Eszett
one love
Like Man, Like Pokémon: Wending Forks on the Path [PG-13]
You wanted origins? You've got origins.
I've hinted about this to a few people, sent portions to Eefi and Josh, and expanded on what I sent those two long into the wee hours of the night. The rating is tentative and is likely to fluctuate as time goes on; if I had to take a guess in which direction I would reckon it would become a stronger rating. In addition, I hope that this material won't be too esoteric to you, since it will feature considerable embellishment on the origin of languages, Russian composers, and the philosophy of Nietzsche. Furthermore, the plot does contain Darwinian evolution within it just in case you find that objectionable.
Without further ado, commence reading. Please comment when you finish the section and I hope you enjoy it.
~~~~
"...And that is how we came to be, every human and Pokémon on the face of this planet."
That story of eons dealt me a totally unexpected blow. I could hardly digest its contents, which spanned over too many years to count, detailing the various nuances of my past that no science classroom or textbook would have ever explained to me. Something in the back of my mind warned me that it was probably just a fancy collection of lies, but deep in my gut, I knew it to be true. Staring at the traits of myself and those of my Pokémon, it seemed that every little clue in our anatomy and demeanor pointed to this brilliant deduction.
People always told me that I was good at interacting with others, and the many friends I have stand as a strong testament to that, but what exactly made me such a sociable person seemed such a mystery until I heard that tale. Could it be, then, that I was selected by the blood and code of my ancestors to possess these traits? Why, then, was I chosen above the rest? What made my birth so special as to have the all the gifts resulting from the culmination of a 200,000-year journey bestowed onto my body? I did not feel any different from my peers, I did not feel any incredible mental or physical talents within my flesh. I was still only an above-average student like the majority of my peers, and I spent most of my time on the basketball team as a benchwarmer.
Still, it struck me that, while I was not the brightest or most coordinated individual, I could always maintain a positive attitude towards any being or situation for however long I needed to. The smartest of my friends struggled to acquaint themselves with those who lacked their incredible facilities of knowledge, and the most athletic of my friends tried with intense perseverance to fathom our school materials in a reasonable time to little avail. Despite the traits in which these people excelled, they did not bother to expand their horizons. Yet such action seeming came so naturally to me that I hardly noticed it.
As I look back, I realize just how pivotal my role as a trailblazer has been. I was the first person in my town to even acquire a Pokémon license after I found a stray Electrike abandoned by its owner, nursing it back to health and lavishing it with an almost motherly love, maintaining a everlasting vigilance and focus on it. Even after the veterinarian said that it had only a 5% chance to survive, I stayed by its side if only to make it last few moments enjoyable and free of pain. However, even I was aghast when it seemed that under my care its condition was improving, and in due time it made a full recovery, forming a bond that no force in the world could sever.
Everyone was so ecstatically surprised at my masterful handling of the situation that they threw my Electrike and me a party, whom I had christened Ruffian, yet at the time it did not seem that big of an accomplishment to me. Though my determination was admirable, I only did what I felt had to be done, seeing to the end that my goals be fulfilled.
Yet, amidst the hoopla and naïveté that my folks radiated onto me, I gathered something else from my grandfather. Beneath the gaze of his constant, unmoving vigil, I suspected within him a knowledge so deep and involved that he could not possibly divulge it in full within the span of ten lifetimes. However, at that age I still held a touch of foolishness about me.
Nah, that can't be, I thought, well-aware that the whims of my mind usually led to fruitless conclusions.
By golly, I was more mistaken than I could have imagined.
~~~~
The only thing I have remembered from my childhood is a maxim that my grandfather often told me as an infant: "the bond between man and Pokémon runs deep in our blood". Ever since he told me how, when I was born, he sensed an aura from within me that surmised I would become one of the greatest Pokémon trainers to live on the planet, this phrase which plays over and over in my mind to this day gained a new significance. Little did I know that after hearing my grandfather speak to me on the patio one lazy summer day when I was fifteen, I would soon be on the prowl to decipher the meaning of this phrase.
