Pretend this is a title
The Meowth was dead.
Standing there, waist deep in water and clutching a now very dented pokeball, Belize didn't even notice this at first. Rather, he was more concerned with Gyarados' reopened wound. The Pokemon had fought through the pain while the thick scab had covered the no longer scaled, and deeply gashed portion of his skin. The final attack, however, had split the injury open again. He was bleeding like a harpooned whale.
'Oh,' was the only thing that came to mind for Belize. The rather boring man had been focused on capturing the (admittedly weak) Aerodactyl, leaving both Gyarados and the dead-Meowth-that-wasn't-really-dead far from his mind.
Well, the Meowth was dead now. However, as he had not noticed this, he didn't seem disturbed at all as he recalled Gyarados. After all, a Pokemon was safe in a Pokeball, right? And he would go find a Pokecenter right away. Perhaps the Professor even had one inside.
My hands have yet to build a village, have yet to find water in the barren desert, have yet to plant a flower, and I have yet to find the path that leads me... I have not loved enough, but the wind and the sun are still on my face.
I have yet to sow green fields, yet to raise a city, yet to plant a grapevine on each chalky hill... There is so much to build and so much to be, and my love is just beginning.