Chapter 6: The Scary Tree
The crowd gathered around the gates to Oak’s compound, buzzing with energy. Beyond the general excitement for today’s festivities, most people weren’t friends with the professor’s grandson, so this was the only day of the year they’d be allowed on the premises.
The ruler of Pallet didn’t like uninvited guests, separating his home from the rest of town with a massive stone wall that stretched for miles. Back on earth, that much rock would take a fortune just to move—not to mention build into something—but here, a sufficiently powerful rock trainer could be hired to construct it at a rapid pace and reasonable price.
All along its surface were intricate carvings depicting important people, historical events, and myths and legends—but instead of getting to admire the beautiful artwork, I was being tortured instead.
“You thought the clue led to the memorial?! How stupid are you, Laiton-boy?” Gary shook his head with disappointment.
“Really? That’s the most important thing you took from my story?” I groaned. It’d be more annoying if it wasn’t so predictable.
“Yes, yes. You saved your sister from a rampaging Spearow. I’m very impressed,” the snob said, sounding anything but, “You still lost us the scavenger hunt.”
“Is Dot ok?” Ash asked. At least one of them was being reasonable.
“Yeah. She calmed down once I got her back to Joy. Not a scratch on her, actually.”
“Still, why on earth would you think it’s the memorial?” Gary just wouldn’t let it go, “I mean, the hunt was clearly just an advertising ploy. Every clue led to a store.”
“What store has a face?” I growled in annoyance.
“Oh, I don’t know? Maybe Monica’s Facials and Massages,” my infuriating friend explained slowly, like I was a particularly idiotic child, “Which just happens to be across the street from Larry’s Lawns and Landscaping. Gaze upon my face with grass between your toes. You’d have to be crazy to miss it. I bet you’ll be a malignant prime, Laiton-boy.”
“But I- You see- the thing is-” Gary just looked at me like a particularly ditsy Psyduck, “AGH. Whatever,” He broke me. I’d clearly spent too much time with him today.
Luckily, the gates to Oak’s ranch opened, preventing me from having to continue the conversation.
The two granite slabs pulled apart smoothly with hardly a noise. A feat that should have been impossible with their titanic size and weight. As the gap widened, out stepped the famous professor, flanked by a group of lab assistants. One of them released a massive Rhydon, which stomped its foot and instantly raised a rock platform several feet out of the ground. It wasn’t even done forming before Oak confidently stepped up so he could look over the crowd.
Each time I met him—as rare as that was—his appearance surprised me; a middle aged man with a slight build, business casual clothes, and a lab coat. His hair was light brown, but graying, and he had laugh lines from the habitual smile he usually wore. Sure, it was similar to the game depiction, but it didn’t match up to the legend.
I had spent a decade now in this town, where Samuel Oak was more myth than man. Tales of his exploits were told reverently by the trainers who had witnessed them. Hell, Joy told me a few as bedtime stories when I was young. With all the hype around him, it was hard to match those exploits with an average, flesh and blood human.
The most visibly remarkable part about him was his youth. He could pass as being in his late forties to early fifties, but I knew he was actually over a hundred; one of the benefits of aura cultivation at the highest levels.
“Good evening everyone,” he called out to the silent crowd with a calm smile, “Tonight we celebrate the beginning of a new year and the coming of age of twenty three wonderful people as they complete their time as aspirant trainers. Could they please step forward,” the crowd cheered as Johnny and his classmates, who had been grouped to our side, made their way up to the base of his impromptu stage.
“This year you have all demonstrated your efforts to me and my assistants, and I am proud to call all of you trainers of Pallet Town.” He paused to let a few people clap and whistle, before continuing, “Today marks the beginning of your journey, be it in the League or rangers, and I think I speak for everyone when I say, we are excited to see what you will all achieve,” more applause, “But before you lead us on through our journey tonight, there are some awards to give out. Hether, please release your pokemon and step forward.”
A young girl with sky blue hair separated from the group as a Pidgeotto and Spearow manifested in the air around her. The smaller of the two settled on her shoulder, while the larger began to circle overhead. She walked around to the side of the stage, where a set of stairs had been formed, and stepped up onto the platform.
