The Annexation of Kanto: A Tragedy in Five Parts

by All I Have Are Words

There have been plenty of stories about the Kanto Wars. Here, I offer a memoir slash research paper of someone learning about the Kanto Wars. They speak with survivors, what led to the war, the outcome and fall out of it. While the person telling the story is someone I came up with. All the places and names are familiar and are used to paint a clearer picture of the events.

Introduction:

What makes a great account? Is it a first person story filled with all the minute details that only someone there could convey? Perhaps there are the historical viewpoints, those which were written over several years, only after several more years of research. What you have before you is neither of those. Yet, since its initial publication from March 2067 to July of that same year, it has been hailed as a landmark piece in documenting the Kanto Wars.

"The Annexation of Kanto: A Tragedy in Five Parts," is part investigative journalism and part memoir. Mr. Wilcox uses the skills he gained through decades of infield journalism, and the heartstrings only found in the saddest of love songs, gained from his brief tenure as the songwriter for Issac Jeet, who's ballads would become a staple on Johto's airwaves.

In the subsequent years since its publication, "The Annexation of Kanto" has not been without controversy. While it garnered praise from regions around the world, in Kanto, it faced heavy censorship. This is for its occasional less than favorable views on Kanto. However, I personally believe that due to Mr. Wilcox offering the most objective perspective available, makes this the definitive read on the Kanto Wars. Mr. Wilcox began writing this as a research paper for his doctoral thesis at Saffron University. However, perfection quickly became the enemy of the good and it remained unfinished until Mr. Wilcox delivered a rough draft to the publishers of over a dozen publications. They all said no. After re-tooling it once more, "The Annexation of Kanto" was released as a serial in the magazine "The Viridian City Times" in prestige format.

Having spoken to Mr. Wilcox before and after publication he always laughs about how long it took for his magnum opus to see the light. According to him, he wrote the right piece the first time. It just took three times to get it right.

Originally published in issues #433-36 & #450 of the Viridian City Times, The Annexation of Kanto has not seen a full, unedited publication in Kanto since 2070. Until now.

Here before you is the unedited account.

Professor Oak

The Annexation of Kanto, a Tragedy in Five Parts

Trenton Wilcox

I don't remember much from the start of the day, only that it was Spring, the air was fresh and full of desire. It carried an alluring smell that no doubt came from the flowers and dew soaked grass from the night before. Looking back, it must have been a Saturday, as that was the only day my father was off. We drove with our windows down, feeling the air run through our hair and bringing life to our lungs. The radio, so often on, was silent as my father and I talked throughout our journey.

He had told me earlier in the year that I would become a man this go around the Sun. When I would question him on this, his answers were always vague and ended with the smallest smile. When I turned to walk away I would sometimes see a mournful frown. It was the type of solemn look I suppose only a parent can have. When you become a parent you sign a contract, a lifelong, binding agreement that you will never be calm again, but never show it. A contract that states there will come a day that you can no longer protect them. On this day, my father would teach me a valuable lesson, and while I am sure deep down he was filled with worry, he never flinched.

The drive led us down Route 27, one I had seldom been on in my youth. Like most kids my age, I only knew of the world that had been constructed for me. There was school, the grocery store, my relatives houses, not much more. Even my social structure was dictated by my parents early on. Looking back, I'm not sure I chose any of my friends growing up. Maybe that is why we all feel trapped growing up. We're living our parents' life, and we need to escape it to live our own.

Every walk with my friends was an adventure as I discovered more about this strange world that had been locked away from me. There were times I ventured so far out I thought I would never make it back safely. Only to find out years later the high grass I was lost in was just a mile or two away from the comforts of home. And so, this drive with my father was another expansion of my world. I saw the world as I had never seen it, I couldn't fathom people living this far away from me. There were plenty of people who carried the same profession as most of my family, farmers, you could see them tilling the fields and rounding up their herds. But there were even more people selling their means in small shops that dotted our trip. I asked several times if we could stop to look at one of the stores, but each time I was rebuffed.

My father had planned a fishing trip to the Lake of Rage. He told me not to worry about the name, it was just a holdover from a vengeful Pokemon that had been captured long ago by some trainer. As casting our rods out to the sea, and watching the Sun paint its many colors across the sky was one of my favorite hobbies, I readily said, "yes."

Johto, where the Lake of Rage resides, was even more foreign to me. I had not met a single soul from this, to me at least, mythical land. In school our geography lessons mostly skipped over it, only broaching the topic to say what Regions it connects to. History never mentioned our neighbor, and any questions that were raised were met with a glare, and a sharp response to silence further inquiries. This of course led to hushed whispers around school about what could lay just beyond our borders. Monsters? Demons? Nirvana? Who's to say, it seemed no one wanted to say anything about the land to our east. So, in truth, I don't believe I knew anything meaningful about Johto prior to that warm, spring afternoon. But in a few moments time, my world would once again be expanded, but this time, maybe not for the better.

