AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! This is my first fanfiction ever, so I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out to be a steaming pile of trash! However, I do hope you enjoy it, and if you did, or, well, think I'd be better off writing my last will, submit a review, send me a PM to let me know what I could do better! Also, importantly, Pokémon belongs to Nintendo, not me.

Hm? Oh, hey, pleased to meet you. The name's Victor, at your service. There's not a whole lot more to me than meets the eye, I'm afraid, pretty much anyone else here in Sandgem Town would agree with that, should you ask them.

So, what can I tell you about myself that wouldn't bore you to sleep faster than a Jigglypuff's Sing? It's funny how I've had to answer that question for sixteen years already, maybe a few less, since I wasn't born knowing how to talk, naturally, and I still have no clue what to really tell people. After all, sharing that your dad left your mom and hasn't been heard of since before you were even born is one way to make the first conversation you have with someone quickly and effectively become much more awkward. To be fair, I don't have that much of an interesting life, the most curious fact about me is that, as you know, I'm sixteen, and still haven't started any kind of Pokémon Journey whatsoever. Why not, you ask? The answer is…maybe a little complicated. As it stands right now, I can' tell you all the details myself, so bear with me, since I might have to give you a small recap of my childhood.

I grew up without a father, as I've previously mentioned. I'm not sure how exactly, if at all, that's affected me. Can't miss what you haven't had, right? That's what they say. Well, thinking back, maybe Mom always gave me so much affection and care because I was the only close family she seemed to have left. We had the entire house by the beach on Sandgem Town all to ourselves, and even though she was friends with the neighbors, of course, including Mrs. Sanders, my childhood friend Kyle's mom, she always had this lonely expression whenever she looked out at the ocean, as if she felt she was missing something in her life. I'm almost certain that it has something to do with my dad's absence. My dad not being there clearly affected her more than it did me, I always figured.

Like most, if not all, of the other kids, I attended the Trainer's School, in nearby Jubilife City, with nearly perfect grades, I might add, and held all things Pokémon as my utmost passion. I even found it relaxing and an amazing pastime to simply read my textbooks on taking care of Pokémon or, especially when I was a little kid, hearing all the fairy tales about Legendary Pokémon. I'd stay up late often, wondering if I'd catch a glimpse of anything that meant the awakening of Jirachi in the night sky, and there's no end to the amount of stories about Verity Lake, close to our town. I've gone there often, though, and there's never been a sign of anything special there at all, though then Kyle did swear up and down he saw a golden Magikarp one morning, yeah right.

Anyway, I don't mean to ramble. As I approximated ten years of age and, inevitably, the start of my Pokémon Journey, my Mom…well, she fell ill. At first, it was nothing serious. She just felt weaker, drained, and all overnight. She fought hard against it, and for a few days, I didn't even notice there was anything wrong with her at all. Until one day, she collapsed while playing tag with me around the beach.

She regained consciousness, thank Arceus, a few hours later, but by then, my mind was made up. If I had to, I'd forsake going on my journey and stay home to help Mom live her life comfortably as best I could, as she had been doing for me all these years. Sure, she had Mrs. Sanders and all her other friends there to support her, but that just didn't sit right with me. I didn't want to do like Dad did, and leave her alone, without family. Sadly, my resolve would prove to be necessary when she went to the hospital to get it checked out. She had somehow contracted an illness, that, whilst not being contagious, has been present for as far as anyone can remember, and next to nothing's known about it so far, only a few medicines to slow it's effects. The disease is referred to as "The Ray" by the professionals at the hospital …and that's almost all we know.

And there you have it. For the last…six, maybe some more, years, Mom has been taking the medicine to still be able to be at home, though most of the work and chores are completed by me now, she keeps herself healthy enough and if she's sad about having an incurable illness that'll be leaving her in a coma before long, she doesn't look it. Kyle and all my other friends all left a long time ago, with occasional visits back to Sandgem Town and an impressive and ever increasing number of new Pokémon and friends made along their journey. Some of my friends, I hardly recognize. A select few, to which I'm very grateful, had frequent chats with me through the devices at Pokémon Centers and sent me even more information about what it's like to be a Pokémon Trainer, which I digested and studied every bit as eagerly as my old textbooks out of…mainly habit, but also, sheer appreciation for being a Trainer. Even if I can't go on a Journey, doesn't mean I can't learn about it.

