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FanFiction - Pokémon Master Trainers - Season 1 Episode 2 - A Chance Encounter

Updated on February 27, 2017

Its a beautiful and quiet morning in Littleroot town where our hero sleeps in his new bedroom for the very first time. While doing so, he is completely unaware that an unfamiliar guest is nearby, watching him intently.

"You really must have been quite exhausted," a girl's voice comments candidly.

"Yeah," DC-ICE replies not even giving her a second thought as he pulls a pair of faded black jeans, some white cotton socks, and a two-toned gray and black shirt out of his drawer.

"Were you the one who found my music box?" she asks in a quiet voice.

"Not me, Pichu." He points to the other side of the room.

"Pichu?" She raises an eyebrow.

DC-ICE glares over to the empty shoe-box sized pokébed next to his PC where the tiny mouse pokémon usually slept when they lived in their old house in Kanto. So far it hasn't slept in it, not even once since they unpacked at the new house here in Hoen. He looks around the room a bit, checks under his bed, takes a peek into the closet, and then sighs resolutely. "Not even gonna worry about it. Not today."

"Worry about what?" The girl gives a puzzled look.

"Pichu's whereabouts."

"And why not today?" She presses curiously.

The boy gives a wide grin, "Because today is my birthday and I get a REAL pokémon. Not some hand-me-down science pet that isn't even the right color."

The girl's lips press tight with disapproval, "So this, 'discolored' Pichu is not your pokémon?"

"Well, my dad gave him to me two years ago as a gift, or so he says, and then he starts interrogating me about what it eats, what it likes, and this that and the third. If he wanted to know all that he coulda just kept it in the first place. He's the original trainer anyway, not like Pichu ever listens to anything I tell it to do and it's never won any battles, at least not for me. "

After an uncomfortable stretch of silence, the girl stands, picks up the music box from the corner of his desk and heads towards the hallway, pausing at the door. "I'm disappointed. You're mean-spirited, just like the others."

"Like I care if you're disappointed; don't know who 'the others' are, and why you all up in my room sticking your nose in my business in the first place? Who are you anyway?" He folds his arms across his chest.

"My name is Gregan, not that it'll matter to you much longer," she nearly hisses the words as she steps into the hallway, slamming the heavy bedroom door with so much force that a picture falls from the wall and clatters loudly on the hardwood floor.

"Well I don't know what you meant by that, Gretchen, but I don't like the way you talk to me!" he yells in the emptiness of the room. His eyebrows furrow and he clenches his fists tightly around the clothes thrown over his shoulder. He grabs the doorknob and yanks open the door.

The hallway is empty. The end is to his left, the bathroom is across the hall, and to his right he sees his mother's displeased face coming up the stairs.

"Why in the world are you yelling?" Christy asks, quickly covering the length of the hall.

"Gretchen was all up in my room, giving me the third degree about Pichu."

"I don't know who this Gretchen is, but you're late and Tree-Hugger has been patiently waiting downstairs to go to Professor Birch's lab with you."

"Well, not patiently," Tree-Hugger laughs from the foyer anxiously tapping her watch. "Will you get dressed already?"

"I know you've said before that you didn't like this photo of you, but you didn't have to break it." Christy holds out the picture frame for her son to see.

Its a family photo with a spiderweb-like crack radiating out from DC-ICE's face. "That's not my fault, Gretchen was the one who..."

"Today would be nice." Interrupts the sing songy voice of Tree-Hugger.

"Okay, alright! I'll be down in a sec!" DC-ICE huffs crossing the hall. As he opens the door to the bathroom, he halts in his tracks and an icy chill runs down his spine. A pair of red glowing eyes stare back at him from the darkness illuminating the transparent material of the shower curtain. A second pair of eyes open and turn towards him. Then a third, and now a fourth. The smell of cinders, smoke and soot suddenly fill his nostrils and sting his eyes.

His breath quickens as he notices in streaks and intervals; the eyes are darting sporadically closer to him. The hairs on the back of his arms are prickly and stand up like those along the nape of his neck.

