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: I'm pretty sure I intended to write from a 1st person POV, but reality is often not so set in stone.
World building whilst introducing the characters more, including the actual MC, this go around. Enjoy.
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A young boy's head skirted left and right, experiencing a vivid nightmare. There was little hair left. A black tuff here and there and sensitive skin brushed against the white pillows—only serving to give flashes of pain as he was covered in burns.
It only worsened his nightmare of crackling flames, creaking of wood and crippled stone, and the clamorous roars of monsters.
Before it could get further, the man at his bedside shook himself into full awareness, then gingerly held the boy still. Midway through, he cursed himself for not pressing the button to call for a doctor. He was now stuck holding the young boy until he calmed or awoke.
The leading Sinnoh professor hoped his grip didn't flare any wounds but knew better. Still, it would be preferable than any harm the boy could do to himself unconsciously.
"It's okay, Hayase," the man repeated endlessly with loud whispers in an effort to be comforting. "It's okay."
Whether it was his words or the forceful hold, Rowan knew not what would eventually stilled his anguished nephew. The heavily wounded boy's eyes soon fluttered open, revealing frantic amber eyes flickering every which way. A stream of ineligible babble croaked out of the boy. A rush of questions, demands, or statements of panic, it was hard to pin down what was what.
Briefly, Hayase's voice, ignoring its rasping, reminded Rowan of his younger self. His sister may have introduced her son to singing too, huh? His mind couldn't help but wander.
But that wasn't important.
"You're safe, nephew." As softly as the stocky man could, he embraced the shaking child. "You're safe..."
Eventually, the boy burst into tears, clinging onto Rowan like a lifeline. The incoherent words flowed out watery and more intensely. The man merely patted his back, cradling him gently and shifting Hayase so he wouldn't hurt himself or get uncomfortable when he would pass out for the nth time.
"It'll be okay..."
Despite his words, Rowan's frown deepened. He had completely forgotten about the boy being potentially—now all but confirmed to be—traumatized when he had made his plans earlier. Dealing with something like this was unfortunately beyond him.
As he drummed his thick fingers across the boy's back, Rowan crafted a new plan to deal with this. A child therapist and... perhaps, his ex-wife would be amicable with the idea of helping him raise a child again. She could relate to his possible phobia of flames and his ache of burns.
They had raised a boy once before. Hopefully, they wouldn't end up pushing this child away from them as they did their son...
Who was he kidding? It was his fault, culminating into the semi-amicable divorce. This time, Rowan wouldn't make the same mistakes. He just hoped Shouko was willing to deal with him this time. If not, then for Hayase's sake.
Rowan knew he wasn't parental material. He hadn't made an effort to change it after the divorce. He wouldn't have entertained the idea if not for Hayase's loss.
He'd try. However, change on this level would take too much time for him to deal with his nephew alone.
Between a tall and slender woman and an equally tall but also stocky man, Hayase held both of their hands. The boy was looking far better after eight months. His head had a full head of short black hair. The burn wounds were nowhere to be seen. He didn't slouch in depression anymore, but his expression was nothing more than a blank slate as he stared out of the entrance for the first time.
To be fair, he was trying his best to walk comfortably. His physical therapy had progressed as smoothly as the boy healed. However, a change of setting threw a potential wrench in things.
"Hayase," came the woman's kind voice, a departure from her normally stern tone, gaining the said boy's attention. "Be good with your uncle, okay? I'll visit when I get off work."
She was the woman who brought him back to life after he choked on black air and disappeared into flames. Her name was Shouko and used to be married to his uncle. Hayase didn't know marriage could be broken, but couldn't find it in himself to ask about it...
He was also pretty sure she had brought him to the hospital too, but his memories were still dreary and hurt if he focused on it too much.
The young boy whispered his simply reply. "Okay, Auntie."
It was still unclear if the boy was unable to raise his voice louder due to unseen damage, as a traumatic response, or if it was simply his normal tone.
With that, Shouko slipped out of their handhold to crouch and hug him just on the edge of tight. Her lips quirked upwards as he patted her back. She repeated the motion onto him before climbing back to her full height. She had one last thing to say before she left.
"If you have any questions, any at all, ask your uncle. He is, despite his emotional blockheadedness, very smart and can answer them all."
The boy shifted, uncomfortably.
Rowan was an ever-intimidating figure, but that wasn't what caused that reaction. The boy spoke very little. Shouko had hoped he would eventually move past it, but it seemed that was his normal deposition—that much the specialized therapist could confirm. She wanted him to be able to communicate more—his therapist had asked that they try to reinforce it without forcing it for his sake. Lest he may develop communication issues or what-have-yous.
The issue was he didn't want to lie. If there was one thing she's learned from dealing with her former husband and the Masamune compound at the edge of her jurisdiction, they were blunt as the hammers they used to forge with.
Psychic Pokemon who've brushed against the boy's mind (from afar and unseen) had informed them that he absorbed the world how children his age would, albeit with a different tint so to speak for obvious reasons. So, like other children, he was bustling and overcome with questions and awe at various things—like her own boy had once been. He just wasn't voicing them. The child's therapist had theorized it was a combination of them being a forced replacement of his late parents, the death of his immediate familiar and familiar others, the lack of volume in his voice, among a sleuth of other things. It was a shame.
