Author's Note: This story was originally intended as a flashback chapter in an upcoming writing project (Pokémon Dawn & Dusk), which I plan to start releasing to in 2018. It presently has 15 chapters and counting. This one ended up being too long and stood so well on its own that I opted to offer it early as a "teaser" to Dawn & Dusk.
Dawn & Dusk will focus on both Cyrus and Cynthia's adolescent years. The events in Cause and Effect will be referenced, and there is 100% continuity between how Cyrus's parents and grandfather are portrayed here and how they're portrayed in Dawn & Dusk.
His peers were mostly polite, well-mannered children who kept to themselves. If a child cried over something going on at home, maybe another student would come to their desk to ask what was wrong out of courtesy. Beyond that, somebody else's business may as well have been nobody's business.
There were no bullies in Cyrus's grade, the grade below, or even the grade above. Nobody ever pinned him to a locker and threatened to take his lunch money. No one called him creepy, antisocial, standoffish, or even weird. So far as his classmates were concerned, he was just a quiet, polite loner. It wasn't shyness that drove him, but merely a lack of interest.
Nobody saw him as rude or hurtful, though. If anyone ever addressed him, he'd respond. In the rare times when somebody's parent insisted the entire class be invited to a party, he'd attend and offer a gift. Nobody hated him. The trouble simply came in the fact nobody particularly liked him, either.
Most days, he was invisible. That suited him just fine. Everyone else could spend their recess time kicking a ball around or turning themselves into human pendulums on the swing set. He'd finish his homework early so there would be more time at home to work on his pet projects.
His father's flip-clock radio, for instance. Alexander had that clock since his college days, and it recently stopped working. Since Cyrus expressed an interest in putting it back together again and the clock hadn't cost that much, Alexander let him tinker with it.
Most clocks these days were analog: with glowing green or red numbers that automatically changed with the time. As more people went for the digital devices, flip-clocks became harder to find and Cyrus wanted it.
And certainly that was more important than translating Latin words or diagramming sentences. Latin was good for better understanding where the scientific names of certain plants and Pokémon came from. It made etymological pieces come together more neatly, but no part of what he wished to do with his life required that skill.
"Did you want my desk?"
Cyrus glanced up to see a green-haired girl wearing a red and white checkered sundress. That girl, Elaine, had a birthday party just last month. His parents recommended he attend, seeing as Elaine was the daughter of Sunyshore City's District Attorney.
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked curiously.
Elaine nodded her head and pulled a plastic card out of her pocket. "Technically speaking, I'm going all over the place. I'm ten now. That means I'm old enough to get a valid Trainer License."
Cyrus extended one hand out, reaching for the card. "May I?" Elaine politely handed it over.
In her ID photo, she grinned with glee. Her eyes seemed to twinkle with excitement beneath her red plastic glasses. Normally, she kept her mouth shut for school photos because her braces made her feel self-conscious. Not this time. Here, she beamed with pride: sporting those caged pearly whites for all the world to see. That was the face of somebody all too eager to go on her first adventure.
"Your parents are fine with you leaving school to do this?"
"Kids do it all the time," Elaine insisted. "Arthur, Roland, Margot…" She slid the ID back in her pocket. "So long as a parent or guardian signs off on letting you go, ten's a perfect age for a journey. I promised mine that I'd do the rest of my coursework online so I don't fall behind."
"Congratulations. I hope your journey's a safe one."
"What about you? Do you think you'd want to train Pokémon? I mostly did this because I wanted to explore and see new things, so…"
…
Elaine left. A month later, her best friend Elizabeth followed suit. Two weeks after that, the Tyrell twins announced their departure from the class.
"It always happens, every year," their teacher insisted. She tried to sound upbeat and supportive of her students' decisions, but she couldn't hide her sadness.
They were all her children for the year. By the winter holiday season, she knew each student well enough to choose her favorites and motivate her problem children…or at least light a proverbial fire beneath them. Each one who decided to leave felt like a personal affront: like she hadn't inspired enough fascination with academia to keep their bodies at their desks.
"Every year…"
By spring break, Cyrus was one of five students remaining.
