Erm… it’s Originshipping… what else do you neeeeed?
Currently rated G o_o;;. It will go up in the future, though.
It was raining the day Steven and Wallace met.
They were both young then, bold and fresh-faced, with a lot of potential and wonderful futures ahead of them. Steven was to inherit his father’s corporation, and often spent long hours in business school, staring out the window and wanting nothing more than to enjoy another stolen hour in the caves.
Wallace, on the other hand, knew that his profession suited him to the extreme comfort that no other could possibly suffice for. Under the kind and stern tutelage of Juan, he became a prodigy at water types from a young age. As a young adult, he was nearly unbeatable.
Still, he knew he was lacking something – the one thing Juan couldn’t understand. Wallace had the respect of the entirety of Sootopolis, power, rapidly-approaching fame… what else could he possibly want?
So on no particular day, he took Milotic and dove down to the first sea cave he could and sulked.
It must be said that it was very uncharacteristic of Wallace to sulk, and so this was a very rare occurrence.
He walked deeper into the stony mass, shrugging off any unfortunate Golbat that had the audacity to come within twenty feet of him. Otherwise frightening Sableye glares glittered in the eerie, unlit darkness at him, and still he had no fear. Fear wasn’t his to feel, he believed, and never wasted any time with it.
However, on a day as rare as this, he felt an exception wiggling through the crevice of his mind. It had begun to rain outside a little while ago, and the water in the cave was rising, albeit slowly. Not through with his angsting, he lingered, finding himself in the very narrow recesses of the grotto. He strode through the darkness, knowing merely where to go by the sound of the water echoing against the stone and clay walls.
Milotic slunk elegantly alongside him, her scaled tail dipping into the small trickles of water whenever it was deep enough. Eventually, Wallace ran into a wall in the darkness and decided to sit down and Angst more before he left. He sat there, watching Milotic and Gyrados spit water at each other playfully in a small trench. It was lit now, courtesy of a Flash from his Chinchou – a lesser-used pokemon of his. He sighed and let his mind wander.
Steven, on the other hand, had come across the cave by accident – a small flight on Skarmory had gone awry and had forced them to land on the small piece of rock to wait for the weather to clear. He’d actually slipped into the upper part of the cavern by chance, and, deeming that anything with rocks potentially in it was worth a look-see, he climbed in.
He wasn’t used to darkness, and walked warily through the cave with one hand resting uneasily on Metang. He knew he could tarry, being that if he was late going back home, he had an excuse for his father – a good one.
The tide began to rise, with the rain becoming heavier outside, and Steven found himself almost knee-deep in seawater. His path rose to a slope gently, and he took care to hurry up it for safety. The path became lighter, until the slope leveled off, and then sloped downward again, into a dead end. Below the slope was leveled ground, and a small pool of water, two rather large pokemon occupying it. They seemed unaware of him, but Metang bristled in response. Steven contemplated jumping down – it was lit, which meant a trainer had used Flash some short time ago.
However, there was no way to get down…
Steven’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at the pokemon. There must’ve been another way to get there… but he wasn’t going through the water again. He sighed.
“I wouldn’t jump,” said a voice, “unless you are a good judge of yourself.”
Steven looked down and saw a young man, about his age, sitting primly on a boulder next to the channel. He had a very powerful air about him, but not one that was elitistic.
“Has the water receded yet?” he asked, without waiting for Steven to respond. “Is it still raining outside?”
To this, Steven shook his head no and wistfully looked down the path he’d come, hearing the roar of the water.
He found himself down next to the trainer in the next moment, courtesy of a swift ride down on the quick-thinking Metang. He gave a secretive smile, a hand on the steel pokemon’s head – a thankful gesture.
Wallace introduced himself eloquently, as was his custom, and they sat down, Steven letting out his pokemon to play, although none dared to approach the water. He said nothing, not even to return the introduction. After a while of uneasy silence, Wallace finally turned to him and attempted to start up idle chat.
“You’re a steel trainer.”
“Why steel pokemon?”
“…do you like steel pokemon that much?”
Wallace quirked his brow and blinked.
“You’re certainly very quiet.”
To this, Steven finally replied:
“I suppose so.”
Wallace ‘aaah’ed, and grinned.
“Well then, do you have a name?”
Steven only smiled distantly.
“So then shall I continue to identify you as ‘That Steel Trainer Over There’?”
Steven laughed lightly and shook his head.
“Steven. Steven Stone.” He offered his hand, which Wallace shook lightly.
“Devon Stone’s son?” he asked, indicating the PokeNav at his belt. Steven’s eyes darkened for a moment, but he quickly amended it and nodded a yes.
“I see you’re… familiar.”
Wallace seemed generally surprised.
“Who isn’t? Every trainer must have something from Devon Corp. It’s impossible not to.”
“I suppose so.”
Wallace was adept at reading people, and Steven came through loud and clear. It was the same feeling of bitterness that he himself often experienced – the sense of lack of personal success. Just as Steven hated being identified just from being the son of a major corporation’s founder, he hated being identified as just ‘Juan’s prodigy.’ Wallace wanted to declare it loudly – someone else knew how he felt.
The water-trainer cooled the other boy’s hostility with one phrase: “Shall we battle?”
Steven instantly perked up. A battle… no one ever really took him seriously as a trainer. Could he hold a candle to Sootopolis’ future gym leader? He nodded, smiling widely. A challenge.
The battle lasted a full, harrowing two hours. Neither trainer would slip an inch – and though Steven was short one pokemon, he quickly evened the score. Ragged breathing and screams of commands echoed in the cave for what seemed like an eternity, and Wallace quite forgot himself. He wasn’t graceful or elegant anymore – he was a trainer, a roughened, seasoned trainer against another roughened, seasoned trainer.
Eventually, Milotic fell, and Steven was the winner. Wallace was nearly stupefied.
“I have only lost… to Juan…” he gasped, amazed, and trying to catch his breath. Steven cocked his head and returned Lairon, wiping some wayward dirt off his face.
“That was my first real trainer battle,” he stated, sitting primly down again. Wallace shook his head.
“How ironic.” Steven smiled at this and looked at the wall.
“You know… I like you,” he declared quietly, looking up at the Sootopolis leader. Wallace only smiled vaguely.
“Let’s be friends, then.”
Steven nodded, taking in a deep breath.
“I hope the water’s lowered. I’m tired.”
A quick check by Skarmory proved there would be a little more time before they could return. The rain had stopped, but the tide would have to go out.
Another three hours was spent recovering and chatting. The two waxed philosophic, conversed about battle techniques, and about family life, or lack thereof.
By the end of the day, Steven found himself in a bit of a crush, actually.
The waters receded and the two found it necessary to part ways. Wallace sighed and guided Steven out, the way he had come, and watched him fly off to Rustboro alone. He knew they’d meet again, and very soon… and probably in a lot less of an unorthodox way. He grinned at the thought.
Of course, he then realized they’d forgotten to take down their numbers.
Don't flame me o_o;;;;;;.