All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few chatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.

-Mitch Albom

Act 1, Chapter 1

Pleasant Drive

Harold Johnson was a smart kid that often did stupid things; it was common knowledge to his friends and family. If he made a peanut butter and jam sandwich, he'd put the cap of the peanut jar over his lemonade and place the jar in the cupboard, where it would be left until one of his parents noticed. When he was in grade school, he learned how to play both the violin and the viola, but never played once he got to high school. He did things like this, but he really was a smart kid.

At the age of eleven, he'd created a robot the size of his Tepig that could run like the little fire-type, and served as a playmate for him when he was busy studying. He won first prize in practically every science fair he participated in, and in all truth he was level-headed and curious. He was a perfectionist, though, and wanted everything he laid his eyes on to be perfect. It annoyed him to no extent when he couldn't make something perfect.

That's why when he got his score on his latest history test, he was pissed. But by the time he got home, that molten anger had cooled into anguish. He felt hollow inside as he stood in the living room, waiting for his father's verdict. It was just his luck that today was Thursday, and the man was off of work.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of miserable waiting, the man stood up and looked down at his son, brows furrowed and veins bulging on his strained neck. "How many times have I told you; you have to be what?"

Harold lowered his head more, trying to shrink. He heard the all too familiar sound of his father unbuckling his belt. Once again, in an even harsher tone than before, the man said, "You have to be what!?"

"Twice as good." The boy murmured. He was given a quick, leathery smack on his arm.

"WHAT?"

"TWICE AS GOOD." Harold gasped, standing straighter.

"Twice as good as them to get HALF of what they have."

At four, Harold was given permission to head upstairs. Wiping snot from his puffy cheeks with his numb arm, the boy didn't make eye contact with the Pokémon as he shut himself in his room. He also refused to look at himself in the mirror, knowing full well what he looked like: a failure. Using his bed sheets, he escaped out of his home and ran.

There was one thing that made him tick over all the rest, and that was society. The bank was corrupt, as was the government and the schools. People were corrupt, committing unspeakable crimes under the darkness of night, and even more in the light of day. He thought them to be terrible beings by nature, hypocritical in every situation and most were too close-minded to see it. As he walked down Pleasant Drive, which couldn't be named more inappropriately, he was reminded of the imperfections of the world.

It was, to be frank, a dump. Shattered beer bottles littered the ground, accompanied with cardboard boxes, soiled from the rain, and plain old trash. Gum wrappers, soda cans, cigarette buds and plastics covered the street. Although it'd be hell for a driver, it sure was pleasant for the feral Trubbish, who were having a contest of sorts. They expelled small clouds of poisonous fumes from their mouths, laughing all the while. It disgusted him.

Harold had been aimlessly wandering the streets of Nimbasa City to get his mind off of it all. His father for one, but also his loss to Elesa, the city's gym leader, before school. He and Den had managed to defeat her Emolga, but the Flaaffy was destructive. Losing for the fifth time only reminded him that he wasn't perfect, and it infuriated him so much that his cheeks and ears burned deep. Scientifically speaking, there was no way he'd lose with his strategy, but here he was, Bolt Badge-less.

"Come here, child." The boy paused, thinking he heard a voice. Looking around he found that the place was, oddly enough, empty, so he shook his head and continued walking. He heard the voice, soft and raspy, call to him once more and stopped. There was a lady in the alley. She was as pale as a ghost, with crimson red eyes. She wore a heavy black cloak in the middle of the afternoon and held a beaten umbrella over her head that had patched holes, barely stopping the sun's rays from poking through. He figured that she was albino, considering her appearance and her going through such lengths to avoid the sun's radiance from touching her.

Harold decided it was safe to go and speak to her, so long that he stayed in the sunlight where she couldn't touch him. She looked so weak that he didn't feel the need to keep his guard up.

"Why are you unhappy?" He was not expecting that. Seriously? She calls him in a voice that sounded a bit desperate to ask him that? "Do you not have a home? Loving parents? Milk to drink and bread to eat? Please tell me why you are unhappy."

Harold thought for a moment, running his left hand through his prickly black hair. Obviously she wasn't talking about something as small as losing a gym battle. She wanted to know why he was unhappy in general, and there was one simple answer. "...Society," She didn't say anything but the look she gave him showed that she wanted him to elaborate. Eh, what the heck. He never gets to voice his thoughts and this stranger was giving him a chance, so he'd take it. "People and Pokémon, for example... we're so cruel to each other. Humans make Pokémon battles for prize money, Pokémon destroy human towns. It's terrible! And I feel so... unhappy, when I'm reminded that I can't... I can't change that, no matter what I do."

The woman nodded, "I see. And if you had the power to change the imperfections of the world, would you do it, and at what cost?"

"Of course I would!" Harold exclaimed. These questions weren't really making sense. Why was she asking them in the first place? "Any cost! It'll be worth it!" The woman stared at him for a moment before nodding and turning, sinking into the shadows of the ally once again. Harold had no idea what that was all about. She just asked him weird questions and turned and left. What was the point of it?

