rendered helpless when Mark Antony slashed at his legs. Going down as a crumpled heap on the ground, the Kantonian writhed in agony as Mark Antony kicked the man’s gun to the shadows.
“What the?!” the leader exclaimed, drawing his own sword out from its sheath. He ran at the Johtonian but was then knocked back by Pidgeot’s wings. While Mark Antony knocked a soldier’s rifle from his hands, he saw the red-haired, navy-clad leader regain his footing and rush at him again, this time with two more soldiers on either side of him. Mark Antony backed up then jumped towards one private and aimed for his abdomen. Much to his surprise, the other solider was faster than him and slammed his rifle into the backside of his head. The sergeant stumbled and barely managed to avoid falling to the forest floor. Mark Antony rushed to pick up his fallen sword when the sound of a fired shot blasted in his ears.
“Ugggh!” he yelled and withdrew his right hand, cradling it to his chest. The bullet wound bled rivulets of blood that stained the front of his silver uniform scarlet. Mark Antony fell to his knees at the sensation of needles running through every nerve in his throbbing hand. For the Kantonians, the moment of distraction was enough. The leader raised his sword, emerald eyes narrowed; the two soldiers raised their rifles and aimed.
Branches of trees bent then snapped off as Banette commanded Pidgeot to unleash a Twister. Mark Antony quickly latched onto a nearby tree trunk as the wind whipped his clothes and hair in an attempt to send him to the next region. From the corner of his shielded eye, he saw the three men collide with the trees behind them. Unfortunately for them, they were not unconscious. They were fully aware of their breaking ribs and the echo of a broken skull as they were slammed into the trees, picked up again by a well-aimed Gust, and then thrown towards the rest of the soldiers.
“Thanks,” Mark Antony huffed towards Banette once the hurricane gale settled until only the broken branches and fallen leaves on the forest floor twitched. Miraculously, his sword had been lodged between two rocks instead of being blown into a nearby canopy. On his feet again, he pulled it out, ignoring how his hand screamed in protest; the bullet still wedged in the shattered bone of his hand felt like it burrowed deeper. The twenty-five-year-old bit the inside of his cheek, successfully fighting back the urge to dig the shrapnel out himself.
When he turned towards the Ghost-type, an audible gasp left his mouth. Mark Antony saw Banette twitch the invisible strings of his dead puppet in a way that made Pidgeot gain a ravenous light in his eyes. He stepped back once, and that’s all the initiative Banette needed to give the mental order.
Pidgeot reared his head and flew over the two soldiers and their leader, who were too injured to move. The soldiers fired round after deafening round, but they could only watch in dismay when their bullets lodged into the bird’s unfazed corpse. Soon, they were out of sight when the massive raptor was on top of them. Talons dug into their chests for a perch before Pidgeot’s beak tore into meat and muscle. Those who were able-bodied ran away from the gruesome scene, their faces as white as sheets.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mark Antony bellowed at Banette, his hands shaking at the sight he had just turned his back to. He had seen death and gore just as much as he had seen the sun rise and set for the past two years, but the sight of humans being so mercilessly murdered by such an unfeeling creature sent chills running down his spine.
The possessed toy looked at him with eyes that tauntingly danced within blood-red flames. He raised a hand, and Mark Antony was lifted into the air.
“You’re under my command!” the Johtonian shouted, livid with anger and fear. Already he felt that his limbs were not under his control. They were as frozen as the blood in his veins.
Banette sneered at the human’s claim. With a twitch of a finger, he unhooked Mark Antony’s Poké Ball and held it aloft. Within seconds, it was crushed into pieces of metal that rained down upon the screaming, dying men. At the sound of the Poké Ball’s remnants hitting the ground, the ghoul grinned in satisfaction.
“You vile creature,” Mark Antony spat, ignoring how the bullets fired at him by the surviving Kantonians were eerily deflected back at them with nothing but Banette’s hellish gaze. What was this twisted Pokémon planning to do to him?
His world was suddenly tipped backwards with another silent command from the phantom. Mark Antony’s sword clattered to the ground when he was jerked back by an invisible string at the back of his skull. The chill that had settled on his limbs spread to his chest and grew until he found it agonizingly difficult to breathe. Like a fish out of water, he flailed and wished for air, growing increasingly terrified. From head to foot, he was numb, and not even the burning of his hand and broken rib were there to remind him that he was still conscious. Mark Antony didn’t doubt for a second that Banette could kill with the bat of an eye.
Every color of the forest suddenly rushed at him in an overwhelming wave of hues. Green turned to black. Brown turned to black. Through the sea of midnight, Mark Antony only saw Banette’s cold eyes of fire.
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When Mark Antony woke up, he saw the night sky above him was lit with orange. For a moment, he thought the sun was rising, but when the smell of gunpowder flooded his nose, he sat up, tensed. The fire among the stars was from war weapons, not the sun.
“What in Arceus’ name?!” he exclaimed. Mark Antony then began to harshly cough, which made his injured ribs rattle painfully. Mark Antony held his uninjured hand to his chest, greedily sucking in air. His whole body shook now that it wasn’t frozen by Banette’s power, and a giddy chuckle slipped out of him. The normally level-headed man sat there and laughed at the fact that he was still alive. This time, it wasn’t his training or intelligence that got him out of a scrape. The only reason he was still breathing was because Banette chose to spare him, for whatever reason. His fate was decided by a creature that was supposed to be under his control.
At the thought, he immediately became sober, then furious.
“That bastard,” Mark Antony shakily growled, cursing the scientist that had given him the Poké Ball with every fiber of his being. “That incompetent, lowly bastard!”
He would have sat there for hours if a glance at his blood-stained uniform didn’t remind him of who he was. Mark Antony stood up, but unlike the last time, his feet still wobbled and threatened to send him toppling to the ground. Stubbornly, he shook his head to dispel any lasting memories of Banette and looked around. A curse was muttered when Mark Antony didn’t find his sword.
I guess I have to make due with this, he mentally sighed while slipping out his dagger from the sheath attached to his right boot. The small weapon felt like a twig in his calloused hand.
“Now then…” The amber-eyed man trailed off when he didn’t recognize any of the surroundings landmarks.
What landmarks? a snide part of his thoughts quipped.
For once, Mark Antony had to give that part of his mind some credit. Indeed, the only landmarks near him were the hundreds of charcoaled tree stumps that had long since finished smoldering. Looking down, the sergeant kicked up the blackened dirt and watched how it crumbled off in heavy clumps riddled with burned pieces of leaves.
“A battle took place here,” he muttered to himself. Mark Antony observed the wide expanse of field, now nothing more than five miles of scorched land, then a nearby tree stump. He traced the smooth grooves at the top. “Battle Pokémon cut this whole forest down in order to battle unhindered. Fire Pokémon then incinerated the fallen trees into ash.”
Mark Antony’s eyes clouded over, and even when he looked up to glance at the town a couple of miles from the dead forest, they were unfocused with thought. Faintly, as though he was recalling a legend from an ancient tome, the fire that engulfed the buildings further fueled the thought that kept turning in his mind.
There was no doubt about it. The only force with such strong Pokémon on its side was Cassius’ Kanto regiment. Charizard, Arcanine, Pinsir, Scyther, they were all rumored to be under his command. They had defeated a Johto regiment in this very spot and were now laying waste on New Bark Town. Even from this far, Mark Antony could make out the Johto flag mounted on top of the most important research facility in the region. It was not down, but he was sure that if he blinked, it would be lost in a sea of flames…
“But wait!” Mark Antony yelled out in surprise, the realization literally knocking him off his feet. Sitting on a stump, he stared at the hell-consumed town with wide eyes. He tried to speak, but his mouth had gone paper-dry.
But Cassius is back at Cherrygrove! he silently reasoned, hands now gripping his locks of matted hair and staining them with blood. How could he be here, in New Bark Town, so quickly?! Mark Antony breathed in the smell of the deceased forest in an effort to calm down.
Something else dawned on him.
This battle has been fought days ago… We’ve been deceived! Cassius was never in Cherrygrove! That was their plan! They led a part of his regiment for who knows how long to derail us from Cassius’ path!
“I should have seen Cassius with my own two eyes,” the officer rasped, gripping the hilt of his dagger so tight he thought the bullet in his hand would rip right through. Whatever pain that racked his hand was washed away by his fury. Mark Antony jumped to his feet, the stinging of his ribs just making him growl in frustration, and faced the fire-stricken sky. “Damn it all! Damn it all to Hell!”
And that was when Mark Antony saw something fall from the heavens.
As bright as a miniature sun, it lit the smoke-filled clouds when it streaked through them. Mark Antony leaned forward, mouth agape in awe. He squinted and tried to see past the veil of light that surrounded it. After a second, he flinched. Whatever kind of energy it was, it hurt to look at it for long.
“It’s a fallen Pokémon,” he reasoned, anger momentarily shadowed by hope. His legs automatically began taking him to the west, where the strange object was falling towards. “It was probably shot down.”
His jog turned into a sprint, then a full-fledged run that sent pangs of pain to run rampant through his chest. More than once Mark Antony had to force himself to keep running or fall victim to his injuries. If this was a Pokémon, he could possibly force it to help him back to Cherrygrove. Though his stomach tied itself into anxious knots at the mere thought of another Pokémon, he knew there was no other choice. Walking back would take him at least two days, yet that was if he wasn’t spotted by Kantonians. With nothing but a dagger he could barely grasp in his shot hand, the chance of returning back on his own was laughable.
“They’ll trip over themselves for the chance of capturing the elusive Mark Antony Colfax, the youngest sergeant to date,” he couldn’t help but remark. He unconsciously chose that moment to grip his dagger too tightly and suffer the excruciating pain of the bullet grinding against his cracked hand. Mark Antony let out a gritted curse and continued running, deciding to keep his mouth firmly shut from now on.
Then the air trembled and gave a low hum like the plucked string of a cello. Mark Antony stopped as he saw the streak of light suddenly plummet like a missile about a mile from where he was. The hum evaporated then came back as a sonic boom that threw him into the air. The twenty-five-year-old was flipped backwards and thrown on the ground, where he gripped his chest and squirmed in agony. When Mark Antony opened his tearing eyes, he held his breath, his body paralyzed in a half-crouched position. Try as he might, though, all he heard was silence.
“Dead?” Mark Antony asked in a rare moment of ineloquence.
He half-crept, half-jogged the quarter mile to the twenty-foot wide crater on the outskirts of New Bark. The closer he got, the hotter it became. By the time he looked over the rim of the crater, a sheen of sweat was visible on his brow. Every upturned rock and clump of dirt was seething with heat, and as Mark Antony stood up, the sole of his boots sent a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. With every hair on his head standing on end, he gazed at the undistinguishable lump in the middle. Was that small mass of yellow and gray really a Pokémon that could help him? Again, his stomach did unpleasant back flips. The earth around him, burned scarlet with whatever energy aura the creature had been surrounded by, simmered and crackled in warning.
“Death by Pokémon or by Kantonians?” his voice sounded, almost inaudible among the consistent sizzling of the earth.
Mark Antony gripped the double-edged sword and decided to approach the listless Pokémon.
As he began to walk towards the middle of the impact site, the charred dirt left behind clear imprints of his footprints before collapsing into fine crumbs. Sweat now dribbled into his eyes and to the front of his uniform to mix in with the blood that stained it. Mark Antony gripped his jacket and fell to his knees. Each breath was now labored and struggling to leave his parched mouth. Through hazy vision, he saw the lifeless Pokémon was no bigger than an infant. Uncertainly, he stood up and walked towards it, each step now hissing with heat. Mark Antony grunted when sweat trickled down his hand to pour into his bullet wound.
