Chapter 1: Home

My name is Swift Firestorm, and this is my story.

Growing up, all I ever dreamed of was the day I'd finally be able to set forth on my quest to become the world's greatest Pokémon Trainer. I wanted to be a hero, back then...someone that everyone looked up to and acknowledged as the ultimate role model for society. Well, it's hard to say whether or not I actually achieved that childish goal, but one thing is for sure: things definitely didn't turn out the way I thought they would.

Living through all those hardships was probably one of the best and worst experiences I've ever had. Without them, I couldn't have seen the world through new eyes and forged for myself a new understanding that once baffled me to the very core.

And yet…...I can't help but wonder as to what might've happened if events had turned out my way from the very beginning. Some might say that it was fate for things to turn out as they did, but I don't believe in such things anymore. Things simply happen and we can't keep blaming them on fate.

Sometimes, even I find it hard to believe that fate doesn'texist. When you hear those reverberating footsteps, syncing up to the beating of your heart, you either have to pull yourself together, or watch yourself fall apart. That's when you begin to wonder whether or not there really is a "fate".


The salty tang of the ocean air tingled in my nose as a light breeze swept past, tugging at my clothes. Glancing ahead, I could see the familiar plain of sand that was Pallet Town's local beach, along with the sea of green that seemed to stretch endlessly beyond it. Looking closely, I could also spot numerous houses that had been built not far from the sand, as well as a small hill with a windmill standing at its peak.

Pallet Town, I thought, a ghost of a smile touching my lips as I disembarked the S.S. Almia and made my way down the pier. It had been four years since I'd last stepped foot in my hometown, shipped away with Hisa to the Ranger country of Almia by my aunt, Kamryn, despite the overriding protests of me and my two best friends. I wondered how much it had changed since the day I'd left—after all, it was a small town.

"THINK FAST!"

I recognized the voice almost immediately, jerking forward out of pure instinct to avoid the blow that I knew was coming at my back. Smirking, I pivoted on my left foot and swung a deft kick behind my back, saying, "You know you can't get me that easily," and felt my foot hit home. A surprised grunt came from the victim of my kick as he crumpled to the ground, curling up into a defensive ball as he wrapped his arms protectively around his midsection.

"Ah…...dang it that hurt!" he muttered to himself, sucking in his breath. "Dang it dang it dang it…."

"It's been four years and you still haven't gotten any better?" I teased, looking down at the boy who lay sprawled out on the wooden planks. He glanced up at me with hazy eyes, offering a pained smile.

"I guess Riley was right when he said I still wouldn't stand a chance against you," he acknowledged, shaking his head. "I have to admit, Swift, that one really hurt."

"Sorry," I apologized, and helped him to his feet. The boy was about my age, with an average build and a few good inches over my head. His eyes were stormy blue, while his short, messy hair was colored a simple brown. He wore a simple orange T-shirt and jeans that looked like they had never seen a waching machine. "Still sloppy as usual," I observed.

"Yeah," he agreed with a small laugh. "Man, it's been too long." His name was Lance Kumori, one of my two best friends. He was known among our trio for being the most laidback and disorganized (seeing as how he loved to eat and sleep), as well as being our worst fighter. Despite that, he was always calm and optimistic about things, even though he wasn't the best Poké Ball on the belt. He cocked his head at me, as though something funny looking were on my face.

"I never knew you were so short," he said.

A flash of irritation erupted within me, but I couldn't bring myself to snap defensively back at him, even though I'd done so to many others before. After all, it was true—being fifteen and barely topping five feet had the word short written all over it.

"Oh really?" I questioned with a hint of sarcasm to hide my aggravation. "Well it probably means something if I was still able knock you down."

Lance's face became thoughtful.

"Come to think of it, you're right. Maybe being short has its advantages."

I smirked, the smoldering irritation within me suddenly quenched. Lance was the kind of simple minded person that you couldn't really stay mad at for long.

