*Nathan's POV*

"Pokemon Tech, right? Isn't that the relatively new university in Goldenrod City?" Maxwell asks me, once the two of us are out the door. I take a few minutes to look back at my "home" in Violet City one last time, starting at the wooden porch like it would disappear if I left it.

Am I really ready to do this? I tense up for a moment, my mind still conflicted from the events of the morning. The call of a nearby Pokemon brings me back to reality, and I frantically look around for the source of the sound. Then, I realize the noise is coming from my back pocket. I quickly reach my hand deep into the fabric, bracing for what I am about to find, until my hand closes around a small metal device I had hastily jammed into my pocket earlier.

My Pokegear... But why does it sound like a Pokemon? In any case...

I pull out my Pokegear and press one of the buttons on its chrome surface. A male voice begins to play out of the device. His intonation is quite deep, but it exudes an aura of light-hearted joviality. I had come to mistrust this kind of sound years ago, as the owner of the Pokemon I had hated for so many years possessed this same sort of voice.

Whoever this person is, I have a feeling he has more to him than meets the eye... I think to myself, as the voice greets me.

"Hello, prospective student! Let me be the first to welcome you to your new community here at Pokemon Tech! But first, I may as well introduce myself. My name is Geo Vannhi, and I am the headmaster here at Pokemon Tech. I sincerely hope that you have a fantastic time taking the large variety of classes here! In fact, I have placed so much faith in you, as our newest students, that I will be waiting at the front door of the school to personally greet you both! I wouldn't want our new, up-and-coming scholars to feel left out on their first day! Ahem, in any case, your first class starts at 9:35, in the General Education Room. I wouldn't want you to be late- Major Bob doesn't take kindly to tardies! Now, get going, and enjoy your learning experience at Pokemon Tech!"

The voice cuts off, and the call ends. I put away my Pokegear and start walking down the well-trodden dirt path after Maxwell.

A roadsign a few feet in front of us reads,

"Route 36:

<< Route 35,

^^ Route 37."

I glance at my wristwatch, and a pained expression crosses my face. Maxwell grabs my arm and looks at my watch. The same worried prospect soon superimposes itself over his usually-smug grin. He pulls a Pokeball from his backpack, and I know that I'm in for a wild ride.

"Hey, we can't afford to be late! Class starts in less than fifteen minutes! We need to hurry- we've got a ways to go before we reach Goldenrod! Wait, we'll never make it in time on foot- Dragonite, come on out!" Maxwell roars, chucking the ball at the ground. It bounces and opens, and his Dragon Pokemon soon appears in a flash of light. I gaze up at the orange behemoth, towering over me by at least a foot and a half. The docile look on the Pokemon's face hides an insatiable desire to win in whatever it does, a trait it shares with its owner.

"Well?" Maxwell turns to me, mounting his Pokemon in a heartbeat.

"Ready to learn?"

I shrug, knowing that I really don't have much of a say in the matter, and Maxwell lowers a hand to me. I grab it, and he pulls me up onto his Pokemon.

"No time to lose! Fly us to Goldenrod, stat!" Maxwell commands, and his Pokemon takes to the air. The force of the liftoff creates a rush of wind that temporarily blows the surrounding trees to the right, before they lean back in defiance, bringing with them a chorus of angry bird Pokemon. I shift my position aboard the speeding Dragonite to watch the colorful explosion of feathers disappear into the distance, and, with it, my old life.

Now, I'm a Pokemon Trainer, and I've got to keep my wits about me if I aim to accomplish what my dad asked of me. Well, here goes... My train of thought is interrupted when Maxwell's Dragonite suddenly careens to the left. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around the Pokemon's chest to keep myself from being blown off its back.

"Woah, there! Hey, what was that for? Chill!" Maxwell calmly slaps an exposed area of the Pokemon's back. The Dragonite makes a sharp sound in pain but continues its flight, nonetheless.

The rest of the journey is largely uneventful. I have to duck once in a while to avoid the flocks of aerial Pokemon that Dragonite seems to like scattering. The resulting showers of caws and squawks foreshadow an angry group of birds that attempt to exact their revenge on our disturbing their flight patterns. Luckily, Dragonite dwarfs all of them with its incredible speed, and the sound of irate bird Pokemon soon fades to a dull roar in the distance.

"We're almost here! I can see Goldenrod City from here! Look down there!" Maxwell points to a large building below us, and I follow his gaze, marveling at the many features of the university as we slowly descend to the ground. The building's blue stained-glass windows cast a radiant glow across the large marble walkway, as if to herald our appearance there, while the white bricked outside displayed the impeccable engineering of the building's bricklayers.

"There she is! A masterpiece of architecture, that's for sure!" Maxwell crows, sizing up the massive university as we touch down on the ground. I check my watch.

9:20. We still have plenty of time to get to this "General Room." But... Maxwell helps me off his Dragonite's back and recalls his Pokemon. I trace my eyes along the white path in front of us.

Where's Mr. Geo Vannhi? I thought he would be here to...

"Ahh, there you are!" a voice calls from the distance.

