PROLOGUE: NUZLOCKE
The black haired youth sat on the roof of his house with the night breeze blowing over him quietly. Off in the distance he heard the distinct cry of a zubat as it swooped down and snatched up a caterpie. Must have been newly hatched, he thought to himself, otherwise there should have been sounds of a struggle. Probably didn't know how to utilize the glands in its cheeks for web production. He smiled and looked over at his neighbor's house as he idly wondered how many caterpies it would take to string shot the entire building.
The night became quiet once again until the only noise was that of the televisions in the homes below. The ten year old boy chuckled softly as the broadcast began detailing its coverage of Lavender Town. How appropriate, he thought. A town known for its ghost pokémon while my little town seems dead. Which we might as well be if we ever go to war with Johto again.
It was because of that war, and those memories, that every television, in not only that little town but the whole Kanto region, was tuned to the same channel. Celadon Central News. There was only one program being aired tonight, and the current Pokémon League Champion Lance held the focus of Kanto as he read off the names and fates of new trainers during the Pokémon Trainer Draft Lottery.
It had been just over ten years since the war fully ended, but that did not mean they wanted to be caught without a ready supply of soldiers or weapons. They had both of those in the forms of trainers and pokémon, but the unfortunate need of the draft came in the manner that during the war poké balls became scarce. Production almost stopped completely when raw materials started becoming harder and harder to find.
To this end General Nuzlocke instituted a rationing system. Beginning trainers still abided by this rationing system which decided with what pokémon and how many poké balls they started. Due to overpopulation and migration patterns, caterpies, pidgeys, rattatas, and weedles became the most common starter pokémon given out to newest trainers. Rounding out the random choices that were given out during the Pokémon Trainer Draft Lottery were bellsprout, krabby, nidoran, oddish, paras, and spearow.
The dreaded Rationing Grade 1 gave you a pokémon and a boot out the door. This accounted for fifty percent of the trainer draft lottery. Most trainers just quit at that point and prayed war never came. They kept their pokémon as a pet since it was registered to them, and stayed in school before settling into the workforce. Very rare was the trainer who would set off to take on a gym leader with a single pokémon. They still had to attempt it though or face imprisonment. The entire purpose of the Trainer Draft Lottery was to turn every citizen into a competent soldier or have them die trying. Be that as it may, once they arrived at their first gym they typically forfeited the match.
Rationing Grade 2 at least gave you a fighting chance with a pokémon and one poké ball before sending you off into the wild. About thirty-five percent of the lottery capsules fell into this category. The coveted Rationing Grade 3 though gave you two poké balls to start with besides your pokémon, and only ten percent of trainers were lucky enough to be drafted as such. Nonetheless, additional poké balls could be requisitioned by proving your training and defeating gym leaders. One additional poké ball for every gym badge obtained. Rationing Grade 4 however was something of an experiment in progress which is why it only accounted for four percent of trainers.
Depending on how you looked at it, those lucky or unlucky enough to be drafted into Rationing Grade 4 were part of the Pokédex Program. This meant that they were given a chance at an uncommon starter pokémon, usually a bulbasaur, charmander, or squirtle, and it gave them access to job fields normally not available to others. By being part of the Pokédex program and collecting data, these trainers may one day go on to work as researchers themselves. However, they would be given only a single poké ball between destinations and none upon defeating gym leaders. Also, the trainers themselves were not in charge of the poké balls. A research assistant from a local lab or pokémon center would be along with the trainer and his or her pokédex. This was to ensure that the trainer caught a variety of pokémon to help with the research gathering. Therefore, it was up to the local assistant what was caught and not the trainer.
His black eyes twinkled in the starlight as a loud laugh echoed throughout the night. That last stipulation was in place because nobody wanted a repeat of the Second Lieutenant Joey "Ratfink" Valdemoza incident. Still, he would have loved to have seen their faces when a single lieutenant tried to justify the use of over one hundred poké balls on rattatas for "PROJECT CODENAME: TOP PERCENTAGE RATTATA".
