Prologue
Another successful mission, another chorus of fans to welcome him home. Lucario was the hero of the village, the most famous ranger there, homegrown. He had girls swooning all over him, and always he would graciously thank them for the attention, but always maintaining that politely aloof air, always “leaving his options open,” as it seemed, never showing too much interest one way or another. He was a common face around town when he wasn’t on missions, too—a friend of many, and still no one had yet seen him hanging out with anyone that looked quite like a “special someone.”
And despite how much these girls would fawn, there was one little fan that admired him more than all the rest, hanging back at the edge of the crowd, walled out by all the bigger fans. Here was a little Riolu gazing starry-eyed, leaning and hopping this way and that, just dying for a better view. Always the little pup had followed his idol eagerly from afar, always pushed to the sidelines by pokemon apparently more worthy of his attention.
His friends often teased the boy, so single-mindedly obsessed with Lucario, and ever eager to emulate his role model, sometimes even getting the gang into trouble as he would occasionally go a little too far into adventuring, and end up on the rescue list themselves.
Each time Riolu would feel a bit embarrassed, despite his friends good-spirited reassurance—that they didn’t think any less of him for it, that they all had fun in the end, really. He just couldn’t stop thinking about how easily Lucario handled himself, how the superstar rescue ranger dazzled and wooed, how in all the troubles the boy got themselves into, he always found himself imagining how effortlessly the older mon could come saving the day, and despite his best efforts, he could never come close to reproducing any of what he imagined Lucario would do.
One day the insecurity got the best of him, and he wandered into trouble again, this time all alone. He was going to train himself to be as strong and cool as Lucario, no matter what it took. It started to become routine, sometimes even taking up the time he might normally spend with friends. Not to much success, though—more often than not with the riolu running away and barely escaping without fainting. He was doing a little bit better in that regard, at least—lasting longer, escaping more adeptly. But no matter how far he ‘improved,’ it still never felt like quite enough.
He wanted to just talk to Lucario, even just once. All the tales he heard around town, and the ones he could sometimes make out over the noise of the crowd, enticed and wooed the little dreamer, and he wanted so bad to ask how his hero had gotten there. But all he could do was throw himself into the Mystery Dungeons and try his best, determined to find a way. He had no idea how to even approach Lucario, and it always seemed like he was busy talking to someone else, someone more important. It looked like he’d just never get his chance to meet him, until one fateful day.
It was just a stupid dare, and Snivy seemed so sure of himself—he always seemed the most capable of Riolu’s little group of friends, so strong and quick-witted, and certainly more confident than him. Of course the grass-type had his own little crush to impress—he’d seen a rare item from the local mystery dungeon, and was determined to obtain one and present it to that special girl. It seemed like a cinch—he wouldn’t have to go super deep into it, just a quick little in-and-out to grab the item. But of course it couldn’t just be that easy, and after waiting patiently for Snivy to return, the friend group started to worry.
Eventually they decided to go call for help, but Riolu chose to stay behind, just in case Snivy would come out again. In truth Riolu had more reason than the others to worry about Snivy. He’d heard an ominous rumbling from the dungeon earlier that day, and after having taken so many treks into it familiarizing himself, he just knew something was off, but no one would believe him. Fearing the worst, and with a little heroic streak burning at his heart, the Riolu steeled himself and entered in to save his friend.
The woods inside were dark and thick, spookier than usual, branches tangled and twisted this way and that; he could hardly keep sense of left and right. Soon enough he’d found Snivy cornered by a big monster that had chased him all over this floor.
The terrible thing loomed over his cowering friend, about to attack, when suddenly…
“HEYY!!” Riolu shouted, throwing a stone at it to draw its attention.
Snivy’s head whipped over to Riolu, then back to the monster, then back to Riolu again. His As soon as the shock wore off, Snivy scrambled to his feet and scampered on out of there, leaving Riolu to now fully grasp the weight of his actions, to almost immediate regret.
Outside, Snivy had just managed to scrape by, totally out of breath and panting to catch it. Just as he’d emerged Lucario pulled to a stop right before him, having sprinted the whole way there, now relieved to see the little mon okay. But then Lucario noticed, the other little pokemon he was told to meet there wasn’t present.
“R-Riolu’s… s-still inside!” the grass-type panted out.
Lucario grimaced as the boy hurriedly and fearfully described the scene, and wasted not another moment, dashing inside the moment the words left Snivy’s tongue.
Riolu was barely conscious, light fading from his eyes, when suddenly he caught glimpses of a wonderful sight—his hero crashing onto the scene, mere feet away from him. Time seemed to slow as he saw Lucario drift into view, flying through the air with that iconic focused look in his eyes, landing gracefully on his feet, right into combat stance. He dodged this way and that, landing blow after blow with ease.
A weak little smile sprouted on Riolu’s face, he could hardly help it—despite the pain, watching the amazing Lucario easily dispatch the unexpected foe. The last thing he saw as his vision began to fade was that of his hero drawing near, stooping low and close to him, a worried look on his face.