Just before the men with the ferries was a large gray parking lot, my father pulled into the space nearest to a stone building before us, gathered our gear for the day and escorted me to the building.

The structure reminded me of a prison, like one that I would see on TV in crime movies. It was one story tall and stretched the entire length of the shore. Before I could even begin to guess how long that was, my attention was taken to the dozens of men who were guarding the roof of the structure. They were motionless, and while I could count the number facing up fairly quickly, it seemed there were even more facing the Johto side. The fact I could only see their backs scared me a little. I didn't have to see this for too long however, as my father quickly ushered me into the fortress.

The interior was no more welcoming than the outside, though it was far more mundane than the stone exterior. It was very much an office setting with about a dozen people sitting around in chairs, evenly spaced out, seemingly waiting for their number to be called. My father and I took our seats and watched as one by one, each person was called up to a desk that had a window tinted to the point where I couldn't see who was behind it. The first two travelers went through with no issue, however, the next seemed to be annoyed with how long the process was taking.

"I come through here every day for work. I live in Johto but work in Kanto."

The voice from the other side was muffled, but seemed to only upset the traveler more as he slammed his hand into his right pocket and found his wallet, taking out three cards to show the Window Person.

Shortly after showing his cards, there was a loud buzzer that went off, and the Traveler's shoulders slumped and head was tilted up high as two guards came to retrieve him.

When my father and I were called up to the desk it did not take nearly as long as the man before us. Instead, my father answered a few questions and had a few papers he produced stamped, then we were on our way.

We were escorted to the nearest ferry by an imposing Machoke. It waved its arms outward, ushering us, along with five other people into the boat. The captain, a scruffy looking fellow, looked at his watch and then fired up the vessel. And we were off.

One point I would later recall to my mother was that none of the Pokemon spoke. All the wonderful creatures I've come to know and love would speak in their foreign tongue. My Squirtle, always cheerful when talking, but also the Grimer's that once infested the streets of my home town, they growled. Nonetheless, I had never encountered such serious Pokemon. When I looked at them, hoping for a return glance, all kept their faces still, as if waiting for something, always on guard.

Our company was a nice mix of class structure. There was a gentleman dressed in a suit and tie, though his face was rather unshaven. Sitting beside him were two ladies who were dressed in dress pants and polos that bore some company logo. The other two were fashioned in coal miner uniforms, the youngest of the two with his head down, rolling his hat around in his hands.

For the uninitiated, Route 27 is dotted with pieces of land, and the water that separates them fluctuates between calm and smooth, to whirlpools that will suck you under without a thought or care. As we approached one of these whirlpools, the captain called out to the Pokemon leading the vessel, a Lapras, and called for it to dispose of the threat. However, this proved to not last very long, as once we passed the danger, the whirlpool quickly formed again.

The man in the suit was the first to break the silence. He commented on our fishing gear, asking if I had ever caught anything. I told him about when I was only five, I caught a Magikarp as big as me, and the one time I hooked a Goldeen and fought with it for what seemed like hours before being able to haul it out.

The man smiled, then turned to my father "a natural, ain't he?"

"He gets better every day." My father replied

The Man became quite serious and asked if this was my first trip to Johto. My father answered that one before I had the chance, "yes, and hopefully his last."

Feeling my confusion, my father grabbed my shoulders gently, and turned me to face him. His face was once again soft, welcoming, fatherly, "not now, but soon, you'll understand."

There was a heavy sigh from one of the women. Her eyes met mine, and I was taken aback. My first impression was she could not be more than thirty, an age that still seemed very far away, but one that sounded about right. However, when our eyes met, and we could examine each other's faces, I saw something ancient in her. As if she had existed since the beginning.

"How'd you get the day off?" She asked my father, leaning forward, her hair now in line with the back of her ears

"It's my scheduled day off. You're on the clock today?" He responded

The woman found a cigarette in her pants and lit in such a smooth transition it was clear she had done it 10,000 times before. Reclining back, the woman went, "yeah, I got a job as a dealer, figured if these fucking pricks took my life away, at least I can help take their money."

She blew smoke, and for the briefest of moments, looked to be at peace, "like your father said, kid, one day you'll understand."

Before long we had reached the other side of the Route. Our ferry docked at what was an even more imposing structure, and was guarded by dozens and dozens of serious looking men, and Pokemon who paced back and forth, eyeing us as we stepped onto land. Once the seven of us were ashore, the Captain turned the vessel around and headed off for the next batch of travelers.

