A/N - 'lo guys! We just hit the New Years here in Korea, so I hope you all enjoy 2012! I hope I do, =)
I'll be releasing chapters 3 times a week instead of all at once, so look forward to it!
Yes, yes, I promised the entire story. But I'm revising the revised version of my story, so yeah. (Inception, much?) This is for our one-year anniversary, so I don't wanna release crappy chapters with no value in them!
But really guys, thanks for making one year possible! I can't even begin to say how proud I am, and how happy I am to have gotten so much better at writing. I'm still an amateur, and a bad one at that, so I'll keep at it. Watch out world, 'cause Archie's here to stay!
Hope you all enjoy, and see ya!
Children, as we refer to them, are often considered the lesser beings. True, their intellect is indeed inferior, as well as their physical stature. However, to be a lesser being requires you not only to have an inferior intellect and weaker physical body, but to also be weaker in heart and resolve.
Innocence is often related to children. Curiosity as well; there are no "bad" children, in the sense of innocence and curiosity. A child is not expected to know the difference between good and bad, the similarities of love and joy, the anguish of loneliness.
Of course, there may always be exceptions.
-.-.-
When I was a kid, I never really understood what I wanted in life.
Snap. His irritation had hit the breaking point—literally. The tip of the plastic writing tool had broken off, leaving him with a useless hunk of human waste.
Deftly, Derek threw the pen at the wall, too irritated to continue studying. The plastic covering of the pen shattered on contact with the hard wood. Ink spilled onto a number of his papers, followed shortly by the pen. He didn't mind; they were just summaries of the books. He had memorized them all already.
Despite the ever slight amount of satisfaction he gained from breaking yet another one of his pens (that made four that week), it disappeared in a few moments. Normally people would have stopped breaking their pens after discovering how dull it was, but he couldn't help it. Every time he remembered the disgusting face of his brother, he couldn't help but snap.
Thoughts, calculations, sayings, and comparisons flashed into his head. He was used to how fast his train of thought was, so he wasn't surprised his mind was comparing him to his brother.
He cleaned up the ink as his brain got to work. Sure, Michael was an amazing person—perhaps one of the most amazing in the world, even. He was a genius, he was athletic, he was confident in his own abilities—nothing was truly out of his reach.
Still, that wasn't the reason why Michael was famous. Yes, those traits contributed to his popularity, but there was one thing that had gained him the title Champion in so many regions: his battling skills.
Derek nearly dropped the ink-soaked papers onto his floor. His hand had jerked in irritation, which was an odd habit of his. A sigh escaped from his mouth as he dropped the papers into the trash can.
'Forget about him,' he told himself.
Easier said than done.
Derek tched, turning his gaze towards the left side of the room. The bookshelf to the side had multiple voids as the contents were spread across the floor: A Trainer's Guide to Kanto; Pros and Cons of Starter Pokémon; How to Raise a Dragon-type; and even Psychological Effects of Evolution.
To the right was his bed, also covered by several books. He picked up Blue Beauty from his pillow, tossing the Ponyta fantasy onto his desk. It was one of the few fiction stories he had, and had thus been read through far too many times. He could almost recite it word-for-word, every one of the forty-nine chapters.
Another sigh of exasperation fled from between his teeth. He felt the growing annoyance at his lack of things to do. He considered leaving his room, but knew he would only receive another annoying lecture from his annoying parents, which would only worsen his annoyed mood.
Something about the word annoying was...well, annoying him.
He turned back towards his desk—also littered with books. It was disgusting, really, how many pages he had read. After all, he was just a kid, but he had probably read more books than a college student.
'College?' The word rang through his head. It was the alternative to becoming a Pokémon Trainer: becoming a student. Not a trainee, not an academy student, but a simple school student. He shuddered at the thought. It would be no different from what he was suffering through currently: never-ending studies. It would be even worse, though, as he would be learning worthless things, like grammar, mathematics, et cetera.
In his mind were already a basic outline of most of these things. He wasn't great, of course, but he was more than just adequate. It never had, and never would, occur to him that he was indeed talented. Such things were simple tasks, and so, even at the age six, schoolwork for those twice his age and older was understandable.
