Chapter One: Beginnings
A lone Zigzagoon shivered in the winter cold and rustled through a pile of trash, picking at empty food packets in search of it's next meal. The moon hung in the sky, doing it's best to imitate the sun's glaring beams, to no avail. The residents of the town of Littleroot snoozed and snored, unaware of the nocturnal wildlife's daily struggle. The Zigzagoon was taking advantage of the night - it's only chance of a non-berry based meal. It dragged out an empty pizza box and began nibbling opportunistically at the leftover cheese. The Raccoon Pokemon was caught completely unawares by the snarling Poochyena as it launched itself towards it's prey. With a flick of it's powerful jaws on it's prey's windpipe, the Canine Pokemon silenced the wretched Zigzagoon and proceeded to drag it away into the trees of Route 101. Life's tough. Littleroot slept on. They were all completely normal humans, of no particular importance to the world.
The sun shot it's dazzling beams on the small town, indicating the time for people to begin to wake from their slumber. Fathers set off to their unspectacular office jobs, ready for another day of making no change to the world for a measly pay check. Milkmen and mail man carried out their respective occupations, under the impression that they may make a difference to someone's life. This was stupid, unless someone choked on their cereal or a letter telling someone a deceased long-lost relative had left them a substantial amount of money. Yet they continued to work in the earliest hours of the morning in a dead-end job, with either no potential or potential left unfulfilled. The future of this world lay in the hands of the town's youth. Many youngsters here could prove to go on to achieve big things, whether it involved Pokemon or not. One child in particular, unaware of his importance to the future of the world.
Tyson Harris stirred from his deep sleep, fresh from another victory in his dreamt up Pokemon battle. Sitting up in his bed, he rubbed his eyes and sighed. He wasn't the Champion, as his dream portrayed, but a mere fourteen-year old boy. He checked his bedside clock and was relieved to see the time required no sense of urgency in preparation of the school day. Tyson decided to get up anyway and get in school early. Maybe he could sit in the library and read a book or two. Sliding out of the covers and off of the bed, he made his way to the en suite bathroom. Tyson stood in front of the mirror and let out another sigh, with more sadness than the last time. He wasn't the most handsome of teens, nor the ugliest. His mousy brown hair was messy and unkempt, making his head seem larger than it actually was. His bright blue eyes were his best feature, and they twinkled in the light. His nose was bent from the many beatings he received at school, showing he was far from the most adept fighter at Littleroot Academy. His pale skin brought out the many freckles present on his face. He proceeded to wash his face, still focusing on his imperfections. "I wish I was Champion. Then I could be as ugly as I want," he said to himself. This only served to dampen his spirits more as he realised the near improbability of this happening.
"Tyson! Your breakfast is ready!" a voice called from downstairs. Now any other child would have been hearing the voice of his mother. Tyson, however, was hearing the voice of his cousin, Safira.
"Alright, I'm coming!" Tyson replied and pulled on his denim jeans. After putting on a bland, white t-shirt, he made his way downstairs. The house was large and modern, with various photographs of his cousin and her Pokemon adorning the walls, as well as pictures of Tyson from his childhood. The house was predominantly painted white, making it look even more modern. As he stepped into the also-white dining room, he found Safira reading a letter which looked quite important. Tyson sat down and tucked into the breakfast of pancakes and syrup. "What's that you're reading?" he mumbled incoherently, his mouth stuffed to the brim with pancake and syrup dribbling down his chin.
"It's to you from the Pokemon League. It says: 'To Mr Harris, regarding entry of the Pokemon League Trainer Proficiency Exam. We are pleased to announce that you have been nominated for entry into the exam. Should you pass, you shall be provided with a standard starter Pokemon, native to the Hoenn region. You shall also receive a Trainer Card, making you eligible for free treatment at Pokemon Centres all over the world. The test shall take place on 19th December, with the results being distributed by 28th December, in time for registration for next year's Pokemon League Gym Challenge. Included in this letter is a list of the topics that revision shall be required for the exam, as well as an agreement form that should be handed into your respective class teacher on the date of the exam. We wish you all the best and hope to see you competing in the League soon. Best wishes, The Pokemon League Admission Department.' Wow, this is great news. Tyson!" she yelped excitedly, beaming in Tyson's direction, who was sporting a dumbfounded expression and still had his mouth full.
"Tell me you're joking," he said calmly after swallowing the gargantuan mouthful of food. "Don't do this to me Saff, please. Just tell me you're joking."
"I swear this isn't a joke! Look, it has the Pokemon League insignia and watermark!" she replied urgently. Tyson jumped up and snatched the letter and began scanning it intently. "Oh. My. God." he finally muttered, before screaming in triumph. Safira leapt back in surprise, before smiling softly as Tyson danced around the dining room. "My dream came true! I'm gonna be Champion!" he bellowed, continuing his dance.