“You… better… be… helpful,” were his exhausted and frustrated words that made his ribcage ache.
Once he got his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, he looked down.
“What…?”
For a moment, Mark Antony really thought he was looking down at a baby. The small Pokémon was wrapped in two tattered tassels the color of gold while her small eyes fluttered against unpleasant dreams. Without even thinking about it, Mark Antony scooped up the bundle and looked into the Pokémon’s silver face and the bloodied cuts that marred it. She trembled in his arms, and the two cyan tags that dangled from the tree star tips on her head shook as though to dispel the nightmares that plagued her.
“What are you?” he finished, words now soft and difficult to get out. Vertigo claimed him and forced him onto his knees again. However, even through his blurry and unfocused eyes, the Pokémon’s injuries were as clear as day. He traced a rather large gash on her cheek and felt her flinch.
You’re hurt, he mentally said now that his mouth only allowed him to release raspy breaths. Mark Antony looked down at the Pokémon, seeing helplessness and fear in that shuddering mass of injuries. Yet, despite the defenselessness, he sensed the inkling of something that told him this was not a Pokémon that should be manipulated for human gain. A sacred being was in his arms, and the thought of forcing her to do anything was lost.
Immediately, the overwhelming heat dissipated around them. Mark Antony, his breathing hard, saw the Pokémon’s face was strained with effort.
/ I am Jirachi, / came the telepathic call. The human felt the edges of his brain fizzle at the power’s touch. Goose bumps rippled his flesh.
“Jirachi?” Mark Antony echoed, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue in the same manner he recited the names of the Pokémon deities of his region; he didn’t know what made him realize that Jirachi deserved the same amount of respect as Johto’s Legends.
/ I beseech you; help me. / Amber eyes opened to gaze at their potential savior. / My body cannot last much longer. /
“What can I do?” the sergeant asked, oddly detached from the scene. He felt like the little kid he was so long ago reenacting one of his old bedtime stories. It should have felt silly, but with the gravely-injured Jirachi in his arms begging for his help, it felt anything but.
/ Hide me away so I can recuperate. /
“You’ll die,” he bluntly told her. “I’ll get you medical help instead.”
Either Jirachi found his frank words true or she had no energy to retort, she simply closed her eyes.
/ I leave my life in your hands, human. /
“Mark Antony,” he told her. “That’s my name.”
But Jirachi had already fallen into a restless slumber.
Mark Antony held the psychic close and looked towards New Bark Town. Somewhere in the midst of battle was a Pokémon Center that could save the life of this goddess of the sky. Were the chances of reaching it in one piece good? No. Even if he somehow managed to get to it without being shot on the spot, there was no guarantee the building was still in the hands of the Johtonians or even still standing.
“I have to try, though.” Mark Antony then looked down at the sleeping Legendary, each difficult breath rattling in her chest. “Are you really a deity like the Beasts of Legend?”
Jirachi only shivered in response.
_____
A/N: I was going to wait until I finished Chapter Six to post this chapter, but after seeing that Chapter Six was going to take a bit longer than I thought, I decided to post this chapter right now.
The first episode of Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha is so similar to this chapter: unsuspecting human finds an injured creature in need of help, but at the same, it's more than it seems; the human then goes off to a medical facility. I thought the similarity between the two was so cool. ^^
Everything except the meeting with Jirachi was improvised writing. I SO did not expect to put in such a creepy scene like Banette's. It was a nice addition, though.
Chapter Six: Mark Antony makes his harrowing journey through New Bark Town with an injured Jirachi in his arms.
P.S. I put up a PM list for anybody who's interested in being notified when I post a new chapter. :3
I will admit that chapters 4 and 5 are superb pieces of work, Phantom Kat. I was particularly interested by how the Banette controlled the dead Pidgeot, and then deserted its so-called ‘trainer’. And with Jirachi in the hands of a human now, what is Arceus going to think? Will Deoxys try and save her? I have a great deal more to ask, but I don’t wanna overload you.

Credit goes to Sgt Shock for my signature and avatar
Originally Posted by Kyuu-chan
[ Original Post ]
I will admit that chapters 4 and 5 are superb pieces of work, Phantom Kat. I was particularly interested by how the Banette controlled the dead Pidgeot, and then deserted its so-called ‘trainer’. And with Jirachi in the hands of a human now, what is Arceus going to think? Will Deoxys try and save her? I have a great deal more to ask, but I don’t wanna overload you.
What will Arceus think? Let's just say he's a bit too preoccupied to be paying attention to what his children are up to, and Deoxys won't show up again until much later.
I finished Chapter Six yesterday, and all I need to do is proofread it and fix up this part at the end. That is, if I don't fall dead first. I've been awake since 5:00AM because I couldln't sleep, and I still need to go to school. ;-;
- Kat
Song for this chapter: Forestaste from Pandora Hearts.
He had to be crazy, Mark Antony reasoned. The human shook his auburn head and looked behind at the crater he had just climbed out of. Despite the constant sounds of bombardment in New Bark Town, Mark Antony’s world had turned silent. Every rock, every pebble, had ceased its sizzling to coolly lay at his feet. Gusts of air once again blew across the scorched land to ruffle his locks of hair and Jirachi’s wish tags as freely as though the barrier the injured Legend had put up had never existed.
“This is crazy,” Mark Antony muttered to himself, looking down at the crater again. The crash sight was no longer an unbearable inferno, but his heart thumped erratically and urged him to drop the Legendary and run in the opposite direction. Then again, his heart also made his hold on Jirachi tighten.
“To Hell with this!” he finally yelled to himself, turning on his heel and beginning to run towards New Bark Town. Of course, he wasn’t going to sprint into the line of fire, but maybe running would dash away the thought of leaving Jirachi to fend for herself.
Mark Antony kept that up until the sound of exploding bombs and the distant yells of men finally reached his ears and brought him back to the reality that was the Region War. Skidding to a halt, he panted and clutched his burning side; it seemed he had forgotten about his injuries during the run as well. Not even realizing that the pain in his ribs had turned from constant stabs to dulled pangs in seemingly minutes, the sergeant quickly hid behind a sagging tree. Peeking from behind it, Mark Antony eyed the entrance of New Bark Town, which was now nothing more than a crumbling arc of white stone with its writing faded and blackened with ash.
“How dare they barge into one of the most important towns in Johto!” he lividly hissed under his breath. Childhood memories of visiting the town with his family and being completely in awe over the technological advances that flourished were crushed by the realization that Kanto had probably burned it all to the ground. New Bark Town, Johto’s beacon of ingenuity and hope for a better future, was in the hands of the region that wanted to tear his homeland apart piece by piece. Mark Anton hadn’t grasped what the fall of New Bark meant for the future of Johto until now.
Jirachi moved in his arms; his fingernails were digging into her. Mark Antony started a bit and apologized. This time, he noticed that his injured hand flexed and unflexed without the excruciating pain of before. Though the sensation still made his teeth grind against each other, his hand could now ball into a fist without feeling like he was closing his hand around a sharpened blade. The man stared at his twitching fingers, amazed that they weren’t bone-white and jerking with pain, then at Jirachi.
“I know what you’re doing,” he told her, hazel eyes gaining a shadow of guilt. “You’re healing me instead of yourself because you know, and I know, that I’m your only hope.”
After checking for any Kantonian soldiers, Mark Antony ran under the collapsing arc of stone and entered New Bark Town. Immediately, the air was again throbbing with incredible heat that took his breath away. He took a step back, eyes tearing when all he saw was flames of brilliant orange. After a steadying breath, Mark Antony reopened his eyes to gaze at the mournful site of the beloved town, or what was left of it. Every house on either side of the cracked and rubble-littered cobble stone street was on fire. The smoke that curled from the roaring flames had turned into a toxic fog that swirled around the pieces of rubble and abandoned carriages on the street, almost managing to hide a handful of corpses from view.
Again, Mark Antony felt nothing but fury and deep sadness for those civilians caught in the crossfire. He cared not only for Johto’s magnificent towns but for its people, even if his aloof exterior didn’t show it.
“But they’re not my priority right now,” he firmly told himself. Mark Antony took a deep breath, fighting every urge to just go out and pummel any Kantonian he saw to the ground. The idea of freeing the town by himself was ridiculous; the notion of saving Jirachi, though, was just a bit less impossible.
Mark Antony looked down at his charge and caught sight of the uniform he proudly wore. He creased his eyebrows in thought. After a few seconds of thinking it through, the sergeant gently laid Jirachi on the ground and took off his sash to get rid of his flared jacket. He was left with the dark-gray vest and simple leather belt he wore underneath. With one fluid movement, he unsheathed his dagger and cut a long strip of cloth that he wrapped Jirachi in, making sure every part of her was hidden.
“There. We’re a lot obvious now, huh?”
With that, Mark Antony began running through the street, his sash and empty sword sheath abandoned. A fog of smoke now danced around his feet then covered him in a semi-transparent veil minutes later. His coughing spasms went unheard as the sound of gunfire and explosions was deafening. Mark Antony squinted against the wall of smoke and dust, only able to see faint shapes of buildings. No amount of waving dissipated it, and the sound of war was so great that it all meshed into one chaotic orchestra that played from every direction. The sergeant found a lamppost to lean on and sighed, still trying to see through the poisonous veil that blanketed the town.
But he then jumped to his feet. Fire materialized within the smog, and it was coming towards him. The mysterious flame bobbed closer and closer until Mark Antony discerned an echidna walking out to him, his olive-green back the source of the fire. The Cyndaquil raised his elongated snout to him, revealing that half of it and his underbelly were cream in color. The human stared at the creature’s shut eyes then at the man that finally stumbled into view. His small Pokémon worriedly looked at him and the way he gripped his limp, bleeding arm. The stranger’s lab coat had turned from a pristine white uniform to a torn, bloodied rag that hung over his gaunt form. When he looked up, strands of white hair hanging over glossy, blue eyes, his unsteady steps halted.
“Ko… Komali,” the man rasped, addressing his attentive Cyndaquil with those exhausted eyes of his. “Is someone there?”
Mark Antony cautiously walked towards the injured man, holding Jirachi close to his chest in case he decided to run. By the light of Komali’s flames, he concluded the stranger was completely unarmed; he only saw muddy, brown pants and a cotton shirt that stuck to his sickly-looking body. As Mark Antony approached, the Fire Mouse Pokémon kept his eyes on him, abnormally-long snout poised to open and attack if need be. The twenty-five-year-old felt his insides tighten, and his healing ribs tingled in apprehension. However, the sight of the elderly gentleman bleeding to death before his very eyes willed his feet to take him closer.
“Are you a Johtonian?” Mark Antony asked, ignoring the part of his conscious that insisted that it didn’t matter.
The man looked up at him and smiled. “I’m surely no Kantonian, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m one of the finest professors in this here region, I am! I’m-!”
Mark Antony caught the professor with one hand as he lost his balance. Komali squeaked in alarm and rushed over to the sitting pair, though he spared a glance at the wrapped bundle in Mark Antony’s arm. The chestnut-haired young man didn’t notice and sat cross-legged on the street, Jirachi in his lap and his hands already taking off the civilian’s tattered lab coat.
“If you keep bleeding, you’ll die,” Mark Antony bluntly informed him as he expertly tore the coat into manageable strips. He took the man’s bleeding arm and began to fasten a makeshift tourniquet on his bicep. “Why are you still here? Didn’t you have enough time to escape before the regiments clashed?”
“They took away our research Pokémon,” he mumbled almost inaudibly. “I had to get them back…”
“But they were already gone,” Mark Antony glumly finished while tying the tourniquet and arranging the rest of the cloth strips as bandages. He felt the older man slouch in guilt.
