Hello. Firstly, I guess I should address the fact that some people have probably seen a very different version of this story posted a few days ago. The fact is, I posted it very impulsively, and since then have decided to pull a full 360 on the direction I was going. The fact is, the old concept of the story was too bloated, too full of characters—I had stupid ideas like covering a version of every generation's story as different arcs—it was just a bad idea. I wound up reading an English translation of the Pocket Monsters: The Animation light novel written by one of the show's originals writers, and a lot of elements from that are going to be used in it, although they aren't in the same universe. I can't post a link, but if you want to read it just Google "dreamwidth pokemon the novel".
Speaking of universes, this is kind of an AU: all the places, organizations, and even some of the events are the same, but all the characters—gym leaders, champions, and other side characters—are different. You can imagine it as an alternate universe, or simply as a time decades or centuries ahead of the games and anime, it comes down to the same thing.
This story is basically me coming out of retirement. I actually used to write a series of pokémon fanfics that had a decent amount of viewership, but when I thought that kind of thing was behind me I deleted everything. This is kind of a remake of my old one, but it's going to be very different, not that anybody would know.
In any case, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.
~*~Prologue~*~
~*~A Foundling in the Rain~*~
It happened ten years ago, on a wet April's night, as all Viridian City's streams and ponds vanished beneath their own engorged waters. There was little lightning, but the wind thundered hard against the buildings, scattering ceiling tiles to be swept away by the shallow waters flowing across the brick roads. High above, from a house on a nearby hill, a pair of police officers strained their eyes through binoculars, peering for signs of suspected tornadoes. Far below, in the pokémon center, the nurse lit candles one by one, conserving the emergency generator's power for the purposes of medical machinery. The pokémon under her care, restless from the storm, followed her, gathering with delighted wonder about every burning wick before moving on to the next.
The last place lit was the lobby, for she expected no visitors, and it required the most candles. The nurse set the candles on countertops, tables, shelves and video-phones. With some hesitation, she flipped on the front electric light, in case anybody sought shelter in the storm. The nurse looked about, seeking satisfaction from her work, when she noticed the pokémon had lost interest in her work. All of them had gathered near the front windows, pressing their forelimbs and faces right against the panes. The nurse could see nothing, but dim shapes and dark colors distorted by the downward flow of rain.
The nurse called the pokémon, telling them the fun was over and it was time to return to their pokeballs, but they paid no mind to her. Instead they all got agitated, uttering frantic cries and tapping the windows. Chansey stepped away from the crowd and veered towards the door, which it tapped repeatedly with pleading looks towards the nurse.
Recognizing their genuine alarm, the nurse instinctively reacted, grabbing her red rubber coat from its rack, and once she had it on she ran outside. Chansey followed her, but one of the others darted past her the moment she opened the door. A Poliwhirl stood in the rain, pointing insistently, and the nurse followed.
Poliwhirl and Chansey did not lead her far away, but just to the town square, where the public fountain overflowed. Gold and silver coins rose from the depths, carrying off the wishes made for them, only to be lodged between the brickwork of the square. Rocking wildly on the fountain's rim was an oval-shaped plastic basket with a blue fabric hood. Poliwhirl grabbed the object, then returned it to the nurse.
The nurse unfolded the hood and gasped to discover a pale little newborn whose mouth opened in a scream swallowed by the wind. It was cold, but mostly dry, as the carrier had done its job very well. He had a hoary head of colorless hair and clutched an envelope on his chest. The nurse's first priority was to get him safe, so the three of them ran back to the center as fast as they could.
The nurse set the carrier down, left the baby, and had to shoo the pokémon crowd away once she returned with a bottle of warm milk. Chansey fed the baby as the nurse opened the envelope. She lifted the letter inside a few feet above the largest candle and read:
"His father is a trainer, but he left to continue his journey. The problem is, my dream is also to become a pokémon master. I'm sorry for leaving the child here, but I cannot stand the humiliation of giving him away to someone else in person. Please take care of him or find someone who will. His name is Remora. I will return for him when I am a great pokémon master."
