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- Seen Mar 11, 2023
Don't have any idea what happened to the last one, but I can't find it and the link in my sig's gone, so let's try this again, if I might do so...
It's an original trainer fic, and it revolves around not just the trainer, but her Pokemon as well. And, it's not intended to be the usual "Collect all the badges and beat the league" OT fic, either. There's more of a deep emotional level involved, and the main character is more concerned with enjoying herself with a Pokemon journey than becoming a Pokemon master.
So, since I got to chapter three I believe last time, I'll post the first three chapters and prologue in three posts now.
__________pie____________________________
..BONDS..
~Growlithe~
I... I couldn't believe what I had just seen. Nor could I understand it. Why did the two-legged creature do what it did? Why did Mother fall to the ground and stop moving? Why was Father nowhere to be seen? All this and more swirled through my mind, uncontrolled and confused. It came with horror, fright, terror, all the strongest expressions of fear out there. Every individual fur on my body was raised with this fear, and my eyes were wide and forming wet droplets over their surface.
Mother lay on the earth, still motionless. As I put my paw to her shoulder, trying to wake her, I found it to be cold and stiff, like the prey-food Father always brought to us. The prey-food I had long since recognized to be dead; lifeless, gone, asleep forever, doomed to never breathe again. My mind mad the simple connection instantly, and if my appearance could look more terrified I knew it would have.
A noise split the tragic silence. The crackling of leaves underfoot. I knew that sound always. And I also knew what it was: the two-legged creature.
The connecting tug toward my dead mother was not strong enough for my terror. Nothing was. And despite the way I was torn in two between instinct and bond, I ran. Trees and brush and leaves flew past me, all around, blurred flashes of brown and autumn mixtures of red, yellow, and orange. Had it not been for the fact that it was autumn, perhaps I would not be alive now. Perhaps I would not be giving you this story, telling you the tale of my life. Perhaps I too would now be only decayed material on the floor of the Ilex Forest, just like my mother is today. But, it was autumn, and my fur blended perfectly into the orangish medley of colors, and the two-legged creature never caught me.
I have no idea how long I ran. All I know was that when I toppled over from exhaustion, and was unable to go any longer, everything drifted into black unconsiousness, and I was asleep. When I woke from this state of darkness, I was in a place I'd never been, a part of the forest more thin than what I would later know to be the deepest reaches of it (where I lived before all this). Trees were more spread out, as was other foliage. I was alone, but the smell of the two-legged creatures hung heavilly in the air. I could not go anywhere else, for I feared the creature who killed my mother would find me again. I would end up just like my lost guardian and caretaker. Yet, without her, how could I survive on my own with little knowledge of hunting, terrible fear of return, and no way of defending myself against the two-legged creatures who were so cruel as to kill without reason?
.:Chapter One:.
Three More Weeks
~Phoebe~
"Gabite, try to dodge it! Now!!"
The navy-scaled reptile uttered a small growl, just loud enough to let me know he'd understood my command, and just soft enough to sound gentle and not ferocious. My heart pumped fast with the excitement of battle as Gabite coiled his muscles and prepared for an agile sideways dash. I could tell though that he was perhaps just a bit too tense...
All of this happened in a matter of about two seconds. And yet, it still did not happen in time. The lightning-fast streak of tan and brown fur that was our foe struck before anything could be done in defense. Razor-sharp claws met a tough hide. Not tough enough, apparently. Just as soon as the attack had begun, it was over, and Linoone was whipping back across the smooth concrete floor to her master (at least for this battle).
I glared up at her, the trainer-in-training. Outside of battle, we were inseperable friends. On the field, we were fierce and fiery rivals, bound by companionship as well as competitive spirit. Our eyes met for a moment, as they often did in battle. I'm just getting started, Emma's eyes seemed to whisper. To her, my eyes were probably shooting back a similar phrase. That was good, in my opinion.
"Linoone, before he can attack again! Do the same thing!" cired Emma, pointing sharply in the direction of Gabite. The lengthly rodent charged without hesitation. She had always been known for being one of the more obedient Battlers the school had to offer. Emma made a good choice simply because of that.
