What happens when you wake up one day, and suddenly realize that the craziest thing has happened? What happens when, out of nowhere, the realization hits you like a ton of Poke’Blocks right in the face (and possibly breaks your nose in the process). What if, just for a moment, you suddenly find yourself staring up at the ceiling, and you hear the local Murkrow being an annoyance, forcing yourself to grunt as you heave yourself upright.

Well, that’s exactly what happened to Zidane Tribal.

At the prime age at fourteen, this blonde, carefree, wild child, found himself awake earlier than usual. He knew it was early because the sun had just started to rise from the horizon. The light gave little to show the entirety of his room, but one could tell that he wasn’t a tidy teen; wrappers and bottles everywhere, toys scattered about. Based off of that alone, one had to guess how it smelled. Truly a boy’s room right down to the trail of ants that were leading an excavation into the abyss(also known as “Under Zidane’s Bed”).

Zidane took the time to just sulk about how today felt off for him. He felt off for some reason. Maybe it was that dream he had just minutes ago. It was a confusing dream, to say the least. He was facing some other dude in a stadium-like arena. He heard people cheer for him. The rest of it, however, was a blur. When he tried to collect himself - and it was difficult - all Zidane received in return was partial static. Whatever that dream had been wasn’t really lucid. He only remembered bits and pieces of it.

Oh well.

Zidane let out a huff as he willed himself to get up to his feet. He had spent enough time sulking about being up this early. He grabbed his usual outfit of blue pants, white shirt, vest, and shoes and bolted out of his room.

When he came down the stairs — which was on the far right of the house — Zidane looked directly ahead of him, and saw his mother in the kitchen. Turning his head to the left, he saw his father watching some news program that seemed to be highlighting the former Hoenn League Champion, Zack Fair. The TV was against the same wall where the stairs were just a hook left at, and Zidane’s father was sitting on the couch directly across from it, merely three feet away from the TV.

The program didn’t feature Zack himself, but they were showing footage of him from a few years back, retaining his title as champion. Zidane had to stop himself stop himself and watch it. The connection that the former champ had with his pokemon, the way they obeyed his every command, and how the faith he had in them was something Zidane strived for. For as long as he could remember, all Zidane Tribal wanted was to be like Zack Fair. He wanted to be a Pokemon Master.

“How cool would it be to do what he’s doing!?” Zidane mused out an excited thought.

“Hm?” Zidane’s father glanced towards his son. He was a man of olive-colored skin, dark brown eyes and dark amber hair. Lean like the diet his wife put him on and above-average height. He usually wore clothes similar to Zidane, but more earthly hues.

“Zack Fair and his Pokemon, Dad!” Zidane said, there being a certain gleam in his eyes - a spark of life swirling and dancing in his sapphire orbs as he looked into the chocolate orbs of his father’s.

Hunter Tribal let out a half, low-pitched chuckle. “So, is that what you want to do, Zidane?”

Zidane would only nod, for his sudden excitement wouldn’t allow him to do anything else.

“Well, then, I think you should head over to Professor Birch’s lab. If there’s anyone who can lead you onto the right path, then I’m sure it’s that old kook.” Hunter laughed. The image of Zidane going to see that man brought a wide smile to his face.

Zidane’s face lit up with a wide grin (much like his father’s), so much so that he didn’t hesitate. The impatient fourteen year old bolted out the door before his mother had time to chime in.

And, like the firey Blaziken, Zidane made a one-way trip to the lab of Professor Birch, eyes set ablaze with the possibility that his fantasy will finally become reality.