In primordial times, before our world was fully formed, an egg existed. This egg, a singularity of order amidst chaotic energies, gave rise to the first Pokemon, Arceus. With immense power, Arceus brought to heel the surrounding chaos and grasped it, shaping them into three guardians: Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina.
As the overseer of time, Dialga ensured that the past, present, and future flowed seamlessly together. Palkia governed the very fabric of space, maintaining balance and order in the cosmos. And Giratina, created from the remnants of chaotic energy, was responsible for keeping disorder in check, maintaining the delicate balance of creation and destruction.
Arceus was proud of his creations, but Giratina's pride in his ability to control chaos led to his defiance against Arceus, thinking them equal. Furious at his betrayal, Arceus stripped Giratina of much of his power and banished him to the Distortion World as punishment for his hubris.
While the struggle between Arcues and Giratina raged on, Dialga and Palkia harnessed Giratina's chaotic energy and infused it with Arceus's orderly energy. Utilizing their respective powers of spatial and temporal manipulation, Palkia and Dialga forged a harmonious equilibrium between order and chaos, creation and destruction—birthing what we now know as the Universe. Subsequently, Palkia and Dialga receded into their self-made dimensions, content in their accomplishment.
Witnessing this momentous event, Arceus was inspired to populate this newly formed Universe with beings of its own design. Thus, the legendary trio of Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf were created as embodiments of knowledge, emotion, and willpower and sent forth into the vast expanse of the cosmos. These three entities became the foundation for all other sentient beings to come.
The trio roamed the cosmos for countless years until they encountered a planet ideally suited to their intentions. Working together, they brought forth Mew—an unparalleled species capable of adapting to any environment through its ever-changing DNA. Continuously producing more of these unique creatures, the planet eventually became overrun by Mews under the watchful guidance of Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf.
However, the planet was dry and barren, so the trio petitioned Arceus to transform the world into something more suitable. In response, Arceus once more created life. Kyogre, Lord of the Seas, and Groudon, Lord of the Land.
Their combined efforts resulted in flourishing marine life and a vast, lush continent. However, their egos clashed as each claimed superiority over the other in a fierce battle that threatened to destroy all that had been built.
So, Arceus created Rayquaza, the Lord of the Sky, the One Above Land and Sea, to quell the dispute. Only with his intervention were Kyogre and Groudon pacified and put into an eternal slumber, their consciousness sealed within orbs to prevent further turmoil. The tumultuous clash between these powerful entities shaped the planet's landscape, carving towering mountains and deep trenches with devastating eruptions from the earth's core.
To save his creation, Arcues created a gigantic Titan known as Regigigas. Regigigas grasped the earth and, with his godly strength, ripped apart the original land mass, preventing destruction from befalling the entire land. He fashioned several pieces and shifted them around the planet to minimize the devastation.
To assist with this, Regigigas crafted three smaller titans to help him contain the aftermath of the clash of land and sea. From clay, he molded Regirock; from ice, Regice; and from magma, Registeel. Together, the four Titans created the continents seen in the modern day.
However, this feat significantly cost the four Titans, who ultimately expended most of their divine energy. To ensure their own preservation, they relinquished their proper forms and entered a deep slumber, where they still abide to this day.
Over the course of the next thousands of years, the Mew population underwent significant changes. Due to varying climates and geographical separation, distinct phenotypes emerged, leading to the classification of each group as a separate species. This marked the birth of the first known species of Pokemon.
-Excerpt from Myth and Science: The Origin of Pokemon by Professor Aurea Juniper
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The town of Grovewood was, in a word, quaint. The small town was nestled deep in the forest, with their nearest neighbors being Littleroot town a few miles west as the Murkrow flies. The town itself boasted a thousand or so people, just large enough to qualify it as a town to begin with. It was the sort of town where everyone knew everyone, doors were left unlocked, and children ran freely outside.
The town itself was only a few square miles, organized into rings roughly resembling those of trees. The outermost circle was a large wooden wall. It was coated in a unique sap produced from Steelwood Trees that, once dried, hardened into something akin to iron. Due to this protection, despite the lack of ranger or Ace Trainer patrols, the people of Grovewood could live in relative peace with the local Pokemon.
