Summary: Red, Gold, and now me—Steven says it's fate. I have to disagree. It's terrible, terrible, good luck. [Based on RSE]

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: Pokémon does not belong to me, nor do its characters.

Chapter 1: Tyrant Torchic

I walked through the woods, moodily kicking at innocent flowers and sticks as I sulked. I stomped on a twig and it gave a dissatisfying snap. I groaned to myself, shoving my hands in my pockets to slouch on.

This sucked…

First, Mom didn't have to guts to tell me we were moving to Hoenn until two weeks before the fact. Second, we moved to Hoenn! I'd spent my LIFE in Johto; I was a Johto girl, not some Hoenn hick! We moved to what must to be the most boring, out of it town in all of Hoenn—in all the world! It was full of old wrinkly people who undoubtedly dozed on their porches every evening, knit, and were completely clueless technologically wise. The only ones under the age of 60 were my mom, my neighbor, her husband, her son, and I. The neighbor's son was an utter jerk! He had this superior way of looking at you with his sneering crimson eyes that made me bristle, and the condescending manner he'd acted with when he realized I didn't have a single Pokémon…I would have punched him if there hadn't been witnesses!

As much as I hated to admit it, when he'd offered to get me a Pokémon, no matter how patronizing, my heart had leapt with hope—just to crash when he ran off, apologizing for being too busy to. And busy with Pokémon stuff, at that!

Geez! Was I so desperate I'd be willing to head off with him, if it meant getting a Pokémon—any Pokémon?

Scowling at the tree, I decided I had to draw the line somewhere. I should've drawn it years ago when Mom and Dad wouldn't let me leave on a Pokémon journey when everyone else did. I could've done it! Why the heck hadn't they had faith in me?

I was sixteen now, and they still woudn't let me leave. Talk about overprotective… Even if they did have a point six years ago, I was long, long over that, and absolutely dying to break free of their shackles. It was so embarrassing! I bet every sixteen-year-old in the world has a Pokémon except me!

I was a gym leader's kid, too. Shouldn't that count for something? It seemed like I should get a Pokémon early, not absurdly late…

Pausing in front of a tree, I mentally checked my distance from the town—what was it called? Ack, who cared? I was far enough. I leaned forward, bracing myself against a tree, and growled, something between a snarl and a groan. I stopped when I ran out of breath, throat sore. I was inhaling to repeat myself when someone else screamed first.

I considered not interfering. I didn't want to interrupt some poor Joe's anger fest, but he'd interrupted mine, and he didn't sound frustrated—he sounded scared.

I pushed myself off the tree, heading towards the source—sedately. No way I was running, if he was being mauled—his own fault for heading into tall grass unwarily. Though the same could be said for me, but as I'd demonstrated moments earlier, I had a killer shout to scare it off.

Actually, I wouldn't mind taking it on. It was a ready excuse to claw something—I could pretend it was Bryn or his Pokémon. Or maybe it was him screaming so shrilly? I sped up, jogging towards the scene of the crime. Maybe the beast had already done the dirty work…

Arriving, I saw a stout middle-aged man attempting to hang onto a tree, a tiny black dog Pokémon hanging off his lab coat, snarling something fierce.

Pfft. I raised a hand to my mouth to hide my grin. The Pokémon was obviously low-leveled and probably couldn't do much damage. I felt slightly better, though—he didn't have a Pokémon either. He looked to be in his early forties… On the other hand, I suddenly fervently hoped he did. The Law of Irony said since I'd just laughed at him for being forty and not having a Pokémon, I'd end up being forty and Pokémon-less, which I definitely did not want.

Then he spotted me. "Oh, thank goodness! Help, I don't have any Pokémon on me! I left my balls in the bag over there!"

Yeah, I thought, watching him whimper and frantically fail to pull himself higher up the tree, I can definitely see that.

I ran over to the bag, grinning at the prospect of being able to battle. I ripped open the bag eagerly, taking in papers, papers, a clipboard, and more papers…

"Other pocket!" he shrieked.

"Okay, okay!" I quickly unzipped it and dumped out the contents. Three pokéballs clattered to the ground. I fell to my knees, examining them. Hm, which to choose?

"Hurry!"

I reached for the closest, and then paused, changing my mind and reaching for the middle. Just as I was about to pick it up, I noticed a brown stain on the pokéball. I shook my head decisively and grabbed the furthest, jumping to my feet to whirl towards the dude-in-distress. Dude-in-danger sounded snappier, but he wasn't really in danger. I let out the Pokémon, and stared in disappointment at a fluffy baby chick. He looked up at me with wide eyes.

"Torchic, the Chick Pokémon!" the man exclaimed. "Now help!"

"Hey, attack that…err, well, I don't know what it is, so just attack it! Tackle!"

Torchic's wide sparkly eyes now were filled with confusion.

"He doesn't know Tackle!" shouted the man, squealing as the dog let out a muffled howl.

