A/N: This fic is made with the belief that a funny fic CAN be intelligent and CAN have a plot line WITHOUT being a bunch of random trash. If you feel it's stupid or a bunch of random trash call me out on it and leave me a flame! Let me know so I can fix it!
This fic is LRGR (Leave a review, Get a review) if you leave LRGR in your review I will check out your fic and leave you a review! Please nothing Rated M or outside of the Pokemon category.
Disclaimer: If I owned Pokémon there wouldn't be one that made fart noises.
"Why couldn't I have been born prettier?" a young teen asked aloud. Despite the heat she wore a heavy coat. She hid her face behind a thin black scarf and a large pair of sun glasses which obscured the rest of her face.
She crossed a bridge with cars going either way and kept her head low as strangers walked passed her on the sidewalk. Approaching the end of the bridge she came to an intersection. To her right, a small park that surrounded the green river; to her left a giant parking ramp, five stories tall. Directly before her was a collection of shops in classic, two-story-tall red brick buildings. The ground floors are usually shops with the top floors either rented out apartments or storage space for the stories below.
She crossed the intersection and walked passed each small store, only looking through the windows. She briefly paused at a picture of a pinup girl. The poster featured a woman in a tiny black bikini striking a provocative pose. The girl sighed and through her coat it was nearly impossible to tell she was shaking her head.
She continued onto the grocery store. Inside the tiny, dark store the girl grabbed a basket and loaded a couple simple items in it, four potatoes, a bag of fresh green beans, a can of mushrooms and small package of chicken breasts.
She proceeded to the check out. The clerk greeted her without any reservations, in order to answer his questions she pulled the scarf away from her face. As she pulled out her purse to pay the clerk her coins scattered across the floor.
She dove to retrieve them as well as the single other customer in line behind her. In her panic her over-sized glasses slipped off her face, as the gentleman behind her stood and looked her in the face.
"Oh my God you're ugly!" he shouted and was so scared at seeing her face that he dropped all the coins that he had gathered for her. "Oh God, oh God! Whatever happened to your face isn't contagious is it?"
No tears came from the girl's forest green eyes. She had a round face, her skin free of any blemishes, along with a small nose and thin, light brown eyebrows. The girl returned to the floor to pick up the rest of her coins, before turning back to the clerk she pushed her glasses back up on her face and pulled her scarf back up to her nose.
"Miss I'm going to need you to place you coins in the bleach cup over here," The clerk muttered as he grabbed industrial bleach from behind his counter and poured it into a glass. "I can't have my other customers catching what you have. I'm sure you understand."
The girl's response was an inaudible whisper with a slight nod.
Once out of the store she again stopped to stare at the pin up girl. The poster's woman was morbidly obese, her skin was pot marked with acne scars and fresh pimples, the woman's ear length hair had a greasy texture and it clung to her head as though it were a part of her skin. The posters title: 'Sexy Fats.'
She sighed and quietly whispered to herself, "Why couldn't I be like you, Sexy fat woman?"
Turning away from the pinup she walked back towards the intersection and chose to take the slightly more secluded river park path back home.
The path was mostly concrete. The girl walked along it and came under the bridge she had previously walked over. While in the final fragments of light before being engulfed by the shadow of the bridge she stopped to sit down. She stared at her reflection in the muddy river.
"Why do I have this ugly face?" she leaned over the low fence preventing pedestrians from falling into the river. "I wish I could be pretty…"
As she leaned on the fence her coat's breast pocket unbuttoned and a small, egg shaped object hopped out and landed in the river.
"Ah! My charm!" she screamed. She dropped her grocery bags and started running down the river. The charm was light, so instead of sinking down it floated along the water surface.
She chased the quick water, the fence ended once the overhead bridge came to an end and the sidewalk moved slightly away from the river. She moved off the sidewalk to stay with the river, she ran with all her might to move a couple inches in front of the black stone. She then jumped with all her might into the river and grasped the stone.
Her heavy clothing absorbed so much water the weight made her become immobile. The current was rough and in a matter of seconds had pushed her under.
She forced the small stone into her buttoned pocket, then she tried to swim back to the surface futilely until she ran out of breath.
