Perhaps it was because his senses were fading. ‘You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone,’ the saying went, but Kenta felt a sudden appreciation for life, even now. Why make promises, why go on living for a better tomorrow, why create bonds with people and pokémon, if everyone was just going to die anyway? Because . . . what if, what if, the creator reflected himself in everybody? What if he was reflected in everything? What if he’d always been there, and Kenta had always just been too preoccupied to notice? One thing was for sure- he certainly wasn’t preoccupied with anything now.
I just want to live, he found himself thinking. If I were to live a little longer, I could know whether or not I was created by someone for a purpose, or if I’m just here because I’m here. But . . . But the latter possibility was depressing to him, and Kenta wished for death if it was indeed the ultimate reality. On the other hand . . . if he did live for a purpose, he’d fulfill it to his best ability. And during that time and afterward, he’d seek earnestly after that one, the one who’d created him to fulfill such a purpose.
***
“Hold it!” Hibiki interrupted, and Kenta jumped out of his trance from his storytelling. He and Marina looked at Hibiki in annoyance, but the latter took no notice. “Kenta, I haven’t forgotten what you said before! You told me you’d survived because you’d been shot by Arcada, and you didn’t want to die, betrayed. And now you’re saying-”
“I wasn’t lying,” replied Kenta defensively. “To me, Arcada represents the government’s betrayal best. I had a will to live so I could fulfill my purpose, and that purpose is to come back from nothing and defeat corrupt authority.” He thought for a moment. “And Arcada, if I’m able to face him in battle.”
“Can we get back to the story now?” asked Marina, an enchanted look still in her eyes from Kenta’s vocal memoir. “I wanna hear how Kenta survived!”
“Yeah, and when does Zapdos come in to all this?” added Hibiki.
Kenta raised his eyebrow at Hibiki ironically. “If you would kindly stop interrupting, I was just getting to that,” he said pleasantly, his voice nevertheless dripping with sarcasm. “So anyway, I noticed that for someone on the brink of death, my mind was functioning awfully well . . .”
***
All at once, Kenta felt something powerful and gripping jolt through his body, and he sprang up from his lying-down posture like a startled animal. His senses, which a moment ago had been as faint as if he’d fallen asleep, now roared to the forefront of his being. Around him, he felt the frigid air of the mountaintop climate, and he heard the howl of high winds. His eyes beheld a dazzling golden creature looming before him, with outstretched wings and crackling bolts of electricity snapping all around its glowing body. Standing between the creature and Kenta, Bolt the Salamence bared his and bellowed a ferocious roar at it that echoed through the mountaintops. And was he imagining it, or was there a hint of lamentation in the dragon’s bellow?
Kenta took his eyes off the immediate situation for just a moment, and glanced down at his gut, where the bullet hole was . . . or should have been. His eyes widened in astonishment. Nothing was there now but new skin with a red patch around it, and some sort of colorless liquid substance. Was it water? No . . . it felt warm. Even in the frigid cold, its temperature stayed constant.
But . . . how?
His eyes traveled upwards, stopping as they caught sight of Bolt’s face. The Salamence’s eyes glistened with tears, and they fell from his face as freely as rain. But Kenta only beheld the sight for a moment, and then Bolt charged furiously at the golden creature, his head lowered like a battering ram. It fell backwards as they made contact, then gained altitude and hovered above the dragon with its body fully extended. Kenta’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized at last what this deadly, magnificent creature was.
Zapdos, the thunder bird. I’m actually seeing Zapdos face-to-face.
From Zapdos’s outstretched wings, vines of electricity crackled and snapped in a dangerous light show, then suddenly merged as one bolt of lightning. Kenta’s pokémon, Bolt, barely managed to throw up a Protect shield quickly enough as the electric power swarmed around his monstrous frame. Kenta watched for a moment in dumbfounded awe, then shook his head rapidly and slapped himself in the face. What’s wrong with me? he thought angrily. Bolt only just evolved; he’s barely adjusted to his Salamence body! He’s no match for a legendary bird!