The nurse huffed up, clucking in indignation at such callous behavior. How long had that boy been out there? Probably before the storm even started; the nurse could not imagine any mother, even a callous one, deliberately choosing to abandon their baby in the middle of the storm. In any case, once the storm ended, she would have to call Officer Jenny to figure out what to do about this situation.
That is exactly what the nurse did and for about a month in Viridian City there was a great furor over the matter of this child. There was an investigation, but there were no hospital records relating to the child or any child like him, nor did any of the trainers, either locals or known passerby, seem likely candidates. Nobody knew of any young pregnant women who were trainers or had left the area. Ultimately, as no information turned, local indignation rotted into boredom, and the matter was forgotten.
As for Remora, there were no orphanages anywhere nearby—due to a lack of orphans—and so plans were made to send him off to the orphanage in Saffron City. However, at the last minute, plans changed. A young woman from Pallet Town, claiming to be his relative. It was public knowledge that every one of her relatives had left to become a pokémon trainer, leaving her alone, but she was evasive about which ones were Remora's parents or the nature of the relation. Regardless, she took him to live with her, where he would stay for ten years until the day when, like his parents before him, he would leave on his pokémon journey.
Except he didn't, because his sister stopped him. And the year after that. Now he is thirteen years old, three years older than most trainers are when they leave on their journey, and the day when pokémon are given out to new trainers is coming again. This year, however, he is determined that it shall be different.
~*~Chapter One~*~
~*~I Choose You, Charmander~*~
While sitting at the kitchen counter a pale-skinned, gray-haired boy, short, slender, and pink-eyed, stared nervously at the calendar pinned to the pink floral print wall, with its mountainous landscape dappled with cherry blossoms, the very archetype of springtime images, and the month was April. That simple calendar was but a single conspirator within a vast web of conspiracy, other members including every calendar, clock, computer, and those two wood blocks with the numbers on Remora's sister Sarai's work desk. Not only those objects, but all those in the neighbors' houses that Remora's sister regularly visited, as well as those in the local community library, grocery store, and the big one in the middle of the square.
Right after the new year, when the absence of work caused by the holidays, Sarai easily lost track of what day it was. So, Remora had gone to all his neighbors and to city hall and pleaded with them to set all the clocks back by a single day, and they had all agreed. The library had been the hardest part, for she was head librarian there. Fortunately, her position meant she never actually checked books in and out or handled late fees. This duplicity had been going on for over three months now. The appointed day of the eleventh was nearly here, and as far as Remora could tell, his sister believed it was only the tenth.
"Good morning, Remora," said Sarai as she stepped into the kitchen, nose in a book. Remora had just set her breakfast of rice and eggs down, as well as his own, although he could only nibble it. His stomach was preoccupied with a heavy knot of fear and guilt twisting in place.
"You feeling alright?" Sarai said without looking up.
"I'm fine," Remora said. He watched as quickly downed her meal with her trademark enormous bites, swallowing chunks no human throat could rightly handle. Remora tried to eat quicker. His sister finally looked up, smiled slightly, and set down here book.
"Listen, Remora, I know what day it is," she said.
Remora stopped breathing. "You do?"
"Yes, it's the day before they give away the pokémon at Professor Ashes' laboratory," said Sarai. Her smile was gently tolerant, very understanding. "I know how you feel Remora, but…"
"And I know how you feel," said Remora sullenly.
"Listen, I just don't understand why you want to become a pokémon trainer anyway," she said.
"For goodness' sake, your parents abandoned you just to become pokémon trainers. And so did mine. That's the way it's always been in this town! I mean, that's the reason Coraline doesn't have a father, or Clarence, or Ferdinand, or, or, basically two-thirds of your classmates."
"I know."
