A/N: If this fic receives enough attention, I might be convinced to turn this one-shot into a story.

Edit: I have decided to continue this story... I forgot about erasing that other A/N half way though the drafting.

Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon, but I do own any unrecognizable character. The names were ideas of friends…

A bright, golden dawn swept from the East, illuminating the darkness and bringing for the light. Deep in the more difficult to access areas of Sinnoh, Floaroma Town considered the sun a gift to be treasured with utmost care. The sun brought light and warmth, making plants grow and flowers bloom.

A blaziken's cry could be heard in the distance, which to the 12 year-old Keane Miller was both a warning and a wake up calls. Keane rose wearily, having slept late the previous night. The boy grabbed the one of the harder books in his bed room and whacked himself on the head with it. It was a simple trick: pain made one active. This act made him more alert to function with a less likely chance of falling back to sleep with the cost of a headache later on in the day and the already existing pain.

After dressing up, Keane was ready to take on the day. He wore nothing but a pair of basic pants and a white, sleeveless shirt, he had no need to waste time on fancier garments with what he had to do. After walking down the stairs and into the kitchen, Keane helped himself to a bowl of cereal without his parents. Mom and Dad are probably out watering the garden as usual.

And sure enough he was right. After eating his meal, he found his parents carrying watering pails and dousing the water onto the flower beds. While this may seem not much a big deal in most cases, Keane lived in a sea of flowers and these flowers were his family's lively hood. These blooms made sweet nectar, which is extracted by combee, then extracted to make honey, the main source of income. It was what Keane's family had done for several generations.

Normally after Keane had finished gardening, he had to do other chores (most of which are common in the average home), but today was a slow day and he didn't need to do as much work as always. Personally, he wished it wasn't, considering that today several local trainers were going to come home. He dreaded this day, ever since the others in his age group were old enough to get their licenses. He had a license and a pokemon, but he never set foot out of Floaroma. And the others mocked him for being afraid of leaving home. They would go talk about nothing but battles and victories and their travels, and then slip in an insult about him being a "fraidy meowth" or "scaredy skitty".

Keane would have been glad to stay out of their way and just continue working, but that didn't last. Midway into his morning chores, Keane found one much disliked silhouette looming over the horizon. It was none other than Keane's most disliked person: Victor. Now victor wasn't a very bad person, but he did laugh about Keane's cowardice for not leaving the town. That's why the he didn't like the guy.

"Well, well, if it isn't the scaredy skitty, how many kittens are you expecting?" Victor stated. This was usually the first insult every time they met.

Keane just ignored him, knowing talking to the trainer would only make things worse. He really wished he could leave, but his chores didn't help in that department. As Victor kept on talking about stuff that Keane would have wanted to do as a trainer, Keane was worn down by the stress of both working and having to put up with such garbage. Finally after 30 minutes of working he told to Victor, "I don't care about what you've done!"

Victor inwardly smiled as he broke the wall of silence that kept Keane from being a "target". "Well, I guess what I have done is of no importance, but what you have done must be interesting," he spoke in a curious and obviously sarcastic tone. "Tell me, how many gym badges have you earned? Or maybe how many pokeballs have you throw? What about your latest capture? I'll tell you: Nothing. You can't do anything because you're too afraid to leave town."

That was it, Keane was ready to prove to this guy and everyone else that he was as much of a trainer as them, maybe even more. "Listen; what ever you could do I could do better!" Keane told him, not knowing what ever consequences involved in shutting him up.

Victor gave an almost evil grin as he heard those words. "Well maybe you should out do me in something, but what?" he wondered out loud. "Maybe you could do a Gym battle? But those take too long. Maybe a Hearthome City Contest? We don't have the time for that. Or maybe catching a pokemon? Yes you could try to capture a pokemon…"

Keane knew catching pokemon was easy if you could find one, but the bad news was what would be the target. Some pokemon such as psychic-types were hard to come by and difficult to capture. Others like those of the normal variety were a quick breeze if you knew what you were doing. And other types were captured more easily depending on what pokeball you use. "So what's my target?"

"Let's see…I think you could try catching a ghost-type…No one from here..." Victor muttered in a sinister tone. Ghost-types were known for having a very bad reputation in regards to superstitions and folklore, their difficulty to capture (on par with psychic-types), and their cunning. Some are also known for having a sense of humor, but others were known to cause serious injuries to anyone who got in the way. The later were referred to as poltergeist ((even though they aren't really so)). "But I understand if you want to quit and all…knowing the chance you'll die…"

Now he was just messing with Keane, playing the "die" card would not stop him from doing it. "I will so capture a ghost pokemon….tonight!" Keane told him, as the other walked away.

Victor couldn't keep his laughter bottled up any longer; the "Scaredy Skitty" was going to try to actually capture a ghost-type! Oh man, he sure had some rumors to tell today. If Keane backed out, he would be an even bigger laughing stock than he already was.

