Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. For forced couplings and cliché plot lines, I mean. I do my best to present to you something which I have not heard of when I present this story. There's a few differences that I hope you'll notice as we progress:
The first being how we begin. Not with a fledgling, not with a total outsider, but with a young man who is perfectly in his form. Even if his form is not perfect.
The second is the subject matter. It will not be apparent now, but soon the story may shift in directions you are not used to. Teenagers will proceed to swear, experiment, die, and hopefully learn how to live.
However, I shouldn't be holding you up with my ramblings. May I present to you the fateful day where our humble trainer is, himself, humbled. And where the seeds of self-doubt begin to bloom in to a marvelous Odyssey...
"Back so soon, eh?"
"They s-said I wasn't the sharpest, but I'll be damned if I'm n-not the strongest."
"Bold words. Should we wait for the press to catch up?"
"Anxious for the spotlight? I'd think the b-b-battle would be more important."
"Non, you are right. We fight now!"
The two trainers each drew a Pokéball from their belt, strode to the middle of the arena, and extended their arms straight and their Pokéballs high. Their forearms met with a light thump, and they both immediately retreated in their own ways. The Champion tossed his Pokéball in the air, and with a spectacular back-flip in to his Trainer's Square, kicked the capsule high and released the first competitor: A Lapras. Thankfully, the move was purely cosmetic and the Lapras materialized on the ground with a slight, wet flop.
The challenger tossed his Pokéball over his shoulder and jogged to his Trainer's Square, a Magneton forming in a flash of light. A planned Flash of light, the Lapras squinting hard through the glare and firing an Ice Beam without hesitation. The attack hit the Magneton dead center. Which, of course, meant that the relatively thin beam passed almost entirely through the middle of the magnetic trio, frosting the undersides of each unit. The frost hissed with electricity as a Charge Beam began to charge. The Magneton spun wildly as it blasted off the attack, connecting solidly with the Lapras and knocking it out almost instantly.
The Champion returned his Pokémon and stomped on a button in his square. There was a moment of silence, then the rumble of thousands of gallons of water filling the arena. The Trainer Squares lifted from the floor as a good ten feet of water rushed in to the arena.
"So much for an even p-playing field!"
"I should 'ave done this before we started. Do you like it?"
"It's alright. Do you like Magnus?"
"... It's alright."
The Champion released his second Pokémon, which dove under the water before either the challenger or the Magneton could get a good look at it. With a great blast of mud and a shorting of circuits, they both got what they were expecting. The Whiscash gave a victorious leap as the Magneton was recalled. The challenger knew better than to have only one advantage, however, and released a Breloom in to the water. The Champion initially laughed at what it thought was the poor thing drowning, but the smile was wiped off his face when a powerful stream of seeds propelled the Whiscash in to the air. He took the opportunity to withdraw the thing now, and released his third Pokémon in to the water with a great splash.
The Walrein gave a great bellowing roar before it fired off a sonic pulse through the deep waters. The Breloom hardly noticed, more inconvenienced by being moved by the force than the actual force itself. With a great leap, it jumped up from the water and on to the great beast's back. A short aquatic rodeo and a flurry of punches later, the Champion recalled his third Pokémon. With a look to his trainer, the Breloom gave a sharp nod before leaping up to meet the materializing Crawdaunt. They tumbled in to the water, and both Trainers tried to peer in to the frothy surface at the two brawling Pokémon. They couldn't hear the action, but they both felt the final blow that ended the brawl. The Crawdaunt floated to the surface with a large crack in its carapace, and the Breloom with a nasty cut around his midriff.
"Sacré bleu, was that really necessary?"
"Oh, c'mon, you and I both know that c-Crawdaunt shed regularly."
"This is right, I should not worry so. But your Breloom est très fort."
"Tray-for?"
"That is to say, very strong."
Both trainers returned their team-mates and released their next combatants. From the Champion came a small frog-like Pokémon that dove under the water. From the challenger, a great blue serpent that began to nonchalantly bombard the pool beneath it with powerful jets of violently violet flames. The Gyarados wasted away its Dragon Rages until it was finally met with a Hydro Pump's worth of resistance. In a blue, whiskered blur the Gyarados snapped down and threw the Politoed high in to the air. There was nothing the flying amphibian could do, until it was blasted with a Hyper Beam and its soggy skin stuck it to the wall of the arena. It was quickly withdrawn as the last of the Champion's Pokémon was tossed in to play. Mimicking the Politoed and the Whiscash, it too dove beneath the water. An icy thin jet caught the resting Gyarados off guard, and another froze its maw shut. With a great, muffled Roar, the ice shattered. At least, around its mouth. A thick coating of ice was already encasing the serpent and leaving areas frozen in the water where the hidden foe was firing from.
