♦ Dedicated to Sheare for being that mature, helpful person who provides valuable insight on life. Your writing is amazing and inspiring--it's no wonder NWA is my favourite book on here. You have a wonderful personality too--you're a great friend, even though we haven't talked that much--but ahh you're fabulous. ...and yes, it's just a coincidence that the last chapter was dedicated to your waifu--I mean Vani cOUGH ♦

I actually managed to write this in less than one month :oo Are you proud of me? xD Anyway, this chapter is sort of based off Assassination Classroom.

:I do not own Pokemon or the images used in the cover, but the plot, personalities and the edited cover belongs to me. You may not copy, translate, or reproduce it in any form unless given permission by me, @NyxAbsol.:

༺༻

❝ I'm just

so much weaker

than I make myself out

to be. ❞

༺༻

Jirachi was still ignoring me.

Sure, she hadn't broken her promise of supporting me, but it was clear that she angry. She'd avoided me at any chance she got, and whenever I tried to talk to her, she'd just reply with a simple, monotonous yes or no.

Despite the fact that I was getting tired of her temper, I did feel concerned for the smaller Pokemon. The wish-granter that I had once associated the term cheerfulness with was now falling into a state of depression, lashing out at every word of concern that I gave and withdrawing further into a destructive shell.

Still, I had to give her time to heal; and perhaps, waiting was the only way to restore her former personality.

༺༻

"The next line is 'Estranged togetherness for far too long, and a line must be drawn between their names.'"

Jirachi's voice was flat, and the once cheerful glint in her eyes had dwindled to dull, empty nonexistence, causing her sparkling optics to change to a more apathetic appearance.

"So, Cresselia—"she spat my name in a hollow, harsh tone—"Do you have any idea of what this line means?"

Flinching at her disgruntled accentuation, I tried to brush my concern inside, replacing that very worry with a one-track mind for coldhearted logic.

"I do not get the first phrase," I replied, masking my perturbed tone with a more business-like one and speaking as fast as my pronunciation allowed. If Jirachi needed space and time, I would give her that. For now, our relationship would be nothing closer than a pair of business associates. '"Estranged' and 'togetherness' are two completely different words. It's a complete paradox."

There was a moment of silence, the tension so thick that it was almost as if there was a virulent cloud of fog that hung around our surroundings, crawling into my throat and restraining my breathing.

At last, Jirachi glanced up, dark eyes lacking her former gleam. "I guess it would mean that whatever we're looking for comes in a pair."

"Right, I agreed." "Maybe these creatures—whether they're Pokemon or human—aren't supposed to be together, but they've defied fate."

The wish-granter answered with a simple shrug, rolling her shoulders in a fluid motion to respond. "Perhaps."

I swallowed my spit with as much quiet as I could muster, growing frustrated with the creature. "For Arceus' sake, Jirachi—" I cut myself off, pausing when I saw the small Legendary's reaction, fists clenched and visibly trembling in an attempt to restrain herself from flying at me in rage.

"For Arceus' sake, what?" She growled this sentence in an agitated tone, each word laced with poisoned-tip needles that seemed to prick through my skin. "It's not like you've experienced the pain of seeing two of your friends die right in front of you and you're the one who killed them."

I flinched as though I had been slapped by her words. I'm sorry.

The only sign of her acknowledging me was the narrowing of her eyes. "It's too late for that. Let's continue."

I scowled, an angry face that only my heart—slowly spiralling into an abyss of evil black—and covered up the expression with an impassive glare. "Very well," I muttered, forcing out any trace of lingering anger. "I'll enter Pokemon's pasts to find a suitable one that matches this line of the prophecy."

Jirachi stayed silent, giving me the cold shoulder once again, and I had no choice but to take her icy reaction as a yes.

༺༻

Colourful doors lined the corridor of the night—the walkway was woven by threads of stardust, held together with the fragility of half-snapped threads as glowing orbs with indefinite shapes.

I smiled a little at the calming sight. The shimmering path stretched out in front of me, almost beckoning me to come and unlock the doors one by one. I had the keys to all these Pokemon's pasts, and it was time for me to use my gift for a purpose that was for myself.

I was fortunate that it didn't take as long as I expected. I didn't need to enter their doors—all I had to do was brush past the surfaces of their subconscious; all I needed was to graze them with a butterfly-like touch to tell if this was the right Pokemon or not.

It was a draining experience, though—I could feel a new rush of shadows being born within the tight constrains of the magenta gem resting on my forehead, challenging me and trying to subdue me through migraines and helium-pitched whispers.

And, when my effort paid off at last, I was ready to collapse.

༺༻

They were each other's harvest; they were each other's business; they were each other's magnitude and bond. They shared one heart, one love, and one mind.

They loved each other, and not in the complicated way one would love their parents, but in a simple way they never had to think about. They loved each other—no, they needed each other like one would need to breath.

But intertwined with this sweet fairytale was the crack in this fragile sheet of glass—a tiny seed that had already unraveled long ago, a seed that had sprouted creeping vines that wrapped around any existing happiness of theirs.

This wasn't just any bad germ, however—it was born of shadowy tendrils that clung to each and every cell of their slowly perishing bodies.

Illness was a dreaded aspect in many's lives, but alas, it was something that was unavoidable.

Small bouts of sickness was a normal occurrence—a few days would pass, and lots of rest and hydration would ensure that the creature would be back to normal.

Terminal illnesses, however, were another matter entirely. It was like a demon that resided inside one's soul, ripping it to shreds and shreds and shreds from the bitter agony that tore the creature's heart apart day after day.

A Pokemon would die within months of their afflictions, but it had been no shorter than two years since the duo had been diagnosed. They'd survived, one way or another—but there was no question that willpower played a big role.

