Kess sat on the hill overlooking Pallet Town. The sun was rising, with just enough wind to make the trees rustle. It would be fall soon, the lush green turning countless colors before being stripped of the trees, scattered across the landscape as dark browns and reds or yellows.
That was in the future. By the time that happened, Kess would be somewhere out in Kanto, fighting a gym leader or challenging other trainers to a contest. Maybe he would be in Celedon City, playing at the game corner or admiring the massive buildings. Or Lavender Town with the giant memorial to the Pokemon who have passed.
A knot formed in his chest. He was thinking too much about the future again and not enough on the present. It was why he came to the hill so early in the morning in the first place. He checked his phone. Mom would be waking up soon, and she would panic if he wasn’t home. Or would she? He was supposed to be leaving to get his new Pokemon anyway. She’d probably just assume that’s where he went.
A sigh escaped his lips as he curled up his knees. Just a few more minutes, then he would go.
Professor Oak talked. And talked. And talked. Kess was regretting not getting a little more sleep as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Would they not give him a Pokemon if he couldn’t keep his eyes open, figuring he wasn’t ready for the demands of the road? Maybe they’d give him snorlax. He chuckled.
“Ah, finally, someone caught on to my jokes! What a joyful day for me! Kids never laugh at what I’m saying. Kess, I think I like you.”
The boy turned beat red and coughed. “Of course, professor. We’re all paying attention, and you’re very funny. How couldn’t I laugh?” Lying was only bad if it hurt someone. At least, Kess was pretty sure someone told him that at some point in his life.
Professor Oak laughed, then continued talking. Kess listened for the possible puns, laughing when he thought it was appropriate, or when the professor looked at him during a pause. It seemed to work. No one would figure out he was faking it.
“And now for the moment you’ve been waiting for!” Kess half thought the professor meant lunch, as it was noon. They had been there for four hours. Why? His stomach growled. He tried not to think of his tummy.
“You each get to pick your Pokemon based on when you got here. Since Kess was here before I was, he gets to go first.”
“What?” His vision blurred for a while as he blushed again. “I mean, yeah. Thank you.” He bowed and approached the table. Which one? He swallowed. It was a hard choice. It was a big choice.
“Squirtle. I’ll pick squirtle.”
“Water type as your starter. A good choice. Those can be hard to come by. Will you give squirtle a name?”
Kess took the pokeball, popped it open, and held squirtle in his hands. They pressed their foreheads against each other. “Mizu,” Kess said.
Professor Oak sighed. “Kids. Alright, you picked Mizu.”
Kess stepped back, holding Mizu, tickling under his neck. Mizu snapped at him and growled. “Okay, I won’t do that again. For a while.”
“Linda you are next.” She picked bulbasaur. It would have been Kess’s second pick if he didn’t get the first choice.
“Now Ty.” He picked charmander.
“The three of you are ready to go on your journey. You will each get a pokedex in order to catalogue the Pokemon you see. Report back to me with your adventures. Stay safe. Find new experiences. And, most importantly, make new friends!” He pointed up into the air, toward the door.
“Uh, okay,” Ty said. “I’m ganna get going.”
“Yup. Same.” Linda left with Ty.
“See ya professor! Have a good day!”
Kess burst out the doors running, flying past Linda and Ty. He shouted, “Last one to Route 1 is a muk!”
“Disgusting,” Linda jeered. Then she laughed and broke into a sprint, with Ty right behind her.
Pokemon fan fiction will take place every first Monday of the month. It is a representation of what I see when I play the games, celebrating the bonds I’ve made with my Pokemon, even if they are pretend.
Interested in talking Pokemon, trading, or battling? Send me an email: firstname.lastname@example.org or reach out to me on Facebook.
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