[Pokémon] Blackout World

They all had to do this.

From the age of ten, every boy in Kanto was expected to set off on their pokemon journey. It was tradition and a ritual going back thousands of years. Boys - young fragile boys, and occasionally girls - were thrown into the harsh and unforgiving wilderness with only a single, low-level pokemon to protect them. It was a rite of passage into adulthood. Only the ones most worthy of survival deserved the title of "men".

With their pokemon by their side, they had to fight to become stronger and take on the Four Elders. If they could pass them on the Indigo Plateu, they would then come face to face with the Pokemon Master, kind of like the elder of elders with the strongest pokemon, and would be granted their passage into adulthood. They would return to their families proud and much stronger than when they left. If they didn't, it meant that they had either died honourably in combat, had a fatal accident, or fled as cowards, forever remembered as such.

The Four Elders later became the Elite Four, a very watered down version of what they once were. For a start, they never fought alongside their pokemon any more. Pokemon battling began as humans and pokemon fighting side by side. Recently, before the solar flare hit, it seemed that pokemon did all the hard work. Even the gyms and trainers had become much weaker than they once were, with health and safety policies, pokemon league regulations and policing. It seemed that nobody beyond martial arts enthusiasts actually joined in battle beside their own pokemon, and those who did had to do so in hiding, as it was considered barbaric in the new politically correct society.

Still, for a ten year old, pokemon battling was a frightening practice, but didn't present the challenge it once had done so hundreds or thousands of years before.

About 12 years ago, pokemon battling was winding down. A digital revolution was taking hold, and people were reverting to more peaceful ways of life. Even the tradition of sending our children into the wilderness was starting to be seen as too extreme.

That was until the solar flare erupted from our sun. All electronics were suddenly rendered completely useless. Pokeballs, pokedexes, satellites, televisions, computers... absolutely everything. People were left in darkness during the night. Food in the refrigerators and warehouses quickly spoiled. There was no communication - there was too much interference from the solar radiation to hear radio broadcasts, and it wasn't likely that any were being sent either.

I remember it quite clearly actually. I was just a boy. Eight years old. I lived in a kind of run-down neighbourhood that the government had totally abandoned all hopes for, even before any natural disaster struck. Celadon was quite well known for such neighbourhoods. People used to say that the betting shops and liquor stores exploited the poorer locals and always set up wherever social degradation could be found. Well, one such location was my home.

I lived in a small apartment opposite a run-down and abandoned community sports court where the local kids used to play soccer. After all, most of them couldn't really afford the fancier forms of entertainment enjoyed by the more fortunate residents of Kanto. Actually, I shouldn't really complain. It could have been a lot worse, it could have been that one part of town that gets all the shootings and a lot of gang activity. In relation to that place, I was really quite safe where I lived. I lived there with my mom, my dad, my older brother Chris, and my even older sister Jade.

Just before the natural disaster occurred, I remember that I was reaching that age where I was starting to get not only street-wise, but also a bit cocky. I wanted to run around with the older lads, get up to whatever they got up to, especially if Chris was there. Even though I was only eight, he sometimes let me go with him. I guess at fourteen, and being allowed to roam and do whatever he pleased instead of being supervised and disciplined, he himself wasn't exactly the responsible type.

I saw something during my time in that neighbourhood that always stuck with me. Pokemon battling. Not the type most people were familiar with back then. No. This was the archaic illegal type of pokemon battling that took place at night in underground parking lots and abandoned buildings. I saw pokemon die in front of my eyes. I saw trainers risk their lives to jump in and defend their fallen partners against gnashing teeth and beams of frost, lightning and fire, or fight alongside them in the face of possible death. This was a type of pokemon battling that truly initiated an interest in pokemon for me. It played on my most primitive instincts for violence and bloodshed at an age when I was very impressionable. I didn't really know what I was feeling back then, I was too young to realise any feeling I was having beyond horror and fear, even though I kind of liked it. I didn't dare let my fear show in front of Chris and his friends though.

