Chapter 379 - My SI Stash #79 - Pokémath by A Hobbyist (Pokemon) (1/2)
-Munchkin SI fics are fun, but the author really needs to stop focusing on the mechanics after a while and actually advance the story.
Synopsis: A pseudo-genius with a photographic memory on all things pokémon gets the opportunity of a lifetime: he finds himself in the pokémon world. He's played the games, watched the show, read the wiki, seen the videos, and now he's about to live the life. But how well will his memory match up with this new reality? The answer: enough to exploit the crap out of everything.
Rated: T
Words: 68K
Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13620568/1/Pok%C3%A9math (A Hobbyist)
PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)
-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics/originals mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)
Chapter 1-2
This is an AU of Pokémon, sort of a hodgepodge of the games and TV show. Most of the technical details will come from the games, while story elements will borrow more heavily from the anime and other sources. Be warned that even if you're very familiar with both mediums of Pokémon, major events won't play out like you expect, especially given how much our main character will be messing things up. I repeat, this is an AU, an Alternate Universe.
And when I say our protagonist has a photographic memory on all things pokémon, I do mean ALL THINGS - not just Nintendo canon, but fan-made content as well. If you can find it on the web and it's related to pokémon, the main character's brain is (theoretically) allowed to know about it. The only thing he's NOT allowed to know are facts about THIS fictional world - he isn't allowed to know, in advance, if his knowledge matches reality until he discovers it for himself. Also, his photographic brain applies only to pokémon and pokémon-related facts, nothing else, which is why he's only a 'pseudo' genius. The rest of him will be dedicated to more mundane things. Furthermore, he will have an amnesiac memory when it comes to anything about his past that ISN'T related to pokémon. The whole 'what about my old life?' drama isn't the point of this story. This might make the first couple of chapters a bit rough around the 'suspension of disbelief' edges, but better that than typical edgy isekai angst in my opinion. If the resulting (un)believability of this bothers you, I understand.
As a final note, anything that has been Underlined (aside from each chapter title) is a direct reference to existing content. I'll put an asterisk (*) next to the references and provide sources in footnotes at the end of each chapter. The many indirect references in this story won't be underlined, and I'd be interested how many people catch those hints. Underlined sentences will be in the spirit of direct quotes, not vague hints.
I should also mention that I like reviews, and this story and its errors are constantly being improved by feedback. But don't feel like you have to force yourself to write one. Watching the favorites and follows counter tick up makes me... almost as happy as reviews. If you do review, please stick to one review per chapter at most. PM me if you think of anything else you want to add afterwards.
With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy. The first three scenes set the stage, and then the story starts in full.
Chapter 1 – Pickup Palooza
In a lab on Cinnabar Island...
”Please, please let my theories be true.”
”I must see my little girl smile again.”
Slowly, he came to a stop in front of a glowing amber light, suspended in literal thin air.
”I've reawakened her consciousness here in this chamber. I just need to keep it viable long enough to complete the process.”
He raised a hand to touch the glass.
”She lives within this light. Her energy is undeniable. If my cloning theories are correct, I'll have you back with me one day soon.”
His gaze briefly flickered to the test tube beside her, which contained a purple pokémon suspended in liquid. It flicked to the left, revealing a tube containing the cloned body of a ten-year-old human. Then it settled back on the tube containing his daughter.
”I'll do ANYTHING to see you again.”*
One exploding lab later...
”Boss, what do we do with the kid?” A Team Rocket grunt asked.
Giovanni looked upon the 'empty clone', as Dr. Fuji had called it. The thing had been delivered as a proof-of-concept that cloning worked on people, if not pokémon. The doctor had sent it to him, along with a request of more funds for a new lab. Fuji claimed it could revolutionize replacement limbs and organs in medicine.
But Giovanni had told the Doctor that the ethicists would have his guts for garters if he tried to grow humans in test tubes, especially if their ultimate purpose was to be cut up and served on a silver platter to other humans like livestock. He had been speaking metaphorically, but he knew the moralists of the world would probably use that same language if they ever found out, and they would mean it literally.
