Hey~ CIAD here. This time I plan on continuing this multichaptered story. ^^ I'd also like to that my Beta HopeThePixii for picking out all the spelling and gramar errors i made while writing this. Thanks Pix!

Bunny: ... Now?

Now.

Bunny: C' doesn't own pokemon or anything besides her DS and (lack of) humor.

Hey! ... Now on to the show!

Now, when people see a trainer story they automatically assume it's gonna be about some wannabe ten-year-old getting their first pokémon from an eccentric professor that's going to ask them to go out and find every single damn pokémon there is- and catch them. Of course.

Let me tell you now, dear reader, that there is no way in this Arceus-forsaken world that any single person can see all the known pokémon and capture them. No possible way unless you're playing a video game, and trust me, the pokémon world is no video game. People get hurt; so do their pokémon.

Training is not the safe harmless sport you make it out to be. It's freaking dangerous out there; but I suppose you're not reading this to hear me preach about the dangers of this world. You're here to listen to the stories I have to tell from when I was a traveling trainer.

Well, you'll be getting a rude awakening if you think I was one of those trainers that had one of those fairytale journeys that ended with them becoming the champion of their region. I never made it that far.

Don't let my lack of championship matches fool you though, my pokémon were some of the best there were. I owe many things to them, including my life. Only Arceus knows what would have happened if they weren't around then. We shared many good times and sadly even more bad ones.

I'm getting off tangent now, but like I said earlier, my journey wasn't easy. We did many things, my pokémon and I, but of course we didn't get any recognition for our hardships. No, all the glory goes to those who became champions. I'm not jealous or bitter or anything like that. It just would be nice to get some recognition for what we did, for what we went through. I guess that's why I'm going to tell you my tale. It all started…

It all started on an overcast morning. The sun was out; it was just hidden behind some low hanging clouds that looked like they could open up any second and dump several hours of torrential rain down on the general area. What a lovely way to start a day, huh?

It's rather interesting how well one can remember the day they would get their first pokémon. Seriously, you can ask any random trainer on the street and get dragged into a story that can last anywhere from half an hour to dinner time, depending on if they decide to include their whole life story while they're at it.

Personally, the thing I remember most clearly about that morning was the smell of burning toast. That usually meant that Mom was up and trying to cook breakfast before she had her two daily cups of coffee. Joy.

Some people would find this situation rather funny; I mean, how many can actually say that their mom burnt the toast on the day that they were going to become trainers? Not many, I would think.

However for me this had become an almost daily routine; wake up, go downstairs and stop mom from burning down the house, get her first cup of coffee, and make breakfast for the two of us. Once more, say it with me this time, joy.

I don't remember eating breakfast that day; my memory skips to right after eating when mom is putting the dirty dishes in the sink. I remember being a bit worried about how she was going to react when I told her I was leaving today to get a pokemon, and how I was even going to bring it up. Luckily, she started the conversation for me.

"What do you have planned for today honey? Are you going to go down to Lady Veriss' house to help her with her Skittys?"

I remember wincing as she said that. Old Lady Veriss had nearly as many Skitty as she had liver spots. And trust me; she had a lot of liver spots. Now, I had nothing against helping old ladies take care of their multiple Skittys; I had just hoped that I could get away from this town as soon as possible.

You see, I lived in one of those towns that you'll never find on a map or in a guide book. We were one of those places that had nothing special to attract travelers to; no rare pokémon, no gym, no contests, no special events. Heck, we didn't even have a Pokémon Center. It was pretty much dead around here.

"Well. . ." I had started, debating on whether or not I should bring up my plans on catching a pokémon to her. Mom cut me off before I got a chance to spill the beans.

"What? Is helping an old lady take care of the pokémon not important? Do you have something more important to do than that?" she snapped, giving me her patented 'you-better-have-a-good-answer-or-else' look.

" . . . Okay, okay . . . I'll give her a hand." To be blunt, I caved. I never could keep my nerve when she gave me that look. Though, thinking back, I probably should have told her my plans right then and there; but then I wouldn't have met my first pokemon, either.

