First draft+4chan edits

There was something unique about growing up near a seaport; your ears became numb to the cacophony of sailors' grunts and Pokémon cries. The early morning air would thrum with the distant, deep hum of cargo ships signaling their arrival, their horns echoing like ancient calls across the water. This sound blended with the high-pitched cries of Wingull, circling above in a dance choreographed by the promise of Finneon and the rhythm of the waves. As the day would unfold, the clatter and clang of machinery from the docks played a relentless percussion, punctuated by the rhythmic thumping of crates being loaded and unloaded, a testament to the town's trade and livelihood.

Tucked away in this bustling port, there's a small shack that stands out for its simplicity and charm.  The exterior, with its peeling blue paint and a roof patched up with bits of corrugated metal, shows the marks of weather and time. It's a compact place, but inside, it's filled with essentials and a few treasures from the sea, like old fishing nets and faded photos of ships. A tiny window looks out onto the busy port, offering a glimpse of the daily hustle. The inside feels cozy, with a small kitchen where fresh catch is often cooked, and a simple table that doubles for meals and planning the next day's work.

 That was my home and I loved it. Each morning, the sea would greet me with its saline embrace, carrying whispers of distant lands on its undulating waves. The scent of salt would mingle with the earthy aroma of wet sand, a fragrance as familiar as life itself.  My mother made sure I was cared for and had the essentials there, even if it was at the cost of herself. She made it a home. Each night, when she came back late with calluses covering her hands and her hair a salty mess, it was lullabies and fresh fruit from the market. Anything for her son. When she was up at the crack of dawn, net balls at the ready, there was no complaining. When she was knee deep in the water, grabbing the tentacool by hand, people raised an eyebrow but she just kept on smiling at me. I wish I could’ve thanked her for all of that.

So that was how the time passed. The weeks became months, 1 year became 2, we were happy. We were both surprised the day the letter came in. It took Selenea 10 minutes to open it once she noticed who it was from.

I watched Mom as she carefully opened the envelope, her hands slightly shaking. It was strange to see her like this, vulnerable. The letter she pulled out seemed heavy with significance, its words casting shadows across her face. I could tell it was something big, something that reached back through years of silence.

"Mom, what's that? Who's it from?" I couldn't help but ask, breaking the thick silence that had enveloped us.

She hesitated, holding the letter as if it might crumble to dust. "It's from your grandfather," she whispered, her voice so low I almost didn't catch it.

"Grandfather?" My heart skipped. I'd heard stories, but he was more a legend than a person to me. "Why's he writing to us?"

Her eyes met mine, filled with a storm of emotions. "He wants us to visit him on Fullmoon Island. He wants to talk... about you, about our future."

I could feel the weight of her worries, the years of hurt and distance that lay between her words. But something inside me stirred, a mix of curiosity and an unexpected hope. "Mom, we should go. Whatever it is, it's about my future, isn't it? Maybe he's trying to make things right."

Mom looked torn, caught between her protective instincts and the ghosts of the past. "Leo, it's complicated. There's so much history, so much pain. I don't know if we're ready to face all that."

"But how will we ever know if we don't try? This could be our chance to find out more about where I come from. I'm ready, Mom. We can face it together," I found myself saying, my voice stronger than I felt.

She studied me then, seeing not just her son but the person I was growing into. "Okay, Leo. We'll go," she said after a pause, determination setting in. "But we'll be careful, and we'll support each other."

I nodded, excitement and a bit of fear mingling in my chest. "Thanks, Mom. This is something we have to do. For both of us."

So, we decided to step into the unknown together, facing a past shrouded in mystery with the hope of finding answers and maybe, just maybe, healing.

Even getting to the ship was an ordeal, I didn’t yet have my sealegs and I could tell my mother thought I was too young for such a voyage. As the boat gently rocked beneath me, I held onto the railing, feeling the steady rhythm of the waves beneath the modest vessel we had rented for this journey. The ship, though not the sturdiest or most luxurious, bravely navigated through the choppy waters, its engine humming steadily in the background. The spray from the waves occasionally splashed over the side, offering a cool respite from the salty air. My belongings, tucked away in a corner of the deck, shifted slightly with each sway of the boat, a minor inconvenience that added to the adventure of our voyage.