For the first time on this trip, my father grabbed my hand and led me through a double door that had bolts on it, which was only opened when two other Machoke offered the gesture. As we stepped into the building, I felt a cold sensation wash over me. This area too was very mundane, but had a much sinister feel to it. No one was sitting around in chairs, and as soon as we entered the office area, the two of us were whisked away and were asked a series of confusing questions that my father answered in a monotone voice I had never heard. Sitting on the table before us was an Abra, who seemed to twitch whenever my father answered. I began to suspect it was reading our minds.

The person questioning us grumbled at the end and ordered us to the wall so we could have our pictures taken. After this, the date and length of time my father said we would be In Johto was written on the print out, then stamped by the man. We each were given a photo, and exited the building in just under an hour.

Walking into the Spring afternoon once more, I felt the cold sensation leave me. I looked down at the photo and saw that my father said we would only be here for thirty minutes. I questioned him on this, pointing out it takes that long to just get the first tug on a line even at the best of times.

My father looked down and smiled knowing and lovingly to me, "I know Trent, and I'm sorry we won't be going fishing."

"Then why did we come here?" I asked

"So you can begin to understand."

Unfortunately, that type of story is not uncommon among my generation. In every life, there exists a moment of realization, and for the children of the parents who let the world go to Hell, our realization is often that the rest of our lives are going to be dictated by hate. Not that you or I are hateful people, but that the people who brought us into this world have allowed their hatred for others to build to such a point, that there is no path back.

Before this can begin in earnest, I feel there should be a recap of the events leading to this piece. I have a feeling that many who are reading this in the present day know all of what is about to be said. However, my hope, as any writer hopes, is that in 100 years students will have learned from history, and look back on this work for their education. And wonder even more than we, just how the fuck all this happened.

In the beginning, there was Kanto, nothing more.

It is difficult to comprehend at this point, but less than eighty years ago, and before then, since Kanto's settlement, both Johto and Kanto existed within the same borders. That is to say, there was no Johto just 100 years ago. New Bark Town hadn't been thought of yet, and the glistening towers of Goldenrod existed only in the dreams of those who wanted to escape, but couldn't place where they wanted to go. The vast and unique species of Pokemon that exist in Johto today, were tucked neatly behind a collection of rivers and forests so imposing, not the most fearless explorer of foolish youth dared to go near them. The Sun rose and fell upon the same blades of grass, and brought warmth to all those who lived there. They were one in the same, one beating heart, just waiting to be broken.

No more than thirty people laid their roots on the eastern bank of Kanto in 1822. Many of those people still remain. Their bones resting peacefully in the cemetery, or one of the few families that have survived this long. Those which the citizens of Johto call, "lifers."

These thirty people left their homes to find land that was open, sparse of life, but ready for the taking. They became self-sufficient, and broke off from the society they left. The weather beaten tombstones have forgotten their names, but in dramatic lore they are known as the Takers. They took the land first, laid the first claim to what became Johto, and are celebrated to this day.

Despite the push for martyrdom that exists for these folk, there is no evidence they were ever hostile towards the rest of Kanto, or that Kanto residents bothered them. In fact, the records from that time seem to indicate Kanto was unaware of the Takers' existence. With the tax and census records dating back to 1692, no mention is made of a settlement to the east until the population exploded in the 1850s. By then, it is clear they were known to the public at large, as the push for independence was first being kicked around, though not nearly as serious as it would become in later years.

During this time, Kanto had established itself as a thriving farming community. With four of its eventual ten towns and cities established, it was well on its way to becoming one of the more respected Regions.

Although the export of grain, potatoes and carrots were what gave Kanto most of its money. It is not a landlocked Region like those to the north, as such, fishing became an important industry in 1827, as the Vermillion City was completed and became a city for fisherman to stay seasonally. Due to the mild climate of Kanto, when farming was difficult, the fishing industry was able to adequately replace the loss in profit. Overall, one could make the case that for a five to seven year stretch, Kanto was at the forefront of developing new technology and exporting goods. What eventually became a problem however, was their instance to not move away from what brought the region success. It does not take much thinking to understand that what was successful two centuries ago, will carry over to the industrial world.

As previously stated, the original settlers of what became Johto were able to move away from trading with the rest of Kanto. And, while that was fine at first, there became severe misgivings when Johto started to reach out to Hoenn for assistance during harsher times. In a story that is still handed down to this very day, though told very differently depending on which side of the stream you live, during an unusually harsh winter, the people of Johto sent messengers to Hoenn requesting assistance. Asking for food, blankets, firewood and other items to get them through the dark. In truth, the snow was not nearly as deep in the south west portion of the region. So, while it was a farther journey for messengers, the trip was less strenuous. Indeed, Hoenn did answer their call, and without their help, even more would have likely succumbed to the elements.