"What does he know?" I asked. "Ember?" The chick continued to look confused, and scratched idly at the dirt.

"Uh…I can't remember!" the man cried. "Just choose another!"

Impatient, I snatched up the closest pokéball and threw it. A green lizard leapt agilely from it, landing silently, and my mouth fell open. This Pokémon…was the best! Cute and cool, quick and quiet! Just my type!

"Treecko, the Wood Gecko Pokémon! Now please, help!" The dog was still howling something awful. I would've spared a frown for it if I hadn't been so intent on Treecko. A name to fit him!

"Awesome!" I yelped. "What do you know? Tackle!"

He looked me over with a lazy yellow eye. Yellow eyes! How cool was that?

He gave a snort and turned away from me.

"Attack!" I shouted.

Treecko burst into motion, leaping up—so high for something his height!—and slamming his strong tail on Torchic, who screamed in pain and began to use his talons to claw at Treecko, who was dodging…

"Not that Pokémon!" I yelled in exasperation. "That one! The doggish one!"

Neither listened to me, engaged in a savage duel to the death.

I crouched, having to search a moment before locating the final pokéball in the overgrown grass, and let it out, careful not to touch the questionable stain. Out burst a pathetic-looking blue Pokémon with a weird fin quivering on his head.

The man was nearly sobbing now. "M-mudkip, the Mud Fish Pokémon…"

"What does it know?" I asked tiredly, watching mournfully as the tide turned on Treecko and the tiny chick began to thrash him. He wasn't so incredible, after all…

I couldn't hear the man's reply over Torchic's mad cawing and Treecko agonized (and agonizing) "trreEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeee…"

"Tackle," I guessed, distracted by the Treecko-Torchic fight. That chick wasn't so bad; was he using Scratch attack? Maybe after he was done torturing Treecko, he'd help out his master—or at least, I presumed the professor to be his trainer. And I presumed he was a professor because he was wearing a lab coat. All he'd need a gleaming pair of glasses and he'd be the most useless evil professor ever…

Mudkip charged forward, jumping into the air—not as high as Treecko, I noted forlornly—and threw itself against the mad dog, knocking it to the ground.

"Tackle?" I said in surprise.

"Ki!" Mudkip cried, voice young and inexperienced.

The other Pokémon growled, a low, long sound that had me gulping. Eheheh, maybe I'd misjudged her a bit? She suddenly seemed much stronger now that her positively malicious yellow and red eyes stared Mudkip and me down.

Red eyes—Brice! My mind snapped into gear, imagining his expression if he'd seen me freeze up fighting a what, level five? Pokémon.

"Alright, Mudkip, use Tackle!" I shouted, and Mudkip ran at the dog, who dodged quickly, and charged Mudkip.

"Dodge—" But I was too late, and Mudkip sprawled across the ground. Not letting up for a moment, Dog pounced, flaming jaws clamping down on Mudkip's tail. Mudkip cried out in pain.

By the fire, I'd guess that was a fire-type move—Fire Fang, maybe?—but it shouldn't do much, since Mudkip was a water-type, right? Hey, did that mean Dog was a fire-type, so Mudkip had the advantage?

"Hold on there, Mudkip! Use Water Gun!"

Mudkip gave me a pained impression of a blank look on his fish-face before Dog yanked hard, shaking her head viciously to throw Mudkip back and forth.

Oh, crap! I was going to lose!

I looked around, panicking, as I sought an advantage—and found it in the form of smug Torchic sitting triumphantly on Treecko's beaten and unconscious body. I gave him a look of respect, and then a plan occurred to me.

"Try to get free!" I ordered Mudkip, who moments later was sent crashing into a tree. Trembling, he got to his feet, and Dog howled at him before rushing forward.

"Run over there!" I yelled, pointing in Torchic's direction. Mudkip shakily obeyed, limping, and we were lucky it wasn't so far. Mudkip plunged past Torchic, who looked up curiously as he ran past. Dog barreled into Torchic, causing him to give a loud, indignant squawk of surprise, and he toppled off Treecko as Dog got entangled.

"Alright, Torchic, Scratch!" I called gleefully as Torchic descended upon Dog, talons slashing, and Dog let out a surprised whine, struggling to escape. "Mudkip, Tackle her into the tree! But don't hit Torchic, so Torchic, dodge!"

I wasn't sure if Torchic would understand, or obey, but fortunately Dog managed to throw him off moments before Mudkip stormed in with a resounding Tackle, ramming Dog into the tree. I could see it was a critical hit.

I laughed in relief. "We did it! Great job, guys! You beat him!"

"You most certainly did," agreed the man, who was still up the tree. "I'm lucky you came along."

Yeah, I wanted to agree, but suddenly I felt very weak and light-headed. Looking down, I saw my hands were trembling. I inwardly cursed, embarrassed at my spinelessness. I shoved in my pockets to hide the shaking. I squinted up at the professor. "What're you doing up there? Counting leaves?"

