Forms of Good and Evil- A Pokemon Black Nuzlocke

[Othesemo]

So, I'm trying out my first Nuzlocke. It's quite fun thus far, and I've noticed a few other people posting theirs on the forum. 'So,' I thought to myself, 'why the heck not try it myself? I need more practice writing anyways.' So, I wrote something. That particular something, and the hypothetical somethings following it (depending on feedback/my reserves of energy, I suppose), are below here.

The rules which I'll follow/have followed-

1. If a pokemon faints, it is dead. It must be boxed permanently, and its next of kin must be notified (if at all possible).
1b. Revives function as normal only if they are used in the same battle that the pokemon died during, not after. Revives may not be purchased or received via Pickup.

2. The first pokemon seen in any given area must be caught. If it escapes, the same pokemon may be caught again (must be same species/level).
2b. The first pokemon must be ignored if it is in the same evolutionary line as any other owned or dead pokemon. The next one may still be captured.
2c. Rule 2 is ignored if the first pokemon is an Audino. Audino are intended to be farmed, not captured.

The characters as exposed thus far (updated as new information becomes available).

Plato- the main character. A serious, antisocial boy just shy of seventeen years old. Although never particularly happy, his father's death about five years ago hit him hard. He's since been suffering from what is best described as mild depression. He hopes to escape the painful memories of his home town, Nuvema, by embarking on a personal journey across the region.

Plato's Mother- She has lived alone since her husband's death, apart from Plato. Their relationship is perhaps less developed than is healthy for either of them. She attempts to temper her affections for her son, fearing that he too will die before her.

Cheren- Plato's sole friend, a similarly asocial intellectual. It has largely been his influence which has kept Plato sane these past few years. He hopes to leave Nuvema Town to achieve the greatness he has always hungered after. Although less than sensitive to his friend's somewhat tragic past, he is a loyal companion to Plato.

Bianca- That one girl who never shuts up and won't leave you alone. She spends time with Cheren and Plato in hopes of helping them enjoy life.They tolerate her, and even treat her with rare moments of affection, appreciating her role as a foil, and generally keeping each of them from getting too serious.

Professor Juniper- The resident specialist in studies of pokemon, and arbiter of their distribution. Although known of by most of the town, few can claim to know her.

Chapter 1, Part 1- The Finality of Beginning

“Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”
-Robert Frost, “Nothing Gold can Stay”

Plato’s mother had once told him that he only ever smiled when he was asleep and couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t sure if he believed it- he felt no happier when he woke, and his dreams, when he remembered them, were rarely pleasant. He once considered the possibility that he forgot his pleasant dreams simply to make his waking life more bearable, but dismissed it after thought. One’s dreams, he had often observed, were often but surreal representations of the past day. How, then, could he dream of happiness, without having known it?

But today, he woke smiling. Today, he knew, would be a change from his routine. A breath of air to usher away the stifling monotony of Nuvema. He was tense from anticipation, and he walked to the kitchen that day with a spring in his step which had been absent for years.

“Good morning,” his mother said reflexively, hearing his footsteps.

“The best,” he responded. “So far, at least.” His mother glanced at him sidelong, concern in her eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I know Nuvema’s not quite right for you, but Unova’s a dangerous place. Your teachers say that you could finish a year early if you worked hard, and you could get a safe career. No need to go about risking life and limb for a bit of adventure.”

“I’m not staying here. I’ve hated this place for as long as I can remember, and I’ve got an opportunity to leave earlier than I could have hoped. ‘Sides, Cheren’s leaving, and he’s all that made this town bearable.”

“So’s Bianca,” his mother retorted. “You’d have to travel with her, too.”

Plato shrugged. “I haven’t even decided if I’ll be travelling with them or alone. If I end up travelling in a group... well, such sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

His mother sighed. “I’m just concerned for your sake. You’re barely sixteen, and there’s so much out there that could hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Plato’s words contained no invitation for a response, and the kitchen returned to silence as he forked a pile of scrambled eggs onto his plate. His mother sat at the table opposite him, wringing her hands. He glanced up to find her staring at him, though she quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Plato finished his eggs, then rose. He walked to the door, sliding the plate onto the counter next to their sink as he moved.

