"Look to the stars," she always said. "You'll find what you're looking for up there."

The view from the peak of the Indigo Plateau provided a stellar view of the skies that stretch above Viridian City and Pallet Town like a wide-open canvas, with a never-ending spectrum of colors that fill it.

Ike was a tiny charmander. Smaller in stature in comparison to the others, surely, but his fiery determination more than made up for it. He was only a level two at this point, but he already found a fascination in the stars and the shapes their connecting rays could make in his mind. His mother, a gentle charizard, would always tell stories about constellations like the Big Drowzee or Farfetch'd's Stick and how all of them connect into bigger and better images in the sky. Whenever he was sad or lonely or scared, which was quite often for such a tiny little creature, Ike would always follow his mother's advice.

"Look to the stars. You'll find what you're looking for up there."

One night, a large machine - man-made no doubt - hovered over the top of the plateau. The two gallant charizard that Ike called his parents stood at the peak and shouted back at their son to return to the thickets and hide. The machine had rotating propellers and made loud noises that frightened Ike to his core, glued him to his place in the grass. He heard his father call it a helicopter.

Men in strange uniforms with a red "R" logo escaped from the helicopter, throwing Poke Balls and releasing numerous creatures; a vicious rhydon and a kangaskhan were released onto the field to face off against Ike's mighty parents. Ike scattered back as he heard the roars of his parents, he didn't want to witness this and he didn't want to disappoint them either. He wanted to make sure that he hid in the thickets as instructed so that when his parents returned, they would not scold him for his hesitation or disobedience.

The noises Ike heard from behind him were loud and frightening. His little legs kept running and running and running, and he didn't stop until he pushed himself forward, dove into the thicket, and buried his face in the dirt. When the roars of his parents seized to exist, he lie there, rolled over, and stared up into the sky. He was frightened, he was crying, he knew that something awful had happened and he'd likely never see his parents again. He found himself eerily soothed by the presence of the bright stars...

"Look to the stars. You'll find what you're looking for up there."

Some parents leave by choice. Ike's left by death.


Ursula was a very territorial mankey. She lived alone on Route 22, underneath the intimidating Indigo Plateau, and often steered away intruders to her home in the trees with violence. She didn't understand how the humans in the nearby town lived with their families and amongst each other. Mankey preferred to be alone. They abandoned their younglings at infancy and allowed them to experience the world for themselves.

She never knew anything else except to act with violence, it was just in her nature and one man took advantage of it.

He wore a strange uniform with a red "R" logo emblazoned on the front, and he commanded a fierce ekans into battle with her. She managed to put up a good fight, but the ekans's Wrap rendered her like a mental patient in a straightjacket - restricted and frightened.

The man approached her in her binding and said that he was part of a group of folks who wanted to extend power across the Kanto region.

"I admire your strength," the man said with a soft smile. He extended a hand. He had a calming presence that seemed to render even Ursula lax.

"You seem to take great pride in your power and you want to make sure you grow stronger day in and day out. Is that correct?"

Ursula tried to be defiant, but eventually, as he talked more and more, she gave into him. His talk of evolving into a Primeape and connecting with the world in ways she'd only dream of fascinated her. She wanted nothing more than to be under the guidance of a trainer who would take control of her strength and build upon it. She was excited to travel, to see the world, and to fight many powerful opponents but she wanted to make sure she was in the right hands.

"I am one of the Rocket Brothers," he announced with a sense of inflated pride. "Call me Damian."

When she shook the man's hand and was captured in his Poke Ball, she felt she made the right decision.

She was officially a member of Team Rocket.


Dumbstruck by the professor's words, Dylan was at a loss. Admittedly, he saw a late night program discussing the "challenging" and "stimulating" Nuzlocke challenge and the instructions on how to sign up. The details must have went through one ear and out the other.

Pokédex are sorted by brand, their wiring and set-up determine what kind of trainer one will become. When signed up, that trainer becomes attached to that Pokédex. Dylan had heard of many different Pokédex, like one for coordinators, who partook in Pokémon Contests like his own mother had in her day. There were athletic Pokédex for those who wished to train their party as athletes in the Pokéathlon competitions, and he even heard of some rarer variations like Pokédex for the "Wedlocke Challenge" or the "Randomizer Challenge".

