Here we go, another long story! It probably won't match Soullessness, but I will attempt to do well at this. Even if you dislike yaoi, I hope that you will read this story for the plot instead of its ostensible shippings. I myself am not biased against slash (I write it mainly because it's popular), but I am writing this for the fact that... Flint and Volkner just seem too canon to ignore, amirite? (This prologue got rejected by a Pokemon Crack Pairings on Deviantart because Ignitionshipping is "too likely." Lmao.)

There will be other shippers in this story in later chapters other than Ignition, although that is the main focus here.

Once I receive a review, I shall write and post the next chapter! Your support on my first lengthy story has galvanized me to write another, and I hope you enjoy this as well!




I'm losing.

I am losing so badly.

If I excused that I wasn't always the loser in situations like these, I'd be telling a lie, because I almost always am. And no, it is not because of my piss-poor attitude toward everyone and everything that tries to crawl into my ass, even though people say that's exactly my problem. Very few have ever tried to even speak to me any more beyond "pass the salt" or "I'm gonna punch a hole in that pretty-boy face of yours." My family could have cared less about my existence, and as a kid, I struggled to find an escape from the bullying that was subject to at school due to my complete inability to stand up for myself. Of course, nowadays, anyone who dares challenge me in a manner that is not a battle is asking for it, but back then, I was just a scrawny blond squirt that didn't know his own fist from a ham sandwich. I was weak and frail, which was why I turned to Pokemon to protect me. I could easily make a friend in one of them. They weren't humans. They loved you unconditionally and stood by you even when the going got rough and it was inconvenient for them. In my eyes, no humans were capable of that kind of adoration. We were too complex and critical to feel genuine affection.

That was my opinion, anyway, until I met Flint when I was ten.

Then again, I don't consider Flint to be complex in any way, mentally or emotionally. He's a Great Dane that says the word "shit" in replacement for barking. He was a total simpleton when I met him thirteen years ago, picking his nose and trimming off chunks of his colossal red afro to put on the girls' lunch trays—and, as much as he denies it, he's still an idiot. For years, I tried to get him to shear that fur off his head, but he refuses to in his typical "Don't-touch-the-fro-bro" fashion. He still has no idea how to use a tissue in place of his finger sometimes, and he misses the point of everything that I say because that haircut obstructs comprehensive brain activity. Yes, he's smart, or else he wouldn't have made it as an Elite Four member and one of the most powerful Fire-type specialists in Sinnoh, but intelligence does not always translate to sensitivity.

But when I befriended Flint, he was so loyal that I was surprised to find that for once in my life, I'd actually met someone who wanted to hang out with me until the sun went down. This was despite the fact that I probably spoke all of ten words to him in the first six years we were friends, since he has the persistence of a champion. When we made it to high school, he was a year ahead of me, but he'd continue cut class and show up during my lunch period to pick me up and throw me at a window "lovingly." After school, we'd go to the basketball court and he would pit his Magmar against my Electabuzz, once effectively starting a fire in the surrounding lawn and getting us both ticketed for destruction of property. I tried to reject his playfulness, but at some point during my junior year, I realized that I was stuck with him. When I finally started to talk to him, it was like I'd given him a treat, because he starting to bounce around and wag his imaginary tail and chatter to me with glee when I so much as opened my mouth. He'd succeeded in getting the emo Electric trainer to talk, and there was nothing that made him happier.

There was a point, however, when we were went at the Pokemon Trainers' Academy after high school that I understood that he made me happy, too.

Of course, Flint never knew, in the face of all the obvious hints I dropped while we were busy getting prepping for our Gym Leaders' exams. I'd brush by him while we were training or poke his open-toed sandals with my own feet if we were studying in the library, and he reciprocated all of it with a clueless grin. I never invited him over to my dorm, fearing that I might lose my cool—and even Flint was not dense enough to ignore me coming onto him. All of my classmates would sit and watch us interact during sessions and remark privately to me later that we were the gayest couple on campus and that if we didn't get together, faith in humanity would be lost. For my sake, I did my best to let him know that I loved him more than anyone and wanted something more than this ridiculous and unusual camaraderie we shared. But even as the years passed and we graduated and he continues to return to my Gym to visit, he's never had an inkling. He has not dated one girl in all the time that I've known him, and yet even my feelings can't reach him.

On the contrary, someone else's did, and now I'm losing the one person I doubted that I ever would.

If there's something Flint has taught me, it's that I should spit in the face of defeat and rise to be better. That's what he did as an awkward-looking teenager and what he's doing as a pointless adult, and sadly, that's what I've learned. Flint would want me to leave this particular situation alone; let him work it out because it's his life, and he doesn't think he's being destructive at all. His lover has secrets beyond what anybody in the League knows and they will only serve to destroy Flint in the end, no matter how strong the fire of determination is that's inside him. That fire burns brightly for the man that he loves, and although that man isn't me, I can respect that, if not for one thing.

There is electricity in my soul, and I've rarely lost a battle to Flint.

I may be losing now, but my war has only begun.