Fandom #10: Pokemon, "Birthday Boy"
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100fandomhellTitle: Birthday Boy
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Fandom: Pokemon
Wordcount or Timestamp: 3,673
He has seen this all before. He has seen the pain. He has seen the suffering. He has held creatures far more innocent than even anything living today in his arms as they died, having been battled to death either by their trainers who were supposed to care for them or by other, stronger species of Pokémon that would not stop. It isn't just the humans who are cruel, although he would like to think so. Too often the humans manage to turn Pokémon against Pokémon. That is when the skies truly weep, when he weeps, and when he gets to be too much, he remakes the world.
They had almost gone extinct the last time, not just the species that many trainers and mightier Pokémon would consider weaker, but all of the Pokémon species and all the humans too. They had almost battled, and not just in training, to the point of completely wiping out their own world. Perhaps he should have allowed it, but that was the problem of recreating species and worlds when none of them managed to keep their memories. Wiping everything clean had its advantages and its disadvantages, which was part of the reason why he tried not to do it too often.
But he never forgot. He never forgot one single face, one cry, one gentle, helping hand, or one brutal slaying. He never forgot any of it, not from the very first world. He didn't know where he himself had done from. He wished he did; perhaps that knowledge would lead him to greater understanding and, ultimately, a better solution to help the mess that called themselves the human species. If he could find a way to actually make them all understand that they were hurting one another, and to not allow them to forget the pains that they themselves and those they chose felt, maybe it would do some good.
Maybe someone, for once, would actually care that they were getting a second chance and act accordingly. He'd known a few over his millennias who actually did seem to learn, but it was only ever a very few, regardless of what world or life they were in. There were a few special spirits in each world and time, some belonging to humans, some belonging to Pokémon, but there never seemed to be enough. No matter how many wars he stopped, no matter how many beings he guided to true wisdom, light, and love, *in the end, there were always far too many who refused to learn, who refused to change, and who thought, ever so mistakenly, that true power and might came from defeating others, from destroying others, from killing others.
He wept with the world when it wept, and the Earth could feel everything. She felt every life taken, every sacrifice made, every voice that died or was otherwise silenced from singing. She felt every slap, every punch, every time a trainer was cruel to a Pokémon or another of their own kind. She felt every death, every sorrow, every betrayal, but some stung more than others, which was what had brought him here to this place in time and to this certain boy.
There had been others before him; there would be others after. There would be millions of special souls long after this one was gone, but there was something... Well, he thought with a disdainful sniff, he would never say something extra special for such did not exist. He was the only extra special being there was in this world or any other.
But... There was something about this boy, this boy curled up at the base of a tree in the middle of a forest, this boy who had never been wanted by his own kind though he had done nothing wrong. He had not been wanted by his own parents, which in his opinion, was a great sin in and of itself. Life was a blessing. The couple should have pleased they had been blessed with child, but instead they had always mistreated the boy until finally he'd come home one day to find them mysteriously gone. He had searched for them for hours to no avail while they sang, drank, and gambled in a town miles away.
It had only been their first stop, and they had sought to put as much distance between themselves and their own child as they could, lest the lonely, little boy ever find them. It had taken the child years, but eventually he had learned he had to give up on them. Before then, though, he had searched and searched everywhere. He had faced dangers that adults twice his age, size, and might would have flown from, wailing like injured Phantumps. He had gone many nights without a thing to eat or a drop of water only to awaken the next morning to a small piece of food and some form of water not too far away.
There was something about this boy with the shock of red hair on his otherwise pale head. There always had been. He had cried watching the boy cry every night and knowing he was helpless, lest he break his own creed, to help the boy, who, though he was growing in years, was still nothing more than a baby to the infinite being watching over him. He could have broken his word, but he knew what happened every time he had done so in the past. Every single time he had interfered in the lives of humans, he, and often the surrounding Pokémon, had regretted it.
