Pokémon: Midnight Blue

Tulin

The walk to Fuchsia City was long and tedious, but as I entered the city, I saw a young man approach me. He was tall and tan. He wore a black trench coat, black dress pants, and a white dress shirt. He had thin-framed glasses and a black gentleman’s hat with a gray band stretching around it that sat on top of black wisps of wavy hair. I did not put much mind to him at first, but as we crossed paths, he turned to look at me.

“Let me guess,” he spoke in a condescending tone, his voice was gruff but calm, “a gym challenger, I suppose?”

I turned to him, suspicious of his assumption, “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

He said nothing at first. He stifled a haughty laugh, and shook his head at me.

“Pity,” he finally responded, “trainers are overestimating themselves more and more every day. It makes me wonder what kind of trainers this year’s Indigo League will withhold.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I clenched my fist tightly, “You must think damn highly of yourself to go around saying stuff like that.”

He stifled another laugh, “Arrogant, hotheaded, and unintuitive. I’ve shown no sign of my own virtues or defects, though you make yours fairly visible. You should learn to control your emotions, and let things be as they are. The sooner you realize that you are no more special than the person standing next to you, the easier life will be. I never said I was a good trainer. I never even said I was a trainer. But I am. And I hope to be one of the highest caliber. In doing so, I hope to strike humility into the hearts of the arrogant. And while I may show signs of it myself, I feel that my ego will soon be justified.”

“That’s a lot of talk for someone who hasn’t made a name for himself yet. How come I have no idea who you are? You talk like someone who should be talked about all over.”

“My identity does not need to be revealed to those I do not care for. I appreciate keeping myself hidden from the masses. It keeps me from being challenged by a mediocre like you.”

“I’ll show you who’s mediocre.”

I reached for my belt, but the unnamed trainer lunged at me and grabbed at my arm. He twisted it so I flipped in mid-air and landed on my back. He released just as suddenly as he grabbed me.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded as I picked myself off the ground, dusting myself off.

“There’s much more to life than simple Pokémon battles," the trainer responded coldly, "They are not truly a test of a trainer’s strength, but merely that of the Pokémon’s. However, the stronger the trainer, the stronger the Pokémon. How does the trainer get stronger? Same way the Pokémon does. The trainer must train and fight alongside his or her team, not simply shout commands from the sidelines. It gives you experience as to how a Pokémon should go about putting up a decent fight against its opponents. It helps you in understanding your opponent’s weaknesses as well as your own. Only when you find the strength to fight as if you were your Pokémon will you be a formidable trainer.”

“You mind putting that to the test?”

The trainer waved me off, “Not now. Why don’t you go on and challenge Koga and see for yourself? I learned my fighting style from him, and I can personally tell you, he will be no easy opponent. I can’t wait to hear how you fare against him.”

“Fair enough. But the next time I see you, I want a fight.”

“Naturally. But that will be another event for another day.”

He began to walk away, but when he was about twenty-five yards away from me, he stopped. He yelled out to me, but his voice was a much similar tone as before.

“By the way, may I ask what your name is?”

“Brian Phoenix,” I responded.

“Very well. I shall be listening for your name, Phoenix. Despite my earlier sermon, I do hope my knowledge has enlightened you and ultimately helps you excel.”

I had a weird feeling for this guy. I did not like him, and it was clear that he did not care much for me either, but there seemed to be some sort of mutual respect.

“Hold on!” I yelled back, “What’s your name?”

He did not turn around this time, he simply responded, in the same contemptuous voice, “Kristofor Tulin. Address me by my first name at your own risk.”