Shouko had broken through to the boy, but that was the one of the last walls with him.
She glanced at Rowan, who watched the interaction quietly with what felt like a frown but wasn't actually. She could tell only due to her many years with him. Perhaps, that lack of foreknowledge held the boy back as well..
Still, as an introverted individual himself, Rowan should be able to do something here where she couldn't. Beyond that, he could be doing more. It ticked her off a lil, but this was neither the time, nor the place.
"You don't have to, if you don't want to, Hayase."
For now, this was okay. He was still young. Deathly young. And like all his physical trauma, he could overcome this. The former only took six months for him to fully recover his burns. Mental and emotional stuff wasn't so easy.
She would know.
And like that, Shouko left for her car. It was odd to use, having long gotten used to riding her Luxray or Magnezone to travel. She hadn't lost her ability to drive, fortunately.
They could work on Hayase's... aversion to Pokemon, eventually.
"Here."
A thick journal, a pack of color pencils, crayons, and erasers plopped onto the table. The colors made the boy's mind race as he tilted his head.
Rowan watched, carefully, for a moment. "Do you want to draw now or have a late breakfast?"
Hayase nodded to the pages before him.
There was a sudden spark of excitement to the boy, muted still but there nonetheless. The therapist had first suggested he try while bedridden. The boy had a deeply methodological process to his art. Nurses called him a savant.
Rowan knew better.
His "drawings" were weapons or armor. Detailed as all Reverse, but weapons to kill all the same and ancient armor that had somehow protected the people of old.
His family had probably noticed childish doodling one day and then, his talent. A great talent, it was. A child's mind that was easily malleable. What were they hoping to accomplish, he could only wonder as he passed pages for the nine-year-old boy. The man couldn't be sure if they've shown the boy the scroll of blueprints from his art alone, but he was eighty-percent sure. The leading Sinnoh Professor really hoped that his family weren't trying to restart the traditions of the old. It wasn't like they would get far, to be completely fair. However, their teachings had no place in the modern world and would only lead to splitting the people if successfully spread.
"Go on, Nephew. I'll just right next door, checking on some things."
No country needed division. They all were recovering from wars. Sinnoh and Unova came out the most unscathed. It only came at the cost of closing their borders, except a few important exports.
Until recently, for Sinnoh, that was...
As Rowan settled into his desk, he spied a new notification from his email. With a practiced click, his eyes widened as he read the title of the email sent by the Sinnoh Pokemon League.
They approved of his request to finally meet the legendary figure, the Champion-turned-Professor, Samuel Oak. The timing was great—that sarcastic thought cut every bit of excitement Rowan felt. He had made this third request months ago. The previous two were shot down after two more months. However, with his thesis of Evolution finally finalized and the terrorist activity in Kanto seemingly disappearing, they couldn't just stop him with a good reason.
Especially when there were rumors about a piece of technology that would push humanity further in the early stages. Sinnoh had been sending AI training data over to Professor Oak in his pursuit.
Sinnoh was the current leader of technologies, and said tech was the country's main export. It was an ever-shifting race.
Just two years ago, it was Unova with their aerial vehicles and trains capable of surviving elite Pokemon attacks. Sinnoh had one upped them by revealing AI technology and the future of teleportation pads that could potentially replace the need for trained Psychic Pokemon. The latter still couldn't go far, like the planes and trains, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.
As the leading Professor, Rowan had learned what had helped this venture. A.I. and fully domesticated Rotom caused a leap in this facet, able to manage the teleports with some difficulty, which grew exponentially with distance. It was reflected with Psychic Pokemon.
So much of the focus was making sure it was safe. And, at the moment, his lab was in charge of expanding a Rotom's "brain." Their latest success came with the trade between Sinnoh and Johto: a Rotom for a Porygon. The assistance of the fully digital Pokemon (that somehow wasn't an electric type?) made the teleportation far smoother. Still, it was nowhere ready for commercial use.
All the same, Kanto had noticed the slight opening to Sinnoh's tight borders to facilitate said trade. At the forefront, Professor Oak extended a hand, asking for one thing.
One couldn't just deny the man who claimed two nations as his own, ending a feud so great, most countries felt the need to take a side. It helped, though, that he promised to share his technology and, thus, the eventual rumor.
Rowan sighed as he leaned back into his chair. Ultimately, for Hayase's sake, the man would have to put the plans on hold. The boy needed stability. Not a plane ride across nations. Nor an open-field lab full of Pokemon when the boy was still so scarred by them, he couldn't help but hide and shake at the sight of one. Drawn or not.
Rowan was never so glad he decided to keep his work separated from his home. Apparently, his fellow Master-class Professors weren't the same sort. And honestly, he couldn't blame them. One couldn't just reach this level of knowledge without undying devotion. All the same, Rowan had turned to balance after failing his son, his marriage, but thankfully not his career while he was at it.
With much disappointment, he wrote a reply to dismiss his own request. It was awkward after this third request, but Rowan wouldn't wrong another child. Not again. He could do better. Be better. He was trying, he believed.