Yet he had continued to watch this child grow, as he watched over all souls, but unlike the other souls, no matter what the cruel world around him did to him, this blessed child had not lost faith. He had eventually given up on ever finding his parents again and had begun to volunteer at a local Pokémart, where a Nurse Jenny had begun to feed him. She also did not know how to help him, but she tried. She made sure he took nourishment, and she watched him grow and begin to heal.
She watched him play with the Pokémon who came to her, for although of her little establishment as a Pokémon, it was not called that yet. That name had not yet come about in this world. It would. Humans had a strange habit, he'd found, of always ending up naming certain things the same names. He supposed it was what little their tiny minds could create, but at least it was something genuinely created among all the devastation that their species wrecked.
The boy had a natural gift of it. Arceus had known that the boy would be a healer. He had known since long before his greatest grandfather had been a gleam in their mother's eye, just as he knew every name and face of every healer yet to be born. He knew what these people would do. He knew every decision they would make before they were ever confronted with the choice. He knew everything they would say, everything they would do, and that perhaps was why he knew they would always end up upsetting him. Perhaps it was why he always ended up recreating his egg, stepping back into it, and wiping out the current existence before eventually trying yet again to make a world where Pokémon, humans, and all the other species he put into this ball of earth, mud, and water would actually, peacefully coexist.
Arceus snorted again, blowing a puff of hot air at his white mane. He should give up really, but he always ends up getting bored. Besides, it really is an awfully lonely life, being the only living being in all the world. It was lonely enough being the only one of his vast intelligence and power, but he'd learned to accept that fate long ago. Even if Pokémon and humans ever learned to truly get along together, he would never be able to simply walk among them again.
Oh, he can, and often does, walk among them even now, but he knows what happens starting the moment he reveals himself to them. Some want to experiment on him. Some want to beg and plead for his miracles. Many, many others, most others in fact, just want his power for their own, something they can never achieve.
He doesn't know why he it is, how he came to be the only one of his kind. He feels like there was something before the egg, and there are times when he gets flashes of brief memories but never anything much more than the gentle hands that once glided comfortingly over his shining, white back. They are memories into which he long ago stopped trying to pry. If he is to know the truth one day of his own history, it will come when it is meant to happen and not a nanosecond before.
He would like to think the past does not matter, but he knows better. If these humans could remember their own pasts, perhaps they could break these vicious circles. Perhaps they could actually make lives worth saving, worth keeping, give him a reason not to grow frustrated with them and destroy everything for yet another clean start. Likewise, perhaps if he can have patience with the beings of such very basic minds, they can grow and one day learn something that will guide them to the right path of creating a world worthy of being saved.
But right now, as the boy child cries again, curled up into a tiny bundle at the bottom of the tree, Arceus' attention is not on the world as it so often is. Rather he is focused on one small and miserable child. This boy has tried so hard. He has learned much. He has loved with all his heart. Yet the most recent Pokémon who he nursed back together, the one with whom the foolish, though good-hearted, nurse had thought would be a good idea for him to begin a new journey, has fled him. He's been destroyed again. He's been hurt again, all because he opened himself up to a being he loved.
Arceus snorts. His golden hooves paw with frustration at the tender, moist earth beneath him. He can stand such pain, but he is an omnipotent being. He could do anything, even make these beasts love each other, but he believes in giving every sentient being the choice of making his, her, or its own decisions throughout life. How else are they actually going to learn, after all? Besides, he'd tried that forced love routine, and in the end, it left him feeling even more hurt and lonely than being surrounded by living beings whose simple minds cannot allow their eyes to see him.
Why is he even still watching this one child in particular? Why is he still watching this red-headed boy of all beings? There are millions of Pokémon across the world who need him, but there is something about this one, particular, small, and hurting human. That nurse should not have chosen an Abra to pair this boy with, let alone one who had already turned against his own kind and found fame and glory, or what he wrongly perceived to be such, in show business. The Abra would get his just desserts. Arceus did not have to lift a hoof to see that that happened; it was something written in the laws long ago, long before the first world even he recalls, that always scores just retribution.
