A/N

Welp. Wanted to give Pokemon a try. Hope you guys like it.

Enjoy if you dare.

Disclaimer: I don't own Nintendo. I don't own any of their properties. I am scared of their lawyers. Please don't hurt me.


Cobalt stared at his mother from across the dining table. Or, more specifically, at the book in her hands. His face would have contorted in rage, or possibly despair, if he could find it in himself to finish processing the sight of it.

It was obviously a trashy romance novel. You know the kind, with the dark backsplash and flowers around the edges. The background set on the beach at twilight, with all the pretty colors gleaming off the waves. The main couple displayed front and center, embracing each other suggestively. Pretty par for the course, as far as Cobalt was concerned.

So why was it sending him into existential dread? Why was he contemplating gouging out his eyes, and braining himself on the table?

Well, the two figures on the front cover of the book were a decidedly attractive young woman, and a typhlosion.

The fire-weasel.

Cobalt could still remember his glee at waking up in the Pokemon world. He was as wide-eyed, and bushy-tailed as anyone could expect. Utterly fascinated with the prospect of living in his childhood dream.

He had grown up with the games, originally. Playing them over and over again, picking different teammates, over-leveling in the tall grass, and stomping every obstacle in his path- as one does. He played every generation at least once, traveled to every nook and cranny on every digital continent. He beat up every 'team,' from the truly villainous, to the disgruntled children. He fought and captured myths, legends, and gods.

But that's what everyone did.

Cobalt lived in an era of Pokemon Masters, back home. An era where any kid with a hand-held gaming console could adventure endlessly, for glory and infinite trophies. When tamagatchi's and pet rocks were legitimate companions, Pokemon were a balm for the soul. He never questioned the ethics of ordering his teammates to drop-kick a youngster's pet rat. He never had to face the reality of a nuzlock, or a Team Rocket heist.

So, baby-Cobalt, stuck in his crib, giggled endlessly at his father's derpy psyduck. Traded scary faces with his mother's haunter, and vicious barbs with the oddish in the garden. Blissfully happy with his turn of luck in whatever reincarnation cycle he fell into.

Now, at ten years old, he was beginning to understand that this world wasn't actually made for children. Not everything was soft, squishy, and inherently nice. The power of friendship could not revive the dead (probably, he would reserve judgment on that one). One hyper fang from a large rat could kill him. And his mom wanted to fuck a fire-weasel.

Goddamnit.

"Finish your breakfast, Coby." The degenerate woman said while turning the page.

A lone, purple, foggy eye rose up behind her shoulder. Her, apparently just as debaucherous, haunter laughed at him quietly, enjoying his torment - though Cobalt was sure the pokemon didn't understand the reason behind it. All the same, the damn thing basked in his dread.

Cobalt's eyes mechanically shifted down towards his bowl of cereal, appetite strangely gone. "I need an adult." He whispered.

"Speak up, honey."

His head fell on the table, next to the bowl. "You don't count." He murmured, muffled by the placemat.

The lady that birthed him lifted her eyes from her… reading material, and blinked at him in concern. "Are you alright, Coco?"

"M'fine." Cobalt gurgled, unmoving.

She put a napkin between the pages to mark her spot, and placed Satan's Bible down on the table. "You sure? Do you feel sick or something?"

Oh he felt sick, alright. "Probably just nervous." He settled on, instead.

"Psy~" The idiot, yellow bird of the family waddled into the room and looked at him in concern.

"What?" He asked, turning his head a bit to glare at it. "Don't give me that look. You're the one with the headache."

His mother huffed and leaned back in her chair. "Well, dad should be back any minute. Are you ready to go?"

Cobalt's eyes shot open from his crumpled position, and his body flipped upright like one of those inflatable tube guys that advertised vehicle repair shops.

Today was the day. The day all ten year-olds dreamed about. The day he would start on the road to greatness, and cement himself as the king of cock-fights. Everyone with a pet - be it bird, bug, or rock would fear him. The youngsters would tremble, the champions would bow, and the gods would fall.

They would hear his name, and run. For their bane, Cobalt the Conqueror approach-

"Where's the munchkin?!" The loud bang of the front door getting kicked in disrupted his internal monologue.

"Kitchen, dear." His mother called out, picking up her depraved vice once again. "You better fix the door."

