No more. No more. Finizen could barely think anymore. It took all his strength to hover above the grass with the grace of a Golduck in flight. He was bruised and broken from yet another day of torture, and knew he was about to pass out yet again. And the only thing to blame besides his own inadequacy were the ambitions of his trainer and her questionable internet pals. It wasn't always like this, he somberly recalled. He'll never forget the look in her eyes when she found out that a Pokémon like him existed. It began taking a turn when one day she saw a picture of what she described as the perfect specimen. They went on to travel all over the Paldea, from the mythical heart shaped lake to the faceless altar of the perfect specimen, from the top of the tallest building to the heart of the krater. But the more time passed, the more it became clear to him that his trainer was obsessive in her pursuit. And now, with his consciousness fading once again, it hurt him on an emotional level. He would never be good enough for her.
His trainer paid him no mind and was, as usual, immersed in her phone. He tought about his time as a wild Finizen, frolicking in the seas of Paldea, doing unspeakable acts to the Qwilfish and being watched by a torrent of fans while engaging in his primal urges. But even in his dreams he could no longer find refuge. The screams of a hundred felled Scovillain and all the things he had to do to them, the pleading sobs of teammates barely kept alive, the objects forced upon him wherever they could be, the never ending climbs and falls twists and twirls. He no longer cared that he disappointed her. He just wanted it to stop.
Before he allowed himself to drift away he would open his eyes one last time, to look at the girl who had been his friend. She was still absorbed in her phone, ignoring him. What she then said to herself was something he had heard plenty of times before.
"A Water Stone might just do the trick. Maybe we should try that again."