Out loud, Giovanni said only ”Dispose of it. Leave no traces to us.”
It wasn't truly alive, after all, so Giovanni had no qualms with washing his hands of the problem.
As the grunts picked up the body and moved it back into the bag, no one realized the clone wasn't quite as empty as they thought.
A consciousness collides with its new container...
Of course, it would be hard to remain ignorant of the clone's new condition if, halfway through lugging it across Viridian, the bag you were hauling began to move on its own.
”What the distortion world?!” one of the rocket grunts exclaimed, suddenly stopping and looking at the bag with wide eyes. Then he hastily looked around to make sure his outburst hadn't drawn any attention.
Thankfully, it was so late at night that it was early in the morning, though the sun hadn't risen yet. No one was awake, let alone walking the streets like the grunts were.
When he saw the coast was clear, he looked to his partner. ”I thought the boss said this kid wasn't really alive!”
”What do we do now?!” the other asked in a harsh whisper. She also looked around, making sure they were alone and unobserved.
The first grunt glanced nervously at the bag. ”The boss said this couldn't be connected to us.”
”You're not suggesting we...” she trailed off, horrified. They may be Team Rocket, but even they had lines they did not cross.
”No, no,” the other said quickly. ”I mean we can't be here when he wakes up.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
”Let's just put the bag by that dumpster over there,” he said, pointing to an alley, ”unzip it a little, and scram. That way, we won't be here when he wakes up.”
”But what if the Muk Truck comes before then? He'll be crushed!”
”Not inside the dumpster, idiot!” he shouted. ”Just next to it. He can wake up, call Officer Jenny, do whatever. So long as we're not here when that happens, we'll be golden.”
The girl grunt thought a moment, then nodded. ”Okay, good idea.”
The consciousness and container merge successfully, and our story begins...
”Grime!” his ears heard, but his eyes could not see.
A brief struggle revealed why he was blind: his entire boy, except for his mouth and nose (unfortunately), were covered by some sort of plastic – almost like a sleeping bag. After a bit of struggling, and after managing to expand the hole on his face to expose his eyes, he realized that it was not a sleeping bag, but a body bag.
”Grimer!” his ears heard again, and this time his eyes saw a fleeing pile of sludge, thankfully taking its horrid smell with it as it turned around a corner.
Wait a minute... he thought. Was that-?
But before his brain could get any further, it was interrupted by another sound, this time from above him.
He couldn't quite see over the lid of the dumpster from his place on the ground, so he couldn't see what it was. He decided to put all his efforts into escaping the bag ASAP, in case it was dangerous. He saw a purple stain on the side of the black plastic bag and on the ground when he was halfway out. Thank goodness this thing is waterproof, he thought to himself, carefully avoiding the putrid puddle as he extracted himself through the bag's opening. Then, on second thought, he covered the puddle with the bag, so he wouldn't step on it by accident.
That same shuffling noise came again.
He slowly pulled himself to his feet, then shivered at the cold air. Unfortunately, the body bag had been the only thing protecting him from the elements.
I'll have to find some clothes, he thought. But first...
Carefully, he peeked over the edge of the dumpster so he wouldn't startle what was inside.
Two furred legs and a raised tail filled his vision. Just a cat, he sighed.
Then, he saw the contents of the dumpster: a great number of items that, before this point, he had only ever seen as pixels on a screen. One item in particular caught his eye, and he reached out to take it, ignoring the cat for now. His fingers wrapped around the tiny pokéball, removing it from the pile of used potions, empty elixirs, and discarded debris.
It looked, well, real, for lack of a better word. Not made of some cheap plastic, but a shiny metal that was far more dense and heavy than anything that size should be. Curious, he pressed the button in the middle, then shouted in surprise as the ball expanded to fill his entire palm.
This in turn startled the cat – no, the Meowth – which was a further surprise, and drew another squawk from his lips.
This combination of shocks, in such quick succession, made him lose his grip on the pokéball, and he dropped it.
Right on top of the Meowth.
Bweeeeoop.
He stared at the place where the Meowth had been.
Blip.
Blip.
He saw it give a second shutter.
Blip.
