Those Years Chapter 1: Champion, Where are You?, a pokémon fanfic

Summary:

The light is spilling through a hole in the ceiling onto a tile-upturned ground. It is the hole that had once been occupied by a black staircase cast down by N from Team Plasma's castle. It had been the staircase Hilda had climbed to meet N and defeat him in their final battle.

Author's Ideas: Another two-shot! Hooray -

*falls over on the floor dead*

I love Unova way too much

Those Years

Year One: Champion, Where are You?

~ / . / . / ~

"So, Mr. Champion - "

"Alder," the man corrects immediately. The news reporter blinks, and then nods.

"Mr. Alder," the news reporter begins hesitantly, "Do you think you could explain to us why the Pokémon League behind us is in shambles?"

"Well…" Alder scratches his head before sighing. "It's complicated, so I won't be able to tell you the entire story. However, I can give you a brief summary. Will that be alright?"

"Of course, Mr. Alder."

"As many of you know, Team Plasma has been attempting to liberate Pokémon from us people. The destruction of the Pokémon League is their work. In an attempt to order everyone to release their Pokémon, they attempted… and succeeded… in taking the title of Champion."

"But they were stopped, correct?" The news reporter asks.

"Indeed. We had entrusted the Light Stone to a trainer by the name of Hilda. She had been the one Reshiram had chosen to fight alongside, and helped defeat the Plasma leader N, who Zekrom had chosen to fight alongside."

"And where is this Hilda, the new Champion of Unova, now? And what of Team Plasma?"

"Hilda… has been missing for several weeks. We don't know where she is. N has also disappeared, and we have Ghetsis under arrest. Team Plasma is disbanded for now, though we must stay on edge."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Alder," the news reporter says.

"Of course," he replies, smiling and waving at the camera before turning. His lips fall into a grimace as he walks away, the feelings of remorse and regret churning in his stomach.

He makes it through the gate of the Pokémon League, glancing up as he climbs the stairs. Grimsley is standing beside the statue, the golden tile around it glowing with blue.

"Shauntal and Marshall are looking around the Champion's room," Grimsley says as Alder approaches.

"What about Caitlin?"

"It seems of all the rooms, hers was damaged the most. She's assessing the damage right now."

"What about the other rooms?" Alder questions.

"Mild renovations will be needed for all of them."

"And Victory Road?"

"Covered in rubble, as is Route 10. It's almost indiscernible through all the rock and ruin. I imagine that will also take a considerable amount of time to clear out and fix, perhaps even longer than it will take us to fix the Pokémon League."

Alder sighs, rubbing his forehead before stepping forward, touching his hand to the plaque of the statue. Grimsley follows, and they descend wordlessly, their silence only broken by the rumbling of their descent.

The first thing that meets their eyes is the crumbling heart of the Pokémon League. Broken bits of black staircases still remain in the walls of the League like a person being stabbed with something, for its wounds still remain open and clear for the world to see.

Shauntal is standing beside a fallen pillar just on the stairs, eyes pinned on her notebook as she scribbles words furiously. She looks up at the sound of their footsteps.

"The Champion's room is full of rubble. Marshal and his team are working on removing some of it, but it looks like the back wall is completely broken, and the ground has been entirely broken. Overturned tiles are also commonplace in the destroyed room now."

Alder sighs, rubbing a hand against his face with frustration before laughing wearily. "Thank you, Shauntal. If you don't mind, could you go get Caitlin for me?"

Shauntal nods, snapping her notebook shut and pushing her glasses up her nose before hurrying down the stairs. Grimsley gives her a forced smile as she passes, and she responds with a tiny smile of similar nature.

The two of them climb wordlessly along the stairs, passing into the Champion's room without hesitation. What makes them hesitate is the sight before them.

It's exactly as Shauntal said. The back wall is not covered in golden tiles, but instead shows them a clear view of the Plasma Castles behind it. Grimsley takes a step and almost trips over an overturned tile. Marshal, so focused on his work, almost jumps a foot in the air at the distinct pitter-patter of tripping footsteps.

"Master," Marshal greets, wiping his forehead. It still glistens with sweat.

"Don't worry about moving the rubble so soon," Alder replies. "I'm sure we'll be able to move it later."

In response, Marshal calls his Pokémon back to their Pokéballs before approaching Grimsley, who is busy dusting off his suit and scarf, and Alder.