Once again, Gabite was unable to dodge before the blow. And, once again, Linoone gracefully bounded like a boomarang in return to Emma. Now "my" Pokemon had two wounds sliced into its body: one on a shoulder and the other on the opposite flank. These wounds were dripping with small trickles of red blood, but that wasn't anything new to any Pokemon who's experienced battles before. Claws caused cuts. That was the way they worked. The way they were designed by nature.
Suddenly, I realized with slight horror what was happening. Emma's sly smile at the discovery of a strategy was the main thing that convinced me of this. Linoone could keep going, I acknowledged to myself, And Gabite would keep failing to dodge. Linoone lunged again, having no less energy in her assault than the first time she had performed the act. Unless...
"Sand Tomb, Gabite-- on yourself!" I called from the trainer's box. For a split second the dragon seemed surprised. Then it made sense, as if my idea had connected with his mind and lit up like a light bulb.
Just before Linoone reached her striking point, Gabite summoned up a whirl of Sand from... from who knows where! It was a commonly questioned and not-very-understood subject, the way Pokemon could simply call forth and control certain elements in a flash. But they did it all the same, and this was a perfect example of the act. A million tiny golden-brown specs danced around Gabite, forming a cloud that swirled and expanded, growing larger and larger, until it was impossible to actually see the conductor within its center. Linoone had no chance to reverse its quick steps as it flew, bewildered, into the sandy vortex, only to be ejected harshly onto the floor in a furry heap.
A slight glow was penetrating through the sand-shield now. No, a large glow. It was growing brighter. Or, was the sand growing weaker? Indeed, it was miraculously seeming to disappear in just the same manner as it had come. Now what was causing the light was clearly visible. In fact, it was not light at all, but fire. Raging, bright blue fire, that streamed from Gabite's open jaws as readily as air out of a baloon. The flames were fanning out and pulling themselves back in, in a pulsating way that I knew strengthened them, rebuilding and recreating and reusing their already-formed energy. I not only knew the science and design of this technique; I also knew its name. Dragon Rage.
Linoone shrieked in a high-pitched rodent-wail of pain and surprise mingled together as the dragon fire licked across her fur and flesh. She struggled to rise, fight back, escape, anything, but could only manage to continue its cries and spasms of loud outbursts. Despite all this, at which most could easily feel sympathy, I nor Gabite felt a moral guilt or a crushing need for apology to the helpless creature. It wasn't dieing. It wasn't going through anything cruel. This was just the way battles worked. I knew I could never expect to get anywhere without knowing that Pokemon are trained for this. They have miraculous powers beyond our true control. If they wanted to, they could always attack and punish their humans for causing them such pain. Yet they do not (well, most don't). So they are satified with the hardships as long as they get their victories. That much worked for me, and for everyone, and this explained reasonably and logically why Pokemon training was not cruel. It explained why I did not feel any guilt as Gabite, whom was under my command, lashed his blue fury over Linoone.
"That's it!!" yelled the refferee, splitting all my burning thoughts and tense atmosphere of the battle right open. "Linoone is unable to battle! The victory goes to Phoebe!"
There was a small and short-lived series of applause afterwards, coming from the stand where other "trainers-in-training", as I called us, had been watching the whole battle with the instructions to watch and gather information. I saw a teacher walk over and begin speaking with them from the corner of my eye as the weak and defeated Linoone was absorbed in a flash of light by her Pokeball. Emma held the now-closed red and white orb in her hand still as she ran hurriedly to me, each foot landing with a hard thud on the floor.
"I thought I really got you there for a sec," she said once she stopped beside me.
"Did you actually think I wouldn't look for a way to get out of that though?" I asked with a hint of laughter. Emma waited while I pushed open the gate-like door of the trainer-box to speak with her. Garchomp was staring up at me expectantly, knowing that he should have already been recalled into his Pokeball. Then again, though, I was his favorite student, and he was my favorite Battler Pokemon.
"Bai?" growled the bipedal dragon in a tone of interrest and question.
"Yes," I replied, kneeling down just enough to pat Gabite gently on the head, "You did great! I didn't even tell you to use Dragon Rage in the first place, but it worked, I guess."
"Bai!" he exclaimed.
