Whispers in the Dark「Pokemon Fanfiction」

Sɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ • Bʟᴀᴄᴋ Hᴇᴀʀᴛ

Chapter Sixteen: Black Heart

Stretching, Celeana took a step forward, mirroring the foxlike smirk adorning her opponent's face and shooting an amber-hued glare towards the innocuous teenager opposite her.

She glanced back a final time, making sure both her companions were as safe as they could be—Ryou leant against the charred bark of a nearby destroyed tree, face having relaxed slightly from his earlier agonised expression, but it was clear that he'd still been inflicted by whatever her replica had done.

The orange-haired girl seemed to be in no rush to move forward—she'd made the wise choice to linger far away from any potential fights, and the coordinator couldn't quite blame her.

Her first priority, she thought, was to direct the battle someplace further away. The sadistic brat opposite her wouldn't care if either of her allies got hurt, and neither of them were in any shape to put up a fight. The child didn't seem to have much battling skills, and Ryou had just been defeated.

To be honest, she had no idea how she could even win. If the pale-haired boy had been so humiliated in just a matter of minutes—not just having been beat, but having been crushed so fast it was almost laughable—she couldn't stand a chance

But things were different—she had the voice's assistance, and whether the figure was willing or not, she had agreed to lend her help.

"So, you've tapped on her power," the amethyst-eyed girl called in an airy tone. "You give in so easily, you know...you never know who's an enemy and who isn't."

Opening her mouth, Celeana wanted to format some type of snarky remark back, but both her brain and mouth seemed to have stopped working, leaving just her wild mind and unhinged instincts to deal with the nemesis approaching her.

She felt bare—vulnerable, even. Without logic overriding her choices, her head felt light and clear, free from any troubling numbers or conflicting thoughts that would slow her reactions down.

It was as if she'd been separated from her past style, but being pushed into this new way of fighting wasn't as bad as she had thought. After all, she hadn't liked to overcomplicate issues in the first place, so acting on pure intuition wasn't a very drastic change.

"We've wasted enough time t—talking." The coordinator's last word caught in her throat, and she paused—she'd meant her words to sound definite, but that stammer would not go unnoticed by her opponent.

The clone just shrugged, the confident, chilling smile returning to her face as she held her arms behind her back, toying with her fingers to give off a sense of harmlessness that she knew was nothing but a complete lie. "Whatever you say."

With that, the girl bounded forward, appearing behind the rookie trainer in a matter of moments and landing her first attack with effortless grace.

Her enemy grinned, the slight curve of her mouth deepening to a crazed, bloodthirsty expression as the blue-haired teen buckled forward—it seemed as though she'd done nothing at all, but her violet optics glinted with the unmistakable light of power.

"Boom," her foe giggled, her voice saccharine sweet. "One attack did this much—I'd like to see how much it would take to bring you down."

That move would have instantly taken her out—after all, she was mortal, and her physical strength left much to be desired. Coupled with her clumsiness, and she would have been taken out by one or two of these hits.

However, she felt a strange satisfaction that she thought she'd never land her hands on. Like her childhood dream, she felt in control—not just of herself, but of the entire situation at hand. It was what she'd always wanted as a countermeasure to the Meowstic's puppet-like way of toying with her—the entire reason why she'd chosen Froakie in the first place.