"Where are Shauntal and Caitlin?" He asks.

"They're on their way," Alder answers, casting his eyes over to a ragged patch of sunlight on the ground. He glances up, a bittersweet smile falling into place on his lips as he realizes.

"Alder," Caitlin calls softly. He turns over his shoulder, blinking. The Elite Four are gathered by the door of the Champion's room, awaiting him. Alder had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard Shauntal and Caitlin enter the room.

Alder jogs over, laughing nervously. "Sorry. How are your rooms looking, Caitlin?"

"Mine has been absolutely devastated," Caitlin reports. "Grimsley's room has a large hole in his wall, with lots of rubble. Shauntal's ceiling has crumbled quite a bit, and Marshall's wall is also destroyed in a few places."

"Renovations, then?"

"Yes. All of the mechanisms in our rooms have also stopped working, or are broken."

Alder purses his lips, sighing. Four pairs of eyes watch him, each holding sympathy in their gaze.

"Alder - " Grimsley begins before cutting himself off. Alder glances up, meeting the eyes of the Elite Four. Each one averts their gaze when he looks at them.

"We have to rebuild," Alder says before sighing deeply.

"We can rebuild," Caitlin reassures. "As everything can be rebuilt."

"Yet if we rebuild," Grimsley interjects, "we are missing one crucial piece of the puzzle."

A blazing look of regret flashes through Caitlin's eyes. All five of them fall silent, as if in remembrance of the single Trainer they ought to have standing with them. Marshal casts an apprehensive look at Alder.

"...I won't," Alder says softly. "I… won't be the Champion anymore."

Those words make Shauntal start. "Why?" She questions, a tone of anger hidden deep in her voice. Marshal curls his hands into fists and glances away, an almost knowing look on his face.

"I couldn't protect Unova," Alder murmurs.

"Then by that logic, none of us should be a part of the Elite Four," Grimsley shoots back. Shauntal nods furiously in agreement. "Yet, we are all going to continue on. We are all going to carry this burden, and remember how we ought to defend our region."

"...I'm sure you can find someone," Alder replies, as if he hadn't heard anything Grimsley had said. "I… I will train the youth. I will change the upcoming generation… and help them save this region when that time comes again."

Alder sweeps his gaze over the four standing in front of him.

"I'm trusting in you all, okay? This old man… is trusting in you."

In response, Caitlin draws the former Champion into a hug. Marshal follows, and then Grimsley, and finally Shauntal, until they're all standing in each others' embrace in the room where it all started eight years ago.

They can rebuild, but it will never be the same again.

~ / . / . / ~

"Iris, child," Drayden states, stroking his beard.

"What is it, Grandpa?" She asks, tilting her head and looking at him.

They're standing in the destroyed Route 10. When Team Plasma's Castle had erupted from the ground, an avalanche had launched itself down Victory Road, blocking off Route 10 and the entrance to Victory Road, as well as demolishing Victory Road. It had nearly harmed the citizens living in Opelucid, but the rocks had come to a lucky stop just feet away from the people who lived on the edge of the route.

Yet even now, five months after the incident, they are nowhere close to being finished with the removal of rubble and the clearing of the route and its entrance, nor have they been able to find all those who went missing after the avalanche.

"...Nothing," Drayden says after a few moments of silence. "I was simply wondering about… everything that happened."

"Everything?" Iris echoes, tilting her head. Drayden shakes his.

"No, perhaps 'everything' is not correct. I was thinking over Reshiram and Zekrom… as well as Hilda and N."

Iris's gentle smile falls from her lips. Drayden cannot blame her. In Hilda's short moments at Opelucid City, the child had spent excessive amounts of time with the blossoming trainer, growing to become a close-knit friend. Of course she would fall silent at the mention of Hilda's name.

"I was wondering… could Hilda be searching?"

"Searching? What would she be searching for?" Iris questions, tilting her head.

"Reshiram did choose her, after all. It would not be hard to believe that she went to search for the truth, and N to go reform his ideals."

"Well…" Iris shifts her weight to her right foot, biting her lip. "I suppose."

"Iris, child, you do know of the third dragon, don't you?"

"Yes. You told me once. Kyurem, the hollow body left behind when Reshiram and Zekrom split. The… well, in between of the truth and ideals."