"Now, you know, the Gym Challenge is really hard. You have to be prepared to train your arse off and push yourself, and your Pokemon, to the extreme limits. And even before then, you have to complete the exam," Safira informed him, before noticing the look of horror on his face. "Come on, you can do it. I didn't mean to put you off. I was just letting you know that it is not all a barrel of laughs. But if you revise for the test and pass, the sky's the limit! Now, you have precisely..."
"An hour and a half," Tyson remarked quietly.
"Right, you have an hour and a...What!" Safira hollered. "Give me that!" she demanded before snatching the letter from Tyson's grasp. "Oh my lord! You're right!" Tyson trembled and the look of sheer terror on his face was evident.
"What am I going to do?" he asked, staring at Safira intently, his eyes begging for an answer.
"I...I don't know. You're just going to have to ask for more time. Say you weren't given significant time to revise and weren't informed until today." Safira replied apologetically, sorry that she couldn't give a more foolproof and in-depth answer to the problem. Tyson nodded and made his way upstairs. His cousin was always there for him, right from when he turned up on her doorstep at the age of nine, with nothing but a toothbrush and the clothes on his back. She was only seventeen at the time and was forced to retire from Championship battling. She was very tall and her flowing brown her went down past her shoulders. Her green eyes and tanned skin contrasted, and she didn't have the look of a Champion. She was, however, one of Johto's greatest Champions, and at the peak of her career, it was completely unselfish of her to retire for Tyson's sake. Yet she did it any way. As cheery a person as she was, Tyson could sometimes see the sadness in her eyes when she looked at the photographs of her Hall of Fame portrait. She still bred Pokemon, but it was clear she didn't possess the same passions about breeding that she did with battling.
Tyson picked up his jacket and looked out of the window. Safira's Feraligatr, Spike, was splashing around in the large pool in the back garden, while her Umbreon, Buffy, lounged in the flowerbed. These were her trusted companions, and friends, and Tyson loved the pair as siblings. He despaired at the fact that he may never get to share a bond with Pokemon in the same way Saff did. All because of a stupid mistake at the Post Office. If he failed this exam, he would be sending a scathing letter telling them where to shove letters in the future. Glancing over at his clock, he gasped and launched himself down the stairs. "See you, Ty. Good..." Safira cried after him and as the door slammed shut, she whispered, "Luck," finishing her sentence quietly. The boy was the brother she never had. She resented his parents for what they did to him, but couldn't help but be thankful to them for leaving him to her.
Tyson sprinted through the front garden and sped towards his school with a tremendous look of urgency posted across his face. Many other kids were making their way towards the school, but all of them had a relaxed demeanour. They had either revised or just didn't give a toss. Somehow, Tyson guessed it was the former. Who wouldn't be psyched about receiving a Pokemon?
The massive, educational fortress that was Littleroot Academy loomed over Tyson menacingly. He had nothing but bad memories here. He had been bullied, humiliated and abused here. This exam was his escape route from this hell. If he didn't pass, he would have to spend another two years here. Where else would he get a Pokemon from? This was his only hope for a new life. "Hey, watch it, freak!" yelled a voice from behind him and Tyson was promptly threw onto the ground. Looming over him was Garth, a machine of a teen. His muscular body and tanned skin were the obvious draw for the surrounding girls who laughed at Tyson's plight. And his bullying ways were the obvious draw for the many cronies who also laughed. His spiky blonde hair glistened in the light, it's shiny properties given to it by the many hair products it was adorned with. His green eyes glared mockingly at Tyson and his upturned mouth grinned evilly at the smaller boy. "You better watch where your walking next time, unless you want to be spitting out teeth for the rest of your life!" he instructed and smirked as Tyson bowed his head in fear and shame.
"I'm...I'm sorry, Garth. I was ju-just catching my breath," Tyson explained and cringed as Garth spat on him. The surrounding entourage cackled in laughter as Tyson wiped the spit from his eye.
"I didn't ask for your life story. You're out of breath 'cause you ran to school, you little nerd! What's the matter? Wanted to put a nice, fresh apple on teacher's desk?" Garth mocked and high-fived his friend, who giggled with the rest of the group at their leader's "great" joke. Tyson stood up and walked off as the bullies laughed at the poor boy. Littleroot Academy: hell on Earth. Tyson made his way through the corridors, eager to get some ground between him and his tormentors. Checking his wristwatch, he found that the exam was due to start in fifteen minutes in the examination hall, which wasn't far from his current position. He made his way towards his teacher, Mr Holloway, who was standing outside his classroom with a half-eaten bagel. A portly man with a bald head, he had a huge handlebar moustache that frequently held bits of his meals. With the amount of food that ended up in his moustache, it was a wonder that he was so fat. He locked his classroom door and turned to see Tyson approaching. No peace for the wicked, he thought to himself and beamed a huge grin in Tyson's direction. "Ah, Mr Harris. Shouldn't you be outside the examination hall? You don't want to be late, now, do you?"
