QuietDragon
a wavering flower, a bird taking flight
- 226
- Posts
- 18
- Years
- Seen Oct 20, 2023
Summary: Trip's reflections on his upbringing, his journey, and his meetings with Alder and Ash, as well as his concept of war and peace, good and evil, childhood and adulthood.
Opening author's notes:
I took an old monologue I wrote back when I was roleplaying Trip and expanded on the ideas to make this. You'll find headcanons and theories mixed in with canon scenes from Trip's perspective. There are notes with further references and clarification at the end. ^^
At ten years old, Trip sincerely believed he was no longer a child, but an adult. It's not that Trip looked down on other children, necessarily—his superiority was rooted in other things—he even somewhat envied children like Ash, who could believe in a more just world, but Trip simply couldn't anymore, at least not that extent: he absolutely believed that he was an adult and an adult, in his eyes, was someone who saw things as they really were… he couldn't go back to pretending he didn't, he couldn't go back to being unknowing of evil, or act like he never did anything bad, or didn't know that good sometimes came at high, even evil, costs—that's why he saw it as a "mistake," when someone took him for a child.
But what Ash did defied Trip's expectations and undeniably worked. Trip, who had gotten used to the idea that the good in the world had to conceal some hidden evil, that everything demanded sacrifice, that peace could not be ensured without violence, was forced to admit (at least in actions—his pride kept him from voicing it) that Ash's peaceful means could work…
Initially, Trip imagined such means could only be successful in whatever idyllic countryside Ash came from, where everyone knew each other and life was simpler, but here, in the same world he occupied? It felt jarring.
Something almost aggravatingly good and innocent could persist even here, almost blindingly bright, that he couldn't bear to watch… and, without causing harm, prevent harm being done to others.
No harm. That was the root of the word "innocence," wasn't it? In language, it was also freedom from guilt, sin, and the quality of being unacquainted with evil.
Ash was certainly acquainted with it, but it did not colour him, he stayed pure white and radiant.
Trip mockingly repeated the name of his hometown the day they met, but when he looked it up, both its names—the one he knew and the one in its original language—were so perfectly suited to him, he felt repulsed, shutting the book up like the printed words were mocking him.
"Masara Town — from massara: brand new and mashiro: pure white."
The town's slogans, too, all teased him with peace and purity.
" A Pure White Beginning."
It was only with light that you could see a shadow and the light that that boy shone with only cast his shadow further and further, highlighting how crooked and twisted it got. He hated it.
" A Tranquil Setting of Peace and Purity."
The stories speak of a place untouched by war or strife, where it's always peaceful, and that is where Tranquill live. He always wrote it off as a fairy tale, after all, Pidove lived just about everywhere and were not-so-affectionately called the "Rattata of the sky"… they could roost as easily in a forest as on a military base. But the day they cooperated, Ash's Pidove evolved. A Pidove of peace…? That old story drifted back to mind for a moment, before being brushed aside for sheer sentimentality.
He could say Ash inspired him, like when he tried to mimic his battling style, but he wasn't that good; Ash's mindset could never come naturally again to Trip. He still didn't trust others and fully expected the worst. He didn't mind getting dirty to accomplish a goal, didn't mind being seen as evil. He won't even deny the accusation or treat it as one… if the greater good of peace demanded a sacrifice, it might as well be someone already tainted. Someone hated or hardly noticed, a sacrifice no one would mourn or miss. It wasn't as painful as the first time, so let the innocent remain innocent, and he could carry the weight of another sin.
He could feel guilty about it later, seeing the bandaged Venipede Ash befriended, or pausing whenever he encountered another Venipede, and keep it to himself, maintaining an air of cool indifference for everyone else.
He knew humans probably hurt them first. He knew it was wrong to hurt them back. He also knew it was only logical for humans to protect other humans, so the logical approach was to do the wrong thing for the right outcome: he had no desire to be good, he only did what he believed he had to do to stop a city-wide infestation of hostile, swarming Pokemon who were poisonous to the touch. Acting as commander to a group of trainers, who were likewise recruited to help save the city, he waged a counterattack.
