Notes: First, I would like to thank Jigglypuff's Pillow for beta reading and ironing out all the various grammatical errors that I get.
The Thin Red Line
Chapter 2.1: A Contrived Coincidence
Call it fate, luck, or whatever, no one knows, but sometimes these things do happen. Like in those dramas, where a character or Pokémon pops out at just the right time to move the plot along. While you watch on, enduring your way through the cheesy episode with the words 'Wow, that sure was convenient' going thorough your mind.
One never expects this sort of thing to happen in reality, but I swear it has. If this were a story, it would have been a real, true and honest plot hook. In fact, I suspect that I am currently having some repayment for all the bad luck that I've been subjected to lately, despite my personal maintenance that karma doesn't quite work that way. But enough about that.
I'll need quite a bit of elaboration to explain what happened.
So it had reached the point where my concern was, strangely, focused on a pair of shoes.
In the curtained gloom of my room, I looked on forlornly as a pair of ruined shoes tumbled out from the box. And not just any shoes. These were genuine Pres-B running shoes. A rather expensive pair I had saved up for and bought with my pocket money in anticipation for my trainer's journey. Back when I had been sure that I would be chosen to train a regional starter.
They were comfortably padded, with excellent ergonomics and heel support, and now they were full of ragged holes.
What could have done this, I wondered, dropping the tattered shoes with a groan. It was a sad fate for such shoes and in retrospect, it was obvious whodunnit.
On cue, a whiskered snout poked its way out from under the desk, chittering at me mockingly.
"You little monster," I accused, meeting the two evil eyes from under the desk with my own. "How did you get out?"
The evil little thing's obvious response was a hiss of hatred as it shuffled about beneath my desk. There was a thump as it smacked into a leg and sent several magazines and stationary stacks flying off the desk and onto the floor.
"Get out from there!" I ordered, attempting to perform the same authoritative tone that Ma used so well as I readied the creature's Pokéball in my hand. But as I approached, it lunged out, snapping its jaws at my hand in a fit of sudden slavering madness.
"Fine, stay there!" I yelled, feeling quite frustrated at that point, but seating myself back in front of my old friend, the computer. If the little monstrosity wanted to rot under my desk, then fine. It could stay under my desk until its whiskers fell out, for all I cared. And so, after watching it carefully for a moment in case of any sudden movement, I turned to my computer, occasionally sneaking glances towards the foul rat in its makeshift lair.
It seemed content to remain in its dank hiding place, however, and so I ignored it. At any rate, I had other things to do.
I had decided to seek some advice on my level.
What does 'on my level' entail? Let me elaborate.
Throwing all reason and logic out (yes I know), I decided to ask the president.
To be specific, the Hikari (and by extension, Platina Berlitz) fan-club's president, known to most of the fan club simply as 'the President' or 'the Pres' at his insistence. But I could say I that I knew him better than most, because of the fact that he lived right next door until he moved to Jubelife two years ago. He founded the fan-club when he was there, and much later, I figured out that he was in charge when I joined up myself.
A bit of a strange reunion, but that's not the point.
I know it sounded like a joke, going to him of all people for help. I mean, I had Ma, an experienced trainer who had been very high in the rankings in her day, not to mention Professor Yew, and an actual breathing Pokémon Professor to go to for advice. So why would I need the advice of a slightly obsessive fan-club president?
But this is where my 'levels' analogy comes in. Because both Ma and Professor Yew (maybe more so for Ma) had the experience to back up their supposed advice. Before she had loaned them all to Da in Kanto, Ma had enforced an ironclad discipline on her Pokémon. And Professor Yew, while lacking in this area, had her store of theoretical knowledge to tap into.
But the President was, or had been, a novice trainer. Like I am now.
Experience told me that I could not hope to emulate Ma's powerful clout over the Pokémon she commanded, and that to rely too much on Professor Yew's 'be friends and everything will work out' mantra was pure stupidity.
