First & Long Author's Note That Should Tide Y'all Over For The Rest Of The Story:
For all those just joining me on this lovely journey we're about to start, this is the result of nostalgia, conversations with a fellow Pokemon fanatic, and us being second-semester-seniors (though by now we're both off to college). A good friend of mine and also an author-slash-artist, Nyaa-Neko-chan (just 'Nyaa-Neko' on here; check out her half, too, in "Poltergeist's"!), and I made a pact. What is this pact? To have a story completed by the time we graduate. This story shall have at least 15,000 words, as well as meet a few other criteria. This is the beginning of that story.
BUT FIRST A WARNING. Nothing will be safe from me in this story. Since this is a last hurrah, so to speak, I am hauling out the big guns. It will be random, it will be angsty, it will be special. I am using any original character that I own that I want--not all of them from the Pokemon universe, either. So if you read about a character in the following who seems to be a bit better characterized than most, it's likely he or she is from another story.
…That is all.
When I was little, I decided I wanted to be a Pokemon trainer. When I was a bit more grown up, and when I had started Pokemon school, I decided that I didn't want to be just any old trainer. I wanted to be special.
But… Since I really wasn't special, this meant that my Pokemon team had to be. That initially got the ball rolling. I could go out and hunt down the rarest, most valuable Pokemon I could think of--but I knew that it would be a poor thing to waste my time on. So I was smart, for once in my life, and opted for a saner choice: I would pick a regular Pokemon to be my starter, and just train like heck until it became special and strong and amazing.
Most of my thoughts, in my youth, were centered on that imaginary starter Pokemon. I built it up in my mind until the pedestal was so high I could only tilt my head back and stare. I didn't know what species it would be, but it would be godly, to say the least. I didn't want any old starter Pokemon, to be sure, but I needed something that would be easy to train. (I had no illusions about my skill; I would not be a good trainer immediately.) Eventually, as I aged, I stopped building up my Pokemon and instead concentrated on deciding which species it ought to be.
I absorbed every species I learned about like a sponge, and then proceeded to research those I deemed 'interesting' on my own. Occasionally I would ask either of my parents about them, too, of course. For research purposes.
"Mom, I want a Rhyhorn." She nearly choked on the coffee she'd been drinking as she spat it out in the most perfect spit-take I had ever seen.
I gave up wanting a Rhyhorn after that.
I made a list, so to speak, and whittled it down as I approached my tenth birthday. After several questions, such as the one above, my parents helped with this. They occasionally suggested (usually after shooting down one of mine) a Pokemon. "How about a nice Cleffa? They're cute, and safe." I generally wasn't pleased with their selection.
"Can I have a Gyarados?"
"That would be a Magikarp first. Why don't you want something like a Wooper?"
I didn't want a Wooper because they were bland, slimy little things, and they reminded me too much of my crazy teacher. She had a Wooper named Woop that spent most of class staring at the students with a wide, creepy smile on its face.
"I want an Onix."
"Those are too dangerous for trainers to start with. It could hurt you."
"Kids at Rock Tunnel start out with them."
My list was slowly growing smaller as the day of my birthday grew nearer. In a way, I was able to appreciate this fortune, since it meant I had less to choose from. But it also meant just that--I had less to choose from!
"How about an Electabuzz? Those are pretty cool."
"Why not a nice Mareep?"
My parents (mom especially) seemed bent on giving me a very lame Pokemon as my starter.
"A Ditto? This way, it can turn into any safe Pokemon you want."
"Yeah, and you wouldn't choose any of those."
My dad was equally discouraging, but at least he didn't try to push Mareep and Wooper on me.
Then, all at once, it was my tenth birthday. Unlike many of my friends, I didn't get a starter as a gift--mostly because I hadn't decided on one. I was fine with this. If anything, it made me more excited. I announced my desire to start on my journey, and my parents gently rebuffed me. They said I needed more preparation--and, of course, to pick out a starter. I could see the logic in this at first, so I was content to wait and think.
"A dragon Pokemon--that would be awesome!"
"They're expensive, honey. Why not something that's less exotic?"
"It could bite you!"
As the months slowly passed, I was beginning to sense that my parents weren't exactly keen on letting me go.
"Can you two just draw up a list of the Pokemon I can have? I'll pick from that!"
"That would be very difficult to do. Can't you decide on your own?"
Every time I suggested a Pokemon, however, either my mom or my dad would have some reason I couldn't have it. By then, I was more than frustrated. Especially because I was now over ten and a half; soon I would be eleven when I started training! Almost all of my friends were already off training, even a couple of the younger ones, and my parents were bent on keeping me at home for the rest of my life.
Then, it was two days before my eleventh birthday. I was packing my things to run away--at least my parents had been helpful in preparing material things for my journey. I was fully intent on it, too. I wasn't sure how I would get my Pokemon, but I would, and we would make an amazing team.
That was part of my plan, in fact. I would have one Pokemon, and one Pokemon only. That's how high that pedestal in my mind was. I would be the best trainer ever with only one Pokemon. In theory, it sounded fine. If I only had one, I could spend all of my time training with that one, right? I could concentrate solely on it, and build up its strength until it could overpower any weaknesses it might have had.
…First I just had to get that Pokemon, of course.
…Once I decided what it was.