Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ This Blood On My Hands ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, except maybe the plot, and I doubt that even that's original. But the title I own (and I like it, as well) and I own Lydia too.

 

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WARNING: If all you're going to do is read this then razz me about my writing ability, then don't even bother. If you're going to make fun of me, do it intelligently. Criticize, but don't flame cruelly unless you can write better.

 

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This Blood On My Hands

 

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Chapter 1

 

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Littleroot Town

 

The moving van rattling bumpily along the (loong) highways between the Kanto and Hoenn regions was very, very uncomfortable, in about a billion different, equally aggravating ways. Her mood was dropping lower by the second, and it had already been down in the first place, starting out with crushingly sad and steadily plummeting to absolutely furious, not helped by these aggravations. She tapped her foot irritably on the metal floor, in time with her heartbeat, mentally counting them down.

 

For one thing, it smelled. Badly. The greasy scent of the three sweat-soaked Machoke sitting in one corner, conversing in their strange rumbling language; the choking odor of the exhaust; the stifling stench of the piles and piles of boxes stacked around.

 

It was also very hot, which just made the smell worse. She supposed that could have counted as two irritations, but then reasoned that since the heat made the smell worse, which only served to make the heat worse, they counted as one both together.

 

For another, there was hardly any light except for that which leaked through the tiny, pointless air vent and the cracks between the doors; how the Machoke could see to shoot their curious glances at the young human girl sitting opposite was a Pokemon mystery, she supposed.

 

For a third, it was so loud she could hardly hear herself think, let alone begin to guess what the Machoke were talking about.

 

And for a fourth…

 

Well.

 

She shrank in on herself, pulling her legs tighter against her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Why the hell do we have to move, anyway? I was happy in Kanto! Everyone was! I loved living in Blackthorn! But now…

 

She swallowed at a lump in the depths of her throat that didn't seem to want to leave, much like the all-too-familiar burning in her eyes that had stayed with her ever since the moving van doors had closed on Roger's confused gaze, her narrowed emerald green eyes the last thing Mae had seen before she'd been plunged into the smelly darkness. Typical there was no room for me up front.

 

She swiped furiously at her suspiciously moist eyes, refusing to let the tears spill, forcing Roger's image from her mind. The Machoke paused in their chatter, watching her with their bright, inquisitive looks until she glared them back to their conversation.

 

She leaned her head back against the boxes, closing her eyes with a soft sigh, unheard over all the noise. Never again… she promised herself firmly, helplessly, just like she had been promising herself since they'd left. First Nelo and now Roger. Never, never, never again, I just can't…

 

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Her cell phone buzzing against her thigh was what woke her from her listless doze, not Roger's imaginary paw batting her face. She stirred, mumbling the name blearily, slapping at her pocket with her eyes still shut, not opening them to emerge from the half-dream until she had fished the device from her pocket and held it in front of her face.

 

It was later, much later, judging by the deep-orangish quality of the little light peeking in from vent and cracks. She opened the phone, noting the Machoke were slumped against each other in their own catnaps. Despite how ugly she found them when they were awake, when they were piled against each other like a litter of puppies they seemed quite cute.

 

She shoved the smile from her face, turning her gaze to the small electronic.

 

Hi! Sorry to keep you waiting!

 

Cheery text scrolled up the screen, in such a way that only served to lower her mood even more, if possible. She growled in outrage, checking the number of the sender: 555-0820 (UNKNOWN), it told her. She rolled her eyes angrily at the usefulness of the cell phone and typed back,

 

I'm sorry, do I know you? I think you have the wrong number…

 

Welcome to the world of Pokemon!

 

That, if anything, made her jump. This 0820 hadn't even answered her question! He/she/it had just burst out a welcome to a world she had briefly visited twice before abandoning it—for good, she might add. There's no way this thing/person is gonna get me involved in that again!

 

Is this an automated message?

 

Not that she actually expected it to tell her whether it was or not…

 

My name is Birch.

 

How creative.

 

But everyone calls me the Pokemon Professor.

 

Even more so…

I've got something to call you if you don't piss off!

 

This is what we call a Pokemon.

 

The picture that was produced at the end of that message nearly made Mae fall over, she was laughing so hard. It was ridiculous! It looked like a little blue ball with a face sitting on another little blue ball (though the second unfortunately didn't have a face) with a jerky long black string of a tail. She saved it into her photo album, giggling uncontrollably.