In fact, subscribing to Professor Yew's mantra was one of the reasons I was here now, logging on to the Hikari-fans chat servers. So much coaxing and wheedling and attempted training, and it was still as uncontrollable as ever. A long chilly training session that made me feel like I was the star of a bad comedy or parody. It got so bad that I scarcely want to remember the mental and physical exhaustion the little monster caused, let alone record them down.
But I will anyway. For posterity's sake, if nothing else.
Professor Yew started the ball rolling, dispensing advice.
"Don't worry, Rattata are generally very good-natured once they get used to a trainer," Professor Yew had said with all the conviction in the world.
And so, with those words of wisdom to guide me, I began on my first step to become a master trainer: the effective command of a Pokémon. Like Red, I would overcome adversity and with my burning will and determination, I would inevitably triumph.
Or so I felt at the time. So it turns out, in reality, all those feelings do nothing when push comes to shove. I, fueled by Red's unexpected appearance and impromptu pep talk, had somewhat more self-confidence than I normally would have. On impulse, and drunk on the 'persevere and you will succeed' feeling that talking to the great champion had left me, I had asked Ma for the captured Rattata to begin my journey with.
Which was a rather bad choice on my part. It wasn't that I had no other choices. I could have asked Da for another Pokémon, or even start with a stupid Bidoof, but I wanted to prove myself, succeed, and also in part because I wanted to show the damned rat who was boss. A bit of me told myself that I was great enough a trainer to challenge the odds and succeed. Just like Red.
But I was wrong, to put it simply.
I quickly found out that attempting to train a Pokémon which had no intention of being trained was an exercise in futility in itself. The evil little rat took all my perseverance and all my determination and chewed it all up. And then it left droppings all over their remains. And unlike that stupid drama, I did not have a convenient flock of evil Spearow attacking us to get the rage filled little creature to bond closer to me.
Some may say that I was unaware of the challenges, but I knew the difficulties. Perhaps even more than most beginners. After all, I go through the advanced trainer's package to apply for a regional starter. A memory which felt even more bitter than ever whenever I got the malicious creature out.
I knew that training Pokémon, especially wild ones that you've caught for the first time, is rarely an easy task. The Pokémon tended to be surly and uncooperative and often attempted to challenge the trainer for dominance of the group. The basic and advanced trainer's course packages that I sat through had told me that much at least, that the 'instant friendship' concept popularized by the drama serial was truly and utterly nonsense.
So I had expected resistance and some hostility, but the stupid rat took that to ridiculous, almost parody-like extremes.
The very first time I let it out of the Pokéball, it proved itself to be of an exceedingly evil temperament. The rat did not want to 'be friends' with me. It was not the befriending type. Rather, it wanted to rip my face off and gnaw at my ankles.
And it made sure to let me know, by demonstrating many, many times.
Anyway, the training went somewhat like this:
On Professor Yew's advice, I had set up a bowl of water and moistened the pellets we had found for it in the store room. It had been just after Ma's excellent lunch, and the both of us had been full, well fed, and confident that our efforts would be rewarded.
"Let it out and show it you mean no harm!" She had said enthusiastically.
"Not in in my house. Go outside," Ma interjected as she looked on disapprovingly. And so we donned thicker clothing and shifted our operations outside into the bitter Sinnoh cold.
Shivering, surly, and under the supervision of the professor, I let it out, thumbing the Pokéball's release switch and dropping the it onto the grass. Within moments the release mechanism kicked in and unleashed the little horror within; an emaciated incarnation of pure malice and rage, with patchy fur, scars and a general malnourished, ratty look to it. I could have sworn that the grass wilted a little as it crushed the foliage under its paws.
With a guttural snarl, the beast stared about it at the surroundings, its beady red eyes searching for something we could not see as it raised its head and sniffed the air.
The both of us looked on at it, not quite knowing what to expect.
"Right, er... Tell the little fellow that there's food," Professor Yew said, though the certainty in her voice was draining away at the ugly sight.