Within the town, the innermost circles composed the businesses: Shops, the town hall, a small local clinic, and the market. The outer rings were residences, home to all of Grovewood but the farmers and the orphanage that rested just outside the ring of houses.
An hour or so before dawn, in a large room of Grovewood's orphanage packed with two rows of snoring boys, Malic rose from his bed. He slipped from under the covers, bare feet padding silently on the warped wooden floor. He knelt, pulled a small bag from under his bed, and carefully draped the strap around his shoulder. Turning to a large window next to his cot, the light started to stream through, the moon peeking out from behind a cloud and bathing the world below in its icy glow.
He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light before undoing the latch that kept the window shut. He eased it open, the hinges softly squeaking now and then, and slipped out onto a ledge just below the windowsill. Carefully closing the window behind him, he slid left until he could grab an edge of the sloped roof. Making sure the bag was secured to his body, Malic grasped the edge with both hands and lifted himself until his upper body could lay flat against the roof. Throwing a leg over, he leverages the rest of himself up, turning to lay on the roof and gaze up at the sky. The clouds were moving, leaving behind the stars like a brush painting the night sky until they had all but faded to the edges of his vision.
He stayed there, content to watch until the sky began to lighten, the moon and stars losing their luster. Malic sat up, turning towards the east, where a dull orange glow was starting to show above the horizon. Grasping his sketchpad, he opened it, revealing a selection of colored pencils placed in small elastic holders inside the cover, along with Malic written just above the pencils in silver metallic calligraphy. He started to sketch, pencils moving in time with the rising sun, committing the new morning sky to his page.
Time blended together like the colors on his page until a piece of the gorgeous Hoenn sunrise was entrapped on the formerly blank page. Carefully replacing each of his pencils and closing the sketch pad, Malic was content to bask in the warm morning light, a soft breeze tousling his hair as he slowly nodded off.
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Ms. Chloe Banks woke up at precisely 7:30 AM, just as she had for the past thirty years. Gentle sunlight peered through the lacey curtains, covering the room in a warm orange glow. She slowly made her way out of bed, carefully sliding her feet into slippers already placed near the edge of her bed.
She had been the Matron of the Grovewood Orphanage for thirty-five years, and even at sixty-four, she retained a sprightly demeanor. She moved with an energy uncommon at her age, quickly getting dressed. Her near-uniform gray hair curled around her ears, streaks of black hinting at its former color. Her eyes had dulled slightly with age but still retained a spark within their emerald depths. Clad in an ankle-length gray skirt and a white blouse with a small flower pattern embroidered on the sleeves, she exited her room at 7:45 on the dot, tiny round spectacles pulling the world into crystal-clear focus.
She made her way to the kitchen and set about preparing breakfast. Boiling water in a pot nearly as large as some of the smaller children, her hands ran automatically, dicing berries for the oatmeal, dotting the duller brown with vibrant pink and blue. She carefully divided potions into bowls, setting the large table that took most of the dining room, the dark wood stained with a long history of spilt drink, dropped food, and childish conversation.
The first one down was Cherie, the fourteen-year-old dragging behind her a small train of still-yawing girls, all wearing the same formless gray nightgown. Cherie was the oldest of the girls, and the blonde took her duties as head girl quite seriously. Even now, she went down the line, tucking in chairs and keeping sleeping faces from falling into their oatmeal. Cherie had made it no secret that she wanted to take up the mantle of Matron, much as Chloe had done so many years ago.
The boys arrived soon after, crashing into the room like a troop of Mankey, screaming and all. The disorganized rabble took much longer to settle in, with little to no order to be found. Chloe hauled herself up from the chair and set about ordering the energized boys to their places, only halting as she got to the last chair.
"Children," She called, clapping her hands several times. The sound of the claps and her voice stills the conversations as they all look towards her. "Has anyone seen Malic this morning?" She asks, gesturing to his empty seat. The children all looked at each other, and various responses echoed around the room, but all meant the same thing: "We haven't seen him, Ms. Chloe." She puts a hand on her head, massaging her temples with her thumb and middle finger, "Now, where could that boy have gone?" She stands up and starts heading for the stairs, throwing a look over her shoulder, "Feel free to begin eating, no need to wait. Cherie, you're in charge."
