❝ I think that 

realising the truth

can be less painful than

living a lie,

right? ❞

Cresselia

"I see," Jirachi hummed, her dark eyes concentrating on interpreting my recount—and the words that came next were spoken at a slow, troubled pace. "So...this Pidgeot wanted to honour his mentor by hoping towards the future."

I let out a troubled sigh. "It would seem that way," I confirmed. "But we can only hope that some trace of the Pidgeot's personality—yes, it appears that he evolved some time after his mentor's death—is left behind, and that we can use that personality to turn his mindset around."

"Ironic, is it not?" Meloetta glanced at us with a thoughtful expression in her azure-tinted irises. "We are using the word 'hope' for a situation where we are suppose to eradicate this element. No matter, however—I do not mean any offence to what I was saying."

"None taken," I responded, quivering my wings and lifting myself a few metres into the air. "Anyway, this Pidgeot is located in Johto. We will reach there by nighttime if we hurry—"

An azure glow surrounded Jirachi—and Meloetta mimicked the action, both of them rising to my side. "Then we will leave at once," Jirachi proclaimed. "As the granter of the wish, I can feel the different elements start to burn in my true eye. We are getting closer and closer to our goal as we speak."

With that, our ascent began, and the three of us climbed into the air—and I was, for the first time in centuries—were they centuries? Or millenniums?—excited about the future. Maybe I would not awake to face the everyday task of handling Pokemon's problems—maybe we would be able to liberate ourselves for the first time in our immortal lives.

Holding that thought in mind, I looked ahead of me—now was not the time to fantasise about my dreams. To achieve these dreams, I had to concentrate—and if I did, my goals would be within my—speaking a humanlike term—hand's reach at last.

༺༻

"I'm still happy," the Pidgeot insisted, cutting us off even before we could finish our introduction. Her dark eyes were glittering, and her beak snapped out the sentence at a rapid pace. "I'm sure I am—you do not need to ask me again. I'm happy as I am now."

...Is she telling the truth? A frown slid across my face—and I did nothing to mask that. My perplexed expression was more than genuine—how in Arceus could someone in a state like her even be happy in the slightest?

The avian's smooth voice contained no trace of hostility—yet, I wondered just how she could bear to keep living like that.

She was just as I had seen in that flashback of hers—I could still see traces of the young Pidgey left in her eyes. Her wing had not healed a single bit—it was still bent at the same unnatural angle that it had been years ago.

That wasn't even enough to describe the animal's pitiful condition, however—I could see the skeletal frame of the Pidgeot peeking through the creature's paper-thin coat of caramel feathers. Every feature of the bird's body was too sharp, too angular—and I spotted a few rings of healing, still-fresh bruises leaving fading marks of abuse along her tender flesh.

I was about to question why she was torturing herself like this—even to a Legendary like me who'd seen such terrible pasts, it pained my eyes—but Jirachi beat me to it. "Look at yourself," she hissed, and her voice was harsh—although she had forgiven the world, she'd gotten much colder since the event with Espeon and Umbreon—and that was something that couldn't be changed.

"Suffering from malnutrition, injured and unable to fight back because of your disability..." The wish-granted shook her head. "You cannot even move properly by yourself. Tell me—what the hell can you see in this type of life? You cannot even do anything on your own—there is no point in living this kind of life."

A dry laugh resounded, and the Pidgeot glared at us—now, a stubborn expression had been laced into his black irises.

"What is there to explain?" she shot back, hobbling towards us with hostility and tension evident in each taut muscle in her body. "Isn't life reason enough to want to keep living? All we need is hope that it's going to get better one day—and it will."

Frowning—the creases in Meloetta's face weren't seen often, but I supposed even someone like her had to have these sorts of moments—the Melody Pokemon levitated over, placing a gentle hand on the creature's ruffled feathers as she spoke.