They, as in my brother and his friends, were the ones who told me about the history of pokemon. It's all true, too. Go to your nearest pokemon lab or library and look it up for yourself if you don't believe me. They were just continuing an ancient tradition, one that was almost snubbed out. After a while, they started to manipulate me so that I would join them. They would get me into trouble, and say it was training. I didn't realise they were just using me as a scapegoat for all their mischief, but what can I say, I was eight.

Then the solar flare happened.

I remember that night we had an amazing display overhead. The Aurora Borealis - never before had these shimmering teal, green and blue curtains of light been seen with such intensity in the sky so far South. I remember many of the residents went out into the street that night, enchanted by the phenomenon that lit up the streets and their astonished faces with an eerie green glow. There was something strangely peaceful about it all. People who otherwise never said a word to each other now had something to talk about, something that they could share. Some people brought out food and warm drinks to pass around the neighbourhood. The anger and frustration of the day seemed to melt away.

I think everyone sensed this was the start of something huge. After all, some people had never even seen this before even in books or on television, so it probably crossed nearly everyone's mind that there could be something dangerous and sinister causing this effect in the night sky. There was a kind of tension in the air because of that, but it was masked by the sheer appreciation for the beauty of the creation before us.

It was in the morning that everyone's problems started.

I had noticed the night before, during the aurora storm, that many of the power lines were glowing and crackling. It seemed after I had gone to bed the power had completely gone out over at least the entire city. Nobody could get in touch with anyone anywhere. Mobile phones were dead, not just out of range of a signal. I mean proper dead. They wouldn't turn on. Same with battery powered radios, except when the family were checking up on my great grandma and we tried her radio. It mysteriously turned on. All we could hear was a terrible screeching on all frequencies though. Later on that day, after we had left great grandma's house and returned later, she said the radio had suddenly burst into sparks on her, followed by a puff of smoke.

That day we had record temperatures of around 90 F degrees. That's hot for Celadon. It didn't help that no power was restored, food in the refrigerators was spoiling, and everyone was left in the dark about what was going on. We had the whole police act with the microphone and cruising around all the streets telling us to stay calm and all that. But no info, and that's what people needed. Information. It didn't take long for people to get frustrated and start bickering with one another, and eventually start picking at the police for not telling them anything. I remember joining in with my brother cussing at some police officers and giving them a hard time while they stayed in their car, reluctant to be held responsible for laying their hands on a minor. I didn't really know exactly what I was cussing at them about, I was just trying to look tough in front of the older kids. It was strange though, in these days of political correctness, the police were powerless against me because of my age.

The next day, there was still no power. Most major stores had closed. Some minor stores were still open without power, but many had become victims of looting by panicked civilians and opportunists since no security systems were functioning at that time. Without their technology, the police didn't have as much power as they used to. Everyone was on a more level playing field. Over the next several days only long-lived foods remained on store shelves. But most of this was being guarded by gangs, which had formed out of a need for security for those who had nobody to defend them. Many houses were broken into. Along with this, the number of casualties increased and without any power, there were far more patients going into hospital than were coming out.

Our family didn't have a car. We all relied on local transport. Many cars and buses wouldn't start, the electronics were fried by the ongoing solar storm that hadn't stopped yet after all this time. Every night the aurora could be seen. My mom and dad tried to keep me home, they defended themselves against looters with metal pipes and knives and anything else they could get their hands on. Chris, on the other hand, had other ideas. He was packing. One night, he asked me if I was coming with him or staying home. I wanted to go, of course, because I didn't know that this wasn't one of his usual night-time gallivants.

We walked for a long time before we reached the edge of the city. I was surprised at the amount of abandoned cars on the road, a couple with their doors open and windows smashed. Occasionally Chris would tell me to duck or hide, which was strange because I didn't see anyone coming. I wasn't exactly sharp and alert though. Or maybe Chris was just jumpy, I'm not sure. I remember because there was no artificial lighting we had to rely on the light from the aurora, which although bright it didn't give enough consistent illumination - it seemed to keep moving around. Sometimes Chris would spark up his lighter just to be able to see a few feet in front of him, especially when a massive cloud or two crept overhead.

