A/N: Before I start this story, I probably ought to explain it. This is the account of a nuzlocke run of Pokemon Emerald (for the uninitiated, a nuzlocke is essentially a runthrough of the game in which you can only catch the first pokemon you encounter on a route/area, and if a pokemon faints it is effectively considered dead and can never be used again). So I played the game, recorded everything that happened, and then started writing. In other words, this follows the story of Emerald as things turned out the way I played them, and with my own takes on characters and events. Okay, this author's note is getting kind of long, so I'm going to post the rules I followed at the bottom.

I never really wanted to be a pokemon trainer.

What's the big deal, anyway? It's all just guts for glory, might makes right idiocy. But when your dad's a gym leader, it's all anyone expects out of you. What if I wanted to be a researcher, or a nurse, or open a shop? Nope, all anyone wants to talk about is how far up the League I could get.

But here I am with this damn orange bird who won't shut up about how many fights he's going to win me, and I can't help but wonder how the hell I got here.

Well, okay. I know how I got here. It went kind of like this:

It was my 15th birthday when me and my mom moved to Littleroot town, a far cry from the busy streets of Goldenrod that I was used to. My dad had already moved out here a couple years back to take over the Gym in Petalburg, and the first thing my mom told me to do after getting off the moving truck was to check out the gift he had left in my new room. It was a freaking clock. I could tell my life in Hoenn was off to an excellent start.

"Go next door and meet the neighbors, Elize! I hear they have a son your age," trilled my mom, shoving a basket of cookies into my arms.

Better get it over with, I thought, heading out the door. Littleroot was a small town, grassy and surrounded by tall evergreens. It reminded me of the area near the Ilex forest south of my old home, but the air here was a hell of a lot cleaner than in Goldenrod.

I sized up the surrounding houses. The one on the left had a bike outside that was roughly me-sized parked in the lawn, so I figured that that was the house my mom had been talking about. I marched up to the door, balancing the cookies in one arm, and knocked. A moment later the door was answered by a curly-haired woman about my mother's age.

"Oh! Hello," she said, smiling and opening the door all the way to let me in. "You must be Norman's daughter. I saw the moving truck outside your house a little while ago."

"Yep, that's me," I said halfheartedly.

"Oh, Brendan will be so thrilled to have a neighbor his own age," the woman gushed. "He's upstairs right now, why don't you go and meet him?"

"Uh, sure," I said. Man, I really needed to learn how to say no.

I climbed the stairs, realizing belatedly that I had forgotten to fork over the cookies. Ah well, there was always the way out.

At the top of the stairs there was a wood-paneled hallway with four doors leading off of it. Luckily I didn't have to look far, because the one directly to my right had a sign on it-holographic, neon pink, and bordered in flowers. The least garish thing about it was that it said "Brendan's Room" on it.

I stopped and observed it, fascinated. Did people really make things like these? Why? More to the point, why was it on this guy's door?

Seized by a morbid curiousity, I went inside. Nobody was there, so I looked around. Bed, dresser, hardwood floor. Nothing special. There was a PC on a desk in the corner, which upon closer inspection turned out to be locked by a password. Too bad. But one of the desk drawers was open slightly...

"Hey!"

I jumped, almost dropping the basket, and whirled to face the door. A very surprised looking boy was standing there, wide-eyed in his sports gear and white hat.

"Hi," I said, raising my eyebrows and trying to look innocent. A smile probably would have worked better, but...nah.

"What are you d—oh. Are you the one who just moved in next door? That gym leader's daughter?"

"I have a name," I said, not quite able to keep the sourness out of my voice. "It's Elize."

He edged towards the desk where I was standing, looking preoccupied. "Right, sorry..." he muttered.

I rolled my eyes. "You're Brendan, right? Don't worry, I didn't touch anything."

He looked relieved. "Oh, good," he said, then quickly added, "not that there's anything to see!"

"I bet," I said. We both stood around awkwardly for a moment after that. "Wanna cookie?" I eventually offered.

"N-no thanks," stammered Brendan. "Listen, I promised my dad I was gonna help him so I gottagobye," he said, the last part coming out in a rush as he grabbed a bag off the dresser and dashed out the door.

"See ya," I said to the empty air, and sighed. So much for making new friends.

I made my way back outside, dropping the cookies off with a cheerful farewell from Brendan's mother, but on my way back to the house I heard a noise. Up by my house, in the foresty area behind it, there came the sounds of someone yelling and dashing through heavy brush.

Not my problem, I thought instinctively, making a beeline for the side door.

"Help! Help meeeeee!" Cried the voice, getting closer and clearer. I gritted my teeth. If it was up in the trees and tall grass, whoever it was was probably tangling with a wild pokemon. I really didn't want to have to deal with that.

Unfortunately, before I could make up my mind on what to do, a man burst through the bushes with a Zigzagoon in hot pursuit. And boy, did it look pissed. The man and I locked eyes for a split second, and with a sinking feeling I realized that there was no backing out now.

The Zigzagoon growled threateningly and cornered the man against the wall of my house. The man flatteded himself against the wall, looking pleadingly at me. "Y-you! Go get my bag...it's by the big tree! Use one of the pokeballs in it...hurry!"

He looked desperate, which was almost comical considering the size difference between him and the 'Goon, but for some reason I found myself doing as he said. I went into the forest, casting around until I saw a brown bag dangling from a tree branch. I didn't bother to pull it down, instead just fishing around inside until my fingers closed around a pokeball.

