Generation #1 · Generation #1 (1-10) · Stories

The Mayor of Mizuna Town (A Bulbasaur Story)

I dipped my canteen into a little stone fountain that had been crafted to look like a tree stump. Image Credit: @fdjrt

I wandered through the central square, kicking despondently at any piles of leaves that had grown too high. It was a child’s game that still thrilled me. Looking back now, I wish I’d spent less time standing with groups of people I didn’t like and more time running around kicking up leaves.

If it wasn’t for the hustle and bustle of people, I’d have never expected that it was a town. The houses were made from tree bark and leaves, which were woven together to make chequered huts. All of the roads and buildings were decorated with vines. They blended almost seamlessly with the forest.

I dipped my canteen into a little stone fountain that had been crafted to look like a tree stump. The water bit at my fingers. I gave a half-smile to a man to my left who was bent over a smoking pile of bricks. His wife was wafting the smoke away from the entrance of her hut with a giant leaf. The only giveaway to this curious escapade was the earthy smell of bread baking.

I remember it making me feel off kilter at the time, but not understanding why. Just this creeping feeling of difference. They verses me. Pallet is no city, but we had embraced the thirst for technology. Of course, computers were a new thing back then, but we still came installed with a sense of excitement to embrace what was to come. Watching the man stooped and sooty over the bricks put up a barrier between us that I was just not equipped to see.

“Excuse me”, I said, “Could you point the way to the major’s office?”

The woman turned, shielding her eyes from the mid-day sun. She looked around for a second, as if she were the one asking for directions and not me, before flicking her wafting leaf in the direction of a market. “He’ll be somewhere that way, I reckon”.

Between us and the market, a sort of playschool had been set up where kids ran around barefoot under the watchful eye of someone’s Skuntank. I must have looked a tad concerned, as the lady with the fan leaf chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, lass, he won’t stink you unless you’re out here for trouble.” I gave her a sheepish grin.

I wandered through the houses, enjoying the dappling sunlight and watching people working together with their Pokémon on various tasks. At the farmers market, people haggled over Mudbray and Mareep. Nearby, a man had set up blanket on a rock to sell scratched jewellery, while a woman was having a hearty discussion with her customer about the best ways to use Flaaffy wool. Next to her sat a very bare-looking Flaaffy.

I looked out for anyone mayor-like. I imagined a tall, elderly gentleman with a large gold chain settled on his shoulders. He would laugh in a jolly way, a little like Santa Claus. There was no one like that here. I tried to think back to if Professor Oak had given me a description. If he did, I couldn’t remember.

Near the market, a man was scrutinising some sacks of corn with his Bulbasaur, taking down notes on a piece of bark. The Bulbasaur was especially chatty, using his vines to point and prod at the goods. Professor Oak was always going on and on about how smart Bulbasaur are. I was practically sick to death of it. I’d chosen a Charmander as my starter. I’d been training it for a few years now and it was about as strong as a Charmander could get. No way I could lose to a puny Bulbasaur.

“Uh-uh young lady!”, I heard the professor say in my head. I could almost see him stood, arms crossed. “You will not fight that Bulbasaur”, he said, “you have important work to do”. I looked at the letter in my hand and shrugged. It could wait. This battle would take no time at all.

I strode towards the man and made my best battle pose, “Hey, you”.

The man looked at me, startled, “I, uh.. me?”

“I’d like to challenge you to a-” before I could finish, I heard a shrill craacck and felt a searing pain on my hand that made me drop my Pokéball sadly to the ground. It opened and out popped Charmander looking a bit perplexed. The skin instantly began to welt and throb an angry red. “What the-“

“I’m sorry but we don’t battle in this town”, the man said. Still in shock, I could only stand blankly and watch as the Bulbasaur
used his vines to pluck a roll of bandages out of the man’s pocket, efficiently wrapped my hand in the cooling bandage, gave me a curt nod and turned back to his companion. Bubba, he said.

I snapped out of my daze with intense fury. “Your Pokémon just attacked me! How dare you? He can’t do that, I ought to-“

“My Bulbasaur?”, the man grinned. A small crowd had gathered now and they all grinned at each other, all in on some sort of joke. That made me insanely angry. I felt like challenging them all to battle. In my head, professor Oak put his head in his hand. Their laughter magnified ten-fold and cut me deep. A cold surge burned within me that built and built until I could take it no longer. I gave a deep guttural scream. “CHARMANDER, EMBER, NOW!”

My loyal Charmander took my word as law and launched his attack. The flame came thick and fast, the muscles in Charmander’s belly tensed as he gave it all he had. That Bulbasaur should have been toast. Except, the flames were getting beaten back. Without any word from its trainer, Bulbasaur began flinging sharp-edged leaves at the flames in just the right angle to deflect the heat. The speed was incredible. Charmander tried to push harder, but he just wasn’t quick enough.

As the flames began to dial down, this gave Bulbasaur his chance. He jumped high over the fire, pushed hard with his back legs from a fence post and smacked down into my Charmander’s forehead. At the same time, he slapped his mouth shut with a vine, snatched the Pokéball from my hand and pressed the button to force him to return. Charmander faded into the ball, leaving one Bulbasaur and a circle of horrified townsfolk.