He saw several curtains twitch aside as people peered out to see who was laughing in the silence. From below he heard his mother moving through the house. "Sweetie! They are about to start with Pallet Town! You need to get in here!" There really was no need since he could hear the TV just fine, but he could not outright ignore his mother. They had no other family. His father left the moment he found out she had been pregnant with him, and everyone else his mother had been related to had died in the war.
Sighing quietly as he slid through the window, the thin child made his way inside and back downstairs. It was a small, tidy, and somewhat simple home, but it was theirs. After all of her family had died, she took what little money the Kanto government had paid out as recompense and bought this place. She had set up her own housekeeping business to make ends meet and never looked back. Now his mother was twenty-six years old and chewing her nails furiously while pacing in front of the broadcast image of the Pokémon League Champion.
"And with that we come to Pallet Town."
The words seemed to echo loudly, like they were booming with the force of a thousand hyper beams. He could not be sure, but he swore it sounded as if the leader of the Elite Four's voice had taken on a cold and malicious quality. So this is what it feels like when a krabby gets your heart in a vicegrip, he thought to himself. He looked to his mother, wanting for just a moment the smallest bit of comfort before his life was forever altered, only to find her sprawled on the floor. "MOM!" he cried out as he rushed over to check on her. "Mom are you ok?" She was sobbing silently while her son cradled his only parent.
"I would like, if I may," the Champion said with no hint, or need, of asking in his voice at all, "to do something a little different now." Lance smiled at the camera as he stepped away from the lottery rollers. He handed a nearby assistant what could only be the registration card of the wide eyed youth watching at home. "They can wait," the leader of the Elite Four muttered, "while we talk about people who actually matter." The people in the background seemed absolutely shocked and at a loss for words, this had never happened before, but nobody in their right mind was going to tell this man to stop. Sure there were governments, militaries, and even criminal organizations out there that had more temporal power than the Pokémon League, but who was going to argue with a man that carried the most powerful dragons in the region in his pockets? "Instead, I want to go out of order for a moment and welcome the newest Rationing Grade 5 Pokémon Trainer. Katama Oak."
The boy's head whipped around furiously. He figured on Katama's grandfather buying his grandson's way into Rationing Grade 5, hell that was the only way to get in, but to be brushed aside so carelessly when he himself was the only other trainer from Pallet Town this time was infuriating! This announcement could have waited sixty seconds while Lance drew out a capsule determining his rationing grade and then his pokémon, but instead his entire life had to be put on hold so somebody else could pad that arrogant little nutsack's ego!
"As we are all aware," Lance intoned, "Grade 5 is the pinnacle of the Pokédex Program. It rewards the trainer according to the amount of research they conduct, and therefore can provide them with a constant supply of poké balls as long as they remain diligent. I can think of no other trainer who is better prepared for this task than the grandson of our own marvelous Professor Oak. May he brighten our lives an-"
"Oh who gives a rattata's ass," he mumbled as he helped his mother to her feet. He refused to let his neighbor get the better of him. It just was not worth wasting the energy on him right now. They moved to the couch and sat down to continue watching the broadcast. "You shouldn't say things like that," his mother whispered halfheartedly before hugging him tightly. He made a noncommittal noise and just curled up there to wait for his fate.
It went on for about another thirty seconds of gushing before the master dragon trainer reached into a smaller lottery roller on a nearby desk meant specifically for Grades 4 and 5 and grabbed a capsule. Rationing Grade 5 was the final one percent in the equation of trainers. The ones who sat on top of the whole pyramid and hoarded everything that trickled down to the rest of society. As the capsule broke open and spilled out a small figurine, the young boy could barely restrain himself from leaping forward to get a better view as it fell to the desk. It kept falling and falling, twisting and turning in the air, finally hitting the wood and bouncing once, twice, and then a third time before rolling over a few times and finally coming to a halt with the camera zooming in on it.
A charmander.
