DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon.

Shing

Shing.

It's a sound that she would recognise anywhere. A sound that inspires joy and wonder as a child but brings nothing but pain and disappointment as an adult. Of the eighteen years of her life, it has been with her for over thirteen: an unchanging, ever-present soundtrack to her entrapment within the expansive building she calls her home. It's there whenever she leaves; it's there when she returns; it's there when she welcomes guests; accepts challenges; eats; even sleeps, given her sisters' propensity for late-night partying. At first, she hates it because it prevents her from venturing out into the world and pursuing her goal of becoming a water pokémon master. Now, however, as she stares day by day out towards the entrance of the Cerulean gym, the sound has taken on a different meaning, synonymous with the hope that, one day, it will be him that steps through the threshold of those insufferable glass doors…

Shing.

She's three years old, and two tall figures with large suitcases make their way out of the gym, stopping a few steps later on the walkway outside. Their expressions are pained, but they remain strong in front of their young children as they bend down to hug each of them individually. Though her three older sisters are in floods of tears watching the two figures disappear off into the distance, she just waves cheerfully, unaware in her juvenile innocence that this is the last time she will ever see them.

Shing.

Two years later, and the building is being fitted with its soon-to-be iconic dewgong sculpture. Pokémon League workers come in and out all day, each time inciting the familiar sound as they stomp brusquely through the automatic doors. She dances around merrily in the excitement of such a commotion, giggling every time another new person shings into her home with box upon box of interesting parts and power tools.

Over the next few years, as the relationship between her and her sisters deteriorates and she can no longer stomach her surroundings, the sound begins to grate on her more and more, shinging away every day oblivious to her feelings.

Shing.

Six months after her tenth birthday, she storms out of those doors, a small, red bag over her shoulder and a worn-out bicycle at her side, after the largest and most destructive argument she has ever taken part in. She cycles angrily all the way to the outskirts of Pallet Town where she stops at a gentle river for some fishing, and ends up catching something – or, rather, someone – very unexpected on the end of her line. The boy has the audacity to steal her bike right in front of her and then destroy it, so she follows him relentlessly until he pays her back; at least, that's what she tells herself. In truth, she is merely lonely, and sees something intriguing in the dense little pokémon trainer that she wishes to get to know better. After a month or so, another boy joins the group, but there remains something special about the first one, something she can't quite explain, and, for perhaps the first time in her life, thoughts of her miserable life in Cerulean City are no longer her main focus.

Of course, when he suddenly needs to visit her hometown to win a gym badge, she tries everything to dissuade him. Returning to the gym just as she is beginning to settle into a new life is tantamount to torture, but she obliges, if only to see the look on his face when she reveals herself as the gym leader. The shing rings in her ears as the shiny glass slides apart, but this time, it seems to sicken her that much less. Almost a year later, when dropping off a sick pokémon and subsequently being manipulated into starring in her sisters' water ballet, it happens again, and she can't help but wonder if it has to do with how she feels around him.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, and, after a further four years on the road in the company of her best friends, she is abruptly and unceremoniously summoned back to the gym, all to appease her selfish sisters as they head off on a world fashion tour. To make matters worse, her bike is repaired at the pokémon centre close to which it was destroyed, leaving her with no good reason to continue her journey with them. The goodbye is a painful, heart-wrenching affair, but his reaction confirms to her how much she means to him, and she is able to take solace in this on the short ride home.

That is, until she approaches the gym again after so long, and is greeted by a spitefully nostalgic sound that causes her eyes to well with tears…

Shing.

It has barely been a day, and already she misses him terribly, something that the vast emptiness of her home is not quick to let her forget. A hounding by the Pokémon Inspection Agency and a rampaging gyarados leave her with little time to weep, however, and a sudden maturity is forced upon her as she gradually accepts the responsibilities of a gym leader, all the while hoping that her now busy schedule will keep her unresolved feelings for him from rising to the surface.

This mindset lasts for a few months at the most, but with every shing of the doors comes a new shade of sadness, a new hint of heartache that makes the Cerulean gym seem less like a home and more like a holding cell. She comes running to the entrance every time she hears the sound, and every time she's disappointed, let down by the presence of someone that isn't, and could never be, the one she wants to see there.

