Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.

I.

Silhouette

"I'm sending you away."

Emerald eyes flickered slowly to the figure of a person who remained in the shadows between the walls and sharp crevices. This statement was met with a scoff, lips pulling together into a straight line as the emerald eyes shifted away.

"Akira."

The boy bit his lip at the sound of his name, a word that sounded muddled when held against the other person's tongue. He could practically hear the venom woven between the syllables; something that made his ears burn. He turned back to the figure as they emerged from the shadows, stepping into the light, revealing a woman with her arms crossed tightly against her chest.

"What?" the boy asked curtly.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Then don't ignore me."

Silence.

The light peeking into the home through hastily wrapped curtains illuminated the woman's face as she took another step towards the boy, eyes narrowing sharply. She knew that the boy knew she was waiting for something— a response, any sort of indicator that he had acknowledged her words. A part of her was surprised that he was reacting as calmly as he was. The other, wondering if, perhaps, this was some sort of ruse. So, she waited.

"You don't have any relatives," the boy muttered, eyes kept forward. "Where are you sending me to?"

"A school."

His brows furrowed. "A school? The one I go to is fine."

"It isn't. Obviously, it isn't." She rolled her eyes. "That's why I'm sending you away. You've gotten soft, Akira. You need to attend a real institution, one that will whip you into shape."

"You're delusional."

"Watch your tone with me, boy," she hissed. The boy, Akira, deeply frowned and met her gaze.

"I'm in my final year. It makes no sense to send me to a different school."

"No worries. A university is attached to it."

"What—?"

Akira furrowed his brows once more, face contorting in confusion. The fact she mentioned a university was alarming to him. He knew she wouldn't have said something like that unless she was sending him to somewhere completely different. Somewhere he wouldn't be able to easily come back home from.

"Where is this place?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the woman snorted, lips curling into a slight sneer. "Unova."

"Are you serious?"

"Nimbasa City."

"Are you fucking serious?"

The woman narrowed her eyes again. "I told you to watch your tone."

"What the hell? You're sending me to an entirely different region and expect me to be okay with it?"

"And you expect me to be okay with a weakling of a son?"

Akira inhaled a deep breath. The look he gave his mother was nothing short of a glare, emerald eyes shimmering from the light's reflection and a feeling of anger that was beginning to fester within him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the woman spoke before he did.

"As I said, Akira, you're getting soft. It's humiliating to me and my reputation. However, it is my fault for not sending you to a specialized high school earlier."

"This isn't right."

"As your mother, I decide what is right and wrong."

"This is bullshit!"

The woman smirked ever so slightly. There it was. The calmness he tried so desperately to maintain was falling apart at the seams, and something about that was deeply amusing to her.

"You can feel however you want about it. You've already been enrolled."

He blanched.

"This school in Nimbasa is one of the best the region has to offer. It barely has a two percent acceptance rate. Consider yourself lucky."

Akira scowled. "They only accepted me because they know who you are."

"Hm. Perhaps," the woman chuckled underneath her breath. "But they also acknowledge your strength. They would be foolish to reject you."

A pamphlet was held between her slender fingers. With an entertained smile, the woman handed it towards Akira, who stared at it for a few moments before quickly snatching it out of her hands. He flipped through the pages that sported pictures of students posing in front of what he assumed was the main building, wide smiles on their faces, with several pokémon by their sides.

It was the words on the pamphlet that irritated Akira. Descriptions on each page seemed to only give redundant reasons as to what made this school so well established. It was a boarding school that placed a rather heavy emphasis on pokémon battling, dedicated to producing the next generation's top trainers. Akira felt his stomach twist into knots.

"I'm not going," he muttered, flicking the pamphlet carelessly to the floor. The woman pursed her lips.

"I don't recall giving you the choice."

"I'm not going," he repeated in a firmer tone. "Stop trying to dictate my life."

As he moved past her, she suddenly grasped his wrist, hand curled so tightly it was turning Akira's skin red. He looked over his shoulder and glowered at her with eyes filled with animosity.

"This is your destiny, Akira. Don't you understand?"

"Enough of the destiny bullshit! You're always bringing that crap up!"

Her grip tightened.

"Do not run away from you who are."

"Let go of me, mom," Akira said.

"Enough of the games!" his mother barked. "You're being ridiculous!"

"I already told you I'm not going to this place, so you can fuck right off!"

Thud.

Akira collapsed to the ground, a large hand shaped mark on his cheek that both stung and burned. He looked up at his mother with widened eyes. Emerald met emerald. She cleared her throat and glanced down at him with a gaze that piercing like daggers.

