Happy Birthday!: a fic
This week has been crazy. I'm behind on everything, so this is sadly unedited and probably contains nonsense from a sleep deprived brain. It was my birthday on Sunday, so you get a birthday story! Hurrah!
Title: Happy Birthday
Author: illittorate
Rating: G
Verse: Gen IV (HGSS)
Characters: Lyra and Pryce
Summary: It's Lyra's fifteenth birthday and she's alone.
When she had first set off on her grand adventure all that time ago, Lyra had expected excitement. She had expected danger and fun and new friends. She had not been disappointed. Lyra had made her mark across continents, covered pavements and mountains alike with light footsteps, and in the process had achieved more than she ever could have dreamed of as a little girl from New Bark Town.
Lyra had never really expected glamour. This was probably for the best; though life hadn’t stopped speeding up since becoming champion, there were days in the life of every Pokémon trainer that didn’t live up to childhood fantasies. Some days were full of applause and accolades. Some days, like today, were more about the mud and sleeping rough and easing blistered feet out of beaten running shoes.
She wouldn’t mind, Lyra thought, as she propped a bare foot up on her knee and started to massage it, in fact she didn’t really mind. It was just that... Well, when she left New Bark Town with barely a look back, this was not how she had envisioned spending her fifteenth birthday.
Her mom had called earlier, with promises of carefully chosen presents sent to the nearest Pokémart - that was Blackthorn’s Pokémart, wasn’t it? - and earnest wishes of happy birthday, sweetie. Lyra thought of telling her mom that she was going to visit home soon, being back in Johto for the first time in months, but tripped over her words at the end of the phone call and mumbled “I love you” instead. This was probably for the best again. If she turned up at home without giving prior warning, it would be a lovely surprise, and if she didn’t end up visiting after all, there would be no harm done.
Ethan had called, though he seemed to be in a cave or something at the time. Lyra managed to make out “miss” and “battle” and a word that could have been “birthday” amid all of the static before the line cut out completely and she was left smiling into the phone. He sounded like he was having fun. She missed him too, suddenly. She had to sit down for a moment and look out at the view. From the mouth of the Ice Path, the Lake of Rage was just visible over the treetops, and the sun bounced off gentle waves and all of it was hers. There were some things you had to give up when you got used to owning the world.
She had hoped all day for a call from Silver. Every time she saw an unregistered number she pressed the receiver hard against her ear to make sure that she could hear the caller over the unnaturally loud beating of her heart. It was never him. Mostly it was trainers she didn’t remember meeting and foreign gym leaders. It was nice to be popular, but each time with the disappointment came a stronger sense of certainty that he wasn’t going to call. Eventually she let Typhlosion out of his Pokéball. He let her lean against him as they looked out at the view together, the only sound a few screeching Pidgeottos and his contented huffing.
They were stood like this when Pryce found them. His hunched form appeared at the top of the steps that led up into the Ice Path. “Young Lyra,” he said, and Lyra felt that she should bristle at this, but it was true. She was the oldest she had ever been and even that was immeasurably young.
“Hello,” she said. She opened her mouth to say that it was her birthday today, but that seemed horribly childish so she shut it again.
“It’s good to see you again. What brings you here?” He was leaning heavily on his cane, but he didn’t seem in the least frail or tired out. Lyra wondered, not for the first time, just how old the Teacher of Winter’s Harshness was. He had to be at least as old as some of the stalactites in the cave that formed a throughway between Blackthorn City and his own town.
“Training,” she answered, and he gave a ponderous nod that understood that training was all there was for a champion once proved champion. He turned away and she expected him to leave her alone with the scenery again, but before she could think of a way to keep him for another few minutes, he asked her if she would like tea with him. Once it had been established that no, she hadn’t misheard him, they began the walk to Mahogany Town together.
