Credit and obvious disclaimer: Permission given by JXValentine. Credit goes to Knightfall for the story title and for helping me iron out details. I do not own anything from Pokemon, especially not the games X or Y: if I did, I’d be a multimillionaire and would be out getting hammered, flipping off the paparazzi for no reason other than to make people go ballistic, and generally doing whatever the hell I want. But I’m not, and therefore, I will keep this to fanfiction and not profit off of any of it in any way, shape, or form.
This is my own interpretation of X/Y that involves both legends instead of just one. Obviously, I’m not going to write X/Y all over again, so there’s going to be quite a few things that are different. What they are, I cannot say, but don’t expect the plot from X/Y or even the motivations of the characters to stay exactly the same as they were, even though I will not deviate from their canon personalities.
Warnings: This story is rated R, and as such, people under the age of seventeen should not be reading this. The reason for that is because of a few major triggers that I must mention: mental illness and animal (Pokemon) cruelty and neglect. I will not skimp on those scenes; I fully intend on making them hit you as hard as possible, so consider this your only warning. Also, for those who are really faint of heart, there will be a fair bit of cursing (up to the “f” word, but no further) and violence that is suitable for an R-rated fic (including subjects like terrorism). So please, if you wish to continue reading this fic, keep these warnings in mind.
So, without further delay, let’s get started, shall we?
"1 There is a time for everything
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
The Book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, Verses 1-8.
Every fiber of the fifteen-year-old girl’s being radiated with pride as she looked down at her defeated opponent. It was over. The long battle was finally over, and she was now the champion of the entire Kalos region. She was elated, ecstatic beyond belief from the thrill...and yet she was also saddened that it had to be over at all. Her opponent had been a worthy one, and she almost wished that the adrenaline rush she had felt didn’t have to end.
Her Greninja, a frog-like Pokemon with long limbs and a longer tongue wrapped around its neck like a scarf, hopped over to her. Unlike most Greninja, this one was an oddly-colored black instead of the normal blue. The Pokemon was bloodied and bruised from the fight, but judging by the smile on its face, even it knew that they had won in the end.
It let out a small, curious croak, as if to say, “What now?”
The young woman pondered the question for a bit before giving her answer. “We’ll just keep doing what we do best, Pierre. We’ll keep training until we become the best damned team to ever live in Kalos.”
Eleven years later, Kalos had grown even more. It was a place where the rich gathered to show off their prestige, where those in high-standing were treated as gods...and where the others were left out in the cold. Nobody had more personal experience with those unwritten rules than Vladislav Korolev, a Sinnohan immigrant who was currently stuck in the same situation as when he arrived fresh off the boat: owning nothing except the tools of his trade and the clothes on his back.
Korolev let out a sigh as he unpacked three juggling torches from his duffle bag. There were times where he wished that he had other skills to help him find other lines of work. It wasn’t that he hated his current job; as a matter of fact, he loved to show off his tricks in front of anyone who took the time to watch. But with all of the bigger cities like Lumiose starting to crack down on performers in the streets and the general mistrust of immigrants, the man was having a tough time finding any line of work. Even the jobs that few people wanted were more likely to go to a Kalos native than someone who was not born in the region, even if the latter was more qualified.
“Bailey, come here.” The man beckoned to a muscular humanoid Pokemon with a rather large nose. The Gurdurr picked up his iron beam and ambled over to his trainer with a bored look on his face.
“We’ll practice for an hour or so, and then we’ll take a break for the day, all right?” Korolev coaxed gently.
Bailey stared at the street performer for a second before letting out a grunt of resignation. The fighting-type lumbered over to the bag and searched through it to find what his trainer needed: a kerosene lighter and a fire extinguisher. Korolev took the items from Bailey’s paws and nodded his thanks.
The man silently chided himself for wanting more as he wiped the sweat from his bald head. He had a job that he loved, a Pokemon who had stuck with him through thick and thin ever since he had adopted him as a Timburr, and he had made quite a few friends in Kalos, despite the fact that he was not a native son of the region. And even if the entire collective city of Lumiose had a stick up their ass, at least Camphrier still allowed him to ply his trade in their streets.
Korolev checked the area around him to make sure that he was practicing safely. There weren’t any windy conditions, and he was in a place with no trees or grass. Perfect. He flicked the lighter on, quickly lit the wicks on the torches, and picked all three of them up before tossing them into the air. The fire seemed to dance in the night sky as the street performer moved from beginning to advanced techniques with a grace that belied his gangly appearance. His brown eyes never once shied away from the torches, and he moved only to catch them when they fell.