"Maybe she was crazy..." He muttered, and turned to leave. He needed to get home before his mother got home. She'd worry.

"Take this with you." The boy, having slow reflexes, barely caught the object before it collided into his rib cage. It was a lamp, like that of a fairy tale, and it was made of pure, solid gold. 0% Pyrite. The nozzle made an 'S' like shape until it connected to the sleek yet portly body. It didn't have a handle but the cover at the top had inscriptions upon it, which, to his distaste, he couldn't encipher.

"There is a Pokémon in there. He will grant you three wishes." Harold stared at the magic treasure in awe, ideas entering his mind like rapid-fire. Was she for serious? Was this really happening? He'll need to leave quickly and figure this out before she changes her mind. If this was true, he could really make his wish come true, plus two extra. He could solve world hunger or create world peace... o-or even start a world of his own! Yes! "It will do as you ask without question. But be cautious, young one, for-"

Harold didn't even want to listen anymore. Every second he wasted here with her, hundreds- if not thousands- of lives were being destroyed. "Thanks lady!" He shouted. He ran off, the item snug and secure under his arm.

The woman shook her head as she watched the boy in the red shirt and black shorts run off. He was going to do something he'd regret. She turned and entered the darkness of the alley once more, a faint smile on her otherwise grim face.

"And so it begins..."

XXXXXXXXXX

Johnson had confirmed his first wish way before he made it home, but he shuffled upstairs, to his bedroom, and hid the lamp in his closet. As much as he wanted to make his wish, he had a responsibility as a trainer to feed both he and his Pokémon appropriately. His father was no longer home; he probably went out drinking again.

Den had been sleeping for the past three hours when his trainer woke him up. He seemed happy, which was rare. When they lost a battle, normally he'd be grumpy for the rest of the day. The Tepig was happy that Harold had a change of heart so early in the day because he'd get a bit more to eat. He drooled as he thought of the grains he'd eat as he followed Harold to the kitchen. The teen poured him a bowl of Tepig food, which consisted of barley, oats, and corn, and a large bowl of water. He dug in immediately, happy to eat.

Harold ate his dinner as quickly as he could. He needed to make his first wish before his parents returned home at eight. He finished in record time, tying with Den. He dumped his dishes in the sink and ran up the stairs, tailed by the curious Tepig.

"Alright, Den, you won't believe what this crazy lady gave me!" The Fire Pig watched as his trainer took out a golden item from his closet. He cocked his head to the side. A lamp? That was why Harold was so excited? Harold added, as if he could read his thoughts, "It's a magic lamp!" It's a magic…?

Harold frowned when his Tepig fell to the side, laughing his little head off. He was serious about this. "Look, I'll show you." The boy figured that if this was anything like the lamps in fairy tales, all he had to do was rub it, so he did so with his sleeve.

Nothing.

"Um…" Harold said, a slight blush of embarrassment over his cheeks. It didn't work. He inspected the golden item for a moment, one hand over his chin. "M-Maybe I just need to pull the top off…"

Den oinked even louder when his trainer attempted to pull the small cap off and failed. Then came his teeth, followed by his power tools, but nothing worked. It was so hilarious that the Tepig barely managed to crawl out of the room, still laughing (He was yelling 'Open sesame' and 'Alakazam'), before returning in thirty minutes for another round of laughter. By then his trainer had given up and his bedroom floor was littered with power tools, an exhausted look on his face. Den instantly felt guilty for laughing at him and walked over, sitting on the boy's lap.

"I don't know why it won't open…" Harold sighed. He inspected the lamp in front of him with one hand whilst scratching Den behind the ears with his other. He figured that maybe that lady really was off her rocker, and this was just a normal lamp. A normal, impenetrable lamp. Why did he even believe her? A magic lamp? Impossible! There wasn't even any evidence to back up such a ridiculous idea.

Suddenly, he felt something click in the back of his mind and he gasped, mouth hanging open. "You've got to be kidding me…!"

Harold pushed the power tools to the side and set the lamp on his desk. He stood up, leaving an annoyed Den to fall on the floor. He counted that as payback for laughing at him and said to the golden item, "Can you please open…?"

Den literally soiled the polished wood floor when he saw the humongous Pokémon that emerged from the lamp, casting a terrifying shadow over the room.

Harold, on the other hand, couldn't've been in higher spirits. Rubbing his hands together as a villain would in a cartoon, he fell into a hysterical fit of laughter. Finally, he could change the disgusting world he was born in, and make it perfect!

Grinning devilishly, he said to the Pokémon, "I've got a job for you."

A/N: And so begins an adventure of a lifetime! This is a little project of mine I've been thinking about for the past year, so I hope you enjoy it. My friend, OreosTasteGood, and I are having a little race called the Digital Skitty Challenge. I'm sure you know who DS is. We hope to get in 150,000 words before the end of the year, so expect longer chapters in the future. I sincerely hope you enjoy what I have to offer.

Well, until next time!

-PK543