Rather than rejoice or celebrate the receiving of my starter, I pouted. Little, puny fourteen-year old me cried, whined, and begged for something else other than this little pathetic looking rabbit in front of me. It looked up at me with a hopeful gleam, a rather childish smile, and a babyish stance.
I turned and caught the glance of my teacher in front of me. He looked apologetic, but I couldn't stand the expression on his face. After years of evaluation, hours of studying me,:my art of battling, my style of training, he and his advisors decided I deserved a minun, one of the lowest pokemon on the electrical tier, beating out the hardly even worse pokemon of dedenne, and maybe, maybe, a pachirisu.
"Gerand, your journey as a pokemon trainer starts today. I know you know about all the opportunities that this opens up for you, and I also know you understand why this profession is mandated for children of your age. Please make sure to take care of this pokemon and treat it with the upmost care, it might go on to save your life."
"Save my life? Take care of it? What about me? How am I supposed to live out there with a minun? It can't even evolve, it's goddamned nearly useless without a plusle. You're sending me out there to die, DIE!"
Dramatic. Maybe. Ok yes, entirely. As you can tell, I did not die. And my minun did prove to be more useful than I thought, even without a plusle. But damn, do I wish I had caught one when I could.
"I understand your feelings, but this is what me and the Advisory Board think would work best with you and your style of training. Do keep in mind-"
"So you're saying I'm weak, a tiny support pillar. A piece of trash. A joke. A complement. Something that can only support. Incompetent on my own-"
And that's how it went for the next ten minutes. My teacher, some, rather seedy, thirty year old man who had dedicated too much of his life dedicated to morning cups of coffee and not enough facial cleanser, would try to go through the rest of his speech and the guidelines associated with me becoming a trainer and how to properly take care of my pokemon- which yes, I did listen to; I wanted some chance at living- and me trying my hardest to change their decision and then me insulting him when he ignored my requests.
"So, thank you for your attendance and dedication to your studies. You have been one of brighter students in recent years." This was an understatement. I had graduated third in my class, and our class had some of the best grades that any class had had in several generations of students.
"Then why am I getting a min-"
"So, now I bid you a goodbye, and hope that you take advantage of all the opportunities and circumstances that come your way." He swiped a hand over his sweaty, oily, porous face and gave me a small smile, waving his other hand towards the door. I glared at him for another good second and turned around, tightening my grip on the strap on my messenger bag. Before exiting the door, I looked at my teacher one more time and said:
"Before I leave, I want you to know that your breath stinks, you need to shower, and find yourself a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, a dog, something. You need to get a life. And another thing! What kind of opportunities are gonna come my way with having a minun. Like what the fuc-"
He cut me off by slamming the door in my face. I immediately shut up with a boyish squeal; my left index finger hung limply in the air, curled as if it needed to be a hook. I felt a tug on the hair on my legs and I looked down.
It was the minun.
My pokemon.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" I pouted. I swiped a stray clump of blond, oily hair from my eyes- at fourteen, personal hair care wasn't my biggest concern at that point in time. I stared it down with a sort of blank look on my face, but I remember my pokemon looking at me as some sort of guide or shepherd.
Or it's trainer.
I sighed deeply, but nodded my head in the direction of the door.
"Alright let's go."
I sat on a bench close to the edge of the town, in the middle of the local park. The minun, whom I still hadn't named yet, ran in small circles around poles, rolled in piles of grass, and generally acted like the baby pokemon it was.
I had started to think of a list of names, most of them negative and derogative towards the little pokemon, to eventually name my pokemon so I wouldn't have to constantly remind myself of its species.
"Worthless," I joked to myself with a smirk on my face. "Hopeless. Small. Puny. Pitiful."
And it was like that for the next five minutes- a constant stream of degradation and insults thrown at a pokemon who couldn't even hear me.
Laughable.
Disappointment.
Horrible.
Death Trap.
