2/9/2011
I couldn't sleep last night. How can ten-year-olds stand the pressure? I'm fifteen and the mere thought of heading out on my own makes me break out in a cold sweat. Not that I wasn't excited, of course. But money! Food! Responsibility! It's enough to strike cold fear into the heart of this sheltered young man.
I nearly fell asleep over my breakfast. Mom said I was like a little kid on Christmas Eve. Ouch. Granted, I wanted to head off right away, but since it was eight in the morning my common sense won out in the end, and I headed back to my room, where I sat restlessly and got my ass royally kicked on Tatsunoko VS Capcom. To this day, I still feel guilty playing as Chun-Li.
At about nine-thirty, Cheren came over and refused to go on multi-player with me, then Bianca showed up and before I knew it I'd lost control of both wii-motes and was watching the almighty Ryu getting beaten to a pulp by a small girl with a broomstick. I didn't mind too much – I was hoping White would show up so I could have her all to myself while Cheren and Bianca were occupied. No such luck though, Cheren and Bianca started talking about Professor Juniper after ten minutes or so, and how she left us a present. Of course, this was the first I'd heard of it. No, no, it was all right, nobody ever tells me anything anyway. I'm used to it.
Of course, my best friends were far too busy to pay any attention to my lamentations.
When it came to choosing our starters, the first thing I noticed was that there was only three pokeballs. Reassuring myself that Juniper probably had a spare one for White somewhere, I seized the moment I had been so anticipating.
Cheren and Bianca decided I was having the oshawott, because I look like one, apparently. Then they destroyed my room. Not exactly the coming-of-age celebration I had expected, but at least Mom didn't get angry. She actually seemed a little proud!
Had to make a run for it to Route 1 when nobody was looking. White's on the warpath; I got the last oshawott.
3/9/2011
I have acquired yet another trial on my existence, through no fault of my own. When I reached Accumula Town yesterday, my plan was to find a good hiding place and wait until White passed by, but I got swept up in a crowd that had gathered to observe a hooded cult preaching the evils of keeping pokemon. I was surprised how many people seemed to be taken in with it. Their apparent leader, Getshiz or Gherkin, was wearing a tent for one thing. He looked like one of those frilly dolls my grandma puts over spare toilet rolls.
Afterwards, I was pounced on by a green-haired man called N who believed pokemon shouldn't be used for battling, and decided that the best way to prove his point would be to battle me. The strangest thing was that he insisted he could talk to pokemon, which I thought was impossible. Unless he was a feral child raised by pokemon or something. Pokemon-Tarzan. N of the pokes.
4/9/2011
Cheren said I ought to take on the Striaton Town gym. I didn't want to, but I didn't want him to think I was scared, soI spent most of the morning training a newly-caught lillipup, since I figured Cilan would destroy me if I took him on with only my oshawott (who I have nicknamed Jack – don't worry, you'll understand later). After a long and gruelling battle, I achieved my first gym badge.
Then I went to the dreamyard and was given a pansear. Of course.
Anyway, I managed to rescue Bianca and a munna from the crazy cult nuns. I'm beginning to think this Team Plasma isn't as 'hippy' as it appears, unless their definition of liberation is kicking pokemon into the sunset to freedom.
I caught a munna of my own right afterwards, and nicknamed it Florence. I didn't find out until later that it was male. Even at my tender age the influence of oppressive gender stereotyping has been forced upon me! I decided to keep him as Florence anyway. It's sexist that certain names should be segregated due to gender.
6/9/2011
I spent most of yesterday and today training. Cheren appeared and very nearly mopped the floor with me, and criticised me for not having caught more pokemon. I went on a catching spree. Dead pokeballs have turned Route 3 into a battlefield. My wallet reaped the consequences.
On a more sinister note, Team Plasma aren't the bold freedom-fighters they like to appear to be. The Mysterious N practically jumped me as soon as I got to Nacrene City! Had it not been for the multitude of witnesses, I would undoubtedly have been made victim to an assault of some form.