The young girl beamed, and conversation resumed, accompanied by the clack of utensils on bowls. Chloe stood in the doorway for a moment, a familiar warmth filling her as she gazed at all the children, her children.
She trudged up the stairs and strode into the boy's room, noticing the messed-up beds and tossed pillows with resigned amusement. Chloe headed to Malic's bed and spotted the relatively unruffled sheets and blanket and the unlatched window off to the side.
She opened the window, enjoying the wind ruffling her hair briefly before shouting, "MALIC!" Her voice rang out into the forest and the town, the townsfolk barely reacting to the now-daily event that signals the start of their day as startled Taillow shot into the air.
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As the shout from Ms. Chloe reverberates through the air, Malic's eyes crack open, his sleep disturbed. Blearily, he sits up, his hand wiping his eyes free from sleep as he glances around. 'Ah, guess I fell asleep again,' he muses as he stands up and walks down towards the edge he came up from. He slides down the roof, hands catching the edge and swinging himself onto the window ledge. Ms. Chloe is standing there, her hands on her hips and her left foot tapping on the ground as she lightly glares at Malic.
"And where were you, young man?"
Malic stares at her with his eyes still half-lidded, a muted expression on his face as he stretches, "The roof."
Her glare intensified, but noticing its lack of effect, she sighed, slumping slightly. "Malic, you know that you're not supposed to do that. What if one of the littles tried to copy you and got hurt? You know how much they look up to you."
Malic's eyes sharpened, his hand tightening around his sketchbook as visions of Thomas or Bailey dangling from the roof, tears streaming down their faces as their hands slip and-
"Sorry."
He walked around her, placing his sketchbook back under his bed. Whereas another might have rebuked him for his perceived disrespect, Chloe sighed again and motioned for him to follow her. As he drew closer to the dining room, the sound of children grew louder, the innocent giggles and conversations bringing a faint smile to Malic's face.
The children turned to see him come through the doorway, and they all smiled and called out his name, "Malic!" They pour out of their chairs and surround him, their tiny bodies milling about his legs and waist, small hands grabbing onto his arms and clothing as they all talk at once towards him. His smile grew a bit more pronounced, and his eyes crinkled, smiling with his eyes as Chloe would say. He speaks with each child, nodding with exaggerated expressions at their fantastical dreams or giving a few words of acknowledgment.
"So Malic, where were you this morning?" Cherie sided up with him, nudging him in the ribs with a teasing smirk on her face. Malic playfully huffed, retaliating with a jab to the ribs that forced some giggles out of her. "Nowhere. Just slept late."
"Uh-huh, whatever you say." Another jab started an all-out tickle fight, which ended with Cherie squealing on her back, trying to crawl away from him. Cherie, on her first day at the orphanage, had declared him to be her official big brother. Now, seven years later, the girl continued to be the very definition of a bratty younger sister. Malic considered it an honor to be one of two people who could bring out the childish side of the ordinarily mature girl and relished every opportunity to let her be a kid.
Chloe smiles from behind them, her eyes shining with happiness as she witnesses Malic's rare smile. Malic was the oldest child by several years. At seventeen, he was the unofficial second in command, and even Cherie hung on his every word. He was such a softie with children, always patient and kind, never one to be upset with their attention. 'If only everyone could see this side of Malic, but unfortunately, it's only the children.' At this thought, her smile becomes less pronounced.
One of her greatest regrets was not finding a family to adopt and provide for Malic, who came to her when he was just five years old. He had been found wandering the forest surrounding Grovewood, and nobody came to claim him. Over the years, she had tried countless times to get him adopted. Still, his repressed emotions and reserved demeanor had created the illusion of an apathetic child, and he had been overlooked for more stereotypical children.