Pollutant.
I mumbled each word to myself, a whisper really, directed at my pokemon, but indirectly, each word was driven into my heart like a steak knife- a piercing shock, a blood rendering slash, a numbing pain, a lasting scar.
Did I realize this at the time? Ha, no. I was much too big, much too prideful, a little too boastful of my abilities and I avoided any of my, believed to be, nonexistent limitations. I was determined with an air of arrogance and nothing could stop me: not the world, not my own imperfections, and definitely not some scrawny minun.
Anyway, I spent a few extra minutes on the bench, contemplating names- none of which were appropriate. The sun was starting to set when I decided to head back to my dorm. I prayed that my roommate wasn't home: I don't think I could stand their endless, stupid teasing.
My roommate's name was Bryant Langford. He was in the top thirty of our class, number twenty-six or something , a jokester of sorts, who used too much sarcasm in my opinion. He was a couple of months older than me, making him fifteen to my fourteen. He had a nonchalance for most situations and a coolness for most people. Fortunately, he was someone I actually liked as a person; he was someone I could openly insult without any fear of an emotional response.
I was on the sidewalk in front of my dorm hall. A concrete entrance sign that said "Springfield Hall" met my line of sight. The building was a red brick building, one of the older ones on the campus. There were a series of windows every couple of feet apart, mirroring dimples on a face. Right in front of the building were a couple of bushes overgrown with flowers because we were in the middle of spring. There were a couple of students sitting on wooden benches near the perimeter of the building; no one I immediately recognized, so I assumed they were underclassmen.
I walked through the front door, ignoring any smiles or "hi's" directed towards me. I entered the carpet filled hall with a grimace on my face- my roommate was entering our room. I rolled my eyes as far as I could in the back of my head.
'Time to deal with his shit'
I walked under the wooden beams to my front door and pushed open. I was greeted to my small room. A tiny space, with only enough room for our two beds, two small night stands in between them and a closet that barely fit both of our clothing. No TVs were permitted in the rooms, rather there were some in the rec-rooms of each building. Being in one's room was a rather boring endeavor, but one that could easily be taken advantage of if there was the need to study or review.
Which, of course, I didn't need at that point in time.
"Hey Gerand," I gave him a nod of my head, hoping this would discourage any further conversation or question; he chuckled in response.
"Not happy with your pokemon I see; well I'm not either, so yours can't be that bad."
"I think you're wrong about that one," I replied.
"Let me show you mine first than you can show me yours," he winked, eliciting a sound of disgust from me meant to cover up my laugh.
In a flash of light a rather medium sized pokemon was released. It was a sharp, metallic looking thing, its color scheme a mixture of red, black, and silver. It's eyes were slits, the stare giving off a sense of curiosity. Though a steel pokemon, its edges were blunt as it was a new, young, inexperienced pokemon. A steel dark hybrid: a pawniard
"Double weakness to fighting types, a type used by most trainers; not to mention a weakness to fire and ground, and just so many other faults that I could have done without."
This is how most of us viewed our first pokemon, and then some of our pokemon thereafter. We had a rather elementary view of pokemon and type advantages and disadvantages and strategy and life in general. We didn't realize that the real world was not like the simulators that we had been faced with. Pokemon had intuition, they had instinct, they had natural defenses, they had brains, they had morality. But for the most part, most of us were blind to this very important fact.
That pawniard saved his ass more than either of us could count.
When I showed him my minun, I couldn't stand his laughter or the tears that rolled down his eyes as a result from his laughter that I couldn't stand. I couldn't stand him and his laughter that made me couldn't stand him or his tears that resulted from the laughter that I couldn't stand.
Get it?
"What's your pokemon's name, jerk," I asked to try to get the situation away from me.
"Alek, and yours?"
Hmmmmmmm. I thought to myself. I still hadn't settled on anything so I said the first thing that came to my mind.
"Pillar, his name is Pillar."