"Okay," I replied, staring the beast down. I took a deep breath and readied myself.
"Rattata!" I cried as I waved and gestured towards the bowl. "Food!"
It then promptly charged into the bushes, causing an unholy cacophony of shrieks and squawks and the sound of the snapping of branches before it emerged, its foul jaws clamped around the neck of a dead Starly. Then, ignoring the bowl of water and the Poképellets with an air of disdain, it dragged the remains of the unfortunate Pokémon off to the relative shelter of one of Ma's garden benches and began to feast on its gristly meal.
Professor Yew immediately went a nice bright shade of green while I stared on in a mixture of horror and bile fascination.
"E-excuse me for a bit, eh..." Professor Yew moaned. "I think I've got t-to-"
She then turned to run for the bathroom, throwing the front door open with a crash and dashing for the stairs within. And so, she left me alone with the beast. And it truly was a beast, savagely ripping a wing off and consuming it with a maximum of bone crunching, wet and bloody noises.
Now, what was I supposed to do?
"Speak in a calm, soothing manner. And don't move too quickly." Professor Yew's initial advice repeated itself in my mind.
"Well, its you and me, then," I said to it, taking a slow step towards the monstrosity as it regarded me over its bloody meal with madness filled eyes. "You're gonna have to listen to me, okay? I'm not going to hurt you," I continued as I stepped closer and closer.
It was sensible enough advice – but only for your regular friendly Pokémon. And definitely not plague ridden, raged filled evil little rats. I took a step to far, stepping a little to close in proximity to it. And then without warning, the rat hurled its meal aside with a shriek of rage, its eyes narrowed into slits of pure evil. In a flash, it charged, hurling itself against me with all the force of a small, berserk typhoon and sending myself sprawling into the grass with a yell.
And then, looking up, I found myself in the same situation I had been in that very morning in Professor Yew's house: with the damned rat pinning me down by squatting squarely on my chest and snarling and snapping and dribbling in my face. With its sharp teeth snapping mere millimeters from my face, I did only what I could in those circumstances.
Which was to yell for help.
And soon enough, reinforcements arrived in the form of Ma. The front door was thrown open with a crash and her voice demanded to know what was all the noise about.
With a scowl on her face, Ma leaned over and grabbed the foul rat's tail, tightly enough for it to shriek in rage and struggle for all it was worth. Which continued until Ma casually tossed the flailing creature aside, with an expression on her face that spoke of merely mild irritation. It hit the grass with a muffled thump, rolling and shrieking until, in an act that would make Professor Yew protest in outrage (had she dared). Ma casually stepped onto it, her flip-flops pinning the creature to the cold earth.
I would have thought that it would continued its futile struggle, but It fell silent immediately, falling limp and motionless.
Playing dead, I assumed, which was rather smart of it.
Now you see what I mean when I say I could not emulate Ma. How in the world I was going to do something like that, I would like to know.
"You alright there, dear?" Ma called.
"Yes, Ma," I answered quickly, pulling myself to my feet.
"But you need another bath," she continued, as she looked me over with a look of distaste on her face. "Recall the Rattata and then lets call it a day."
"Yes, Ma..." There was not much point in arguing.
"But before that, clean up that mess," Ma added.
I directed my attention to where Ma was looking. Right over to the sodden pile of bloodied feathers and other assorted parts that I was sure were supposed to be inside the Pokémon and not steaming gently in the chill air.
"I'll get you a pair of rubber gloves," Ma added helpfully. Thanks, Ma.
Needless to say, by the time I had gotten rid of it and hosed down the area of feathers and fluid, it had gotten a little too late for any more training. It did do wonders for my unusual confidence boost though. Very few things in life can shave down over-confidence faster than shoveling the stinking remains of half-eaten Starly into plastic bags.