“They did; only this little guy was left to help me.” The man nodded over to his Fire-type Pokémon, who had now decided to sit by his side. This time, Mark Antony spotted the Cyndaquil eyeing the hidden Jirachi. Warily, Mark Antony cradled the Wish Pokemon again and helped the stranger to his feet. When he was sure he would not end up toppling over his rescuer, the professor faced Mark Antony and shook his hand. “Name’s Professor Caleb Newman.”
“Mark,” was the officer’s response, opting to not reveal his full name. Every year he had spent in the military told him that lying would be safer, for Newman as well as himself. Plus, he couldn’t help but feel that every Kantonian and Kanto-owned Pokémon would swarm towards him if he dared utter the truth.
Professor Newman’s gaze was clearer now that Mark Antony’s tourniquet stopped his wound from bleeding. Though still pale and soaked with sweat, he managed to look at the younger man straight in the eye. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mark, what are you still doing in this once glorious town? Running into the heat of the battle, no less!”
This actually caused Mark Antony to ruefully smile despite himself; maybe this man wasn’t as out of it as he originally thought. The small grin faded from view a second later when he looked down at Jirachi’s prone and covered form. Against his chest, the mass of cloth barely fluttered with Jirachi’s labored breaths, and with a feeling that knotted his insides, he wondered if the short intervention had caused Jirachi her life. Then again, according to Newman, he had been walking right into the line of fire.
“I’m trying to find the Pokémon Center,” he said after a few moments of nothing but the sound of explosions in the distance. Amber eyes trailed to the helpless bundle in his arms. “This Pokémon needs help.”
“You do know the chances of the Center still standing are slim to none, do ya, boy?” Newman took a step towards the determined officer, but Mark Antony stepped back, muscles taught with tension.
“I have to try,” he rebutted with conviction. The professor approached Mark Antony again. This time, he was met with a hardened glare that stopped him dead in his tracks. Instead of trying again, he reached out his hand.
“Mark, you have to trust me. I won’t hurt a hair on that little Pokémon’s head. If I see it, maybe I can help.”
“You’re not a doctor,” Mark Antony stated, but he knew that Professor Newman was the next best thing. When the elderly man took a vial of antiseptic from one of his pants pockets, Mark Antony begrudgingly approached him. He stood before the professor, one hand hovering over the strip of cloth that hid Jirachi’s face. Newman stared back, cerulean eyes full of curiosity and concern.
“She’s not a normal species of Pokémon,” Mark Antony began. “She fell from the sky and told me she was going to die if I didn’t help her.”
Newman said nothing at the soldier’s odd words and was instead transfixed at the sight of the goddess Mark Antony finally revealed. A wrinkled hand gently caressed the Legend’s cut-riddled face then the two tattered wish tags that hung from her star tips. Jirachi’s eyes struggled to open when she sensed the stranger’s hand, but all she could manage was a whimper that warbled in her throat. Newman retracted his hand, mouth still agape in awe, and continued to size-up the Pokémon before him. At their feet, Komali anxiously paced around them, half-closed eyes glued on the gravely-injured Psychic-type. Mark Antony watched the Cyndaquil make his rounds until his eyebrow twitched in irritation.
“Are you going to help her or not?!” he yelled at Newman, eyes shadowed by a steaming glare that told of all the anger, frustration, and utter hopelessness that coursed through his veins. Anger from thinking of who could harm such a helpless creature made his hands, and Jirachi, quiver. Frustration that was aimed at Newman and his ability to just stand and stare made him lean closer to the professor with the intent to murder. Beneath all that, the fact that he was standing in the middle of the torn street and asking a complete stranger for help morphed into the utter helplessness that rattled his bones. It was a strange cocktail of sensations for the accomplished sergeant to feel, which made it all the worse.
“Of course I’m going to help her,” Newman replied, seemingly unfazed by the metaphorical daggers that were sent his way. With a torn handkerchief he had fished out, the elderly Johtonian began to apply the antiseptic on the cuts that peppered Jirachi’s once angelic face. “This will only make sure the cuts are not infected, if they aren’t already, but like you said, she’ll die without proper medical treatment.” His voice then dropped into a solemn note. “She might still die, though.”
“Well then take me to the Center,” Mark Antony insisted, stealing a glance at the blade strapped to his boot. If all else failed… “You know this town better than I do.”
Newman cocked his head, a wry smile sliding across his features when he saw Mark Antony’s dagger. “Relax, you won’t have to resort to such barbaric schemes. Follow me, and I’ll lead you to the Pokémon Center, or at least to the spot where it’s supposed to be.”
With Komali now knowing that the powerful deity he sensed might be alright, the Pokémon breathed out a sigh of relief and followed his master. Newman, with the Cyndquil’s flames once again lighting his way, unsteadily walked to his left, where he knew a street leading to the west side of town was located. The arm that cradled his injured limb reached out to sense for a pole that sported the street signs he was looking for. Mark Antony watched the man touch destroyed house after destroyed house until he uncertainly walked towards him, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. He smoothed his frown over and tried to banish the thoughts that this Professor Newman might be a Kanto spy that was leading him right into enemy hands. Such thoughts could possibly make him run in the opposite direction or kill the guy, effectively wiping out the only chance of finding the Center without stumbling in the dark. Military intuition and human instincts were now at war with each, and all of it made his temples throb in protest.
“Mark! I found the street!” came Newman’s voice within the toxic fog.
The sergeant blindly stumbled to the gentleman’s side and followed him down the desolate street. It looked just like the street they left behind, but Newman, apparently, knew that this street led towards the Center. Again, Mark Antony wondered if he could trust this man. He knew of many soldiers who had the potential to kill even when they were injured as gravely as the professor. Who said the guy didn’t have a blade of his own tucked into one of his pockets?
Deliberately falling behind a couple of steps, Mark Antony spoke up. “Why are you helping us? You obviously have no reason to go to the Center; your wound needs the attention of human doctors. Your Cyndaquil is in perfect condition as well.”
Newman stopped and wobbled in place for a heartbeat. Mark Antony tensed and waited for the man to fall to the ground, but instead, Newman regained his balance by taking a step forward. He turned around, his sweat-stricken face alight with the joy all scientists developed when they were met by an elusive opportunity.
“Do you know who you hold in your hands?” he asked, his words nearly silenced with wonder.
“Jirachi,” the twenty-five-year-old simply answered. “She told me her name was Jirachi.”
“My boy, just her name speaks volumes of the deity she is. Jirachi in the ancient tongue of our ancestors means to desire. Long ago, humans and Pokémon desired light in their darkness, so she created the stars to illuminate their way. Her powers of space bending is only matched by her power to grant the wish of any being.” Newman hobbled towards him, the foul smoke and his blood finally taking a toll on him. Mark Antony supported the man by the shoulder while Komali pulled on his owner’s pants leg to stop him from falling.
“Do you see the wish tags on her head?” the scholar asked him once he stopped swaying from side to side. He waited until Mark Antony stroked the delicate talismans before continuing. “Each of them is imbued with enough power to grant the user any wish they desire. Those who take them without her permission are forever doomed to be ravaged by the power in it. She would use one on her own if she could,” Newman said when he saw Mark Antony about to comment, “but the wish tags are powerless if she is.”
The army officer opened his mouth then closed it. Mark Antony settled on eyeing the Legendary Pokémon in his arms as though trying to spot the remnants of the stars she created in her hands. Then he caught sight of the bare star tip on her head.
“It looks to me that she used to have three wish tags,” he drawled out puzzlement.
“Yes, Jirachi is said to have three wish tags on her headdress.” Newman’s own eyes clouded in thought. “She must have trusted a very important being with one of them.”
/A human who knows so much about me?/ a feminine voice appeared in the air. Within the exhaustion, there was a small smile in her words. /I am honored./
“Jirachi?” Mark Antony stroked her blanched face, trying to get her to open her eyes. Jirachi wormed an arm out of the cloth cocoon to clutch one of his fingers, reassuring him that she was there even if she couldn’t see him. Newman leaned in closer, if that was possible, his eyes now as wide as saucers. His own hand hovered above her, fingers twitching as he debated over whether to touch this elusive creature. Instead of risking another suspicious glance from Mark Antony, he retracted his hand and settled for observing her.
“Did you really give your wish tag away?” was the first thing that was out of Newman’s mouth. This was received with a dirty look from the chestnut-haired man. Mark Antony would have clobbered Newman for not seeing that a missing wish tag was the least of Jirachi’s worries if his hands weren’t full.
Jaw set in irritation, Mark Antony continued on walking down the street with a call for Newman to keep leading the way. The older man started at the abrupt departure and quickly took his place at the front. A couple of minutes were spent on going around collapsed house walls and craters created by Pokémon attacks, and the two humans had thought Jirachi had fallen back into her restless slumber until the back of their minds tickled with her presence. They kept on walking, but their eyes had been drawn back to the Wish Pokémon.
/I… don’t remember who I gave my wish tag to,/ Jirachi confessed to them. Her tone told of decades she had spent on pondering the question in vain. /Even though it is a part of me, for some reason, I cannot feel its presence./
While Newman was left to muse on this mystery, Mark Antony asked, “Why are you healing me? You should use your remaining power on yourself.” Discreetly, he flexed his shot hand, silently marveling at how his bones only throbbed in protest, and touched the side of his abdomen. Crusted blood was felt on his vest, but the rib he was sure had been on the verge of puncturing through his skin could no longer be felt. The answer to his question had been swirling in his mind all this time, but he wanted to know exactly why Jirachi thought that by saving his life, hers would in turn be saved.
/You already know the answer to that question,/ Jirachi told him, her words still veiled by a smirk. /Your wounds in comparison to mine are superficial. While my remaining power can fully heal you, my own injuries will still be as grave./
Mark Antony nodded then thought of something. “You don’t seem to have a hard time communicating anymore.”
/I no longer feel the need to create a barrier around myself. I feel safe in your arms./
This caused the young human to blush.
“Mark,” Newman’s voice rose above his Cyndaquil’s anxious squeaks. “There it is, the Center…” When he turned, the scholar’s face had gained an ivory-white shade that relentlessly drained his color. Mark Antony barely had the time to grab the man’s shoulder before Newman collapsed on the floor. Komali looked up as Mark Antony laid the man down on the street, his middle and forefingers deftly picking out the professor’s weak pulse on his neck.
“Calm down, calm down,” he shot at the stressed echidna. “Newman just collapsed from blood loss. The walk over here exhausted him further, so that didn’t help any.” Mark Antony looked up and saw the square outline of the Pokémon Center. An intake of breath ceased his chest and made his heart start to flutter madly behind his newly-healed ribs. “Stay here with your master.”
Komali looked at him, his hackles rising in protest, but then looked down at Newman and decided against going after him. Mark Antony, hypnotized by the building that was coming closer and closer with each running step he took, paid him no heed. He held Jirachi close to his chest, and even in her weakened state, the Psychic-type felt his heart pounding madly with glee. Jirachi managed to tilt her head up, eyes opened a crack, and see the change in his expression when he stopped seconds later.
“What in Arceus’ name…?” Wide eyes turned into infuriated slits. “No. No! This is not how it’s supposed to be!”
Mark Antony walked through the blown doorway and the only wall of the building that was still standing. Boots crunched the wooden remains of the rest of the Pokémon Center and the sea of broken glass that sparkled with pools of medicine. With each step, the smell of charred oak and human flesh wafted over him, undoubtedly more toxic than the silver smoke that hung over the scene. Standing on a small mountain of wobbling wood, the new vantage point allowed him to make out where Pokémon had charged in with their monstrous claws and started to conjure their hellish flames. On their way, the brutes had left crushed and charcoaled corpses that forever wore masks of terror and desperation. Some were merely citizens and staff, as he had expected the moment his nose picked up the grotesque odor of cooked flesh, while others sported the tattered remains of the Johto uniform.
