It was a cold, dark, night. Two trainers, aged 12 and 14 respectively, were walking down the road, their Pokémon alongside them.

The older trainer looked at the younger one. "Come on, we're almost there." The teenage boy said to him, "Just a few more blocks away." The fourteen-year old teenager had sleek black hair. His black eyes gleamed in the moonlight. He was wearing a wooly jacket, with a plain black shirt underneath. He had long black pants and brown shoes. He was wearing a brown hat as well.

"As if." The younger trainer replied. "You said that half an hour ago!" The young trainer had slightly messy light brown hair, with matching eyes as well. He was wearing a handsome looking uniform. It was a long-sleeved white blouse with a black vest over it. He was also wearing striped brown pants with a tight belt, and dark grey shoes. "And these clothes are uncomfortable!"

"Dude, we were attending a party!" The older trainer said. "You gotta wear good clothes for that kind of event!"

"That doesn't mean that I have to wear these stupid clothes!" The other complained, tugging at his tight belt. "These things are tight! You're just trying to get the girls!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"Did not!"

"Did!"

"DID NOT!"

"DID!"

As the two trainers keep on bickering, the Pokémon alongside them only sighed.

Several minutes later, they had reached an apartment. It had nice cream-colored outer walls and a large oak door. The older trainer entered in without knocking and went straight for a desk. A blonde-haired woman wearing a fancy red blazer with a white undercoat was behind the desk. "Good evening, Jonathan." The woman greeted him. "You must be here for your room keys."

The older trainer, named Jonathan, nodded. The woman then opened a drawer at her desk, took a silver key with the number '302' carved onto it, and handed it to him. Jonathan thanked her, and along with the younger trainer, walked up the stairs. "Have a nice night!" The woman called after them.

After some time, the two trainers had finally reached the floor they were looking for. They headed towards a door that had a bronze label on it, reading '302'. Jonathan placed his key inside the lock. He turned it, and with a click he opened the door, sighing as he walked in. The younger trainer looked around at his room.

It was very tidy and well furnished. It was also very clean, not a speck of dust in sight! It had everything a small but simple apartment would normally have. There was a large bed, a wooden desk with some books on it, a wardrobe, a mini-fridge, a small table along with two armchairs, and an elegant-looking lamp in the corner. There was also a TV mounted on the wall. The bathroom is just as well furnished as the main room.

"Nice place." The younger trainer said, looking at a painting of the Sinnoh region champion, Cynthia, along with one of her Pokémon, a Garchomp, standing beside her.

Jonathan smiled at him. "Why thank you, Sam." The younger trainer, named Sam, smiled back. "Now, let's get some sleep, shall we?"

The two of them got into a pair of pajamas, and got onto bed. But Sam suddenly remembers something. "Hey, what about them?" He asked Jonathan, pointing at the four Pokémon in front of them. "Shouldn't we... call them back into our pokéballs?"

Jonathan looked at the Pokémon, who seem to not like the idea of being inside their pokéballs. "Nah, we'll let them out for once." He said to Sam. "None of them can fly, and they can't even open the balcony door! We keep the big ones inside their pokéballs 'cause they... well, they don't fit in this tiny room."

Sam agreed, although he noticed the cross faces of the Pokémon when Jonathan had said that they can't even open the balcony door. "Um.. yeah, sure. But you do know that Pokémon can't just be underestimated like that, right? They could jump up and reach the handle, bust through the glass, or –"

"Dude." Jonathan groaned in annoyance. "They're just Pokémon, not humans. So just relax and go to sleep, okay?" With that being said, he rolled over in his bed, and tucked in for the night. Sam just stared at him, then at the Pokémon. They seem pretty stoic, Sam thought, so I guess that's a good sign... maybe? Sam just tossed and turned in his bed uncomfortably, feeling the eyes of his and Jonathan's Pokémon watching him, and finally went to sleep.

After Sam had dozed off, the four Pokémon decided to sleep to. So they found a nice place to sleep, curled up, and went to bed...

...

But that wasn't the end!

There was a notepad and a pen on the desk. Strangely, the pen started glowing a soft blue. Then it began to levitate in the air, and started scribbling on the notepad. It read:

"Another stupid party. Just great. Not sure why Sam likes them. Probably 'cause he didn't. Well anyway, this is about to get interesting."

"My name is Keith. No surname. And what you're about to read here is a short autobiography of me; so if you don't like it, then you can just forget about it. I'll probably do this again some other time, make it a 'live autobiography', he he he. And in case you're wondering, I'm writting this right now, fully aware of my actions, and totally not writting this subconsciously in my sleep using Psychic."

"I'm only writting this to get some things off my chest. I never saw my parents. Alive, that is. The first time I ever saw them was in a black market stall. Apparently, Vulpix fur is rather pricey. Of course I burned the man at the stall, although I wish that I hadn't sparked an angry mob trying to kill me. They were the guy's buddies. My parents' killer was still alive, his face slightly burnt, and led the chase after me. I managed to run all the way to the river. But then, I slipped. And being a fire-type, a cold, rapid-moving river... isn't exactly the kind of place you want to fall into."

"But I was lucky. Downstream, there was an Azumarill, sleeping underwater. Thanks to his sharp hearing, he heard my screaming – well, more like panicked gargling – underwater. He managed to rescue me and brought me to dry land. He raised me surprisingly well. I didn't expect a male Azumarill to be my guardian angel. But there he was, raising me and helped me get on with life. He helped me forget my parents' death and move on. He taught me how to battle, how to scavenge for food, how to handle rough terrain, and even helped me get used to water. Basically: I can swim."

"Some four or five years later, we came across a trainer, with some fairly strong Pokémon. He wanted to catch my Azumarill buddy, but I didn't let him. So he sent out a Buizel, in order to get the odds on his side. Being a water-type, I didn't handle that battle very well. I had – regrettably – been caught by him. My Azumarill friend tried to run, but then my trainer sent another Pokémon after him. He had sent out a Leafeon, which completely wrecked my Azumarill buddy, and caught him as well. At least we were caught together, and still together to this day."

"I'd say that wraps up my boring backstory, and much more to come at... well, I don't know. This autobiography is still in the making. Maybe my life will be just as dull as my past, or take a turn for another adventure..."

The soft, blue glow on the pen faded away, and it dropped back onto the desk...