“Today, you and your Pidgeotto showed your skill in the sky and won the speed competition. For this achievement, I award you three great balls and ten thousand pokedollars, to hopefully help that skill one day become mastery.” He smiled and handed the bashful girl three blue marbles and a wad of cash. The mass of people roared for her as she hesitantly smiled and waved. A family—all with similarly shaded blue hair—was particularly exuberant, but even they became silent with a single raised hand from the professor.
“Marcus, please release your pokemon and step forward,” The chiseled teenager did as told and approached in what I’d call a march rather than a walk. His Machoke and Mankey materialized beside him and instantly fell into step. I wondered if they had practiced that, or if it was just natural for fighting types.
“Today, you showed your will as a fighter, and won not only the strength competition, but also the aspirant tournament. A very rare feat,” I swallowed a scoff. It was well known that Oak had won all three of his aspirant competitions.
A person from back home may not be that surprised. Power is power after all. If you have the strongest or fastest pokemon, you’re probably going to win more battles, right? There was only one problem with that. A good battler needs well rounded abilities; glass cannons usually lost to balanced builds. However, when training you could only focus on a single aspect at a time, so it should be impossible to be the best at everything; at least, not in the first year.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Each part of a pokemon’s powerset—speed, strength, defense, learning new moves, and refining old ones—needed their own time and effort. Normally, during the aspirant year, in order to be great at one you had to sacrifice skill in another.
Not the Professor. He won it all, and rumors said it wasn’t even close. Not to mention, he grew up in Celadon City… Oak had been the undisputed best of thousands—if not tens of thousands—of competitors, in every discipline.
“For this achievement,” the monster wearing the skin of a man continued, “it’s my honor to award you three great balls and ten thousand pokedollars for your feat of strength, and an additional ultra ball and twenty thousand pokedollars for your valor in battle. May there be many more victories in your future.”
The budding fighting specialist simply bowed to the professor—with textbook posture—as he received his prize, and then once more towards the masses as they expressed their adulation.
Again, Oak conducted the crowd to silence with a gesture, “I now ask for our other fresh trainers to come forward with their pokemon to be recognized.”
Johnny and the rest of his class joined Marcus on the platform as the crowd erupted for a final time. The professor let this one go on until it naturally died out.
“This, my young trainers, marks the beginning of your journey and the responsibility that comes with it,” the gentle smile disappeared from his face, and was replaced with a hard stare that gave me chills, even though it wasn’t directed my way.
“The time has come for you to stand on your own. Your community is done supporting you. Instead, you shall protect and support the community,” he made sure to meet the eyes of each of them at least once. It was interesting to see the variety in their responses. Some froze, others trembled and shook. Marcus seemed to, somehow, straighten out his posture even more. Johnny looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Eventually, the creator of Pallet Town finished scaring the shit out of them—with just a look—and turned back to the observing masses, “As they go, now is the time for friends and family to present their mementos.”
Quietly, as to maintain the reverence of this moment, groups of people split off from the masses and approached each of the teens on stage. I joined Joy and Dot and stepped up to Johnny, who awkwardly carried Magicarp in his arms while Poliwag sat on his feet.
Dot did an admirable job of controlling herself, especially after today’s events. I’d wanted to send her home, but the petulant girl had been determined to attend. Joy had hesitantly allowed it, not wanting to further stress the little girl by leaving her alone or with strangers.
So far, she was behaving herself, waiting patiently with me as the nurse shared a few private words with our brother and handed him a large tome. It was a scrapbook, filled with memories from our childhood that she had painstakingly crafted throughout her time looking after us.
I knew, since she had given the same thing to every other orphan on their day of majority. Joy never picked favorites, but I'd bet Johnny’s scrapbook was quite a bit more intricate than any of our previous foster siblings’. She had raised him since before he could walk.
