Pokémon Exsisto {Rated PG-14}

[Insincerus]

Pokémon Exsisto {Rated PG-14}

₪ Pokémon Exsisto ₪

This Fan-Fiction is rated PG-14 for Violence, Controversial Themes, Mild Language, and Mild Blood/Gore. Each chapter varies in intensity, and therefore, will be rated individually. It is intended for the reading pleasure of members on this forum, and is in no way to be copied without permission and credit. This thread is best viewed with the "Dark Type Version Skin." The following is a chapter index soon to contain/containing links to the proper "View Single Posts" for each chapter.

Author's Notes: I've always been terrible with fics. Never could stick to one, I think. Never. Let's hope I can change for the last time. Another thing: each chapter title is written in Latin. To find its meaning, just look at the index, and the translation will be in italics. For those who wish to be notified of chapter posts, just simply ask/PM for me to place you on my PM list. No list be posted here just so users can stay anonymous (though I don't know why you should care). I don't update in a continuous sort, and my updating can range from posting a chapter every day to waiting for a week to post it; random yus.

Amazing as it is, I actually typed a chapter that went OVER the maximum limit of characters that could be entered in the text box, so I won't try to kill you with large chapters eber again unless I absolutely have to @_@​

Prologue - Diaboli Quiritatio:Scream of the Devil
Chapter I - Fatum Plena Vesper: Fateful Evening
Chapter II - Ymber et Procella: Storm of Torrents
Chapter III Part 1 - Fuga Verto: Flight to Escape
Chapter III Part 2 - Fuga Verto: Flight to Escape
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX

Prologue: Diaboli Quiritatio​

Profanity: None
Adult Language: Yes
Violence: Yes
Blood/Gore: Mild, Yes​

They moved silently in the darkness, heading through the next tunnels to the other workplaces. A few of the scientists remained in the testing chamber, recording notes upon laptops piled on every counter. Crunching of keyboard combos was heard, and the breath of every individual working there gasped furiously as they pounded keys, daring not to disobey their project manager. The man walked around them, observing over their shoulders the progress of their work, grunting and nodding his shadowed face in content.

The powerful figure strode over to a man whose face had broken out in quite the acne; he wore glasses that shined so brilliantly that you could not see past them, and he had a hooked nose. The man's hair flew in every direction, and he was smiling stupidly, unaware that his superior was standing right behind him. On the incompetent fool's computer monitor was the image of several women out on the beach in bikinis, and apparently, he was enjoying this. Not his work.

The manager took a deep breath of solid anger, and then thrust his hand around the scientist’s neck. The immediately distraught scientist released a gurgling a noise as his Adam’s apple attempted to move upward to swallow. He choked in agony, just as the chief’s grip hardened, and his fingers moved quickly to close all of the windows that were on his laptop. It was no use, of course. The boss twisted his knuckled hand around, twisting the scientist’s body in the rolling desk chair, knocking it off into a corner. Several of the scientists had stopped working to watch this scene of violence, while others continued in fear of being targeted.

The boss pulled the scientist to face him, his hand still firmly snapping around his neck. The worker's broken-out face was becoming red and suffocated, just as the other man lifted him off of the ground.

“I do not pay my researchers to become erect, Mr. Nebley,” the boss whispered harshly, his deep, Italian accent smearing his cruelty all over Nebley. “I pay them to do my bidding, and if this rocket launching project is to be a success, I don’t need failures.”

“BUT…SIR…” the scientist choked in a Swedish tongue, “…FORGIVE…ME…I WILL…CONTINUE…WORKING…”

“Ah, but you’ve already betrayed my trust,” the Italian fiend barked, sweat from Nebley’s neck dripping onto his boss’ fist. “I don’t tolerate backstabbers, Mr. Nebley, and I don’t intend to keep one in this room.”

Suddenly, the man growled something under his breath, on a microphone attached to his coat collar. Not a moment afterward, as he still held Nebley in his reach, a pounding of footsteps came from the tunnels. The scientist shook his head miserably in anguish, wriggling in the grip of his chief. The footsteps were revealed to be that of two soldiers, skinny, and wearing black jumpsuits. A bowler’s cap was pulled over each of their faces, and small, thin whips were pressed against their sides. The scientist screamed as the boss released his grip and slammed his disgusting body to the floor, gashing his forehead terribly. Blood spilled onto the metal floor and dripped all over his face as the two soldiers placed their arms underneath Nebley's, and began dragging him toward the tunnel.

Nebley shrieked, his voice hoarse and gagging as the soldiers took no mercy in dragging him into the tunnel, which was lit dimly by a pale, fluorescent light. Apparently there was a struggle, as the scientist helplessly tried to overwhelm them, but out of view of the work area, they took him into the hallway, where their silhouettes were cast darkly on the walls. Then, at once, the soldiers snapped their whips from their sides and began beating the scientist, slashing at his face and body, causing him to shout blood-curdling screams. The crack of the whip was heard brutally, and sent a chill up everyone’s spine.

The soldiers heaved Nebley’s body up, and resumed through the chamber, dragging him along. Around the corner, small droplets of his blood had sloped down from the hall. Every scientist stared at the whole scene with sheer fear, and the bone-chilling incident that had just occurred. They did not say one word, but began to work once again. The boss grinned in content once more. He tossed a finger at one of the scientists sitting on the left subsection, a woman with dark, brunette hair.

“Dr. Keyes, what is our progress on the missile status?” he rumbled.

“The missile is complete in the combustion chamber, and all other anti-dimensional grids have been simulated, tested, and approved to be placed inside the hull of the body,” she replied, tapping at the keys calmly.

“Excellent,” the boss said, grinning as he turned to the tunnel. “Once this rocket has taken off, you will receive a promotion, Lily.”

“I’m honored sir,” she said breathlessly. “But…what about…”

She pointed to the pool of blood on the floor, and the boss simply flicked his head back to eye it. He turned back to the tunnel, and said, “Call the janitor, for God sakes. He'll lick this place up.”

 

[Klaus]

.....WOW! That was different. And it fastenated me though i'm not big
on blood and gore. But I overlooked that and went directly to the pure
entertainment.

The description was glorious and I couldn't take my eyes off it. Goodness, I must find out the plot of this. All I know is it has something to do with pokemon being real. Fastinating. PM when the next chapter's up.

“I do not pay my researchers to become erect, Mr. Nebley,”

And I think that comment ment what I thought it ment. LOl, the girls in the bikinis. Just had to seperate it.

As always, be kind to the mime.

 

[Kiyohime]

First off-- I LOVE those Latin words you're using for chapter titles. Where are you finding the Latin translations, if I may be so bold as to ask?

Secondly...on to the review! I can't really review since it's the intro, but I can point out irregularities.

on laptops piled on every

The 'on' is repetitive, so perhaps "upon" might be best instead of the second "on."

Another problem is the way you use pronouns, such as "he" and "his". It gets very confusing about who's saying what. When you change the description/sectence to address a different person from the first person address them by their names BEFORE using pronouns for them, so people can follow who's doing and saying what. ^^

The description of the soldiers whipping the scientist was very brutal and chilling, and your description right there was just divine. This looks like it'll be a very well-written and enaging story.

 

[Sike Saner]

Quality! Yes!

Ah, imagine how it would be if that was the punishment in all business for those who look at porn on the job? XD

Boss description - you painted a clear picture of that miserable nerd. And of his suffering. I like it. It pleases me to see such savagery served up right in the prologue (For the record, I am a horrible, sadistic person, just to let you know. XP ). You've set an intriguing scene, and presented instantly fascinating characters.

A little bitty highlight:

“I do not pay my researchers to become erect, Mr. Nebley,”

Because, come on. You know I had to isolate that. I just had to.


I found no errors in it, none at all. You've done a fine job, and I eagerly anticipate more of this. ^_^

 

[Insincerus]

Klaus: Will do. I appreciate your comment, though I can't expect my description to be vivid, as I've actually toned down a bit :S My first fic, the Pokemon Detective, was so overly-described that it gave everyone headaches.

