If you’ve ever wondered just how much some of my fics change between first draft and final - here’s a very raw first draft fresh off the press, in all of its embarrassing glory.
“Please, oh please, Champion Red!” says Melissa the teaching assistant. She’s all of fifteen or so. You can tell because there’s still light and hope in her eyes. “You’re the perfect person to talk to the kids, you’re so inspirational. You’re the youngest champion on record!”
“What am I, chopped liver?” mutters the second-youngest champion by a mere one and half months.
“We can trade places if you want,” Red mutters back to him.
“Nah, you broke it, you bought it,” Green says. “Bet you regret the whole champion thing now, don’t you?”
“No one said it might involve talking to children.”
“They definitely did, you just weren’t paying attention.” Green flicks his forehead, like a jerk. “Moron.”
Red glares at him and resists stepping on his toes. Instead, he turns towards Melissa the teaching assistant to say something, but then he pauses. His brow furrows. “What am I supposed to tell them?”
“Speak from your heart. Share your inspiration! Tell them what makes you the trainer you are!”
Red just looks more confused.
“Tell them to be good kids, stay in school, and do their homework,” is his childhood friend’s contribution.
Red blinks. “But I didn’t do any of that,” he says.
“Um,” says Melissa the teaching assistant, losing her momentum.
“Just lie,” says Green shamelessly.
“If they want someone to talk about education, they should ask your grandpa,” Red argues, still frowning. “Or even you. You’re the one who made me do my homework.”
“I didn’t make you do anything,” Green says, rolling his eyes. “I just told you that if you failed, we’d be in separate classes the next year.”
“I’m pretty sure that counts as a threat.”
“And I’m pretty sure you count as a lamebrain. What else?”
Red sets his jaw stubbornly. “I’m not going to lie to people,” he says.
“That’s literally all you do with little kids. That’s the entire concept behind the existence of Santa Claus.”
“Shh!” Melissa the teaching assistant whispers frantically, glancing at the door.
“Well, if you want to be that way, use yourself as an example of what not to do,” Green says. “Tell them how miserable you are from not having completed your education.”
“You can’t balance an account to save Pikachu’s life,” Green points out.
“Chu,” Pikachu says, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His cheeks start sparking. Melissa the teaching assistant takes a step back.
“Don’t worry, Pikachu’s harmless,” Red assures her, with total obliviousness to the murder in his Pokemon’s eyes, and then turns back to Green. “You didn’t go to high school either, you know.”
“Yeah, but I actually paid attention to Trainer Life Skills, including the budgeting unit.”
“There was a budgeting unit?”
Green rolls his eyes again. “See what I put up with? You wouldn’t believe what it was like being classmates with this guy,” he says. “The answer to what’s behind all that mystique is that Champion Red is secretly a moron.”
“Chu!” Pikachu snaps, glaring at Green.
“You can’t shock Green to defend my honor,” Red says wearily.
“Not even if you would really enjoy it and he has it coming.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t pay taxes on battling income, or you would be screwed,” Green continues, unphased by the actual threats going on in the background. “He’s especially weak against the concept of math,” he says to Melissa the teaching assistant, like he’s confiding a secret.
“But, but, how does he do damage calculations? Stat balancing? Training measurements?”
Red looks up at the ceiling in contemplation. Behind him, Green starts to snicker. “I just do it by instinct?” he says, after a moment.
“Instinct,” Melissa the assistant says faintly.
Red shrugs. “Lance deals with the League’s taxes and stuff.”
“And he does not get paid anywhere near enough. For the actual work he does or having to deal with your flightiness.”
Red scowls at him. “Don’t you do some of this stuff too? You’re a gym leader.”
“Yeah, the Viridian schools ask me every year, sometimes the neighboring towns do too. I just tell them about all the work that goes into being gym leader and make sure to tell them all the boring parts. That way, if they go for it anyways, at least they know what they’re getting themselves into.”
“That sounds terrible,” Red says. “Didn’t she say these were supposed to be inspirational?”
“Realistic is just as important nowadays. Can’t have kids dropping out with those dumb TV ideas of what being a professional trainer’s like,” Green says, with a shrug. “Besides, it can’t be worse than Giovanni’s.”
“What did Giovanni do?” Red asks, curious despite himself.
“Made himself out to be the second coming of Arceus so that any sufficiently dazzled kids would come to him if they needed help, then secretly groom them as Rocket grunts.”
Everyone in the room uniformly shudders.
“Yeah, so you can see why I try to make it sound boring after that.”
Red is struck with a horrible thought. “I won’t accidentally inspire anyone into villainy, will I?” he asks. Giovanni was doing it on purpose, but Red has been known to be accidentally competent at things. See: becoming champion.
“Of course not!” Melissa the teaching assistant says hurriedly.
“Who knows? You sure are annoying enough,” says Green. “But at least you can’t be held responsible for it in a court of law.”
Red frowns harder at him. “You’re not very helpful with this,” he says, accusingly.
“Who said I was trying to be?”
“I’m telling your grandpa.”
“Good luck with that. He has even less brains than you do.”
Red swats him on the arm.
“Um,” says Melissa the assistant, looking increasingly like she’s been caught in the middle of a firefight. She presses on bravely though, and you have to give her some credit for that. “Do you think you’ll be able to do this?”
Red looks vaguely haunted. “Maybe?” he hazards. “Do I have to lie?”
“Then I’m not doing it,” Red says.
“Yeah, sorry, can’t help this one,” Green says, with a shrug.
Things are too complicated here. Red looks out the window longingly. “Is it too late to go back to Mt. Silver?” he asks.