But still, he cannot ignore this child's cries. He cannot ignore his cries any more than he had been able to allow him to stay hungry and thirsty. He had actually led him to Nurse Joy one night, thinking perhaps that she would have the intelligence to heal a human child as she did Pokémon, but clearly the nurse had not been the right one for this mission. If he intervened directly, however, he was opening himself up to be hurt, something he would not tolerate. The boy had not hurt anyone else yet -- he had only been hurt --, but Arceus knew better than to trust that history. Too often, humans hurt others only after they were first hurt themselves.
He could not turn his back, however. He never could on innocent creatures, and it pained him terribly to do so even if they were vicious killers. Everyone deserved chances to right themselves, no matter how many countless times they squandered those chances. But what was he to do? How could he help this child without going against the very thing he had promised himself he would not do?
He heard a soft snuffling in grass. His regal head turned toward the sound. His thoughtful eyes swept over the grazing Taurus, and in a moment, Arceus had his solution. He would not -- He could not, he corrected himself for he could do anything but some things were simply not wise mistakes to continue making. He could not intervene directly with humankind, not again. But he could always communicate freely with Pokémon.
The Taurus lifted his head, his three tails whipping fiercely as he felt the touch of another, far superior Pokémon's mind upon his own. He listened, steam blowing out of his nose, and then he leaped. In a series of leaps that would have been grandiose to any human who could have seen them -- not that any were watching this part of the forest -- but were still akin only to a Tympole's feeble attempts to jump when compared to Arceus' own, graceful leaps and bounds, the Taurus bounded to the child's side.
A Marshadow eased slowly up out of the ground beside the boy, but he need not move so slowly and quietly for the boy had finally cried himself to sleep. The Taurus' bounds would have awakened any other sleeping being, but a Jigglypuff had begun to sing nearby. The Taurus snorted, shook his head, and struggled to keep his eyes open as the Marshadow lifted the boy onto the bull Pokémon's back. If the child were to wake at this time, he would only think he was dreaming. Arceus smiled with satisfaction.
A pink Pokémon glided out of the bush, having also heard Arceus' silent cry. She looked fondly upon the sleeping lad but then slapped Taurus very gently with her tail. Despite her gentility, the strike still packed a whallop, and it was only Arceus' presence that kept a very one-ended battle from breaking open. "Mew," the other Pokémon whispered gently before placing her paws over the Taurus' ears and perching herself on his head. The Taurus took off running.
The Marshadow, left behind, wiped his little, ghostly hands together, looked pointedly at Arceus, and shook his head. Arceus narrowed his eyes at him, and the Marshadow fled. Arceus snorted and pawed the ground again beneath his golden hooves! He would not be questioned! He was the Maker of everything around him, of every living being in this world! He knew what he was doing! It was exactly why he had called Pokémon to help the lad rather than intervene directly with him himself!
This particular Taurus was blessed with superior speed and was able to cover hundreds of miles in record time, but Arceus was there beside him and the waiting Chansey in a blink of the bull Pokémon's eyes. Arceus warily eyed the egg that Chansey carried. Those Pokémon were born with eggs, not unlike the time-traveling egg from which he was born and which he had never been able to fully explain. But hers was one of the most respectful species of anything living across the globe. Researching them might lead him to more of the answers he desired, but they were one of the least troublesome species. Honestly, if more of the Pokémon carried themselves like the healing Chanceys, there might be less conflict between them and humans -- well, he snorted, there might at least be less conflict between the thousands of Pokémon species.
He nodded once to the Chancey who hovered over the boy as the Mew laid him before her. Mew shied almost as swiftly away as Chancey settled into begin her work. The boy began to stir, groaning in his sleep. Tears slipped down his face. She stroked his small head, softly singing to him, and stuffed wads of grass into her ears with her free hand. Then she motioned for a Jigglypuff to join her.
The Jigglypuff hopped over quickly, but when she pulled out a marker, the Chancey glowered and struck it out of her hand. Jigglypuff's lower lip wobbled, but before she could break into tears, Chancey told her that this boy had to be saved. They worked all night, Jigglypuff keeping the child asleep and Chancey working on healing him. The Taurus wandered away in search of more, and hopefully sweeter, grass. Pokémon came and went all around them.
