Pokemon Mahogany
Rhys' hands shook as he fiddled with his ceremonial robes. It was his first-ever pair, and he was still not used to them. Today was his tenth birthday, the day he would receive his first Pokemon, while others have to buy or catch one. In contrast, Rhys, as a member of a clan, had a Pokemon pre-selected and bred by his family.
He had waited so long for this day and couldn't stop thinking of the possibilities. His favorite choice was a Swinub, like his uncle; there was also an Absol, like his father, or a Sneasel, like his grandfather. There were other options as well: an Eevee to match with his mother's Glaceon, or a Teddiursa, but although the Mahogany Clan kept a few, though they weren't the Ice and Dark type Pokemon the clan was known for.
Of course, the fact that all of his likely options were ice types only heightened his pride. 'Clair said Swinubs aren't cool, but she's dumb. I bet she's just jealous that it's better than her dumb Horsea!' The youngest Blackthorn had gotten her Horsea last year and had gloated ever since.
Finally, Rhys had put his robes on correctly, smiling to himself in the mirror, the pink hair he had inherited from his mother greeting him.
Rhys turned away from the mirror, surveying his room. Rather than its usual messy appearance, he had dutifully–shoved all the mess under his bed and into his closet–cleaned up. Leaving his room spotlessly clean, although seeing such an open and empty room gave him the urge to start running around in circles.
Before he could distract himself again, a knock on the door and a gentle voice brought him to attention, "Rhys dear, are you ready? It's almost time."
"Yes, Mom, I'll be right out."
"It's mother, dear." She corrected; Rhys nodded, her voice bringing a smile to his face. He exited the room, doing his best to contain his excitement.
His mother looked down at him with a smile that didn't rise above her painted lips. She was dressed finely and carried herself with a grace she had perfected over many years. "Good, now come along, dear. Everyone's waiting."
She ushered him along with a hand on his back. His mother felt a small amount of pride in how he was handling himself; normally, he was utterly unruly, getting into fights with Clair, running around, trying to get into places he wasn't allowed, or trying to escape the grounds of the family mansion to venture into the nearby forest. Even now, every step he took sent a flutter of excitement running through his body, demanding that he run down the hall at full speed. Still, Rhys resisted that urge, even as he took shaky steps.
His mother sighed. One part of her was happy at the work he had put in to maintain his composure; another was tired of raising such a rambunctious and troublesome child.
It was only a short walk, and the pair arrived before the ceremony chamber. Outside, Pryce and his Mamoswine waited for them on either flank of the great double door that served as the entrance to the ceremony chamber.
"Rhys! How's my favorite nephew?" He said, waving at them.
"Great!" the boy said, almost bounding forward. "It's so good to see you, Uncle Pryce!"
The older man kneeled to greet his nephew. "It's good to see you too, Rhys. I trust you haven't been giving your mother any trouble." Beside him, the Mamoswine rolled its eyes. Everybody there but Rhys knew the real answer.
"Nope! I've been on my best behavior, you just see!"
His mother winced behind him at his explosion of emotion. She loved to see his shining face, but he was a handful. She hoped the responsibility of owning a Pokemon would mellow him out.
Pryce chuckled, patting Rhys on the head. "Well, I wish you luck, and don't worry; we chose the best Pokemon for you." There was a slight mischievous tinge to his uncle's smile, but only his mother saw it. Rhys was far too distracted to take notice.
Rhys nodded and went before the large double doors, breathing shakily. His mother stood behind him, praying for his success.
"All right, open up. The boys are ready." His uncle called, slamming the flat of his hand against the door.
As the smell of incense hit him, the doors slowly opened, revealing the barely lit chamber. Candlelight, turning the attendants into shadows. That was fine for Rhys; the only person in that room whom he wanted to see was his father. He stood behind a curtain at the opposite end of the room, an imposing silhouette next to the vague boxy silhouette of a small palanquin flanked by a pokemon that hid the identity of Rhys' first Pokemon, with a half-obscured pokemon at its flank. Beyond his immediate family, the shadowed forms of the Blackthorns, and his Uncle Koga sat. He could only make out Lance's full-toothed grin shining in the candlelight, while Clair and her parents melded into one silhouette. There were a dozen more people, notable attendants and servants, but Rhys gave them no mind.