At that moment, the true horror dawned on him. Every civilian in this place had been scarified for the two measly, Johtonian soldiers he saw among the rubble. The clerk buried beneath the boards of his counter and shelves might have only greeted the soldiers as they entered. Doused in the liquid remains of the windows, the dead twins in the corner might have marveled at the soldiers’ weapons and begged the men to let them see them up-close. Through it all, the two nurses, their bloodied and bruised corpses only recognizable by their white dresses, had tried to heal the Johtonians’ wounds.
For a while, he stood there, frozen in place, until he realized that the mound he stood on wasn’t entirely made out of shrapnel. The sight of a mangled hand reaching out of the wood made Mark Antony utter a gasp and lose his balance. A hiss of pain slithered from his lips at the sensation of dozens of glass shards sticking to his back; a slight turn of his head revealed he had missed a rusted nail to the head through sheer, dumb luck. Jirachi struggled in his iron grip, trying to see what was wrong, but Mark Antony was already getting to his feet and brushing the glass with a hand.
“I’m okay,” he automatically told her, rubbing away the tears that sprung into his stinging eyes; the smoke had begun to settle over the decrepit remains of the Center. Never one to beat around the bush, the words, “There’s nothing here to help you,” were out of his mouth before he could stop them. When he caught what he had said, Mark Antony closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut in anger. For the first time in his military career, he was caught without a backup plan. What had made him neglect to think ahead he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. All he knew was that Jirachi made him feel as though he could achieve anything despite the stacked odds.
It was probably my healed injuries that fueled my confidence, turning it into cockiness, he bitterly snapped at himself.
He tried to tell himself that he always knew that the Center was most likely destroyed, but the prideful part of him was simmering with self-loathing.
/Mark Antony, cease your shaking. This is not your fault./
The human’s amber eyes snapped open, and they trailed to his trembling hands. Mark Antony looked upon the wreckage again. He felt he needed to say something, an apology or even a prayer despite the fact he wasn’t religious, but nothing came to mind; Mark Antony couldn’t even muster up the energy to apologize to the Pokémon who had healed him and was now destined to die in his arms. All he wanted to do was get away from the scene before his self berating reduced him into a pathetic shadow of his former self.
/Wait!/ Jirachi shouted in his mind. Mark Antony stopped his journey to the door and looked down, his face still marred with anger. /I sense something that can be of use. Over there, by the western side!/
“What is it?” Mark Antony asked, his glare softening at the thought of finding something of use in the debris. Despite the glimmer of hope, he had no idea what Jirachi thought could be salvage. Could it be a vial of medicine that had rolled away from the falling walls and the trampling of Pokémon?
/It’s buried beneath that mountain of debris,/ she directed him. Mark Antony eyed the pile of wood and tried to knock off the section of wall that made up the top. Glass shattered when he finally managed to push it off, and now he got to his knees to look through the pieces of wood. Something small in the middle was outlined by the light that trickled through the pieces of debris. Somehow, the bigger pieces at the bottom had helped form a small alcove in the center that kept the rest from smashing whatever was in the middle.
“What is it?” the human asked, more annoyed than perplexed. Why was Jirachi wasting his time on digging out some bundle when he could be out tracking down something else? He was a man of action, one who had grown to learn that time was of the essence.
/It’s a human baby on the last threads of life./
Mark Antony pulled back from the wood pile to stare at her, about to protest that he couldn’t try saving another life on top of hers. To his surprise, the Legend was gaining a sheen of china-blue light that covered her body.
/By saving it, you will save my life./
Jirachi managed to fully open her eyes, the glow around her body beginning to brighten and pulsate in waves that rolled towards her extremities. Mark Antony saw her butterscotch irises growing into a hue of slate-gray that revealed the fearful shine she had been hiding. When he was about to ask what was going on, she gave him one of her rare glares; her wish tags rustled with the sudden surge of power.
/You helped me immensely since we met, but now it’s time for me to carry out my last resort. My body is ready to give out on me, and there’s nothing you can do. Her eyes, now holding just a tint of melted amber, softened. /Mark Antony, if you want to help me, rescue that baby.
Wordlessly, the sergeant laid her on the ground and managed to weave his hands into a space in the pile of wood. His fingers met burnt oak and gnarled nails before they encountered the wrapped bundle. With a hitched breath, he eased the bundle out and held it in his hands. Mark Antony breathed out when he was, indeed, holding a baby in his hands. The infant’s grimy body was mottled with bruises, cuts, and minor burns that the tattered blanket had no hope in protecting her from. When he put a finger to her quivering mouth, the weak, uneven gasps were like caresses from a feather. A pink ribbon was still tied to her fair hair.
He sat there, mind going blank. Never in his life had he held something so delicate in his hands. Jirachi, though helpless, always had the aura of a deity about her. The moment he had held the Wish Pokémon in his arms, he knew she could’ve controlled his very will if she wasn’t critically injured. However, this baby was just that, a baby. If he dropped her, she would die. If he did nothing, she would die. Mark Antony, the type of young man who aspired to become a military hero rather than a future father, was at a complete loss at what to do.
Jirachi managed to get on her wobbling feet, the energy that now masked her injuries giving her the strength to stand. Mark Antony stared at the abandoned strips of cloth at the Legendary’s feet then at her. Why did she look ready to die before his eyes even though she could stand? She easily met his befuddled expression with a small smile, but Jirachi’s face had the appearance of aged parchment. When she rose an inch off the ground, she seemed as lifeless as a strung puppet.
“You’re… stronger,” he told her, feeling goose bumps rise along his flesh. No, stronger wasn’t the right word. With her haggard face and the way she let her limbs hang lifelessly, she resembled an animated corpse. Mark Antony visibly cringed at the fresh memory the comparison brought on and decided to divert his attention to the baby in his hands. Instead of being shocked that the infant girl gained the same cerulean glow, Mark Antony grew annoyed.
“Okay, Jirachi, what the hell is going on?” he demanded. The way she calmly met his eyes with her exhausted ones just furthered angered him. His goose bumps evolved into full blown chills, however, when tears began to leak from her eyes. Jirachi brushed them away and shook her head at herself. Yet the tears could not stop flowing, and the psychic ended up turning her face away when a sob shook her shoulders.
I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise, Death, Jirachi mentally voiced, feeling her heart tear in two at the mention of the reaper and the oblivious souls he was in charge of. For how long would their world be absent of stars? After she left Death’s tower, Jirachi had no doubt that she could get rid of the perpetual gloom the denizens had to suffer through, but now it seemed they would never have the Earth they thought they had.
Unaware that Mark Antony had grown silent, too unnerved by her sudden display of weakness, Jirachi glanced at the sky, rephrasing her last thoughts. No, they will have that Earth. It’s just going to have to wait a little longer. Despite the conviction, there was still that little thought at the back of her mind that reminded her she didn’t even know if what she was about to do was going to work. Arceus had mentioned it in passing, but his tone had told her that the claim was mostly fueled by the myths humans loved to make about the Legends to emphasize their deity powers.
In between her tumbling thoughts, Jirachi had ordered Mark Antony to hold up the infant, who had now started twitching at the sensation of the Legendary’s power flowing into her weakened limbs. Jirachi lightly touched the baby’s shut eyelids with her fingers and locked gazes with Mark Antony. The twenty-five-year-old did not look away, although he did gain his own melancholy stare; he still had no idea what was making her cry.
/When my body vanishes, get away from here./ The spacer wielder stressed the last words with every fiber of her being. /When my aura grows stronger, those who did this to me will find this place. If you stay, they will kill you./
“You never told me who tried to kill you,” the observant officer shot back. “I don’t like being kept in the dark; who did this to you?”
Jirachi wasn’t sure if the tears in her eyes were new or if they were the ones who had refused to fall. /I once admired and aspired to be like them./ Before Mark Antony could remark on the vague answer, she continued, /Do I have your word that you will leave me once this is done?/
Mark Antony focused his gaze at a piece of glass and nodded with gritted teeth. When he felt Jirachi’s eyes on him, he looked up and sighed, his jaw relaxing and his eyes losing their daggers. “Understood, but,” he added, gaze shadowing as he looked at the ground again, “why do I feel like I need to protect you, even before I knew who you were? What sort of power have you cast on me?”
/Mark Antony, I have cast no spell on you./ She smiled down at him, and the beginnings of a laugh twitched her lips. /Is it so hard to believe that you helped me because I couldn’t help myself?/
“Yes,” he told her, subconsciously rubbing his right hand. Jirachi lightly touched his hand and felt him cringe when her fingers brushed the blood-stained bullet that peeked out from the wound. Her knowledge of human wars was limited, but his darkened stare told her of the danger and betrayal that were always on the forefront of his mind. The Legendary slowly withdrew her hand, the smile wiped off her face.
/I’m going to take over this infant’s body since her soul is leaving as we speak. I’ll be able to recuperate without being detected. I don’t know how long it’ll take or even if it will work, but it is the best option available. Now, Mark Antony,/ she addressed him, /shield your eyes and keep the baby aloft./
Immediately, the silver that was shining in Jirachi’s irises exploded into a brilliance that washed over her. The human looked away, vision blurry with the tears that had sprung into his eyes. In his hands, the baby had grown almost too warm to hold. Jirachi pressed her hand harder against the baby’s shut eyes as first her tassels, then the rest of her body, began to turn into platinum smoke. Mark Antony heard the fluttering of her tassels and wish tags dwindle to be replaced by the sound of the baby’s regular breathing. Her triumphant smile was lost in the fog she had become, and as silently as dawn itself, she settled over the infant’s twitching form.
Mark Antony reopened his eyes and looked at where Jirachi had been floating moments before. His amber eyes only met the twinkling remains of her power. Wordlessly, he brought the sleeping infant to his chest, his hand tingling as the warmth in her began to settle. Her hair and scarred skin glowed like the faintest, yet most beautiful stars above them. The military officer caressed her cut cheek, then stopped. He couldn’t stay here or take the baby (or was it Jirachi now?). Reluctantly, Mark Antony placed her behind an overturned table that miraculously escaped being trampled to pieces. He knelt there for what seemed like forever, just staring at the helpless being that slept in her raggedy blanket.
Finally, Mark Antony got to his feet and began to run back to where he had left Professor Newman.
Jirachi knows what she’s doing, the mantra was repeated again and again; the thought that Jirachi had only managed to mask her uncertainty well didn’t cross his mind. Only the tales of the mighty Legends of the Regions silently played, keeping him from turning back and scooping up the baby in his arms. Those myths of the Legends moving continents, creating seas, and bringing life into the once desolate planet of Earth had to hold some grain of truth after all he had just witnessed.
“Newman,” he said, jogging to a stop. Mark Antony knelt beside the unconscious man. After a glance at the professor, though, he stopped himself from jumping to his feet. The fresh, gunpowder-coated fingerprints shone as clear as day from the man’s neck. With a barely perceptible turn of his head, he noticed Newman’s Cyndaquil was nowhere in sight.
Damn it, he cursed, his eyes now lowering into furious slits.
The faint sound of a gun being cocked reached him.
Damn it!
The next thing he knew, a bullet was lodged into his lower back. Mark Antony fell on his side, his spine aflame with pain. He planted his hands and tried to get up, but the crippling sensation of his vertebrae splitting in two forced him back to the ground. His hand reached for the blade on his boot, the sound of running footsteps and the jiggling of weapons coming closer and closer.
