a/n: For Momoko-chan!~ I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Pedophilia. Don't like, don't read, and don't bitch to me.


"san·guine [sáng gwin]


1. confident: cheerfully optimistic

2. ruddy: flushed with a healthy rosy color

- a sanguine complexion

3. blood red: of a blood red color

4. bloodthirsty: eager to shed blood (archaic)"


So determined to get one little meteorite back. Ardent and dogged, maybe that is why he falters. Yes, she is becoming quite the problem.


His words make her tremble, as if an earthquake shakes her body. Sometimes, in these moments, she cannot move as his gaze pins her down.


He sacrifices everything for what he thinks is a selfless cause for the greater good.


As much as she likens him to fire, molten lava crashing down the side of a volcano, he does the same—he finds he cannot control her.


They watch as the Groudon comes forward, the magma spilling over from the pool, intimidating in its size. Then, it disappears. Maxie turns his gaze to the intruding girl, and she takes out a Pokeball with her shaking hand.


She is a force—like those superancient Pokemon—felling men, breaking ground, and burning anything in her path.


When he sees her battling beside the silver-haired man, he finds himself aiming his attacks at the damnable Skarmory.


She snuffs him out, fingers pressing against the candlewick, and he wonders how much energy he has left to counter this girl.


As he lectures Archie, he can feel her eyes burrowing accusingly into his head. "I know I am just as guilty, May, but now is not the time."


She wonders why he cares so much for her safety as he guides her into the torrential rain and blazing sun.


He tells her to go home, that he and Archie will handle it, the adults will fix everything. But she is smarter, and won't leave the fate of her home in the hands of the men who tried to destroy it.


He watches as the two Pokemon disappear once more into their respective homes, and views it as his end. Then he sees that girl speaking to the blue-haired fool—a glorified heroine to his fallen pride.


Watching the news, he sees her face on the screen and it is like a hot iron to his chest.

"May Maple has become the official Hoenn League Champion."


On Mt. Pyre, he approaches her before he leaves, but utters not a word.

Corpus Delicti

He nudges a charred plank with his boot. What is left of his empire. He smiles—a fitting end to Team Magma.


"Instead of wallowing in your self-pity—" She waggles a finger before his face, "—you can come with me as I journey in search of adventure!"

He feels a twitch in his eye.


He once was mighty, even she knows that—so why is he now traveling with an energetic, temperamental, adolescent Champion?


She is always going somewhere, finding new areas, new Pokemon. It takes most of his energy to keep up, but he is not bothered.

He would follow her into Hell for the simple fact that he likes to watch her move.


She believes he once was a good man. However foolish it is, she finds herself excavating for vestiges of morality beneath ash and rubble.


He looks around at her hideout—the musical mats, the plush dolls on large bricks, the wooden desk with a small chair. "I see the Champion leads a life of luxury."


He never calls her a child—for when he does, she brings the wrath of God upon his Pokemon. In these moments, he comes close to admiring the fire in her eyes.


She trains every day for five hours straight, and he waits for her to finally pass out.

She doesn't give him the satisfaction.


"Do you still want to expand the land mass?"

"Do you still want stop me?"

It's a moot point.


"You are a man and I am a woman. We are both human. You and me—we're both the same in the end."


Sometimes, when they are away from any cities and her survivalist instincts kick in, she asks him," Do you want a Razz berry or a Pinap berry?"


"My favorite Pokemon is Tropius!" she says, holding up her Pokedex with an image of the creature.

"Yesterday it was Graveler."


"You traveled alone before this?" he asks.

After she puts a bandage over her wound, she says," I am a responsible young woman."


His eyes used to scare her by their intensity—now, they make her shiver because they linger on her longer than they should.


She runs out to him, her face flushed and her arms waving. "Y-your Mightyena, a-and m-my Mightyena…are…they're…eggh!"

"It is mating season."


"A rock?" She looks at the black mass in her hand.

"Open it."

She finds that it had already been cracked, and pulls the sides apart to reveal colorful gems embedded in the geode.

It's as close to chocolates and flowers she will ever get with him.


"What were you going to tell me on Mt. Pyre?"

He doesn't answer, so she imagines it might have been an apology.


Sometimes, when she wonders if thinks about her like she does him, she tells herself she is being silly and returns putting bows on his Mightyena and Crobat.


When his lips touch hers—demanding (searing)—he tastes like fire.


She looks at the clothes on the floor, abandoned, discarded, and thinks it is funny how it represents her inhibitions and her innocence.


Every night, they communicate through touch and the heat of their bodies—because they both know they're burning a bridge.


She feels his words against her heated flesh, his mouth like an inferno, and she hears him say," Your skin is like fire."


She cannot tell her mother about the man she loves, because he is a man, and she is still only a girl.


She thinks she might have saved him, the way he cares for his Pokemon now, and how he's grown accustomed to every day life. Until she sees his eyes, dark and sly, she believes for a moment that he is a good man.

She is his


a/n: Debacle has to be my favorite just because the word fits so much. And I almost laughed when my finger landed on 'May' in the dictionary. This was very hard, though, and I was at a loss at what to do with some of the words, but some just came naturally.