He laughed feebly. "I, uh, can't get down…"

I felt like smacking him. Or myself. Or the tree. I'd better stick to the tree.

"Oookay…" I sighed. "Let's see…" I looked around. Treecko was out cold, so he couldn't climb up and help the guy. Torchic was preening himself, very pleased with the much softer nest Dog made. Mudkip had wandered over to me, shaking like my hands. I crouched down to pick him up. His blue skin was yuckily damp, though if it was natural or sweat, I wasn't sure.

"Whaddaya think, buddy?" I asked him. "How should we get'im down?"

Mudkip buried his face in my chest, not bothering to answer. One of his orange gills poked my arm uncomfortably, and I grimaced. I walked over to the bag, wondering if there was rope…no, no rope.

"Can you just drop?" I asked him. He wasn't too far up off the ground, about six feet, but by his expression, he seemed very nervous with the idea. Pansy. He'd definitely left it in his bag.

Feeling distinctly annoyed, I snapped, "Either you drop, or Mudkip Tackles the tree till you fall. Get it? Which do you choose?"

He chose to drop, though he took his sweet time about it. In the end, it was only my threat to rip every paper in his bag that convinced him to take the risk, and he made an exaggerated noise as he hit the ground.

"See?" I said impatiently. "Now here, your stuff is all around here. I stuffed most of what came out into your bag." I thrust the bag at him. "I've also found two pokéballs, not sure which, but the final's rolled off somewhere. I think it's Mudkip's, 'cause the ones I found didn't have the stain on it."

"Thank you," the man said, rubbing his back with one hand as he accepted the bag. I waited as he settled the bag across his shoulders before holding out his hands for the two pokéballs. "I'm very grateful to you," he said, and I inwardly rolled my eyes, here we go, "and since I get the feeling you're a type for action, I'm going to let you keep the Pokémon you battled with."

It took several moments for me to fully process that. "SERIOUSLY?" I yelled, dumbfounded and delighted.

He grinned at my enthusiasm. "Yes."

I beamed at him, all unsympathetic thoughts gone like morning dew. "Thanks a ton, Professor!" I turned happily towards Torchic, but he and Treecko dissolved into red light. I blinked, confused, and looked at the man.

"So I'll take these two to the lab, and you keep Mudkip," he said, tucking the pokéballs away, and I suddenly felt cheated. Mudkip may have dealt the final blow, but he had had help, and Torchic had both been instrumental to the dog fight and had taken out Treecko all on his own.

But any Pokémon was better than none, and the professor might change his mind if I acted all stuck-up "Torchic MINE!" so I nodded. It didn't matter that Mudkip would've been my last choice. Hadn't I just been musing on the fact I'd take any Pokémon, at this point?

"You should drop by," Professor said. "It's in Littleroot Town, just south of here. I'll give you a nifty gadget!" With the bait set, the professor ambled off.

I put Mudkip down, studying him critically. He was dirt- and grass-streaked and bruised. Definitely needed a trip to the Pokémon Center. Of course, Littleroot (Professor had jogged my memory; that was the name of the town I had moved to) was such an out-of-the way place it didn't even have a Pokémon Center.

"Well," I said to Mudkip, "we're gonna hafta find some other way of getting you healed. I don't know if there are any other towns nearby, though…" I considered heading anywhere but south in the hopes of coming across a sensible city, but rejected it as impractical. Didn't I have potions stashed in my PC storage, anyway? I thought our new house had an old, slow computer that had only the PC function… "Let's find your pokéball and head to Littleroot."

We crawled around for a while before finally finding the pokéball. I probably accidentally kicked it during the fight, for it to stray so far. I glanced back at the impromptu battlefield, realizing that if Dog hadn't attacked Professor, I might've never gotten a Pokémon till I was balding and toothless. "I guess I owe you one," I said grudgingly to the dark form. "C'mon Mudkip, I'll return you so don't have to walk the whole way."

A low moan me made me pause, and Mudkip and I turned to watch Dog stir. My head snapped back to Mudkip's horrified gaze, and a quick red flash later, I sprinted off, inwardly chanting, Nice doggy, nice doggy, don't you dare chase me…

I hurried to the house, panting from my sprint and ignoring the occasional call from the old biddies knitting on their porches while berating their incompetent deaf husbands. I did some quick spy work and discovered Mom was in the kitchen, fussing over dinner choices. Right. In this town, I doubted we could order takeout.

I snuck in the front door and across the living room. I wished the TV were on, so it could conceal the small noises I made. The one thing this house had over our last one was the fact I had a TV in my room now (not that I'd had a chance to use it yet). I cringed as the stairs creaked, but Mom didn't seem to hear, and I escaped successfully to my room. My room was probably the most advanced room in the house, with a TV, Nintendo, computer, and a clock. The kitchen came in second, with a microwave, oven, and sink—there wasn't a dishwasher. In that vein, there weren't washing machines or driers either, so I was going to have to wash my clothes in the river and hang them up to dry. If I caught Brett or some perverted old guy messing with my underwear, ohhhhh, there's gonna be hell to pay.

