Short, sweet, and very late. Updates are going to become erratic, as college is starting back up.
Also, if I wind up liking the idea, the next chapter should be a nice surprise.
The sudden popularity put Mike on the spot. For about thirty minutes or so, he had been shyly avoiding the whispered questions he was asked as the Professor gave some sort of final lecture. He liked to imagine that they were all simply very obvious ones, but in truth he had thought that he was getting too much excitement in to him for one day. All asked about his team, many asked about his hand, some even asked about his own journey. Mike simply shushed them, waiting for Professor Oak to reach the climax of his speech.
"So, for those of you too distracted by our guest to pay attention," the Professor smiled in Mike's direction before returning to the class, "there is only one real 'lesson' left: the practical application. It's a two-day march to Viridian, if you leave at dawn and don't camp until dark. You will all have one week to make it to Viridian, pick up your Pokédex, and return here to have it activated and registered. This should be ample time to judge whether you can really live as a Pokémon Trainer, and how well you and your starter work together. Any questions?"
Mike raised his bandaged hand, much to the surprise of the crowd.
"Yes, Michael?" Even the Professor was curious about this.
"What's the weather look like?" Professor Oak blinked at him, completely drawing a blank. Late winter to spring was very mild and very wet in Hoenn, but Mike would like to know how he would fare with his hooded jacket and jeans as his only protection. So far, Kanto had been fairly chilly for his usual liking. The elder pulled a phone out of one pocket and a pair of glasses out of another, pushing the touch-sensitive screen and scanning it after a few moments.
"March 4th, sunny, 62 Fahrenheit," the Professor rattled off, "besides it getting cloudy around Thursday, you should be home before a wet weekend," Professor Oak removed his glasses and pointed them at the class, "which should be all the more incentive to hustle! By the way, Mike," the Professor looked up to see Mike counting on his fingers. Hoenn was on the metric system, and Fahrenheit was proving hard to convert. It didn't help that math was not his strong suit.
"… Seventeen Celcius?" Mike looked up, unaware that the Professor was attempting to converse with him. The elder nodded, pocketing his phone as he continued.
"Brilliant question," Mike shrugged at this, grinning, "my winter quarter this year actually got rained out for a week, and that was the day after I sent them on their merry way. Great foresight. You would think that more people would ponder-"
"Can we get on with it, then?" the snooty red-head cut through the Professor's reminiscing. The Professor shot him a look of contempt before ushering all of the students out of the lab. Mike could sense that the young irritant was tap-dancing precariously on the Professor's last nerve. Michael hung at the back of the pack of trainers as they descended the hill towards the edge of the small town, preferring the company of the elder. Kaitlyn, too, hung back, but more for the company of Mike.
"Who is that kid, anyways?" Mike asked aloud, not caring who answered. Professor Oak merely snorted, but Kaitlyn quickly responded.
"Rodger something-or-other," the girl replied, "some fancy name with a number after it."
"Spoiled to the core by his uncle," Professor Oak added, "it's a shame, too. Dratini are hard to come by, and he gets to ruin one."
"Show some f-faith, Professor," Mike spoke, smiling at his elder.
"You can call me 'Samuel'," Professor Oak smiled back.
"Sam alright?" Mike looked forward towards the gathering of trainers and various adults,
"Sure." conceded the Professor. Kaitlyn, who had been walking a short ways in front of them, turned to walk backwards and posed a question.
"Sammy?" Kaitlyn smiled up at the old man.
"Don't you have parents to pester?" Professor Oak made a purposefully grouchy face this time, shooing the young lady away. She giggled and began to leave, but something occurred to Mike.
"Wait," he called after her, "I don't know your n-name!" True enough, as Mike had only seen her name on her test. She stopped, turned back to the two older men, and extended her hand.
"Kaitlyn O'Reilly." Mike placed his bandaged paw in her tiny hand, and she pumped his arm a bit harder than he expected, "sometimes Kait, never Kaity."
"Pleasure to m-meet you, Kait." With that, she sprinted off down the street towards a pair of parents. Straightening himself up, he returned to match the Professor's stride as they approached the group of children and parents. Tearful goodbyes, small hugs and the pecking of cheeks created a cacophony of loving and caring sounds. Enough to warm up a Snorunt, as Mike's mother would often say. And he did remember this. His mother was so worried, and his step-father was puffed up with pride. They hugged him, and congratulated him, and stuffed extra underwear in his bag… He would later come to appreciate the extra underwear. He had a Wurple for a very brief period, in which it devoured most of his clothing, so the underpants had been an Arc-send.
