The World Of Pokemon

by Jexo

When trainers start their journey, they're never thinking about how dangerous the world is, or how tough their goals are. They don't think about the hidden laws of the world, where nothing is black or white, where dangers lurk behind every corner waiting for them to show the slightest weakness. Well, as the new generation sets out, they learn the hard way they should have.

1. Trinity

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. You'll just have to believe me on that.

XX

Viridian Forest felt disconnected from the Kanto region.

The natural maze was surrounded by a thick fog that twisted the trees into grotesque monsters that unnerved Virian as she followed the dirt path worn into the grass. The blinding white light that formed her Bulbasaur was absorbed into the shroud that refused to let in even a little sunlight. The creature's ear twitching as it used sounds to lead their way.

Virian wondered what sounds her pokemon could hear, but couldn't even identify the ones she heard. The half-eaten berries the duo passed the only sign of the path being used recently, a few of which weren't native to Kanto.

Reaching a steep hill, Virian descended with Bulbasaur's vine wrapped around her waist to stabilize her. She moved slow since she didn't have an athletic body. She was thin with no real muscle mass to speak of and porcelain skin that looked as if she were made of glass—like a doll.

She was a packaged doll that had been hidden away.

A scholarly type, who read books instead of playing outside with the other kids. It ran through her blood. Her father was a scientist and her mother a business woman, each driven and isolated. The two often away from the house to the point that she knew their voices better than their faces.

Before long, they would seem more like strangers than parents.

Maybe, they already were.

Perhaps, that was the thought that inspired her to finally leave her house—to say goodbye. Good riddance to the same walls that seemed to be her whole life. The entirety of her small closed off world.

The shelf where she had been discarded.

So, she jumped down and entered the real world.

She joined with a pokemon to begin anew—she became human.

A loud, desperate cry rang out like an alarm. High-pitched and filled with terror, it was a pokemon cornered deeper in the woods. Bulbasaur was the first to identify the direction it had originated, the grass-type plunging into the fog and being swallowed up. The vine that helped Virian descend the hill retracted, destabilizing her as she tumbled to the bottom.

"Oww—"

Foliage intertwined with her long brown hair and scraps had marred her skin. Virian, whose large blue eyes were filled with fear, ran after it.

"Bulbasaur! Come back! Bulbasaur!"

The forest drowned out her voice with its cacophony of sound. It felt alive, like it was twisting its shape and moving from where she once knew. Everything she had read about and seen before was still there, but there was so much that she had never seen before, too. Things she knew didn't belong.

It had been a nagging thought as she ran. However, once she reached a clearing and had to stop to catch her breath, she saw all the proof she needed. The evidence to back her suspicions.

A flying-type with red feathers—vibrant even in the fog.

A fletchling—an otherwise common pokemon in regions like Kalos—but one that shouldn't exist in Kanto.

"Bulbasaur!"

That said, it wasn't the time to be fixated on its presence. It was in the clearing, circling two pokemon caught in the center, a caterpie that was crying desperately and her bulbasaur who defended it. It's vines the only thing keeping the pokemon back each time it dove at them.

Each time it dove at the cornered pokemon—it grew closer.

"I'm the trainer—so, this is my responsibility."

She was scared—no, terrified.

She didn't want to be hurt, the small cuts from her earlier fall already enough pain, but she didn't want to do nothing. To just sit back and watch her starter pokemon and an already battered caterpie meet a grim fate. So, she copied what all the heroes in her books would do—and breathed.

Drawing a deep breath, she readied herself and charged in. Intervening, she interjected herself between the pokemon defending and the one that was attacking, her arms waving wildly despite their shaking. "Leave these pokemon alone!"

Fletchling was small, but it could severely hurt her. That thought permeated her mind as she stood between them, acting as their shield with her arms outstretched protectively. It dove past her—her eyes sealed shut, but feeling more small cuts open on her face with how close it passed—but she didn't move.

She couldn't stop trembling but she didn't move.

"W-where's your trainer? You do have one, don't you?"

It hovered in the air above them, readying itself for another dive.

"Go back to your trainer and leave these pokemon alone!"

It dove.

It dove without even a hint of remorse, regret, or reluctance. Fletchling continued to dive at the three in order to get the caterpie, but each time Virian and Bulbasaur managed to push it back. It wasn't using any complex strategies or techniques—it was running off instinct.

So, it was wild.

Black talons primed to attack, the fletchling came in for a decisive strike. Not aimed at the cowering caterpie, but its protector—a sword weighed against its shield. Frozen stiff in fear, her face crinkled in anticipation of the attack to come. Of an attack that after a few seconds, she realized hadn't come. Cracking an eye open, she saw Bulbasaur standing before her with a blizzard of leaves keeping her attacker back.

"That's right. . ." she trailed, feeling foolish to not reach an obvious conclusion sooner. "I have a pokemon—I can battle! B-bulbasaur, use Razor Leaf!"

Razor sharp leaves sliced through the air towards the hovering fletchling who dodged the attack and flew off into the forest. The vibrant red completely swallowed by the fog before Virian's legs finally gave out as she crumbled to the ground. Her body trembling to the where she couldn't stand—but she was relieved.

Shifting around to pull her backpack in front of her, she pulled out a potion to use on the caterpie, the timid creature reluctant to accept her help until Bulbasaur seemed to convince it. Wincing, the purple spray stung its wounds but accelerated the pokemon's already fast healing process. It seemed to warm up to Virian as the pain began to subside.

The five empty pokeballs she owned heavy on her mind.

"Umm," she stammered, her hands restless, "would y-you want to travel with me, Caterpie?"

The pokemon seemed to like her enough as a person, as much as a wild pokemon could. Though the request had it visibly conflicted even as Bulbasaur stepped forward to talk with it.

It had no reason to travel with her. No obligation to follow her just because she had saved it from a predator. And it wasn't as if she had anything she could offer it, either.

"I-I can't promise you that you'll never get s-scared again. Or that you won't ever get h-hurt again. I d-don't know if I'll amount to anything as a t-trainer, but. . ." Virian paused, enlarging an empty pokeball from her belt and setting it on the ground. Her eyes hidden behind her bangs, she turned away. "I-I'll do my best to make you s-strong. . . Strong like I want to be!"

The pokemon were awed by her conviction. Bulbasaur hadn't heard its trainer talk like that since they had met in the lab, the image of her boring a hole in the floor while the other trainers took the other pokemon fresh in its mind. Fresh tears falling to the ground in fat droplets as Caterpie moved towards the pokeball she placed on the ground, unbeknownst to her.

"W-what am I saying?! That's not going to convince you! I'm not a good trainer—I've only just started out on my journey. I can't promise you anything except that I'd feed you—oh, but you eat leaves, don't you? I've got no idea what I want to accomplish and no good reason for you come with me, but—"

The ding that signified a successful capture interrupted her.

Wiping tears with one hand, she reached for the capsule with the other. The pokeball clutched so tightly to her chest that the pokemon inside probably felt her embrace, her mind beginning to wander to the other two trainers who received the other two starters.

Trainers who claimed Charmander and Squirtle, the three shared a bond from taking their first steps together into the world of pokemon training. A bond of rebirth, forged only a few times a year in each region—a trinity.

XX

Chapter One:

Trinity

XX

Derrick bound through Viridian Forest without any destination.

His laughter reverberated within the forest like a ghostly wail that permeated the fog while his squirtle struggled to keep up. The direction they moved didn't matter, he only wanted to met someone whether they were another person or a pokemon. Though, it seemed a tall order when every sound he heard surrounded him without a source like formless words whispering among themselves.

It was the first time Derrick had ever seen the forest in such a state. Previously, whenever he came with Professor Oak as part of his duties as his aide, it felt alive like a living part of the region. However, this time he felt like a child who had wandered alone into a graveyard.

It felt almost as if the forest itself had died.

Hearing sounds that he could actually place as being nearby, he skidded to a halt.

More accurate to say he froze—at the sounds of battle.

slowly, he willed himself forward. Dull thuds and pained screams guided Derrick's way, drawing him in towards a distant clearing that he could barely make out. As he moved towards it, he began to notice signs of battle. Trees were splintered, branches were burned, cut, and completely flattened. The dirt itself appeared to have been doused with water and threatened to swallow his shoes.

He was so focused that he tripped—

On a pokemon.

A pokemon that laid on the ground defeated. Though, from Derrick's viewpoint, defeated wasn't the right word for how ruthlessly it had been beaten. It had been completely crushed.

It wasn't alone either, like leaves in the fall the ground was littered with defeated pokemon. Mankey and spearow—the most notably aggressive species in the area were among the defeated, and so many. . .

It terrified him to know what had the power to do all that. Yet compelled him forward, too. Unsure of what to expect upon their arrival, Squirtle hardened its gaze as they exited the treeline.

Standing in its center, surrounded by fallen pokemon, was a single man.

"I've captured it. Just like I told you I would," the trainer declared. Derrick taken aback by his words, ones from a boy his age that was a stranger to him, who kept his back to him, yet seemed to be speaking to him. "I don't know why you always feel the need to doubt me—"

Had Derrick really never met this person before? Had he ever doubted him?