A pair of pings drew him from his thoughts and back to the desktop. A reply from the league, and...
"What was this...?" He graveled out with wide eyes.
A request for mentorship from a young researcher named Augustine Sycamore, all the way from Kalos. The young man had claimed to follow his works through an unsaid channel and practically begged for teaching, having also noticed the "crack" in Sinnoh's border. Much later than Kanto, probably due to the distance of Kalos and their own hands-off approach to global affairs as they focused on themselves.
Kalos was infamous for their infighting (Unova had only one great civil war) as they were the last nation to have hoisted a royal family. They were still recovering from their rebellion decades ago. By the end of it, they lost many, including what could be described as an equivalent to a Master-class Professor (Rest in peace, Professor Lysander; he had been an inspiring teacher). It took them too long and too much loss for them to finalize a league of their own.
Nothing good came of such stubbornness. He would know. Rowan only wished his family could've realized before it was too late...
The stocky man shook his head and continued reading the flowery email. It was well-written; it just... contained all the extra-ness that was all too familiar with Kalos' media. A line or two would have sufficed if Rowan was a prideful man. Alas, he was not. Most of it went ignored.
However, at the tail end of the email, the up-and-coming researcher offered one tidbit in return.
""Mega Evolution."
Rumors circulate with hush whispers of grand impossibility. I am, with great reverence, asking for mentorship to narrow your knowledge in this grand quest. All I am allowed to divulge at this current time is it is coming to the world eventually. All patterns show random sparks of Evolution where thought impossible becoming more frequent! It's only temporary and amongst the most trusted, apparently. She, my country, may be annoyed about me saying this much, but it is paramount to share, I think...!
It's only a matter of time at this rate, esteemed Professor Rowan!
My dream is to understand and prepare the world for a power deserved! I believe you are more capable in this pursuit than even the mighty and veteran Professor Oak. I have convinced the Kalosian League of this. The favor lies in your hands now.
With bated breath,
Sycamore."
There would be something to capture his career whilst in Sinnoh as he cares for his nephew, huh? Convenient.
And given the Sinnoh League had allowed the international email through the firewall, they were backing this request without a word. Though, he wondered if this new concept would change or back his thesis and findings.
The door creaked open, and Hayase peeked through, searching for Rowan frantically. In his hand, there was a scrunched-up page.
"U-Uncle?"
"Yes?" The man replied, stepping out of his seat and from behind his monitor that was hiding him.
The boy stammered with both courage and immense fear. "I remember something!" He brandished his paper.
A detailed drawing stared back at Rowan. An orange Camerupt roaring into the sky. On its back was what seemed like a volcano on its back.
A child's imagination was certainly something. Camerupt didn't have a massive volcano and molten rocks on their back, but it made sense if that's what he recalled through his fear. Still, it was as detailed as his other pieces.
There was simply too much off about it, compared to a normal Camerupt.
"Thank you, my boy," he finally said as he crouched down with open arms. "Come here before you..."
The boy leapt into his arms, shaking like a leaf, before the man could finish. Rowan embraced him and gingerly removed the page from the boy's grasp.
"It's okay, Hayase," he said softly, channeling Shouko as much as he could. "You'll be okay." The man repeated those words until Hayase calmed down.
It didn't take long. The sessions with his therapist and time with Shouko had really helped. Hayase was acclimating to his emotions with ease. The boy simply lacked the desire for verbal communication. Thankfully, he had other outlets.
"Do you want to eat lunch before a bath?" Hayase nodded slowly in response. His orange eyes lingered on the wet stains on the man's shirt. Rowan smiled gently before physically turning the boy back towards the door. "Let's get cleaned up first, yeah?"
Crying in the Masamune Clan was frowned upon. Like all their nonsensical traditions, they had tried to shackle his nephew with it. It was a dumb rule that had gotten Rowan into trouble frequently when he still lived in the now fallen manor. He wasn't like he had chose to be a crybaby.
Though, it still cracked up Shouko to imagine Rowan being one, even after all this time.
"Hayase, I used to cry all the time, you know...?"
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Aes: Apparently, Rowan had made a trip to Kanto to meet up with Prof. Oak, so that's a thing. Be on the lookout for some cameo's when it finally happens~
I decided not to show the drama between Rowan and his ex-wife. They aren't the main characters, and I wanted to focus on setup. Drama like that.. isn't really something I'd like to read so I'd rather not write it.
Like this chapter, the next few chapters will be a series of time skips. While I could've (perhaps, should've) just started after-the-fact when Hayase is grown enough, I like playing with the world too much and want to show it off without flashbacks. Personally, I feel like it's a little lacking in many other stories, Pokemon or otherwise. It's always so convenient and surrounding the main character for one reason or another. It ruins my immersion. I just cannot get over the feel, and it'll sour things onwards for me as a reader.
A bit of a rant, but it's kinda why I picked up writing fanfiction. Hopefully, all this work pays off for future chapters or something.
Next chapter: acclimating to Pokemon somewhat and time with Sycamore in another time skip.
Edits: did
Words: [3,396]
Shouko = mommy