World – Game
Characters – Kotone, Rival (Silver)
Pairings – Soulsilvershipping
Genres – General, Romance
Note(s) – For projekt. And oh Rival, I know you are one sexah NPC.
Disclaimer – Pokémon isn't mine :D
You glowered down at her, gritting your teeth and taking a precautionary step back. You showed her – clearly – that you didn't give a damn about shoving a defenceless girl onto the ground. It was her fault for approaching you anyway. Because it didn't matter to you at all that she was a girl – gender was negligible, girls always used their feminine whiles purposefully – and she wasn't worth your attention. Nothing was significantly important to you, except getting your hands on a worthy Pokémon and beating the crap out of Team Rocket. The professor's lab towered behind you as you pressed your back into the wall and instinctively started to piece together an escape route. Once the girl cried out in distress, you would have to make a run for it – you didn't like cleaning up after yourself.
The only problem, now that you noticed it, was that the hazel-haired chick wasn't threatening to bawl and yell out in frustration, as weak, predictable females tended to do. Instead, she sat rigid and firm on the ground, her oversized white hat resting upon her head as she angled her chin in an almost dignified manner. One of her thin eyebrows was raised, and her mouth had been drawn back into a displeased frown. She regarded you with not anger, but something more frighteningly like daring curiosity and concern. That wasn't supposed to happen – you reeled in convulsion.
"Get away!" you ordered her harshly before turning so that you didn't have to face her and her weird facial expressions.
When you hazarded a glance over your shoulder, she had already collected herself and strolled off back to the town square, as if it hadn't bothered her one bit. You seethed and crumpled your brow in unexplainable agitation – she was not supposed to act like that. But that was okay, you'd get your revenge soon; weaklings like her did not have the liberty to go around pretending to be all high and mighty.
You swiped your trainer card back, and had half the mind to push her aside for daring to pick it up. Her shoulders were too petite, and her fingers delicately soft. Well, maybe she was being courteous and thoughtful – but who gave bull about that? You tucked your possession back into the front pocket of your grey pants, summoning up a sneer in her direction. "Oh great, you saw my name," you murmured in realisation, visibly annoyed at that fact.
You did not give your name out to complete idiots, you did not even give your name out to friends – well, if you had friends, that was.
"Why do you look so angry? I think it's a wonderful name," she said with lies rooted deep her brown eyes – except that she was so good at fibbing, it looked almost believable. Like she actually meant what she was saying. You scoffed loudly and trudged away, compliments were useless and foolish to use on the path to power. You glared at the pokéball that held your fallen creature, hissed angrily at it, and hoped that that would serve as an effective pep talk to get him to win the next battle with her.
You shouldn't have been careless with your trainer card.
"Silver!" she'd scream in alarm whenever you dashed up from behind and challenged her to a battle. You despised the way she called out to you with familiarity, as if you shared a distinct relationship with her. As if you meant something to her. Weaklings were always like that – forging inane bonds and making friends because they could not defend themselves. You were different, you relied on only yourself, and that was what would mould you into the most powerful trainer.
But you had to admit, you liked scaring the crap out of her.
"Silver!" she'd laugh, waving a dismissive hand much to your embarrassment. Why was she such a loon? You had only gotten mislead by the map – the damn thing was hard to read, and it was not your fault that you mixed up the Lake of Rage with the Tohjo Falls. Heck, any other person would have committed the same folly. Her laughter chimed in your ears and you frowned in a bid to retain your dignity and poise. Her face was not dazzling, and hair was not bouncing, and her smile did not make your heart flutter under the dim lighting of the freakin' moon– You threw the map in her face and stomped off in a fusion of authority and power.
"Silver!" sometimes, she was scolding like an old bat. She groaned through her teeth, dolled up and looking almost evil in the Team Rocket disguise. Oh, the uniform – how you hated the dark colours, the hidden oppression, and the scarlet blood that painted the insignia of the corrupted, weakling organisation. Did she think she could stop them? Impossible – she was too weak, not ready.
As you stalked off and witnessed the grunts surrounding her, you caught betrayal flashing across her doeful eyes. You shrugged your shoulders and descended the stairs, down from the madness. They were easy pickings, even she wouldn't have a problem dealing with them – and you just wanted her to taste the bitter harshness of reality.
You had lost again.
And something reached you, poking the lining of your throat, as you saw your Haunter sobbing silently to itself, your Magneton hovering with a certain emptiness and fear observable in its eyes. And your sunken Golbat was writhing on the floor with its battered wings and twisted face, struggling in vain to take to the air. Yes, it was at an acceptable level now – why hadn't it evolved into Crobat? A Crobat could have taken her down; a Crobat could have taken the dragon master down too. A Crobat was a more powerful Pokémon, and yet –
And you remembered how you were once treated in the exact same way – striving and failing and being put down by Him. Something like bile developed in your gut, and you wouldn't have guessed that you could ever suffer the sensation of regret. Your heart palpitated and your blood went cold along with your shivering hands. No, you weren't like Him, you were better than him, you weren't a cruel scumbag who abandoned his son one lonely night with starless skies.
Then she settled to a squat at your side, her breathing warm against your cheek and her fingers heating your palms as she slowly clasped your hands and attempted to support you onto your feet. From the corner of your eyes, you carefully took in her features, the way her mouth was turned in an encouraging smile, the habit she had of scrunching her eyebrows together whenever things didn't go her way. And it wasn't irritating anymore; it didn't spark the dying urge to dropkick her onto the floor; it was almost beautiful. It was almost appreciated, in a way that was unfamiliar to you – and your eyes start to itch. What was this?
You untangled your hands from her girlish ones and departed for the Pokécenter.
Damn her and her feminine whiles, damn her and her soft lips, and her truthful eyes and her warm hands. Most of all, damn the way she had assembled a team of worthy and solid Pokémon. You chuckled dryly as you withdrew your fallen comrades into their capsules for a rest, inserting one hand into your pocket as you bridged the distance between her and you. She smiled indulgently, her face had lilted distinctly upon the appearance of your Crobat into the fray – and the mighty guy could have clinched victory too, had her Ampharos not been such a jackass. Her classy eyes twinkled with relief and joy at the turn of your leaf.
But then she was backed up against the wall of the cavern, and you blocked one side of her escape with your arm. You stood over her, vaguely noticing how much you had grown over the course of your journey – you had racked up a few inches. You tried to smile, the corners of your mouth tugging with effort as she stared at your face with unblinking eyes and a curious, searching expression instead of one of wariness and suspicion.
Like the day you two first met.
Except this time you did not shove her away. You leaned in and kissed her full on the lips instead.
Perhaps this would work out to be a better method to get her off your back.