"I've always done what I say I will. All I ask for is a little faith."

Professor Oak had taken Derrick as an aide years ago as the condition for Derrick to receive a pokemon with Squirtle officially remaining under Oak's care until he became officially recognized as a trainer. During this time, they had traveled as far as Pewter a few times, having met many people.

Was this one of those people that he had forgotten?

He was positive that they had never met. Secondly, how did someone who hadn't even turned to acknowledge his existence know who he was or even if someone was even there? Unlike the man, a pokemon stepped from in front of the mysterious man, its gaze locked on Derrick.

It glared at him—a powerful primeape.

But something was off about it.

Something dark.

It's normally white fur was dark in color with the pupils of its eyes a bright red. A bright red like a laser, singularly focused even as it floated in darkness.

"Whoa. . ."

Derrick had never seen anything like it before.

Had never felt such an overwhelming aura.

"Yeah, yeah. I've watched it battle everything we've come across and it's doing good—really good. Like, really damn good. I am both impressed and filled with fear, it deserves all the rumors about it. And it's stable after that. It went a bit crazy and wrecked things, but I think I've gotten a good scope of its power."

The trainer turned, revealing a phone held to his ear.

A smile on his face as he noticed Derrick's presence.

"You've got to see this thing in action, Mads. I mean. . . Yeah—but. . . Geez," he said, taking the phone from his ear as he started to mimic static. "You're breaking—krkrkrkrk—up! Must—krkrkrkrk—be the—krkrkrkrk—fog. Talk later! Bye!"

Derrick didn't know what to say, so the trainer addressed him first.

"Women. Can't live with 'em, can't just hang up the phone without a good reason if you don't want a knee in your gut," he said as he took notice of Derrick eyeing all the defeated pokemon around them. "Sorry, that's my fault. I was training and we got carried away. A bit."

I heard his conversation.

"A bit?"

Lair.

"Some very small unit of measurement, you can fill the blank with whichever one you want," he replied, gesturing the tiniest gap between his index finger and thumb. "Speaking of small numbers I haven't encountered anyone in the forest so I had given up the idea of testing my new friend in a battle against another trainer. Though, as luck would have it, we've found each other. So, maybe we can have a bit of fun, cool?"

The smile that broke out on Derrick's face threatened to tear it in two as he ushered Squirtle onto the battlefield. Primeape, pounding its fists together in anticipation, lumbered over to meet it. The thought of having their first battle together erased his worries about the unusual pokemon from his mind.

"I've been looking all day for someone to show my stuff against!"

Smirking, the mysterious trainer sat on the ground, leaning back to where he could stare into the foggy canopy as if he could see through it to the sun. He gave the impression of a fighter who had just won a war, sitting among the bodies of his foes. A relaxed, confidant person—the type who would be the main character of one of Derrick's shows.

Without question, the hero.

Probably aware of Derrick's probing stare, he offered, "sorry, but I've been walking all day, too. I just want to catch my breath for a second. Please don't mind me."

Derrick pouted. "That's fine, I guess."

"I can tell you something interesting if you want some help in passing the time?"

"Like what?"

"Whatever you want. A legend. A myth, maybe? No, I've thought of what I'll tell you."

Derrick found himself drawn into the mystery of what he was about to be told. He drew in expectantly, his eyes filled with child-like excitement that practically begged the trainer to continue.

"I don't know its exact classification, but I'll tell you about this fog. I mean, you've noticed something strange about it by now, right? Something eerie or unnerving? Mystical almost or even just special?" the trainer asked.

Excitement deflated from Derrick like air from a popped balloon. "That's interesting?"

"I know what you're thinking—fog isn't interesting. I admit, usually, fog only serves to block more interesting things from view, but this fog is different. This is the kind of phenomenon that warps space. It makes things you normally wouldn't be able to do possible. It's a bridge."

Actually, it's a curse, he concluded.

A curse that warps space?

It sounded less like an interesting story and more like a weird movie plot. Probably a fake story designed to distract him from the fact that they were supposed to battle, Derrick thought.

"AAAAAHHHH!"

Derrick suddenly screamed out, plopping down on the ground with his arms folded.

"Just battle me already!" he said, ruffling his black hair wildly. "I don't care about junk like curses or space warping fog! It can't be real and I'm not going to let it stop me from doing what I set out to do!"

The trainer smirked. "Are you prepared to trudge through hell itself?"

What's with him?

Primeape's eyes were filled with blood-lust as Derrick thrust his hand forward for Squirtle to meet it. The turtle pokemon standing strong even as it shuddered under its opponents gaze.

"I was Professor Oak's aide! You won't have an easy fight against us!"

"Oak's aide, huh?" he smiled like a demon escaping hell. "Hear that Primeape—I won't help you. Prove your power to me!"

As if on cue, Primeape rushed forward with a heavy punch that slammed into Squirtle's body with enough power to lift it into the air. It's speed and power was incredible, Derrick was lost in amazement that he had to force himself to focus before Squirtle hit the ground, calling out an attack at random. The water-type glaring at Primeape as a flurry of bubbles surrounded the pokemon like a minefield.

It didn't even slow it down.

The minefield was triggered without a care as Primeape rushed forward again. A devastating straight struck Squirtle before it ever hit the ground, the field of bubbles exploding behind it from the sheer force of the attack as it sent Squirtle skipping along the dirt like a stone thrown across the water.

Despite the damage—it stood up.

Attacks of that power would cripple a human if not outright kill them.

Derrick was at a loss for what to say. He had no commands to offer and wasn't even able to scream out a random attack like he had before. The battle was moving too fast for him to possibly keep up. It showed the gap in experience between the two trainers.

Maybe even more so the pokemons' natural instincts.

The mysterious trainer never took his eyes off the battle and never offered a command. He only observed and said, "it's strong."

"No kidding," Derrick agreed. "It took the damage of Squirtle's attack without even flinching. . ."

"What'd you expect? Primeape is a fully evolved pokemon," he said with a toothy grin. "More than that, this pokemon is special as you can no doubt tell by looking at it. It's got powers a normal pokemon of its species doesn't."

It was unique.

As if to showcase this fact, it punched the dirt—its shadow.

Squirtle looked down at its own shadow in time to see a fist, a construct of darkness come out. It attempted to back away, to dodge it—but was struck by an uppercut that flipped it through the air before landing. Yet again, it rose.

Primeape lunged once more at Squirtle who barely had the energy to stand—who could only retreat into its shell. Each punch connected brutally with its shell, threatening to crack it beneath its destructive force. The ground itself appeared to shatter beneath it, keeping Squirtle rooted in place as if planting a seed. Derrick himself struggled to stay where he stood, to come up with some quick solution like a hero would.

He could only watch helplessly as the pokemon bashed the shell. Could only stare with wide eyes as Primeape raised its arms above its head, an orb of pitch black forming. Any light the fog allowed in was sucked into the orb of pitch black darkness. It was an attack that Derrick could identify, but knew the pokemon before him couldn't learn—shadow ball.

With the attack prepared, it's energy gathered—it readied a final, crippling strike.

Derrick had to stop it. . .

But his voice wouldn't work.

The attack was about to slam into Squirtle's shell—

"Stop!"

The shadow ball that threatened Squirtle dissipated harmlessly just short of impact. It hadn't been Derrick that halted the attack from the crazed pokemon, but the mysterious trainer. Derrick still struggling for words, rushed to his pokemon's side as it surfaced from its shell, bruised and battered with eyes full of tears. Embracing it as Primeape stalked away to rejoin its trainer, Derrick cried, too.

"I'm sorry, Squirtle. . . I'm so sorry! We'll get stronger. I promise, we'll get stronger!"

"I'll look forward to that, Oak's Aide," the trainer said as he stood up, returning his pokemon. The two had been engrossed in the battle that they hadn't noticed that the fog had begun to lift, light beginning to filter into the clearing. "I've got to leave now, however, I want to make something clear. I said 'it's strong' earlier and I think you believed the wrong thing. I wasn't talking about my own pokemon—but yours."

The words floored Derrick. Squirtle hadn't gotten the chance to show any of what he knew it was capable of—a fact that was Derrick's fault, due to inaction.

"You've got a strong pokemon. It's spirit and heart is unrivaled."

Surprise filled the air in the spaces the fog had left, the two trainers meeting each others gaze. A chuckle shared between them as Derrick wiped his tears and looked to his pokemon with pride. With each passing second the fog seemed to lift a little more—and life returned.

The trees around them were almost completely visible as the trainer began to leave. The trainer that had bested him in every way.

A trainer whose name he had never learned, nor who had learned his.

A trainer whose pokemon didn't follow natural law.

He couldn't allow him to leave without something to bring them back together one day. Just some string, some trail of breadcrumbs, that could reunite them for a rematch.

So, he shouted as loudly as he could.

"My name's Derrick!"

Derrick yelled his name to the trainer without caring if they would be acknowledged or not. He needed to say them, to affirm them to someone whether it was the trainer that had just beaten him or everyone in the entire world.

He would leave his mark!

"I'm going to be the best! I don't care what it takes, we'll get there! I'll beat the League and become it's champion, I swear it! I'll become champion, you hear me?!"

