“Ladies and gentlemen, can you see this? It’s incredible! These two aren’t Indigo Conference finalists for nothing!

“Nidorino continues with a Poison Jab… Oh, but Gengar bounces right back with Hypnosis!”

The Poison Pin pokémon was lulled to sleep by Gengar’s careful control, before it even had a chance to react.

‘Heh,’ the owner of Gengar thought to herself. ‘It was worth taking the time to master this technique. Much more effective than other sleep-inducing moves.’

But as she began to order a Dream Eater, the man on the opposite side of the battlefield recalled his pokémon.

“Wait! The trainer is sending back Nidorino! But which pokémon will he choose now?”

‘Shit. Of course he would do that.’

“It’s Onix! Now this giant pokémon is on the attack!”

The woman kept her composure as she ordered Gengar to dodge the attack, but she knew playing keep-away wouldn’t work for long, and Onix was much too bulky for Dream Eater. She needed a new strategy, and fast.

“And Gengar jumps aside! Onix fully on the offensive now, with a chance for a turnaround in the matchup…”

Red sat on the edge of his seat, rapt. This was the fourth time he had watched the 18th annual Indigo Conference championship round in the past month, but it was still as thrilling as ever. Bruno and Agatha were perhaps not the strongest of all the finalists, but with their contrasting focus in physical and special attacks, they were perfect foils for each other.

Of course, once he was a trainer, he was sure he could do much better than Bruno, Agatha, or any other finalist.

It was standard procedure in Kanto and Johto for 10-year-olds to receive their Trainer ID, which allowed them to become officially recognized pokémon trainers; they could use Pokémon Centers, purchase most items from Pokémarts, participate in League-sanctioned gym battles and tournaments, and, most importantly… legally catch and train wild pokémon.

'And Professor Oak’s new batch of lab ‘mons come in tomorrow… only 5 days after my birthday. Took them long enough,' he thought to himself.

“What were they again? Bulbasaur, Squirtle, and—”

“Charmander.”

“holy helix mom please don’t scare me like that”

Red's mother walked into his bedroom, and said, “Calm down, Red. Look, it’s nearly 10 o’clock. You ought to get to bed soon. I know you’re excited for tomorrow morning, so don’t forget,” she picked up a bottle of pills on his nightstand and shook it, “you do have melatonin in case you’re having trouble getting to sleep.”

Human drugs like this were rather uncommon, but his doctor had prescribed him some after a few too many sleepless nights.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. The early Pidgey gets the Caterpie and all that. Can I at least finish this match first? There’s only five minutes left.”

His mom glanced at the TV to see what he’s watching, then said, “Alright, I guess. I’m not sure why it’s so interesting to you, though. You’ve seen that same battle over and over.”

She sighed a little before turning to leave.

“Good luck… I hope you’re ready for what’s ahead of you.”

The tape came to an end, and, as promised, Red turned in for the night, taking one of his pills to ease his restlessness. His mind still buzzed with activity for a good half-hour, but he eventually sunk into a light sleep.

Red woke up to the sound of the local Dodrio beginning their morning routines. He stretched a bit, then checked the time. It was nine thirty, a full half-hour after Oak’s lab was supposed to open its gates.

He fought the still-lingering sleepiness, fumbling as he attempted to force his clothes on. Five minutes later, he was out the door, giving his mom a quick wave before sprinting down the dirt path that headed into town.

‘On the one day it actually matters, I can’t get up on time. Arceus above, why do these things happen to me?’

Red ran through the streets, barely avoiding more than a couple of collisions with passersby. The lab was a half-mile away from his house, but he knew he would have to get used to walking long distances, now that he was a trainer.

He was just beginning to run out of breath when he finally caught sight of the windmill behind Oak’s lab. With a surge of energy, he clambered up the steps leading to the red-roofed building and practically threw open the double doors, panting.

“Ah, Red! Glad to see you could make it here.”

Professor Oak stood at the back of the lab, near a few bookshelves, computers, and various apparatus presumably used for his work. But the large pokéball-holding machine sitting in the center of the room was what drew Red’s attention. It held two standard pokéballs, each presumably containing one of the starters promised by the Professor.

Oak immediately noticed where Red was focused, and chuckled.

“You’re lucky. Those are the last of the batch. The last Charmander went to a young girl about five minutes ago, but you’re free to pick between Bulbasaur and Squirtle.”

‘No Charmander? That sucks. That was my first pick, but if it isn’t an option…’

Red walked over to the machine and began to reach for one of the two remaining pokéballs. “I’ll choose—”

“What’s up, gramps! Hope I’m not too late.”

Red immediately recognized the voice of Gary Oak, Professor Oak’s grandson. He was a stuck-up jerk who waved his granddad’s name around for clout and constantly insulted other kids. He knew the kid didn’t deserve an ID or a pokémon, but not only did his old man have a soft spot for him, he was also a competent battler. He had shown as much in the local Pokémon School’s practical tests.

‘Ugh. He’d better not screw this up for me.’

Gary walked to the back of the lab, glancing at Red. “Pfft. Don’t tell me he’s getting a license. He can’t even throw a ball right.”

“I was four! What did you expect me to do? Throw a perfect curveball on my first try?” Red responded. The incident in question involved a stupid bet and a Net Ball Gary’s uncle had given him. He preferred not to think about it.

“Whatever. Anyways, I’m taking this one.” Gary plucked a ball off the machine, just like that. “Enjoy having the last one, loser.”

‘If only I could beat him up without getting my license revoked. Then I could teach him a lesson.’

Then it occurred to Red that they both had pokémon. He took the last ball and scowled at Gary.

