A Blue Tears take/continuation/entry in our personal pokepasta lore.
CW: Graphic depiction of murder via repeated stabbing.
~
Before Blue, stands the original Champion of Kanto. It’s a sight he knows all too well- standing still as stone on the raised platform, back to him and the rest of the world as he stares blankly at the sky. The perfect image of solitude, willingly oblivious to the world that’s so far below him.
He doesn’t turn as he hears footsteps approaching, but knows all too well that he isn’t alone.
I grit my teeth. I don’t care enough to bother hesitating in my approach anymore. I walk up behind him, and as he only just starts to turn, I grab him by his shoulder and force him to face me.
Red has won the championship. A prequel of sorts to the greater story of Missing Numbers. Told from Blue’s POV.
CW: Suicidal ideation.
-
Before he got any closer, I made a grand effort to compose myself, puffing my chest out and shutting my eyes in what I hoped looked like a cocky expression, rather than me holding back tears.
“Well, I THOUGHT I hadn’t made any mistakes raising my Pokemon. But darn, I guess you’re the new Pokemon League Champion…”
I sneered at him, “Although I don’t like to admit it.”
I stuck my hand out, offering a shake as if to officiate yep, you did it, you’re better than me, good job in the way that I’d seen grown-ups do on TV. He just stared at it, still looking like someone had died, not like he’d just done the greatest achievement any Pokemon trainer could ever hope to do?
What an idiot. I couldn’t understand why he cared so much. It wasn’t like HE was hurt by any of this. He should be ECSTATIC.
He opened his mouth, as if somehow this warranted him using his words. Before he could, though…
The door opened behind him.
If my stomach had already dropped, well. Now it was digging itself a grave.