“Juniper’s expecting me at noon, right?” His mother nodded, still avoiding eye contact. “Right, I’ll head over to Cheren’s first.” She said nothing, but waved a hand at him. Plato thought she might be crying, and found himself troubled as he closed the door behind him. He heard it slide into place with the same dull thud he had learned to hate over so many years. He found now that the finality of the sound brought not the joy he had hoped for but a sort of regret. He sighed, irritated by the uncertainty of it all, but his head cleared after but a few steps towards his only friend’s house. Today was the first day of his life, and it would not be delayed any further.

[Othesemo]

*reserved for future use*

[ThePhantom]

Interesting, a Black run. I look forward to your progess.

[Othesemo]

Chapter 1, Part 2- On Soda, Friendship, and Hypothetical Clone Armies


The streets of Nuvema were eerily silent that day, and as Plato walked he heard only the quiet whistle of wind, and his own footsteps. He coveted these rare moments of peace- free from the world, he would spend hours thinking of whatever struck his fantasy, brought back to reality only when he reached the walls of the town and could walk no further. Many days, he would dream of all that he could gain and accomplish. Today, he dreamed of what he was leaving.

The town was small, but not so small that he recognized those few faces he saw. Each man and woman would go about their business, never giving a second thought to one another. The children would sit in schools, dutifully memorizing all that they needed for the next exam before returning home and sleeping. How they could be happy, Plato did not know. Perhaps they weren’t, he mused. Duty is a strong thing, and few could resist its call. How many, he wondered, would leave if not for their houses, or their family? The city’s somber walls and quiet air invited neither joy nor prosperity, and it seemed that those two commodities were all but absent in the town.

He would not miss the other children, he had long since decided. They came chiefly in two varieties- the loud, strong boys who believed that life was a shouting contest, and the quiet, weak girls who seemed to believe that they all deserved first prize- a thing they were all too willing to give out. Both disgusted him- they either ignored, or actively repressed all of their talents and intellect, electing instead to do whatever their similarly standardized friends dared them to. There was the rare fellow mind, like Cheren, who boasted what could be called wisdom. But these, he had observed, were often too absorbed in their realization of this truth to bother with other, lesser beings. He forged with them a deal of which they were unaware. They each would do the mutual favor of ignoring the other, and both would be the happier for it. Through luck and some eloquence on Plato’s part, neither side had broken their truce.

He thought hard on the subject. He could not claim that he did not regret his decision, but he could not say what it was that held him back. His life had been, in his eyes, a cascade of mediocrity and sorrow, the town and its inhabitants being largely responsible. It was this that he was pondering when he found himself at Cheren’s door. Still not entirely shaken from his reverie, he reached to the door and knocked.

Almost immediately the door swung open, Cheren standing in the frame. Even with the height of the doorstep in his advantage, he was barely as tall as Plato. His glasses were smudged, and his red eyes spoke of a sleepless night. “I saw you coming,” he said, beckoning Plato into the house. “You walk too slowly, I’ve been waiting for nearly a minute.”

Plato nodded, smiling. “You’ve told me before.”

Cheren moved quickly down the hall turning the corner into the kitchen. “You know what they say,” he said behind him. “If patience is a virtue, virtue is boring.” He emerged a few seconds later holding two sodas. He scuttled (a term Plato had begun using to describe his mode of movement just shy of a year ago) towards him, handing over one of the drinks before popping the cap of his. He ignored the foam gathering around the lid and dripping onto his hand, instead raising the can towards Plato. “To leaving this accursed town!”

Plato smiled once more, raising his own can in salute, though he didn’t drink. “It’s certainly been a long time coming. I’ll be very disappointed if the world outside those walls isn’t paradise.”

Cheren shrugged. “I couldn’t care less if it’s hell- it’ll at least be a departure from this place.”

Plato raised a finger, his eyebrow cocked. “Ah, but wouldn’t hell be this very town? Even this place couldn’t rightly get any worse, and we’d be hard pressed to find another candidate more suitable for location.

Cheren nodded sagely. “A horrible thought, that. Imagine, if we finally left the walls only to find another Nuvema town right outside. We’d travel as long as we’d like, but along the way we’d find nothing but rows upon rows of backwater thorps.”

Plato shook his head, a smile beginning to edge across his face. “No, but think of the possibilities! In every Nuvema we’d find ourselves again. After every stop, we’d pick them up. Soon, we’d have an army of stoic intellectuals. We could take over every town along the way, slowly fighting back the creeping tedium.”

