Once upon a time--

It all begins with that.

All those fairy tales--

that’s what I used to be.

My world was perfect.

Except for Dad.

But I never thought about him.

I had my Pokémon,

and my friends,

and the means to go around--

And we did,

from city to city,

island to island,

as a team.

I knew Team Rocket--

they just bugged me.

Showing up

at the wrong times...

(And, for that matter,

ALL the time.)

I had my badges,

my Orange League trophy,

and most of all,

my friends.

(Pokémon fall into that last category too, y’know.)

There I was,

young--

naïve, more like--

at the entrance to the Plateau

once again.

What could go wrong?

I sailed up the ranks--

top 16, 8, 4--

with rather little trouble along the way.

(I suppose the absence

of Jessie and James

should really have tipped me off.)

I keep wondering

what would’ve happened

if I’d lost...

No, we’d still be watching--

But maybe I wouldn’t be here now,

to lead us all,

to live without them...

Who can tell?

So, I battled,

SO excited,

I was in the top TWO,

and living out my dream.

I heard the announcer--

“The decided underdog,

Ash Ketchum, the Green trainer--

but the experts have been wondering

if he’s the underdog at all.

“Young--

not even sixteen--

but beating everyone

with almost ease,

in the top sixteen last time he came...”

And then

he invited me out;

I was nervous,

but excited,

my destiny was coming out

to slap me in the face.

(It really was a slap

as it turned out...

Actually, a rather large

kick in the pants...)

So I battled,

with my Pokémon,

AS my Pokémon,

in some way still unknown...

And in a way

I can’t believe

I won.

But then...

The other guy’s Pokémon had fainted,

I had won;

Not even I,

much less the crowd,

had quite realized it yet...

And we didn’t have time.

The stadium erupted--

not with applause

(Oh, how I wish)

but from the ground.

It was Team Rocket.

Not Jessie and James,

not even Butch and Cassidy,

but the whole assembly of Team Rocket

stood there on the ground.

Giovanni made a speech--

“Give us your Pokémon!”

and there rose a resounding, “NO!”

There was no other answer.

No other thing was possible.

No way this jerk

would steal our Pokémon.

But I still wonder...

What if we gave him our Pokémon?

No, he’d just get hungry for more.

But what if--

silently--

we’d released our Pokémon

and told them to attack?

No.

It would still be a tragedy.

The day inevitably boiled right down to this.

Two words--

“Open fire!”--

destroyed my life.

Oh, I was shot--

but I lived.

I don’t know how I feel about that.

Because most others died.

Much of the crowd--

The announcer--

but that didn’t matter quite so much to me.

Misty died.

So did Pikachu.

And good old, faithful Brock.

(Oh my lord,

he was so excited,

both for me,

and the Indigo Plateau Joy

was going out with him that night.)

Pikachu and Misty...

The two angels in my life.

Both gone,

killed by that MONSTER,

Back to heaven

from whence they came.

My two angels...

I have yet to understand

how all those Jennies

and the Joys

could just let Team Rocket go.

(Chansey learns some pretty good attacks.)

So we rallied together,

all shocked,

all of us war-torn,

so we figured,

let’s declare a war.

And they looked to me

with what was left of their innocence.

(Most of mine died that day...)

So...

I led them.

I grieved for a day,

but what sympathy I got

was quite annoying.

(Most people were busy grieving themselves.)

So I stopped.

I didn’t stop grieving--

I don’t think I’ll EVER stop grieving--

but I kept it inside.

If Team Rocket went on,

they’d keep on killing;

we had to stop them.

So I gave everyone some Pokéballs,

told them to catch some Pokémon,

we’d need them to kick Team Rocket’s butt.

They went to it with a will.

(They had to use rocks.

Deja vu.)

And guess who came up the path?

Guess who resigned?

Guess which people wanted to join our side?

Jessie and James.

And Meowth.

And more surprisingly,

Butch and Cassidy.

(I always pictured Butch and Cassidy

as a bit more evil than that.)

So I’m here,

the Pokémon Master,

leading the forces of good

to kick bad’s butt.

I have an office,

and a secretary--

(Mom told me

she looks like Lita/Makoto

from Sailor Moon,

except with short hair

that curls around her face.

I wouldn’t know.

I never watched it.)

--and a desk,

always with papers--

why do I have paperwork?

After the end of the world as we know it,

and there’s still red tape?!

But more importantly,

on my desk,

there is something I hold dear.

It’s a picture,

of me...

And three angels.