I can recall the morning as if it were yesterday. My stomach was upset from the feast we had last night, so I had gone to sleep considerably earlier than the rest of the family. It was a uneasy sleep I had then, accompanied with a dream that still fills me with dread to this day: I was frolicking in the windy, lush meadows in the countryside with my friend Miko, whiling away the time when I was free from assignments, the time that I could be alone with nature and the love of my life. Not a person, house, or car was in sight as we rolled about in the honey-yellow flowers and glinting green grass, inhaling the sweet air passed downwind by the whistling blusters. All the while, my eyes remained firmly locked upon hers while the sweet countenance gazed back at me, tumbling down the hill as a unit that we maintained by holding a grip as strong as our love. I tell you, we felt so invincible at that time, knowing that we had each other and our Pokémon on which to rely.
Miko and I did not have a long history together, yet we still knew that we were the perfect pair for each other. We met each other at the Kyoto Music Festival in 2009, exactly two years before I had this dream. And gosh, what an enchanting moment! we were sitting next to each other with our own friends, and due to the tight seating arrangement the two of us sat smack-dab next to each other. It was then and there that we watched the Philadelphia Orchestra, on tour throughout the world thanks to a generous grant from an anonymous philanthropist, playing Night on Bald Mountain by my - and her - favorite composer, Modest Mussorgsky. I was overwhelmed to tears at the beauty of the piece, from its fierce onset to its tranquil closing. Experiencing it in that ampitheater, immersed in the noises of the gods, I felt myself unwittingly rise up from my seat as I attained a heightened level of spirituality.
"May the gods bless you, fine souls!" I uttered amidst the drone of applause that followed. Yet, my ear caught those exact words coming from another source. At first I thought it was the echo of the ampitheater, but it did not sound like my voice at all. Indeed, it wasn't even the voice of a boy my age. I darted my head every which way, only to lay eyes on the girl next to me. She had already been looking at me for a few seconds now, a keenness and awareness of her surroundings that she seemed to innately possess. With our eyes, ablaze with vigor, drilling into the other pair, seeing in that fraction of a second the composition of each other's essences in full, we knew our paths were intertwined for good from that day forward. The two of us instantly exchanged every contact we could muster as it were a reflex, spending every day thereafter talking to each other long into the night.
We developed a fondness and an understanding for each other in only a few days, and soon enough we found each other spending every moment we could salvage together. Our long discussions about the artistic achievements of The Mighty Handful and the sessions we spent training up each other's Pokémon allowed me not only to discover her cool yet impassioned demeanor to which I became so attached, but also to realize my innate ability to adapt to the wavelength of any individual I met. We lauded each other for our accomplishments, taught each other the bits of wisdom we acquired from our walks of life, and established within the other an unbreakable trust on which we could always rely.
Yet this sense did not seem to hold up as we rolled down the hills of my dreams, blithely unaware of what lay in the path ahead. After tumbling for about 40 yards, our grips on the other firm as love, I felt several shocking jabs press down on my back, each one sending up a surge of inexorable pain that somehow rendered me unable to move anything from my shoulders down. As I looked up, subconsciously dragging myself to the side so that Miko could see as well, I bore visage to a gruff, menacing figure with broad shoulders, a tall head and a short trim. The sun was behind him so I could barely make out his details, but I could easily glean from the shadowy visage that he was a well-built man, perhaps a soldier, and that he incapacitated me with his boots, lined on the bottom with several electrified cleats. While I could not see it, I found it apparent that he was staring straight into my eyes, shattered by the loss of tranquility.
"Budy pokom!" With a booming voice that rustled the leaves of the trees, he issued a decree in a language that I did not understand. Nevertheless, the graveness of his voice exacerbated the fear I was experiencing, making my heart race faster and faster. Miko pulled me closer to her, whispering to me that she did not wish to bear sight to this hideous interruption.
Upon noticing this, the figure shouted once again: "Uglan kõlm!" He drew a long, rigid finger in her direction, which she managed to interpret as a demand for her attention. With that, we knew with nary a word between us that this figure would not tolerate any dilatory actions and that he had some pressing motive he needed to fulfill - and that we were an essential part in his plans.