He'd heard horror stories about those challenges and their respective Pokédexes, but nothing ever came up about a Nuzlocke Pokédex or any sort of challenge it'd bring along with it. It seemed so obscure and loose based on his lack of knowledge toward the subject, so he figured he'd build it as it seemed to have very little consequences. Boy, how wrong he was.

"What the heck is it, then?" was all he could muster. And then he stammered, "And what do you mean? I can't change it? I can't just say "Oops this was a mistake, I don't want to join this challenge..."?"

Oak shook his head.

"That's, sadly, not how it works," Oak gave a sigh. "Those who devote their lives to being a Nuzlocke trainer devote their entire lives to the challenge. It was created as a way to deeply study the bonds between humans and their pokémon."

He gave a deep sigh and then continued, "In a Nuzlocke challenge, you are only allowed to capture the first pokémon you encounter on any given route. And you MUST nickname every capture."

"Well one per route is kind of a bummer," Dylan admitted. "But the nicknaming sounds fun..."

"...When your pokémon loses a battle, it dies," Oak continued. "Which means the nicknaming process is not for the purposes of fun, it's for the purpose of making you feel guilt and hurt when your friend perishes in battle. You are required to take on the gyms and the pokémon League under these pretenses, until the day you fail a challenge."

"So this will be something I have to do for the rest of my life?!" Dylan shrieked. He had not intended for this voice to get that high, but he couldn't help it. The idea of his pokémon dying? Doing this forever? It all just was not anything he had planned for himself, it all seemed so crazy and unorthodox. Surely, Dylan was a bit crazy and unorthodox himself, but not to this extent.

"You need at least three regions under your belt," Oak began. "I'm sorry, Dylan, but this is on no one but you."

Dylan gave a great sigh. As much as he had reservations about this, about the idea of this journey on the whole, he knew he couldn't let it bring him down. There was always the "challenge" and the "stimulating" experience he'd have ahead of him. And Oak did seem impressed with the structure of the internal data in his Nuzlocke Pokédex, so at least he was able to build something and have more challenges ahead of him. He thrived on the challenge, the thirst for victory and acclaim, so this actually gave him something to constantly strive for despite its limitations. His haste got the best of him, yet again. But as he always managed to wonder - would he ever learn?

"Fine," Dylan conceded with a smile, "Let's get this show on the road then! Don't I get to pick a pokémon to start my journey?!"

Oak scoffed and then smiled, managing to blink more times in these past twenty seconds than he had in this entire conversation. A reaction of complete surprise, awe, and wonder.

"You're just... ready to go?" he asked. "No crying? No begging? Nothing? You're just... okay with your hasty mistake and you want to get this started?"

"Ah well, can't do anything to fix it, so I might as well just accept what I did."

Oak admired this, he really did. He knew the instructors at the camp saw something in this boy and he didn't realize it until now. His innate optimism and striving for a greater challenge in life made him truly one of a kind.

"Alright," he nodded to both Dylan and Autumn, whose silence highlighted her anxiousness to get this going. "You two can pick now. I'm sure you're familiar with the starter pokémon in the Kanto region? Surely you studied this..."

"Nope," Dylan admitted with a cheeky grin.

"Bulbasaur, the Seed pokémon - Charmander, the Lizard pokémon - and Squirtle, the Tiny Turtle pokémon," Autumn Oak chirped verbatim.

Oak nodded, impressed with her now.

"Very good."

He pulled out a bag and set it on the table, before dumping out its contents.

Three Poke Balls.

They sat on the table, their tops gleaming with the light reflecting off the top.

Dylan had seen battles on TV - he was familiar with the squirtle family. He loved Wartortle, the middle stage. Its fluffy tail and ears made him adore it and he wanted more than anything to own one, so his eyes were set on squirtle from the get-go.

"I call squirtle," he chirped.

Autumn's eyes narrowed at him. "But I wanted squirtle."

"I called dibs," Dylan smirked. "I win."

He approached the table, racing Autumn competitively to it. He managed to trip on his own foot and smack right into the face of the table, knocking all three Poke Balls right off! These two - in their ridiculously, and pathetically, immature quarrel - made the professor start second guessing the decision to graduate these two to another level so early.

