A run-down Dojo stands in the centre of a plain of ruins. It is the only remaining human building for miles around and it has seen far better days. Vines grow around marble columns; wood has long ago rotted or been replaced by rough hewn shale; the second story roof has long ago caved in and the floor replaced by tiling to stop the far too common rains from getting in. The place is a ghost of its former glory and yet, enough still stands for it to be home to a few inhabitants.
The war had raged for many a year. It had devastated the entire world and the after-math changed everything. Old trainer methods were abandoned and a new age dawned. Whether this new age would prove to be a golden one or a dark one has yet to be seen, but one thing is certain: the world would never be the same.
Inside the Dojo, within one of the private quarters, sat a figure that, at first glance, looked like a Lucario. He sat in front of an odd, wooden cabinet and looked as though in prayer or meditating; eyes closed, legs tucked underneath and his hands clasped together in his lap. What made this Lucario different were his hands, which each had five human-esk fingers, including an opposable thumb. He was also a good foot taller than any Lucario before him. However, what really stood out was the fact that he wore clothes. A closed, thick, white jacket covered his chest and he wore a pair of black shorts. A bandanna with a steel protector at the front was wrapped around his head, overshadowing his face. He also lacked any of the steel spikes that normal Lucarios should have.
The war was sparked by prejudice and fear, as wars often are. Many humans, pokemon and others were killed in this war – a war that could have been easily avoided had the authorities acted in time. Strange alliances were made in the name of what was overwhelmingly right; a cause that swept aside previous crimes and sins. Criminal organisations worked in tandem with police forces and the trainer leagues; even Mewtwo, the great hater of man-kind, put aside his own ideals for the greater good.
The odd Lucario's eyes opened and, reaching beside him, he retrieved a pair of studded leather gloves. He put them on as he stood, buckling the straps on his wrists so they wouldn't fall off by accident. He opened the cabinet and sighed as he gazed upon its contents. Inside stood a stand, upon which rested a katana. Its scabbard was intricately designed with the images of each of the major legendaries. From handle to tip, they were: Arceus, The First God and Creator; Palkia, God of Space; Dialga, Goddess of Time; Mew, the Goddess of Life; Giratina, The Goddess of the Afterlife; Kyogre, God of the Sea; Groudon, Goddess of the Land; Rayquaza, God of the Skies; Regigigas, Goddess of Continents; Darkrai and Cresselia, the God of Nightmares and the Goddess of Dreams, respectively; and, finally, Celebi, God of the Space-Time Continuum and Protector of All Life.
Taking the weapon and drawing out the blade, he noted its song as it slid from its protective cover. He ran his fingers along the side of the blade, carefully tracing the arcane symbols whose meanings had been long since lost to the sands of time. He attached the scabbard to his belt and held the meter-long katana out in front of him, tip pointing towards the door as if threatening an invisible opponent.
The Organisation hunted down those it saw as against the natural order; its mind control and corruption of Celebi used to sway their minions that their task was right. They hunted the 'Others', those whose blood ran with the ancestry of both human and pokemon.
It was discovered about one year before the war that humans shared the Human Shape and Indeterminate egg groups with their pokemon fellows. However, due to the very nature of humans, those born from these unions were not the same as a normal cross-specie breeding between pokemon. Normally, those born of this kind of union were only one specie, that of the mother or father, but with humans they were hybrids, possessing both human and pokemon characteristics – creatures more powerful than either of their parents could ever hope to be.
The Lucario hybrid charged his Aura through the blade, making it glow icy blue with hints of violet – the colour of his own Aura. He swung the blade around with such precise and fluid movements that it looked like he was dancing. The Aura charged blade left a hazy, slowly dissipating light where it had previously been – a trail that made the sight even more spectacular. The dance kept going, as though all that mattered was that dance, never pausing, never slowing. The rhythm was constantly kept in perfect harmony, a show of unity between soul, mind and body.
It was unlikely that this kind of love had never happened before, but never before had it been publicly known. The response was mixed; people feared this new creature while others hailed it as a marvel and a miracle. The child, born of a Human mother and a Gallade father, was studied intensely by both medicine, to make sure of its well-being, and by media, who wished to show this marvel to the world.
Indeed, the world did see it; including a cult of religious purists. In their twisted dream of purity of the human specie, this child was a threat. They tried on many occasions to assassinate the child, but all ended in failure, fortunately. They seemed to have given up for a time, until one year later they re-emerged with Celebi under their control. Just how that happened is unclear, but what is known is that it was involuntary. In fact, after the war, the legendary likened it to rape.
With Celebi under their control, the cult, or The Organisation as they had become known, began a reign of terror as they hunted down all the children of human and pokemon unions – of which, by this point, their were many as trainers confessed their love for their pokemon and were often received in kind. The war had begun and it would continue for a hundred and twenty three years, when, upon the turn of hundred and twenty fourth year, Celebi finally fought off the control over his mind and destroyed the Organisation in his unimaginable and unfathomable rage.
After the war, human, pokemon and hybrid were left to pick up the pieces and attempt to rebuild. However, it would prove to be a gruelling task and in this time, many new powers would rise, some good, some evil. What the future may hold is unknown, but we have never lost hope. We are the survivors of the past and we will survive the tomorrow, whatever it may bring.
The soft sounds of footsteps and a slide of a door opening and the hybrid reacted accordingly. He whipped around to face the door, his blade, the Aura around it spinning, ready for a kill, was lunged forwards in a single, fluid movement. It stopped a bare inch from the intruder's windpipe.
-To be continued-