We stopped in a wide open dark area. I couldn't see anything and I couldn't hear anything. I really just wanted to go home, but I didn't want to admit that in front of Chris. Then, from out of the darkness approached who I recognised as one of Chris's friends. He was a little older than Chris, a bit taller and darker too.

He threw to Chris what appeared like a large, rounded nut about the size of a fist.

"Take that to Pallet Town."

Chris leaned forward and asked, "is it trained?"

His friend nodded. "I've already given it instructions. It'll follow my lead."

Of course their conversation was going way over my head, but I made myself look attentive and like I understood. Then to my surprise Chris threw the oversized walnut at the ground. The resulting "poff" that came afterwards was enough to rustle some of the nearby branches and extinguish Chris's lighter flame. For a moment we were in total darkness before Chris scratched at his lighter to get another flame going.

I jumped back from what I saw. It was a large bird, bigger than all three of us put together, sitting patiently on the grass and staring straight at us. It was hard to tell exactly what colour it was in the orange flickering light, but it looked like a light colour with a fairly short but not too short beak. The beak also had a hook tip, which looked quite formidable. It had black markings beneath its eyes and the feathers on its forehead were long enough that they flowed back down behind the creature.

"What is this for?" I asked.

Chris didn't answer me at first, he just approached the bird nervously. As soon as he got near it the bird crouched down and extended its great long wings outward over the grass and waited patiently.

"It's telling you to get on." Chris's friend chuckled.

Chris hesitantly put his feet on the bird's wings, I think he was maybe unsure if they were strong enough to take his weight. But surprisingly, they were sturdy as a thick board, and took his weight without any problem. He crawled up onto its back and motioned with his hand for me to follow him.

My anxiety was beginning to show. "What about mom and dad?" I thought that they would throw a fit if they realised what we were getting up to.

"Just get on, Hugh" my brother said as he rolled his head in annoyance.

I rushed over and climbed aboard the bird's back via its wing. There was another poff on the grass, and since the clouds had cleared a bit, another large bird could be easily seen in the aurora's green glow next to the one we were sitting on. It was a different bird, a little smaller and skinnier, but still big compared to anything I'd seem before today. It had a longer pointier beak, skinny neck and a darker colour. It had a collar of lighter fluffier feathers around the base of its neck at the top of its body. I recognised it as a fearow. Like the pidgeot we were sitting on, it crouched down and extended its broad fingered wings obediently, letting Chris's friend on its back.

"Hold on tight" Chris told me.

I grabbed hold tightly onto a bunch of the pidgeot's trailing head and neck feathers as though they were reins. I knew that we were going on a trip somewhere on the pokemon's back, but I'd never flown before. I mean, I hadn't even been on a plane before. So I was very nervous. My palms were sweating so much that I thought I would lose my grip and fall off.

There was some strong gusts of wind from the fearow's wings as it took off into the air. I watched the black silhouette of the bird get smaller by the second. Suddenly the pigeot's body rocked, making me whimper. I could feel its powerful back muscles moving beneath its feathered skin as it exercised its wings briefly, before jumping into the air. The wing flaps were rapid and immense. I could feel the change in velocity in my stomach, the sudden increase in altitude too. I just remember holding on for dear life, not daring to look for fear of falling off. I had buried my face into the bird's feathers so I was unable to see anything.

It was far from a steady ride. Each wing flap was a heavy bump. It took a while for me to recognise the consistency and the pattern of each flap. At first I thought it was what they called turbulence and that we were going to crash or the pidgeot was going to tilt too far or something. But gradually I raised my head to realise that the pidgeot's back was quite level. It offered a lot of space too. Of course seeing the slightly illuminated outline of the trees and buildings get smaller and smaller by the second still left me with a falling sensation at the pit of my stomach. I didn't dare go too close to the edge or acknowledge that great empty space between our avian platform and the cold hard ground. It also seemed as though we were getting closer to that green and blue curtain of light in the sky, and I wondered if it could harm us.

