Part Four

      I slowly opened my eyes, watching as the sun's rays seeped through small openings in the tent. Wait, a tent? A tent. Of course. The burning memories of yesterday began to wander back into the center of my mind. I groaned, trying to push them away, but failed. That's when I realized that no matter how long I waited, no matter how much I tried to fight against it, those dreadful memories would always be etched somewhere inside my mind.

      Delia. Pikachu. Ash.

      At the sudden sound of footsteps, I quickly sat up. Walking in front of me was Delia. At the sight of me, she turned to face me and gave me a smile. But even though I could tell she was trying hard, her smile provided no warmth. It was lifeless. Depressed.

      "Good afternoon." She greeted me softly.

      "You too." I muttered. I stood up and rubbed my eyes. "Its already afternoon?"

      "Yes." She answered. "You slept through the whole night and morning."

      We then just continued to stand there, staring softly at each other. I let out a heavy sigh.

      "I guess I shouldn't be avoiding the subject, should I? About yesterday?" I murmured. I looked away, not daring to stare into those sad eyes of her's.

      "And neither should I." She replied.

      The silence continued. I spoke up. "Ash..."

      "The search is over now. They never found him."

      I jerked my head to stare at her, horrified. No, it can't be. Ash! "B-But..." I stuttered. "He could still be out there! They have to continue the search until they find him! He's still alive, I know it!" I found my voice growing louder and louder.

      "Misty..." Delia opened her mouth to say more, but couldn't manage any words.

      "No!" I shouted. And with that, I pushed open the tent flaps and started running towards the medical tent where Pikachu was being kept, without bothering to glance over my shoulder. I collapsed into the tent, my hands on my knees, staring at the ground while breathing heavily. I then raised my head to glare at the nearest person of authority. "Why have you quit the search for Ash?! You can't stop now! You have to keep searching!" I demanded loudly.

      The man sighed. "Ma'am, we've been searching for him all night and morning. Except for his Pikachu that you found yesterday, there's been no sign of him at all. We searched everywhere."

      "Everywhere, huh?" I muttered under my breath. "Obviously not."

      The man leaned down so his face was directly in front of mine. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. That's when I noticed that his eyes were full of sorrow and sympathy. "Ma'am, even if we did continue the search and found him, he'd already be dead." He told me softly.

      I staggered backward, staring at him, horrified. That's when the tears started flowing. I collapsed in a fit of sobs, and then stood up and ran out of the tent.

      The argument was over. I won. Ash lost. And he was the one who had to pay the price.

*****************************************************

      "Misty."

      The same male voice who had delivered the bad news pierced into my thoughts. I slowly raised my head to glare at him. There were still stained tears on my cheeks. Even though I could no longer cry, my heart was weighed with sadness.

      "What?" I snapped.

      "You need to answer the question." He replied calmly.

      I blinked. The question? I couldn't even remember what it was. I looked down at the ground and sighed. "What question?"

      The man sighed too, except his was filled with a hint of annoyance. "Nevermind. The point I was trying to make was that now that the Pikachu's original trainer has passed away, he needs a new trainer. Professor Oak doesn't have enough time because he's busy with research, and Delia Ketchum... well..."

      "She doesn't want to keep Pikachu for the same reason I don't want to." I finished for him. Having Ash's closest pokemon with me all the time... I don't think I would be able to stand it. Not after the tragedy that just happened.

      The man opened his mouth to snap back, but then appeared to think better of it. "No Misty, that's not the reason. You must let me finish. Because she is not a licensed pokemon trainer, as you already know, she doesn't have to keep the Pikachu if she doesn't want to. But you are a licensed trainer, and you were Ash's closest friend according to his mother. That means you have the legal right to keep the Pikachu."

      "A right?" I repeated. "I don't even have a choice." Besides, it seemed like he was making it all up, in an official-sounding way.

      "Well, that's right, you don't." He admitted. "So is it agreed that you'll keep Ash Ketchum's Pikachu?"

      "I guess so." I muttered.

      I then watched as the man stood up to walk into the next room. A minute later, he came back holding a pokeball in his hand.

      "Here he is." The man told me softly, setting the pokeball on the table. "Remember, because the Pikachu is in a bad physical condition, it is illegal to use him in battle."

      I didn't even hear the man's words. Instead, I was focusing on the pokeball with wide eyes. "Pikachu... Pikachu's inside a pokeball." I stammered.

