Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. To think otherwise would be foolish. - J.S.

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One

Five Years Ago

~~0~0~~

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

The raucous cheers of thirty students rang through Smithley's ears, their voices filling the academy yard with noises loud enough to scare away the local Mothims.

"Kill 'em, Dan!" shouted one, shaking a fist at the scene unfolding in the midst of the commotion. A small battlefield was set within, occupied with the clashes of a Drilbur and a Cranidos in fierce opposition of one another.

"C'mon, Ellie. Don't give in," Smithley muttered, rubbing his hands with considerable anxiety. "Just hold on."

All the while, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. Initiation day was no joke here at the academy, and if she couldn't hold on, there wouldn't be much of her reputation left to salvage.

Like me.

Ellie desperately shouted a futile order to her Cranidos, lost in the din and thunder of the crowd's cheers. Before the Head Butt Pokemon could react, Drilbur lowered his torso for a vicious Skull Bash and charged forwards. In the blink of an eye, the mole made contact quite spectacularly and sent Ellie's partner flying across the yard with enough speed to make a Flareon look like a joke.

BOOM!

Cranidos hit the ground with a thud loud enough to make teeth chatter. The Pokemon's eyes were rolled up in the classic fainting pose, complemented with scratches scattered around her body. Ellie rushed forward to tend to her fallen friend, returning Cranidos to her Pokeball while tears threated to spill from her eyes.

Damn it, Smithley thought. It's off to hell in a cell for her.

"Bam!" roared Ellie's opponent, waving to the crowd. "And there you have it, folks. A real, tailored-honest-to-Arceus wipeout."

"DAN! DAN! DAN! DAN!" cried the throng of academy students, all too self-absorbed to care about anything else. They wanted an entertaining match and they got one.

If wipeouts could be described as anything, Dan Whitehouse was the living personification of one. Anyone who couldn't last a minute against his Drilbur...

Well, Ellie found out firsthand. It was in light of such a realization that Smithley rushed over to her while the crowd paid attention to Dan, reaching out to nudge her shoulder.

"Oh! Josh..." she muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. Most people can't do it the first time," he assured, rubbing her arm soothingly. "You wanted to work with Pokemon anyway, didn't you? At least you've got a chance."

"By battling, dummy. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do mega evolution? Now I can't even..." Ellie sniffled, sobs racking her lithe frame.

"Let's get you up to your lodge, hm? C'mon, it'll be okay," Smithley consoled, taking the opportunity to help the girl to her feet.

Slowly, step by step, both of them managed to squeak by the cluster of arms now surrounding Dan Whitehouse, none of them paying attention to the two stragglers, the survivors. It wasn't like anyone was going to notice.

The sun glinted off of Ellie's tears, which made Smithley all the more uncomfortable in the heat. His jacket wasn't doing him any favors, the red fabric trapping air molecules within. The gravity of both situations propelled him to hurry the girl as quickly as possible to Lodge Four, situated at the far end of the battlefield and far out of reach of the bloodthirsty crowd.

Admittedly, it was one of the more unusual initiations. Dan usually took the time to monologue afterward, but Smithley supposed the excitement of the day and the vigor of his supporters got to him in the end. If it hadn't been addressed yet, it certainly would be at dinner.

The fifteen-year-old grew more concerned as Ellie said nothing with each passing moment, only choosing to let loose one of the few things she had left- tears.

Fortunately, the pair reached the safety of the wooden lodge before things got worse. In mere minutes, Smithley managed to find the door to her room three floors above, grasping the key from her shaking hands and opening it with a flourish.

Sure, there were supposed to be rules. Everyone was out at the moment, so it wasn't like it would matter.

Arceus was to be praised when the girl's tears managed to stop flowing as soon as the door closed. She threw herself on the bed, hands clasped to her face.

It was in this small moment of silence that Smithley wondered if she was really prepared for initiation judging by the way things happened.

"Has Trev talked to you about this yet?" he asked.

"A little... b-but n-not really," Ellie sniffled, desperately trying to keep a hold on herself.

Smithley sighed. She had heart, at the very least. Though it was more worrying that Trevor didn't bother explaining the initiation to her sooner.

So much for a best friend.

