Rated K+ for mild language.

Enjoy!

It was that day again. The one day of the year I hated more than any other. The day where, year after year, my dreams of exploration were demolished by the iron fist of my bitter, overprotective father. I peered out my bedroom window to see a group of ten year olds crowded in front of Professor Juniper's laboratory. I slithered back underneath my covers and remembered standing in that same jubilated clump seven years ago. It wasn't much of a clump so much as it was just me and my two friends Cheren and Black. I still get that tingly sensation of excitement in my toes when I think about that morning. I could not stop smiling. Professor Juniper had sent a box to Black's house. Inside were three shining Pokéballs. It was the first time I had ever held one of the high-tech devices. Black chose first. He selected Oshowatt. Cheren then picked Snivy and I got Tepig.

The moment I thought of the fire-type swine I felt a wet nuzzle nudge my arm. I lifted my covers to expose a chubby, attention-seeking Tepig.

"Rigby!" I chimed. He wagged his tail at the sound of his name.

I scratched his head and he curled up next to me. I was lucky that even though my father didn't let me go out on a journey, like Cheren and Black got to, he still let me keep Rigby. I thought back to that morning again. After battling each other with our new Pokémon, I losing to Black but Black next losing to Cheren, we went to Professor Juniper's to thank her. She recruited the three of us to complete the Unova Pokédex. The three of us parted momentarily to go ask our parents for permission to embark on this once in a lifetime quest. Of course, it is pretty much protocol to expect your child to travel the region once they are ten years old. It didn't exactly come to our parents as news that we expected them to be on board with the whole thing. I mean, they usually did the same when they were ten. It's basically a rite of passage.

I remember how embarrassed I was when Black walked into my dad yelling at me. When I was a kid I was always very hyper and happy, so it was the first time he had ever seen me cry. I couldn't help myself. My mom just stood idly by as my father forbid me from ever traveling and becoming a trainer. Growing up, you're told so many amazing stories about trainers who became champions and sometimes even saved the world from evil. It sounds so incredible that you ache for the day you can finally become a Pokémon trainer and have your chance to do the same. Of course, fate would have it so my opportunity was taken from me. I haven't forgiven my father since.

This year was off to a different start. Normally at this time I'd be downstairs in tears, begging my father to let me go. I have matured. I can take care of myself. I'm another year older. It's a once in a lifetime chance. These are all the things I would tell him. But he would just yell. So this year I stayed and sulked in bed. If he didn't let me go the six years before what would make that morning any different?

Three knocks broke my train of angry thoughts. I didn't respond. I only hid further under my blankets. I knew who it was.

"Bianca, you awake?" my father asked quietly through my closed bedroom door.

Again, I didn't respond. I knew if I did I would only be tempted to start begging him to let me go. Then he would just start yelling and the whole scene would turn into a repeat of the last six years. Rigby whined at the discomfort of being cramped next to me with my blankets tightly wrapped around the two of us. He tried to nose his way out, but I pulled him in close so he'd stop squealing. I didn't want my father to hear him and think I was awake. A few moments passed and I figured he left by now, so I burst from the restrains of my blankets and gulped for air. Rigby hopped around my bed, happy to be free.

"Oh, so you are awake."

I gasped. "Ew, have you been standing there the whole time?" I didn't mean to say 'ew'. It slipped out, but c'mon, it was kind of creepy.

He was frowning, like always. "I wanted to make sure you were okay." That's uncharacteristic. "Usually you're downstairs on this day…"

I sighed. "Well, I guess you could say I've finally come to my senses."

"What do you mean by that?" My father crossed his arms.

"I've realized I'm never going to be able to convince you that I belong out there," I explained.

"Oh" is all he said before leaving my room. I eventually got up and shuffled downstairs. My blonde hair was a disaster and my glasses threatened to fall off the tip of my nose, but I didn't care. I made myself a bowl of cereal, rubbing the bags under my eyes carelessly as I poured my milk. My mom looked at me with no particular expression, but I could tell she was judging the oversized pajamas I was still wearing. I looked like poop on purpose to make my parents, especially my father, feel guilty. I wasn't tugging on his shirt, tears in my eyes, begging he let me go on a journey like I normally would be. But I wasn't fine, and I wanted to rub that in their faces.

I sat down at the kitchen table with my mom, who was reading the newspaper. Rigby jumped up on my lap. He was the only one smiling or happy in the entire house that morning.

"No pets at the table, sweetie," my mom said.

I rolled my eyes and placed Rigby on the ground, who tried to jump back on my lap the second I put him there, so I had to hold him down for a few seconds.

"Sorry, buddy," I murmured to him, and he ran off into the living room.

A few minutes later, I was drinking the milk at the bottom of my bowl, when I jumped, startled, at the sound of my father's shouting.

"No! Bad!"

My mom and I raced into the living room to see my dad hovering over Rigby, who was shaking, ashamed. We then noticed the scorch marks on the arm of the couch, and my father's rage all made sense.

He looked at me with his crazy eyes. "How many times have I told you that this thing isn't allowed on the furniture?"

"It's not like I could've done anything! I was in the kitchen," I said in my own defense. Rigby ran over to me, so scared that he was standing on top of my feet.

My father always paced around the room, throwing his arms all over the place whenever he got mad. "Not only was it on my couch but it burned it all up too! I'm sick of that thing spitting fire everywhere and getting scorch marks on everything! I swear, one day our whole house is going to burn down and it's going to be all that thing's fault."

"He's a Pokémon, dad! He doesn't belong cooped up in a house all day."

Once again my mother just stood idly by, biting her bottom lip.

"Then take him on a walk or something instead of sitting around the house all the time! Or better yet, we could set him free!"