Cobalt heard his father well before he saw him. Boots slapping against the wooden floorboards in the power-est of walks. "Spare hinges in the usual box? I'll get to it in a bit. We really need to get a stronger door." He said with a beaming grin as he rounded the corner. The door definitely wasn't the problem, but nobody ever brought that up.

"How's the Cob-meister?" The man grinned. "Finally ten, and ready to leave the nest?"

"Duck!" The yellow blob wailed. Tears springing from his eyes.

His father blinked down at the pitiful little thing. "What are you whining about? It's not like he's leaving forever."

"Psy~?" He tilted his bulbous head.

"You'll see him again in no time." His father nodded confidently, succeeding in cheering up the dumbass duck - who immediately waddled off, likely forgetting about the conversation entirely.

His mother and her haunter both chuckled at the byplay. Her chair scootched back from the table as she stood up and walked over to her husband, giving him a light peck on the cheek.

"The little moron's going to be lonely without Coby." She said lightly.

His father turned to her, his smile softening. "Hey now, he'll be fine. The boys have been trying to get him to toughen up anyway, it'll be good for him."

Cobalt's parents were an effing power couple if he'd ever seen one. Hopelessly in love with the idea of each other, while being exact opposites.

Clarisse Kent was objectively gorgeous. Slender and pristine, with sharp features and a sharper tongue. Platinum hair, tied up in a braided bun, and a whole closet of white dresses that just simply didn't get dirty. She was an ex-gym trainer from Lavender Town - back when they had a gym (one of the first hints that this world was different), and was a real proponent of scaring the bejesus out of people.

Victor Kent, however, was what one might call an Ace Trainer - if only by badge count, and conference finalist status. Outside of that, he was a massive marshmallow with a predisposition to farming. He was a large guy, with larger muscles, wore a perpetual grin, and ate doom and gloom for breakfast.

Cobalt's mother told him how they met, once. She had reminisced, waxed, waned, and swooned at the tale. It was at the Indigo conference eleven years ago - the first one ever, after the Kanto/Johto war. She described her now husband as the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. A titan, surrounded by titans, smiling at her in a challenging, piercing, soul deep gleam.

Cobalt wouldn't repeat the story. It was far too filled with innuendo - innuendo that he wasn't entirely sure his mother had added on purpose. However the cliff notes were that his father kicked his mother's ass in the tournament, after which she proposed to him immediately.

Very Goku-Chichi, if he was honest. It was cute, as much as it was horrifying.

Both of his parents had done well for themselves in their travels. To the point that when they decided to settle down, they could afford a sizable plot of land just off of Route 5. Within spitting distance of Cerulean City - where they founded a berry orchard and private Pokemon reserve.

The goal of which was mainly to house and feed the sizable number of Pokemon the two lovebirds had. It was only by chance that they were able to market the overabundance of berries.

Cobalt's father had an executor, and a tangrowth that enjoyed farming as much as he did. They also enjoyed crushing the bodies of their enemies, but that was besides the point.

Professor Oak had been particularly interested in his father's tangrowth, back then. As far as anyone was concerned, it was an entirely new evolution for tangela, but Victor Kent either didn't know how he triggered the change, or didn't want to share.

"So!" His father turned to him, hands on hips. "You ready to kick the world in the gonads, Coby?"

Cobalt nodded resolutely. "They will beg for mercy, and find that I have none to give."

His mother snorted.

"Atta'boy!" His father laughed. "Come on, let's go meet your new partner!"

"Hold on a minute!" His mother interjected. "He hasn't finished his breakfast!"

"Sustenance is the vice of the weak."

"While that may be," His mother deadpanned, "you're a growing boy. Finish your cereal."

"You are weak, buddy." His father said, teeth reflecting the morning light. "Hurry up, the little guy's getting impatient."

Sure enough, the older man held out his hand, showing a wiggling pokeball.

Cobalt sighed, trying to regain the shreds of his appetite, and took a deep breath. The following three seconds were filled with silence as his parents watched him inhale his breakfast.

"You're going to either throw up, or choke." His mother grinned at him when he finished.

"My stomach and lungs will do what I tell them to."

Haunter covered his mouth with his floating hands, and laughed soundlessly.

"Good!" His father grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and started out of the house. "Let's go!"

Cobalt bonelessly let himself be carried like a misbehaved kitten. His face scrunched in laser focus as he was carted past what used to be their front door - the slab of wood having been ripped off its hinges, laid broken in the foyer.