I turn my head to my right, to another part of the massive white complex, and a tall man with short black hair, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, smiles at me. I assume that this is Mr. Geo Vannhi, because the six foot man bears a regal-looking pin on his shirt that closely resembles a Pokeball. I take this to be the official insignia of the school.

"Welcome to Pokemon Tech," the man addresses us warmly,

"As you can already guess, I am Mr. Geo Vannhi. Let me be the first to welcome you two to Pokemon Tech! I'll bet you're both just brimming with anticipation to start."

This man seems incredibly eccentric about school, more so than anyone that I have ever seen... I just hope the rest of the staff here is not as open as Mr. Vannhi- I don't think I would be able to survive listening to his flowery dialogue for however long it will take to unravel the mystery of this place... The thought hangs in the back of my mind for a few minutes, while Mr. Vannhi continues to embellish us, as well as the school.

"So," Maxwell finally interrupts him. I could tell that he was losing his patience listening to the constant ramblings of the man.

"Do you happen to know where the General Ed. Room is?" he asks. I glance at my watch, which read "9:26," and Mr. Vannhi points to the small building that he had just come from.

"Down that hall, third room on the right. You'll recognize it by the few kids waiting outside- they all received, roughly, the same message that you did about Mr. Richards's policies about late students..." He stops talking when he sees the cross of confusion and anxiety on my face.

"Oh. Ahem, as I said before, Mr. Richards, as his official title suggests, is the one who operates that classroom. And, yes, before you ask, I realize that I referred to him as 'Major Bob' in my earlier message to you. I would tell you how he attained that name, but I'll save that for another time. Class starts in a few minutes, and I wouldn't want to be the reason that you were late to your first class. Good luck, Trainers!" Mr. Vannhi waves to us and disappears into another building.

"Well," I turn to Maxwell, a grim determination overtaking me.

"Let's go. We have a lot of work to do if we are to actually discover what really caused my mother's death!" I tell him.

"Right," he answers, quickly, and we enter the building.

Inside, the air is thick with the smell of fresh paint, as if this side of Pokemon Tech had only just recently been redone. The walls are almost completely white, the monotone color interrupted only by the same insignia I saw on the pin every so often. Besides the walls, the floor is polished granite tile, making the place feel, uncannily, like a doctor's office. I notice that a group of students about my age are sitting down outside the third room on the white wall. A sign hangs on the door, designating the room as the General Education Room. Some of the students shift, nervously, when we approach.

""What's wrong? Did something happen?" I ask the first one, a tall, slim man with radiant brown hair and baggy jeans. His casual T-shirt and body build suggests to me that he is a track runner.

My peer stares at me with disbelief.

"You must be new here- I don't seem to recognize you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be wondering why all the students here are nervous. Mr. Richards has the hardest curriculum in this entire school, and he enforces every single rule sharper than a Luxray's eyesight." At this, he chuckles nervously.

"And don't think you can pull anything on him. Believe me, 'Major Bob' will make you look like a total fool, and he will just laugh and relish in the moment the entire time. In fact, that's how he got his nickname. But that's for another story- class is about to start..." He gives me a pained look, his green eyes boring into mine.

"Be ready for anything in General Education. And I mean literally anything. Every class with Mr. Richards is an adventure, in and of itself. You can never predict what's going to happen," he says, and Maxwell grabs the handle to the wooden door, which suddenly seems just a slight bit more ominous. Nevertheless, I follow him and the other students into the General Education Room. We quickly file in and each take a seat in the small, wooden desks that line the middle room in a tight three-by-five square. Two desks, obviously set for Maxwell and I, are laden with supplies across the top of them, among them being a small binder, a stack of loose-leaf notebook paper, a few writing utensils, and a large drawstring bag to hold it all.

Everything I could possibly need is here... But, where are the textbooks? I wonder to myself.

The students begin to talk amongst themselves, and I quickly figure out that the majority of the class gossip centers around one of the other teachers. Every time her gender is brought up, many of the male students snicker with glee. What she teaches, I have no idea, but I get the feeling that the other students here do not particularly care about Pokemon Tech or its curriculum.

The interior of the room is just as "colorful" as the rest of the school that I have seen- a uniform white blots out the walls, complete with the school's emblem in almost every corner. A massive, green chalkboard hangs on the wall that I assume to be the front of the classroom, and a large compound desk stands tall in the corner of the room, like it was just thrown there at the last second. A few bite marks adorn the leg closest to the student desks, and I wonder what happened to cause the imprints. Seated at this massive wooden desk is a tall, bulky man with green hair protruding from a small aviator's cap.hiohuoh He thumbs his glasses, which casually conceal two emotionless blue eyes, constantly as he leafs through a large booklet of papers on his desk. The man holds a pen in his teeth with such force that I would believe it a miracle if he didn't completely bite through it.

Perhaps that's what caused the bite marks on his desk... I think, as the room suddenly goes deathly quiet. Every student's eyes immediately focus on Mr. Richards, who slowly stands up from his desk with a notebook in his hand and walks to an empty podium that rests in front of the chalkboard. He surveys the class for a moment, jots down a few notes in his notebook, and leans his arm over the top of the podium.

Silence.

Complete, utter silence.

