AN: Hello, people of the Pokémon fandom here on fanfiction. This is an idea I've been toying around with lately, and I want to try it out. I know there are a lot of fanfics in this section you could have chosen to read, and I appreciate that you chose mine. I think it's going to be a fun story, but I can't be sure without your feedback. Again, thank you for taking the time to read it. Even if you don't (or can't) review, you rock.
Fingers drum against the Pokémon Center counter as I wait for my healing Pokémon. Manectric, who hadn't been in the recent battle, is pacing around me, fur crackling with impatience-fueled electricity.
"Sir," a female voice says kindly, "You can sit down; it's going to be a while before your Pokémon are ready."
The nurse smiles at me. I try to smile back, but I can tell without looking that it's pathetic.
"What seems to be holding it up?" I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall and hoping she doesn't notice. I want to be in Lavender Town by noon.
"Well, as you know, Dewgong has a cut in its side. It's not too deep, but getting stitches into blubber is a delicate process and takes time. I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
"Dewgong's a she," I say, my voice taking on a harsh edge. The nurse only smiles, choosing to ignore my bad mood. More power to her.
"Of course. Go ahead, have a seat," she gestures to the waiting room couches. I nod gratefully to make up for my previous rudeness. Manectric turns sharply and walks with me to a seat. Settling on his haunches, his red eyes stare straight up at me.
I sigh. "Alright. Get up 'ere." I pat the couch beside me, and he jumps up without hesitation. I turn and fumble through my backpack for a pair of rubber gloves. I slip them on, face Manectric again, and ruffle the short blue fur of his chest. Sparks go flying around my protected hands. Manectric lowers his head, and I begin to stroke his back. Sparks get shaken out of his fur like dandruff, and I smile.
"Good boy," I whisper, words he hasn't heard in two weeks. Not since Rocko died.
"Wow, is that a Manectric?"
I turn to the source of the question. It is a girl, probably about fourteen, wearing jeans and a red sweater, and with her brown hair in braids on both sides of her freckled face.
"Yeah, that's right," I say, looking down at him fondly and patting his shoulders.
"The Discharge Pokémon," she replies, quoting the Pokédex, "They're from Hoenn, right?"
"Uh huh. So am I. He was my first."
"Oh, cool, you're from Hoenn?" The girl plops down in the chair across from me. "Do you have any badges from there?"
My brow furrows in confusion. "No, you must be mistaken. There's no Pokémon League in Hoenn."
She raises an eyebrow. I hate when people do that.
"Yes, there is," she insists, "It was founded five years ago. Geez, man, how long have you been out?"
Suddenly self-conscious, I mutter, "Ten years." Five years ago I was halfway through the Johto region.
"Well," she continues, "I'm sorry you had to hear it from me. But hey, it'd be fun for you to go back there. See how much the place has changed; get some training in; even go for the badges if ya want. A new adventure in your old stomping grounds."
"Amanda Ross, you may retrieve your Pokémon now. Amanda Ross, owner of the Ivysaur, Kadabra, and Spearow, you may retrieve your Pokémon now," the nurse announces over the intercom.
The girl rises to her feet. "That's me. Nice talking to you, dude. Hey, mind if I ask you your name?"
Strangely, I don't. "It's Ben."
I get to Lavender half an hour past schedule. It could have been avoided if I had just let Pidgeot fly me there, but the Rock Tunnel is one of my favorite places in Kanto.
I knock on the door of the purple house, smiling knowingly. Mr. Fuji, the owner of the Visitor Center/Sanctuary for Abandoned Pokémon answers the door and grins widely when he sees me.
"Ah, young Benjamin! So good to see you. How long has it been? You look so much bigger!"
"It's been a couple of years, sir."
"I say! How old are you now, twenty? Ah, I remember when I first met you." He says that every time I visit. "Spunky eleven year old kid- so excited to see the world. How have you been?"
"I've had better days," I admit.
He nods solemnly. His eyes are sympathetic. "Do you care to tell me what happened?" he asks.
I look at the floor, fighting back the tears welling up. "It's just-" I stammer, "I- I lost Rocko."
"That's why you're back in Lavender Town, I'm assuming," Mr. Fuji says after a pause. I nod. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but… Pokémon Tower is gone, Ben. It's been replaced with a radio tower."
Surely not! Pokémon Tower held the gravesites to hundreds of Pokémon. There's no reason it should have been replaced. And by a radio tower of all things, like that eyesore in Goldenrod!
"I'm sorry."
"What can I do then?" I ask, hoping wise old Mr. Fuji has an answer, "He needs to be buried. I can't carry his Pokéball with me forever."
"You're not going to want to hear this, but you can put it in your PC. Until you find another way, at least."
But I have an idea. A terrible, wonderful idea that I'm probably going to regret. Mount Pyre, back in Hoenn. It's a Pokémon gravesite, twice as big as the Tower was. It's a long trip, but Rocko's ball can stay in the PC for a while.
Things are falling together so quickly that I can't catch up, but it looks like I'm going back to Hoenn.
It was a quick flight from Lavender to Vermillion. There's a boat leaving for Slateport City in the morning. I have my ticket, and I'm staying at the small new hotel for the night. I sit in the empty lobby and watch the Sinnoh Championship Battle from last year. Cynthia won again. There's something I have to do, but I don't want to. I pull my phone from my pocket and take a deep breath before I dial the number. It rings, then goes to voicemail.
"Hello," I say to the crackling silence, "Brian, it's me. It's Ben. I'm going to be in Slateport tomorrow. Can you… can you meet me there?"