Disclaimer: Seriously, if you don't know that we don't own Pokemon, then you've been living somewhere on Mars. I hope Curiosity finds you soon.
Well, well, well. It's not every day that an old hermit like me has so many visitors all at once. What can an old man do for you children this fine day?
So you want a story, hmm? Well I understand the sentiment, but really, I'm not a great storyteller. Surely someone else can give you a better tale?
No? Well if you insist, I guess I can dredge up something interesting - just don't be disappointed if it's not exactly what you expected. Now, this is a story of adventure, of wondrous beauty and terrible horror, of courage and cowardice, of love and of hate. But really, it's just the story of the friendship between two misfits, struggling against the world...
Ever since I was a young boy, I've always hated Fridays. It's not that some trauma made me loathe the day everyone seems to love; on the contrary, Fridays were the days that kept that me alive week after week, kept my failing heart beating as steady streams of drugs made their way into my body, fighting off my father's last legacy. Even today, I can feel my heart straining to pump blood through my veins, and I'm just waiting for the day that it realizes that it can hold out no longer. But you didn't come here just to hear an old man ramble on about nothing. No, you came because you wanted to hear my story. Well, I say my story, but that's not entirely true either - if it had been my story alone, I would most likely be lying dead in some clearing in the Viridian Forest; I certainly wouldn't be in any shape to tell this tale today. None of you would be here either. In fact, there probably wouldn't be anybody else left at all. Who knows, maybe there wouldn't be anything left at all.
What's that?
Oh dear, you're right. It would seem that I've gone off on a tangent again. Please forgive an old man's foibles; my thoughts have tended to drift ever since I found myself truly alone for the first time. Even after ten years, I still miss him. Yes, I visit his grave, but only occasionally; he'd scold me something fierce if he saw me moping over him. But enough of this. You children wanted to hear a story that took place many years before that. That story, in truth, began long before I was born. My part of the story, or at least the start of my journey, happened over half a century ago, on a Friday much like this one. Samuel Oak was still alive back then, and trainers got their first pokémon when they turned eleven. Yes, eleven, not much older than you lot. Shocking, isn't it?
Anyways, it all begins shortly after I turned fourteen. My neighbor, Professor Oak's grandson, had just turned eleven you see, and he was all set to begin the journey across Kanto with his new pokémon partners. I, on the other hand...
…...am sitting on a soft leather chair with a needle stuck in my arm, watching that little brat Gary Oak prance down the street, singing his praises to the world. His grandpa's a great guy - he'd helped me out a lot when I was younger - but Gary? Oh no, little prince (though with the time spent on his appearance I think princess is more accurate) Gary thought he was some hotshot trainer, ready to take on all of the Elite Four - preferably all at the same time - before he even got his first Pokémon. Then Professor Oak gave him an eevee on his eighth birthday, and his head inflated even further, even though I'm not sure how that's even possible - it was full of hot air to begin with. Now he has another one. I feel sorry for all the trainers who are going to have to deal with him, but at least he's out of my hair for the foreseeable future.
To be honest though, I envy him. He's rich, has a loving family that isn't missing any members, has not one, but two Pokémon of his own, and has Professor Oak as his grandfather. But most importantly, he's free. Free in a way that I, with my weak, degenerating heart and small, underdeveloped lungs, could never hope to be. He's free to travel the land however he wants, while I - I'd probably collapse before I could even run from my house to the edge of town, a mere half mile away.
Regardless, my mother would never even entertain the idea of letting me go out into the world alone. I love my mother dearly, but forget the rest of the world - she made sure that I couldn't go anywhere alone. If it wasn't my mother or some busybody neighbor who decided to be helpful, it was my abra that was a constant presence, no matter where I was. He wasn't even my abra, just some pokémon that my father left behind before he decided to leave my mother alone with a two-month-old baby and die. I couldn't even change his name (because seriously, what kind of name was Seijin) since my father had named him when he was born. Ever since, it was all he would respond to, and eventually I just gave up trying; some things just aren't worth the effort.
Speaking of Seijin, he's right where he always is, hovering slightly above the ground as he watches me, or at least faces in my direction. Maybe he's sleeping. It's hard for me to tell, since his eyes are just slits that never open, but I doubt he's sleeping and I don't feel like testing him today. I've tried before, and it always ends up the same way. The moment I try to skip my treatments or attempt to sneak away, he's on me like a flash, sending a psychic alarm to my mother and mentally restraining me. The ensuing lecture is in no way worth the few seconds of rebelliousness. But - as I look outside the window, watching the last of the autumn leaves slowly drift to the ground, seeing the pidgey wheel freely in the sky, I feel a force rising in my chest. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of this life, sick of being watched like delicate china, always caged like some wild bird. I want to run, to jump, to fly, to sing, to dance, to do whatever I please! I want to be free!
But it will never happen. Even if I could leave this town, my heart will bind me as surely as any iron chain - even moderate exertion could send my heart into a flutter, potentially killing me. Still, I've always been more than a bit stubborn...
I look closely at Seijin again, carefully trying to determine whether he was truly asleep. He's quiet and still, not moving a single muscle. I slowly wave my hand. No reaction. I hope against all odds that he's actually sleeping, as I reach for the I.V without taking my eyes off him. Slowly, ever so slowly, I slide the needle from my flesh, holding back a whimper of pain, watching with held breath, ready to stop at the slightest sign of movement. The needle slides further, sending tingles up my arm. Finally, it's all the way out and he has yet to twitch a single time. I can't believe my luck. This is the first time in my life that Seijin has ever fallen asleep while watching me, and I plan to make use of it. It's literally a once in a lifetime opportunity.
I stand cautiously and inch my way towards the door. My mother is across the street congratulating Gary's family, and at this time of day, the noon sun keeps most people inside; if I want to escape, there will never be a better moment than right now. I slide my feet across the floor, passing bookshelves filled with classic literature and other great works right next to scientific manuals and books of pokémon lore, past the computer that has been my greatest weapon against boredom, until finally, I reach the door. My string of good fortune continues, as the door lies ajar and I slip out of my room into the hallway, tiptoe down the sometimes-rickety staircase, and carefully open the front door. I look outside, and something in my heart clenches tightly as I inhale sharply, not in pain, but out of exultation. I want to shout in joy, to scream to the heavens, to roar my defiance, but I don't. Rather, I can't. My whole body vibrates like a plucked string as I realize that I am mere seconds away from freedom. I look back into my house, glancing at the stairs that lead to my former life, before I turn and walk out without another backwards glance.
For the first time in my life, I am free.