<b>Thunka-Thunka-Thunka</b>

Mold wafted through his nose as Kieran felt his brain get rattled and churned by the gravel underneath the bus's tires. His head clunked against the window every second or so, and it was hard for him to concentrate on anything but the dull pain along his temple. His eyes squinted as he tried once again to piece together what actually happened during the last week, and they squeezed shut when he realized it just wouldn't happen. His clothes itched as the familiar patterns and colors flashed before the insides of his eyelids, their pattern all too similar to the back of the seat in front of him. He couldn't scratch anything worth a damn, as he was just too tired to care about it now. There was music playing in his headphones, but it wasn't anything he could make out anymore, the words blending into a numb cacophony.

He chuffed a scant, dry laugh, as he felt his right arm act up again, its gentle throbs reminding him once again of yet another failure of his. He couldn't even control that crystalline freak of a Pokémon, and had it not been for Florian having been there with them, there was no way anyone would've made it out alive. Instead, everyone survived, and were unharmed physically to boot. Ms. Briar was harshly reminded of what had happened to her ancestor, Carmine got lucky and only bore witness to unfathomable power, and Florian seemed tired, as though this wasn't his first time dealing with Pokémon beyond the reasonable. Meanwhile, Kieran was shown yet again that not only does fate itself have it out for him, but that it will spare no expense in its efforts to dismantle every avenue of success he goes down.

He was the only one who believed in what was now Florian's ogre, the only one who fought their way to the top until Florian beat him, and, until Florian caught that abomination, Kieran was the only one to try and control Terapagos. The last time he concentrated long enough to connect the dots between everything, he lashed out with a vigorous fury that fueled his rise to the top. And now, when the last piece finally slid into place once again, he just couldn't muster the fight within him once again. The furnace within was tired, and so was he. He was tired of trying and failing; of fate sending Florian to stop him in his tracks.

And yet, whenever he started out small, he never got interrupted. Training each and every member of his champion team was no easy feat, but it was a set of small goals that he had no problem accomplishing. Helping his grandparents out whenever he was needed ended exactly the same way; he could do whatever small thing he wanted, and nothing more. Pathetic droplets leaked as he contemplated a meek future, one where he stayed at home for the rest of his life. His grandparents were getting up there in the age department, and someday they would pass on. It would leave him with an empty home all to his own, and as long as he followed in his old man's footsteps, he could reasonably sustain himself.

With a final, painful <b>thunk</b> that dislodged all his thoughts, Kieran saw the outside world for the first time since he got on the bus. As he rubbed his forehead, the stillness of all of his surroundings finally caught up to him. The world's silent churning held his agape head underwater. He was standing, his left hand clenching an anchor while his right tingled as ice. If the world wished to wash him away, it very well could have done so, and yet it chose not to. Through portly jowls, the bus driver barked, “Ey, Kieran!”

“...E-Eh?!”

He gruffly voiced, “This's your stop, no?”

“Oh,” he shaked, “It is,” and with one step that grew to two and more, he dragged his bag and himself to the front and out the door. He saw no one on his way out, and besides a curt farewell, he didn't say a word.