Looking around wildly for something to defend with, Kenta’s eyes fell upon something purple and round, lying forgotten in the snow near Bolt’s footprints. Recognizing the item, he dove and snatched it up, not caring that some freezing snow had gotten on his bare hands. Righting himself, Kenta twisted around and faced the battle once more between the two gigantic winged pokémon. He gritted his teeth.
This isn’t a normal clash. This is life or death. If I don’t interfere, we’re done for.
And before he knew it, the Master Ball had left his hand, whirling fast and hard at Zapdos and striking the glowing bird upon its right wing. Almost immediately, the surroundings grew dim as Zapdos disappeared into the capture ball and it fell to the ground. Bolt let off his Protect shield, and both trainer and pokémon looked on as the Master Ball rattled violently back and forth on the snowy ground. For thirty seconds the vigorous shaking went on, and a couple of times, the Master Ball even sprang off the ground as though it had a life of its own. Thirty more seconds passed, a full minute, and still the Master Ball vibrated as though it would explode at any moment. Kenta hardly dared to breathe, and as he watched the Master Ball continue to tremble, a disturbing question pounded in his mind. What if this doesn’t work? What if the Master Ball can’t take it?
He didn’t know how long he waited. The Zapdos within the ball continued to fight valiantly for a longer time than he’d ever thought possible to cage a pokémon. But at one point, the ball suddenly stopped quivering. Kenta stared down at it, hardly daring to believe his eyes, but the ball continued to lie dormant for as long as he watched. Then slowly, very slowly, he approached the Master Ball and picked it up, never once taking his eyes off of it, not even to look at his Salamence. He held the ball high, feeling its weight, and not sensing any difference. But he knew better.
Unreal. Unimaginable. I’m holding living lightning in my hand.
Kenta finally turned and looked at Bolt, and his dragon pokémon looked back at him, both too stunned to make a sound. Then just as slowly as he’d picked up the Master Ball, Kenta pushed it into his pocket. The spell broke as another sudden realization struck him; his pocket was missing a pokeball. The lockpick was there, and in his left pocket, Bolt’s former Everstone and his Luxury Ball, but no normal pokeball. That meant no Bakuphoon either. Had he dropped it somewhere? But how could that be? Bolt’s Luxury Ball was tucked safely away; surely he would’ve shown all the more care for his first and favorite pokémon, his Typhlosion, when storing his ball.
. . . Unless it was warped away by Silhouette’s registration unit.
Of course! How had he not seen that coming? His own police force boasted the same teleportation technology that warped every seventh pokémon to the PC storage system, whenever a trainer’s party was full, after a capture. Both pokémon he’d registered as an officer, Bakuphoon and Bolt, could be taken from him at a moment’s notice, teleported away to the base while in their respective balls. He’d shown severe insubordination just before getting shot; small wonder Baku was gone!
Wait a minute. Kenta’s eyes widened in realization. Bolt is still with me . . . I never recalled him into his Luxury Ball! His large eyes narrowed. And I never can again.
Reaching into his pocket, Kenta withdrew the Luxury Ball, looking at it with mixed feelings. I’ll just have to destroy Bolt’s ball, he thought. To show Silhouette that I’m cutting my ties with them. But . . . but something still bothers me about doing this.
He looked at Bolt, who was still watching him. The Salamence’s face was difficult to read, but his head was tilted. Uncertain of what he could be thinking about, Kenta held up the Luxury Ball for his pokémon to see. “See this?” he murmured. “This ball used to be the symbol of our pact, and also of our friendship. But now it’s become corrupt; a symbol of the government’s hold on us. I love it, and I hate it, for what it is.” He cringed inwardly, but pressed on. “I’m going to crush it. You may not understand what I’m doing at first, but just know that I am forever your friend.”
Kenta dropped the Luxury Ball in the snow, between himself and Bolt. Slowly and deliberately he walked forward, keeping his eyes locked with Bolt’s, who looked back at him with an usual softness. He’d heard somewhere that dragons were more intelligent than most animals, even amongst pokémon, and he wondered if Bolt understood what was going on all along. Feeling the Luxury Ball under his right shoe, Kenta tramped down hard upon it, and it cracked to bits like a Christmas tree ornament. Ignoring the feel of the shattered ball, Kenta wrapped his arms around Bolt’s neck and held him tightly, tenderly, as a beloved dog. There’d been no time before, but it had just occurred to him that he’d never thanked Bolt for saving his life.
