Friendly Fire

Prologue

Night has settled in the Viridian Forest in the country of Kanto, where I will tell you a story about the world of humans and these creatures called "Pokémon." These mysterious creatures have befriended human beings for years. Physically, Pokémon communicate with Pokémon, and humans communicate with humans. One species cannot verbally speak to the other. However, humans who own Pokémon are called "Trainers," and even with this missing link of communication, these two species best share a traditional bond of valor and love. A human first captures Pokémon to use them in battle, and these Pokémon obey the trainers occasionally to battle other trainers or to cross obstacles that seem impossible to humans alone. I should know, for I have once belonged to a Trainer.

I am one of the participants in the Viridian Summer Camp, an annual event where we supervise younger Pokémon, and only Pokémon, in various outdoor activities. The campfire blazes, and the gathered species; Rattata, Caterpie, Pidgey, and Ekans, have finished toasting their berries, the food we most commonly eat.

The snake-like Pokémon, Ekans, with its purple scaly skin and its yellow spots; practically the only appearance that separates this character from the darkness, slithers some advice, "Before we go to our tents, why don't we tell s-s-scary s-s-stories?"

"Yes, let's try to scare each other until the sun breaks out!" giggles the common grass rat Pokémon, Rattata.

"Don't make it too scary. I don't want to stay awake all night from a m-monster..." shudders the innocent caterpillar Pokémon, Caterpie.

Rattata sharply teases, "Oh, no. We really don't want to scare off of our little friend here."

"I'm not scared! I just don't want it to be too scary, that's all."

"Leave him alone, you mean rat," says the common pigeon Pokémon Pidgey. "Besides, I remember how a little scaredy-rat ran past three towns all because of a 'ghost.'" The rat grows more timid on the inside than the caterpillar, yet he wants to strike physically to prove him wrong.

"Take it easy, guys," commands Charmeleon, sitting on a nearby log. Charmeleon is an amazing leader. A dark ring inserted into his red-orange lizard wrist acted like his iron fist, for almost no one rejects his orders. The tough yet reasonable voice emanating from his throat supports his birth mark's purpose. He has a unique scar across his right eye that looked like a turtle's paw. That fire burning on the end of his tail expresses his life force, and as long as the light is small yet hot, he's in a good mood. "To answer Ekans' question, I happen to know someone who has a great story to share with you children. It's not exactly a ghost story, but it's something worth listening to." With the support of his two feet, his body straightens and his head turns towards me. His voice rises as if calling someone, "Isn't that right Wartortle?"

That was my cue. I had no idea the lizard would bring this up, but this seemed like an appropriate time to relive my past. On one hand, the children gathered here may be young enough to understand my past. On the other, they may be too young to even comprehend the experience. I uncross my arms and walk closer to the bright, dancing campfire, with my thick, white tail following my shell. I am a dark blue turtle–like biped. A circular mark on the top left corner of my belly darkened the natural yellow color. I joined Charmeleon sitting on his log and began my story.