The Kent property was sizable - as noted earlier. It consisted of a modest, ranch-style home on a hill, with large windows that peered out over the hundred acre orchard, and the Kent's pokemon reserve. Reminiscent of a vineyard, rows upon rows of berry bushes, trees, and all manner of berry producing plant life lined the land. The orchard had been cut into the surrounding forest when his parents took up the property, creating a dense wall of trees along the edges, with a flat, open plain in the middle. A long, wrapping fence, and tight patrols from his parent's pokemon prevented any would-be thieves - be they wild pokemon, or otherwise.

Cobalt's father had a good relationship with the surrounding magical creatures, as well. It had taken some legwork, and a good number of berries, but he had managed to recruit the native communities to help guard the borders, and some to even help tend the crop. A wild difference from the first couple of years, just after they had just cleared out a slew of previously established habitats.

The wonders an endless supply of food could accomplish.

The ranch, just as large as the orchard, sat on the opposite side of the house - a bit closer to Route 5. To Cobalt, it felt like a little slice of the Safari Zone, with an artificial mountain, small lake, and a collection of trees that had been purposefully preserved from the clearing of the land.

In it, housed the full teams of the Kent couple, as well as whatever local fauna they had befriended. The most notable of the latter was the cheeky abra that Victor's Dragonite had taken under his wing. Both were currently napping peacefully under one of the large trees.

Cobalt's father dropped him on his feet, as they made their way into the ranch, and turned to him. "Got your license? Bag?"

Cobalt twisted slightly, to show his father the little messenger pouch that hung off his waist, and pulled out a small metal case. Opening it, revealed a little plastic card with his picture on it, and eight hollowed out recesses in a block of foam.

Cobalt had aced the Trainer exam easily, and was baffled how anyone could have failed it. The test consisted of a type chart that he had to fill in, and a number of fill-in-the-blank questions. Mostly on camping knowledge, and general pokemon care. Still, multiple people had failed.

Granted, he did take the test out of season. The gym circuit hadn't been set to start for months at that point, so most people who were taking the exam that early, had failed it previously. The rest were likely taking in in the coming days, trying to secure a league-provided starter.

Cobalt decided to rely on his father, instead, who promised to find him a good partner.

The ten year-old closed his badge case without preamble, and returned it to his bag - arm sticking in halfway to his elbow. He didn't think he would get over that, honestly. He was carrying around a legitimate bag of holding, and nobody batted an eye.

The larger man nodded at him, grinning as per usual. "Good. Ready to meet 'im?"

Cobalt nodded seriously, posture straightening, and stared at the twitching pokeball in his father's hand.

Instead of opening the ball, however, his father started talking. "So I met this little guy over on Route 3 last week. Absolute spit-fire. Wouldn't stop trying to cave my head in. You'll love 'im." The man's grin split his face. "Gonna have to be careful, though, bud. This guy will-"

"I can handle it." Cobalt interrupted. He was confident. He had spent the last ten years studying pokemon. He had watched famous matches on repeat, learned strategies, examined moves, and came to conclusions. He had made friends with his parent's teams, and the surrounding wildlings. He was a pokemon Master twenty times over, if the games he played were any indication (they weren't. He knew that, but he could dream).

His father's grin grew, somehow. "Well, if you're sure, Cob-meister." He stepped back and opened the ball.

Cobalt could tell that his father didn't have a lot of faith in him for this, and was happy to let this meeting fall apart. He could tell, but it didn't actually register until later - as focused on the first member of his team as he was.

It was a tan ball of fluff that spawned on the ground out of a red beam of light. Its lanky arms hung loosely, three-fingered hands clenched in white-knuckled fists. Its body tensed, and eyes twitched as it glared between him and his father.

Cobalt stared at the mankey in front of him, still as stone, thinking of everything he knew. Everything he could leverage, and everything he could impart. Then he began speaking. "You are weak right no-"

A fist impacted his stomach, cutting off the rest of his spiel. He had been planning to outline how they could help each other. How he would raise the puffball into the hardest hitting, meanest combatant the world had ever seen. Instead, he was forced to gasp for breath, rolling on the grass while his father laughed.

He threw up his breakfast.

"Oh you little shit. Come here and try that again!" He rolled to his feet, ready to pull hair, and stub toes.

Half a second later, another fist was buried in his sternum, and his father laughed harder.


A/N

So my Pay tre on has chapter 2 up already if you wanna check it out.

Review, else get punched by the rage monkey.