"Phoebe?" a man called. I immediately turned. It was the Training School's prncipal, Mr.Finch. By the time he reached me, he was standing high over me, so that I had to look up a bit to be speaking with his face and not his stomach, despite how tall I was for my age. Emma and Gabite stood a little ways back, watching but not wanting to be too closely involved.
"Yes sir?" I asked, forcing back my normal responce of 'Yeah? Whazzup?'
"As you know the summer break is fast approaching, and you've been with this school for what? Two, theree years?"
"Four."
"Right. Well, as always your gradesin your classes have been exceptional, and you haven't lost a training-battle in how long?"
"Uh... About two weeks, I think."
"I was considering giving you your Trainer's School Completion Badge at the end of this semester. That is only three weeks away, mind you."
At once my emotions clogged with pride. The Completion Badge! Every trainer needed one to be considered an official trainer. To collect Gym Badges and the like. Personally, I'd never cared so much for that, but the four years I'd spent going to thsi Trainer's School were intended to increase my knowledge of Pokemon and raising them. After all, how could someone go about doing something well without a good idea of how? Since I was eight, I'd done this. I'd worked hard and absorbed all I could, learning about everything from type advantages to the complex ways in which moves operate. Sometimes other kids would be told of their Completion Badge, and everyone else would ask about it. Apparently they were given when someone seemed ready to move on as a trainer and had learned as much as they'll need. This honor, now given to me, was surprising, wonderful, and frightening.
"You seem speechless," laughed Mr.Finch.
"I think I am..." I managed to murmur.
"Your recent battles have shown that you're prepared. There's not much more this school can teach you."
"Thank you, sir..."
"Oh, thank you, for being so dilligent in your studies here. I wouldn't be surprised to see you one day become one of the great Pokemon trainers. Of course, I'm not sure that's really what you intend on achieving, no? ... By the way, will we need to handle the issue of a starter Pokemon, or is there any way you know of that you will obtain one yourself?"
I hand't thought of this. But the school could always have starter Pokemon ready to be given to new trainers, so I supposed there was no reason. I shook my head quickly though, seeing as there was no Pokemon I owned that I could take with me on a journey. Sure, my family had many Pokemon, but they were all pets. None of them would have the interest or capabilities of the rough lifestyle a trainer's Pokemon led.
"Very well. We will be able to arrange that. But for now, let's just worry about the weekend. Speaking of which, the last bell could ring any-"
BRIIIIIIING!!!
Almost every kid in the building grabbed a backpack and rushed toward the doors, forming a very large wave of human traffic in the halls. Emma waved and walked off as well (normally she'd stay and talk, but she had some important things to do at home apparently today), not without handing Mr.Finch the Pokeball containing the Linoone the school owned. I turned down to Gabite, who looked back at me with his round, yellow-gold eyes. In the next second, he was converted into a red glow and sucked into the confines of his Pokeball, which I also handed to Mr.Finch. With that, I left.
The walk home was quiet and peaceful, as usual. I always took a path that went alongside the nearby woods, enjoying the open land of nature being so close. Close enough to touch, I inquired, rubbing my hand against the bark of a tree as I passed it. Three more weeks, I thought. Three weeks, and I'd be off. What would it be like? Hopefully it would be as exciting as I'd imagined it. What would my starter Pokemon be? I could hardly guess.
For no particular reason at all, I turned to the right, away from the trees, toward the calm little houses that lie on the opposite side of the street. Each one was different; each one looked cozier than the next. But then, something caught my eye. At first I though I was only imagining it. I stopped and took a better look, straining my eyes to grasp what it was.
A small, helpless figure, with an orange puppy-face and one orange paw held over the knocked-down trash can it rested on. The other paw... Was that really its paw? It was red and swollen, like some crazy wound had infected it. That's probably the case, I realized with horror as I looked into those eyes. They were staring right back at me; wide with cold fear, like those of a beaten animal.
Deep within my chest, I felt my pounding heart. I knew I could never just leave the poor Growlithe here to starve. Battling was one thing, but this was something completely different. Sympathy was welcome and encouraged when dealing with these kinds of situations, as with it one would be more likely to do something to help. And so I did. As I walked across the street, I didn't even care whether that Pokemon was owned by someone or not. It did not run away.