I strained to look up at my brother, who was leaning forward on his hands and knees, smiling like I'd never seen him smile before. He was usually a bit moody. But now he looked like he was having the time of his life, with his black hair whipping behind his head in the prevailing wind.

Since Chris was smiling, I had to at least not look like a coward in front of him, so I tried my best to get off my belly and try to enjoy the ride.

"Why are we going to Pallet Town?!" I had to shout over the roar of the wind.

"We're going to start a new life there!" He stopped a moment to gasp for breath. "Like our ancestors did, as REAL pokemon trainers!" He laughed a moment before continuing. "Now nothing can stop us!"

I tried to seem enthusiastic in response, only because I didn't really know how to respond. Although I had been introduced to the old style of pokemon battling, which I also knew was illegal, I was unsure about the overall meaning of what he said.

When we finally landed in Pallet Town, I could see the blue glow of light on the horizon that indicated the approach of sunrise. I think I had slept through some of the journey but I wasn't sure either. I think it could have been too cold up there to sleep. The aurora had also subsided a little, for now.

And that's how I ended up in Pallet Town. I remember when we got there it was as quiet as Celadon, but much less urbanised. I could hear the trees swaying a lot more and hear the crickets chirping in the grass. My brother's friend took us in to a large building, apparently the town's pokemon laboratory. I had expected in a lab for there to be men and women in lab coats everywhere, but that wasn't the case. The inside was lit dimly with fire. There were a lot of people huddled about, some staring at us as though they were sizing us up. I could hear an acoustic guitar strumming away somewhere in the room, but the room was so large and so poorly lit it was hard to tell where it was coming from. There was also a growlithe wandering around, panting happily and oblivious, wagging its warm plush tail all over the place.

There were desks and computers still left from when the lab was used as a lab, probably less than a couple of weeks ago. A few of the glass windows and an area of glass roofing had already been smashed. The sterile bleach smell was faded and had since been replaced by the smell of smoke and human odour.

Chris and I were guided into one of the hallways where we would meet the man in charge, who would go on to explain everything.

Paul was his name. Just Paul. Nobody knew his second name and he never cared to share it. He stood waiting for us in a back room with two machoke by his side. They were like two blue heavy muscled body guards, though Paul didn't look like he needed them. He was pretty well built himself. His blond hair was shaven short at the sides and the sleeves of his shirt looked as though they had been torn off. He took one look at me with his sharp, eagle-like blue eyes and I was petrified solid. Not moving was far better than making it obvious I was afraid.

After taking a glance at me, he shook his head. "Too young."

Chris piped up. "But he'll be coming with me..."

"All boys journey alone. That is how it's always been. Too young. How old is he?" Paul chuckled. "Five?"

"I'm eight" I said, masking my inner fear by making myself seem assertive.

Paul chucked again. "In two years time, kid. In two years."

"Now what?" Chris barked, seeming a bit irritated.

Paul went dead silent for a moment. He slowly approached Chris and looked down at him, pressuring him to back away out the room. But his exit was blocked by his friend and someone else who had shown up, I didn't know who it was though. Out of nowhere Paul slammed his fist into Chris's stomach with such force I could hear the slam of the impact, and I yelped and jumped back. Chris's breath was forced out of him, and he doubled over coughing and gasping for air. I watched as his knees weakened and he fell to the floor, curled into a ball and shivered while trying to get his breath back.

Paul wiped his nose and told my brother "you can start by showing me some respect. I'm not your fuking kid brother, you understand?" Paul bent down slowly and put his hand to his ear. "Now. Apologise."

I remember how sick I felt seeing my brother hurt like that. I'd seen him get into fights before and stuff but I'd never actually seen him floored by someone who was perhaps several times his own weight. All this time I'd tried to make myself seem strong and hide my fear every time it reared its ugly head. This time it was just too intense to hold back. I was bubbling away like a crying tot with tears rolling down my face.

"Chris, are you okay?!" I heaved the words out through sobs and hiccups. "Chris..."

"He's okay" Chris's so-called friend replied, putting his hand on my shoulder. I didn't like him doing that.

