Because anything less than perfection deserved to be punished. And Epsilon didn't mean to punish him so badly; he remembered how Zero had restrained the other member of the Shadow Triad and Ghetsis was actually upset when he found the bleeding boy, and had yelled, "You idiot, you could have killed him!
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And then Epsilon had hissed an apology the next day. So no, Ghetsis was right, no matter what the imperfect, evil parts of his mind whispered to him. Ghetsis wanted him to succeed, and that's why he had to be punished for failure. N shook his head and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Glancing up at the Celestial Tower that stood tall before him, he once again tried to steel himself to go inside, to comfort the spirits of poor pokemon that had died because of their "trainers" Except that now he wasn't too sure what he'd find in there.
Not after all the people and pokemon who cared for each other. Not after Bianca, whose pokemon supported her even though they'd never be perfect around her. Not after Cheren, who regularly pushed his pokemon to the brink, yet still held their trust and respect. Seeing pokemon killed in battle, dead at the hands of abusive trainers, he could deal with that. It would rip his heart out and stomp it on the ground, but he could endure it.
But N didn't know what he'd find in there, not now, not after being shown contradiction after contradiction, not with the words of Bree's pokemon still echoing in his ears. At the same time, he wanted to know more.
Needed to know more. So, with a deep breath and heavy sigh, N opened the large oaken doors and stepped inside. It wasn't what he was expecting. Then again, he wasn't too sure what to expect. But whatever it was, it wasn't this. The inside of the tower was ornate, but in an understated, modest way that was respectful and not gaudy. People of all ages, trainers with pokemon by their sides, paid their respects to departed partners. And they meant it, he realized with a strange painful feeling. At the counter, Bree, with Cheren and Bianca by her side, purchased some memorial incense.
N gasped and hid himself into a crowd before they spotted him. Peering around peoples' heads, he watched the three of them go upstairs. What was she doing here? After a moment's hesitation, he followed, making sure to stay out of sight but close enough to listen. After several minutes of hiking, they made it to Eric's grave. Kneeling on the marbled tile, Bree read the carved marker to herself. Eric had saved her life. She didn't remember the details, as she couldn't remember much of anything from before six years of age which she knew was quite unusual , but she somehow knew that the Blitzle had saved her.
And they were close, immensely so. Now that she thought about it, Bree remembered that she had been able to understand Eric as well, though the pokemon had never really talked much. Funnily enough, even when playing at being a pokemon trainer with her friends back in Nuvema, Bree had never seriously considered using Eric in actual gym battles. He hated fighting, and Bree could never push him like that.
Still, you never forgot your first pokemon. Tears welled in her eyes and slid down her face.
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Bree whispered, "Thank you. The three stood there for some time, paid their respects. Then Cheren looked up to see the tail of flame-red hair turn the corner. What's he doing here? Bree tried to stop him, saying, "Wait, he should have his privacy," but Cheren had already ran after Alder. She looked at a wryly smiling Bianca with a sigh. A strange humming sound morphed into a voice, so soft and shadowy as to be wrathlike.
I'll bet he does that all the time. Bree slowly turned around to see two little Litwicks, clear bubble-like domes encasing the open violet flames on their waxlike heads, staring up at her. She tapped Bianca on the shoulder. Aren't they the ones that go dementor on you or something? Everyone knew this rumor, had seen "Die in a Chandelure's fire! The three of them had shared the stories themselves, shared in giggles and delighted screams Bree still remembered that delightfully terrifying story that the normally stoic Cheren had told about a trainer from Kanto and his ghost pokemon whose curses not only affected both human and pokemon alike but also actually killed.
It was certainly a common misconception, but Shaking her head, Bree took out a flier that she had been handed upon going inside. Hang on, this flier explains it. It is currently Litwick breeding season at the Celestial Tower. Litwicks release radiation from the open flames on their heads. They cannot control this. Although this radiation is not especially dangerous to pokemon unless present in large quantities, it only takes a relatively small dose in comparison to sicken a human.
