Blue feels as though he stands in the shadow of a monolith. There isn't a household that hasn't heard of Professor Oak. His name is often at the tips of people's tongues, whispered in fevered praise as they list off his accomplishments.
Professor. Champion. All-around decent guy. It isn't that Blue hates it, it's just exhausting. Such a legacy is a heavy thing to bear, and he wonders if his shoulders are a little too small to handle it.
The one constant in his life is simple: That's Professor Oak's grandson. Whispers behind hands, and stares that follow him. There is the feeling of inadequacy, that he doesn't belong on the same pedestal. He's constantly compared to his grandpa, pulled at and picked apart.
Blue is a kid who barely fits into his sneakers, and whose clothes hang on him like he's a limp noodle. He's still learning, still figuring things out. Doesn't really know where to start and has no idea where he'll end.
When others look at him, they don't see him, they see an Oak, they see his grandpa, they see whatever they expect him to grow into.
So Blue's made sure that they see just about anything else. He puts on a show of being a whiny, self-centered brat, a carefully crafted facade that none are likely to forget. Blue digs into people, his fingers sinking deep as he pulls them along. He laughs and taunts and tugs at their edges. He ruffles any feathers that he can, and delights in the way their faces twist.
And no, it isn't really who he is; there's a lot of depth to the child called Blue—but at least this way, he is seen on his own terms. He isn't lingering in the shadow of his grandpa, and whatever grand future is expected of him.
This is easier. It's like playing a part. Blue slaps a wily smile onto his face, and acts like a haughty menace. If people want him to make something of himself, then he'll use that old clout that he rides the tailcoats of.
Might as well.
#
"A Pokédex," said Grandpa one day, smoothing his wrinkled fingers across glossy red plastic. "It'll be a fun adventure, and you'll be helping me out."
Blue is young and determined to be the best, and Gramps might not yet realize it, but he's all but handed him the key to success. The Oak name is one thing, but a fancy high-tech gadget and the excuse of doing research? Blue will have access to the kinds of things that kids his age only dream about.
One problem—his grandpa is nowhere to be found, and so far, Red's a no-show as well. Blue frowns. This isn't the sort of fanfare that he's signed up for. Blue expects people to grovel at his feet once he leaves the lab to venture out on his own.
And yet, the lab is mostly quiet aside from the Professor's aides shuffling about as they work. Blue sighs, his breath fluffing his bangs. He doesn't have time for this, he thinks, as he taps his foot impatiently.
Eventually, Gramps arrives with Red in tow. They chatter quietly as they shuffle in through the door.
"Ah, Blue! I almost forgot that I asked you to come." His grandpa reaches out to ruffle his hair, which Blue shrugs off with all the annoyance a boy his age can muster. Red watches the two of them, amused.
"Oh, wipe that smirk off your face." Blue sneers at Red. "You're late and I'm tired of waiting."
"I didn't mean to be late. Your grandfather caught me right as I was trying to sneak out of town through the tall grass. Then, he insisted that I follow him here."
Blue frowns at that. The two of them go way back, the kinds of rivals that have stories about them. They dip their toes into the same hobbies, but Blue always comes out on top. Always. And Red's okay with it. A placid sort-of boy, he's perfectly fine coming in at second-best. Makes for a strangely symbiotic friendship, framed by inspired competition.
"So, what, you're here to get a Pokédex as well?"
Red's face furrows. "A Poké-what?"
His confusion seems genuine at least. Blue glances at his grandpa who's busy fiddling around his desk. It wouldn't be a surprise that he's roped Red into his research without the boy's knowledge.
"Look, I'll say it now—I'm going to come out on top, no matter what. Always a step ahead, you know?" Red's brow raises, and he opens his mouth to retort, but Professor Oak cuts right in.
"Right then—come on the two of you, over here." Red and Blue do as they're told, coming to stand before a table in the lab. Upon it sits three Pokeballs, shined to sparkling perfection. "I have three Pokémon here just waiting for a partner. Pick one."
Blue expected this, of course. He came to the lab knowing exactly what was planned for the day. Red, however, seems more than surprised. He blinks, mouth parted as he eloquently blurts, "Um—"
He'd known about the Pokédex, it seems, but nothing else.
Blue elbows him harshly in the ribs. "Go on, pick one already. I'll take whatever's leftover. The least that I can do is give you a little bit of an edge."
Red considers his choice carefully, in that quiet way of his. He's never been a boy of pride, really, understated in most of what he does. He and Blue differ in that way, but it's the sort of rivalry that goes hand-in-hand. Blue enjoys the way they push at each other because Red approaches everything with such a different mindset. Makes for good fun.
Blue watches his Red's fingers ghost each Pokéball. And then, his hand stops on the one in the middle, tapping it.
"Charmander," says Professor Oak kindly.
"This one," says Red quietly, wrapping his fingers around the red and white sphere.
Red did not know he would come to the lab today, only to leave with a Pokémon. Blue, though, came prepared. He walks to the table, a wily smirk on his face as he grabs the first Pokéball that he sets his sight on. It's a feeling, really, an in-your-gut sort of thing. The Pokéball weighs just right in his hand.
"And that's a Squirtle," says his grandfather with a smile. "Ah, one is the other's weakness—how fun!"
Blue gives Red a sidelong glance and nudges him with his elbow. "You hear that? Your Chamander's toast."
Red raises an eyebrow, looking at him coolly. "He's only toast if I give him a chance to be."
"Hey." Blue reaches out and grasps him by his sleeve. Red pauses, watching him curiously, leaving Blue to rub at his neck self-consciously. "Look, Grandpa's explained the whole thing to you, right? On the way here?"
"What… Ah. You mean helping with his research. Yeah, I get it."
"So, here's the thing—" Blue leans over and slings an arm around Red's shoulder. "We both get it—we're old buddies, right? But we're also rivals. I intend to outshine just about anything that you do out there."
Red regards him with an amused look. "I'd expect nothing less from you." Of course, he wouldn't, they've been like this since they were still in diapers.
"At the same time, you know that despite that all, I've got your back, right?" Blue isn't sure why he says it.
Red isn't either, because he stills, pulling back from him, face crinkling in confusion. "I—yes?"
"Good."
Blue wants to make it in the world on his own, even if he uses his Grandpa's name as a stepping stone to get there. In the end, it will be on his merit and talent, it'll be all his hard work and determination. Red is good at what he does, but he isn't nearly as devoted, he's just along for the ride.
Easy pickings, thinks Blue. He clears his throat, pushing Red away. "Right. Uh—good rivals are hard to come by and all that. We've cultivated our relationship over the years, it'd be a waste to find a new adversary."
Red scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Then, Blue smirks at him, holding up his Pokéball. "What do you say to a friendly little battle? Test out our new buddies, or something like that?"
Red looks at the Pokéball resting in his palm and then he grins with that familiar subtle half-smile.
Blue is the one to toss the ball first, the room erupting in a flash.