Chris squeaked something out, which didn't earn a response from Paul. He then said more loudly "I'm sorry" though it sounded quite strained.

Paul nodded, before turning to me. "Take the kid outside, find him a place to sleep."

The two people who had stopped Chris from escaping dragged me out, although I shouted and cried and fought to be with my brother. I sometimes think back to that moment and regret not fighting back harder, but I was afraid of being hurt by these people. I wonder though, had I fought back with more vigour, would I have seen Chris again? Because that moment was the last memory I have of my brother. I didn't know why at first, but over the next two years that I stayed in Pallet Town, I learned what happened to him, and what was going to happen to me too.

I lived under Paul, Anthony (Chris's so-called friend) and the remaining supporters of Pallet Town as though they were my family. It didn't really feel to me like they were my family, I missed my parents too much. Thing is I had no means of going home and these people weren't going to let me go either, so they were really all I had. They taught me their ideals of bringing back the old ritual, the pokemon journey. Ideals I was already familiar with, but had not yet implemented into my own view of the world.

Over those two years, the solar storms didn't stop. Actually, they got worse. Everything that humans had relied on, electricity, computers, everything like that was gone. Because most people had been so reliant on these things, many people died when it was taken away from them. Many people, thanks to advanced technology and cushy living, had become weak. Paul was right about that. So, he taught me about how the pokemon journey ties in with that. The strong and adaptable survive and the weak don't. It was really quite straight-forward.

He wasn't the only one who was enforcing these ideals either. In fact, he wasn't even the guy at the top, far from it. The new Four Elders had been appointed and the gyms taken over by Paul's comrades and superiors. They all called themselves the Pokemon Fighters, as opposed to pokemon trainers, because they actively fought in battle alongside their own pokemon. They had been around for hundreds of years as an underground organisation, awaiting a time like this to re-enforce the old laws.

Over my stay in Pallet Town, those who did not agree with their ideals were exiled from the town. The same was happening elsewhere. All the while they tried to convince the remaining population that this was the right way, the original way and the way nature intends us to be. I wasn't exactly old enough to know the real depth of it all, but I knew enough to be surprised that a lot of the population was coming round to the idea. Especially many of the strong pokemon trainers who could have fought back, yet they submitted instead. That always really confused me as a kid.

The Pokemon Fighters became a pseudo-nation, conquering Kanto. They had a flag, a machoke's arm on a red background. The arm was a fist clenched upwards with the bicep bulging. It was supposed to represent strength, and also unity between humans and pokemon. This is because the machoke's arm looked so similar to that of a human's the symbol could even be substituted for a human's. It was a symbol that had existed in history, once representing the former pokemon league before it had gone soft. This was taught to me in my history lessons under the Pokemon Fighters in Pallet Town.

I learned later that Chris had been sent out on his Journey. There was a Pokemon Master waiting for him at Indigo Plateu, who would mark him as proof of his success. Many more went too, adults and children alike, except those under ten years old. Some returned very quickly, already being quiet adept at battling alongside their pokemon and were back in less than a month. Others took longer, two years usually for those who had never battled before. Chris would be due to return to Pallet Town just as I was due to leave.

The first year I waited and waited, patiently hoping that Chris was going to return early for some reason. It was a difficult time for me. Paul kept me close by at all times. I think he knew that I planned to run away at the first opportunity. But then things changed after the first year. When I was nine, Paul called up Anthony, knowing that I knew Anthony better than anyone else there, I think so that I would feel more at ease even though I didn't really like Anthony that much. He took Anthony and I on a short excursion to the other side of the town to watch some fights.

The combatants were rivals taking part in a friendly match. Not for money, and not to the death. Just as friends and rivals, proving to one another who was the strongest. One was a young male, long blond hair, shirtless to show off his muscles. Yeah, one of those, the show-off pretty-boy type. The one opposite was quite a short female with black hair, straight-cut just below her ears. In this new age, women didn't really take part in battles as much, probably because they often had to actually fight, rather than let their pokemon do all the fighting. In a male-dominated sport, this made it very difficult for women to compete. It also wasn't compulsory for women to go on a pokemon journey either, so many opted out, while for the men they had no choice. Kind of reminds me of schooling in ancient history.