Scrap: Glad you're fascinated ^_^ I've learned quite a bit of Latin myself, but if you would like a translator, I found this wonderful Java Client from the the University of British Columbia here. Just scroll down the page, and there you'll find the Java translator, where you can type English-Latin, or Latin-English. Some words may not appear, so find a general synonym of it if you're discouraged. Also, Latin plays a major role in this fic, as the title itself is conceived from the language. For example, in the upcoming first chapter, a choir song is sung in Latin (which I will make available on link in that post) called "Psalmo." Also, I have to agree; I do have issues with pronouns. I went back and read it, and saw how many references I made that could have confused people >>; Also corrected the "on" problem XD Also, thank you for that assessment of the whipping scene. In my first fic, "The Pokemon Detective," I had a great deal of horror that I wanted to bring back. The category of mystery is beginning to stir in mah veins again XD

Sike Saner: ;-; Thanksh much. No one ever tells me quality of the fic...they just get right to the constructive criticism XD As for characters, I try my hardest to let the reader know about them through context clues, because coming out and saying it is so "n00bish." Character development was not important until recently to me, as I began writing the Serebeth Noob Trials (which, I may add, has chance of resurrection as I haven't updated it). Characters play a vital role to the story. Whatever happens to these people, you need to feel their emotions and know what is going on about them ominously. I've actually cried when I had to kill off a terribly great character of mine once...

Thanks for the reviews, everyone, and always know that if you ever need a review yourself, just drop me a PM, though I suggest you please read my reviewing profile in the Author's Cafe.

~Chesh

EDIT: You wouldn't pay your hard-working scientists to become erect either, no?

 

[xXSaberXx]

Who em gee.

Scary.

I like the theme so far. Evil mafia ganster( Or something like it) Hires a bunch of scientists to do an engimatic work by launching a rocket into the atmosphere. I sense possiblities. ^^

Very nice description, though sometimes it became confusing....the begining description of the to be dead scientist for instance. The acne line somehow didn't come across clear to me. It was wonderful, don't get me wrong, I'm just too stupid to comprehend.

All in all, wonderful. I've fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. XP

 

[Kiyohime]

The link goes to another member's post about songs...*confused* @_@

If quality is what you want to hear about, then don't worry. From what you've been letting us know, this sounds like it'll be very rich and complex, like good chocolate. Hell, even the colors and banner is like chocolate. XD You've got an elegantly clever twist to this one, so you shouldn't worry too much.

 

[Insincerus]

Terribly sorry, Scrap: http://www.sunsite.ubc.ca/LatinDictionary

Thanks for the encouragement. I feel great when people boost my self-esteem, because after all, this story is only a success if people enjoy it. You see, I'm fueled on inspiration, and it only comes in bottles at a time. If I have the will to do something, the bottles become full of will, but I only have a limited amount to fuel something. Give me more bottles, and I give you greatness. Hell, give me a twelve-ounce glass XD Btw, chocolate is great ;-; I had my first Wonka bar yusterday...

xXSaberXx: Ya used one ofe my favorite phrases! Hook, line, and sinker! Of course, anything that comes from or is mentioned in A Series of Unfortunate Events is bowed down to by me. You're not st-oo-pid! I just described it with too many pronouns, as Scrappy-Doo just told me a moment ago (which, by the way, I have edited). Thanks for the review.

 

[Kiyohime]

Scrappy-Doo? XDDD Lots of people call me that. And my profound thanks for the link! ^^

I work on the same principle-- if I know people love my story, it boosts me to write my best, otherwise I get flaccid and lazy.

 

[UnholyWeather]

Well i was surpised when i saw this story was written by you. Mostly because you stopped updating Red's Adventures in Wonderland. Now i understand why you stopped updating but i do hope you don't leave this story hanging.

Anyway this was a very well written introduction. I was able to visualize everything with your description of the work area; the chief; the poor, lonely scientist; and the way said scientist was beaten.

I like where this story is going. I've always imgained how the world would be if pokemon actually existed.

Well an intriguing start to a soon-to-be magnificant tale. Please continue this story and don't let die or i'll have to shoot you with my monkey gun ^^.

 

[Insincerus]

UnholyWeather: Oh dearz me. Shall not be killed by moonkey gun ;-; Actually, this is a fic I am extremely serious about, so I won't let you down. This will not die like the others. If it does, you can kill me with monkey gun.

This chapter is berry berry long, and it contains many many references to religion, prejudice, and some other thingsh. Also, if you would like to hear the choir song "Psalmo 150" featured in this chapter, feel free to click here (Quicktime required, and it may not be available currently, as my bandwidth has currently been exceeded). Enjoy:

Chapter I: Fatum Plena Vesper​

Profanity: Yes
Adult Language: No
Violence: Yes
Blood/Gore: Little​

“La lala la lala…la la la la la la la, lala la, lala…la la la la la la…
Laudate Dominum, insalteseus, laudate eum infirmament toteinconseus!
La lala la lala…
Laudate eum in et tucienseus. Laudate eum secum dulmulte tu dinegma in tu gnidis, macatuconseus macatuconseus…
La lala la lala…la la la la la la la, lala la, lala…la la la la la la…
Laudate Dominum, insalteseus, laudate eum infirmament toteinconseus!
La lala la lala…
Laudate eum in et tucienseus. Laudate eum secum dulmulte tu dinegma in tu gnidis, macatuconseus macatuconseus…
La lala la lala…
Laudate eum in psalmanatoube, la…
Laudate eum in psalterio et cithara, la…
Laudate Dominum, insalteseus, laudate eum infirmament toteinconseus!
Laudate eum in tim penatachoro…
Laudate eum in chordis et organo…
Laudate eum in chit conseus servus nantibus…
Laudate eum in cymbalis! Jubilationus, jubilationus, jubilationus, jubilationus!
La lala la lala…la la la la la la la, lala la, lala…la la la la la la…
Omni spiritus, laudate Dominum…Omni spiritus, laudate Dominum!
Laudate Dominum laudate Dominum laudate Dominum laudate Dominum… Al-le-lu-jia!”​

​

“All right, kids, that’s a wrap.”

Mrs. Matsura swept both hands in front of her scarlet dress, and clamped them together, signaling the choir to cease. Their large mouths closed tightly, and they all blinked silently. The woman turned the page on the music sheet while passing a bony finger through her grayed hair. She tipped her glasses, and looked at the class, who were all standing in one large circle around the room.

“All right…your marks for today are top-notch!” she exclaimed, smiling. The whole class eased up, and so began a minor chatter as the teacher searched through some papers. Once she found them, she walked over to the piano and handed the boy playing it a sheet of a new song. The boy looked over it carefully as Mrs. Matsura stared at the top of his black-haired head.

“Ken, I would like you learn this song on piano tonight, if you can,” she said as though she were tired, glancing at all of the children in their school uniforms. Ken nodded, certainly excited, but tired from the restless day. Another boy, about fourteen years old from the stands walked up to Mrs. Matsura, and he smiled at her.

“Thanks for the lesson today, Mrs. Matsura,” he said, bowing slightly. “It’s the only thing in my day I actually look forward to.”

She repeated his bow. “It was my pleasure, Satoshi-san. By now we should be ready to put on a concert, and a damn good one if I say so myself.”

“There’s one problem with that,” Ken said from the piano, pulling his jacket on and placing a notebook tablet in his pocket.

“What would that be?”

“It’s a Christmas concert,” Ken said, frowning as he picked up the music sheets and placed them inside a small briefcase. Satoshi watched his fellow peer pick up all of his things and walk toward he and Mrs. Matsura, who had both become rather sorrowful. Satoshi frowned at Ken.

“There isn’t even an audience, then?” the boy asked.

“No one in Machida is Christian…except for us. We’d embarrass ourselves out there.”

“Oh, dear…I don’t know why I ever took that into consideration,” the teacher said, walking over to the piano bunch slowly, then slumping down on it. She sighed miserably, and Ken came to her side, patting her back.

