Smiting Slights
Synopsis: The Masamune clan once forged weapons. Since the advent of the PokéBall, both weaponry and smiting had fallen out of use. The clan expelled any Pokemon sympathizers throughout the years, living in isolation. Before the remnants instilled those values in him, a roaring inferno engulfed the clan compound. That would leave Hayase alone with his estranged uncle in the modern world.
Note: Just good ol OC craft here and playing with Pokemon characters I haven't seen much about + a fan favorite, eventually. I wanted to try something different (again). Shorter chapters, but hopefully updated more frequently (cope). This takes place before the games at least and written before Legends: Arceus so pardon anything that doesn't quite match; I'll make it fit somehow.
I own nothing but the original characters, ig.
Enjoy.
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A middle-aged man, slumped in his chair, yawned at his desk, finding himself without work for the first time in his forever. The sterilized, steel desk before him was tacked with an assortment of sticky notes. Most of them were reminders, a long-lived habit he made to align his day, week, months, if not years. Making each note helped break the blending of each day that older people fell into as well.
For today, however? There was nothing on the makeshift agenda. He had already read through the plans for today.
The lack thereof, actually.
He could only sigh, softly. The angular man couldn't quite name what he was feeling. Disgust? Disappointment? Discontent? No, they were all words that felt too extreme and harsh.
He leaned back in his chair, mulling over himself for once. Still, he shifted back to the early train of thought.
Ever since he had joined the paragons in his field, his life had been busier than never before. Catching pokemon and studying them was as stressful as it was exhilarating. While he was only ever-climbing age, he could never get tired of the pursuit of knowledge.
Being at the top opened up all kinds of possibilities he hadn't yet imagined. All the same, it was impossible not to stagnant. For all his gathered fame and knowledge, even he couldn't stop the promise of knowledge entropy. Again, it didn't help that he was only growing older.
He swore, when he was younger, new discoveries were a dime a dozen. Wistfully, the man whispered, "If only the myths of Celebi were confirmed..."
That opened a whole new can of worms to distract himself from himself.
If he had more time, he'd love to try and trace the myths of the supposed Time Pixie in Johto. Would he pass on all he knew to a younger version of himself? Be an ambiguous time traveler to help twist the future with his own hands? Warn the countries of widespread tragedies?
He certainly wouldn't change the path he took. That much was certain.
It was then a ring rang from his wrist, making the man flinch.
He wasn't expecting a call, especially from the unveiled Poketch. Only top officials in the region had them, given freely as a test and trial. Behind the scenes, the man assumed the government and league were backing this development.
The jingle changed, signifying the near end. Immediately, he fumbled with the device with his thick fingers.
He sighed deeply as he finally hit the "accept call" button on the side. He had to use his nail to force the button down. His skin was both too soft and wide to press it down properly. A massive difference from his youth and just another reminder of his age...
"—Rowan? Is this Professor Rowan?" A familiar voice resounded from the miniature device. It was the Chief Ranger of Eterna City, and his ex-wife, Tanaka Shouko.
She was asking both because the connection wasn't quite perfect, and he had passed around the device plenty to assess the capabilities of the device with his lab aids, assisting with the development more than most of the early users. The upstart Poketch Company had yet to make more devices, but the plan had been to make a batch triple the size before the end of the month, sponsored by the League.
"Hello, is this Professor Rowan on the other end?" This time the woman's rich voice was clearer.
Ah, he was still thinking too much.
"Sorry, Shouko. Did you need me for something?" He finally replied.
Only through years of intimacy could the woman on the other end hear the apologetic tone. There was but a slight drawl to her name. However, because of his thoughts, he had been totally blind to the urgency in hers. And because she knew him so well, she knew how deeply her words may affect him.
"Rowan, I- I have some bad news."
Well, at least, there was nothing on the agenda. How bad could it really be?
"Your family was wiped out." There was a pause as she waited for a reaction from the man. In it, the crackle and roars of fires made it through the miniature device. They came through slightly distorted in the speaker but were unmistakable. Following it, the speaker crackled, trying to convey the noise of water being sprayed.
Rowan gave no reaction, visibly or audibly, but collected himself mentally.
