The two Pokemon stood facing each other, the smoke and dust created by their last engagement billowing out from a crater in the ground between them. The Trainers squinted a shielded their eyes from the debris to see through the cloud. The stadium was illuminated by powerful spotlights that hung from the ceiling at each corner of the battlefield, but even their light couldn't penetrate the thick cloud. The audience, a deafening force just moments before, was dead silent.
Finally, the faintest silhouettes of the Pokemon became visible again. The Trainers immediately shouted their orders, and their Pokemon reared back in preparation. The audience roared with anticipation and crescendoed as the Pokemon's attacks — a shadowy blob and a bolt of lightning — met again and created another explosion.
All across the Kanto region, people sat with rapt attention to their screens; in restaurants, in their cars, in their homes. Eight children in one such home in Pallet Town sat in the basement of the Oak residence, watching the finale of the three-day tournament they had been waiting all year to see.
The explosion created another dust cloud which expanded and immediately consumed the frame until the camera changed to another shot which captured the entire battlefield, showing the full scope of the latest explosion. The excitement in the basement was identical to that in the stadium, the viewers tensing and relaxing with each move the Pokemon made. They ducked, dodged, and darted to a fro at the command of their Trainers, stopping only to launch their attacks when the time was right.
Each year the children in Pallet Town — and everywhere else in Kanto — became more engrossed in battles, the Trainers, and their Pokemon. Each year they learned more about battling and watched with better understanding. Each year they followed their favorite Trainers more closely and cheered them on even more.
Finally, one of the Pokemon fell. Parts of the audience cheered and booed — depending on their allegiance, as the Pokemon stumbled, fell, and eyes rolled over in a daze. Its purple horn still pointed defiantly towards the sky as the Trainer recalled it into their Pokeball in a flash of white light. The audience fell silent as the Trainer brought out another Pokeball — it was their last one. They paused, looking down at it as they held it in their had. An object no bigger than a ping-pong ball held the fate of the Indigo Plateau Grand Finals.
The stadium burst into cheers as the Trainer raised their arm, but the boys in the Oak residence were still silent. Their fervent hopes for their preferred Trainer were long gone at this point, replaced by a far more powerful desire — the desire they had to be in that stadium. Each one of them imagined themselves in the place of the Trainer as they turned sideways, wound up their throw, and sent the Pokeball arcing into the air.
Someday, they thought to themselves, it'll be me up there.
The Pokeball opened and hung in the air as a mass of white light erupted from inside it, flew toward the ground, and materialized into an intimidating mass of brown fur and black hooves.
Someday, I'll have those Pokemon.
The Pokemon reared and stamped its front legs. It exhaled from its nostrils with enough force to blow away the dust created from the last explosion. It whipped its own body with its three tails, each strike cracking with the sound of a gunshot. The Pokemon lowered its head, bearing two curved silver horns, ready to charge.
Someday, I'll be the Champion.