"Don't make me change my mind," Oak boomed sternly. "As much as I see potential in you two, you're both acting like ten-year-old's. In fact, I'd seen ten-year-old's who have acted much more mature than either of you."

It was true, at least for Dylan, that he wasn't as mature as one would like. He'd lived a sheltered life back at home in Unova, and his mother never insisted on having him leave the house. It may have contributed to his obvious displeasure at the idea of becoming a trainer, or taming pokémon in any sort of capacity. It just wasn't a lifestyle he was accustomed to. And this camp was finally his mother's way of letting go and allowing him to be around teenagers his age, teenagers whose parents had similar philosophies but were finally loosening up - just as long as they got the proper education about their upcoming journeys first. Dylan often wished his mother didn't have such a leash on him, he wondered how it would have changed his perspective throughout life on pokémon and how it could have changed the way he acted too. But alas, he was now a nine year old trapped in a fourteen year old's body.

Autumn though? She was just a pampered brat, as many would call her, babied and dolled up on many occasion by her parents. She wasn't as sheltered persay as Dylan, nor as immature on the usual, but she was just so used to getting what she wanted and when she wanted, that in this moment she just had to throw a bit of a tantrum.

Dylan shook off the injury, but he heard Autumn shriek and call him a name he'd rather not repeat. He snatched the first Poke Ball he found and tossed it, unlocking it and popping open the Poke Ball.

An orange lizard called charmander materialized from the capsule. Dylan gasped. He looked over and saw Autumn holding a squirtle in her arms.

"Looks like I won," she said with a giggle. "And I have the type advantage. That poor little charmander... the luck you have, ending up with this kid as your trainer. Do you know what he's part of? He's part of something called a Nuzlocke, which means you'll likely die..."

She was enjoying this a bit too much honestly, and it was worrying her grandfather, who interrupted with a stern bark, "Autumn, that's enough!"

Autumn sunk back into her shell, much like the shy little squirtle in her arms.

Dylan knelt down in front of his charmander, extending a hand.

"The name's Dylan," he introduced himself. "Nice to meet ya. You got a name?"

The bitter-looking charmander blasted a jet of flames in Dylan's face. Luckily, the boy was used to taking hits like this from his constant experiments and inventions gone wrong, so he shook off the soot that was left over on his face and coughed out a ton of smoke. Autumn was giggling, he heard her clearly.

"Well that wasn't very nice," he mumbled.

"Call me Ike," the charmander grumbled in response. And he shoved Dylan's hand away.

"You want to battle? Right here, right now?" Autumn asked, still trying to hold in her laughter.

"Seriously?" Dylan said with complete bemusement. "My charmander hates me."

"Yeah, but with his life on the line I don't think he'll want to lose."

"You just want to kill him don't you?" Dylan snapped angrily. He didn't appreciate the mocking tone in her voice.

"What?"

"Do you think this is funny or something?" He was starting to get heated.

"Well, yeah, your stupidity and suffering is amusing, but saying I am actively seeking to kill your pokémon is taking that a bit too far," Autumn said vehemently.

Dylan's anger began to flush away as he recognized the sincere sentimentality in Autumn's voice. She didn't want this for him, and she wasn't seeking to kill his charmander.

Autumn sighed and then she continued, "I just want a bit of good fun, I won't take it too far - at least not this time- I promise."

The battle wasn't as quick as Dylan hoped it'd be. Ike at first didn't want to listen, instead opting to sulk and disobey, before he grew annoyed at the hits he was taking from Autumn's Squirtle. He managed to finally bite back, sending Scratch after Scratch attack to his opponent. Ike actually managed to best the squirtle, blasting flames out of his mouth in a satisfied form of a victory screech.

"That was good," Autumn admitted. She held out a hand. "Sorry for being such a... wench earlier. I came off rotten, but your charmander is pretty strong. Good job."

"Thanks," Dylan said. It was nice to hear those words from her, but he could still sense a tone of condescension in her voice. He did, however, shake her hand.

With his charmander recalled into his Poke Ball, Dylan approached the professor.

"So why's this guy so hostile?" Dylan asked, honestly curious. "I wasn't excited about this and now that I have this guy on my team..."