Cheren laughed. “And forever would our names be remembered as the liberators of the world! A satisfying ending, no doubt.”

Plato again shook his head. “Who’d remember it? The people in such a world couldn’t remember addition, let alone a two syllable name.”

The two boys then laughed, and kept chuckling as they walked to the living room. They each sat down in a chair, placing their drinks upon the coffee table. After a moment of silence, Plato spoke. “Where’re your parents? They’re usually around this time of day, aren’t they?”

Cheren shrugged. “Mom’s off visiting her sister or something. Dad’s covering for one of the aides at Juniper’s lab. On that note, have you decided which Pokemon you’ll be choosing?”

Plato grinned. “Of course.”

“Which one,” Cheren asked eagerly.

“Damned if I’ll tell you,” Plato declared. “You’ll just go and pick whichever one it’s weak to.”

“Oh, please,” said Cheren, looking genuinely hurt. “As if I’d need to hear it from you to figure it out. You’re the oldest, so you’ll be picking first. I can chose after that at my leisure.”

“True enough,” muttered Plato, sipping at the drink before him. “I was thinking of taking Snivy. It’s not so insufferably cute as the others, and who couldn’t appreciate regality?”

“I knew it,” proclaimed Cheren, a look of satisfaction on his face. “They say that opposites attract. I say that’s bull- you’ll never find closer companions than two egomaniacs.” He composed himself, before quoting in a somber tone, “It is only when each friend believes himself slightly superior to the other that a friendship may be called successful.”

Plato glanced at Cheren, a gleam in his eyes. “Case in point,” he said succinctly, before rising. “Perhaps we should head over to Juniper’s lab soon? I’d hate for Bianca to beat us- she may well take the good Pokemon while we’re away.”

Looking aghast, Cheren sprang from his chair before downing the last few dregs of his drink. He strode into the hall, simultaneously throwing the can into the bin by the door and pulling a back pack from a peg on the wall. “I won’t stand for it,” he declared. “I’ll not let her have my Tepig.” He glanced towards Plato. “Don’t you need supplies? I’d rather not wait after we get our Pokemon. That’s just more time spent in this town.”

Plato shrugged. “I’ll pick up something from Accumula town. It’s only a few hours away.”

Cheren nodded his approval. “Well, then, let’s not delay any more!” He strode to the door, holding it for Plato as we walked out before slamming it shut, locking it only as an afterthought. Together they walked down the eerily silent streets, each dreaming of their first time away from the town.

You know, writing this is pretty fun. It'll be interesting to work out the next few bits- I particularly can't wait to start describing actual battles.

Anyways, if you see any typos or have questions, please comment. Better yet, if you have any literary advice, I'd greatly appreciate you commenting.

[Othesemo]

Ch. 1, Part 3- Because it isn't Fun Without Cliffhangers


Cheren managed to maintain a near constant stream of talk- some serious, some not- for the duration of the walk to the Nuvema Laboratory- and impressive feat, considering the speed with which he walked for the lengthy duration of their travel. By the time they arrived, Plato was all but winded, and quite occupied with mentally reprimanding himself for years of sedentary life. He was still dwelling on the treadmill he should have bought when they reached the large, sliding doors through which all visitors to the lab were instructed to enter. Pausing for a moment, grateful for the respite, Plato was impressed by the grandeur of the lab- although he had passed several times, he had never had occasion to come more than several hundred feet from it. Thus, it was with a great deal of surprise that he looked it over. The sliding doors, easily eight or nine feet tall, were spotless. As Cheren took a step forwards, they slid apart soundlessly, vanishing into the walls as if they had never existed. The laboratory itself looked to be two stories tall, and spread what seemed to be at least fifty feet in either direction. Windows connected to each other, seamless save for the occasional bar of metal spread across the glass where walls separated rooms. Through the translucent glass, Plato could see what seemed like fifty men and women, all dutifully working without regard to the world outside their desks. For a moment he stopped in awe, observing the sight, before he was interrupted by Cheren impatiently tapping his shoulder.

“Come on, it’s nearly noon already. Let’s go.”

Plato quickly snapped back into focus. He reflexively lifted his left arm, checking the watch strapped to his wrist. “It’s not even eleven thirty yet. We’ve some time to kill before we’re late.”