The brave little girl went up next, and handed him a finger painting I’d seen her make last week. It was messy, but the crazy squiggles could be vaguely interpreted as a portrait of the four of us holding hands together, surrounded by a pink circle for Chancey, a blue smudge for Poliwag, an orange streak for Magicarp, and an indistinct blob she told me was Joker. Johnny accepted it with exaggerated reverence, which made Dot giggle. Then it was my turn.
“We’re proud of you Johnny,” I said simply, and pulled a necklace from my pocket. I had thought of getting him a pokeball, or maybe some medical supplies, but a momento gift wasn’t supposed to be useful. It was a piece of home they could carry with them.
“Is that…”
“Made from the Sharpedo teeth we’ve found throughout the years,” I handed him the pointy necklace I’d strung together, “Some of my best memories are of us combing the beach together as kids,” a part of me wanted to leave it at that. A stupid part that said guys didn’t talk about their feelings, but I fought through, “You were always great at pulling me out of my shell and making me actually interact with others… I love you, man. I’m glad you're my brother,” It was completely true. Johnny had been the one to help me embrace my inner child. Without him, I'd have been almost a complete recluse. I’d only been friends with Joy and Daisy before him.
“Aww. Thanks Laiton. I love ya too, bro,” he pulled me into a hug. It was a bit awkward with Magicarp, but the dopy fish didn’t seem to mind being squeezed between us.
We parted after a moment, and I stepped back to join the rest of my class again. It took a while for all of the gift giving to finish, some of the families were much more extensive than ours, but—at long last—the final memento was presented.
The new trainers then grouped together, stepped off the back of the platform and out into the dark. They’d make sure the path to the ceremonial grounds was safe for the rest of us.
That was a little melodramatic, considering the grounds were on Oak’s ranch. There were few places safer… If you were supposed to be there. However, most towns didn’t have a Professor Oak, so other new trainers across the region could be facing actual danger tonight.
Still—even with the infamous scientist—tradition had to be followed, and this one dated back to a time long before the League. A time when the new trainers would actually be made to join the guards, rangers, or whatever other army equivalent the society had.
Nowadays, many—like Johnny—weren’t even planning on leaving Pallet any time soon. However, each year there was usually a hardcore few that came packed and ready to head out the second their duty was done tonight. The bulky rucksack that Marcus was wearing seemed to suggest he’d be following the old ways.
After a while, they had disappeared out of sight, and the Professor reclaimed his spot center stage.
“The burden is passed on, and we may feel comfort in the fact that they have proven themselves strong enough to bear it,” he recited, “but the world is ever turning. They will need others to carry it one day… Is there anyone here who would take up this charge?”
That was our cue. The six of us, the smallest class size in Pallet Town history, shuffled forward hesitantly. I was in the lead, but even with my memories from another life, I was feeling the nerves; tonight’s events would dictate the rest of our lives.
“Brave are those who pursue the duties of a trainer,” Oak intoned as he gazed upon us, “The danger is not to be underestimated. Have no doubt, your life will be at risk if you take this path. There is no shame in backing out now.”
A derisive snort almost escaped me; that was complete Tauros-shit. Not the danger, it was all too real, but the shame. In all my years in Pallet, nobody had ever backed out, and excessive bravery wasn’t the cause.
In this world, People who refused the responsibility of a trainer weren’t just viewed as cowards. They were social pariahs and outcasts. Lowlifes who were considered untrustworthy burdens on society. The stories I’d heard about those who chose this path… it wasn’t a happy life.
“I know what you’ve heard about the unbound,” he seemed to read my mind, “but make no mistake, their lives are easier than the one you’re about to pick. I guarantee there’ll be times in your future when you’ll wish you hadn’t made this choice.” He gave all of us a cold stare. Considering I didn’t feel like pissing my pants, he must have been holding back.
“Very well,” he continued when it became clear nobody would take the offer, “Then follow me. I shall lead you on this first night. After all, it is the job of the elderly to guide the way through the dark,” his face split with a cheeky grin as he tapped an ultra ball on his hip, “I shall provide a light.”
There was a brief flash as a massive cloud of indigo aura was released, and we were all blinded as the world turned into fire.