They refused to let Death take them. They refused to give Yveltal the pleasure.

These two Pokemon had drowned the true meaning of resilience in saccharine lies that coated the word in nothing but their false vision. To them, resilience wasn't accepting their new reality, even if it was less good than the one you had before—it was resisting, fighting against the impossible.

It was the epitome of a fairytale gone wrong, as if it was a reverse nightmare—waking up straight into a night terrors.

༺༻

"Well?" Jirachi's voice was impatient, and her blank face showed no trace of her earlier outburst. Did you manage to find anything?

I nodded, reminding myself to keep my tone impartial and recounting the knowledge with a neutral tone. "As a matter of fact, yes. They are two Ponyta, most likely siblings," I informed. "They have a terminal illness, and it's assumed that they've cheated death multiple times. You've learnt about Death, right?"

"Each Pokemon has a fixed amount of time to live," the wish-granter drawled out in a monotone manner. "Only Pokemon such as Yveltal and Celebi can know about the death dates, and it is almost certain that they will die by their given time. However, the term "cheating death" is used when either pure luck or a Pokemon's willpower causes a Pokemon to skip that date and extend their life for an indefinite—"

"That's quite enough," I interrupted, voice quiet to prevent her from rambling. "Anyway, as I was saying, these Pokemon have cheated death. It seems that this is not so much a matter of luck, but instead a strong bond between siblings."

The small Legendary opposite me gave me a short response. "I suppose that means that the rule we're supposed to break is Unity, then?"

I gave her a shrug. "It seems to be that way."

Where are they located? Jirachi asked.

Johto, I replied. "It's where we are right now, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to arrive at the forest where they live in."

However, my words seemed to have fallen on deaf ears—Jirachi seemed to have detached herself from the world once more, only choosing acknowledge my speech with a bout of icy silence.

I spread my wings, the delicate structures sore from having been tucked in for extended periods of time, but they would be fine after a few minutes or so. The wish-granter followed my example in a listless manner, a cobalt aura lifting her into the sky and giving her what resembled a sufficient substitute for flight.

Let's go, I whispered, and Jirachi just nodded in reply.

༺༻

The forest we arrived in wasn't welcoming in the least.

Unlike the lush greenery of Heaven's woodlands, the scenery around us was ominous—as if it was warning us of curses and death; as if it wanted us to stay out.

A cold wind blew from the north, making the trees rustle like living things, the budding traces of winter blooming in the most desolate places. No two icicles were the same—they were more enchanting than any work of man that I had seen. Every twig and blade of grass grew winter leaves of ice crystals.

And, as we pushed our way through the hardened foliage, we found our targets.

The Ponyta truly were a pitiful sight.

Their emaciated frames made them seem like something artificial, something fragile—as if touching their sallow fur would cause them to dissolve or break into tiny pieces. Their flames flickered to a weak blaze that was almost nonexistent, the lustre of their once creamy pelt drained from days of illness and wear.

Their dark eyes, however, stood out from the rest of their pale, skeletal frames. These onyx optics were the singular part of them that spoke life, the part that seemed to contain the vibrance that made up for their ill bodies.

Eyes really are the window the the soul, I mused. They speak—through fire and tears—when our body can't.

The older-looking sibling raised his head as we approached. "Cresselia and Jirachi...?" His quivering voice floated in and out of reality. "Aren't you supposed to be Legendary Pokemon?"

We are, Jirachi responded, a rough, blunt edge to her voice. "We have an issue to discuss with you—that is the reason of our visit to this forest." The creature looked at me, as if expecting something, and I took pleasure in taking over the role of lead speaker.

I slowly told them my story—a tale woven just for me, a fairytale that I had the best knowledge of.

༺༻

"No."

That was the first word I had heard after spilling out my narrative.

"I don't care if you are a Legendary," the younger Ponyta hissed, surprising vigour barely contained in his angular frame. "Don't you dare take away our only happiness."

The older Pokemon gazed at his brother with a look of muted distaste. "You can't speak that way to—"

"I said I don't care!" The equine creature stomped his foot in a burst of anger. "Don't you see what they're doing? They want to separate us. I don't want to be away from my brother."

At this, a series of emotions flitted across Jirachi's face, each one darker than the last, before returning to her previous impassive stare.

"I never said that I didn't agree with you," the Pokemon advised—he seemed to be the more gentle one of the duo. "Speaking that way to a superior, however, is unacceptable." He then looked up to us, his head held high in his best attempt of pride. "However, I agree. I will not allow this to happen."

Despite his calm manner, his eyes held an icy look, and I flinched as my psychic abilities enabled me to know every one of the distasteful thoughts that he held back.

My heart thumped dully against the edge of my ribcage as I regarded the creatures in front of me with an even gaze.

If I was to be asked for my honest opinion? My heart went out to them.

I had become adept at reading one's emotions over the course of thousands of years, and seeing through the pretence of anger and distrust was easy.

I hated to be a murderer—I did with all my heart, but I wouldn't be like Jirachi. I was doing this for the greater good.

In front of the creatures' fading consciousness, a wall of cold insults showered me. Leave me alone was spat at me in a harsh manner; Go away was repeated in my mind for hundreds of times, but behind that was their vulnerable heart whose sentience was being devoured by their hunger to be together.

And, through the cacophony of disjointed noises, I could easily pick apart their true voices.

Kill us...

Help us...

༺༻

Aand I'm done. cx This barely made the 2000+ word goal lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, blah blah blah *inserts typical authors note here*

Thank you guys for 1.4k reads and 161 votes! I actually reached the goal this time xD My next goal is 170! :D

Read, vote and comment as always, critiques are extremely welcome and now *salutes* Nyx out! :)

~ nyxia ☆