It's an original trainer fic, and it revolves around not just the trainer, but her Pokemon as well. And, it's not intended to be the usual "Collect all the badges and beat the league" OT fic, either. There's more of a deep emotional level involved, and the main character is more concerned with enjoying herself with a Pokemon journey than becoming a Pokemon master.
So, since I got to chapter three I believe last time, I'll post the first three chapters and prologue in three posts now.
__________pie____________________________
..BONDS..
~Growlithe~
I... I couldn't believe what I had just seen. Nor could I understand it. Why did the two-legged creature do what it did? Why did Mother fall to the ground and stop moving? Why was Father nowhere to be seen? All this and more swirled through my mind, uncontrolled and confused. It came with horror, fright, terror, all the strongest expressions of fear out there. Every individual fur on my body was raised with this fear, and my eyes were wide and forming wet droplets over their surface.
Mother lay on the earth, still motionless. As I put my paw to her shoulder, trying to wake her, I found it to be cold and stiff, like the prey-food Father always brought to us. The prey-food I had long since recognized to be dead; lifeless, gone, asleep forever, doomed to never breathe again. My mind mad the simple connection instantly, and if my appearance could look more terrified I knew it would have.
A noise split the tragic silence. The crackling of leaves underfoot. I knew that sound always. And I also knew what it was: the two-legged creature.
The connecting tug toward my dead mother was not strong enough for my terror. Nothing was. And despite the way I was torn in two between instinct and bond, I ran. Trees and brush and leaves flew past me, all around, blurred flashes of brown and autumn mixtures of red, yellow, and orange. Had it not been for the fact that it was autumn, perhaps I would not be alive now. Perhaps I would not be giving you this story, telling you the tale of my life. Perhaps I too would now be only decayed material on the floor of the Ilex Forest, just like my mother is today. But, it was autumn, and my fur blended perfectly into the orangish medley of colors, and the two-legged creature never caught me.
I have no idea how long I ran. All I know was that when I toppled over from exhaustion, and was unable to go any longer, everything drifted into black unconsiousness, and I was asleep. When I woke from this state of darkness, I was in a place I'd never been, a part of the forest more thin than what I would later know to be the deepest reaches of it (where I lived before all this). Trees were more spread out, as was other foliage. I was alone, but the smell of the two-legged creatures hung heavilly in the air. I could not go anywhere else, for I feared the creature who killed my mother would find me again. I would end up just like my lost guardian and caretaker. Yet, without her, how could I survive on my own with little knowledge of hunting, terrible fear of return, and no way of defending myself against the two-legged creatures who were so cruel as to kill without reason?
.:Chapter One:.
Three More Weeks
~Phoebe~
"Gabite, try to dodge it! Now!!"
The navy-scaled reptile uttered a small growl, just loud enough to let me know he'd understood my command, and just soft enough to sound gentle and not ferocious. My heart pumped fast with the excitement of battle as Gabite coiled his muscles and prepared for an agile sideways dash. I could tell though that he was perhaps just a bit too tense...
All of this happened in a matter of about two seconds. And yet, it still did not happen in time. The lightning-fast streak of tan and brown fur that was our foe struck before anything could be done in defense. Razor-sharp claws met a tough hide. Not tough enough, apparently. Just as soon as the attack had begun, it was over, and Linoone was whipping back across the smooth concrete floor to her master (at least for this battle).
I glared up at her, the trainer-in-training. Outside of battle, we were inseperable friends. On the field, we were fierce and fiery rivals, bound by companionship as well as competitive spirit. Our eyes met for a moment, as they often did in battle. I'm just getting started, Emma's eyes seemed to whisper. To her, my eyes were probably shooting back a similar phrase. That was good, in my opinion.
"Linoone, before he can attack again! Do the same thing!" cired Emma, pointing sharply in the direction of Gabite. The lengthly rodent charged without hesitation. She had always been known for being one of the more obedient Battlers the school had to offer. Emma made a good choice simply because of that.
