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“I don’t want to see you anymore!”
Those were the last words she ever heard from him.
Sorrow overwhelmed her whole body. Heartbreak punctured her ribs, robbing her the ability to breathe properly. Eyes were painfully red, vision blurry even from tears she long thought were gone.
This shouldn’t end this way. This shouldn’t be this way.
Small, bloody fists curled by her sides. Teeth gritted madly, straining her jaw to a point of a bruise.
She didn’t care. She shouldn’t care.
“Well, I do!”
To her luck, he stopped.
It was a chance. A huge opportunity.
“I will see you a-again!” Voice cracked to a croak and a flinch occurred at the taste of blood in her throat. “We will meet again!” One stomp—as painful as it was—planted against the rubbles and shattered tiles. “I will make sure of IT!!”
Her roars echoed amidst the bloodred sky.
She panted and she gasped. Tears began trickling down her face. She wanted to move. She wanted to scream. Anything if it meant getting him to turn around.
Sadly, all Akari ever saw next was his back getting farther and farther away.
A heart was a fickle thing.
A cruel organ, in truth. A piece of him that he wished he could live without. There were days where he thought it to be true. Days where he would take a knife or something sharp to end the beat that mocked his very living.
But he couldn’t do it. Even when he held such objects. Even when the tip tore deep into the skin of his chest. Volo despised himself that his brain couldn’t let him end his traitorous heart.
He hated it.
Drip…
He hated the tears that were wasted every time memories of their time—of her—haunted his mind.
Drip…drip…
He hated the sound, the pathetic whimpers he made, every time he was reminded of the failures, of the denial he possessed from ever getting his lord’s love.
Drip…drip, drip, drip…
Slitch.
Volo gasped as he felt sharp pain from his lower lip.
One hand moved to the wound, pads of his finger feeling something smooth and wet. A slither of blood mixed with crystal clear tears as he weakly wiped his mouth. The pain was bad. But the agony in his withering heart was worse.
He hated this. He hated this so much!
“We will meet again!”
He hated her.
Anger and hatred boiled once again, creating bile in his throat and leaving his empty stomach curl in excruciating pain. But he didn’t care. He just couldn’t. Ever since the fateful fight at the Temple of Sinnoh, all that ever occupied his thoughts was her.
Her burning eyes. Her frustrated cries. Her furious outburst.
Her loving smile.
Pupils shot into dots. Shaking. Maddening.
Clash! Clang!
Widened eyes staring at nothing, one arm swung to the side. The back of his right hand hit a candlestick, thankfully void of a fire that could burn the pitiful hut down.
He wished it was otherwise.
Thump.
His left hand grasping such coarse, blonde hair, Volo let his gaze fall to the dull sound. He caught sight of a notebook, empty and dusty. The pages seemed worn yet weren’t torn nor shredded. Volo couldn’t remember why he had that thing or why it was out in the first place.
Well, to be honest, he couldn’t remember many things that didn’t involve her—
A hiss spat between clenched teeth.
Fury still bubbled within, Volo snatched the notebook with the idea of ripping the pages to shreds. Maybe that would ease his mind. Maybe that would scratch the horrible itch that prickled his skin. Maybe that would satisfy him instead of ending his own despicable heart.
But just as fingers were an inch away from tearing it, Volo stopped.
Gone was the anger that burned in each iris. Gone was the irritable breathing his lungs pumped out. All that’s left was numbness—an emotion that always followed suit after each agitated fit.
Only this time, instead of falling onto the floor in vain hopes that this would be his last night, an idea twinkled in his jumbled mind.
Akari.
His right eye twitched. Irritation came back, but dulled greatly as the idea took hold of his sanity. One hand crumpling the fragile book, Volo snatched a quill pen that rolled not far off from where the book had fallen.
He didn’t want to see her. He never, ever wanted to see her ever again.
And yet…
“We will meet again!”
The quill pen almost snapped from his tight grip, yet Volo began scribbling.
Horrible
Fucking
Terrible How dare I can’t why
Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why
Horrendous.
That’s what The Chosen One is. A horrendous, traitorous being who robbed me of everything I ever fought for. Fallen from the sky like a blasphemous premonition, the day The Chosen One appeared was the day hell decided to escort me to its place.
The Chosen One should have never appeared. The Chosen One should have never been born!
The Chosen One made me this way. Arceus made me this way. The two plotted against each other for my downfall. For my never-ending agony.
I despise them. I despise The Chosen One!
I hate them! I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate
How long has it been…?
I have long disbanded myself from the Ginkgo guild. They didn’t question me, yet that was because they were never able to find me. I hid deep into the mountains. The haunting breeze is ruthless. I wonder if tonight is finally the night that would end me.
I doubt it.
My Pokémon seem to care about me too much to let me end everything. I appreciate the gesture. It feels nice to know that I’m needed.
…I love them too.
Arceus is refined deity that is revered by my people.
No one had ever seen it. They say it is an omniscient Pokémon who created the world we live in. It is the creator of all Pokémon and humans. If it was a Pokémon, why would it create such a being called mankind?