The sky overhead was a mix of clouds and clear patches, suggesting a typical day at sea rather than any impending doom. Despite the occasional larger wave that made the boat dip a bit more than expected, there was a sense of calm in the journey. The decision to take this trip felt like the right one, offering a sense of simplicity and connection to the sea that a more luxurious voyage might not provide.

Upon arriving, I was immediately enveloped in the island’s untouched beauty, a stark contrast to the humble surroundings I was accustomed to. It was a canvas of natural elegance, where luxury cottages dotted the landscape. These havens of solitude and grandeur nestled quietly among whispering forests, their ancient trees reaching skyward, creating a serene canopy under the watchful gaze of the stars. The fragrance of Roserade mingled with the salty embrace of the sea air, crafting an atmosphere of tranquil harmony that seemed worlds apart from the life I knew.
The shoreline, caressed by the gentle lull of waves, offered a view so breathtaking it seemed as though the moon itself had chosen to kiss the earth right here. Under the glow of the lunar light, the island transformed; the water became a mirror, reflecting the endless dance of the cosmos. This place, where the wealthy retreated to their opulent solitude, whispered tales of a world far removed from my own. Yet, amidst this splendor, there was a sense of enchantment, a hint of the mystical presence said to grace these shores. Fullmoon Island, with its blend of natural beauty and luxurious seclusion, stood as a vivid testament to a grandeur I was only beginning to comprehend.

I was awoken from my marvel of nature's bounty by a flurry of introductions to faces and bodies I could barely tell apart. A firm handshake, a stiff hug, an awkward smile; they all blended together, each gesture feeling like a mask over the chasm between their world and mine. The room buzzed with the energy of high society, a symphony of voices that seemed both inviting and distant, the air infused with a mix of sea salt and expensive perfume, a blend that was intoxicating yet subtly suffocating.

My mother, once a part of this elaborate dance but estranged by years of simpler existence, moved among them with a grace that belied the undercurrent of tension. We were outsiders trying to navigate the treacherous waters of wealth and privilege we had suddenly fallen into. With every introduction, I felt the weight of scrutiny, the smiles not reaching their eyes, their polite questions laced with an unspoken assessment of our worthiness to rejoin this exclusive enclave.

The ocean's whisper outside the window was a constant reminder of the vast, indifferent world beyond these gilded walls, a contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the gathering. Each handshake seemed to emphasize the difference, not the welcome, a silent declaration that I did not, and perhaps never would, truly belong. The warmth I sought was masked by the cool veneer of their polite society, leaving me adrift in a sea of faces that looked through me rather than at me.

As the night wore on, the moonlit beauty of the island felt overshadowed by the realization that this was a world apart, not just in location but in spirit. The natural splendor outside could not penetrate the walls we had erected between us, walls not of stone but of unspoken judgments and expectations. My mother's presence, a pillar of resilience, was the only solace in the realization that we were walking a tightrope over a divide that nature itself could not bridge. In the luminous glow of the moon, the darkness was not just around me, but within, a shadow cast by the light of a world I was learning might never fully be mine.

“Selenea, so good to see you!”
A woman whom I assumed to be my grandmother pulled my mother into a strong embrace.
In the dimly lit interior of the Fullmoon Island cottage, Selenea faced her mother, Aurelia, for the first time in a decade. The room was suddenly silent, save for the distant sound of the sea, a backdrop to the uneasy reunion. This meeting, initiated by Selenea's father's sudden decision, hung heavily between them.

"Mother," Selenea finally said, breaking the silence with a voice that held a mix of reluctance and determination. "Father has sent for us. After all these years, he wants to discuss Leo's future."

Aurelia's face, illuminated by the soft moonlight streaming through the window, remained impassive, yet her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. "His future," she echoed, the words heavy with unspoken skepticism. "Or the matter of the inheritance? Given... our situation, I'm surprised he's considering Leo at all."