Once again, Gabite was unable to dodge before the blow. And, once again, Linoone gracefully bounded like a boomarang in return to Emma. Now "my" Pokemon had two wounds sliced into its body: one on a shoulder and the other on the opposite flank. These wounds were dripping with small trickles of red blood, but that wasn't anything new to any Pokemon who's experienced battles before. Claws caused cuts. That was the way they worked. The way they were designed by nature.
Suddenly, I realized with slight horror what was happening. Emma's sly smile at the discovery of a strategy was the main thing that convinced me of this. Linoone could keep going, I acknowledged to myself, And Gabite would keep failing to dodge. Linoone lunged again, having no less energy in her assault than the first time she had performed the act. Unless...
"Sand Tomb, Gabite-- on yourself!" I called from the trainer's box. For a split second the dragon seemed surprised. Then it made sense, as if my idea had connected with his mind and lit up like a light bulb.
Just before Linoone reached her striking point, Gabite summoned up a whirl of Sand from... from who knows where! It was a commonly questioned and not-very-understood subject, the way Pokemon could simply call forth and control certain elements in a flash. But they did it all the same, and this was a perfect example of the act. A million tiny golden-brown specs danced around Gabite, forming a cloud that swirled and expanded, growing larger and larger, until it was impossible to actually see the conductor within its center. Linoone had no chance to reverse its quick steps as it flew, bewildered, into the sandy vortex, only to be ejected harshly onto the floor in a furry heap.
A slight glow was penetrating through the sand-shield now. No, a large glow. It was growing brighter. Or, was the sand growing weaker? Indeed, it was miraculously seeming to disappear in just the same manner as it had come. Now what was causing the light was clearly visible. In fact, it was not light at all, but fire. Raging, bright blue fire, that streamed from Gabite's open jaws as readily as air out of a baloon. The flames were fanning out and pulling themselves back in, in a pulsating way that I knew strengthened them, rebuilding and recreating and reusing their already-formed energy. I not only knew the science and design of this technique; I also knew its name. Dragon Rage.
Linoone shrieked in a high-pitched rodent-wail of pain and surprise mingled together as the dragon fire licked across her fur and flesh. She struggled to rise, fight back, escape, anything, but could only manage to continue its cries and spasms of loud outbursts. Despite all this, at which most could easily feel sympathy, I nor Gabite felt a moral guilt or a crushing need for apology to the helpless creature. It wasn't dieing. It wasn't going through anything cruel. This was just the way battles worked. I knew I could never expect to get anywhere without knowing that Pokemon are trained for this. They have miraculous powers beyond our true control. If they wanted to, they could always attack and punish their humans for causing them such pain. Yet they do not (well, most don't). So they are satified with the hardships as long as they get their victories. That much worked for me, and for everyone, and this explained reasonably and logically why Pokemon training was not cruel. It explained why I did not feel any guilt as Gabite, whom was under my command, lashed his blue fury over Linoone.
"That's it!!" yelled the refferee, splitting all my burning thoughts and tense atmosphere of the battle right open. "Linoone is unable to battle! The victory goes to Phoebe!"
There was a small and short-lived series of applause afterwards, coming from the stand where other "trainers-in-training", as I called us, had been watching the whole battle with the instructions to watch and gather information. I saw a teacher walk over and begin speaking with them from the corner of my eye as the weak and defeated Linoone was absorbed in a flash of light by her Pokeball. Emma held the now-closed red and white orb in her hand still as she ran hurriedly to me, each foot landing with a hard thud on the floor.
"I thought I really got you there for a sec," she said once she stopped beside me.
"Did you actually think I wouldn't look for a way to get out of that though?" I asked with a hint of laughter. Emma waited while I pushed open the gate-like door of the trainer-box to speak with her. Garchomp was staring up at me expectantly, knowing that he should have already been recalled into his Pokeball. Then again, though, I was his favorite student, and he was my favorite Battler Pokemon.
"Bai?" growled the bipedal dragon in a tone of interrest and question.
"Yes," I replied, kneeling down just enough to pat Gabite gently on the head, "You did great! I didn't even tell you to use Dragon Rage in the first place, but it worked, I guess."
"Bai!" he exclaimed.