"Indeed," Drayden smiles, stroking his beard before letting his hand fall to his side. "Why do you suppose Zekrom and Reshiram stayed with them, even after everything they fought for fell apart?"

"Maybe they found the heroes they were looking for," Iris answers, a serious look in her eyes; rare for her.

"They found the heroes they were looking for, hm?" Drayden repeats Iris's words as he touches a hand to his beard, a musing expression painting itself over his face. "I suppose you're right. A hero of ideals and a hero of the truth…"

"Hey, Grandpa?"

"What is it?"

"Did you hear about Alder's decision?"

Drayden's face turns into a frown, a deep sadness in his eyes. "I did."

"And Brycen's?"

"I did." The frown grows, as does the sadness. "But it simply means that we must work harder, to search for the truth and to pursue our ideals."

Iris hums in agreement, and then casts a look up at the sky. "It's getting cloudy. We should go back in."

"Yes, let's." Drayden touches a hand to Iris's shoulder before turning and walking away, back towards Opelucid City.

Iris casts one last look at the gray clouds above before hurrying after her grandfather. Her mind races at a mile per minute.

A mix between white and black… a mix between sunny and stormy… a mix of truth and ideals.

Was that what Kyurem was?

~ / . / . / ~

Cheren sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose. His Liepard meows softly, padding alongside him as he descends the stairs.

"Cheren, darling, where are you going?" his mom calls out, popping her head out of the kitchen.

"Out," he replies curtly, casting a cursory glance at the digital clock on the dinner table. Twenty thirty-nine o'clock. "Give me an hour at the most."

"Cheren - "

He doesn't hear the rest of the sentence over the sound of the door closing. The cool fall wind ruffles his hair, and he lets out a sigh.

Cheren had stepped out in hopes of clearing his mind, but now, in the silence of the small town he had grown up in, the thoughts all come crashing down on him.

He thinks to run to Route 1 and go for a surf, but he left Simipour up in his room, and there's no way in the Distortion World that he's going back up there, where the memories are worse and the stuffed feeling is even worse.

Taking in a deep breath, Cheren buries his face in his hands - or at least, tries. His glasses are still in the way, and after a moment of uncertainty, he settles for running his hands through his hair. Liepard pushes up against his legs, meowing softly.

He looks up then. He's standing in the middle of the path leading to Hilda's house, and there's nothing pleasant about that at all. He turns to leave, maybe to stand on the edge of the fence looking over the sea, but a figure approaching him from behind stops him.

"..Bianca," he greets, pushing his glasses up his nose and trying to pretend he wasn't in the middle of a panic attack. She, of course, sees right through that. She's experienced with seeing right through him, after all.

She doesn't say anything, because she knows her words aren't always the best thing. In some ways, she's grown. Yet the way she places her hand on his reminds him of when they were children, of a time where they could find comfort in each other.

Slowly she reaches her other hand up, brushing Cheren's ruffled hair from his forehead.

"...I know," Bianca whispers, her voice so soft and so unlike her normally noisy and cheerful self. "I miss her too."

He thinks about his journey through Victory Road, and the one night where they had battled. Hilda had smiled at him softly, but there had been a touch of sadness behind it, so much so that he couldn't help but wonder that night if something was bothering her.

There was, of course. Why else would she have disappeared for thirty seven weeks and counting?

Bianca drops her hand from brushing at his hair, letting it instead wrap around his other hand, squeezing comfortingly.

They stand in silence, no words passing from either of their lips - at least, for a moment. Then Liepard starts meowing, and they both can't help but laugh as Liepard presses itself against Bianca, and then Cheren. Still, their laughs are bittersweet, as if they're both desperately seeking for a light in the darkness.

It's because they are. It's because their light disappeared. No, she hadn't just been their light. She was Nuvema's light, N's light, Unova's light. Nothing could change that, and nothing could change how their light had disappeared.

"Liepard," Bianca calls softly, breaking through Cheren's thoughts.

Liepard meows softly in response. She giggles. Cheren lets his lips curl into a small smile.

"Are you feeling better?" Bianca questions softly, noticing the change of expression in his eyes.

"Yes," he replies, voice soft.

"So will you tell me?"

He doesn't need to be prompted. They've known each other for a good fifteen, turning sixteen, years. He knows her worries, and she knows his. There's no use in hiding it - not that he would, in the first place.