"Zabul na strosyu, rõ kalitt menek. Vilz!" he shouted with a characteristically unnatural firmness, furthering my suspicions that he was a military figure. After he ascertained our stare of bewilderment, he drew back his right arm and snapped three times, and in a near-instant a rather lanky figure, who by looking at the edges of his head I could tell wore glasses, came to his side. He reiterated to this figure what he had just said to the two of us, and with a nod, he spoke to us in a soft yet chilling tone:
"Ratak said that he wants you to get up and follow him." Not even a moment after this second figure, who I could only assume was a translator, said this, Ratak held some armament with a long barrel pointed directly at us. More frightened than ever, Miko let go of me and sprung up, and while I tried to do likewise, the injury I sustained from my cleats rendered me incapable of performing it. Sensing urgency, I was quick to state my inability to get up. After the translator told this to Ratak, he issued, again in his eerie voice:
"Well, I guess that we will have to leave you. Come, let us take the girl away." Upon saying that, Ratak got out a pair of handcuffs, putting his arm in one loop and Miko's in the other.
It felt like a million needles going straight through my heart; I could barely control my feelings. As shock gave way to anger, I reached to my belt - my arms still remained functional - to grab one of the Pokéballs upon it. I managed to snag the customized Pokéball of my Ruffian, long since a Manectric, and with that I threw the ball on the ground like no tomorrow, watching sparks fly all about from his fur and from the ball. From the moment he left the ball, he looked poised and ready to attack, sensing that Miko was in danger. I did not want him to use Thunderbolt lest the electricity travel through the handcuffs, injuring Miko, so instead I ordered him to use Crunch. Taking a step back to prepare his assault, he then lunged forward, his mouth wide open, aimed straight for Ratak.
All would have worked out well, but the translator whipped out some device, which I could only tell he had from the glimmer its shiny exterior gave off, and used it on Ruffian. He experienced a sudden change in demeanor, as if he could not remember the events that just ensued, and after regaining his senses it seemed to him that he had known Ratak and the translator all his life and that they were his loyal guardians. The translator, who I had sensed bore a wicked grin, whistled to get Ruffian's attention and pointed a finger in my direction, and Ruffian, sensing me as an alien figure, gave a fierce, defensive growl. With a punctuated snap from the translator, Ruffian built up a massive charge, and after I had gathered what the device did to him, I knew that he had every intention of launching a Thunderbolt straight for me.
"Sweet dreams," said the translator, as if he knew that his croney made a mockery of what was once a perfectly happy dream sequence. And, as if this was not enough to agitate me, when the two figured turned around, I noticed each one bore a giant red star on the back of their jet-black uniforms. Oh goodness, how this could be! they were members of that band of rogues, the Namzi Clan, known for their brutalities against the Japanese people! Oh dear Miko, I cannot let you go with them! Stop! STOP!---
At that moment, I was ravaged from head to toe by the shock of what seemed a million volts. The instant I regained my senses, I saw that I had jumped out of my bed nearly two feet in the air, coming down to land on a mattress saturated with the sweat of my incredible stress throughout the ordeal. It seemed to me a mere insignificant nightmare when I first woke up, and thus I largely dismissed it as I got myself cleaned up and showered for breakfast.
A good portion of my family was at the table to enjoy that wonderful meal that my mother prepared. She had cooked up a selection of okonomiyaki, which I would have found awkward for a breakfast entry hadn't she filled them with jelly obtained from the cherry blossom trees we grew outside. It was a hearty meal that I enjoyed dearly, its tart, tangy crispness lingering in my mouth for two days thereafter, yet my stomach still did not take to it very well. I laid on the hammock on our porch, staring up at the tranquil sky dotted with light clouds. I let out my Ruffian, still as loyal to me as it had always been, and it promptly crawled up onto my breast and laid down as I stroked its bristly fur. I would have likely fallen asleep on the hammock, yet, then and there, I heard my grandfather beckon to me with his frail yet lyrical voice:
"Koji, I sense that you have come of age at last. To commemorate this, I would like to tell you a story that only members of the Mitsuo family are entitled to hear. It is a story that I am sure you will enjoy, for it explains the most pivotal dictum I told you time and time again when you were but a toddler. Please, be my guest..."
While I usually found my grandfather's stories to be a drag at best, the subtle lightness in his tone of voice piqued my interest thoroughly, and thus with complete sincerity I was able to vocalize five words that would alter my life for as long as it lasted:
"Yes, Ichiro-kun, I am listening."
You wanted origins? You've got origins.
