one step back
Char had grown quite fond of the school roof ever since his evolution. It wasn't like the view was all that great, or anything like that. It was just... nice to have a place where everyone would leave him the hell alone. Where he could sort things out, get away without actually running off. This night was no different: just him, Rasputin, and the city lights.
"Two steps forward, one step back, buddy," Char mumbled, idly running a hand over Rasputin's abdomen.
Not that it was anything new, really -- that had been the pattern ever since Char had hatched. Life, to him, was an endless gauntlet of conflict and contradiction. Things didn't come easily for him. For every success, he had ten failures behind him. For every happiness, ten agonies. The few victories he'd scraped out for himself had only come about because he'd damn well earned them.
Looking back on it, his worst enemy always had been himself. From the day he'd been caught, it'd been a nine-year dance of advance and retreat. He'd swear up and down that the team meant nothing to him while he ran himself ragged trying to prove his own strength. Every day had been a battle at first. Just standing idle on the battlefield, glaring defiance at Green while some kid's Clefairy pelted his back with attacks. Meeting every hand that came near him with a snapping pair of jaws. Even when he did what Green more or less wanted, he'd never quite done it right. He still remembered the results of Green's match with Erika. The decimated Vileplume... and the decimated gym. At the time, he'd chalked his racing heart up to the thrill of success. It wasn't just a win against a gym leader. It wasn't just the raw, primal satisfaction of exerting the very limits of his power. It was a victory against Green -- he'd won the match, proving he was useful to have, and he'd won it by ignoring every last command that came out of Green's mouth, proving he didn't need a trainer.
Maybe it had been that. But the more Char looked back on it, the more he knew what had his heart racing. Straight-up baldfaced fear. At the same time he'd been spurring himself on further, he'd been absolutely terrified that he'd crossed the line. That he'd earned exactly what he wanted so badly. That he'd be on his own again.
Seemed kind of like he'd been doing the exact same thing ever since.
He thought he'd been getting better. Those reaching hands were finally allowed to find him. He still shied away, he still stirred up problems, but the fear was going away. He started sticking his neck out for that little group of lamers -- for his team. More than just that... he knew he'd just stand there and endure any hurt they'd ever throw his way. Even if uncertainty had pierced down to his core, even if his heart steeled itself in preparation for a crushing loss, he'd been asked to wait, and he'd stayed put.
They knew his name.
It wasn't much more than a footnote; even if they'd found it out, nobody actually used it. Even so, it stood out to him, like a flag buried into his past: this was the exact point he was ready to face just how much he loved them.
"Kerosene," Char mumbled, just to hear it said out loud. "Kerosene," he repeated, louder this time. He drew in a breath to say it a third time, shout it out, but a curious rustling noise from Rasputin stopped the word in his throat. Instead, he just laughed a little. "Don't mind me none, boy. Just ignore it."
Just ignore him. Ironic he'd be saying it, too. The words he'd resented most the whole time he'd been at this stupid school. Maybe he was the kind of person that was just better off being written off -- can't have been that hard to do, if Aiden had been any indication -- despite his best efforts. And maybe that was the reason why Red Team's appearance had rocketed him straight back to acting like a fifteen year old with something to prove. Char didn't mind insults. He could live with getting hit; Charizards, after all, lived for combat's sake. What really cut down to the core was being dismissed. Go figure that'd be the exact reaction he got out of just about every member of Red's little support group. He tossed his worst at them, and they never budged an inch. Not worth a real fight. Not worth getting angry over. Not worth caring one jot. It was just so like them. Of course their rivalry didn't mean anything to them. Nothing meant anything to them.
Two steps forward, one step back. Char had been struggling since he was a kid. He'd only come so far because he'd thrown every last ounce of passion into the endeavor over and over again. He knew failure, he knew frustration, he knew loneliness, he knew what it was to feel completely and utterly hopeless. They didn't know anything like that. Everything was easy for Red's team. They simply waited for a wonderful and warmhearted trainer to scoop them into his open arms, then frolicked obliviously through life feeling comfortably smug about how loved they all were. Red's team wouldn't know a thing about being humiliated over and over. They couldn't have any idea what it was like to hit a wall, and know it was something their feeble claws just couldn't climb. They just ambled along at their lazy little pace, wandering up in Green's wake to congratulate themselves on victory after victory. The rivalry between their trainers was meaningless to Red team, as far as Char could tell. It was like an empty little game to them. Something to poke around when they were bored.