Mark Antony grasped the blade of his weapon as someone grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head up. The sensation jarred his injured spine and effectively made him drop his blade. He saw the navy uniform of a Kantonian soldier before the butt of a rifle collided with the side of his head, drawing him into darkness.
The chaotic atmosphere of New Bark Town was replaced by the solemn Kantonian camp in the outskirts. Currently, a silent Mark Antony was tied up in the middle of a tent. With his blade taken away, the tent bare of anything but him, and guards outside, he saw no reason to try and escape. Even though his ribs and hand had healed, the bullet to the spine had done something. Every now and then his fingers would twitch and curl painfully while his legs went through periods of numbness. The captive stared at the rope that bound his feet, wondering if the Kantonians were merely mocking him. He then looked up when the beige flaps of the tent parted.
Sergeant Cassius Bradley stepped in and knelt before the Johtonian, a fine eyebrow raised in question. Mark Antony glanced at the man’s polished boots and his meticulously clean, royal-blue uniform, his face as emotionless as stone. Cassius grinned even wider, emerald eyes threatening to dance out of their sockets.
“So this is the scourge of Johto,” the forty-year-old man remarked. His teeth, all of them as bright as his platinum-blonde hair, were shown in an acidic smile. “You really are the kid I imagined you to be.”
Mark Antony looked up, his head inclined. “As original as I had imagined you to be, Sergeant.”
The Kantonian ignored the remark. “I really do wish we had more time to talk. We might have had the chance if your regiment had caught up with us. This brings me to my main question.” Cassius leaned forward, shadowing Mark Antony’s indifferent expression. “Why are you here by yourself?”
“This kid doesn’t feel that you need to know,” was the response. Mark Antony flashed his own sickly-sweet smile. When he was grabbed by his vest collar, he barked, “Go right ahead and threaten me, you barbarian! From the day I donned my uniform, I knew I was dressing for my funeral.”
Cassius eyed his enemy’s blood-soaked vest and hand. “You’re a strange one, Colfax. Here I thought military power would make someone so young think they were… immortal.”
Noticing the intent stare, Mark Antony chose to lead the man away from the tempting subject of his injuries. “Apparently you, though, believe you’re a great deceiver. I must admit, you fooled me and my corporal.”
His plan worked; Cassius, the most prideful man that roamed the region, forgot about Mark Antony’s healed wounds in favor of mocking him with a loud chortle. He saw him as a child, not an equal (as shown by how he refused to address him by his sergeant title), which just made Cassius easier to fool. The Kantonian was a great strategist, Mark Antony thought, but off the battlefield, he was as self-absorbed as the kings of old.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Colfax, but did you enjoy the burning of New Bark more?” came the words that tore through his thoughts like a knife.
“Shut up!” Mark Antony shouted, his cool exterior completely lost. In his reawakened rage, he attempted to stand up, but he only managed to lose his balance. Face against the dirt, he heatedly continued, “Don’t you dare mock New Bark and everything that it stands for!”
Cassius hauled the younger man to his feet in one easy movement and couldn’t help but smirk when the Johtonian’s unresponsive legs made him stumble into him.
“You know, Colfax, you may act as cold and distant as the rest of us officers, but you’re still just a kid who loves his region.”
Mark Antony snarled, once again being held by the collar. “If you don’t love Kanto then what the hell are you fighting for?”
“I would gladly sacrifice a few Kanto cities if it meant gaining control of your government and economy.” When faced with disbelieving eyes, he added, “I don’t look down on you because of your age. You’re unfit for your rank because you have the nativity of a child. You’re not going to save every inch of Johto. You’re not going to rescue every woman and child in the region. The entire picture is going to go up in the flames due to your thick-headedness. Can you even begin to imagine all those small towns you could have saved but ignored while on your way to Cherrygrove?” Cassius cocked his head before looking down at the stunned Mark Antony. “Then again, it’s too late to talk about it now, right?”
Pushing him back, Cassius ordered for a guard to lead Mark Antony outside by his tied hands. As the auburn-haired sergeant was forcibly straightened, he was met with the sight of a dangling blind fold.
“Guess what today is?” were Cassius’ final, malicious words.
Seconds later, Mark Antony was walking through a sea of inky black, all the way hearing the whooping yells of Kantonian soldiers. Their crude remarks and beastly chortles flew past him. Despite the way his legs threatened to send him toppling to the ground with each spastic sting of his spine, he marched on, his head held high and his steps always sure. Minutes were hours in his blinded world; each step was a leap away from life.
Sometime during the infinite march, he was stopped and told to stay in place. Cassius’ footsteps past him until they faded among the single cock of a rifle. Every soldier in the camp settlement was now silent and turned into one, solemn entity.
“Any last words?” Cassius yelled from somewhere in the pitch of night.
Mark Antony, as tall and proud as ever, replied, “I’ll see you in Hell!”
The single round was fired, and he fell to the floor.
In the dank interior of his tower, Death started, then closed his single eye in a smirk. He turned away from the window and teleported in a cloud of curling smoke.
Finally.
He had been growing tired of waiting.
“This wouldn’t have happened if she had listened.”
Celebi turned towards her elder brother. Mew’s features, though shadowed by the heavy smoke New Bark Town expelled, were clearly contorted in fury and something else the forest spirit identified as… satisfaction?
“Mew!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pink feline by the shoulders and turning him to face her anxious, cerulean eyes. Mew raised an eyebrow, staring at her hands as though challenging Celebi to continue holding him in such a manner. The Grass-type released him like a hot coal but still held her demanding stare.
“Jirachi was the only one who knew of our exact plans. With her out of the way, there will be no opposition.”
“She’s our sister,” the time traveling pixie responded as they both descended towards the ravaged town.
“I hardly knew her,” was Mew’s curt reply. The New Species Pokémon turned towards the shocked Celebi, the small embers that still dotted the sky rushing past him and illuminating his coy grin. “Besides, isn’t she your sister, too?”
Knowing what he was implying, Celebi turned silent. Then they both stopped in midair, their gazes connecting. Jirachi’s extremely faint aura had skyrocketed into their radars for a reason they couldn’t pinpoint. All they knew was that it felt like a drastic shift of power, much like when they took the life essence of nature to fuel their own attacks. Mew gained a rather pleased smile and dove deeper into New Bark, now knowing exactly where to go. Celebi was on his tail, weaving through the wreckage once they were following the street. When she reached the remains of the Pokémon Center, Mew was already floating over a lifeless body.
“Mew…?”
“Let’s go back to Heaven.” He deftly used his psychic powers to levitate Jirachi’s corpse for his horrified sister to see. Celebi swallowed, reaching towards the battered body with her powers.
Nothing.
Unsure of how she felt, Celebi teleported away with Mew and her sister’s remains.
Moments later, a baby’s cry broke the silence they left. Now that Jirachi’s body has been forcibly expelled, the soul the Legend had thought would not last much longer was overtaking hers. Although she fought with every fiber of her being, everything that she’d gone through that night had taken too much of a toll. On top of that, this human, though young as she was, wanted to survive.
She should have never underestimated the power of the human soul.
A/N: I had this chapter finished since Monday, but it seems proofreading took longer what with some art club stuff, solo and ensemble, and other stuff. Oh well, it's here!
This... is the turning point in the story where the main plot finally begins. Actually, it's in the second book where the plot gets going, but the next chapter sets some of it up. This chapter, I think, is the point where you'll decide whether to continue reading or not. ^^;
Oh, Full Metal Alchemist refrences!
1. The part where Mark Antony said he knew he was dressing for his funeral is similiar to what Wrath told Mustang in the manga about Hughes.
2. The last line is a refrence to what GreedLing told Wrath in Volume 14. Hehe, I luff GreedLing.
What's in store for Chapter Seven? Well Mark Antony, unfortunately, does not get to meet Cassius in Hell because Death and those in Heaven have something in store for him. He's not the least bit thrilled.
_____
Chapter 6
Foretaste
Chapter 6
Foretaste
He had to be crazy, Mark Antony reasoned. The human shook his auburn head and looked behind at the crater he had just climbed out of. Despite the constant sounds of bombardment in New Bark Town, Mark Antony’s world had turned silent. Every rock, every pebble, had ceased its sizzling to coolly lay at his feet. Gusts of air once again blew across the scorched land to ruffle his locks of hair and Jirachi’s wish tags as freely as though the barrier the injured Legend had put up had never existed.
“This is crazy,” Mark Antony muttered to himself, looking down at the crater again. The crash sight was no longer an unbearable inferno, but his heart thumped erratically and urged him to drop the Legendary and run in the opposite direction. Then again, his heart also made his hold on Jirachi tighten.
“To Hell with this!” he finally yelled to himself, turning on his heel and beginning to run towards New Bark Town. Of course, he wasn’t going to sprint into the line of fire, but maybe running would dash away the thought of leaving Jirachi to fend for herself.
Mark Antony kept that up until the sound of exploding bombs and the distant yells of men finally reached his ears and brought him back to the reality that was the Region War. Skidding to a halt, he panted and clutched his burning side; it seemed he had forgotten about his injuries during the run as well. Not even realizing that the pain in his ribs had turned from constant stabs to dulled pangs in seemingly minutes, the sergeant quickly hid behind a sagging tree. Peeking from behind it, Mark Antony eyed the entrance of New Bark Town, which was now nothing more than a crumbling arc of white stone with its writing faded and blackened with ash.
“How dare they barge into one of the most important towns in Johto!” he lividly hissed under his breath. Childhood memories of visiting the town with his family and being completely in awe over the technological advances that flourished were crushed by the realization that Kanto had probably burned it all to the ground. New Bark Town, Johto’s beacon of ingenuity and hope for a better future, was in the hands of the region that wanted to tear his homeland apart piece by piece. Mark Anton hadn’t grasped what the fall of New Bark meant for the future of Johto until now.
Jirachi moved in his arms; his fingernails were digging into her. Mark Antony started a bit and apologized. This time, he noticed that his injured hand flexed and unflexed without the excruciating pain of before. Though the sensation still made his teeth grind against each other, his hand could now ball into a fist without feeling like he was closing his hand around a sharpened blade. The man stared at his twitching fingers, amazed that they weren’t bone-white and jerking with pain, then at Jirachi.
“I know what you’re doing,” he told her, hazel eyes gaining a shadow of guilt. “You’re healing me instead of yourself because you know, and I know, that I’m your only hope.”
After checking for any Kantonian soldiers, Mark Antony ran under the collapsing arc of stone and entered New Bark Town. Immediately, the air was again throbbing with incredible heat that took his breath away. He took a step back, eyes tearing when all he saw was flames of brilliant orange. After a steadying breath, Mark Antony reopened his eyes to gaze at the mournful site of the beloved town, or what was left of it. Every house on either side of the cracked and rubble-littered cobble stone street was on fire. The smoke that curled from the roaring flames had turned into a toxic fog that swirled around the pieces of rubble and abandoned carriages on the street, almost managing to hide a handful of corpses from view.
Again, Mark Antony felt nothing but fury and deep sadness for those civilians caught in the crossfire. He cared not only for Johto’s magnificent towns but for its people, even if his aloof exterior didn’t show it.
“But they’re not my priority right now,” he firmly told himself. Mark Antony took a deep breath, fighting every urge to just go out and pummel any Kantonian he saw to the ground. The idea of freeing the town by himself was ridiculous; the notion of saving Jirachi, though, was just a bit less impossible.
Mark Antony looked down at his charge and caught sight of the uniform he proudly wore. He creased his eyebrows in thought. After a few seconds of thinking it through, the sergeant gently laid Jirachi on the ground and took off his sash to get rid of his flared jacket. He was left with the dark-gray vest and simple leather belt he wore underneath. With one fluid movement, he unsheathed his dagger and cut a long strip of cloth that he wrapped Jirachi in, making sure every part of her was hidden.
