Welcome all to my big summer blockbuster about a young trainer cursed with a metal arm. While metal arms aren't uncommon in the world of Pokemon nowadays, this kid's is special, it bares the mark of the Redeemer. What does it mean? You'll have to read on to find that out.

I've already written the first three chapters (including the prologue) and will post chapter two when I get four finished and continue in that manner. I'm not expecting a large audience just yet, this being the beginning and all, but I do particularly enjoy writing this one so you'll not have to worry about lack of updates.

It's mainly a trainer fic with a lot of philosophical elements in it. While it isn't as haphazard or as satirical as ...Blank Myn, it does have some humor in it. It's meant mainly to be a dark epic however, so don't lose faith just yet. Anyway, let's get on with the show,

-Grey

the Kyuusaisha

written by a. j. hawthorne

I

[justify]
The crowds went wild on this particular day. The darkened skies filled the abyss around the great Indigo Plateau stadium. It was indeed one hell of a match thus far. Two trainers stood at opposite ends of the field watching as their trained “beasts” fought against one another. The announcer boomed across the wave of screaming fans, just trying to compete with them, “This is definitely one hell of a match so far, folks,” he yelled aloud, “the challenger has already lost all of his Pokemon save for this last one, and the reigning champ still has one left in reserve.”

The announcer may have been a bit too harsh on the challenger however. His large steel serpent towered over the other trainer’s Sceptile, which was quite tired nonetheless. With one last squeeze, the evolved Onix, or “Steelix” moreover, managed to down his opponent before letting out a harsh cry of victory. Steelix unwound himself from his felled prey, and the green dragon collapsed in exhaustion. The champ smirked to himself before holding out a red and white-colored ball. In an instant, the Sceptile dematerialized into a collection of red energy just before being withdrawn into the ball.[/justify]

o0
in his shadow

[justify]The reigning champ was much older than he used to be; his jet black hair remained untamed beneath a red cap. The man was garbed in blue jeans and a black top, with a large leather belt holding the jeans up. Just before signaling for his last Pokemon to approach the center arena, the man gazed into the audience, scanning for the two persons he was really in this for. A few moments passed and he finally located them--a slim girl with blue eyes and orange-reddish hair that flowed down to her shoulders, and a three-year old child in the seat next to her; his wife and child.

Smirking to himself, the man swiftly jerked his baseball cap backwards, and signaled for the tiny yellow mouse that stood patiently next to him, battle hungry. It was only fitting for him to use his starter Pokemon to defeat the only obstacle in his way of becoming a champion once more, and on his retiring match, no less.

“Pika,” cried the tiny mouse as he made his way into the field, being harshly stared down by the towering steel serpent that stood before him.

The announcer was quite nerved by the thought, but alas the man seemed confident, “It would appear that the reigning champ has once again decided to go with Pikachu,” he announced, “can he win one more title with the tiny electric type?”

Whilst his adversary held a certain poise in his weak-looking Pokemon, Rode cried out to him, “If you think that worthless rat can take down ma Steelix, you’s got another thing comin!” His voice was rough, reminiscent of a bully from one of those after school dramas. With a rude tone in his expression, Rode commanded his Steelix, “Use your Earthquake attack, Steelix!”

The very large silver snake roared allowed, trying to intimidate the rodent before attacking, but alas the tiny Pikachu looked to be much smarter than he had anticipated. The older trainer readied his strategy, “Pikachu, use Quick Attack and scale Steelix’s body. Then, use Thunderbolt!”

Ready fully, the overly dramatic Steelix slammed downwards causing quite a stir on the arena floor, but there was no one to target as the smaller Pikachu climbed up the large snake’s metallic hide. Steelix looked around with a confused look upon his stony features, trying to locate his adversary. Unfortunate, he wasn’t able to do so as the Pikachu reached the top of the massive behemoth’s stair-like body and released a fully charged Thunderbolt. Brilliant flashes of yellow light emerged from the tiny mouse, bringing great pain the massive behemoth. The crowds roared in excitement, there was no chance that the announcer’s words would be heard, so he just elected to stop relaying to them what they themselves already saw. He merely stared in awe, amazed that Steelix was even alive after such a brutal attack.

Rode’s further banter was quite appalling, “You gonna take ‘dat, Steelix,” he shouted loudly, “quickly slam ‘dat rodent to ‘da ground!”