So, with nothing to show for it except for a bag full of 'bits' and a set of very chewed up running shoes, I decided to get some advice. Not from Ma, who somehow easily inspired zealous compliance from her Pokémon and the rat, and not from Professor Yew either, who's expertise lay more in studying Pokémon rather than training them.
Which brought me back to why I was in my room and my computer and was why I was logging onto the fan-club chat in search of the Pres.
As I mentioned above, the Pres was a neighbor of mine who moved to Jubelife two years back – merely a year after he moved into my own sleepy little town in the first place.
So, understandably, I've always found him a little odd for several reasons. For one, he was four years my senior and had moved to Sinnoh with his parents and younger brother after completing his trainer's journey in Hoenn. Which meant that he was rather tanned in comparison to most of Sinnoh's people. In addition, I think that he and his family arrived around the time when there had been this big media frenzy over those two eco-terrorist groups Teams Magma and Aqua, a fact which he gleefully brought up at every given opportunity.
And what a strange year it was. With him around, it seem that the whole time was a crash-course introduction to all things that were fandom. In fact, he got the two of us, both my rival and I, to watch the Pokémon dramas in the first place. And then he moved, disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared.
And then, finally revealing his grand appearance as fan-club president not two weeks ago.
Anyways, I ignored the vile chittering emanating from beneath my desk and logged on into the fan club's forums. A site the Pres had set up at his own expense. His family was somewhat affluent in their own right and he could afford it, but the chat function was slow to load as usual, though that was probably due to my poor connection, rather than anything else.
As usual, there was a flashing banner where the latest 'news' and 'headlines' and I use these terms in the loosest sense, scrolled across the screen in attention grabbing fluorescent neon colors. Most of it was, in actual fact, gossip about the idol of the fan-club and other rumors derived from various tabloids. Things like the series of bloody accidents that shut down the battle subway in Isshu-Unova and other things only the President would find interesting.
Legendaries and Conspiracies.
And the centerpiece of all this was actual photo of a ' legendary white dragon' and a supposed 'Celebi' taken by the Pres himself which looked suspiciously like a Charizard painted or shopped white while covered in feathers and a stuffed toy respectively.
Coincidentally, the President's Da did own a Charizard. And his retarded little brother dragged around a stuffed Pokédoll wherever he went...
I drummed my fingers against the computer table as the chat window opened. A white backgrounded box in the middle of my screen in which the nicknames of the members online scrolled down the side. I looked up and down carefully in case of lag, but there was nothing to be seen.
His online handle was invariably El-Presidente, and it was no where in sight. Even the rather less flamboyant but ever present 'eveningcoffee' wasn't there. Which meant that even the site's moderator wasn't online at the time.
Which I should have expected.
You see, most of the members of the Hikari fan-club were people my age. Fanboys and fangirls, sure, but no matter how big a fan one was, the tantalizing call of adventure always beckoned - which meant they would have been going on their first trainer journeys. Or in the case of the Pres or my other seniors, they would be probably going on vacation or taking the chance to continue where they had left off in their journeys.
And so I sat there and wondered why I was thinking so slowly today. And counted my options, of course.
But I was feeling very apathetic at that point. And I think that its understandable, seeing that all my efforts on that evil rat go to waste and the friends that I had been looking for all gone, leaving me alone with Ma and a stinking rat and also Professor Yew who had again collapsed on the sofa. The atmosphere was quite moody to say the least and the rat loose in my room didn't help things.
In a sense, I was back where I had started, reading gossip off the internet. Things like,
And then, out of absolutely no where, Bam! Plot Hook. Coincidence. Fate. Whatever.
No, really. I was sitting there, contemplating about strangling the rat and calculating if I could perform the deed unscathed. All the whilst having fallen back onto the usual mindless activity to satiate the emptiness within - surfing the internet aimlessly. All the while trying to ignore the increasingly agitated and horrific sounds the little monster kept making from beneath my desk.
And then, the familiar sound of a certain shows opening theme rang out.