I've hinted about this to a few people, sent portions to Eefi and Josh, and expanded on what I sent those two long into the wee hours of the night. The rating is tentative and is likely to fluctuate as time goes on; if I had to take a guess in which direction I would reckon it would become a stronger rating. In addition, I hope that this material won't be too esoteric to you, since it will feature considerable embellishment on the origin of languages, Russian composers, and the philosophy of Nietzsche. Furthermore, the plot does contain Darwinian evolution within it just in case you find that objectionable.
Without further ado, commence reading. Please comment when you finish the section and I hope you enjoy it.
~~~~
¯~-._ Prologue: A Timeless Revelation _.-~¯
"...And that is how we came to be, every human and Pokémon on the face of this planet."
That story of eons dealt me a totally unexpected blow. I could hardly digest its contents, which spanned over too many years to count, detailing the various nuances of my past that no science classroom or textbook would have ever explained to me. Something in the back of my mind warned me that it was probably just a fancy collection of lies, but deep in my gut, I knew it to be true. Staring at the traits of myself and those of my Pokémon, it seemed that every little clue in our anatomy and demeanor pointed to this brilliant deduction.
People always told me that I was good at interacting with others, and the many friends I have stand as a strong testament to that, but what exactly made me such a sociable person seemed such a mystery until I heard that tale. Could it be, then, that I was selected by the blood and code of my ancestors to possess these traits? Why, then, was I chosen above the rest? What made my birth so special as to have the all the gifts resulting from the culmination of a 200,000-year journey bestowed onto my body? I did not feel any different from my peers, I did not feel any incredible mental or physical talents within my flesh. I was still only an above-average student like the majority of my peers, and I spent most of my time on the basketball team as a benchwarmer.
Still, it struck me that, while I was not the brightest or most coordinated individual, I could always maintain a positive attitude towards any being or situation for however long I needed to. The smartest of my friends struggled to acquaint themselves with those who lacked their incredible facilities of knowledge, and the most athletic of my friends tried with intense perseverance to fathom our school materials in a reasonable time to little avail. Despite the traits in which these people excelled, they did not bother to expand their horizons. Yet such action seeming came so naturally to me that I hardly noticed it.
As I look back, I realize just how pivotal my role as a trailblazer has been. I was the first person in my town to even acquire a Pokémon license after I found a stray Electrike abandoned by its owner, nursing it back to health and lavishing it with an almost motherly love, maintaining a everlasting vigilance and focus on it. Even after the veterinarian said that it had only a 5% chance to survive, I stayed by its side if only to make it last few moments enjoyable and free of pain. However, even I was aghast when it seemed that under my care its condition was improving, and in due time it made a full recovery, forming a bond that no force in the world could sever.
Everyone was so ecstatically surprised at my masterful handling of the situation that they threw my Electrike and me a party, whom I had christened Ruffian, yet at the time it did not seem that big of an accomplishment to me. Though my determination was admirable, I only did what I felt had to be done, seeing to the end that my goals be fulfilled.
Yet, amidst the hoopla and naïveté that my folks radiated onto me, I gathered something else from my grandfather. Beneath the gaze of his constant, unmoving vigil, I suspected within him a knowledge so deep and involved that he could not possibly divulge it in full within the span of ten lifetimes. However, at that age I still held a touch of foolishness about me.
Nah, that can't be, I thought, well-aware that the whims of my mind usually led to fruitless conclusions.
By golly, I was more mistaken than I could have imagined.
~~~~
¯~-._ Chapter 1: The Dream of Catalysis _.-~¯
The only thing I have remembered from my childhood is a maxim that my grandfather often told me as an infant: "the bond between man and Pokémon runs deep in our blood". Ever since he told me how, when I was born, he sensed an aura from within me that surmised I would become one of the greatest Pokémon trainers to live on the planet, this phrase which plays over and over in my mind to this day gained a new significance. Little did I know that after hearing my grandfather speak to me on the patio one lazy summer day when I was fifteen, I would soon be on the prowl to decipher the meaning of this phrase.