But when the boy woke in the heat of the following day, he found that he was far from alone. Two Pokémon he had never before seen slept soundly beside him, one with strange, ink markings on her face and an egg in her belly and the other snoring loudly. He grunted and stretched slowly, and then he realized that he was not where he last remembered being. Then he stopped again, puzzled.
Where had he been? Who was he? He looked around him, and he knew the beings that he saw. He recognized the Meowth and Growlithe playing chase together. A Bulbasaur hopped underneath a superior Ivysaur's legs. A Squirtle had begun a game of water tag with a Grotle; a Poliwag darted up from somewhere and blew water at both of them. Myncis swung in the trees while a smaller tree moved shyly not too far away from him. The sweet songs of Swablus, Swellows, and Swannas filled the Spring-like air while Pidgeys, Fletchlings, Starlies, and even an Articuno flew in the blue sky above. He thought he could see hints of a giant Lugia behind the fluffy, white clouds but was called away by other Pokémon sounds.
Two Vulpixes barked while they stayed close to a Ninetails' regal feet and bushy tails. Ponytas, Tauruses, and Milktanks grazed around him, and he was pretty sure he could see a horn on at least one of their fiery heads. A Farfetch'd practiced his moves by himself with a giant, leek stalk while a flock of Oricorios practiced their cheers, being led by a Bellossom. Kirlias and Roselias spun nearby. Kangaskhans played with their babies. Hitmons practiced in civil matches.
The boy could not believe his luck! Where had he fallen last night? What had he been doing? What could he have been doing or going to awaken to what seemed to him like Paradise? As far as his eyes could see, there were Pokémon everywhere!
"Drow -- "
"Please don't!" he called, finding his voice when a Drowzee waved his hands at him. He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. When he reopened them, a Charmeleon, Golem, Persian, and Houndoom had all fallen over before the Drowzee. The Drowzee stared into the boy's eyes. The child lifted his hands to protect himself, but the Drowzee simply turned away.
Where was he? Who was he? Questions plagued the child's mind. He could vaguely remember gentle hands at some point last night, but whose were they? He recalled flashes of an older woman with pink hair dressed in pink clothes and a sweet smile, but he could not recall her name either, or where she lived, where he lived. He shook his head slowly, both amazed and baffled.
Patrats and Pachirisu chattered suddenly and angrily in the tree above his head. A Patrat jumped onto a branch and began leaping up and down on it, chattering angrily at the single Pachirisu whose cheeks were blowing out with his anger. Acorns rained on the boy's head. "HEY!" he shouted, finally moving to his feet.
Chancey and Jigglypuff began to stir at the unexpected shout. More acorns fell, hitting their heads. The boy quickly pulled them out of the path of the acorns, but when he turned back to face the Patrat and Pachirisu, it was too late. Pachirisu released her charge, blasting the chattering Patrats. The boy dove and managed to catch both, breaking their falls. "There's plenty of acorns to go around!" he said. "Stop fighting!"
But suddenly, laying there on his back underneath the massive, ancient oak tree, he knew his name. Oak. His name was Oak.
Arceus smiled. Something told him, quite confidently, that he had made the right decisions, and neither he nor this boy was going to regret the path upon which he had set the tyke. He was going to be the first in a very long line to come. He could see that now, and perhaps, just perhaps, the Oaks would be the first humans to actually change the world for the better for Pokémon and humans alike. His smile grew, and for just a moment, he considered revealing himself.
Remembering other humans, though, who had disappointed him so greatly, he swiftly changed his mind. "Happy birthday, Professor Oak." His words sang on the breeze, but not in any language that the boy could understand yet. Ah well, perhaps he would regret it, perhaps he would not. He could see what was going to happen. He could see it all if he tried hard enough, but look as he might, he could not see the Oaks causing him regret. Still, it was possible. All the memories and images blurred too much into each other, and there was always, he knew, the chance that a human might surprise him again. Still even an omnipotent being could dream, and the world, even his, needed something to change it.
