Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter sounds a bit weird. It's pretty hard to write out beginnings, but I tried my best.

Disclaimer: Same as in the first chapter.

If there's one thing I learned about anticipation, it's that it always stabs you in the back.

Mom might have agreed to get a Pokemon, but the problem was that I'd never said which one. I didn't have a list of Pokemon I wanted like all the other kids, and it wasn't like I'd memorized the Pokedex forwards and backwards (which some kids had done), so I was pretty much stuck with what my mom had gotten for me.

That's not the worst of it though. The worst of it was when she told me I'd have to wait for a week until my Pokemon arrived by mail.

That week was the longest week I'd ever lived in my entire life.

I was stuck between jumping with joy at the prospect of having my very own Pokemon and nervously gnawing my fingertips off at the thought of getting a really, really lame one. It was my mom, after all. For all I know, she could've gotten me a Sunkern or a Magikarp.

The other part of my mind though, was desperately hoping that I might be wrong, and that my mom had decided to get something awesome to keep me safe from all the other Pokemon in the wild. The best choice (that was on my 'list' anyway) would be a Growlithe. Loyal, cute, friendly, and most important of all, safe. In that part of my mind, the worst I'd get was probably a Numel.

Probably.

By the time my Pokemon arrived, I was practically bouncing off the walls with sheer delight. So much so, that I nearly ended up strangling the mailman and his Wingull when he tried to hand me the small brown package containing my pokeball. Even the point-blank water gun shot at my face did little to crush my enthusiasm.

Hurrying into the house, I ripped apart the packaging and opened up the box. There, nestled among the cushion of bubblewrap was a single pokeball. I reached out to grab it, only to pull back at the last second.

My very own Pokemon. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to me what owning a Pokemon would really mean. Would it like me? More importantly, would I like it? I wasn't exactly top trainer material, nor had I paid much attention in Pokemon training classes.

Only one way to find out. I took hold of the pokeball and pressed down on the circular button.

A burst of light escaped the capsule, before forming into small, brown and blue wings. Wide eyes attached to a red beak stared back at me, curious as a Zigzagoon. It was... well I didn't know what it was, but I was feeling pretty underwhelmed by its appearance. It looked like some horrible drawing of a bird Pokemon made by a two-year old with color crayons.

Still... it was my starter. Maybe it wouldn't be all bad. I reluctantly extended my hand, hoping to pet it. The Pokemon tilted its head, like it was sizing me up before breakfast, before resting its head on my palm.

Then it bit me.

-O_O-

It was only two hours, one rather disgruntled Officer Jenny, several bandages, and many phone calls later that everything settled down again. Apparently, the neighbours could only endure so much yelling (read: screaming) before deciding to report a 'disturbance' in the neighbourhood. If it'd been me, I'd have called the police much sooner.

Mom wasn't any help either. All she did was chastise me (Me!) for letting that... monster run throughout the house! How was it my fault?! I'm supposed to be the victim here!

"You scared it, and it reacted. That's how all Pokemon do survive." So she says.

I on the other hand, was convinced that my starter was out to get me and make me suffer for being its trainer. I never said it aloud though, and simply nodded along. The sooner I started my journey, the sooner I could try and catch another Pokemon to use.

Unfortunately, it seemed that 'sooner' would turn out to be much later than I thought. In all the ensuing chaos, I'd forgotten all about registering as an official trainer and getting my license. Granted, I actually hadn't planned to become a trainer in the first place, but there was little I could do to back out now.

Not unless I wanted to be grounded for a year (believe me, I only wish I was joking).

So there I was, awkwardly shuffling through the double glass doors of the Pokemon Center, all while trying not to look too out of place. Luckily, our town didn't get many trainers, what with it being so near an active volcano. The place was empty save for two trainers, both of them too focused on their Pokemon to care about me.

"Welcome to the Pokemon Center," Nurse Joy chimed, "Is there anything I can do for you today?"

"Y-yeah, um... Can I register as a Pokemon trainer here please?" I said it in a really small voice, hoping the other two wouldn't overhear me.

"Of course! Just place your Pokemon down on the tray and I'll get started on your trainer card."

*CLICK*

I jumped at the loud sound, only to come face-to-face with a Chansey holding a small camera.

"Chansey!" she took another one, before hopping over to Nurse Joy, who seemed to be typing some complicated instructions into the computer.

"Hmm... it says here that you haven't named your Archen yet."

"...Archen?"

"Yes, Archen. That's its species name. Did you not know that?" That certainly turned heads. I gulped as I saw a female trainer stifle a small giggle out of the corner of my eye.

"O-of course I did!" I lied. I didn't want to sound like an idiot in front of her, and especially not when two other people were listening in as well.

"Well, you should give it a name. Most trainers give one so they're easier to tell apart from other Pokemon of their species."

"O-ok." I really needed to stop stuttering my words.

Nurse joy smiled again; probably picking up on my nervousness, "There's no shame in taking time to name your Pokemon. The Center often provides accommodations for travelling trainers and you're more than welcome to stay."

"T-thanks!" I returned the grin, some of the tension easing off from my shoulders. At least someone was being helpful in this town.