The challenger decided to recall his third Pokémon before it was turned in to an ice sculpture. There was a tense moment where the challenger did nothing, running his fingers over his Pokéball-studded belt and debating on which Pokémon to choose next. The Champion gave a smirk as the challenger scooted to the edge of his square. There was a large void in the arena where the Gyarados had been freezing, a nearly donut-shaped ring where the tail had been coiled up and frozen. All around were thick walls of ice holding back the water, and in the center was a podium of solid ice. With a moment of careful aiming, a Grumpig was tossed in to the center of the donut, materializing on the icy stage with a cheeky grin.
The battle was over too quickly: The Kingdra was psychically grabbed and tossed in to the sunken ring. It flopped for a moment, forcing out a meager water pulse that hardly reached the Grumpig before it blasted off a Thunder Bolt. It was a rather anti-climactic - and to be honest, brutal - way to end the Championship bout. The challenger gave a shrug as the Champion depressed the button on his square. What water could escape did, and the Trainer Squares became flush with the damp, icy floor of the arena.
"I must say, it is good to 'ave you back in our midst."
"Thank-you, Juan. G-great battle, I got really lucky with that dry spot there."
"Haha! You think I did not know this? The Grumpig was a surprise, but you must stil 'ave your Ninetales on you, no?"
"Yeah. And m-my Aggron."
"Ah, if only things 'ad been different. Oh well. This is your third time in the League, no?"
"Yep. I'm pretty sure I know what to d-do."
"Well, congratulations again, Mike. And again, welcome back!"
It was not Mike's first time as Champion, and it would not be his last. The two walked towards the recording machine, chatting away like old friends. The man in his early forties made a short announcement in front of a camera, before re-introducing the sixteen-year-old to the Hoenn public. Juan conceded his position as Champion to Mike as the machine next to them processed the information about Mike's official team.
"… And, I must say that it was an absolute pleasure to see Mike in such form," Juan yammered away to the camera, a hand on each shoulder of the grinning young Champion, " 'Ee 'as vastly improve from 'ees defeat at the 'ands of Norman last year, and 'ee must 'ave put in double time, as I toppled Norman's daughter to get 'ere myself, and she is, dare I say, twice what 'er father is! It was great news to hear that Norman was easily able to get a Gym Leader position, though."
"Especially for me," Mike chimed in, "I'd love to s-see him in for a re-match anytime he'd like! I feel like I owe him an apology for my actions the l-last time we met, anyways. And what better way for t-t-trainers to reconcile, eh?"
"Aah, the fighting spirit! That vim and vigor! Il est plein de la pisse et du vinaigre. That is to say-"
"I know what that one means, and we're on live t-TV," Mike laughed, cutting his elder off, "but I'd also like to apologize to the n-nation for my actions in the past. How I r-reacted to my loss was inexcusable, a-and if there's a way to make it up to you, my nation, it w-would help me settle my feelings of regret."
"Pfah, we 'ave all thrown our fits in our younger years. I'll be the first to publically forgive you, Mike." Juan gave Mike's shoulders a squeeze with a smile, "but, I know for a fact that we are interrupting my favorite program! Look for the full battle on the news tonight, and stay 'umble, 'Oenn!"
Juan reached in and turned the camera off, escorting Mike back through the complex to the front of the League Building for the expected photo opportunities and crowd of fans. As they passed the rooms of the other Elite Four, they offered their congratulations. It was all too familiar to Mike. The first time, it was dream-like. He had been twelve, and the third youngest champion since the Elite Four had been set up in Hoenn. He was de-throned after only a month or so, however, and returned when he was thirteen to win back his title. He held on to his rank for a year, until he was challenged by Norman. Norman had been a stranger in a strange land, and his unique and strange team took Mike by surprise. Over-emotional and worn thin by recent difficult fights, he had lost it on camera and became infamous for it. After becoming a recluse and training hard in the Hoenn wilderness for years, he had returned to seek a proper re-match with Norman. Upon finding out that Norman was now a Gym Leader, Mike decided to re-claim his title one more time.
