February 15th, 2018
So, I've already missed a day, it seems… Off to a good start with this and whatnot. But, anyway. Today I'm going to write about… him. His name was Michael, but I didn't learn that until much, much later in life. I always called him Master. He never told me anything else, nor did I ever hear anyone call him by his real name.
The Institution had placed me in an open auction the highest bidder. I was… quite literally put upon a podium and paid for by some strange man sitting in the audience. Though, he wasn't an ordinary strange man by any means. He was… incredibly wealthy. He brought me to his home straightaway, a rather large house on the outskirts of Snowpoint, Sinnoh, at the most northern tip of the entire region. Of the entire world to some. Of course the city was simply notorious for its climate.
...No, I think I'll save that for a later entry. I should talk about Michael for now. He was… not particularly outstanding for a human despite his wealth. He was about average in height. Thin… a little wiry. Throughout the day he was always dressed in such casual attire. Every now and then I'd catch him in a polo, or even a t-shirt on the hottest of summer days. But, he almost exclusively wore button-up tops. I swear, he had one in every color imaginable. No matter how many loads of laundry I did, there were always at least half a dozen… And khakis. Goodness, did he love his khaki pants. I think he may have owned one pair of blue jeans, and one pair of shorts for gardening work. He was such a consistent fellow. Oh, and he had wavy hair. Exceptionally so. I never thought much of it until I saw a film from the nineteen eighties and noticed that… well, that was exactly the same hairstyle all the men wore. So perhaps he was… a bit outdated.
Thinking back on it, how old he was the day I saw him last… he must have been thirty-five the day he brought me home… But I digress.
Like I said, he was wealthy. His home was rather large and… it sticks in my mind to this day so vividly. How could it not, I… I scrubbed every inch of it more times than I cared to count. Now in hindsight, it's easy to say that Michael was a horrible man. He made some truly awful mistakes. Especially in regards to how he made his money.
But, I don't know. I've been told countless times that… that tinge of sympathy I still have for him is a product of… how manipulative he was. How controlling he was. And perhaps they're right to say it. But, no matter how much I think over the years we spent together. I can't bring it in me to say he was a bad human being. Not from the start, anyway. I think something changed in him…
From the first day he was less a friend and more… a father figure to me. He knew exactly what he wanted me to be. And while ever-patient, he was stern in his teaching. He taught me first how to read and write… and other such basic lessons that would translate into the various tasks he would eventually have for me. He taught me the importance of tidiness, and how to handle a feather duster. Then a broom, soon followed by a mop… Then came the glass, and most importantly how not to leave streaks.
Mind you, these were the first few years of my life. To anyone wondering how, do keep in mind that… traditionally, Pokemon mature quite rapidly and I was able to pick up these things before I had even reached the age of two. Which was in fact the age he decided it was time to have me… evolve.
I had no choice in the matter, of course. Frankly, at the time, I didn't even know there was a choice. But… no, I don't in any way regret what I've become. Glaceon just made far too much sense, especially due to our living conditions. That's not to say I was immune to the cold, no. Not by any stretch. But I do feel like I can handle it better than most.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic again.
The thing I remember most about Michael. The Michael I knew as Master, and as the human who raised me, was that he was incredibly gentle, and incredibly protective. Not stifling, might I add. He was very keen on allowing me to find my own hobbies and do what I like with my own free time. The only rule that one could construe as… alarming was the fact that I could under no circumstances ever leave the house without his supervision. Not the property, but the house itself. Mind you, this house sat on quite a lot of fenced land. But… I suppose he didn't even want anyone to see me without him. I later learned why, but it was still puzzling.
Now I understand a bit more.
He was my father, through and through. For the first… I would say three years of my life. What happened after that I'll save for later. But I want you to know, whoever reads this. That this man raised me to be… kind. Unabashedly so. He raised me to live in pursuit of service, to help others, to be gentle… To be what I am today. And he did… nothing to me. Nothing wrong. Not from the outset. And that's why I don't hate him. Despite everything that came later. I simply can't.
Now you know about him. I suppose tomorrow I should talk about my home. Both the house I grew up in, as well as Snowpoint itself.