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!Gsj8QDCPFA 07/10/11(Sun)02:59:52 No.339871270  
File1310281192.png-(383 KB, 550x791, 1277308844759.png)
 On my twelfth birthday, they took me to Littleroot Town to visit Professor Birch, the Hoenn region’s most famous researcher of pokémon. After spending a lot of time (actually it was only a few hours, but it seemed longer to a twelve-year-old) talking to the professor, the moment I had been looking forward to for my whole life arrived. The professor smiled at me, told me to close my eyes and hold out my hands, and a few seconds later I felt a small, soft ball of warmth being placed into my hands. When I opened my eyes, a little mass of feathers was staring up at me, my very own Torchic. Even my parents had to agree that she was cute, although they still weren’t keen on the idea of me being a trainer. I didn’t care what they thought at that point. I was a Pokémon Trainer now, and she was my pokémon.
The first few weeks of our time together were spent getting used to one another. I figured out that she liked to sleep on my chest at night, and she figured out pretty quick that hopping up and down on the floor, peeping like a little baby chick, would get her attention and a pokémon treat. They weren’t good for her, but I cut them into fourths without her knowing and only gave her a quarter of each treat at a time. And besides, it was just too damn adorable. After the first day or so, I decided she would have to have a name. I thought about it for a while and finally chose the name Safara. My mom told me it was an ancient name that meant “fire”. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I know it’s corny, but she, Safara I mean, liked it and now she won’t answer to anything else, even if I wanted to change it. |