"As a Legendary that deals with unearthing the less tangible—the more abstract—feelings in living beings, I can read you like an open book." A smile—was it smug, knowing that she held more knowledge than her?—bloomed across her face. "I can tell that deep down, you know this situation is hopeless. That this will only bring you more pain."

She was somewhat gleeful at winning a temporary spell of silence from the Pidgeot before her—that she was right. Still, the avian didn't dare believe her words, and a stuttered argument was stitched together within the span of a few moments.

The dual-typed bird narrowed her eyes. "Do not say that there isn't hope," she countered. "My disability has never been pronounced as hopeless. You have no right to say these words."

"If this keeps up, you will die. It's a matter of time," Jirachi cut in. "You believed the truth when you were small—but your mentor's words have twisted you much. Do you not know a lost case when you see one?"

Faltering for a small moment—the Pidgeot couldn't deny the sliver of truth peeking through Meloetta's words—the creature folded her wings back a little; yet, the cave seemed infinitely bigger now—it was almost as if the Pokemon's obstinate presence had shrunken and freed up the space of her home.

She persisted, however—she refused to let her mindset sway so fast. "I know that I will die one day," she spat. "I know that all lives come to an end one day. I'm not stupid—of course, but I would like to grab on to my life as tightly as I can."

A short burst of compressed sound—Meloetta had done her very best to hold back the condescending laugh—escaped into the air, and the Melody Pokemon glanced at her opponent—of sorts—with a tired gaze.

"Trust me," the creature started, mint-toned hair flowing behind her as a breeze—not gentle and warm; instead, this was a bitter, freezing nip to the skin. "I do not have many duties, so I often pass my time travelling—and let me tell you that I have visited Mesprit before. She is a very upfront Pokemon—and she has seen such cases before. I would be able to quote what she says."

"What would she say?" Pidgeot taunted—but I had lived a long time; and a trained ear like mine discerned the curious rawness to her tone with practised ease.

Sky-blue eyes hardened, and Meloetta glared at the avian with a sly hostility—did these two words even go together? That was the best way I could describe her—as she spoke.

She stared at the dual-typed bird with a fearsome intensity. "Do you really want to know?" That question was rhetorical, and all of us knew that. "She would have said that this is stupid. That you are an idiot. That you are horrible at lying and that you know the truth deep down."

It was then that I realised the true power of one's voice—while me and Jirachi dabbled in matters relating to the heart, mind and soul—and while they were the fundamental roots of living creatures, the strength that one's voice—a channel to communicate with a chorus of unique sounds belonging to one person and one person alone—was often underrated and overlooked.

I could feel the strength in these manufactured words that Meloetta had chosen; Arceus' blessing for the small creature—and even my mind had started to sway with the exquisite piece of her very soul that she poured into each emotion-laden syllable.

"Meloetta, that is not the way to do it." Jirachi's voice was subdued, and I thanked her for being more quiet—and she tugged on her friend's wrist with a warning look. "That was impactful, but it will not be the trigger."

"Like you are one to talk, Jira," the Pokemon responded with a scoff. "It is usually you that acts like this—be glad that I am taking on your role for once."

None of us could deny that, and the wish-granter fell once more into a grudging silence—and I took over, trying to keep my voice level as I spoke—I had to make sure that the temporary trance she'd put me into was rid of, after all.

"What are you able to even get from this type of life?" I questioned, stepping forward and gazing at the defiant look in the Pidgeot's eyes—I was truly curious. "What exactly are you hoping towards—when you do not know what is 'better' than this current lifestyle?"

—and I was speaking nothing but the truth. I couldn't see any good coming out of this—was he trying to grasp on to lingering memories that his childhood had dangled in front of him? Distant recollections that were too far away to be tangible in the slightest—had his mind twisted these scenes into fantasies that had to be achieved at any cause?

"I—" The avian's beak opened, as if wanting to respond, but she wasn't able to find the words she was so desperate wished to retort with. "The lifestyle I want...I can—"

She faltered for another moment—and the wish-granter behind me took the chance to make her way forward, displeased at having been interrupted in the middle of an argument.

