Chapter 1: Prologue
January 19th, 2025
It was my 10th birthday, and just like every other kid, I was supposed to be excited.
Birthday cake?
Presents?
Visitors?
Yeah... no. Didn't care.
What I really wanted was for the night to vanish into oblivion so I could finally receive my first Pokémon from Professor Oak and begin my epic journey... to become the greatest Pokémon trainer of all time.
Or so the commercials said.
...Or maybe not?
I sighed. Inwardly, of course. Wouldn't want to ruin the festive mood with my existential crisis. People were watching me: smiling, clapping, judging. Mostly judging.
Not that I cared what they thought. Please. Their approval wasn't even on my list of priorities.
It was my mother I looked at.
She was laughing, chatting with the neighbors, playing the part of the happy host. When our eyes met, she gave me a warm wave, like everything in the world was fine.
I waved back. Then turned and greeted a few others like the good little boy I pretended to be.
Because pretending was easier. Cleaner. And I didn't want to give her trouble. Not when I was supposed to leave home tomorrow.
"Ark, happy tenth birthday! You're finally as old as Elsie. So what are you going to do?"
Ah. The neighborhood gossiper. Every block has one. Her official job description? Professional interrupter of peace.
She shoved a shiny gift box toward me and smiled like she expected me to burst into grateful tears.
I smiled. Like a saint. Or a hostage.
"Thank you for the gift, Auntie," I said, the words rolling off my tongue like dead leaves.
I didn't answer her question.
I wasn't legally required to.
Thankfully, before she could press for details, others swooped in offering presents, asking questions, making small talk I barely registered.
It was... exhausting.
By the time the last guest left, the room was a mess of wrapping paper and half-eaten cake, and my mother, the woman who had smiled through the entire evening, was the only one left cleaning up.
I tried to help, but she waved me off like I'd just committed blasphemy.
"You're the birthday boy. And you think I'll let you work?"
She puffed her cheeks, smiling like it was the most ridiculous idea ever. And when I walked away, thinking she might take a break... she went right back to scrubbing.
No complaints. No rest.
Just her. Always her.
And that... was one of the reasons I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to start my grand, shiny trainer journey.
Because someone had to help her. Someone had to stay.
They say you can't earn money until you're eighteen.
But apparently that rule doesn't apply if you're wandering through tall grass and chucking Pokéballs at wild animals.
Trainers could travel, find rare berries, valuable stones, mysterious fossils. Heck, even just selling a few Caterpies probably paid better than staying home.
So yeah. I fell asleep that night dreaming of all the ways I'd make my mom's life easier. Of all the happiness I'd buy her.
By selling Pokémon.
(Yeah, future me has notes on that plan.)
---
January 20th, 2025
My mom died.
No warning. No dramatic gasp. Just... gone.
Overwork and malnutrition, they said. Like it was a weather forecast.
I don't know when it happened. I don't remember the last thing I said to her.
What I do remember is walking beside her lifeless body as the townsfolk carried it away.
There's a place called the Burial Ground.
It's where dead Pokémon are buried. But if you're lucky and human you can get a spot too.
They lowered her down. Dirt was thrown. People mumbled prayers.
It was over in minutes.
Yesterday, I was surrounded by smiles and fake congratulations.
Today, I was surrounded by silence. And a coffin.
I didn't cry.
Not because I didn't want to.
Because I couldn't.
No tears. Just this weird numbness, like someone had unplugged the emotions part of my brain.
I bit my lip. Pinched myself. Nothing.
And then I heard it, like a dagger dipped in gossip:
"Heartless."
A whisper. A judgment. From someone who probably hadn't even spoken to my mom in weeks.
I didn't look at them. Didn't respond.
She was my mother. Not theirs.
Who were they to judge how I mourn?
I felt the fury rise. Hot, electric, ready to burst.
But... even that fizzled out before it reached me.
Like even anger couldn't find anything left inside to cling to.
People trickled away. One by one. Back to their lives. Their warm homes. Their intact families.
But I stayed.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three.
I stood there in the rain like a broken statue.
Not thinking. Not remembering. Not grieving.
Just... staring.
There was a puddle by my feet. My reflection stared back at me through the rippling water.
The eyes looking back?
Dead.
Were they always like that?
Maybe not.
Maybe... on my birthday?
The rain stopped eventually. The sky turned grey, then dark.
I couldn't see anymore.
I wanted to go home. Crawl under a blanket. Sleep for a week. Or forever.
I was tired. I was hungry. I was... empty.
And then, just when the void and silence and sadness threatened to swallow me whole, something lit up.
A light.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
Bright. Warm. Burning.
I don't have the vocabulary to describe it. Words wouldn't do it justice.
All I know is that in the pitch-black gloom of that cemetery, a flame burst to life, blazing like a miniature sun.
My head snapped toward it, instinct overriding logic.
And for the first time all day, my eyes lit up.
I stood.
No hesitation. No thought.
I ran toward the fire like a lunatic chasing a dream.
And for reasons I still don't fully understand, I screamed...
"MOM!"
Yeah. No. It wasn't her.
What I found instead was a half-dead Charmander looking at me like I'd just committed a crime.
Like it wanted to say:
"The hell's wrong with you, you lunatic? I'm a Pokémon. You're a human. Keep your weird mommy issues to yourself."
And just like that...
My journey began.
Author's note: I'm just a newbie writer and I wish to get some support from you readers. This is a fan fic and will be mostly free. I want to develope my writing skills so feel free to comment and reply to my queries which I would have left as paragraph comment.
Thank you for reading!