Yeah, this is another fanfiction I'm writing. I'm not sure why, but I'm really in a Pokémon mood (but I've been obsessed with Pokémon since I was nine). So here we go. I'm warning you right now: this is extremely dark. In fact, this might be the first fanfiction of mine that will probably (a good 99.99% chance) have a sad ending.

LET ME MAKE THIS CLEAR.

If this does have a sad ending (which it will), don't whine about it, don't bitch about it; act like adults, please. Don't flame me; just don't. I will be seriously pissed. I suggest you leave now. Just go.

Okay. Now that I have said that; this is a Wishfulshipping. A dark Wishfulshipping.

Oh yeah, I'm trying out the English names. And this is AU. Total AU. This fanfiction is a test for myself and test the grounds of this fandom.

Also, I will keep OCs from here. There will be Cilan and his brother's "mother" and "father," but they are not OCs. They will be only in here for this chapter and this chapter alone (well, maybe the second chapter too). So, yep.

Enjoy.

You're gunna be all like "WHAT DID I JUST READ?"

Blanket of Shadows

Adulthood

I

"We are the same; we are One."

Society was like perfect clockwork. Everything was perfect; everything was unchanging.

"Unova must be separated from the world; after all, we are far superior to the rest."

Cilan hated being controlled. Everything in Unova was controlled. They referred to it as "regulation." There was a fine-line between "regulation" and "control." Out-right control, might he add. People never said anything about it; they were blissful in their ignorance and servant-hood. He'd get it all the time from his parents and others:

"Oh, Cilan, why can't you be like everyone else and just accept?"

Cilan felt like he was trapped in his own skin. He had to admit it; he had turned out to be quite the actor. He made shitting people into an art form. Cilan wanted to be different, but that made him into a social deviant. When he wanted to learn how to cook, people looked at him oddly (only cooks cooked, and he was not a cook). And when he wanted to speak in a more articulate form and use food metaphors and such, it was frowned upon ("what a strange boy," they would say). For a while, his parents thought that he needed a shrink.

He sighed, nudged his Pansage, and approached his bicycle that was resting against a tree, and rode off.

"People used to follow things called 'religions' and praised these creatures called 'gods.' One 'god' was called 'Arceus.' Do any of you know what a religion and god is?"

The clouds were darkened above the Community of Striaton. Those huge black and grey masses moved slowly across the sky, threatening to drop rain upon its inhabitants. Cilan paused his bicycle, staring up at the heavens above as his Pansage clung to his shoulders.

"I don't remember rain in the weather report," the teenage male said to his Pokémon.

"Pan, pana," Pansage said, agreeing with his Owner.

Cilan blinked, and started to bicycle again, heading to his home. Tomorrow was the day he was going to be sent away to the Boarding Home, where all boys and girls go to prepare to adulthood. He was saddened to leave his mother and father, but he knew it had to be done; for the good of society, of course. He would never see his parents again, which startled him, but soon he would forget about them, just like his parents forgot about their parents when they arrived to the Boarding Home when they were young (sometimes Cilan would wonder how that could ever happen).

Cilan made a turn with his bicycle, and slowed his pace. He did not want to hit any of the people walking by him. His eyes turned to a small girl who sat on a bench at the park, her Scraggy clinging to her playfully. All Pokémon were given to children by the Head Master of Striaton, like all children in Unova got their Pokémon from the Head Masters of their Communities. He was five when he got his Pansage. Ever since then, both were inseparable, and he was now eighteen.

"Pokémon are mere tools."

But only children could have Pokémon (and only one Pokémon), not adults. It was not seen as proper. Soon he and his brothers would have to give up their Pokémon to the Community, where they were never seen again. But he knew it would happen, and he would never see his Pansage again after that, but it had to be done. He had been preparing for that day ever since he was fifteen when he had found that truth out.

Cilan knew he would miss his Pansage (like he would miss his parents). When he would talk to adults who had given their Pokémon to the Community, they ended up forgetting their Pokémon all together. Many would say: "I know I had one. I just can't remember him . . . or her. I can't remember." How could that just happen? How could you just forget about your best friend?

His Pansage clung to his shoulders, and nuzzled against Cilan lovingly. "Pan, pansa," his Pansage stated, his lithe tail twitching.

Cilan beamed at his Pokémon. "We're almost home," he announced to the green monkey Pokémon. "Then I can trim your foliage."

Pansage's tree-like foliage was quite big now, and it was that time of month again to cut it back to a smaller size. The Pokémon seemed to like the idea very much, and expressed it by hugging his Owner's face. Cilan smiled, a little blush appearing on his cheeks.

"I thought you might like that."

His heart ached about the fact that his Pansage would be taken from him, like Chili's Pansear would be taken and Cress' Panpour would be too. After all, adults don't need Pokémon. Children needed Pokémon to keep them company, but when Adulthood came, there was no need; work would replace that. Part of Cilan regretted that he was becoming an adult; he wanted to stay a child forever to keep his Pansage. But if he were to tell anyone, they would simply say: "Adulthood comes with ache and heartbreak, but time will heal those wounds."

Cilan would only nod and agree. After all, they were the adults, and he was the child. They knew what was best. Right . . .?