“Bolt,” he said, “you were all I had left. And you came through for me. I don’t deserve you.” Letting go of the Salamence’s neck, Kenta looked him seriously, straight in the eye. “It looks like we’re in a tight spot, buddy. Until further notice, we’re gonna have to keep a low profile. That means you especially, Bolt. You’re much bigger than me, so you’ll have to find a place to hide until we can get you a new ball. Find somewhere warm, somewhere that the snow won’t be able to . . . able to . . .”
Without warning, his body suddenly collapsed. He wouldn’t wake up again for three days.
***
“I think after I went down, Bolt flew me to Henna Villa,” Kenta finished, with a thoughtful frown on his face. The three of them, Kenta, Hibiki, and Marina, had long since arrived on the eastern shore of the lake, and they sat in a circle, the other two listening intently. Hibiki raised his hand, as if he were still in class. “So, um, how come you passed out?” he asked. Kenta shrugged. “Probably one of two things. Either my spark back to life had worn off, or I was thrown from blood loss.”
Hibiki grinned. “Whatever way, you stayed alive. Sounds to me like the Lord flat-out saved your ass that time.”
“You know, runt, for a born-again Christian, you can be pretty cheeky sometimes.”
“Kenta, you were lucky,” chimed Marina, holding up a finger. “You may not have known this, but it’s said that the tears of a lamenting pokémon can bring you back to life. I think Bolt may have healed your fatal injury, and Zapdos got your heart pumping again.”
“Maybe.” Kenta shrugged again. “With Bolt, it’s hard to make out any of his emotions other than battle fury. That was certainly the only time I’ve ever seen him cry. Whether his tears healed me or not, I don’t know, but I’m certainly happy he was that concerned for me.” He put a hand on his chest, wincing. “Now, as for Zapdos’s little pick-me-up, THAT hurt like hell for weeks afterward. If there was a god behind that, he has no sense of delicacy.”
Kenta got up from the ground, stretched his arms, and brushed dirt off the backside of his pants. “Well, that’s enough rest. We can talk while we walk, just watch out for police.”
I just want to live, he found himself thinking. If I were to live a little longer, I could know whether or not I was created by someone for a purpose, or if I’m just here because I’m here. But . . . But the latter possibility was depressing to him, and Kenta wished for death if it was indeed the ultimate reality. On the other hand . . . if he did live for a purpose, he’d fulfill it to his best ability. And during that time and afterward, he’d seek earnestly after that one, the one who’d created him to fulfill such a purpose.
***
“Hold it!” Hibiki interrupted, and Kenta jumped out of his trance from his storytelling. He and Marina looked at Hibiki in annoyance, but the latter took no notice. “Kenta, I haven’t forgotten what you said before! You told me you’d survived because you’d been shot by Arcada, and you didn’t want to die, betrayed. And now you’re saying-”
“I wasn’t lying,” replied Kenta defensively. “To me, Arcada represents the government’s betrayal best. I had a will to live so I could fulfill my purpose, and that purpose is to come back from nothing and defeat corrupt authority.” He thought for a moment. “And Arcada, if I’m able to face him in battle.”
“Can we get back to the story now?” asked Marina, an enchanted look still in her eyes from Kenta’s vocal memoir. “I wanna hear how Kenta survived!”
“Yeah, and when does Zapdos come in to all this?” added Hibiki.
Kenta raised his eyebrow at Hibiki ironically. “If you would kindly stop interrupting, I was just getting to that,” he said pleasantly, his voice nevertheless dripping with sarcasm. “So anyway, I noticed that for someone on the brink of death, my mind was functioning awfully well . . .”