It doesn't matter now, seeing as it was all in the past, but sometimes I can't help but wonder how things might have turned out if I had kept my nerve.

I'll save you the boredom of having to read about my other daily routines and skip right to the point when I got to Old Lady Veriss's house. I swear that old woman had some psychic ability, on the account that she always opened the door just as I was going to knock. Well, that, or she spied on people. You can never tell with the old ladies.

Anyway, there I was about to knock on her front door, and like clock work she opened it just as I was about to make contact with the wooden frame.

Mrs. Veriss wasn't your average crazy old cat lady; Arceus no. She never smelled like she lived with tons of cat Pokemon, nor did she look like the type that spent most of her time indoors obsessing over her long-gone past. She only seemed to be an excessive Skitty fan, seeing as I've never seen any other type feline pokémon hanging around her house in the thirteen years that I've lived there.

"Child!" she exclaimed, opening the door wider so I could come in. "Good morning, good morning! Did your mother send you down here again?" Another thing about Mrs. Veriss; she could take care of herself and her Skittys with relative ease. She was in pretty good shape for some one who was heading into her nineties back then.

"Yep," I muttered, walking past her and into the house. My mom had some strange idea that Mrs. Veriss needed help with just about everything, even when it was clear that she didn't. Mrs. Veriss knew this but still welcomed me in every time and found me something to do.

"Well, my poor Jilly and Billy have been fighting recently . . . All my other little dears are afraid to get close to them," she fretted. The names of her Skittys all ended with '-illy' too. Interesting, huh?

I sighed and made for the back room, since that's where the Skitty stayed most of the time. Low and behold, when I got there the sounds of two cat pokémon fighting met my ears. There is really no way to describe the sound of two Skitty going at it in a full-out brawl. Even to this day, some fifteen or so years later, I still cannot find the words to describe it accurately. Words for the wise, don't pair up two Skitty in a Pokémon battle if you value your hearing.

Now, if I remember correctly, the two Skitty were having a full out battle in the center of the carpeted room, claws out and everything. Mrs. Veriss's other pokémon were huddled around the room's perimeter, staring on with wide eyes. A Skitty with its eyes open isn't something you see very often, but that day there were some fifteen-plus kitten pokémon doing just that.

I stepped over a group of the huddling Skitty and reached out to pull the two fighting ones apart. I promptly had my hands clawed to shreds. Looking back, that probably wasn't the best idea.

For my ego's sake, let's skip ahead several scratches, bites, and minutes later to when I had finally separated the fighting pokémon. And by "separated", I mean I had Billy pinned under one foot and Jilly held up above my head as they still tried to maul each other and me.

"Oh, wonderful! Aren't you such a dear?" Mrs. Veriss had decided to join me at that moment with two crates in hand. "Would you mind?" she asked, unhooking the mesh door to one of the crates.

I carefully put Jilly in the first crate, moving quickly so the ticked off Skitty couldn't get her claws in me again. All that was left was to crate up Billy. Sadly, he didn't look like he wanted to make it easy for me, seeing how he was hissing up a storm.

"Oh let me take care of that silly boy; why don't you go take care of your hands?" Mrs. Veriss offered, securing the lock on Jillys crate. "The bandages are on the-"

"The left side of the bathroom cabinet; I know." I finished for her, handing over the furious feline. "Thanks."

You might think it's weird how I know where to look for bandages, of all things, but this wasn't the first time I'd had the stuffing clawed out of me by one of her Skittys. Mrs. Veriss trained her kittens in the art of competitive pokémon battling. Lot's of fun for the person that has to break up the fights, huh? It's wonderful really. I think I used enough bandages daily to accommodate twenty hospital's burn wards in one day. Honest to Arceus I do.

By the time I had finished wrapping up my hands, they looked more like deformed white mittens than bandaged wounds but I wasn't complaining. After putting away the ointment, which might I add is very hard to do when your hands are wrapped up, it struck me. I had used up all the bandages.

