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Years ago, Yajima made his greatest creation, the pinnacle of his career. He wanted to give us the ultimate Pokemon, something wondrous to behold, and that he did. This particular creature of divinity left an everlasting impression in all of our hearts, and you already know what I'm talking about. And I know, you already started to cry tears of joy in remembrance of this majestic Pokemon.
Shiron. Alolan Vulpix. The scientific perfection in Pokemon form.
Your smile could heal any wound and move any mountain.
Shiron.
Will you cry out your gorgeous "kooo~n" one last time for me? Shiron.
In your fur of sublime white and eyes reflecting the infinite cosmos I ask for but a twinkle of thine starlight.
Will you grant me that wish?
When I was a young boy, my father told me stories of your grace and elegance, the healing powers of your presence. He told me: "son, at least once in your life you must hear the koon, or else you surely will face inevitable doom".
The blessing of the Shiron is what I want, what I need, what I crave over anything else in this mortal world. The privilege, the hedonistic joy, of holding your own Shiron in your arms, is greater than all the treasures of ancient Sumerian kings.
But alas, I'm old now, too old to chase after that white tail glimmering and swaying in the distance. Won't you come to me? Shiron.
I'm crying as I'm posting this.