His eyes widened. No way...
Ding!
For a moment, everything was still.
You just caught a Meowth, his brain told him.
But... how? he asked, almost in a state of stupor.
Meowth has a capture rate of 255, the highest there is. At full health, you had a 43.9% chance to capture-
Not that! he interrupted himself. I meant how could I capture a Meowth in REAL LIFE? Pokémon don't exist!
Apparently they do, his brain smugly pointed out. Then, as another breeze blew by, Oh, and don't forget: you're still n_a_k_e_d.
THAT got his attention. He glanced around to see if anyone could see him accidentally streaking in the alley. Thankfully, no one seemed to be nearby.
Then his eyes returned to the dumpster, and the pokéball on top of the discarded items.
Well, he thought. If I found a pokéball, maybe I can find some clothes.
Putting the pokéball on the ground for now (so he wouldn't lose it), he hoisted himself above the lid and began shuffling around, opening bags, and rearranging garbage. Fortunately, it wasn't smelly garbage – no rotting organic matter. Unfortunately, there was a lot to sift through, so it took him a good deal of time before he finally found something he could wear: a pair of swim trunks. He actually found two pairs, but the other set was for girls. Both were sized for a_d_u_l_ts, which he had thought would be just fine until he actually tried putting the mens pair on.
Apparently, his body was much smaller than he implicitly expected.
Thankfully, the pair of trunks had an adjustable waist cord, so he could wear them even despite the size difference.
You are now Swimmer- his brain began, but then blew a fuse. Swimmer... what's our name again?
That, too, stopped him in his mental tracks – almost as much as being n_a_k_e_d had.
My name... my name is... he mentally trailed off, eyes going distant. I can't remember, he thought finally. Why can't I remember my own name?
Because the professor of this region hasn't given you the chance to name yourself yet, his brain thought snidely.
That can't ACTUALLY be true, he argued.
Even if it isn't, his brain thought, your journey can't officially begin until you talk to a pokémon professor. You can think about your name on the way.
What journey?
Your Pokémon journey, of course! His brain sounded happy. Why else would we be here?
He thought about it for a while. Eventually, a smile began to form on his lips.
You've been turned into a ten-year-old from... whatever you were before, transported to the Pokémon World, and you can't remember a thing about your old life. His brain summed up nicely. What are you waiting for, a signed invitation? This is just like the games, except with amnesia, which we can worry about later. As Oak would say, a world of adventure awaits!
He hopped out of the dumpster, scooped up the pokéball on the ground, and pressed the central button. This did not release the pokémon within, as he thought it would. Instead, the ball shrunk back to its tiny size. He frowned, pressed the button again, and tried to puzzle out how to release it.
In the anime, they just throw the balls in front of them, his brain supplied.
”Hmm,” he said out loud. ”Worth a shot.” He gave it a toss. ”Go, Meowth!”
The ball spun through the air in a projectile arc for just a brief moment before it opened. It spat out a white light that forced the ball backwards, allowing him to catch it from the air again.
The light coalesced on the ground in front of him, slowly taking the shape of a pokémon.
”Meowth!” it cried.
He looked down at the Meowth, which looked back up at him expectantly.
”Um... hi?” he asked.
The Meowth looked up, tilting its head, but doing nothing else.
Wait a minute, he thought. Do pokémon even understand people?
They do in the TV show, his brain supplied. But in the games, they only need to understand how to use their moves.
What moves does Meowth know? he questioned.
At low level? his brain questioned back. Growl is always learned at level 1. And if we exclude the most recent generation of the games, so is scratch.
Growl is as good a place to start as any, he thought with a nod. There aren't any targets around, so Meowth might target me, but that should be okay if we stick to status moves.
”Meowth,” he said out loud. ”Use growl!”
Meowth, who had been watching him curiously up until that point, dropped into a battle stance and let out a muffled growl. A visible wave emanated from the cat, directly at him.
The boy felt his resolve waver and his muscles quake as the attack hit him.
Note to self, he thought. Don't test any more attacks on self.
Noted, thought his brain.
Also... he leaned forward, looking at the Meowth's mouth. What's that in its lips?