"If you think I will allow you to tarnish my good name, Akira, you are sorely mistaken. This isn't about your feelings, or what you want. This is about paving the path I laid out for you," she said. "You will attend this academy. One year or one decade, it makes no difference. Now get up."

Akira released a quiet, shaky breath. Glancing at her once more, he slowly stood up, stance wavering, and he placed his hand where he was slapped. Without uttering a single word, Akira turned on his heel and walked away, melting in the shadows that seemed to be everywhere.

The darkness came before anything else.

When it did, all senses trickled away, one by one. First was sight. Then smell. Then taste, touch, and finally, hearing. When he looked around in despair, mouth moving despite there being no sound, that's when he knew he was back here— the one place that, aside from his home, always managed to make him feel so much more alone.

It was like he was a child again. Akira curled into a ball, pulling his knees up to his chest and pressing his forehead against them, hoping the darkness would shred away and he would be brought back into reality. But when the shadows surrounding him were deeper than the shadows behind his eyelids, sleep only felt like a last resort. So, here he was— alone. Isolated.

There was always a question that clawed at the back of his head in these moments of solitude. Even when Akira's mind was running a thousand miles a second, thoughts spiraling and gyrating faster than he could process, this one question would always stand out, a mighty force in the hurricane known as his mind. Ignoring it was not an option. The implications behind it always seeped into his pores, down to his veins and even the very cracks of his bones and engulfed him more than the darkness or anything else did— or could.

"Am I a monster?"

When the first light broke, Akira scrambled towards it, grasping it because it was the only thing that could save him from this world. He would fall to his knees and tremble, on the verge of crying, the only thing holding back stray tears being his own sense of pride. A lift of his head introduced him to the woman he called his mother. Black tresses cascaded down her back, a few individual strands flittering in front of her face and somehow making the green in her eyes shine brighter. Her lips were ruby red, always, her skin porcelain, but her presence alone was the one thing that made Akira wish he could return to the darkness.

"No."

It was supposed to be a punishment. She always threw him in it whenever they got into arguments no words could fix. And before he could pour his heart out in the form of hot tears and sore throats, Akira would always be placed there, left alone to wallow in his own silence, thought, it was better than wallowing in hers. And that was, perhaps, what made this place his sanctuary as much as it was his nightmare. The fact that, for a little while, he could get away from her, the one place he was truly able to be alone and out of her shadow. Because even if her shadow was there, it would become one with the rest of the darkness. So quietly, he sat, and in small instances, he could even imagine warmth that, while foreign, felt so real.

"Not when this feels so much like home."

When Akira opened his eyes, he was not met with abyssal shade, but the off-white of his ceiling. He tapered his eyes as if truly processing where he was, and once he did, he sat up and raked his fingers through his own hair.

He swung his legs off the side of his bed and stood up to his full height, taking a moment to examine his now bare room. Posters had been stripped off the walls. All his personal belongings were packed away. It felt unreal— that, despite his own qualms, he would now be attending an unfamiliar school in an unfamiliar region. Akira was upset about it for a while, but eventually was able to just come to terms with it. The only reason he could at all was because he knew he had no other choice.

Akira strode out of his room and walked down a hallway where he was greeted with a staircase. Descending to the bottom floor, he noticed that the lights were on, indicating his mother was home. However, he didn't see here as he stepped further into the space. He checked the living room, dining room, kitchen, office, and den, but there was no one.

With a small sigh, Akira made his way to the back of the house and quickly noticed the door leading to the backyard was cracked open. Inching towards it, Akira swung the door open and saw his mother sitting in a folding chair on the deck, one leg crossed over the other. In front of her, two pokémon stared each other down, covered in bruises and scratches, but seemingly ignoring the injuries they sustained.

"What are you doing?" Akira spoke. His mother perked up at the sound of his voice and turned around to face him. Her two pokémon did the same, the look in their eyes immediately softening, as if they didn't have almost murderous intent just a second ago.

"Training," his mother replied. "Start getting ready. Your flight is soon."

Akira pursed his lips and glanced at the two pokémon— a Garchomp and Hydreigon— before scoffing underneath his breath and walking back into the house. Despite the light in the house, Akira could still see remnants of the shadows. They weren't as obvious at first, but they lingered in empty corners and seemed to move when he did. With a shake of his head, Akira continued onwards. Before he reached the staircase to head back to his room, he stopped by a table where a newspaper was strewn across the surface. The large, bold letters couldn't be ignored.

"Celebrating Twelve Years of Championship: Sinnoh's Red Oni, Tachibana Kiyoko."