Cheren sighed. “Then we’ll be early, and the better for it. Now can we please hurry up?”

Plato shrugged, and with a final parting glance at the grandeur of the laboratory, he stepped through the now gaping doorway.

The reception hall was quiet, and smelled pleasantly of the sea. The two boys walked down its length to the desk at the far end before stopping. The receptionist, a young woman with obnoxiously blond hair hanging to her shoulders, glanced up. “Oh,” she said. She paused for a moment, as if trying to remember something. “You’re the boys here to see the Professor, right?”

Plato turned his head away from her, wincing at her voice. He ranked it as the human equivalent of a perpetual stream of rusty knives being thrown down a wind tunnel. Cheren glanced towards him, before sighing in exasperation. “Yes,” he said. He added nothing else, apparently hoping that the conversation end as quickly as possible. Plato suspected, and was right in doing so, that both of them were bewildered that she would be given a job as a receptionist.

She nodded, seemingly to herself, before pointing down a hallway to her right. “Go through the furthest door on your left. The professor should be waiting there.”

Without waiting for anything else to be said, they both hurried down the indicated passage. All of the doors along the way were closed, and the boys walked in silence. A few seconds passed before they reached the door. Plato, who had been walking on the left side, reached for the handle. A second passed as he attempted to turn it, before he sighed in annoyance. “It’s locked,” he said, looking supremely annoyed.

Cheren’s brow creased. “Hm. This was the door the receptionist told us to take, right?”

Plato nodded. “This is it, yeah. I suppose we may as well knock, then?”

Cheren shrugged, which Plato interpreted as a sign of ascent. He reached out tentatively, before knocking several times at the door. After several moments, a click resounded throughout the empty all. The door was pushed open, revealing a tall man dressed in the uniform of the local police. His frame blocked the door, though Plato caught a glimpse of the room beyond the door as he opened it. Several more officers stood in a rough hemicircle around the far wall, all apparently absorbed by whatever they were looking at. The officer at the door raised a single eyebrow. “What do you want?”

Sorry about the delay. I actually had this finished almost a week ago, but what with a death in the family and all, I sort of forgot to post it. Well, here it is.

As always, your comments are appreciated.

[ThePhantom]

Okay, you have nice writing, but you have yet to get to the actual gameplay. Please do so soon.

[Selpharia]

A nice start, but I agree with thePhantom, three installments is a long time for setup. If you can find a way, I would suggest putting in screencaps. I don't know if I'm qualified to give writing advice, but having your two main characters so far both be smug teenage pseudo-intellectuals kind of grates. Also, Cheren and Plato wax poetic st great length calling Nuvema town boring, but we the readers haven't seen Nuvema town outside of those tow, so it's kind of flat criticism from them. Limit yourself to one epigraph per route or so, and not all from the same source, it breaks the flow, and adds to the faux intellectual tedium that I've felt so far in the story. Hope to see more, though (the story, not the tedium).

[Othesemo]

To my knowledge, getting those on a DS tends to be quite difficult. If I can manage to find an emulator that does that somewhere, I could try dropping them in, though that would require a fair change in narrative structure. As to the smug teenager thing, I think that ought to be less of an issue after they leave Nuvema town. Cheren certainly fits the bill- as Plato put it, he's one of the folks who, while possessing some wisdom, is to wrapped up in that fact to use it. Plato isn't so much smug as misanthropic right now, which should wrap up once he leaves the town.

I'm curious about what you mean when you say 'not from the same source.' Do you mean that I should move between different 3rd person narratives, that I should switch between Xth person narratives, or that I should alternate different means (narrative, comic, interpretive dance) of telling the story? I'm not entirely sure as is.

[Selpharia]

I was referring to your epigraphs, the little Plato quotes you put before each chapter. My suggestion is to limit their number to one per route or town. Putting in so many lessens their impact. Since Plato was so influential a philosopher, I'm sure you could also vary a little bit with quotes from, say., Aristotle. I know part of the allure is having your character named Plato, but, a little variety in the source of your wise sayings never goes amiss.

[Othesemo]

I get it, sorry. Yeah, the first quote was a poem I memorized some time ago by Robert Frost. Then, while I was writing the second one, I realized "Oh my god, I could make the top quote actually be from Plato!" I'll probably bounce around a bit, though there will be slightly more Plato quotes than statistically probable.