But to say he acted only in the benefit of Castelia city was also incorrect, his motivation was not purely to help others… he also attacked the leader of the Venipede for the challenge, to test his own strength against a worthy opponent.
He wasn't cruel for the fun of it, either, just ambitious and goal-oriented, so he didn't keep on burning the Venipede when he saw Ash managed to coral them without harm. A shift in tactics. Whatever best accomplished the goal at hand, that he would put into action.
He remembered being on vacation when he was younger, in the Decolora islands, squinting in the sunshine at the scintillating light reflecting off the waves lapping at the shore, when his father spoke gravely:
"The peace we live in is hard-won, bought with blood. Never forget that."
At the time, he couldn't associate the serene scene surrounding him with anything bloody. He would only later learn that it was the site of a historic battle, an unannounced attack from the eastern region of Sinnoh.
While his father said "we," he clearly meant the peace Trip lived in, meaning it as a lesson to him, but he always spoke in the plural. It wasn't a royal "we," or anything like that, but sometimes, Trip liked to imagine it was, as it suited his stately father and it made his attitude a little easier to bear… the man was hard-set in ways as antiquated as the Kalosian-style medieval kingdom into the mountain and the name he passed onto Trip, appended with a "III" like the kings who no longer ruled this land.
If his father must act a king displaced from time, then, let him be a prince, similarly displaced: let him wear his hair long; let him study Pokemon battles as well as history and war; let his Pokemon be his vassals and retainers.
Trip wasn't his given name, but it was the only name be went by, the only one people knew him by, the only name he registered anywhere, unless he absolutely had to give his full name… even at his lofty and most arrogant, he hated the old-fashioned, presumptious-sounding name that drew mockery and teasing from his classmates with plainer and more normal names. But most of all, he hated that it was yet another way they robbed him of an identity of his own, fashioning him after the preceding patriarch.
Individuality wasn't something you were afforded when you were born into a name and house like that. Your life was decided by others: your friends, your job, possibly even your marriage…
He was expressly forbidden from talking to, much less befriending, certain children at school his parents didn't approve of—hardly ever based on character, but certainly based on background. He learned quickly his parents' criteria for friendship was the equivalent of networking: they only wanted him to talk with children of families that could benefit him later on.
As he was quiet and bookish, far from popular, he only made one friend at school, who his parents were sure to reject, as he didn't meet their criteria… they were happier with him focused and friendless, rather than befriending the "wrong" people.
Their parenting certainly left its mark and he looked down, for quite some time, on Ash's rural background and rough speech.
His parents even called his dream of being Champion childish, expecting him to succeed his father in his business instead.
He was allowed on this journey, the same as other students his age (and one sheltered teenager who was held back four years for some reason), but while they seemed supportive in a dispassionate sort of way, he later overheard them speaking: "Reality will set him straight and he'll come crying home." "He'll grow up and forget about it."
He took pictures to record everything partly out of spite, wishing to carve every memory into him, good or bad—partly out of fear he won't be allowed to continue. What if he failed? What if it really was as hopeless and far-fetched a dream as his parents made it sound? What if the only part of his mind that remained childlike was clinging to vain hopes?
When he met Alder again, already reconsidering his path, because of the kinder method Ash had won with, when he suffered a shock at how different Alder was from the way he was in his memories, rather than strong, focused, and wise; he was distracted, forgetful, and a shameless womanizer, too! He felt naive. He felt naive and betrayed and scared his parents could be right… he didn't think he had anything more to lose.
He didn't want to hear his advice, because what good was hearing that from Alder, who couldn't even remember that he told him to win lots of battles or to grow up quickly? He forgot his name and forgot what he said to him! The only other alternative, which scared Trip even more, was the possibility it was his own memory that was wrong, but he pushed that possibility to the back of his mind, especially as Alder kept forgetting his name and even Ash's.
They were just two boys, weren't they? One of many hundreds or thousands Alder might have crossed paths with…
A memory being precious, even life-changing, to him didn't necessarily have to be so for someone like the Champion.
When he battled him again at the Junior Cup, hoping to prove himself and his strength to him again, Trip lost. It was enough to beat everyone else, but not the Champion.