8/9/2011
After exploring Pinwheel Forest all day, I was deficient of both money and balls. Not only that, but I couldn't bring myself to attack an Audino. It kept healing Florence and smiling at me. Oh the guilt! My black mood was reflected by my choice of nicknames. Just ask Murdurr the Timburr, or Evil the Tympole.
Before taking on the next gym, I managed to level-grind Jack enough to evolve into Dewott. He looks much cooler now, and his resemblance to me has diminished significantly. Lenora was reputably strong, but all I could consider was her name, and how Mom used a fabric softener of a similar title. Cheren's chesto berries proved to be imperative to defeating her. It made me regret the sarcastic comment I had previously made.
After getting my Basic Badge, and feeling rather smug about it, I was all set to go – but of course, as usual, when I saw a moment of peace, Fate saw a moment of opportunity to ruin it. Team Plasma showed up again, and I was inevitably dragged into sorting them out. Mere days into an independent lifestyle, and I have become a thorn wedged in the side of what could very possibly be an extremist group. Within a week, my mutilated corpse will be found, riddled with bullets in a dark, dirty alley. I dare not return to my mother, for fear she will also be thrust into the front line of danger.
10/9/2011
Castelia City is huge and intimidating, and almost too much for my poor country-boy's heart to handle. I spent the entire day exploring in awe, and was very nearly murdered in a back alley by a shady man in a long dark coat. I managed to escape unscathed, and with the TM flash. Shaken, I stopped to rest, and who would else take advantage of my pitiful state but White.
I shrieked like a little girl when she dived on me from behind. I think I did a pretty good job of looking around and pretending it wasn't me when the attention of several strangers was attracted. On the plus side, White wasn't as angry as I thought she'd be, as she'd got her own Oshawott two days ago. Two days! How did she managed to catch me? She challenged me almost immediately, but she obviously had neglected training in favour of chasing me. I was granted an easy win, and as payment White granted me the honour of becoming her boyfriend.
"I know you like me," she said! How? I was sure I kept my stalking to a discreet minimum.
11/9/2011
To commemorate our first day as a couple, me and White spent the morning wiping out the Battle Company. I decided to be a gentleman and took her out for lunch. I believe I underestimated the cost of city life. Two thousand for a plate of pasta!
12/9/2011
I resolved to take on the Castelia Gym in the hopes that I could impress White. Just my luck, the gym was closed, and not only that Bianca showed up panicking over a stolen munna! Since I have already secured a spot on Team Plasma's hit list, I boldly volunteered to investigate while White ran an errand for a distressed street dancer. Thankfully, Castelia's gym leader, Burgh, said he would back me up. And thus began our search!
Bianca got herself a bodyguard in the form of an eight-year-old girl called Iris. Team Plasma hijacked a building near Burgh's gym; I was almost afraid to approach them in case they had explosives under their robes (you can never be too careful!), but all they wanted was a pokemon battle.
The building was a hive – there had to be at least ten Plasma nuns, each of them more suspicious than the next! Gherkin (Ghetsis, Ghetsis!) must be the queen, since he seems to be the one in charge. White stormed in ahead of everyone. Even though her pokemon are the weakest, I didn't doubt she could land each and every one of Team Plasma in hospital.
13/9/2011
After my ordeal the other day, I didn't think it was unreasonable of me to require a day off. White made her disdain obvious, but I was certain I was coming down with something nasty! I spent most of the day sleeping in my room at the pokemon center, and when I woke up my back was squashed against the wall next to the bed, White's hair tickling my nose. I wrapped my arm around her waist, thinking I must have done something right.
14/9/2011
Today, I finally got around to challenging Burgh! It was a little tricky battling while dripping from head to toe in honey. Strangely enough, Burgh himself was spotlessly clean, though he must have had to wade through the honey walls himself, but when I asked if he had a bathroom I could use to clean off before the battle started, he said no.