Some said it was because it needed balance. Some said it was because it wanted to see which species could reign superior. Whatever the reason, there is no denial that both creatures exist at the same time of this world.
And yet, why was the creature of time and space Pokémon? Why was the ruler of a banished realm a Pokémon? Why weren’t these titles—these powers—given to mere humans?
…
I know the answer, though. For a single reflection of myself is enough to provide me the truth I choose to ignore.
If Arceus ever chose a human to be gifted with such power and responsibility, it should be The Chosen One.
Why it chose The Chosen One, I would never know. Nor do I want to.
Thinking about The Chosen One was an act against my will. I didn’t want to see The Chosen One, yet my thoughts still derailed to that final night. To all the times I’ve spent with Arceus’ favourite.
I hate it. I hate it!
I don’t ever want to see The Chosen One! I don’t ever want to know of The Chosen One’s wellbeing!
I don’t—!
I don’t…
She’s gone.
I went to the village and she’s gone.
She’s gone.
She’s…gone.
12 seasons have passed.
No one knows where The Chosen One went. It was as if she disappeared out of plain sight.
Arceus took her away. Maybe she finally died as I hoped. Maybe she finally rotted away after being found and devoured by Giratina.
The Chos Akari.
She’s gone. She’s finally gone. I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m free. I’m finally free.
As he finished writing the letter, Volo didn’t realize something wet had trickled down such pale cheeks and dripped right onto the crumpled paper.
Akari.
Where are you? Where is your body? Where is your Pokémon?
Why are you still haunting my mind?
Why can’t you leave me alone?
Did you… Did you go back? Was it finally over that you can finally be of riddance?
You’re gone.
You told me that we would meet again. Yet you’re gone. Did you lie to me too? Did you give me promises that you never intended to keep too? Was this punishment for me? Was this your last cruel vengeance against what I’ve done to you?
You lied to me.
You lie you lie you lie you lie. You lie to me! How dare! How dare!
Why. Why did you lie…
You promise. You promise that I would see—
“—you?”
Cynthia didn’t realize how or when her mind started to wander, but the sound of her voice brought her back to reality. “Ah, yes?” She quickly resigned herself, dignity and confidence overflowing out of her presence that none would be the wiser to realize her slip.
The girl, much shorter and a few years younger than her, tilted her head. “I said—” A small giggle tickled her throat, “—who are you?” Arms still holding the gift egg, she kept her gaze on the alluring, mysterious woman.
A mystery that she was to the girl. A wonder that the girl was to the mysterious woman herself.
Cynthia blinked once. Twice. Then swiftly picked herself up to flash a welcoming smile. “I’m sorry. It seems I forgot to introduce myself.” One hand stretched out towards her. “I’m Cynthia.”
Her smile widened, twitched and eyes glued to the radiant smile as the girl reached out for a handshake.
“I’m Hikari,” the girl—Hikari—replied, voice lively and without flaw.
Once their hands touched, Cynthia could feel Hikari’s light pouring madly into her.
Hikari wondered what she found Cynthia so…alluring.
Maybe it was the confidence she exuded every time she walked into an area. Maybe it was the ring in her laugh every time she found any of Hikari’s silly jokes funny. Maybe it was the lull in her voice every time she said her name.
Maybe it was the mysterious glow in her grey eyes—though technically, grey eye since one was hidden behind long blond bangs—that hypnotized Hikari every time she looked at her.
Whatever it was, Hikari was thankful for the fateful encounter. Though she was still baffled she was gifted a Pokémon egg the second time they met, the trainer was nothing but giddy to know that the woman took a certain attention to her as well.
She was…someone dear. Someone she needed on this perilous but fun Pokémon journey.
“What do you think, Hikari?”
Her voice, ironically, knocked her back to her sense. “Ah, y-yes?” she stammered, then mentally hit herself in the head for the foolish reaction.
Thankfully, either Cynthia didn’t realize or that she found it cute. “I said,” She leaned closer, “do you know about the history of Sinnoh?”
The question was much clearer now, catching Hikari’s attention. “Oh!” One finger tapped her lower lip. “Well, not much. I did learn the basics but that’s about it.” Not intending to disappoint the wonderful woman, she continued, “It was once named differently, right? And the people praised Arceus?”
Cynthia remained quiet as she listened intently. Her eyes glimmered at the petite girl.
“I think…they once called him Sinnoh? Which is technically now our region’s name?”
Grey eyes sparkled just the slightest at the sight of her.
Once their gazes met, a calculative smile turned warm. “Correct! But did you know that Arceus had many other Pokémon that people consider as deities?” The smile became more and more genuine as she observed Hikari’s excitement. “We have Palkia, the Pokémon of Space and Dialga, the Pokémon of Time. And besides those two, we have other mythical Pokémon that guided Sinnoh to a brighter future.”
Her lips felt looser every time they talked. As they walked around Veilstone City, all Cynthia could ever focus on was her. Countless myths and histories in her mind were poured and shared to the one trainer whom she found intriguing since the first time they met.
It was odd for her. She shouldn’t be this easily attracted to this one lone trainer, let alone one whom she just met for the very first time. And yet here she was, happily telling away a simple history fact that any Sinnohian knew.