His pokémon seemed to be grasping a small, shiny ball of gold between firmly clenched teeth.
It's a held item, his brain supplied. A nugget. Wild Meowth have a 5% chance of holding one in Fire Red and Leaf Green, the third generation of games. Sells for 5,000 pokémon dollars.**
That could buy me some real clothes, he thought, reaching out to take the nugget.
The Meowth let out a hiss at his hand.
Great, he g_r_o_a_n_e_d. Of course this wouldn't be easy.
”Meowth,” he said out loud. ”Drop the nugget.”
Of course, nothing happened.
”Meowth,” he tried again. ”Release your held item.”
Still, nothing happened.
Several more attempts were made in the same vein, each just as failed as the last.
So, this is more like the video games than the show, his brain observed. It can't understand non-battle commands.
Or it just doesn't want to give up the nugget, he thought back. And if this were like the video games, I'd be able to take away its held item while it was still inside its pokéball. And I'd be able to do it without a fuss.
Either way, his brain gave a mental shrug. See if it can understand things other than battle moves that DON'T involve taking away its nugget.
”Meowth,” he said, ”go fetch that bottle.” He pointed to an empty potion bottle that had fallen out of the dumpster.
The Meowth looked at the bottle but didn't move.
”Meowth,” he said, ”spin in a circle.”
The Meowth looked at him, still not moving.
Again, several more attempts at communication were made, but the Meowth did nothing.
This isn't working, he g_r_o_a_n_e_d. I don't think it'll be able to understand anything but its name. And battle moves.
Possibly, his brain conceded. But we haven't ruled out everything. You know how pokémon talk to each other in the show?
Yes...
And you remember Starter Squad?
Yes. Where are you going with- OH NO!
Oh YES! He felt his brain grinning at him evilly. Or, it would have been, if it had a mouth to grin with. If you REALLY want to be sure this Meowth can't understand you, then you must rule out THAT possibility as well.
I hate you, he thought.
Come on, chop chop. This theory won't test itself.
He looked at the Meowth apprehensively, then looked around to make sure no one was watching.
Please please PLEASE don't let this work, he thought. He opened his mouth, and as he thought the words 'Meowth, drop the nugget!', out loud he said the words ”Human, hume hume human!”***
In the TV show, pokémon communicate with each other by repeating their species name over and over again. The pokémon of the show use this as actual language, acting as if they were saying and hearing multiple words. In some cases, Team Rocket's Meowth would translate their 'words' into full-blown human language. But humans don't hear anything aside from pokémon names.
A clever fan by the name of Shippiddge noticed this and wondered if the reverse was true as well. In a fan-made animation he named 'Starter Squad', a story following the three starter pokémon of Kanto, it is revealed what pokémon hear whenever a human says something. They hear: 'Human human human.'
And so, the boy's brain had offered the following hypothesis: If pokémon understand each other by saying their species name over and over again, then maybe Meowth will understand you if you say YOUR species name over and over again.
Which brings us to the result of his little test: the Meowth in front of him blinked, then dropped the nugget. The gold ball had fallen onto the ground, not into his open hand like he had implied. But still...
”AAAAARRG!” he shouted, slapping both palms on his face, one covering each eye. ”I can't believe that WORKED!”
His outburst startled the Meowth, but other than jumping slightly, it stayed where it was.
With great frustration, he reached out and took the nugget. I hate you, he thought to his brain viciously.
Your welcome, his brain thought back, rather smugly. Just think, every time you want to communicate with your pokémon, you just open your mouth and say-
NO! he interrupted. There HAS to be a better way. HAS TO! I refuse to believe otherwise.
Your funeral, his brain shrugged mentally. So, what next?
Didn't we decide on finding a Pokémon professor?
Yup. The nugget implies this is the Fire Red or Leaf Green version of Gen 3, his brain theorized, so that would mean going to Pallet town and finding Professor Oak.
The boy paused. ”Where even AM I?” he asked out loud.
The Kanto region, almost certainly. His brain supplied. Meowth are found on Routes 5, 6, 7, and 8. Plus various locations on the Sevii Islands.
