Just a short thing I think about, as I replay Black for the sake of my other fanfiction in outlining... and recalling memories from childhood, the first (embarrassing) ascension to Mt. Silver. Review if you like, be brutal if you do! -WF
Lonely at the Top
"Don't only practice your art. But force your way into its Secrets, for it and knowledge can raise men to the Divine." -Ludwig van Beethoven
For the heroes, raising and training Pokémon was an art.
Once you mastered that art, only one goal was left: the Ascension.
Many tried it, to brave the frozen wastelands of the greatest mountain between Kanto and Johto. Rumors whispered across all of the world of a Master, the only one who resided at the top, his party undefeated, the mountain his home. Many people set their eyes at the peak, which could be seen from most any region anywhere. From the top of the Battle Towers, the Spear Pillar or Dragonspiral Tower... beyond the trees and far reaching glimmers of the ocean. The final peak of any Pokémon trainer's dream.
One from Johto made it to the top. The first in two years. The man he saw before him, the Master, a silent figure with skin pale enough were it not for the bright red of his clothes and eyes, he would disappear into the very blizzard that spiraled endlessly around them.
That electric mouse annihilated Gold's team.
Calling back the beaten and bruised Typhlosion, Gold had raised his eyes, squinting to see through the whistling wind and the snap of snowflakes hitting his ear. The Master was gone, not a flicker of that crimson color to be seen. As if in a mere blink, he vanished, like a dream, brought on by hypothermia. It was... plausible, as the male left behind, Gold, wore shorts in the frigid environment.
He left, and never attempted the Ascension again.
Two years later, a new set of shoes pressed down into the fallen snow. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The whistling wind and crack of snowflakes did not bother him; he did not wear shorts, and his upper body was far better covered than the last trainer's had been. He kept steady focus of that red mirage in front of him, with the pale skin and the worn jeans and fraying vest. The black hair framing luminous red eyes that silently bore into the other's soul.
Pikachu faced devastation this time, and proudly did Emboar huff.
The battle was long, and fierce, equal losses to both sides. In the end, Leavanny and Blastoise remained. It was clear whom the victor was, even before the Leaf Blade decided the battle.
No crowd watched this battle of legends. No commands were voiced. These two who battled has Ascended the tallest and harshest mountain of all the world, were wise. Teenagers forced to grow up too soon.
One who never spoke, who silently took Kanto by storm. The other, an underdog who became Unova's hero. Rocket and Plasma had been stepping stones for them, ways to exert their power and practice their art of Pokémon-raising, and nothing more. The public painted them as heroes, gods, the selfless teens who let go of their dreams to save their regions.
They were anything but. Both were young, and selfish. They fought the enemies to get stronger; saving the regions was a mere bonus. Unlike those in Sinnoh or Hoenn, unlike Gold and Kyouhei of later years, they did it for themselves, uncaring. They were cold, silent, befitting the mountaintop on which now resided two.
"They always said it was lonely at the top." Touya sat in the cave across the fire, cross-legged, watching his companion in the flickering light.
Red spared him a glance, and returned to rolling the dough of home made poffins by the fire. Nearby, Pikachu and Emolga watched curiously.
Touya's hand, hardened by harsh elements, reached over, and tugged the white collar of that vest, catching Red's glance again. "But you know, silence is comforting," he said, voice quieter. "I see why you came here, and stayed here, Red."
Red's hands paused, and the ruby eyes gazed at the dough in front of him. "...and why did you stay?" He'd always wondered, upon awakening the next morning following the battle, to see the brunet carefully tending to all of their wounded Pokémon.
Those fingers tightened, pulling Red closer, hats colliding, pushed off. Brown molded with black, brown clashed with red. Touya smiled at the spark of surprise in Red's eyes from the movement. As Touya spoke his answer, his lips pressed closer, and closer, a feat not even Green had achieved on his visits that died since Gold's failed Ascension.
"Why?"
"Because..."
"It's lonely at the top... you've been alone long enough."