…
His mother, Nichole, was the Vice President of Research and Development for the Devon Corporation's Sinnoh branch: a former girl genius who grew up to be a remarkable electrical engineer. His father, Alexander, was the Management Representative for his company's quality system: constantly leading a team of certified auditors to ensure conformity and compliance to set international standards.
Jobs like that required insanely long hours, but for insanely good pay. Neither one had time to regularly cook. That's why tonight's dinner threw Cyrus off. "This tastes homemade," he remarked.
"I thought so, too," Nichole agreed. "We had a new hire today. He wanted to go out for Alola cuisine and recommended this place."
So either Nichole fed the whole family her leftovers again, or she'd made a second trip to pick up dinner.
"And before you say anything," Nichole continued, turning her attention toward her husband. "I asked. You aren't allergic to anything on the table."
The sound of plastic scratching against disposable plates and the uncomfortable sound of human mouths chewing meat filled the air. Conversation was minimal. If it happened at all, either Alexander or Nichole would prompt their son to ask how school was going or voice their concerns over a slightly less than perfect score. Subpar. That's what they called it.
They were both former Valedictorians, both graduated from college Summa Cum Laude, both belonged to an international society for persons with IQ scores in the top 1%...the list went on. Anything short of that would indicate their son was inferior, substandard: a disappointment.
"Summer's quickly approaching," Alexander piped up after swallowing another piece of roast. "We need to finalize vacation plans." He put his utensils down and gave his wife a winning grin. "I know we have plans."
Yes, and Cyrus already knew those plans. Alexander's job involved a lot of travel to different sites in other regions. Sometimes he'd be gone for an entire month, just to answer all the registrar's questions when recertification time came around. One of the Hoenn plants was trying their best to become a certified aerospace manufacturer, but that required a major overhaul of every documented procedure to comply to nearly 40 more pages of clauses and regulations.
His parents planned to take a cruise to Hoenn, do a little sight-seeing, and extend the vacation a bit by agreeing to work remotely in the hotel for all of July. Tickets were already booked. Cyrus wouldn't be joining them.
"There's a two week science camp in Eterna City," Nichole suggested. The tip of her pointed high heeled shoe poked her son's ankle. "I think they're offering a forensics option this year. I would have been all over that at your age."
"What if…" He hadn't worked up the courage to ask about this all year. Even as his classmates left one by one to seek out adventure, Cyrus had barely said a word about it to his parents. But now they were looking straight at him, waiting for him to finish. "What if I apply for a Trainer License?"
Nichole stopped eating. Her icy blue eyes narrowed, leering. "Just to clarify…you're talking about a Pokémon Trainer License? No." It was a quick, firm decision. "You're not doing that."
"I'm ten years old," he reminded her. "That's legally old enough to apply, with your permission. The two of you always mention how you would prefer I spend more time around other people…be a bit more social…more assertive…"
"Anyone can train a Pokémon," Nichole insisted flatly. "You're not just anyone. You're our son. We expect more."
"A lot of kids in your class got their Licenses, didn't they?" Alexander asked. "The District Attorney's kid. The Port Director's kid. The Superintendent's kid." The list went on and on. "They're all spoiled, entitled brats who expect their parents to foot the bill while they backpack across Sinnoh. All they're doing is catching and battling their stupid little pets. That's all you're aspiring to?"
"I wasn't—" Cyrus didn't get to finish that statement before Alexander took his plate and dumped its contents into the trash. The navy-haired man stormed off, slamming a door behind him.
But Nichole remained behind. She sat there as prim and proper as she pleased: silvery-blue hair tied back into a loose braid, a tiny splash of lemon yellow camisole peeking out from beneath her slate gray pinstripe suit. She was a tall woman, and very thin. Cyrus waited, keeping his nails dug deeply into the cushion of his seat, wondering what his mother had to say now.
"Your academics should be your top priority." She didn't appear angry; just mildly annoyed that she had needed to repeat her disapproval so many times. "It's late April. Your semester ends in mid-June. If you can bring home perfect scores for the rest of the school year and complete all assignments on time, I'll discuss the possibility of allowing you to train Pokémon over your summer vacation."
"Just over the summer, then?" He wanted confirmation she was considering this at all.