I don't think we're on an island, he thought, looking around himself. I think we're in a city.
There are cities on islands, his brain pointed out. Then, suddenly, Wait! A few Pokédex entries claim that Meowth are urban. In the games you can't catch wild-grass pokémon in cities, but here...
There are probably pokémon in cities. Makes sense, he thought back. Stray cats spend their time in towns, not forests. So where are we?
That's a good question, his brain answered.
You don't know?
I'm not a map, his brain snarked.
I thought you knew EVERYTHING there was to know about pokémon, he snarked back.
I do! his brain snapped. In THEORY. But we've never actually put any of this knowledge to practice, outside of the video games. I need INPUT, and right now, all I see is a dirty alley. Find a landmark if you want to know where we are so badly.
Fine, fine, he thought. Sheesh, no need to get so defensive.
I'm your brain, it thought back. I'm a figment of YOUR imagination. If I sound insecure about my pokémon knowledge, it means YOU are insecure about your pokémon knowledge.
He rolled his eyes. Yeah, whatever.
”Now,” he said out loud, turning to face the nearest street. ”I need to get out of this alley.”
Aren't you forgetting something? his brain asked.
”Meowth!” came a voice from beside him.
Oh, right.
He looked down to find Meowth trailing by his side.
”What am I going to do with you?” he asked aloud.
Meowth might have the pickup ability, his brain offered. Especially since yours was holding a nugget when you caught it.
Your point?
You could send him on a pickup mission. I don't think the ability works the same way as in the games; I can't see how keeping the Meowth in a pokéball would let it pick something up. But you could send it out to search for items. If this is Gen 3, you might mostly get berries, but you have a chance for more nuggets.
He sighed. The reasoning was solid, but sending the Meowth on a mission would mean...
”Human (Meowth),” he said out loud, once again glancing around first to make sure they were alone. ”Hume (I) human (want you) human hume (to go out) human (and use) hume human human human (your pick-up ability).” Then, realizing he needed to specify when the mission was over, he added ”human (until) human human (you find something). Human (Then bring) human (it back).”
”Meowth!” his pokémon said confidently, then turned and began walking down the alley, occasionally pawing a scrap of paper or a garbage bag.
I still can't believe that works, he thought as he left the alley in the opposite direction of Meowth.
He was about to randomly pick a street and start walking until he saw the sign for the building forming one half of the alley he'd just left: 'Pokémart.' From this angle, the sign seemed to block his view of the dumpster.
Well, he thought, that's convenient.
No, that's logical, his brain corrected. Why else would that dumpster have all those discarded Pokémon items?
Shut up, he thought as his approach activated the motion tracker on the double doors.
”Welcome!” said a voice. If the owner of that voice, a salesman behind the counter, thought there was anything odd about a ten-year-old boy walking into a store at- (he glanced at a clock on the wall)- 9:45 AM wearing nothing but swim trunks, he did a good job of hiding it. ”What can I get for you today?”
First thing's first, he thought.
”I'd like to sell this,” he said, placing his nugget on the counter.
”Certainly!” the salesman happily agreed. Again, if he was surprised at a ten-year-old selling a piece of gold, it could not be seen on his face. ”May I have your account card?”
A look of confusion crossed the boy's face. ”I don't have one.”
”No account card?” the man said, finally surprised. ”I suppose you want physical money then. That's unusual – most trainers-” he glanced at the pokéball in the boy's hand ”-prefer the online banking system, especially swimmers.” He removed some money from his till. ”Here you are. May I suggest a trip to the bank after this?”
”I'm... kind of short on supplies right now,” he said, accepting the 5,000 Pokédollars. ”Plus, I don't think I could visit a bank looking like this. Do you have a clothes section?”
”Certainly!”
Following the man's pointing finger, he set off into the store. He learned something very important upon reaching his destination: Clothes are expensive.
The cheapest combination of clothing he could find, in his size, totaled 9,100 Pokémon Dollars, if you excluded the bag. Including the bag, it became 12,000.
Geeze, he thought. The most useful thing I can buy is a backpack. No wonder the cashier didn't freak out over my nugget. How am I going to be able to afford the basics?