And that's what I was doing on an afternoon like any other, sitting by the beach, though far enough from the water, and most importantly, the Krabby, to be both unaware of their presence and perfectly comfortable. In my hands I held a few journal pages from a friend of mine, Maria, with a somewhat interesting reflection scribbled down in a handwriting that'd have you believe "scribbled" was actually a poor choice of word to use right there.

"I do not remember it being covered in the Trainer's School just how much of a battle-changing effect the Love status inflicted by the move Attract and the Ability Cute Charm can have. Earlier today, I had my Purugly, Princess, use it on another trainer's Machoke, and couldn't help but giggle as I watched the trainer get increasingly frustrated at his Pokémon's defiance. When he commanded it to use Revenge, it instead approached Princess and-"

My reading is interrupted by the sound of frenzied steps on the sand nearby, panting, and, shortly afterwards, the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Sanders. Normally, it's that type of warm, motherly voice you can't help but feel soother as you listen to it, even if she's not your own mother. Perhaps that's what made the fact that, on this occasion, she sounded worried, maybe even desperate, all the more disconcerting. I turn my head around to look at her, and, sure enough, that confirms my suspicions. She's got a panicked look on her face, and by the way her footprints look in the sand behind her, she ran all the way over here, not even bothering to take off her apron.

"Victor, dear," she's calling to me, and her tone and the fact that she called me 'dear' is more than enough to let me know that something's up, and I get up from the sand, casually brushing my behind clean. She does it normally, but this sounded more like a pleading 'please keep calm' kind of dear than the usual one. "You should come, fast! I think there's something wrong with Celia…"

Celia's my mother's name, and it's all that I need to hear to walk hurriedly towards her, after stopping myself from just sprinting to her house straight up, and ask "What happened? Is it another coughing fit?" I already begin to jog towards the house next to mine, Mrs. Sanders', and she follow close behind me, and eventually a little further.

"No, not at all, dear. We were just merrily in the kitchen, talking of when you and Kyle were just little boys and that Starly stole your lunch," I reflexively roll my eyes at the mention of the story. Thankfully, she doesn't see it, as she's behind us, and instead proceeds with her explanation. "And she just…collapsed…oh, I'm just so worried…"

She doesn't have to tell me what's worrying her. According to the research Mom and I have done on the subject, it's high time that The Ray be catching up with her, to have managed to resist it's effect for as long as she has is quite remarkable, something she likes to attribute to my efforts to take care of her. As if. Even though that would be what would make the most sense right now, that her time is up for now, I just don't want to believe it. Merely thinking of the idea is making my eyes begin to well up, and I feel as though I've failed to really do anything all these years, that I didn't go on a Journey for no reason, that I could've done something more…

I break into Mrs. Sanders' kitchen, and all the feelings from later are brought back twice as powerful when I see the once-bright figure of my mom still on a kitchen chair. Presumably, Mrs. Sanders left her where she was and raced to find me first thing. This is just like the first time it happened, and the two or three times it's happened since, during both of which, I felt like just now, we drove to the hospital…and the doctors were able to buy her some more time.

Inmediately, almost like clockwork, I state "We need to get her to Jubilife Public Hospital, now." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. Sanders wiping her cheeks and dabbing her eyes with the edges of her apron, held in her hands, and nod, and then she's gone from that corner, off to find the car keys, I assume. In the meantime, I dial the number of the Hospital on my cellphone, and, like many times before, explain the situation, of a Ray victim fainting and needing medical help. Only ten, fifteen anxious minutes pass in a tense silence between me and the increasingly-worried Miss Sanders, who breaks it only to apologize around fifty times and offer me her chocolate-chip cookies which she baked a few days ago for a local, friendly competition with a few other moms. To the first, I answer with fifty appropriate variations of "It's not your fault," to the second, with the more polite version of "Hell yes," because I know for a fact that if Miss Sanders' cookies didn't win that competition, they definitely deserved to.

After that time is up, the unmistakable blaring of an ambulance's siren is heard down the road, and it takes only a few more minutes for us to help the staff get Mom up onto the back of the vehicle, and they speed off, with Miss Sanders' car, me in tow, pressing hot on their heels. On the way there, I disregard the views of the bustling city outside the windows of the car, tapping my feet absently to the catchy tune on the radio, that completely contradicts our mood, but the point is to not think of the fact that I might not be hearing my mother's laugh or seeing her smile again for… who knows how long. I check the time. The sun's beginning to sink underneath the horizon, which corresponds with it being around eight-o-clock in the afternoon, give or take a few minutes depending on how correct Miss Sanders' car is.