The mysterious trainer paused at the edge of the treeline, glancing towards Derrick with a smile. "Then I'm certain that we'll be battling again. When we next meet, this taste of my power you had today will be nothing. So, train well and get as strong as you can, Oak's Aide—I'll be doing the same."

"Wait, tell me your name!"

Without an answer, he disappeared. The image of his care-free smile had burned itself into Derrick's memory, but the man himself was gone like an apparition. It was as if he existed on a whole different plane of existence—an unbeatable opponent.

A villain.

The character that the hero needed to defeat. A man who challenged Derrick to be stronger, to be ready for anything and to be able to fight against even the toughest odds and come out on top on a regular basis to even have a hope against. The figure that set the precedent. As the hero, no matter how many traits this trainer could imitate, it was Derrick's job to defeat him. He was someone to overcome.

A rival to the hero.

XX

In Kalos, an eerie fog had settled over Santalune Forest that resembled the one that fell on Viridian Forest. It appeared suddenly without warning, but as sunlight broke through the misty barrier it seemed ready to disappear.

Flashes of multicolored energy pierced through the veil as the sounds of battle reverberated among the trees. A blue frog leaped between them in an effort to dodge attacks launched at it, each chance it got to counterattack and forge a ball of compressed water in its palm interrupted by another multicolored beam. It's forming offense disintegrating as it moved to a new spot.

The pokemon landed before it's trainer—Sung, a boy with strong Asian features who dressed in an outfit resembling that of a ninja. Both the pokemon and the trainer staring at the duo across from them, neither of which had moved an inch since the battle began.

"You ready to win this, Froakie-sama?" Sung said.

The opponent they were facing gave him an incredulous look. At least he interpreted it as such, her face changing in only the slightest ways from a neutral, almost emotionless appearance. She wore her black hair in a bob cut that in a way suited her cold demeanor. Her eyes were distant like those of her porygon.

He couldn't read her. Nor could he predict how she may react or what she may say if she decided to speak at all.

She was as much a mystery as the fog.

Alternatively, a boy Sung's age was leaned against a tree behind him observing the battle—someone who was very easy to read. He was the trainer who had received the grass-type starter of the Kalos region, Chespin. His arms were crossed and a scowl sat permanently affixed to his face.

It was Trevor's most prevalent expression.

A constant reminder that he saw the world as one great annoyance. He spoke and treated the people him in a similar fashion.

"Something about what you just said didn't sound right," Trevor grumbled.

"It wasn't. The suffix he used was incorrect," the female trainer replied.

"Shut-up! Me and Froakie are gonna win—you'll see!"

"Whatever," Trevor scoffed. "I'm embarrassed for your pokemon to have such an incompetent trainer as its master. Your opponent has been giving you the biggest handicap in your favor and it's still all you can do to run away. Pathetic."

Sung growled back. "If you're so embarrassed then you shouldn't have teamed up with me!"

"I didn't! You've been following behind me like a damn mosquito ever since we left Sycamore's lab!" Trevor spat. He appeared to have reached a break point of sorts, lashing out. "Buzzing in my ear about all this useless crap, draining my tolerance for idiocy the whole way! You don't have a serious bone in your body and I feel sorry for your pokemon that it's stuck with you! I feel sorry for myself to have let you remain in my vicinity for as long as you have been, but that's my fault for expecting a clown to be entertaining."

Sung didn't appear to be bothered by the words at all. In fact, it seemed that he hadn't even fully been listening—his opponent patiently waiting to continue the battle all the while.

"No need to be rude about it," Sung replied finally, his attention back on the battle. "And I'm not a clown, I'm a shinobi of the Fushia City Dojo taught by none other than Koga himself!"

This made Trevor pause briefly as his words burrowed their way into his head. Fushia of all places was his origin? Not someplace in the region they were in?

They were the same in that regard. They were both trainers who originally hailed from Kanto.

The image of a red-haired girl, the third member of their trio of beginning trainers came to Trevor's head as he reasoned that among them she was probably the only one who was actually from the region they were currently traveling.

However, where Sung was from didn't change who he was. Trevor mumbled something under his breath that Sung couldn't hear, but the anger that flashed on Froakie's face explained to them all that it was something they wouldn't have wanted to. In comparison, the girl that Sung was battling was the nicest one among them as she never once voiced any impatience with them or acted in his distraction.

"Sorry about that, but I'm ready to continue!"

She nodded curtly, as if it didn't matter to her one way or the other.

"Froakie, use—"

Another multicolored beam intercepted the command, forcing Froakie to jump away. Whenever the pokemon landed another attack was incoming, honed in like a sniper. It was always the same amount of time between when one attack ended and another began.

Trevor had noticed the pattern and had kept a count by tapping his fingers on his arm. Two seconds, a number so consistent that it almost seemed intentional.

In fact, even as Sung smirked with the makings of a plan, Trevor realized it was.

If it was firing the attacks as soon as it was able to then naturally it would vary a little with exhaustion or effort. It would be slightly faster sometimes and slower at others, but it wouldn't always be the exact same.

Froakie, touching the ground after leaping away from the latest attack instead charged in. It still had to dodge one more multicolored beam but it was able to form an orb of swirling liquid in its palm, thrusting it at Porygon whose dead stare was illuminated by the crystalline water.

A light that blended with the numerous others that filled the creature's eyes.

It was faster than they had anticipated!

Not two seconds as it had been thus far, but only one. The energy striking Froakie like a wrecking ball that broke through the incomplete attack as if it were glass to throw the water-type into a tree beside Sung. The wet snap rang out like a gunshot.

Sung was at his pokemon's side in an instant, his face pained as if he had taken the blow. He was talking to it, but even if Trevor couldn't hear what was being said, he knew the water-type wasn't listening. It was writhing in pain on the ground like it was possessed.

Then, it stopped.

"No way. . ."

Trevor was stunned to see Froakie reach its feet. It was battered and bruised, its dominant arm limp by its side like a broken tree-branch, and it looked like it couldn't breathe without getting a jolt of pain. Despite that—it rose. It stepped forward, slowly, quite possibly expending all the strength it had barely clung too, but still it moved. Stopping only when it was positioned back on the battlefield.

Sung was frozen, not even able to speak.

"Hey! Asshole, you can't let your pokemon fight!" Trevor exclaimed. "Tell it to stand down, now! If it keeps going like it is it'll get really badly hurt! It's already got a broken arm for fuck's sake—it'll die!"

"Froakie, what are you—"

Sung was whispering, still out of it.

"Battling wild pokemon and a trainer isn't the same! This one is beyond you, you lost—accept it! I'm not gonna watch you get your pokemon killed because you wanted to prove something! You can be the world's shittiest ninja for all I care and it'll still be a lot better than a trainer who lets his pokemon die! You hear me?!"

Sung didn't say anything. His eyes were locked on his pokemon who wobbled unsteadily in pain as it moved forward, dispelling any arguments that could be waged against it. Determination drove it, pushed it to move even in its condition. It couldn't accept defeat. Not a defeat dealt to it by a single attack.

Frozen—Sung couldn't bring himself to say anything.

You've got no talent for the arts so you should just give it up.

Training you in the techniques passed through this dojo for generations is a waste of my time.

You won't ever reach my level even in a thousand lifetimes.

Words stung.

Actions hurt worse.

Sung had experienced both being wielded against him like a sword held to his throat. He desperately wanted to prove them wrong in every instance. It was the same feeling he knew his pokemon was feeling as it pushed itself forward. Steeling himself, he accepted that it was a fight that it needed to finish.

"I understand. . ."

Even if it wasn't much—just a single landed blow.

"I understand, Froakie. . . You've got something you want to prove, don't you? Well, let's show 'em everything we've got! As long as you want to keep fighting, I'm right here with you!"

Sung couldn't help but utter the phrase ingrained in him by his teaching. The words of his master that meant more to him than anything else.

"To live is to fight! So to give up would be death!"

Trevor's surprised expression betrayed his feigned disinterest. "Hey, are you two smoking crack? Enough is enough! Listen to me, damn it!"

No one answered his pleas. Neither Sung who couldn't turn away from his pokemon, and the female trainer whose empty stare pressured them to act. She didn't watch them as if she thought of them as opponents, but as a temporary form of entertainment. She wasn't malicious.

Nor did she view them as equals.

"So," she said while adjusting her glasses, "you intend to continue?"

"Of course I do!"

It must have been false confidence on Sung's part. Trevor saw no reason to think it was anything but since his pokemon was cradling a surely broken arm against an opponent that was faster and stronger than itself. He stood up fully from the tree trunk he had been leaned against, hands buried in the pockets of a black hoodie as he walked to the edge of the clearing.

Unlike earlier if he had tried to leave, no one tried to stop him. No pleas were issued for him to stay and battle, to become friends, or even to chat a little more openly. He had expected at least to hear a request for him to finish watching the battle. All was quiet.

"You're an idiot," Trevor muttered.

He was free.

The burden of being a travel companion to someone so annoying had been lifted. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to take more than a few steps. It was his opportunity to go off on his own as he originally planned.

Curiosity pulled him back as if he were on a leash.