“It’s all right…we didn’t do it for nothing.”

“Do it for what, then?” she rasped. “That’s the only thing we do it for, is the people! Recognition is important to all of you, but…I never thought to be so incredibly stupid…how could I be so stupid?”

Mrs. Matsura then tore the glasses from her eyes, and carefully placed her face inside her clasped hands, and cried, right there, in front of the whole class. It made Satoshi and Ken terribly heart-broken; to see one of the greatest women in Tokyo brought down by something she could not fight. After all, Christianity was not the major religion, and surely, they would gain nothing from all the difficult work they had learned to achieve an excellent Christmas concert. The inevitable truth can often times be brutal. Once the poor woman had sniffled a few times, she withdrew a handkerchief and began wiping her face. She looked up at Satoshi Tajiri and Ken Sugimori, completely dejected and saddened.

“I don’t want you kids to come for choir tomorrow,” she said, tears welled in her eyes. “Or the next day, or the next day…I’m waving the white flag…there’s nothing we can do…”

“But Mrs. Matsura, you can’t give up so easily!” Satoshi exclaimed. “Without this class, I’m just…a kid who just can’t seem to make my grades meet. This is one of the only things I have left!”

“AND IS THAT MY FAULT? Where do you want to go?” the woman screamed at him, while the other students were dismissed from the class. “There is NO ONE in Japan that would like to see our concert. We would be a disgrace…I’m so stupid…just…get out.”

“But Mrs.—”

“I said, GET OUT.”

The sudden rage of his once gentle and kind music teacher made Satoshi cringe. Ken put an arm around his shoulder and gestured Satoshi to the door, where they would leave the private school. Outside the white building, the grass was greener than anything they had ever seen, but the sun that began to set in the west had cast an orange glare on the blades, shadowing the foreground of trees, whose colors flamed colors of glorious reds, yellows, and browns as each twig twittered and released leaves that fell to the ground. Machida was not a very large town, but it was in the district of Tokyo, and therefore was larger than most places. However, it felt small to Satoshi and Ken, who felt like goldfish trapped in a fish bowl.

Satoshi and his friend began walking down the steps of the school campus, immersed in clusters with the other students, for there would be trouble if they did not stay together. Meanwhile, they talked amongst themselves as they traveled down the crowded sidewalks, watching cars pass by and honk belligerently. The rows of townhouses and apartments also passed, and many were hanging their clothes on wire lines that swung across separate windows. Ken turned to Satoshi as he began to pull out the notepad he had hidden in his pocket.

“So, are we going hunting again today?” he asked Satoshi, flipping through the notebook to show him sketches of insects he had made.

“I…don’t know,” the other boy replied. “I’m devastated at what just happened…”

Ken sighed, and looked down at the sketches as though they meant nothing. The pages were filled to the brim with pictures; pictures and images of insects of every origin, from the horned beetle to the white-winged wasp, and everything in between. It was a habit of the two boys, to go and hunt for these bugs, for it was their own escape from reality. Satoshi was the mastermind behind every plan and method to find these insects, for he had been a bug collector since he was a very small child. Other children engaged in searching for bugs in contests or just for the fun of it, and Satoshi had always been the only one to amaze the others.

Now that the years had gone by, however, children matured into young adults, and though the boys were young adults, they still were eager to discover a new genre of bug, even while their peers began to grow up from the juvenile sport of hunting insects, or because Satoshi and Ken were the best, and they could not be beat. That would be their optimistic point of view, of course, but now, they were not so positive.

“Look, Satoshi,” Ken said, lifting a hand, “we won’t be able to sing anymore. You never really liked singing anyway. See? No loss.”

“There is a loss, KEN,” Satoshi growled. “That was the only class I was getting by with, because I actually tried. No, I’ll admit I’m not a great singer, and I don’t really like it, but it was Mrs. Matsura’s spirit that guided us. I’m just…losing everything, Ken. I don’t know what I am going to do with my life…”

“Don’t talk like that Satoshi,” Ken said, patting his friend’s back. “Everything will be fine. Once you get to college, you’ll be away from this Hell.”

“I’ve already tried to get away,” Satoshi breathed, looking rather pale.

“What do you mean?”

As they continued walking, the boy unraveled his shirt sleeve, pushing it aside to reveal his arm to his friend. Upon his arm were three, very distinct marks that were welted and red…dried blood lined each of them, and they were rather painful to peer at. Ken’s eyes widened and he pulled Satoshi’s sleeve back down. They stopped abruptly.

“Don’t you understand how dangerous that is?” Ken said, walking to stand in front of his friend, a look of utter distaste written all over his face. “I would never expect this sort of thing from you! Trying to slit a vein? That’s complete ********.”

“What do you care?” Satoshi sneered. “You’re just my friend!”

“JUST your friend?” Ken exclaimed, completely bewildered. “Satoshi, I value our friendship beyond anyone else’s! We’ve been friends since we were six years old! I care about you! You’re like a brother to me.”

Satoshi bowed his head in discontent, and let out a small sob, though he shed no tears. Ken breathed deeply, and returned to his friend’s side. Satoshi did not speak for a moment, but then, his lips moved quietly, “I apologize…let’s go.”

Just as they were beginning to walk down the street, they noticed something terribly wrong. The crowd of their fellow school peers was gone, and no one was in sight but themselves and the careless cars that drove over the road lines. Ken’s eyes began darting furiously from side to side as he attempted to find the group, but it seems they had gone. Satoshi murmured something under his breath, and the longer they stood there, the harder their hearts pounded.

“Which way did they go?” Satoshi whispered.

“I don’t know…”

“We better hope to God…no, they can’t come here. They’re not…everywhere…”

Out of a nearby alleyway, someone came blundering through, banging a dent into a dumpster at random, and stomping heavily on the concrete ground. He was a rather tall figure; most likely near eighteen years old, with a stone-carved body. He wore a black, leather jacket unzipped against an indigo shirt, and faded jeans that had tears in the kneecaps. Naturally, his appearance startled them. He swayed toward them quickly, eyeing their uniforms. Ken did not turn to Satoshi, but mumbled one word, “Run.”

They turned carefully around to face the opposite direction of the sidewalk, when they burst into a full-out race, sprinting off in direction of their school. They moved so quickly they did not even hear their own feet dashing and skidding. However, following closely behind them, was the heavy footsteps of the man. In the fraction of a second, Satoshi and Ken felt something snatch the back of their collars, and they slowed to a halt as they saw that the older boy had grabbed them. Their blood ran warmly as they pushed against his force, both of them trying to start a round in a frenzy of randomized attacks. Still, the older one held them, and laughed jubilantly.

“Why, look here. It’s the Jesus Christ boys,” he said, pulling up harder on their collars so that it began to cut into their necks.

“Just let us go; we never did anything to you,” Ken snapped, croaking over the strain on his neck.

The older boy then relinquished his mighty grip on them, but instead, tossed them onto the concrete ground. Their faces slammed with great intensity onto the asphalt, scraping the skin on their faces to the point of burning, but they wasted no time in coming up with a reaction. They immediately scrambled to their feet, standing in front of their tormentor.

“I’ll teach you a lesson, about talking back to someone larger than yourself,” he said, laughing. They glared at him with a fiery anger, but before they could say one word, he threw his arm back and tossed his flying fist toward Ken’s face. Satoshi speedily lunged in front of Ken, blocking the blow from the older boy, and thrusting his very own white fist into the oppressor’s jaw. A slight crack came from it as it bounced to the other side of his skull, and he walked backward in shock. Satoshi panted with fury and wrath, unable to control his hatred for the older boy. The brawler clicked his jaw back into place, and gritted his teeth despicably at Satoshi. His eyes narrowed in vengeance.

“YOU LITTLE *******!”

