Flames of Hoenn

Prologue: Challenge the Air

        “Oh! What a massive hit!”

        Metagross slid back, its massive body tense from the pain. Charizard could hit hard, and fire did pack a big punch. Terry Reign clenched his fists, feeling the Pokémon’s pain. C’mon. You can do this. Go for it! Eyes setting, the Metagross raised its gaze to the opponent, tensing for another round. Terry stood on the balls of his feet, barely willing himself not to yell. He gave the air a one-two punch, daring it to fight back. As he did so, Metagross, using its powerful psychic abilities, brought the Charizard closer and barraged it in a series of meteor mashes. Terry’s arms shot up as he shouted for joy, unable to contain himself much longer. He pressed his face and hands up to the screen. 

        “Terry, haven’t you watched that battle enough times this week?”

        Terry looked back at his mother, in an apron as she did dishes. “Mom. I’m ten. All I do is watch TV. And you KNOW I love watching Steven battle! Even if he loses the tournament in the end, his battles are worth the watch.”

        “Well, you’ve watched them so many times, you can reenact them perfectly! Shouldn’t you watch someone else battle for once? What about that Lance? Or even Wallace! He is the champion, you know.”

        Terry rolled his eyes, as if the answer was completely obvious. “Of course I know! But Steven used to be the champion, he just quit! He’s WAY better than Wallace. And Lance? He rarely loses! Like in this fight!”

        “And yet you cheer every time you watch Steven getting the upper hand? How does that make any sense?”

        Stumped. Terry sat back, thinking. He didn’t expect that one. Shaking his head, he waved his mother off with a few yeah yeah’s before turning back to screen in time to see Metagross struggling to stay conscious. The Charizard stared down the camera, as if saying, You wanna piece of this? Terry turned off the television. He hated watching his favorite trainer lose.

        He looked at the time. 10 in the morning. “Mom, is today… Tuesday?” She nodded from where she was standing. “All day.” He sat back, thinking to himself. Then he realized. Tuesday. He’d promised Lydia he’d walk with her to school! Jumping up, he grabbed his backpack and zoomed out the door. His mother smiled as it closed shut. Always so forgetful, that child.