"Correct. Your studies must come first."
"That's what I was planning. I don't want to jeopardize my education. If I do this at all, it would only be over summer vacation, winter break, and spring break. You have my word."
"You broke your last promise to me, Cyrus," Nichole reminded him coldly. "Your word means nothing, but I'm holding you to it regardless."
…
Aside from one class—Art, but who really cared about Art?—he met Nichole's prerequisites.
Once school was out for the summer, Cyrus had a plan already mapped out in his head. Three months wouldn't be enough time to get too far on a Pokémon journey, and Nichole had only said we'll discuss rather than I will. That meant he technically didn't have her permission, even by the time she and Alexander left for their Hoenn cruise.
So he asked if they'd be amenable to letting him visit his maternal grandfather on Route 228. Nichole conceded.
As cold as Cyrus's mother could be, the man who raised her wasn't. There was a warm, inviting presence at his grandfather's house that he much appreciated. In that man's eyes only, he wasn't a disappointment; but rather someone worthy of love and attention.
His grandfather always asked how his academics were going, as was expected, but he wanted to talk about more than that. Where Nichole would be quick to ask what grades he'd made on his assignments, his grandfather simply asked which course was Cyrus's favorite. Studies were more than test scores and projects, but a path to a future career.
Cyrus knew enough about his grandfather to know he hadn't managed to achieve his dreams. In his youth, he'd read every astronomy book the library had to offer, took as many math and physics courses as he could, and eventually declared an Astronomy major in college. He'd done well, but not well enough to even merit an interview with Mossdeep Space Center.
He'd reached for the stars…and ended up teaching high school Physics in a small town instead.
Nichole called her father "a precautionary tale in mediocrity," but Cyrus never saw him that way. What happened with his grandfather was typical. Sometimes, life didn't reward ambitious people, no matter how hard they worked. Sometimes it was nothing personal; there was simply an equally qualified person living closer by or willing to take the job for a lower salary. One could take it personally and build resentment toward a company or other applicant; or one could simply try again.
He sometimes wondered what life could have been like had he lived here instead of in Sunyshore City; if his grandfather had raised him rather than his parents…
…
A tiny smile played on his lips as he studied the white plastic card in his right hand. He'd been in the house long enough to successfully forge his grandfather's signature: a guardian's consent for a Trainer's License. If he took this nice and slow, then he could keep his disobedience under wraps.
He didn't need a full team. Just one or two well-trained Pokémon would be sufficient for how far he planned to go. By winter break, if his parents took another business trip without him, then he could challenge a Pokémon Gym.
'It's a good age to start,' he reassured himself. 'If I really applied myself and aimed to earn one badge per summer, I'd have all eight by the time I graduate.' And that would mean any Pokémon would listen to his orders without hesitation by the time he entered college. That could really come in handy, especially if the situation at home worsened.
To an extent, he agreed with his father. The children who completely dropped out of school to train Pokémon were making a big mistake. They were overly ambitious with their new toys. He'd exercise some patience and restraint. It would pay off.
"Back already?" His grandfather was in the kitchen, mixing up the final ingredients to an omelet. "I guess you couldn't find anything interesting at the library? I'm not surprised. Compared to the one you have in Sunyshore, this one's tiny."
Cyrus felt a tad guilty. A sour sensation built in his stomach, making it hard to talk. "I…wasn't exactly honest with you about where I was going…"
His brain had a habit of playing unwanted games of cause and effect. If he lied to his father, for instance, Alexander would get in his face and shout at him until his voice began to crack. If he disobeyed Nichole, she'd find some quieter, more subtle way to punish him. Cyrus honestly preferred the yelling.
To his memory, he'd never behaved this way for his grandfather. Maybe this would be the last straw: the moment the old man realized there was nothing about him worthy of praise, kindness, or even love.
"You're growing up," his grandfather remarked. "That rebellious streak is going to come out more and more as you get older. It happened with your mother, too. So…" He smirked, splitting his meal in half so his grandson could have some as well. Cyrus didn't feel hungry. "Where did you go?"
Cyrus took a deep breath and approached. "You have to promise not to tell my parents. They can't know."