 

That's not a real Pokemon! she texted back, but the other had already continued:

 

This world is widely inhabited by creatures known as Pokemon.

 

Mae's heart sank down to around the area of her toes. Perhaps sank is too strong of a word; it dropped like a stone. Though she'd known it had been foolish, she'd harbored a secret, burning hope that somehow, Hoenn would be miraculously free of all Pokemon and then they would be able to move back to Kanto and Roger and everyone would be happy.

 

But whatever governed this world didn't seem to care about Mae's secret, burning hopes.

 

We humans live alongside Pokemon, at times as friendly playmates, and at times as cooperative workmates. And sometimes, we band together and battle others like us.

 

That statement made Mae flinch openly. Like you, he means. Does he know--?

 

But despite our closeness, we don't know everything about Pokemon. In fact, there are many, many secrets surrounding Pokemon.

 

This is getting stupid… why don't I just ignore his messages and delete them?

 

But in all honest truth, Mae couldn't do that.

 

To unravel Pokemon mysteries, I've been undertaking research. That's what I do. And you are? Are you a boy? Or are you a girl?

 

Mae raised both brows suspiciously, tensing. Who is this guy, an Internet stalker who tracks people by their cell phones? Oh, well, it means he can't know anything, if he doesn't even know I'm a girl.

 

Girl, she cautiously sent back, curiosity forcing her.

 

All right. What's your name?

 

Kyaah! What a creep! Still, he didn't ask me for my full name, did he now?

 

Mae…

 

So it's Mae?

 

Ummm, yeah.

 

Ah, okay! You're Mae who's moving to my hometown of Littleroot. I get it now!

 

Mae leapt nearly a foot, almost dropping her phone. That was wrong. That was way wrong. The only people who knew she had been moving were her father's Gym trainers, her mother's friends, Lydia's friends and Mae's friend. She stared at the little electronic, feeling herself pale. He… lives in Littleroot? And he knows my phone number? What the hell!?

 

All right, are you ready?

 

What, what, what!?

 

For what!?!?

 

Your very own adventure is about to unfold!

 

Shit, no!

 

Not if I have anything to say about it!

 

Take courage, and leapt into the world of Pokemon where dreams, adventure and friendships await!

 

Holy shit, c-corny…!

 

Well, I'll be expecting you later. Come see me in my Pokemon Lab.

 

The message faded slowly, leaving only her background picture of her house in Blackthorn and the various options at the bottom of the screen. For a few minutes Mae wasn't sure whether to laugh dismissively or jump out of the van, staring down at the phone long after the backlight had turned off.

 

Then she decided she was angry.

 

“Adventure this, adventure that,” she snarled, shoving the device back into her pocket. “Dad and Lydia go on about it enough, pushing me and prodding me to go back out. Hellfires, I don't want any more adventure! I'm no Pokemon Trainer…”

 

Nelo… Roger…

 

She shoved her back against the boxes, hard so it hurt enough to wash the memories from her mind, closing her eyes tightly, forcing her mind in the direction of sleep.

 

It's a load of bullshit, she told herself as she drifted off. Just some idiot playing a joke…

 

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Mae woke up again at the loud grating sound of the van doors being pushed open, the dim orange-pink light seeming almost blinding as it exploded within. She grunted, throwing her arm over her eyes before opening them, sitting up from where she'd fallen over in her sleep. “How long have I been asleep?” she muttered rhetorically, wiping a line of dribble from her chin, shaking a crick out of her neck. “'choke?” one of the Machoke queried, jumping out into the setting sun after his fellows.

 

Mae crawled after him, legs nearly buckling with cramps as her shoes hit the soft grass. She gave a cry of pain and sat down abruptly on the tailgate. The trio of Pokemon stared at her for a moment before bursting out into loud, snorting laughter.

 

“Go to hell,” she growled at them, limping over to lean against the wall of her new house. She looked around, rubbing her knees, and her mouth promptly dropped.

 

Three.

 

Bloody.

 

Buildings.

 

Two houses and one larger structure that looked a bit like a Lab. And that was it, save for the few patches of flowers, signs labeling the three buildings and one bigger sign in the middle proclaiming the place to be Littleroot Town.

 

Mom wasn't kidding when she said it would be small. Littleroot is right…

 

The door opened next to her; as if called by her daughter's mind, Mae's small, brown-haired mother bounced happily from the confines, looking as though she might explode with her excitement. “Oh!” she gushed, sounding as though she'd just remembered Mae. “Mae! Isn't this great!? Sure, it's small, and it has a quaint feel, but I'm sure we can get used to it! And, Mae, you get your own room, too!”