His lips twitched begrudgingly.

"There's a cab waiting for you outside."

In truth, Akira was thankful it wasn't his mother who was going to drive him to the airport. He could only imagine how unbearable the trip would be, shuddering at the mere thought of spending that much time around her. Leaning over the sink in his bathroom, with Kiyoko standing in the doorway, Akira examined himself in the mirror one last time to make sure he looked presentable.

It's true that he was the spitting image of his mother, their angular features, sharp green eyes, and black hair more than enough proof that they were, in fact, related, the only thing telling them apart being the freckles that dotted Akira's cheeks and bridge of the nose. He also towered over her, standing at six feet tall, while his mother only reached up to his shoulder. Like Kiyoko's, Akira's hair was wavy, neatly trimmed into an undercut, though the rest of his hair was messy, like he just rolled out of bed, with some strands even falling into his eyes.

He wore a pair of navy blue sweatpants that stopped shy of his ankles, with white trainers, as well as a gray pullover hoodie underneath a black bomber jacket. For the sake of accessorizing, he wore black fingerless gloves, and both ears had two silver studded earrings in them.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he mumbled. "This is stupid."

"It's for your own sake, Akira," Kiyoko responded. There was no response to that. Akira trudged out of the bathroom and made his way downstairs, his mother following after him. She crossed her arms over her chest, a pose that, while positioned so frequently, made Akira want to melt into a puddle.

"Do you have everything? Your pokéballs?" Kiyoko asked. As Akira slung the strap of a bag across his chest, he nodded. "Your things were shipped out in advance. They should be at your dorm by the time you arrive."

"Okay."

"Three pokémon," Kiyoko said. "That's all you're allowed to have on your person at once."

"I know."

"If you need to switch any out, let me know."

"It won't come to that."

Kiyoko's lips curled up at the confidence in his tone. She followed him to the front door, where a small suitcase was. Akira lifted the handle and opened the front door, then stopped and turned to his mother. His hand tightly clenched the handle as he attempted to curb the feelings of anger and betrayal welling inside him. Taking note of his stiff stance and white knuckles, Kiyoko chuckled.

"Good luck, Akira. I don't want you coming back unless you're strong enough to defeat me."

"You're the champion. The point is that no one is supposed to be able to beat you," Akira spat indignantly. This was almost enough to make Kiyoko laugh. Almost.

"I spent all these years raising you so you could one day take my throne."

"You didn't raise me," Akira huffed. "You trained me, like a damn dog."

Kiyoko rolled her eyes. "Whatever you want to call it, look where it's taken you."

"Whatever," he grumbled underneath his breath, grabbing his suitcase and making his way out of the door.

"Oh, Akira!" Kiyoko called. When he turned to face her, he dug his nails into his palms at the sight of her smile.

"Don't tarnish the Tachibana name."

Akira said nothing.

Living in Twinleaf Town could hardly be considered exciting. It was a quiet, modest town with rolling hills, wide fields, and only a few people who Akira could call his neighbors, most of whom were far out of his age range. Of course, this made it the perfect place for the champion and her son to live in, out of prying eyes, but if there was one good thing Akira could get out of going to this school, it would be getting a change of scenery. Something different— something new. And most of all, away from her.

Contrarily, Akira wasn't quite sure what to expect from this school. At the very least, it's not like he had any friends who he would be parting with, but this wouldn't make it any easier for him to actually make friends. He wasn't sure who the teachers or headmaster was, or just how important battling was to the school. He only knew students trained certain types, and were divided by said type.

The drive to the airport only took about thirty minutes, and despite the fact Akira was soon to be across an entire ocean from his mother, the crawling sensation underneath his skin served as a subtle reminder that her smile and the shadows behind her eyes always lingered with him. And then, as he traveled through the airport, to his terminal, with an itch pricking at every fiber in his being, he could only think about how alike they looked.

Upon reaching his terminal, Akira was able to find a seat farther away from anyone else who was already there. He sat down and stared out at the massive windows that lined the wall and led to other parts of the airport where some planes were docked and others were beginning to take off. The sky was bright blue, clear, with only a few clouds. That's the kind of weather springtime brought, and while Akira personally preferred frigid winds and snow covered sidewalks, he had to admit the warmth of spring was nice, too.

As he reached into his pocket and fished out a pair of earphones, a few whispers caught Akira's attention. He shifted his gaze to the people around him, some of their own looks pinned on him. He recognized the glint in their eyes. It was all too familiar, the look people carried when they recognized him as the child of Sinnoh's champion. Akira turned away and looked back out the window, but in his reflection all he saw were the shadows.