The older boy sprung at Satoshi with haste, and in one destructive batter, he crushed his knuckles into Satoshi’s eye socket; the severity of the thrash sending him backward. The boy crashed into the pavement on his tailbone, and air left his lungs unexpectedly. Satoshi struggled to breath, his left eye numb with the stinging pain as the tormentor began heading for Ken.

Out of nowhere, a woman’s voice speared through the air, and the bully’s head twisted in the direction of which it came. Running from the door of the white building, Mrs. Matsura plowed across the lawns straight to the scene, releasing a flurry of curses and swears. As she and her violent scarlet dress strutted closer, the older boy fled across the street, jaywalking in front of a line of cars that had stopped at a green light. Their teacher ran with tension to the boys, whereas Ken came running to Satoshi. The boy ached in pain as he lied there hopelessly on the pavement, groaning as he struggled to breathe properly. Mrs. Matsura pursed her lips in dismay at the sight of her student lying there, beaten down by a cowardly fighter.

“Are you all right, dear?” she asked him, Ken standing by her side.

“Just…I’ll…be fine,” he said, attempting to stand back up, his lungs pressing difficultly against his chest. Mrs. Matsura turned to Ken: “I’ll take you boys home. You’ve been roughed up enough for one day.” They turned to her and thanked her graciously, and walked a small distance from the school down the walk to a faculty parking lot, where her old Mitsubishi pick-up was sitting. Satoshi was still catching his breath, but air began to come back to him as he continued to breathe slowly.

It was very odd to be driven somewhere by one’s own teacher, but under their circumstances, any help was appreciated and was to be grateful for. A small pride swelled in Satoshi’s heart for getting the first punch, but a deep regret nagged him for being arrogant and bigheaded, for thinking he could have stopped the older boy. Then again, he had saved Ken from a fair beating, which cancelled out the rest of his feelings as they piled into the front seats, becoming quite crowded and squashed. Mrs. Matsura slid in carefully, and then inserted the key to the ignition, turning and starting the car.

They pulled out of the parking lot, and directly into traffic. Apparently, it was rush hour as people wound through Machida and other sub-districts to get to Tokyo, where the important events happened. Lines became slow as they began taking turns down several streets. Mrs. Matsura took this opportunity to find out what had happened from the boys.

“What street do you live on, Mr. Sugimori?” she asked Ken politely.

“Pojo, ma’am,” he replied, staring off into space through the windshield.

“I know where you live, Satoshi-san,” Mrs. Matsura said, motioning to Satoshi. “Are your parents home?”

“Mom is…dad may be at work,” Satoshi replied, cupping his eye in pain.

“Well, you both sure are quiet,” she commented, managing a weak smile as she turned the steering wheel. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about your fight yet.”

The two boys did not say a word, and merely avoided making eye contact with their choir teacher. After a few minutes of silence, Mrs. Matsura sighed, really quite agitated that they were being stubborn, but breaking this small solitude, Ken said, “He called us the ‘Jesus Christ’ boys.” Mrs. Matsura exploded into laughter, and began chuckling madly. Satoshi and Ken stared at her in stupefaction as she continued to giggle over the remark, clearly finding it not as hilarious as she interpreted it to be. After she was done with her fit, she smiled and stopped at an intersection.

“Well, it’s just comical to use such a term, when he could have called you something different,” she said, musing to herself.

“I’m not a Jesus Christ boy,” Satoshi grumbled. “I’m not even Christian…”

“What?” Ken interjected. “You’re not?”

“No, he’s not,” Mrs. Matsura replied.

“My mom grew up in America,” Satoshi said, recalling facts from the top of his head, “in a Catholic school, because my grandmother moved there during World War II to find my grandfather. My mom converted to Baptism when she was older, because the nuns beat her hands with rulers.”

At this, Satoshi chuckled a bit, and Ken grinned. Mrs. Matsura smiled lazily into traffic, certainly glad the negative mood of the boys had been lifted.

“I suppose that’s a pretty good reason to convert,” Ken said jokingly, punching his friend softly in the arm. “So then, is your dad a Christian?” Satoshi shook his head, and spoke calmly, “No, he’s Buddhist. He used to live on the coast of Kanto, but when he met my mom when she came back to Japan for vacation, he said they fell deeply in love with each other, and they moved back into his parents’ home here in Machida.”

“Then, why do you attend a private Christian school?” Ken asked, completely confused. Satoshi sighed, and turned to Ken. “Mom always wanted me to go to a good school…not necessarily because she wants me to follow her religion, but because she wants my atmosphere to be a place with bad influences.”

“Which is very difficult,” Mrs. Matsura interrupted, “when your best friend is Ken Sugimori.”

The two boys laughed at this comment, when she continued, “It was actually your mother who introduced Mrs. Tajiri to me when she considered taking him to a public school here, Ken. She thought it would be better for them, which doesn’t bug me at all. Speaking of bugs, how goes the hunt?”

Satoshi peered over at his teacher and laughed loudly, “I haven’t gone down to the marshes for a week, now.”

“Now, why is that?”

“Because I have better things to do.”

“Not a good reason at all.”

“Well,” Satoshi looked out to the streets, “there’s no point in doing it anymore…I mean, no one cares what sort of bugs I collect anymore. That was something I did so long ago, when I was a kid. I’m not a kid anymore, and…I just…”

“—Don’t get the same recognition as you used to?” she asked. He nodded, and she remarked, “This life is about recognition, Satoshi. Like I said in class before, people want to be known in the world for certain things. You, for example, wanted to be known as the greatest bug collector in the world at your age. Now, you think your ambitions have changed because of other people’s opinions. Never back down, Satoshi. They may think your habits are childish, but if it makes you happy and successful, pursue it.”

“But…Mrs. Matsura,” Satoshi said, careful not to upset her, “that’s hypocritical. You didn’t pursue the concert.”

Mrs. Matsura turned to him as they began driving down a row of nicely-styled houses, and she frowned, a small regret glinting in her eye. She slowed to a stop, and pulled the emergency brake.

“The concert would be appealing to a much larger audience, Satoshi,” she said, a great feeling of apology in her voice. “You have a society of teenagers to appeal to, while my concert would disrupt the balance of religion, which is indeed a touchy subject around here. Ken, I believe this is your stop; can you walk from here?”

“Yeah, my house is right there,” Ken replied, quiet all this time, listening. “Thank you, Mrs. Matsura.”

He opened the door, and with a bang, slammed it shut in an instant, carrying off one block to a house with white paint and blue trim. Mrs. Matsura continued driving down the street, until she came to a small intersection, where she turned down Hirokazu Road. It was a street that had similar houses as the ones on the corner, however, they were in a slightly in a lower class. The mood of the air seemed calmer than normal, and the sun had already set over the mountains on the horizon, leaving a blue sky attempting to overwhelm a beautiful sunset. As they drew nearer to the Tajiri home, Mrs. Matsura turned to him and spoke.

“You listen to me, Satoshi, and never forget this,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “You will become a great person one day. I know the feeling that aches in your heart, for it is the feeling of being rejected from society just because you think differently about something other people opinionate as childish and dense. Never forget, that whatever dream passes your mind, don’t sit and wait for it to come closer. Reach out and grab it. Reach out, and snatch it by the horns.”

They pulled up to a short driveway further along the road, and pulled into the property of a home furnished with Japanese maple trees and bonsai growing eternally and healthily in the midst of their yard. Mrs. Matsura pulled to a stop. She nodded to the boy, and just before he shut the door, she said to him once again, “Do not forget.” He thanked her, and let her be on her own way back home.

After arriving at his home, Satoshi went through the front door, and was immediately met by his Shitzu, Kia, whose facial hair was tied in a little red ribbon. Kia growled as though she had a coin lodged in her throat, which was usually her way of greeting. The black-haired boy picked her up shortly; stroking her long hair, and then set her done so she could go create diabolical presents. Passing a mirror on the way to the living room, he spotted his unfamiliar reflection in the looking-glass. Satoshi approached it, afraid of what he was going to see. Unfortunately for him, he had no choice, and when he saw that his left eye had swollen slightly as the dead tissue underneath had been dyed black, he knew he would not be able to hide it for long.

