Welcome to chapter one of my new storylocke!
For those who don't know, the Nuzlocke challenge is a "hard-mode" of Pokemon where you play the game using three basic rules:
1) If your pokemon faints, it's dead and you have to box it or release it.
2) You can only catch the first pokemon you see on each route. If you accidentally faint it or it's one you don't want, tough luck.
3) Nickname all your pokemon.
It makes the game a lot harder and, in my opinion, a lot more fun. It also has the side effect of making you get more attached to your pokemon, and then being sad when you inevitably get them killed. :c
Anyway, people often make comics or write stories based on their Nuzlockes. Comics are more common, but I couldn't draw to save my life, so mine's going to be a story! I put a lot of thought into the backstory, so hopefully I can see it through to the end. :)
The sun rises pale and yellow over Pallet Town, casting insubstantial light between the houses. The settlement is small, little more than a huddle of worn-out buildings with dirt paths winding inbetween, and at this early hour, the town sleeps.
Well, nearly.
In one of the oldest buildings in Pallet, a boy lies awake and stares at the wall.
And under the shadow of the trees that hedge in the town, a girl makes an exchange.
"You do realize you're late, don't you?" she asks, as a tall figure makes his way toward her.
He scowls. "I often am. Lucky for you, you won't have to deal with me much longer."
A disconcerted blink. An unconscious flickering of her fingers towards her scarf. "How so?"
"You're being reassigned. The Rockets don't need anyone undercover in this backwater slum any longer," he says. She notices for the first time that he's carrying nothing with him.
Her cornflower-blue eyes pique with interest. "Where are they sending me, then? Vermilion? Celadon?"
His mouth twitches into a smirk. "Pewter."
Her face freezes. "The Mt. Moon operation?"
"The one and only." He's unable to hold back a grin.
She groans and slumps against the nearest tree. "What have I ever done to them?"
"And here I thought you were desperate to get away from Pallet. Make up your mind." He rolls his eyes and detaches a pokeball from his belt. "Here, I have something for you. You'll need a pokemon to get through all the way to Pewter."
"And you can't just give me a ride?" she deadpans. "I know for a fact that you have a pidgeotto."
He makes a face. "You know very well how illegal that is, Kira Sato. One rider on the back of a pidgeotto could stay hidden, but two? Do you have a death wish?"
"Not like you're one to abide by the laws or anything, Mr. Criminal Organization," Kira grumbles, taking the pokeball from his hand. "What kind is it?"
"A simple 'thank you' will suffice."
"Yes, thank you, Pine, I am eternally grateful, the fact you're making me walk through a bug-infested forest notwithstanding." She holds up the pokeball and squints at it, as if doing so will allow her to see through the polished red-and-white exterior to the pokemon within.
"It's a pikachu. Now are you going to thank me? I could have given you a rattata." He gives another self-satisfied smirk as her eyes widen, darting up to meet his.
Several long moments pass; Pine sighs. "Didn't think so. Grab your stuff and let's go."
Kira scoffs. "Surely they didn't reassign you?"
He counters her question with a question. "Surely friends are allowed to walk friends to the edges of bug-infested forests?"
Her fingers twitch ineffectually against her jeans. "Very funny, Pine. No, I've got some business to take care of first. I'll stop by your place before I tackle Viridian, alright?"
Pine smiles, genuinely this time. "Alright."
Kira, scowling, remembers the packages she was meant to deliver to him in the first place. "And take this pile of crap. I didn't scrape it up for nothing."
Red Tendler is leaving home.
Leaving, he thinks. He doesn't like the shape of the word.
He stares at the plain white wall for what feels like eternities, trying to decide whether or not the emerging patterns are the product of a sleep-deprived mind. In reality, it's probably only been a few hours when he finally rolls off the mattress and begins getting ready for the big day. Their house is just one room, so he has to take care not to wake his brother, with whom he shares a bed, or his mother, lying a few feet away. They've improved it since it was first built - put in a proper floor, for example, and built an oven and cupboards for the kitchen - but it's still primitive, even by recent standards. Red bustles about, pulling on his clothes, and has just finished putting on his fingerless black gloves when he feels a pair of eyes boring into him.
