A/N: My first Pokémon fiction I'm placing on this site, so please review. It's a trainer's school story, taking place at the end of the last semester. You know what that means: Final Exams. They're so important they had to be made into proper nouns. Anyway, there's more at stake here than just trainer certification. For the few, those who excel in these challenges, will be able to walk away with something more. . . .

This story is actually the first of a bigger epic, but I set it up so that each could stand-alone. This will eventually develop into a journey fic, but not the badge-collecting kind.

Disclaimer (to be applied to all further chapters): I do not own Pokémon.

Story is approximately eight pages long, 2,772 words (not including title). Eat up!

Sea of silver, sky of gold,

Crystal waters I behold.

Western nation, great stronghold,

Listen to my tale unfold.

Chapter 1: The Professor's Visit

The wind swept in from the east, a sign of forthcoming trouble. Flowing down along the path of Route 31, a sudden gust swept open the overcoat of an old man. His long gray hair shook as the man shivered, the chill air disturbing the little warmth he contained beneath the covering.

Professor Coy was annoyed, partially because of the lingering winter temperatures, but mostly because he was required to attend this . . . selection, of Trainer School graduates. Anything that drew him away from his research work involving pokémon natures was enough to agitate him, but for something as unnecessary as handing out starter pokémon to "qualified rookies"—if there even was such a thing—he really did not really see a point. After all, among the graduates, it has always been the students with the highest overall GPA who received a starter pokémon. The faculty did not need his input, yet they always requested it. In fact, he considered his role in the ceremony to be nothing short of figurehead, a pretty face, expected to do nothing more than smile and nod while three wet-behind-the-ears adolescent neophytes with delusions of grandeur were paired with similarly young creatures of extraordinary power.

Great, now he really did not want to go.

As the multi-story Violet Gym tower rose over the trees, Coy reflected on the real reason why he was actually going: because the Johto League, those arrogant blowhards in charge of his funding, demanded it of him. He huffed at the thought. He could remember the time when he was aide to Professor Snapdragon, when the current ruling Elite received their first starter pokémon. Now here he was, thirty years later, walking down the long road his former mistress had taken, carrying three sphere-shaped objects in a leather pouch on a one-way journey to their destinies.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Thirty-nine minutes in, question 49: Meticulous, Define. Short Answer.

Ryan's pen scratched the surface as he wrote out his answer:

Extremely careful and precise, a pokémon with a meticulous attitude will focus more on making its attacks connect than dodging those of its opponent. As a result, meticulous pokémon are slower and more open to attack.

Pokémonities: the course of instincts and logic. Hard, because there wasn't a precise science to it, not like in the video games. Fun as those have been, as Ryan quickly found out, the real world did not operate that way. He was one to know.

Thirty-nine and one-half minutes, final question. . . .

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Curse you Simon & your infernal tapping! thought Ryan as his concentration was broken. Normally, under any other circumstance, this would not have bothered him, but his nearby classmate had been tap-tap-tapping away since before the test began. It was irritating, not just to him, or to the other test takers, but apparently to the teacher as well, who was too mousy to do anything about it.

Short Essay. Question 50: Lapras

Protect

Ice Beam

Hydro Pump

Calm Mind

Give two preferred natures and explain why.

Ryan baulked. That's not even a question!

Thirty-nine minutes, forty seconds. Ink touched paper.

A calm nature because Lapras' primary weaknesses—electric- & grass-type attacks—fall mostly in the special category. Since calm-natured pokémon will often devote most of their energy toward warding off distance attacks, their own immediate strength is often overlooked. With a moveset composed mostly of special-class attacks, Lapras has no need to rely on physical strength.

On the far side of the room, a desk chair scuffed against the floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Lapras would also benefit from a timid nature, where the individual values speed over physical action . . .

The ol' fight or flight analogy, thought Ryan.

Time was ticking away. Thirty-nine minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Because none of Lapras' attacks are categorized as physical, it does not require the use of brute strength to subdue an opponent. However—

Tap. Tap. Tappity. Tap. Tap.

—a high speed is a more suitable substitute for a pokémon weak against electric-type attacks, provided it's high enough.

Ryan tapped the pen down to finish the short essay with a period. Finished, he checked his watch. Forty minutes, six seconds.

Out of an hour. Man, was he getting slow.

Pushing back against his chair, he stood up and walked among the rows to the front of the room. But first . . .

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tappity. Tap— SNAP!

"Hey!" Heads turned as two halves of a mechanical pencil dropped to the floor beside Simon's desk. The teacher remained unresponsive, suddenly devoutly focused on the papers in front of him, 'though Ryan thought he saw the man's head twitch in his general direction. Mousy-ness worked both ways.

