Reader (Male) X Zoroark (Female) A Dark Bond

Broken

After Jarom had passed on, it was a while before you were finally in control of yourself, if you could even say that. You really didn't want him to be gone. It felt like you had lost your only friend here in the region. Despite what you were currently feeling, you knew that he deserved a burial. You had gotten outside, discovering an easier way out. The inside of a cave wasn't a good place for him. You were going to bury him properly, even if you had to dig with your bare hands. You wanted it someplace isolated, so that other Pokémon wouldn't disturb it. When you had walked out with Jarom's body, the others from the clan looked shocked, some looked sorrowful. Most kept their distance, but some came up to look at Jarom one last time.

You had found a spot that was secluded enough, you felt, that would be nice. A spot on top of a hill with three trees, overlooking the rest of area. For a while, it was just you and Zora digging on your own. The others just seemed to watch for a time, but soon, others came and assisted. The hole gradually grew deeper, wider, and longer. It didn't matter to you that you were surrounded by others who were like him or them. For once, you just wanted the world to fall silent, even if for just a few moments. After the hole was sufficiently big enough, you picked up Jarom, walking towards the grave, bending down onto your knees, and set him inside. After letting him rest on the ground, you looked at him for a little longer before beginning to pile the dirt on top of him. Over the course of a few hours, Jarom was buried. The others stayed, not really knowing if it was out of respect or something else, but each of them went on their way, presumably back to the cave until it was just you and Zora. It was late afternoon, and the shade from the tree was covering you from the sun.

Your thoughts kept turning over each other, none of them making sense, like trying to clean the clutter in a garbage factory. Lead them in my place, the final key between our races. Those were the words he told you, and it all felt like a pile of nails being driven in your skin. You didn't want to ever leave him. The time was short, being with Jarom, but it was meaningful. Being on the beach with him, hanging out with each other and just talking. It made you think just how much that would have changed if you had known from the beginning that he was... a Zoroark. You felt like you needed to do more for him. So, you found some stones and started placing them where Jarom was buried. Eventually, you made a bed of stones over where he was buried. At least now, it would be easier for you to spot it when you came back. Zora placed her hand on your shoulder.

"(Y/n), I'm gonna be down at the meadow. Come down when you're ready." She started walking downhill, going out of sight. You looked back at the pile of stones, wanting to say more, but unable. You only let the tears trickle down your cheeks as you were filled with guilt. Despite what he said, you felt like you could have helped him. You could have made him better, you could've kept him alive, and the two of you could've been laughing and having fun again. After a while, you don't know how long, your tears finally ran dry, but you still felt guilty. The crying made it hard to take in air, but it was getting easier. You got up off your knees, still staring down at the grave, then without saying a word, you started walking downhill. The sun was shining brightly, but it still felt like the world had gone dark. The air around you felt cold, the world seemed to slow down, and the overwhelming feeling of guilt, sorrow, and torment weighed down on you. As you were exiting the small forest between the hill and Poni Plains, the field opening up to you, you caught sight of a Zoroark approaching you. It wasn't Zora, it didn't have the necklace. It was pretty far, but you continued walking straight. Over time, not only did it closer, but more started to show up. You noticed that there were all around you. Taking a look at the one that was following you to begin with, something was disturbingly ambient. You hesitated for a moment, looking at it, then realizing your mistake. There was no mark on the head. Instead, it was below the neck. The moment of hesitation was all that was needed.