I paused there for a moment, looking at the object in my hand. "Oh boy," I muttered.

Back at the house, the man was frantically trying to prevent his ankles from being bitten by the wild pokemon. "You're back!" He cried in relief. "Hurry up! Go! Get it off me!"

I didn't even look at him, instead concentrating on the 'goon. Was I supposed to catch its attention first, or...screw it, I thought, then threw the pokeball. "Go!"

The ball burst open, and a Torchic came out, chirping enthusiastically.

I pointed at the Zigzagoon. "Get 'em," I commanded, and the little bird slammed itself full-force into the unprepared Zigzagoon, which promptly yelped and dashed off into the bushes.

The Torchic hopped about, celebrating its victory, while the man I had just saved mopped his forehead with the sleeve of his white lab coat and sighed in relief. "Whew, you really helped me out there," he said, then took a good look at me. His brow furrowed. "Wait a minute, you wouldn't happen to be Norman's daughter, would you?"

Of course, I thought, but said aloud, "Yeah, I just moved here today."

He beamed. "Wonderful! It must be nice to have the family all in the same place, eh? Oh yes, I should have introduced myself. I'm Professor Birch. My laboratory is in town; I was conducting a bit of field research when I accidentally stepped on that Zigzagoon's tail..."

"It happens," I said, though I really wasn't sure if it did.

"Well," said Birch. "Why don't you come on back to my lab? My son Brendan is supposed to be helping me today-he's about your age and-"

"Yeah, we already met," I interrupted.

"Goodness, you certainly are busy," said Birch. "Well come on down anyways. I really ought to thank you for today."

"No, that's fine," I tried, edging towards my door, but Birch would have none of it. One way or another, I found myself in his lab, white-walled and cluttered with all kinds of machinery I didn't recognize. The professor used the landline to call Brendan, who hadn't shown up yet, while I examined a nearby computer that seemed to be displaying the skeletal structure of an Azumarill.

After chatting with his son for a few minutes, the professor turned back to me. "Don't mind the mess. I don't often have time to clean up, you see," he explained sheepishly. "Now, as for Brendan, it seems that he's gone ahead to do some field work up by Oldsdale town. I'd like to ask you to fetch him back here-I've got a surprise for each of you," he told me, smiling broadly.

"Um," I said. "Can't you just ask him to come down over the phone?"

Birch waved his hand dismissively. "Where's the fun in that?" He said. "If you're worried about wild pokemon...well, as thanks for earlier, I'd like to give you the pokemon you used in battle against that Zigzagoon!"

I twitched. "No thanks," I said reflexively.

"Nonsense," said the professor. "Don't be shy. Take it!" He thrust the pokeball into my hands.

I stared at it, but before I could do anything else, the professor turned me around and propelled me through the door, telling me, "Now go and show your new pokemon to your mother, I'm sure she'll be delighted!"

Outside, I found that I couldn't stop just standing there and staring at the pokeball. I held a life in my hands; a small life that I never asked to be put in charge of. With a sigh, I pressed the button with my thumb. I had better at least explain my intentions.

The Torchic popped out. "Hey," I said, "listen, I'm-"

"Wow! Hey, are you my trainer now?" The little bird chirped eagerly, hopping up and down in excitement. " You were pretty cool a while ago! Are we gonna go on a journey? I've been waiting forever for this, just you watch, I'll be so awesome I'll just look all our enemies in the face and go WHAM and take 'em out in one-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," I interrupted. "No. I'm not a trainer. That old guy just kind of pawned you off on me, so if you're looking for fights you're out of luck."

"What?" Said the Torchic. "No way! You...you look like a trainer, you gotta be one!"

"What kind of logic is that? Nope, I'm just taking you up to grab Birch's son and then explaining this whole thing. Maybe he'll give you to someone who actually cares."

"But, but! I wanna be the best!"

"Go nuts. But I ain't helping you."

"Awww," said the Torchic, his enthusiasm instantly wilting, and it was so damn cute that I almost felt bad.

"I better show you to my mom anyway," I muttered, heading up towards my house.

Predictably, my mother was thrilled. "Hey, mom, look at this dumb bird I got" went over astonishingly well, probably due to her joy at seeing me actually with a pokemon, like a real trainer. She hugged the tiny pokemon to her chest, spouting baby-talk at him and ignoring his attempts to escape.

"Heeeeeelp," he choked, "noooo, let go of me! Lady! Are you listening? Let goooooo! Trainer, help!"

I smirked and watched his struggles, arms folded firmly over my chest. "Better get going," I said after the little guy's efforts became too pathetic to watch any longer. "I'm supposed to go find the professor's son somewhere."

My mother released the Torchic as she stood up, who began to gasp loudly in relief. "Okay, dear, have fun and be safe out there. Your father would be so proud of you," she said.

I tightened the bandana around my head with a scowl. "I'm not going to be a trainer," I said. "I'm just doing this one little thing."

"Sure, dear," said my mother, in an infuriatingly patronizing way. "See you later!"

A/N post script: All right. First of all, thanks for reading, and if there's anything you'd like to comment on, for the love of god, please do. It's hard to get motivated about writing when you don't know what the reception is!

THE NUZLOCKE RULES (Elize edition)

1. Any pokemon that faints in battle is dead and must be boxed permanantly.

2. The first pokemon encountered in each area is the only one that may be caught, and all of them must be named.

3. No duplicate captures.

I really wish I could draw, because then I could do this in the ever-popular comic form. But oh well!