The town hadn’t changed in five years. She doubted it would change in ten or twenty. Pryce led her through his gym (the trainers recognised her and greeted her warmly, some of them congratulating her on her championship) to a small room in the back, where he invited her to sit down while he made the tea. Lyra found a strange nervousness welling up. She met all sorts of people on her travels, and got along very well with most of them; she liked people and usually managed to express that well enough for them to like her back. Along the way she had met plenty of older people: Professor Oak, for example, or the lovely couple who ran the Day Care Centre. Pryce was different. He gave the impression of coldness, appearing as hard and unyielding as the icy conditions he preferred. Lyra hadn’t known quite what to make of him when she battled him for her seventh gym badge. Pryce was stern - kind, but stern.
Lost in thought, Lyra was brought back to reality by the mug of tea that appeared on the table in front of her. “Thank you,” she said with feeling, lifting the steaming mug to her lips and savouring the heat as it spread through her aching body. Even riding her bicycle, those hours of travel took their toll. She was constantly discovering muscles she had never even suspected existed as they gave the odd twinge during the night.
Pryce nodded and looked into his own mug contemplatively. The thought struck Lyra that perhaps he didn’t know quite what to make of her either. She asked after his Pokémon, and the fondness with which he spoke about his Dewgong and Abomasnow made her smile. She wondered whether she looked that way when she talked about Typhlosion, or Ampharos, and decided that it was the way every trainer looked when they talked about their Pokémon friends. By training Pokémon, she was taking part in a tradition that went back more years than she could imagine.
She told him about Hoenn, and about Sinnoh; about the strange places she had visited and the wonderful people she had met, about the other champions and other gym leaders, and all of the Pokémon in their wild variety. He told her about his grandchildren and the quiet life of the town. Apparently there had been some changes, of the subtle kind that a visitor would never pick up but that were obvious to someone who spent his days taking care of the town. Mahogany Town was Pryce’s home, from the dramatic beauty of the lake to the cosiness of the Souvenir Shop and its quirky wares. Lyra imagined herself talking about New Bark Town with the same kind of familiarity, and couldn’t do it, but if it wasn’t New Bark Town then where was home?
“You went travelling with your Pokémon, right?” she asked. “When you were... when you were my age.”
Pryce made a worrying noise, and Lyra looked up, startled, to see that he was laughing. When he started to cough she got to her feet, about to fetch him a glass of water, but he waved at her curtly to sit back down.
“A very, very long time ago,” he replied once the coughing had abated. “Yes, once I was your age. A very, very long time ago. I went travelling with my Pokémon.”
Lyra looked at her feet, afraid to ask what she wanted to. When the silence had dragged on so long it started to weigh on her, she asked, “Did you get lonely?”
“What we do has always been lonely,” he said. “Not many who aren’t one of us understand it. We conquer mountains alone, dive to the bottom of the sea, spend hours walking through the grass and sleeping miles away from a real bed. We do it to challenge ourselves by challenging strangers. We do it for our whole lives.”
“Why do we do it?”
Pryce took a long gulp of his tea and replaced it on the table, looking into the mug again as though it held his answer. Lyra watched him and waited.
“Because it’s who we are,” he told her simply. “It’s hard and it’s lonely, but without it we would be nothing. Without it we would be lying to ourselves about who we are.”
The words had a weight to them that felt like the truth. Lyra understood them and the way that they resonated.
“I met my wife while I was travelling,” Pryce added. “A very long time ago.”
Lyra smiled. “Not a very, very long time ago?”
“Of course not. Not when I was your age. When I was your age, I still had all the time in the world.”
Lyra finished her tea and put the mug on the table. “Thank you,” she said.
“I was making tea anyway,” Pryce said, but she thought he understood. She gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and nearly tripping over Pryce’s Swinub which had been sleeping under her chair the whole time.
“It was very kind of you to invite me,” she said as she opened the door.
“Happy birthday,” Pryce called after her. She stopped, and then laughed. “Thank you,” she said again. He gave her another impatient wave. Go on, then. She turned round and walked through the gym until she burst out into clear mountain air. She was fifteen years old and on an adventure.
