Author's Note: Hiya! My little Thanksgiving present! : ) Updating a day early! Yea!

Important! – I wrote a new story! : ) It's called The Alignment of The Stars! I'm not sure if I'm gonna continue it though. But tell me what you guys think! Now for reviews! : )

The Moltres's Flame – YEAH! : )

splitheart1120 – Yep. Yepyepyepyepyep

Ayumi Suzuki - :/ Hmmm, I wouldn't say I was angry. It takes a lot to get me angry. I guess you could call it annoyed, but I'm fine with it now! And plus, that message wasn't for you, it was actually for everyone else that had like some weird idea to copy my story and um, uh, do something with it. Because if anyone does that in the future without my permission, they could just say, 'Well, you never said I couldn't' So, uh, yah, just trying to play it safe! Btw, keep your crossover story. It would make me feel bad if you deleted it because of me. : (

Drew and Answers

And so I went to the library of all places. It's a tad boring, I decide, as I trace my fingers across the spines of the books. I've been to a large number of libraries in my youth, mostly because my mother and father forced me to, and they all bored me to no end. But those visits did help with my coordinating, so that's one thing that benefited me.

Not one book caught my attention until I came to a crimson, leather bounded book. However, it didn't seem to relate to May's 'little' problem at all. Curiously, the title and the author of the book were missing.

From the picture on the cover, it depicted a two Pokémon, one with multi-colored orbs surrounding it and a Pokémon who's eyes seem timeless. Thinking it looks slightly interesting, I flip open the book onto the first page.

I begin to read, leaning against a dusty bookshelf at the very back of the library.

September 4, 1929

I am not the type of person who writes their thoughts in a book. But I need more comfort than you can imagine. I am currently under house arrest in my, well, house. Here is what happened that caused my imprisonment:

I was at the marketplace buying veggies for our dinner, when the Finnegan family cornered me. The Finnegan's are a scary bunch. They are the wealthiest family in the village, and the last person to cross them is dead.

I was frightened, and tried to run away; I was afraid that the family would try to hurt me. But, before I could take a step, Mr. Finnegan called upon his Arcanine. The Arcanine snagged me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me to the sheriffs'. (I still have the teeth marks that scratched on the back of my neck.)

Once at the sheriffs', I was put up on trial. There, I found out that I supposedly stole Mrs. Finnegan's gold wedding ring. As many times I denied it, the Finnegan's pushed more false evidence to the local sheriff. I, truthfully have never in my 9 years of life have seen that ring other than on Mrs. Finnegan's finger.

The trial was over by dinner; the sheriff declaring that more evidence was needed to prove my guilt. And so, here I am, under house arrest.

P.S: I will not put my name in this book. It will be much too humiliating when someone accidently discovers it and reads it.

I frown; I hope the poor guy was okay. My eyes linger to the very top of the page where the date lays.

The date, I realize. 1929. That's around May's time. Thinking it might hold some answers, I rapidly flip the book to the last page.

August 22, 1934

Dear reader, I, myself, would have never wanted for anyone to read this book and my writing. But now, times are different now, and I hope desperately you will read this to save my friend. I also hope this book will come to the right hands. But I shouldn't worry; I have a feeling this book will come through for me.

This is my story:

When my childhood best friend was murdered, I couldn't accept it. I stood in the freezing rain at the outskirts of Petalburg Forest for hours, waiting for her to come home. But she never came back, and it broke me to pieces.

Three days later, I found myself standing at the same very place, and a passerby, strange man noticed my sadness, and asked what was wrong. I replied, "My best friend was murdered days ago, and I can't forget her."

He and I stood there for a while, until he said, "If you love her that much, come with me. I think I could help you and your friend." You might have called me insane for following a strange man into who-knows-where, but I was desperate, you see.

He led me deep into the heart of the Petalburg Woods. We walked on, and on, until we came to a small cottage. Normally, I would've been nervous, I was only 15 years of age, but I was oh, so desperate for my friend to return home. The two of us sat around a small table, until the man asked me what my friend's name was. I told him, "It was May, May Maple sir."

The book clatters to the floor. My eyes widen in amazement, this is just too good to be true. Adreline coursing through my body, I quickly pick up the book from the floor, and begin to scan the pages with more of a purpose.

He sighed, as if her name tired him. "May Maple . . ." he mused. "Son, the girl isn't dead."

Naturally, I was shocked, and stuttered, "W-what d-do y-you m-mean?"

Instead of explaining, he said, "The girl isn't dead, boy. It's as simple as that. She's merely stuck . . . in a gap. She was never supposed to die like that in the first place."

It was dreadfully confusing, and it still is. And so, I asked myself countless times, 'How could you say that someone was not supposed to die?'

"So what's the answer?" I asked.