I can recall the morning as if it were yesterday. My stomach was upset from the feast we had last night, so I had gone to sleep considerably earlier than the rest of the family. It was a uneasy sleep I had then, accompanied with a dream that still fills me with dread to this day: I was frolicking in the windy, lush meadows in the countryside with my friend Miko, whiling away the time when I was free from assignments, the time that I could be alone with nature and the love of my life. Not a person, house, or car was in sight as we rolled about in the honey-yellow flowers and glinting green grass, inhaling the sweet air passed downwind by the whistling blusters. All the while, my eyes remained firmly locked upon hers while the sweet countenance gazed back at me, tumbling down the hill as a unit that we maintained by holding a grip as strong as our love. I tell you, we felt so invincible at that time, knowing that we had each other and our Pokémon on which to rely.
Miko and I did not have a long history together, yet we still knew that we were the perfect pair for each other. We met each other at the Kyoto Music Festival in 2009, exactly two years before I had this dream. And gosh, what an enchanting moment! we were sitting next to each other with our own friends, and due to the tight seating arrangement the two of us sat smack-dab next to each other. It was then and there that we watched the Philadelphia Orchestra, on tour throughout the world thanks to a generous grant from an anonymous philanthropist, playing Night on Bald Mountain by my - and her - favorite composer, Modest Mussorgsky. I was overwhelmed to tears at the beauty of the piece, from its fierce onset to its tranquil closing. Experiencing it in that ampitheater, immersed in the noises of the gods, I felt myself unwittingly rise up from my seat as I attained a heightened level of spirituality.
"May the gods bless you, fine souls!" I uttered amidst the drone of applause that followed. Yet, my ear caught those exact words coming from another source. At first I thought it was the echo of the ampitheater, but it did not sound like my voice at all. Indeed, it wasn't even the voice of a boy my age. I darted my head every which way, only to lay eyes on the girl next to me. She had already been looking at me for a few seconds now, a keenness and awareness of her surroundings that she seemed to innately possess. With our eyes, ablaze with vigor, drilling into the other pair, seeing in that fraction of a second the composition of each other's essences in full, we knew our paths were intertwined for good from that day forward. The two of us instantly exchanged every contact we could muster as it were a reflex, spending every day thereafter talking to each other long into the night.
We developed a fondness and an understanding for each other in only a few days, and soon enough we found each other spending every moment we could salvage together. Our long discussions about the artistic achievements of The Mighty Handful and the sessions we spent training up each other's Pokémon allowed me not only to discover her cool yet impassioned demeanor to which I became so attached, but also to realize my innate ability to adapt to the wavelength of any individual I met. We lauded each other for our accomplishments, taught each other the bits of wisdom we acquired from our walks of life, and established within the other an unbreakable trust on which we could always rely.
Yet this sense did not seem to hold up as we rolled down the hills of my dreams, blithely unaware of what lay in the path ahead. After tumbling for about 40 yards, our grips on the other firm as love, I felt several shocking jabs press down on my back, each one sending up a surge of inexorable pain that somehow rendered me unable to move anything from my shoulders down. As I looked up, subconsciously dragging myself to the side so that Miko could see as well, I bore visage to a gruff, menacing figure with broad shoulders, a tall head and a short trim. The sun was behind him so I could barely make out his details, but I could easily glean from the shadowy visage that he was a well-built man, perhaps a soldier, and that he incapacitated me with his boots, lined on the bottom with several electrified cleats. While I could not see it, I found it apparent that he was staring straight into my eyes, shattered by the loss of tranquility.
"Budy pokom!" With a booming voice that rustled the leaves of the trees, he issued a decree in a language that I did not understand. Nevertheless, the graveness of his voice exacerbated the fear I was experiencing, making my heart race faster and faster. Miko pulled me closer to her, whispering to me that she did not wish to bear sight to this hideous interruption.
Upon noticing this, the figure shouted once again: "Uglan kõlm!" He drew a long, rigid finger in her direction, which she managed to interpret as a demand for her attention. With that, we knew with nary a word between us that this figure would not tolerate any dilatory actions and that he had some pressing motive he needed to fulfill - and that we were an essential part in his plans.