Even after winning my third badge, White refused to kiss me. "I hate honey," she said.
15/9/2011
I have discovered that I am allergic to honey.
16/9/2011
My rash went down a bit, so I figured it was safe to leave the confines of my room without scaring all children who happened to see me. After a week in Castelia I was ready to get on the road again. A wandering loner like me could never settle down and stay in one place for too long.
White said she was going to go back to Nacrene and challenge Lenora, and before she left, she kissed me. It was... forceful. My lips still hurt.
Yet again, I nearly lost to Cheren, through no fault of my own. I wasn't expecting him to jump me so soon after battling Bianca! He saw this as his best opportunity to lecture me about strength, then asked me what the hell had happened to my lip. I proudly announced my courtship, and Cheren acted as my foil for the day, telling me bitterly, "there's no accounting for taste."
I know I'm not exactly a prize catch, but that was uncalled for! Cheren just can't stand that the summoning powers of my winning personality are so effective on the feminine species. He acted the same way when I dated Bianca.
I explored route 4 and the Desert Resort feeling unusually emotionally volatile.
18/9/2011
I swore to myself that I wouldn't waste two days wandering around Nimbasa and dressing my pokemon up like Barbie dolls. I lied.
19/9/2011
A mysterious N appeared! My attempts at escape ended in failure, and I was practically manhandled onto the Ferris wheel. I pressed myself flat against the opposite side of the car as he gazed dreamily out of the window, contemplating the beauty of mathematical equations. He pretended to be concerned at my jittery behaviour and actually tried to touch me. I was so scared that I screamed and rolled off the seat onto the floor, and N looked down at me, lips pursed, as if I was the crazy one.
He said he wanted to tell me a secret. I asked him if he killed Mufasa, and he just blinked at me, sending me into another near-panic attack. I was actually a little bit sick in my mouth when he told me he was the leader of Team Plasma. 'King', I think was what he actually said. He could have easily murdered me up there in the sky, no witnesses and nowhere to run. I was shorter than him and had no muscle to speak of. Sirens started ringing in my ears, and images of police tape and bloodstains flashed before my eyes.
I fell out of the car, shaken but otherwise unharmed. I should have known that N wouldn't dirty his own hands with my innocent blood. As a made man he probably has professional assassins on hand, ready to pounce and slit my throat at a moment's notice. After a short battle, he got right up in my face and started talking at me, but I barely took any of his speech in.
I must make my mark on the world while I still can.
20/9/2011
After twenty-four hours huddled under the covers in a spare room at the pokemon center and one reassuring phone call from White, I decided I was safe for now. N was probably biding his time.
I made my way to Nimbasa Gym, anticipating a difficult battle. I did my homework and memorised the strengths and weaknesses of certain pokemon types, and as luck would have it Jack and Evil are weak against electricity. Thankfully I had Wilbur the drilbur to back them up, along with Florence, but it was my under-levelled darumaka that finished Elesa off. She is now my lucky team mate, and is giving simisear a break from the position of front-line fire type.
Another catching spree on route 16 made reconsider my choice of party pokemon. I'm reluctant to replace any of them, as I've grown quite attached.
21/9/2011
After a day of excruciating mathematics, I have decided on my current party, as seen below:
Jack, dewott, level 30
Florence, munna, level 28
Wilbur, drilbur, level 24
Esmerelda, darumaka, level 19
Mario, whimsicott, level 27
Cristle, blitzle, level 26
It was more difficult than I'd anticipated to give up Evil. I'm determined to come back to him later.
Another battle with Cheren, but this time I was ready for him with my obscenely over-levelled party. I was also introduced to Alder, a huge monument of a man with wild red hair. He spoke in such a booming voice that I was very nearly knocked off my feet. And this man is the leader of the Elite Four! Not that I'm planning on taking them on.
I'm scared of caves.
23/9/2011
Driftveil City is strangely inspiring. I composed a whole musical number for it in my head. I'm a bit of a genius like that.
