disclaimer: Pokemon ain't mine.
notes: I just deleted it- added stuff and posted it again.

"you're just an artificial sweetener."

She's another side of a coin, given her own chance to shine. But she knows that she is nothing but, a fragmented ghost from this region, from that region. She knows that Eusine's smiles aren't her smiles to keep, Silver's kindness was never hers to begin with and Lance's faith would always slip away from her. Gold, his smiles and laughter and beautiful childhood memories never did belong to her.

But that doesn't mean she could dream.


They thought she should be blessed. It was a rebirth and she was given to opportunity to live in their world, their adventures. They just didn't realize it wasn't her world.

But they are other newcomers too, like Proton of the Rockets and Steven who gave up the title of Champion of the Hoenn Elite Four, just to be free. Sometimes, she would sneak into the hideouts and the prisons and just converse with Proton about the feeling of being a stranger to a world that is never yours. Or she would sip tea with Steven and have a picnic in some local caves.

It wasn't much, but it was the most familiar thing out there. To talk with strangers, people who don't think of her as a shadow, but a person— it's a rather nice feeling.


There are days when she would go to Red. Who told her that he never went on other journeys because there is always another hero for the region, and he's not that hero.

She thinks she understands.


She was kissed once.

And it tasted of licorice and cherries and a red headed boy who had too much hatred, bitterness and an urge of redemption stored in his heart. He called her Kris. (She's seen a picture of the girl— a beautiful picture of a girl who was her very own star.)

Then they never spoke again, except for the occasional call for a battle.


She thinks she fell in love once.

She thinks she fell in love with multiple people. Falkner's arms, which stretch and were able to fly like wings of birds. Morty's eyes, the ones that see things beyond the human's belief of superstition. There are Steven's hands, rough and safe. Proton's smile— that cocky smirk, whose moments of softening are beautiful.

She fell in love with a part of so many men, that it doesn't matter anymore. (To her, they were pieces of the perfect person.)


She likes to take the train places.

Maybe it'll take her to a new place, maybe tomorrow, maybe today. (Wherever it goes, she always knows that a part of her would be in love with parts of a stranger.)


the end.