"Wow! She sings so beautifully! I wanna be just like her when I grow up!" a wide-eyed, 10-year-old Sebastiano gushed in front of a television screen, watching a live performance by the famous pop singer Britney Spearow, the sparks of stage pyrotechnics igniting brighter sparks of inspiration within him. He obsessively nudged his disinterested friend like a power-tripping birthday-celebrating middle-schooler who'd picked up a baseball bat for the first time and was beating confirmation out of him like a piñata. "Isn't she amazing, Gabe?! ISN'T SHE?!?!"
"Ow! Quit hitting me! I'm a Ralts, not a Wobbuffet," the Pokémon snapped. He and Seb had known each other since they were kids, though that was just a nice way of saying his Ace Trainer parents didn't give him a fuck about him and stuck the Psychic type with their son to keep him company. The two complemented each other, yet they couldn't be more different. Gabe was a dry, impassable wall, while Seb was a wave of boundless energy that constantly crashed against it. Even the most fundamental thing about them—their goals—were irreconcilable, the Ralts striving to become a world-famous battling Pokémon and the human wishing to be a dolled-up stage princess.
"What's so great about Britney Spearow anyway? I mean, she's just opening her mouth and making noise. I sound better with a sore throat," Gabe continued. "Unless you're talking about her booty shake. Maybe I could twerk up an Earthquake like that if I were a Ground type, but I'd rather watch actual moves by actual trainers. Can we change the channel already?"
"You know what, Gabe? You're a beautiful singer yourself, but you don't realize what you have and talk about it like it's nothing. I'd kill to have a fraction of your talent," Seb retorted. "...But I'm not looking to get thrown in jail. Nor will I continue to rot in the prison of my living room! From now on, no more sitting in front of the TV! I'm 10 years old, and I'm setting off on a journey to fulfill my dreams! I'll travel Kalos, take lessons, and compete in singing competitions all across the region! And you're coming with me!"
"We are not starting a group," the Ralts promptly denied. As he winnowed out the merits of his speech, however, the idea didn't seem so bad. If he left the house with Seb as his trainer, they'd enter the Pokémon League, best the nation's Gyms, conquer the Elite Four, and secure global reputations as battlers.
"...But sure, I'll join you, and I'll even give you singing lessons," Gabe compromised. "On one condition—you do the League challenge and help me get stronger."
"Are you kidding? Battling is the worst. I'm better with my eyes closed," Seb scoffed.
Their conversation had devolved into a spat and they hadn't yet agreed on anything, but it was music to his father's ears. They'd barely stood up and unglued themselves from the screen when he rushed over from the kitchen and hurried them out the door.
"You kids are going on a journey?! That's great! My son is growing up so fast!" he prodded. "Now off you go!"
"Wait, we haven't decided! Or packed our stuff!" Seb protested.
"Oh, you'll be fine! I need you out of the house as soon as possible so I don't have to pay any more window repairs from your god-awful singing, and so your mother and I can finally go on that expensive vacation to Alola..."
"What was that, Dad?"
"It was nothing! Shoo, now!" he encouraged through a plastic smile, shoving Seb and Gabe out the door and slamming it in their faces. The two stood there and stared blankly for a while, the cynical Pokémon interpreting the shutting wood as a harsh disownment and the optimistic kid hearing a powerful close to the previous chapter of his life. The latter's silence was only the calm, and in the next second, he exploded in a storm of positive emotion.
"I'm glad Dad's so supportive!"
"Ow! Quit hitting me! I'm a Ralts, not a Wobbuffet," the Pokémon snapped. He and Seb had known each other since they were kids, though that was just a nice way of saying his Ace Trainer parents didn't give him a fuck about him and stuck the Psychic type with their son to keep him company. The two complemented each other, yet they couldn't be more different. Gabe was a dry, impassable wall, while Seb was a wave of boundless energy that constantly crashed against it. Even the most fundamental thing about them—their goals—were irreconcilable, the Ralts striving to become a world-famous battling Pokémon and the human wishing to be a dolled-up stage princess.
"What's so great about Britney Spearow anyway? I mean, she's just opening her mouth and making noise. I sound better with a sore throat," Gabe continued. "Unless you're talking about her booty shake. Maybe I could twerk up an Earthquake like that if I were a Ground type, but I'd rather watch actual moves by actual trainers. Can we change the channel already?"
"You know what, Gabe? You're a beautiful singer yourself, but you don't realize what you have and talk about it like it's nothing. I'd kill to have a fraction of your talent," Seb retorted. "...But I'm not looking to get thrown in jail. Nor will I continue to rot in the prison of my living room! From now on, no more sitting in front of the TV! I'm 10 years old, and I'm setting off on a journey to fulfill my dreams! I'll travel Kalos, take lessons, and compete in singing competitions all across the region! And you're coming with me!"
"We are not starting a group," the Ralts promptly denied. As he winnowed out the merits of his speech, however, the idea didn't seem so bad. If he left the house with Seb as his trainer, they'd enter the Pokémon League, best the nation's Gyms, conquer the Elite Four, and secure global reputations as battlers.
"...But sure, I'll join you, and I'll even give you singing lessons," Gabe compromised. "On one condition—you do the League challenge and help me get stronger."
"Are you kidding? Battling is the worst. I'm better with my eyes closed," Seb scoffed.
Their conversation had devolved into a spat and they hadn't yet agreed on anything, but it was music to his father's ears. They'd barely stood up and unglued themselves from the screen when he rushed over from the kitchen and hurried them out the door.
"You kids are going on a journey?! That's great! My son is growing up so fast!" he prodded. "Now off you go!"
"Wait, we haven't decided! Or packed our stuff!" Seb protested.
"Oh, you'll be fine! I need you out of the house as soon as possible so I don't have to pay any more window repairs from your god-awful singing, and so your mother and I can finally go on that expensive vacation to Alola..."
"What was that, Dad?"
"It was nothing! Shoo, now!" he encouraged through a plastic smile, shoving Seb and Gabe out the door and slamming it in their faces. The two stood there and stared blankly for a while, the cynical Pokémon interpreting the shutting wood as a harsh disownment and the optimistic kid hearing a powerful close to the previous chapter of his life. The latter's silence was only the calm, and in the next second, he exploded in a storm of positive emotion.
"I'm glad Dad's so supportive!"