Left virtually untouched since I had enshrined myself within my room, and unsullied by human or Pokémon for a grand total of two weeks, the not quite cutting edge model that was my cellphone rang, vibrated and then fell off my desk with an almighty crash.
It was sudden, and it snapped me out of my internet addled reverie and drew my attention to where it was on the floor – and the rat's attention as well. Two evil beady little eyes seemed to glow in the dark.
And the two of us went for it.
It emerged, hissing, spitting and snarling from its lair, hurling itself aloft in its furious charge. Whether it's intention was to attack my cellphone or to attack me, I cannot say, but it sure tried its best. It's jaws agape, descended upon the cellphone (or my hand that was reaching for it), fully intent to silence the annoyance with all the force it could muster.
But I was faster, or at least closer than the rat; I reached the cell phone first. My fingers grasped it just as it caught the phone strap in its jagged teeth, and it pulled hard. And I returned the favour, resisting its pull, with the phone still ringing and vibrating in my hand, managing to withstand the abuse stoically.
The rat stared me in the eye, hissing slightly over its mouthful of phone strap. Somehow it conveyed a message, of contempt and the like - and something inside me snapped.
I simply had enough of the stupid rat's nonsense.
It was fierce, and possibly mad and rabid, sure. But I was bigger than it, wasn't I? For all its gall, it was still a Rattata, after all.
"You stupid rat!" I said, defiantly, even as I pulled harder. I was not losing to a rat, not this time. Not with my phone at stake.
But the rat wasn't having that.
Perhaps it sensed a change, so it simply switched targets. Releasing its death's grip on the strap, its hellish maw clamped down on my hand instead. But I did not scream. In fact, as it savaged the skin on my hand, my other hand was at work, grasping towards the computer table, my movements fueled by a mixture of pain, adrenaline, anger and irritation. The previous two humiliations at its nasty little paws were still fresh in my mind.
And I was not going to let it happen this time.
My free hand found what it was grasping for, my fingers enclosing the Pokéball on the computer table. And as I did, the rat sensed the danger and released my bleeding hand, only to leap for my face instead. But it was too late. I was faster this time, having been subject to its howling pounces and charges more than once. And perhaps with slightly more force than necessary, I thumbed the retrieval mechanism and slammed the Pokéball down onto it and watched in satisfaction as it squealed and struggled even as it was drawn into the ball.
"Paws off my phone," I muttered, and brought the phone to my ears.
"Hello there, good evening..." A distinctively female voice came through the line. "Is this-"
"Who are you?" I interrupted, still high on adrenaline. "I just got a Rattata." I laughed.
"Right. Very good. A Rattata." The female voice paused for a second. "Is this-"
"It bit me."
"Never mind that. Please listen to me. You signed up at the fan-club two weeks ago. Is this correct? And you stay in the South-Western Sinnoh region?" She spoke again, this time louder. Asking if she had identified me with the correct online handle, confirming my name and such other questions.
"Y-yes?" I replied finally, wondering how she knew. "Who are you?"
She paused for breath. "You can call me Coffee. If you've been on the fan forums, then you will know that I am the moderator there."
Coffee? Eveningcoffee? Now that was something I really had not expected and it took a few seconds for the mental connection to be established.
"Eveningcoffee?" I repeated, this time aloud.
"That's the one."
At this point I was wondering what in the world was happening. So I sat there, with Coffee on the line and the rat's Pokéball rocking violently in my hand. What would she be calling for anyway? We fan-club members weren't particularly close to begin with.
And more about eveningcoffee. I suppose I've never written of her before, probably because our association had only began when I joined up with the fan club.
I had never met her face to face before, but from the Pres's description, she was some sort of a university student in Jubelife and also a couple of years older than him. Which in my opinion made her give off a particular ''older sister" kind of impression, though I could not confirm that, nor anyone else in the community. As dispersed as the Hikari fan club was, not many members actually met face to face, and to my knowledge, the only person who actually knew her was the president himself.
