Each Past 「Pokemon Watty Awards 2016」

Epilogue ♦ My Most Precious Treasure

bless y'all kk ily 

lyrics used: Metronome (english sub by vgperson, adapted in opening quotation); Magical Mirror (english lyrics by ham, YT singer)

༺༻

❝ We were like two metronomes.

Even though once, we ran at the same pace

at some point, we started getting out of sync

and nothing could be done.

(until now.) ❝

...?

I looked up at the sky, enjoying every inch of the blues and whites that swirled together like paints on an artist's palette—and I wondered just when I last had the privilege to enjoy such a masterpiece.

My life had grown hectic lately, and I had always been at home studying. Exams were coming up in a month—I couldn't afford to be lazy, and I needed to do well. I needed to do well in order to make sure that the wish I'd made hadn't been in vain.

Yes, I had heard every last word of what Jirachi had told me. I'd remembered that she had more than believed in me—that she had entrusted me with the ability to remember these experiences that had culminated in my current life.

I remembered certain things. For one, I knew my previous identity—I knew I had been a Legendary, but a wish had given me my human form. A few select images could come to mind—a snatch of yellow from one of Jirachi's streamers, a few poignant notes from the ending of Meloetta's song; a warning, cold hue in Arceus' serious tone.

There was one gap that I couldn't quite wrap my head around, however—and that was the fact that I didn't know why all this had occurred.

What had been the triggering event...? The break in the logic was like a string that had been snapped in two without my consent, and although I could usually push the matter to the back of my mind, there were days where the confusion would just overwhelm me.

I just didn't get it—I could remember nearly anything, but knowing that there was something else—something that defied me and chose to remain at the back of my mind frustrated me. I wanted to know just who had been that shadowed, blurred-out silhouette whose details just wouldn't show.

"I hope that someday, you're reunited with the one you cherish."

That sentence occasionally came to mind, a passing breeze through my head that would disappear after a few seconds. It calmed me, as if there was a metaphorical hand stroking my cheek and taking the role of an unnamed mother—it told me that everything would be fine.

What bothered me was a pressing question at the back of my mind, something that nagged at me—who had spoken that sentence?

༺༻

It was one of those days where the teacher had come in, high heels clicking against the door in a spotted, anxious rhythm as the worry in her brows was evident—she, like the rest of us, was concerned about our exams and I couldn't blame her.

Raising an eyebrow, my hand slid to a stop, the pen in my hand halting in the middle of a word as I caught sight of the stack of work in the adult's hand—and I couldn't hide a tired grimace. Yes, I understood that she cared for our grades, but this was the third set of notes she had given us in two days.