If you grew up in Kanto, as I did. One of the few stories of Johto you heard was that they were freezing to death. And they would rather continue to freeze to death than ask for our help. Along with sending their people on an even longer mission, omitting the friendlier conditions they walked through. As you might expect, Johto views this in a different light. In their accounts, Kanto is only mentioned to say it was easier to bypass them. Praise is given to the brave men and women who made the journey. It is a tale of heroics, not hatred as our parents would lead us to believe.

Despite what we know now to be the truth. I will grant it is possible that the citizens of the day were unaware of the weather patterns of other parts of the region. Especially with how brutal their homes were being hit. So, to my ancestors, I give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, to my parents and grandparents, this was the start of it all, wasn't it?

Once the weather returned back to its usual state the harsh feelings were laid bare between the two societies. Kanto began increasing the cost for all the goods they were importing to Johto, and as a response to this, Johto began using their newfound relationship with Hoenn to broaden their dealings. By the time of the Storm of the Century in 1836, Johto had caught up with Kanto with its ingenuity. The industrial revolution was just on the horizon, it could be felt throughout Johto, like a coming storm that was going to eventually lay waste to anyone who had not built the first factory before them. Before Johto accomplished these miracles of innovation, they found themselves to be very good at making tools one would use on a farm. In the beginning, it was only simple tools that helped cut the wheat down, or hold food for the animals. But, in time, tractors, plows, seeders and all other modern miracles were being built at a steady pace.

The people of Kanto had craftsmen for these tools, but once the farmers saw the low cost Johto offered, all the handshake agreements that existed for generations with the builders of their town were broken. Even more resentment followed. Few things in life will stir contempt for others like threatening their work.

Regions around Kanto did at this time, and continue to this day, evolve with the times. While Kanto remains the same. That is a saying you will hear if you visit any bar along the outskirts of the towns, just beyond the borders so anyone can escape judgment from any Holy Men who walk the boundaries of their home.

Kanto stays the same. We stay the same.

Despite the over reliance on past technology, there do exist higher learning centers in Kanto. One such being the Pewter Museum of Science, which students who are fresh out of the colleges in the area can use as their practicum. Dr. Müzesi was one of the many people I spoke to recently. I asked him about the role the technological advancements in the two regions may have had in the War, and this is what he had to say:

It was a contributing factor, more the groundwork for the rift that would come in 1911. Once Johto began producing farming vehicles, that is where the true animosity began. As they were now taking away the livelihood of others. These people who for generations had handshake agreements, based on respect and honor to work with each other, were discarded due to the unbeatable price Johto offered.

What Dr. Müzesi said here touches on the point I just made. It was not that Johto had advanced in their technological department. It was that in doing so, they now were threatening the way of life for the others in the region. Consider this, a stadium is being built in your city. The idea of a large construction crew making endless noise doesn't appeal to you, but the end result of having a better image of the town does. However, you are contacted and told you have to sell your home to the city as it is directly where the front gate needs to be. Minor annoyances can very easily become untethered discontent in a few strokes of a pen.

There existed a very uneasy truce between Kanto and Johto during this time. From 1836 to 1899, the first and second generation of this feud died off. In its place, a new generation who had never known of peace between the two lands was born. This was a turning point, once the hatred was allowed to bleed over to people who didn't know of the harmony that once stood, or the misunderstandings that led to this. The wheels were put into motion for what we see today.

As Dr. Müzesi pointed out, there was an important event in 1911 that sticks out in this story. Specifically, on June 28, 1911, Johto called for a formal meeting with all of the leaders of Kanto to discuss the two becoming two separate regions. At this point, the two lands were essentially treated as such, with Johto having constructed two major cities at this point: New Bark Town and Cherry Grove City. There were plans for expansion that would take decades to complete, one of the main points of contention was what to do with all of the forest areas that still remained, as it was becoming increasingly difficult for construction crews to navigate through them. This was another point that was to be brought up. If you are to visit any library that contains maps from this time period, you will find that even before the meeting took place, Kanto was split into two regions. Depending on the library you visit, the size of Johto differs, with Kanto claiming more land than what Johto is today.