The rest is all just the typical procedure, and we're soon waiting outside a room in the ninth floor of the hospital, which is dedicated to strange illnesses such as the Ray. A good thing about this hospital is that, so far, in all our earlier visits, none have lasted for over an hour to get results, which results in the scare being minimal, after, of course, the gargantuan fright which comes with your mother falling off a chair in the middle of dinner. I haven't had an occasion to leave Maria's notes amongst my other things amidst all the confusion, so I've got them with me and it does wonders to keep my mind off things just what a Machoke does to a Purugly it's infatuated with.

The next time I get interrupted, it's an hour and a half later by none other than Mrs. Sanders, who offers me a few more cookies since apparently it's the best dinner she can offer right now. I accept them graciously, because more of them never come in bad, and I have no idea how she even brought them in the first place. Wasn't she driving?

I only get half an hour more of reading done, until finally, the door finally swings open, and on that moment I put my papers down and prepare myself for the worst. On the other side of the door are two doctors and a nurse, and, judging by their expressions…

One of the two doctors approaches us, and introduces himself. "From what I hear you two must be her son and neighbor?" He asks, as way of greeting. We both nod, and though I can't see very well into the room behind the doctor, the fact that I can't hear Mom or anything of the sort almost lets me know what's happened before it has. Almost. Something in my brain refuses to accept that as the truth.

"My name is Dr. Kenji, and I'm regretful to inform you that The Ray has reached the next phase within the body of Mrs. Celia Parker," he's not done talking, I can tell, but I'm very grateful that he stops talking to let me and Mrs. Sanders process what he's just said. It could be considered a death sentence or perhaps something worse, since she won't be dead, but she most certainly won't be truly living, either. Next to me, I hear a sniffle, and I simply nod and stare at Dr. Kenji's eyes with as blank expression as I can muster, but I can feel the tears beginning to form after once again the futility of trying to do anything at all about this disease settles in my mind. "She can, and, likely, will be kept here, and alive, through the public health service, though no other victim of the illness has ever recovered consciousness past this point, as it begins to cover one's entire system. I'm sorry…we would like to investigate it more," he sighs and looks around before proceeding, "but we don't really have all the funding we'd like. The Ray is a semi-rare disease as it is. Would you…like to see her?"

I feel both of their gazes stick onto me as he asks that, obviously, both await my response. I avert my own eyes and stare, suddenly immensely interested in the polished white floor of the hospital. What good would it even do for me to go inside anyway? To get yet another bad memory of Mom?

The subject of my memories with her brings to mind another question. What was the last thing I did with her, the last time we've spent together? Through the sadness and negativity, it takes me a few more seconds to remember that it was this very morning. She had been trying to clean the living room all by herself and was stubborn as ever to not let me help. Man, I hate how stubborn she is sometimes. I made a crack about her distrusting all men ever since Dad, but apparently she didn't get that it was a joke, as she got all up in my face about how that wasn't true, and I could only last ten minutes before I just said "Alright, I get it, Mom, sorry for trying to help. Go ahead and have fun cleaning up!" And that was it. I stormed up to my room and slammed the door behind me, and spent the next few hours lying in bed, reading a few of my old textbooks, and sometimes both. She wasn't around when I went to make myself some food, and I only briefly saw her as I left for the beach in the afternoon with Maria's journal pages.

It's really cheesy, I know, but the sight of the pristine floor being momentarily altered by something falling to it with a wet noise made up my mind instantly. Rubbing my eyes, I swiftly look up to Dr. Kenji and nod. "Y-yes, thank you very much," I say, with forced politeness. If maybe our last conversation was on bad terms, I want to at least apologize in front of her. Actual good? It won't do any, but I know it'll help me feel better.

We're led into the room, every bit as white and sterile as the outside of it. The walls are lined with medical equipment on shelves and odd diagrams, not a single cheerful poster to be seen on this floor. The other doctor and the nurse are whispering to each other in one of the corners, inspecting a syringe or something of the like, but quickly fall silent when the three of us enter. And, finally, on a hospital bed in the very center of the small room, is my mother.