If anything, Cynthia felt…calm around Hikari.
She wondered why.
While Cynthia let her thoughts and confusion wander, Hikari kept her excitement rolling. “That’s really cool!” She learned all of those, of course, but it was so great to hear such simple facts from the older woman. However, she wasn’t just hearing her. She was listening. “What are the mythical Pokémon in this regi—?”
Sadly, since distraction took control of her surroundings, she failed to see the flight of stairs before her.
All happened in a matter of heartbeats. Hikari felt her step faltered. She then felt her body being dropped forward. Black eyes were wide, though now in shock instead of glee.
Before her brain could compute the horrors of getting bruises and injuries in a matter of seconds, Hikari froze to feel her body being pulled on the opposite direction. A held on her arm was felt. A press of something warm and soft on her face was sensed.
“Are you alright?!”
A voice, filled with such panic yet hummed with firm gentleness, caressed her warm cheek.
Quickly, Hikari looked up. And right as she was, Cynthia looked down.
Despite the height difference, their gazes were locked, close, accompanied with nothing but their rushed, warm breaths of air.
Hikari felt the woman’s arm, slender and strong, wrapped firmly around her shoulders. Her other hand was placed on the back of her neck, fingers ruffled through thick, black hair. Hikari brought her own hands close to her chest. Hands cupped; a single fist rested against a wildly beating heart.
Cynthia didn’t release her. Not yet. Not yet.
Grey met black. The sounds around them buzzed into silence as all they could hear next was each other.
“Cyn…” Hikari’s lips moved—her breathing hitched as she realized the grey eye lingered to her mouth. “…thia?
Her name on her mouth was addicting. Her name by her voice was hypnotizing.
Pupils shot to tiny dots, Cynthia quickly released her. At the same time, Hikari released herself. The petite trainer took one step back, mind a jumbled mess and emotions a whirlwind of chaos.
“I-I—!” Panic and embarrassment fumed right into Hikari’s head. “Thank you!!” Hands slapped onto her thighs, she gave a rigid bow. The girl didn’t stand up, though, for shame now forced her to divert any gaze on the taller woman.
Cynthia was kind of thankful for that—because like Hikari, she too was now cupping her trembling mouth with one shaking hand. “I—no worries, Hikari.” Her face felt hot. Her heart felt mad.
For the regal Champion of Sinnoh, she felt silly to have been so affected by this simple trainer.
And yet, when Cynthia arrived home, she soon remembered that Hikari might not be the simple trainer she thought.
The worn, dishevelled notebook remained static on the table. It had been there for almost 2 minutes ever since she took it out of the box of treasury. The box in question was placed next to the book, filled with historical contents that could make a museum curator cry or a millionaire bid their highest price. There were some photos that were quite torn and faded. A few heirlooms were even placed neatly next to it; some rings and bracelets that were passed down from generations to generations remained cleaned and untouched from rust and rain.
Yet, right now, what caught her attention was the notebook.
Its pages were brown, crumpled, and torn. The writing seemed almost ineligible. The language used was one of ancient time. And luckily for Cynthia, it was a language she understood as it had been passed down in her heritage.
She always found the book fascinating. While people might think it was because it had all the historical lore of Sinnoh, it was the exact opposite.
Only she and her closest family members knew what it was: a diary from a heartbroken, lost man.
She found it fascinating. Amusing even. Cynthia never thought much about it in the past. But the way the writing’s chronological order indicated something dire had happened in the past that led to this future. The champion didn’t think much except feeling amazed that her ancestry had done so much and she was the product of it.
But what caught her eyes the most was the description of The Chosen One.
Dark hair. Darker eyes. A smile that shined so bright even in the author’s nightmares. The Chosen One was described as an enigma that appeared so suddenly in the past. The two had worked together, but something happened along the lines that drove the author mad with heartbreak and betrayal.
The Chosen One had a name: Akari.
She disappeared one day, taken by Arceus—one that made Cynthia assume she was dead.
But after reading the book further and further, she began to think that that wasn’t the case.
If The Chosen One—Akari—was truly gone, then why was the author so obsessed with her? Why was the author so hellbent on looking for her? Was she truly dead? Had she ever been found after the ending of this journal? Were they ever reunited?
Did… Did they ever meet again?
A glimmer of gloom sparked in such grey eyes. Suddenly, her mind drifted to Hikari. Of the girl’s deep, black eyes. Of her soft, black hair. Her smile resembled her namesake: a light that shined so bright, it filled Cynthia whole.
Her heartbeat began to race. Cynthia then remembered their close proximity. Their close distance. Their lingering breaths. Her warmth still seeped into her chest, fuelling the champion with such heat that made her body shiver and her breathing shaky.
Not realizing her eyes were closed, Cynthia took a deep breath and looked at the contents of the notebook again.
We will meet again.
Her gaze fell on the single sentence. It was all that was written on the page. Compared to its previous writing that were incomprehensible and smudged, the letters seemed more refined, clearer.
Promising.
A sense of nostalgia washed over her; she didn’t know why.
The sentence now echoing in her brain with the image of Hikari’s smile dancing along with it, Cynthia gingerly closed the notebook.
END