Kanto had always been boring for me.

I had no interest in Pokémon whatsoever, and I was 17, everyone expected it of me, to become some legendary great. I hated the battling, hated how brutal it was - witnessing the actual death of a Pokémon in battle was common and it was just how it was. Everyone was used to it. Me, though, I never got used to it. I hated the battles most of all - didn't hate the Pokémon, as such. The way everyone seemed to be so damn brainwashed into this ridiculous glorification of death and fighting…

I guess I should introduce myself, huh? I'm Darrell.

And God, did I hate Kanto. With a deep burning passion.

Everybody there was so nuts about Pokémon. That I didn't mind, I would just deal with it. Parents pressuring me to go out and catch some and become a champion - that began to grind my gears. Everybody in the whole goddamn world looking down on anyone who didn't have a Pokémon - I got angry, and when Darrell got angry, bad things happened. Then the knowledge that there were other regions out there just as bad as Kanto, battling each other constantly for their own pride, made me a little bit suicidal.

Then, one boring-as-per-bloody-usual day in my home town of Pallet, that all changed.


"Darrell! I won't call you again!" Good. It was 9 in the morning, on a Saturday, and I'd spent the whole Friday night out with a couple of friends. It had been a silly, mischief-filled evening with lots of drink and heavy metal. It was how I spent most of my nights, outside or not, now that I'd finished school at seventeen years old.

I wasn't the top A student, but I wasn't at the bottom of the pile either. I did well in the more creative subjects like art and music. My best was history. I wasn't bad at chemistry either and ended up with an A in my final results somehow. Bs for everything else. Maths wasn't my strong point and I was glad to be rid of it. School was fun, and I had a lot of friends. Perfect.

But I had absolutely no clue what I wanted to do with my life.

I murmured something unintelligible, shoving my face into the pillow.

"Darrell Alan Redford!"

Shit just got real. My full name meant serious business. I removed myself from bed, trudging downstairs, bare-chested and only in a pair of boxers and socks. Completely presentable. She was standing in the kitchen, handbag over her shoulder. My siblings were all somewhere in the living room. I had two of them. My youngest brother, Zack, was six and I would admit any day that I did have a soft spot for him, even though he caused Hell wherever he went. Then there was Eddie, who was fourteen and a smart kid. He resembled Kurt Cobain in almost every way, aside from the hair colour. Curls ran in the family but for some reason, Eddie didn't have them. He was a good kid.

"Mother, it is nine in the morning, and I spent all of last night drinking," I whined. "Does your dearest Darrell not receive some form of award for being addicted to fun rather than drugs?"

"No, he does not!" Eddie called back from somewhere.

"Darrell, I need you to watch the boys. I have to go to work, they need someone to cover Sylvia since she's away on holiday. There's a list of things for you to do, I stuck it to the fridge, okay? See you later."

Before I had time to protest, she was gone with a slam of the front door. Fucking Sylvia always chose the right times to go on holiday. I looked over at Eddie, who was smiling at me from the couch in his black Nirvana T-shirt, blue jeans and blindingly white socks, playing with a Poké Ball. Always cheerful. Eddie was probably one of my favourite people, and he was a good trainer. He only had one Pokémon, a Wartortle with a nickname I couldn't remember, but he was tough. He didn't take it very seriously and the Pokémon was his friend, not just a battler like most people raised them into.

Eddie was laughing at something Zack had said as I slugged myself over to the fridge to find the list of things I would be forced to do. Oh well, at least I'll actually get something done, whether I like it or not. I was the kind of person that liked both lazing about, but also being productive. I hated sleeping days away, but getting up at 9AM thanks to my mother's shouting was not exactly something I enjoyed either.

The list was nothing special, just the usual Saturday: drop off Zack at my grandmother's house, take Eddie to his karate class at 12, go and talk to Professor Oak because he wants to see me…wait, what?

The Professor? He wanted to see me? That had to be wrong. Mum must have had other reasons, she must have meant it for Eddie, or maybe even Dad, but not me. I didn't have a Pokémon. I was the only one in our family that didn't - apart from Zack, but he was definitely obsessed with them and already he'd decided he was going to be a hotshot trainer when he was old enough.

"Darrell!"

I hadn't realised Eddie had been calling me. I had been staring at the list, trying to figure out why Professor Oak wanted to see me. I wasn't a trainer and didn't plan on becoming one, at all. I had interests in other things. Eddie called for me again, lacking the frustration my mother had. It was a great thing to have a smart brother.

"Darrell, Zack's got his arm stuck in the sofa again!"

Idiot.


After a busy morning, it was ten past 12 in the afternoon and I was strangely happy. Zack was at my grandmother's and would be there for hours to come, Mum would pick him up later, and Eddie was punching and kicking away at his karate class. I had the house to myself, and was ready to laze about watching wrestling…when the realisation dawned on me. Professor Goddamn Oak wanted to see me.

Eddie's Wartortle had been let out of its ball and was wandering around, looking curiously at everything. He had been strictly trained to never, under any circumstances, spray eater on anything in the house. I didn't really know whether or not to leave him out; I didn't really know if he was mischievous or not, Eddie knew him better than I did.

I pulled on my black jacket while attacking my long hair with a brush - Mum had always wanted me to cut it off and look 'presentable', but naturally, I didn't listen to her. My hair. My rules.