The teenage male soon arrived to his home. It was a small home with white trim and a sprawling front yard where he, his brothers, and their Pokémon used to play Cowboys and Indians. The walkway swirled up the small mound of land where the home sat proudly. This was an old home, compared to the newer ones that where rectangle-shaped and sat side to side; almost squished together like cereal boxes on a shelf. He heard that once his parents were too old to care for themselves and after they had been sent to the Senior Home, the house would be torn down to make several box-homes.

Cilan slipped off his bicycle, and guided to the backyard, where he placed it against the wall of the exterior of the home. Cilan grinned, allowing the sun to seep on his skin as he stood there in his place. The backyard of his home was small, but doable. There was a swing where he and his brothers used to take turns playing on. His Pansage jumped from his shoulders, and onto that said swing, sitting down on it. Cilan stared at his Pokémon. He then chuckled, understanding what his Pansage wanted.

"Alright, I'll push you," Cilan said, walking behind his Pokémon, and gently pushed him. "But not for long, alright?"

Pansage's eyes were closed blissfully as his Owner gently pushed him. "Pan, panna," Pansage said jubilantly.

The soon-to-be-adult smiled at his Pokémon fondly. "You've been a good Pokémon, you know that," he whispered, his smile falling from his lips. "You've been my best friend, you know." He stared intently at his Pokémon. "I'm going to miss you when they take you away . . ."

He stopped pushing his Pokémon, staring out vacantly into nowhere. His mind reeled. How could he just forget about his Pokémon and his parents so easily like his parents had the many others that lived in the region of Unova? How could that have been possible? Cilan felt his Pokémon nudge him gently, and he snapped out of his trance, staring at the confused Pansage.

"Pansage, pan?" the small green Pokémon said, pawing at his Owner.

Cilan quickly smiled, and scooped up his Pokémon. "I think we agreed to trim your foliage, did we not?" he inquired, touching the small tree on top of his Pokémon's head.

"Pansage!" the Pokémon said, forgetting about his Owner's odd behavior.

Cilan smiled sadly before entering his home. From where he stood he entered the small kitchen and could easily see the living room. The house was small in the front, but had large rooms and well-equipped bathrooms as well as high ceilings. Pansage crawled from his Owner's shoulders, and sat on the counter, waiting for his Owner to return with the readied supplies. He came back with a towel and scissors, and commenced in his work after placing his dear Pokémon on top of the towel.

Cilan's mind was adrift as he clipped back the small leaves on his Pokémon's head tree. And there it was again: the weird flashing that he had been experiencing since he was very young. He paused, and watched as his Pokémon flashed something he could have never described with the proper language. His eyes focused as he drew his hands back, watching as the flashing subsided and faded into normality. Whatever this was, he never brought it up—ever since he was young, he has watched his Pokémon, the trees, and the grass just tremble and shake into something he had never seen before. Cilan closed his eyes, took in a stale breath, and resumed his trimming. His Pansage was purring practically as his Owner clipped back the stray and dense leaves. The human paid no attention to his Pokémon as he thought deeply; then he spoke:

"You are an amazing Pokémon, you know," Cilan whispered. "I'll terribly miss you." He continued to clip at the leaves. "You're my b-best friend." He stopped, and hung his head.

Pansage glanced up, seeing the troubled look upon his Owner's face. He shifted, staring up into his swirling irises. "Pansage?" the Pokémon whispered in a confused tone.

Cilan scooped up the Pokémon, and held him close to his chest, hoping to press his Pansage's soul into his chest—as if to keep him safe forever. The Pokémon was confused by his Owner's actions, but he hugged him in return as if to comfort him.

That was when the front door opened, and Cilan glance up sadly. His brothers, their Pokémon, and the triplet's parents entered through the door. The boy with the Pansage stared at the family for a moment, and then he forced a smile upon his face.

"Hello," Cilan stated. "How was the shopping?"

Cress and Chili placed bags on the counter, and their mother smiled at her sons. Their father approached, grinning at Cilan, and ruffled his hair. "How are you, son?" he inquired. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

Cilan nodded his head robotically. "Yes, Father," he said.

"Everything's packed?"

"Yes, did that last night."

"Good, good," he said. He turned to Chili. "And you too?"

"Yeah, Father," Chili said, smoothing back his wild hair.

Cilan watched his brother. He was so calm and mild-mannered, unlike before where he was a bit of a trouble-maker and a flirt (which made many people mad; it's wrong to flirt to girls, after all, flirting was frowned upon). It was decided that Chili had to be sent to a small all-boy's camp where they rectified problems like this. When he returned after five months, he was a completely different person. He used to be so full of life and playful, now he was like an obedient child; he never spoke, he never flirted with girls, and he was so dull and boring. Cilan did not know what to think, but the Community was happy for his obvious progress. However, Cilan lost his brother. Cress, too, thought that it was odd that he morphed into another personality over a span of five months, but never said a word.

Their parents seemed to like the change. They said that he "was acting in the proper way."

"Good, great," their father said. "Well, let's all have dinner and then you boys get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

Confused? Good.

Going: "WTF did I just read?" Good.

If you're wondering why Cilan doesn't have his totally awesome speech patterns, there is a reason. You may not notice it in here, but maybe in the next chapters you will.

And those random sentences spliced into the text; there's a reason for that as well. You'll see. You'll see.