Entwined World (2008)

The field had settled down after the vicious assault of doom desire. White smoke slowly cleared away from the debris and destruction that was caused in this mountainous cave. First, the Jirachi, proud and floating in mid air as though the match had been decided. What the clearing showed was not the victory it had assumed, but a standing Smeargle amidst the rubble and debris, panting away as though fatigue was quickly catching up to it. The Jirachi showed little signs of distress, as it had seemed to know it was wishful thinking. The attack had missed, only grazing the masterful painter. Its trainer, the challenger, showed no signs of emotion.

“Just as I'd expect from a tactical specialist to come back from a three-on-one. You now only have this one obstacle left, and she won't be easy,” The Champion across from him spoke. After a short pause, she added, “I'm sure you know that already.”

The challenger looked directly at the champion. Her smile was proud, like that of an unwavering champion to any challenger. He tried to speak, but he knew that words would not come out of his larynx. It simply wasn't the time, and he wasn't capable of speaking out anyway. He looked at her once more; she was a sign of beauty and grace, standing still with her flowing white dress, folds of ripple seemingly suspended in perpetual midair.

She wore that same dress the day they met. He was just one of those silent trainers people ignored, and she was a flamboyant as ever. She was running away from a number of suits, swiftly passing him by. Her back as she ran burned an irreplaceable image into his head. He wanted to know this person; she didn't fit into the natural mold of the world he lived in. He would simply follow her and make observations about her as a person, such a fascinating specimen.

The suits themselves were lost as they went into the forest. He knew this forest well, as he had faced his earliest challenges there, and this forest also housed that woman, complete with a twisted ankle from tripping clearly over a branch on the path. “Ow, ow, ow,” she repeated as he walked by. “Hey, you're not going to help or something?”

He, showing no signs of emotion to her, proceeded to carry her on his back toward Pewter City. He had no interest in the suits themselves. His interest was directly on that single woman there. “Hey, you don't talk much, do you?” she said. “Oh, how rude of me! I should introduce myself, considering the circumstances. I'm Serra. Oh, I bet you're wondering why I was being chase by those suits. You see – and don't tell anyone – I'm actually the caretaker of the hall of champions. People all aspire to be in there, you know. So they always have all those people around to keep me in there. But you know how it is, it's so darn boring up there.”

“Earth to Quintus,” and she spoke to the challenger once again. “There you go again with that bad habit of yours. Ever think that it's getting a bit repetitive? Then again, I've read that your type always seem to be in some train of thought all the time. Strategic thinking maybe? Perhaps you're thinking about what you'll do after you lose? Oh I don't really know what you're thinking, but you're holding up the line here.” She paused for one second. “Look, if you're not going to move, I will.”

To him, she was always outspoken, the life of the crowd, the jewel of Kanto. Without her, his life would have been dull and boring. At the same time, he could never fit her into the world he so precisely constructed. Who was she? What did she like? Why would it even matter? He could never figure it all out. What was apparent was their affection. He wanted to follow her, observe her, and see her through objective lenses. At which point in time did this all change? How did he go from an observer to an actor? How did she drag him into her world, and not him fitting her into his world? How did he begin from not caring about her traits to becoming jealous of her outgoing attitude? He wanted to understand, but understand her he could not.

His stare became ever so intense, and yet still not showing visible signs of emotion. With what was his stare so intense? He could not understand this feeling he had. He was indeed under a large amount of stress, but shouldn't stress breed courage or fear? If so, why was it that he felt no fear to attack, and yet he had no courage to finish the battle? What was the intense feeling he had, and not understand?

“Hey Jirachi. You know that double move we've been practicing just for this occasion? Hey why not? Let him have it for a change,” she boomed across the field, ever so tauntingly, as though she was the little girl eluding capture in a game of tag.

His Smeargle looked at him for a split second, and turned around with a nod. He had conveyed his message to his Smeargle, though he did not have the confidence to see it through without its help. “You know, Quintus, you should believe in yourself more,” her voice echoed. The echo was like a spring breeze to his frozen self. But he knew this was of no use in such a large battle. He had to rely on his teammates, and his Smeargle, to complete the task for him. It was there he could never break the barrier. He did not want to break the barrier.

The Jirachi wound up for another doom desire. The attack became clear: a double psychic and doom desire. She wanted to box Smeargle in with a psychic, and finish him off with the doom desire. This was easily countered by a mirror coat that led into a lock-on finish. It seemed to him that she wanted to finish this with a quick gamble that would simply end the battle.

