Chapter 1
The Dream
He could see her in profile. She was standing straight and tall, and looking off into the distance. He could see nothing but her shape, and the glint of her green eyes, for she stood in the shadows.
"Shadow! Shadow! Come out of the darkness," he implored her. "Come into the light."
She turned at the sound of his voice, and slowly stretched her arm out towards him, reaching up to the sky. Her eyes were so sad, so hopeful. She was waiting. She was waiting for him! And she was reaching for him!
"Shadow, speak to me! Tell me your name."
She opened her mouth, and said: "Omar, you lazy bones! Get up already!"
As Omar opened his eyes, he sighed. He had almost heard Shadow speak this time! He wanted to know her name. He couldn't announce her properly without knowing her real name. "I'm up mom, I'm up!"
Omar dreamed of becoming the greatest pokemon battle announcer of all time. To be there to witness the ultimate battles of the century, that would be the best! And to comment on them, to have his voice describing these battles…Omar closed his eyes, imagining how wonderful it would be. His words would be those remembered together with the legends among trainers, his ideas associated with greatness. And Shadow was the greatest of the great! She had been the defending champion of nearly every prestigious pokemon tournament held for five years straight! Announcing for Shadow was every rising commentator's ultimate goal.
But, Omar though, as he dressed for the day, it was very strange, that dream that kept coming to him. Very different from his normal dreams. Usually, if it involved Shadow, he had visions of announcing her flawless victories. But this, it seemed deeper, more important somehow, than any of his frivolous daydreams.
But such thoughts were nighttime thoughts. They made sense in darkness, but seemed silly in the face of the sunlight that was streaming through his window. Sighing once more, Omar got up, dressed, and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Breakfast was pancakes, Omar's favorite, and he ate them eagerly, before running out the door with a goodbye to his mother. He opened the garage to reveal a battered old scooter, and closing the door behind him, started on his way. On the way to school thoughts of the dream kept coming back to him. His hand strayed to his belt, where a single pokeball lay. "I don't suppose you could help me with this," he whispered quietly to it.
But his pokeball did not answer him, nor did the creature inside. Perhaps he had been too quiet, or else his pokemon still slept. Omar sighed to himself, and continued on to school, shaking his head to clear away the webbing of the dream that haunted him. As he neared the yard, he heard a commotion. It was still some time before school was to begin, and though Omar usually got there early, most people did not. Turning a corner, he saw two kids, one boy and one girl, facing each other, a large crowd surrounding them. He recognized one of them as his classmate Sereih, and the other as Jacob. Each child reached to a pocket or pouch, to take out a small sphere, colored red above and white below. They brandished these spheres, and the crowd yelled them on.
Omar's face lit up, and he pushed through to the front of the crowd after leaving his scooter haphazardly against a wall of the building. "Ooh! Is it a pokemon battle?" He yelled excitedly to the air. "Let me comment, please!"
The kids all laughed as one. "Oh, it's Omar!" They chanted at him, and he was suddenly given space, made a part of the display instead of just watching it. "Commentator! Speak won't you!" More laughter, then Jacob broke out and yelled: "Watcher of events! Tell us what you see, that we do miss! Give us words of description and action to catch at our hearts!" To which Sereih added: "Chronicler! Record for time's own eyes what now comes to pass! Immortalize our battle with your voice, to be heard ever after in our minds!"
They all laughed again, including Omar. He did not know whether they spoke of him so grandly to tease him, or to urge him on. Probably some of both, really. But in any case, he didn't really care. Omar broke into a broad grin, and his hand plunged into his bag, his hand wrapping around a familiar object, emerging once more with his catch. It was a tape recorder, his most prized possession. Every time he came across a pokemon battle, Omar would comment on it, training his voice for endurance and elocution, and his mind and eyes for sharp observations. Later that day, he would listen to his tapes again, comparing them to professional quality, picking on details of difference in cadence and insight. If people were to one day depend on his words to witness battles they themselves could not see, he must work hard to promise them the best and sharpest comments, striving to improve, always. In his quest for excellence, Omar had even expanded his commentation, spending hours working on how to, precisely and concisely, describe the color of grass, or the feel of wind, the taste of lunch. And so he always had his recorder with him, always spoke to it, more so than to anyone else. A watcher on high, he prided himself on nothing more than to be able to reconstruct a scene completely by speaking about it at length. As such, he did not have many friends, and none of them close. Commenting is a lonely sport, when there is room for only one to speak.
A classmate had once told him that with such observation and language, could he not be a powerful writer? Indeed, his teachers seemed to think so, as they loved whatever papers he wrote, praising them often. Omar had laughed and smiled, but here too, he had something to say. "I am a storyteller, then? Perhaps I could, but the voice is my main instrument, sound my media rather than paper and pen. I speak what happens in the moment as it truly is, all disjointed, and let your minds and my voice pull it into a cohesive whole. But I am not a master of events, rather just a watcher, a recorder. I comment; I do not create. To tone and tweak the mood and the mind just so in a RE-made moment, that is my calling." It was a moment of truest insight on his part.
Which was why that dream about Shadow was so disconcerting, he thought, his mind drawing away from the world ever so slightly. Having a dream revisit him while he slept was all very well and good, but obsessing over it during the waking hours would never do. He was becoming distracted. This morning, spent brooding over Shadow and her calling him, what had he seen? The scene replayed in his mind, but it seemed washed-out, lacking the clarity of detail that usually accompanied a moment he had surveyed, even briefly. He was missing things, and he couldn't afford to do that. If this dream persisted in stealing away his attention, he would have to do something about it soon.
Hearing more yelling, Omar suddenly came back to reality, and mentally slapped himself in the face. No more reveries! See, they were calling for him now, awaiting him to speak. "Storyteller!" The cried out to him. "Weave us a tale!"
