Writing To Pursue a Legend

Oreo9238

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To Pursue a Legend

Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2

I set my alarm to go off at 7:00 on July 2nd. It was the day after Karin, the little brother of 12 year old Jared, had turned 10. I myself had turned 10 years old over eight months before, and my close friend Samantha had just gotten to double digits two weeks later. Gary Oak’s little brother and Professor Oak’s youngest grandson, Jessie, was already 11. Professor Oak had invited the five of us to come to his lab and choose our starter the day after Karin turned 10. He was ready to do it the second Samantha had ‘come of age’ but Jared had insisted that we wait for Karin. He had turned down every opportunity to begin his pokémon adventure until his little brother was old enough to go with him.
I wasn’t about to oversleep the day of, either, like my older brother Ash did four years ago. I set the most obnoxious alarm possible and stuck it underneath my pillow. My mom warned me that when it went off the whole town would be woken up. I hoped that wasn’t true. I wanted to get to the lab earlier than even Jessie so that I could have the widest range of choices. There were at least three that I could choose from, I knew. I could choose Bulbasaur, the grass pokémon. It would evolve into Ivysaur and then later Venusaur. It would also eventually develop to be part poison. This was a good combination of things. It was also an easy pokémon to raise, I had to note.
Then there was Squirtle. Squirtle was a water pokémon. It evolved into Wartortle and finally Blastoise. Blastoise was extremely powerful and had everything from water pumps to high defense mechanisms.
Finally, I could receive Charmander. Charmander could grow and become Charmeleon, then Charizard. Charizard had a huge attack range. It was a fire type. It could fly.
I had to take all of these into account to decide which starter I would choose. It was a pretty tough decision, one that would stay with me the rest of my life- and I still had no idea which I wanted.
I fell asleep that night with the words Charmander Bulbasaur Squirtle floating around in my head.
. . .​
It was an efficient, but not a kind way to wake up, with my clock blaring in my ear and vibrating my whole head painfully. I changed quickly and yanked my yellow beanie over my spiky brown hair. I then staggered downstairs to find my mother waiting for me. A backpack, stuffed to the top, sat on the kitchen chair. I shoved it to the floor and sat down.
Mr. Mime stood at the kitchen counter slicing a tomato. My lunch, I presumed. Mr. Mime was so welcome in our family. Since we were lucky enough to receive the barrier pokémon, whenever my friends complained about cleaning up after dinner, or picking up their rooms, I would just smile and casually drop Mr. Mime’s name in. It used to really bother people like Jared. It’s also one of the only things that Jessie has to be jealous of me for.
The toaster dinged and, to my surprise, spit out a crispy, browned piece of toast. My mom slid a small jar of jam across the table to me and I grinned.
“Wow,” I joked. “You actually made me my breakfast. Special occasion?”
She beamed at me. “I’m so proud of you, Charles! You’re off to become just as famous as Ash! You’re going to have such a good time…”
I glanced into the other room. The television was lined with trophies and medals of all shapes and sizes that my brother had received. Was I really ever going to be good enough to challenge him? I spread the jam on my toast and took a bite. It occurred to me that it was the last meal I would have at home, and I ate slowly. When I took the last bite, Mr. Mime had just finished bagging my lunch and neatly slipped it into the pocket of my backpack. I nodded the pokémon a quick thanks as I threw the sack over my shoulder.
“Pick a good one, Charles!” my mom called after me. “Don’t bring home another Pikachu!”
I laughed, raising my hand in acknowledgement. I knew she didn’t care. We all loved Pikachu. Every time Ash came home, whether it was once a month or once a year, we were just as happy to see his little yellow pokémon as we were to see him.
Once I reached the main road the sun, peeking over the tip of the hill, reminded me that I should be going- I was on my way to getting my very first Charmander, Squirtle, or Bulbasaur! Excitement pumped through my veins and got me running across the town, right to Professor Oak’s front door.
 