He grated his nerves. Was clumsy, obnoxious, loud, and lacking any kind of seriousness. However, what he saw when he eventually turned back to the battle wasn't someone who showed any of those traits.

Sung gazed intensely at the battle in front of him. Froakie cradling its broken arm as its solitary image became a couple, then a group. It kept multiplying around the battlefield until it appeared as if a small army had gathered to fight against the porygon. Each of them wildly looking around to take the sheer amount of illusions in while the two who actually had to fight against the technique appeared unaffected.

In fact, she appeared bored by the display.

"One hit, Froakie! If you get hit one more time I'll call the battle off, okay? That said, we also only need one hit so let's show her how we fight!"

Porygon conjured three different orbs of energy that converged into a single beam. Electricity, fire, and ice all swept across the battlefield and dispelled the illusions. Each one disappearing in a cloud of smoke that added to the murky fog that concealed Sung and Froakie from view.

Without warning, Froakie lunged out of the veil, forming a Water Pulse in its uninjured hand. The orb of water formed solidly in its palm as it thrust it at the surprised Porygon's face, certain of its success when—

—it burst apart harmlessly before it ever touched Porygon.

Porgyon's eyes glowed as it recovered from its shock, forcing Froakie to roll away to avoid the attack. When it came to a stop the pokemon was rooted to the spot in pain, having rolled on the side of its broken arm. Another Psybeam already coming towards it.

"It's coming!" Sung warned.

He was pained at the thought of their best attack being unusable in its current condition. The broken arm itself was a concern, but it really seemed the battle was becoming increasingly stacked against them. All the while their opponent just watched critically, like a pidgeot ready to dive at a rattata.

Froakie tried to move but could only wince as pain overwhelmed its body. The battlefield was still for a moment as the attack enveloped Froakie, the beam powerful enough to crack the bark on a tree at the clearing's edge. Sung and Trevor were both concerned for the poor pokemon, each certain that it had fainted or worse.

However, as the beam's power began to wane they saw that Froakie hadn't evaded—but countered. Froakie was struggling against the attack, receiving it with its broken arm with the frubbles its species naturally produced wrapped around it like a cast.

"Now that's officially badass!" Trevor roared. "Kick its ass! You've gotta after doing something like that!"

Froakie was near the point of collapse even before receiving the attack and it was clear that the pokemon was fighting against blacking out. Sung gripped his own arm as if he were the one taking the force of the attack, his body reacting to his pokemon's pain as if it were his own. Tears welled in his eyes and his hands trembled—but he never looked away.

That was his duty as its trainer.

He was going to accomplish his goal—he would become a great trainer!

The water-type that was his partner would be important from the beginning to the end. Above everything else, they needed to be able to rely on one another to have each other's back. Just as Froakie was going to be supporting his ambitions, he needed to support Froakie's.

After all, his pokemon seemed to have its own pursuit of strength.

"Froakie!" Sung exclaimed, watching his pokemon struggle. "Froakie, you'd better not lose you hear me! We promised that we'd be the best, right?! This is our first step! So, you've got to win!"

Sung's words seemed to have some sort of influence as Froakie summoned all the strength it could to push forward. The beam was beginning to weaken but the pain still shot through its body like lightning.

"Give 'em hell, Frog!"

Everything screamed for the pokemon to stop but it persisted. Once the adrenaline surge ran out the battle would be over but if it could just land a single attack maybe that sort of end wouldn't be so bad. It had a trainer to support it, yelling its name louder than the pain could ever drown out.

It wanted just one attack.

However, the one move it couldn't produce with one hand—was its only hope.

Froakie held out its remaining hand to form the orb of compressed water but it fell apart. Three times it tried and each time it couldn't stabilize, resulting in only draining its energy. Sung and Trevor's screams of support ushered the pokemon to try once more.

It's vision was fading, cutting in and out like a light switch being flipped on and off.

The problem was it couldn't use its arm any more to help stabilize the energy it gathered. If only it had the ability to heal itself or grow a new—

A weathered smirk stretched across its face as it summoned a single illusion behind it.

The two working together to form the orb in its hand, the energy appearing to stabilize as Porygon channeled more energy into the beam to push Froakie back. From the looks the two pokemon were exchanging, everything would be decided here.

It wasn't sure the illusion could actually contribute any energy, but it did help Froakie focus. A vibrant blue orb of swirling energy taking shape in its palm.

"Do it, Froakie! I believe in you—use the strongest Water Pulse you can!"

With the strongest Water Pulse Sung had seen it muster thus far, it thrust its hand forward to intercept the beam and take the pressure off its broken arm, blood dripping to the ground.

Slowly, it walked towards Porygon.

Water Pulse splitting the Psybeam like a knife as it cut divots into the ground on either side of Froakie. Stopping once it reached its target, the Psybeam shattered like glass while the swirling orb disintegrated.

"GO!"

Another clone appeared as Froakie put its broken arm behind it, being the base for which the orb of water would be forged upon. Sung watching with worry and excitement as Froakie could barely even hold the attack before thrusting its arm at Porygon with all its remaining strength.

Porygon—having expended so much energy struggling against Froakie—couldn't attack right away.

It could only brace itself from the attack that drilled its face.

Sung and Trevor had both been yelling for Froakie as loud as they could. The two watched the attack collide with the porygon with enough force to send it sliding backward towards its trainer. It's wound was minor and it could have definitely continued the battle, but the girl returned it without issue.

Confusion was etched on Trevor's and Sung's faces until Froakie collapsed.

Sung was at his pokemon's side in an instant while Trevor approached the girl. Asking her, "why did you return the pokemon? You were clearly winning."

"Because I lost," she replied as if it were obvious.

"You're strange. You definitely didn't—"

"Here," she said as she tossed a wad of bills to Trevor—Sung's winnings. "Give this to that boy for me, would you? I really should get going."

"But why?! Why do you say you lost when your pokemon can still fight and his can't?"

"I lost."

"No, you didn't!"

"Maybe my pokemon could have fought some more but in determination and fighting spirit with lost handily."

I don't get this girl at all, Trevor grumbled.

Trevor turned to observe Sung who was calling to his pokemon with worry slipping into his voice. Froakie was out cold and entirely unresponsive so his reaction wasn't surprising. Even what the girl was saying was true, Sung and Froakie had shown a shocking amount of determination that had outclassed their opponent. But it wasn't the same as beating them.

Stuffing the bills in his own pocket, Trevor returned his attention to the girl in front of him. A girl who was now accompanied by a man who was her opposite in nearly every way.

She had short hair and didn't reveal her emotions easily, but just one look at this new guy said he wore them on his sleeve if you could see past the long hair he sported. He seemed to be entirely the confidant, fly by the seat of his pants type. Trevor had many dealings with people like him in the past, the kind that always got along well with him even if what they got into didn't sit right with his mother.

Noticing Trevor's gaze upon him he greeted him. "Hey, buddy!"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Well aren't you friendly," he said as he turned to the girl. "So, Mads, you really cool with just giving up a fight like that? You're developing a soft side on me. Frankly, I'm shocked."

Elbowing the man in the stomach to send him to the ground—she rebutted. "He earned it. Same as you who mimicked static to hang up on me."

"Did I say you had gone soft? I was wrong, I'm sorry."

"Did you get what you were looking for in Kanto? I was going to leave if you didn't make it back in time," she explained.

Kanto?

The word caught Trevor's attention as he began to wonder just what the two were talking about. They were in the Kalos region, one of the regions furthest away from Kanto, yet they mentioned it as if it were right around the corner.

It pissed him off since it took all of his money to take two ferry's and a plane to get there.

The boy in question smiled, revealing a pokeball in his hand. The expression he wielded appeared almost mischievous like a young kid who had found something exciting to do. "You know me. Even fought a trainer there a few minutes ago that's got potential. Though, I may have given him the wrong impression of his strength using this pokemon. It's overwhelmingly strong."

Trevor stepped forward. The two trainers that were engrossed in their conversation paused and turned towards him with curious eyes, the boy's eyes more filled with intrigue whereas the girl's told him he was interrupting. They seemed to be friends but he could not tell which one led their group.

"Okay, I've heard enough," Trevor said as he stepped forward. The two trainers that were engrossed in their conversation paused and turned towards him with curious eyes. The boy's a look of intrigue whereas the girl's told him he was interrupting. "What were you saying about Kanto? You made it sound like you were just there, didn't you? But that couldn't happen."

"I was."

"Impossible," Trevor spat. "It's not some five minute walk or something!"

"Oh?" the boy said. "A Kanto native, huh? Well all's well that ends well, you're here now and the fog is beginning to lift so I suppose I can tell you one of my tricks. But don't tell anyone, okay? Not that they would believe me if they didn't know what I know. Can't blame them, really."

Anger bubbled in Trevor's gut as he glared at the boy that stood before him. His words made no sense and were borderline cryptic. He seemed to be taking everything as a big joke.

"What the hell. . ."

"It's the fog."

Confusion swallowed the anger that had built in Trevor.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

With an annoyed air surrounding her, the girl—Mads—explained. "This fog is a barrier that warps space. The forest between Viridian and Santalune becomes connected once every few milennia, bridging the gap between Kalos and Kanto."