"...once again, you're the victim of your own haste," Oak said with the shake of his head. "While I recognize your frustration, I refuse to feel for you. If you had only tried to talk it through with Autumn instead of racing like a child to the table, this might not have occurred."

"Well, okay, fine," Dylan sighed. He was growing a bit tired now of being looked down upon. Dylan recognized his flaws and his hastiness, but he didn't like it being beaten on him like a frying pan to the head of a pervert. "Do you know what his story is though? Why is Ike like this?"

"I found Ike a few months ago," Oak began. "He was wandering through Route 1, and he had cried himself the whole way there, saying he followed the stars. His parents were killed by a group of pokémon thieves known as Team Rocket. They're a dangerous underground mafia. So he's overall not too fond of humans. But you'll win him over if you try, I promise. But don't push too hard. He needs a friend, and that requires some breaking into him, but he doesn't need to be shattered. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Dylan lied. The majority of that sentence made no sense at all to him, but he didn't care for any more spiels or lectures. It didn't matter that this man, the professor, was his idol - he really left him heated after that last tongue-lashing he received and he just wanted to leave the lab as soon as possible. The important thing was, he understood Ike now, and felt some sympathy for the angry little guy.

As the professor handed out five Poke Balls to each of them and wished them well on their journey, he stopped Dylan at the door with an extra, "Good luck out there. I'll keep in touch."

Outside the door, Autumn was quick to say goodbye with a smirk and a self righteous jibe, "Smell ya later, Dylan."

She took off her on her own, and despite not wanting to head off on his lonesome, he wasn't going to chase after her. Despite how attractive she was, this girl really was not someone he found appealing due to her personality. She was just too icy for him, too cold, he needed someone who was quite his opposite in terms of smarts but also someone who's willing to cut loose a bit and Autumn just felt too uptight for her own good.

As he stepped foot onto Route 1, Dylan began to toy with the Pokédex he created.

The "LINDA" operating system started up, and Dylan smiled at the remembrance of the cool acronym he created for the Pokédex's OS:

Leading
Intelligence as a
Nuzlocke
Data
Archiver

The robotic female voice began to go on and on into the rules of a Nuzlocke, which Dylan responded with a "Blah blah blah" to every word. It was a machine after all, not like it had ears.

"I hear you and I suggest you pipe down," the feminine voice on the Pokédex responded.

Dylan's eyes nearly popped out of his socket.

"Wait - did you just... talk?" he asked.

"Oh me?" the Pokédex asked with a twinge of sarcasm in its voice. "Of course not, that's the girl standing behind you speaking..."

And Dylan swiftly turned around, completely confused and wondering if maybe there was a girl stood behind him and talking to him.

LINDA chirped with a scoff, "Wow, you are quite dense. I have a lot of work cut out for me if I'm going to whip you into shape, don't I?"

As they crossed into Route 1, the buzzing beedrill and chirping pidgey seemed to annoy Dylan. He was always used to the idea of perhaps making something for himself that didn't involve having pokémon in his life - it was something his father always tried to tell him. Dylan's strange philosophies always bothered his mother for how much they reminded him of his father, who she described as ruthless and vile, but that's not how Dylan remembered him.


Dylan didn't remember much about his father, but one memory was incredibly vivid. In fact, it would stick with him for the rest of his life. The calm and typically-collected man in his early 20's had rugged features and blue grey hair from what Dylan remembered. Dylan's mother always told her son that his father was wise beyond his years - perhaps time doubled for this man. His intense demeanor and frightening features at such a young age seemed to agree with that sentiment.

Dylan remembered only that he was fairly young when his father knelt down beside him and told him, "Son, I'm going away now."

He could also recall the tears that stung his eyes. His father was always so good to him - at least that's what he remembered - why would he leave now? He remembered begging him to stay, and he also remembered the lashing out he received for expressing his displeasure at his father leaving.

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" his father screamed. "One day, you will thank me for this! When we meet again, you'll thank me. So let me go, Dylan!"

Always obedient to his father, Dylan did so. He let go. And his father, without a moment's hesitation, turned and walked out of the door.

His father didn't leave by death.

No.

His father left because that was his choice.

There was always a part of Dylan that wondered if he'd ever see his father again - that hoped he would.

It wasn't a feeling that sparked out of spite either - despite everything, it was a desire that sparked out of love.