Precautions must be taken around Litwicks: All the Litwicks in the Celestial Tower are captured, tagged, and capped with a device that mimicks the natural shield found on its evolution and safely contains the radiation. These caps are not harmful to the Litwicks, and still allow them to battle.
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If you find an uncapped Litwick, remove yourself from the area and notify an employee. Trainers may capture capped Litwicks if they so wish, as long as they do not cause any property damage. Upon evolving into Lampent and Chandelure, the radiation released gets stronger, but the pokemon grows a natural cap and therefore can control its release.
Litwicks are extremely difficult to properly care for and should be raised by experienced trainers only! The applications may be obtained at a local pokemon center. Bree looked back down at the Litwicks. She could understand the older Litwick, albeit with some difficulty, but not the younger, smaller one. And while Bree knew what her four pokemon were saying to her, but she could barely understand her friends'.
And she couldn't understand wild pokemon, or the pokemon of other trainers, at all. At least, not yet and if you had asked why she was so certain, she couldn't give an answer. Warmth kissed her outstretched open palm; Bree looked down to see the Litwick gazing up, yellow eyes imploring something. The little candle-esque pokemon hummed, indicated the other Litwick behind him with a flick of his flame. My friend, she was capped and she hates the cap.
Is it true that once we evolve, we won't need the caps anymore? Bree nodded, and the pokemon jumped, or more accurately, hopped. Then may we travel with you, so we can evolve? It is extremely rare for one of us to evolve here, but when traveling with a trainer I would let her go alone, but I want to make sure she's safe Besides, I would like to know more about this human who knows the language of pokemon.
In your face, N! But there was a bit of a problem. A short discussion later, the only thing left were names that everyone would be happy with. Bianca eventually came up with two good ones. Because Chandelures look like chandeliers and I haven't read the book but I've seen some pictures from the show and the chandelier's modeled a bit like a Chandelure? Bree gnawed her thumbnail. And she could understand the Litwick relatively well. And here, by Eric's grave.
Bianca squealed over her newest pokemon, promising to introduce her to the rest of the team later that evening. The other ball rustled as Bree moved to clip it to her belt, so she released the pokemon within. Erik glanced behind the grave at a small trapdoor. Would the two of you follow me?
I want to show you something. That "something" turned out to be up several flights of stairs, through a cramped, narrow tunnel, past a group of watching Elgyem, and up on the roof. The air was foggy, cold, and damp; it clung to Bree's skin and pierced its way within. At Eric's insistence, Bree looked up. Before the two humans and the pokemon stood a large ornate bell, enclosed in a wooden scaffold, slightly rusted in places and dusty in others.
The man named Alder gave the bell as a memorial years ago, Erik said, but the tower had no room for it then. It has remained here since. Bree touched the cool metal of the bell, ran her fingers along the old thick rope, hesitated. And then a whisper. The barely-audible dink that emitted was pathetic, there really was no other word for it.
A tumult of thoughts tumbling over each other in her head, Bree sighed. She wrapped her arms around the rope and pulled with all her weight. The bell rang for all the people and all the pokemon. Who lived together, worked together, and played together. Who deserved to remain together. Two days after Skyla returned from vacation, Cheren found a leaf stone for Bianca's Pansage.
Bianca, overcome with happiness, had squealed in a near-ultrasonic pitch and hugged Cheren hard enough to nearly choke him. This, coupled with the impulsive quick peck on his cheek, had left Cheren bright red and effectively speechless for several minutes.
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Corn and Marina, now a Simisage and Simipour, napped under a tree, seemingly unaware of the frigid cold. Christine shivered and huddled under Bianca's blouse while Bree discussed a new battle strategy with her pokemon that involved Eve and Erik cooperating to create some sort of utterly kick-ass attack that involved shooting fire from the sky. The three scrambled to attention, their pokemon instantly alert.