"Zabul na strosyu, rõ kalitt menek. Vilz!" he shouted with a characteristically unnatural firmness, furthering my suspicions that he was a military figure. After he ascertained our stare of bewilderment, he drew back his right arm and snapped three times, and in a near-instant a rather lanky figure, who by looking at the edges of his head I could tell wore glasses, came to his side. He reiterated to this figure what he had just said to the two of us, and with a nod, he spoke to us in a soft yet chilling tone:
"Ratak said that he wants you to get up and follow him." Not even a moment after this second figure, who I could only assume was a translator, said this, Ratak held some armament with a long barrel pointed directly at us. More frightened than ever, Miko let go of me and sprung up, and while I tried to do likewise, the injury I sustained from my cleats rendered me incapable of performing it. Sensing urgency, I was quick to state my inability to get up. After the translator told this to Ratak, he issued, again in his eerie voice:
"Well, I guess that we will have to leave you. Come, let us take the girl away." Upon saying that, Ratak got out a pair of handcuffs, putting his arm in one loop and Miko's in the other.
It felt like a million needles going straight through my heart; I could barely control my feelings. As shock gave way to anger, I reached to my belt - my arms still remained functional - to grab one of the Pokéballs upon it. I managed to snag the customized Pokéball of my Ruffian, long since a Manectric, and with that I threw the ball on the ground like no tomorrow, watching sparks fly all about from his fur and from the ball. From the moment he left the ball, he looked poised and ready to attack, sensing that Miko was in danger. I did not want him to use Thunderbolt lest the electricity travel through the handcuffs, injuring Miko, so instead I ordered him to use Crunch. Taking a step back to prepare his assault, he then lunged forward, his mouth wide open, aimed straight for Ratak.
All would have worked out well, but the translator whipped out some device, which I could only tell he had from the glimmer its shiny exterior gave off, and used it on Ruffian. He experienced a sudden change in demeanor, as if he could not remember the events that just ensued, and after regaining his senses it seemed to him that he had known Ratak and the translator all his life and that they were his loyal guardians. The translator, who I had sensed bore a wicked grin, whistled to get Ruffian's attention and pointed a finger in my direction, and Ruffian, sensing me as an alien figure, gave a fierce, defensive growl. With a punctuated snap from the translator, Ruffian built up a massive charge, and after I had gathered what the device did to him, I knew that he had every intention of launching a Thunderbolt straight for me.
"Sweet dreams," said the translator, as if he knew that his croney made a mockery of what was once a perfectly happy dream sequence. And, as if this was not enough to agitate me, when the two figured turned around, I noticed each one bore a giant red star on the back of their jet-black uniforms. Oh goodness, how this could be! they were members of that band of rogues, the Namzi Clan, known for their brutalities against the Japanese people! Oh dear Miko, I cannot let you go with them! Stop! STOP!---
At that moment, I was ravaged from head to toe by the shock of what seemed a million volts. The instant I regained my senses, I saw that I had jumped out of my bed nearly two feet in the air, coming down to land on a mattress saturated with the sweat of my incredible stress throughout the ordeal. It seemed to me a mere insignificant nightmare when I first woke up, and thus I largely dismissed it as I got myself cleaned up and showered for breakfast.
A good portion of my family was at the table to enjoy that wonderful meal that my mother prepared. She had cooked up a selection of okonomiyaki, which I would have found awkward for a breakfast entry hadn't she filled them with jelly obtained from the cherry blossom trees we grew outside. It was a hearty meal that I enjoyed dearly, its tart, tangy crispness lingering in my mouth for two days thereafter, yet my stomach still did not take to it very well. I laid on the hammock on our porch, staring up at the tranquil sky dotted with light clouds. I let out my Ruffian, still as loyal to me as it had always been, and it promptly crawled up onto my breast and laid down as I stroked its bristly fur. I would have likely fallen asleep on the hammock, yet, then and there, I heard my grandfather beckon to me with his frail yet lyrical voice:
"Koji, I sense that you have come of age at last. To commemorate this, I would like to tell you a story that only members of the Mitsuo family are entitled to hear. It is a story that I am sure you will enjoy, for it explains the most pivotal dictum I told you time and time again when you were but a toddler. Please, be my guest..."
While I usually found my grandfather's stories to be a drag at best, the subtle lightness in his tone of voice piqued my interest thoroughly, and thus with complete sincerity I was able to vocalize five words that would alter my life for as long as it lasted:
"Yes, Ichiro-kun, I am listening."
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