Timothy Horn
Tim sat at the edge of the ring and bellowed with the rest of the spectators on the beach. Next to him, a small, blue frog with a bubbly scarf rooted with him. "Come oooon," he roared. "Use something stronger than that!" he yelled at a Piplup being outmatched by the smoggy attacks of a Koffing. The little penguin was getting frustrated and chirping frantically while its trainer struggled with an idea.
Before either can react, the Koffing appears out of the thick smokescreen and tackles the Piplup to the ground. A second later, it gets a face full of a noxious gas and the fight it over. "Ugh, come oooon," Timothy squirms on the sidelines again. "Who let this kid in the match?" he asks the rest of the crowd. The animations of the recent, but still small for his age 14 year old gains a number of laughs and an audience, as he criticizes someone five years and twelve inches his senior.
"What would you have done to win that match?" asks a professional looking gentleman. Timothy hadn't really noticed the man before now, which is as odd as the un-beachlike outfit the man is wearing. Somehow he manages to blend in when he should instead stick out.
"That's easy," Timothy said boldly unaware of who he might be talking to. "First of all, my Froakie here wouldn't have ended up in that mess to begin with. Isn't that right, Kero? He's way faster than either of those Pokemon." Keroma croaks in agreement. "But if he did, we would have pushed that Koffing out of there with a wide spread Bubble attack. And once we find where he is, Kero would be on it faster than you could blink. We definitely would have won that round."
The man looks back at the field where the Koffing's gas is being cleared away with large fans for the next battle. "You're not in this tournament?" he asks the boy.
"No," Timothy replies. "They won't let me because I'm 'too young'. I think that's a stupid rule. Most of these people are new trainers anyway. Age is just a number. I've been studying frog pokemon since I knew how to read."
The man considers something, looks up at the list of contestants at the far side of the tournament space, and seems to rearrange a list in his head. After he makes up his mind about something, he finds a pamphlet for young Timothy. "If you're serious about competing, age won't be a problem at my tournament. It's invite only."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Timothy takes the folded paper and thanks the man. "You won't be disappointed," he promises. His face glows with excitement and his smile spreads from ear to ear. "You hear that, Keroma? We're finally going to compete in a big league tournament! What should we do with all the prize money?"
