Ah...where to begin? Perhaps I should give my name. I am Stephen, and I shall serve as narrator for most of this tale. What tale is this, you ask? This, friends, is the Ever-Growing Tale of Umber. Let's begin, shall we?
I take you back to thirteen years ago, to 1997. It was very early in the morning on January 1st, in Saffron City, Kanto. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon. The hospital room was lit by a fluorescent light, the importance of which in this story is questionable. In a singular bed (as people tend not to lay in more than one) lay Sylvia Birch, the wife of Adam Birch, then an aspiring professor, who stood next to the bed. In her arms she cradled a newborn boy.
"What should his name be?" Adam asked his wife, as he had clearly put no thought into it.
"Umber, after my uncle, Umberto," Sylvia replied softly as young Umber cooed. Adam smiled at the name, and looked at his son. Umber, like his older brother and his mother, had purplish-white hair and steely black eyes. Adam wondered but for a moment why both his sons had the hair and eyes of his wife, but then decided that perhaps her genes were more dominant that his. Of course, that is a story for another time.
We shall skip ahead a few years, as nothing particularly interesting happened between Umber's birth and age 6. It was at this age that Umber met his first Pokémon. Here, first carries two meanings. The first meaning is, well, this Pokémon was the first one Umber had ever met. The second meaning is that this Pokémon, by some incredibly fantastical coincidence, eventually ended up being Umber's starter Pokémon. Now then, back to the story. One of the many Pokémon Adam had received (so that he could give them to starting trainers when he eventually became a professor) was a Treecko. This Treecko was actually quite old, already ten years of age. Adam had brought this Treecko home, rather than asking his good friend Sammy Oak to take care of it as he had all the others. The Treecko, named Ace by his real mother, waddled around the house, nibbling bits of food left out for it. Young Umber was doing basically the same thing. However, he eventually got tired of this, and, with a good bit of effort, climbed onto the couch in the house's small living room and curled up with his head on a throw pillow. Treecko crawled into the room, darting about on all fours. He looked over at the couch and saw a small form, a chubby little munchkin with a mat of white fur on its head. Treecko cocked his head to the side at the sight of this child.
"Tree?" he said quizzically. He waddled up to the boy to examine him.
"Hi there!" the young boy said to the Pokémon.
Treecko grinned a bit. He thought the little cub was rather cute. Umber rubbed his eyes and reached out to Treecko. Before Treecko could respond, Umber grabbed him in his arms and, after struggling for a bit, hefted Treecko onto the couch and cuddled him like a Poké Doll. Treecko blinked and laughed a bit sheepishly before trying in vain to escape. However, he was no match for the little hands of a six-year-old boy who had fallen asleep with him in his clutches. A single drop of sweat formed on the back of Treecko's head, and he finally decided just to lay there with the boy. Of course, as soon as Umber awoke and released his kung-fu grip of sleep, Treecko darted off.
Now then, we'll skip ahead three more years. Adam finally had gained enough money, resources, certificates, and paperwork to move to a quaint little house in Littleroot Town, Hoenn. Adam had realized his dream; he was now not only Adam Birch, but Professor Adam Birch! Note the professor title. His son Umber, age nine, was ecstatic to have a new, spacious home in a bright, sunny, leafy new town, which sharply contrasted with his old, small house in industrious, loud, metallic Saffron City. Adam's older son, Brendan, age 15, was slightly less happy, as he had a few close-knit friends in Kanto. However, he brushed it off, knowing that he would make plenty more friends here in Hoenn. Either way, the family stood in their new home, doing whatever they particularly pleased. Umber raced about the grass outside the house, grinning like a maniac at everyone around. Brendan closely examined the walls in his new room, trying to find a place to hang a few of his old pictures. Brendan had become a trainer five years ago, asking Professor Oak to let him start with one of his father's Pokémon. Oak, always willing to help people, allowed this, and Brendan's first Pokémon was a Torchic. However, like Sylvia's dominant genes, that is a story for another time. Adam–err, excuse me, Professor Birch–stood proudly in the large living room, sucking in a deep breath of air as he took it all in. Sylvia was obsessively examining each box the Vigoroth brought in, making sure none of the Birch family's belongings had been left behind.
These time-skips are getting a bit tedious, are they not? Regardless, we must still skip forward a year. Umber was finally ten years old, finally old enough to be a trainer. However, this wasn't really on his mind at all. Sunlight poured into the room through its two windows, irritating Umber's eyes just enough to wake him. He sat up in his bed, scratching his head as he looked at the clock. It was 8:30, give or take a few minutes. Umber grabbed his alarm clock and switched off the alarm, as he didn't really need it to go off at 9:30 since he was already awake. Umber rubbed his eyes before he hopped out of the bed and onto the floor. By "onto the floor," I mean he tried to hop out of bed and slipped, landing on his back. It seemed to have slipped his mind that he slept with his socks on. Umber pulled himself from the floor and carefully walked over to the closet, whereupon he stripped himself of his Poké Ball-dotted pajamas. He swiftly yanked a black and red shirt with an orange collar from the closet. He unclasped the collar and unzipped the outer part of the shirt, pulling on the black undershirt attached to it. Then, he zipped up the outer part of the shirt and buttoned the collar. He pulled on an old pair of blue jeans with large orange cuffs. Then, he slipped on his old black and red shoes, not bothering to close the Velcro on them. He put on his black and red headband and slung his backpack over his shoulders before zooming out of his room and down the stairs. And yes, before you ask, he fell. All the way down the stairs. Umber really needed to start watching where he was going. Other than his slight clumsiness, Umber was quite intelligent and competent. But we'll have more on that later. Umber pulled himself from the floor once more and headed toward the door.
"Where're you headed off to, mister?" Sylvia asked her son.
"I'm gonna go see what Dad's up to, Mom. I'll be back before long," he said, grinning. With that, he went out the door and into the town.