Irony

I can hear them.

Of course, turning around to look is not an option. I have to run. I hear them screaming, probably something in the direction of ‘kill the Absol’.

And the screams are growing louder.

I quicken my pace, feeling the dry leaves under my paws. My shiny black claws provide me with sure-footedness.

They, on the other hand...

They don’t have my agility. They can’t lock their claws into the soil to give themselves a firm footing. They don’t know the forest. They don’t live in it, they live on it. Like parasites on top of the trees.

They don’t admit it. They are afraid of the forest. They are afraid of us.

Yes, I am leaving. It should satisfy them. That is what they want, after all, isn’t it? They want to get rid of us. Disaster Pokémon, they call us. Good for them. They have somebody to blame their bad luck on.

But superstitions – they aren’t worth killing or dying for.

Ironic. They fear us.

Yet, their death staffs killed my daughter. Their death staffs killed her father. Their death staffs injured some others and sent us all running.

It is often said that it is the thought that matters. But what matters more is the ultimate result. Intentional or accidental, these shots ruined a family.

And one who belongs to such a family does not forgive.

I am the one who should chase them, screaming for revenge, full of loathing, seeking only the chance to shed their blood. I would stab them with my blade, again and again, for being the cruel creatures that they are. For firing their death staffs in the direction of innocent Absol kittens that stare, terrified, at their father’s dead body. They are filthy.

Yet, I run. Ironic indeed.

I take a sharp turn and jump over the river. They can’t jump like I can. The river will slow them down. Pathetic freaks of nature, that’s what they are. They don’t belong here.

I quickly look back to see where they are. That is my mistake. My foot gets tangled in a root, and I crash head-first into the ground.

I try to stand up, but I feel my leg is injured. I try to stagger away, but it’s hard. They will catch me.

I can hear them.

I turn around to attempt some last defense. They’re catching up with me now… I see them, two-legged, holding death staffs.

“Stand back! Get away from me!” I scream, swishing my blade at them. But they don’t understand me. Their language is too dependent on the actual sound that is formed rather than how it is formed. To them, I could as well be inviting them to a fight.

They come nearer, and I show my claws, jerking my head around, watching them alertly and ready to strike if they come within reach.

“Calm down, girl,” one of them says, holding forward one of his forelegs.

Calm down? Am I now supposed to calm down? Now, that’s ironic. They, who go hysterical over some superstitions, telling me to calm down when they’re about to kill me? I snarl that at him, but he just backs away.

“She’s injured! Look!” he suddenly realizes. Why, of course I am! For what other reason would I stop here with my leg at an awkward angle and start trying to defend myself?

The human asks the other human for something that I don’t understand, gets a death staff handed to him and points it at me.

I use my last strength to jump at him, but I feel something sharp hit my side. I roar in pain, and he backs away so that I land on the ground. My legs feel strange…

I lose my sense of balance and fall over.

-------

What… what is happening? A female human seems to be tending to my leg… I try to move, but I feel weak. I let out a small sound, the only thing I have the energy to do, but the human just strokes my fur… it feels funny…

What can be happening?

Hazy memories start coming to me. Stories… about humans…

Good humans. I remember being told about them sometime long ago. Supposedly, they love Pokémon... take care of them… are their friends… train them to reach their full potential… and ask for nothing in return but companionship and insignificant medals and titles that mean nothing to us.

The only real price paid is that usually, Pokémon who once go away with a human do not return.

But some do. That’s where the stories of come from. They say… they say that the good humans are called ‘trainers’. But not all trainers... the ones who return have all been with the good ones, but the bad ones never set their Pokémon free…

Is this what is happening? Is a good human treating my leg? Have I been caught? Will I ever return? I don’t want to be caught, even if there are good humans. I want to be free…

I feel my consciousness slowly drift away.

-------

Is… is this a dream? It feels like one, but something tells me otherwise.

All around there is nothing but orange. It does not seem to be any solid matter; it seems to be far away, but if I move, it doesn’t draw closer. Like the rainbow.

I don’t feel like I’m standing on anything. It’s… like I’m floating. I seem to be there for an infinite amount of time, lost in a mist of thoughts, but then I feel a strange feeling, like I’m melting away.

And I’m on solid ground again!

First everything is red, but it fades away to reveal that I’m inside some kind of a big building. There is a female human in front of me, wearing a light blue and white suit. She has purple hair that is shaped into some kind of wings at the front. With a determined expression, she throws a small ball forward. It explodes in a flash of red, and when it fades away, the ball has been replaced by a Pokémon I’ve once seen flying high above.

It is a sky blue bird with wings made of clouds. It sings smoothly as it loops the loop in the air, but then faces me.

“Absol, Quick Attack!” I hear a squeaky human voice say behind me. I turn around to find a human child.

First I wonder what is going on, but then I remember more of the stories… supposedly, ‘trainers’ battle with their Pokémon… so I’m supposed to do as he says…

But I want to be free!

I roar and leap aside as the bird blasts a beam of ice crystals at me. I swing my blade, but the Altaria dodges and it hits the human boy’s arm instead. He screams as the cut starts bleeding. I run to the other end of the room in fear and slash at a weird, glowing thing, don’t really know why, and it explodes, lighting a fire. Panic-stricken, I run towards a rectangular hole in the wall. Just a leap…

In mid-air, I hit an invisible barrier. It shatters to a thousand sharp pieces that cut through my skin in a few places, but then I land on the ground outside.

It’s over.

Without thinking, I hurry up a hill. I turn around for the last time.

The fire in the big building seems to be getting out of control. The humans are all running outside. I don’t see the boy I injured anymore. I dash off into the forest.

Disaster? Maybe.

Intentional? Definitely not.

My fault? Too ironic to be true.

Just too ironic.