Gold.
Red sighs, swivels, and faces his brother.
The nine-year-old's eyes are narrowed. He's got a ferocious case of bedhead; the thick black hair, much like Red's own, is mussed so badly he looks like a porcupine. He is most definitely not happy.
"I'm not going to explain myself again, Gold," Red says quietly, when the boy remains silent. "You know it's for the good of everyone."
It's just as hard for me as it is for you, can't you see that?
Gold says nothing. Red can't blame him.
He finally turns his back on the glaring child and fetches the family growlithe, Greta, to warm the oven. At first he's hesitant to wake her, because she looks so adorable, curled on her pile of rags at the foot of his mother's bed. Her three pups, by now old enough to be weaned, have flopped over each other until they're an almost indistinguishable cloud of orange and cream fluff. He still thinks they're lucky to have been able to breed her. After a moment, though, he shakes away his fondness and rouses the sleeping growlithe. They're about to get started on one last breakfast when he hears a tentative knock at the door. Red opens it carefully, eyes widening when it reveals a tall young brunette. "Daisy!" he exclaims as she sweeps past them and into the cramped kitchen. "What brings you here?"
She smiles, already opening the cupboards to peer inside. "I said I'd look after them when you were gone, right?"
"I'm not gone yet," he protests as she pulls down pots and pans, examining a pidgey egg with a critical eye. At 19, Daisy Oak is 5 years older than he is. Her family and the Tendlers have always been close - how could they not be, after what they've gone through together? With all the support she, Blue, and their grandfather have given him, he'll always be grateful. Hell, he loves them almost as much as his mother and Gold. But barging into his house at six a.m. to make eggs doesn't exactly qualify as "support".
"Oh, relax. It's your big day. And you know my eggs are better than yours," she adds playfully.
"They are not," he says, eyeing the skillet as though he's going to snatch it right out of her hands.
"I think you both make wonderful eggs. Why don't you work together?"
Red spins around, something akin to panic in his voice. "Mom! When did you wake up? Were we too loud?"
His mother is watching them from bed - sitting up, but leaning heavily against the wall. Her face is thin and drawn, lines too many for a woman so young, and the shadows under her eyes too deep. Though her facial structure may differ from those of her sons, the family resemblance is clear through her black hair, pulled into a wispy ponytail. "I've been awake long enough to hear your fighting, at least," she replies, cracking a smile at her son's worries. "Quite unnecessary, I might add."
"Sorry, Aunt Lina," Daisy says sheepishly. "Give me a hand, Red?"
All the fight goes out of him like a breath of air. "Yeah, alright. I'll get started on the toast."
No one misses young Gold getting up to slip out the front door, nor does anyone say a word, and soon the smell of cooking permeates the room.
Kira has a perfect opportunity.
She returns to the house she shares with Johann, a quiet twenty-something who spends her spare time locked inside with books and parchment. Kira has little respect for her and, despite sharing a home with her for a year, hardly knows her. While Johann is as much of a shut-in as her circumstances will allow her to be, Kira is like a cat: ranging far from the house by day, sometimes not returning until the sun has nearly risen, sometimes catching up on lost sleep at noon, and generally doing whatever she wants. No, her year in Pallet has not exactly lent itself to making friends, though God knows that boy Red tried. Funny that they should be leaving on the same day. She's known for a while that he'd determined to strike out this morning, even planned to attend his little going-away party. Keep up appearances. But the news that she, too, is leaving Pallet behind has afforded her a much better option.
Johann is still asleep when Kira comes in, and she packs quickly and efficiently: clothes, a sleeping roll, first aid, her stash of coins and as much food as she can carry. With any luck, no one will notice her absence until she's long gone, and then she'll fade again into the ranks of Team Rocket. Everyone from backwards little Pallet Town will forget her soon enough.