I shut the door, pausing as a thought occurred to me. I had a Pokémon now. Why shouldn't I head off on a journey, and never have to deal with Brennan ever again?

Hm…I should write a note, so Mom would know I wasn't kidnapped or whatnot. She'd probably have someone track me down and haul me back by my collar either way, though… What if I talked to her sensibly? Out of the question, what if she decided I wasn't fit to care for Mudkip? Or that I might get dangerous ideas, with a Pokémon in my grasp? Or whatever bull she'd say this time?

Am I going to run away? I wondered, faintly bemused with the concept. I shrugged it off a moment later, excusing it, they have it coming, anyway.

I hurried over to my computer, and withdrew the single potion in there, as well as my emergency money fund I'd set up for myself. I dragged out my school backpack with a grimace—the zipper was broken, and the whole backpack had a beaten look to it after waging war against homework for the last year—and emptied all the junk in it.

Hey, I didn't know I still had this keychain! I jingled the cheerful cyndaquil keychain and put it to my side. I pulled out crumpled papers, my student ID, and a half-eaten sandwich in a plastic bag. I put the ID with the keychain, just in case, and flung the sandwich across the room at the trash bin. I missed, of course. I didn't go over to put it in.

I eyed my (mostly) emptied bag. Then I went through my suitcase, throwing aside my skirts and nice clothes and aiming for my worn, comfortable shirts, shorts, and jeans. I tossed my best all-weather jacket onto the bed (since when did I have pink sheets?) along with a pair of skintight gloves. I looked around the room. There was a green rug in front the of TV, and I could see a game controller on it. The clock hung on the wall, and read about five-thirty. A little later than I was expecting…probably should get a watch…

Seeing nothing to grab, I returned to the pile of appropriate clothes, and reduced it to a manageable amount. I might want to get a separate bag for Pokémon supplies in the future, though.

I stuffed the clothes willy-nilly into the backpack. In a smaller pocket, I put the keychain, ID, other potentially useful junk, and socks. I took off the gray sweater I was wearing now, and put on the other, which was a nice shade of blue and black. It had many nice, big pockets, and, more importantly, had secret pockets on the inside. That, in addition to its durability and suitability for all weather conditions, made it my favorite jacket. I also squeezed into some old jeans that barely still fit me, as my other pants were mud-splattered from the battle.

I looked around the room again, wondering if that was it. Was that really all I needed? The money in my pocket—I abruptly turned and fished it out of the pocket of my gray sweater, laughing nervously to myself. A baaaad idea to start a journey without money. I had the potion though, right?

I found it in the pocket of my dirty pants.

Finally, I settled on the floor, one of my school notebooks in my lap and a tiny, blunt pencil in my hand; I couldn't find my pencil sharpener. I felt awkward. How does one go about writing a letter to your parents telling them you've run away? I flipped through the pages of the book, frowning absently at my badly scrawled notes.

Though, those could be useful…these were my Pokémon battle notes… Maybe my Pokémon care notes would be better?

I procrastinated for several minutes digging up it and fiddling with my other notes, looking for an answer in their filled pages.

Eventually, I just wrote:

Mom—

This is from me. I haven't been kidnapped, forced, etc, or anything; I'm going on a Pokémon journey. What better way for me to learn this new region? Don't try to find me, and I'll call you sometimes.

See ya sometime. I'll drop by when I have my first few contest ribbons.

—may

The region sentence was an obvious bribe, as she had been complaining about my narrow-mindedness in rejecting Hoenn before even setting foot in it. The stuff about contest ribbons was a red herring, and also meant to mollify her slightly: she'd always wanted me to go into coordinating, and I had watched contests on TV when I found out they were on. Any people she sent after me in her paranoia would be looking for young coordinator May, who shouldn't be hard at all to find—not for rookie trainer Sapphire, my middle name.

Looking over it absently for spelling or grammar as I hesitated, I reflected my lower-case name should reassure her it was from me: I never capitalized my name when I was signing a letter, something that had exasperated my grade school teachers.

I hid my extra clothing in my bed, making a sloppy impression of a human sleeping beneath the sheets.

I let out Mudkip, who peered around at my room with childlike interest. He whimpered with pain when I sprayed him with my potion. I returned him, then.

There was nothing left to do. I folded the letter twice, and stuck the pencil into a pocket. My Pokémon care notebook was shoved into my backpack, and I paused, noticing an stray blue bandanna with the pokéball symbol I hadn't noticed on the floor. Shrugging, I scooped it up, and stuffed it into a pocket. I turned off the lights, and shut the door behind me.