He was crushed and why wouldn't he be? Even after everything he had done, even after endless studying and training, wasting no time, going quickly from one challenge to the next, it wasn't enough. He was sure he had to have done something wrong, or that he inherently lacked something that would have made him a stronger trainer. The flaw was either in his methods or in himself, the way Trip saw it.
For all his arrogance and his moments of overconfidence, in truth, Trip hated himself and was extremely insecure. That was why he felt no need to defend himself, yet also why he felt he needed to prove himself to others—to Alder, especially, because he couldn't hope to impress his parents or earn their acknowledgment (he was simultaneously the prodigy of Nuvema town and the family disappointment)—because he didn't even like himself… if he even still existed outside of the image he presented; everything from the airs he put on, the clothes he chose, the way he behaved, even his reason for battling… was all to prove himself to someone else, to create himself in the eyes of others, to demand attention, all the while keeping everyone at arm's length, avoiding truly opening up to anyone. He was scared of being weak, being vulnerable, and being known. He was scared of being rejected, for his weakness, his neediness, and his cruelty. It was easier to just play a role tailored to suit someone else, that was all he was ever expected to do.
Even when he rebelled, it was by clinging to the ideals of someone else, then rebelling against who they had later become, by rejecting their newer ideals and even his own forming doubts, to cling to his old ideals even more.
But after his defeat, Alder told him he hadn't done anything wrong, nor did he lack anything.
Even though it wasn't enough to defeat him… Alder praised him for how his Pokemon trusted him and said he, together with his Pokemon, would have to decide what strength meant to them…
In that moment, where he blamed himself and his own weakness, the wisdom of the Alder of his memories shone through, after the overwhelming power of the Champion defeated him, and he felt saved and in awe of the man again. Even with the ugliness that tainted everything beautiful and the memories effaced by the sands of time, there his hero stood, after the battle he longed for, still worthy of his deepest admiration.
Even when the Champion called him, yet again, by the wrong name, despite remembering his question, addressing his insecurities, and guiding him gently towards finding his own answers, Trip accepted it this time with only mild disappointment. It hurt, but it didn't crush him, because he regained his respect for his Champion, even though he was no longer the larger-than-life hero of his memories. He was human, flawed, a mixture of light and dark.
All that remained was to make most of the present moment, as Alder advised, although Trip wasn't entirely sure how to do that. He was always either consumed with longing for a past he was barred from—like a Ghost type of lingering memories or feelings taking form—or too focused on working towards his goals to appreciate the present moment, but… spending more time with his Pokemon, who loved him, battled for him, and protected him even at his most distant and detached, seemed like a good start.
After that, the next time he would meet Ash and friends, he would turn to them and smile, instead of looking away, and even take their picture.
Closing ranks and retreating into a fortress was often a prelude to death and defeat—so a prince should never isolate himself, but strengthen old bonds, and forge new ones.
Closing author's notes:
Thank you for reading until the end!! 🤍
I primarily write based off of the Japanese version, some of these traits as lost in translation (like Shootie/Trip's more polite/upperclass speech compared to Satoshi/Ash's more coarse speech considered rude outside of rural countryside) or the character design cultural markers of affluence (Trip's pageboy haircut is the standard princely haircut in anime, orange and purple were historically colours forbidden to commoners in China and Japan), and I included Pallet town's Japanese name, Masara town, as a local one as its meaning is important to the story.
That said, this fic otherwise uses dub names, so it should be easily accessible to English speakers, and Trip's name is one way the dub manages to convey part of Trip's upperclass air. It's also maintained in his team largely being themed after royalty and nobility.
I don't know if the dub kept in that Pokemon Gym dojo-breaker from Sinnoh, Drago/Morana's comment about that beach in Decolore/Decolora (which was an anime-only archipelago outside of Unova, with Pokemon from Kanto and Johto… it was basically a Hawaii-inspired location before Alola!) being the site of a historic battle between trainer(s) from Shinnou/Sinnoh and Isshu/Unova, but it suits Satoshi Tajiri's attempts to portray the post-WWII landscape of his youth in the original game, hence Lt. Surge ("The Lightning American") being stationed in Kanto.