In the living room, his balding father and loving mother sat in their comfort seats as they were watching Tokyo5 News under a dim lamp one would find in the seventies. They did not notice him, even as his shadow crept under the light of the lamp. It appeared that there was a storm warning advisory for a system of low pressure coming from along the American coast and across the Pacific Ocean. It seemed that the pressure was not dissipating, but dispersing in different directions. However, Satoshi did not continue to watch as he snuck carefully into the hallway toward his bedroom. When he whipped his view away from the television set, his eyes were immediately met with those of his littler brother, Shang. The child’s eyes instantly noticed the black eye he wore, and a warm feeling of embarrassment swelled in Satoshi.

“Satoshi,” Shang cried rather loudly, “what happened to your eye?”

Without thinking, Satoshi slapped his brother across the face, which frightened the little boy. He screamed, releasing a cry that would put shame to a pterodactyl. Satoshi apologized, gasping and letting out a small whimper at the unexpected thing he had just done. The boy ran toward his door, and slammed it shut, locking it behind him.

Inside, posted all over the walls, were magazine articles from National Geographic, Animal Zoo Book, and other wildlife publications were tacked to it, along with dozens of pictures of insects. One that prominently caught one’s eye was the image of a praying mantis stretched over the ceiling in a large poster. Satoshi climbed across discarded items on his floor to his bed, where his wrinkled bedding and insect kit sat. In the hall, he could hear his little brother talking, and following the tiny voice was that of his father’s, a stern and deep one. Satoshi scuttled rather hurriedly to the kit, opening it to find an identification book, magnifying glass, tags, and small vials. A few of the vials were full already, but Satoshi’s entire collection laid on the top of his dresser, where they sat upon small, steel shelves.

Suddenly, there was a knock and Satoshi’s door, and his father’s voice boomed, “Satoshi-san, why did you smack your brother? Open this door.” The boy bowed his head solemnly as his father banged on the door several times, his eyes twitching under pressure. Most reluctantly, Satoshi returned to his door, and swinging it open, came face-to-face with his father, whose eyes were slit in a petite anger. Next to him was the sniveling pile that was Shang. But at the moment he saw Satoshi standing there with a black eye, his expression changed completely. The old man turned to Shang, looking disapprovingly at the youngling.

“Did you do this, Shang-san? How many TIMES have I told you not to beat your brother?” he growled. The little boy was completely confused, but Satoshi smiled slightly. However, his father found his own joke less than amusing, and his view wandered to Satoshi’s left eye.

“What happened to you, son?”

“Another guy punched me in the face,” Satoshi said.

“Why?”

“Because…I told him something that offended him…something about his bike, and he just punched me in the face for no reason,” the boy lied, feeling much too engulfed to reveal the truth and get into a discussion with his father.

“What is the name of this boy? I will call the school,” Mr. Tajiri said, looking back into the living room.

“No, Dad. He already got caught; he’s serving detention time tomorrow.”

“Serves him right!” Mr. Tajiri humphed. “Should deserve a week…anyway…why did you slap your brother?”

“He…swore at me.”

“I did not!”

“Satoshi, Shang knows not one word of filthy tongue! I have never sworn in front of him, and certainly, your mother has not.”

“That’s a lie, dear!” Mrs. Tajiri called to the living room. Her husband sighed heavily, not arguing, but he looked sternly back to his oldest son.

“Apologize.”

Satoshi peered into Shang’s eyes, feeling deeply regretful. He sighed as well, and released a fairly honest, “I’m sorry, Shang…I don’t know what got into me.” Mr. Tajiri nodded faintly, and then he pointed a finger at Satoshi’s chest.

“For a week, you will take the garbage out and to the end of the driveway as punishment. I don’t know what got into you either, but don’t do it again.”

“Yes sir.”

Without another word, Mr. Tajiri began to walk back down the hallway, Shang turning to the right into his own bedroom. Before his father returned to the living room, Satoshi called out, “I’m going out to Samukai Woods!” A grunt replied in response, clearly indicating he had consent. Satoshi pulled open his dresser and retrieved a black linen jacket and placed it on the bed. He pulled off his uniform vest and tie, and tossed them onto the floor with the other miscellaneous objects. He then got the jacket again, and slipped it on over his shoulders. Satoshi then closed the case with all of the insect tools and carried it, and on his way out of the door, scooped a flashlight off of the floor, flicked the lights off, and shut the door tightly.

 

[Kiyohime]

Oh my! That was a surprise, but now it makes sense...using Satoshi Tajiri himself as the main character was very clever. XD I'm wondering why I didn't think of that.

This chapter seems mostly to be for build up and character introductions, but it was still enjoyable to read. I thought the teacer's reaction was a little of an overreaction because they're supposed to act as role models, but some teachers are notoriously high-strung. XD

I also enjoyed reading about the family dynamics of Satoshi's parents and his little brother, Shang (love that name) and the little quip about nuns beating people with rulers made me chuckle. I can tell you put a LOT of effort into researching this...well, it shows, believe me. ^^

 

[xXSaberXx]

Wowow!!!! ORINGALITY ALERT! DING DING DING!

Very nice bit you have here. Lots of research you must have done. /yodaspeak. It helped to make it more believable of course...Well done. Detail and everything. ^^

Question though, Will Satoshi man be the main character through the whole series?

 

[Insincerus]

Scrap & Saber: You make Cheshire kitty's whiskers jiggle! ^..^ As for Satoshi, yus he weel be main macho-ness of the fic, but there's a reason why he's here, and that my children, weel not be revealed until the VERY end. Ha, I love to suspend >3

Speculations, for future peoples who manage to give things away, MUST BEH PUT IN SPOILERS ('course, none of the reviewers here). Every time you don't post spoilers in spoiler tags, the Cheshire Cat frowns This chapter was also to introduce some characters, as Scrap pointed out, and show you the life of Satoshi Tajiri (fictionally, of course) before the story goes into full swing. I can promise you that the next chapter is what will start this fic's engines, and pour the gasoline for its long trip to the end. This chapter talked loads about religion, firstly because as I mentioned somewhere in the FF section, religion would be affected if Pokemon became real. How? You'll just have to find out...

Meh, I knew I made Mrs. Matsura a bit too high-strung, but heh, Christians think anything is funny, because they never heard anything like that with their virgin ears 8D My sister goes to a private Catholic college, and there are monks and nuns that work there as teachers XD Many people around the community, just the same as her, can tell me nuns are female dogs when they got rulers of knowledge. Hmm, thinking Chapter II will be amusing I do. Thinking big things happen I do, and read it you must 8D

I've managed to read Saber's Pokemon Revelation, which I must congratulate her on winning several awards from the FanFic Summer Awards thread. I thought the story was deeply reveling, with a plot that just simmers above a pan of comical humor and mischief that kill all the readers with laughter, but resurrects them so they can read like good zomb-ehs.

EDIT: Excuse this post; I had ice cream with candy, jello, and coke ^_^ I change to be a tad more sane.

 

[Sike Saner]

...I'm a bit stupefied right now; this has, within quite a short frame of time, gotten considerably more interesting - and as it was very interesting to begin with, that is saying something, indeed. Description and characterization continue to be of high quality; these are very human characters in a very well fleshed-out setting. The premise, as it is being revealed, is just ingenious. And working Satoshi Tajiri and Ken Sugimori into this...clever. Very clever, indeed.

Before I depart...

The black-haired boy picked her up shortly; stroking her long hair, and then set her done so she could go create diabolical presents.

"Diabolical presents". XD I love that.

