Categories > Anime/Manga > Pokemon > Xanthic Growlithe Contract
Elliot tossed his pokeball. It split open in midair, white light swirling out to form into a growlithe. He barked, smelling something in the grass, and charged.
A meowth tumbled out of the grass.
Anyone who had trained meowth would have noticed this one looked quite scrawny compared to their own, but would not have minded. It was, after all, common knowledge that trained pokemon were much larger than their wild counterparts. For this reason, trainers didn't hesitate to capture pokemon which were undersized, knowing they'd soon bulk up.
"Attack, Howler!" he yelled. "Bite!"
Pokemon, as it was commonly known, fight in the wild. But it might still seem odd, if one thought about it, that upon discovery they attacked rather than ran. What drove this response, so futile? And it was similarly odd, if one thought about it, that creatures who had previous experience fighting would so badly misjudge their opponent. And it was very, very odd that, in such a world, they would ever fight to the point of collapse rather than at least making an attempt to escape.
But they did, as everyone knew, so such oddities were clearly simple misunderstanding with the way pokemon behaved, things which would one day be understood. Of course, with all the time and money spent on researching pokemon, one might have thought such simple behavioral research would have been conducted decades ago. But it was undoubtedly hard for researchers to study wild pokemon, because they rarely did.
The meowth made a few scratch attempts, then collapsed. Elliot tossed a pokeball, and the meowth turned into red light and slid into the open maw of the ball. It snapped shut, twitched once, then dinged, signifying the capture of the ten-year-old's first pokemon.
*
For someone who had spent their childhood daydreaming of being a trainer, Elliot might have seemed woefully unprepared. He had no real idea of what pokemon he wanted, no idea of what he was going to do as a trainer. Elliot's interest, like that of most children, had been limited to that daydream. His awareness of it was mainly through televised tournaments and schoolyard boasting, not books. Although he had learned some strategies, that was because pokemon advice was everywhere, and through repetition, some stuck.
Now that, walking, he had nothing more to think about, his thoughts revolved around what pokemon he should catch next. Certainly not a common pokemon - he'd be so embarrassed to try to fight another trainer with a rattata or pidgey. Only little kids had those. But beyond that, he really didn't know. He'd caught the meowth because it had appeared, and would probably do the same with the next mildly novel pokemon to appear. As long as it wasn't a pokemon he was extremely familiar with, like a spearow, he'd try to catch it. Planning, type variety, balance - all these things did not occur to him even for a moment.
Is this really surprising? He was, after all, ten years old.
Although he was proud of his first capture, he hadn't released it. He certainly intended to be friends with his pokemon, but he hadn't thought of that yet. The meowth was injured, so it couldn't be used in battles. He wasn't vapid enough to forget this, and because he was a child, and because he did think about them in terms of battles, he had written it off. He would not think of doing anything with it until it was healed at the Pokemon Center. Then he might take it out and make friends. The mind's logic can be a strange thing at times.
Loneliness had not set in yet. The first stirrings of missing people had only just started, and he did not recognize them yet. He felt slightly odd, and he wanted to get to the next city soon, but did not think of why that was. It had simply not occurred to him that he missed talking, seeing and being around others. It was one of the things not mentioned in stories about trainers, and besides, he wasn't a kid anymore. Why should he miss anyone?
He did walk more quickly, no longer entranced by his surroundings. And before long he found himself at Cerulean.
To the well-traveled, Cerulean was nothing of importance. It was a place big enough not to be a backwater, but no larger. The buildings were one or two stories high, the streets in good condition but not coated with travelers. It was a nice, wholesome, moderately developed place. A suburban city.
Elliot, however, was not well-traveled. He didn't quite walk around with his mouth open, but it was close. He was impressed, and of course, felt the same surge of prideful maturity he felt walking through the forest. This place wasn't like his old, familiar town, where he'd done everything there was to do ten times over. It was new, exciting, a challenge he was worthy of.
The first such challenge, of course, was getting to the Pokemon Center. He might not be experienced, but he wanted to fight at the gym and, if nothing else, he did know to heal his pokemon before a major battle.
The city, luckily, was not particularly large, and it was laid out in a neat and orderly manner. Inevitably, he stumbled upon the building. It was large and distinctive, so that he recognized it and headed there without a pause.
Inside, the smiling, pink-haired woman (was Joy her name or her title? he wondered) took his two pokeballs and told him she'd be back in just a few minutes.
He lounged on one of the plush, overstuffed chairs while he waited, feeling excited and anxious to go.
"A gyarados?" a boy nearby said. "Bad luck."
"Worst thing is," said another voice, "I saw her fighting some other kid and she just used a seel. I guess I look too old."
There was the squeak of springs that accompanies someone jerking upright in his seat. "Be quiet," the boy hissed. "Don't say that here!"
Before Elliot could start to wonder what they were talking about, the inner doors dinged and opened. He stood up and retrieved his two pokemon from Joy, forgetting the conversation.
Elliot had neglected to ask where the gym might be, but as luck would have it, most Pokemon Gyms were built near Pokemon Centers, or perhaps Pokemon Centers were built near Pokemon Gyms. At any rate, it took him only ten minutes before he saw a sign for the city's gym. Following it, he saw the huge, dome-shaped building. Feeling once again as if he had accomplished something impressive with remarkable ease, he entered.