The last line is paraphrased from Law 18 of The 48 Laws of Power.
All that said, please review! ^^ Even if it's just one or two words or what part you liked best, I love feedback.
Opening author's notes:
I took an old monologue I wrote back when I was roleplaying Trip and expanded on the ideas to make this. You'll find headcanons and theories mixed in with canon scenes from Trip's perspective. There are notes with further references and clarification at the end. ^^
(Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince)
At ten years old, Trip sincerely believed he was no longer a child, but an adult. It's not that Trip looked down on other children, necessarily—his superiority was rooted in other things—he even somewhat envied children like Ash, who could believe in a more just world, but Trip simply couldn't anymore, at least not that extent: he absolutely believed that he was an adult and an adult, in his eyes, was someone who saw things as they really were… he couldn't go back to pretending he didn't, he couldn't go back to being unknowing of evil, or act like he never did anything bad, or didn't know that good sometimes came at high, even evil, costs—that's why he saw it as a "mistake," when someone took him for a child.
But what Ash did defied Trip's expectations and undeniably worked. Trip, who had gotten used to the idea that the good in the world had to conceal some hidden evil, that everything demanded sacrifice, that peace could not be ensured without violence, was forced to admit (at least in actions—his pride kept him from voicing it) that Ash's peaceful means could work…
Initially, Trip imagined such means could only be successful in whatever idyllic countryside Ash came from, where everyone knew each other and life was simpler, but here, in the same world he occupied? It felt jarring.
Something almost aggravatingly good and innocent could persist even here, almost blindingly bright, that he couldn't bear to watch… and, without causing harm, prevent harm being done to others.
No harm. That was the root of the word "innocence," wasn't it? In language, it was also freedom from guilt, sin, and the quality of being unacquainted with evil.
Ash was certainly acquainted with it, but it did not colour him, he stayed pure white and radiant.
Trip mockingly repeated the name of his hometown the day they met, but when he looked it up, both its names—the one he knew and the one in its original language—were so perfectly suited to him, he felt repulsed, shutting the book up like the printed words were mocking him.
"Masara Town — from massara: brand new and mashiro: pure white."
The town's slogans, too, all teased him with peace and purity.
" A Pure White Beginning."
It was only with light that you could see a shadow and the light that that boy shone with only cast his shadow further and further, highlighting how crooked and twisted it got. He hated it.
" A Tranquil Setting of Peace and Purity."
The stories speak of a place untouched by war or strife, where it's always peaceful, and that is where Tranquill live. He always wrote it off as a fairy tale, after all, Pidove lived just about everywhere and were not-so-affectionately called the "Rattata of the sky"… they could roost as easily in a forest as on a military base. But the day they cooperated, Ash's Pidove evolved. A Pidove of peace…? That old story drifted back to mind for a moment, before being brushed aside for sheer sentimentality.
He could say Ash inspired him, like when he tried to mimic his battling style, but he wasn't that good; Ash's mindset could never come naturally again to Trip. He still didn't trust others and fully expected the worst. He didn't mind getting dirty to accomplish a goal, didn't mind being seen as evil. He won't even deny the accusation or treat it as one… if the greater good of peace demanded a sacrifice, it might as well be someone already tainted. Someone hated or hardly noticed, a sacrifice no one would mourn or miss. It wasn't as painful as the first time, so let the innocent remain innocent, and he could carry the weight of another sin.
He could feel guilty about it later, seeing the bandaged Venipede Ash befriended, or pausing whenever he encountered another Venipede, and keep it to himself, maintaining an air of cool indifference for everyone else.
He knew humans probably hurt them first. He knew it was wrong to hurt them back. He also knew it was only logical for humans to protect other humans, so the logical approach was to do the wrong thing for the right outcome: he had no desire to be good, he only did what he believed he had to do to stop a city-wide infestation of hostile, swarming Pokemon who were poisonous to the touch. Acting as commander to a group of trainers, who were likewise recruited to help save the city, he waged a counterattack.
But to say he acted only in the benefit of Castelia city was also incorrect, his motivation was not purely to help others… he also attacked the leader of the Venipede for the challenge, to test his own strength against a worthy opponent.