 

[Insincerus]

Sike Saner: Hoping someone would catch on to the diabolical presents >.O Yus...anyway, reality is a strong side I never had before. Strangely, though I embrace Fantasy with a powerful love, I never wanted to return to reality, because that's all my life is, and it stabs every millimeter of my heart. However, in a perfect world, there exist Mary-sues and Gary-stus, and those are not the sort of characters I imagine. Reality must play a role in every fic, because the world is not a perfect place. The pain, the suffering, the lies, the deception, the murder, the betrayals, and Evil...it is all real, and there is nothing you can do to stop it, but you can try to live life successfully, trying to avoid those bumps in the road. I fear there will be many bumps in the road for the characters of this fic, and the road does not get any easier in Chapter II.

Edward Scissorhands music by Danny Elfman makes kitty cry and want to curl up in a ball...it's got this strange effect on me where my sanity level just came shooting back up. Anyway, Chapter II should arrive tomorrow, as I will be off of the computer for a while. I hope you will all be looking forward to it, because it will be the epic that will make this fic take flight.

 

[Willow's Tara]

Hey great story, really liked that music teacher, she reminded me once of my old music teacher.. Well execpt the breaking dow part, i have never seen my old music teacher cry, anyway good work kepe going, i couldn't find much wrong with it.

 

[Insincerus]

Tara: Thankey, thankey. My choir teacher is a guy, so he's incredibly different from Mrs. Matsura, and I've never seen him break down. He just jabs and makes faces when he's conducting us in concert.

This chapter is finally complete, and the good news is (no, I didn't save a buncha money on my insurance by switching to Geico) I started Chapter III. This is going to define the rest of the fic, and show you some things you never would have known about our main character, and some extraordinary events.

Chapter II: Ymber et Procella
Profanity: Yes
Adult Language: None
Violence: None
Blood/Gore: None​

Satoshi had managed to get a rather harsh scolding from his mother about his random slapping of his brother, but it was certainly nothing he could not handle. He just simply nodded and agreed with whatever she said, just so he could get away from the house, to escape from his reality as he had many times as a child, and find insects. Now, it was not necessarily the wanting and the desire for this hunt, but something pounded within his heart. He passed the kitchen as his mother began to prepare the evening meal, though he was quite certain he would miss it, and they would not bother to save any after they had eaten their fill. It depressed him slightly, but the pounding in his heart, not the pumping, became more profound.

Mrs. Tajiri sized up her son as she wore her flowered apron, and said to him, “Where did you say you were going again?”

“Samukai Woods,” he said simply, believing she was already aware of where he would go.

“Oh, dear…” she murmured to herself, turning away from Satoshi as tried walking back into the living room. He stopped her short with his palm.

“What is it?”

Mrs. Tajiri reluctantly moved her face toward her son’s, and peered into his hazel eyes. She sighed heavily, and said, “The city bought out the land.”

“What?”

“They’re going to build an arcade on it,” she replied sadly, her mouth curling downward into a sympathetic grimace.

“They can’t do that!” Satoshi exclaimed, his thin eyes narrowing fiercely. “It’s…just not possible…”

“Satoshi-san,” she said, smiling weakly as she placed her kind hand on his shoulder, “you know that we cannot stop them. We are just citizens, and one of the few honest and true families left in Machida. Our opinions would not have made a difference. Besides, you love arcades!”

“I do, but this is horrible!” he shouted, catching the attention of his father, who was still watching the storm warning on the television. “I’ve…gone there since…ever!”

Mrs. Tajiri smiled faintly, and placed her hand on her son’s shoulder. However, Satoshi slapped it away lightly, as the daggers stabbed his heart tenderly. Satoshi now had the strongest urge to leave his home, but his will could not overpower his stomach completely, so he snatched a small rice cake his mother had made the night before sitting on the counter that was becoming rather stale, but ate it just the same, walking out of the front door into the chilly darkness of night, his mother and father left in the house feeling penitent and ashamed. The street lamps illuminated the black streets perfectly as he crossed from his porch, but there was nothing in sight to be recognized in the road, giving it an even darker, empty feeling. Several homes along the street had their lights and lamps turned on brightly, the glows glimmering from the windows. Satoshi breathed in deeply, letting out a cool, white cloud of hot air that rose to the starry heavens above.

Taking his suitcase by his side and flicking on the flashlight he held in his opposite hand, the boy started walking down the street, toward the dead end, and where the wilderness met the urban land. In fact, Samukai Woods was practically the only place that the city board had not decided to plant a machine factory or shopping mall upon. Now, even after decades and generations of the good people who lived here, the greedy fools had gotten what they so jealously deserved. They were building an arcade upon it. How could they? It held the eldest vegetation in all of Tokyo, and there thrived creatures of the night, such as the owl, bats, and thriving insects that took advantage of the moist, humid atmosphere of the forest. Destroying and plundering it for economy now seemed the most sinister plot to Satoshi, and now, the tip of his anger was peaked.

For all these years, he had struggled to attend a school of a different religion, causing awkward and embarrassing remarks to come from those who knew him outside of the school. Others beat on him just because they believed something about him that was false. He was doing it to sacrifice for his mother. He loved her dearly, and over the period of time he was born and raised, his appreciation had grown for her more than ever. His father had always encouraged him to become an electric repairman, which was most certainly the most ridiculous thing in the world to the boy. Satoshi never aspired to really become someone in the world; but still, this fact did not alter the mood about his father. Mr. Tajiri wanted him to chase fantasies that he himself had never fulfilled, and to become someone who he had shaped in his own mind. Satoshi could not stand the ambitions his father tried to force on his shoulders, because he wanted just to be himself.

But he questioned himself. Why? Why am I here? What is my purpose here? he thought, half to himself, and half to the sparkling night sky, as though expecting an answer as he stared at it endlessly on the boundary next to the Samukai Woods. Why am I here? What does my life matter? I am never going to make a difference in this…cruel…heartless world…WHY? WHY ME?

Without realizing it, hot, steamy tears began rolling down his cheeks, blazing in hatred as he gritted his teeth at the sky. He held out his hands, and cried, “IF THERE IS A GOD, WHY DO YOU NOT ANSWER ME? Am I too unimportant for you? Am I too DAMN UNIMPORTANT FOR THIS WORLD? Who gives a damn what happens to me? I HATE THIS PLACE…I HATE IT!” He shrieked so loudly that he bent over, coughing as he listened to the echo of his own caustic scream. One of his vocal cords tore a small bit, and the strain made his throat ache. He shook his head, his brain singing with the annoyance of pain and mental dilemma. Satoshi suddenly dropped to his knees, plopping the suitcase without a care on the road, and let the flashlight roll off of the pavement and onto the ground of the forest.

It all came flooding through his mind instantly, and he could not force back the dams of despair. The hot, bleeding tears of his strife slashed their way through his eyes, billowing silky crystals that gleamed just as the stars did. All of the throbbing, the suffering, the hate; it poured out of him like an eternal fountain of sadness. Sobs overwhelmed the music of the crickets chirping in the grass ahead, and for the entire time he kneeled there, Satoshi cried until his tear ducts ran dry, blubbering and howling all of the misery that was bestowed upon him, his trembling lips muttering, “why, why, why” as he cried uncontrollably.

Then, he heard something. It whistled through his mind, like a voice. He sniveled, wiping his tear-stained face all over his jacket sleeve, the liquids of his grief smearing on the material. He lifted his head solemnly, and felt the sky. It was watching him, he felt. Somewhere above him, he felt eyes burning in the back of his head, following him. He could hear it again…the insane voice that did not have a tongue…it whispered guidance to him. Satoshi wiped his face once again, sniffing off the rest of his tears. Was he imagining it? He thought he could hear something…but it was madness…no, he heard it again…was he losing his mind?

The boy opened his mouth slowly, staring down at the suitcase on the ground. It glowed eerily in the darkness, as though a street lamp was right above him. He turned his head toward the heavens, and he saw the moon staring back at him, its face hidden by blackened clouds that floated steadily from the west. The moon bathed his own face in its white radiance, and through it, Satoshi’s heart lifted slightly. The boy blinked, feeling the power within him fabricating…he could hear the strong whisper more than before, though silent it was. The voice elevated his broken heart, pushing it back into the rightful place in his flat chest. It was not pride, nor inspiration, nor courage, nor anything that boasted magnificence…it called to him. It called to him, saying his name, guiding him.