 

“Whoop-di-doo,” Mae said sarcastically. “Now I only have to spend every waking moment around Miss Perfect. The hours where I sleep and can't even enjoy having her away are totally perfection free.” She stalked into the house after her mother, who hadn't even noticed Mae's attitude, she was in such a good mood. Mae descended into a sulk, furious at being unable to vent at the one person who would've been able to give her a good scream. She closed the door a little firmer than necessary behind her. Make that slammed the door.

 

The Machoke that Mae had been forced to spend the last eight hours with were already inside, moving boxes, setting up furniture. There was already the table, chairs, TV and cabinet. They're fast, Mae noted sullenly.

 

“Your room's upstairs to the right,” her mother pointed. “And don't worry; Lydia's is at the far end of the hall.”

 

“Great, now I'll only be able to smell her perfume and makeup and crap instead of suffocate in it.”

 

“Oh, shush! Look, Dad bought you a new clock to mark the move. Go upstairs, set it, check out your room and stuff. Okay?” The look she gave her daughter indicated all too strongly that she and Mae would have a `talk' later. Mae tried not to groan, stomping up the stairs as loudly as she dared. The aforementioned `talks' insisted mostly of Sherri yelling and/or making snide comments about teenagers while Mae had to sit and take it, unable to even defend her actions without sending her mother off again.

 

“Hey, lardass, stop pounding up and down the stairs like a herd of wild Tauros!” her (perfect [to everyone else, anyway]) older sister Lydia screamed from her own room, over the thumping pop music already shaking the house beyond the firmly closed door.

 

“I'm shocked,” Mae yelled back. “You can actually hear me over that crap?”

 

The door opened, emitting the deafening music and Lydia's beautiful head, which wore plenty of makeup already and an I'm-better-than-you smirk. “This isn't, as you put it, `crap,' Mae. It's what we listen to. You know, we of the social life?”

 

We of the eating disorders and inflated egos, maybe. “I do so have a social life,” Mae replied hotly. “Or at least I would if we were still in Blackthorn.”

 

Lydia let out her omigod-you're-such-a-loser-I-can't-believe-it giggle. “Yeah, right, Mae. Get serious, you can't even call yourself a Pokemon Trainer.”

 

The smug look in her big brown eyes told Mae she had fallen for her elder sister's bait.

 

Mae froze with her hand on her doorknob, flashing alternately hot and cold, light tremors running through her entire body, paling and flushing at the same time. An all too emotional pain sang through her chest, like a thousand knives to the heart. Then the shock that had left her speechless turned to outright fury, at herself for falling for the taunt, and at Lydia for administering it whilst knowing Mae would take it.

 

She drew back her foot, kicking the door so hard a fine line of cracks rippled outward in the dark wood. It would have hurt under any other circumstance, but Mae was too angry to register that pain.

 

“Holy shit, don't have a spaz,” Lydia snorted innocently, complete with the classic eyeroll. “I mean, come on, you can't even—”

 

“SHUT UP!”Mae screamed at her, whirling, bolting down the stairs in one long stride. “I'm going out!” she yelled waspishly at her mother's curious, shocked look.

 

“Dadhasafriendintownwithakidyourageyoushouldgovisitrightnex tdoor!” she heard all as one word just before the door crashed shut behind her.

 

Mae stuffed her fist into her mouth, letting out a long, muffled scream. A passing little girl, no more than five or six, gave her a strange look, as though seeing teenage girls screaming with their fists in their mouths was an unusual sight or something.

 

“What?” Mae snarled at her. The little one's eyes widened so much they looked like they'd exploded and she scurried off.

 

“Wow, you're great with kids like you're great with Pokemon!” Lydia shouted from a window.

 

No, Mae. Don't throw a rock at her. With your aim, you might miss and hit the glass.

 

CRASH!

 

“Mom! Mae's throwing rocks at me! Ha, you missed!”

 

Mae ran before her mother could come out and catch her in the act, bolting past the other house, whirling around it to press her back against the far side with a loud thud. Certainly not the best hiding place in a town of three buildi—actually, it probably was the best hiding place in a town of three buildings.

 

Goddammit, Mae, that window's gonna come out of your allowance now… shit…

 

I need a better hiding place. Petalburg, maybe. Dad would hide me, wouldn't he?

 

“What're you doing?”