"And, and, all my librarians are women. The mayor, all her staff, they're all women. There are hardly any working men in town because there are no jobs, the men all leave to become trainers thinking they'll strike it rich, leaving the women with the children. Assuming they don't run off, too. Really, that woman had nerve, saying she'd come back for you once she became a master. As if that would ever happen. As if she had the right."
"Yes."
This speech, with slightly differences in word choice and order of subject, had been repeated the last few years at this time.
"It's kind of annoying, actually, because a while ago I just realized she gave you such a unique name, so she could find you easier…" Sarai's tongue darted out, licking her mouth corners, as it always did when she felt annoyed. "I almost want to change your name."
"I'd rather not."
"Of course not. That would be stupid. Besides, if you're easy to find, that just makes it easier for me to tell her exactly how I feel."
"Yes."
Sarai frowned at his latest monosyllabic response and sighed. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Remora. I just love you and want what's best for you. I want you to complete your education, I want you to get a good job down at city hall, or maybe even somewhere big and bright and important like Celadon or Saffron."
"I'd rather work at Celadon."
Sarai grunted grim amusement. "Yeah, me, too, but beggars can't be choosers. Listen, Remora, how about tomorrow we take the ferry down to Fuchsia City? We can go to the zoo."
Remora expected to receive an offer like this and he made sure to bolt up in his chair instantly and try to seem as excited as possible. "Really?"
Sarai grinned. "Yes, really. We can make a day of it. First, we'll go to the zoo, then maybe tour the Safari Zone, perhaps spend some time at the beach… Take a look at the local school…"
"That all sounds wonderful!" With his meal finished, Remora hopped down from his chair and ran to his sister for a hug, a very tight and long one, and he was glad she gave him such good news to justify it. "Thank you, Sarai."
"I only want you to be happy," she said.
Remora separated for her and made for the living room. "Hey, I promised Coraline I'd meet her today…"
"Of course, of course. Go on ahead. I'm about to head to work."
Remora stared at his sister for a long, frightening minute. They had just shared this moment together, and now he was about to abandon her, like the rest. The dream he had came stronger, though, and he justified it to himself. Every child is supposed to do this. For a child to be denied this was unnatural.
"Good-bye," he said, and hurried out.
Remora restrained himself for as long as he remained in sight of their lavender house that sat all alone on top of a small hill near the edge of town, but once he was confident his sister couldn't see him through the windows he ran. Remora ran down the dirt road that wound down the gently sloping hill, past numerous other country cottages. Beyond them spread the lush green fields and beyond them, the tree-cloaked hills, and beyond those, the great wilderness, stark and unbreakable, overflowing with pokémon.
Remora came to the square, which consisted of a circular arena of brick colored and arranged to resemble an enormous pokémon split into seven segments for seven colors of the rainbow. City hall, a large building composed of aging, dark-brown wood, curved along the pokeball's upper lid. The clock built above its column-flanked entrance had rotating metal tiles containing the date right above it, which remained duplicity. A fountain ornamented with spewing Poliwag and Poliwhirl posed as the button, and a young girl sat on its rim.
She had dirty-blonde hair, cut in a very short and boyish fashion; her clothes were masculine as well, being a matching set of dark-green pants and button-up shirt. If Remora hadn't known she a girl, he would think she was a boy. The expression on her face was cool, although Remora thought he could see irritation in her green eyes.
"You're late," she said.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"It's fine. I was just sitting here, right in front of my mom, thinking how great it would be if I got caught." Coraline's mother served as the mayor's secretary and subscribed to similar views at Remora's sister, which she had spent much of the last decade trying to spread about, with little success. The people of this town kept operating under the dream that one day this town would produce another great trainer again, just like Professor Ashes' grandfather.
"Let's just hurry, okay?" Remora said.
"Right."