Satoshi suddenly twisted around on the road to stare down on the wet, forest moss that grew at the boundary. The moss had churned itself like a parasite all over the ground, infesting the soil with an earthly green blanket, and stifling the trunks of trees the wrenched up from the ground like great, titanic gates of the most natural wood. The branches were mangled and crooked, crossing over and through each other over centuries of growth. The trees that had been on this planet longer than his oldest relative, and they were going to be torn down. Torn down for the exploit of a market, to earn yen…money…a despicable and grotesque icon that showed its true colors to Satoshi for the first time. The filth and greed that was money sought to engulf the forest, to the advantage of only itself.

The boy did not express any emotion, for he knew it would be inevitable that the wood’s existence would soon come to an end, but a feeling, deep within his heart, spoke patiently and calmly, telling him that something was not right…the forest would not be gone by tomorrow…it would still be there, just as it had been yesteryear, and the years before that. Not being able to see it would be too excruciating to imagine, and once the forest was gone, Satoshi knew his escape…the hunt for the insects that had evolved from juvenile entertainment to a method of healing and the affection he held for it was going to come plummeting to shreds of matter. His dreams would be shattered forever, and he would never be able to exist in the world. One last tear spilt from his cheek, as he strengthened himself to climb up to his feet, glaring respectively at the Samukai Woods.

“This is the last time,” he said to the trees, “I will be seeing you again. And by the time you are gone, my life will be at an imminent end, though I shall remain living on in this disgusting place we call home. My life is torn…I will perish in my sleep for sure…”

The trees shivered their naked branches in response, as a gust flew in from behind Satoshi. The breeze tossed his black hair about as he stood there, staring at the forest, anchored by fear of falling into infinite nothingness. Then, something caught his eye. He glanced downward, and there on the ground was his flashlight. Rapidly, it began flickering as though the bulb inside were resurrecting itself. Satoshi stood in amazement, small daps of rain drizzling onto his backside, as the flashlight spat a long stream of electric-generated light. It was not the sudden live the device had given, but the stream of light that flowed from it. He could see the fresh droplets of rain beginning to fall from the sky, along with dust and air particles, as the ribbon of light lit a path: the darkness inside the woods was illuminated; a path that was marked straight by the light. Then, in another instant, the bulb died, and the light flashed off.

Was this a sign? A sign from somewhere…somewhere greater than him? Satoshi pondered it, but he knew the answer, and it did not resolve either question. For it was not an answer, but a decision. A decision that had been marked in front of his very eyes. The rain began to fall harder, gaining intensity in every strand of water. There was no doubt in his mind that he should enter the forest…surely, there was nothing more to his life. What would it matter if he went inside? After all, he wanted to spend his last moments alone in the rapture of his sanctuary…his place of escape. Hypnotically, Satoshi’s legs began moving off of the pavement, leaving all behind him, flashlight and suitcase. He wandered into the dark wilderness, guided only by the white of the moon shining through the cracks and gaps of all the trees.

A rumble from far off cried in the distance, and Satoshi recognized it as the sound of thunder. He could hear the rain outside the forest pounding into the ground like aquatic bullets, showering the land in nature’s fury. The trees groaned and whistled as the wind twisted and flew through the wispy air, waving the cold on Satoshi, making him hug his own sides tightly, struggling to keep warmth as he walked without stopping, no thoughts running in his mind.

It seemed hours soared by as he continued walking incessantly, for the storm had begun to increase its wrath more quickly than most tempests had. The storm was flailing massive amounts of water from the skies above so that the stars were no longer visible except for the moon’s terrestrial presence. Twigs cracked and leaves somersaulted in every which direction, tossing through the air in miniature cyclones. Still, Satoshi walked among the mess, wind cutting ice into his teary eyes, the trees all around him thrashing about in the ultimate wind. Somewhere off in the distance, lightning flashed across the sky in a godly second of terror, and the boast of the storming electricity was followed shortly by the roar of divinity, declaring the torrential downfall that it had brought mightily to the earth, slamming its soil with its opposing element.

Soon, the jubilant blooming of the horrific storm embarked to become muffled, as Satoshi walked…walked further and deeper into the thicket, allowing himself to become lost in the clutches of Samukai as the trees began to envelop him in their reach. The trees overhead no longer allowed the weather to burst through in pounding conflagration of shearing rainfall, and started to close themselves against each other, even blocking out the heavenly moon. All light ceased to carry on through this forsaken section of the woods. Satoshi still did not wander his thoughts astray from the matter…the voice that egged him on…the whispers that told him to keep moving straight, and to go only this way.

Ymber et Procella… it murmured. …Procella et Diaboli…Procella et Mal…

Suddenly, at the noise of the new, disembodied voice, he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes blinded by the darkness and his sense of smell numbed by the cold, Satoshi listened with his ears, and with the careful listening came another sense that flooded back to his vision. He heard the trickle of the water spraying through the trees, and dripping rapidly in another body of water…a pond. He could hear the hushed rainwater against the thickest wall of trees that wove themselves inward, shrouding themselves from the revelation of reality. The trees were alive, suddenly, in his mind…he could hear them talking to one another…the sway of their branches, the whiffle of the wind plowing at their indispensable blockade. Lonely. They, just as he, were hiding from the world…they were veiled in the deepest portion of the forest, forced to shun themselves. It roused something cavernous in the back of his mind, as though all along, he and the trees understood each other at last.

A new sound wandered in midst of the appalling gale that rocked the foundation of Japan itself, still slightly contoured past the solidity of the ancient plants, but distinct enough to be noticed. Satoshi could hear a rumbling in the sky…it was not the thunder…a hurtling…a whistling, a crackling he heard, but he could not associate this noise with an object. The wind thralled brutally…the noise was beginning to pierce through the quiet resilience of the weak branches. It was eating away at the plants. Satoshi broke from the silence himself, and his thoughts now tossed as wildly as the disastrous storm bellowed its temper from the depths of the atmosphere in the firmament beyond.

The next reverberation the boy heard next was the extremely brief howl of something crashing through the air above. After the howl, a deafening explosion blasted the storm outside, blistering every rift of the ripping airstreams with thousands of crackles and bangs that screeched and sprang in every direction, blowing away slams of earth-shaking sound waves that rocked the ground beneath Satoshi’s feet. Right at the moment of the explosion, Satoshi was propelled backward onto his back just by the very shaking of the desecrated detonation in the air outside. His ears shot like a bottle rocket as his eardrums were forcibly damaged from the deadly, loud noise, impairing the rest of his senses by the mere ringing in his ears. He shouted in pain and anguish, fighting against the sharp pain that pricked the end of his spine that wound its way up.

Satoshi lay there painfully and mercilessly, waiting impatiently for his hearing to return to him once more. The boy blinked numerous times, but the more he did, the more he saw the black of the inner forest. Sticky leaves attached to his sweating mass of a body, dirt and roots crawling all over his clothes and feet. The ground beneath his backside rumbled and shook with force. He thought there must have been a nuclear bombing, but if it had been, he knew he should have been dead. That coupled with the fact that he had heard it in the sky, not the ground.

Slowly but surely, Satoshi’s ears began throbbing outwards again as fluid dripped out onto his lobes. He did not care at this point, because at that moment, sounds and clamor flooded into his brain, and he knew he could hear at last. But upon arrival of his regained ability, a terrible, terribly roar boomed from the sky outside. It resounded in a ring of echoing such as that of a drum, and this pattern kept pounding. With each slam of the noise, Satoshi heard ripping noises…tearing…the trees were losing structure and constituency. Whatever was out there was stripping these trees from their secluded life, the life they wished to live alone for the rest of their eternity; the wind tearing their fleshed bark apart, almost as though burrowing in the forest for Satoshi. Almost as though it were looking for him.