Katama "I'm A Dirty Nutsack" Oak got a damn charmander on top of buying his way into Rationing Grade 5 and being immune to active duty if the country ever went to war! Before his jaw had finished dropping he could hear his neighbor screaming and he knew it would not be long before the gloating would start. Leave it to the spoiled little rich kid to be given the favorite pokémon of the guy he most loved to piss off.
"Congratulations, Katama," the Champion said with a chuckle. "I expect to see you on the Indigo Plateau. Now though we have one more trainer in Pallet Town to deal with." Crossing back over to the larger lottery rollers, Lance held up a registration card and squinted at the name printed on it. "Lagurki? Lackigur? La-ki-gr? Oh is that how you say it? Huh? Sounds kinda Johtonese to me," he said with a smirk on his face as he snapped open a capsule.
Lakigr felt like he had been kicked in the teeth. First he had to sit and endure the humiliation of him not mattering enough for them to stay on schedule. Then he had to sit and listen to this guy stroke Katama's ego over the airways. Now he was being so casually and callously attacked by the single most powerful trainer in front of the entire Kanto populace. For all that he tried to act tough for his mother, never in his life had he ever felt smaller and more vulnerable than that moment when she hugged him tightly. Try as he might he was still only ten years old, and the tears began pouring down his face. Before he could even open his mouth, his mother's finger pressed against his lips prevented him from speaking. "Nothing," she said quietly, "you have done nothing wrong. Some people just love inflicting misery and pain."
"Anyways," that smug tone called out breaking through his mother's soothing voice, "Lakigr Leaf Rationing Grade..." Lance needed to pause to look down at the paper in his hand, and he blinked for a moment before his face melted into a neutral mask of indifference. "4. How lucky for Pallet Town. Both of their trainers will be part of the Pokédex Program." There was an obvious tension in the master trainer's steps as he crossed back to the desk with the smaller lottery roller and reached inside. This time there was no grandstanding, no speeches, or anything else to waste time. The capsule was chosen, cracked open, and laid upon the table with a squirtle in full view of the camera.
Whatever was said next in the broadcast was lost as both mother and son leapt screaming around the room in pure joy. He did not know exactly why the Grand Champion seemed to be targeting him, but none of that mattered anymore. He was part of the Pokédex Program. He, Lakigr Leaf, would be given a poké ball at each major destination around Kanto. And above all else there was the crowning achievement of Rationing Grade 4. The possibility of being promoted into the ranks of Pokémon Researchers and being immune to the draft should war ever come. It was going to take a lot of hard work, dedication, and research with his pokémon companion to get there, but he was sure that with the squirtle by his side he would have no problems.
The young trainer stopped jumping and screaming so that he could collect his thoughts for a moment. A squirtle! Not a fast evolving bug pokémon like a caterpie or weedle, or a well-rounded pokémon like a pidgey or rattata. But a tank with a water cannon! It sure was no fire lizard, but with this sea turtle he would master the waves and drown the competition. With that thought in mind Lakigr's eyes lit up and he quickly ran to the back door. Sure enough he saw Katama being informed of the latest news by his older sister in their yard. It was only a matter of seconds before they went inside and the exterior of the neighbor's house was dark and quiet again. The Grade 4 trainer could not help but laugh at the fact that the moment a real challenge presented itself the Grade 5 trainer would not even bother trying to face it.
The lack of noise from the front of the house immediately told him that the night was officially over. "All right now," his mother said, "you're going to need lots of sleep before setting out on your own. So hop to it." She started herding him towards the stairs like a tauros in a corral with nowhere to go. He wanted to argue with her, but knew it was no use. After tomorrow there was no telling when he would next lay eyes on her. If ever. It was not entirely uncommon for trainers to die on their journeys. They stood there looking at each other for a full minute before hugging one more time.