The End
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: PG/K+
Fandom: Pokemon
Wordcount or Timestamp: 3,673
He has seen this all before. He has seen the pain. He has seen the suffering. He has held creatures far more innocent than even anything living today in his arms as they died, having been battled to death either by their trainers who were supposed to care for them or by other, stronger species of Pokémon that would not stop. It isn't just the humans who are cruel, although he would like to think so. Too often the humans manage to turn Pokémon against Pokémon. That is when the skies truly weep, when he weeps, and when he gets to be too much, he remakes the world.
They had almost gone extinct the last time, not just the species that many trainers and mightier Pokémon would consider weaker, but all of the Pokémon species and all the humans too. They had almost battled, and not just in training, to the point of completely wiping out their own world. Perhaps he should have allowed it, but that was the problem of recreating species and worlds when none of them managed to keep their memories. Wiping everything clean had its advantages and its disadvantages, which was part of the reason why he tried not to do it too often.
But he never forgot. He never forgot one single face, one cry, one gentle, helping hand, or one brutal slaying. He never forgot any of it, not from the very first world. He didn't know where he himself had done from. He wished he did; perhaps that knowledge would lead him to greater understanding and, ultimately, a better solution to help the mess that called themselves the human species. If he could find a way to actually make them all understand that they were hurting one another, and to not allow them to forget the pains that they themselves and those they chose felt, maybe it would do some good.
Maybe someone, for once, would actually care that they were getting a second chance and act accordingly. He'd known a few over his millennias who actually did seem to learn, but it was only ever a very few, regardless of what world or life they were in. There were a few special spirits in each world and time, some belonging to humans, some belonging to Pokémon, but there never seemed to be enough. No matter how many wars he stopped, no matter how many beings he guided to true wisdom, light, and love, *in the end, there were always far too many who refused to learn, who refused to change, and who thought, ever so mistakenly, that true power and might came from defeating others, from destroying others, from killing others.
He wept with the world when it wept, and the Earth could feel everything. She felt every life taken, every sacrifice made, every voice that died or was otherwise silenced from singing. She felt every slap, every punch, every time a trainer was cruel to a Pokémon or another of their own kind. She felt every death, every sorrow, every betrayal, but some stung more than others, which was what had brought him here to this place in time and to this certain boy.
There had been others before him; there would be others after. There would be millions of special souls long after this one was gone, but there was something... Well, he thought with a disdainful sniff, he would never say something extra special for such did not exist. He was the only extra special being there was in this world or any other.
But... There was something about this boy, this boy curled up at the base of a tree in the middle of a forest, this boy who had never been wanted by his own kind though he had done nothing wrong. He had not been wanted by his own parents, which in his opinion, was a great sin in and of itself. Life was a blessing. The couple should have pleased they had been blessed with child, but instead they had always mistreated the boy until finally he'd come home one day to find them mysteriously gone. He had searched for them for hours to no avail while they sang, drank, and gambled in a town miles away.
It had only been their first stop, and they had sought to put as much distance between themselves and their own child as they could, lest the lonely, little boy ever find them. It had taken the child years, but eventually he had learned he had to give up on them. Before then, though, he had searched and searched everywhere. He had faced dangers that adults twice his age, size, and might would have flown from, wailing like injured Phantumps. He had gone many nights without a thing to eat or a drop of water only to awaken the next morning to a small piece of food and some form of water not too far away.
There was something about this boy with the shock of red hair on his otherwise pale head. There always had been. He had cried watching the boy cry every night and knowing he was helpless, lest he break his own creed, to help the boy, who, though he was growing in years, was still nothing more than a baby to the infinite being watching over him. He could have broken his word, but he knew what happened every time he had done so in the past. Every single time he had interfered in the lives of humans, he, and often the surrounding Pokémon, had regretted it.
Yet he had continued to watch this child grow, as he watched over all souls, but unlike the other souls, no matter what the cruel world around him did to him, this blessed child had not lost faith. He had eventually given up on ever finding his parents again and had begun to volunteer at a local Pokémart, where a Nurse Jenny had begun to feed him. She also did not know how to help him, but she tried. She made sure he took nourishment, and she watched him grow and begin to heal.
