Author's Notes:
Not relevant to the story: Hi! Before we start, I'd just like to say that I am in no way a professional writer and that English is my second language. This fanfic is just here to kinda see if my English and story-writing improved over the years from mega-weeb-cringe-fanfic to moderate-cringe-fanfic at the very least…I am writing a fan fiction after all. Reviews are very welcome and so are criticisms, but please post them both with respect and modesty.
Relevant to the story: This Pokémon universe is mainly on the plot of the games but some elements are from the anime to preserve world-detail and a bit of realism (e.g. items aren't used in battles, TMs/HMs don't exist, etc.). My knowledge is only stretched up to Gen VII – I refuse to play Sword and Shield so idk what happens in those games. This story may contain mature language and events because why not.
Thanks for reading!
- Chapter 1: Mordekai -
Becoming a nurse-in-training was never an easy or enjoyable path for Mordekai to take…that is: a nurse in human hospitals. The Nurse Joys (or Nurses Joy) seem to enjoy what they do despite being confined inside a building waiting for people, mostly Trainers, to bring in medically-troubled Pokémon. Then again, how is that different from being a nurse for humans? Of course, this does not include the fact that these types of professionals treat man instead of Pokémon. But still, Pokémon are much more tolerable and are much more pleasing to treat than a cranky hag who's lost half her mind to mental illness, constantly ranting and needing of reminders.
Pokémon – how did beings as corrupt as mankind ever become deserving of these wonderful, mystical companions? This was always the one question, both rhetorical and non-rhetorical, that whizzed through the thinking-chambers of our anti-hero. Sporting dark smart-casual clothing with his hands alternately stroking between his medium-length windswept brown hair and clean-shaven chin, Mordekai was left swimming in his thoughts. He was so lost in imagination, in fact, that he didn't notice his family's housekeeper until he approached him.
"Master, your chauffeur has arrived. He'll surely be ready to take you to the airport as soon as you wish to depart from the household."
"Thank you, Jake" Mordekai replied. "We've been over this since you first stepped into my dad's house, but can't you at least try to address me by name instead of this whole 'master' thing?"
"Apologies, but master knows it is part of my formalities to do so along with this…'posh' manner of speaking which you dislike. I shall await you near the entrance to help you with your baggage, master" said the housekeeper shortly before bowing and leaving the room briskly, most likely to avoid further conversation. Mordekai couldn't help but sigh to this.
He then turns to his almost-finished luggage case where he then starts to delve into the massive cavern that is his mind. To be exact, a special solid red (save for two black lines along the sphere's midline) Pokéball triggered his memories:
"You have your reasons for loving Rock-types, Mord. Maybe it's because you want to follow your old man? Nah, just kidding," jested a jet-black haired man with glasses as he playfully nudged the elbow of the young one sitting beside him, evidently mesmerized by the Cherish Ball he holds in his hand. "Rock-types are stoic. Usually slow, but that is because they like to wind-up their strikes for a heavier blow. That there Cherish Ball, boy, has Aerodactyl inside…the very same one that your Uncle Maddox revived from a fossil that your mother dug up all the way from Johto. He told me to wait until you started high school, but you and your Ace grade school ribbon made me go crazy impatient," he laughed.
The boy pulled his gaze from the ball to look at his father and said, "I told you, dad, I'm more than mature enough to raise my own Pokémon. The guys my age I meet at the Castelia Recreation Center had theirs before I did. I mean, thanks to you and to Uncle Maddie, but isn't grade school too long a wait?"
"First of all, you are very welcome. Second, don't let your mother just know yet. Third and last, grade school – or supposedly high school – is a good time to let the young have their Pokémon. Trainer School is just kindergarten with majors on Pokémon, and then they just release a kid with an Arceus-damned Golem to the world?"
"…but even the guys at school were showing off their partners. I didn't get bullied or anything, but I really felt left out."
Mordekai's father half-squinted at the view of the horizon from his estate's highest balcony to avoid awkward eye-contact before ranting, "those schoolmates of yours, to have Pokémon at such a reckless age, probably took off on their own journeys to become Trainers, forgoing wherever their actual talents may lead them and gambling it all by walking through the wilds and throwing down money on battles. Only Gym Leaders, Elites, and Champions have it good…that takes years, if not decades to achieve, without even counting the risks that come with it. On Arceus, even being a Gym Trainer takes ages and it doesn't get one a nice penthouse to live in. Being a Trainer isn't as simple as starting out with a Pokémon team then travelling to cities to challenge every person they share eye-contact with. Where do you think Trainers end up when they lose every pocket money they have? Many return home to their parents to return to their now-delayed studies; some of the rest turn to blue-collar jobs for a living. Again…wasted and forgone talents, Mordekai."
The young adolescent tried to hide his bitter reaction upon hearing this and just blandly said, "well, I guess Aerodactyl and I can still bond while I'm in 'proper education'. Tell Uncle I said 'thanks' in a few years or if ever he finds out before that. Thanks to you and mom too, dad."