She was the de-facto second in command of the fan-club and supposedly the eldest of us all. Or at the very least, the eldest amongst the members who were willing to reveal their actual age, and also a prime example that even girls go after Hikari. Though the alternative theory that she joined up to keep the President in check out of a misguided sense of responsibility wasn't too far-fetched either.
But anyway, since we did not know her name, and with both the president and the moderator herself keeping mum on the matter, we ended up just calling her Coffee. Creative, no? And as I mentioned above, she was amongst the last people I would expect to call up out of nowhere. Probably because our last communication had been a warning from her to me, for flaming another poster in the forums, but that's not important now.
"What's this about?" I asked. "Please don't say the fan club needs a donation."
"Rest assured," Coffee replied, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I am not soliciting you for donations. If it ever comes to that, I'll make sure President does it himself instead." Then there was a small cough over the line and when she spoke again, she was serious once more.
"Anyway, I'm calling to inform you of a fan-club event," she said simply and then continued before I could have a chance to butt in. Which was probably for the best, because at the time, I was about to say, 'I'm not paying for this.'
"You are aware of the Sandgem Mini-tournament?" she asked.
"Er, no?"
"Good grief. Have you read the paper at all? Or the association web page?"
"No, not really," I replied, trying not to sound embarrassed. I was never much of a paper reader, and I had sworn off the Pokémon association anyway, supposedly for good. In my book they were a bunch of corrupt idiots.
''Oh never mind that, then," Coffee replied, a hint of admonishment in her voice. A bit like a smart elder sibling talking down to a younger one, so I thought. "Pleasr do read it up later."
"Sure," I replied somewhat half-heartedly. Tournaments were fine and all – if you had a competent team of Pokémon to lead you to victory. But all I had was a rat. "I'll take a look when I have the time."
"That won't do," Coffee interjected quickly. "The mini-tournament is this Saturday- that's three days away and the President wants to have a fan-club gathering in lieu with the tournament. He would have sent emails out to the members, but..."
"He forgot?"
"That's right," Coffee said, heaving a sigh over the line. "He rushed off to Canalave to pick up something and called me this morning - at five AM I might add, asking me to call every member I could. I would have sent emails but I know that you lot don't check your mailbox very often."
"Ah, yes. Email." Guilty as charged. My inbox hasndn't been checked for months.
"What was that about the tournament again?"
"A novice-level mini-tournament organized by the Sandgem Town Council and Professor Rowan. It's still endorsed by the association, though," Coffee explained. And then delivered the kicker. "Apparently they've got a regional starter left over from the selection trials and they want to give a chance for the novice trainers to qualify for one."
Now that got my attention.
"What?" That was all I could say, but in contrast to my mouth, my mind was racing. Thinking hard, that perhaps, just perhaps my destiny to obtain one had not been derailed after all. But Coffee had mentioned 'tournament'. Which meant, one Pokémon and many aspirants. And rules. Always rules and qualifications.
"Do I qualify?" I asked hoarsely.
"Hmm, Don't rightly know," Coffee answered quickly. "You'll need to check the website to register. But the basic gist is that its a one-Pokémon tournament, for novice trainers under two badges. Com-mons and basics obedience and battle techniques only. So I suppose its more of a trainer evaluation than anything else."
She paused fo a second.
'But you probably qualify – it is geared towards new trainers after all.'
"I-I see..." I mumbled. This was it, my big break.
Even as Coffee prattled on about the fan-club gathering for the tournament, I was looking down at the rat's Pokéball in my hand. And I was thinking.
Could I, with this lump of malicious evil, have a chance at this?
"The meeting place is at the Kouki family restaurant. Take care till then," Coffee finally finished, but I barely heard her. I was looking towards my computer instead, my mind and enthusiasm renewed by this unexpected turn of events.
Tossing the Pokéball and catching it, I went back to the computer. I had work to do. Fate coincidence or whatever. I would not let this chance slip away.
And now, I've got to tell Ma and get packed.