A C-gear conversation with White ended with an indirect kiss. That's two steps away from phone sex, and I'm not ready for that.
24/9/2011
After a day spent moping around, being nagged by Cheren and whining "But I don't wannaaaa", I finally dragged myself off my ass to see to the Team Plasma problem that had inevitably followed me to Driftveil.
I let Cheren bully me into entering the cold storage (what happened to Team Plasma's 'masters of stealth' approach back in Castelia? I mean, could they possibly have chosen a more obvious hiding place?). Of course, even the getting there was easier said than done, as several youngsters took it upon themselves to make my short journey as difficult as possible. Cheren was no help at all, and even had the nerve to criticise my battling technique after every win. I tried to point out that I had yet to lose to him, but I was so worked up that my stuttering got the best of me, and he walked away before I was even halfway through my sentence. Considering that he's supposed to be my friend, I don't think Cheren likes me very much. We drifted apart since I sort of accidentally kissed him about five times then dated the girl he had a crush on.
It took me over an hour to navigate my way through the icy cold storage with Cheren clinging to the back of my jacket as I pulled him along the ice. He can't ice skate and I can (badly), so it was the easiest way to go about it – though skating into those walls was murder on my ribcage, as every time I stopped, however gently, Cheren would come crashing into my back. Knowing my luck, I probably acquired a few fractures. I daren't go to hospital, for fear I would be a sitting duck. It would be so easy to make murder look like an accident – an overdose of morphine, perhaps.
My only hope now is to establish myself as a powerful enemy – so powerful that they wouldn't dare touch me or my family for fear of the consequences. I know it's wishful thinking, but what more can I hope for? There is nothing more tragic than a teenage intellectual cut down so close to his prime.
We found Team Plasma in a box at the back of the cold storage. A man dressed in a robe similar to Ghetsis' declared himself as one of their 'Seven Sages', and I said, "So, you're Raru?". Cheren elbowed me in the ribs, but I thought my comparison was quite accurate.
After clearing them out and putting my poor party through some rather vigorous training, the gym leader, Clay, showed up to take all the credit. Cheren, unaffected by he apparent dangers of the terrorist mafia space nuns, complained about the cold.
25/9/2011
My back hurts, my head hurts, everything hurts! The cold managed to breathe its way into my bones, and I can barely move without some audible creaking emitting from my joints. As for my pokemon, Esmerelda is as perky as ever, but she's the only one. Poor Florence has a cold. Thinking about it, I haven't given them a proper break since my journey began, if I don't count the odd day spent exploring or hiding under my duvet.
They've been good to me. I owe them a little holiday before challenging Clay.
26/9/2011
While my pokemon rested, I finally buckled and called my parents. I was being stubborn and refusing to call because I'm nearly sixteen, and much too old to be sobbing down the C-gear to mommy.
Dad was home, for once, and he was the one that picked up. He did the whole "Man up, my son! I'm proud of you!" speech, which put a smile on my face. It all went wrong when I spoke to Mom, though.
"Oh, it feels like yesterday you were playing with buckets and spades in the sandbox! I'm so proud of you, my little Blackberry. No matter how old you get, you'll still be my baby, you hear me? And if you ever need me, I'll be right here – come home whenever you want. Don't let anyone get you down; you're a very special boy. Who's a very special boy?"
"I-I am..."
"That's right. I'll see you soon. Hugs and kisses, honey!"
I cried myself to sleep.
29/9/2011
My pokemon are fighting fit! If only I could find the motivation to get back on the road.
30/9/2011
White called me and told me to stop being such a lazy ass. Spurred on by thoughts of her ass, I screwed my courage to the sticking place and determined to gain a Quake Badge by the end of the day.
–
Oh God, what is this? Writing the diary of a nerdy, neurotic teenage boy with bad bouts of paranoia and a victim complex is surprisingly fun.
Note: This story is set in the same universe as my other Black/White Version stories, though obviously you don't have to read those to understand this one.