"Okay, here's how this works. You either last a minute against him or you don't. If you did, you go straight to the trainer stuff. If you didn't, the academy places you somewhere else. Breeding, analytics, farming... your choice, so it's not all that bad."

"I-it is!"

"Alright, maybe it's a little bad. But wait a year or two and there might be a free spot in the-"

"But why? Why can't I? This isn't what I signed up for," Ellie cried. "My parents spent a fortune to send me here. If they find out-"

"They're still getting their money's worth. Ellie, it's not like battling is the only good thing coming out of this academy, you know. Education matters. And, besides... it's not like I can do anything about it. The president made it very clear what she wants in trainer graduates."

"Should... shoulda be in the brochure," she sighed, slowly starting to come to terms with her situation. "They really gotta be more clear about that."

"I know. It sucks. I'm sorry Dan had to be the one to lay it into you. It happens."

"Why even him? I dunno, sounds like the professors should be doing it. They're teaching us, right?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Smithley snorted, giving Ellie a reassuring pat. "They usually pick some senior to carry the thing out. Dan's got one of the best records out there, so they have him do it most of the time. His Drilbur is no slouch, as I think your Cranidos knows. How is she?"

"I'll find out when I get her to the center," mumbled the girl, thumbing the ball in which the Head Butt Pokemon rested. "She's a tough gal, though. I've got faith."

"Good. Faith is very important if you want to survive here," stressed the fifteen-year-old, taking a position on the floor. "From an oldie to a newbie... hang on to it."

Ellie brightened up for the first time that hour, the beginnings of a thought crossing her mind. "What was it like in your initiation? You failed, right? That's why you're not a trainer."

"Actually... I opted out. I don't even have a Pokemon."

"What? Why?!"

"Don't need one."

"Are you saying that just 'cause you didn't wanna fight?"

"Nah. Not really that interested in battling, honestly. I'm here for the statistics."

"The... wha? What is that supposed to mean?" Ellie stuttered. "Anyone who's who does hardcore training. Megas, gyms, contests... they all go for that. You're two years from graduation and you've got nothing?"

"Think, Ellie. Everything in this world... people, Pokemon, flowers, trees, nature! Don't you understand? It's their harmony that binds them all together. It's beautiful, it's just, it's kind. I want to find out why. So, I collect everything I can. I analyze. I make sense of why this world is the way it is."

"Sounds pretty vague to me."

"Yeah, that's fair."

Smithley lifted his hands, taking the opportunity to pace around the room. He stopped for a moment, then paced again. Then stopped. Then paced. After all, he would be lying to himself if he claimed to completely understand why he was here in the first place. Sure, the academy had a stellar reputation, but he supposed it was an excuse to get away. He was lost, floating adrift in the sea of life.

"How could you even pay to come here? Did your parents dump you or something?" Ellie asked after a while, seizing the chance to dig a little deeper.

Smithley shrugged. "I didn't want to blow all my inheritance on squat. Only good thing my pops ever left me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he ordered, a dark glint flashing behind his eyes. "He's gone now. I don't like to talk about it."

"Okay."

"You're going to be fine?"

"Yeah."

The fifteen-year-old nodded, giving Ellie one last pat for comfort. "Good. I'll see you in the mess for dinner?"

"Yep."

Nothing more needed to be said, so Smithley considered the matter closed. He stood up to leave, both him and Ellie understanding when there was a time for further words. He closed the door behind him, leaving her to contemplate in peace. Now nothing stood between him and her room save for the hallway, its ornamental colors momentarily dazing him. Too much red for his taste.

It was quiet. Unearthly. Either everyone was in class or participating in the midday soiree outside. Nothing stirred save for the reflection gazing at Smithley from the laminate floors, an obvious extravagance for the student lodges.

Who could even afford laminate, anyway? Certainly, Granite Hills Academy could, especially at the rate they were cranking out proficient battlers.

Smithley left the lodge as hurriedly as he could, trampling down staircase after staircase until he reached the bottom, making sure he wasn't being stalked. All the while, Ellie's words continued to echo the back of his head as a ringing call to action.

This isn't what I signed up for.

Do you know how much I wanted to try megas?

Why even him?

The fifteen-year-old stepped outside, feeling a gentle breeze wash over him. It rollicked across the nearby mountainside, giving Smithley a moment of clarity in the turbulent storm of his life. As far as the eye could see, rocky outcroppings continued to stretch across the western portion of the island in which he stood upon. And, if he could squint his eyes just right, he could see the outline of the radio tower over on Renbow.