      "Well, yes. All pokemon are supposed to be kept inside one. You know that." The man replied impatiently.

      "But he doesn't like being inside pokeballs." I raised my head to stare at him. "Ever since the day he began his journey, Ash never once let him inside one..." I whispered softly.

      The man sighed. "Yes well, because you are not the Pikachu's original trainer, we don't know what he may do if he's kept outside of a pokeball. Memories of his trainer's death may drive him berserk."

      I frowned. Memories of his trainer's death. What about me? What about my memories of our past argument we had?

      "Okay. Whatever." I replied. I still planned on letting Pikachu stay out of the pokeball, though. "I'm leaving this place." And with that I picked up the pokeball and trudged out of the tent.

      Continuing to scowl, I collapsed to my knees at the side of the road, cradling my head in my hands. As I lifted my hands away, I stared down at them. They were sweaty and dirty. Small red scratches were scattered throughout the hardened skin. This was what my hands frequently looked like back in the days where Ash, Brock, and I would go traveling. But those hands were dirty with something that would send an excited adventurous feeling down my spine. A feeling that made me positive. Made me glad. But no, these hands were marked with the worried distress I had been under in the past couple of days. It didn't even feel like they belonged to me anymore. And to think one day I'd be holding a pokeball with Ash's Pikachu inside it.

      And yet, I felt like there was more of me, that was... well, wasn't me. I crawled over on my hands and knees to the nearest puddle of calm water, and gazed down at my reflection. Staring back at me was a depressed, lifeless girl with a mess of dirty matted orange hair tangled on her head, a cold frown, and bags under her tired eyes. Her eyes. They were the most horrible sight. An emotion of cold sorrow and pain flooded them, as if she were constantly crying, except without the tears. I gawked in horror. That was actually me. Is this what I've now become? Yes, yes it was.

      Taking a final deep shuddering breath, I stood up on shaky legs and tossed the pokeball into the air. In a flash of bright red light, Ash's Pikachu formed in front of me. The small electric mouse stared up at me with equally sad eyes.

      "Come on, Pikachu." I told him. I gazed out once last time at the ruins of Pallet Town, somehow feeling that the whole thing was my own fault.

      "I can't change the past, and I can't imagine the future being any better, but we have to try. Now let's go."

*****************************************************

About two weeks later...

      A small book covered in elegant red leather was gently placed on my legs, right in my line of eyesight. I slowly raised my head to glare into my counselor's eyes. "What's this?" I snapped. I reached down a hand to softly stroke Pikachu's head, refusing to let myself investigate the book.

      "It's a blank diary." She explained, slightly pushing her small glasses a little farther up on her nose. "Until we meet again a week later, I want you to write at least two entries a day inside it. Write about everything you're feeling, seeing, and thinking. All the smallest details. Trust me, it's very important that you do this."

      I picked up the book, and flipped through its thin pages. Sure enough, the whole thing was blank. I set it back down on my lap, and reached down a hand to stroke Pikachu's head again, when my eyes were distracted by my counselor's hand. Yet again, she was absent-mindedly twisting her thick black hair around her finger, staring intently at me, waiting for my reaction.

      I was silent for a moment, annoyance pricking at me. Then I spoke. "Did you know twisting you hair around your finger is a sign of sexual frustration?" I asked, giving her my most innocent look. It was hard to conceal my smirk, though. Now who exactly is the counselor here again?

      Her finger suddenly stopped the twisting motion as she immediately dropped her hand to her side. A deep frown was etched on her thin face. "Writing down your thoughts and feelings will help me - I mean, us - try to understand what's wrong with you." She continued, choosing to ignore my previous comment.

      "Sure, whatever. Can I go already?" I asked her, standing up to leave. She nodded, her piercing eyes never leaving mine. Continuing to grip the book in my hand, I trudged out of the small room, Pikachu quickly following behind me. Thank goodness I was finally out of that place.

      I'm surprised at how easily I can actually express my thoughts and feelings in here. And yet, those thoughts and feelings aren't easy themselves. I am constantly feeling the weight of depression, and I know Pikachu is too, but I guess this is only supposed to be about me, isn't it? Well, tomorrow I plan to visit a certain place. When I first left that place awhile ago, not only did I have no idea of the tragedies that would happen in the future, but I also had a feeling I'd be coming there again sometime. This is that sometime. Why am I doing this? I have no idea. But maybe things will get better and lighten up. Just maybe.