As the wall of plants began to wrench from the anchored roots in the ground, light began slitting through the gaps where matter met air. The light was not that of the moon, but colors of flames: red, orange, and gold. The colors flared through, but no smoke arose. It was not a fire, for the light emanated in garlands of majestic ribbons, exalted light washing through everything, eradicating all the trees that stood in its path. As the thinned forest began to disclose itself once more to the world, Satoshi could hear the dirges of wailing, blustery gusts swirling around the center of the drumming…the humming. With every minute the trees in front of him were eliminated, the fierce culprit of the supernatural occurrence was now ascertained in the reflection of his hazel eyes.

The storm had generated a flurry of clouds that spiraled around the center of a great, gaping black hole that churned powerfully above the city of Machida, and not far from his vision, the neighborhoods of houses that ran all the way to Tokyo. Satoshi had never seen such a thing, and it frightened him to the extent of screaming, though his yells were lost in the earth-shattering sound of the suction the hole made. It did not sound as though it were sucking something up, however, as one might infer like a vacuum…instead, it was pushing out pressurized blasts of hot air that wraggled across the land, causing roofs of some houses to fly off of their tops, and even a few cars that went sailing over the town like aircraft. The rows and streets of houses creaked on their foundations, and the skyscrapers far into Tokyo even looked menacingly doomed.

Satoshi felt his body being pushed against his will by the overpowering gravity of the hot air blasts as the hole breathed, but luckily for him, the wind had pressed him against a tree that was managing to stay afloat on the soil, only seconds from ripping and drifting off across the country as the other objects had. Then, something happened that made Satoshi cry out in astonishment: the hole stopped beating. In this short resting time, the boy took every opportunity he could to breathe, allowing his heart an adequate amount of oxygen to stay pumping. For after resting, the hole then did something so death-defying and spectacularly disturbing that seeing it in person would make one collapse of shock.

The great, black hole shot out strands of wriggling, black arms, like oily tentacles, spreading them like veins across the heart of the sky. Leaves tumbled everywhere, flying in Satoshi’s face and at his feet; some even flew toward the storm itself. The rain was more powerful than ever, and gave no mercy as it bound itself to the ground. Satoshi was becoming soaked and frightened, when he saw the hole shoot fiery webs of more black matter across the land, spreading and tossing charcoal-like substances into the ground. The pond he had heard before was there now, rippling with algae and lily pads as the apocalyptic storm continued.

The boy laid back as the hole continued to rain the stringy black auras, every end of each bead colliding into the ground, and flinging dirt in places where they made impact. His eyes widened more than they ever had in his life as they continued to stare in utter disbelief at the twining black hole in the sky. How had it appeared there? What was going on? All thoughts were now pulsing through his brain, wired as hot as fire, and singing his ability to react to it all. However, the reaction Satoshi did not express leapt out of him and into his legs as a crashing piece of debris from the sky was blowing with a strong whistle straight toward his location. He found a sudden strength, his adrenal glands flowing madly as he jumped just in the nick of time.

At the moment before it landed, Satoshi saw the object burning with a black aura around it, screaming in a crackling hiss as the air touched it. Black flames curled around it right before it clashed into the pond in front of him, sending vast quarts of the water in it flying from its containment from the heavy pressure. The pond water jumped onto Satoshi’s clothes as the howling in the distance continued. He was now sprawled on the ground, pale and completely traumatized by this twisted form of events unfolding before his eyes. He was in the worst condition one could find themselves in, at the most unfortunate time.

What the Hell is that thing? he burst to himself in his own mind. Why is it here? What is all that coming down from it?

Abruptly, his thoughts were interrupted by the unexpected force plowing through the belly of the pond, spraying and splashing a fountain of algae and water ominously all around him. This sent Satoshi into spasms of fear and dread. He found himself trying to move away from the water that had suddenly spat itself up, pressing even harder on the tree against his back. His fate was sealed. He would not escape. For a moment, there was silence as he watched the pond for another movement. Nothing happened. It’s just a piece of metal…that flew from the sky, Satoshi thought to himself reassuringly. From a particularly large vortex in the sky…beats me how it got there, but…oh my God, I’m in self-delusion…

But indeed something did happen after this thought. Two whip-like vines snapped out of the water, flicking droplets of water everywhere. Satoshi tried to move, but it was no use. The vines slashed against his wrists, causing him to cringe in overwhelming pain as the sliminess of the plants scurried up around his arms, wrangling around them like serpents. Then, he felt the muscles inside of them tug toward the pond. He could not fight it. He was too weak and dumbfounded to defy the grip of the creature that lurked in the pond.

It dragged him across the wet grass, smashing the leaves into sticky chlorophyll mounds, smearing them all over his body. The vines took stronger hold as Satoshi was pulled head-first toward the pond. It was trying to drown him…so he was right…this would be the end, being devoured inside of a pond by a creature hungering for his flesh. The storm was raining creatures…everywhere…

Satoshi wanted to close his eyes, but he could not. It was all so real, yet so surreal he literally believed he had lost his mind, and was in a horrible nightmare. But no, it was not so, for he had gone into Samukai of his own free will…well, at the expense whispering trees, which just proved his insanity with defined lines. He wanted it all to end quickly and easily, without suffering. Satoshi waited in vain for the moment to come, to be dragged into the pool and perish under the water.

But that moment never did come.

Satoshi felt the vines around his now moist wrists unwind themselves quickly, then another small splash as they retreated into the water. The boy opened his eyes to the same sight he had seen before, but now, he was much closer to the pond, and staring head on into what was inside of it. The object that had been flown into the pond bubbled beneath the water, and gradually in his suspense, it surfaced, floating up onto the brink of the pool. It was a creature, but one that he did not recognize at all. It certainly did not look like an alien, but there was something familiar about it… The boy peered at it in amazement, his inquisitiveness climaxing as the unbelievable sight before him wiggled slightly.

It was a small, stout creature with four legs, two of which were still submerged beneath the water, and two that were clutching unconsciously to the edge of the pond with tiny, white claws. Its skin was turquoise, though it seemed to be bruised and discolored from injuries it had sustained, with forest green spots randomly scattered all over its body. Its head was wide and looked similar to that of a lizard’s, with two stub-like ears. On its back was what amazed the boy the most: a bulb plant seemed to be sprouting from its inner spine, the corm still wrapped like a flower bud waiting to bloom in the spring time. Overall, its appearance was reptilian, but Satoshi could not help to feel that this creature had something about him that related to plants and greenery. Whatever it was, he had never seen it before, and it was totally brand new. It had come from the sky.

The creature, to his surprise, opened one of its eyes, revealing a blood-ruby iris peering back at him weakly. It stared at him a moment, and Satoshi looked back into its eye with astonishment and wonder, then in the next instant, it shut it in exasperation, falling into a lulling unconscious state.

 

[TyraniRay]

Excellent.

Loads of description, and good as well. I haven't noticed any spelling or grammer errors, but I tend to miss things like that in enthralling stories, like this. Today's the 15th right? Well that's wo great chapters and a prologue in three days, meaning you write very fast, without loosing anyting. You also seem rather dedicated to this, unlike quite a few of fanfics I've read. That helps keep the fanfic going after a while.

The apocalyptic scene was much more (and much longer) than I expected, meaning more is to come. Keep up the good work, and don't turn this into a pile of crap.

Kind of ironic you'd use Bulbasaur - #1 - as the what is effectively the first Pokemon discovered in your fic.

 

[Insincerus]

Three days? :S Wow, I must be dedicated...

You see, I've had a long history line of never getting a fic done, but with such a revolutionary idea of Pokemon coming to reality, that's changed everything, and now I'm working terribly hard to stay chained onto Exsisto. Thanks very much for the comments, because that just chains me to it even closer, which will help me to continue it. And yus, I purposefully placed you-know-who, #001, as the very first Pokemon to appear

This reminds me: I will be gone on Friday (Harry Potter, squeeee) through Sunday, though I'm going to try to keep up with my writing same goes for next weekend (harvest).