More nuggets, his brain answered. We already have Meowth on the case.
Oh? he asked, lifting a mental eyebrow. And what are the chances he'll find a nugget?
His brain mentally mumbled something.
What was that?
There's a five percent chance in Gen 3 Kanto of finding a nugget. Less in most other regions and generations.
Thought so.
But we don't know if that will hold true here, his brain argued. Furthermore, it said, raising a mental finger in his mind space, what Meowth can find might be dependent on where we are. In the games, location doesn't matter, only level. And in Gen 3, even level didn't matter. A level 1 Meowth had the same loot table as a level 100 Meowth until Emerald version came along.
So... the boy thought, absorbing the raw data and trying to parse it into something he could use. You're saying Meowth might have better chances of finding golden nuggets in a cave?
His brain would have nodded if it could. And better chances of finding berries in the forest.
But even if the odds for finding a nugget are different, they might not be better here in the city. And even if they are better, I doubt nuggets are common enough to get another nugget anytime soon. We'd need a way to increase our chances.
Yes, his brain said, chuckling evilly. We would. And I have the perfect idea how.
The shopping trip had used up all his nugget money and only netted him a few items: a red backpack ( 2,900), three pokéballs ( 600), and a big container of pokémon chow ( 1,500), which took up most of the space in his bag.
When he exited the building, Meowth was waiting for him, holding something in its mouth.
He reached down, held out his hand, and soon found himself to be the proud owner of a fourth Pokéball – or a fifth, if you count the one he found in the dumpster.
”Good, uh, pokémon,” he said, petting the cat. He didn't know the gender-
Meowth have no visible differences between genders
-but he did know how to reward good behavior. Removing the container of chow from his bag, he emptied some into his hand, then offered it to Meowth, who ate it happily.
Now that he thought about it, this Meowth did look rather skinny.
Stray cat, he thought. Always hungry.
And I bet this isn't the only one, thought his brain. In fact, we're counting on it. So hop to it.
He sighed. Time was still moving forward, and it was not on his side. He had woken up in the early morning, but it was already halfway to noon.
So, again with reluctance, and again with a nervous glance around, he asked his Pokémon the following question: ”Human (Do you) human (think you) human man (could lead me) human human (to more Meowth)?”
It took him a good three hours to find all the Meowth he needed. Much of that time was spent ignoring the Meowth that didn't seem to be interested in searching their surroundings for goodies. He needed Meowth with the pick-up ability, not technician or unnerve. Some of that time was also spent bribing Meowth to join his party with food. He didn't do any actual battling, which also played a part in this taking so long. He didn't want to battle until he'd officially begun his journey as a trainer.
Still, a few good things had come from all the extra searching he had done: his first Meowth had, along the way, picked up a few more items. Furthermore, as he caught more Meowth, they too began bringing him items, especially after they saw him reward his first Meowth with extra food. And the final benefit of all this searching was another nugget, held in the mouth of a Meowth he had bribed – both into releasing the nugget and joining his team.
Either the chances of finding a nugget-holding Meowth are higher than 5%, his brain thought, or you are the luckiest person alive.
Or, he thought back, restricting our search to only pick-up Meowth meant that our chances for finding a nugget-holding one were higher.
After all, none of his Meowth had brought him a nugget yet. His only two nuggets so far have come from Meowth who were already holding them when he found them.
The Pokédex entries say that Meowth likes shiny things, his brain remembered. Maybe it takes forever to find one, and they just hold onto it after they finally do.
Either way, no more easy nuggets, he thought dejectedly. Still, this is a pretty good haul.
He was on his way back to the Pokémart, taking stock. He now had:
Meowth x5, Potions x5, Antidote x3, Repels x2, (Empty) Pokéballs x4, Greatballs x1, Revives x1, Nuggets x1, and even a Full Restore x1. He also had half of his Pokémon chow left.
No berries, his brain thought with some surprise. This is Gen 3, and we haven't found a single berry.
We're in a city, he reminded his brain. Now do me a favor and add up the value of all this gear. We don't need the items, just the trading value.