"It's considered a legend," the boy concluded.

Or even a curse, he added.

The boy placed an arm around Trevor as he whispered in his ear. "I saw what you did with the kid's money earlier. Not gonna cheat your friend, are you?"

"Mind your damn business."

With a knowing smile he rejoined the girl he traveled with. "Alright, alright. Do as you will, I'd rather not make enemies that I don't have to. Let's go, Mattie. See you guys, hope your pokemon gets better soon, Ninja-boy!"

From what Trevor saw, the two were good friends. However, telling which of them was considered the leader seemed almost impossible.

Sung appeared beside Trevor, Froakie back in its ball as he had returned to his usual detestable self. To be honest, the version of Sung that surfaced in that battle like a cornered animal desperate to get out was preferred. That serious drive while revealed briefly had a completely different feeling to it than the Sung he had known until then.

It was that version he would welcome as a rival.

"What's with them?" Sung asked.

"Honestly. I don't have a damn clue. Seriously, this place is crazy. . . I hope Hestia's having more fun than me as a local."

Trevor and Sung had began walking away, putting distance between their two groups. The fog had mostly lifted so they could still be seen, even heard as Sung gazed at them—his ears honed in on their voices.

"So, you really caught it—the pokemon you've been searching for?"

It was the unmistakable voice of the girl who defeated them so soundly.

"Yeah," the boy confirmed. "It's time for the second phase of the plan!"

XX

Derrick had been wandering Viridian just as lost and confused as before his encounter with the mysterious trainer. This time, however, Squirtle was recovering in his pokeball and the fog that had twisted the landscape around him was beginning to lift.

The pokemon he passed proved to him that life had returned to the forest.

His stomach growled in hunger and his head pounded in exhaustion. One way or another, he had been in motion all day—trying to find a pokemon, get to the next town, or even find a trainer to battle. Two of the three hadn't come to fruition and one of them had been a complete bust.

Derrick's body demanded a meal and a lot of rest, neither of which he could provide.

His bag felt heavy. He dragged it along with him, but knew that nothing within it could help. Rope, potions, pokeballs, toiletries, some comics, and even some random items that were scattered around his room from Oak's lab—nothing edible. Derrick teetered through the forest with a hand on his stomach as a cry for help. He must have looked so pathetic.

Like a bug to a bug lamp, Derrick continued through the misty forest towards a small orange dot in the distance. It was the flare in the night sky that meant salvation to those lost at sea and even if it was a sea of trees in a fog that had de-escalated to a mist, it still held that meaning. Drawn towards it, he figured that even if whoever it was didn't initially want to help him he could just smooth things over in conversation.

So, with a hopeful smile, he stumbled in range to feel the fire's warmth as he bathed in the orange glow. He saw a pot on top of the flames, a stew bubbling inside as a gloved hand stirred it. Following the appendage, he saw a pair of brown eyes framed in rectangle glasses staring back at him. Both of them with the same shocked expressions.

He saw Lucy, the final member of the Kanto Trinity.

"Derrick?"

"Lucy!"

"What are you doing here? Don't tell me you got lost."

Derrick scratched the back of his head sheepishly as he opened his mouth to answer. Unfortunately, his words were cut off by a loud growl from his stomach that drew an awkward laugh from him before saying, "think you can help me?"

Lucy withdrew a bowl from her bag and ladled some stew before handing it to Derrick. "Why didn't you pack anything to eat? What have you been eating the last three days actually?"

"Hmm? Who cares about questions like that?" Derrick countered.

Lucy smiled. "Fine. So, how about a different question—I noticed you don't have Squirtle running outside his ball," she said as she leaned in towards him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You didn't lose a battle did you?"

Derrick put the spoon back in the bowl and didn't immediately take another bite. He didn't make any moves at all, just sat silently at the campfire and stared into the flame. Derrick's behavior making Lucy wince at the thought that maybe she said something wrong.

"Hey, listen I'm sor—"

"Squirtle and I won't lose again!"

Derrick's exclamation caught Lucy off-guard.

"We will become strong. Squirtle has done so much for me since I ran into Oak's lab that one day. I just wanted a pokemon even though I didn't know anything about caring for it or anything. I chased whatever was on the ranch and ended up falling into the pond while looking at some goldeen. I couldn't swim so I sank like a rock."

"Sounds like a scary thing to have gone through," Lucy replied distantly.

"I didn't actually feel scared or anything at the time. I just knew I was going to be alright and right then is when Squirtle showed up and saved me. But. . . But today, when it needed me to step up like it had for me—I couldn't. I froze.

"I just wanted to do something good for Squirtle like it had for me."

Lucy remembered hearing from Oak during their initiation ceremony that Derrick and Squirtle had been together for a long time, even if it was unofficial until then. He was unbelievably care-free, but she couldn't help but smile at knowing at least his heart was in the right place.

"I see. This fog kept me from doing much so I've just been waiting it out and letting Charmander get some rest. But, I have heard something strange."

The mention of the word 'strange' caught Derrick's attention as he began to eat once more. Though, the only thing that came to mind was the fog after what the trainer he battled had tried to tell him.

Even outside of battle he hoped it wasn't about something as boring as fog.

"It's a rare pokemon—a rare pokemon that I've been hearing about for a while. And once this fog clears up," Lucy said, drinking the rest of her stew while Derrick appeared ready to burst in anticipation. Placing the bowl down, she gazed into the forest. "I'm going to catch it!"

XX

"Ugh! Get away, get away, get away! GET! AWAY!"

Hestia—the third of the Kalos trainers—bound through Santalune forest in escape from pokemon that pursued her. Short ginger hair whipping wildly as she sprinted around at random hoping to lose the bug-type pokemon that followed her movements. Vivillon and venomoth for some reason she couldn't understand had warmed to her, dodging her flailing arms to be close to her, one even landing on her head.

Part of her wished they were trying to attack her instead.

While the forest had been steeped in a thick fog she had been allowed to walk in relative peace. She may not have known where she was walking and what was around, but at least she had been alone. The only pokemon she owned—Fennekin, a fire-type—was asleep in its pokeball and while it would be an easy thing to drive them off in battle, she felt guilty instigating the battle.

She had long since lost track of her location but that was on the lower spectrum of her problems. Her main issue, however, proved to be stubborn and more than willing to follow her wherever she went. They were evolved pokemon that she knew most other trainers would be happy to capture for their teams, but she only wanted fire-types.

Feeling defeated, she stopped running to figure out where she was. Unexpectedly, she felt a weight gracefully land on her head, her eyes wide as a shiver traveled through her body like a static shock.

"Why me. . ."

Her body felt paralyzed. The feeling of bugs crawling on her skin overwhelmed her even if she knew it wasn't true. A gentle breeze caressed her like a smooth silk from the wing-beats of the bug-type on her head. It—she dared even momentarily think—felt nice. Until she felt its proboscis wrap around the bridge of her red-framed glasses.

"No! Nonononononono!"

Hestia screamed and jetted off into the forest. Joy filled her at the sight of a cabin in the distance and within only eight seconds she had burst through the door. Her athletic frame was small, but it was enough to keep the pokemon from getting inside.

Her relief disappeared as she took in the contents of the cabin. Frankly, it unnerved her—terrified even.

It had been abandoned for a long time, dust covered everything and even filled the air. Trash littered the floor from those who had come across the cabin before, mostly disposable cups and empty bottles. All kinds of messages were carved into the wooden walls like a public restroom stall. The marks that stood out to her most as she paced the room were the ones most deeply ingrained into the wood—marks most likely left by the owner.

They had repeated the same words over and over.

Words that seemed like it was filled with remorse at times, and one filled with a deep hatred. Not hatred directed at others—but one directed at themselves.

Brother. Weapon. Immortality. Curse.

The words painted a grim tale but not a finished one. The cabin itself was deeply unsettling, but she wanted to know how the tale etched around her concluded. It seemed ridiculous to believe that immortality was real, but the legendary pokemon that she grew up hearing about did have the power over life and death—the domain of Xearneas and Yveltal.

Perhaps they had a role?

She ran her fingers along the etchings, felt the dried blood. It felt like the words weren't written with a knife but were scratched into the wood. Feeling something by her feet she saw a piece of rope thrown into the corner. A noose, so badly frayed that she was shocked it wasn't growing mold. As she bent down to examine it she saw a carving, just as old as the others, that stood alone as if left in a moment of clarity in a life drowned in madness.

It all made her heart race. Reading it aloud, she said, "Where are you. . ."

Her stomach twisted in knots as she examined the cabin for clues for what the message was referring to. It was bare—not a single personal effect to speak of, despite the history carved into the very walls that surrounded her. Eerie through and through, it was a hell unlike the kind she knew. It made her break out in a cold sweat.

"This isn't right. . ."

The sun had shone so brightly earlier that morning as she started her new life—her escape. Colors were vibrant in a way they hadn't been in a long time, even in the veil of fog. She received a pokemon and was leaving her family behind. Specifically, a single member of said family.

Yet, so far her journey hadn't been the kind to write home about. It was more like the kind that would make her want to go home. As much as she hated the bug-types that fluttered to her while she was outside, she knew she couldn't stay in the cabin any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on her.