The torches went out on their own after a while, and Korolev bowed to Bailey. The Gurdurr rolled his eyes in response, letting out another bored grunt. The man smiled and shook his head incredulously.
“And here I was, thinking that you were my biggest fan,” he said with a chuckle.
Bailey was about to tell off his trainer again when he heard something that sounded like glass shattering. The fighting-type whirled around in the direction of the noise, causing Korolev to notice as well.
“What’s wrong, Bailey?” he asked, his expression lined with worry.
The Gurdurr let out a snort and pointed in the direction of the local berry farm. His eyes widened from their normal half-asleep state when he heard another crash in the same direction. This time, his trainer heard it as well.
“What in the world…” Korolev trailed off when he heard a high-pitched scream. “Come on, Bailey!” he snapped in a sharper voice than he had intended. “Leave the bag; we have other things to worry about!”
The man raced off in the direction of the farm, his Pokemon hot on his heels. Korolev was in shape from years of walking down city blocks, but Bailey was noticeably winded. When they got to the farm, the Gurdurr was panting hard.
“I really need to get you on an exercise program, Bailey,” Korolev muttered mostly to himself. He heard the sound of someone sobbing and immediately went quiet. It seemed like it was coming from the large white shower-house nearby.
Korolev bit his lip to keep himself composed, as the person who was crying seemed to be a very young woman, from the sound of the voice. He walked into the building, opening the door with a soft creak. He smelled a faint scent that seemed to be blood, and he rushed to the sound of the sobs. He looked into a nearby shower stall, and his heart immediately filled with sympathy.
The mirrors had been broken by her bare hands, by the look of the blood marks on the surface, but she didn’t seem to notice her wounds, huddled up around the shattered pieces of glass on the floor. Her tousled red hair didn’t even touch her shoulders, and it was only a little darker than her blood. She was audibly sobbing and muttering words that didn’t seem to make much sense to the man.
“Dark winged monster needs to die, it can’t die soon enough, I miss them every day, gods, I just want them to come home, please, please, please come home, I wanna go home…”
Korolev instinctively walked near her, but he maintained his distance. “Miss?” he asked. “Miss, are you okay?”
It was a stupid question, and he immediately knew it the moment it rolled off his tongue, but the young woman didn’t seem to notice. She continued to mutter to herself, not showing any signs that she had even heard him.
Good Arceus, she can’t even be thirty years old. What happened to her?
Korolev took a deep breath. “Miss? Can you hear me? What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?”
He glanced at her more closely. Her clothes were dirty and ragged, but there were six pokeballs clipped to her belt that had obviously been polished recently. It was then that Bailey came into the room.
“Bailey, keep a lookout,” the man said quietly. “I’m going to call someone.” He looked at the woman. “Miss, I’m going to call the police, okay? They’ll be there shortly, and they can help you.”
This time, there was a reaction from the young woman. She stretched out from her curled-up position and turned around to stop his heart with a green glare of pure hatred.
“You…” she whispered in a trembling voice. “You’re here for me as well? Wasn’t my family enough for you, Yveltal-follower? I-I won’t let you take me! Help me! Get them away from me!"
Korolev flinched at the ferocity of her screams, but before he could do anything, he was grabbed from behind with his arms locked and something red and sticky wrapped around his mouth, preventing him from making a sound. He saw something with feathers and talons grab Bailey from behind when the Gurdurr was too slow to react. Without warning, the talons drew themselves across his Pokemon’s throat, cutting off the fighting type’s gurgling cry.
Korolev desperately kicked at his assailant as hard as he could, but the grip only became tighter. He saw something large with four arms walk over to his bleeding Pokemon and grab both of the struggling Gurdurr’s arms with powerful ease. It then proceeded to bash Bailey’s skull in with a sickening smack.
The man barely had time to process the horrific turn of events before the thing that had grabbed him turned him around and started to stab him relentlessly in his torso, ignoring his howls of agony. He saw a shiny black figure that seemed to look like a Greninja holding on to him before it let him drop to the ground on his back.
Korolev coughed out a glob of blood from his ruined lungs, feeling it splash on his face. He saw the young woman walk over to him, her green eyes still hatefully staring at him. He tried to choke out the word “why”, but his body failed him. She shook her head and held a hand to her forehead before staggering away from the scene. The man's panicked and confused thoughts eventually faded moments before his vision flickered and went out like a birthday candle’s flame.