Chloe knew Malic was hurt by this, even if he never said anything. It was a horrible experience for a child to go through, years of being rejected and refused, and as time went on, Malic's true self could only be seen with children or Pokemon. Similarly to the children, Pokemon seemed to adore him, and it wasn't uncommon to see Taillow drop by to pose for a drawing or a pack of Zigzagoon milling around his ankles, begging for treats.
She followed Malic and the children outside, breakfast forgotten as the children ran and played around the edges of the forest and the open field at the back of the orphanage. Malic stands in the middle of them, keeping watch over them, chasing them with a small smile as the children squeal with joy. She watched with a soft smile and wished with a heavy heart that this could last forever.
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After playing with the children for an hour or two, Malic headed into town. As the oldest, he was often the messenger and errand boy for Ms. Chloe, heading into town to pick up various deliveries or orders for the orphanage. He wore dark blue jeans, with signs of holes sporadically ripped in the legs and sections of other blue cloth sewn onto those holes, creating a patchwork of varying shapes and colors of blue. His top is covered by a simple black tee shirt, bearing only a blue Pokeball logo on the front, about six inches in diameter and directly over the left side of his chest.
The day was shaping up to be a typical Hoenn day, the sun steadily warming the moisture-laden air around him but not yet having hit the tropical heat the region was known for. Taillow cried cheerfully in the sky, the small path leading into town occasionally crossed by Zigzagoon or Wurmple. While the wall surrounding the town kept most Pokemon out, a few occasionally got through. Those considered relatively harmless were allowed to stay, providing some measure of exposure to wild Pokemon.
He passed through the middle ring, entered the small shopping district, and made for the general store. Pat's General Goods had been a staple of Grovewood since its founding, serving as a grocer, pharmacy, and even occasional supplier of Pokemon goods. The current Pat, Pat the Fifth, was an old friend of Ms. Chloe's and one of Malic's most frequent stops.
He passed through the wooden door, a small bell attached above chiming as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. The store was small but filled with shelves containing a multitude of goods, ranging from canned foods to tools to clothing. Pat, an older man with skin tanned and worn by the sun and weather, stood behind the counter, a shock of white hair falling limply atop his head as he glanced over and saw Malic. He gave Malic a slight grin and waved an arm at him. "Ah, Malic, here for Chloe's usual order, I assume?" Malic gives a curt nod.
The man chuckles to himself as he goes into a small back room and returns a minute later carrying several rather large canvas bags. "Here's all she ordered, plus a little extra for the kids," He winked at Malic as he placed the bags on the counter.
Malic handed over a hundred pokedollar bill on the counter, accepting the change in several small silver coins and slipping them into his pocket. Grasping the mouths of each bag, he heaved them up and over his shoulder, nodded in Pat's direction, and headed for the door.
"Oh, Malic, I just thought I'd offer it again. I'd be willing to hire you part-time if you ever need some work. Just think about it." Malic nodded once more and continued out the door.
Shoulders laden with food, Malic merged into the modest flow of people that now occupied the market—mostly locals, though Malic did spot a few travelers now and then. Malic just kept his head down, weaving through the crowd. He needed to get back to the orphanage before the food got warm.
"Did you see it?"
A familiar voice cut through the crowd, and Malic couldn't help but sigh. Danes and Lukas were two of the rowdier boys under Ms. Chloe's care. They had a habit of slipping into town for, as Danes would call it, the call of manly adventure. Turning towards the voice, Malic was unsurprised to see the duo huddled together, Lukas's face slowly gaining the same excitement as Danes'.
"Really? Here? Are you sure, Danes?"
"Positive! I just saw them post it! Come on, we gotta check it out!"
The two boys scampered off, disappearing into the crowd. Malic withheld another sigh (Cherie always said it made him seem old) and adjusted his course, trailing after them. There was only one place they could be talking about: The old message board in the center of town.
Walking through the crowd was significantly more difficult while laden with supplies, but Malic managed it. It wouldn't be the first time he snagged the troublesome twosome on his way back from an errand. Sure enough, as he made it to the central plaza, there they were, staring up in awe at something on the board.