This was his third march from the Champion's Room to the front door, and he was surprised. Not by the congratulations, or by his victory, but by the lack of people when he reached the lobby. Mike ignored the fact that his battles had been televised and chalked the lack of people up to the fact that his challenge came out of nowhere and wasn't in itself televised.
His parents were waiting in the lobby, of course. His mother and step-father smiled at him from the nearby couch, standing as he approached and wrapping him in a hug. He had visited them shortly before he made his move on the league again, and they were oozing pride at his recent televised apology. And the fact that he was champion, but the title was a mere afterthought to the maturity he had just shown. They couldn't be more proud if they tried.
Along with them were some old childhood friends, who he shook hands with and hugged, a few strangers that he may have battled once or twice before, a reporter who wanted a personal interview for a shoddy magazine that Mike politely declined (after he produced a voice recorder and made sure that he would have the true story of their exchange) and even a few Gym Leaders. It was nobody new, and he could have counted the crowd up easily on his fingers and toes. There was one curveball, however: a plain, but cute, young lady with her fists balled at her sides. Her eyes were red with recent tears, of rage or sorrow Mike didn't know.
"Oh, uhm," Mike spoke as he approached, not realizing who he was talking to until he was too close to properly avoid her, "h-h-hi, Bertha."
"You told me you were studying in Kanto," the young lady growled through moist eyes, "looks like they've treated you well. You're certainly not underfed."
Mike frowned at the comment, looking down at himself. Sure, he was pretty heavy, but he still didn't appreciate it. He thought it best not to reply, as a look over his shoulder confirmed that the people from the propaganda magazine had pulled out a camera and were already filming their exchange.
"P-p-please, Bertha," Mike quietly pleaded, "can we n-not do this n-n-now?" Mike made a move for the door, which Bertha immediately blocked from him. He didn't dare to lay a hand on her and move her, and he meekly awaited the chewing out that was coming. The few people in the room became quiet, having noticed the exchange taking place.
"You told me that you would call every ch-chance you got," Bertha started, building up steam but stifling sobs, "and you promised to w-write me, and you p-promised to visit when you got the chance, but I g-guess that I'm just not good enough for the Ch-champion and his precious team."
"That's not t-t-true, y-y-you are-"
"Don't you dare try to smooth-talk your way out of this," the balance of sadness and rage tipped towards the angrier side of the scale, "I should have known that after your little bitch-fit with Norman that you were bad news. I don't know why I even gave you a chance," she had been getting progressively louder, and Mike had tried to make himself shrink (which was hard enough as it is) to no avail.
"Bec-cause you're-"
"What did I say to you, you… You inconsiderate coward!" Mike felt like he sorely needed a shell to crawl in to and hide, and when he went to turn away he was shoved back towards the girl by the paparazzi and immediately roped in to another insult. "All you ever care about are your Pokémon and this stupid title! Speaking of stupid, you could have used all of that pointless time spent h-hiding from me and gotten yourself an education! How are you gonna support a family, huh? Aren't you and your f-folks poor enough as it is without you running off on them and t-taking their money to fuel your stupid dreams?"
"Listen, b-Bertha-"
"No." Fury and sorrow had both hit their apex, as tears rolled down her scowling face, "Shut your mouth your worthless, lazy prick! When you want to apologize to me like a man, you can come find me yourself. I'm leaving." And with that, Mike's girlfriend spun on her heels and marched out of the lobby and on to the grass. Mike saw her release an Abra and teleport away before he turned to the camera that was filming him.
"Anything you'd like to say to your adoring fans?" The sarcasm was thick enough to spread on toast. Mike gave a sigh, walking back towards the Elite Four chambers and made his way back up to the Champion's Room. In the process of trying to save his reputation, he had just ruined it again. Sure, he had lied and told his girlfriend he would be in Kanto and hard to reach, but it was an easy way to go in to training again. With his Kanto alibi, she had never suspected to ask around Hoenn. Now, however, Mike sorely wished that he had really gone to Kanto…
And then, Michael Almus was struck by the most stupidly obvious, but brilliantly simple, idea.