"Hey!" I called out to the Wartortle, throwing the brush onto the sofa and the Pokémon's interest perked up at the sound of my voice. "You be good, okay? I want to find this house intact when I come back. Alright? Alright."

The journey across Pallet Town didn't even take ten minutes, but I brought along my MP3 just to speed up the time. I was quite happy to stroll across the few streets, clicking my fingers to Iron Maiden - I'd always loved metal, and Maiden would always be one of my very favourite bands. Eddie took after me, musically, and loved every moment of it. Many a night we would sit together and talk about all our favourite bands, introducing new ones to each other. I was the reason Nirvana were his favourite, he was the reason I still loved Iron Maiden.

Arriving at Professor Oak's laboratory meant I had to halt the solo from Aces High, but I figured I would just listen later and entered the lab reluctantly. This had to be a mistake. I knew the Professor fairly well; I accompanied Eddie when he first received his Squirtle, but I had no sudden epiphanies that I wanted to own a Pokémon. They just remained as they always had, in my mind. I was happy that my brother was happy, whether or not I was interested.

"Professor?"

"Ah, Darrell!"

Yeah. He had been looking for me. He was a great old man, I had to give it to him. The kids loved him and he was a charming, smart, kind guy. I did like him, but not enough to talk to him about Pokémon. I had grown up always knowing him; I had no hesitations about talking to him. It was just the subject of conversation that made me a little…well, edgy would have to be the right word. Nervous wasn't what I was trying to say.

"Yeah," I said rather unnecessarily, walking up to him and shaking his hand. He beckoned me to sit down and I took the nearest seat. "My mum said I was to come see you. I thought she might have meant Eddie instead of me, though."

"No, no, it's definitely you I want to see. Now, Darrell, what are your aspirations in life?"

Shit. Way to put me on the spot. To be honest, I really didn't know. My best subjects in school had always been Art and History, about as different you could get. But I didn't have enough passion for history to want to do it for the rest of my life - art, though, was a different story. I always found myself drawing something, and if I didn't do it at least once a day, it was like I had forgotten something essential to my life, like I had forgotten to wake up. Eddie, bless his soul, always said I was good at it, he liked my drawings. I hadn't ever really thought about becoming an artist. I knew that everybody expected me to become a fantastic Pokémon trainer - not even becoming a millionaire lawyer would be good enough. I had always been terrible at anything to do with law.

"Something to do with art, I guess. I like drawing."

It seemed only a curious question. Surely he wouldn't call me to his lab just to know what I wanted to do in life. Immediately then, I knew what he was going to talk about. Pokémon.

"And do you have any Pokémon?"

"I'm not a trainer."

"Really, now? I think your brother Edward has inherited your spirit, Darrell. You were always tough and passionate, did you know? Even as a child. You would make a fantastic trainer."

Whatever that meant.

"I haven't really thought about it."

"At your age, Darrell, you'll already know a lot about battling-" How much I hated it. "-and how to raise them, even if you have never owned one before."

Well, it seemed as if I was being forced into this. Whatever, an extra friend wouldn't hurt. Professor Oak showed me to the ball on the table, and it opened automatically in a bright flash of white. Sitting in front of me, after I regained my sight, was a little orange reptile, with a flame on the end of its tail. It looked up at me with bright blue eyes, and smiled a sharp-toothed grin.

"That's a Charmander," Oak explained. The little thing was actually kind of cute, when I thought about it. I reached out my hand to pet it, and it responded happily, pushing upwards into my hand and growling quietly at my touch. "A Fire type. They can be difficult to raise at first, but they are extremely loyal, and their attacks are devastating."

"I can take it?" I asked stupidly, not really realising what was going on. Me, Darrell Redford, someone who had never had a Pokémon before…was becoming strangely attached to the Charmander already just through one touch. Maybe this was why people loved them so much. Maybe…but I would still hate battling with a passion. Unless absolutely necessary, I considered adding to my personal philosophy.

"All yours."

He had to be shitting me.

"Thanks!"

"Not a problem. My grandson, Gary, is about your age. He's up in Viridian Forest, right now. I think it'd be a good idea for you to go and talk to him, he could give you some help."

He almost pushed me out of the lab after a few more words, but I guessed that my goal in life now was to raise the Charmander as my friend. Maybe I would even go on one of those journeys. But of course, I would have to talk about it with my parents, and let Eddie know, and then there was Zack. I did love them all, as much as my parents annoyed me a lot of the time, and as loud as Zack could be. I would talk to them about it that evening, I decided.

I released the Charmander from the Poké Ball, and it seemed happy to be out with me. He looked up at me with adoration and curiosity, and I scoffed at what Professor Oak had said. Difficult to raise, my ass. I bent down to its level and let out a 'hmmm'. A few things had to be sorted before I could start raising it.

"I should really give you a name."

It stared at me, and nodded a little, before looking to its tail. It actually understood me. Pokémon weren't as strange as I thought they had been. It shocked me a little, and brought me that little bit closer.

"Well, first, are you a boy or a girl? One for boy, two for girl."

"Char!"

"Boy it is…something simple, then…" Coming up with a name had never been an easy task for me - it had taken me over an hour to think of what to name my enemy character on an old video game, until Eddie grabbed the controller from me and put in something rather vulgar. But this had to be a simple name, something I could easily remember. "Flame? It's awful, I know…but it suits you, little guy."

"Char-char!"

He seemed happy enough.