For all the academy's faults, Oblivia was quite possibly the best place it could be located. It was remote, isolated, free from the burdens of major civilizations.

He wished people could see it all. The beauty of it. The inevitability. The universe rose from the brink, only to fall.

And it was the people here who hurt Ellie. Their competition and a drive to be the best damaged a girl who hadn't even reached the legal voting age. Sure, none of them really meant it, after all. That wasn't the point of Pokemon battling; most of them were good people.

Smithley was tired of it. He cocked his head from left to right, taking a quick glance at the battlefield in which Ellie had fallen; it was now devoid of those raucous spectators from the match. Another glance fell upon a trainer complex nestled three-hundred yards away, the shared symbol of every Pokemon League fixed proudly upon it. A Pokeball stood emblazoned in the middle, accented by zig-zags of lines that vaguely resembled lightning bolts, a catalyst for what was to come.

One last stop, he thought. He had to solve this issue and solve it quickly.

For Ellie's sake.

It was for her sake the Oblivia native stepped into the doors of the building, knowing exactly who to seek out. If anyone could help him out with the problem, it'd be one of his few friends in the training division.

Funny. For all the things Pokemon battling could do, nobody could come up with a better name to describe it. The reminder stuck as Smithley strolled the halls, the framed pictures of past academy graduates reaching the far corners of his vision. Winners of Pokemon Leagues, contests, racing, and what-have-you stared at him from the eons of history.

But no analysts. It was some sort of bizarre amalgamation of a public university, save for formal training being suspended if somebody couldn't even pass that stupid one-minute initiation.

The lucky man was ahead, Smithley seeing him input some calculations in the control room immediately within reach. It stood in the center of the building, the beeping of various computers masking the fifteen-year-old's approach. With relative ease, he snuck in unmolested.

"I know you're there."

"Arceus, Thomas. There's no way you heard me."

"Don't need to. Sensors tripped," mumbled the teen, refusing to look up from his screen. He tapped a nearby monitor, its red flashes indicative of an intruder warning.

"Freak," Smithley goaded, taking the opportunity to peek out of the top-to-bottom windows surrounding the room. "How's the project coming?"

"Not bad. If I do it right, we should be able to swap out the fields like in the big leagues, Y'know, in and out?"

"I got you," he replied, taking notice of the four battlefields within his peripherical. Earth, water, grass, and rock platforms all laid at perfect angles from each other, preserved in pristine condition for the next day's training.

"So, what is it you want?" Thomas asked. "You never come here without a good reason."

Smithley moistioned his lips in anticipation. "I can't drop in and visit a friend?"

"That's bullshit and you know it," fired back the technician, finally tearing himself away from the mess of monitors consuming his attention. "So, spill."

"Fine. I know there's initiation and all that, but-"

"Is it about that girl?"

"... Yeah."

"Can't let it get to you, Smithley," chuckled his friend, taking a moment to look him in the eye. "I heard about the incident. You know the rules. They ain't changing."

"What if they did?"

"You can't possibly be suggesting-"

"Come on, Thomas. She's an eleven-year-old. How long have we been letting them wipe out over and over?"

"It works, Josh. People get over it. Then they grow. They can transfer out. They could train in secret. There's nothing stopping them," he snorted. "It's just the way we do things around here. Plenty of eleven-year-old trainers out there. Ten, even."

"Look at me, Thomas. I know you have pull with the president. She might listen to you. Just ask if it's possible to widen the training divis-"

"I'd rather have Giratina reach up from under and drag me down," interrupted the technician, a spark of fury erupting from within. "You keep doing this every time. You have those insane ideas, then I have to take the fall for it. Academy policy works here, and it'll keep working fifty years from now!"

"You're Kasa's grandson, Thomas! You can't pretend it didn't get you anywhere here."

"And how many times do you think she'd even listen to any of us? Tell me if she's even taking meetings with a single academy student."

"That's not the point and you know it."

"It absolutely is. Damn it, why try? People come to this place to get what they want. If you don't like it, leave! Hell, if you're so desperate, take an empty trainer spot if it opens up. You want to change initiation so bad? Be a part of it! Be like Dan!"