Try as she might, her feelings do not go unnoticed, and her oldest sister, Daisy, sets some money aside to send her to meet him in the Hoenn region. Naturally, she is overjoyed, and spends every minute of those precious few days savouring the feeling of being in his company once again. They laugh about their previous adventures, trade playful insults in the spirit of the vicious arguments of their youth, and simply enjoy being around one another for this regrettably short period of time. Of course, they eventually have to part ways, a task made all the more difficult by the additional loss of her beloved baby togepi, and the saddening thought occurs to her on the voyage home that, in the long run, seeing him again is likely to have done more harm than good.

Perhaps it is for this reason that the first shing she comes back to tears through her chest like a herd of angry tauros.

Weeks pass by, yet her thoughts still linger on him: where he is, what he might be doing now, whether he thinks of her at all on his travels. After a particularly stressful day, she walks lethargically over to the entrance to lock up the wooden inside door when she trips suddenly, her foot falling forward across the threshold and towards those infernal sheets of glass on the outside. There's a momentary feeling of startled shock before fear takes over completely, and she silently prays that her proximity won't trigger the-

Shing.

And that's when she finally breaks down. Alone in the foyer of the Cerulean gym, lit up only by a streetlight at the end of the path, years of guilt, sadness, anger and insecurity cascade freely down her cheeks. Her love for him is so strong that she cannot possibly hold it all inside of her anymore, and so she cries; wholly, endlessly, giving her all to the emotions that have never been allowed to surface like this before. She stays there well into the night, pouring her heart out to the welcome mat over how much she misses him.

She stops running to the door after that, instead letting her sisters answer it while she sits at the front desk or trains with her pokémon. Its irritating sound still bothers her, sometimes to the point of silent tears, but he's not coming, and she knows that now, so she simply tries to busy herself to drown it out.

The Ever Grande Conference is on TV, and she watches it intensely, following his progress all the way to the end, cheering when he succeeds and shouting advice at the screen when he fails. Though she knows he will return home once the tournament is over, she tries her best to dismiss the thought of him coming to visit, lest she be crushed once again when he inevitably doesn't.

For the longest time after, things fall into a mundane and utterly predictable pattern. People come in, people go out. Her sisters spend most of their time in beauty spas or on tour, coming and going whenever they feel like it. She, however, is all too aware that she is not going anywhere, and the painful monotony of her daily routine has become almost like a game:

Shing – postman; shing – gym challenger; shing – Violet with some guy she's never seen before; shing – school trip; shing, shing, shing, shing, shing…

She rarely even looks up anymore, so familiar with the structure that such formalities hardly seem important. Of course, her battling opponents are different, and she treats them with the utmost courtesy before politely shooing them out of the door to return to her silent musing. Perhaps it's because they tend to remind her of him that she both loves and hates these types of encounters.

It's a quiet Thursday afternoon, and she sits digging through her mountain of paperwork in her usual seat by the entrance. There hasn't been a challenger all day, to the point where Daisy even suggests that they close early, but this isn't her style; unhappy or not, the gym stays open on her watch, always. Still, a bit of excitement around the place wouldn't go amiss.

Shing.

The shrill sound still causes her to wince slightly, but, as usual, she keeps her head buried in paper, dismissing the guest as another of her sisters' gentlemen callers. Despite this, the person seems to walk with a distinctive gait, oddly familiar and almost…nostalgic?

The figure approaches the desk and begins to speak immediately:

"Excuse me, Miss, but do you know where I might find a loud-mouthed redhead named Misty?"

Silence. A leap of her heart like nothing she has ever felt. Her thoughts run rampant, and her breathing becomes short. This doesn't fit the pattern. The voice sounds older, but the cadences are unmistakeable; the earthy scent of the road is strong, yet it doesn't quite mask that of the person underneath; and, at the sight of a small yellow pokémon out of the corner of her eye, her suspicions are instantly confirmed. It can't be…but somehow, it is. It's him.

Her head shoots upwards, and she vaults over the front of the desk, throwing herself clumsily into his waiting arms. She smiles as wide as a gengar at the warmth of his embrace, and, in a gentle twisting motion, turns herself around to face the entrance, releasing a contented sigh at the sight before her. Suddenly, the shing of the gym doors that has driven her insane for as long as she can remember feels like the sweetest music to her ears.