A/N So this doesn't get confusing, this one is for Fan Fiction and the other entry is for creative writing. Also, this is supposed to be Blue going back to his roots, to Pallet Town. So that's the theme. Yeah, I'll stop talking now. ^^ Also, this is sad and the end is somewhat violent and might be disturbing to younger readers, so this is for older people only.
The rain poured down as Blue stepped off of Route 1 and back into Pallet Town; his home, the place where he was born, the place where he started his journey, the town his family had lived in for several generations. He had imagined this day since he was a small child, with one key difference: instead of coming home a champion, he was returning as a failure. His limp, wet brown hair hung in his eyes, but he was thankful for the rain; the drops of water masked his tears. He grasped his bag in one hand, so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Inside, were the six Pokemon who had taken him to the top, only for him to make one stupid mistake, and ruin everything.
As he walked through the older neighborhoods and towards his home, where his sister and grandfather lived, he felt his stomach hardening into a knot and he dreaded having to tell them that he had lost to his rival, Red. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and turned to look. It was his own reflection in a puddle by the side of the road. His black jacket and jeans were coated in a heavy layer of mud that not even the torrential downpour he was standing in could wash away. He was a mess inside and out.
Finally, Blue stood in front of the door to his house. He heard the sound of a radio on inside and the sink running. His grandfather was probably washing dishes. Slowly, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. The sound of the sink stopped and he heard footsteps approaching.
“Oh, good, you're home,” said a voice that was hoarse with age, yet cheerful. “I’ve missed you Blue. Come on out of the rain before you catch your death, and then tell me about your journey.”
Blue allowed Professor Oak to pull him inside; his hero’s eyes, shimmering with hope and excitement only made him feel worse. “Grandfather,” he started, but the lump in his throat stopped him from continuing.
Professor Oak suddenly turned to him, his expression full of worry. He hadn’t heard his grandson sound this upset since the Accident. “What is it, Blue?”
“I failed, Grandfather,” Blue said, choking back a sob. “I… became the Champion, but then I lost it in my first battle.”
The light faded from Oak’s eyes. “It’s alright, Blue. You were still there, you were Champion for at least a few moments. Your father would be proud.” He hugged Blue to him, and for a moment, in the warmth of the cozy house, and safe in his grandfather’s embrace, Blue felt some of the pain lift away. “But…” Professor Oak continued. “I’m curious as to who beat you.”
Blue’s heart dropped like a stone in his chest. This was the moment he had been dreading worst of all, when he had to admit to Oak who he had fallen to. “It was… Red.”
The atmosphere in the room immediately changed. Though he tried to conceal it, Professor Oak was suddenly filled with joy. “Red? You mean the boy from next door don’t you?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes.” Blue’s voice was filled with bitterness, but Oak didn’t seem to hear.
“Well I have to go talk to him right away.” The words spilled out of his mouth quickly, as if he were saying them as soon as they jumped into his brain. He opened a door in the hallway, one that lead to a closet, and grabbed his coat out of it. Throwing the old, dirty brown coat on, he turned to Blue. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, Blue. Dinner’s in the oven.” And with that, the old man was out of the door, and Blue was left alone.
“Well,” whispered Blue to himself, “At least he’s not disappointed.” He couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks at this thought. He turned to the staircase down the hall, and climbed the steps to his room.
Opening the door was like going back in time; he saw posters on his wall of rock bands and famous trainers who had been popular ten years before. In the corner was a Nintendo 64 with a Legend of Zelda game still inside. He almost smiled when he saw his bed. It hadn’t been made in ten years. He lifted up the pillow and pulled out the picture that lay under it. He didn’t want his grandfather to know he still thought of them. In the picture were his parents sitting together on a bench in the backyard, a cherry blossom tree behind them. The petals had fallen into his mother’s hair, standing out against the blackness of it. His father’s hair was much lighter, closer to Blue’s; in fact, Blue had been told many times that he looked just like him.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I just wish I could’ve been more like you.” He pushed his face into his pillow and began to sob uncontrollably, a grown man curled in his bed like a small child. At some point that night, sleep found him, but he tossed and turned almost constantly. There was no escape from his sorrow.
In the morning, Blue woke to an empty house. His head ached and his cheeks were covered in dried tears. Outside, it was still raining. As if in a trance, Blue walked downstairs, and into the kitchen, where he sat at the table and stared at the darkened sky. His gaze fell in turn to the cherry tree, his grandfather’s flower garden, and finally to the grave of his loyal Raticate. He scowled. Red had stolen so much from him. It wasn’t fair. Red had killed his Pokemon, taken his place in his grandfather's eyes, and stolen what was his right from birth. Still, it wasn't all Red's fault; he had managed to screw up all by himself.
For a moment, Blue was lost in thought. He couldn’t bear the thought of his grandfather coming home, still celebrating Red’s victory over him. He didn’t want to live with the fact that he was the first member of his family in generations to be beaten for the Championship, rather than give it up willingly. Most of all, he couldn’t accept that he had failed the team that had carried him so far. Finally coming to a decision, Blue went to the hall closet, grabbed a rope and a shovel, and walked outside.
He paused in front of the grave of his Raticate, stopping briefly to pray, before starting to dig. He didn’t know how long he was digging; the rain clouds hid the passage of the sun across the sky, sometime after his hands began to blister, Blue’s shovel hit a wooden box. Carefully, Blue opened the bag he had been carrying with him for years, and pulled out six Pokeballs, which he laid gently on top of the box. Then, he began to recover the box with dirt.
When he finished, Blue walked to the cherry tree; the last place he had seen his parents before the car crash that claimed their lives. He climbed onto the bench and tied one end of the rope around one of the tree’s higher branches. With the other end, he tied a noose. He placed the noose around his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he said, repeating the words he had said the night before. “I’ve failed.”
He jumped forward.