I couldn’t believe the skill with which Bulbasaur had battled. And without a word from his trainer. I turned to him, all anger put on hold. “Woah, your Bulbasaur is amazing”.

The man crossed his arms, reminding me again of Professor Oak. “Like I tried to tell you, kid. That’s not my Bulbasaur.”

He walked forward and put a hand respectfully on Bulbasaur’s shoulder, “You ok, sir?”

Bubasaur nodded.

He looked back up at me, “What are you doing here in Mizuna town? I think you should do what you need to do and leave.”

His tone set of a confusing array of sparks. Part of me felt shame, part of me fear, and a piece of me still burned with anger. The crowd had started to dissipate. Some tutted teenagers as they walked away. I gave them a side glare. I remembered the letter and grabbed it from my bag.

“Professor Oak sent me with this letter.” The man took it and contemplated it. “Its for the mayor”, I added.

“Well, it has found the right place”, he said. With a second’s pause, the man moved the letter down and passed it to Bulbasaur, who took it gently in a vine, opened it with the sharp edge and began to read.

At first, I thought it was a joke. But there was something about this Bulbasaur’s seriousness and the way everyone looked at him that made me think that this insanity might actually be true. A Bulbasaur running a town?

I looked back at the town, its leaves blowing gently in the breeze. Next to the treeline sat allotments where smiling families planted vegetables, nearby an old woman smiled happily at her grandchildren who were helping thread vines around their house. Everyone seemed so happy and the town ran like clockwork. And this was all ran by a Bulbasaur? I looked down at my Charmander and thought about all of the training we had been through. Despite his low level, he’d been able to beat all of the trainers I’d met just by strength alone. But seeing all this made me wonder if perhaps there was more to Pokémon than just strength.

Bulbasaur gave a short Bubba and handed the note back to his aide. “Bulbasaur says he thinks this letter might actually be for you.”

I took it from him and read.

Dear Elizabeth,

This may be a hard lesson for you, but I hope you heed it well. See all of the wonders that Pokémon can achieve and learn to use that in your own journey.

-The Professor

I looked at Bulbasaur and his aide, “I’m sorry. I have a lot to think about”. I turned around and began the walk back to Pallet Town.

Generation #1 · Stories

In the Clearing (A Bulbasaur Story)


Yes, these were indeed Bulbasaur. Not just one but hundreds. Image Credit: BlueBerryBlanket (Al Rigby)

One of the best parts of being a Pokémon Breeder is the field research: getting out there and seeing where Pokémon come from. Our natural world provides many great spectacles, from the grand migrations of Tauros to the Butterfree mating seasons. But one of the more precious to me was the time I saw a Bulbsaur family gathering.

I’d not seen another person in four days and my supplies were all but run out. It was ridiculous, really. People went in and out of Viridian forest all of the time and got out ok. Some people sometimes nipped in for a dare. That’s how easy it is meant to be. I’m not even sure what wrong turning I made, and I think it just made it worse when I tried to back-track. The longer I walked, the darker the forest got.

I sipped a little water from my flask, swilling it around in my mouth a little before swallowing to try make it last then instantly craving more and taking another sip. I peered at my map. None of the lines made sense anymore. They were purely fictional, as if my sister Kate had taken one of her marker pens and scribbled all over it with that mischievous grin on her face. Thinking of her hurt. It hadn’t even occurred to me when setting out that I may not see Kate or mum again.

But this is what a great trainer did! Just set off into the unknown with a Pokémon, finding distant treasures and uncovering mysteries. This was just another grand escapade. I felt that well-worn surge of excitement thinking about it. Journeying with a Pokémon was something I had wanted all my life. Some people were destined to be dancers, some accountants. Me? I was born to be a Pokémon trainer.

I thought of all the Pokémon I would catch and my hand relaxed on the Pokéball at my belt. The joy melted into shame. I wasn’t a trainer. I was a thief. I was only just ten and not old enough to get my own. The Manectric in the ball was my mum’s. Earlier in my travels, I had let her out while pretending to catch a Pokémon with the ball. Boy did she bark at me. You take me back this minute. You’ll be in such trouble when you get home! Where are we? You left without my chew toy? she said in as many barks. It took her a day or two to mellow out, by which point she was more concerned than angry.

I looked around at the deepening shadows and a feeling of paranoia began to creep up on me. I’m here, it would say in the creaking of a branch or the twitch of grass as some creature was startled by my clumsy footwork. I got jumpy and kept glancing left and right into the trees. Behind each stump, a wolf would be lurking ready to eat me up like in Little Red Riding Hood. My my, Elizabeth, these sharp teeth of mine are all the better to eat you with my dear. In the end, I couldn’t stand being alone any longer and I grabbed the Pokéball from my belt.

“Come out Manectric”, I said in almost a whisper. As she appeared, her presence instantly soothed me. She has always been small for her breed, but she towered over me when I was ten year’s old. I petted her long yellow snout. She yawned, made a little sigh and looked up at the trees.