Complex
Chapter One
Sixty
A young man of only 18 stepped out from an old fashioned, Victorian style home; only two stories tall, its upper level ended with a sweeping, titled roof over a larger porch and pale yellow wooden siding. The young man took a deep breath and inhaled the rich smell of damp grass from the light rain overnight and the smell of wood burning into charcoal. He glanced around the spacious town formed of several small homes, cottage style Victorian homes which had Slowpokes in their yards that had yet to wake up. Many of these yards, including the yard the young man briskly walked through, also had small, green, azalea bushes which were recovering of the cold spring and not even budding yet.
He glanced behind himself and glanced at a small building built directly in front of the Ilex forest. It was the barricade against those hoping to leave this town and head towards the great Goldenrod city. It would take four hours to drive through the forest and days to walk through. Of course, anyone with a skilled flying Pokemon could soar over it in minutes. He then turned and looked through the small town as he headed towards the only building remotely resembling a store: the single, small PokeMart.
He walked along the thin, white gravel path until he reached the PokeMart. He ignored the trainer supplies and looked at the deli selection. He loudly sighed and declared, "Is there any food here which is not covered in grease? How am I supposed to stay as beautiful as I am while living off of such fat?" With the decoration he reached up to his jet black hair and gently flicked this Bieber-Bowl cut bangs.
A young child standing behind him pulled on her mother's skirt and loudly asked, "Mama, Mama, is he gay?" Her mother blushed and pushed the small child away from the deli foods.
He walked through the small food section and noticed the impeccably clean glass case which enclosed a small array of doughnuts, but more importantly, it reflected his image. He stared longingly into the glass, he noted his own slight tan, mauve-ash colored eyes, and muscled physic under a sky blue, tight, sleeveless, muscle T-shirt.
"Luke, we've told you before, no touching the glass, pick something and buy it or get out," an elderly man shouted from the counter as he scanned a customer's bottle of milk and escape rope.
He ended up picking up an uber fattening breakfast sandwich and decided to eat over at the Slowpoke Well. He sat on the warm stones that had been heated by the morning sunlight that trickled through the tall trees. Each gentle breeze created a loud chorus of rustling leaves and the songs of Pidgeys and Spearows.
As he finished his grease bomb consisting of eggs, sausage and bacon on a greasy bagel, the wind died and the bird Pokémon quieted. In the surreal silence Luke could hear violent coughing from deep within the well. Luke turned to look down into the well; he cupped his hands over his ears to face the dark depths.
He heard the coughing again.
He declared to the silent Pidgey and Spearows, "Someone has fallen into the well! Only a person as wonderful as myself could ever find them and hope to save them!"
The birds didn't care.
He ran around to the side of the well which had a thin wooded ladder and quickly crawled down it. The well had mostly dried out however the soil was damp and a steady drip echoed through the cave. With the well drying out the Slowpoke had moved in and Azalea town had a tradition. If a child wanted to become a trainer they would go down to the well by themselves and bring back a Slowpoke as their first Pokémon.
It took Luke's eyes a couple of minutes to adjust to the extremely dark well. He felt almost as though he were a child on his rite of passage as he hadn't grabbed his Pokémon, nor a flashlight, before entering the well.
He walked with one hand on the cave wall and another reached out into the darkness. Each step was slow as he tested the ground before him with each step.
The coughing was getting louder.
"Hello?" Luke called.
There was no response.
"Hello?" he called again.
The form of rocks in the cave started to form within Luke's eyes sight so he took a couple of steps away from the wall and increased his pace.
The coughing stopped.
In the dark Luke made out the form of a woman, huddled face down in the mud. He took her and gently flipped her onto her back; she had stopped breathing. He squatted next to her, careful not to allow his pants to touch the muddy ground.
"Wake up," Luke gently whispered, as though he thought that would work.
Amazingly enough, the girl remained motionless and not breathing.
"Wake up," He called lightly louder, gently shaking her shoulder.
She still hadn't started breathing.
"Oh come on and wake up all ready," he slapped her mud covered face.
No response, big surprise.