"Meloetta and I were harsh," she conceded. "And I apologise for that—on behalf of the two of us. However...we were merely trying to bring our opinion across. It seems that even my partner's words—a talent to root emotion and truth in the hearts of every individual—has not worked, so I will try a different approach. Would you like to come out for a while?"

The Melody Pokemon—she'd been standing a few feet away—flicked her gaze to the three of us, an offer to help the disabled creature move with a simple Psychic—but the Pidgeot seemed to have caught on to what she was implying, and a sharp glare was thrown her way.

"Please do not treat me as such a helpless creature." The low hiss had a clear ring of tense anxiety to it; it was clear that she'd already been wavering even before we had arrived, and that our words had just made her more undecided about her choice. "How do you think I had survived for the past few years?"

Meloetta may have been energetic, but even she caught herself at the spite in her voice—still, she didn't say anything as the avian limped to the cramped entrance of the cavern they had been stashed away in.

"A sunset...?" A mumbled grunt came from the Pokemon's beak, and Jirachi replied with a small smile, settling down on a nearby rock and watching the Pidgeot gaze at the scene with wonder. "I used to watch these with my mentor every night. How did you—"

"We still want to do our jobs as Legendaries," Jirachi muttered. "Yes, we may have rebelled against Arceus, but that does not mean that we would not want to bring smiles to our fellow subjects' faces."

I took over from my ally, gazing at the sky in front of me—a canvas of fiery orange that had angry—yet, it somehow made the landscape even more picturesque—streaks of rose-pink, varying in shades and looking as if an artist had crafted an abstract masterpiece and shone it against the world's glory.

"It may not seem as if dreams have that much of an impact on Pokemons' lives," I laughed, "but in reality, it does keep us sane, does it not? When the burden of life gets too heavy, the only think that can salvage one's mind is often a fantasy woven by the strands of its own past."

"Shut up with all your fancy speeches," the avian sniffed, but she was silent after that—it was clear that she didn't want to miss this moment.

Meloetta had broke into song—I didn't know when she had started, but I could recognised her clear voice producing a series of hums that trailed off into the air. Only someone like her would have been able to turn such random notes into such a soulful melody—and I recognised it as something similar to that of the lullaby she'd sung to the twin Ponyta.

I could make out the variations in pitch and tune, however—this song carried a different meaning. Something intangible that I couldn't make out, but a wave of tiredness—resignation, even—coursed through my veins.

"You knew all along, didn't you...?" I glanced down, and felt sorry for the Pokemon—I knew that she didn't want my pity, but I couldn't help softening at the glassy look in her onyx eyes. "You knew that I would never be able to recover?"

Not knowing what to say, I fumbled for a sentence, hoping that it had managed to convey my thoughts in a somewhat proper manner. "Did you not recall another sentence that your mentor told you? While you should have hope, this amount of childish trust in your future will not conquer the plain logistics that your wing cannot be saved."

Jirachi's voice was quiet. "You knew all along," she continued, not daring to look back at the two of us. "Your mentor's words just forced you to live an agonising lie."

"I...see. I think I see that. Thank you."

༺༻

"Do you not think that you have fooled around a little too much?"

Arceus' voice was cross as he stared down at her—but what could she even do? She was just a lowly Legendary—far down on the ranks, no less—and the Lord himself was mad at her.

Her voice—though the main factor in her creation—had made little impact on his mood, but it had become a sort of automatic reflex—a defensive mechanism, as some would call it. "I apologise," she replied with a hidden smile on her face.

"You will set the final stage for this pointless battle at once," he ordered. "Stop pretending to be their ally. It does not matter any longer."

And, with a tilt of her head, a laugh escaped—so clear and so genuine that she'd almost fooled even herself—and she realised just why she was Arceus' little pawn. Someone who had the charisma and power to deceive just about anyone.

(Just about anyone, and she meant it.)

"Of course, my Lord."