She felt sick as she slammed the door behind her, collapsing against the door.

XX

"Do you think the villains in comics ever get tired of being beaten by the heroes?"

"What?"

Derrick had posed the question to Lucy as the two walked aimlessly through the forest, a comic in hand. The fog since lifted and returned Viridian to the pristine image that the people of Kanto knew it for. Lush foliage on all sides with a sweet aroma dominating the air. The sounds of pokemon filled the empty space, all of them easy to identify as the common species of the region—none of them the rare pokemon they were searching for.

"Nothing, I was just wondering," he said.

"That's what you spent your bag space on instead of food? Such a boy."

Lucy held a pokedex in her hands, the digital encyclopedia opened up to the page of the pokemon they were searching for. A rare pokemon, common in regions like Sinnoh or Kalos that shouldn't exist in Kanto.

"Uuuuugh. . . Have you found it, yet?" Derrick groaned, his comic resting on his face as he walked. blinded, he collided with Lucy when she suddenly stopped. His comic falling to the ground as he asked, "what's up? Why'd you stop all of a sudden?"

In front of the two of them was a man.

Derrick was surprised to see him as Professor Oak always said that the odds of running into people inside Viridian Forest were low. Leading to the signs that cautioned trainers about entering alone. Yet, he had found first the mysterious trainer that beat him, secondly he found Lucy, and now he found a third man. One much older than them that gripped a net in his hands.

Shrugging, he picked up his comic.

Hands—not his own or Lucy's beat him to the comic. The bug catcher grabbing it like trash, disdain on his face as he flipped roughly through the pages. He said upon reaching the end, "Really? Issue one hundred and seven of Brycen-man? Not even in good condition and is among the lowest value by itself. How worthless."

Derrick growled throughout his advance. Lucy stepped between them, leaving Derrick to glare daggers at the man instead while she engaged him in friendly conversation. Leaning forward to appear interested, she felt the man's stare fall. Beady, greed-filled eyes that even the world's most awkward smile couldn't dispel.

"So can you help us?" Lucy asked.

"Hmm, for a price I'm sure. . ." he trailed, squeezing his hands suggestively as the comic and net were dropped without a care. "I'll help. . ."

A brilliant flash of white separated them like a wall of flame. He shielded his eyes as he stepped back while Lucy and Charmander stood on the opposite side—challenging him.

"I thought you wanted help!" He snarled.

Lucy scowled, crossing her arms defensively. "Disgusting. . . Whatever I need, I promise—I'll find it faster on my own."

Derrick stepped over the dying wall of fire and snatched up his comic from the ground. "Brycen-man would be ashamed of you! Ogling her like some kind of creep when there are better things you should be looking at!"

Derrick didn't understand why he felt so angry, practically growling the words from his throat. The man had insulted his comic and that had made him mad, but not enough to make his stomach lurch. Everything about the man before him struck a nerve like a throbbing pain in his chest. Without question, the man made Derrick as if he had a beast in his stomach trying to get out.

"I think you should leave."

The man grumbled something about teases and began to leave.

A sense of accomplishment now instilled in Derrick as he turned back to Lucy, he was shocked to see her face entirely red. Every part of her pale skin that was visible had actually turned a bright red like the flames that had long since died, or even like the scales of the creature that had cast them in the first place. "What?"

"You. . ."

"You okay, Lucy?"

Derrick could only watch as the red deepened whilst she mumbled words to herself in a voice so low that not even the pokemon with the best of hearing could pick up what she said. The end of her words followed with a firm slap that made Derrick's head turn as his cheek stung.

"What was that for?!"

"You know why! Pervert!"

"I didn't say anything! I just said he had better things he should be looking at instead of your chest! Don't be embarrassed about it, I was just trying to help. I mean, jeez. . . That hurt."

Lucy was about to open her mouth and reply when Charmander got their attention, flames spilling from its mouth.

The two trainers found their attention drawn to very welcome sight.

A pokemon that was neither rare nor common, as the region it currently stood shouldn't have any at all. It was without a home, chewing on a berry as it observed them with a fluffy tail that appeared twice the size of its body.

A pokemon from another region.

One of a kind to them.

A unique situation where a common pokemon to others could still be considered rare. Though, to Lucy who was the first to react—cooing at its appearance—it didn't matter. Charmander spewed a stream of fire that the pokemon fled from, Lucy and her starter giving chase as Derrick was forced to keep up.

The pokedex still gripped in Lucy's hand proudly showcased facts about the pokemon and its name.

Pachirisu.

XX

"I saw what you did with the kid's money earlier. Not gonna cheat your friend, are you?"

Friends? Trevor spat at the word.

Money was just paper and ink—it shouldn't matter if a few bills go missing. A kid like that probably didn't even care about it or need it in the first place.

Paper and ink ran the world.

"What does he know?" Trevor asked, stalking through Santalune Forest. "He doesn't know anything about me. Not one damn thing."

With the forest returned to its natural state Trevor could see the trunks of trees nearly uprooted or splintered from something ramming them. It was hard to tell what caused it, but whatever it was possessed a lot of brute force. With a clear path to follow, Trevor hoped to find a pokemon worth training. One that could make his reckless idea a success.

Being a trainer was his best option to make money since he had a record.

No matter how hard it got, for his mother, he'd do anything. He would walk the path he needed to see her happy, to ease her burden. It didn't matter to him if it were lined with nails and led straight to hell. He felt like with all she had done, he owed her that much.

Distracted in his thoughts, he collided with something. Confused, he looked around and didn't see anything in front of him until a low growl turned his attention towards his feet. It's gaze not even focused on him as it stared down a large tree double the size of those around it. Likely, it was the starting point of the whole forest.

Growling loudly, it struck him with a headbutt.

Trevor's leg felt like it had hit by a bowling ball thrown by a baseball pitcher. Clutching his leg, he crumpled to the ground with curses filling the air. The pokemon responsible—scraggy—barely reaching his knees, appeared pleased with itself and its power.

"You little shit! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

It hadn't even used its full power and his leg felt like it had been fractured. An attack with its full power would shatter his bones like glass or splintered them like the tree trunks he passed. All at once it dawned on him that the pokemon he was trailing had been the tiny thing that stood over him—a painful realization as he made it to his feet, his leg tender but still able to support his weight.

"That's disappointing. . . I don't want another fighting-type on my team," Trevor mused aloud.

Scraggy, insulted by his words lunged headfirst. Trevor ducked to the side and tried to run but pain surged through his leg at the effort as he stumbled forward trying not to fall. A painful bruise more than likely forming beneath his jeans, but he couldn't stop to check. He could only block out the pain and escape.

It lunged again, this time missing by an inch with the attack ripping through a boulder like paper. Punching his legs, he willed them to move faster, to negate the existing pain with something fresh. "Damn it, move faster! You're my legs and whatever happens to me affects you!"

The pokemon got too close so he threw an off balanced kick that it easily dodged before ramming him in the gut. Unsure if what got projected from his mouth was spit or blood, he found himself sprawled out on the ground. He saw double and the forest felt like it was vibrating, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had to escape! He needed something to use as a weapon!

Weak and disoriented, he twisted his head around and saw the pokeballs that had been clipped to his belt scattered around him. Smiling dumbly, he said, "Poke. . . Balls. . . That's right. . . Chespin."

He reached for a pokeball at random, unsure which one his pokemon was in. Missing twice, he grabbed it as the scraggy charged for its finishing blow. Muttering the closest thing to a prayer he'd done in his life—he threw it.

Wishing for a savior, he hoped it was the right one.

Baring its sturdy forehead at the oncoming projectile—intending to break right through it—the capsule opened and swallowed the creature up. A whirlwind of emotions overcoming him as it shook and made noise before eventually stopping.

He was relieved. Yet, it rang so hollow.

"Why did I catch that fucking thing?"

Sitting up with a heavy sigh, he heard something approach him from the side. Reacting quickly, he grabbed another random pokeball from the ground and prepared for a fight.

A girl with short red hair greeted him.

"Oh, thank god. It's just you, Hestia."

Relaxing, the girl helped him to his feet and gathered his dropped items. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, she helped him walk down the path she assured would lead to Santalune City. Engaged in small talk, it was clear to see that their first day as trainers hadn't been what either of them expected.

"It's been rough, but we'll make it to the next town at least. . ."

"Yeah," Trevor agreed. "Guess that's something."

"It's a win," she said flashing a peace sign.

"You're damn right."

XX

Sung had waited in the Pokemon Center lobby in Santalune for what felt like an eternity.

Stuck in his thoughts, he nervously opened and closed his fist. Froakie having been rushed into urgent care from the injuries it sustained in battle, he had nothing else to distract him. All he could think about was his conversation with Trevor after the battle had ended.

Sung and Trevor stood in the clearing for a few minutes after Mattie and that guy had left, a thick silence settling between them. Froakie stood in the middle of the two trainers, breathing raggedly while cradling its injured arm. It appeared ready to lose consciousness at any point.

Trevor, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, began to leave.

"Where are you going?" Sung questioned.