I noticed the girl didn't really look all that well built. Actually, she was kind of skinny in a way, which was exasperated by her choice in tight clothing - a sleeveless sports top and a pair of shorts - but her muscles did still show through. They just weren't that big, and I remember worrying for her. I feared she would be pummelled by her clearly bigger and stronger opponent.

I remember having difficulty seeing over the heads, so Paul lifted me onto his shoulders so that I could see easier. It made me feel uncomfortable, he wasn't my dad or anything even though he had been treating me like his son all this time. But I didn't complain, I had a better view over the roaring crowd.

"They're lovers as well..." Anthony shouted over, struggling to be heard over the crowd. "Famous I hear!"

"Neither of them has lost a single fight... except against each other!" Paul explained to me, probably why they're so well known. Especially the woman. It was pretty impressive that during her journey she never lost one match.

After the girl had taken a swig of water, she threw an apricorn onto the grass. Out burst a hitmonchan, a small, skinny, tan-coloured boxing pokemon. It had very large red fists and a shield-shaped head. It danced around, lapping up the attention it was receiving from the crowd that had gathered. Her partner and rival threw his apricorn on the ground, revealing a sleek light cream-coloured cat pokemon with rounded ears and a ruby gem on its forehead - a persian. It causally started licking itself as though it was disinterested in the crowd.

Over the past year I had learned a thing or two from one of my teachers about type advantages and disadvantages. I knew right away that the persian was at a disadvantage, and looked on curiously, wondering what the male fighter was planning.

Suddenly both the male fighter and the persian burst forward. Simultaneously, the persian reared up and slammed both of its paws together, just as its ally clapped his hands flat together, one on top of the other, with his elbows jutting out very angular. The impact of the simultaneous fake-out sent forth a powerful energy shockwave that sent hair, clothes and leaves rippling in its wake, and also caused some of the crowd to stumble back.

Somehow, though, the ripples of energy didn't connect with their intended opponents. In a flash of red light both the female fighter and her hitmonchan zipped back to their positions. They must have dodged somehow, but I didn't even notice where they had gone before they made their sudden, seemingly impossibly fast return.

I didn't even know humans were capable of such speeds. I did learn that the human's true potential comes out when training alongside peers far stronger than themselves, such as pokemon, but I wasn't really given a scale on how far this could go.

"I dunno why he doesn't change his tactic..." I heard Paul say over the noise of the crowd. "She cottoned on to that one long ago..."

The male fighter and the persian suddenly zipped off somewhere for a split second, just after the female fighter and her ally had returned. It took them a short moment to realise that her opponents were gone. Two black shadows shot towards them from either side in a pincer attack. The female fighter and her hitmonchan dodged out of the way (and away from each other), causing the crowd to back up a bit and give them more space.

"Now, Hugh look closely. Gav and his persian have separated their opponent. Shell and her hitmonchan won't be able to support each other..." Paul explained while pointing.

I stared engrossed. It was all happening so fast and I didn't want to miss a thing. I noticed the hitmonchan couldn't reach the persian with this 'Gav' in the way. He had effectively prevented his persian from being subject to super-effective attacks. The female 'Shell' was facing the persian, and looking nervous. In her moment of hesitation, the persian hissed, spat and screeched like nothing I have ever heard before. I could see a lot of people covering their ears. Even the hitmonchan seemed distracted by the noise.

The hitmonchan's distraction was a crucial error. Gav lunged in with some very jarring punches to the hitmonchan's stomach. The hitmonchan wheezed from the punches, backed off and defensively put up his arms and fists in front of his body and face, preventing any more attacks. Just when Gav was getting cocky, one of hitmonchan's round red fists popped out into his face. It didn't look like it was with too much force, but it was accompanied by glowing yellow light and blue sparks. Gav's whole body went into a spazm, still connected to the hitmonchan's fist by a blue bolt of electricity, as he fell backwards onto the grass and the electric current cut off.