The meeting, called for on June 28th did not occur until August 19th. As previously mentioned, Johto was always tightly banded together, whereas Kanto was not. This was reflected in their leadership as well. As of this writing, Kanto has ten established cities, and none have any formal government. Generally, the town looked to elders to decide any dispute and settled laws among themselves. On very rare occasions, it would be whoever owned the most land that became the leader of the city. While Team Rocket did not officially own anything in Saffron during their siege on the city, given how much control they had, they would have traditionally been looked at as the leaders. A point for future discussion is the role of Team Rocket in the Kanto Wars. The official narrative states that they were a rogue faction that were led by Giovanni, who operated in secret before the war, but saw an opening to seize power as chaos started to reign. Ultimately, he and the rest of his followers were defeated by a lone trainer before Giovanni could take power.

That is the official narrative, and while I do not dispute most of it, I believe there exists enough evidence to argue that Team Rocket played a much closer role with Kanto in the dying days of the war. I do not believe they were working together since day one. However, when it started to become clear that hope was lost, Kanto panicked, and sought comfort from a nefarious entity.

Once Kanto had gathered ten leaders for the meeting, Johto sent their President at the time, Delila Wilson and her cabinet to argue for independence. It was held at the newly built hotel in Celadon City, which was reserved for a full week just for the two parties. It was the first time anyone from Kanto and Johto of any importance had been in the same room together in maybe a century.

President Wilson pointed out that they were already being treated as their own separate region. With goods imported from Kanto being subject to taxes, and their area not appearing on any geological survey of Kanto, instead only featured on world maps as a separate area entirely. Even though this was the case, Johto was still expected to pay taxes to Kanto every year as though they were its citizens.

Sometimes calm, other times heated, and in some respects melancholic. The meeting lasted over ten hours with both sides taking plenty of time to speak. Once all words had been exhausted, the Elders responded swiftly and with one united voice that they would not grant independence. The most they would do is offer assistance to Johto with the construction of their towns, offering any manpower needed or financial assistance. While the two sides parted on an acrimonious note, it was clear that with their parting, the divide between the two regions only increased.

With the result of this meeting, Johto turned to the neighboring regions, Hoenn and Sinnoh for support. Their sisters noted that they had all been one nation since its inception, but they would not argue with autonomy, and agreed to help with whatever they needed.

By 1950, in under forty years, Johto had expanded to the region we know today. What was quickly discovered the farther the construction went along, the variety of Pokemon increased. Officially, there are 150 different Pokemon which roam the lands, skies and waters of Kanto, but another 100 where Johto is today. Through the advancements in their new found companions, and their brothers and sisters, it was a time of flourishment, a growth that has not been seen since.

Examining the build up to the War, the amount of skirmishes that did not spark an all out affair is staggering. Between 1915-25, there were nine confirmed deaths in skirmishes between the people of Kanto and Johto. This number increased in the 30s to fourteen, but did eventually taper off in the 40s and early 50s. However, consider this, twenty-three deaths due to disputes over land and supplies in a twenty-five year period. Almost one death a year. That does not take into account the numerous arson cases, barns being burnt to the ground or cattle being shot. How this did happen sooner is beyond me. A moment of conjecture leads me to believe that the border dispute was more or less settled. Johto had simply stopped paying taxes and after a few tense months, it was decided by Kanto to not be worth bothering with. If there were a rash of deaths in a small amount of time, I could see one of the many militias from Kanto making a surge into Johto in some capacity. However, by this point, Johto was simply a much larger area than Kanto with better resources. Also, it became quite clear as the years went on, while Sinnoh and Hoenn would still deal with Kanto, they had picked their side in this argument. So, if anything ever became of this, there was the risk it could be three against one.

Returning to history, one of the undeniable facts is that on August 22, 1976, an executive order was signed by the newly minted President of Johto, President Kurt Azalea (from where the town gets its name), decreed that no trade will be conducted with Kanto moving forward. Not for the food Kanto produces, not the technology Johto offers, nothing. They had long since been considered a foreign entity, and now that Johto had appropriate relations with Hoenn and Sinnoh, their industry could sustain itself without worry. Despite the misgivings with Johto, it is fair to say that Kanto had become reliant on their farming equipment. Enough generations had passed where there simply were no workers with the skill to make the necessary equipment. While the decision to cease trade was not only an immediate issue, it presented a more damning one down the line. What would happen if the tractors or seeders needed to be replaced?

The timing of this order was no accident. It is usually around September when farmers begin to see the fruits of their labor. This meant that all of the crops they planted with the expectation of selling to Johto, were now wasted. As previously mentioned, agriculture is Kanto, it has always been and always will be.

Kanto stays the same.

The economic impact was staggering. And now we get to the other points that bring people to a fever pitch. If you start messing with their means of survival, their food, their income. Then you have war.

And war was soon to follow.