"Where do you think? I've got things to do aside from waste my time here with you."

"But—"

Before Sung could even get a second word out, Froakie collapsed. Sung kneeling at its side as Trevor spared a glance, resuming his exit.

"Seems you've got your own issues to deal with right now. Take your pokemon to a Center, before anything worse happens to it on your account. Not that you'll beat me in a million years, but you definitely need that pokemon to be healthy to even have a chance."

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious, even to someone as stupid as you? That pokemon's got some serious guts, it'll fight for you long after the point it should have stopped. That makes it a great asset in the future, if you can keep that fighting spirit from getting it killed. I don't like you, not one bit, or even iota. That said, you're pokemon didn't do anything to me so I hope it recovers."

Sung smiled. "Thanks, Trevor."

The light of the urgent care sign cut off—pulling him from his memories.

The nurse's face was grim, the news translated to him before she could even say a word.

"Is Froakie—"

Her voice was stern as she cut him off, explaining. "Your froakie's arm was severely damaged. It had a severe break and several fractures. On top of that, it was on the brink of exhaustion and has a high fever. Likely, it will suffer some nerve damage."

"I'm sorry. . ."

"It should have never been pushed that far! I've half a mind to confiscate it!"

Sung was sullen. "I know."

The nurse's expression softened. "Normally, I would. However, it seems your pokemon is quite attached to you so it can't have been something done maliciously. It kept waking up during treatment and wouldn't calm down until it made its way to the viewing window and saw you."

Trevor's words flashed through his mind.

"Froakie. . . It wanted. . . To keep fighting. . ."

"I want you to take all that I've said in account, it might not have been malicious but it was still neglectful. I'm sorry to inform you, but your pokemon will never have full use of its arm. Of course, it's ability in battle will be affected but this applies to its life outside the battlefield even more so. I want you to be careful to keep it from being made any worse," she said.

Sung could say nothing in reply, only hanging his head until the nurse left.

"I'm sorry."

XX

A woman was busy at work in her home, dirt marked on her cheek and on her clothes. Her hands tiredly grasping at a pile of dirty dishes beside her, the sounds of running water and the whir of the washing machine filling the air. Humming lightly, she grabbed dish after dish until she reached for the final dish, hesitating at the plate's handcrafted appearance.

"Mom, look at what I made!"

"Oh, Trevor, what have you done?" she asked herself, washing the plate with her son's name inscribed on it.

She didn't see the plate anymore, but the young boy who created it. His innocent smile was infectious even as a memory, but it had become clear that he had grown up. It was enough to almost shake the blissful image from her mind, but it wasn't as if he had changed entirely. He was still the same boy she raised as evidenced by his call earlier.

"Hey, Mom."

"Where are you, right now? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I will be fine."

"I. . . Can't stop you, can I?" she asked, defeated. "I can't say anything to you that will make you change your mind on this. I know that, I just want to know that you will be safe. You aren't the type to play with caution or even on the right side of the law."

"Mom, I have a gift for you," Trevor replied, withdrawing a pokeball. "I know I haven't been the best son. I've done some pretty crazy things and I don't think I've shown enough appreciation for everything you do. All the jobs you work, all the hours of your life you lose for me. I wanted to do something to help you. . . Make your life easier."

"I doesn't matter! I made my choices, I don't want you to do something so reckless!"

"I figured you'd say something like that. I want you to know that I thought a lot about this and even have something to show for it so far," he replied, beginning the process to transfer the pokeball from the Pokemon Center he sat in within Santalune City to the one in Viridian she was in. "It's a pokeball with a pokemon I caught earlier. I can't use it on my team so I wanted you to have it."

"Which one?"

"My gift to you. A sign of good faith that I can do this. I know I can't be there to protect you right now, but this pokemon can. It'll do what I can't," Trevor declared as she released the pokemon inside, revealing a confused scraggy.

"Awe, he's so adorable!" she cooed.

"Careful!" Trevor warned. "He's got a temper."

"I know how to handle a temper." she laughed.

However, the creature that Trevor had known to have a violent temperament appeared so gentle and friendly in his mother's grasp. It was surprising, but Trevor smiled knowing that he had made the right decision. If it got along with her as well as it appeared, she would be safe.

Scraggy narrowing its eyes at Trevor through the screen, but struggled to keep the glare through his mother's pampering. "I'm tasking you with protecting her, okay? I know you don't like me, but she isn't a part of that. I want you to make sure she's safe, no matter what."

The creature appeared reluctant to do anything for him, despite being his pokemon but ultimately it agreed.

"Don't you need him?"

"I already have a pokemon that will eventually cover his typing. I wanna be more efficient, I can't take chances on this," he replied. "Anyway, I'm beat. I'm going to bed, I just wanted to call and tell you not to worry about me. I'll be just fine."

"It's a mother's job to worry about her baby. . ." she trailed, mirroring the answer that she had given Trevor when they had talked as he put the plate on the rack. The sound of something breaking further in the house drawing her immediate attention—the third thing since returning from the Pokemon Center with the pokemon.

Sighing, she moved to investigate. "That pokemon is just the pokemon version of Trevor, I swear."

XX

"Metapod—Tackle!"

A green cocoon shot forward like a cannon ball to strike a wild rattata. The purple rat was already bound in string, struggling to break free. Each strike made the pokemon's effort to escape weaker until the string got caught on the roots of a tree, freeing it.

Virian watched the speedy pokemon bounce around the cocoon—the evolved form of Caterpie. A surprise when she summoned it for the first type and witnessed its evolution, a natural metamorphosis that would occur with time whether or not it had the experience.

It had been an amazing sight.

Breathtaking.

Caterpie appeared before Virian, the once timid creature appeared at ease. It gazed at the sky, Virian wondered what it was thinking, opening her mouth to talk to it when it suddenly shot string into the air. Directly above its head, a straight shot that fell back onto it until its body was enveloped in string. Virian wanted to help it peel the strings off, unsure of what it was doing, but Bulbasaur stopped her.

She could only watch as eventually her string covered pokemon glowed white.

While bound in string Metapod could hold its own against the rat but freed the tide had shifted. Rattata struck back with ease as the cocooned pokemon could do little more than harden its shell. It's speed too great, the pokemon fought to escape while they fought to get stronger.

When the opposing pokemon turned and ran, Metapod cried.

Virian didn't know for what purpose it wanted strength. Though, the image of it staring up at the canopy before it began its evolution stuck—it meant something. Something she needed to figure out if she wanted to help it like she promised.

Metapod's dream.

Was strength all it was? Related—but different, it didn't want power for power's sake.

Virian comforted her pokemon, the entire time it looked to the sky. Instinctively she followed its gaze and saw only the canopy that obscured the sun from view, even after the fog had lifted and the forest returned what it was before, the amount of light allowed to filter through the leaves was limited. She couldn't see sky or anything that inhabited it.

Images of flying-types filled her mind like that of Fletchling.

Flying-types that routinely prey upon the bugs landlocked to the ground—Caterpie and its evolution being among the most preyed upon. So, it made sense to her that being able to take to the skies itself would seem liberating. To not be hunted, not to live in fear, and to travel wherever it wanted. Metapod wanted to become strong, to desperately fly—to become free.

As the pokemon at the bottom of the food chain, that dream must have meant the world.

"Don't cry," she cooed. "You'll reach your dream. . . We both will."

Without warning, Virian found herself caught in a butterfree net. A collector with a wicked grin, his eyes full of lust as he scanned her body, giving her goosebumps.

"Uhmm. . . Who are you?"

"I've collected a beautiful specimen this time, if I do say so myself," he said, a chill creeping down her spine. "I've been searching all day for something to add to my collection. It may not be the pokemon I wanted, but a girl is a good consolation."

A complete creep.

"Uhm. . . I d-don't want t-to—"

Cheeks burning crimson, she struggled to get the words out. Her instincts screamed to run away, to put distance. That said, the odds she'd be able to escape him was slim. He had way more experience traveling through the forest and when she ran and inevitably twisted her ankle on the foreign terrain, he'd catch her.

Thankfully, she hadn't accounted for Metapod who rammed itself into the man to make him drop his net. Crumpled over in pain, he watched as Virian grabbed her pokemon and ran. She didn't care where—just away.

She didn't know how long she had ran or how far. Breathing heavily, she clutched Metapod tightly to her chest and leaned against a tree. Energy spent and legs burning, she thought the backpack she wore had never felt heavier.

She hoped to run into Lucy or Derrick.

She knew they were in the forest somewhere, even if they took a straight path through on a clear day. However, randomly running through the woods would make finding them next to impossible.

Virian didn't want to be alone.

"I think I lost him," she huffed.

Her declaration had immediately been proved false. Hurried footsteps echoed around her as she froze, her body immobile no matter how much she willed it to move. It was undoubtedly the person she was trying to escape from, the man trying to find her.

All she could do was hope that as night fell in the forest, she could remain hidden.

"Please. . . Someone, anyone. . . Help me!"

It was a whispered plea said so quietly that even Metapod whose shell she buried her face in was barely able to hear. As if responding to her wish, the pokemon tried to break free from her grasp. Virian's body shaking from her position, both her arms wrapped around the cocoon as tightly as possible.