Anyways, I'll probably decrease the quote density. There'll be one at the beginning of each chapter, and I may or may not add others for particularly significant parts (such as choosing a starter, or beating a gym).

[Othesemo]

Ch. 1, Part 4- Finally

“Every man builds his world in his own image. He has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.”
-Ayn Rand

Plato and Cheren stood motionless for a second, taken aback. The officer neither moved nor spoke, but simply stood, eyeing them curiously. Plato was the quicker of the two boys to recuperate. “We’re here to see the professor,” he said, slightly more meekly than he would have liked. “We were supposed to get our Pokemon today. Though if she’s busy,” he added hastily, “we could come back later.”

The officer nodded. “Right,” he said, glancing back into the room. “Hold on here.” He backstepped into the room, closing the door neatly behind him. Plato leaned slightly towards the door, straining his ears, but heard nothing. After what seemed several minutes, the door opened. Another officer, this one considerably younger and thinner than the one who had spoken with them previously, held it ajar as several other men and women in uniform filed from the room. He stared at the two boys in much the same way that a teacher does to a pupil who has asked a question to which he does not know the answer- he seemed conscious of the fact that he should say something, yet utterly oblivious to what that thing ought to be. After a few moments of awkward silence, he nodded towards them, finally speaking.

“The professor's waiting for you.” He spoke this quickly, and afterwards seemed relieved to have spoken at all. Without waiting for a response, he scurried down the hall after the other officers. Cheren and Plato glanced at each other, each inferring from the other’s expression that he similarly had no idea what was going on. Together, they walked into the office.

Glancing about, the room was considerably less grandiose than either had imagined. Two filing cabinets stood neatly against the wall, each sliding drawer carefully labelled and locked. A window to their right overlooked the walls of the town, affording an uncommon view to the sea beyond. At the far side of the room, a desk carpeted in stacks of yellow paper stood, and above it was a painting of an idyllic waterfall. The professor herself was sitting in the chair which would normally be set in front of the desk- now, it was set against the wall some five feet away from where it should have been. The professor appeared to be breathing heavily, and was leaning against the back of the chair. She glanced at them as they entered.

She paused a moment, as if trying to remember their names. She apparently succeeded in the effort, and stood from her chair. She strode towards them, extending a hand to Plato. “You would be Plato and Cheren, correct? I was expecting you later than this.” She shook Plato’s hand briefly, then moved to do the same to Cheren. “I must apologize for the delay. As I said, I thought you wouldn’t arrive until well after they had left.” She turned and walked towards the desk. She ran her hand over several papers before arriving at the one she sought. She picked it up, and glanced over it. “Is Bianca with you two,” she asked, not bothering to turn to face them.

Cheren, understandably embarrassed that his punctuality had backfired in so awkward a manner, spoke, determined to avoid Plato’s eyes as he did so. “Eh... not as it were, no. We decided to come early so she wouldn’t get first pick of the Pokemon.”

Juniper turned around, a single eyebrow raised. “It isn’t a first-come, first-serve business, Cheren. Plato will pick first, then Bianca. You’re the youngest- how early you arrive doesn’t factor into it.”

Cheren might have blushed. “I know, but I figured that being early couldn’t hurt.”

Juniper snorted. “It won’t help, either. Anyways, it’s still a quarter ‘till. If Bianca doesn’t show by twelve, we’ll start without her. In the meantime,” she said, turning back to her desk, “I’ve got some work to do.”

Ten minutes of silence passed. Cheren stood in place, unsure of what to do, passing the time by staring out of the window. Plato leaned in a corner, wondering to himself what the police would be doing in Juniper’s lab. He had heard of nothing happening in the area, though his method of reading the newspaper admittedly could be summarized by ‘flip pages, look for interesting headlines, then do something more productive.’ He also found himself slightly miffed that the receptionist neglected to mention the presence of police officers in the room she instructed them to go to.

The only sound to be heard in the room was the methodical clicking of the Professor’s keyboard. Plato found himself growing impatient, and was thus much relieved to hear the door open. He turned to see Bianca hurriedly rushing into the room. Her shoulder length hair, usually immaculate, resembled a large, blond sea urchin. She appeared to have dressed within the span of thirty seconds and have recently run a mile. She was breathing heavily as she closed the door behind her, and was still catching her second wind when the professor spoke.