Shaking off the unwanted felling of shock, Steelix proceeded to allow himself to fall, hopefully to land on the aforementioned yellow rodent. Not even having to be given an order from his trainer, the Pikachu quickly leapt from Steelix’s rapid thrust downwards, squealing out, “PIKA!”

As the large metal snake crashed upon the Indigo arena floor, a cloud of smoke lifted into the field before slowly dissipating into the air. Steelix tried valiantly to pull himself back up, and Pikachu stood upon the opposite end with a mischievous smirk upon his features, “Pikachu.”

“Excellent work, Pikachu,” said his trainer, “now finish him off with Thunder!”

Knowing full well that Steelix couldn’t possibly get up in time to avoid the massive spell, Pikachu took a few moments to charge up a great amount of electricity within his red cheeks. His eyes were slammed shut, concentrating heavily on the grand display that would inevitably follow. When he was confident that the blow would be enough to fell the massive titan, Pikachu stopped charging and opened his eyes. The small yellow rodent ran towards the larger, who was still trying to pull himself up, and stopped just a few inches in front of him. With a roaring voice, Pikachu cried out, “Pika…CHU!”

The arena once again lit up as Pikachu’s entire body erupted in a massive storm of electric energy. The Steelix cried out in pain as the thunderous spell enveloped his metallic figure. A few seconds would pass, and Steelix just couldn’t take the pain anymore and closed his eyes, obviously defeated. Pikachu sensed his enemy’s fall, and stopped his assault.

The referee ran over to the felled behemoth, blowing his whistle loudly, “Steelix is unable to battle. Pikachu is the winner.”

Once more, the crowds erupted into a sea of loud cheers. Rode pulled out his Pokemon’s black-colored Poke Ball, revealing with it his large metal arm in the process. His opponent made a note of it as Rode quickly withdrew his sixth fallen Pokemon.[/justify]

III

[justify]
An hour had passed, and no longer were there any people in the audience. They had all perhaps left to go on and do other things. Meanwhile, the retired champion walked alone in the hallways. All his life he wanted to be a trainer, and while his friends, his peers, left the adventure to go onto bigger and better things, he stayed behind, and trained harder and harder. His catalog of Pokemon only had six members; others were stolen from the professor’s laboratory a long time ago in a hellish robbery, thus leaving him with the ones that he fought with tonight. And now he was retired. He walked away from the game with three championships on his mantle, including this one.

He wandered through the halls until he met two smiling faces. He couldn’t help but give them the same gesture as he walked over to them. The older red head said to her husband, “You did good, hon.”

His three-year old son, his name was Hawthorne, he hobbled over to his father with a great flashy smile upon his face, “You did it, Daddy!”

However, those three weren’t the only ones in the hall that night, no-no. Rode wandered over to his defeater, with an unusual smile upon his face. The champion turned to face him, “Yes?”

“That was a great battle,” he said, extending his metal hand to the father, “no hard feelings?”

He couldn’t help but smile back as he too offered his hand, “No problem, Rode,” he said.

As the father took the challenger’s hand, you couldn’t help but note the eerie smile placed upon the man’s features. It was if he had lost his mind. Sure enough, he had. When he noticed that the person who defeated him had his hand secure, Rode jerked away and the arm stuck. Rode quickly ran away as the trio stared with confused looks upon their faces. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that they heard the constant ticking coming from Rode’s metal arm, tick, tick, tick.

The father tried desperately to toss the arm away, but when he couldn’t, he signaled for his wife to guard the child they two shared protectively. The red-haired woman stared at her husband with several tears on her face until a massive blast enveloped the hallway.[/justify]

VI

[justify]Or at least, that’s what they said. “No hard feelings?” My ass. My name is Hawthorne, and I lost my father that night, twelve years ago. I am fifteen years old now, and I so desperately want to find the man to took his life away. Not only did he take my father from me, he also took my arm. So desperately my mother tried to shield me from the inevitable destruction, but she couldn’t all the way. My right arm disappeared that night, vaporized by the explosion; or at least that’s what they said.

I’m going on a journey tomorrow. I want to follow in my father’s dream, to carry out his spirit, but I don’t want to be remembered as, “His son.”

That’s why I’m dropping the surname. My name is Hawthorne, and that is what I’ll be remembered as… not… “His son.”[/justify]