Okay, okay, give me a second, I'm an encyclopedia, not a calculator, his brain thought, looking at each item as it kept a running total. We have... 8200 worth of stuff. Still not enough for a full outfit.
I don't NEED a full outfit, he thought. Then his mental monologue paused as he entered the Pokémart, placed the items on the counter, and picked up the offered cash. How much more can I buy if I skip the shorts and hat?
Not much, his brain said, adding up the numbers before him. The shirt was 2,100, the socks 900, and the sneakers were 3,200.**** You'll have 2,000 Pokédollars left. I'm beginning to think most trainers start their journey with spending cash.
You think? He asked as he picked out the items.
He then searched the store for anything else he might need. He grabbed another bag of Pokéchow ( 1,500) and a small pamphlet containing a map of the region ( 500), with a ”you are here” arrow pointing at...
Huh, he thought. I guess we're in Viridian.
With a ”thank you” and a ”by the way, where can I find the bank?” to the teller, he was soon headed to his next destination. With his Meowth on the loose, searching for more items, of course.*****
A few blocks of walking later, and a few items richer-
Potions x2, Revives x1, Pokéballs x1
-a 10-year-old-boy – in body if not in mind – wearing swimming trunks, socks and sneakers, and a t-shirt, walked up to the Viridian City Bank.
And a few minutes later, he was walking away again.
Stupid bank, he fumed.
Banks, it seemed, did not open accounts to ten-year-olds unless certain conditions were met:
1. You needed the permission and presence of a parent or guardian.
2. You needed some form of identification (this condition wasn't exclusive to ten-year-olds).
3. If you wanted a pokémon trainer account in particular, you needed signed approval from a recognized pokémon official.
And so, he was now consulting his pamphlet, which had extremely basic information for aspiring trainers. There was, in fact, a section on pokémon officials. It seemed to focus on how to locate them above anything else.
Naturally, the Elite Four and Pokémon Champion were recognized officials. But the likelihood that one of them would be able to sign and approve a bank account for some no-name ten-year-old like himself was basically zero.
Gym leaders were also recognized officials, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to ask the Viridian City gym leader for any help whatsoever.
This left him with only one option: Pokémon Professors.
And so, he flipped the pamphlet back to the map of Kanto, wondering if it held any more information than he already knew about the region, and in fact it did. There was a list of simple statistics describing each route, but none you would ever find by playing the games. This pamphlet was a traveler's guide, and therefore it listed information relevant to traveling.
”Route 1,” he read aloud. ”Simple terrain, easy to traverse. Recommended gear: portable tent (or bedroll). Travel time at walking speed: THREE DAYS?!”
He almost dropped the pamphlet at that last part. It would take three days to get to get to Pallet?
He looked at the sun, which was moving the day forward from afternoon to evening. He did not have that much time. He wouldn't mind taking three days to travel the route once his journey had officially begun, but at the moment he needed to reach Pallet ASAP.
So he began flipping through the pamphlet again, looking for a quicker means of going from one city to another.
”Inter-city transport,” he read aloud after finding a promising page. ”Public Transportation: Buses, Taxis, Trains.
”Trains are the slowest, but least expensive option for the weary traveler. A single trip can cost anywhere from 1,000 to 10,000, depending on both distance and class. On all but the shortest trips, most trains take at least a day to reach their destinations and can take up to four days cross-region. On-board meals are provided at additional cost.”
He paused at that, considering. If trains ran overnight, he might be able to sleep along the way to Pallet, which would cover room expenses. And since Viridian to Pallet was probably one of the 'shortest of trips', it would probably be on the lower end of time and expense. Ideally, he'd be able to reach Pallet tomorrow morning.
Then, his stomach grumbled loudly.
Not to mention the onboard food, he thought, clutching it. Maybe I should have spent less money on Pokéfood and more on Peoplefood.
Just as he thought that, one of his Meowth returned with another item – a Repel. The happy look on its face when he fed it the last of his first bag of Pokéchow was enough to let him ignore his own stomach.
For now, anyway.