When most of the Pallet, including Professor Oak, has woken and is congregating around the Tendler home, Kira hikes into the nearby trees. It's been ages since she's had a pokemon for good. After rolling the pokeball around in her hand for a moment, she sighs to herself, presses the release button, and watches the shapeless red light form into a pikachu.
The pokemon twitches its little nose, then its tail. It looks around and sees Kira, and its rodentlike face twists into a decidedly sour expression.
"Oh, great," it - she - sniffs. Kira can hear the feminine tone in its voice, overlain against its noncommittal squeak. "Another one?"
Kira narrows her eyes. "Not a great way to start off with your new trainer."
The pikachu jumps, obviously not expecting a direct address. Her eyes narrow in return. "Oh, great. One of those pokevoice ones? At least with normal trainers you can pretend not to understand."
Clearly, Pine has done her no favors. He has given her a pikachu with a severe discipline issue, and she makes a mental note to throttle him later. She grits her teeth and says, "Rat, I'm not sure you understand. I am your trainer and you will show me respect."
The pikachu bristles. "Rat?! I'm not a freaken' rat! Call me mouse! Or pika! But not rat!"
"I think you missed the point," Kira growls. "It was supposed to be an insult. But fine. What's are you called?"
"...Fizz," the electric mouse says eventually.
"What kind of a name is that?" She thinks she'll stick to calling out "Pikachu" in battle.
"My kind," Fizz answers, lifting her chin.
"Mine is Kira, and you're going to help me steal a pokedex. No problems with that?" When there is no reply but a disconcerted blink, Kira sweeps on. "Good."
"I have no idea what a pokedex is, but sure. Fine. Not like I have a choice." Fizz bounds ahead a few paces, then glances back at Kira with a questioning twitch of her ear. Kira allows herself, for a moment, to smirk, and then takes the lead, shoving branches out of her way as she goes. They make their way up the hill, breaking out of the heavy brush once they reach the summit. Kira emerges into the open; they've come out directly behind the long, low building everyone knows as Professor Oak's lab. From here, she can see down into Pallet. She can pick apart the clusters of buildings, built seemingly with little to no planning, and the paths between them, and the gathering at the foot of the village, and the dusty track into Route One. Smoke rises into the air from the small congregation of people; a faint breeze ruffles Kira's hair.
"Where are we?" the pikachu wants to know. She looks unimpressed, and Kira can't blame her.
"Pallet Town," she responds. "We're breaking into this building here."
Fizz rocks back on her haunches and sniffs the air. "How?"
"Follow me." Kira swiped a key from Professor Oak a long time ago; old man probably figured he lost it. He had two, so it was no big deal. Funny that his lab should be the only thing in Pallet worth locking and he'd let an experienced thief walk away with the key.
"That's your big plan?" Fizz deadpans as Kira fits the key into the doorknob. "Wow. Expert work there."
"It is, but you wouldn't know," Kira retorts, shooting her pokemon an acidic glare. "Only amateurs break windows."
Fizz scoffs as they walk slowly down the unlit halls. The metal floors glint coldly; Oak spared no expense building it, wouldn't want his life's work burning down. The fool trusted her with his research, always got a mad gleam in his eye when he told her of his latest breakthrough. News was that the pokedex was complete and only needed someone to fill in the data. "The first handheld working computer in years," he raved.
She turns into the main room, Fizz slinking warily after. A bulky computer rests atop a metal desk strewn with papers. Cabinets line the walls, shelves hanging open, spare parts littering the floor - it's the picture of disarray. Kira moves across the room and pulls open the desk compartment, reaching out for the sleek surface of the -
It's not there.
The drawer is empty but for a scattering of discarded screws.
"So does 'pokedex' mean 'pile of junk'?" Fizz inquires dryly, jumping up to the desk and thereby dislodging half a ton of loose papers.
"Shut up," Kira hisses. It was there, that's where he keeps it, she's seen it a dozen times. Unless...