He wasn't cruel for the fun of it, either, just ambitious and goal-oriented, so he didn't keep on burning the Venipede when he saw Ash managed to coral them without harm. A shift in tactics. Whatever best accomplished the goal at hand, that he would put into action.
He remembered being on vacation when he was younger, in the Decolora islands, squinting in the sunshine at the scintillating light reflecting off the waves lapping at the shore, when his father spoke gravely:
"The peace we live in is hard-won, bought with blood. Never forget that."
At the time, he couldn't associate the serene scene surrounding him with anything bloody. He would only later learn that it was the site of a historic battle, an unannounced attack from the eastern region of Sinnoh.
While his father said "we," he clearly meant the peace Trip lived in, meaning it as a lesson to him, but he always spoke in the plural. It wasn't a royal "we," or anything like that, but sometimes, Trip liked to imagine it was, as it suited his stately father and it made his attitude a little easier to bear… the man was hard-set in ways as antiquated as the Kalosian-style medieval kingdom into the mountain and the name he passed onto Trip, appended with a "III" like the kings who no longer ruled this land.
If his father must act a king displaced from time, then, let him be a prince, similarly displaced: let him wear his hair long; let him study Pokemon battles as well as history and war; let his Pokemon be his vassals and retainers.
Trip wasn't his given name, but it was the only name be went by, the only one people knew him by, the only name he registered anywhere, unless he absolutely had to give his full name… even at his lofty and most arrogant, he hated the old-fashioned, presumptious-sounding name that drew mockery and teasing from his classmates with plainer and more normal names. But most of all, he hated that it was yet another way they robbed him of an identity of his own, fashioning him after the preceding patriarch.
Individuality wasn't something you were afforded when you were born into a name and house like that. Your life was decided by others: your friends, your job, possibly even your marriage…
He was expressly forbidden from talking to, much less befriending, certain children at school his parents didn't approve of—hardly ever based on character, but certainly based on background. He learned quickly his parents' criteria for friendship was the equivalent of networking: they only wanted him to talk with children of families that could benefit him later on.
As he was quiet and bookish, far from popular, he only made one friend at school, who his parents were sure to reject, as he didn't meet their criteria… they were happier with him focused and friendless, rather than befriending the "wrong" people.
Their parenting certainly left its mark and he looked down, for quite some time, on Ash's rural background and rough speech.
His parents even called his dream of being Champion childish, expecting him to succeed his father in his business instead.
He was allowed on this journey, the same as other students his age (and one sheltered teenager who was held back four years for some reason), but while they seemed supportive in a dispassionate sort of way, he later overheard them speaking: "Reality will set him straight and he'll come crying home." "He'll grow up and forget about it."
He took pictures to record everything partly out of spite, wishing to carve every memory into him, good or bad—partly out of fear he won't be allowed to continue. What if he failed? What if it really was as hopeless and far-fetched a dream as his parents made it sound? What if the only part of his mind that remained childlike was clinging to vain hopes?
When he met Alder again, already reconsidering his path, because of the kinder method Ash had won with, when he suffered a shock at how different Alder was from the way he was in his memories, rather than strong, focused, and wise; he was distracted, forgetful, and a shameless womanizer, too! He felt naive. He felt naive and betrayed and scared his parents could be right… he didn't think he had anything more to lose.
He didn't want to hear his advice, because what good was hearing that from Alder, who couldn't even remember that he told him to win lots of battles or to grow up quickly? He forgot his name and forgot what he said to him! The only other alternative, which scared Trip even more, was the possibility it was his own memory that was wrong, but he pushed that possibility to the back of his mind, especially as Alder kept forgetting his name and even Ash's.
They were just two boys, weren't they? One of many hundreds or thousands Alder might have crossed paths with…
A memory being precious, even life-changing, to him didn't necessarily have to be so for someone like the Champion.
When he battled him again at the Junior Cup, hoping to prove himself and his strength to him again, Trip lost. It was enough to beat everyone else, but not the Champion.
He was crushed and why wouldn't he be? Even after everything he had done, even after endless studying and training, wasting no time, going quickly from one challenge to the next, it wasn't enough. He was sure he had to have done something wrong, or that he inherently lacked something that would have made him a stronger trainer. The flaw was either in his methods or in himself, the way Trip saw it.
