Journey of a Thousand Miles

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"When one burns one's bridges, what a very nice fire it makes."

—Dylan Thomas

I have . . . never . . . felt true fear in my life. What I felt before now feels like a bad imitation of what Darkrai incurs. It chills the air and grips my heart like a vise, turning my blood to sludge and forcing my lungs to work in quick bursts.

You must have truly gone off the deep end to think the rest of us will allow you all to cause trouble, Lugia states. You may have forgotten, but it is our ingrained duty to protect human- and Pokémon-kind alike.

I didn't forget—as a matter of fact, I've begun to see things very clearly. Darkrai looks at me for a second, and just that small increment of time makes me feel like a dying man. The humans, they're not grateful for your protection, you know. Either they want us captured, to be prized or to be tossed into battle under their rod and scepter, or they fear us. I hardly see beings such as that worth my time and effort.

You cannot be swayed, then. Lugia flaps its wings once more, then the gales come to a stop. Nothing happens initially, then Pong zaps out of existence—into Oz, into myself, I don't know, and in this situation, "not knowing" makes me sick to my stomach. Subsequently, Grit tips over with a soft sigh before her eyes shut. There is nothing left to keep us in the air, and right after the lot of us start to plummet, once again subject to gravity. Not a second too late, as Darkrai's eyes flash as it releases waves of blackness that cut through the sky. Lugia takes a hit, and its blood spirals like silver through the air.

I'm infallibly a thinker, even when I myself don't want to be. Even though I search for some way for me—us—to survive impact, I know that hitting the ocean from this height would be analogous to hitting solid concrete. But something about the whirlpools that surrounds the area gives me an abnormal levity, but I don't get much time to ponder it before we hit. Instead of dying, or exploding from the forces, we pass through the vortex and into the darker seas below. I didn't expect it at all and begin to choke on the little amount of air still in my lungs.

Abruptly, the flow of water shifts—it was calm to begin with, being in the focal point of the waterspout—and it seems we catch a major current. I never studied the aquatic paths of Johto considering I'm about as fond of water as a housecat, but I can assume there is a map of them around the Whirl Islands from Lugia's influence. It would make sense as to how Trainers can enter and exit to do battle with the Pokémon. But it is a long current, and the sea is dark and pressing, much like what I imagine a coffin to feel like. Speaking of such, I feel my limbs growing heavy from suffocation.

The current comes to a stop—or rather, it forces us out and into a dark cavern. I collide into the wet mud, but I'm grateful to feel it as well as the air that surrounds us. Oz, on the other hand, hits the ground even harder since he's unable to catch himself, and he's not breathing. I shift him onto his back and, locking my hands together, press into his stomach as hard as I can. He jerks and sputters, then a gurgling sounds in his chest before he rolls onto his elbows and vomits seawater from his airways.

"Aww, crap, man, I swallowed the ocean," he rasps, scrubbing his eyes. They're squinted and inflamed as he looks at me. "Whuh— What happened? Weren't we in the air? Wasn't—Grit!" he exclaims, attempting to lunge towards her prone form, but his body gives out and he instead belly-slides across the mud. He scrambles towards her and gathers her into his arms, hugging her close. "I can't feel her," he says with a certain inflection that makes my skin crawl. "Or Pong, or Stein. I can't feel any of them."