Omar smiled to the masses, and twirled his recorder up in the air, offering a slight recompense performance to make up for his earlier silence. "Give me a tale to tell, and I shall see it remembered. Let us begin!" With a flourish, he turned the recorder on. The crowd cheered.
"Hello and good morning, fellow students!" More cheering. "Today we bear witness to a most great-"here Omar paused for effect, "-POKEMON BATTLE! To my left is the lovely championess of the ring, a darling of the school, if I may say so myself, Sereih!" She took a bow, to more acclaim from the crowd. "And to my right, cool and calm despite his opponent's rabid supporters, a trainer with a formidable reputation in his own right, Jacob!" A great shout let up from many on Jacob's side, rivaling the cheers from Sereih's idolizers. "And in this clash of juggernauts, ladies and gentlemen, the tension will be enormous! Who will win amongst these pokemon greats? Only time, and I, will tell. But oh! I think they're starting now!
"Jacob has started off first. As he throws his pokeball and the lights swirl around, they resolve themselves into…a Charmander! Audience, Jacob has sent out Charmander! See that lizard roar! It looks like Charmander's getting all fired up, and what will Sereih use to counter it? She's throwing her pokeball, and it's-it's a Pidgeotto! Majestic bird of the skies, and oh look, it's landing on her shoulder, how cute.
"Jacob starts out by ordering his Charmander to use Ember! It shakes its tail, and the flames grow bright. Little embers, drops of liquid fire, litter the air, hurtling towards Pidgeotto, who adroitly dodges, weaving back and forth through the curtain of flame. Sereih has had to hurl herself to the side to avoid the attack herself, and the same for a few closer members of the crowd. But it's-OH! Pidgeotto has been hit! A burn to the left wing; that's got to hurt. The nimble bird is still in the air, though, and has flown higher, gaining a sky free of spitfires. Now is Sereih's chance to counterattack and-Yes! She has ordered a Gust attack! With sharp wing beats, Pidgeotto sends waves of air hurtling towards its foe. I can feel it from here, and it nearly rips one's clothes off. If that's what I feel, imagine the damage poor Charmander is receiving. The pokemon, after a failed dodge, stands immobililzed, unable to try and get away. Only just it must take the terrible punishment of that wind! Sereih, seizing her chance, calls for a Quick Attack! Pidgeotto makes a steep dive towards the still-reeling Charmander. Oh my-I can actually see the bird pokemon's after-image-this is amazing! Charmander can't avoid that! Direct hit! Charmander is down! Oh but look! I think it's trying to get back up. Come on Charmander, can you do it? Jacob orders a Flamethrower attack, but his pokemon can barely stand. Sereih looks like she's ready to order a finishing move, and-"
"Alright, that's enough!" Everyone started, and turned to see a teacher standing there. Instantly, Sereih and Jacob recalled their pokemon. "It's time for class, so this battle must needs end for now. Come on, you lot." With a bit of moaning, the class grouped up. But not in a line, no. They refused to acquiesce to that, and formed a somewhat elliptical blob, a happier and freer shape. Omar found himself near Sereih and Jacob, who smiled at him both.
"Thank you," Jacob told him. "For your performance. That was inspiring."
Omar laughed and shook his head. "I merely tell what happened, and if it the telling was a good one, it means the story was as well."
Sereih shook her head. "It's more than that, Omar. I don't know how, but you seem to make reality seem more real." She smiled at him and moved on down the hallway towards class.
Her words had a ring of truth in them that made Omar pause for a moment. Then he shook it off and followed the rest of the kids inside. The rest of the day passed without incident. Not only were there no more battle for him to comment on, but very few interesting things happened at all, nothing good to note. Omar went home disappointed that the promising day had led nowhere. He didn't remember his dream.
He could see her in profile. She was standing straight and tall, and looking off into the distance. He could see nothing but her shape, and the glint of her green eyes, for she stood in the shadows.
"Shadow! Shadow! Come out of the darkness," he implored her. "Come into the light."
She turned at the sound of his voice, and slowly stretched her arm out towards him, reaching up to the sky. Her eyes were so sad, so hopeful. She was waiting. She was waiting for him! And she was reaching for him!
"Shadow, speak to me! Tell me your name."
She opened her mouth, and said: nothing. Or at least so it seemed at first. For an eternally long moment she merely continued reaching, but then he heard it, a voice, that did not really seem like a voice. It seemed to come from all around her, rather than localizing from her, and he didn't so much hear it as he felt it in his very being. Perhaps this was the nature of the dream? But the words themselves were real and compelling enough:
Where are you? The voice called out, as from a distance, filled with unspeakable anguish to match Shadow's face. I have been waiting for so long…..Why have you not come? The emotion coursed through him like a wave following the words, raw and powerful. Such despair, and the hope, the tiny spark of hope. But it was fading, that spark, and would die with time if it were unnurtured. Omar felt a powerful desire to reach out and tend to that small spark, and he reached towards Shadow impulsively. But he couldn't reach her. They were too far apart, and she didn't even seem to see his attempt. The waves of pain and misery continued to increase, rocking through his body until he screamed.
He jerked out of bed with a start, panting heavily. A cold sweat had broken out over his skin, slick and slippery. Unable to do more than just breathe for a few minutes, Omar finally broke out of his trance and began thinking about what had happened. If this was the end of the dream, then it was horrible. Every time he saw it he would be inflicted with bittersweet pain, most likely stronger with each experience. He wasn't sure he could endure that. But the pain, it had come from Shadow. If he had felt as much as he had, merely from her overflow, then how much sorrow was contained in the well of Shadow's heart? It must be unbearable. "Gotta find her…" he muttered to himself, brushing hair back out of his blue eyes.