Title: Happy Birthday
Author: illittorate
Rating: G
Verse: Gen IV (HGSS)
Characters: Lyra and Pryce
Summary: It's Lyra's fifteenth birthday and she's alone.
When she had first set off on her grand adventure all that time ago, Lyra had expected excitement. She had expected danger and fun and new friends. She had not been disappointed. Lyra had made her mark across continents, covered pavements and mountains alike with light footsteps, and in the process had achieved more than she ever could have dreamed of as a little girl from New Bark Town.
Lyra had never really expected glamour. This was probably for the best; though life hadn’t stopped speeding up since becoming champion, there were days in the life of every Pokémon trainer that didn’t live up to childhood fantasies. Some days were full of applause and accolades. Some days, like today, were more about the mud and sleeping rough and easing blistered feet out of beaten running shoes.
She wouldn’t mind, Lyra thought, as she propped a bare foot up on her knee and started to massage it, in fact she didn’t really mind. It was just that... Well, when she left New Bark Town with barely a look back, this was not how she had envisioned spending her fifteenth birthday.
Her mom had called earlier, with promises of carefully chosen presents sent to the nearest Pokémart - that was Blackthorn’s Pokémart, wasn’t it? - and earnest wishes of happy birthday, sweetie. Lyra thought of telling her mom that she was going to visit home soon, being back in Johto for the first time in months, but tripped over her words at the end of the phone call and mumbled “I love you” instead. This was probably for the best again. If she turned up at home without giving prior warning, it would be a lovely surprise, and if she didn’t end up visiting after all, there would be no harm done.
Ethan had called, though he seemed to be in a cave or something at the time. Lyra managed to make out “miss” and “battle” and a word that could have been “birthday” amid all of the static before the line cut out completely and she was left smiling into the phone. He sounded like he was having fun. She missed him too, suddenly. She had to sit down for a moment and look out at the view. From the mouth of the Ice Path, the Lake of Rage was just visible over the treetops, and the sun bounced off gentle waves and all of it was hers. There were some things you had to give up when you got used to owning the world.
She had hoped all day for a call from Silver. Every time she saw an unregistered number she pressed the receiver hard against her ear to make sure that she could hear the caller over the unnaturally loud beating of her heart. It was never him. Mostly it was trainers she didn’t remember meeting and foreign gym leaders. It was nice to be popular, but each time with the disappointment came a stronger sense of certainty that he wasn’t going to call. Eventually she let Typhlosion out of his Pokéball. He let her lean against him as they looked out at the view together, the only sound a few screeching Pidgeottos and his contented huffing.
They were stood like this when Pryce found them. His hunched form appeared at the top of the steps that led up into the Ice Path. “Young Lyra,” he said, and Lyra felt that she should bristle at this, but it was true. She was the oldest she had ever been and even that was immeasurably young.
“Hello,” she said. She opened her mouth to say that it was her birthday today, but that seemed horribly childish so she shut it again.
“It’s good to see you again. What brings you here?” He was leaning heavily on his cane, but he didn’t seem in the least frail or tired out. Lyra wondered, not for the first time, just how old the Teacher of Winter’s Harshness was. He had to be at least as old as some of the stalactites in the cave that formed a throughway between Blackthorn City and his own town.
“Training,” she answered, and he gave a ponderous nod that understood that training was all there was for a champion once proved champion. He turned away and she expected him to leave her alone with the scenery again, but before she could think of a way to keep him for another few minutes, he asked her if she would like tea with him. Once it had been established that no, she hadn’t misheard him, they began the walk to Mahogany Town together.