He stared at her for a couple seconds as he pondered his next course of action. He could give her mouth-to-mouth but that would involve getting mud all over his finely chiseled face. He opted instead to attempt some poor form of CPR. Without kneeling beside her, in order to keep his pants mud free, he squatted beside her and grasped her chest though her clothes and then shifted his weight to lean on top of her, then using her body as leverage he pushed off of her in a strange push-up like maneuver. Despite holding onto her bust he couldn't feel anything important through the thick coat she was wearing.
He attempted this motion six times before deciding it wasn't doing anything, and if anyone else could witness they would have found the motion disturbing and strange. "Well this sucks," he grumbled.
Pissed at his failure to be super impressive for saving some damsel in distress he raised his fist into the air and brought it down as though it were a hammer, hard and fast and slammed it on to the girl's upper stomach, right under her rib cage.
This action forced thick, muddy water out of her lungs and she spewed it all over Luke who was leaning just over her chest. So much for not getting his pants dirty, now his shirt and precious face was covered in her spit.
With air in her lungs the woman's eyes snapped open and she quickly propped herself up. She continued forcefully coughing, coughing up more water in violent waves.
Luke ignored the woman as he wiped with water off or his face with disgust. It took a long time before the woman was able to take a small breath without gagging and coughing up more fluid.
She wiped her mouth and the mud away from her eyes. Her voice had gone horse from the forceful coughing, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so worthless that you had to save me. If you gave me mouth-to-mouth you may wish to rip your mouth off."
"All I really did was grope you and punch you in the stomach," Luke shrugged.
The girl felt her mouth drop and hit the floor and her eyes bug as she protectively moved her arms over her bust and upper stomach. She then sighed and looked towards the only light source in the well; she shrugged and whispered, "Serves me right."
"How about we get out of here," Luke pointed with his thumb towards the thin stream of light, "then we can talk about your attempt at suicide."
The woman looked at him in shock and took a deep breath, in attempt to shout something before violently coughing again.
They slowly walked towards the light, with their hands against the wall, each step closer to the entrance lit the path and moving became easier, but the woman was out of breath so their pace didn't accelerate. Once in the light Luke glimpse at a slightly petite woman, probably the exact same age, so covered in mud that not even a strand of hair was visible though the muck. She glanced towards him and a look of disgust entered her face as she clenched her teeth and frowned. "Man, your ugly," she whispered.
"I look better when I'm not covered in mud," he sighed and hung his head, deeply, deeply hurt by her words. He then motioned for her to be the first to climb the sturdy wooden ladder. She nodded and grasped a rung just slightly above eye level with all of her might she pulled on the rung to lift her body and instead pulled the rung clear off.
Both Luke and the woman stared at the wood in her hand in disbelief. Luke moved towards the ladder and with all of his strength he pulled at several of the rungs, they didn't budge in the slightest. He then motioned for her to try again. This time he grabbed a rung which Luke had tested and placed her weight on one of the bottom rungs, the action of pushing off was so great that the bottom rung splintered and broke apart.
The two stared at the broken rung, "Just get climbing already, and just be gentle with the wood."
She nodded and slowly started climbing, to her amazement; she felt so light and was surprised at how little force she actually needed to climb the ladder.
Luke was directly under her, sadly for him, the wet mud had caused the woman's skirt to cling to her so slightly he couldn't catch a glimpse of her panties. Muddy, or not, it would have been a nice reward for having been so helpful in rescuing her.
At the top of the well Luke shrugged and looked at himself, disappointed by how muddy his wonderful muscles had gotten from her coughing on him. He then glanced once more at the mud encased girl who was massaging her throat as she looked at the trees confused. "Let's get you cleaned up. My mom's house is pretty close."
Still holding her throat the muddy woman nodded.
Together they trekked through the slightly wooded path into the small old town. The woman glanced from small home to azalea bush until her eyes found a sleeping Slowpoke. In shock she grabbed onto Luke's exposed, muddy shoulder and shook it.
"What is that?" she asked as loudly as she could muster.
"Never seen a Slowpoke before?"
"It's so weird," she gaped.
"You're the weird one," he shrugged and pulled his shoulder free.
She continued to look around the small town, in almost every yard a creature called a 'Slowpoke' rested. A couple small children playing in one of the yards with one such creature before turning and noticing the mud covered pair. They pointed and laughed.
