Author's Note:
Hello, I am attempting to get back into writing after taking many many months off. So please bear with me in this. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 1: Idealism
In his youth, he was something of an idealist. The only taste of Pokemon he was exposed to was the safe, sanitized version you saw on TV: League matches, promotional videos from the Ranger corps, kids at school whose parents could afford to procure a Zigzagoon or Skitty. There was no indication of the hard and dangerous journeys made by those taking the League challenge; there was not even an inkling of the challenges along the way that claimed many trainers. The closest things he saw to wild Pokemon were skittish Pidgey and Taillow flying around overhead, and the shock of finding a Caterpie napping under that bush. Once, as a bit of excitement, an Aron wandered onto the school campus and ignored everything there, its armor keeping it safe as it basked in the sun, not even registering the children in a fearful ring. The high fences of Rustboro kept people in as well as Pokemon out.
You may wonder why this matters. Simply put, the world of Pokemon is far more dangerous than children are led to believe. Due to the unreliability of the PokeNav technology, it was not unheard of for trainers to fall out of contact for weeks or even months; it was a long time before anyone decided to call them missing or send out a search party. Therefore, Trainer deaths and disappearances could not be reliably measured or calculated. A teen trainer could disappear for years into the mountains unnoticed; he or she could return riding a Metagross, or his or her bones would lie picked over by skarmory, their loyal Pokemon in a restless sleep inside abandoned balls.
He had no doubts that he would become a trainer. Despite his worried father urging him to aim for a job at Devon Corporation, he steadfastly refused, instead filling his memory with type matchups and how to train pokemon. Eventually, he persuaded his parents to let him enter the Trainer's School, right there in Rustboro. It was advertised to teach anything about Pokemon. Here, he was determined to prove his worth and start his long and successful journey as a trainer. He would graduate, save up enough to buy his first Pokemon, and from there...! However, Arceus had other plans.
"Hey, dork!" He cringed as a larger boy stalked up to him. "Where are you going? I'm challenging you to a battle! Send out your Pokemon to get their ass whooped!"
Wishing he could fade away into the background, he hesitated, before saying in a very small voice, "...I don't have any pokemon. I'm new."
Shrinking away from the jeering and catcalling, he attempted to hurry onwards, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "New kid. If you don't have a Pokemon, you've automatically lost. Fork over the prize money and maybe you'll get to the Academy."
Instead of answering, he broke into a run, breathing harshly, pounding towards the gate of the School. After a shocked shout, he heard the fast patter of footsteps following, but tuned them out to focus on the gate approaching maddeningly slowly. Just as he placed his hand on the gate, the harsh hand ripped him away, sending him tumbling backwards, sprawling painfully on the cobbled street, his backpack falling away as he lay momentarily stunned. All he saw were faint silhouettes of children, dark against the bright morning sky, standing around him. "New kid..." rumbled the largest silhouette. "You can't escape!" mocked another. A third simply stepped on him, not saying a word as that older student continued through the gate. Exhaling sharply, he attempted to sit up, his head dizzy, only to be shoved back down, cracking his head against the paving stones. Seeing stars, he only faintly registered the laughter as they continued into the fenced campus.
So that's the way it would be, huh...
Staggering upright, he dizzily made his way through the gate, and into the open building door. He was obviously the last one inside, and as he pushed open the classroom door and half-fell inside. The teacher turned to see the disturbance, and he immediately began to speak. "Sorry I'm late, ma'am. I..." his scanning glance caught a warning glare from the students he had already met. Hesitating slightly, he continued, "...fell."
"Name?"
"Quentin. Quentin Russell."