This was the team that had sauntered in after Green had finally earned the title of Champion, snatched it away, then tossed it aside like it hadn't meant anything. Of course they'd never understand. Sometimes, Char wouldn't have been surprised if he were the only damn Pokemon in the world who knew what it was like to crumble under the weight of their own shortcomings. It was vexing. He hated knowing he'd be clawing his way through it, no matter how far he came, only to have some charmed little special snowflakes glide effortlessly on by and snatch up whatever he'd managed to claim. No big deal, right? After all, he wasn't worth getting worked up over.
Maybe it was because it reminded him of Aiden. He knew what it was like to be all hope and optimism, to be swept up in promises of reaching the ends of the earth together, of withstanding anything and everything side by side. Look how quickly those loving arms turned cold the second some real hardship reared its head. So was it just a case of envy? Char didn't think so -- he'd never have been happy with Red, he knew that much. Sure, it was frustrating to know that he'd hit the top -- a Hall of Famer, a gym leader's Pokemon, a war veteran -- and he was still that same messed-up little runt he'd always been. It'd be nice if he could just be good at things without the miles of bitterness and work, too. But the sort of family they had wasn't anything he wanted. Maybe it was just a part of him mourning over what-if. He'd stopped asking himself what it would have been like if he'd been good enough for Aiden. Now... now he was asking himself a different sort of what if. What if he'd listened to Green? What if he hadn't wasted so much time baring his teeth and turning away? What if he'd just left behind all the baggage and insecurity he was still all snared up in laying back in the wilderness of Route 10?
Maybe it wasn't any of that. It was hard to think about this kind of thing, anyway, and it didn't take much for the old mantra to slip back into place: it's easier to be angry. Easier to be an instigator.
"Guess I'm just a hateful bastard," Char told Rasputin. Rasputin merely stared.
"Two steps forward, one step back, buddy," Char mumbled, idly running a hand over Rasputin's abdomen.
Not that it was anything new, really -- that had been the pattern ever since Char had hatched. Life, to him, was an endless gauntlet of conflict and contradiction. Things didn't come easily for him. For every success, he had ten failures behind him. For every happiness, ten agonies. The few victories he'd scraped out for himself had only come about because he'd damn well earned them.
Looking back on it, his worst enemy always had been himself. From the day he'd been caught, it'd been a nine-year dance of advance and retreat. He'd swear up and down that the team meant nothing to him while he ran himself ragged trying to prove his own strength. Every day had been a battle at first. Just standing idle on the battlefield, glaring defiance at Green while some kid's Clefairy pelted his back with attacks. Meeting every hand that came near him with a snapping pair of jaws. Even when he did what Green more or less wanted, he'd never quite done it right. He still remembered the results of Green's match with Erika. The decimated Vileplume... and the decimated gym. At the time, he'd chalked his racing heart up to the thrill of success. It wasn't just a win against a gym leader. It wasn't just the raw, primal satisfaction of exerting the very limits of his power. It was a victory against Green -- he'd won the match, proving he was useful to have, and he'd won it by ignoring every last command that came out of Green's mouth, proving he didn't need a trainer.
Maybe it had been that. But the more Char looked back on it, the more he knew what had his heart racing. Straight-up baldfaced fear. At the same time he'd been spurring himself on further, he'd been absolutely terrified that he'd crossed the line. That he'd earned exactly what he wanted so badly. That he'd be on his own again.
Seemed kind of like he'd been doing the exact same thing ever since.
He thought he'd been getting better. Those reaching hands were finally allowed to find him. He still shied away, he still stirred up problems, but the fear was going away. He started sticking his neck out for that little group of lamers -- for his team. More than just that... he knew he'd just stand there and endure any hurt they'd ever throw his way. Even if uncertainty had pierced down to his core, even if his heart steeled itself in preparation for a crushing loss, he'd been asked to wait, and he'd stayed put.
