"It is time for you to stop lounging around!" a harsh voice scolded.
A young man stood in the entry way of the porch, where French doors shuttered stiffly in the gentle sea breeze, the glass twinkling under the light of the setting sun. He pressed his palm against the nearest door, where the woven iron formed a shape reminiscent to a seaking. His displeased expression was focused on the adolescent before him, lounging nonchalantly on one of the expensive recliners.
His green eyes flashed with distaste as he glared at the young boy, "What would Father say, if he saw you lying around like some washed up slowpoke?"
The teenager shifted slightly in his seat, as if stirring awake. He yawned, stretching his arm out, before sitting up. He scratched at his mess of orange hair, tousled in uneven chops. Resting his long arms on his knees, he turned his head slightly to snort at the oppressive young man behind him. "He wouldn't see me because he doesn't notice me."
"Well, that is probably a good thing." The man crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Considering you haven't accomplished anything in your life… Besides sleeping and messing around with lowlifes. I can imagine what he would say."
The boy scratched at his head again, causing flakes of sand to scatter onto his swimming trunks. "Are you really gonna hound me about this again, Shun?"
The boy stood up, and stretched out his arms again, causing his bare abdomen to flex. The sunglasses her wore glared in the sheen of the scarlet sun, but his eyes remained hidden. With another yawn he waited for his older brother to continue on his attack.
"You've dyed your hair, you never attend Mother's social gatherings, and you dress like a bum! As a Takahiro, it is time you start contributing to our family and cease your dishonorable tirades," Shun scorned.
The boy seemed inattentive, yawning again and continuing to scratch the sea sand out of his hair. "You done? Unlike the eager journalists at your press conferences, I am not interested in any of your ornate speeches…"
"You should be, Rikuto. Now that you are sixteen, you should be able to carry your own weight, not freeload off Father's revenue."
Rikuto gazed at his older brother through his shades; Shun was everything their father wanted, studious, tidy, and intelligent. He dressed like any sharp heir to a monopoly, only wearing the classiest furnishings. His light brown hair was always tame and combed to the side, creating a delicate arch over his narrow brows. Everything about him was perfect, and it sickened him.
"Easy for you to say," Rikuto countered, "you're inheriting Father's hotel business, your future is already certain. Yet, you expect me to have everything figured out at once. Seems pretty unfair to me, don't you think?"
Shun sighed and for a moment, Rikuto thought he saw remorse in his brother's emerald green eyes, but it was gone in a flash. "I am just trying to help you, Rikuto. I don't want to see you throw your life away and live off Father's charity… That is, unless he cuts you off."
"Why would he do something like that, Shun?" Rikuto chuckled. "I have stayed out of his way, just like he asked."
"It's just a precaution. Father is not a charitable man," Shun reasoned.
Rikuto turned his back to his brother and approached the edge of the deck, where the marble columns reached up for him to rest his elbows on. He inhaled deeply, gazing at the sunset. The broad sun rested on the horizon, its dark crimson rays turning the ocean water a vivid yellow-orange. The sandy beaches of Vermillion City were alive with tourists and locals alike, Rikuto could see them shuffling about from his porch.
He felt a hand pressed on his bare shoulder, firm but reassuring. Shun was gazing at the shoreline alongside him, silent as the sea breeze continued to beat against their peaceful beach house and cause the palms to shudder. Rikuto longed for the days when he and Shun would do nothing but play around on Vermillion's gorgeous shores, all day long. They both bore the tanned skin of children born by the sea, but Shun was beginning to lose it. His long days in the office, working with their father, washed away the sun's color on his skin and caused the salty smell of his hair to fade, replaced with the finest of colognes.
Rikuto frowned. He did not want to become like his older brother. He wanted to be free and ride the waves on his surfboard for the rest of his life, not confined to a business. They stood in silence until the sunlight began to fade and become replaced by the shadows of evening.
"Rikuto," Shun muttered, "there is something Father wants you to do."
Rikuto glanced at him wearily, not liking his brother's uncertain tone. "What's the old man want now?" he grumbled bitterly.
"There was a letter he received recently… From Daichi Academy…"
Rikuto was vaguely aware of the esteemed institution, reserved for only Kanto's richest, finest citizens. Daichi Academy, a school for young men and women interested in becoming Pokémon trainers of the highest class. Rikuto never had a Pokémon, in fact, he did not even like them. Rikuto knew Shun felt the same; only the lower classes ever took interest in training the brutish beasts.
Shun spoke again, still gazing at the rolling tide. "As you may know, Daichi is a college exclusive to only the blue bloods and top trainers of Kanto, invitations to join their roster are rare and revered."
"I don't see how this concerns me," Rikuto sighed, sounding apathetic.
"Daichi is interested in our family," Shun continued, "they are willing to accept a Takahiro into their ranks, meaning you."
Rikuto was stunned. Him, learning about Pokémon? Nonsense! The mere thought of hanging around the wild monsters made his frown deepen into a scowl. Daichi was such a prestigious institution; Rikuto guessed he would have to wear a fitted, uncomfortable uniform, would be expected to be punctual and respectful, and actually care about what he did each day. The amount of effort he would have to exalt made him shudder angrily.
"I'm guessing Father wants to ship me away to that dungeon? That's a perfect way to rid of your least favorite son," Rikuto muttered, his voice seething with the unfair turn of events.
"He doesn't know what else to do with you, Rikuto!"
Rikuto gaped at his brother, never hearing him exclaim something at him so harshly before. The sunglasses he wore hid the shock in his eyes, but Shun instantly seemed apologetic. The older brother sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples. Rikuto looked away, back toward the ocean, which was now pale blue as the broad moon began to rise.
Shun began to walk away, setting something on the small, cherry wood table beside the recliners. "This will be good for you, Rikuto," Shun whispered. "Perhaps Pokémon will help you find yourself in the world and make you happy again."
"I am happy!" Rikuto snapped, slamming his fist on the marble rail. "Don't you understand that? I am perfectly fine. Daichi won't change…" Rikuto glanced back to see his brother had gone, disappearing into the corridor where their house sat, quiet and empty.
Another sea breeze rushed through the deck, shaking the palms and filling his nose with the potent scent of ocean water and salt. The breeze carried a parcel from the circular table, swinging it to his bare feet, where it fluttered quietly. Rikuto bent over to retrieve the envelope, his fingers caressing the thick, smooth paper. Snorting, he decided to humor himself and read the invitation.
Concerning Takahiro Utashi,
As a prestigious member of the community and friend to the Academy, we humbly request the admission of your son, Takahiro Rikuto. As an institution dedicated to the bettering of our fellow associates and cooperation with Pokemon, we believe your son would be easily adjusted to our ranks. Our newest semester is about to begin and we are eager for your compliance.
We are awaiting your answer,
The Daichi District Officials
The small lettering and intricate typeface tempted Rikuto to crumble up the note in his fists and toss it into the sea, where it could disintegrate, forgotten. However, he simply set the note down and sighed heavily. Shun made it seem like he had no choice in the matter, and knowing his father, Rikuto was certain he was already admitted and on the attendance roster.
Powerless and angered, he pressed his hands to his face, removing his sunglasses and discarding them onto the wooden floor. His amber eyes burned in the moonlight. He knew enough about Daichi to recall that the first semester began in the early autumn, which was next month.
Rikuto considered running away, but he knew nothing about the urban life and had not a dime to spare. He was trapped, shut in, and Daichi was his only way out, whether he liked it or not. He paced the deck, his bare feet causing muffled thumps on the polished wooden floor. It was when stress mounted and anger boiled that Rikuto resorted to his only outlet of escape: the ocean.