I crept down the stairs. The TV was on now, on her favorite show, and it masked the stairs' creaking. Mom wasn't in the room, though. She was probably listening from the kitchen. I passed by the TV, but stopped as I noticed out-of-place shoes on the low table by the couch. The nearby label proclaimed them "Running Shoes" and bragged about how you could run super fast in them: "They put a zip in your step!"

I looked down at my old, tattered sneakers and realized sheepishly that I probably would've gotten holes in them by the end of my first week of travel. I pulled off mine and slipped on the shoes. They were a little big, but nothing that tight shoelaces couldn't fix. I left my note beneath the old shoes on the table.

"Mom, I don't feel so good," I called. "I'm going to bed. I already ate with our neighbors, so don't worry about that." I knew the idea of me getting along with our neighbors pleased her. She would probably plan to get the details out of me tomorrow, and then interrogate the neighbors-in-question.

"Alright, dear," she called back. "Just give a holler if you need something." I looked wryly at the TV; she was always absentminded when Pokémon Love was on.

Suddenly struck by impulse, I unfolded the letter, and snatched the pencil from behind my ear. I scribbled a quick, PS love you, at the bottom, and then replaced it under the sneakers, and left, the door shutting quietly behind me as someone on TV started singing horribly.

I walked briskly, sticking my hands into my pockets, pencil too.

The Pokémon Laboratory was easy to find, as it was the biggest building in Littleroot, and the only one that wasn't wooden. Standing on the doorstep, I realized it was also the only with a doorbell, which I pressed. There were a couple of red flowers scattered beneath a window to my left, I noticed.

The door opened, and a spectacled, graying woman looked down at me. "Yes?"

"Err, I was asked to come here by a professor," I said, realizing I'd neglected to find out which. "I saved him from a wild Pokémon earlier today."

Her severe face lightened. "Ah, yes. Professor Birch spoke of you. Come in, come in."

I obeyed, gaping slightly. That man was Professor Birch? The one Professor Oak of Kanto spoke of highly on his radio show, and who my mom gushed about him being friendly with my dad?

As we walked through the building, I realized that the lab was a very…spacey place. Every room had open space at its center, with equipment cluttered chaotically along the edges and spilling into other rooms. From what I'd seen, towering bookcases rather than walls divided the otherwise open lab into "rooms," and from the brief glimpses I'd gotten, they weren't dusty. Considering how many of these enormous bookcases there were, I realized the lab probably doubled as Littleroot's library.

"Here we are," my guide announced, straightening her white coat. I saw Birch and some helper studying something beneath a microscope, and discussing it in low voices. "He'll be with you shortly. You can sit on that bench while waiting." She pointed to the bench.

I was too busy adapting to and watching the lab to respond sarcastically, and instead obediently sat down like a little kid and stared around me like an even littler one.

I fingered my pencil in my pocket, watching as some young scientist tottered past, carrying a veritable mountain of books. Because I hated sitting still and wanted to wander the lab some, I took half of the books and carried them to his workstation. I "got lost" on the way back, making a detour to play with an unreasonably serious Pokémon and make faces at her trainer behind his back, ending in success when the Pokémon's mask cracked and she snickered.

When I got back to my "waiting bench" there was someone sitting there. She looked to be about my age, maybe a little older, and she met my eyes with her verdant ones. She gave me a slow smile and slid over to make room.

I sat down as far as I could from her. She had wickedly sharp nails painted crimson to match her hair. The only thing sharper than her nails was her razor-smile. She tapped the bench idly, nails clicking, as she watched me from beneath dark lashes. Her eyes seemed luminous and impossibly green: greener than the trees and grass. I bet she was wearing contacts.

Awkward under that intense gaze, I ignored her, hoping she'd return the favor. However, she was the sociable type. She leaned forward, into my personal space, and murmured, "Heeey, handsome…"

I refrained from choking in surprise. This was the first time in a long time since I'd been mistaken for a boy. On that topic, though, my hair was getting a little long… How did I look male?

"What's your name?" she asked. She made just looking at me a flirtatious thing.

I wanted to laugh at her performance. It had been seriously too long since someone thought I was a boy. Sapphire…Sapph could be a boy's name, right? "Sapph," I answered monotonously.

She paused, uncertain, and looked me over. She seemed to dismiss it a moment later. "Mm…it's a pleasure, Sapph. I'm Amera. Do you work here?"

Am I wearing a white coat? "No."

"Why are you here, then?" she asked, head tilted aside so her curls fell across her bare shoulder, drawing attention to her delicate build and pale collar bones.

"I saved a professor," I admitted, trying hard not to laugh—or even grin. I flicked my gaze over to Birch and his coworker, who were arguing quietly over something.

"How heroic," she murmured, a curious note to it. She moved closer. "What from?"

I paused, realizing I didn't know Dog's species. I shrugged. "Some Pokémon. Not sure what it's called." The argument had settled, and, brushing off his lab coat, Birch approached us with a wide grin.