On the other hand, I wasn't the kind of person who stood out physically in any way; I was short, but not noticeably so. I had straight, black hair tied into its usual ponytail with bangs to the right of my face. My eyes were dark brown, and my build was mediocre enough to conceal the years of "self-defense" training I had undergone during a good portion of my life. My clothes didn't stand out much either, with sneakers, jeans, and a T-shirt being my regular attire along with a pair Trainer gloves and cross-belts that had been given to me as a farewell gift from my cousin in Almia. It had numerous depressions made to hold the various types of Badges currently in existence, along with enough space for one Pokémon team. So far, only one Poké Ball occupied the roster, but I planned to change that.

The wind picked up, rustling Lance's wrinkled clothes. It was then that I noticed something different about his appearance that hadn't been there four years ago. Dangling from his neck on a plain black cord was a miniature, cone-shaped sword—in other words, an actual lance. However, it was barely longer than my pinky, and was the same shade of navy blue as his eyes. I could just make out miniscule patterns carved into its surface.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing. Lance caught what I was referring to and reached for it, fidgeting with it between his fingers.

"Oh this? Well…..I found it," was the response. He quickly tucked it into his shirt and out of view, hastily adding, "You know, there've been a lot of strange things happening around here lately."

I frowned at this, but couldn't shake the image of the pendant from my mind.

"Really?" He nodded, gazing out to sea but not particularly looking at anything. An ominous mood seemed to have crept in, and it wasn't just your everday awkward moment.

"Things haven't been the same since you left for Almia," he explained in an enigmatic tone that I'd never heard him use before. "There've been incidents where people and their Pokémon show up unconscious by the side of the road coming into Pallet. Doctors can't figure out why they fainted, since they seem completely fine but...on top of that, the people stay in a sort of coma for two or three days, and when they wake up they can't remember what happened to them. Pretty weird huh?"

Pallet Town was the humble home of many talented Trainers, including the infamous Ash Ketchum; it wasn't every day that you heard about something like this going on. Besides, other places in Kanto (not to mention in other regions around the world) were having their own troubles as well—as far as I knew at least. Even during my time in Almia, things weren't always peaceful.

"Well, I can't say I'm too surprised," I replied, walking to the pier's railing. My footsteps thudded hollowly on the wooden planks as I did so, leaning on the eroded wooden beams. "You've heard of Akira Imai before right?" I queried, glancing back at Lance quizzically.

"Of course!" he burst excitedly, stopping himself a moment too late. I smirked in amusement and turned back out to sea, the beach at my right and the vast expanse of saltwater ocean at my left.

"Did you hear about how she disappeared?" The inquiry drew a pause from Lance, who later joined me at the rail.

"I thought that was just a rumor," he speculated, but I shook my head.

"No, it's true. A week or two before I got back here, the Ranger Union reported her missing. Apparently, she was supposed to be on some sort of extremely difficult and mission that was also really dangerous. They found her partner injured and unconscious in the middle of a forest, where most of the surrounding trees destroyed."

"Dang…...that's pretty serious." I nodded at his words, watching the ocean waves lap against the sides of the pier's supports.

Akira Imai was a child prodigy who, at the age of eleven, managed to pass the entrance exam into the Ranger Academy and had graduated from there within a few months. Then, she moved on to become one of the greatest Top Rangers to ever live, and wielded the only Vatonage Styler in existence. She was also rumored to have mysterious powers—powers that were said to make her primarily turquoise hair glow—which I found hard to believe. In any case, if someone like her just disappeared without a trace, things couldn't be good.

A short silence passed between me and Lance. In that moment, I thought about how nice it was to be home; nice to know that my friends hadn't completely changed while we were apart. However, once I remembered all the "controversies" we had just discussed, my mood soured a little.

"Well, on another note," Lance began, breaking the silence and pushing himself away from the rails, "we should get going. Everyone wants to see you." He smiled, taking off at full sprint towards land. "Come on!"

I grinned, the simple thought of being with everyone again filling my mind as I called, "Wait up!"and hastily sped up so I wouldn't be left behind.

The sun burst through the cottony clouds that drifted overhead, its shafts of light becoming visible in the blue skies that were a testament to what a wonderful day it was. And as the familiar rush of the ocean waves echoed in my ears, I thought that finally, I had come home.