The woman lowered her gaze onto the gravel in attempt to block them out.
Finally they reached the same yellow, Victorian cottage Luke had left in the morning. Luke opened the door and motioned for her to come inside.
"Um," she muttered and looked down, "I'm so dirty right now…. I don't really want to mud up your house…"
"Oh that's okay come on in." Luke grasped her wrist and pulled her inside. Inside the small house the two stood on a small welcome mat with another pink creature, it resembled a cat with a really big head. "You can use my sister's shower," he pointed up the thin stairs which went up maybe 5 feet before making a sharp turn out of sight. Luke once again grabbed her wrist and started pulling her onto the pale blue carpeting.
"My shoes, they're muddy! Wait!" she cried as loud as she could muster. Her attempts failed as Luke completely ignored her and pulled her up the stairwell.
The upstairs consisted of three doors. One on each side of the upper most step, Luke started knocking on the door to his Left labeled Laya.
A girl not much younger then Luke opened the door. She wore thick glasses that completely obscured her eyes, a simple white T-shirt under faded, tattered, overalls. She had shiny, narrow, straight and pure black hair which reached the bottom of her shoulder blades and was pulled by a single yellow ribbon into a lazy half tail. She tilted her head down in order to look over her glasses with light blue eyes.
Men seem to call the following look the: 'You're an effing idiot look.' Most women have this look down pat by the time they enter middle school age. In order to accomplish the look a woman looks you in the eyes and tilts her head to one side while keeping her eyes locked on the effing idiot.
This look was followed quickly by a door slam in the two's face. The woman glanced at Luke in confusion as he continued to smile at the closed door.
One of the problems on the 'You're and effing idiot look' is that this look is most often directed at the species known as 'Men' and they tend to miss the subtle clue that they're an idiot without the blunt force of direct, simple words or a 2 by 4 applied directly to their skull.
Moments later Laya reappeared at the door with a bucket full of soapy water, a scrubby brush in one hand and a couple of towels in the other. Laya without a word forced the bucket into her brother's chest and continued to glare at him.
He stared at the bucket before whispering, "Oh," and grasping it.
Laya, without a single word, grasped the woman's wrist and lead her down the trail of muddy foot prints the pair had left on the clean blue carpet earlier, through the door, off the porch and onto the grass of the small yard. She then turned around the building to a short, metal, gated fence that led into the back yard.
The woman briefly wondered what was up with the siblings and their manner of wrist grabbing.
The back yard was also fairly small, only about twice the size of the front. Laya let go of the woman's wrist, gently placed the two towels on the ground bricks directly in front of a small storage shed, she then walked back towards the side of the house and uncoiled a green hose.
The woman sighed as she could see what was going to happen next and walked towards the slightly younger girl.
As the woman was getting hosed the girl finally spoke in short, croppy segments with large pauses between each word. "Name… Laya …You...I'm?"
The manner the words were whispered sounded almost completely incoherent to the woman but after a couple of seconds she was able to piece together the question and she whispered through pale, blue lips, "Ki.. Kiyomi." She had started shivering from the cold water.
There was a very long pause before Laya responded with another question, "Kikiyomi?"
"No.. Just-just Ki-kiyomi," Kiyomi attempted again.
"Kiki?"
"Just wa-one Ki."
"Kiyomi?"
"Yeah…" She smiled slightly.
"Weird…" Laya responded.
Kiyomi looked down in despair, "I know it doesn't su-suit me. I have no idea what my parents were thinking when they picked a name that meant 'Holy Beauty'."
Laya didn't respond but rather looked at the 18-year-old woman before her. With the mud mostly cleared off she could see a slightly petite woman with a cute, curvy figure, small round nose, slightly thick lips, large, bright, forest green eyes and a rather sweetly round face without a single zit. All framed by ear length hair which, once dry, was probably a light brown of some sort. Maybe Holy Beauty wasn't that far of a mismark.
"Strange… sound… meant... know… didn't…. meaning," Laya forced out.
There was a long awkward science as Laya held the hose over Kiyomi's head. Kiyomi decided to break the silence, "Your brother, what's his name?"