Warily looking side-to-side, Remora and Coraline took the road southeast, through the sparsest region of town. They only passed the bar, a few restaurants, and the one hotel before the opened wide, with various paths spreading outwards to isolated and lonely residences, as well as the water tower. They walked alongside a gently flowing stream and crossed a simple wooden bridge to the base of a long, densely wooded hill.
Remora's heart danced to hear the distant cries and motions of pokémon stirring deep within the greenery. He knew that behind it, hidden by the trees and the hill, spread Professor Ashes' enormous ranch, where he studied and cared for the precious pokémon of Pallet Town's trainer.
Ahead of them a slender metal windmill rose above the bulbous, rose-colored rooftops of the Ashes Institute. Long, skinny windows were built into their beige walls and a winding stone staircase, flanked by decorative bushes, led up the hill from the path. A brass gate was set between two irregular brown-brick plinths with a speaker built in, although this was not meant for security, since one could just walk around it.
Remora pressed the button beneath the speaker. It buzzed, and a gruff voice said, "Yes?"
"It's Remora and Coraline, Professor Ashes."
"Ah, good. Now we can get started," he said. "Come on in."
The gate did not need to be unlocked, so they just pushed it open. The front door was already open, and they walked into a broad open room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Their feet thudded loudly against the aged wooden board. Two enormous bookshelves divided the room, leaving a small channel between them, and beyond that the room suddenly teemed with machinery. Several computers and monitors were stacked in the left corner and a flat metal table surrounded by various strange testing machines huddled together in the right corner. In the center stood a circular metal table built into the floor with three people beside it.
A man in his late middle age with a weary, indifferent look on his face stood behind it. His skin was tanned, and hands gnarled with years of work. He was wrapped in a white lab coat and wore a salt-and-pepper goatee below a matching widow's peak. Remora this was Professor Ashes, but he did not know the other two.
At first, he thought they were two girls his own age, but then he realized one of them was a tall, boy with long, curly black hair wearing skinny jeans and a lavender shirt with a diving collar. A twisted little smile curled on his heart-shape face right below his black eyes with enormous, flouncing eyelashes.
The other was definitely a girl, however, who was only slightly less tall than the other stranger, who was something of a mess. Sweat and dirt covered her, especially her blue hair with a ponytail coming out of place. Her sleeveless top, striped in narrow shades of red, and her jeans short that extend right below her knees were damp, filthy, and even torn in places. Dried mud caked her heavy hiking boots and lower legs. This strange girl had a small face, with a small, sharp nose and chin, and cool green eyes. A bulging, heavy burgundy backpack swelled behind her and she leaned back a little from the burden.
"So, believe it or not," said Professor Ashes, his voice dispassionate and dry. "This is all we have this year."
"Really?" Remora said. "What about the other ten-year-olds?"
"Everybody here is thirteen or fourteen, well above the standard age. What's more, these two aren't even local."
"Our Moms are doing their jobs well," growled Coraline.
"Not really. Only a few of the mothers are taking them seriously. The real problem is that there aren't as many families as there used to be," said the professor. "But that's a grown-up problem, so don't think about it too much."
The two strangers looked between Coraline and the Professor, whose resemblance in attitude and appearance was very clear. Remora approached them and extended his hand.
"I'm Remora, and this is Coraline," he said.
The girl looked warily at him. "I'm Anemone… of Saffron City."
The boy's grin seemed very unpleasant as their hands shook. I'm Manta, of Celadon."
"Don't all the cities give away pokémon on the same day?" said Coraline.
"Yes, but in case it wasn't clear, these two are runaways," said the professor. The two glared at the professor for divulging personal info, but he ignored them.
"Maybe we should just get down to busy," Anemone said testily.
"Yes, yes. Well. So, there's a bit of a problem." Professor Ashes pointed to the top of the table, where three pokéballs were set beside each other, each painted with symbols for water, fire, and grass.
"So, the fact is when I told the Pokémon Association about my expected turnout, they… only sent me the bare minimum of pokémon as required by their policies," the Professor said. "One of each specie."
