What would you think if someone told you that the Pokemon world was a lot darker than you thought? That battles frequently ended in injury or death, that Pokemon were regularly used as nothing more than weapons? How would you react, if the Pokemon world was just like our own?
"Help me! Please, somebody, help!"
That voice…
"For God's sake, is anybody there? Help me!"
I heard it…just an hour ago…
"The Spearow….aaaaarrrgghhh! Please…anybody!"
Time to go to work, Miss. Waterflower…
"Starmie, Staryu, Goldeen! Water gun!" The three aquatic creatures burst from the balls as Misty reached the top of the hill. As the scene below cam into view, she could see that the boy from before, the one who had stolen her bike, was under attack. A flock of Spearow were pecking at him and a Pikachu, lying nearby in the dirt. His back was riveted with lines of red where hungry beaks and eager claws had got past the large stick he was wielding.
"Let's go!" she shouted as her team flew and bounced down the hill, squirting off jets of water at any Spearow that got to close to them or the trainer who was staring at her with a mix of gratitude and wonder. Eventually, most of the flock was grounded or retreating and Misty slowly picked her way down the treacherously steep slope. The boy was still staring at her.
"Are you okay?" she said, quite loudly and clearly, just in case he was a little dim. Then she saw her bike, lying in the mud and clearly damaged. One of the wheels was bent almost at a right angle and the entire frame was covered in kinks and dents. He followed her gaze and finally managed to piece a sentence together.
"I…I'm sorry about your bike. I fell off it when we were escaping those Spearow." She grimaced, but decided that in the end, a bike was a fair price in return for the life of a person and a Pikachu.
"Viridian City's this way." She muttered, "I'd suggest you hurry with that Pikachu." He nodded, then took off, running past her with his blue coat flapping open and his childish red cap turned backwards. Misty sighed to herself. Ten percent of trainers were injured or killed in their first month of journeying and she had a feeling that this boy wasn't part of the majority.
It took a long time to walk to Viridian and by the time Misty arrived, the sun was going down. It was just as well that the journey hadn't taken any longer – the Duskull that sometimes appeared near Viridian City had a nasty reputation for violence and inducing nightmares. As she arrived at the Pokemon Centre, glad of a warm place where she could stay for free, Misty saw him. Again. That boy – he was sitting by the door outside the operating room, his fists clenched. After a moment's consideration, Misty walked over and sat next to him. He looked up, surprised.
"Hey," she whispered, "How's your Pikachu doing?" He shook his head.
"Don't know." She bit her lip.
"Well, did the Nurse say anything?"
"Don't know." This was starting to get irritating.
"Do you not think you'd be better off if you got your own wounds seen to as well?"
"Don't kno-"
"Well, you know what? I do know, and we are going to get you cleaned up. So come on, go over to the nurse and tell her that you think she should have a look at your cuts." Like his arms were made of lead, he stood up and wandered over to the desk. She saw him talk to the nurse, though he was speaking too quietly for her to hear the words. The nurse on duty nodded, then led him through to a back room. About five minutes later, he came out looking mostly the same, except for the fact that all his visible cuts had been covered with Band-aids or bandages, depending on the severity. Misty had to hand it to the nurses, they worked fast. He looked up at the light above the operation room door, but it was still on. Pikachu was still having emergency treatment. They sat there in an awkward silence for a minute, then Misty gave a wry smile.
"I don't even know your name," she smiled, "I'm Misty Waterflower." If he recognised her name, he didn't show it.
"Ash Ketchum." He muttered, though he didn't even seem to realise that he was speaking. It was almost as if he was just a shell of a person, a body in need of a soul. But, all of that disappeared when the light went off. He jumped to his feet and watched nervously as the nurse walked out of the doors. She was completely alone – but while Pikachu was nowhere to be seen, the woman did look as though she'd received a fairly powerful electric shock. Ash gulped.
"Is…is Pikachu okay?" he croaked out, his throat dryer than Egyptian cotton. The nurse looked at him sadly and shook her head once. She whispered two words.
"I'm sorry."