Author Note: So for time reference I kinda made a whole Timeline and am gonna post the year at the beginning of the chapter.

Year X987

In a clearing, just a five minute walk out from Lavender Town, there were four neat rows of six evenly placed stones. The cold gray stone made harsh indents in the dark living grass and marked the graves of 24 young pokemon. The clearing was surrounded by some of the tallest trees in the forest and was off the normal path so not many people even knew it existed. In fact only one did. A young blue haired boy of maybe 8 or 9 was kneeling before the freshest grave. His eyes were emotionless and trails of old tears stained his blank face. It was far past his bedtime, the sun had set hours ago and his parents and sister were asleep at home, unaware of his absence. But he did this every night.

The freshest grave belonged to a Rattata. The boy had been sure he was doing it right this time. He had read every book on pokemon training he could find. Which wasn't many, but still, he had tried so hard. He had named it to increase the strength of their bond, and fed it extra poffins to keep it happy. But then… he had gotten a little frustrated again.

Stephan, the Rattata, kept losing to other wild pokemon, so he was training extra hard. Then suddenly, he dropped dead. Just like all the others. So here he was again, burying another partner.

Maybe they were right. Even though he hailed from Lavender Town, a town of death, everyone seemed to find him… unnerving. They talked about him when they thought he wasn't listening.

"There's something wrong with that boy."

"He disturbs the other students."

"He's so dark."

"He never smiles.'

"Does he even have emotions?"

"Keep him away from my children!"

"It's as if everything he touches dies."

"You're not actually going to let him train a pokemon? He'd surely kill it."

"I just wanted to prove them wrong." He muttered to himself as he gazed blankly at the wet sleeves of his blue flannel pajamas. "I wanted you to live. I wanted you to be my friend. I am…I'm sorry."

The boy remained at the graves in silence for a while longer soaking in the guilt. He was barely aware of the light night breeze blowing through his hair and the subtle crunch of footfalls behind him. All he could feel was pain. He couldn't tell his family, not anyone. And the weight of all of the lost lives was wearing on him, silently eating away at him from the inside out. It was apparent to everyone around him that he was becoming progressively gloomy, even more so than he had been before, which only resulted in further ostracizing.

"Are all of these yours?"

The boy whirled around and saw a teenager standing casually among the trees. The teen was tall, with an imposing figure and an air of relaxed authority and confidence. His clothes were ragged and dirty from travel and he had a ratty backpack slung over his shoulder, but he stood in them as if they were the finest Armani suit. A wicked smile adorned his face and a shiny carpet of black hair crowned his head.

"Yes." The younger replied dully.

"What were they?"

The boy turned to the freshest grave. "He was a Rattata, his name was Stepha-"

The teen burst out in a loud, condescending, laugh.

"What's so funny?" The boy demanded as he stood up.

"Where do I start? First, you named your pokemon." The teen sneered.

Something about the teen's air and mocking air made the poor boy feel embarrassed and belittled and elicited an uncharacteristic stutter. "I-I read books. They said naming your pokemon increases the bond and makes you a better traine-"

The teen rolled his eyes, strutting over to him. "Those bleeding hearts who sit at home, writing their pathetic little books know nothing about strength." He spat. "They treat pokemon like they have emotions. Like they matter." He scoffed. "Pokemon are tools. Their lives don't matter. "Bonding" with them only makes you useless. When you're emotionally attached to your tools it makes you soft. You hesitate to make the tough decisions. It makes you weak."

The younger's eyes had grown progressively wider through out the rant. He turned back to the rows of graves.

They didn't matter?

A smile twitched on his lips. He hadn't killed his partners; he had just broken a few tools. He quickly shoved aside everything his family had told him about the friendship between a trainer and their pokemon, if they were right, then he was a killer; if this new boy was right, he was blameless. He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He looked at the teen as though he had just given him salvation. "Their lives didn't matter?" he clarified hopefully.

The teen seemed to glow in the child's adoration. "Hell no." He cocked his head to the side and gave him a once over. "You know what? I like you kid." He slung his backpack off of his shoulder and unzipped it. "Not everyone's smart enough to accept their "precious" pokemon's worthlessness." The inside of the bag was filled to the brim with pokeballs.

"Woah…" the boy gasped. "I thought you were only allowed to carry six pokemon at a time."

"Let's get something straight right now kid. I don't care about the law. Survival of the fittest, I say survival of the strongest is more accurate. I'm strong, and therefore I don't need to obey the rules made by those weaklings. I can do what I want. I can take what I want." He pulled out a pokeball and tossed it to the boy, who caught it with ease. "I think you're strong, and these tools were just too weak to handle it." The boy released the pokemon and was shocked when a Houndour materialized. "Follow me, and I can make you strong too."

"Then I can have anything I want?"

"Anything." The elder assured.

"Then I'll be… happy?"

"Sure." The teen shrugged. "What's your name anyway kid?"

"Archer." He replied. "What's yours?"

"Giovanni." The elder held out his hand. "That's a good name, like Apollo the archer. They named a rocket after him. That's what we're going to be, you know. Rockets. We're going to take off. We'll look done on the earth and rule." He grinned dreamily as though he saw the future before him. "That is if you join me. So are you coming?"

"Alright." Archer nodded. "I'll just tell my family-"

"NO!" Giovanni snapped angrily stepping closer to the smaller boy until he towered imposingly over him. "Family is weak. The emotional ties restrain you. You have to leave everything behind. NO looking back."

Archer cast a glance in the direction of his hometown. He had no qualms leaving behind his neighbors… but his family was different. Could he really leave them for some stranger?

But then again, they thought pokemon had feelings. If they knew of this graveyard, if they knew of the blood on his hands, would his parents still love him? Could his sister still manage to call him brother? Or would they think him a monster?

But Giovanni offered him a future of happiness. Could he truly be happy home with his family if he had to hold this guilt and secrets inside his whole life? Could he be happy living a lie?

"Trust me, I know what's best." The teen assured him confidently.

"Alright. I'll go with you."