Envy 【Pokemon N; Paused】

Chapter Eight: Nacrene City's Museum

  Envy

Chapter Eight (N)

Nacrene City's Museum

 After I had fought Touko and lost, I decided to become stronger.

 I must become stronger if the world will ever listen to me.

 I must, no, I will become stronger. . . But battling hurts my friends. Why should I hurt them?

 The stone Father gave me. . . it's different from the rest. It moved ever so slightly when I told myself that battling was wrong. What is that stone? A Pokemon?

 I wandered into my room: the room I always play in. I sit down, relaxing, and start playing with my trains. I take one of them, clip another part of a different train on it, and put in on the track. I watch as it makes it way around the track, slowly. I soon got bored of that and switch to my toys. I took out a plush Pokemon that looked like a small version of Zekrom, and I grabbed another toy that was a small version of Reshiram.

 They have a imaginary battle, then end up piled on top of each other, asleep. I make their arms hug each other. I took another toy that is a Zorua. The toy Zorua came over to the Legendaries as they slept. He poked Zekrom and, getting no response, poked Reshiram with his nose. The Reshiram growled and sprang up, wondering what a small Pokemon poked him for. The Zorua smiled and danced around Reshiram, wanting to play. Zekrom woke up and noticed the two. Zorua danced around the two friends, begging to play. Finally, Zekrom gave in and started playing chase. Reshiram sighed and sat while watching them. Soon, Zekrom caught Zorua, and they switched places. They laughed, having so much fun. Reshiram finally decided to join, and realized that playing with Zekrom rather than battling was so much more fun.

 “Playing is so much better than battling. . .” I whispered to myself, making the Pokemon toys pile on top of each other happily.

 Zorua walked in as I spoke. He tried to get my attention, by the door, but I just stared at my toys. He came over and nudged my hand. I glanced over him, wondering what he wanted.

“Your father wants to see you,” he told me, “And he said to take the black stone with you.”

 I stood up and went over to train tracks. The train was still running, and in the middle of the tracks lay the black stone I had gotten for my birthday. I picked up the stone and slipped it into my pocket.

 “He is in the throne room, correct?” I asked Zorua. He nodded and we left.

 I entered without knocking, not surprised to see Father siting in my chair. We locked gazes and he simply smiled.

 “Here you go, my lord,” Father bowed and stepped out of the chair. I walked up rather hesitantly and sat; Zorua jumped up onto my lap and curled up. Displeasure flashed across Father's face for a second at Zorua. I noticed and put a hand on Zorua back and stroked him.

“You called me, Father?” I asked, taking my free hand and retrieving the stone from my pocket. “What it is about this stone?”

 “Haven't you noticed?” asked my father out of the blue and almost hurriedly, “This stone is different from the rest. How couldn't you notice? You see everything.”

 I paused, weighing the stone in my hand. I glanced at Father quickly then gazed at the stone. I knew it was different, but I did not want Father to know I knew. I wanted him to tell me, not me tell him. It has been that way all the years I have been with Father: he asks me a question about something he does not know much about, and I tell him, giving an answer he never expected.