Hey guys! It's Carson. I hope you enjoy this story! Before starting, I want to get some legal stuff out of the way. ahem.

The Pokemon name and characters are all licensed by the Pokemon Company. The Pokemon characters are used under Fair Use. If you feel the use of these characters violates Fair Use, please send me an email at carsonscottproductions with concerns.

The non-Pokemon characters in this story as well as the story as a whole are licensed by Carson Scott under a Creative Commons, Attribution, Noncommercial license. This means you can distribute, share, and create spinoff stories or other 'derivitave works' without my express permission, but you must credit me, and you cannot sell or make money off of them.

Now that that's all settled, enjoy the story!

Intro:

I hate getting the mail in the winter. Just to get there, I have to put on my fur coat, boots, and hat in order to not freeze to death in the subarctic cold. My little cabin is just off the highway, down a dirt road about half a mile. The mailbox is right on the highway. I try to check my mail as little as I possibly can when winter is in its full swing. It's just my luck that an important letter comes to me around this time.

My name is Carson. I live in Nunavut, Canada. I am of Inuit descent, but only a little bit. I could still be mistaken for a European, what with my white (darker than some) skin and brown eyes, if not for the thick black hair. I don't live that far north, but it's still cold, and I still stay in my nice warm cabin when hell's freezing over outside. Carson 1, Canada 0.

I love my country, no doubt. I wave the flag on my front steps, alongside my flag for the Winnipeg Jets. There are some downsides to living within 50 miles of the arctic circle, though.

I'm a Pokemon trainer, a darn good one at that. I've captured over 200 different types of Pokemon, but most of them I give away or set free. I can't feed 200 Pokemon off my prize money from contests and my small side job as an amateur web designer. Even with that, I'm living mostly off Ramen noodles and cold cereal. I only keep 30 or so in Pokeballs most of the time, but I let them out sometimes. Overall, it's nice and quiet around here.

Back to that important letter. I could see the little red flag as I looked through my window, and sighed. "No one ever sends me mail." I say, "Especially in mid-January." Nonetheless, I pulled on a coat and my other winter stuff in order to get it. "Dragon," I call, "I'm going to get the mail."

Dragon is my Farfetch'd. He was my first pokemon, so I keep him around. He's sort of my go-to-guy when I need something. I don't send him out to get the mail, though: it's dropped below -12 out here (In Celsius. For the American population reading this, that's about 10 degrees Farenheit), and he'd probably come back an Articuno.

Walking out in the cold, I notice the lake nearby has some skaters on it, playing hockey. I can't tell if any of them are Pokemon. Professional leagues don't allow Pokemon, but if you need an extra player for a lake game, a snorunt will do just fine.

I can keep my balance on skates, and I used to play a pretty good game, but I haven't been on the ice in more than five years, what with traveling south for a Pokemon journey. Who knows, maybe I could have been a hockey player instead.

Nah. I love my Pokemon. Speaking of which, I have some mail to get.

I plug in some earbuds and play music on my phone for the short walk. The first song is "Miss Murder" by AFI. I rock out as I walk towards the mailbox.

Inside there's only one envelope. The return address is Nagoya, Japan, written in Japanese characters and English. I took Japanese in High School, and now I'm taking advanced courses in college, so I can say I know the language. I put the letter in my pocket and put down the flag before walking back inside.

"Hey guys, come here." I call as I walk in the door. "Mail."

Ten Pokemon follow me to the living room: Dragon, Kestrel (Fearow), Thomas (After a famous goalie- Furret), Lucky (Dragonair), Albatross (Pidgeot), NaRuTo (Characters, of course- Ninetails), Kira (Umbreon), Raven (Staraptor), Wolf (Mightyena), and Purplepeopleeater (haha- Gengar). I have eighteen others, but they're either in balls or somewhere else (My Lapras, for instance, is out on the lake in my property, along with my Dewgong). I ask PPE to deliver the message, considering he won't be affected by the cold. I open the letter slowly, then pull it out. At the top, it reads "International League of Pokemon Trainers" in Japanese and English, with their logo and return address. "It's from the ILPT." I explain. Everyone's excited. I read it out loud in Japanese (it's also in English, but Japanese is a much more fun language). "Congratulations Carson Scott," Scott isn't my real last name, it's just a pseudonym I use for the League. "You have been invited to participate as a Wildcard entry in the international tournament of champions for your region. You will be competing against 63 trainers from around the world to receive the title of World Champion. The event is to be held in Nagoya, Japan, beginning on February 1st. You will be allowed to register fifteen Pokemon, but only six will be permitted each battle. Travel and other expenses will be reimbursed should you decide to arrive. We hope to see you there."

Most of my Pokemon can understand my Japanese pretty well, but it took some explaining for it all to sink in.

The regional tournaments for Canada were held last month. I was entered in it, but lost in the second round to a young man from Whitehorse. I was surprised to have received the letter, but then again, I was the only registered trainer to have...

... A Lugia.

To make a long story short, Team Rocket, before its dissolution in Canada, managed to capture a Lugia. I was in the right place at the right time to destroy whatever plans Team Rocket had, and free the Lugia. It showed compassion towards me, and followed me out of the facility. It allowed me to capture it, and here we are. Team rocket no longer exists in Canada, partly due to my interference. I try to keep it out of the press (my Lugia. No one knows yet that I got it from Team Rocket), but news spreads quickly. I have been able to keep shadows on me by Sakura Makano, Darwin Canterbury, and Scarlet Rose, three of the top-ranked trainers in the world. From Japan, Australia, and the United States, respectively, these three have drowned me out of the news.

Sakura Makano is the number one trainer in the world right now. She's already won three world championship tournaments, and is the favorite to win a fourth. She's from a little mountain town on Japan's northern island, and comes from poor circumstances. She's made her way to the top in Pokemon, and she has brought her family out of poverty to live in Nagano, Japan. She's still pretty young, at twenty-five years old, but her skill is unmatched.

Darwin Canterbury is about 35 years old, from Australia. He has short brown hair and a short beard and 'stache to match. He's a bulky guy- not fat, but muscular. He's from Adelaide, Australia, and has spent a lot of time coming up with extremely intense attack combinations for Pokemon, and claims he has some he's never even used yet. Ranked in the top 5 in the world, he's faced Sakura in the finals twice before, losing both times.

Scarlet Rose is the youngest person ever to win the United States regional tournament, at only twelve years old. She's about average for her age- five foot tall, a hundred pounds. She has long red hair to match her name, and blue eyes. She lives in Salt Lake City with her mom, as her parents divorced only a few years after she was born. She comes from a middle-class family, a middle-class neighborhood, and a middle-class lifestyle. She is also ranked in the top 5 in the world.

Apparently, the ILPT had heard of me, even though my exploits in regionals weren't exceptional. Even with my rare capture, no one really cared for the man from Nunavut, Canada. In any case, now I was invited to the world championship of Pokemon, comparable in size to the olympics, as a wild-card bid. I sure as heck wasn't going to pass this up.

"Alright guys," I say, "We've got some work to do."