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Chapter 2.
I burst through the door, and immediately recoiled in surprise. To my astonishment, both Jessie and Samantha stood next to Professor Oak’s table. Jessie’s blond hair was splayed out in all directions like he’d just woken up, but Samantha’s dark blue hair was neatly braided, not one fly away to be seen. It looked like she had gotten up hours before.
They both held pokeballs. On the floor in front of Jessie was a Charmander, sniffing his torn brown sneakers, the flame on its tail inches away from his right leg. Next to it was a timid Squirtle, curled up on top of Samantha’s feet. I wondered how long ago they’d gotten here and chosen their pokémon. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know. I cleared my throat.
“Well,” I said, my voice trembling a little bit. “Looks like it’s Bulbasaur for me!” I stepped towards the table and picked up the disturbingly light pokeball. Hand shaking, I jabbed the button with my index finger, then dropped it to the floor. It cracked open midway and a flash of yellow light made me turn and cover my eyes. When the spots in my vision cleared, I turned back. In front of me stood a small Bulbasaur, about two thirds the size of the one Ash owns. Its proportions looked wrong to me. One side of its back was folded over itself several times, giving the appearance of an old, crumpled bulb. It was horrific. I was stuck with this for my very first pokémon?
Jessie smirked. “You didn’t get here early enough to get a choice, didya, Ketchum?” His nasally voice sent tremors down my spine. “Now you’re stuck with the runt Bulbasaur.” He aimed a vicious kick at the small pokémon.
I stared at him, anger bubbling in my stomach. All of a sudden, it didn’t matter what my first reaction was. Jessie Oak had no reason to treat the Bulbasaur like this. I knelt down and scooped it into my arms. The pokémon felt underweight. A lump in my throat forming, I gritted my teeth and said, “I don’t care what you think, jerk. It’s my pokémon, and I like it no matter what it looks like.” I pressed the Bulbasaur to my chest and wrapped my arms around it. It felt unnatural, but what else could I do? At the act of kindness, the pokémon sent out a pair of soft vines that coiled around my neck, like a hug. The vines felt surprisingly sturdy and strong.
“Moron,” Jessie muttered. He dug into the tile floor with the tip of his shoe and held out the small pokeball that had been nestled in his palm. “Charmander, return!”
Another flash of bright light forced me to shut my eyes tight. A mean laugh made me open them again. “You’re gonna have to be able to stand at least the light that comes when you’re using pokeballs,” Jessie sneered. “Chicken.”
I scowled at him as he sauntered forward, gave his grandfather a quick hug, and ran out the door. Samantha, sending a pitiful glance my direction, returned her squirtle and followed him. Biting my lip, I set Bulbasaur down on the ground and picked up the pokeball.
“Good job, Bulbasaur,” I said. “Come back.” The light irritated my eyes, but, squinting, I managed to keep them open. I hoped I’d get used to it soon.
As I turned to leave, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes the weakest in build are the strongest in something else,” Professor Oak whispered in my ear. “Give your starter some time; it could become the most powerful pokémon you ever train.”
. . .​
On my way out the door, I was startled to run right into two maroon haired boys, one about half a foot taller than me with long hair pulled back in a floppy ponytail and one a few inches shorter with gelled, spiky hair. They both had freckles.
“Jared!” I exclaimed. “Karin!” I quickly backed up to let them in, only to feel terrible when, as they saw the empty lab table, their faces blanched.
Karin just stood there, dumbfounded. “It’s only 8:20!” he cried. “Surely they couldn’t all be taken already!” Jared, legs shaking a little bit, leaned against the door frame and buried his head in his bony hands.
Professor Oak hurried over, running his fingers through his silver hair. “I’m so sorry,” he said hurriedly. “You certainly aren’t all that late… You should have been fine, but I didn’t expect all three other children to come earlier.”
With a sigh, Jared leaned away from the wall and grasped his little brother’s hand. “Next time, you’d better wait for us all to show up before giving any starters out,” he warned the Professor angrily, turning on his heel and getting ready to storm out the door.
“Wait!” Professor Oak called after them. Jared didn’t even look, but Karin glanced backwards over his shoulder. Professor Oak was holding out two small pokeballs, polished and shining by the light from the overhead lamp. “You can have them,” Oak promised gently. “You can start your adventure and catch your own starter pokémon. You can start with a Pidgey or a Caterpie or even something rarer, like a Heracross! No one else has had that opportunity.”
Karin lit up and you could tell that he was excited. “Of course!” he cried, wrenching away from his brother’s grip and scooping up both pokeballs. “I’ll start my own team with my own two caught pokémon! My Pidgeot and Butterfree will be known to the entire world! …And I’ll be famous for not even needing to battle pokémon before catching them!” His eyes glittered gleefully.
Jared snatched one of them out of Karin’s fingers. “That one’s for me, dimwit!” he snapped. Karin stood for a second, blinking in surprise, then shrugged and hooked the pokeball into one of the six slots on his chunky leather belt.
“Well, my butterfree will be known at least,” he laughed, skipping away towards the door. He was caught before long and dragged back by the collar of his shirt by Jared.
“We need instructions from Professor Oak before we go off into the unknown, Karin!” he cried. He glanced sideways at me. “Didya get your pokedex yet, Charles?”
MY POKEDEX!
“No,” I admitted. “It totally slipped my mind.” I wondered if the Professor had given Jessie or Samantha theirs.
“That’s my cue!” Professor Oak said, a grin stretching across his face. He crouched down and pulled a bag out from under his computer. He opened it and showed us the contents. “Take as many pokeballs as you can carry,” he announced. “I have plenty to spare.” I leaned forward and took nine, dropping them into the outer pocket of my backpack.
“Is there some way we have to carry them?” I asked uncertainly, noticing the other kids each taking five and hooking them one by one onto their pokémon belts. Ash had a belt too, I remembered. Shoot.
Professor Oak smiled at me. “Not at all,” he said. “Lots of pokémon trainers use different things. Some prefer belts because it’s easier to tell which pokémon you are grabbing. Some prefer satchels because you can carry a lot of pokeballs. It’s really your choice.”
He set down the bag and walked over to a machine sitting on a coffee table next to a window. He typed something into the keyboard and removed a red plastic pokedex, and, turning and handing it to me, said, “This has been programmed to you. Your ID and every pokémon you’ve seen is on your pokedex. Don’t lose it.” I took it, thanking the Professor. “You can leave now, Charles,” he told me. “You know everything you need to. I’m just going to tell Karin and Jared how to catch their pokémon without battling. Have a good time on your pokémon journey.”
I shook his hand and, lowering my head, hurried out the door and down his curved driveway. My mom stood at the gate grinning from ear to ear. I hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you, mom!” I breathed.
“You come home soon with lots of trophies, Charles!” my mom laughed. “Have fun!”
I walked away from her happy, down the road, out of Pallet, ready to start a long, long, journey, full of pokémon.
 
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