***
All at once, Kenta felt something powerful and gripping jolt through his body, and he sprang up from his lying-down posture like a startled animal. His senses, which a moment ago had been as faint as if he’d fallen asleep, now roared to the forefront of his being. Around him, he felt the frigid air of the mountaintop climate, and he heard the howl of high winds. His eyes beheld a dazzling golden creature looming before him, with outstretched wings and crackling bolts of electricity snapping all around its glowing body. Standing between the creature and Kenta, Bolt the Salamence bared his and bellowed a ferocious roar at it that echoed through the mountaintops. And was he imagining it, or was there a hint of lamentation in the dragon’s bellow?
Kenta took his eyes off the immediate situation for just a moment, and glanced down at his gut, where the bullet hole was . . . or should have been. His eyes widened in astonishment. Nothing was there now but new skin with a red patch around it, and some sort of colorless liquid substance. Was it water? No . . . it felt warm. Even in the frigid cold, its temperature stayed constant.
But . . . how?
His eyes traveled upwards, stopping as they caught sight of Bolt’s face. The Salamence’s eyes glistened with tears, and they fell from his face as freely as rain. But Kenta only beheld the sight for a moment, and then Bolt charged furiously at the golden creature, his head lowered like a battering ram. It fell backwards as they made contact, then gained altitude and hovered above the dragon with its body fully extended. Kenta’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized at last what this deadly, magnificent creature was.
Zapdos, the thunder bird. I’m actually seeing Zapdos face-to-face.
From Zapdos’s outstretched wings, vines of electricity crackled and snapped in a dangerous light show, then suddenly merged as one bolt of lightning. Kenta’s pokémon, Bolt, barely managed to throw up a Protect shield quickly enough as the electric power swarmed around his monstrous frame. Kenta watched for a moment in dumbfounded awe, then shook his head rapidly and slapped himself in the face. What’s wrong with me? he thought angrily. Bolt only just evolved; he’s barely adjusted to his Salamence body! He’s no match for a legendary bird!
Looking around wildly for something to defend with, Kenta’s eyes fell upon something purple and round, lying forgotten in the snow near Bolt’s footprints. Recognizing the item, he dove and snatched it up, not caring that some freezing snow had gotten on his bare hands. Righting himself, Kenta twisted around and faced the battle once more between the two gigantic winged pokémon. He gritted his teeth.
This isn’t a normal clash. This is life or death. If I don’t interfere, we’re done for.
And before he knew it, the Master Ball had left his hand, whirling fast and hard at Zapdos and striking the glowing bird upon its right wing. Almost immediately, the surroundings grew dim as Zapdos disappeared into the capture ball and it fell to the ground. Bolt let off his Protect shield, and both trainer and pokémon looked on as the Master Ball rattled violently back and forth on the snowy ground. For thirty seconds the vigorous shaking went on, and a couple of times, the Master Ball even sprang off the ground as though it had a life of its own. Thirty more seconds passed, a full minute, and still the Master Ball vibrated as though it would explode at any moment. Kenta hardly dared to breathe, and as he watched the Master Ball continue to tremble, a disturbing question pounded in his mind. What if this doesn’t work? What if the Master Ball can’t take it?
He didn’t know how long he waited. The Zapdos within the ball continued to fight valiantly for a longer time than he’d ever thought possible to cage a pokémon. But at one point, the ball suddenly stopped quivering. Kenta stared down at it, hardly daring to believe his eyes, but the ball continued to lie dormant for as long as he watched. Then slowly, very slowly, he approached the Master Ball and picked it up, never once taking his eyes off of it, not even to look at his Salamence. He held the ball high, feeling its weight, and not sensing any difference. But he knew better.
Unreal. Unimaginable. I’m holding living lightning in my hand.
Kenta finally turned and looked at Bolt, and his dragon pokémon looked back at him, both too stunned to make a sound. Then just as slowly as he’d picked up the Master Ball, Kenta pushed it into his pocket. The spell broke as another sudden realization struck him; his pocket was missing a pokeball. The lockpick was there, and in his left pocket, Bolt’s former Everstone and his Luxury Ball, but no normal pokeball. That meant no Bakuphoon either. Had he dropped it somewhere? But how could that be? Bolt’s Luxury Ball was tucked safely away; surely he would’ve shown all the more care for his first and favorite pokémon, his Typhlosion, when storing his ball.