A few hours later, Keane walked back into his room, a saddened look in his eyes. After finishing the daily chores, he didn't feel the sort of self-worth one felt when he done his job. Maybe because I had agreed to that stupid challenge, he thought to himself. He probably never should have do it, but the Victor was asking for trouble. Sure, but how am I going to get a ghost-type? There is no way a trainer like me with barely any experience in pokemon training could ever hope to capture one!

As he sat down on his bed, he found Durand's pokeball on a nearby desk. Deciding it was a good time to have someone to talk to, he released a green and rock skinned pokemon with a diamond like formation on his stomach and a horn on his head. The creature gave a cry that sounded like: "Larvi." Durand's species name was known as larvitar and unlike their more grown up forms, they were friendly.

"Durand, I am so glad to see you…" Keane told his starter. He then explained the situation he was in and he asked the larvitar for any advice (though it would be difficult to understand in bulk). "So you see, do you think we should go along with it?" The larvitar gave a nod, stating that it would possibly be a good idea to probably try their luck even with a year's delay.

"But, what do you think mom and dad would say?" Keane asked his pokemon. Sure, Mr. and Mrs. Miller may not have been "trainers", but they did want their son to go out and explore the world a bit more. But Keane would be sure that they would say "no", if they learned he was going out on a ghost hunt.

Durand shook his head, but the larvitar's next word: "Lar" made Keane shiver. While it may have sounded just about anything to anyone else, Keane knew what the exact pronunciation in Durand's language meant: "fear". The larvitar only used this pronunciation when ever it was associated with anything relating to fear. And he was sure of it (at least as far as he could tell). Normally Keane would have taken this as a sign of mocking, but considering it was a single word in the pokemon language, he thought of it as something else, most notably being mocked by being afraid.

This only left one choice: sneaking out. And this meant breaking a few rules and returning before anyone expected him to be late. Such was dangerous and sometimes life threatening. Recalling Durand, Keane made his choice. He stared out the red sun set sky, a plan forming in his head. Grabbing a nearby pencil and paper, the trainer wrote his good bye card, knowing that he may not return, ever.

Mr. and Mrs. Miller sat at the dining table, patiently waiting for their son to come down. It wasn't like Keane to ignore meal times. "You don't think that he decided to go do that dare that Victor kid challenged him to?" Mrs. Miller asked her husband. Word of the challenge has reached even her ears: the "town coward" acting brave.

"I doubt it, Keane would never do such a thing as foolish as that…" Mr. Miller replied. He believed his son didn't need to prove that he was brave, but yet he did think that he needed a bit more self-esteem.

"But do you think he's alright?" his wife asked. If her son really did do that dare, he may be in big trouble. "I think I'll go have a look." Taking a stand from her chair, Mrs. Miller climbed up to her son's bedroom. She nearly screamed as she read the note that was left on the bed.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I know by the time you find this message, I may be long gone. But the sad truth is: I have left to go prove I could stand up to Victor and the others. That I as much a trainer as they are. There may be chance I may not come back, but if I do, it may be for the better I have left.

Love, your one and only son,
Keane.

Keane had to move quickly, fast enough to avoid mom and dad from stopping him. He packed up some basic supplies to aid him in his two hour walk to a place the locals call the "Old Chateau". From what he learned, it was full of ghost-types and was the perfect place for him to search for those pokemon.

Although, Keane doubted two dusk balls and few potions would be enough. If the rumors he heard about ghost-type poke were true, he was in over his head to think he could challenge them.

After trekking on the road between Eterna City and Floaroma Town, with no disruptions, and walking through Eterna Forest, the trainer found himself face to face with a run down mansion. It practically screams haunted house, Keane thought to himself, a bit scared of looking inside, or at the building at all for that matter. But Keane had mustered the courage necessary to step inside.

The Old Chateau was accurately named as such, being a large house built in the years before "training" ever began. It had a large dining table and two kitchens on each side of it, to support the upper level. The second level was connected by two flights of stairs next to dining hall. Next to each of these stair cases, small rooms were built for purposes unknown to Keane. Right above the dining hall entrance was the main hall, accessible through a walk between the stairs.

Keane's hair almost fell out of his head when he saw a statue in the form of a charzard between the stairs and dining hall. It stared at him like a noctowl would do to a pikachu, giving a silent sign that he was not welcome here. Keane didn't notice that statue before, yet for some reason, it appeared there. Deciding it was best to leave the statue's line of sight, the trainer made his way to the dining hall.

People in the old days such knew how to live! Keane thought to himself. He was sure that two tables that were about same size as a few dragonair was something to cause for celebration. The chandeliers, even as dusty as they were, still appeared as though they were made of gold. But before he could admire the site of such regal appearances, Keane heard a strange sound coming for one of the near by kitchens.

He followed the strange sound, and before he knew it, he saw one of the strangest sights to behold: a decades old egg being fried on a pan with out someone holding it. The trainer knew this was a sign that ghost pokemon were really here, but the ghost was no where in plain sight. Heck, maybe it would be a great idea to back out, even if the cost would be being called a coward for the rest of your life. That was assuming you would live longer.