The old man slowly blinked at him, but his mouth remained in a smile. "Did you find yourself a little girlfriend or—"
"What? No." By the time his peers began to venture off for their Pokémon journeys, many started to express that sort of interest in other people. Cyrus wasn't one of them. "I applied for a Pokémon Trainer License." And to prove he'd done so, he showed his grandfather the card. "I knew they wouldn't sign, so I…I am so sorry."
"Ah. I signed this." His grandfather knew full well that was a forgery, but he appeared to be more amused than angry. "You're a good boy. I've never known you to do something like this. I guess you really want a Pokémon, don't you?"
There was a long pause on both ends. Cyrus was tempted to break the silence with another apology, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't even look his grandfather in the eye. And the old man had turned quiet: mulling something over in his head. Finally, the silence broke.
"I won't tell your parents. If you manage to catch something, we can even take a day trip to Oreburgh City so you can battle the Gym Leader. I think we can get that taken care of before August."
"You're…not angry…?"
"I'm a little disappointed that you went behind my back, but no. I'm not angry. I can tell this is really important to you. Just don't do something like this again. You could get into legal trouble if people find out you—"
"I promise. I won't." He'd never do anything to disappoint his grandfather again.
…
It was a remarkable July. Even years later, he'd look back on that summer and accept it as the happiest month of his life.
Instead of tormenting his grandchild over his dishonest actions, his grandfather joked that Cyrus could buy his silence by tidying up the house. Nichole was prone to promising consideration rather than actual results, but her father was a man of his word. Once the house was clean, the old man laughed and decided to call it even.
No one else ever had to know the signature on his grandson's ID was a forgery.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner conversations all revolved around his own Pokémon journey. "There was a war going on when I was your age," he informed Cyrus. "And we're lucky Sinnoh hasn't seen another one since the '40s. Back then, all you had to do was prove you were ten years old and they'd sign you right up.
"When I showed my parents the license, my father left the house and didn't come back until sundown. I thought he was angry at first, but it turned out he wanted to surprise me with my very first Pokémon.
"That Psyduck and I were inseparable. We made it halfway through the League challenge, fought a group of war-hardened veterans who tried to cause trouble in Sinnoh, and made many friends along the way. I even met your grandmother while on the road.
"When Psyduck eventually died, I decided that would be the end of my journey. I went back to school, finished on time, and never bothered to catch anything else.
"You'll never forget your first Pokémon, Cyrus. Whatever we catch, it has to be special."
…
One Tuesday morning, Cyrus awoke to the sound of an emergency broadcast from the guest room clock radio. "Attention, attention! A large swarm of wild Beldum have been spotted near Route 228. Unless you have a Pokémon on hand, please exercise caution while outdoors…"
Beldum were rare, but powerful and well worth a capture.
Nichole only had one Pokémon: a Level 35 Metang named Argus. That thing watched her every move and served as her personal bodyguard. Before Cyrus learned how to ride a bike, Argus used to escort him to school to make sure he didn't get lost. If he wandered off, the Metang was all too quick to inform his mother.
He grabbed the first clean outfit from his unfolded laundry pile and hurriedly dressed himself. It was the fastest he'd ever brushed his teeth and combed his hair.
"What's the rush?" his grandfather called out.
"I know what I want to capture. Do you have anything with an advantage against Steel or Psychic types?"
…
Even with the Beldum neatly tucked away inside the Great Ball, Cyrus still felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His grandfather's hand lightly ruffled his silvery-blue hair, causing it to stick up in all the places where he'd hurriedly combed it earlier. The older man's laugh wasn't fully contagious, but was at least enough to make his grandson smile.
'He's proud of me.'
"I'm a little worried I ruined the experience for you," his grandfather admitted.
"What are you talking about? That was—"
"It's going to be a long, long time before you catch something like that again," he explained. "You'll be seeing a lot of Starly and Bidoof before anything else this impressive comes along again."
But Cyrus didn't care about that. He cared more about his progress as a trainer rather than capturing more Pokémon. "The more of these I catch, the harder it will be to hide them. This is enough." Even if this was the rarest Pokémon he ever captured, it would be enough. "You were serious about the Oreburgh day trip?"
