AN: Hello! Thanks for actually reading this fic. It's my first one, so be nice! I'm hoping to make this a long-ish one, and the rating is a bit high just because I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen with it in the future. Please review, it helps!
Hope you enjoy!
Seventeen-year-old girl found dead in front of Viridian City pokemon center. She was discovered in possession of her own pokemon team, a crime punishable by 5 years in jail and the releasing of the previously owned pokemon. This murder was most likely the actions of a vigilante attempting to enforce the Trainer's Bill of Rights, article one section 3; no female is allowed to possess their own pokemon for the purpose of battling. It was determined that the teenage girl was visiting from the Unova region, a region that doesn't hold this prejudice, and was unaware of the dangers in the area. The Kanto government would like to remind everyone...
I put the newspaper back down on the kitchen table and looked over to my mom, who was busy putting up groceries from her latest visit to the Viridian market.
"So the market was pretty empty today. It made shopping easier," my mom said with an unsteady voice. She never looked at me, her long brown hair hiding her face. "Nobody ever wants to go shopping after an incident like that." She continued putting up various boxes of noodles and poffins. I shrugged and continued eating my cereal, looking over at the pidgey softly cooing in its nest by our window.
Mom suddenly whipped around and grabbed me by the shoulders, surprising me as I attempted to shift away from her. Hazel eyes bore upon me; wide, furious, plagued with rage and worry. She trembled, perhaps with rage, anger, or even fear. We stayed like this for a minute until she managed to gather herself back together. "Samantha, why in the name of Arceus would you want to go out and be a Pokemon trainer?!"
My name is Samantha Brown. I'm a 16 year old girl, and I want to be a pokemon trainer. In the Kanto region, this is the equivalent of saying, "Please shoot me in the head." Ever since I was a young girl, I've wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and challenge the Elite Four. He was a well-known trainer who always walked around-pokeball in hand and glint of mischief on his face-ready for a challenge. Everyone who knew him personally remembers the spark of excitement you could see in his eyes in the heat of battle.
Mom says I got that same look from him.
My mom clung to my shirt when we got a call from the league one night. A gruff sounding old man calmly told us that there had been a terrible accident during my father's attempt at the Elite Four. Of course, we already knew. They had broadcast the entire thing live on the television. He was facing Jacques (an older, red headed elite trainer in the 1970's) and had forced him to succumb to his final pokemon; Dragonite. My father had that spark of excitement as usual, but it was burning brighter than ever. He threw his arm forward, commanding his loyal Luxray (from his travels to Sinnoh) to land the final blow. As the Luxray began charging towards the Dragonite, Jacques quickly yelled at his pokemon to counter it with a Hyper Beam. The Dragonite, completely exhausted, began charging the beam as Luxray got closer and closer. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, until something very peculiar happened. The Dragonite slightly cocked its head to the side while wincing. It was obvious that an injury had prevented it from aiming properly, and it sent a haywire hyper beam across the arena, hitting the ceiling above my father. The battle stopped suddenly, Jacques, the pokemon, and my father looking shocked. Everyone began to run, including the camera man, dropping his camera and leaving it facing my father. The last moment Mom and I saw him was with a ridiculous grin on his face, throwing the rest of his pokemon team-still safely in their pokeballs- out of harm's way, before the ceiling finally caved in. He died later that night, the internal bleeding and a traumatic head injury being too much for doctors to deal with.
At the funeral, many trainers whom we didn't even know showed up to pay their respects-all of them being male, of course. Jacques sobbed hysterically and had to be dragged out of the church by a few rangers, continuously yelling about how it was all his fault. We would later read in the newspaper that he hung himself, leaving a note reading, "I'm so sorry."
As per tradition, should a trainer die in battle, his pokemon would be given to his family for safe keeping. The Pokemon Champion at the time, Samuel Oak, a young man no older than twenty-five who was already aging far too quickly, quietly mumbled the traditional ode to trainers, and held out a small box with six pokeballs lined up in it. My father's trusted team rested there, the very reason he was able to progress so far in his career. All his adventures and journeys rested in there, marking the end of a legend. Mom tried to pull herself together long enough to take the box, only to let out an ungodly cry as she fell to her knees. Mr. Oak closed his eyes for a moment and then slowly shifted towards me. I was only eight years old at the time, so he kneeled in front of me, putting a smile on his stress-marked face.
"Samantha, I need you to take good care of these pokemon, okay? They have so many stories to tell, and I know your father would want you to have them. Can you do that for him?" He placed the box in my outstretched hands and wiped the tears running down my face. "Shh, it's going to be okay." He laughed lightly as he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "You look just like him, you know? Even now, you have that look in your eyes like he did. I expect great things from you, Samantha." With that, he stood up, patted my head, and proceeded with the funeral.
Ever since my father died, Mom had kept me hidden from the world, as if she was afraid the last thing in her life would be ripped away from her. She pulled me out of school (which I was about to get kicked out of anyway-after fifth grade it became "trainer's schooling," which of course was pointless for girls to attend) and kept me inside the house to take care of my father's pokemon. I didn't mind all that much, I didn't have any friends at school and I would rather play with the pokemon. Little did Mom know, she only drove me to a future goal of her nightmares.
I want to be a trainer. Not only do I want to finish what my father started, but I want to be someone who can say they did it. I want to say that against all odds, I became the champion.
I want to win.