“There. We’re a lot obvious now, huh?”
With that, Mark Antony began running through the street, his sash and empty sword sheath abandoned. A fog of smoke now danced around his feet then covered him in a semi-transparent veil minutes later. His coughing spasms went unheard as the sound of gunfire and explosions was deafening. Mark Antony squinted against the wall of smoke and dust, only able to see faint shapes of buildings. No amount of waving dissipated it, and the sound of war was so great that it all meshed into one chaotic orchestra that played from every direction. The sergeant found a lamppost to lean on and sighed, still trying to see through the poisonous veil that blanketed the town.
But he then jumped to his feet. Fire materialized within the smog, and it was coming towards him. The mysterious flame bobbed closer and closer until Mark Antony discerned an echidna walking out to him, his olive-green back the source of the fire. The Cyndaquil raised his elongated snout to him, revealing that half of it and his underbelly were cream in color. The human stared at the creature’s shut eyes then at the man that finally stumbled into view. His small Pokémon worriedly looked at him and the way he gripped his limp, bleeding arm. The stranger’s lab coat had turned from a pristine white uniform to a torn, bloodied rag that hung over his gaunt form. When he looked up, strands of white hair hanging over glossy, blue eyes, his unsteady steps halted.
“Ko… Komali,” the man rasped, addressing his attentive Cyndaquil with those exhausted eyes of his. “Is someone there?”
Mark Antony cautiously walked towards the injured man, holding Jirachi close to his chest in case he decided to run. By the light of Komali’s flames, he concluded the stranger was completely unarmed; he only saw muddy, brown pants and a cotton shirt that stuck to his sickly-looking body. As Mark Antony approached, the Fire Mouse Pokémon kept his eyes on him, abnormally-long snout poised to open and attack if need be. The twenty-five-year-old felt his insides tighten, and his healing ribs tingled in apprehension. However, the sight of the elderly gentleman bleeding to death before his very eyes willed his feet to take him closer.
“Are you a Johtonian?” Mark Antony asked, ignoring the part of his conscious that insisted that it didn’t matter.
The man looked up at him and smiled. “I’m surely no Kantonian, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m one of the finest professors in this here region, I am! I’m-!”
Mark Antony caught the professor with one hand as he lost his balance. Komali squeaked in alarm and rushed over to the sitting pair, though he spared a glance at the wrapped bundle in Mark Antony’s arm. The chestnut-haired young man didn’t notice and sat cross-legged on the street, Jirachi in his lap and his hands already taking off the civilian’s tattered lab coat.
“If you keep bleeding, you’ll die,” Mark Antony bluntly informed him as he expertly tore the coat into manageable strips. He took the man’s bleeding arm and began to fasten a makeshift tourniquet on his bicep. “Why are you still here? Didn’t you have enough time to escape before the regiments clashed?”
“They took away our research Pokémon,” he mumbled almost inaudibly. “I had to get them back…”
“But they were already gone,” Mark Antony glumly finished while tying the tourniquet and arranging the rest of the cloth strips as bandages. He felt the older man slouch in guilt.
“They did; only this little guy was left to help me.” The man nodded over to his Fire-type Pokémon, who had now decided to sit by his side. This time, Mark Antony spotted the Cyndaquil eyeing the hidden Jirachi. Warily, Mark Antony cradled the Wish Pokemon again and helped the stranger to his feet. When he was sure he would not end up toppling over his rescuer, the professor faced Mark Antony and shook his hand. “Name’s Professor Caleb Newman.”
“Mark,” was the officer’s response, opting to not reveal his full name. Every year he had spent in the military told him that lying would be safer, for Newman as well as himself. Plus, he couldn’t help but feel that every Kantonian and Kanto-owned Pokémon would swarm towards him if he dared utter the truth.
Professor Newman’s gaze was clearer now that Mark Antony’s tourniquet stopped his wound from bleeding. Though still pale and soaked with sweat, he managed to look at the younger man straight in the eye. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mark, what are you still doing in this once glorious town? Running into the heat of the battle, no less!”
This actually caused Mark Antony to ruefully smile despite himself; maybe this man wasn’t as out of it as he originally thought. The small grin faded from view a second later when he looked down at Jirachi’s prone and covered form. Against his chest, the mass of cloth barely fluttered with Jirachi’s labored breaths, and with a feeling that knotted his insides, he wondered if the short intervention had caused Jirachi her life. Then again, according to Newman, he had been walking right into the line of fire.
“I’m trying to find the Pokémon Center,” he said after a few moments of nothing but the sound of explosions in the distance. Amber eyes trailed to the helpless bundle in his arms. “This Pokémon needs help.”
“You do know the chances of the Center still standing are slim to none, do ya, boy?” Newman took a step towards the determined officer, but Mark Antony stepped back, muscles taught with tension.
“I have to try,” he rebutted with conviction. The professor approached Mark Antony again. This time, he was met with a hardened glare that stopped him dead in his tracks. Instead of trying again, he reached out his hand.
“Mark, you have to trust me. I won’t hurt a hair on that little Pokémon’s head. If I see it, maybe I can help.”
“You’re not a doctor,” Mark Antony stated, but he knew that Professor Newman was the next best thing. When the elderly man took a vial of antiseptic from one of his pants pockets, Mark Antony begrudgingly approached him. He stood before the professor, one hand hovering over the strip of cloth that hid Jirachi’s face. Newman stared back, cerulean eyes full of curiosity and concern.
“She’s not a normal species of Pokémon,” Mark Antony began. “She fell from the sky and told me she was going to die if I didn’t help her.”
Newman said nothing at the soldier’s odd words and was instead transfixed at the sight of the goddess Mark Antony finally revealed. A wrinkled hand gently caressed the Legend’s cut-riddled face then the two tattered wish tags that hung from her star tips. Jirachi’s eyes struggled to open when she sensed the stranger’s hand, but all she could manage was a whimper that warbled in her throat. Newman retracted his hand, mouth still agape in awe, and continued to size-up the Pokémon before him. At their feet, Komali anxiously paced around them, half-closed eyes glued on the gravely-injured Psychic-type. Mark Antony watched the Cyndaquil make his rounds until his eyebrow twitched in irritation.
“Are you going to help her or not?!” he yelled at Newman, eyes shadowed by a steaming glare that told of all the anger, frustration, and utter hopelessness that coursed through his veins. Anger from thinking of who could harm such a helpless creature made his hands, and Jirachi, quiver. Frustration that was aimed at Newman and his ability to just stand and stare made him lean closer to the professor with the intent to murder. Beneath all that, the fact that he was standing in the middle of the torn street and asking a complete stranger for help morphed into the utter helplessness that rattled his bones. It was a strange cocktail of sensations for the accomplished sergeant to feel, which made it all the worse.
“Of course I’m going to help her,” Newman replied, seemingly unfazed by the metaphorical daggers that were sent his way. With a torn handkerchief he had fished out, the elderly Johtonian began to apply the antiseptic on the cuts that peppered Jirachi’s once angelic face. “This will only make sure the cuts are not infected, if they aren’t already, but like you said, she’ll die without proper medical treatment.” His voice then dropped into a solemn note. “She might still die, though.”
“Well then take me to the Center,” Mark Antony insisted, stealing a glance at the blade strapped to his boot. If all else failed… “You know this town better than I do.”
Newman cocked his head, a wry smile sliding across his features when he saw Mark Antony’s dagger. “Relax, you won’t have to resort to such barbaric schemes. Follow me, and I’ll lead you to the Pokémon Center, or at least to the spot where it’s supposed to be.”
With Komali now knowing that the powerful deity he sensed might be alright, the Pokémon breathed out a sigh of relief and followed his master. Newman, with the Cyndquil’s flames once again lighting his way, unsteadily walked to his left, where he knew a street leading to the west side of town was located. The arm that cradled his injured limb reached out to sense for a pole that sported the street signs he was looking for. Mark Antony watched the man touch destroyed house after destroyed house until he uncertainly walked towards him, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. He smoothed his frown over and tried to banish the thoughts that this Professor Newman might be a Kanto spy that was leading him right into enemy hands. Such thoughts could possibly make him run in the opposite direction or kill the guy, effectively wiping out the only chance of finding the Center without stumbling in the dark. Military intuition and human instincts were now at war with each, and all of it made his temples throb in protest.
“Mark! I found the street!” came Newman’s voice within the toxic fog.
The sergeant blindly stumbled to the gentleman’s side and followed him down the desolate street. It looked just like the street they left behind, but Newman, apparently, knew that this street led towards the Center. Again, Mark Antony wondered if he could trust this man. He knew of many soldiers who had the potential to kill even when they were injured as gravely as the professor. Who said the guy didn’t have a blade of his own tucked into one of his pockets?
Deliberately falling behind a couple of steps, Mark Antony spoke up. “Why are you helping us? You obviously have no reason to go to the Center; your wound needs the attention of human doctors. Your Cyndaquil is in perfect condition as well.”
Newman stopped and wobbled in place for a heartbeat. Mark Antony tensed and waited for the man to fall to the ground, but instead, Newman regained his balance by taking a step forward. He turned around, his sweat-stricken face alight with the joy all scientists developed when they were met by an elusive opportunity.
“Do you know who you hold in your hands?” he asked, his words nearly silenced with wonder.
“Jirachi,” the twenty-five-year-old simply answered. “She told me her name was Jirachi.”
“My boy, just her name speaks volumes of the deity she is. Jirachi in the ancient tongue of our ancestors means to desire. Long ago, humans and Pokémon desired light in their darkness, so she created the stars to illuminate their way. Her powers of space bending is only matched by her power to grant the wish of any being.” Newman hobbled towards him, the foul smoke and his blood finally taking a toll on him. Mark Antony supported the man by the shoulder while Komali pulled on his owner’s pants leg to stop him from falling.
“Do you see the wish tags on her head?” the scholar asked him once he stopped swaying from side to side. He waited until Mark Antony stroked the delicate talismans before continuing. “Each of them is imbued with enough power to grant the user any wish they desire. Those who take them without her permission are forever doomed to be ravaged by the power in it. She would use one on her own if she could,” Newman said when he saw Mark Antony about to comment, “but the wish tags are powerless if she is.”
The army officer opened his mouth then closed it. Mark Antony settled on eyeing the Legendary Pokémon in his arms as though trying to spot the remnants of the stars she created in her hands. Then he caught sight of the bare star tip on her head.
“It looks to me that she used to have three wish tags,” he drawled out puzzlement.
“Yes, Jirachi is said to have three wish tags on her headdress.” Newman’s own eyes clouded in thought. “She must have trusted a very important being with one of them.”
/A human who knows so much about me?/ a feminine voice appeared in the air. Within the exhaustion, there was a small smile in her words. /I am honored./
“Jirachi?” Mark Antony stroked her blanched face, trying to get her to open her eyes. Jirachi wormed an arm out of the cloth cocoon to clutch one of his fingers, reassuring him that she was there even if she couldn’t see him. Newman leaned in closer, if that was possible, his eyes now as wide as saucers. His own hand hovered above her, fingers twitching as he debated over whether to touch this elusive creature. Instead of risking another suspicious glance from Mark Antony, he retracted his hand and settled for observing her.
“Did you really give your wish tag away?” was the first thing that was out of Newman’s mouth. This was received with a dirty look from the chestnut-haired man. Mark Antony would have clobbered Newman for not seeing that a missing wish tag was the least of Jirachi’s worries if his hands weren’t full.