"...Alder asked me to be the Champion," Cheren murmurs. "He challenged me to a battle, saying if I won I could be Champion."

"He did?" She questions softly. She's not surprised, he can tell. No one would be. After all, lest everyone forget, he managed to make it through the Elite Four too.

"I said no," he replies, brushing past her question. "I… don't want to be Champion."

"She deserves it more than any of us," Bianca agrees.

"Thank you," Cheren whispers after a few more minutes of silence, a few more minutes of Bianca's thumbs rubbing the back of his hands gently and reassuringly. "Bianca?"

"Hm?" She questions, her voice bubbly.

"Are you going to stay here?"

"Yes," she replies. "I… I want to help Professor Juniper. Battling… I don't think it's my thing as much as it is yours. I want to help study Pokémon instead." She pauses. "What about you?"

"I… I might move," he says, letting go of her hand to adjust his glasses. She lets her hands fall to her side, so he shoves both of his into his pockets. "I've heard of this city… Aspertia City. They're planning to build a Trainer's School. I was invited to be a teacher."

"You should go!" Bianca says encouragingly.

"But - "

"You've given yourself a good, hard look, haven't you?"

He nods wordlessly, and she smiles.

"Exactly. What better place to start than somewhere new?" She sees the look of doubt in his eyes and sighs. "Cheren, you still have Unfezant. You can always come visit! And besides, we have each other registered on the Xtransceiver! If you ever want to talk, you can call me!"

When she smiles again, it feels like a ray of light, striking through all the darkness that once held him down.

~ / . / . / ~

"Hurry, Lord Ghetsis," one of the Shadow Triad murmurs, his voice muffled by his mask. "The alarms will sound soon."

"I know!" Ghetsis snaps. "Where are the other two?"

"Taking care of the authorities, my lord. Now hurry."

Ghetsis hisses as he's hustled down the stairs by the Shadow Triad member. They take the steps two at a time, probably too much for the elderly Plasma leader to handle had they not been running from the law.

The air before them flashes as they approach the bottom of the stairs, and before their eyes another member of the Shadow Triad appears, falling to their knees.

"Lord Ghetsis," they greet before rising just as quickly. "Your escape route has been successfully established. You must hurry though."

Ghetsis grits his teeth. "Out of the way!" He snaps.

Obediently, the Shadow Triad member moves, leading Ghetsis down the hallway to the right. He follows after them, and the other Shadow Triad member casts one more glance over his shoulder before bolting after his companions.

They rush down the hallway, and take a series of turns. Right, right, left, right, left… the Shadow Triad member in front of Ghetsis murmurs the directions under his breath.

They take their final left, breathless from their running, and Ghetsis smirks triumphantly. The final Shadow Triad member looks up, a security guard wrapped in a headlock in his arms and a cloth pressed against the guard's mouth.

"He's out," the last member says, letting the guard fall from his arms. They fall limply to the ground.

"The exit?" The Shadow Triad member behind Ghetsis prompts.

In place of a reply, the other member simply pushes the door behind him open. Although it's dim, they can clearly see the unconscious bodies of several other guards.

Without waiting, Ghetsis rushes through the door. The Shadow Triad members follow wordlessly. Their feet hit the gray tile beneath them noisily, but none of the guards stir.

In the distance, a tiled set of gray stairs begins to appear through the dimly lit underground. Without a warning, a member of the Shadow Triad disappears, only to appear again on the steps. He takes the lead, taking the first tentative step outside.

He glances around before gesturing for them to follow. None of them even realize they had stopped until their feet are pushing them forward again, up the stairs and to fresh air and freedom and the great gray sky of night time.

They're in Castelia City, on the easternmost dock, emerging from an underground facility few were aware of and even fewer knew was being shut down. The Shadow Triad had, it seemed, taken advantage of the carelessness now weaseling its way into the employees' minds and broken Ghetsis out of the captivity he had been held in.

Ghetsis's eyes dart to the side when the Shadow Triad member in the lead takes off again, darting toward a large ship that he hadn't noticed.

"The Frigate," he hisses. It was their back-up, in case Plasma Castle ever fell and they needed somewhere to reconvene and hide. Simply seeing it made his blood pound in his ears with anger and rage.