Malic continued until he was directly behind them, peering over their heads. Directly in the center of the board was a brightly colored poster depicting a stylized Metagross and Salamence suspended in mid-battle. Malic recognized the scene; it had been one of the better pictures taken during the exhibition match between Steven and Lance a few years ago. Written across the top in bold yellow font, "PWO SPONSORSHIP: BECOME A TRAINER NOW!"
Now he understood what got Danes so excited. The boy had never made it any secret he intended to become a trainer, despite Ms. Chloe's repeated attempts to have him choose a less risky career. The twelve-year-old still had five years before he could even begin to qualify for a trainer license, and that was assuming he could find a sponsor or somehow save up enough money to afford a journey.
Malic cleared his throat, both boys stiffening like frightened Skitty. Lukas turned first, his eyes widening behind his glasses. Danes followed up with a nervous grin, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, hey Malic, what a coincidence meeting you here! We were just-"
"Just coming to help me carry back these groceries to the orphanage? How thoughtful of you." Malic smiled, doing his best to channel an annoyed Ms. Chloe, which, judging by the furiously nodding boys, seemed to be reasonably good. He offloaded two of the smaller sacks into their waiting arms, ignoring the exaggerated grunts and turning back to the poster. It had more text on the bottom. "Send your applications to Professor Birch in Littleroot Town by August 24th. All applicants will be transported to Littleroot, where they will have the opportunity to earn a starting Pokemon. The PWO-Hoenn branch and Hoenn League will sponsor those selected trainers, providing all supplies necessary for a journey."
The poster had small removable pieces at the very bottom, each with what Malic presumed to be the address of Professor Birch's address and some requirements for the application. Malic reached out, some feeling prompting him to pluck one of the pieces off, hiding it in his pants pocket before Danes or Lukas could see.
"Let's head back; I don't want the food to spoil."
And so, flanked by his unwilling helpers, Malic returned to the orphanage, a light breeze tousling the tips of his hair.
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Malic looked at the small piece of paper that danced in the wind, grounded only by his grip. He was on the roof again, his need for a place to think outweighing the promise he made earlier. His eyes read the small print over again, the words promising an opportunity, an escape. He had noticed that with each passing year, Ms. Chloe's eyes would grow sadder as he grew older.
He hadn't known why until about a year ago when he overheard Ms. Chloe arguing on the phone. The orphanage was region-sponsored, and the law was that once someone turned eighteen, they were to leave the orphanage. Ms. Chloe had tried to appeal on his behalf but to no avail. In two months, he would be evicted, ripped away from the only home he had ever known. To make matters worse, jobs in Grovewood were sparse. Most businesses were family-run and passed on from generation to generation. There were the lumber yards, and Malic knew that Pat had offered a job as a favor to Ms. Chloe, but Malic couldn't help but want something more for himself.
The other option was to move and try to start over somewhere else, which presented its own set of problems. Malic needed more money, and even with the small stipend he would get from being discharged from the orphanage, he had no job experience or degree. A mediocre job or a risky move had been his options, at least until today. Malic couldn't lie and say he had never thought about becoming a trainer, but all kids had at some point. The idea of traveling the region, collecting Pokemon, and discovering mysteries, what kid wouldn't want that?
But those childish dreams were just that—dreams. Pokemon training was a risky lifestyle, and most trainers ended up relegated to mediocrity or the morgue. Only those select few, the best and brightest, made any sort of life for themselves. Malic wasn't arrogant enough to claim he had what it took…but he just had this feeling that if he walked away and didn't try, he would regret this moment for the rest of his life.
Malic snorted, a bit embarrassed at how dramatic his thoughts had been, even within the safety of his mind. Still, dramatic as it had been, it was accurate. Aside from his art, Malic had never felt pulled towards something like this.
Ripping a blank page from his sketchbook, Malic began to write his application. The requirements were straightforward: logistical things like his name, age, and birthday. He detailed his interactions with the local Pokemon for Pokemon experience and gave the orphanage phone as his emergency contact.
After checking that it was legible, he carefully folded the paper into even thirds. He nestled it between blank sketchbook pages and swung back into the empty room. First thing tomorrow, he'd mail it.