"Ah, good, you're here!" he said genially. "I'm glad you've gotten acquainted with one another."

Amera stood, holding out her hand. "It's an honor to meet you, sir," she enthused, "I'm Amera!"

Birch chuckled modestly, shaking her hand. "Thank you, thank you. Erm…" He looked at me. "Amera is here to get her first Pokémon. Would you mind if I got that sorted out, so I can give you both your gifts?"

I shrugged, inwardly gleeful.

"Great! Now, if you'll come this way…" Birch led us to a machine with three circular indents. One was empty. Amera frowned.

"Why's there nothing there, Professor?" she asked, pointing a manicured hand at the spot.

"Wahaha. That pokéball was Mudkip's, who was chosen by this young trainer right here," Birch said, slapping me on the back. I glared at him, embarrassed by his friendliness and his careless unveiling of the fact.

Amera looked at me, emerald eyes wide. "You just got your first Pokémon today?" she asked incredulously, looking me over as if reassessing.

I gave a short nod.

"Go ahead and open the other two balls," suggested Birch. Amera obeyed with hasty movements and glowing eyes.

"Who's in here?"

Treecko emerged from his pokéball, and looked up at Amera, who stared down blankly at him. A moment later, she backed away, nose wrinkling slightly.

Five minutes too late, I realized who Amera would choose.

"Okay, this pokéball." Amera tossed out the pokéball, and Torchic appeared, in all his orange, fluffy glory. Just as he had with me, Torchic gazed up at Amera with sparkling eyes, and I swear Amera squealed.

"This one! I want this one!"

I glared at her darkly, but she was so wrapped up in Torchic and her dreamy world she didn't have a chance of noticing. No fair, why did she get the strongest of them?

Birch clapped in delight, and returned the slumped Treecko. "Excellent! Now…here you two go. I had ordered these special, but I think you have greater need for them," He pulled two red devices from his pockets. "PokéDexes!"

"Gee! Thanks, Professor!" cried Amera, and I thought there was something sarcastic about her tone.

Giving her a rebuking look, I asked, "What's a PokéDex?"

Birch handed us each one, saying, "A PokéDex is a tool with data on most Pokémon in the world. It can tell you a Pokémon's species, some information about it, like migration habits, where it can be found, what its cry sounds like, and what attacks it knows."

My eyes widened. "It can tell you what a Pokémon knows?"

"Only if that Pokémon is yours."

"Wow," I said, elated. "That's really useful."

Birch winked at me. "I thought that's what you'd say."

I turned it over in my hands, feeling it curiously and opening it.

"It also acts as a person's ID," Birch added. "I took the privilege of registering you both."

My eyebrows shot up. "But you don't know my name?" I said, confused.

Birch chuckled. "I didn't recognize you at first. Imagine my surprise when I realized my savior was none other than my old friend Norman's daughter!"

"Wait," said Amera, cutting abruptly into the conversation. "Daughter?" She stared at me.

"Well, yes," said Birch, slightly off-balanced at being interrupted with such an inane question. "Norman's daughter. You didn't know? I thought you had already introduced yourselves…?" he trailed off at Amera's expression.

Amera's face was coloring rapidly, twisting with fury, and I couldn't quite smother my amused grin. She blew up, and slapped me. Hard. Those nails were no joke. "How dare you!" she seethed. "How DARE you!"

I clutched at my bloody cheek, eyes watering with pain. "Yeow," I mumbled. "Hey, no reason to overreact."

Amera sputtered for a moment, utterly incoherent, before trying to slap me again. Wise to her ways, I dodged. "You bitch!" she shrieked.

"Hey, hey," interjected Birch weakly, waving a hand at her. "She has a point, n-no reason to get worked up?"

I scrambled backwards, yanking out my pokéball. Intensely grateful I'd healed Mudkip earlier, I let him out. "On guard, Mudkip!"

Amera hurled Torchic's pokéball and Torchic burst out. My mind was running with possibilities and ideas and complaints as I tried to figure out a way to defeat Torchic. Out of the two, I was pretty sure Torchic was the stronger, especially when angered. I'd have to try to keep from vexing him, but I suspected it would be impossible to win the battle in one hit. After all, being attacked was what infuriated Torchic.

Torchic didn't look like he had strong defense, but instead high attack, and looked like a fire-type to Mudkip's water-type. If Mudkip knew a water-type move—

Ah, my PokéDex! I fumbled, turning it on, and pointed it at Mudkip. In a clear voice, the PokéDex said, "Mudkip, the Mud Fish Pokémon. On land, it can powerfully lift large boulders by planting its four feet and heaving. It sleeps by burying itself in soil at the water's edge." A menu popped up on the screen, and I touched "Moves". It read: Tackle, Growl.

My heart fell. No water-type moves. The only advantage we had was that Torchic's fire-type moves—if he knew any—wouldn't be very effective.