The newcomers broke out in furious protest.
"What?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"So, what you're saying is, basically," said Manta with his caw-like voice, "not only is one of us not receiving a pokémon, but if two of us want the same one we have to argue it out?"
"That's not normal!"
"Well, that's the way things are," he said. "But you are wrong at one point: there are enough pokémon for all of you."
Professor Ashes set a forth pokéball, marked with lightning, on the table.
"I went out and caught a wild pokémon that I considered to be just as appropriate as a beginning choice as Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle. This is a Pikachu. Now, I would like to ask you all to keep this as civil as debate as possible. At the end of the day, a pokémon is just a pokémon, and—"
Coraline snatched Pikachu's pokéball and immediately nuzzled it against her cheek. "This is the precious pokémon my favorite grandpa went out of his way to catch himself, so of course I get this one."
"Hmmm." Professor Ashes looked over the three of them. "Any objections? No? I thought not. Fortunately, it's not as though any of you came here planning to choose a Pikachu."
"I volunteer to go last," said Remora.
"Who would volunteer to go last?" said Anemone sharply.
Manta's mouth twisted in its peculiar, smug way. "I volunteer to be second."
"Oh, you do, do you?" Anemone glared at Manta. Remora wondered how well they knew one another, if at all. The professor rolled his eyes.
"Please don't look a gift Horsea in the mouth, Anemone. Some of us are likely be running from angry relatives soon," he said. "Pick, Anemone."
Anemone stepped in front of the table, let her hand hover above each ball, before plucking up the water-marked pokéball. "I choose Squirtle."
"An excellent choice," said the professor.
"In that case, I choose Bulbasaur!" said Manta confidently.
"So that's what you were about," spat Anemone.
"Selecting the starter with the advantage over the person who got first pick is a time-honored tradition of pokémon training," said the Professor. "So then, Remora, I guess that means…"
Remora took a single step towards the table. His heart thudded against his ribs and his skin shuddered with the cold sweats. Cupping his palms together, he hesitantly scooped the pokéball into his hands. Immediately he felt its rich, deep warmth soak into his hands, and the subtle twitch of the life inside it. Remora held it close to his chest and cried.
"This went far smoother than I thought it would," said the professor. He walked over to his computer and returned with four folding-style pokédexes in his hand. "Well, then, these are yours as well! Four pokédexes, each with the latest updates in order to make them the best portable pokémon encyclopedias as possible. Now, I have given you all that you need. Go out there and find your destinies as pokémon trainers."
"I challenge you to a battle, Manta!" Anemone said. "That was a nasty stunt you pulled there!"
"I could already tell that you're going to be my biggest competition!" Manta said. "Might as well start with an edge."
"You two can fight it out in the back," he said, and looked at his granddaughter and Remora. "As for the two of you, I think it'd be best if you made a quick exit."
"Right," they said.
The professor walked them out the door, looked down at the path that his hilled overlooked, and pointed down over the part that stretched past his stairs. "This road continues on towards the sea before bending around. It forms a big loop around my entire ranch before linking up with Route 1. Once there, I'd suggest you stay off the road until you reach Viridian City. Here' I've packed provisions for the both of you."
The professor handed them both backpacks that had already been sitting right inside the door.
"Oh, thanks," Remora said, mildly surprised, as he pulled the backpack's straps around his arms.
"It's not as if you two could pack at home," he said. The professor made to go back in to monitor the battle, but then he returned.
"Listen, you two," he said.
"Yes sir?" Remora said. Coraline just looked at her grandfather mutely.
"Do us all a favor," he said, "and please become trainers worth what you're doing to your families." He shut the door, and they heard him shouting at the other two already.
Numbly, Remora descended the stairs, thinking of what his sister would do and more vitally, how she would feel. Remora's tears of joy became properly sorrowful and he couldn't bear to think of ever facing her again, knowing what he had done to her. Maybe this feeling was why so many trainers left Pallet Town and not only never came back but were never heard from again.