They knew his name.
It wasn't much more than a footnote; even if they'd found it out, nobody actually used it. Even so, it stood out to him, like a flag buried into his past: this was the exact point he was ready to face just how much he loved them.
"Kerosene," Char mumbled, just to hear it said out loud. "Kerosene," he repeated, louder this time. He drew in a breath to say it a third time, shout it out, but a curious rustling noise from Rasputin stopped the word in his throat. Instead, he just laughed a little. "Don't mind me none, boy. Just ignore it."
Just ignore him. Ironic he'd be saying it, too. The words he'd resented most the whole time he'd been at this stupid school. Maybe he was the kind of person that was just better off being written off -- can't have been that hard to do, if Aiden had been any indication -- despite his best efforts. And maybe that was the reason why Red Team's appearance had rocketed him straight back to acting like a fifteen year old with something to prove. Char didn't mind insults. He could live with getting hit; Charizards, after all, lived for combat's sake. What really cut down to the core was being dismissed. Go figure that'd be the exact reaction he got out of just about every member of Red's little support group. He tossed his worst at them, and they never budged an inch. Not worth a real fight. Not worth getting angry over. Not worth caring one jot. It was just so like them. Of course their rivalry didn't mean anything to them. Nothing meant anything to them.
Two steps forward, one step back. Char had been struggling since he was a kid. He'd only come so far because he'd thrown every last ounce of passion into the endeavor over and over again. He knew failure, he knew frustration, he knew loneliness, he knew what it was to feel completely and utterly hopeless. They didn't know anything like that. Everything was easy for Red's team. They simply waited for a wonderful and warmhearted trainer to scoop them into his open arms, then frolicked obliviously through life feeling comfortably smug about how loved they all were. Red's team wouldn't know a thing about being humiliated over and over. They couldn't have any idea what it was like to hit a wall, and know it was something their feeble claws just couldn't climb. They just ambled along at their lazy little pace, wandering up in Green's wake to congratulate themselves on victory after victory. The rivalry between their trainers was meaningless to Red team, as far as Char could tell. It was like an empty little game to them. Something to poke around when they were bored.
This was the team that had sauntered in after Green had finally earned the title of Champion, snatched it away, then tossed it aside like it hadn't meant anything. Of course they'd never understand. Sometimes, Char wouldn't have been surprised if he were the only damn Pokemon in the world who knew what it was like to crumble under the weight of their own shortcomings. It was vexing. He hated knowing he'd be clawing his way through it, no matter how far he came, only to have some charmed little special snowflakes glide effortlessly on by and snatch up whatever he'd managed to claim. No big deal, right? After all, he wasn't worth getting worked up over.
Maybe it was because it reminded him of Aiden. He knew what it was like to be all hope and optimism, to be swept up in promises of reaching the ends of the earth together, of withstanding anything and everything side by side. Look how quickly those loving arms turned cold the second some real hardship reared its head. So was it just a case of envy? Char didn't think so -- he'd never have been happy with Red, he knew that much. Sure, it was frustrating to know that he'd hit the top -- a Hall of Famer, a gym leader's Pokemon, a war veteran -- and he was still that same messed-up little runt he'd always been. It'd be nice if he could just be good at things without the miles of bitterness and work, too. But the sort of family they had wasn't anything he wanted. Maybe it was just a part of him mourning over what-if. He'd stopped asking himself what it would have been like if he'd been good enough for Aiden. Now... now he was asking himself a different sort of what if. What if he'd listened to Green? What if he hadn't wasted so much time baring his teeth and turning away? What if he'd just left behind all the baggage and insecurity he was still all snared up in laying back in the wilderness of Route 10?
Maybe it wasn't any of that. It was hard to think about this kind of thing, anyway, and it didn't take much for the old mantra to slip back into place: it's easier to be angry. Easier to be an instigator.
"Guess I'm just a hateful bastard," Char told Rasputin. Rasputin merely stared.