I always thought that Poké balls were a scary thing, a thing that you would get sucked into and see nothing but darkness until your trainer let you out. If your trainer let you out.

It was true that they were dark, but not in a scary way; being inside a Poké ball was like curling up in a warm nest and falling into a deep sleep. Ever since I had felt it myself, I knew there was nothing wrong with becoming a domesticated Pokemon. In fact, it was probably better for me. I was never one to like battling, and so my trainer could protect me from other Pokemon.

The first thing I noticed when I was let out of my Poke ball was the hard stone beneath my feat, and when I looked up, my trainer smiled as he crouched to my level and looked me in the eyes.

"Hi, Gothita! I'm you're trainer." I was shocked. He spoke--I understood him!--yet his mouth didn't move. I murmured out a reply, though he only shook his head.

"Use your mind, not your words, or else I can't understand you. I'm a psychic, like you're a Psychic type." He mumble something in his own language before continuing. "See? You can't understand my speech, just as I can't understand yours."

My small hand touched his much bigger one, and I smiled as his warm fingers wrapped around it. "I'll do my best to battle for you." Even through mental speech, my voice must have wavered, as he shook his head in response.

"You don't want to, and I don't want you to." Suddenly, his hands were around my small, doll-like body as he lifted me into the air. "I just want a good friend."

I stuck my hands up in happiness with a smile on my face. "And I'll be that good friend!"

That was how our time together began: full of innocence and the shameless pleasure of a boy meeting his first Pokémon--or even of a Pokémon meeting its first human. The next few years were a good time, fully of sunny summers and snowy winters, flowers in the spring time and leaf piles in the fall, times made of mostly only fun. Though we spent most of our time playing, I still had the curious thought of what it would be like to battle. I never battled that often, even though I seemed to be a prodigy; no matter the circumstances, no matter the strength of the foe, no matter the impossibility for my victory, I still seemed to win. And it was enough to cause me to evolve.

The first thing I saw when I evolved was my trainer fist pumping and practically jumping for joy.

"Gothorita! You did it, you evolved!"

"I-I did. I did!" Twirling around, I looked down at my new body in glee. And with a new thought in my mind, a more serious mood come over me as I called my trainer's name. "Bram!"

"What is it?" His tone sunk as he heard the seriousness in my voice, and I wished I had been a bit cheerier. 

"I'm stronger now... I want to battle more."

He sighed in relief. "If that's all, I'm all for it. But you'll still have to train more; it only gets tougher from here on."

"Then let's do it." 

The next years, as expected, were rigorous and tough. Every day was filled with training and battling, and I began to understand what it meant to evolve. Evolution wasn't just a change of looks and strengths, it was also a change of soul, a right of passage. Evolving into a Gothorita was like becoming a teenage and putting more responsibilities on myself. And with every battle, I aimed for my final evolution, for my step into adulthood.

It wasn't as great as I thought it would be.

When I felt the pull of change come over me, I expected to see my trainer staring happily at my new form as I quickly got accustomed to it. Instead I saw something much worse.

Everything was different, and I didn't know where I was. Before me, I could see my trainer circled by many Pokémon... by many Legendaries, all of which seemed to shed a vibe of unease and hostility.

"You...you can't be serious..." Bram frantically called out with his mind, his eyes flickering across each of the beings before him. "I... I have to die? Why?"

Though not all of the Pokémon were Psychic types, none of them had to move their lips to speak. It was Lugia who answered. "Haven't you been listening, we've said it all before: you're becoming too powerful. If you continue to train and grow, you'll be a threat to everyone."

"But... but that doesn't make any sense! I'm no stronger than many other psychics, and definitly not stronger than a Pokemon! It just doesn't make any--"

"He's stalling." Another voice cut in, and I jerked around to look a Xerneas.

"No, I'm just trying to--" This time, he cut himself off. My trainer screamed in terror as destruction itself came hurtling towards him. His hand flew into the air, and a wave of power could almost be seen, but most definitely felt, as it cascaded down upon Yveltal. The Pokémon dropped with a deafening thud, his impossibly dead body lying there with out even a twitch. My trainer gazed in utter horror at the corpse.

The last thing he would do.

A final voice boomed around the space, an assertive voice I would never forget--Arceus. "Kill him."

And then my poor trainer was decimated as each and ever Legendary there unleashed their full potential on him, giving him no time to take another life. I was left to silently scream, silently cry during the attack. Once the moves let up, there wasn't even a skeleton left over.

"We can't let any more humans--or Pokemon for that matter--get this strong again. He killed Yveltal in one blow with a Psychic-like attack." Arceus called. He paused. "Find them. Find all the psychics... and kill them." 

But suddenly, it was gone. The horrible vision seemed to be a dream, a hallucination, a random figment of my imagination. Until I saw my trainer's face.

"You saw it." His words were quiet, hushed. "You saw my death, didn't you?"

I slowly nodded my head, clenching my hands and holding back tears.

"It... it was terrible. But..."

"What?"

"I want to change it."

He was shocked, staring in awe at me. "I would love to, but it doesn't work that way, I'm going to die on the day you saw, no questions--"

"Not the when. I know you will have to die that day, but... you need to accept your fate. Please... please just accept it."

He nodded slowly, once, and then twice. "Okay... Okay. I accept my fate."

I didn't expect it, but another vision took my sight, and I was back, back at the situation I was in. But it was... different.

There my trainer stood, surrounded by malicious Legendaries, though this time, he had a different air to him. He flung his arms out besides him, tossed his head back, and began to cry as he spoke.

"I knew this day would come. And I know what you all want. You want my life." His arms fell to his sides, and his chin moved to touch his chest. "So take it." 

A surprised mutter over voices fell upon the room before quickly dying out. And then, form the crowd floated Yveltal. 

"This is your fate." Yveltal murmured before my trainer held out his hand. The Legendary placed its beak on his palm, and my trainer fell, his life taken.

"Bram!" Suddenly I was under him. Suddenly I was holding his dead body, suddenly I was lowering him to the ground where I sat besides him, my hands trying futilely to keep the warmth in his body as I wept. The Legendaries began disbanding, teleporting or simply walking away from my mourning. All but one stayed. Yveltal.

"It was inevitable," Yveltal said. I didn't look up.

"He never even gave you a name; are you sure he even loved you?" I tilted my head upwards to look at the Legendary, and my gaze was enough to assure him that I knew of the strength of our friendship. Even so, I had heard his last words, his faith gasp of a last breath.

"Thank you, Gothitelle."