Near the front of the room, Ryan looked for an empty spot to drop his paper onto Mr. Donahue's desk. There wasn't one. He closed his eyes in exasperation, afraid to open them lest they confirm his suspicions. Taking in a deep breath, he opened them. Sure enough, there it was.

Four sheets, stapled at a right angle to the left side of the packet, with a name done in elaborate cursive and adorned by a simple smiley face. While the decoration was irritating, mocking him with an impotent, silly grim, it was the name that caused him anguish.

Karen. She beat him. Again.

Now thoroughly galled, Ryan slammed his own four page test next on top, striding sullenly out of the classroom, down the hall, & to his locker. Combination: three times right, left forty-two, right . . .

"That was pretty mean of you."

Ah, that voice. That sweet, serene, yet stern voice. One that he admired, that he loathed. Ryan didn't need to turn around to know whose it belonged to.

Opening the locker, he shoved in his textbook, Studies of Pokémon Natures & Attitudes. When he heard no further comment, he began to smile. He remembered the scene down to the most minute detail. "Can't say that I really regret it."

"It was still mean."

Your description of every one of my actions, Ryan thought. He grimaced, slamming the door shut as he rounded on the intruder in his life.

Wearing a royal blue plaid skirt and with her long raven hair tied back with a hair band, Karen Nadian did not look all that intimidating. But Ryan was not fooled, not like all the other guys in his class. He knew that the threat that he was facing was not as apparent as was initially perceived. He knew, from experience, that Karen was extremely quick and intelligent, a strong combination that made her formidable in the classroom as well as on the battle field. She was tall for a girl, taller than many of the female students in their grade, yet even she had to tilt her head back a bit to face up to Ryan. It was a trait he admired about her: her courage to stand up to a challenge. Ryan had to smile. It wouldn't be the same without her.

Karen answered that smile with a glare. Ryan smiled harder. Come on, you disenchanting prissy, try and call me down.

Karen simply continued to stare back, unfazed by Ryan's mocking grin. Her scowl deepened.

"You just don't get it, Ryan."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." She leaned in closer. "You think that just because you're smart other people have to defer to you. You think that since your skills are better than the rest, they have to prostrate themselves when they ask permission for your help. Well, here's a news flash: they owe you nothing."

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, multiple counter-points coming to mind, but Karen continued, cutting short any chance of that.

"You don't understand the values a leader must uphold. You demand submission. You demand perfection. In the real world, those two values won't mix. That's why you can't make any friends, and that's why you'll always be second best."

With that said, Karen turned around to walk away, not leaving Ryan any room for a response. Not that one was needed. The silence left in her wake conveyed the mood of their conversation rather well.

Unfortunately, that awkward silence was broken. Before Karen walked three paces, an ear-wrenching screech resounded throughout the hall. The loudspeakers had just come on.

"Attention. Karen Nadian and Ryan Pilate, please report to the headmaster's office. Karen Nadian and Ryan Pilate."

Ryan's long stride quickly brought him alongside his rival. "I guess we will continue this little conversation later."

"Oh? I didn't think that there was anything left to say."

She didn't even so much as glance at him. Instead, she deliberately forced herself to walk quicker, forging an already clear path ahead of her antagonist. Ryan smiled to himself, and shortened his stride enough to let her keep the lead. Let her embarrass herself, he thought.

The hallway brightened as the right-hand wall gave way to glass, offering a fair view of the scattered wilderness to the east. Johto had fought tooth and claw to resist the new development process, but it was losing. Perhaps, within a century, the back country that makes up most of this great and ancient region would be gone. He paused for a moment, as he arrived at the last pane, while Karen continued ahead. A moment, long enough to process all he had just thought and formulate as question, the answer to which was . . . a shrug. A dismissal.

The door to the headmaster's office slid open as Karen stepped in its sensors, and stayed open long enough for Ryan to step through. The secretary, a middle-aged man wearing a flannel, button-down dress shirt and an earpiece phone, greeted them with the classic "wait-a-moment" finger. He was busy talking to another person over the headset about the supply of ground coffee for the faculty lounge, but he did press the button to unlock the sensors for the door, admitting them into the actual office.

The office was situated on the east side of the building, so it overlooked much of the same wilderness Ryan passed earlier. Framed in this window was Professor Brash, the head administrator of the Violet Trainer School. He, too, appeared to be taking in the view. For the few moments after the two students had entered, silence again reigned. This time, it was Karen who broke it.

"Sir? You wanted to see us."

With a relieved sign, Brash turned around. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a trimmed, jet-black beard. His hand dwarfed the full cup of coffee he was holding, an oddity since it was after lunch.