She watched him play with the Pokémon who came to her, for although of her little establishment as a Pokémon, it was not called that yet. That name had not yet come about in this world. It would. Humans had a strange habit, he'd found, of always ending up naming certain things the same names. He supposed it was what little their tiny minds could create, but at least it was something genuinely created among all the devastation that their species wrecked.
The boy had a natural gift of it. Arceus had known that the boy would be a healer. He had known since long before his greatest grandfather had been a gleam in their mother's eye, just as he knew every name and face of every healer yet to be born. He knew what these people would do. He knew every decision they would make before they were ever confronted with the choice. He knew everything they would say, everything they would do, and that perhaps was why he knew they would always end up upsetting him. Perhaps it was why he always ended up recreating his egg, stepping back into it, and wiping out the current existence before eventually trying yet again to make a world where Pokémon, humans, and all the other species he put into this ball of earth, mud, and water would actually, peacefully coexist.
Arceus snorted again, blowing a puff of hot air at his white mane. He should give up really, but he always ends up getting bored. Besides, it really is an awfully lonely life, being the only living being in all the world. It was lonely enough being the only one of his vast intelligence and power, but he'd learned to accept that fate long ago. Even if Pokémon and humans ever learned to truly get along together, he would never be able to simply walk among them again.
Oh, he can, and often does, walk among them even now, but he knows what happens starting the moment he reveals himself to them. Some want to experiment on him. Some want to beg and plead for his miracles. Many, many others, most others in fact, just want his power for their own, something they can never achieve.
He doesn't know why he it is, how he came to be the only one of his kind. He feels like there was something before the egg, and there are times when he gets flashes of brief memories but never anything much more than the gentle hands that once glided comfortingly over his shining, white back. They are memories into which he long ago stopped trying to pry. If he is to know the truth one day of his own history, it will come when it is meant to happen and not a nanosecond before.
He would like to think the past does not matter, but he knows better. If these humans could remember their own pasts, perhaps they could break these vicious circles. Perhaps they could actually make lives worth saving, worth keeping, give him a reason not to grow frustrated with them and destroy everything for yet another clean start. Likewise, perhaps if he can have patience with the beings of such very basic minds, they can grow and one day learn something that will guide them to the right path of creating a world worthy of being saved.
But right now, as the boy child cries again, curled up into a tiny bundle at the bottom of the tree, Arceus' attention is not on the world as it so often is. Rather he is focused on one small and miserable child. This boy has tried so hard. He has learned much. He has loved with all his heart. Yet the most recent Pokémon who he nursed back together, the one with whom the foolish, though good-hearted, nurse had thought would be a good idea for him to begin a new journey, has fled him. He's been destroyed again. He's been hurt again, all because he opened himself up to a being he loved.
Arceus snorts. His golden hooves paw with frustration at the tender, moist earth beneath him. He can stand such pain, but he is an omnipotent being. He could do anything, even make these beasts love each other, but he believes in giving every sentient being the choice of making his, her, or its own decisions throughout life. How else are they actually going to learn, after all? Besides, he'd tried that forced love routine, and in the end, it left him feeling even more hurt and lonely than being surrounded by living beings whose simple minds cannot allow their eyes to see him.
Why is he even still watching this one child in particular? Why is he still watching this red-headed boy of all beings? There are millions of Pokémon across the world who need him, but there is something about this one, particular, small, and hurting human. That nurse should not have chosen an Abra to pair this boy with, let alone one who had already turned against his own kind and found fame and glory, or what he wrongly perceived to be such, in show business. The Abra would get his just desserts. Arceus did not have to lift a hoof to see that that happened; it was something written in the laws long ago, long before the first world even he recalls, that always scores just retribution.