"The answer?" he said with amusement. "The answer is that you must find the chosen one. He is not you, I can sense it. He must give your friend the breath of life to free her from her prison. "

Right then and there, I was tempted to rip all my hair out. "Why are you so cryptic old man?" I demanded. "I just want a straight answer! Is that too much to ask?!"

Instead of getting angry, the man chuckled. "The answer is there, boy. But it requires sacrifices . . . Deep sacrifices to save your friend."

"I'll do it," I determinedly said. "I'll do anything to save May. Anything."

The man raised his eyebrow. "Anything, you say. I see . . . I think this is enough. You love her . . . I see. Go to the waterfall cave in Petalburg. You know what I'm talking about."


"Don't question it. Once you're there, throw this down the waterfall." The man pressed a small stone that flashed a brilliant sunset orange. A black cord was threaded through it. "Then jump down the waterfall."

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed. "You're joking right? If I jump, it'll kill me."

"You want to save this May, am I correct?"


"Then do it."

"B-but how will the so called 'chosen one' save May?"

The man shrugged, and said, "Dunno. Write a book or something. Do something to let the guy know."

"Wait a se-"

"Sorry kid, I have to go, and I won't be back. Use this," he tossed me a scrap of paper. "And good luck, you'll need it."

So that's my story. I hope the chosen one will find this book and save May. I hope I haven't made my sacrifice for nothing. I hope with all my heart for your success.

And this is extremely important, to rescue May, you must read this, and follow. The man gave it to me before he disappeared. I do not know where he has gone, and I never found him again.

The prisoner will be your guide to her survival,

Follow the footsteps of the sacrifice into possible doom,

Correct the heart of the jealous,

The breath of life is the hope,

"Excuse me, sir. But we're closing now," states a rough, gravelly voice.

I blink in surprise, and then look up towards the speaker of the voice. A frowning middle aged man that bores a rusty red shade of hair, and a pair of golden rimmed spectacles that slightly mirrors his wavering viridian green eyes, taps his foot impatiently.

"We're closing soon," he said plaintively. "We can't have visitors after dark." He narrows his eyes, in a curious fashion. "Hey, wait a second, aren't you that famous coordinator? Drew Hayden?"

My stomach writhes unhappily. It's terrible enough that I was forced to deal with hordes of fan-girls. At first, I was flattered, but as time drew on, it went to slightly annoying, to me being flustered and unable to move.

The man continues on, "I had a fight yesterday with my teenage daughter, and I was hoping to make it up to her soon. And she was always raving on about this certain coordinator . . ." The man shoots me a hopeful glance. "Do you mind if you could give me an autograph? For a price of course." He says hastily. "You can choose any book from this library to take with you, free of charge of course."

I breathe in a sigh of relief. "Yeah sure," I say. "Do you mind if I take this book?" I wave it slightly to show the man.

Observing the red-headed man, he seems more relieved than I am. It must have been one heck of a fight.

"I said anything," the man says with a smile. "And that definitely goes under anything. And about that autograph . . ."

"Oh yeah," I look up towards the man's gaze. "Do have any paper? And a pen?"

"Just follow me to the front desk."

We weave through the endless maze of bookshelves until we reach a dimly lighted desk. The green-eyed man hands me a pen and a piece of paper, and I sign it with a flourish.

"Thanks for the book Mr. uh-"

"Call me Jim! And thank you! You've done me a great favor."

"No problem Jim," I quietly mutter. "No problem."


Groaning, I sit up. After declaring to myself that it was too late to visit May; even with my new discovery, I resorted to renting a room in the Pokémon Center for the night. And so, instead of training, or creating new tactics for my next contest; I've been up for about 4 hours straight, analyzing and reading, and then rereading the book.

I'm turning into Rin and Lin I think with mock horror.

Rin and Lin are a pair of twins that give double trouble a whole new meaning. They also are a pair of humongous bookworms.

My hand grasps my Poke-Nav tightly, which is currently lying on the bedside table. I press the power button lightly, hoping the message is worthy of my attention.

It's from Solidad.

Drew! Are you still at the Mayflower House?! I haven't seen you in 2 days! I'm worried about you.

My fingers tap lightly on the screen of the Poke-Nav.

No worries Solidad; I've got everything under control. Now can you please let me go back to sleep?

A few seconds later, a ding alerts me that Solidad responded back.

Drew! Are you sure that you're okay? You never go to sleep at 10!

I sigh; curse Solidad's caring personality.

Yes, I fine. I'm just a bit tired. See ya later.

I shut my Poke-Nav off, and place it on the bedside table. It was one heck of a day, and I would be more than welcome to have sleep invade my mind. But it doesn't, instead I stay awake, worrying about May.

Which is rather silly, I reasoned. May's okay. She'll always be okay. Worry about yourself, I chide. Worry about yourself.

Author's Note: Heh, thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated! Hope you guys had a Happy Thanksgiving! : )