*CLICK* *BWAP* *FWOOOOSH*
Being slapped into the present by the loud sounds and bright flashes, Mordekai returned to reality where a stone-grey, evidently sturdy, winged Pokémon roosted in front of him with wings on its sides. It seems just as surprised as Mordekai who unintentionally freed it from its ball.
"I'm sorry, Aerodactyl. This whole go-to-another-region thing just kicks me stronger every minute. I kinda spaced out and reminisced a bit…to think that we're hours away from- OH SHIT!"
It finally hits the young adult that he was to depart soon. He gives Aerodactyl a sheepish look, trying to tell the fossil beast that calling it was an accident through expression. Aerodactyl rolls its eyes but shows that it understands why it must return to the Cherish Ball. Mordekai dashes through the halls, bidding sincere farewells to his fathers hired help as he passes them. Finally, he slips out of the giant double-doors of the mansion then affixing his eyes on the slightly distant vehicle on the courtyard. He pauses then looks back. The abode hulks over him while the afternoon's sun casts shadows in front of the structure's façade, letting him get a good look at the exterior without the rays blinding him.
The mansion is undoubtedly one of the very few pieces of household-formed architectural art in Aspertia City. One who passes its gates gets to witness its magnificent bright paint and sculpt; he/she would instantly deduce that its inhabitants are either rich or hired by the rich. Mordekai is neither of those. Far back in his schooling days if ever his class was asked who among its students was the wealthiest, Mordekai would be at the very beam of the spotlight. Heck, this can apply to the whole campus and not just his class. He always shunned this notion; it was his father that was rich, not him. He liked to think that he was only fortunate enough to be the son of someone as successful as Dr. Strauss, Ph.D. Despite living in the shadow of his family and their expectations of him, Mordekai managed to convince his father to let him partake on the journey of being a Pokémon Trainer albeit through dishonorable reasons. Such a way of persuasion would haunt him and force him to experience a new level of guilt.
Mordekai starts walking toward the matte-black vehicle in the distance before being met by a familiar face halfway.
"Forgive me for not expecting you by the foyer, master. The interior gardener had trouble lifting the old pots and required my assistance," the servant said, ever-respectful and loyal to his employer's son up until the day where he would be off to a region for an indeterminable period.
"Don't sweat it," Mordekai laughed, "I figured that I might have longer than I should have 'preparing' stuff."
The rest of the trek to the transport was thankfully short enough to prevent any minute-long episodes of awkward no-conversations silence between the two. As soon as the last bag was loaded onto the trunk, Mordekai shifted to the back seats of the vehicle and was already overthinking how he would say goodbye to his well-known and beloved steward – no – friend.
"This is it Jake, the point of no return. Turning back now will mean that I would have to explain myself to father and take back all the parting wishes I said to the crew…yikes," he joked. Jake returned a smile of amusement before saying, "hopefully you'll return after you've become the Champion of Sinnoh. You will be missed, Mordekai." In shock, joy, and a feeling of triumph, Mordekai just flashes an open grin.
"13 hours at most," muttered the aspiring Trainer now perched on a leather car seat. "13 hours of travel before I get to the Sinnoh Resort Area."
The land-travel was already boring him to death. He had only his fearful and exciting thoughts of Trainer travel to sate his thirst for passing time. The part of this story of his that he most feared was the guilt that would follow him if he decided to buzz out as a Pokémon Trainer and crawl back to his parents. They loved him of course, and he loved them. He knew, however, that relying on his parents' unconditional love for him would be ungrateful and selfish. The guilt…
The guilt brought by being the 'most idiotic being on the universe' pushed Mordekai to think of a Slowbro. He was a worse version of it; instead of a Shellder gnawing at him, he had his contempt for himself and his own actions. One action, to be precise, would drive him away from his father's respect.
"Who would think to fake a case of malpractice while on duty out of desperation to become a Trainer? You couldn't have just mustered up the courage to tell your father directly? I mean, using your parents' hard earned money to pay a hospital board member to file a staged case of 'student gives the wrong dosage'…stupid…stupid…stupid," he thought to himself.
Mordekai didn't really give the wrong dosage; he only used up his dad's money to bribe a board member in hopes of legally discrediting his license to study in the medical field. If anything, Unova barely had any cases of intentional homicide if one doesn't count whatever laws Team Plasma has broken. Mordekai's plan didn't pan out, as the assumed-corrupt board member rat him out and told his father directly. This was only the kindling to the fire as it all went like a full-on party using Beat Up: rumors would spread in his university, his parents started to argue, and his father's reputation was undoubtedly scratched. At the very least, that egged Mordekai's father to allow him to pursue his real dream. Yet this particular protagonist kept on asking himself if letting his father down and flushing down money wasted on education was all worth it for a shot, an unguaranteed chance, of becoming a reputable Pokémon Trainer.
There was no point in going back he thought. If his adventure proved more challenging than he expected, he would just need to repeatedly keep on trying…even if it steered him toward the definition of insanity.