"I wish you wouldn't cry in front of complete strangers," Coraline said testily. "It's embarrassing for yourself and for me."
"I'm sorry," he sniffed.
Coraline sighed. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't get too testy with you. I know how much you've wanted this." She stared at her pokéball, then suddenly she launched herself into a wild spin, holding the pokéball away from her as if it were her opposite dancer, laughing and giggling all the while. "It's happening! It's finally happening! I'm so happy, so, so happy! This is the best day of my life! Remora, hurry, hurry, we need to get away from here. Nobody ever goes past the lab, once we're far enough we can let our pokémon out!"
Coraline pulled a pokéball belt from the bag, attached it and the pokéball, and ran down the road as fast as she could. Remora also ran, but far more awkwardly, for he kept his pokéball close to his chest. The warmth was cast against his chest, as if he were standing close to a fire.
Their legs pumped until they ached, and they finally stopped far after the path finished curving to the left and east. Now they could see the sea, beyond the jagged, descended coast where saplings and shrubs sparsely grew, and to their right a towering white fence made up the border of the professor's ranch.
Coraline stopped, panting, and tossed her pokéball out. A Pikachu appeared at her feet, which she immediately snatched up.
"Ooh, hello Pikachu!" she said. "I already love you!"
The Pikachu giggled wildly, taking surprisingly well to this aggressive affection, and she even went as far as to tickle its tan belly. It screamed, squirming.
Remora smiled a little, then walked to the sea, wanting to put some distance between himself the noise. He did not want to startle his pokémon, in case its personality was not as convenient as the Pikachu's.
Charmander appeared before Remora. It stared up at him, quizzically, and Remora got down to his knees, so they could face one another eye-to-eye.
"Hello," he said. Its burning tail swayed side to side behind it. "I'm Remora."
Remora held his hand out to it. "Listen, I've chosen you to become my very first pokémon. I want to go on a journey with you, but, if you don't like me, well…"
Its head pressed against Remora's hand, there was a crunching sound, and Remora jumped away. It had bitten his fingers. However, no blood had been drawn, and Charmander was dancing happily in place, uttering happy, piping cries. The fire on its tail wavered wildly, and Remora knew from his reading that that meant it was happy.
"You're a scrappy little fellow, aren't you?" said Remora. "That's what I'll name you, then, Scrappy. Does that sound good to you?"
It nodded. Remora offered scrappy a path from his hand to his shoulder, and it climbed on. Remora tottered a bit from the unwieldly weight of both his new backpack and his new pokémon, then returned to his path, where Coraline waited.
"So, do you want to have a battle, too?" Remora asked.
"Naw," she said. "I want bonding time before I get into battles."
"That's actually a really good idea."
"Of course, it is." Coraline had recomposed herself. "So, I think we should split up, like we discussed. That still okay with you?"
"Yeah."
The truth is, they were not the best of friends, and had only been united together with this singular desire of deceiving their families so they could become trainers and escape. They had agreed they would not travel together, because that meant if one of them had been caught, they both would be.
"So, how about I hang east of the road, and you hang west."
"It doesn't matter either way, so I'm fine with it," said Remora.
"Good."
The rest of the long looping road felt far too long, and he began to sweat heavily the whole way over, and not just because of Scrappy's hot belly scorching the nape of his neck as they pressed together. Remora had no idea how long it would be until he was missed; he had hoped Sarai would remain too busy with work all day, but if Coraline's mother grew suspicious, she would undoubtedly spread it to his sister.
It didn't matter. They reached the end of the loop, and the beginning of Route One, with no problems. The road stretched before them, into the gently rolling plains between them and Viridian City.
"Well, ciao, and good luck!" said Coraline. Even her Pikachu made a little wave as she ran to the right, hurrying out of the city's sight as fast as he could. With a wave in her direction, Remora and Scrappy took their step west, their first steps into their long-awaited journey.