The closest pair or eyes begin to narrow and then an indecipherable whisper flows from them. In one final streak of movement they are inches from his face. Intense heat wafts towards him as though he had ducked his head into the hearth of a roaring fireplace.

In that exact instant, he hears the click of the light switch and the bathroom is flooded with light and silence. He stumbles backwards over his mother standing right at his heels, her hand still on the switch.

"DeShawn Clarence Ice, either you get dressed right now and leave the house this instant or you're gonna stay here and start your pokémon training next year when you're eleven!" Christy startles her son half to death as he falls to the floor. "Are you alright?"

"I'm...I'm okay. Did you see anything strange just now?" He asks, heart still pounding.

"Strange? As in seeing you still haven't gotten dressed yet? And you wonder why I have you take your bath at night before you go to bed. Honestly, I think you'd always be late if you still had that to do in the mornings too. You can do better than you have lately, I don't think you even realize your potential." Christy sighs.

"What do you mean, mom?" He inquires looking at her in the mirror as he stand and changes his pajama bottoms, shrugging quickly into his jeans while looking around.

"This is a great and special opportunity for you, honey. Show the world what you are truly capable of. You say you want to be a World Cup Champion one day well then prove it. Make each choice you make go towards that goal. Now finished getting changed out of your jammys, go start your adventure, and make lots of new friends." She gives him a hug and straightens his hair a little. "And you'd better find Pichu before you leave too. Being a different color doesn't make it weaker. Its the same thing I've always told you about our skin color being darker than that of some other people. It only makes us different, not weaker or stronger. Dig deep, work hard, and fight for your dreams. You and Pichu together, okay?"

"Okay, mom," he says resolutely. As his mother closes the door behind him, he pulls off his pajama top and tosses it into the clothes hamper along with his pj bottoms and his socks. While sitting on the toilet lid, rolling on a fresh pair of socks, his gaze falls to a pair of screws on the floor at the base of the tub. With a gasp, he looks up. A pair of wide brown eyes peer back at him from the vent above the shower. "Pichu?"

DC-ICE climbs the edge of the tub and then steps up higher on top of the bath knobs halfway up the wall. His hair brushes the bottom of the ceiling tiles as he looks through the slats and sees the little mouse pokémon curled into a tight ball ,shivering. Slowly, the boy lifts the bottom of the vent and puts his hand just inside. After a few moments, and a couple of sniffs along the boy's wrist, Pichu let's him pick it up.

"How long have you been up there?"

"Pi pi," responds the pokémon with a long yawn.

"Man, so you haven't gotten any sleep at all then have you?" DC-ICE sighs then furrows his brow in concern. "You've seen them too, haven't you?"

Pichu looks nervously around the room.

"I think we're either dealing with ghosts, or pokémon. Maybe even some ghost-type pokémon," says DC-ICE while placing Pichu gently into his shirt pocket. With both hands free now, he braces himself against the corners. "How in the world do you climb the corners of a room like this? Especially with walls of smooth bathroom tile?"

"Pichu," the pokémon replies simply.

"Practice?" the boy scoffs. "Yeah, I bet." He takes a deep breath as he positions his feet on the bathtub knobs, contemplating the safest way down while wearing slippery socks. "Gotta admit, didn't quite think this one through."

As he debates jumping down or stooping first so he can step down to the tub's edge, the bathroom lights flicker and the smell of smoke and burnt cinders twinges his nostrils. He feels his blood go cold. "Oh no, not again!"

With a high shriek, Pichu races up the boy's shirt to his shoulders and springs up onto his head. From there, the mouse pokémon leaps across the room and kicks off the left edge of the wall near the corner and then over to the adjacent wall and then back; zigzagging its way to its hiding place near the ceiling. On it last jump, its tiny front paws catch the bottom of the bathroom vent. Within seconds it scrambles up and ducks inside, just as the lights go out and DC-ICE's foot spins one of the faucet knobs.

Our hero and his Pichu have found themselves in a precarious predicament! Will they ever see eye to eye? And what of these strange events going on in their new house? The exciting conclusion is just around the corner, as the journey continues...

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