My eyes became watery with anger and fear. Would my father really do such a thing? Would he really make me get rid of Rigby?

"If he doesn't belong in a house then maybe he belongs somewhere else," my father continued.

"So what?" I shook my head. "You're just going to throw him out in the wild then?"

My father pointed to the couch. "Unless you want to pay to replace all the furniture it has destroyed, then I see no other options."

I looked at my mom. "Are you just going to let him do this?"

She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to speak but was too afraid.

"You're seriously not going to do anything?" I asked, tears now rolling down my cheeks.

Again, she said nothing.

I scooped up Rigby and ran upstairs to my room, crying. Guess this morning didn't end up being any different than the past six. My dad still yelled. I still cried. My mom still did nothing. Yep, it all seemed so painfully familiar. I was hiding under my covers again, squeezing Rigby tightly, as if clutching him close then would stop him from ever being taken away from me. Rigby was the only thing that kept me sane in my house. Rigby was the closest thing I ever got to being a real trainer. Sure, he had his fair share of accidents around the house, but my father surprisingly had never threatened to get rid of him before this, which is what made it seem all the more likely that he would actually go through with it.

I stopped my incessant sobbing when I heard some banging outside my window. I dried my eyes on my blanket before pealing them off my head. I peered outside my window, and could see nothing but Professor Juniper's laboratory, which didn't make me feel any better at that moment. I laid my head back down on my pillow, convincing myself I was just hearing things or it was just the wind. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared through the glass, and scared the living daylights out of me. It was Black, grinning from ear to ear. He tapped on the glass so I would let him in. I sniffed all the dripping liquids back into my nose before walking over and opening the window.

"You scared the crap out of me," I told him.

"Sorry, but I heard your dad yelling from the front steps, so I thought it would be better if I came in this way," he explained.

"My dad is still yelling?" I don't know why I was surprised.

Black crawled through the open window. "Yeah, apparently someone couldn't control their bowl movements, because there's a little shit on the couch."

"He's talking about Rigby," I said, lying back down on my bed.

"Rigby shit on the couch?" Black asked.

"No, Rigby is the little shit. Rigby went on the couch when I wasn't watching him and spit fire on it accidentally."

Black collapsed into the bean bag chair on my floor. "How do you know it was an accident?"

I thought about it. "You know what? He was probably pissed because my mom wouldn't let him sit on my lap at the kitchen table."

"That makes sense."

"So what's new with you, Hilbert?" I smiled for the first time that day, knowing that Black hates it when people call him by his first name.

He pointed at me. "Only you can call me that and get away with it. Any other person I'd punch them out."

I chuckled, "You still hate it, though."

He threw his arms up in the air. "Well who names their kid Hilbert?"

"Your mom and your dad," I said.

Black's eyes diverted to the floor. "Well, I don't know if my dad was there to have any say in it."

"Oh yeah…" I honestly forgot. An awkward silence arose between the two of us, but Black quickly broke it.

"Anyway, I've been home for a while actually. I got back about a week ago."

"You've been home for a week and never told me?" Not going to lie, I was a bit offended.

"Sorry, I've been so busy planning my next trip and spending time with my mom." He rolled his eyes. "You know how lonely she gets when I'm gone."

I smirked at him. "Don't roll your eyes, mama's boy."

"So what have you been up to?" he asked. He leaned forward, taking a more careful look at me. "Actually… are you okay? You look like you've been crying."

I sighed, remembering the fight my father and I just had. "My dad is threatening to give Rigby away."

Black leapt to his feet. "What?! Because of the stupid couch?"

"Well…" I bit my bottom lip. "It's not the first time something like this has happened."

"But still, maybe if he wasn't such a hard ass Rigby wouldn't lash out." It always made me feel better when things would upset Black as much as they upset me.

I rubbed my forehead in distress. "I know. I don't know how much longer I can stand living here."

Black sat back down in the bean bag chair and shrugged. "Then don't."

"What?"

"Leave."

Another period of silence stood between us.

"I'm not kidding," Black insisted.

I laughed. "You're crazy, Hilbert."

He stood up again and rested his hand on my knee. "Bianca, come with me on my next trip."

"My dad would never—"

"Who cares what your dad says! Don't even tell him! Just run away!"

My jaw hung open. I was incapable of making words or even processing what was happening. All I knew was this was all happening very fast and Black was acting very strange.

"What's gotten into you?" I asked.

He shrugged, averting his gaze to the floor. "I just know how much you hate living here and now he's going to take Rigby from you and none of it seems fair."

I shoved his shoulder playfully. "Aww, you care about me!"

Black's cheeks burned red. "Pffft, barely."

"As much as I would love to, I can't."

"What's stopping you?"

I lowered my brows at him. "Gee, I don't know, my dad."

Black patted Rigby on the head. "Then don't tell him. Just pack your stuff and come on this trip with me and Cheren."

I perked up a little. "Cheren's going?"

Black proceeded to mock me using a high-pitched, girly voice. "Ooooooh! Cheren is going! Now I want to go so we can make out!"

I shoved him on the shoulder again. "Shut up!"

He returned to his normal voice. "Yes, Cheren is going. Does that change your mind?"

"When are you guys leaving?" I asked.

"In two days."

I looked Black in the eyes. "Okay… count me in."

A/N: So the other day when I restarted my White game, I was struck with an idea: what if Bianca's father never let her go on a Pokémon journey? I started writing and before I knew it, the first chapter was born! More ideas for the rest of the story popped into my head and have been nagging me ever since. I'm not sure yet if I should keep going with it, so if you guys are interested in reading more let me know!

Also, the title is temporary until I think of something better. If you guys have any suggestions, feel free to share!

Thanks for reading, everyone!