The disgust was replaced by a sudden boredom. He felt confined in his room. The window could be opened, but it was too small for him to escape through. Even if he managed to open the door quietly, the steps would cause a vibration that rang through the whole house like an earthquake if he went down to the first floor.
Nothing came to mind as he racked his brain for a way to escape. He had done so multiple times, every day, but it never worked. No matter how he planned it, no matter how he attempted it, he always either found the scenario too difficult to reenact or was caught before he could get out.
Another sigh.
'If this is what a Pokémon feels like in its Pokéball, then when I become a Trainer, I'll be sure to let them out and breathe,' he mused.
Then again, books he had read on said subject had indicated that Pokémon were retained as energy. It was a concept to wonder about, as the books never elaborated on it: did Pokémon keep consciousness inside the Poké Balls? Pokémon can react to situations outside their Pokéballs that are happening to their Trainers, some say. But as energy, how was that even possible, if they didn't have the structure or build-up in which they could receive soundwaves, vibrations, or any other forces?
He frowned. It was like trying to find the exit in a spiraling maze: every question he asked, every step he took, seemed to lead to an answer the exact same as before.
Deciding it was unimportant, he released the thought. It wouldn't be hard to figure out after he became a Trainer himself.
If he became a Trainer.
A small frown crept onto the boy's face as he sat down on his bed. There was always the slight possibility his parents would keep him confined in the house and not let him go on a journey. He could be forced into a school, which would, quite honestly, be ghastly.
'Gastly?' he wondered oddly. He wondered if that was where the adjective came from. It was possible, really. But it was beside the point.
Point was, if he didn't escape for his journey, he would be stuck learning forever. He knew far more than he needed to, and he was more than confident that he could be a Champion. Not just because of his knowledge, but also because of his bloodline.
The Risque family, though with a French name, had much mixed blood. With a Japanese mother, a French/American father, and four brilliant children, the Risque family held an odd, stately manner about it.
Culture, though, wasn't the only thing thrown askew in this family. Normal standards were broken as well. By the law of the world, those who are gifted by heaven are also cursed by hell—simply stated, all of the physical world follows the law of equivalent exchange. However, flaws were hard to find in most of the Risque family.
Most, as in Derek was excluded. His flaws were, perhaps, not obvious, but definitely there. Irrationality was one. Rashness was another. A sense of pride and self-confidence was also in his character. But most of all, there was one flaw that could completely ruin him: his lack of trust.
Nobody he met was any good towards him. They all treated him oddly, whether it be with respect or with disgust. It started with his red eyes. The fools would glance at him, see their crimson shade, and then either ask if he was wearing contacts, flinch, or turn and walk away. The ones who asked would soon join the ones who flinched. They would both stare at him oddly, as if wondering whether he was kidding or not, and then leave him.
Even kids his own age were no good. There was one kid—named Ash?—who had no manners. He was obnoxious, and Derek quickly decided to leave him be. Another, Gary, was obnoxious, but in a different manner. He, too, had no manners, but in a rude sense, not a playful, bright sense. It was rather like talking to an insulting wall.
Some people would turn, then, towards family. Why, of course his family would accept him, correct? Wrong. Derek's family treated him well enough, but it wasn't a caring treatment. With his parents, it was like being treated as a student by an anti-social teacher: they shared no love; he only did what they told him to, studied, and passed the class. His siblings were just as bad: Michael was, in one word, an ass; and Jane was quite similar to a Snorlax—fat, ugly, and smelly too. All she did was eat.
Aliana was an exception, though. Derek's mind drifted towards her; his great, wonderful, perfect sister. Of course, she was brilliant, unlike him. A saint, an angel, heaven's blessing to Earth, a prodigy, everything that he wished to be but couldn't—
'Stop that,' he told himself, ridding himself of the bitter tone his thoughts had gained. 'What's the point in hating the only person who treats you decently?'
He felt the tears gather in his eyes. It was just too much, this was. Loneliness he could handle, and all the fantasy books, all the history books, and all the Pokémon information books explained that loneliness was the worst pain. If loneliness was a pain that caused madness, then Derek had already accepted that.
But they were wrong, he thought viciously. Loneliness wasn't the worst pain. The greatest pain was forever being in another's shadow—to never be accepted as your own self.