But still, he cannot ignore this child's cries. He cannot ignore his cries any more than he had been able to allow him to stay hungry and thirsty. He had actually led him to Nurse Joy one night, thinking perhaps that she would have the intelligence to heal a human child as she did Pokémon, but clearly the nurse had not been the right one for this mission. If he intervened directly, however, he was opening himself up to be hurt, something he would not tolerate. The boy had not hurt anyone else yet -- he had only been hurt --, but Arceus knew better than to trust that history. Too often, humans hurt others only after they were first hurt themselves.
He could not turn his back, however. He never could on innocent creatures, and it pained him terribly to do so even if they were vicious killers. Everyone deserved chances to right themselves, no matter how many countless times they squandered those chances. But what was he to do? How could he help this child without going against the very thing he had promised himself he would not do?
He heard a soft snuffling in grass. His regal head turned toward the sound. His thoughtful eyes swept over the grazing Taurus, and in a moment, Arceus had his solution. He would not -- He could not, he corrected himself for he could do anything but some things were simply not wise mistakes to continue making. He could not intervene directly with humankind, not again. But he could always communicate freely with Pokémon.
The Taurus lifted his head, his three tails whipping fiercely as he felt the touch of another, far superior Pokémon's mind upon his own. He listened, steam blowing out of his nose, and then he leaped. In a series of leaps that would have been grandiose to any human who could have seen them -- not that any were watching this part of the forest -- but were still akin only to a Tympole's feeble attempts to jump when compared to Arceus' own, graceful leaps and bounds, the Taurus bounded to the child's side.
A Marshadow eased slowly up out of the ground beside the boy, but he need not move so slowly and quietly for the boy had finally cried himself to sleep. The Taurus' bounds would have awakened any other sleeping being, but a Jigglypuff had begun to sing nearby. The Taurus snorted, shook his head, and struggled to keep his eyes open as the Marshadow lifted the boy onto the bull Pokémon's back. If the child were to wake at this time, he would only think he was dreaming. Arceus smiled with satisfaction.
A pink Pokémon glided out of the bush, having also heard Arceus' silent cry. She looked fondly upon the sleeping lad but then slapped Taurus very gently with her tail. Despite her gentility, the strike still packed a whallop, and it was only Arceus' presence that kept a very one-ended battle from breaking open. "Mew," the other Pokémon whispered gently before placing her paws over the Taurus' ears and perching herself on his head. The Taurus took off running.
The Marshadow, left behind, wiped his little, ghostly hands together, looked pointedly at Arceus, and shook his head. Arceus narrowed his eyes at him, and the Marshadow fled. Arceus snorted and pawed the ground again beneath his golden hooves! He would not be questioned! He was the Maker of everything around him, of every living being in this world! He knew what he was doing! It was exactly why he had called Pokémon to help the lad rather than intervene directly with him himself!
This particular Taurus was blessed with superior speed and was able to cover hundreds of miles in record time, but Arceus was there beside him and the waiting Chansey in a blink of the bull Pokémon's eyes. Arceus warily eyed the egg that Chansey carried. Those Pokémon were born with eggs, not unlike the time-traveling egg from which he was born and which he had never been able to fully explain. But hers was one of the most respectful species of anything living across the globe. Researching them might lead him to more of the answers he desired, but they were one of the least troublesome species. Honestly, if more of the Pokémon carried themselves like the healing Chanceys, there might be less conflict between them and humans -- well, he snorted, there might at least be less conflict between the thousands of Pokémon species.
He nodded once to the Chancey who hovered over the boy as the Mew laid him before her. Mew shied almost as swiftly away as Chancey settled into begin her work. The boy began to stir, groaning in his sleep. Tears slipped down his face. She stroked his small head, softly singing to him, and stuffed wads of grass into her ears with her free hand. Then she motioned for a Jigglypuff to join her.
The Jigglypuff hopped over quickly, but when she pulled out a marker, the Chancey glowered and struck it out of her hand. Jigglypuff's lower lip wobbled, but before she could break into tears, Chancey told her that this boy had to be saved. They worked all night, Jigglypuff keeping the child asleep and Chancey working on healing him. The Taurus wandered away in search of more, and hopefully sweeter, grass. Pokémon came and went all around them.