 

Mae managed not to shriek, which would summon her mother, though she did jump very high and knock the back of her head rather hard against the house. She swore vehemently, clutching her scalp. Low laughter reached her, and she looked up through watering eyes.

 

A boy leaned languidly in a window above her that she hadn't noticed before in her rush to escape her mother's wrath. He looked to be about Mae's age, thirteen, with dazzlingly silver hair and olive green eyes. She supposed he wasn't hideous, but he'd never have girls throwing themselves at his feet.

 

“What are you doing?” he repeated, sounding more amused than curious.

 

“Hiding from my mother,” Mae hissed back, motioning violently for him to be quieter.

 

“Why?”

 

“I threw a rock through my sister's window.” He must be that kid Mom mentioned. Dad's friend's son.

 

He snickered. “You must be that Gym Leader's kid. No offense, but I would've thought you'd be a guy.”

 

Mae bristled at the ever-familiar comment. “Well, I'm not,” she said shortly, peering warily around the corner. “My sister isn't either, and she's close to becoming a Gym trainer.” So far, so good. Hopefully her mother hadn't even heard Lydia's shriek for help, though she'd still be stuck behind here until at least nightfall to even be able to begin hoping that her mother had at least forgotten, what with all the `excitement' of unpacking.

 

“Want a better hiding spot?”

 

She looked back at him, raising a skeptical brow. “Do you have one in mind?”

 

He smirked. “Door's open.” And then he withdrew from the window.

 

Mae was left quite unsure of what to do. She hesitated, wrestling fear with suspicion for a few tense moments. Finally, though, fear won out, and she darted around the side of the house to crash through the partially ajar door, nearly bowling him over in the process.

 

“Don't kill me!” he yelped, leaping back, kicking the door shut. Mae gave him a sharp look before grudgingly apologizing. “Oh, I'm sorry, I just tumble through strange guys' doorways all the time, got so used to it I didn't see you there,” she said sarcastically, her eyes drifting almost automatically to the Pokeball holster draped loosely around his hips. There were two balls already within. Right on cue, her heart seized up.

 

He followed her gaze, smiling softly at the sight of the balls. “Are you a Trainer?” he asked. Mutely, she shook her head, biting her tongue to keep from saying something she would most likely regret. He looked momentarily surprised, then slightly suspicious.

 

“Brendan,” he announced, holding out his hand to her. “There, see? Now I'm not a strange guy.”

 

She laughed awkwardly, shaking his hand firmly. “Mae. Thanks for hiding me.”

 

“So, how can you not be a Trainer?” Brendan asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. “I mean, your dad's a brilliant Leader, and apparently your sister is following directly in his footsteps, right?”

 

Doesn't beat around the bush, this one.

 

Mae glared coldly. “I just don't like them, okay?” she snapped, folding her arms over her aching chest. “Not everyone has to be obsessed with them.”

 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” He held out his hands in front of him, defensively, then went silent. Mae wanted very badly to kick herself or him—but preferably herself. The only friend you're gonna get in this pit and you've blown it. Great job, Mae, you even set a new record! Under five minutes—I'd applaud myself but it would take too much energy.

 

“Maybe,” Brendan said suddenly, snapping his fingers, “you'll think differently once you're more associated with them. I could go catch one for you if you like. Around here we've got Zigzagoon, Poochyena, Wurmple, sometimes a Lotad or two—aww, dammit, I forgot. I have to go help my dad with some fieldwork on Route 103. Maybe next time?” He looked at her, and there was both apology and hope in that glance. Mae hesitated… again.

 

Never again.

 

Carved into her heart.

 

“That's okay,” she said cautiously. “I'm good without them.”

 

His eyebrows simultaneously shot up so high Mae was afraid they would merge with his hairline and never escape. “If you're sure,” was his only reply, but the suspicion remained on his face as he ushered her out of the house. “I'll see you later,” he said, in almost a promising tone, before jogging off towards the little crack in the trees that allowed Trainers to come to and from Littleroot.

 

Mae watched him go, a deep frown on her face.

 

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A/N: So there it is, the first chapter of This Blood On My Hands. Personally, I don't like it as much as I could. I think I could have done a better job. But I really don't want to do another rewrite O.o Anyway, this chapter was really just to introduce some of the characters; a few others won't come in until later, and even more won't come in until waay later. So, you guys know what to do, right? Clicky-clicky the little button in the corner for review!! ^.^

 

--Snowhearte