Laya spaced out for a second wondering briefly who had replaced her brother, it would have been highly out of character for him not to introduce himself while helping someone. Usually he declares his name and demands that whoever he helped kisses his toes. Laya tried to imagine a scenario where Luke wouldn't declare his name and it wasn't working.
Laya watched the creature in the front yard and muttered "Luke." Laya then shuffled the flow of the hose. She pinched the house to spray towards the front yard fence where a Slowpoke had started sniffing the metal. There was no reaction from the creature. Not even a curiosity of why water was filling its nostrils instead of air.
"What is that creature?" Kiyomi asked.
Laya stared at the pink creature that she was dowsing before turning to Kiyomi and bluntly stating, "Slowpoke."
"What type of a creature is a Slowpoke?"
Laya stopped spraying the pink creature and yelled over her shoulder, "Water," as she walked towards the house and turned off the hose.
Meanwhile Kiyomi peeled off her coat, reveling a white, button up blouse with long sleeves that had somehow managed to get slightly muddy and a strange green tint much like river water. Kiyomi wrapped on towel around her bust, effectively hiding that her black bra was showing very clearly through her wet shirt and then flung the other towel over her shoulders and picked her coat back up.
"So, water….. Water what?" Kiyomi asked.
There's another look which women get while conversing the, 'I can't believe you're that stupid look.' Laya dropped the hose, her mouth opened, her entire head dropped to her right shoulder and she raised her hands in frustration. Laya shook her hands back and forth quickly before the word finally found its way to her mouth.
"Pokémon."
"What's a 'Pokémon?"
Laya sighed and scratched the back of her head, then she reached over for Kiyomi and gently pet Kiyomi's head before patting her shoulder and leading her towards the back entrance. The back door led her to a white tiled kitchen directly behind the stairs. Being gently pushed around the kitchen she entered a small, carpeted, family dining area which lead to the entrance where Luke was still on his hands and knees scrubbing. He had only managed to get up about three foot prints at this point.
Laya pushed Kiyomi up into her room and leaned around to open the door before pushing Kiyomi through. The room was overly simple. A bed with pale blue sheets, a book shelf full of thick books, a desk with a black laptop and a pile of papers beside it, a night stand with a single cell phone looking device, a window with only office blinds to block the sun and two doors. The open one led to an equally simple bath room. It had the same white tile as the kitchen for the floor, a white sink with only a pump of soap, a white toilet and a stand up shower with foggy glass. No mats, no towels, no windows, no frills.
"Clothes… Put… Sink… Wet… Change… Bring… I'll… Wash…" Laya forced herself to speak. All while leaning over and opening a small cabinet under the sink to pull out a wash cloth and towel.
"You want me to put my wet clothes in the sink and you'll bring me a change of clothes and wash these ones?" Kiyomi tried translating.
Laya nodded vigorously. So much so her hair exposed abnormally small ears.
"Thank you," Kiyomi whispered hoarsely with a thin smile.
Laya left the small room and closed the bathroom door behind her. She sat at her desk and pulled the notebook towards herself. Laya held the mechanical pencil towards her lips for a couple of seconds before quickly writing, "What kind of nut did you find? She didn't know about 'Pokémon'!"
A/N: This chapter actually took me about four rewrites. I had a very hard time finding just the right tone and the characters are nothing like I've ever written. Before the characters have always been somewhat on this planet but Kiyomi's literally not, Luke is lost looking in the mirror and the straight man Laya who normally would be the easiest to write, well, I get just as lost as she does when she speaks. (By the way 'Dumb' actually means if you get to the root meaning of the word 'unable to speak.' much like how 'Gay" originally meant 'Happy')
The pic used for the cover was drawn by me and if you'd like me to draw you one I can. PM regarding details and conditions. :)
Thank you Temp777 for betaing this!
CaptainPrice, author of "Rise to the challenge" worded this so eloquently and I can tell you that his words ring so very true: "Believe it or not, you reviewers play a bigger part of the story than you may think. Your reviews are fuel to the writers, so remember that and take that thirty seconds to say something instead of passing it off. Not reviewing can be the biggest insult to a lot of writers because then we are left in the dark on how we are doing and it lowers our morale. Anyway, speak up and say what you think so far."