Selenea felt a familiar sting at her mother's words, a reminder of the judgment they'd faced. "Yes, the inheritance," she acknowledged, her voice firmer. "Despite everything, Leo is his grandson. It's time he acknowledged that, time he saw Leo for who he is—a bright, deserving child, not just a reminder of choices made."

As the two confronted the tangled threads of their past, a heavy silence settled over the room, so palpable that even the other party guests, momentarily forgotten, could feel the tension hanging in the air like a thick fog, stifling any attempt at conversation.Aurelia sighed, the sound almost lost to the night. "And what does he propose? After all this time, to simply welcome Leo as his heir?"

Selenea nodded, the complexity of their situation weighing heavily on her. "It seems so. But it's not just about wealth, Mother. It's about recognition, about giving Leo his rightful place in this family, regardless of the past!"

"ENOUGH!" The man's voice thundered throughout the crowd. "Aurelia, if I hadn’t already made up my mind, do you truly believe I would be foolhardy enough to invite the two of them here?!" The man I now knew as my grandfather stared daggers into his wife with his questioning.

Selenea and I turned towards the voice, finding ourselves momentarily caught in the storm brewing between my grandparents. My grandfather's gaze then shifted to us, softening as his eyes met mine. "Selenea, Leo," he began, his voice now a controlled calm, "this isn't how I wished for us to discuss the future, but perhaps it's best we address it head-on."

Selenea, her posture rigid with apprehension, nodded slightly. "Father, we came because you asked. What is it you want to discuss about Leo's future?"

He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "Leo, your heritage, despite the... unconventional path it took to get here, entitles you to a portion of my estate. I've grown to understand that family, and its continuation, is more than just traditional bonds. It's about acknowledging and supporting those who belong to us, by blood and by love."

Selenea's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean to include Leo officially? Despite..."

"Despite everything," he interrupted, his gaze now steady on Selenea. "It's time to put old grievances aside. Leo deserves his rightful place in this family, and if I've learned anything, it's that the future waits for no one. It's time we build bridges, not walls."

I found my voice, hesitant but curious. "Grandfather, does this mean you're... accepting us?"

He looked at me, a genuine smile breaking through the stern exterior. "Yes, Leo. It's time we became a family again. There's much to discuss and much to mend, but this is where it starts."

The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a cautious hope. Selenea, with tears brimming in her eyes, reached out her hand to her father, a gesture of reconciliation long overdue. "Thank you, Father. For Leo... for giving him this chance."

After the emotional acceptance into the family, Grandfather, his eyes twinkling, led us towards another part of the cottage. "Now that we've got the serious stuff out of the way," he said, a smile playing on his lips, "there's another important event we need to celebrate."

I was still floating on cloud nine from being welcomed into the family when he mentioned a celebration. "What celebration?" I asked, puzzled.

"Just you wait and see," Grandfather replied, guiding us to the large double doors at the end of the hall. With a flourish, he opened them wide.

The room burst into life with a loud "Surprise!" as friends and relatives, previously hidden, jumped out. Balloons bobbed against the ceiling, banners proclaiming "Happy 10th Birthday, Leo!" adorned the walls, and a table heaped with presents and a massive cake, its ten candles glowing warmly, awaited me.

My jaw dropped, and a wave of utter surprise washed over me. "I completely forgot it was my birthday!" I managed to stammer, my heart leaping at the sight.

Mom wrapped an arm around me, her voice soft in my ear. "We couldn't let your special day go uncelebrated, could we?" she said, her voice tinged with joy.

Grandfather came closer, a firm hand on my shoulder. "Welcome to the family, Leo. This is just the start of countless joyful memories we'll make together. Now, make a wish and blow out those candles!"

Surrounded by this sudden outpouring of love and acceptance, I felt something shift inside me. With everyone's eyes on me, full of warmth and expectation, I closed my eyes, made a wish from the deepest part of my heart, and blew out the candles amidst cheers and clapping. Lying in bed later, replaying every moment, I knew this birthday, this day of acceptance and joy, would be etched in my memory forever, a beacon of the new beginnings that lay ahead. Only with hindsight could I know it would be as a nightmare.