Taking a few steps back, the trainer slowly backed away. But he unfortunately stepped on one of the creaky boards in the floor, alerting his presence to the nearby ghost-type. The frying pan dropped and a nearby knife rack fell of the table, the knives spilling out of it. And just like ballistic missiles, they came to life and flew towards Keane. Before his life was nearly ended, he ducked quickly, causing the knives to stick into the wooden wall behind him.

As Keane turned his back to look at the damage that could have be fallen him, the frying pan came to life and whacked him on the head. The trainer didn't like that one bit and turned around again to look at that frying pan when ANOTHER frying pan whacked him on the head. Deciding turning around would make his life even more miserable, Keane rushed as quickly to the entrance hall between the stair cases. As he rushed through, he was flung back to a wall by some invisible force. That was something he would have liked to know about before hand. Thinking about it a bit more, he realized the statue didn't face the front door anymore, but now look toward the back. This place is just so weird…

Keane knew he was in over his head now, but he had to push onward. Maybe if he captured a ghost-type, it could help him escape from this twisted house. He tried the two rooms on the upper levels of the entrance hall, but both were locked. And now he twisted the knob of the main hall. He knew he was going to regret it, but he had no other choice (considering the killer kitchen). As he walked into the hall way, the door behind him shut and locked itself. Great, more trouble.

From what he could tell, there were five rooms in the hall way. He searched the one in center because it was the closet to him. It was the master's bed room. Now while the rest of the house was filled with cobwebs, this room was surprisingly clean. In normal circumstances, he would have liked to lie down and take a nap to sleep it all away. But this room just looked like it was just some big trap. Keane just didn't trust it as he closed the door.

The room on hi right looked like a plausible choice. But he barely found anything, aside from a strange picture that closed at opened its eyes and a few incoherent giggles. The room on the far right and far left were both storage rooms, with nothing but a few musty old tomes and some weird looking scrolls.

That just left one room left to investigate: the one left of the master's bedroom. Taking a few deep breaths and hoping there would be something that could get him out of here Keane twisted the knob, slowly entering what looked like some guy's former recreational room. There was a table (which had a few poker cards on it), and a few chairs close to the door. This looked like seemingly ordinary room; there was even a TV broad casting static. Wait, electricity hasn't flown through this building in decades, so how could a TV be on here? As Keane peered closer, he saw what looked to be like a face of some strange pokemon. He jumped out just in time to dodge a bolt of electricity.

Out from the television set, a red cone-shaped pokemon with two tendrils of blue electricity jumping out of it jumped out of the television. Keane heard that this pokemon was called rotom, and it liked to cause trouble in machines. Taking Durand's pokeball, he released the larvitar, who eagerly sought fighting. The trainer then kicked down the table to use as a buffer zone between him and the battle.

Keane gave Durand an order to ram into his foe, but the rotom dodged and fired an electrical attack at the larvitar (which didn't cause any damage, due to a part ground attribute). Keane didn't know what he could do, considering he was going to fight is first ghost and capture all at the same time. As Durand hurled a blast of sand, Keane threw his pokeball aimed right for the rotom. But before he could get to capture it, the rotom phased through one of the walls and the ball just dropped and rolled on to the floor. He failed… The reason why ghost pokemon were so difficult to catch was that they could phase through matter and Keane blew it!

After picking up the unused pokeball and recalling Durand, the depressed trainer walked out the door, into the main hallway and moved toward the door to the entrance. There was no way he could face the town now! After running away from home, walking into a haunted house, and nearly getting close enough to capture an elusive pokemon, Keane still had nothing to call his own. I just wish….I didn't have to deal with being a failure as a pokemon trainer…

"I think I can help you with that, my friend," Keane heard that voice out of no where. Just how did a voice know what he was thinking? Maybe the depression caused him to have some sort of delusion? "I am afraid I am no delusion," the voice said again.

Keane turned his eyes toward the door where master's bedroom was. But unlike what he expected to see, the same charzard statue from the entrance hall stood right there before him, its eyes glaring with an almost sinister and evil glow. "But that's…"

"…Impossible…" The "statue" finished for him. If Keane was a bit more experienced, he would have known the statue was under a curse or some sort of possession, but since he didn't, he just locked eyes with it. "Since you say you're not cut out to be a pokemon trainer, maybe you should have been a pokemon…" And just as it uttered those words, the statue disintegrated into dust. Keane stood there dumbfounded, just what had the statue had been trying to say?

Keane dropped on the floor, a sudden wave of searing hot burning pain across his entire body. Just what had that "statue" done to him? The boy shrunk under his clothing as grey fur sprouted all across his body and black fur covered his face, hands, and feet. His hands rapidly turned into paws as they lost fingers and his thumbs became fixed in their positions. His nails and teeth gained sharpness as they became claws and fangs. After he heard a snap in his spinal column, a tail sprouted from his behind and he lost whatever capabilities he had to stand on two legs.

After a few minutes, Keane was now just poochyena stumbling out of his human clothes. Was this what that "statue" meant? That he was so unfit to be a pokemon trainer, he was to become a pokemon? Before he could comprehend this any further, the poochyena lost consciousness as the transformation left him drained. He just had no idea that this only just the tip of the iceberg as there was more than just a change in form.