Each Past 「Pokemon Watty Awards 2016」

Chapter 14 ♦ Smile

♦ Dedicated to mawile_xoxo yet again because guess what it's twinsie's birthday tomorrow and I'm going to be asleep when the clock strikes twelve. Thanks for always being there for me no matter what, senpai, I'm so glad you existed and were born the way you are. I love chu <33 (and I hope you liked this shit ton of Mawile angst oops) ♦

and. whoops what have i done i hardly have the motivation to write this book anymore xD only random spikes of guilt here and there~

:I do not own Pokemon or the images used in the cover, but the plot, personalities and the edited cover belongs to me. You may not copy, translate, or reproduce it in any form unless given permission by me, @izayoix.:

༺༻

❝ Smile

if it isn't because of your life

still smile.

smile for those who made your life possible.  ❞

Mawile

I was scared.

I folded my arms, staring at the cave's blank, smoothened walls—worn from years of weather—as my crimson eyes concentrated. My gaze was ferocious—the glare was almost murderous, as if I wanted nothing more than to tear my home to pieces.

Despite my tough exterior—at least, my efforts to keep up one—I was feeling apprehensive about tomorrow morning. And I hated it—since my clan had been destroyed, I'd never been weak—I'd never dared to show weakness.

Yet, something in that Jirachi's eyes had shaken me—had convinced me otherwise. It wasn't the fact that she was a Legendary—I had come to dislike all Pokemon equally , after all—but I recognised the elusive glimmer.

It was something that I was all too familiar with—I could tell that the so-called wish-maker was hiding some sort of loss. It must have been painful, too—the same kind of sadness that plagued her gaze had been obvious throughout her frame.

I can't sympathise with her, I reminded myself. No matter what experiences we had, we're enemies. Goddamn enemies—she can burn in hell if she wants to. I. Don't Care.

Yes, that was what my mindset should have been from the start. Jirachi was my opponent, and I would beat her. Perhaps defeating the Legendary wouldn't be enough—perhaps an utter victory over her was needed to prove my strength.

"Hesitating is a form of weakness," I snapped at no one in particular, spinning around to a gleaming rock—a faint image of my own reflection stared back at me. And that weakness was why I lost everyone to those Flygon. If I had just a little more power, I could have saved even one person. I could have saved my Mother.

I didn't want to be hurt. And, in order to do that, I hurt others. My mother had always told me otherwise—become the one that gets hurt instead of hurting people—but to hell with that. My mother was dead. And the Flygon hurt her.

Being weak like that didn't get me anywhere. I had learnt that years ago. To survive, one had to be strong.

But then why am I still hesitating? My original problem had resurfaced, and it was more than starting to annoy me—it was one in the morning, after all, and I had only seven hours before the battle. Why...why am I starting to think like someone who's weak?