"What does it mean to be a trainer?" A man who if asked went by Olberic but was never called such let the question hang in the air. There were so many faces before him, so many young, hopeful… naive, faces. Wide eyes and mouths slightly agape. He wanted to answer the question with the bitter but accurate truth. The kind that would empty half the seats in trainer schools and would slash revenue across the league circuit. But that would be selfish, and the survival of the way of life he adores so much is dependent on the naive and hopeful.
"To be a trainer, should you ask a scholar, is to capture, train and battle with the creatures known as pokemon. A cynic will tell you that a trainer is a person who enslaves themselves to the league for a chance at glory. I… I believe that a trainer is someone who perseveres in the face of adversity. Man unwilling to conform to the limits placed before him." Olberic stood to his full height, lifting the microphone away from the podium. Broad shoulders set back and wide, square jaw clenched, lifting tan skin below his ears and creating an imposing image before he spoke. The image of a Champion. "And those who persevere, the young ones before me, they will make their way forward. If life were fair, I'd see every single one of you atop Samael's Castle, ready to battle me. But alas, life is not fair. So today, I provide you with an opportunity." Olberic stepped out from behind the podium, revealing the black captain's jacket, flawlessly wrinkle-free straight black pants and dress shoes that adorned his tall figure. Short black hair tattered in the winds that always coalesced atop the tallest hill in Solaceon Town. Behind him stood the tall mobile casing filled with over 100 pokeballs, all containing a random pokemon to be given to each graduate.
"Come forth, take your first partner and forge your own path, trainers of Solaceon Taming Academy!" Olberic said, his deep voice booming across the graduates below him, reverberating in their hearts. "I expect to see the strongest of you on the Fallen Island!" He said, releasing Azreal, his garchomp. The monstrous dragon roared, the gills along its neck frilling and the wings below its arms expanding as it bent low. Olberic took his place on the dragon's back, waving with one hand and slapping Azreal's back with the other. The dragon bent lower for an instant before launching upwards and away, toward the direction of Fallen Island and Samael's Castle at the end of the pokemon league.
All the while, one of the youths watching the retreating form of Champion Olberic, stared in bewildered awe. A certain magic illuminated this day forever in his mind, the image of the country's leader taking off to retake his throne in wait for an heir was emblazoned upon his memory. The principal who had taken over for Olberic after the Champion's speech had begun to announce names in order of class rank. First of the class, Kiara Smith, had walked up to the stage and picked a pokeball from the casing left behind the makeshift stage atop the hill. Her partner was a riolu, incredibly lucky considering the ratios of what kind of pokemon in each graduation casing there was. It was a given amount to all students, a way to make the selection random and also teach students to not expect anything to be given to them beyond the chance to become trainers, even their choice of starter was stripped from them. The star-struck student did the math in his head.
'4% of every case contains a pokemon who can at most can reach 5th class level of destruction upon human structures, which is to say none at all. This is where we put things like caterpie and weedle. 20% is 4th class, which are things like poochyana and zigzagoon. 50% are 3rd class, which is populated with most elemental types and humanoid fighters. 25% are 4th class, filled with large elementals and some of the lesser dragons like goodra and dragalge. 1% was the rare 1st class destructive pokemon. 1st classification pokemon are dangers to society if left unchecked. In Sinnoh there are three species that can be found who are placed under 1st class, though the pokeballs can be from any region sinnoh has good ties with: rhyperior, garchomp, and strangely enough-'
"Arden Kent, 113th in his class!" The principal announced his name, shaking him from his thoughts. He shuffled out of his aisle, walking up the hill to take his starter nervously. In taking his time to explain the odds in his own head he had forgotten to pay attention to the other 112 students in order to gauge his own odds of getting a good starter. A distinct lack of motivation to do homework or anything other than read about pokemon had led to him being near the bottom 10% of his class and with far worse odds of getting a good starter, but he had at least hoped to prepare himself for the shitty mon he was sure to get. The prinipal smiled at him, shaking his hand and handing him his trainer ID and motioning towards the case behind the stage. Arden took a step past him to glance over the few pokeballs left in the casing. A deep breath was drawn before he reached in and grabbed a pokeball at random, as the names of the pokemon can only be seen in a small display on the back of the pokeball. Once he grabbed it, he presented the back of the ball to his principal, whose expression was suspiciously controlled.
"Arden Kent has begun his journey with a larvitar at his side! Wish him luck." The principal patted his shoulder and nodded down at the boy who only stared at the pokeball in his hands. A larvitar. Tyranitartia are 2nd class when tamed and 1st when angered or in heat.
'Ho. Ly. Shit.' Arden thought to himself as he walked off the stage. His mother waited for him at the other end of the hill, where the graduates families' were sitting. Arden watched as his mother held her arms open for a hug, tears in her eyes. A long, tight embrace and a kiss on his forehead(which she forced him into by lowering his head, she stood at just under five feet tall) were the prefix to the words that he'd never tire of hearing.