“Maybe we’ll find our way out today”, I said already feeling lighter. I almost believed it.

We pressed on, heads pushed down by the rain that somehow battered its way through the canopy. The trees twisted and writhed in the sort of way that would make a fearless girl grin from ear to ear before dashing off in a race to the top. But that wasn’t me anymore. Not here in this place. The trees no longer just reached over us, but below and around us. They encased us in their bony rib cage as we moved ever closer to the heart of the forest.



The trees no longer just reached over us, but below and around us. Image credit: Marta Maszkiewicz.

My watch said it was mid-day, but it was getting darker. It was like we were in a different world entirely to the one I’d left back home. It didn’t seem right that Kate would be sitting in the school cafeteria, drinking milk and complaining to the dinner lady about not losing weight. That annoying kid Jaime would be pulling another prank, Eliza would be singing with Chloe in their band that they won’t let me join. My life was none of those things anymore. My life was only dark tunnels of never-ending mossy rocks and things that squirmed in the dark.

As I walked, my thoughts washed over me. In my head, people I used to know came walking out of the trees, tipped their hats muttering hello, hey, hi there, and good morning before continuing on into the murky darkness. My father was sitting on one branch, sipping a pint of milk. My mother on another, knitting a spider’s web. I imagined cats running passed my legs, street lamps, a school bus coming down the lane towards me. This last one seemed to stay with me. I could almost see the headlights ahead and my arm tensed, ready to flag it down.

I was snapped out of my daydream by Manectric licking my hand and yapping. She barked and ran ahead. My eyes followed her and I could see what she was headed towards. The bus headlights were real. Or, rather, the light was real. A circle of dazzling light shining like a beacon.

I’m not sure how I managed to stay on my feet as I ran, but my need to see sunlight urged me on. As it got close, my hopes got brighter. As I reached the edge of the treeline, I was almost ecstatic. Which, of course, made it all the more crushing when I crashed out into nothing more than a clearing. Just a clearing with a large flowered tree in the centre that was swaying in the breeze. I fell to my knees and wept, Manectric snuffling at my face and softly licking my tears.

I was too tired to go on. Not only did we not have any food, but we still had no way to tell where we were. Perhaps mum would have told Officer Jenny by now. Out there in the woods would be a search party seeking me with their torch beams. I found a patch of dry moss at the edge of the clearing and settled in to sleep.

When I woke, it was dark. I’d been having a dream of a Pokémon singing. I’d been running through the forest, pushing back leaves trying to find it. Bulllbbaaaa it sang Bulllbbaaaa. As I opened my eyes, I realised I could still hear that gentle hum. I felt Manectric stir beside me. She was crouched down low, peering through some tall tufts of grass looking out onto the clearing. Bulllbbaaaa. I crawled up next to her and looked out too.

Before us was a sea of bobbing turquoise heads. They circled the clearing, facing towards the flowered tree. Could these be… Bulbasaur? I tried to remember back to my time in Professor Oak’s lab. He had been working on breeding easy-to-train rare Pokémon for new trainers as part of his research. I’ve never been much of a scientist, but I did remember him showing me a Bulbasaur. And if my memory served me correctly, yes, these were indeed Bulbasaur. Not just one but hundreds.

I looked to the weird tree in the centre of the clearing. While before it was swaying, now it was shifting side-to-side. I looked from the flower to its trunk. From the trunk to its roots. Only, the roots were rising and falling. That thing was breathing! Amazed, I scooted forward some more to get a better look, but Manectric held my collar. The Bulbasaur stopped singing in one fell swoop. It was like I’d suddenly lost my hearing. Everything was just silent.

I worried it was me. I had a vision of them all turning round to look at me, raising their vines to attack. They did turn around, but not to look at me. From a grassy verge to our left, a taller, broader Bulbasaur pushed his way out of the thicket. He looked different from the others. Much bigger, for one. I noticed he had a little flower on his back, similar to the big breathing tree. No, not a Bulbasaur. An evolution of some sort.

The crowd of Bulbasaur made a path for this creature, some touching its feet with their vines as he passed. He walked up to the flowery tree and stopped. Ivysaur, it declared. Short and sweet.

With that, the clearing began to rumble. The Bulbasaur waved their vines in the air, branches snapped, rubble flew everywhere and I had to shield my eyes. When I was able to look again, I gawped. The tree had rose two metres into the air, revealing a huge monstrous body beneath. It had been lying so long that the trees had grown around it. It left a crater where it has arisen from. VENUSAUUUUUR, it bellowed.

At this, cries and shouts of Bulbasaauuur sounded from the crowd. The forest king freed several vines from its back and reached towards the Ivysaur. The Ivysaur, too, outstretched its vines and they met in the middle. Each called its name to the other and the Bulbasaur began throwing white powder into the air that sparkled in the moonlight. They all went back to their chanting: Bulllbbaaaa, Bulllbbaaaaaa. Some spores landed on me and I went to brush them off. A sudden weariness hit me and I could barely keep my eyes open. The last thing I saw before drifting to sleep was the giant Venusaur turning and disappearing into the forest depths and Ivysaur taking his place.