Meanwhile the persian had lunged for the female, slashing in her direction. She was amazingly fast at dodging its wide paws tipped with sharp claws all around. Ducking, dashing, jumping... she also came down from a high jump with a well-known hi-jump-kick right into the persian's rib-cage.

"Wait, humans can learn hi-jump-kick too?" I questioned out loud, letting down my apparently disinterested facade of the past year. It was the only form of rebellion I had against my captors at that time - to seem disinterested in everything they were teaching me.

"It's just a kick, whaddas it matter if a human or a pokemon does it?" Anthony leaned over so his response could be heard.

"Risky move - persians are agile. She could have hurt herself if she missed" Paul commentated.

But it seemed to have worked. The persian roared in pain, before scampering off to the other side of the battle field. It stayed low to the ground. Its breathing looked erratic, going by the inconsistent expansion and contraction of its mid-section. It shook its head from side to side with a shiver as though it was shaking water off itself, fluffing up its coat for a moment before resuming to the battle. It was failing to hide a limp.

Hitmonchan had all this time been waiting like a good sport for Gav to re-gain his senses from the thunderpunch he had received. It seemed like Gav was suffering the effects of an unlucky paralysis. A bit embarrassing considering there's not much chance of paralysis from that move (and considering that oh-so-pretty hair was now standing on end like a lion's mane). Gav got up shakily, before one of his legs gave way due to a nerve spasm and he stumbled to regain his balance.

While Gav was suffering the effects of paralysis, the hitmonchan bounced over him and lunged for the persian, just about the same time as Shell did. They both landed their attack at about the same time, Shell with a carefully aimed karate chop to the back of its neck, while hitmonchan pummelled it with some close combat techniques. The big cat's body rippled like a bag of water from the force of the attacks.

Before anyone could tell if the persian was down (which I think everyone assumed it was) both the hitmonchan and its ally Shell were swept off their feet by a single low-kick. It was Gav, back on his feet. But he wasn't on them for long.

Both the hitmonchan and Shell pushed themselves back off the ground, propelling their way towards Gav for an attack. I guess they were hoping he would be confused into not knowing who to defend against first, but he used one of his shins and both forearms to block against both of their attacks. Unfortunately for him his opponents were already travelling with so much force that nearly the entire crowd could hear a loud, audible snap when they connected.

I jolted and gripped on to Paul when I heard the agonising scream from Gav. Suddenly, Shell and hitmonchan stopped fighting. I think they didn't expect it either. They were looking at each other, wondering what to do. Gav quickly stopped himself from screaming any more and tried to put on a brave face. I saw Shell bend down to speak with him, and Gav just nodded and forced a smile through expressions of agony. Gav shouted something and the crowd suddenly cheered and surrounded Shell.

"Shell didn't win...?" Anthony gasped in disbelief.

"She won!" Paul assured.

I was shaking, and feeling slightly sick. Just watching the battle filled my body with energy. Suddenly I needed an outlet. I didn't know what it was I was feeling, though I remembered it from being a spectator to similar (and sometimes more brief and gruesome) battles in Celadon. As the crowd dispersed, I watched as people crowded around Gav, trying to assess his injuries and carrying off his defeated persian to be treated. That was a tame and friendly battle compared to what I was in for if I went off on my pokemon journey.

I should really have been scared, and I was scared. But something about watching that match gave me a new motivation. The rush it gave me left me with an empty feeling when it subsided, and I wanted more of it. So from then on I kept asking if I could join Paul whenever he went to watch matches. More and more often, I found him asking me to go with him. The more matches I watched, the more normal it seemed to me. The violence and the bloodshed, even between close friends on the battle field. No longer did it shock me. Instead, I started to yearn for my chance to shine in battle.

I started to dream and wonder about what kind of fighter I would make. Would I really be brave? Would I be strong? What kinds of pokemon would I have with me? I started to get impatient. I started to forget my old life. I guess I was starting to accept I wasn't going back home, and dare I say, I didn't really want to go back home.

My tenth birthday was long anticipated. Then, the day finally arrived.
​