Post by MASAMI SAITO on Apr 1, 2012 16:17:11 GMT -5
Over and over, the same voices seemed to echo within the recesses of not only his mind, but also the chambers and various areas of the tunnel itself. Masami was not unused to hallucinations; spending so much time in near perfect darkness will cause your eyes to play tricks on you almost as certainly as any defect of the mind. Even worse than the darkness, however, was the silence. Hearing absolutely nothing, barring any confrontation with wild pokemon nearby, would drive any ordinary person completely mad. However, Masami hadn't considered himself “ordinary” for a very long time. Indeed, while these voices were not a rarity in such a setting, they were especially loud and taunting this particular day. Sitting huddled in the closest thing to a corner he could find, Masami reached a slightly trembling hand out into the darkness and was soon met with a gentle carress from his closest companion. He could not see her at this particular moment, but he knew she was there, waiting for his instruction and watching his every move. He and Zora had come a long way since they met as two misfits some years ago, at least when considering strength. Masami was finding more and more that no wild pokemon could stand a chance against their united front, and as Zora grew more powerful, Masami found himself craving stronger opponents. It wasn't so much that he wanted to put himself and his companion at risk; far from it, in fact. If there was one thing he wished to avoid over all else, it was having Zora come to any harm. However, he had been destined to hold a vendetta against others from the time he was born, and as such he did not take kindly to others entreating on what he considered his own, private chambers.
They were few and far in between, but inevitably, trainers would attempt to brave the Rock Tunnel, hoping to find their way from Cerulean City to Lavender Town, or vice-versa. Masami was more than willing to accept the fact that a majority of these trainers had friends and family whom they'd developed true, caring relationships with. He did not doubt the ability of the human race to feel love toward their own. However, this fact only served to enrage him furthers. What exactly had caused him to be so shunned by all those around him in his youth? Smirking slightly at the thought, he knew that the answer was rather obvious. His appearance was the only thing they had ever seen. Never had they looked into his heart, or seen him for who he was, rather than what he appeared to be. Rising with something of a grunt into a firm standing position, he gestured for Zora to follow him as he navigated further into the tunnels. One might assume that Masami's ability to find his way in such a place would be due to his eyes naturally adapting to the lack of light, and this would ordinarily be a sufficient explanation for his swift and sure-footed movement. However, in this particular case, Masami relied more on muscle-memory to serve as his compass than his own senses. While after a certain amount of time he could, indeed, see around him even in the darkness of the cave, he often found that both wild and tame pokemon inevitably generated their own light source. If he had relied on his eyes all of these years, there would be no end to the amount of times a fire or electric pokemon's flame or spark had caused him to be lost once more in the endless darkness.
Instead, he found that he knew where to go without having to think much on it. In much the same way that one knows how to navigate their own home upon awakening in the late hours, so too was Masami able to apply the same principles to his subterranean abode. In this way, even after an encounter with a trainer had left him blinded, he was able to find his way wherever he needed to go. Speaking of his encounters with the typical trainer, it was all he could do to not gag at the sheer level of arrogance and overconfidence a majority of these people showed in their own ability. The darkness gave him a certain level of anonymity, and as such he was protected from the jeerings of his counterpart in such instances. However, he was not protected from the proclamations of “being the best” and “having no equal” that so many others like him were subjected to. If it weren't for his burning desire to serve as the hand of justice toward all those civilized trainers who dared to challenge him (and many who did not come into the tunnel expecting a fight), he would have given up on battling them long ago. However, as it stood, he had a score to settle. A score that he perceived to be one he held with the entirety of society, not merely with a select few tormenters.
And so, Masami continued on deeper into the tunnel. What he was searching for, he could not answer entirely. If he had to guess, he might suggest that he and Zora needed more of a challenge than the occasional Zubat or Geodude that crossed their paths. However, what he was expecting to find was nothing when compared to what he would be destined to find. For the hands of fate skip over no man, regardless of how well he hides himself from the light. Masami Saito was to have a fateful encounter this very day, and with each step he brought himself closer and closer to his eventual destination. Would today be the day that he finally found some form of catharsis for his own, pent-up emotions? Or would the encounter leave cause a tailspin for him that would result in nothing but more introversion and introspection? At this moment, none could possible predict.
They were few and far in between, but inevitably, trainers would attempt to brave the Rock Tunnel, hoping to find their way from Cerulean City to Lavender Town, or vice-versa. Masami was more than willing to accept the fact that a majority of these trainers had friends and family whom they'd developed true, caring relationships with. He did not doubt the ability of the human race to feel love toward their own. However, this fact only served to enrage him furthers. What exactly had caused him to be so shunned by all those around him in his youth? Smirking slightly at the thought, he knew that the answer was rather obvious. His appearance was the only thing they had ever seen. Never had they looked into his heart, or seen him for who he was, rather than what he appeared to be. Rising with something of a grunt into a firm standing position, he gestured for Zora to follow him as he navigated further into the tunnels. One might assume that Masami's ability to find his way in such a place would be due to his eyes naturally adapting to the lack of light, and this would ordinarily be a sufficient explanation for his swift and sure-footed movement. However, in this particular case, Masami relied more on muscle-memory to serve as his compass than his own senses. While after a certain amount of time he could, indeed, see around him even in the darkness of the cave, he often found that both wild and tame pokemon inevitably generated their own light source. If he had relied on his eyes all of these years, there would be no end to the amount of times a fire or electric pokemon's flame or spark had caused him to be lost once more in the endless darkness.
Instead, he found that he knew where to go without having to think much on it. In much the same way that one knows how to navigate their own home upon awakening in the late hours, so too was Masami able to apply the same principles to his subterranean abode. In this way, even after an encounter with a trainer had left him blinded, he was able to find his way wherever he needed to go. Speaking of his encounters with the typical trainer, it was all he could do to not gag at the sheer level of arrogance and overconfidence a majority of these people showed in their own ability. The darkness gave him a certain level of anonymity, and as such he was protected from the jeerings of his counterpart in such instances. However, he was not protected from the proclamations of “being the best” and “having no equal” that so many others like him were subjected to. If it weren't for his burning desire to serve as the hand of justice toward all those civilized trainers who dared to challenge him (and many who did not come into the tunnel expecting a fight), he would have given up on battling them long ago. However, as it stood, he had a score to settle. A score that he perceived to be one he held with the entirety of society, not merely with a select few tormenters.
And so, Masami continued on deeper into the tunnel. What he was searching for, he could not answer entirely. If he had to guess, he might suggest that he and Zora needed more of a challenge than the occasional Zubat or Geodude that crossed their paths. However, what he was expecting to find was nothing when compared to what he would be destined to find. For the hands of fate skip over no man, regardless of how well he hides himself from the light. Masami Saito was to have a fateful encounter this very day, and with each step he brought himself closer and closer to his eventual destination. Would today be the day that he finally found some form of catharsis for his own, pent-up emotions? Or would the encounter leave cause a tailspin for him that would result in nothing but more introversion and introspection? At this moment, none could possible predict.