Cheren spoke first, scowling as he glared at the man. The older man smiled. Juniper; Professor Juniper, the one who started you off on your journey, is my daughter. Juniper, waving her entire arm in a frantic, random fashion. Juniper, long time no see! The ones who are trying to become champion? Skyla bounced up and down on her heels. Great, my gym is a blast! Ooh, but I've got to go now; Dr.
I'm sorry about this. In any case, this is an attempted There is a very good reason for this. Even if I'm not the greatest writer, I can make characters. In any case, this story is rated Teen for mild language, violence, and innuendo. When Professor Juniper announced that she would take an intern for the winter break to show them the basics of pokemon research, she expected her responders to be twelve and thirteen-year olds, teenagers on the cusp of entering the world of pokemon as official trainers.
She did not expect the sole responder to be six-year-old Cheren Shiro, a soft-spoken boy with a penchant for electronics and dress shirts. Currently, said six-year-old was walking through the lab, surveying the test tubes and electronics, occasionally reading a label or abstract of a paper. Professor Juniper concluded that twenty years was the only thing separating Cheren from a PhD.
He seemed to completely ignore her presence; the sound of his shoes on the floor melded perfectly with the background noise of the lab, an always present undertone that would only be noticed by its absence. Cheren finally stopped in front of a clear box snaked by tubes and connected to all sorts of monitors.
What's this, and why is a-"-he flipped through the pages of his identification book, his finger eventually landing on a picture of a small fluffy grey pokemon with cloudlike fur and a feathery tail- "Minccino in it? It could slip into his bag without even making a noticeable bulge. Fennel, found it and gave it to me to care for, as she doesn't have the proper equipment. It's too young to live on its own, so the incubator is keeping it warm and cozy in the winter weather.
Even through the glass, its fur looked like a cloud; his fingers twitched at the thought of stroking it. The Minccino was barely even weaned, and it didn't know any attacks. Its growth was stunted and it probably wouldn't be that big. No trainer would want to battle with it, and by the time the Minccino was that old, it would be too habituated to people to live on its own.
Maybe an older retired person would care for it, but Juniper knew that she would fret too much to adopt out the little pokemon. Then again, she had been thinking about having a companion pokemon since-. Someone knocked on the door. Well, charged up against it seemed to be more accurate, considering how loud it was. In either case, Juniper's train of thought skidded off the rails and crashed into a mountain. Opening the door she said, "This better be pretty importan-". The woman standing before Juniper, clutching something in her arms, could be classified as attractive, until you looked at her eyes.
Deep blue, they were frenzied and panicked. This was obviously a woman in serious trouble. Juniper glanced at the Blitzle standing beside the woman, its striped fur and jagged horn sparking in agitation. It didn't seem to be injured or sick or dying of some obscure disease, so why was this woman so The blanket shifted, revealing part of a limp figure.
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Juniper suddenly realized that the phrase, "I felt a chill go down my spine," was firmly grounded in reality. I'll meet with you again tomorrow. Thankfully, Cheren didn't protest. The boy simply picked up his bag Neatly pressed clean, like everything else he owned , thanked Juniper, and left. He took no notice of the woman with the Blitzle and the bundle as he left. Or if he did, he didn't think it was important. If Cheren saw the little girl lying limp and pale and still in the woman's arms, or if he heard the girl's wheezing breaths, he might have left with a bit more fuss.
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Perhaps he would have heard phrases like. The boy felt happy. The older man who looked so much like him never smiled, not even when giving the boy a new toy, or a pokemon trembling in fear from the hands of people. He never smiled, not even when the boy showed that the pokemon who feared human hands trusted the boy. But he was smiling now, so the boy felt happy. Something flashed across the older man's face, and was just as quickly gone. They're not able to see it. They're a bit busy right now, helping us elsewhere. But I told them and they're all very happy for you.
He was not supposed to nickname his pokemon, he knew.