Whispers in the Dark「Pokemon Fanfiction」

Tʜɪʀᴛʏ﹣Nɪɴᴇ • I'ᴍ Sᴏʀʀʏ

Chapter Thirty-Nine: I'm Sorry

It hurt like hell.

That was his first thought as Arceus began the fusion—it felt as if every cell in his body had been impaled, ripped apart and sewed back again in a haphazard manner—and that the needle used to stitch the agony up was blunt and rusty, the person wielding it swinging it around in clumsy, stabbing actions.

It was all he could do not to let out a scream—but a low hiss couldn't help but escape his mouth when the pain doubled, causing him to fold his knees to his chest in an effort to rid himself of the pain. He didn't know if there was even a word to describe the blinding agony that tore through every vein.

Next was his mind—it felt like his sinuses were exploding, his nerves taut and feeling as if they were being left to burn in a fire as strong as the earth's very core. None of his panicked thoughts got through to the scorch eroding any trace of sanity left in him—he didn't know if that was a good thing, but he supposed it distracted him from his mind.

His ears rang, and his eyes watered from the torrents of suffering that were glad to rain upon him—involuntarily, of course. He wasn't one to show weakness that easily, but Arceus had gone too far with the torment.

"It is too late to stop now, Ryou," Arceus warned. "We have already gone too far into the process—the only thing we can do now is to finish it."

Gasping, he doubled over, blood sputtering from his lips—and for a moment, the fog over his mind lifted, causing him to wonder if that was the very pain that Quinn had gone through when Giratina had stabbed through her heart.

"It looks as if you will survive," the Legendary mumbled. "I have had respect for your mental strength before, but this is certainly something unheard of. To survive a fusion with a god with this much strength to survive—perhaps we still do have a chance to defeat Giratina."

His voice then started to drift in and out of oblivion, but Ryou was still able to catch the gist of what he was saying—something explaining the process, it seemed; Arceus would still be able to manifest a weaker version of himself even after the power transfer was complete.

That was the last thing he felt or heard, however. A final wave of blinding agony washed over him—not like the sharp twinges of pain that felt like his body was being dissected, but instead a cold, numbing shock that chilled and shook him to the bone.

His eyes slipped close; and when they next opened, he knew that his mind didn't quite belong to him any longer.

• • •

Ryou wanted to ask what had just happened—ask just what Arceus had done to him—but he knew that it would be nothing more than a rhetorical question. He knew exactly what was going on, and his head was still aching with a dull, blunted pain—but he felt fine otherwise.

He opened his eyes, taking an accidental glance at himself through the reflection of a wall of gleaming obsidian—instead of the amethyst that he had known his optics to be, bright golden irises—not unlike those of the Meowstic's sclera—stared back at him.

Blinking, he inspected himself again—this time, when his eyes had opened, they were his regular purple shade.

"I suppose that we're done," he mumbled to no one in particular—the both of them had left Meowstic behind to fend of Giratina's spirit, and Arceus's soul had been forged onto his own. "You'll still let me make my own decisions, right?"