. . . Unless it was warped away by Silhouette’s registration unit.
Of course! How had he not seen that coming? His own police force boasted the same teleportation technology that warped every seventh pokémon to the PC storage system, whenever a trainer’s party was full, after a capture. Both pokémon he’d registered as an officer, Bakuphoon and Bolt, could be taken from him at a moment’s notice, teleported away to the base while in their respective balls. He’d shown severe insubordination just before getting shot; small wonder Baku was gone!
Wait a minute. Kenta’s eyes widened in realization. Bolt is still with me . . . I never recalled him into his Luxury Ball! His large eyes narrowed. And I never can again.
Reaching into his pocket, Kenta withdrew the Luxury Ball, looking at it with mixed feelings. I’ll just have to destroy Bolt’s ball, he thought. To show Silhouette that I’m cutting my ties with them. But . . . but something still bothers me about doing this.
He looked at Bolt, who was still watching him. The Salamence’s face was difficult to read, but his head was tilted. Uncertain of what he could be thinking about, Kenta held up the Luxury Ball for his pokémon to see. “See this?” he murmured. “This ball used to be the symbol of our pact, and also of our friendship. But now it’s become corrupt; a symbol of the government’s hold on us. I love it, and I hate it, for what it is.” He cringed inwardly, but pressed on. “I’m going to crush it. You may not understand what I’m doing at first, but just know that I am forever your friend.”
Kenta dropped the Luxury Ball in the snow, between himself and Bolt. Slowly and deliberately he walked forward, keeping his eyes locked with Bolt’s, who looked back at him with an usual softness. He’d heard somewhere that dragons were more intelligent than most animals, even amongst pokémon, and he wondered if Bolt understood what was going on all along. Feeling the Luxury Ball under his right shoe, Kenta tramped down hard upon it, and it cracked to bits like a Christmas tree ornament. Ignoring the feel of the shattered ball, Kenta wrapped his arms around Bolt’s neck and held him tightly, tenderly, as a beloved dog. There’d been no time before, but it had just occurred to him that he’d never thanked Bolt for saving his life.
“Bolt,” he said, “you were all I had left. And you came through for me. I don’t deserve you.” Letting go of the Salamence’s neck, Kenta looked him seriously, straight in the eye. “It looks like we’re in a tight spot, buddy. Until further notice, we’re gonna have to keep a low profile. That means you especially, Bolt. You’re much bigger than me, so you’ll have to find a place to hide until we can get you a new ball. Find somewhere warm, somewhere that the snow won’t be able to . . . able to . . .”
Without warning, his body suddenly collapsed. He wouldn’t wake up again for three days.
***
“I think after I went down, Bolt flew me to Henna Villa,” Kenta finished, with a thoughtful frown on his face. The three of them, Kenta, Hibiki, and Marina, had long since arrived on the eastern shore of the lake, and they sat in a circle, the other two listening intently. Hibiki raised his hand, as if he were still in class. “So, um, how come you passed out?” he asked. Kenta shrugged. “Probably one of two things. Either my spark back to life had worn off, or I was thrown from blood loss.”
Hibiki grinned. “Whatever way, you stayed alive. Sounds to me like the Lord flat-out saved your ass that time.”
“You know, runt, for a born-again Christian, you can be pretty cheeky sometimes.”
“Kenta, you were lucky,” chimed Marina, holding up a finger. “You may not have known this, but it’s said that the tears of a lamenting pokémon can bring you back to life. I think Bolt may have healed your fatal injury, and Zapdos got your heart pumping again.”
“Maybe.” Kenta shrugged again. “With Bolt, it’s hard to make out any of his emotions other than battle fury. That was certainly the only time I’ve ever seen him cry. Whether his tears healed me or not, I don’t know, but I’m certainly happy he was that concerned for me.” He put a hand on his chest, wincing. “Now, as for Zapdos’s little pick-me-up, THAT hurt like hell for weeks afterward. If there was a god behind that, he has no sense of delicacy.”
Kenta got up from the ground, stretched his arms, and brushed dirt off the backside of his pants. “Well, that’s enough rest. We can talk while we walk, just watch out for police.”