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You're four. And it's so much better than being three.

Your drawings are even better this year, too. You overhear from one of dad's helpers that you have some sort of talent. It makes you proud. And so, you take the time to draw something really stunning for daddy. Something he'll be proud of, so he can feel the same excitement you feel. You take the oil pastels your daddy gave you, because crayons just aren't good enough for you according to daddy, and begin to smear the colors over the page. You painstakingly create the beautiful image resting in your head, and some of the grunts gasp in awe. When they stop to stare at it, you know it's done, and ready to be given to daddy.

You're careful not to mess up what you've already done with your dirty, paint-covered hands, carrying the paper as if it was a holy artifact, carefully balancing it on your flat palms. But of course, there's no escaping those few colorful fingerprints at the edge of the pages. But that's okay, they're all the way on the edge. Daddy won't notice. He'll still see the painting and think it's beautiful.

And so when you give it to him, he takes it. He stares at it for a while, with a weird expression on his face. Why wasn't he excited? Why didn't he look happy at all? Did you do something wrong, is that why he looked so mad?

Daddy crumples up your hard work, handing it to you to put into the trash can, where trash belongs.

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You're five.

You're not four any more. When you were four, and still dumb, you tried again to make daddy happy, making absolutely sure that your painting was absolutely perfect. That time, daddy hit you. He only hit you once, but you never ever used your oil pastels again after that. You threw them away, because that's where trash belonged.

Suddenly, you start to see less and less of daddy. You almost never see him now, and he locks the door when he goes to sleep. You do see him early one morning, when you woke yourself up. You tug on daddy's shirt and ask him why he's never home any more, and ask him if he hates you. He doesn't say anything. He only grabs your hand and pulls it off of his shirt, no matter how hard you held on. He calls on one of the ugly boys in the stupid looking hats to pick you up and take you back to your room, where they lock you in. You only see them again when they bring your food.

You don't want to eat. You're too busy crying, and screaming that daddy hates you, and that you hate him too, even though you know you still love your daddy. It hurts that daddy hates you. It makes you sad.

But eventually, you get so tired of crying. No one's listening. No one cares. Instead, you look at the books that daddy used to read to you, and open them. You know what words are. But you don't know what they look like. But if daddy won't read to you, then you have to read to yourself. So you stare at the words, day after day, eating only when you're too dizzy to read.

Soon, you can read almost all of the words in your books. But there are some that don't make sense. So you go into daddy's office one night, after he locks his door, and take the Dictionary from daddy's bookshelf. Daddy doesn't use it, so it won't be missed. You take it from him, and you read every single word in the dictionary. Then you read it again, and again, until you understand exactly what every word means.

Daddy asks where his dictionary went. It's been so long since you took it. But you give it back, and tell him that you read it. He doesn't believe you. You tell him three words from the Q section and recite their definitions without fail. He asks you about a word, and you answer without even thinking. Daddy smiles. And you decide you hate that smile.

It looks like the big bad wolf's smile.

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You're six.

Daddy has been seeing you every day, now, giving you a new book to read every time he visits. You always finish reading them before he comes back the next day. It's hard to finish reading daddy's books before he comes back the next day, especially since you want to eat and take a bath and sleep, but you know that each book is a reminder that daddy loves you. So you always finish the books he gives you to read, no matter how complicated they are.

Daddy gives you books about Pokemon. First he makes you read the research data he got from Professor Oak's computer. You read and read, and soon you know everything about the pokemon in your home region. Next he makes you read about the neighboring region, and its legendary pokemon. He makes you read a lot of books about legendary pokemon, from storybooks to reports. The storybooks are still your favorite, and you hide them and sometimes some of the other books so your daddy believes you when you say you lost them. Sometimes, when daddy doesn't give you another book to read, you reread the storybooks you love so much. You want to draw the legendary pokemon, but that's dumb. Art is trash. But you still look at the pictures in the storybooks and feel envious. You wish you could draw, or write the reports, or write the stories, or go out into the world. You wish that you could do anything besides sitting in this dumb room and reading boring things, and hiding the storybooks away and lying to your daddy.

You make an escape plan to run away from home and become a pokemon trainer. You read in Professor Oak's report that he gives away pokemon to kids willing to work for him in his research, and so you want to go and do that. But escape won't be easy.

You watch the guards, and learn how to sneak out of your room. And then, you explore your whole house, and learn where each guard is. You don't try to sneak away most of the time. You just walk around. Sometimes the guards ignore you, or nod their heads, because it's okay for you to go somewhere. Other times, the grunts panic or get mad, and throw you back into your room and tell you to never go there again! So you know that you have to sneak there if you want to go there. And you try again later, much later, and sneak as best as you can. You get really far without being noticed, finding a room with metal walls and a metal ceiling. You follow the hall as far as you can, and as you peek around the corner, you see something curled up in a giant glass tube. It's scary, but you try to get a better look...