"Sir, I need to speak to you. It's really important. I've only just got the letter telling me about doing the exam! I haven't revised or anything because I didn't even know I was doing it!" Tyson rambled urgently.
"Ha! You damn students come up with the same damn excuses every year. 'My mum vacuumed up the paper, my mum put the letter in with toilet paper and my dad wiped his arse with it!" Mr Holloway's expression turned to one of anger. "We have given you the chance to go out and prove your worth as a trainer, and you're making excuses!" He couldn't mask his anger and spat when he spoke, such was his rage. "We are the only school to give students this opportunity, you understand? You're going to do this exam and no amount of begging and sucking up shall change that! Now, get to that exam hall now!"
"But, sir..." Tyson began, but the teacher had already waddled away, mumbled many expletives aimed at the student.
"Damn school...sucking the life out of me...should be out getting my groove on...while I'm still young..." muttered the clearly deranged old man. Tyson felt increasingly desperate as the exam drew ever closer. Resigned to his fate, he made his way to the hall, dejected.
As the last of the late students rushed to their seats, Tyson felt defeat rush over him. Mr Holloway signalled the beginning of the exam and the sound of rustling paper swept through the echoing hall. Tyson gulped and opened the paper slowly. The first question leapt up at him. 'What is the chemical compound that makes up a Full Restore and how does it differ to a Hyper Potion and Full Heal?' Tyson's head slammed off the desk and he wailed quietly.
"Shut up!" came a snapping voice and Tyson sat up and bit his tongue in the process. His chance at emulating Safira were all but over. There was plenty of time for the exam, so Tyson decided to read through the exam. Just when he thought his mood could sink no lower, he stared blankly at the rest of the questions. Anyone would struggle with these questions, even if they had revised.
Two hours passed and the examiners signalled the end of the allotted exam time. The sound of dropping pens and sighs of relief rang throughout the hall. Tyson looked around and his heart lifted as he saw the similarly tense and nervous faces of his fellow students. On the way out, the many mumbles of "How hard it was," and "Did you get question eight?" showed that the exam was no walk in the park. This was no consolation for Tyson, as it just meant many others, as well as him, would not be receiving a Pokemon. His dream was over. "Move out of the way, fags," bellowed the unmistakably gravelly voice of Garth. Tyson sighed. Life could not get any worse. He turned to see Garth swaggering towards him with his entourage following. Tyson flinched prematurely and yelped as he was swept aside and from his feet. "Please, Garth..." Tyson began mumbling and shut his eyes in preparation of the forthcoming beating. He flinched again, but the beating never came. Nor the usual berating from Garth or sniggering from everyone else. Instead, Garth was stood over another boy.
"Listen, new kid! So you come here with your posh self and get to take the test, when we have been here since kids and only just get to take it? Well, not even getting a Pokemon will be worth this!" Garth cried vehemently before punching the kid repeatedly. Nobody laughed, such was the intensity of the beating. The boy wailed weakly as the the punches rained down upon him. It went on for what seemed a lifetime for Tyson, who hated to think of what the boy felt like. It must have felt like the devil himself was beating him for all eternity. Eventually, Garth stopped and, with one final kick to the nose, walked away, seething with anger. The boy was curled up in a ball, a pool of blood surrounding his head. The crowd dispersed, leaving the boy to sob silently. Tyson approached quietly and knelt before the pitiful figure.
"Hey, you OK?" Tyson said apologetically, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. He immediately realised the stupidity of the question as the boy's head snapped up, facing him. The boy glared with piercing brown eyes, the look of anger and hate unhidden for all to see.
"OK? Am I OK?" screamed the boy. He leapt up, shocking Tyson into also jumping up. "You think this is funny? You vile, little rodent!" he cried before spitting on the floor in front of Tyson. "You will pay, along with all the others!"
"Look, I know you're mad, but why blame me?" retorted Tyson, angry at the undeserved abuse he was receiving.
"Mad? I'll show you mad! I'll show you all! You will all bow before me, one day! You and that disgusting ape will be the first to suffer, mark my words!" shrieked the boy.
"You're a kid, not a god. I don't know what you're problem is but..." called Tyson after the boy, who had stormed away furiously. Tyson breathed heavily, shocked at what had just happened. Surely, the boy was a nutjob who should be avoided and ignored. All pity was gone and had been replaced by hate. Disturbed, he made his way home, before the day could get any worse.