"Of course," he thought, followed by a quiet sigh. "They never leave. Guess I'd be asking for too much if they did."

"Attention, passengers. Please return to your seats as we begin our descent into Mistralton City."

Akira let out a long, drawn out yawn, adjusting himself slightly in his seat as he pulled down his hood. Looking outside the window, he could see rising mountain peaks and towering skyscrapers. By craning his neck a bit, the sight of the airport came into view, much larger than the one in Sinnoh.

"We are now in Mistralton City, Unova. The time currently is 7:47 pm. The temperature is a cool 62 degrees. We hope you enjoy your time here, and we thank you for flying with Unova Airlines."

Akira unbuckled his seatbelt and shuffled into the aisle. He opened the overhead bin and slipped out his bag. Pulling on the handle, he plodded down the aisle and out of the plane, disregarding whoever he passed by.

At the very least, he wouldn't have to spend time looking for any suitcases. When he stepped into the main airport, which was bustling with people of all sorts hurrying up and down to their respective destinations, Akira lifted his arms above his head and stretched until he heard a small pop in his back.

"Seven hour flight… talk about brutal," he groaned, rubbing a sore spot in his back. "Five hours ahead of Sinnoh time, too, huh?"

Akira continued ahead, taking small, careful steps. He would occasionally look over his shoulder, but a few moments later, he realized that unlike in Sinnoh, not everyone's eyes were on him. This eased him a bit— at the very least, he didn't have to feel like he needed to hide, and if anyone did stare at him, it would be because he was walking and looking around in a very suspicious manner. With this in mind, Akira relaxed his shoulders and continued on to where he was supposed to be picked up.

His attention was quickly caught when he noticed two people standing outside with a sign raised over one of their heads that read 'Nimbasa City'. There was a small group already gathered by them. Akira sighed and gripped his suitcase a bit tighter, making his way outside and toward them.

"Hi there!" one of the people, a young woman, greeted cheerfully. "What's your name?"

"Tachibana Akira," he answered plainly. The woman nodded and grabbed the clipboard that rested underneath her arm and glanced at the paper attached.

"Mm… oh, right! Here you are!" she hummed. "It's so nice to meet you!"

Akira simply nodded, ignoring the curious gazes he received from some of the other people in the group. About ten minutes later, after a few more people had joined the group, they were all led by the two people away to a bus that was waiting for them not too far away. Akira looked around, noticing the glistening surface of the asphalt, indicating it had recently rained. Despite this, cars were still zipping down the road in an almost reckless manner.

"We're so happy to have you here!" the woman said, standing in front of the bus. "The trip to Nimbasa City will take about an hour, so please settle in! Sit anywhere you'd like!"

The doors split open and one by one, the students began to board, some mumbling to themselves about how they were really here, still caught in a daze. Akira just rolled his eyes. He took his seat towards the back, keeping his distance away from the others.

When the bus began driving off, he looked out the window, noticing small mounds of snow that could be sighted every now and again. Mistralton City was relatively large on its own, and the airport seemed to span endlessly. Gray clouds were beginning to part, revealing the blue sky above, shining some rays of light, making everything a bit brighter. Something about it felt a bit melancholy.

At this point, all Akira wanted to do was get this trip over with. His entire body still ached from sitting in one position for so long, and having to endure the soreness for another hour made his skin crawl. With a deep sigh, Akira leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, allowing himself to, for a little while, be surrounded by a darkness that was far too familiar.

a/n

yes i'm back on my bullshit and admittedly i came up with this on a whim, but we'll see how it goes. i started to miss writing pokemon stories so i wanted to return, if only for a little bit. take a small break from other projects and make something new (which is what i'm always doing but that's besides the point). if you know me, then you already know this will be a SYOC story. of course, i am not accepting characters through review, only pm. i'll be opening nine spots this time, a little more than usual, but yeah! if you want to submit a character, head to my profile for more information.

i want this to be a more mature story with a more mature feel and tone, and the story is rated M for the use of coarse language. it's been a while since i've written in third person, since i write almost entirely in first person nowadays, but i'm starting to like it again. i certainly hope akira doesn't come off as stu-ish. there are parts of him that are definitely flawed that you'll see soon enough. there's a couple hidden messages in this in relation to his character and past, see if you can pick up on them!

anyway, thanks a lot for reading. i'm excited to see what kind of characters you guys will show! although this is first come, first serve (no reservations are being held), i want you guys to take your time. don't rush the creation and quality of your character. anyway, thanks again for reading, and i'll see you next time!

- clarified