"Indeed, I was. Try to work with your Beldum today. Get a feel for how it fights and behaves. We'll go this Friday."
…
By August, Cyrus returned from Route 228 with two things smuggled in his laundry: a Coal Badge and an occupied Great Ball. Both things were promptly hidden under his bed.
So far as he knew, neither parent suspected anything. They hadn't said much to him since their return from Hoenn. Alexander bought him a souvenir from the Mossdeep Space Center, but simply left the gift outside Cyrus's door. By the time Cyrus found it, his father was already back at work.
Nichole took a PTO day to stay home and recuperate, but mostly kept to herself and left her son to his own devices. After every trip abroad, she'd take one extra day to sit around in her pajamas, drink tea, and read a true crime book. Half the books in the house were hers: all showcasing her morbid fascination with serial killers, destructive cults, and grisly murders.
Things would go on as usual. Neither one would suspect a thing unless he acted weird.
…
By Friday, all Cyrus could find under his bed was the Coal Badge. His Beldum was nowhere to be found.
"No…no, no…" Each word came out as a hiss as he reached beneath the bed, desperately swatting everything out of the way, hoping that maybe Beldum's ball rolled to a far corner. He found the remains of his clock repair kit, a pair of golfing cleats he'd lied to Alexander about losing, and the telescope his grandfather gave him last Christmas…but not the Great Ball.
'How did they find out!? He couldn't have told them. He gave his word!'
And it wasn't like he could ask Nichole or Alexander if they saw a Great Ball lying around. He'd deliberately disobeyed them. There were times where he failed to live up to expectations, and that was bad enough. This was an open act of defiance.
The last time he'd done something of this magnitude was a year ago. Nichole had pressured him to apply for acceptance to a residential magnet school in Canalave City. After a tour of the campus, Cyrus quickly realized that school was no place he wanted to go. He voiced his concerns, but felt like his parents were ignoring him.
So he intercepted the mail and made sure the application made it no further than the shredder. His bicycle route got him home two hours before Alexander and Nichole, so it wasn't like they'd catch him.
He hadn't counted on Nichole calling the school, requesting an update on her child's application. As soon as she found out it never arrived…Cyrus would never forget the look on her face. She was typically so stoic.
Not then.
Nichole's hands twitched at her sides for a moment, itching to do something, but she forced them into tight fists and walked away instead. Her lips were pursed into a flat line, something flickered in her eyes, and she walked away calmly with perfect, almost artificial, posture.
That was the only time Alexander had lashed out beyond mere words and actually struck him. Nichole called the school, claiming Cyrus was sick and would be out for the week. That gave the bruises enough time to heal.
If they found out about the Trainer License, it would be worse. They had actively—
"Looking for this?"
Cyrus hit his head on the bottom of his bed, wincing. When he turned around, Nichole was standing in his doorway. She leaned against the frame in one of her fancy designer suits and held up the Great Ball.
He wanted to explain: to confess and beg for mercy. His father was still at work and wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. If he talked this over with Nichole before Alexander got back, then maybe he could reason with her. If she heard him out, if he explained…
"A Beldum was a good choice," she continued. "Argus was so useful I never bothered to capture anything else."
She knew what was in the ball. It meant she'd looked. She probably even called it out to get a better look at it, but when? When could she have possibly found the time unless—
'She took it to work with her,' Cyrus realized. It was Sunday. She'd known for days.
"Does…" He felt like he was going to throw up. "Does Father know…?"
"Not yet." She was near impossible to read. He knew she was angry, but she never showed it physically. "Here." She threw the ball back to Cyrus, watching as he caught it with both hands.
It was empty. That rare, incredible creature his grandfather had spent all July helping him capture and train was gone.
"You released it…"
"You're an intelligent boy," Nichole replied calmly. "So, tell me: why would I do that to you?"
But she'd get no more words from her son. His entire body was shaking in a combination of rage, shame, frustration, and fear.
"Mull it over. Put yourself together again and meet me downstairs in half an hour. If you tell me everything and I believe you truly are remorseful, your father won't have to know."
…but she didn't believe him. And there were still two solid weeks before the new semester began.