“Bianca, I presume. Very well, let’s begin.” She stood then, and reached down to grab a leaf of paper from her desk. She glanced down, and then began speaking in a monotone. Plato suspected that she didn’t particularly need the paper, having no doubt given this same speech many times before.


“You are here today to begin your journey as pokemon trainers. Having been given and completed the Pokemon league’s standardized course of the nature of these creatures, you have been officially deemed the most capable of this year’s Nuvema Town applicants. You will each be given a single pokemon of your choosing for protection, as well as five pokeballs with which to capture wild pokemon. You are encouraged to catch as many pokemon as possible- each capture you make is a contribution to our knowledge, and may well prove catalyst to future developments in human-pokemon coexistence.

“Be advised that, while simply seeing a pokemon may give rudimentary information, full capture is necessary to completely scan the biology of the creature. Be warned, however, that the capture of a pokemon is viewed by them in much the same way that we would view the public kidnapping of a human. Having successfully captured, or even fought a pokemon, will likely result in a dramatic increase of aggression from others within the area. Weaker pokemon will likely hide. More importantly, stronger pokemon will likely attempt to attack you. Capturing these pokemon is highly advised against- captured pokemon have no special obligation to obey whoever holds their pokeball, and often maintain negative impressions of their capturers. Although capture tends to reduce instinctive hostility in captured pokemon, pokeballs are notoriously ineffective at negating more powerful emotions. Thus, while the first pokemon captured in a given area may well grow to trust its trainer in much the same way that a housecat might be reared, subsequent captures will likely devote their efforts to causing as much injury to their trainer as possible. Due to the multitude of trainers contributing to our research at this time, we ask that you not attempt to capture these pokemon.

“Finally, remember that you retain discretion as to the use of your captured pokemon. You may chose to simply keep them as companions, or engage in the sport of battling. However, be advised that battle, particularly with wild pokemon, may result in the death of the loser. Thus, battle only with pokemon whose ability you are confident of, or are willing to lose.”


Juniper placed the paper back onto her desk. “If you have any questions, ask them now.”

Bianca, who had spent the past minute engaged in a dramatic struggle with her hair, looked up with a concerned expression on her face. “If we decide to battle with our pokemon with other trainers, will they still die?”

Juniper paused to think for a moment. “Probably not,” she said, “unless the battle was explicitly agreed to be to the death prior to its beginning. Causing the death of another trainer’s pokemon outside of such a battle is considered a class 2 misdemeanor, and punishable by up to six months in prison as well as a fine of up to 50,000 poke. However, it may still occur. If you are concerned for your pokemons safety, it is wisest to either surrender the battle or switch the pokemon out for another, less injured one.” She paused for a moment. “Any other questions?”

They all shook their heads.

“Lovely. Now, as for the business of selecting your starter pokemon.” The professor walked to the file cabinets, and pulled a ring of keys from her pocket. She spent a moment searching, before finding the correct key and inserting it into the highest drawer of the right filing cabinet. The key turned smoothly, and from the drawer she pulled a tray of pokeballs. Each had a symbol carved into it- a leaf, a drop of water, or a flame. She walked towards Plato, and held the tray to him. “You are the oldest of the trainers here. I assume that I do not need to explain your choices to you?”

Plato nodded. He lifted a hand over the pokeballs, his mind racing. A few seconds passed before he let his hand fall on the pokeball with the leaf design. As he wrapped his fingers around it, a small current of electricity channelled through his arm. He lifted it from the tray, and smiled. A single word raced through his mind.

“Finally.”

Yes, I used an Ayn Rand quote. Yes, I am ashamed. Still, it fits well.

On an unrelated note, I'm probably going to try to standardize the length of these a bit. Any feedback on how long you'd prefer each part to be would be great.

[Othesemo]

Ch. 2, Part 1- Leaving Nuvema

“If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things.”
-Albert Einstein

Plato stood, staring at the pokeball in his hand. The pokemon within, a Snivy, would be at his side for as long as it lived. He knew that, in his hand, he held the creature which would likely prove catalyst to all would happen after. A friend, perhaps, or an enemy. He stared at the pokeball, and found himself struck with the significance of what he had agreed to do. He would be leaving his hometown, likely for years, to embark on a journey through a region he had never set foot in. In his hand, he was holding his future.