Rhys walked forward, his mother following swiftly behind. He sat before the raised platform where a single cushion waited for him. He bowed as he sat, his eyes trained on the thin curtain that sat between him and his future. His heart beat faster than it ever had.
He heard the shuffling of his father's robes as he raised a hand.
CLANG!
The sound of the gong answered his father's wordless command, and the veil was lifted, revealing the silhouetted Pokemon.
She was a Sneasel; bluish-black fur, two pointed ears with a short spiked feather gave away her gender, and a pair of claws on each hand. He had studied Sneasels and could tell that her short stature–even for her species–was because of her young age. She had an elegant, peaceful look on her face as she held her eyes closed. A male Weavile flanked her, with an impressive plumage of feathers atop its head.
In between them sat the black Pokeball atop another cushion, shining in the candlelight.
Rhys was in awe. He had seen both Sneasels and Weaviles before, but at this moment, she, his first Pokemon, was the most beautiful one he had ever seen. This was his Sneasel, his present, the Pokemon which marked the start of his journey and the beginning of Clair and his clan recognizing him as–
WHACK!
Rhys bounced back and fell onto the floor as a black pokeball slammed into his face.
The room went silent as everyone looked at Rhys sprawled on the floor before all eyes were drawn to the assailant. The Sneasel stood victorious over Rhys, raising a claw in the air as she released a triumphant trill. It took the Weavile standing behind her a second to snap out of his shock before he promptly slammed the blunt of his claws into the back of her head, knocking her out cold.
Pryce burst out into laughter as the furious Weavile growled loudly at the unconscious Sneasel. In the gallery, Lance and Claire could barely contain themselves, their parents looming over them. Behind him, Rhys' mother stepped forward as she went for her own Pokeball.
"No," Rhys' father said, holding up a hand. "Let him get up on his own."
Rhys rubbed his face as he sat up from the floor, stunned as he realized what had happened. The angry chirps of the Weavile echoed in his mind. Beside him, the Pokeball sat listlessly on the floor. Rhys took the ball off the floor with a shaky hand and looked at his own reflection on its surface. He was red with embarrassment; he could feel everyone's eyes on him, judging him. He fought the urge to snarl or frown as he took his eyes off his reflection in the pokeball and looked straight ahead at the Sneasel as the Weavile berated it.
Hate, furious, childish hatred overtook him for a moment, and he thought he would throw the Pokeball to the floor, shattering it into a million pieces before he left the Sneasel. Instead, he clutched the Pokeball tightly and tossed it towards the incapacitated Sneasel.
The ball bounced against the Sneasel's head with a hollow, wooden sound before the Sneasel disappeared into it with a flash of red. The Weavile looked at Rhys, and the two held each other's gaze as the Pokeball fell to the floor.
The Pokeball wobbled once, a wavering sound echoing around the room.
Twice it wobbled. Rhys was sweating under the gaze of the Weavile and his family.
Thrice. Finally, the Pokeball righted itself with a ding, and the Weavile retreated to his father's side. Rhys' father stepped forward, his heavy wooden sandals echoing as the man's shadow towered over Rhys.
"Good," his father said. Rhys could hear the smile in his father's voice. "It looks like you've caught your first Pokemon. Now you just have to train her."
Rhys knew that Sneasels had a reputation for having bad attitudes, but before now, he hadn't realized how bad-natured they could really be.
<hr>
Rhys and the Sneasel stood at opposite ends of the room. His ceremonial robes lay tattered on the floor, while her fur was scuffed and her red ear tuft was clipped. The entire room bore the marks of their conflict: gashes in the floor and furniture, dents in the walls and floor. While everything Rhys had crammed into the nooks and crannies of his room came spilling out: children's toys, clothes, books, everything.
They held each other's gaze, inspecting the other for weakness as they circled the room.