"Leo, there's one more gift," grandfather announced, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Everyone's attention shifted, a hush falling over the room as he motioned someone forward. A figure approached, holding a small, covered cage.

As the cage was placed in front of me, my heart raced with anticipation. Grandfather lifted the cover with a flourish, revealing a small, vibrant Elekid. Its electric feelers sparked with energy, lighting up its eyes with a playful glow. I was speechless, my eyes wide in amazement.

"This Elekid," Grandfather began, "is not just any Pokémon. It's been chosen for you, Leo, to mark this new chapter in your life. Elekid represents energy, courage, and the spark of new beginnings. I hope it will be your companion on whatever paths you choose to explore."

I reached out tentatively, and the Elekid nuzzled my hand, its touch sending a gentle jolt of electricity through me, a sign of its acceptance and affection. A bond formed in that instant, a connection that went beyond words.

"Thank you, Grandfather!" I managed to say, my voice choked with emotion. "I promise to take good care of Elekid, to learn and grow together."

The room erupted in cheers and applause, the warmth and love of my family enveloping me. Holding Elekid close, I felt a surge of confidence and excitement for the adventures we would share.

In the midst of the birthday celebration's warmth, Grandfather gestured for quiet, signaling another momentous introduction. "I have someone very special I'd like you both to meet," he announced, his voice carrying a mix of pride and anticipation. From the shadows of the room, a man stepped forward, his demeanor calm, yet commanding attention with his mere presence.

"This," Grandfather said, gesturing towards the man, "is Charon. He's not only a brilliant mind but also my chief scientist. His work and dedication have been invaluable."

Selenea's reaction was immediate and barely concealed; a tension crept into her shoulders, and her smile faltered, though she quickly masked it with a polite nod. Leo, on the other hand, looked between the two, sensing an undercurrent of discomfort but unable to place its source.

Charon extended his hand, first to Selenea, who accepted it with a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice smooth, betraying nothing of the complexities that lay beneath this simple greeting.

"And this is Leo," Grandfather continued, oblivious to the tension, "celebrating his 10th birthday today."

Charon turned to me, offering a smile that seemed both genuine and tinged with a hidden depth. "Happy birthday, Leo. It's very nice to meet you."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, shaking his hand, intrigued by the man whose importance was evident, yet whose connection to us remained unclear.

As the introductions concluded and Charon mingled with the other guests, I noticed Mom's discomfort hadn't faded. She watched Charon with a guarded expression, her usual ease replaced by a careful neutrality.

The rest of the party continued with joyous celebration, but the introduction of Charon remained lodged in my thoughts, a puzzle piece whose place in the larger picture of our family's story I couldn't yet determine.

As the evening unfolded beneath the luminous glow of the full moon, the garden of the Fullmoon Island cottage transformed into a scene of refined celebration. Adults mingled with the effortless grace of those accustomed to the finer things in life, their laughter floating through the air like a delicate melody. Crystal glasses filled with vintage champagne clinked in gentle toasts, while a string quartet played softly in the background, their music weaving through the fragrant night air. Elegant women in flowing dresses and men in sharp suits moved with an ease that spoke of long-practiced social finesse, their conversations a blend of light-hearted banter and insightful discourse. The garden, bathed in the soft light of tastefully arranged lanterns, became a stage for a dance of shadows and light, a testament to high society's ability to revel with sophistication and joy. Amidst the rustling of silk and the subtle scent of gourmet delicacies being savored, the party was a harmonious blend of celebration and elegance, a perfect encapsulation of high-class enjoyment under the watchful eye of the moon.

	As the evening on Fullmoon Island unfurled into a night of revelry, the party reached its crescendo of joy and celebration. Laughter mingled with the soft strains of music, the air alive with the clinking of glasses and the murmur of convivial conversations. The guests, adorned in their finery, moved with a grace and ease that spoke of a world removed from care, their spirits buoyed by the camaraderie and the exquisite champagne that flowed like a river of stars.