Mike was jolted from his reminiscence by something he hadn't expected. A small voice, somewhere in the crowd. The end of a conversation from a confident child to a worried parent.
"It's okay, mommy. Mike's here! A Champion!"
"Mike? You mean Michael Almus?"
"Yeah! He's a champion and he can punch and fight and everything!"
There was a brief moment of disbelief while the champion processed this. Not the idea that he was a teacher, that was an idea that he was somewhat comfortable with. Nor the idea that he was a fighter, as the proof was probably recovering in a Center bed a few hundred miles from here. No, it was the idea that he was now a caretaker. He was a shepherd to the flock of Mareep in front of them, and if any of them were to come to any sort of harm…
"Are you alright, Mike?" The Professor shook him slightly, bringing him back around to reality. Which isn't exactly what he wanted. "You look like you've seen a Gastly."
"I-I-I'm r-r-r…" Mike cleared his throat, trying to force out the right words, "R-responsible for ev-ev-everyone here…"
"What? No, you're worrying too much."
"No, no, no-no-no," Mike backpedaled slightly, realization and responsibility dousing him like a bucket of ice water, "they are g-g-gonna get h-h-h-hurt."
"They aren't going to get hurt-"
"All trainers get hurt!" Mike held up his bandaged hand to punctuate the point, "and I'm gonna get the b-b-b-bluh…"
"Just calm down," the Professor turned him towards the tall grass at the edge of the town behind them. For a moment, they just sat there, staring at the waving grass. Occasionally it would rustle, a Rattata would pop his head out, a Pidgey would take to the air. The sharp call of some larger bird rung out through the spring calm. Mike took a deep breath, his good hand finding his pocket and reassembling his team at his belt. The Professor's hands stayed at his shoulders, keeping him from turning around to the chatter behind him. His team assembled at his belt quite nicely, save for his new pal. He rolled the starter in his hands briefly, looking from the serene grass in front of him and down at the orb. A new start. A new water-type, even. He wasn't a babysitter, he was just along for the ride. He was the ride.
Regardless of what Lance wanted, Mike was making this a fresh run. This was a brand new adventure, and like hell he wouldn't challenge the gyms. But he would do it right. He would only use his new team, his new friends he would meet here. And along the way, he would teach anyone he felt like. Silent Battling was an innovation. It was his baby. Something he wanted to proudly raise up and show to the world. And he would, via this new team. Suddenly, he was struck with a new, exciting idea: He could be Champion here, too. It actually made him nervous, it made him frightened in all of the right ways. His mind began to spin off in wild scenarios, proudly sitting in a chair in Lance's office - if he had an office - and boasting two titles. The grass was a sea of adoring fans, the calls were that of his new team, wild formless shapes in the distance of his mind's eye…
"Feeling better?" The Professor brought his dreams of grandeur back down to earth. It was such a wild feeling. It was truly like he had started over again. And yet, Mike knew that he couldn't be champion. Mike knew that his place would either be in Hoenn's League or out exploring everything he could. But it was very, very nice to dream again. With a deep breath of relief, he had one more small realization: he was carrying an illegal amount of Pokémon.
"Yes, actually, but," Mike plucked a Net Ball from his belt, placed Mac on the magnetic disc, and took one of the hands off his shoulder. He pressed the Net Ball in to the wrinkled palm before continuing, "this is Floater, my Gyarados. He really enjoys white meat, like birds and stuff. And loves spicy food, too. Can I, uh, leave him here? Can you look after him for me?"
"Will it keep you from having another panic attack?" The smirk didn't exactly set Mike at ease, but he definitely felt better when he pocketed the sphere. Mike and Floater had a strange relationship, and he actually felt a little better that he was in the care of a Professor now. Mike was a big eater, but he simply had a horribly difficult time with keeping a Gyarados happy. And the training…
"Yes, actually," Mike returned the smirk with a grin, "Thank-you, Sam." Then Mike noticed a difference in the grass in front of him. There was a ten year old plowing through it. And then another. It was as if they all decided to leave at once. Waving hands shot up as they went, and a chorus of goodbyes ferried them away. One of the kids actually thumped Mike quite hard as he passed, and a head of red hair disappeared in to the thick grass in front of him.
"Come on, Mike!" A familiar girl rushed past him, a brow ponytail whipping around as she turned to look at him. "We only have a week! Let's go, Mike-Mike!"
He didn't have to be told twice. Mike actually burst in to a somewhat impressive sprint for his size, pounding down grass in seconds and leaving Kaitlyn to trail behind him.
He was back on the road again, and the road felt good.