I glance down at my watch. The digital display reads,
"09:36."

Class has started, hasn't it? So, why isn't the teacher saying anything? I wonder, glancing around the deathly quiet room for any sign of affirmation from the others. However, each student that I look at instantaneously.refuses my gaze. None of the students will budge their eyes from Mr. Richards for even a microsecond. The man seems to be verbally scrutinizing the entire class, obviously looking for something.

Three minutes of this reticent torture elapse, and the students begin to look like a herd of terrified Mareep, soundlessly watching the predator at the door to the pen, waiting for it to strike.

After what feels like an eternity of silence, Mr. Richards pushes up his glasses, grabs a broken piece of chalk from the chalkboard tray, and begins to write. The object looks like it had been shattered and repaired numerous times.

Perhaps... I assume,

That must have been thrown across the room at somebody. I wonder if "literally anything" means that, when Mr. Richards snaps, the classroom will get very ugly, very quickly.

The first few words begin to fall into place with rather poor penmanship. I open my notebook to the first page and uncap a pen. I look back up at the board and begin to write. The small noise echoes softly in the stillness of the room.

Part IV: What is a Pokemon?

The basic tenet of... is all I get to write before Mr. Richards turns away from his chalkboard, and a large scowl crosses his face. He points his piece of chalk at me accusingly and slowly raises his voice, which sounds more like a military drill sergeant's shouting than a General Education teacher's instruction.

"Did you really think that those supplies on your desk were for my class? I did not place any of that filth there for you to use here. Put it away- I understand that you are new, but, in this class, we listen and learn. If I tell you that you are to do something else, you are permitted to do that and only that. Understand?" he asks. The man does not wait for an answer.

"Good," Mr. Richards says quickly, turning back to his chalkboard and continuing to write. I simply sit there, staring at the words slowly adorning the green board, and ponder how I am going to learn from a silent teacher with poor handwriting and no instruction whatsoever.

I turn to Maxwell, who, conveniently, sits directly to my right, and I can see that he is faring no better than I am. Although he isn't currently showing it, I have been around Maxwell long enough to know that he is livid with anger, but all I can do is bide me time, waiting for a chance to do something- anything- in this class.

Now I can see why the other students hate Mr. Richards so much! This isn't a class- it's torture. But, I suppose there is one more thing I can try... I sit quietly, attempting to memorize the layout of the notes on the board so I can copy them down from memory once we leave Mr. Richards's room.

Some of these facts seem very basic... Being able to form a bond with a human- that's the basic idea of a "friend." Is he suggesting that Pokemon can actually be a friend? I wonder...

A few of the other students have succumbed to restlessness, and I have a feeling that they want this class to end just as badly as I do. I nervously glance at my watch. The dim glow of the object silently announces the time, and I feel like this nightmare of a class is finally ending.

"11:45."

"Five more minutes... Just five more!" one of the other students mouths to me. I breathe a silent sigh of relief, until Mr. Richards finally finishes filling up the entire board and turns to the class. I cringe, concerned for what is about to happen; I can't imagine that him actually addressing the class can possibly be a good thing.

"So, someone tell me," he instructs, gruffly.

"At least one thing about Pokemon that you have learned so far in class today!" He taps on the board with his chalk, and the entirety of the written text disappears completely. Before I can wonder how he managed to erase the entire board, he points at one of the students, a scowl on his face.

Silence. The student does not respond. He seems to be shivering, nervously pulling on the sleeves of his hoodie. Although the hood over his head conceals his eyes and hair, I have a hunch that his face is redder than a beet.

Fifteen seconds pass, and, still, he doesn't say a word. I glance around the room, figuring that the older students would already know all of the answers to this question.

It's only a matter of time until one of them say something... I reassure myself, attempting to avoid eye contact with Mr. Richards. Still, the student he pointed at does not say anything. Sweat stains the back of the blue covering, and I can see the anger on Mr. Richards's face continue to grow. A few more seconds, and I know that he will snap.

The student falters for a few more seconds and, finally, opens his mouth to say something. My hopes rise for a moment, but instantly fall when he closes it again. Assumedly, the boy is greatly unnerved by the amount of pressure that Mr. Richards's gaze puts on him.

The teacher's scowl continues to cement its way across his face, and I realize that I am the only one in the room not intimidated by Mr. Richards's angry gaze. After a few more seconds of the man's building anger, I had had enough of waiting in silence. Finally, I point my hand in the direction of the board and shout,

"Pokemon are completely able to form a bond with both humans and other Pokemon. They possess emotions and a will, just like we do. Moreover..."

I stop when Mr. Richards turns to me. Anger flares across his face, and I figure that my little outburst is about to cost me dearly. He slowly extends his left hand, the one that held the chalk, towards me. I notice that his entire arm is shivering. His hand opens, and the chalk falls from his open palm to the floor, shattering into a hundred different white fragments.

Before I can fully grasp Mr. Richards's weird behavior, he spontaneously collapses to the floor at the feet of my desk. Luckily, his arm folds into a triangle as he falls, and his head rests in his folded arm as his entire body crumples to the ground.

I stare down at the unconscious teacher in shock, wondering what just happened to our General Education teacher.