But then, without warning, an insidious shadow fell upon the gathering. It started subtly at first—a cough here, a stagger there—as if an invisible wave had swept through the crowd. Gradually, the laughter died, replaced by a chorus of choked gasps and desperate wheezes. One by one, guests clutched at their throats, their expressions morphing from confusion to terror. The transformation was stark and swift, the air now punctuated by the sounds of distress, the once vibrant faces now etched with the unmistakable mark of agony. The garden, so recently a haven of light and laughter, became a tableau of horror, as if a dark cloud had descended to smother the joy beneath.

In the midst of the growing chaos, a lone attendant, his eyes wide with horror, stumbled upon a chilling discovery. The champagne, that symbol of celebration, bore a faint, unnatural sheen under the moonlight. As he held a glass up, trembling, the liquid's surface shimmered with a sinister glow, betraying the presence of something vile. It was a revelation as shocking as it was unexpected—the champagne, the very lifeblood of the party's cheer, had been poisoned.

This realization struck like a bolt, turning the night's dream into a nightmare. The festive atmosphere, so carefully cultivated, soured into a wellspring of panic. Guests turned to each other, their eyes wide with disbelief and fear, as the truth of their peril became inescapably clear. What was meant to be a night of joyous celebration had been transformed, by a malevolent hand, into a scene of dire emergency, a stark reminder of the fragility of happiness in the shadow of unseen threats.
As panic took hold, the guests were caught in a web of confusion and fear, pointing fingers in a desperate attempt to make sense of the sudden illness that had overcome them. In stark contrast to the escalating hysteria, Charon stood apart, a figure of unnerving tranquility amidst the chaos. His plan, dark and meticulously crafted, was coming to fruition.

Unseen by the gathered crowd, a Toxicroak lurked in the shadows, its presence betrayed only by the subtlest shift in the air. With precision, it had laced the champagne with a toxin, transforming the symbol of celebration into a vessel of peril. The realization of this treachery spread through the guests like a chilling breeze, horror etching itself on their faces as they pieced together the cause of their distress.

It was then, amid the rising tide of fear, that Charon's Gengar stepped forward from the darkness, its grin wide and sinister, a silent herald of the havoc it was poised to wreak. With a mere gesture, spectral and otherworldly, it summoned a host of Will-O-Wisps. These ghostly flames, ethereal and blue, danced through the air with a life of their own, converging on the cottage with malicious intent.

The otherworldly flames set the cottage alight, casting an eerie glow against the night sky. Once a haven of joy and laughter, the building was consumed by an inferno as the fire spread rapidly, fueled by the dark magic of Gengar's making. The guests, caught in a trap of their own disbelief, watched in horror as their refuge became a beacon of destruction

In this moment of despair, the cottage, a symbol of familial unity and celebration on, was transformed into a scene of tragedy. The fire, unyielding and merciless, left nothing but echoes of what had been, a somber reminder of the fragility of peace when shadowed by malevolence.

“Leo we have to run!” I’d never heard my mother more scared than that moment, so run we did.We ran and ran and ran. Elekid cowered in my arms as I cradled him.
“Leo, you have to let him go, he’s slowing you down!” Mom screamed.
“NO! I WON’T DO IT!” I yelled back. Elekid shivered,, my mother had tears pouring down her face.
“Leo, we have to survive, ple-”My mouth was agape, my lip quivering, a shadowy beasts arm punctured my mother’s chest.


In that moment of utter despair, when hope seemed like a distant memory, a shimmering light suddenly cut through the smoke and chaos surrounding me. Out of the darkness, Cresselia, the lunar Pokémon, emerged like a guardian angel, its aura glowing intensely, a stark contrast to the devastation around us. Its presence was calming, a beacon of hope in the midst of destruction.

Cresselia approached me, and with a gentle nudge that felt like a reassurance from the universe itself, it wrapped me in a protective veil. I felt an immediate sense of safety, as if the flames and the fear could no longer touch me. With a calmness I hadn't known I could feel, Cresselia guided me away from the inferno, leading me through the smoke and away from the nightmare that my birthday celebration had turned into. I didn’t think, I didn’t feel, I just was. Complete numbness was the only reason I didn’t break.

The next thing I knew I was back in Canalave city balling my eyes out, elekid in my arms, Cresselia nowhere to be seen, an orphan