I pointed my PokéDex at the enemy. "Torchic, the Chick Pokémon. If attacked, it strikes back by spitting balls of fire it forms in its stomach. A torchic dislikes darkness because it can't see its surroundings."

I glanced up at the lights overhead. I don't think Birch would appreciate it if I busted his lights.

Amera yelled, "Torchic! Scratch!"

From the battle before, I knew Torchic was faster as he darted towards Mudkip. "Growl!"

Mudkip barely had time to growl, lowering Torchic's attack power, before Torchic struck. Still, the force of Torchic's powerful Scratch—Like trainer like owner, I thought dryly, the slashes on my cheek stinging—had knocked Mudkip back. I knew I had made the right decision. "Retaliate with Tackle!"

—now Mudkip was lurching forward, throwing himself off the ground to slam into Torchic; close-range so Torchic didn't have time to use his superior speed to dodge. Torchic staggered back, hurt, but snapped back into action with the enraged, "Scratch!" from Amera.

"Growl! Throw Torchic back, then Tackle!" I shouted, realizing I had this battle in the bag.

Again, Torchic struck, talons dragging across Mudkip's forehead. This time it wasn't so strong, and with a mighty toss of his head, Mudkip sent Torchic tumbling back. Mudkip pressed his advantage, surging forward in a Tackle. Torchic rolled end over end, before slowing. Torchic struggled weakly, but without arms and too tired to jump, he couldn't get up. He lay there, flapping pathetically and keening.

Mudkip was shaking, but standing.

"Forfeit," I told Amera. "It's over."

Crimson-face, she shouted, "You useless chicken!" but returned Torchic. Hair seeming to flame with fury, she advanced on me, drawing out another pokéball.

"Kiii!" Suddenly Mudkip spun sharply in place, and mud sprayed all over Amera. She shrieked in surprised disgust, and drew to a stop. Her eyes stared out from a mud-covered face, her hair no longer seemed to bristle, and she had a new mud-shirt and mud-pants. She looked ridiculous, like a little kid in a messed up Halloween costume, and I burst out laughing, "Fantastic! You're a genius, Mudkip!"

Mudkip looked quite proud of himself.

Spitting out mud, her eyes glared at me hatefully. "This. Isn't. Over!" she snarled, and stampeded past, leaving a trail of mud dripping after her.

I caught my breath, wheezing slightly.

"And she seemed like such a nice girl," said Birch mournfully, looking disillusioned.

I shrugged, walking over to Mudkip. "You did great," I told him, crouching. He let me lift him, seeming relieved and exhausted. "Do you have something I can heal Mudkip with here?" I asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes, of course! This way," Birch said, ushering me away. He had me return Mudkip, and place him in a machine that Birch claimed would heal Mudkip. As I was out of potions, I was hardly in a position to argue.

As we waited for the machine to work its medical magic, Birch said worriedly, "I hope Torchic is alright."

I didn't tell him she could be pretty rotten without being so all the way through, but instead I said, "Torchic'll be fine. He's tough; doesn't lie down and take stuff. 'Sides," I added, thinking of Amera's honest joy with Torchic, "She likes him. She's just…frustrated. And humiliated. Anyone would be." Mollified by the exciting victory, I was in a generous mood.

Birch was looking at me with an irritatingly thoughtful look. "You wouldn't, though. Lose control like that, I mean." It was ridiculously presumptuous, coming from someone whose total time in my company didn't even add up to forty-five minutes. Maybe even half an hour. Plus, he didn't know the whole story.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You don't know that, and FYI, I probably would."

"Norman wouldn't have raised you that way," Birch said confidently, and my ire went up a few notches.

"Well," I said, "Norman isn't always around."

"Hey, Dad," said Brandon (?) casually, strolling in and appearing very aloof as he eyed me. "I heard there was a ruckus? A battle? I thought you said no fighting in the lab…"

"It wasn't my idea," Birch said wearily. "I believe you two have met?"

We nodded.

"She's the new girl who has no Pokémon," said Brandon, making my eye twitch. "Mary."

"Actually, I do have a Pokémon," I said through gritted teeth, "And it's May, Brandon."

He looked at me, offended. "I thought you said you didn't have any. It's Brendan."

"I didn't then, but I do now."

Brendan looked at his father. "You gave her one? There's still one for me, right?"

"Of course," Birch reassured him. "And, lucky you, it's Treecko!" Birch pulled a pokéball out of his pocket and handed it to a grinning Brendan. "I know Treecko was the one you wanted from the start." Brendan took the pokéball, and threw a smirk at me, silently pointing out how the world had somehow bent to his wishes to give him the Pokémon he wanted on a silver platter. It was really messed up, but I suddenly really wished I'd gotten Treecko, if only to wipe the superior look Brendan was achieving to new heights.

It's funny how my luck worked out. Amera got the strongest of them, and Brendan got the coolest. Maybe Mudkip was the smartest? Or…did beating Torchic by strategy imply Mudkip was stronger, or that I was smarter than Amera?