Echoing down the hallway comes the sound of an opening door. Voices follow: one young, one old, both male. Voices she knows.
Kira curses. "Come on, Fizz, let's get out the window - " Fizz moves toward her and a dozen more research papers flutter to the floor. The dry rasping of their pages sounds like thunder and she curses again, loudly. The footsteps pick up - she fumbles with the shades - the window relents with a screech and Kira vaults through it, rolling down the hill one banged knee at a time. Fizz bounds down the slope after her, howling with laughter.
Kira grabs the pikachu by the tail and yanks her into the cover of the bushes. "Not. Funny," she bites out, as two familiar faces appear wide-eyed in the windowframe.
By the time Pallet Town has warmed in the sun's rays, most of the population is gravitating to the Tendler home. Daisy has to shoo people back out the door when they start crowding; Red just focuses on the toast. By the time he's served his mother breakfast in bed - toast and scrambled eggs with her favorite homemade jam - there's no holding them back. Not that Red minds - he's known most of them his entire life. They're his friends, and there's no way he'd leave Pallet Town without saying goodbye. Blue received a similar gesture when he left a year ago.
Red stayed behind then. It was a lonely year without his lifelong best friend, but now Blue's help isn't enough. Now they're going to need Red's as well.
Daisy lays a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want me to go get Gold?" she asks sympathetically. "He hasn't come back yet."
Red's reply is a noncommittal, "The eggs will get cold," but Daisy nods as if he's agreed, and slips through the knot of people into the morning outside.
What follows is an indistinguishable stream of hugs and good-luck wishes. Some have even brought gifts - bundles of food to keep him healthy on the way, a pair of good thick socks, a more sentimental item from Daisy, when she finally returns tugging a surly Gold behind her (it's a wooden bracelet she made to remind him of home). At first it makes him feel warm and fuzzy, appreciated, a valuable member of the community. But as it goes on, he begins to wish they wouldn't make such a big deal of it. Their tight embraces and familiar smiles just remind him of what he'll be leaving behind, and God knows when he'll be able to come back.
Eventually, Professor Oak pushes through the crowd and says that he, too, has a parting gift. Red doesn't expect anything particularly special - the old man doesn't "do" emotional - but when he reveals his present, Red's breath catches in his throat.
It's the finished Pokedex, all sharp edges and gleaming crimson. "No - I couldn't take it - you know that - " Red stammers out.
"Red, the Pokedex is complete now, you know that," Professor Oak says, smiling. He slides it into Red's hands, and the boy blinks uncomprehendingly. "All it needs is for someone to fill up its pages, so to speak. And if there's anyone I can trust to do it, it's you."
Murmurs of assent rise from the surrounding guests. Red, still blindsided, lifts the Pokedex to his eyes like he's never seen it before. He smiles, trying to shake off a warm rush of emotion. "Thank you, Professor. I'll do it, I promise."
Oak's face splits into a genuine grin. "Come with me, Red, there are a few things I need to give you that I left up in the lab. And we couldn't bore the good people of Pallet with technical instructions, eh?"
"'Course not," says Red, grateful for the excuse to get away. He glances swiftly at his mother, but Lina nods, real pride shining in her golden eyes. A sudden lump forms in Red's throat and he turns away, hurrying through the crowd after the Professor.
Oak is mostly quiet as they hike up the path toward his lab. Red, fidgeting with the buttons of his jacket, almost wishes the old man would speak. He's spent so long preparing, and now everything won't stop dragging on. Pallet Town, his hometown and cradle, becomes a snare from which to escape before it snags him with thorns and drags him into an embrace he'll never be able to leave.
When they finally reach the lab, Professor Oak unlocks the door and turns back to Red. "I have some supplies for you, and I should really teach you how to operate the pokedex better."
Red perks up. "Supplies? Really?"
"I have a few pokeballs to spare," Oak states, smiling. Red's eyes widen, only for him to freeze as he hears a loud shuffling from deeper in the lab.
"Professor?" he says uncertainly. "You didn't leave a pokemon in here, did you...?"
