Chapter 1: The Missing Hero
The wind howled like a sorrowful symphony as it swept across the lonely landscape, biting at every exposed inch of skin. Atop a jagged peak, shrouded in an ethereal veil of snowflakes, stood a solitary figure the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was the only sign that life coursed through his veins. The man was dressed in tattered clothing that had no job being worn in this climate. Consisting of a short-sleeved, collared, and buttoned red shirt, with only the bottom two being buttoned up showing his simple black undershirt, that reaches his hips paired with dark blue jeans that fit loosely completing his ensemble with a red and white cap, featuring a white pokeball emblem on the front. Appeared as an apparition against the stark white canvas stretched out before him.
His piercing crimson eyes, framed by furrows that reflected the weight of his isolation, stared down onto the continent under the enormous mountain. A myriad of recollections went through his head. Memories, like fading echoes, whispered through the caverns of his mind, reminding him of all he had left. It was a reminder that the heartbreak and desolation that had led him to this solitary existence could not extinguish the flame that still danced deep within, the same flame that started his journey so many years ago.
The mountain, in all its majesty, seemed to understand the man's silent struggle. Its peaks stood tall, untouched by the chaos of the world below, untouched by friendships, greediness, and mafia. Lending an air of reverence to his singular existence and as pure as the snow that lays on it. The isolation was his sanctuary, his fortress against the storms of life. But within the depths of his solitude, a yearning pulsed an innate desire for competition. It echoed through the crags of his heart, urging him to feel the adrenaline coursing through him once again, even as he stood atop this desolate summit. Yet the scars of past betrayals held him captive, shackled by the fear of further heartbreak. The scars, invisible to the eye, worn deeply within the recesses of his soul.
Here he remained, a silent sentinel upon this frigid altar of isolation, the embodiment of resilience and the unwitting guardian of his sorrow. His existence a delicate balance, teetering on the ridge between longing for what he once had and solitude knowing that making no connections to others won't get him hurt. With both sides having their risks.
Soft crunches of snow, hardly heard over the wind, alerted the man to familiar company. Spending so much time both before and after his self-isolation with his team by now he learned to distinguish them, be it from their breathing, snoring, or anything. Those soft crunches could solely belong to a yellow mouse, with a simple jump it landed on his shoulder, gently nuzzling itself into his cheek. Yet, his look simply stayed on the land beneath. Pika sensed an undeniable shift in his partner's thoughts. Since their arrival, time seemed to have lost its shape, with days flowing into months seamlessly. Their existence became a monotonous routine of scouring for food and training. His only goal being to forget and their to help him.
Loneliness had grown tiresome, wearing him down. At that moment, a resolute decision took root within his drained spirit.
"It's time." Came the man's soft voice, startling his pokemon. Memories of Red's voice flooded Pika's mind, the last time he heard it felt like a distant memory. On Mt. Silver nothing needed to be said, his team knew his needs and he theirs. Would their journey resemble the early days of isolation, when they roamed from one secluded location to another? Pika's eyes flickered with hope, longing for a return to the comforting embrace of the volcano's hot springs, where the clumsy red-haired gym leader awaited their reunion.
With a lively jump and electricity sparkling from his cheeks, the mouse pokemon bolted off to spread the word to his teammates. Eagerly, he zoomed across the snowy terrain, carefully avoiding any signs of wildlife that were growing in these harsh conditions. The prospect of leaving behind the treacherous landscape, where biting winds howled ceaselessly and icy chills seeped into every pore, sent shivers of anticipation down his spine. His infectious enthusiasm spread to his teammates, igniting a flame, no, for the flame was already burning within them, perpetually fueled by their unwavering determination to be the best.
As Red made his way back to their camp, the chaotic chatter of his Pokémon enveloped him. However, it was his loyal starter that instantly detected his presence. With a gentle lift of his head, Red met the gaze of his mighty Poliwrath, his lips curving into a subtle smile. At that moment, the Water/Fighting type recognized the flicker of passion that once ignited their journey from Pallet Town so many years ago. It seemed that the unyielding fire within Red's eyes had returned after all this time.
Meh, this took me an hour don't know if it's good or anything.
For anybody wandering, yes Red became the champion of Kanto in this fic don't want to confuse you guys with the ending but it's 3 AM and I want sleep.
If anybody is interested to be a beta or even co-writer feel free to DM.