For all his arrogance and his moments of overconfidence, in truth, Trip hated himself and was extremely insecure. That was why he felt no need to defend himself, yet also why he felt he needed to prove himself to others—to Alder, especially, because he couldn't hope to impress his parents or earn their acknowledgment (he was simultaneously the prodigy of Nuvema town and the family disappointment)—because he didn't even like himself… if he even still existed outside of the image he presented; everything from the airs he put on, the clothes he chose, the way he behaved, even his reason for battling… was all to prove himself to someone else, to create himself in the eyes of others, to demand attention, all the while keeping everyone at arm's length, avoiding truly opening up to anyone. He was scared of being weak, being vulnerable, and being known. He was scared of being rejected, for his weakness, his neediness, and his cruelty. It was easier to just play a role tailored to suit someone else, that was all he was ever expected to do.
Even when he rebelled, it was by clinging to the ideals of someone else, then rebelling against who they had later become, by rejecting their newer ideals and even his own forming doubts, to cling to his old ideals even more.
But after his defeat, Alder told him he hadn't done anything wrong, nor did he lack anything.
Even though it wasn't enough to defeat him… Alder praised him for how his Pokemon trusted him and said he, together with his Pokemon, would have to decide what strength meant to them…
In that moment, where he blamed himself and his own weakness, the wisdom of the Alder of his memories shone through, after the overwhelming power of the Champion defeated him, and he felt saved and in awe of the man again. Even with the ugliness that tainted everything beautiful and the memories effaced by the sands of time, there his hero stood, after the battle he longed for, still worthy of his deepest admiration.
Even when the Champion called him, yet again, by the wrong name, despite remembering his question, addressing his insecurities, and guiding him gently towards finding his own answers, Trip accepted it this time with only mild disappointment. It hurt, but it didn't crush him, because he regained his respect for his Champion, even though he was no longer the larger-than-life hero of his memories. He was human, flawed, a mixture of light and dark.
All that remained was to make most of the present moment, as Alder advised, although Trip wasn't entirely sure how to do that. He was always either consumed with longing for a past he was barred from—like a Ghost type of lingering memories or feelings taking form—or too focused on working towards his goals to appreciate the present moment, but… spending more time with his Pokemon, who loved him, battled for him, and protected him even at his most distant and detached, seemed like a good start.
After that, the next time he would meet Ash and friends, he would turn to them and smile, instead of looking away, and even take their picture.
Closing ranks and retreating into a fortress was often a prelude to death and defeat—so a prince should never isolate himself, but strengthen old bonds, and forge new ones.
Closing author's notes:
Thank you for reading until the end!! 🤍
I primarily write based off of the Japanese version, some of these traits as lost in translation (like Shootie/Trip's more polite/upperclass speech compared to Satoshi/Ash's more coarse speech considered rude outside of rural countryside) or the character design cultural markers of affluence (Trip's pageboy haircut is the standard princely haircut in anime, orange and purple were historically colours forbidden to commoners in China and Japan), and I included Pallet town's Japanese name, Masara town, as a local one as its meaning is important to the story.
That said, this fic otherwise uses dub names, so it should be easily accessible to English speakers, and Trip's name is one way the dub manages to convey part of Trip's upperclass air. It's also maintained in his team largely being themed after royalty and nobility.
I don't know if the dub kept in that Pokemon Gym dojo-breaker from Sinnoh, Drago/Morana's comment about that beach in Decolore/Decolora (which was an anime-only archipelago outside of Unova, with Pokemon from Kanto and Johto… it was basically a Hawaii-inspired location before Alola!) being the site of a historic battle between trainer(s) from Shinnou/Sinnoh and Isshu/Unova, but it suits Satoshi Tajiri's attempts to portray the post-WWII landscape of his youth in the original game, hence Lt. Surge ("The Lightning American") being stationed in Kanto.
The last line is paraphrased from Law 18 of The 48 Laws of Power.
All that said, please review! ^^ Even if it's just one or two words or what part you liked best, I love feedback.