It helped him to physically note that the tests he and his team did had forgot to double check the lasting damage they may have caused...
"The forest and mountain was set ablaze by what we can only assume was a group of rampaging Pokemon. We're still in the process of identifying the.. the ground zero, so to speak. I just thought you should know."
He could feel the tremble in her uniform even with her strong and steady voice.
Sinnoh hadn't experienced a major fire in decades. It was no surprise she didn't know the correct terminology. It helped that much of Sinnoh was cool, but rarely dry enough to facilitate rapid growth of wild or man-made fires.
The last time a significant fire happened, he and Shouko, his girlfriend at the time, had uncovered the home of a Heatran, a pokemon of legends and myths. Thankfully, they hadn't managed to awaken the monolithic beast. The fire Pokemon that prowled the cavern, on the other hand, didn't appreciate the intruders.
They had killed two of his own Pokemon. Three of hers and nearly got Shouko in the process.
In the 25ish years since then, the volcano-mountain had been locked away, and his ex-wife still buried her trauma from that day. He hoped she fared well against the flames...
"—Paramedic! I have a young boy! Paramedic—"
The yell for help that interrupted his thoughts was cut off from the shuffling of Shouko's Poketch. Through it, he heard the rapid footfalls that followed.
It inspired him to move despite his multitude of thoughts. First, he narrowed his thoughts to focus on what he could do to help.
Succeeding in that with just a second to waste, it was then he rose from his chair. Neither it nor he groaned at the sudden speed. With a practiced motion that he was almost surprised he kept despite the lack of, well, practice, he instantly snapped a PokeBall under his coat and released the creature within.
Neither a flash of red nor a crackle of energy have away the liberation of the Pokemon. A miniature head attached to a long white cloth and a smile appeared with a slight ring of chimes, just behind his desk.
"Teleport to home."
A faint jingle echoed as the duo warped away with nary a flash or pop.
Maybe, he should've clarified a bit more.
It was only due to the quick response of his earliest partner that they hadn't been subsumed by the inferno dancing around them. A barrier protected them from the worst of the fires, but not from the CO2 buildup and the dreadful heat.
Masamune Rowan crouched slightly, tugged his coat over his head.
He knew the right thing to do would be to teleport out to his former wife to guarantee his safety. Without a shred of doubt, if he stayed, the risk of CO2 poisoning would escalate.
His face twisted in ways he thought they had forgotten.
But, this was his former family. It mattered not if that disowned him. They raised him into who he was. Professor Rowan wouldn't exist if not for their teachings- or despite them, to be more precise.
He owed them a peaceful death at the very least.
The man knew it was just his sentimental side leaking into his logic. Yet, he didn't care for once.
"Kill the fires around us, Rio." A new ring of chimes reverberated, making visible circles of sound that beat down the immediate fires. The dying embers were only things left to light the room. "Barrier down," he commanded, pulling his coat over his face in preparation.
His Pokemon hadn't hesitated. A flood of soot and smoke rushed the open air. He tried his best to ignore the new feelings filling his lungs.
"Barrier any other living matter." A chime rang out over the infernos in the surrounding areas. His other hand reached out to reach out atop the knob on the Pokemon's head.
It knew what to do at once as Rowan felt energy drain from him.
"Kill the rest of the fires."
Normally, sound would struggle to do that through physical obstacles, but his psychic friend here was able to manipulate the waves it produced actively with near perfect mastery. Meaning as waves of low frequency radiated through the walls, his first Pokemon was able to keep them consistent as it kept a constant flood of chime rings.
It stopped a few minutes later, signifying the death of all the infernos, he hoped. He couldn't be certain of the range.
His hand left his Pokemon to snatch Rio's pokeball to recapture it. The man murmured a thanks, swapping to another ball with a single swift swipe.
A great coo followed the release of a large, blue, and roundish Pokemon. A golden head of a trident stemming from the Pokemon's steely blue head nearly stabbed into the ceiling as the Pokemon did so. It was the only Pokemon on hand that could maneuver properly in this setting.
...Honestly, he thought the ceilings were higher, but he was a boy, barely more than a decade into his life, before he was kicked out. He would've swapped her out for another if he planned better.