"I'm so proud of you, mijo." Her Hoennese tongue slipped easily into the Sinnohan language, a true hallmark of the first generation migrant. "I just wish your father was here to see this." Arden only scoffed, expectations forever at the bottom of the sea when it came to his father. His proudest moment in life and he couldn't be made to make an appearance.
"If he wanted to be here then he would have shown up." Arden said, taking his seat and watching the last few students with grades worse than his picking their pokemon. Some of his friends were with their own families, hugging their parents and introducing their new partners to the greater pack. Arden thought to do the same. With a deep breath, he drew out the pokeball holding his larvitar inside. He had so many questions: what was it like? Was it a boy or a girl? What kind of food did it like? Would it like fighting? Instead of voicing these concerns, he only released it silently, pressing the button on the front end of the pokeball that enlarged it then clicked it again to pop it open. A sort of spectacular sound of release and almost raining light came from the ball, the white energy forming into a solid thing before him. The form began to lessen in brightness until a forest-green figure on two legs with relatively hard looking armor plated skin, red eyes with black strips going through them, a red diamond on its belly and a tail that looked like a blooming flower made itself known between Arden and his mother. The thing stuck a paw into the ground immediately upon having its form stabilized, lifting up dirt from the hill and swallowing a chunk of it while chewing on its paw.
Arden's mother dove to the ground, a high pitched 'Ayyyy!' following her as she grabbed the rock creature known as larvitar and hugged it tightly. The larvitar shifted from blissfully ignorant to nonplussed, still sucking on its paw with reckless abandon. "Que precioso! Is it a boy or a girl?" she said, holding him away from her and getting a full view of the thing. This ended up answering her own question. "A little girl, I always wanted a daughter!"
"Wow, Mom. Thanks." Arden's deadpan stopped when he thought about the gender of his larvitar. What would he name her? It had to be something fierce, something to fit the tyranitar to become, he thought. His thoughts were once again disrupted by his mother's absurdities.
"Her name is Bella." The larvitar let its paw out of its mouth and began to motion at the floor, probably still hungry. It made a cute sound, inching towards the ground while in Arden's mother's grasp. The older woman cooed once more, hugging the rock tightly to her chest. "She's so adorable! Belll-la! Belll-la! Belll-la!" She said, throwing the rock into the air and catching her on the downturn of her name. The larvitar began to make a sound akin to laughing, Arden scowled, returning the larvitar to its ball.
"Her name is not Bella." Allen said.
"She's your sister and her name is Bella, you don't get to choose your sibling's names." She chastised. Arden met her gaze with a steely one of his own.
"I'm not naming her Bella. It's… It's not fitting." He argued. "Besides, she's my pokemon."
"And she's my baby, and her name is Bella because she is beautiful." She replied. "Si habres la boca otra vez-"
"You can't threaten me over what to name my pokemon, Ma. I've graduated now." He said, extending his arm so that she can walk with him. She happily grabbed it and they began walking over to his friends. His mother looked up at him lovingly, and he pretended not to notice if only to save face. He was always a self-proclaimed fuck-up, and this is something for her to be proud of. Finally.
"La Chancla no discrimina." She said with a sagely tone. Arden sighed.
Approaching his closest friends led to a group photo shoot orchestrated by tearful mothers and proud fathers watching their children lifting off into the sky on the wings of liberty and adventure. In the distance, a man sat beside the snoring head of his garchomp. His burly and hairy arm was caressing the giant dragon, easing the monster into a gentle sleep. It was this reason that the gardevoir in their midst chose to speak inside Olberic's mind instead of just relaying her sentiments through the empathic abilities shared by the ralts line.
'Lover, what are your commands?' the gardevoir asked. Olberic took a moment to consider the question and ended up deciding on surveillance.
'Watch him, Lyla. If you feel his life is in danger, come get me.' His thoughts were met by a simple bow from the graceful psychic who disappeared in thin air, a snapping sound as air replaced the space she once occupied. Olberic never stopped running his hand on Azreal's head. When his phone began to ring, he answered it quickly to avoid waking the sleeping giant, stepping away from his partner to answer the phone call.
"Hello?"
…
"Yes. I had to get out. Staying meant revealing something."
…
"I'm… I'm sorry."
…
"I was 20 years old when I became champion 16 years ago. Dan was a year younger than me, and he was the greatest contender for the title when the Old Bat decided to kick the bucket." Olberic's words were accompanied by a pang of sadness. The Old Lady had died only when the entirety of his family was well taken care of, including her pokemon. It was a day after his youngest pokemon, a sentret, was adopted by a good and kind trainer by the Old Lady's standards that the old champion finally let herself die in her sleep."
…
"Then he should be fine. I'll talk to you in a few weeks." Olberic said, hanging up and staring once again into the distance.