Jaw set in irritation, Mark Antony continued on walking down the street with a call for Newman to keep leading the way. The older man started at the abrupt departure and quickly took his place at the front. A couple of minutes were spent on going around collapsed house walls and craters created by Pokémon attacks, and the two humans had thought Jirachi had fallen back into her restless slumber until the back of their minds tickled with her presence. They kept on walking, but their eyes had been drawn back to the Wish Pokémon.
/I… don’t remember who I gave my wish tag to,/ Jirachi confessed to them. Her tone told of decades she had spent on pondering the question in vain. /Even though it is a part of me, for some reason, I cannot feel its presence./
While Newman was left to muse on this mystery, Mark Antony asked, “Why are you healing me? You should use your remaining power on yourself.” Discreetly, he flexed his shot hand, silently marveling at how his bones only throbbed in protest, and touched the side of his abdomen. Crusted blood was felt on his vest, but the rib he was sure had been on the verge of puncturing through his skin could no longer be felt. The answer to his question had been swirling in his mind all this time, but he wanted to know exactly why Jirachi thought that by saving his life, hers would in turn be saved.
/You already know the answer to that question,/ Jirachi told him, her words still veiled by a smirk. /Your wounds in comparison to mine are superficial. While my remaining power can fully heal you, my own injuries will still be as grave./
Mark Antony nodded then thought of something. “You don’t seem to have a hard time communicating anymore.”
/I no longer feel the need to create a barrier around myself. I feel safe in your arms./
This caused the young human to blush.
“Mark,” Newman’s voice rose above his Cyndaquil’s anxious squeaks. “There it is, the Center…” When he turned, the scholar’s face had gained an ivory-white shade that relentlessly drained his color. Mark Antony barely had the time to grab the man’s shoulder before Newman collapsed on the floor. Komali looked up as Mark Antony laid the man down on the street, his middle and forefingers deftly picking out the professor’s weak pulse on his neck.
“Calm down, calm down,” he shot at the stressed echidna. “Newman just collapsed from blood loss. The walk over here exhausted him further, so that didn’t help any.” Mark Antony looked up and saw the square outline of the Pokémon Center. An intake of breath ceased his chest and made his heart start to flutter madly behind his newly-healed ribs. “Stay here with your master.”
Komali looked at him, his hackles rising in protest, but then looked down at Newman and decided against going after him. Mark Antony, hypnotized by the building that was coming closer and closer with each running step he took, paid him no heed. He held Jirachi close to his chest, and even in her weakened state, the Psychic-type felt his heart pounding madly with glee. Jirachi managed to tilt her head up, eyes opened a crack, and see the change in his expression when he stopped seconds later.
“What in Arceus’ name…?” Wide eyes turned into infuriated slits. “No. No! This is not how it’s supposed to be!”
Mark Antony walked through the blown doorway and the only wall of the building that was still standing. Boots crunched the wooden remains of the rest of the Pokémon Center and the sea of broken glass that sparkled with pools of medicine. With each step, the smell of charred oak and human flesh wafted over him, undoubtedly more toxic than the silver smoke that hung over the scene. Standing on a small mountain of wobbling wood, the new vantage point allowed him to make out where Pokémon had charged in with their monstrous claws and started to conjure their hellish flames. On their way, the brutes had left crushed and charcoaled corpses that forever wore masks of terror and desperation. Some were merely citizens and staff, as he had expected the moment his nose picked up the grotesque odor of cooked flesh, while others sported the tattered remains of the Johto uniform.
At that moment, the true horror dawned on him. Every civilian in this place had been scarified for the two measly, Johtonian soldiers he saw among the rubble. The clerk buried beneath the boards of his counter and shelves might have only greeted the soldiers as they entered. Doused in the liquid remains of the windows, the dead twins in the corner might have marveled at the soldiers’ weapons and begged the men to let them see them up-close. Through it all, the two nurses, their bloodied and bruised corpses only recognizable by their white dresses, had tried to heal the Johtonians’ wounds.
For a while, he stood there, frozen in place, until he realized that the mound he stood on wasn’t entirely made out of shrapnel. The sight of a mangled hand reaching out of the wood made Mark Antony utter a gasp and lose his balance. A hiss of pain slithered from his lips at the sensation of dozens of glass shards sticking to his back; a slight turn of his head revealed he had missed a rusted nail to the head through sheer, dumb luck. Jirachi struggled in his iron grip, trying to see what was wrong, but Mark Antony was already getting to his feet and brushing the glass with a hand.
“I’m okay,” he automatically told her, rubbing away the tears that sprung into his stinging eyes; the smoke had begun to settle over the decrepit remains of the Center. Never one to beat around the bush, the words, “There’s nothing here to help you,” were out of his mouth before he could stop them. When he caught what he had said, Mark Antony closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut in anger. For the first time in his military career, he was caught without a backup plan. What had made him neglect to think ahead he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. All he knew was that Jirachi made him feel as though he could achieve anything despite the stacked odds.
It was probably my healed injuries that fueled my confidence, turning it into cockiness, he bitterly snapped at himself.
He tried to tell himself that he always knew that the Center was most likely destroyed, but the prideful part of him was simmering with self-loathing.
/Mark Antony, cease your shaking. This is not your fault./
The human’s amber eyes snapped open, and they trailed to his trembling hands. Mark Antony looked upon the wreckage again. He felt he needed to say something, an apology or even a prayer despite the fact he wasn’t religious, but nothing came to mind; Mark Antony couldn’t even muster up the energy to apologize to the Pokémon who had healed him and was now destined to die in his arms. All he wanted to do was get away from the scene before his self berating reduced him into a pathetic shadow of his former self.
/Wait!/ Jirachi shouted in his mind. Mark Antony stopped his journey to the door and looked down, his face still marred with anger. /I sense something that can be of use. Over there, by the western side!/
“What is it?” Mark Antony asked, his glare softening at the thought of finding something of use in the debris. Despite the glimmer of hope, he had no idea what Jirachi thought could be salvage. Could it be a vial of medicine that had rolled away from the falling walls and the trampling of Pokémon?
/It’s buried beneath that mountain of debris,/ she directed him. Mark Antony eyed the pile of wood and tried to knock off the section of wall that made up the top. Glass shattered when he finally managed to push it off, and now he got to his knees to look through the pieces of wood. Something small in the middle was outlined by the light that trickled through the pieces of debris. Somehow, the bigger pieces at the bottom had helped form a small alcove in the center that kept the rest from smashing whatever was in the middle.
“What is it?” the human asked, more annoyed than perplexed. Why was Jirachi wasting his time on digging out some bundle when he could be out tracking down something else? He was a man of action, one who had grown to learn that time was of the essence.
/It’s a human baby on the last threads of life./
Mark Antony pulled back from the wood pile to stare at her, about to protest that he couldn’t try saving another life on top of hers. To his surprise, the Legend was gaining a sheen of china-blue light that covered her body.
/By saving it, you will save my life./
Jirachi managed to fully open her eyes, the glow around her body beginning to brighten and pulsate in waves that rolled towards her extremities. Mark Antony saw her butterscotch irises growing into a hue of slate-gray that revealed the fearful shine she had been hiding. When he was about to ask what was going on, she gave him one of her rare glares; her wish tags rustled with the sudden surge of power.
/You helped me immensely since we met, but now it’s time for me to carry out my last resort. My body is ready to give out on me, and there’s nothing you can do. Her eyes, now holding just a tint of melted amber, softened. /Mark Antony, if you want to help me, rescue that baby.
Wordlessly, the sergeant laid her on the ground and managed to weave his hands into a space in the pile of wood. His fingers met burnt oak and gnarled nails before they encountered the wrapped bundle. With a hitched breath, he eased the bundle out and held it in his hands. Mark Antony breathed out when he was, indeed, holding a baby in his hands. The infant’s grimy body was mottled with bruises, cuts, and minor burns that the tattered blanket had no hope in protecting her from. When he put a finger to her quivering mouth, the weak, uneven gasps were like caresses from a feather. A pink ribbon was still tied to her fair hair.
He sat there, mind going blank. Never in his life had he held something so delicate in his hands. Jirachi, though helpless, always had the aura of a deity about her. The moment he had held the Wish Pokémon in his arms, he knew she could’ve controlled his very will if she wasn’t critically injured. However, this baby was just that, a baby. If he dropped her, she would die. If he did nothing, she would die. Mark Antony, the type of young man who aspired to become a military hero rather than a future father, was at a complete loss at what to do.
Jirachi managed to get on her wobbling feet, the energy that now masked her injuries giving her the strength to stand. Mark Antony stared at the abandoned strips of cloth at the Legendary’s feet then at her. Why did she look ready to die before his eyes even though she could stand? She easily met his befuddled expression with a small smile, but Jirachi’s face had the appearance of aged parchment. When she rose an inch off the ground, she seemed as lifeless as a strung puppet.
“You’re… stronger,” he told her, feeling goose bumps rise along his flesh. No, stronger wasn’t the right word. With her haggard face and the way she let her limbs hang lifelessly, she resembled an animated corpse. Mark Antony visibly cringed at the fresh memory the comparison brought on and decided to divert his attention to the baby in his hands. Instead of being shocked that the infant girl gained the same cerulean glow, Mark Antony grew annoyed.
“Okay, Jirachi, what the hell is going on?” he demanded. The way she calmly met his eyes with her exhausted ones just furthered angered him. His goose bumps evolved into full blown chills, however, when tears began to leak from her eyes. Jirachi brushed them away and shook her head at herself. Yet the tears could not stop flowing, and the psychic ended up turning her face away when a sob shook her shoulders.
I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise, Death, Jirachi mentally voiced, feeling her heart tear in two at the mention of the reaper and the oblivious souls he was in charge of. For how long would their world be absent of stars? After she left Death’s tower, Jirachi had no doubt that she could get rid of the perpetual gloom the denizens had to suffer through, but now it seemed they would never have the Earth they thought they had.
Unaware that Mark Antony had grown silent, too unnerved by her sudden display of weakness, Jirachi glanced at the sky, rephrasing her last thoughts. No, they will have that Earth. It’s just going to have to wait a little longer. Despite the conviction, there was still that little thought at the back of her mind that reminded her she didn’t even know if what she was about to do was going to work. Arceus had mentioned it in passing, but his tone had told her that the claim was mostly fueled by the myths humans loved to make about the Legends to emphasize their deity powers.
In between her tumbling thoughts, Jirachi had ordered Mark Antony to hold up the infant, who had now started twitching at the sensation of the Legendary’s power flowing into her weakened limbs. Jirachi lightly touched the baby’s shut eyelids with her fingers and locked gazes with Mark Antony. The twenty-five-year-old did not look away, although he did gain his own melancholy stare; he still had no idea what was making her cry.
/When my body vanishes, get away from here./ The spacer wielder stressed the last words with every fiber of her being. /When my aura grows stronger, those who did this to me will find this place. If you stay, they will kill you./
“You never told me who tried to kill you,” the observant officer shot back. “I don’t like being kept in the dark; who did this to you?”
Jirachi wasn’t sure if the tears in her eyes were new or if they were the ones who had refused to fall. /I once admired and aspired to be like them./ Before Mark Antony could remark on the vague answer, she continued, /Do I have your word that you will leave me once this is done?/
Mark Antony focused his gaze at a piece of glass and nodded with gritted teeth. When he felt Jirachi’s eyes on him, he looked up and sighed, his jaw relaxing and his eyes losing their daggers. “Understood, but,” he added, gaze shadowing as he looked at the ground again, “why do I feel like I need to protect you, even before I knew who you were? What sort of power have you cast on me?”