That's when daddy catches you.

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You're eight. And now you're allowed to do things again.

Daddy stopped being mad. He decided that you were ready to continue training, even if he was mad that you had to be punished while you were seven.

Daddy still gives you books to read, but not very often any more. And he never gives you any storybooks. Instead, he makes you read about pokemon battling. About how pokemon get strong, and which pokemon are the strongest pokemon. He tells you that the worst thing in the world is weakness. Weakness leads to people getting killed over something stupid. Weakness leaves a person vulnerable, and makes it all too easy to destroy them. The only place the weak have is to serve the strong. And you believe him. Daddy is always right.

You realize that now that you're eight, and almost ready to become a trainer, daddy's grunts sometimes listen to you. But they don't listen to you when you say 'dumb', or 'stupid', or 'daddy'. They don't listen when you call them jerks. But they do listen when you call them incompetent. Weak. Pathetic. Cowardly. They sometimes ask if you even know what that means, but you can recite the dictionary in a heartbeat. You know exactly what those words mean, and that scares the foolish pets that belong to your daddy--no, your father.

You know where you're not supposed to go. So you don't go there. But anywhere else that the grunts try to keep you from going, you order them to be silent and stand aside, and they do. Father expresses how proud he is of you.

He gives you a pokemon.

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You're nine. And father is beginning to love you again.

The stronger you raise the nidoran he gave you, the more people you defeat with your flawless technique, the more proud father is. You love being successful. You win every match you have. You love winning, and you think you love your nidoran. He's the first friend you've ever had, you think. And you've never been happier than the day he evolved. You jumped onto his back, and called him your noble steed, and rode him around the castle when father wasn't watching you. You battle with the grunts, and get nidorino even stronger. None of the grunts can beat you, now.

You challenge your father to a battle. He tries to brush you off, but you insist. With a chuckle, he uses his nidoking against your nidorino. It's not even a contest.

You can't believe you lost. You've never lost before in your life. And you're so scared that nidorino will be hurt that your father just laughs and pats your head. He doesn't say "I love you, son". But he doesn't have to. His hand did that for him. He assures you that nidorino isn't completely useless trash yet, and that he'll grow into a fine pokemon yet. Father gives you a moon stone so you can evolve him into a nidoking. And even though your father won't say it, you tell him that you love him.

His smile goes away before he fakes another one.

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You're ten this spring.

And you are old enough to be a trainer.

But father wants you to learn what he does for a living. You learn about how father collects powerful pokemon, about how he'll steal if he wants. How everyone is willing to bend to his will. That's power. The way that your father simply frowns at someone throws people into a panic and they begin to rush in order to appease him. That's true power. You believe it, with every fiber of your being. And suddenly, you understand your father so much more. Why he tried to make you selfish, but educated. So that you could receive this power.

You love your father even more. But you don't dare say it. Instead, you eagerly ask if you can follow him. You eagerly say that you will forsake your journey as a pokemon trainer to learn everything father wants you to learn. And for the first time, you see true happiness and true pleasure on your father's face. For the first time, you see the pride you have worked so long and so hard for.

He agrees to take you to the hideouts. He takes you first to the game corner, where he explains how he's obtaining a chunk of their revenue. Not a large one. Your family is old money, after all. Very old money. But you stay in the basement with him and learn how he plans his actions, and excitedly listen to every word he graces you with.

But an intruder alert comes over the speakers. After a few moments of confusion, and some panicked grunts hurriedly saying that 'that boy' is here, and that the intruder will surely foil their plans, father stands, and chuckles. It's the same chuckle he made when you challenged him to a battle. Father says that he'll take care of the boy. You grasp your nidoking's pokeball, but your father's hand touches your shoulder. He tells you to go home, where it was safe. You insist yet again that you can help, that you aren't some weak coward like the rest of his grunts. He smiles and replies that it's because he needs you to remain in obscurity until the right time comes. It doesn't make sense to you, and your father has to have grunts knock you out and take you home.

Father loses that battle, and the two that follow.

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You've just now turned eleven.

Father intends to leave. And he almost does. But you find him, right before he disappears. You catch up to him, and he stops. He's told you that no one is more powerful than he is. That no one is stronger. That he's the best, and that he will claim the world. You believed that. You feel so betrayed that he lost. You demand to know if he's truly forfeiting. And he stays quiet for a long time, collecting himself. You hate that. You hate that he has to think about what to say to you. You hate giving him more time to think of a lie.

