Chapter 1: Plain and Proud
Most people dreamed of being Champions. Of wielding flashy Pokémon with explosive moves, basking in the glory of battle, and carving their names into the history books.
But not him.
He wanted to be something the world had never seen.
"There's no such thing as a Normal-type Elite Four member."
He still remembered the first time he heard those words. He had been nine, curled up on the living room carpet with a stack of Pokémon League magazines. While his classmates were fawning over Garchomps and Charizards, he was drawing battle strategies for Furrets and Bibarels in the margins of his homework.
He remembered running to his mom in the kitchen, holding a printout of every Elite Four lineup from every known region.
"Mom! Look! Look at this!"
She glanced at the page, then at him with her soft, knowing smile.
"There's never been a Normal-type Elite Four."
She wiped her hands on a towel. "Then I guess it's about time someone changed that."
That was the day the dream was born.
His name was Ren. Fourteen years old, with more fire in his chest than patience in his bones.
He came from a small lakeside village nestled just beyond the edges of Lake Verity, a place too quiet to even have its own Poké Mart. The kind of place where everyone knew each other's Pokémon, and kids practiced Tackle in the backyard.
Ren's house was modest, worn around the edges but full of warmth. His dad, Haru, was a do-it-all handyman, the kind of guy who couldn't fix a leaky faucet without making at least three dad jokes in the process. He was big-hearted, stubborn, and always wore a red bandana even when he wasn't working.
"You don't need to be flashy to be strong," he always said. "Look at Tauros. Or your mom."
Ren's mom, Aya, was the real quiet storm of the house. Calm, intelligent, always one step ahead. While his dad taught him how to swing a wrench, his mom taught him how to outthink a battle before it began.
Ren took a little bit of both.
Well—most of both.
The morning of his journey had arrived, and it hit him like a Hyper Beam.
He leapt from bed with enough force to knock over the stack of empty TM cases beside his desk. His room was a tornado of open books, hand-drawn maps, and loose Poké Balls with tape on them (they didn't work, but they made good practice props). On the wall, a poster of Norman—the only Gym Leader who specialized in Normal-types—hung with a cracked frame and a small shrine of fan-made memorabilia.
"Ren, breakfast!" his mom called from downstairs.
He rushed through his morning routine like a speedrun, nearly brushing his teeth with a pen at one point. Downstairs, his dad had made his "starter day special"—burnt toast, over-peppered eggs, and something he claimed was berry juice, though Ren suspected otherwise.
Aya sipped tea and raised an eyebrow. "Excited?"
Ren grabbed his toast in one hand and a worn Pokédex guide in the other. "Mom, I've been ready since I was six! I've got the region map, my trainer license, my travel permit, my Pokégear, my notebook of Normal-type strengths, and three battle plans for the first Gym—even though I don't even have a partner yet!"
Haru gave him a proud thump on the back. "That's my boy! Just like me when I started. Except I didn't plan at all. Or win. Or pack." He chuckled. "But I looked good doing it."
"Hmm." Aya looked at Ren over her cup. "Don't forget to breathe, alright?"
Ren grinned sheepishly. "Right. Breathing. Important."
They walked together down the dirt road toward the local lab—really more of a research outpost than a full Professor's lab. Professor Rowan had sent one of his assistants, a young woman named Kara, to handle a few local distributions.
Kara waited at the wooden gate, clipboard in hand. "Ren, right? You're our last pickup for the season."
"Yep! Future Normal-type Elite Four member reporting in!"
She blinked. "That… okay." She gestured toward a small enclosure. "Well, we had a mix-up with deliveries, so your choices today are… limited."
Inside the pen were two Pokémon: a grumpy-looking Kricketot, and a Bidoof. The Bidoof stared at the sky, drooling slightly, its fur tufted like a badly brushed mop.
Ren lit up.
"I choose Bidoof!"
Kara tilted her head. "You sure? You… want the Bidoof?"
"Absolutely!" He knelt down. The Bidoof ambled over and sniffed his shoe. "Look at this guy. The perfect partner. Normal-type. Adaptable. Underrated. Cute as a button. Total powerhouse potential."
Kara blinked. "I mean, sure. You're not the first trainer to take one, but most people just use it for Cut and Surf."
"Not me. He's not just my ride—he's my right hand."
The Bidoof blinked slowly.
With a Poké Ball in his hand and fire in his heart, Ren stood at the top of the trail that led out of his hometown.
His parents waved from behind, his dad already tearing up and trying not to show it.
Aya gave him a quiet nod. "Be brave. Be kind. Be unpredictable."
Ren took a breath.
"This is it, partner," he said to Bidoof, who now rode awkwardly in his backpack like a loaf of brown fur. "The beginning of a legend. We're gonna change how the world sees Normal-types—starting now."
And with that, he stepped forward, his journey finally begun.