It was funny how they even started the battle in the first place. They had fought just before the Indigo Plateau tournament. He could not understand why she would fight with him about the most simple of problems. So what if he would not give her feedback? Did it matter? “You never tell me how I look, or how you feel around me,” her voice began to ring as though it was still yesterday. “I want to know too. I want to understand you as much as you understand me. But it's so hard. It's so hard.”

He fought and won the tournament. Why did he even bother? Did he have some hope behind all of this? And then when he finally defeated the Elite Four, she decided to show up right in front of him. The nerve of her to keep this a secret from him! “Hey Quintus,” she said to him, ever so solemnly, as though this would be the last he'll see of her.

“Hey,” he replied.

“I see,” she retorted. “I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here. No, you've figured it out by now. I'm no caretaker. I'm the champion herself. So how does it feel to have loved and been loved by a champion? How does it feel to be deceived by the one you trust the most?”

Surprisingly, he was not angry at her, but rather disappointed. At some point in time, he no longer needed to fit her into his world. He simply accepted her. He was not angry. He was not angry. But who was he kidding? Why wouldn't he be angry? He fought all the way up to see her only to learn that she had deceived him entirely. She was there to destroy his last ounce of hope to return to her. Was that not why?

The Jirachi loaded its psychic attack and blasted it straight towards Smeargle in an attempt to hold him down. Smeargle began to glow, and with a sharp crashing noise, the painter broke through the psychic and sent it right back at the legend. The result made Jirachi thrive in visible pain, causing it to crash land with a sickeningly loud thud. Smeargle, sensing the change in the flow of attack, jumped toward the yellow one through the piles of rubble and debris, with the impending doom desire ever so close. The attack went off even though Jirachi was still temporarily trapped by its own psychic, multiple beams of silver light flew off from the central glowing light as though it was a silver hydra extending each of its heads to capture its prey. But it was entirely futile, as the little puppy twisted and turned away from each beam of light, with the light catching only as much as that of the paint in its tail. Smeargle took off into the air as the finale of the attack took flight. “Lock-on! Now!” The final, and largest beam of light, flew with intense velocity, utterly destroying the land below it. However, that was all the explosion took, the Smeargle had escaped another doom desire. It stood in front of the Jirachi, unmoving, pensive as to what it should do. After several long seconds, it helped the legendary one up from the ground. The battle was over.

Quintus looked toward the former champion and saw her wear yet another smile. She wore a different smile than before, one that took a much warmer tone. Her smile was one of a woman to her man. The battle was over, and he understood her actions. The fight they had just before the tournament, her deliberate attack on his lack of ego, all for the fact that she thought he had the talent to become the champion himself. That was the reason. She wanted him to succeed. She wanted him to become the one to replace her as the best of the best. Serra ran towards him, across the debris, almost slipping on a large indent where the bulk of the final doom desire had made its mark. She gave him a long passionate embrace. It seemed to him that he had missed those days for an eternity. “Welcome, champion,” she said gently, carrying an echo of satisfaction.

“I never knew...” Quintus whispered back. “I never knew --”

“When you are the best, there should never be anything holding you back,” she reassured him, giving him a peck in the cheek.

Serra stopped clinging onto Quintus afterwards. She led further into the hall of champions, where greats such as Ash Ketchum had placed their names onto immortality. The hall, untouched by the world, was enshrouded in darkness with two beams of white light on either side of the pathway. At the end of the pathway, a pedestal with the plaque of champions lit up by three spotlights shining upon it. It was his turn for immortality. He placed his hand upon the pedestal and looked back towards Serra, who walked behind him, tear jerked and smiling. Just like that, the ceremony was over. Two names were side-by-side on the plaque of champions: Serra Yufian and Quintus Yufian.

“Well so I guess I'll be the janitor of the hall of champions or something,” Quintus said, jokingly.

“Don't guess, Quintus. Just do,” Serra replied with a clear tone.

Quintus made Serra a promise in his heart. He would try to become the greatest champion since Ash Ketchum. “Don't try. Just do.” his love would say to him. As they both walked out of the hall of champions, their two main pokemon had already begun playing with each other, chasing one another around the battlefield. He thought of his life as a succession of failures before she had come. She turned his world around, and took him to newer heights. Their fates were entwined the moment she took it upon herself to persuade him to pursuit the title. He was not pulled into her world; she created a new world with him. He guessed...no, he knew her much better than he had thought, after all.
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