[attr="class","skullbody"]There once was a woman named Bailey Cooper, who was champion of the Hoenn Region. She had fame, power, and wealth beyond one's wildest dreams. As she appeared once more in hologram form, these were the final words she said; "come find me... on the correct day." Ever since, trainers from across the Hoenn Region set sail for Hoenn's waters, chasing the latest riddles that had swept the region.[break][break]
Isaac was one of many- sheesh, what were there, fifty people here? Frankly, there were too many for him to count, but it was obvious that he wasn't alone here. A few he recognized, having encountered them earlier on his travels through the region. Most, however, were a mystery to him. Oh well. Isaac would say he wasn't here to make friends, but when he really thought about it . . .[break]][break]
Nah. Getting to know 50 people in a single day would be nuts, even with his luck.[break][break]
Besides. He had his friends already. Watson, his precious starter. Duster, the runaway that stuck around. And Kiryu, the Aggron who practically insisted that before he fled home, he "borrowed" her from his-[break][break]
Hell do I gotta say to make you get it? You are not my son.[break][break]
. . . No. No, that was right. Isaac had no father.[break][break]
You are not my son.[break][break]
Yes, brain. He understood by now. It only took like, twelve years of lying to Isaac's face before revealing his true colors. He'd already processed that enough. You didn't have to keep reminding him-[break][break]
You are not my son.[break][break]
Did it always sound so clear in his head? Usually it was something he could just. Push back. Bury. Throw in a dark, shady corner of his brain and ignore. But today it rang out so clearly that Isaac may as well have seen his father glare down into his eyes, saying-[break][break]
You are not my son.[break][break]
"Shut the fuck up," Isaac snarled under his breath. Had anyone heard? He couldn't be sure. He clenched his fists so hard that he could feel his nails digging into his own flesh. His knuckles were as white as a ghost's, and his face wasn't far behind. There was a distant, far-off look in his eyes, and the conversations of everyone else were drowned out by the memories, the endless repetitions of-[break][break]
You are not my son.[break][break]
Isaac's breath caught in his throat. Isaac's chest rise and fell with the pounding of the tides. Wait. The tides? Yes, of course! The tides! That's where this was all coming from! It's no wonder it resonated so clearly! This wasn't in his head! Tt wasn't in his head at all! It was from the outside, looking in, pounding at the walls of his skull, pushing past his defenses, his worries, his fears, trying to force its way in, reminding Isaac that-[break][break]
You are not my son.[break][break]
Fear gave way to understanding. No matter how far Isaac ran, he couldn't escape this, could he? Not after trying to get along for another six years, trying to keep his resentment swallowed down for the sake of his family. Not after with each year, the tension got worse and worse, the judgments got harsher and harsher, the initial truths gave way to naked, open content. Not after his bond with his little brother was forever twisted into something unrecognizable, resentment reaching a boiling point as he could only see the face of a man he hated in his eyes, buoyed by golden child treatment as he didn't even realize what was wrong.[break][break]
He couldn't escape it when he ran away from home, touring the region for four years as little more than a vagabond. He had no plans, because in the heat of the moment, how could he consider any? He had no resources but the clothes on his back and the Pokemon at his side, because what else had he been given? He had no skills, no goals, no purpose, because how could he believe in them when nobody else did? Yet as he drifted across the region, doing odd jobs to meet ends meet, he knew a part of him had forever been left behind.[break][break]
Even joining Rocket. Did it matter that he finally had a community at his back? Did it matter that he finally had a purpose to strive towards? Did it matter that he had a motorcycle to, quite literally, expedite his running away? No. None of it did. In the process of getting those, he had only proved that man right. He was trouble. He was good for nothing. And he was just going to make things worse if things kept going as they were.[break][break]
You.[break][break]
Are not.[break][break]
My son."[break][break]
Something had to give. He couldn't run anymore. Even by the distant oceans at the edges of Hoenn, there was no solace for Isaac.[break][break]
Isaac practically lunged for the ocean, malice in his eyes. He couldn't take being beaten over the head with this insistence one more time. It was bad enough in his head. It was bad enough in his dreams. How
dare this ocean, the
ocean of all things, twisted it back into reality?
"So what!?" he shouted.
"Big fucking deal! You've got some perfect little backup plan and don't need me anymore! Big-fuckin'-whoop! But hey, it's fine, I'm suuuure he's all you need! Or is he just gonna be next when he lets you down? Is that it!? Huh!?"[break][break]
Huh. By now, Isaac expected to be meeting the water head on. Instead, he only felt air. That was probably thanks to Kiryu, who had hefted him up by the collar so he didn't do anything stupid. Still, while Isaac's outburst was . . . unexpected, perhaps it would prove useful. Maybe it'd make it clear to those hearing voices now that they weren't the only ones.[break][break]
Say, what whirlpool had he focused his ire on, anyway? Isaac was so busy seeing red that he couldn't even tell.
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[attr="class","skullinfo"]1000 WORDS / M-M-M-M-MEGATHREAD!