Still, he follows and boards the ship without a question. The few Plasma members aboard all bow deeply upon seeing Ghetsis before pulling the ship out of the harbor. Soon they're passing underneath Skyarrow Bridge, and it's in this moment that Ghetsis finally steps off the dock and makes for his private chambers, accompanied by the Shadow Triad.

"The third dragon, my lord?" The Shadow Triad on his right asks.

"Indeed," Ghetsis grins maliciously. "I trust you've heard the legend?"

"Yes. That when Zekrom and Reshiram split to follow truth and ideals, the body of the dragon they had once occupied was left behind. A third dragon named Kyurem. The moral gray, so to speak, between truth and ideals."

"Correct."

"And how do you plan to make use of it, my lord?" The member on his left speaks up.

"That matters not!" he snaps, and the Shadow Triad bow their heads. "All we must do is exact our revenge! We must seize control of the Unova region!"

"As you command, my lord," the three of them chorus.

"I am the light of Unova!" Ghetsis cries passionately. "I will become the Champion of Unova, and reign victorious! No one will stop me!"

"Yes, my lord."

"I've heard of an accomplished scientist in Nacrene City. When we reach land, you three are to find him and bring him to this ship, which will be docked on the Seaside Cavern."

"As you command, my lord."

Ghetsis's malicious grin grows larger.

He'd heard rumors of this third dragon, seen pictures of it when he was a child. It was a twisted beast of cool gray and blue and white. Yet, this twisted beast of gray is what he needs to become the light of Unova.

~ / . / . / ~

Grimsley shakes Clay's hand. "Thank you, again, for agreeing to help."

"No problem, buddy. This Pokémon League 'ere is our pride and joy, yeah? If we don't repair it, we ain't got anything to brag about no more."

Clay lets go of Grimsley's hand before lifting his cowboy hat and peering upwards. The sun is perched just behind the Pokémon League, its rays slipping over the crumbled building and spilling out over the figures standing in front of it and blanketing them in light.

"Well, I s'ppose it's 'bout time we started," Clay states, turning over his shoulder to look at his workers. "Don't mind if we do. Come on, folks! We've got us work to do!"

The workers all cry out energetically. Grimsley can't help but smile at the enthusiasm blatant in their voices, their eyes, and their actions.

He turns to go help clean out the interior of the Pokémon League - "What? You think Dark-types can't help dig up rubble? For Arceus's sake, I have a Krookodile and a Scrafty on my team!" He recalls himself saying in a vehement reminder to the other Elite Four - when Shauntal appears from the Pokémon Center nearby, nose deep in a writing journal. Upon seeing Shauntal, he approaches her.

"You know, writing while walking is a bad habit. You could fall off that cliff over there if you're not paying attention," he comments, gesturing to the open cliff beside her that leads down into Victory Road, or what is left of it.

"And I told you that morbid jokes such as those are also commonly known as a bad habit," she replies sharply, but shuts her journal and sighs before glancing up. "As is that penchant you hold for gambling."

Grimsley glances up, already turning over his gold coin in his palm. "What did you say?" he asks jokingly, flipping the coin and snatching it from the air, holding it between two fingers and flashing it to Shauntal.

She just pins him with a glare and walks up the stairs into the Pokémon League. He follows, taking a moment to readjust his scarf before climbing the stairs.

The outside of their rooms is the same - small bits of rock here and there. The statue and its moving platform have, thankfully, been untouched. Caitlin turns around in the middle of her work, but continues to levitate a large rock in the air.

"Grimsley, Shauntal," she greets, moving as she directs the rock to sit beside the stairs they had just climbed. They step to the side, holding back laughs as bewildered workmen watch on.

The heavy timbre of Marshal's footsteps turn their attention to Caitlin's room, which Marshal is emerging from. He rushes to meet them, a serious look on his face. The Elite Four glance around at each other in silence.

"What should we do?" Shauntal finally asks. The question seems redundant, considering they know what they are to do, but they all know she's asking about the future, and not the present. "Grimsley?"

In Alder's absence, Grimsley, being the oldest, is the one they turn to now. He acts as their makeshift leader - he always has, to tell the truth - while they await the emergence of a new Champion.

"...We rebuild," he murmurs, casting a look at Caitlin. A soft smile curls her lips upwards. Shauntal smiles, and Marshal simply cracks his knuckles.

Finally. The light at the end of the tunnel is drawing near. Their reparations are beginning. Everything will be different.

Yet, that's never bad.