I had wandered out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where Mrs. Veriss was patching up Jilly. For some strange reason she liked treating her pokémon over the garbage can. Don't ask me why, but she did.

"You're out of bandages."

"Oh really?" She looked up and put Jilly down on the counter top. "Would you be a dear and go out to Fortree City to pick some up for me?"

"… I'll go get the machete."

Now, you might think that's a weird thing to say, but have you seen the grass and trees surrounding Fortree? It's almost impossible to get through unless you stick to a path. Or you carry a machete.

My journey to Fortree City was rather dull, and I doubt you want to hear me going on about cutting through the dense underbrush; especially if nothing happened while I was doing it. Now, since my town was off the beaten track, most of our supplies came from Fortree, so at least there we were known pretty well.

Still, you'll never find us on any kind of map, even the local ones. By the time I actually got to the Pokemart, I was drenched in water and mud from head to toe. The conditions surrounding Fortree City strike again. Like I said earlier, Fourtree City is surrounded by dense grass, trees, and underbrush. What I didn't mention is that there seemed to be a perpetual storm cloud over the area. Yep, rain and mud lover's heaven. Contrary to popular belief, Pokemarts don't just have merchandise related solely to pokémon training or care. Nope. They have a whole back section devoted to human needs, like canned food, canteens, traveling gear, and first aid kits. And by the first aid kits was bandages made for people to use, and the reason I was even in that place.

I picked out about a year's worth of bandages, which would probably be used up by next week, and headed to the counter to make my purchase. The bill came to about 1500 pokedollars, the usual, and I paid like any loyal customer.

Mrs. Veriss would ask me how much the bandages cost every time I went out for some, and I always told her half of what the bill's total was. After all, I was the one who always ended up needing them. Somehow, Mrs. Veriss always stopped the fights without getting a mark on her. Personally, I think those pink kittens had something against me; probably since I left Chilly in a tree once. Did I mention that all their names end in '-illy'?

I sighed as I left the store and was drenched from the heavy rain within seconds. Now all that was left was the trek back to Mrs. Veriss' house. I got going since I wasn't getting any drier just standing there. I can tell you now it was a wonderful trip back. Wait a minute; who am I trying to kid? It was a pain, and I'll tell you why.

For some strange reason, the grass around those parts grew really, really quickly. Like, by the time I left the store it had all grown back. Now I had to hack my way back, in the rain, through the mud and whatever else nature decided to throw my way. Sounds like lots of fun, right?

I had been hacking away steadily at a stubborn patch of weeds for a few minutes when a speeding grey blob flew by and crashed right into a tree. It must have been going fast if it couldn't swerve around an obstacle the size of a, well, tree. Like any good civilian, I poked it with a stick to see if it was still alive. What in the world was it?

". . . Cast . . . form . . . " Well, that answered both of my questions.

"Uh . . . Hey . . ." I called softly as I approached it. How badly was it hurt?

The little blob, or Castform, opened its two beady little eyes and floated up slightly. It saw me and promptly flew head, face, whatever-first back into the tree. I wasn't that bad looking, was I?

The Castform was clearly hurt and panicking, and it looked like I had been thrust into the role of the Good Samaritan. I approached the pokémon again, taking out a role of bandages from my plastic shopping bag and attempted to bandage it up. I say attempted because every time I got near it, it got up and flew into another tree, leaving me to run after it and waste more bandages.

After a half hour of chasing the pokémon around, which lead me to believe it wasn't as hurt as I first thought, I had finally caught and bandaged it up. The small blob flew out of my hands like a bullet when I was done and was gone in seconds. As I bent down to pick up the shopping bag it hit me.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiit . . ." I was out of bandages again.

A cookie to who ever figures out what important detail I purposely left out of this chapter~

Bunny: More like you couldn't make up your mind.

Reveiws are nice and Flamers will get a hoard of rabid rabbits sent after them!