Pokémon: ICE COLD

Chapter 8: Sorry.

His eyelids fluttered open.

A cold wind smothered his face, and the floor—a crunchy bed of snow—sent a cool feeling through his entire body.

The lake glistened, a thin veil of fog still dancing over its surface as frost-coated pine trees rustled in the calm wind.

Everything was exactly as he'd...left it?

No. He'd been there the entire time.

Lucas’s vision blurred, his eyes clouded by clusters of tears.

He gripped his scarf.

“What...what’s wrong with me? What did I do?” he sobbed, his fingers curling into the snow with gloved palms as tears streaked down his reddened face.

That was hell. A nightmare beyond anything he’d imagined.

He’d been powerless against that thing. That...thing. What on Earth was that demon? The way it cried, like blood gurgling in its throat—a black, shadowy leviathan that swallowed him whole.

He’d thought he’d died.

He was powerless.

As usual.

Not only was he a loser who couldn’t win his first battle, but for some reason, things kept unraveling into the worst-case scenario.

Lucas was too weak to do anything about it. Too weak to fight, too soft to control anything around him.

He was powerless.

As usual.

Lucas didn’t deserve any of this...right?

Wrong.

He got to his feet, sniffling. His messy, black hair was now coated in frost like the trees, and so were his pants and jacket.

He glanced at the cave sitting in the middle of the silvery cerulean waters.

He’d made a grave mistake.

“Mesprit...I’m sorry...I won’t come back. I won’t disturb you again, I swear.” His heart still pounded from that nightmare.

Usually, powerless.

Whatever that...thing was—a pokémon or whatever—he’d rather die than see it again.

Again. Again...?

With that, Lucas Gray left Lake Verity without a second thought.

Now, there were a lot of things Lucas could’ve done that day. By the time he encountered Mesprit, it was only about 2 p.m.

He could’ve rushed to the Professor’s lab and gotten some pokéballs or something.

But no.

He was done.

Lucas marched back, dead set on going home through the frosty forest and icy grass, slush crunching under his boots, his head hanging low like a vine.

Maybe this wild life really wasn’t for him. He wasn’t strong like Barry...not at all.

He was just a weak boy with no direction. No guidance. At least Barry had an entire Frontier Brain to build him up.

Who did Lucas have?

What father did he have? What guidance did he have?

Perhaps it was time to let go and find something else to do.

Though...

When he arrived at the grassy landscape of Route 203, he remembered the disgusting excuse for a battle he’d had.

“Man, am I just useless?” he asked aloud. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a shrunken pokéball. “Is this just how it is, starting out? Or am I just horrible? I’m sorry...for letting you down. I was too stupid to see how pathetic I am as a trainer. But...”

Lucas squeezed the orb, thinking of the Piplup inside it.

No...

“Let’s keep trying, you and me. Besides, going straight home would be the ultimate symbol of defeat, right? Let’s go see the Professor and see if he has any ideas about what’s wrong with me...”

Giving up was way too easy.

He wasn’t allowed to give up.

Even if power wasn't something he usually had...

This was still only the beginning.