Chapter 1: N: I Will Reinvent the World
Authors note: I've never written fanfiction before (until now, that is). This story sort of popped in my head recently and begged to be written down, and I've obliged. I'm excited to see where it goes, and hope that you, the reader, enjoy it :)
Two things were absolutely certain. One, It was thirty-three degrees. Celsius; to clarify. Two, I had run out of things I could reasonably do.
I sat down in the miserable heat of Undella bay and contemplated my diminishing amount of certainties. In an attempt to relieve myself from the humidity, I pull my hat off of my head and hold it in my hands. I hold it, considering its thickness with pressure from my hands. I do this until I feel the nerves on my head becoming acutely aware of the hats absence. I repeat this curious ritual of removing my hat, twisting it around in my hands, and replacing it on my head until I'm quite sure I've offended the eight year-old boy to my left. He is fixated on my cyclical behavior, tuning out what is presumably his family to watch each detail of the cycle.
Children are never afraid to stare.
Nor are they afraid to guess, to wonder, and commit social mores.
I adore the wonders of a young mind, even though I refused to match his stare. His fixation made my skin itch.
I force myself to lose interest and instead turn my thoughts to my own matters. After all, since one of my certainties was the certainty of being stuck, I supposed I might as well think of something.
I was on a quest. I guess that sounds a little grandeur; but it's true.
You see, my father has sent me on this 'quest.' His sending me is somewhat irrelevant. But it is true. I like sticking to things that are true. If something is untrue, the goal, naturally, is to search for the truth within that lie. By the same token, if something is true, there is nothing left to do, other than accepting truth itself.
I believe the following myth to be true.
A long time ago, in an archaic and feral Unova, there were two legendary dragons. I guess two is overstepping the better part of the story. There was an even longer time ago when it was just one dragon, used to end a war plaguing Unova in the ancient times, by twins. Hero twins, or so I'm told. The vital part is that these twins did not see eye to eye on what virtue was really most important – truth, or ideals.
In response to the quarrel, the dragon split himself into two; truth siding with the eldest brother, and ideals with the younger.
Like sensible men of these older times, they battled out this conflict with their respective Pokémon, only to discover that they were equally matched. They concluded that these differences were to be set aside.
Truth be told, people do not set aside arguments so easily. They say that the ancestors of the heroes went on to continue the fight. Generation after generation acting out the quest of truth and ideals with violence. Who knows if they ever stopped?
Perhaps they never did. If the quarrel continues, it is safe to say the battle remains solely among men, and that I have never personally caught wind of it occurring. The two dragons have passed into a deep slumber, only to wake when they are called upon. When a revolution is at last in order.
If this is true, I am sure that I have accepted it.
That revolution is now, and I'm going to be at its forefront.
Once I find the dragon (and I will), everyone will understand why Pokémon need to live separately from humans. It will be a new world, an ideal world, created just for my friends.
Someday, and then my friends will be happy. If this were simply a dream, then the moment it becomes tangible it will pop right before my eyes. And reality will crawl in the cracks of where those dreams used to exist. But it is more than a dream. It is the pinnacle of my ideals, giving it more reality than a dream could ever have.
Despite this, reality now is my body's reluctance to go any farther for today and the stifling heat and stinking humidity I have chosen to surrender to.
I raise my white flag of weariness in Undella bay. Swarmed with maniacs and tourists and families and rebels populating this commercialized area.
I am completely aware that I am one of the few denizens of the beach that isn't openly reveling in the environment.
There is a breeze. And an ocean, which stretches itself all the way to what is presumably the end of the world while still casually licking the shore. Sweat and sand clings to burning skin, and people walk by, smelling of sunscreen and cheap food. Most of these people have their Pokémon out to enjoy everything that they themselves are enjoying, but these Pokémon do not talk to me.
I do not mind this. They are preoccupied, and I am attempting to be inconspicuous. I just wonder if they are happy, being enslaved by these people. That is why this 'quest' is so vital. These people all have so much freedom. These Pokémon need their freedom, too. Father understands this too; his ideals and mine are one in the same.
My eventual end goal is Dragonspiral Tower. I know there is at least a clue there. A piece of tangible truth that will propel me, no, the world, closer to an ideal perfection. But for now, Undella Bay will have to do.
I rack my brain for any interesting thing I might know about this part of Unova.
One of the sages, and a personal teacher of mine to boot, used to talk about this ancient civilization that sleeps beneath the bay.
Looking out at the endless blue, I assume this bay has swallowed many secrets. I guess I can't be sure. One never really can.
I let hours pass me by, completely stationary, on the crowded beach.
I do not like crowds.
I watch afternoon become evening, just relishing in my thoughts and bearing with the heat. It's not as if I had anywhere to go, anyway, other than maybe sleeping on the couch at the Pokémon center.
I wasn't feeling that trashy and desperate. Not today, anyways. Spending an afternoon amidst a swarm of people somehow seemed far more appealing than getting chased out of a Pokémon center by a livid nurse.
I watch twilight darken the skies and dim the sparkling bay. I watch twilight chase the masses away.
Twilight wakes me from my drowsy, immobile state.
I decide upon a nice, wholesome stroll across the length of the beach. Hell, maybe I can find an artifact from that civilization, should the bay decide to spit one out. I guess I could show my aforementioned teacher. Artifacts will probably get me a pat on the back, or uselessly worthwhile.
I walk into the waning light of the sun, looking down at my feet the whole time. It's a bad habit, not looking forward when you walk. But it's incredibly natural for me; it decreases the likelihood I'll have to talk to a person.
I consider this a blessing.
One step invites another, only to invite numerous more, until I am swept off from the public area altogether.
I turn to the ocean and listen for the voices of my friends. I can see them, circling the water's surface, looking straight below. A small group of hungry Wingull, perfectly synchronized with each other.
My friends.
I wave an enthusiastic hello and they pivot to fly back my direction.
Hello there.
I can hear their voices in my head. I smile and walk on, pleasantly unaware of the diminishing twilight, just focusing on the noiselessness of the area.
Undella bay is infinitely more peaceful in solitude. It seems as though too many people try to come all at once, so the place gets polluted. Polluted with noisy kids and tight bikinis and hairy chests.
None of the above dare disturb the tranquility now. The darkness chased that all away, leaving room for only the rhythmic tide and my free friends.
For now, I am among the things the darkness left behind. I'm glad of it. I listen to the water, and the rustling in the thickets that grow at a safe inland distance.
The rustling is distant first. I strain under its growth, eager to hear the voices of my nocturnal friends.
Help! Anyone! Help!
I am sure that I did not hear this. I stop completely, doubting my ears.
The urgency raises the amount of rustling into great cacophonies.
The rustling eased my doubts.
This is really happening. I am really two miles away from civilization. And there is really a friend in need.
This is not a Wingull. It's not a nocturnal friend. In fact, I'm sure it is not an indigenous friend at all. But it is a friend in danger nonetheless.
Two things were absolutely certain. I could head back now and pretend not to notice. No consequences there. Or I could head my friends call. The latter holding all the danger; to clarify.