Smithley balled his fists, regretting his role in the increasingly charged tension of the conversation.

"I won't."

"Then fight him yourself! No, wait. It's coming back to me now," Thomas sneered. "That's right, you don't even have a Pokemon. Do you realize how bloody useless that is? Fat lot of good it does being here, huh?"

"Shut up, Thomas. Don't let it get to you."

"No, you're going to. You're dead weight here, Smithley. Do you understand that? Pore over statistics all day if you want, but you're not getting anywhere with that. You need blood, heat, and a will to fight. Look at me, damn it."

The fifteen-year-old couldn't quite meet the eye of his elder, instead fixing a haughty gaze on some distant horizon. He wouldn't dare give Thomas the satisfaction.

No. He wouldn't.

"Houndour didn't want to battle. Wouldn't have made it a day if this is the way we're running things down here," Smithley challenged, mustering enough courage to look at him for an instant. "So I let him go. It happens."

"And where is he now?"

Smithley felt a wave of shame wash over him. "I don't know."

"Exactly. You're what's wrong with initiation. That's why I'm mad," Thomas sighed, finally getting his temper under control. "Listen... you're my friend. But you can't keep on going like this."

"Yeah."

"Good."

The air reverberated with the sparks of the exchange, slowing giving way to cooler heads. Smithley leaned against one of the windows, letting his back slide in penance for the Pokemon he had lost. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd be ready to talk about it again.

Almost as if on cue, Thomas came to join him, placing his body in the same position. "You talk to Trev yet?"

"No, not really."

"Pft. If the crying was anything to go by, I don't think he did a very good job."

"You saw Ellie crying?"

The technician grimaced. "Yeah. I was outside. Probably didn't see me, but what can you do?"

"Pretty much."

"You're a nice guy, Josh. You could do a lot of good. Just try."

"Thanks, Tom," the fifteen-year-old murmured, Houndour still fresh on his mind.

"You got it. Now get out of here," he snorted. "I've got work to do. If you want a flawless system ready before the Verdure Cup next month, then I need to get back to having no social life."

Smithley straightened himself out, giving a quick nod to his friend. "That, I can help you out with. See you at dinner?"

"You bet."

Oblivia's native surged towards the door with a nonplussed attitude, the clicking of Thomas' tongue causing him to stop.

"And... I'll ask Kasa for you. She'll probably say no, but I'll see what I can do."

For once, a grin spread across Smithley's face. "Thanks, man."

With an affirmative grunt that barely passed as human, he continued on his way out, the pictures of championship winners no longer boring holes in his soul. The warm light of the yard greeted him, away from the doom and gloom of the training complex. All around him, the buildings of the academy jutted out like pines in the midst of a rocky mountain, partially true thanks to the composition of Mitonga Island. If this is what the school stood for... if this is what the training program stood for... then plans would have to be made.

Thomas was right.

Smithley rubbed his chin, delving into deeper thought. He believed, without a doubt, the battlers here were wrong. They were wrong in what they did and what they fought for. Pokemon battling shouldn't ever have to rely on who was stronger or weaker, nor who won and lost. No, there were too many who had relinquished sight of what battling stood for. There were even those who couldn't mega evolve their partners, despite how hard they tried. And that was coming from an analyst who barely had a single match at fifteen years old.

It was time to change the game. For Ellie. For Thomas. For Trevor, no matter how much of an idiot he was.

Smithley noticed a nearby dais, propped at the top of the small meadow allowing entry into academy grounds. It bore the motto of the school with stenciled letters, proudly standing for all to see.

He was ashamed of it. But he was proud of it, too. It represented everything right and wrong about the school, and it mirrored exactly what he now realized Thomas was trying to tell him.

If nobody was going to do it, he'd take matters into his own hands. He'd do it himself.

Indeed, for the motto was simple and small. Emblazoned with only two words, it allowed Smithley to grace a small smile. It'd be what he would use.

"Be better," it said.

~ Chapter One End ~

Author notes: Wow, what a spectacular response to the prelude! Seriously, guys, thank you. I've been reading through your responses and appreciate the time each and every one of you take to do so. They help pin down what I hope people are feeling as they read through this story.

I hope to read more of your thoughts soon. Cheers, and until next time!