As Lakigr turned to walk up the stairs he stopped and gripped the rail tightly. He was going to need it to help keep him from shaking. Years of fear and uncertainty coming to a head as he prepared to have the worst conversation ever with his mother. "I love you mom, but I really wish you would've told me the truth about why you had your pokémon license revoked. It sucked having to hear it first from Katama and then confirmed by the rest of the town." He did not turn his head but he heard his mother's shoes skid to a halt on the hardwood floor.
"Lakigr, I told you before I refused to fight in the war and-"
"Dad was a Johto spy you helped smuggle back across the border."
He had been told that two years ago. That was when everything had changed. Before then Katama had been his best friend, but afterwards they could not look at each other without nearly coming to blows. He had played this conversation with his mother out in his mind thousands of times. Imagining all of the different outcomes. Outrage. Sadness. Denial. Acceptance. But never did he expect her to actually wipe a few tears from her eyes while laughing!
"A spy!" she chuckled. "Oh that is precious! Sweetie as much as I loved your father he couldn't spy his way into or out of my underwear drawer, let alone anything useful like a government building or something! No," she said as she suddenly put a hand over her son's mouth and started dragging him outside, "he may have been many things but a spy he was not." As they reached the back door they stopped so that she could reach inside a cabinet and grab a small box. Opening the door with one hand she freed her son and motioned to the center of the yard with the other.
"Mom what is go-" he started before getting cut off as she shoved the worn shoe box into his hands. He looked at her confused before opening it, revealing hand-written notes, pictures, and at the bottom of the pile a long letter signed with an unfamiliar name. His eyes widened in surprise as he jerked his head up and stared gaping at his mother. "This is...this...all this time..." He was so taken aback that he could not help but trip over his own tongue like a lickitung having left a dentist's office.
"I was going to hide it in your pack and let you discover it yourself. He took an electrode to the head towards the end of the war, and was unable to talk properly afterwards so he had to write everything down." She reached into the box as a few tears fell down her cheeks and pulled out two photos. "This," she held up one, "was the man I was engaged to before he was shipped off to Johto for the war. And this," she held up the second, "was the man who came home wearing his uniform and tags six months later."
Lakigr took both pictures and studied them carefully. They said that everyone in the world had a twin and this most definitely proved it. Even knowing they were not the same person did not help when trying to find even the smallest difference between them. He put the first picture back, but held onto the second for a little bit longer. Even living somewhat close to the border people still talked about the Johtonese like they were lesser at times. And yet Lakigr's father seemed no different than anyone else who lived in Pallet Town.
"But why?" he asked her as he finally looked up. "Why did you help him when you found out? How did you find out? And why are we outside and whispering?" It was dark, secluded, and on the edge of town, but Lakigr could not shake the uneasy feeling that someone was trying to watch them.
"Most of that," his mother told him as she took the last picture from him, "can be answered by the pages in here. When you leave tomorrow I will add one final letter to clear up everything else. As for the last," she said placing the lid back on the box and tucking it back under her arm with a sigh, "our home has been under audio surveillance since my pokémon license was revoked." Putting her arm around him as his eyes widened she whispered her final warning, "Never say his name unless you want to be questioned like a P.O.W."
Walking back towards the house now she started smiling and acting more her normal self. Going through the back door into the house again she spoke normally to him as if nothing was wrong or out of the ordinary. "You can call me every time you get to a pokémon center. I know it will be rough, and you will want to come home, but I won't allow it. Not until you wipe the floor with the entire Elite Four. Because you're my son, and I know you can. Now," she said pointing up the staircase, "march on up those stairs and get some sleep! Tomorrow your life changes forever!"
Lakigr smiled weakly and gave her one last hug for the evening before finally going upstairs. He changed into his night attire and flopped down on the bed. The young trainer's mind raced furiously over the contents of the box as he stared up at the ceiling. Page after page of writings, pictures of this man and his mother where they seemed legitimately happy, and a name that could not be spoken aloud. He turned over all of this again and again in his head until sleep finally started to envelop him. His final thought before passing out was if he might ever get a chance to meet this Tantor.
END PROLOGUE
