Swanna Girl and Braivary Man 3: The Rogue Hero

~Flash Forward~

Feathers swirl around me in a dizzying flurry. It's almost as if I'm standing in the middle of Swanna's Hurricane attack. I try to make sense out of what kind of Pokémon those feathers belong to, as they're different from one another. The white ones are clear; they belong to my Swanna. As for the navy and crimson ones, those feathers are from a Braviary I know too well. There is only one feather that throws me off. It always catches me off-guard every time I have this nightmare.

It's a small feather, curved slightly with a light green melting into a yellow. My eyes are fixed on it as I continue to stare at it, afraid it would disappear the second I blink. It's an important feather, one with power. Most items work that way. There are hidden abilities in everything. The power that an item may seem small, but in the wrong hands, it can cause collateral damage.

My hand tries to reach for it, but every time my fingers draw closer to it, it flies away. I follow it with my eyes, seeing a man snatch it with his hand. My body freezes as a sly grin creeps on his face.

"You're the cause of all of this," he tells me. I've heard these words so many times, over and over. Even if I try to cover my ears, I still hear them. "If it wasn't because of you, he wouldn't be dead." How much longer will I have to listen to them?

The man glances down, and as he does, he drops the feather he had previously caught. It floats down to the ground where a man is lying in a pool of red. His hair is damp with sweat from the previous battle. Despite all the strength he lost from it, the young man turns his head to look at me. His lips curl into a small smile, but in his eyes, all I can see is fear. Death wasn't what this man deserved. But there's no way of bringing him back, no matter how much I want him here with me.

I try to take a step towards him; I should be there with him. Then the feather floats away again. My eyes trail it, knowing I have to make a decision. Either I can help the man, or I can chase the feather. The feathers that fly around me seem to make the decision for me. Every time I take a step closer to the man, the feathers poke my body with sharp stabs. They don't do that when I chase the feather.

No matter what, I will come back for him, I tell myself. I have to make things right this time.

My legs carry me towards the feather. The moment I grab it, the Swanna and Braviary feathers disappear. I feel a moment of relief before I turn back. When I do, I regret it. The only thing I see is the man. His face has now grown to be as pale as a Vanillite.

"Don't worry about me," he tells me. "At least I got the chance to meet you. Maybe in another life, things will be better."

Those weren't the last words he spoke to me, but this nightmare makes it seem like that was the last thing he said. I want to run to him, but it's already too late. His body starts to fall apart, drifting away with a breeze that I haven't felt until now. It's not all at once that the man disappears. His body tears apart, piece by piece, as if it's nothing more than sand. At least that gives me a chance to look into those unforgettable eyes.

"The worst part of it all," I tell the woman as I truly open my eyes, forcing myself out of that situation, "is that I couldn't do anything. All I could do was sit and watch it happen. It was just like that day five years ago." I look at her with an air of desperation. "Shouldn't they have stopped? Shouldn't I be over this?"

The woman sitting across from me lowers her notepad to the small coffee table beside her before she tucks a lock of her light green hair behind her ear. I watch her as she leans over her knees, resting her forearms on top of her legs.

"You've been through a lot, Sylvia," the therapist tells me. "From what you've told me this past year, you've always kept your problems to yourself, and that's not healthy. You need to value your thoughts and feelings."

At her words, I sink into the couch I'm sitting on and pull my legs into my chest. It's the same old story every single time. I would tell my therapist what I'm feeling, and she reminds me that I just have to let it out at some point. My head rests on my knees as she talks a bit, not really paying attention to what she has to say.

I know she's just doing her job. She always does a good job with what she does, but she still can't take the pain away with a snap of her fingers. I wish she could. If there's a way to forget everything that had happened in the past, I would do it. Going through these sessions like my friend, Rena, told me to do was the next best thing.

My gaze drops to the floor, noticing the gray and blue rug. I'm not in the mood to listen to her. Not right now. Like everyone, my therapist only knows the battles I had to face outside. I was Swanna Girl, and I still am in a way. Whether people still see that as a good thing is all based on what they see as good or bad. While part of me wishes I never became Swanna Girl, I also know that life would be so much more different than it is now without that choice.

Maybe things would've been better that way.

"Why don't we try something different," my therapist suggests as she clicks her pen open again. "It's up to you to do this exercise, but I can only assume what happened during the time you were with Team Miasma up until, well, you know."

I nod, knowing exactly what she's alluding to. From the start of this, I told my therapist I would refuse to talk about that day, and I didn't want to hear his name, or I'd break down. While my therapist keeps telling me that it's okay to cry, that I should allow that to happen more often, I hate it. I remember her being reluctant at first, but she quickly realized I wouldn't open up about certain subjects.

Maybe I would be better already if I did, but I'm just not ready. Not yet anyways.

"Would you mind sharing your experiences as to what happened?" she asked. "You don't have to share everything, or anything at all, but this nightmare of yours, it seems—"

"Guess it wouldn't hurt to try," I tell her as I look away from her and at the door. Sitting beside it is a clock. Not once have I heard it tick, but I watch as the minute hand twitches to the next mark. "It's not like I have to be anywhere anytime soon. Where should I start?"

"Wherever you would like," she says.

Author's Note:

Special thanks to Cora-chan for helping me out with this chapter. She is the one who gave me the idea of starting the book out like this, otherwise, later parts (that's not been yet published) might not make sense. Maybe they will, but it would be too late on the book.

Anyways, I'm just realizing a few parts that are going to be awkward without this scene in here. I am not at liberty at what those scenes are, but I will say this should help.

So, seeing that there are a lot of feathers in this part, I want to know, what is your favorite feathered Pokémon? Love to hear from you all, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!