The look on the Professor's face says it all. Red takes off down the hallway like a shot. Who is it? A Rocket? How'd they get in? What do they want? What did they take? Ravaged villages, bleeding bodies - someone curses loudly, there's the screech of obstinate glass and he swerves around the corner just in time to see a jagged yellow tail flash out the window. His fingers slam onto the windowsill, curving around it like claws. Someone is rolling down the hill and disappearing into the brush, yanking their pikachu after them. He breathes heavily. Tooth. He needs his growlithe, Tooth. He starts to launch himself after them - a heavy hand drops onto his shoulder.
"They're gone, Red."
"But - " Red's ragged breathing won't allow him to say any more.
"They won't attack anyone, they fled too quickly for that." The Professor starts examining his cabinets. "Strange... they don't seem to have taken anything."
"But - " Red repeats, tearing his gaze away from the bushes. "We can't just let them - how did they get in?"
"Criminals have their ways." Oak smiles tersely. "Did you see any details? Anything you could report to the League?"
Red takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches his fist, forces his racing nerves to calm. "...Yes. They had a pikachu. And... they couldn't have been much older than me. About my size at least."
"A pikachu? They'll be easy to find with a rare pokemon like that." Oak eases the window shut and casts his gaze around the room. "Now help me clean up in here, won't you?"
The Professor is far too calm. Probably crushing his worry for Red's sake, which is patronizing and terrible, but Red can't make his last conversation with the old man an argument. Red wasn't overreacting; Red didn't need a calming influence. Red was going to track down the intruder and keep everyone safe. Does the Professor think himself invincible? Sure, shady people aren't rare around here, what with the Pokedex and all, but...
"Yeah. Okay."
They return to Red's home in silence. Red tries dutifully to shove the intruder to the back of his mind. He picks up his bag, stashed with everything he's spent a week packing, plus the small collection of pokeballs and potions and antidotes the Professor insisted on giving him. Most of the town has waited, ready to see him off. After they've finished their goodbyes and good-lucks, he hugs his mother and she hugs back, her fingers shivering as they clutch tightly at the curve of his spine.
"You sure you'll be okay?" she asks.
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"Write often."
"As soon as I get a bird!" he promises.
He says his goodbyes to Daisy and the Professor.
"You will look after them?" He's triple-checking.
"You know I will. And don't forget to write us, too, okay?"
"I won't."
The Professor pats him on the shoulder. "Best of luck, Red."
"Same to you."
He turns, clenching the strap of his backpack. "Goodbye, Gold!"
Gold is crouching down by Greta and her puppies. He refuses to look at Red. "Say goodbye," their mother hisses, and so Gold looks up and mutters a quick, "Bye," but Red can tell that's all he's getting out of him. Red walks over and tousles Greta's ears one last time, and then he turns to her puppies. There are three - Gold's growlithe Hyro, a little female known as Pecha, and the one Red has trained from birth, the one who will be at his side on this new journey.
"Come on, Tooth," says Red, patting his knee. The little growlithe's ears perk up and he races to his trainer's side.
Everyone waves as he starts up the dusty track out of Pallet. Red waves back, and then he turns and runs into the rising sun.
This chapter ended up being a lot longer than my regular fare! I guess that happens when you have to explain the start of two journeys, rather than one.
A few notes on the story: originally, it was only going to be about Kira, showing what it's like to be a Rocket, but I still needed someone for the rival battles, and Red grew on me more and more. At this point their parts in the story are probably going to be equal. And I know Red is usually the one with a pikachu, but I planned the whole thing out with Kira as the one who has my team from the Nuzlocke. Red's team is going to be a modified version of the rival's team in Pokemon Yellow.
And you may have noticed that this doesn't seem to be the standard Pokemon world. Everything is a lot more low-tech, and we'll see the reasons why eventually.
I'm trying to work on this story every day, but it's finals week, so it might be a while before the next chapter. If you enjoyed it, sit tight! :)