"Yes. Please, sit."

He gestured to two simple chairs occupying the space in front of his desk. As Ryan and Karen settled in, Brash seated himself in his own leather armchair. The mug he rested on the table. Heat and steam rose, quaffing about in the air above the desk.

"The scores have come in. Congratulations, valedictorian and salutatorian of this year's graduating class." The way he nodded to Karen first left no doubt as to who received which honor, 'though Karen was too shocked to be smug.

Karen straightened. "Excuse me?"

Eyes closed, arms crossed, and chin down, Ryan tried to interpret. "What she means to say is—"

"How?"

There, Karen had blurted it out. Brash's eyebrows rose—not in surprise or confusion, but out of habit. The Head always acted surprised when people spoke their minds so irreverently. It seemed to amuse him. Hopefully Ryan could make a recovery. Ryan almost sighed. "We mean to say that we only just took our Pokémonities test last period and we still have several tests for tomorrow and Friday, not to mention our Battle and Wilderness Trials . . . "

Brash folded his hands on the desk. "Trifles. You each have the highest scores and the most elective credits of any student here."

"They're that good, huh?"

Brash smiled—a rarity. He was never so loose around his students. Karen was practically beaming. Even Ryan found a smile beginning to form at the corners his mouth.

"You both have worked very hard, and, short of a committing a serious violation of school rules and policy, I have no doubt that you'll both graduate with the school's highest honors."

"Easily," Ryan said before thinking, as if he were finishing his mentor's sentence.

Brash raised that eyebrow again. "That's good to hear. Now, it's the final round of your Battle Trials are tomorrow. As I understand it, you two will be battling each other."

Ryan stole a quick glance over to Karen, trying to pierce through into her mind. She responded in kind. Neither turned their head. Each wanted to know what the other was thinking.

Brash leaned back in his chair, swiveling ninety degrees tone side to view the wide expanse of forest that was the school's backyard. "This will be quite interesting. Neither of you have been defeated by the other six challengers in your division."

Brash did not have to elaborate further. There can be only one person with a spotless record. That person will have had defeated all the other participants. No losses will be accepted.

"I expect a fair match tomorrow," the headmaster said as he swiveled back around to face them. "No foul play, no misconduct. And get some rest. You'll both need to be at your best to impress Professor Coy."

Ryan straightened, caught unawares by this announcement. "So soon? But, the League representative is not supposed to show up 'til the graduation ceremonies more than a week from now. Why is he so early?"

"My dear colleague is a very thorough man, scrutinizing every one of his subjects down to the most minute detail." He waved a hand as if brushing something off. "He just wants to be sure that the pokémon he's bringing will not be wasted or mistreated."

Ryan nodded, understanding what he said. Normally, a beginning trainer would receive a pokémon from his or her town's gym leader. But the Trainers School was League-funded. As such, the League provided all of the school's pokémon, including the supplying of special starters for three select students. Of course, this means that they assume a degree of liability, should anything go wrong. The natural instinct would be to act a little cautious.

"I guess we can understand that."

Karen made a move to protest his use of "we," but stopped herself when she recognized the bait. Even so, the reaction was enough to get Ryan to smile.

"Good. Now, that's all I wanted to talk to you about for the time being." The headmaster of the Violet City League Trainers School turned his chair to face back out the window. "You still have finals to prepare for tomorrow and Friday. Study, rest up, and eat well you two."

With that they departed. Neither said a word nor glanced at the other on their way out. However, once out the door leading to the hallway, Ryan stepped aside to let Karen pass. She didn't acknowledge his presence as she went parallel the wall in the opposite direction. Ryan shrugged, catching her meaning, before turning around and heading off in the other direction.

His mind wandered to the final match tomorrow. He would finally be able to show up that nuisance. Yet, in a way, he was not yet ready to be rid of her.

She was the only worthy opponent he had left in this place.

Professor Brash took his first sip of coffee all day. He was so engrossed in the present situation that he did not even care that it was cold.

Having given them that information, it was interesting reading their reactions. Analytically, Karen had the upper hand, being more proficient in the use of pokémon attacks and abilities. However, this would not stop Ryan from throwing her through a few loops. That boy seemed to perceive the world differently than others, noticing angles and making connections others simply didn't see. But, despite his unorthodox methods, his tactics came off as a little too . . . brutal, for pokémon battling.

With this in mind, Brash struggled to reason out the winner, the answer to the facts and conditions set by the circumstances. But, subconsciously, his mind had already made one. The words simply rose up above the fumbled attempts at a calculated match-up, finally popping like a bubble at the surface of a glass of water.

"It's going to be an interesting day tomorrow."