The Sneasel disappeared in a flash. Rhys stumbled backward as her feet met his gut, toppling him over. He fell onto the floor, with the Sneasel landing on top of him. Once again triumphant, she held a claw in the air, letting loose a victorious trill.
Rhys breathed heavily as she walked up his body and then sat down on him, straddling his collarbone as she smiled. Rhys sneered back up at her, baring his teeth as she raised a claw. Before she could scratch his face, Rhys grabbed her by the torso. She failed, but he threw her across the room before she could do anything more than land shallow scratches.
Once more, the two of them stood at opposite ends of the room, panting as they prepared to attack. Rhys waited one moment, then two, and as he predicted, the Sneasel vanished in a blur. This time, Rhys moved, throwing out a punch that caught her as she reappeared.
ZThe Sneasel was sent spinning through the air, then bounced as she hit the floor and rolled into a wall. She lay there, catching her breath for a moment, before forcing herself to stand. Rhys and she locked eyes again, each waiting for the other to do something. The Sneasel bared her teeth, running her tongue along them, feeling them until she found a loose tooth ready to fall out. She closed her mouth, tensed her body, sucked on that tooth, and then spat it out, a trail of blood left in its wake. She looked up at him and growled.
Rhys took the first step, and then the Sneasel took the second. The two walked towards each other, a fire behind their eyes.
BAM!
Before either could do anything else, the door to the room flew open. The two froze as Rhys' father and Sneasel's father—the Weavile from earlier—stood in the door frame. Rhys' mother was behind them, a tired look on her face.
Both of their fathers sighed.
"We leave you alone for five minutes, and you two are already at each other's throats." Rhys' father said. Beside him, the Weavile growled, clicking his claws together as he looked down at his daughter.
Rhys and the Sneasel wilted as their fathers stepped forward, looming over them. Rhys' mother brushed past her husband and opened a Pokeball. In a flash of red, a Chansey appeared in the wrecked room.
The Chansey blinked as it took in its surroundings. After the initial surprise, she waved to Rhys. For his part, the boy didn't resist as his mother picked him up and sat him down in her lap, commandeering the last surviving chair in the room.
"Chansey," Rhys' mother commanded, spurring the pink blob to action. The large pink Pokemon responded happily, placing its hands together and firing a Heal Pulse at Rhys and then the Sneasel; their scratches and bruises disappeared. The Sneasel felt around her mouth again, feeling where a new tooth was growing.
"Now, Rhys, and you too, Sneasel." His mother said, her pink hair frayed at the edges as she spoke. "Neither of you is going to hurt the other, or else you're in big trouble, understand?" The two nodded, looking down at the battered floor.
"Honey," Rhys' father said.
Rhys' mother looked between her husband and the impatient and angry Weavile and sighed. "Yes." With that said, she sent Chansey back into her Pokeball. Rhys hopped off his mother's lap, landing on the floor with shaky legs as the Sneasel stood up. His mother left the room without comment. Her robes flowed behind her as she closed the door on her way out, leaving the two children to their punishment.
Rhys' father shook his head as he looked away from the door and towards his son. "Rhys Mahogany, do you believe your actions here to be inspiring to me, ennobling to our clan, or in any way honorable?"
Rhys looked down at himself and his tattered robes, then to his father, the Sneasel, the room, the Weavile, and then back to his father. It was so slow his father could practically see the gears turning in his head. "No, Father."
"Then why did you get into a fight with your Pokemon?"
Rhys and the Sneasel spoke, her chirping overlapping his. "She started–"
"I do not care who started it; you should have handled yourself better!"
Rhys flinched back. "Sorry, Father. She was being disobedient and tried to scratch me, so I-"
"I don't want excuses for your behavior either." Rhys' father looked down at the Sneasel, narrowing his eyes.
Rhys held himself back from baring his teeth and speaking. 'I wasn't making an excuse for myself; I was explaining why I did it.' He knew that would only cause his father to talk more.
"Why did you want a Pokemon in the first place? What do you want to do with your life?"