A meowth tumbled out of the grass.
Anyone who had trained meowth would have noticed this one looked quite scrawny compared to their own, but would not have minded. It was, after all, common knowledge that trained pokemon were much larger than their wild counterparts. For this reason, trainers didn't hesitate to capture pokemon which were undersized, knowing they'd soon bulk up.
"Attack, Howler!" he yelled. "Bite!"
Pokemon, as it was commonly known, fight in the wild. But it might still seem odd, if one thought about it, that upon discovery they attacked rather than ran. What drove this response, so futile? And it was similarly odd, if one thought about it, that creatures who had previous experience fighting would so badly misjudge their opponent. And it was very, very odd that, in such a world, they would ever fight to the point of collapse rather than at least making an attempt to escape.
But they did, as everyone knew, so such oddities were clearly simple misunderstanding with the way pokemon behaved, things which would one day be understood. Of course, with all the time and money spent on researching pokemon, one might have thought such simple behavioral research would have been conducted decades ago. But it was undoubtedly hard for researchers to study wild pokemon, because they rarely did.
The meowth made a few scratch attempts, then collapsed. Elliot tossed a pokeball, and the meowth turned into red light and slid into the open maw of the ball. It snapped shut, twitched once, then dinged, signifying the capture of the ten-year-old's first pokemon.
*
For someone who had spent their childhood daydreaming of being a trainer, Elliot might have seemed woefully unprepared. He had no real idea of what pokemon he wanted, no idea of what he was going to do as a trainer. Elliot's interest, like that of most children, had been limited to that daydream. His awareness of it was mainly through televised tournaments and schoolyard boasting, not books. Although he had learned some strategies, that was because pokemon advice was everywhere, and through repetition, some stuck.
Now that, walking, he had nothing more to think about, his thoughts revolved around what pokemon he should catch next. Certainly not a common pokemon - he'd be so embarrassed to try to fight another trainer with a rattata or pidgey. Only little kids had those. But beyond that, he really didn't know. He'd caught the meowth because it had appeared, and would probably do the same with the next mildly novel pokemon to appear. As long as it wasn't a pokemon he was extremely familiar with, like a spearow, he'd try to catch it. Planning, type variety, balance - all these things did not occur to him even for a moment.
Is this really surprising? He was, after all, ten years old.
Although he was proud of his first capture, he hadn't released it. He certainly intended to be friends with his pokemon, but he hadn't thought of that yet. The meowth was injured, so it couldn't be used in battles. He wasn't vapid enough to forget this, and because he was a child, and because he did think about them in terms of battles, he had written it off. He would not think of doing anything with it until it was healed at the Pokemon Center. Then he might take it out and make friends. The mind's logic can be a strange thing at times.
Loneliness had not set in yet. The first stirrings of missing people had only just started, and he did not recognize them yet. He felt slightly odd, and he wanted to get to the next city soon, but did not think of why that was. It had simply not occurred to him that he missed talking, seeing and being around others. It was one of the things not mentioned in stories about trainers, and besides, he wasn't a kid anymore. Why should he miss anyone?
He did walk more quickly, no longer entranced by his surroundings. And before long he found himself at Cerulean.
To the well-traveled, Cerulean was nothing of importance. It was a place big enough not to be a backwater, but no larger. The buildings were one or two stories high, the streets in good condition but not coated with travelers. It was a nice, wholesome, moderately developed place. A suburban city.
Elliot, however, was not well-traveled. He didn't quite walk around with his mouth open, but it was close. He was impressed, and of course, felt the same surge of prideful maturity he felt walking through the forest. This place wasn't like his old, familiar town, where he'd done everything there was to do ten times over. It was new, exciting, a challenge he was worthy of.
The first such challenge, of course, was getting to the Pokemon Center. He might not be experienced, but he wanted to fight at the gym and, if nothing else, he did know to heal his pokemon before a major battle.
The city, luckily, was not particularly large, and it was laid out in a neat and orderly manner. Inevitably, he stumbled upon the building. It was large and distinctive, so that he recognized it and headed there without a pause.
Inside, the smiling, pink-haired woman (was Joy her name or her title? he wondered) took his two pokeballs and told him she'd be back in just a few minutes.
He lounged on one of the plush, overstuffed chairs while he waited, feeling excited and anxious to go.
"A gyarados?" a boy nearby said. "Bad luck."
"Worst thing is," said another voice, "I saw her fighting some other kid and she just used a seel. I guess I look too old."
There was the squeak of springs that accompanies someone jerking upright in his seat. "Be quiet," the boy hissed. "Don't say that here!"
Before Elliot could start to wonder what they were talking about, the inner doors dinged and opened. He stood up and retrieved his two pokemon from Joy, forgetting the conversation.
Elliot had neglected to ask where the gym might be, but as luck would have it, most Pokemon Gyms were built near Pokemon Centers, or perhaps Pokemon Centers were built near Pokemon Gyms. At any rate, it took him only ten minutes before he saw a sign for the city's gym. Following it, he saw the huge, dome-shaped building. Feeling once again as if he had accomplished something impressive with remarkable ease, he entered.
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