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Several weeks ago, one of two things happened:
My DS, along with my Pokemon White version, were either stolen or lost completely. I searched my house for days, but found nothing. I was devistated. I had played the pokemon games for fourteen years, and I had always thought of my pokemon as friends. With a move fast approaching, I had no choice but to give up my search. One night, I had a dream. I was standing on route 1 of Unova, watching the waves roll in. “Mike,” I heard a familiar voice call. I saw Professor Juniper coming to meet me. “What happened to your pokemon? You were inseperable, the last time I saw you.”
“I don’t know.” I admitted, ashamed. “I hate it, the not knowing.”
“Maybe I can help.” She said, pulling out a pokeball. ”I have someone who wants to speak to you.”
The pokeball opened, and there stood the first, and last, thing I wanted to see. A Samurott stood in front of me, head held high, studying me. My starter, and friend, Ishmael.
“So…” He said, his eyes never leaving me. “I will not lie to you. We, all of us, feel as if we were abandoned.”
“I know.” I said. “And it’s my fault. If I had found some way to keep looking for another day or two, I could have—”
“Stop.” Ishmael interrupted. “I said we felt abandoned, but know this. We do not blame you. You have treated us as friends, always, and family.”
“How can you not blame me?” I asked.
“Even if we are nothing more than programs, we have intelligence. We understand that there are things beyond your control. You are only human. We will forgive you.”
“But… can you really forgive me that easily?”
“Losing us was beyond your control. We will not hold blame against you for something that was not your fault.”
“Thank you… I’ll never forget you, I promise.”
“That is all we ask. Now, grant me one favor.”
“When you replace your DS, and our version of the game, choose Oshawott again. Make it my namesake, and something special will happen.”
“I promise. But, tell me something.” I said. “Is this really happening, or is it just a dream?”
“In your heart, you know the answer, my friend.” Ishmael told me, touching his horn to my heart. “Remember us.”
I woke up the next morning, a strange itching sensation on my chest. Stepping into my bathroom, I noticed two faint white lines, with a third connecting them. “I”.
“Always, Ishmael.” I promised. “Always.”
I thought about not sharing this for some time, but I feel like I have to. Like Ishmael wants me too. All I know is that I made a promise to a friend, and I intend to keep it. I’ll let you know what happens.