/Mark Antony, I have cast no spell on you./ She smiled down at him, and the beginnings of a laugh twitched her lips. /Is it so hard to believe that you helped me because I couldn’t help myself?/
“Yes,” he told her, subconsciously rubbing his right hand. Jirachi lightly touched his hand and felt him cringe when her fingers brushed the blood-stained bullet that peeked out from the wound. Her knowledge of human wars was limited, but his darkened stare told her of the danger and betrayal that were always on the forefront of his mind. The Legendary slowly withdrew her hand, the smile wiped off her face.
/I’m going to take over this infant’s body since her soul is leaving as we speak. I’ll be able to recuperate without being detected. I don’t know how long it’ll take or even if it will work, but it is the best option available. Now, Mark Antony,/ she addressed him, /shield your eyes and keep the baby aloft./
Immediately, the silver that was shining in Jirachi’s irises exploded into a brilliance that washed over her. The human looked away, vision blurry with the tears that had sprung into his eyes. In his hands, the baby had grown almost too warm to hold. Jirachi pressed her hand harder against the baby’s shut eyes as first her tassels, then the rest of her body, began to turn into platinum smoke. Mark Antony heard the fluttering of her tassels and wish tags dwindle to be replaced by the sound of the baby’s regular breathing. Her triumphant smile was lost in the fog she had become, and as silently as dawn itself, she settled over the infant’s twitching form.
Mark Antony reopened his eyes and looked at where Jirachi had been floating moments before. His amber eyes only met the twinkling remains of her power. Wordlessly, he brought the sleeping infant to his chest, his hand tingling as the warmth in her began to settle. Her hair and scarred skin glowed like the faintest, yet most beautiful stars above them. The military officer caressed her cut cheek, then stopped. He couldn’t stay here or take the baby (or was it Jirachi now?). Reluctantly, Mark Antony placed her behind an overturned table that miraculously escaped being trampled to pieces. He knelt there for what seemed like forever, just staring at the helpless being that slept in her raggedy blanket.
Finally, Mark Antony got to his feet and began to run back to where he had left Professor Newman.
Jirachi knows what she’s doing, the mantra was repeated again and again; the thought that Jirachi had only managed to mask her uncertainty well didn’t cross his mind. Only the tales of the mighty Legends of the Regions silently played, keeping him from turning back and scooping up the baby in his arms. Those myths of the Legends moving continents, creating seas, and bringing life into the once desolate planet of Earth had to hold some grain of truth after all he had just witnessed.
“Newman,” he said, jogging to a stop. Mark Antony knelt beside the unconscious man. After a glance at the professor, though, he stopped himself from jumping to his feet. The fresh, gunpowder-coated fingerprints shone as clear as day from the man’s neck. With a barely perceptible turn of his head, he noticed Newman’s Cyndaquil was nowhere in sight.
Damn it, he cursed, his eyes now lowering into furious slits.
The faint sound of a gun being cocked reached him.
Damn it!
The next thing he knew, a bullet was lodged into his lower back. Mark Antony fell on his side, his spine aflame with pain. He planted his hands and tried to get up, but the crippling sensation of his vertebrae splitting in two forced him back to the ground. His hand reached for the blade on his boot, the sound of running footsteps and the jiggling of weapons coming closer and closer.
Mark Antony grasped the blade of his weapon as someone grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head up. The sensation jarred his injured spine and effectively made him drop his blade. He saw the navy uniform of a Kantonian soldier before the butt of a rifle collided with the side of his head, drawing him into darkness.
_____
The chaotic atmosphere of New Bark Town was replaced by the solemn Kantonian camp in the outskirts. Currently, a silent Mark Antony was tied up in the middle of a tent. With his blade taken away, the tent bare of anything but him, and guards outside, he saw no reason to try and escape. Even though his ribs and hand had healed, the bullet to the spine had done something. Every now and then his fingers would twitch and curl painfully while his legs went through periods of numbness. The captive stared at the rope that bound his feet, wondering if the Kantonians were merely mocking him. He then looked up when the beige flaps of the tent parted.
Sergeant Cassius Bradley stepped in and knelt before the Johtonian, a fine eyebrow raised in question. Mark Antony glanced at the man’s polished boots and his meticulously clean, royal-blue uniform, his face as emotionless as stone. Cassius grinned even wider, emerald eyes threatening to dance out of their sockets.
“So this is the scourge of Johto,” the forty-year-old man remarked. His teeth, all of them as bright as his platinum-blonde hair, were shown in an acidic smile. “You really are the kid I imagined you to be.”
Mark Antony looked up, his head inclined. “As original as I had imagined you to be, Sergeant.”
The Kantonian ignored the remark. “I really do wish we had more time to talk. We might have had the chance if your regiment had caught up with us. This brings me to my main question.” Cassius leaned forward, shadowing Mark Antony’s indifferent expression. “Why are you here by yourself?”
“This kid doesn’t feel that you need to know,” was the response. Mark Antony flashed his own sickly-sweet smile. When he was grabbed by his vest collar, he barked, “Go right ahead and threaten me, you barbarian! From the day I donned my uniform, I knew I was dressing for my funeral.”
Cassius eyed his enemy’s blood-soaked vest and hand. “You’re a strange one, Colfax. Here I thought military power would make someone so young think they were… immortal.”
Noticing the intent stare, Mark Antony chose to lead the man away from the tempting subject of his injuries. “Apparently you, though, believe you’re a great deceiver. I must admit, you fooled me and my corporal.”
His plan worked; Cassius, the most prideful man that roamed the region, forgot about Mark Antony’s healed wounds in favor of mocking him with a loud chortle. He saw him as a child, not an equal (as shown by how he refused to address him by his sergeant title), which just made Cassius easier to fool. The Kantonian was a great strategist, Mark Antony thought, but off the battlefield, he was as self-absorbed as the kings of old.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Colfax, but did you enjoy the burning of New Bark more?” came the words that tore through his thoughts like a knife.
“Shut up!” Mark Antony shouted, his cool exterior completely lost. In his reawakened rage, he attempted to stand up, but he only managed to lose his balance. Face against the dirt, he heatedly continued, “Don’t you dare mock New Bark and everything that it stands for!”
Cassius hauled the younger man to his feet in one easy movement and couldn’t help but smirk when the Johtonian’s unresponsive legs made him stumble into him.
“You know, Colfax, you may act as cold and distant as the rest of us officers, but you’re still just a kid who loves his region.”
Mark Antony snarled, once again being held by the collar. “If you don’t love Kanto then what the hell are you fighting for?”
“I would gladly sacrifice a few Kanto cities if it meant gaining control of your government and economy.” When faced with disbelieving eyes, he added, “I don’t look down on you because of your age. You’re unfit for your rank because you have the nativity of a child. You’re not going to save every inch of Johto. You’re not going to rescue every woman and child in the region. The entire picture is going to go up in the flames due to your thick-headedness. Can you even begin to imagine all those small towns you could have saved but ignored while on your way to Cherrygrove?” Cassius cocked his head before looking down at the stunned Mark Antony. “Then again, it’s too late to talk about it now, right?”
Pushing him back, Cassius ordered for a guard to lead Mark Antony outside by his tied hands. As the auburn-haired sergeant was forcibly straightened, he was met with the sight of a dangling blind fold.
“Guess what today is?” were Cassius’ final, malicious words.
Seconds later, Mark Antony was walking through a sea of inky black, all the way hearing the whooping yells of Kantonian soldiers. Their crude remarks and beastly chortles flew past him. Despite the way his legs threatened to send him toppling to the ground with each spastic sting of his spine, he marched on, his head held high and his steps always sure. Minutes were hours in his blinded world; each step was a leap away from life.
Sometime during the infinite march, he was stopped and told to stay in place. Cassius’ footsteps past him until they faded among the single cock of a rifle. Every soldier in the camp settlement was now silent and turned into one, solemn entity.
“Any last words?” Cassius yelled from somewhere in the pitch of night.
Mark Antony, as tall and proud as ever, replied, “I’ll see you in Hell!”
The single round was fired, and he fell to the floor.
______
In the dank interior of his tower, Death started, then closed his single eye in a smirk. He turned away from the window and teleported in a cloud of curling smoke.
Finally.
He had been growing tired of waiting.
______
“This wouldn’t have happened if she had listened.”
Celebi turned towards her elder brother. Mew’s features, though shadowed by the heavy smoke New Bark Town expelled, were clearly contorted in fury and something else the forest spirit identified as… satisfaction?
“Mew!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pink feline by the shoulders and turning him to face her anxious, cerulean eyes. Mew raised an eyebrow, staring at her hands as though challenging Celebi to continue holding him in such a manner. The Grass-type released him like a hot coal but still held her demanding stare.
“Jirachi was the only one who knew of our exact plans. With her out of the way, there will be no opposition.”
“She’s our sister,” the time traveling pixie responded as they both descended towards the ravaged town.
“I hardly knew her,” was Mew’s curt reply. The New Species Pokémon turned towards the shocked Celebi, the small embers that still dotted the sky rushing past him and illuminating his coy grin. “Besides, isn’t she your sister, too?”
Knowing what he was implying, Celebi turned silent. Then they both stopped in midair, their gazes connecting. Jirachi’s extremely faint aura had skyrocketed into their radars for a reason they couldn’t pinpoint. All they knew was that it felt like a drastic shift of power, much like when they took the life essence of nature to fuel their own attacks. Mew gained a rather pleased smile and dove deeper into New Bark, now knowing exactly where to go. Celebi was on his tail, weaving through the wreckage once they were following the street. When she reached the remains of the Pokémon Center, Mew was already floating over a lifeless body.
“Mew…?”
“Let’s go back to Heaven.” He deftly used his psychic powers to levitate Jirachi’s corpse for his horrified sister to see. Celebi swallowed, reaching towards the battered body with her powers.
Nothing.
Unsure of how she felt, Celebi teleported away with Mew and her sister’s remains.
Moments later, a baby’s cry broke the silence they left. Now that Jirachi’s body has been forcibly expelled, the soul the Legend had thought would not last much longer was overtaking hers. Although she fought with every fiber of her being, everything that she’d gone through that night had taken too much of a toll. On top of that, this human, though young as she was, wanted to survive.
She should have never underestimated the power of the human soul.
_____
A/N: I had this chapter finished since Monday, but it seems proofreading took longer what with some art club stuff, solo and ensemble, and other stuff. Oh well, it's here!
This... is the turning point in the story where the main plot finally begins. Actually, it's in the second book where the plot gets going, but the next chapter sets some of it up. This chapter, I think, is the point where you'll decide whether to continue reading or not. ^^;
Oh, Full Metal Alchemist refrences!
1. The part where Mark Antony said he knew he was dressing for his funeral is similiar to what Wrath told Mustang in the manga about Hughes.
2. The last line is a refrence to what GreedLing told Wrath in Volume 14. Hehe, I luff GreedLing.
What's in store for Chapter Seven? Well Mark Antony, unfortunately, does not get to meet Cassius in Hell because Death and those in Heaven have something in store for him. He's not the least bit thrilled.
I added Mark Antony's character profile. Of course, they contain spoilers for Chapter Six. :3
Also, I'm going to be adding Special Chapters throughout the story. They'll range from a character's past to some holiday stuff. The first one I plan to do, after I'm done with Chapter Seven, is about what I originally imagined Mark Antony to be when I began to think up this story, almost a year ago. It was totally different from what I wrote these past chapters. Look out for that soon! :D
- Kat
Also, I'm going to be adding Special Chapters throughout the story. They'll range from a character's past to some holiday stuff. The first one I plan to do, after I'm done with Chapter Seven, is about what I originally imagined Mark Antony to be when I began to think up this story, almost a year ago. It was totally different from what I wrote these past chapters. Look out for that soon! :D
- Kat