But before you yell at him to say something, he turns, and holds that hat over his eyes. Hiding the emotions from you. You hate that, too. He says that he will acknowledge his loss, and retreat. The humble tone hurts to hear. But it quickly disappears, as he angrily declares that he will become strong again, and revive Team Rocket. You get disgusted. You shout at him, at the top of your lungs, about how you don't understand him any more. How he doesn't make sense now that he's quitting so easily. It doesn't make sense!

He says that one day you will understand. Right as father turns away, you see his face, you do understand.

You understand. But you hate it.

You swear to the heavens that you will not be the horrible coward your father became. You will not be meek when alone, nor will you be a tyrant to cowards. You grip your nidoking's pokeball, and storm off. You stop when you notice a girl standing in your way, and without a second thought shove her aside, not even bothering to look. You wouldn't have seen her face, anyway. Your father's face is still too strongly in your mind. You understand what that face was. He was pushing you away, keeping you from being known to the public as his son. In order to protect you from harm.

In the end, he really did love you. He always loved you.

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You're twelve. And now you're homeless.

Rather, you can't stand the sight of your father's home any longer. You pick the lock to his room, and crack his safe - self-taught tricks you learned while you were bored when you were seven. You spend the better half of the year learning how to perfectly forge his signature, and you are very careful only to leave your fingerprints where they should be. After all, a lack of fingerprints raises suspicion. But more importantly, it's time to begin the life as a trainer. And so, you take your Nidoking and go to where all new trainers go to begin. You go to Oak's laboratory.

He isn't there. He's in Goldenrod, in Johto, doing some radio show. Perfect. You carefully sneak in, and go for one of Oak's prized, rare pokemon...

But the alarm goes off, and you are forced to flee. Your nidoking was not so swift, and got attacked by the pokemon guarding the lab. Once the two of you make it to the depths of Viridian Forest, you finally stop, feeling safe. You inspect the damage on your one and only friend. It doesn't look good. You tear up your clothes and use them to tie and bandage Nidoking's wounds. He should be perfectly fine, you assure him, as you apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

You hear voices, and the pounding of feet in pursuit. Nidoking can't run like this. You move to defend your friend from the pursuers, but your dear and only friend grabs you, and throws you deeper into the brush. You hear the people panic at the sight of a bloodied and roaring Nidoking, and you hear them running away after they jab at the beast. Nidoking pins you with his massive tail until it is certain that those chasing you are gone.

You stand, and yell in fury at your pokemon's defiance, and strike him. It feels satisfying to strike him, it feels as though you finally have a means to communicate your anger and frustration. But the hurt and terror in your friend's face brings a feeling of disgust deep into your belly, and makes your blood run cold. You fall silent, and nidoking waits to see what you have to say, now. If you will still be mad, or forgive him. But you shout at him, and tell him that he's worthless. That any friend that does not obey your wishes is no friend at all. That he should leave.

And so he does, the expression on his face exactly the same as your father's.

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You're thirteen. And you're truly alone.

You made it that way, of your own efforts. You pushed away your pokemon. You abandoned your father and the scrappy remains of the team he left behind supposedly to protect you. You even left Kanto behind. And now, you have arrived in the neighboring region of Johto.

After a while of collecting information quietly, careful to avoid pokemon as much as possible, as you are not a trainer, you learn of another, smaller lab in New Bark Town. At first, it doesn't interest you. Not until you hear that rare pokemon are being studied there. And so you go, in the dead of night, and you find yourself in New Bark Town. A quiet, peaceful place, in a thick forest. It's nice here. Hidden away from the world. You could live here, you think for a moment, but once you find the laboratory, you know you will never be able to. You carefully inspect the security with as much casual behavior as you can, but you locate a window on the side of the building, hidden behind a sign, where you can peer inside and inspect the inside.

As the sunlight peeks over the trees, you notice two other children, around your age, entering the laboratory. The girl picks a pokemon for herself, and lets the chikorita out to follow her around. Something about the sight of her unsettles you, but you can't decipher what.

But moments later, she emerges from the building, and finds you peering through the window. She speaks at you accusingly, but it isn't her voice that bothers you. Somehow, in some way, you feel embarrassed and ashamed around this person. You feel as if your privacy has been violated, as if she had already wriggled her way into your life. The sight of her makes your heart stop, and her presence humbles you.

In response to these emotions, you react violently. You hate these foreign feelings. They're terrifying. You pick up this girl and throw her, trying to get her to run off before anything else is made of these feelings. Before she can discover your true nature and destroy you. To your astonishment, she gets up and lunges for you, and you're forced to grab at her and throw her again as she tries to pick a fight. But the moment you toss her a second time, her little friend appears and apologizes profusely and drags her away.

After waiting for your anxieties to calm, you force the frustratingly persistant image of that girl's face out of your mind as you quietly pick the locks to the lab...

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Chase the morning

Yield for nothing

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