"Phoebe?" a man called. I immediately turned. It was the Training School's prncipal, Mr.Finch. By the time he reached me, he was standing high over me, so that I had to look up a bit to be speaking with his face and not his stomach, despite how tall I was for my age. Emma and Gabite stood a little ways back, watching but not wanting to be too closely involved.
"Yes sir?" I asked, forcing back my normal responce of 'Yeah? Whazzup?'
"As you know the summer break is fast approaching, and you've been with this school for what? Two, theree years?"
"Four."
"Right. Well, as always your gradesin your classes have been exceptional, and you haven't lost a training-battle in how long?"
"Uh... About two weeks, I think."
"I was considering giving you your Trainer's School Completion Badge at the end of this semester. That is only three weeks away, mind you."
At once my emotions clogged with pride. The Completion Badge! Every trainer needed one to be considered an official trainer. To collect Gym Badges and the like. Personally, I'd never cared so much for that, but the four years I'd spent going to thsi Trainer's School were intended to increase my knowledge of Pokemon and raising them. After all, how could someone go about doing something well without a good idea of how? Since I was eight, I'd done this. I'd worked hard and absorbed all I could, learning about everything from type advantages to the complex ways in which moves operate. Sometimes other kids would be told of their Completion Badge, and everyone else would ask about it. Apparently they were given when someone seemed ready to move on as a trainer and had learned as much as they'll need. This honor, now given to me, was surprising, wonderful, and frightening.
"You seem speechless," laughed Mr.Finch.
"I think I am..." I managed to murmur.
"Your recent battles have shown that you're prepared. There's not much more this school can teach you."
"Thank you, sir..."
"Oh, thank you, for being so dilligent in your studies here. I wouldn't be surprised to see you one day become one of the great Pokemon trainers. Of course, I'm not sure that's really what you intend on achieving, no? ... By the way, will we need to handle the issue of a starter Pokemon, or is there any way you know of that you will obtain one yourself?"
I hand't thought of this. But the school could always have starter Pokemon ready to be given to new trainers, so I supposed there was no reason. I shook my head quickly though, seeing as there was no Pokemon I owned that I could take with me on a journey. Sure, my family had many Pokemon, but they were all pets. None of them would have the interest or capabilities of the rough lifestyle a trainer's Pokemon led.
"Very well. We will be able to arrange that. But for now, let's just worry about the weekend. Speaking of which, the last bell could ring any-"
BRIIIIIIING!!!
Almost every kid in the building grabbed a backpack and rushed toward the doors, forming a very large wave of human traffic in the halls. Emma waved and walked off as well (normally she'd stay and talk, but she had some important things to do at home apparently today), not without handing Mr.Finch the Pokeball containing the Linoone the school owned. I turned down to Gabite, who looked back at me with his round, yellow-gold eyes. In the next second, he was converted into a red glow and sucked into the confines of his Pokeball, which I also handed to Mr.Finch. With that, I left.
The walk home was quiet and peaceful, as usual. I always took a path that went alongside the nearby woods, enjoying the open land of nature being so close. Close enough to touch, I inquired, rubbing my hand against the bark of a tree as I passed it. Three more weeks, I thought. Three weeks, and I'd be off. What would it be like? Hopefully it would be as exciting as I'd imagined it. What would my starter Pokemon be? I could hardly guess.
For no particular reason at all, I turned to the right, away from the trees, toward the calm little houses that lie on the opposite side of the street. Each one was different; each one looked cozier than the next. But then, something caught my eye. At first I though I was only imagining it. I stopped and took a better look, straining my eyes to grasp what it was.
A small, helpless figure, with an orange puppy-face and one orange paw held over the knocked-down trash can it rested on. The other paw... Was that really its paw? It was red and swollen, like some crazy wound had infected it. That's probably the case, I realized with horror as I looked into those eyes. They were staring right back at me; wide with cold fear, like those of a beaten animal.
Deep within my chest, I felt my pounding heart. I knew I could never just leave the poor Growlithe here to starve. Battling was one thing, but this was something completely different. Sympathy was welcome and encouraged when dealing with these kinds of situations, as with it one would be more likely to do something to help. And so I did. As I walked across the street, I didn't even care whether that Pokemon was owned by someone or not. It did not run away.