"No, please don't. You can't!"

The footsteps grew closer. She could almost picture his twisted smile, his greedy eyes that didn't see her as a human being—only a trophy. It was the way people who struggled to make a living as a collector eventually saw everyone. Everything boiled down to a dollar amount.

"Someone help me. . ."

"I've found you!"

His voice rang out loudly. She thought for sure he had found her, but he was definitely getting close. He was loud and before he could reach where she heard, someone arrived. Virian couldn't see her savior but their voice was gruff. A beam of light—most likely from a flashlight—being cast on the collector that revealed his shadow.

Virian wanted to leave her hiding spot, but her stomach knotted up.

"I-I-I-I'm s-s-sorry!"

What spooked the collector so badly?

Unable to make out the man's words she had to interpret from the collector's responses. For the most part, his answers gave no clue to the identity of the new man until he referred to them by the name of an organization.

A criminal organization—Team Rocket.

Virian''s eyes were wide as the reality of her situation dawned on her. Things had gone from bad to worse, not only dealing with a creep but also a masterclass of criminal activity. Theft to murder, from the rumors and stories circulating around the Kanto region, Team Rocket was said to do it all. More and more, she felt trapped.

"H-hey, just l-let m-me go! I-I didn't k-know you guys w-were here!"

Right as he finished his pleas, a new shadow appeared. Virian watching it like a horror movie as a serpentine silhouette slithered into view before it coiled up and struck, wrapping itself around the man's silhouette. Squeezing around the man's neck. He tried to claw it off of him but all too quickly he dropped lifelessly to the floor with a sickening snap.

Her blood ran cold and her heart skipped a beat.

She hugged Metapod so tightly she threatened to split its shell. The flashlight had shifted and moved from view, but she couldn't look any more even if she wanted to. She couldn't move though she wanted to, her stomach doing flips. Struggled not to throw up, dared not to scream. All she could do was cry over the murder she witnessed, her tears dripping down her pokemon's sturdy shell.

Hiiiiiiiisssssssssss.

Suddenly, she heard it. Reacting in terror, she screamed so loudly that every flying-type in range took to the skies. Backpedaling out of cover to avoid the Ekans until she felt her back touch the legs of its trainer—a single gaze revealing the single red 'R' on his black clothes. Quick to stand up, she was caught between two foes with arms shaking Metapod's shell apart.

The people's eyes locked together while Ekan's wrapped around her ankles.

Virian's eyes constantly fighting the urge to gravitate to the collector's body—listless eyes that stared through her. The fate he suffered had been obvious even to her, but she hoped to be wrong. One glance was all it took to amplify all the negative feelings building up. Everything was happening to her so fast until it would suddenly slow to a crawl.

Time slowed, for instance, when Ekan's coiled at her feet.

It struck, jumping at her with bared fangs.

Metapod—her protector—escaped her grasp and intercepted. The snake twisting itself in the air to wrap around the cocoon, constricting it as the sound of crunching filled the space in the air. It was sickening and each time Virian screamed.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

The grunt just watched her without making even a sound. He watched silently as his pokemon committed brutality, its grip so tight that liquid had begun pooling beneath the cocoon. Just watched as she screamed with everything she had, pleading for it to stop.

"Metapod. . ."

Virian was distraught.

She had the right to be. The pokemon—her first captured pokemon as a trainer—was crushed before her. It's life had been hard from the beginning, born a species with nearly no power and tons of natural enemies. The reason for its dream to go to the skies, to reach freedom and safety. She failed.

If she died here, Bulbasaur would be next.

Virian was torn. She wanted to fight desperately to survive for it, but to throw Bulbasaur's ball in an attempt to stave off her attacker was the equivilent of putting its life in danger. It seemed no matter what path she took it would put them all at risk. A much smaller part welcomed the idea of death.

It had only been a day since she had caught it—felt like years.

Ekan's, slipping off Metapod's body, prepared to strike. Defeated—her eyes were lifeless when its bared its fangs at her, one's that could have pierced even Metapod's shell like tissue paper. As each second passed her grief grew, her thoughts sharpened like fangs, each ready to inject poison into her neck.

Contaminating her bloodstream.

A relatively painless death.

Crunch.

It sounded like someone knocking on a door or glass shattering. Everyone, even the pokemon in mid-strike, stopped to gaze at the source of the noise. Virian's eyes filling with life as the source had begun to shake, ever so slightly. Metapod—clinging to life, it's shell cracking as the Ekan's lunged to finish the job.

Virian reached out on instinct. The idea of her pokemon being alive almost seemed too hopeful for her to dare believe it. She didn't want to lose it again, to have her hope stripped away.

"STOP IT!"

With everything she had—she begged.

The snake unhinged its jaw to swallow the cocoon whole, its fangs dripping with venom. The shell of her pokemon, already fractured throughout, exploded. Ekan's retreating to its trainer's feet to avoid being struck with the fragments of discarded shell that shot out like bullets. The remains of the shell shocked them—they saw a pair of beautiful wings.

A passage her father brought home once surfaced in her mind. A theory written by one of his colleagues—a report that said when certain species of bug-types evolved, particularly those that involved a chrysalis stage were already fully evolved. The body of the final evoultion already existing inside of the cocoon and using its time inside to harden until it becomes durable enough to break out.

Virian crawled to her pokemon, newly evolved. Her hand reaching for the pair of wings as the pokemon rose into the sky, a butterfree whose dreams were realized. Renewed tears streaming down her face as her pokemon fluttered beneath the canopy.

I wonder what the world looks like to it from the sky?

Is it happy?

With each wing-beat, a blue powder settled around them. The rays of pale moonlight that leaked through the canopy bounced around the spores and made them glisten in what Virian could only describe as a wonderful sight. She was mesmerized to where her eyes were glued, yet they threatened to close. Grew heavier until it felt like they would never open again. The pokemon and its master that opposed her both feeling similarly, falling to the ground asleep before they could react.

Gravity felt like it had intensified to force her to the ground. A thin layer of the powder had gathered on her clothes and as she gave in to her pokemon's attack, her final sight was of her pokemon—her first to fully evolve—flew through the sky. It was free.

"I'm so—"

Happy.

XX

When Virian came to, she was floating.

Tree's passed in a blur as her eyes cracked open, her body propped against something as her arms dangled in front of her, a pair of hands gripping her legs beneath the knee while her head bobbed around someone's shoulder. Whoever who piggybacked her through the forest nearly lulled her back to sleep with the motion.

Her mind fuzzy, she questioned how she got there.

Bits of pieces of her memory began to surface to answer her. The encounter with Team Rocket, the evolution of her pokemon. . .

The brush with death.

Her eyes snapped open while she pounded on their back, making them stumble. A familiar voice filling the air as they uttered words of pain.

"Ow, ow, ow! Hero, hero, hero! I don't think people usually attack the people who save them! I'm the hero in this story, ya know?"

Derrick?

Her memories and her current situation didn't align. The last image she had was of her pokemon so she had no idea how Derrick had suddenly found her, but she reasoned it made more sense than her original idea of it being the Team Rocket grunt. Everything was a question. The most pressing being the location of her pokemon.

As Derrick continued to walk, Lucy appeared at his side.

"You need to rest, okay? You just went through something traumatic," Lucy declared with worry, a gloved hand motion for her to calm down. She did as suggested and laid her head on Derrick's shoulder as silence overtook them. Each of them likely thinking of the dead body that laid deeper in the woods. The murderer unconscious nearby.

"You have a good pokemon, ya know?"

Derrick had broken the silence.

Virian followed his gaze and saw her pokemon floating gracefully above them. She agreed with Derrick's words in a soft voice, one so low that even she almost didn't hear it.

"I won't ask what happened back there, I know it must not be something you wanna think about right now. We had just finished getting Lucy her second pokemon, I'll spare the details since it was kinda boring to watch. After that though, this butterfree flew up to us and just wouldn't leave us alone until we figured out to follow it. Thing led us right to you," Derrick said, pausing before adding. "It cares about you a lot."

"Yeah. . ." she cried. "Thank you, everyone!"

She released everything. All her fear towards being attacked, about the potential to die. All her worries that her pokemon would be killed with nothing to do or stop it, or without achieving its dream. Her sadness of failing them. Her happiness, unyielding and powerful, at the prospect of being rescued.

They were both alive.

Derrick and Lucy appeared concerned as they watched Virian drift back to sleep. The canopy that obscured the growing night sky began to reveal a thin blanket of stars as they neared the end of the forest.

In a hushed tone, Lucy asked, "do you think she will be okay? I think she saw that man die. . ."

"Let's just get her to a doctor," Derrick said. "Anything could have happened—we have no way to know. I really hope not, that'd be awful."

"What's with you?"

Derrick noticed the grimace he wore. "I just. . ."

"Don't tell me your hero fixation is also a complex."

"Shut up!"

As Virian closed her eyes and everything faded—she saw something breathtaking. As Viridian Forest's treeline disappeared behind them and they entered Pewter City, Butterfree flew above them in the starry night sky as if it were one of the stars, a glittering trail of powder flowing behind it with each beat of its wings.