I can be grateful to Arceus that she's even still recognizable, to be honest. Many of these types of disease might've affected her a lot worse physically. Her brown hair is loose, though she'd been wearing a hair band earlier, and her chest is heaving lightly. She's covered by a blanket of sorts, but I can see a few tubes attached to her body here and there already. There's a peaceful expression on her face, one she only got recently when she was sleeping, and I think that that's what I want to believe, that she's merely in for a long sleep and when she finally wakes up, that terrible blight will be gone from her body. Dr. Kenji joins his colleagues and starts another whispered conversation with them, and Mrs. Sanders steps back to give me a bit of privacy for the words I'm about to say to Mom.

I come closer to the bed, and extend a hand to take her own, under the covers. I find it quickly, and, thankfully, it's not chilled like you'd expect from someone who's dead, so that's a good sign. I close my eyes, though that does nothing to stop the steady stream of bitter tears down my face, and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. It's funny that thinking of words that will go unheard except for by me is this difficult, and important, to me. I take a good half-minute in silence, merely holding my mother's hand, and then just blurt out the first version of everything I want to say that makes some sense.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I begin, in a pathetic tone of voice, "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's just… I guess that I've always been a little resentful that I couldn't go on my Pokémon Journey, you know? I stayed home and took the best care of you I could, but, for what? In the end, you're going to stay here anyway, despite any kind of efforts on my part." The tears begin to flow more freely now, and I don't try to stop them. "I think there's a way out of this, and… well, now that you're like this, I don't have any reason to stay at home anymore. The doctor said some funding might help," I chuckle and shake my head. Am I losing my mind? "I just…wish I could've known if it was worth it to stay all these years. I feel it wasn't, but now's my chance to do something to really make you proud of me. I'm going to get that money, I swear."

"I love you, Mom."

I spend another half minute with her before letting Mrs. Sanders speak to the doctors about something, and, unable to stay in there any longer, wait for her outside, feeling the emotion of sadness being replaced by another, equally unpleasant one. How do I plan to keep that promise I just made to…well, to myself? It's probably so much money they need, it's the reason they haven't given any specific amount.

I slump down on one of the chairs on the opposite wall to the door to Mom's new room and, out of the corner of my eye, I spot something. Little did I know, that could be the solution to my problem. The Jubilife Times newspaper was the thing, an entertainment tool for others in the waiting room that presumably hadn't brought other things, like me, to read. But something on the page catches my eye. It's a picture of one of the skyscrapers on the city, and near it, the title "Want to become a Champion? Need some help?"

"The Pokémon League foundation will be hosting an event the following Saturday for graduates of Trainer's Schools everywhere that have yet to begin their Pokémon Journey. The event will consist of an exam on knowledge about all sorts of things necessary to be a Pokémon Trainer, with the tantalizing lure of becoming Pokémon League Champion. A cash prize of 2000 will be awarded to the three highest scoring contestants, as well as assistance throughout their journey should they need it, advice, and six Poké Balls to commence forming the team that will hopefully become known to the entire region!"

I stare incredulously at the article and read it time and time again. Of course! How could I forget? Every year, the Pokémon League does the same thing to pump young trainers to discover the wonderful world of being a Pokémon Trainer and to aim for the top. I didn't know that it would be so soon, but that makes it all the better for me. Most of the other competitors will probably be fresh graduates from the Trainer's School anyway, while I've been unconsciously preparing myself my entire life for this exam. If I can get to the top spots, I'll have everything I need to go on a Journey, some money, and from there, I could take the Pokémon Gym challenge to claim the prize money, and, ideally, reach the Pokémon League. That alone is a dream come true.

I grab the newspaper, planning to keep it with me and shortly afterwards Mrs. Sanders comes out, with her cheeks puffy, red, and wet, and she looks quite shocked to see me beaming as she walks out. I don't show her the article though, not yet. She walks up to me and gives me a hug. "Oh, darling, you don't have to act strong. I know it's a terrible thing for you. You can stay with me as long as you'd like, of course. And I'll give Kyle a call so he can visit you soon, too, okay?"

I nod, and grin weakly. "Thanks, Mrs. Sanders. Are we returning home now?"

She nods back, sniffs again, and begins to walk towards the elevator to head outside, to where her car is parked. "Of course, darling. It's late, and you've had a long day."

She's got a point there. I follow her half a step behind, leaving the hospital with more than I entered. Now I have Maria's notes, a newspaper, a vow to keep, and a direction in my life.