He had been rather hasty... But, he allowed himself to be as such. He was already late to this tragedy. His trusty Rio had noted there was a distinct lack of living matter left—it was why he recaptured instead of upkeeping barriers.
There was only one such life signature left.
Masamune Rowan hoped it meant the officials that beat him here and already got them out. He tried his best to stop the harsh clenching of his jaw, so he could properly command his summon.
"Accompany me, West. There may be hostiles."
The Pokemon nodded, flapping her metal-lined wings, blowing away the soot and CO2 with a soft whine.
Whirlwind.
He didn't blame her for using it. She didn't have a makeshift mask like he did. With that, the duo rushed out of the room to help fight the flames and potential Pokemon. His starter had already mentally sent him a psionic blueprint of the old building, reaffirming his nearly forgotten memories of the place.
He followed his Pokemon to the last barrier. It had a short timer instead of being actively controlled by Rio.
In it, he found a small red Pokemon. One wholly unfamiliar to Sinnoh. It peered up at him in utter confusion, as if it had just awoken.
"Char?"
Full of mirth, Rowan found himself staring at the note he made unconsciously at the beginning of this... busy day
"Exploring Johto for Celebi one day," it read.
He could recall all the potential plans he made regarding it with just those few words. His thoughts would always trace the same line of thinking, with the same starting line. And yet, none of them mattered.
If he could go back now...
He would stop the fires from killing his estranged family.
For now, he had a child to care for, one entrusted to him by his younger sister.
"Cana..." The man couldn't remember the last time he uttered her name, much less seen her. Her face was foggy in his memories, but he could remember her lips curling into a smile when he had first learned to sing. It encouraged him to continue forward with a hidden passion.
Enough that his voice would one day attract a wandering Chingling that set him into his path into a Professor of the highest order.
It was a shame that event had kill his passion for singing. He'd bet good money he could've been famous for it, given his current height with Pokemon research...
Oh well. There was the present to focus on.
More specifically, his nephew, who would be like him. A sorely out-of-place country bumpkin to the modern world with anti-pokemon sentiments, and given his latest experience, they were completely founded. Before that, he would have to help the boy undergo therapy. Maybe physical therapy too, if necessary...
There was much to do. As always. That was fine. Rowan could do it. The problem was with waiting.
He sighed, finally leaving to ready himself for a bath. Much of him was covered in soot and ashes hours after the event. He could still smell it. Whether it be because the scent clung to his nostrils or his clothes, he wasn't quite sure.
As he did so, he planned the next day, completely scrapping whatever else he had planned.
He wanted to leave his Psychic-type by the bedside, but he was sure the hospital wouldn't allow it since Rio wasn't a certified healer yet. His nephew may just freak out if it's the first thing he saw as well.
Rowan sighed. Tension left him as he slowly submerged himself into the tub. Still, he couldn't find it within him to relax.
He eventually decided he would set aside two days to stay by the bedridden boy. His assistants and other people could do without him for a little bit. He doubted it would take the boy more than a day to wake, but his nephew would want—need a comforting adult. While he couldn't claim to be comforting, Rowan knew his clan's way more than any other. And depending on what state of mind the boy awoke from, the Professor would set him straight accordingly and get him the help he needed. Like his ex-wife had for him.
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Aes: who are those Pokemon? I got one hint for one: that's not a member of the Charizard line :))
First off, this won't be a revenge story.
Honestly, Rowan always felt like a first name to me, so I didn't want to give him one. That eventually evolved into as you see now with him just giving up on his last name.
Just because he's the professor's nephew, he won't be OP really …maybe the type of Pokemon might be, now that I think about it.
My initial PKMN story is supposed to be that kind of power fantasy (sorta) for me and playing with a complete OC main cast. Storm Sworn is playing with the idea of an Isekai and learning about one's self and the wonders of the world. This story is to play with the world itself, localized to one region initially, and dealing with grief (more than the others) and idk prejudice/self betterment? Something like that.
Perhaps, you can guess what type Hayase would specialize in given the title.
Edits:
Words: [2,746]
The original draft of this chapter was written from the MC's perspective, but it felt.. dumb, for lack of a better word. A bit weird to start a story completely from an alt pov too, but it felt more fitting for the tone and direction imo.