"Maybe you two could battle," suggested Birch guilelessly, but perhaps unconsciously picking up on the unfriendly vibes.

"No battling in the lab, Dad," Brendan chided him. "Anyways, I've got better things to do than play around with a newbie. It wouldn't be fair to her, anyway."

"Me and Mudkip can totally take you," I told him darkly, a fist clenching.

Brendan had the gall to roll his eyes. He was so going to taste my dust—excuse me, I meant mud. "Your Pokémon's still recovering, May. You should give it time to rest." He hesitated, and then added, "I'll be on Route 103, and if you can get to me, I'll consider battling you. Later, newbie. I've got real work to do." He sauntered out.

I snarled after him.

"I'm sorry," said Birch apologetically, "He gets like that sometimes."

"More like all the freakin' time," I growled under my breath.

"Excuse me?" Birch asked, confused, "I didn't hear you."

"Nothing," I said louder. "Where's Route 103?"

"Going to challenge him?" said Birch shrewdly, but didn't wait. "Route 103 is north of here. Route 101 is the path leading north out of Littleroot; it ends in Oldale Town. Route 103 is the northern exit of Oldale. Oh, also," he fished around in his lab coat pockets, "it should have been Amera, but since she's not here, I'll compensate you." He handed me several hundred pokédollars. "And finally, I was going to give these to my son, but I'm guessing you don't have any pokéballs to catch wild Pokémon with." He deposited five small red-and-white balls into my hands. I stared at him speechlessly, eyes wide. First Mudkip, then the PokéDex, then money, now pokéballs?

"Is there—" I stopped, clearing my throat, "is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'd like if you'd register as many Pokémon in your PokéDex as possible by capturing them." Birch chuckled at me. "And perhaps you and my son can become friends."

I blinked at him in surprise, unsure of how to respond. Mudkip saved me as the machine bleeped and ejected Mudkip's pokéball. I hurriedly grabbed it. "Thanks, Professor, for, yeah, everything."

"Anytime, dear. You are Norman's daughter, after all."

Distinctly uncomfortably with that comment, I beat a hasty retreat to avoid answering and to not give Birch enough time to change his mind. Outside, I saw the sun had almost completely set, and I pulled my jacket tighter.

I broke into a jog, heading north like instructed. About five minutes into my run and two battles against small Pokémon my PokéDex called zigzagoon, I realized that I'd officially started my Pokémon journey. Another five minutes later and a battle against a new Pokémon called wurmple, I realized that I'd failed to inquire how far this Oldale Town was, and I slowed to a walk, wondering if I was going to have to camp outside on my first night journeying. I didn't have a tent or anything.

Fortunately, I spotted the glow of civilization ahead, and I broke into a trot again. To my relief, there was a Pokémon Center, and I made a beeline for it.

Someone grabbed my arm. "Hey there, traveler," chirped a long-haired man wearing an apron, "just arrived? Sore and tired? Your Pokémon hurt? Why should you have to wait to reach a Pokémon Center before healing them?"

"Err, just a moment," I began a bit desperately as he started dragging me away from the friendly Pokémon Center neon sign.

"The PokéMart comes to your rescue!" he declared, releasing me and throwing out his hands dramatically. I dutifully followed his eyes and saw a building with a blue sign reading PokéMart. "We sell all sorts of goods, from well-preserved food for the road to potions to heal your Pokémon with! Here, I'll give you a sample for free!" He pulled a potion from his apron with a flourish, and gave it to me. "Make sure to visit us!" And he entered the store.

I eyed the potion in my hand, wondering uneasily if it were poisoned or something, before putting it away and all but sprinting to the Pokémon Center. I was not accosted again, and a cheerful Nurse Joy took Mudkip's pokéball to the back to be healed. She gave me a room key for the night, and showed me to a cafeteria for dinner (my growling stomach gave me away).

Despite the comfy bed and my tired body, I didn't sleep well that night. I spent most of it thinking of Mom and home and of the many ways things could go wrong. What if Birch stopped by Mom's house and talked with her, and she found out I wasn't actually upstairs sleeping? I wondered how long I had until Mom realized what I'd done, when she'd find the note, and if she would send Dad after me. Dad's city, Petalburg, was nearby, right? What if I had to pass through it? Everything seemed so rural here, I was sure gossip about travelers spread easily. How was I going to keep people from realizing who I was? It sounded like I needed a disguise…

To be clear—her first name is May, and her middle name is Sapphire. She called herself Sapph because it was part of Sapphire.

January 30, 2012: Grammar edits, added accents to "poké" words

April 23, 2013: Grammar edits

June 20, 2013: Grammar edits. This story is being rewritten, so if you come up with any great ideas, feel free to send them to me via PM or a review! Guest reviewing is enabled for anyone who doesn't have an account! =)

Please, review!

—xxsapphireheartxx