Skylar stumbled through the cracked streets of Auroria Town, Misty limp in his arms.
Every step hurt.
Every breath burned.
Blood trickled down his temple, but he didn't stop.
Couldn't.
The Pokémon Center loomed ahead—a small building compared to the grand centers of big cities—but the doors opened at his frantic approach.
Nurses and Chanseys rushed forward.
"Emergency!" he croaked.
They took Misty from his arms—carefully, urgently—and rushed her inside.
Skylar dropped to his knees, shaking.
His hands were stained red.
Some of it hers.
Some of it his.
None of it acceptable.
He didn't remember pulling out his PokéGear.
His hands worked on their own.
First, he called Gary.
The screen flickered to life.
"Skylar? What—?"
Skylar's voice cracked immediately.
"Gary... Misty... she's hurt. She's in treatment."
Tears blurred the screen.
"I'm sorry—I tried—I wasn't strong enough—"
Gary's face twisted in horror.
"Where are you?!"
"Auroria... Pokémon Center... hurry..."
Skylar nearly dropped the device, but forced his trembling fingers to dial another number.
The one he feared most.
Misty's father answered on the first ring.
The strong, deep voice Skylar admired.
"Skylar?"
Skylar's throat closed.
"...She's hurt."
Silence.
"I failed."
The screen shifted—Skylar could see Misty's father rise sharply from his chair, face like stone.
"Where?"
"Auroria."
"I'm coming."
The call ended.
The crushing silence returned.
Hours passed.
Skylar sat in the sterile white hallway, head bowed, fists clenched.
His Pokémon sat around him—silent, wounded, exhausted.
They waited.
And prayed.
When Gary arrived—sprinting, face pale—Skylar barely lifted his head.
Gary didn't say anything.
He just sat down beside Skylar.
The silence between them said enough.
Then, Misty's father arrived.
Powerful.
Radiating controlled rage.
He walked straight to Skylar.
Skylar struggled to his feet.
"I—I'm sorry—"
SLAP.
The sound cracked like a gunshot.
Skylar staggered back, blood on his lip.
"You promised," Misty's father growled, voice low and breaking.
"You promised to protect her."
Skylar said nothing.
There was nothing he could say.
The hours dragged.
Eventually, the head nurse emerged.
"Misty survived," she said softly. "But... she's fallen into a coma."
Skylar collapsed into his chair, a broken shell of himself.
Gary covered his face with his hands, silent.
Misty's father said nothing.
He simply demanded to see his daughter.
And when he emerged carrying her—pale, unconscious, beautiful—Skylar's heart shattered completely.
Her family took her.
Left Skylar sitting alone in the hallway.
The next day, after wandering the cliffs outside town like a ghost, Skylar finally collapsed in a private room at the Pokémon Center.
He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't eat.
Only guilt remained.
The PokéGear buzzed at his side.
A call from Cynthia.
He hesitated.
Then answered.
Her face filled the screen—beautiful, bright, alive.
But her smile faded instantly when she saw him.
"Skylar—what happened?"
He couldn't speak at first.
Then everything poured out.
The ambush.
The battle.
The injuries.
Misty.
Everything.
By the time he finished, he was crying openly, fists clenched in his lap.
Cynthia's eyes were red with unshed tears.
"You didn't fail her," she whispered. "You fought for her. You protected her."
Skylar shook his head.
"I wasn't strong enough."
He looked up at her through bloodshot eyes.
"And I won't make the same mistake again."
Cynthia's face twisted in confusion.
"What are you saying?"
Skylar closed his eyes.
"I'm cutting ties."
"Skylar, no—"
"You'll be safer."
His voice broke.
"I can't drag anyone else down."
"Skylar, stop it—"
But he had already pressed the disconnect button.
The screen went black.
He sat in silence.
The walls closed in.
The weight of everything bore down on him.
Skylar whispered into the empty room:
"I'm sorry."