Cheren and Bianca were arguing. Cheren was trying desperately to assure Bianca of Tepig’s ugliness, all the while making remarks about how wonderfully cute an Oshawott would be. She seemed convinced, and she took from the tray the pokeball with the design of a single drop of water inscribed upon its surface. Sighing with relief, Cheren grabbed greedily at the one remaining, shivering with anticipation.

Plato gave little thought to the following minutes. The professor spoke at some length, no doubt saying something inspiring and informative. They were then shooed ignominiously from the room, and together the three of them walked to the town’s gate. Each of them seemed utterly absorbed in thought, giving little consideration to the others walking with them. Minutes of silence passed before they arrived at the gate of the town. Together, they stood in a row, facing into the wilderness beyond them. Trees spotted the side of the road, and thick grass, more than a foot long, seemed to carpet the ground. Plato became acutely aware that something ought to be said before they take this first step; this first plunge into the unknown. A moment passed, and it seemed that all the town was silent. He heard his shallow breath, his racing heart. Wordlessly, he reached to his side. From a hook on his belt, he pulled the pokeball containing his Snivy. He held it before him, savoring the moment, before reaching over with his middle finger and pressing the button on the far side of the pokeball.

The capsule sprang open in his hand, and from it issued a burst of green light. As he blinked, trying to clear the marks from his eyes, the light coalesced into a single form. As his vision cleared, he saw his Snivy before him. The two foot long snake was all but invisible against the grass, it’s hide seeming to melt into the same shades of green that surrounded it. Its head turned upwards at the end, allowing a slight glimpse at its cream colored underside, and its large eyes gleamed with a dull red. It’s tail seemed to end in a frond, three leaves flaring from the narrow tip. It possessed vestigial arms and legs, but they served little purpose; the snake slithered across the ground with more speed that Plato would have thought possible.
For a moment, it moved frantically, trying to make sense of the situation. Its eyes darted about, and it shied away from movement. Plato stood, watching with fascination, before the Snivy stopped moving, and turned its head toward him. Its eyes met his, and they each held still. Plato did not blink, but simply looked into his companion’s eyes. In them he saw trepidation, and fear. He knelt down, reaching a hand toward the pokemon. It did not respond, save to lower its eyes as he moved. Plato hummed softly, extending his hand. It remained stationary, and his hand brushed its head. The scales were soft, and barely noticeable by hand or eye. It darted backwards at his touch, vanishing into the grass.

Plato smiled, and stood. He pressed the button on his pokeball once more, and the Snivy once more vanished into a shapeless light, channelling into the capsule, which quickly clicked shut. He glanced about to find that Cheren and Bianca had each released their own pokemon. Cheren seemed to be speaking quietly with his Tepig at length, outlining, Plato didn’t doubt, the precise terms of service he expected each of them to comply with. Bianca was embracing her Oshawott, who seemed at least moderately traumatized by the experience. Plato waited for each of them to return their pokemon before speaking. Cheren stood last by a margin of minutes, apparently satisfied by the agreement he had no doubt reached with his Tepig. Cheren glanced toward Plato, nodding toward his side. “Shall we battle,” he asked, his anticipation clearly visible on his face.

Plato shook his head. “Later. I’d prefer to get to know my Snivy before exposing it to grievous injury. It’s only polite.”

Cheren’s face fell comically. “Fine,” he sighed, as if Plato were being unimaginably difficult. “Later. But we will battle, no mistake.”

Plato nodded. “Of course. You could always battle Bianca instead.” Plato smiled to himself, and laughed when he saw Cheren’s reaction.

Bianca turned her head, and made a face. “I,” she proclaimed, “wouldn’t battle with you if you begged me.” She reached to her pokeball protectively. “Oshawott’s far too adorable to be seen battling with you.”

Cheren scowled. “What do you mean, battling with me?” His tone made it quite clear that she should come up with a convincing explanation quickly. She smirked.

“Precisely what I said. I could dumb it down for you, if you’d like.” She laughed, then, and began walking out of the town. She turned, and waved exasperatedly at the two boys. “Come on, let’s go!”

Plato and Cheren each strolled after her, neither stopping for a final glance at the city.