But when the boy woke in the heat of the following day, he found that he was far from alone. Two Pokémon he had never before seen slept soundly beside him, one with strange, ink markings on her face and an egg in her belly and the other snoring loudly. He grunted and stretched slowly, and then he realized that he was not where he last remembered being. Then he stopped again, puzzled.
Where had he been? Who was he? He looked around him, and he knew the beings that he saw. He recognized the Meowth and Growlithe playing chase together. A Bulbasaur hopped underneath a superior Ivysaur's legs. A Squirtle had begun a game of water tag with a Grotle; a Poliwag darted up from somewhere and blew water at both of them. Myncis swung in the trees while a smaller tree moved shyly not too far away from him. The sweet songs of Swablus, Swellows, and Swannas filled the Spring-like air while Pidgeys, Fletchlings, Starlies, and even an Articuno flew in the blue sky above. He thought he could see hints of a giant Lugia behind the fluffy, white clouds but was called away by other Pokémon sounds.
Two Vulpixes barked while they stayed close to a Ninetails' regal feet and bushy tails. Ponytas, Tauruses, and Milktanks grazed around him, and he was pretty sure he could see a horn on at least one of their fiery heads. A Farfetch'd practiced his moves by himself with a giant, leek stalk while a flock of Oricorios practiced their cheers, being led by a Bellossom. Kirlias and Roselias spun nearby. Kangaskhans played with their babies. Hitmons practiced in civil matches.
The boy could not believe his luck! Where had he fallen last night? What had he been doing? What could he have been doing or going to awaken to what seemed to him like Paradise? As far as his eyes could see, there were Pokémon everywhere!
"Drow -- "
"Please don't!" he called, finding his voice when a Drowzee waved his hands at him. He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. When he reopened them, a Charmeleon, Golem, Persian, and Houndoom had all fallen over before the Drowzee. The Drowzee stared into the boy's eyes. The child lifted his hands to protect himself, but the Drowzee simply turned away.
Where was he? Who was he? Questions plagued the child's mind. He could vaguely remember gentle hands at some point last night, but whose were they? He recalled flashes of an older woman with pink hair dressed in pink clothes and a sweet smile, but he could not recall her name either, or where she lived, where he lived. He shook his head slowly, both amazed and baffled.
Patrats and Pachirisu chattered suddenly and angrily in the tree above his head. A Patrat jumped onto a branch and began leaping up and down on it, chattering angrily at the single Pachirisu whose cheeks were blowing out with his anger. Acorns rained on the boy's head. "HEY!" he shouted, finally moving to his feet.
Chancey and Jigglypuff began to stir at the unexpected shout. More acorns fell, hitting their heads. The boy quickly pulled them out of the path of the acorns, but when he turned back to face the Patrat and Pachirisu, it was too late. Pachirisu released her charge, blasting the chattering Patrats. The boy dove and managed to catch both, breaking their falls. "There's plenty of acorns to go around!" he said. "Stop fighting!"
But suddenly, laying there on his back underneath the massive, ancient oak tree, he knew his name. Oak. His name was Oak.
Arceus smiled. Something told him, quite confidently, that he had made the right decisions, and neither he nor this boy was going to regret the path upon which he had set the tyke. He was going to be the first in a very long line to come. He could see that now, and perhaps, just perhaps, the Oaks would be the first humans to actually change the world for the better for Pokémon and humans alike. His smile grew, and for just a moment, he considered revealing himself.
Remembering other humans, though, who had disappointed him so greatly, he swiftly changed his mind. "Happy birthday, Professor Oak." His words sang on the breeze, but not in any language that the boy could understand yet. Ah well, perhaps he would regret it, perhaps he would not. He could see what was going to happen. He could see it all if he tried hard enough, but look as he might, he could not see the Oaks causing him regret. Still, it was possible. All the memories and images blurred too much into each other, and there was always, he knew, the chance that a human might surprise him again. Still even an omnipotent being could dream, and the world, even his, needed something to change it.
The End