Rhys thought about that for a second, trying to track down the source of his earlier excitement. Clair was constantly talking about the Horsea she got every time they played together, and she was spending less time with Rhys. That and he wanted to impress his father, but he felt admitting that out loud was embarrassing.
"To beat Clair and become a man."
"And?"
There was a beat of silence in the room. Rhys hadn't thought of anything more. 'Does he just want me to say something to make him happy?' He hesitated for a moment. "Live a long, quiet life and die peacefully at an old age surrounded by my family?"
His father's eyes narrowed. "Not incorrect, but not sincere. You heard someone say that." He said. His voice had returned to its usual monotone, and his eyes to their usual calm.
Rhys lowered his head. "Yes, Father."
"Well, it didn't work." Rhys went back to looking down at the floor, trying to hide his face as he gritted his teeth.
"And you, Sneasel?"
The Weavile and Rhys' father looked down at her, small even for a Sneasel. Her short red ear twitched with embarrassment. She looked up only for a moment and half-grumbled, half-chirped out something that barely sounded like an apology.
"Clearly, both of you direly need more discipline; perhaps we should throw you two into the ice path immediately. Test your mettle against a real challenge."
Rhys sweated as he kept his head pointed towards the ground, only moving his eyes to see the similarly pale expression of the Sneasel next to him. He didn't dislike the idea; if he could pass the challenge right away, he could prove himself.
The Weavile made a sound that was growl. Rhys didn't know what he said exactly, but it sounded like he was half in agreement.
"Then they'd better shape up. Otherwise, we'll have to make them regret failing us," Rhys' father said. The Weavile father chirped in agreement, causing the Sneasel to wilt even more. Rhys' father folded his hands. "Now, what are you two going to do?"
Rhys stood tall, his voice calm as he spoke. "Sneasel." He had to hide his venom; he hated apologizing more than anything. "I'm sorry, we got off on the wrong foot. You're my Pokemon, and I should treat you with more respect." Then he bowed. His words were insincere and rehearsed, with almost no understanding on either side.
She nodded awkwardly in response, before remembering to bow.
Rhys' father clapped his hands together. "Good first steps are important in matters like these." Rhys could still feel his father's gaze on him, judging, and he silently thanked his father for being merciful. "If you two are going to be partners for life, you might as well figure out how to live with each other. Now, clean up your room, and after that, you have the rest of the day to yourselves. Good day."
Rhys' father turned on the spot and opened the door, exiting the room to leave with his wife, who waited outside. The Weavile lingered a moment longer before closing the door and departing in the direction opposite to Rhys' father.
Now alone, Rhys and Sneasel were left to collect their thoughts.
'Right. I'm not giving up on this; I'll make it work for the sake of my family!' And of course, for the sake of his own pride. Meanwhile, Sneasel was looking back and forth, chattering to herself as she nervously clacked her claws together, her previous vigor gone.
Rhys and the Sneasel looked at each other; the flame that had been behind each other's eyes earlier had gone, leaving quivering embers. Both of them sighed.
"So, what do you say, partners?" Rhys asked, his voice wavering as he kneeled to offer Sneasel a hand. Sneasel's red ear twitched slightly as she gave him a skeptical look. "Eh? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Sneasel sighed and pranced to where her tooth had fallen. She held up her missing tooth to Rhys.
He hesitated for a moment, but took the tooth from her. Rhys moved to put the tooth on his night stand, but Sneasel jumped up, dragging his hand back down.
Rhys let her close his hand around the tooth, pushing it back to his chest. He felt the tooth in his, after a moment of hesitation, Rhys went to his dresser. He retrieved needle and thread, looping a length of string around the tooth, once, twice, then thrice.
"See," he said, showing the newly made necklace to Sneasel. She nodded and looped it around his neck, the tooth coming to rest over his undershirt. "So, we're good?"
Sneasel nodded her head side to side in a 'so-so' gesture, before meow reluctantly. As the two of them looked around their room, they came to realize the enormity of their immediate task: repairing, or at least ordering, the disaster zone.