Pokemon School Days: Giratina Rising

Chapter 1

Sunlight was harsh on the last day of August. Piercing through the window, it made the room feel much larger than it was, giving the wood-lined walls the look of gold. The only good it did for Sam was reveal the dust particles in the air. Something he could try and concentrate on. The boy sat on a large, old-timey leather chair, restlessly tracing lines across the handles. Leather was not a good material, he thought. It didn't absorb sweat. His heart jumped faster and faster, making the boy's chests feel almost as if someone's driven a thousand little needles into it. The feeling pressed on, turning his breath short, and the ringing in his ears more unbearable by a minute. Sam was rather bad at handling anxiety, mostly because he rarely ever felt it. Dust floating through the golden air wasn't successful at turning his mind off of things. He reached for anything else. The whole room reminded him of an antique shop. Considering what the room was, it made sense, but it didn't offer much comfort to the boy. Large wooden bookcase stood against the wall opposite to him, it spread from the floor to the ceiling. Sam could make out numerous leather-bound books of different sizes behind the glass, but the reflection of sunlight rendered his efforts to read the titles useless, other than causing a small headache. Sculpted out of clay, numerous statues of pokemon were gracing the room. Sam was at least certain they were supposed to represent pokemon. Some made that intent very clear, like the the large Dragonite head that stood on top of the stone beam right next to the doors. Or the miriad of small Sawsbuck statues that were placed on the wooden worktable in front of him. The other ones were more abstract. One of them, the one that stood on the window, looked like it came straight from the mind of a surrealist. From the oval base, numerous clay needles shot in all directions, cutting the incoming sunlight and creating mildly disturbing shadow on the floor. Sam couldn't deduce if it was supposed to be a pokemon. Maybe a Ferroseed going through an identity crisis? The though made the boy chuckle slightly, queting the nervous feeling a bit. Still, he made sure nobody else in the room caught him laughing.

Time seemed to be passing slowly. He was in there for maybe five minutes, judging by the old analogue clock hanging from one of the walls. With nothing else in the room to pay attention to, Sam's gaze landed on the man sat at the work table in front of him. Taking a look at the other boys who sat in the chairs similar to his was simply out question. He had arrived late, half-an-hour late, to this small ceremony of theirs, which had already ernead him a barrage of four dagger-sharp glares. Gripping at the handle of his chair, he forced himself to focus on the man at the table and nobody else. The metal plate sat between the two Sawsbuck statues read "Prof. Nolan". Sam was reading it just to calm himself down. He knew the name already. Shortly after the letter of acceptance, he had recieved the letter listing the name of his future mentor and history professor, as well as the names of his future teammates. That was early June.
Whole summer he spent imagining what this man would be like, as well as the four boys sat next to him.

Little to say, the title of historian perfectly suited professor Nolan. His hair was cut short and kept neat, vibrantly brown. The boy thought he could make out a few streaks of grey that had snuck their way in there as well, but that could very much be a trcik of light. His rectangle shaped glasses caught the sunlight as well, making it impossible to see the man's eyes. Every now and again, the professor would carefully push them back up, without diverting his attention from the stack of papers he was working through even for a minute. As he kept on skimmimg over whatever he was reading, occasionally, lines would spread across his forehead. They seemed to be deeply carved into his skin, even more so thanks to the lighting. Sam would assume the professor was in his late forties. Complementing his face was the way the professor had decided to dress. Not that Sam could deduce much on that front. The man was fully draped into what seemed to be a trench coat, rendering anything the man was wearing beneath it hiddem from sight. Certainly, it was a strange fashion choice, considering the high August temperatures. Even if it did fit the season, the coat would be peculiar. It was grey, and clearly made out of some heavy material. It looked strangely old and new at the same time. Most strikingly, the colar had a bunch of strange symbols woven across it. They reminded Sam of ancient runes, which they probably were. The boy couldn't help but wonder if their professor had found this coat while digging through some ancient ruins. Sam looked down at his own clothes, feeling self aware. White running shorts and yellow and white soccer jersey he usually found comfortable made him feel even more out of place now. On second thought, his fashion choices might've added a bit to his not so splendid first impression. The boy ran his hand through his hair, hoping that would make him look at least a little bit better.