The town hadn’t changed in five years. She doubted it would change in ten or twenty. Pryce led her through his gym (the trainers recognised her and greeted her warmly, some of them congratulating her on her championship) to a small room in the back, where he invited her to sit down while he made the tea. Lyra found a strange nervousness welling up. She met all sorts of people on her travels, and got along very well with most of them; she liked people and usually managed to express that well enough for them to like her back. Along the way she had met plenty of older people: Professor Oak, for example, or the lovely couple who ran the Day Care Centre. Pryce was different. He gave the impression of coldness, appearing as hard and unyielding as the icy conditions he preferred. Lyra hadn’t known quite what to make of him when she battled him for her seventh gym badge. Pryce was stern - kind, but stern.
Lost in thought, Lyra was brought back to reality by the mug of tea that appeared on the table in front of her. “Thank you,” she said with feeling, lifting the steaming mug to her lips and savouring the heat as it spread through her aching body. Even riding her bicycle, those hours of travel took their toll. She was constantly discovering muscles she had never even suspected existed as they gave the odd twinge during the night.
Pryce nodded and looked into his own mug contemplatively. The thought struck Lyra that perhaps he didn’t know quite what to make of her either. She asked after his Pokémon, and the fondness with which he spoke about his Dewgong and Abomasnow made her smile. She wondered whether she looked that way when she talked about Typhlosion, or Ampharos, and decided that it was the way every trainer looked when they talked about their Pokémon friends. By training Pokémon, she was taking part in a tradition that went back more years than she could imagine.
She told him about Hoenn, and about Sinnoh; about the strange places she had visited and the wonderful people she had met, about the other champions and other gym leaders, and all of the Pokémon in their wild variety. He told her about his grandchildren and the quiet life of the town. Apparently there had been some changes, of the subtle kind that a visitor would never pick up but that were obvious to someone who spent his days taking care of the town. Mahogany Town was Pryce’s home, from the dramatic beauty of the lake to the cosiness of the Souvenir Shop and its quirky wares. Lyra imagined herself talking about New Bark Town with the same kind of familiarity, and couldn’t do it, but if it wasn’t New Bark Town then where was home?
“You went travelling with your Pokémon, right?” she asked. “When you were... when you were my age.”
Pryce made a worrying noise, and Lyra looked up, startled, to see that he was laughing. When he started to cough she got to her feet, about to fetch him a glass of water, but he waved at her curtly to sit back down.
“A very, very long time ago,” he replied once the coughing had abated. “Yes, once I was your age. A very, very long time ago. I went travelling with my Pokémon.”
Lyra looked at her feet, afraid to ask what she wanted to. When the silence had dragged on so long it started to weigh on her, she asked, “Did you get lonely?”
“What we do has always been lonely,” he said. “Not many who aren’t one of us understand it. We conquer mountains alone, dive to the bottom of the sea, spend hours walking through the grass and sleeping miles away from a real bed. We do it to challenge ourselves by challenging strangers. We do it for our whole lives.”
“Why do we do it?”
Pryce took a long gulp of his tea and replaced it on the table, looking into the mug again as though it held his answer. Lyra watched him and waited.
“Because it’s who we are,” he told her simply. “It’s hard and it’s lonely, but without it we would be nothing. Without it we would be lying to ourselves about who we are.”
The words had a weight to them that felt like the truth. Lyra understood them and the way that they resonated.
“I met my wife while I was travelling,” Pryce added. “A very long time ago.”
Lyra smiled. “Not a very, very long time ago?”
“Of course not. Not when I was your age. When I was your age, I still had all the time in the world.”
Lyra finished her tea and put the mug on the table. “Thank you,” she said.
“I was making tea anyway,” Pryce said, but she thought he understood. She gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and nearly tripping over Pryce’s Swinub which had been sleeping under her chair the whole time.
“It was very kind of you to invite me,” she said as she opened the door.
“Happy birthday,” Pryce called after her. She stopped, and then laughed. “Thank you,” she said again. He gave her another impatient wave. Go on, then. She turned round and walked through the gym until she burst out into clear mountain air. She was fifteen years old and on an adventure.