”Personal taxis are the fastest, but most expensive mode of transportation,” he continued reading, ”costing anywhere from NOPE!”
He wasn't spending THAT much on transportation no matter HOW fast it would be. He quickly moved on.
”Buses are the most commonly used inter-city transport option. Typical fare is 2,000 between neighboring towns but can climb as high as 20,000 for long trips that span multiple cities. An average bus ride will take two hours in transit.”
Well, he thought after skimming over the contents a second time, I might as well go with the train. It'll take longer, but it'll solve my other problems, like food, and finding a place to sleep.
He flipped over the pamphlet again, this time looking for a detailed map of Viridian City specifically.
He found none.
Oh well, he thought. I was headed back to the Pokémart anyway. I'll just ask for directions again.
Another three Meowth returned, were rewarded, and renewed their search efforts by the time he saw the blue-tiled roof and glass double-doors again.
”Welcome!” the salesman said for the third time that day (at least to him).
”Hi,” he replied, placing his items on the counter. ”Could you point me to the train station? Also, would you happen to know how much a train ride to Pallet town would cost?”
”Sure!” the teller said, taking the items and putting 1,700 on the table. ”A train to Pallet shouldn't cost more than 1,000. As for directions...”
And once again, he was outside, only stooping to collect two more pickup items before heading off again. The teller had pointed him to the edge of town and told him that it would take about an hour of walking to get there. The teller had also warned him that the station would close in an hour, so he set off at a brisk pace, only ever stopping whenever a Meowth would return to him.
Come to think of it, he thought, how do they know where to find me each time?
Don't ask me, answered his brain. That's never come up in canon before. In fact, the opposite has occurred: pokémon have gotten separated from their trainers in the anime and gotten lost.
Do you think the Meowth can track my scent, or something?
Don't know, his brain replied flippantly. They're cats, not dogs. None of Meowth's Pokédex entries mention anything like that. You'll have to figure this one out on your own.
Maybe Professor Oak will know.
His brain didn't respond, which he took as agreement.
Thirty minutes later, and three items richer, he was standing in front of the Viridian train station. His Meowth had a difficult time both keeping up with him and searching for items, so they only managed to get a couple of potions and a pokéball.
There was a line of only two people in front of the teller, so he stood patiently and waited. The lady in front of him gave his Meowth an odd look, especially when they scattered to scout and scour the station of its useful trash, but she said nothing, her turn at the till having just arrived. One ”Ticket to Pewter, please” later, and it was his turn.
”I'd like one ticket to Pallet Town,” he said.
”A young trainer, eh?” asked the old ticket master, his glasses glinting briefly in the sunset. ”One ticket to Pallet, coming up. Would you like a meal onboard?”
”Yes,” he said immediately. Then, on second thought, ”How much would that be in total?”
”For a ticket and a meal? 1,800”
”I'm 100 short,” he said, putting the money on the table. ”But I can offer a trade. You can sell an empty pokéball for 100.”
The old teller eyed him for a long moment. Then, he finally said, ”You know what sonny? Go ahead and keep your pokéball. I can cover for ya just this once.”
”Really?” he asked, then smiled. ”Thanks!”
”Don't mention it, sonny,” the old man chuckled. ”It's just 100.”
”All the same,” he shrugged, accepting the train and meal tickets. ”Um... wait, I forgot to ask, which train is it? And when is it leaving?”
”There it is now,” said the old man, pointing at one of the trains docked in the station. ”Should shove off at 9:00, which is...” he glanced at his watch. ”In fifteen minutes. Goodness, it's that late already? Almost closing time.”
Thanking the teller again, the boy recalled his Meowth and boarded the train.
Chapter 2
Outside the train station, the light of the sunrise shone upon a large sign that read:
'WELCOME TO PALLET TOWN'
Finally here, the boy thought.
The train hadn't actually taken all night to get to Pallet, but the passengers didn't have to get off until 7:30 AM, a good thirty minutes before the station opened to admit new customers. The train had a strict 'all pokémon must be kept inside their pokéballs at all times, thank you' policy, so it was only him standing there at the moment.
Now, to find Professor Oak. But first...