“I’m gonna wipe that stupid smirk off your face the old-fashioned way. Let’s have a pokémon battle!”

“All right. But be prepared to lose.” Gary laughed and pressed the button that lay on the front of his ball. Professor Oak tried to object, but his attempts were ultimately fruitless as Gary tossed the ball in the air and sent out his pokémon… Squirtle.

‘If he has Squirtle, then that means I have…’

“Bulbasaur! I choose you!”

The pokémon that came out of the ball had rough greenish-blue skin and a healthy plant bulb attached to its back. It was a fine looking Bulbasaur, ready for battle. It surveyed its surroundings, looking for its opponent. “Bul! Saur!” it croaked.

“Bulbasaur, use… uh…”

Red panicked, realizing that he had no idea what his new pokemon’s moves were. Gary seized the opportunity to strike first.

“Ha! First battle and you’re already choking! Can’t say I expected better from you. Squirtle, use Water Gun!”

“There’s no way you’re that stupid! Water is weak against grass!” Red said.

Gary quickly noticed his mistake, worry flitting across his face for a brief moment, then said, “I was just softening you up! Squirtle, use the water to propel yourself forward, then switch into Tackle!”

At the last second, Squirtle turned around, using the forceful blast of water to launch itself in the air, dousing a couple of misplaced papers. Oak, now with a resigned look on his face, sighed and started to clean up the mess. Before Squirtle could land, Red shouted, “Dodge it, Bulbasaur, then use Tackle!”

Tackle was a move most low-leveled pokémon knew. It was a pretty safe bet that Bulbasaur would be able to use it. Bulbasaur dived out of Squirtle’s way, receiving a small graze for its trouble, then swiftly turned back and went crashing into the turtle with a Tackle attack.

What followed was a rather uninteresting three minutes of back and forth, until, eventually, Gary changed courses.

“Squirtle, use Tail Whip.”

The pokémon turned around and wagged its tail endearingly. Try as it might, Bulbasaur couldn’t help but soften up at the sight.

‘Drat. I need to act fast or I’m cooked.’

Red desperately tried to think of a strategy, but nothing was coming to him. Without knowing any of Bulbasaur’s grass-type moves, there was nothing he could do but watch as his pokémon's defenses were slowly whittled down.

Gary smiled, and shouted, “Now that he's weakened, hit him with a Tackle!”

Red considered ordering Bulbasaur to dodge, but instead resigned himself to the loss. He had screwed himself over by rushing in too early.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

Squirtle crashed into Bulbasaur, knocking it unconcious, winning Gary the battle. He recalled his victorious pokémon and turned to Red.

“See? I told you I was better than you. You even had a type advantage, but you still lost.”

Red grimaced and recalled Bulbasaur, then responded to Gary. “Those pokémon are still inexperienced. Just wait until I’m a bit stronger, then I’ll beat you into pieces!”

He paused, and looked around the lab. Almost everything nearby was damaged in some way. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t taken the time to think about his surroundings. Red gulped and turned to the Professor.

“So… I’m not in trouble, am I?”

Professor Oak looked annoyed, but didn’t say anything. He went to the back table and pulled out two devices Red immediately recognized as Pokédexes, then walked over to the two young boys.

“Before I give these to you, I need to get your trainer IDs ready. You brought the papers, right?”

Red thanked his lucky stars he had pre-packed his backpack before going to bed. He pulled out the two sheets of paperwork necessary for registering as an official pokémon trainer, and handed them to Oak.

“I have yours too, Gary, just give me a moment to find them…”

Oak fumbled around, looking through various stacks of paper, until he finally found Gary’s registration forms. He scanned both sets with an archaic photocopier that contrasted the higher-end machinery in the rest of the room, and inputted all the data into the computer. After a painful two minutes of waiting, the Professor finally turned around, and handed each one of them an ID.

Red took a moment to admire the card, which acted as official proof that he was a pokémon trainer, and gave him access to all benefits that came with the title. But he quickly shifted his focus back to the Professor, who presented him with six items.

A Pokédex, and five pokéballs.

The moment he had been waiting for his whole life had finally come.

Red walked out of the lab to the sound of Gary’s mocking tone.

‘Aw man, he’s still here? I was hoping he’d be gone by now. I’ll hang back a bit and wait for that jerk to leave. I’d rather not have to talk to him again.’

“... you snooze, you lose, and you’re way behind right from the start! I’ve got a pokémon and you don’t.” Red inched closer, moving along the curvature of the path until he could get a closer look at what was happening. When he finally caught sight of the kid, he stopped in surprise. A whole crowd of people stood around Gary, who was talking to a scrawny ten-year-old in nothing but PJs.

“You... got your first pokémon?” the newcomer exclaimed.

Gary took out his newly received pokéball and spun it on his finger.

‘Show off,’ Red grumbled.

“That’s right, loser, and it’s right inside this pokéball!” At this, people in the crowd started cheering.

“Thank you all for this great honor! I promise you that I will become a pokémon master, and make the town of Pallet known all around the world!” The other kid, who appeared to have not yet picked up on Gary’s derisive attitude, interrupted his ‘grand speech’.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering if you could tell me what kind of pokémon you got?”

Gary leered at the kid. “That’s none of your business! If you’d shown up on time, you would have seen that I got the best pokémon from Professor Oak. It’s good to have a grandfather in the pokémon business, isn’t it?”

Red snorted at this statement, but said nothing aloud, instead waiting to see where the situation went.

Gary turned to leave, but not before once again addressing the large crowd of people in front of him. “Thank you for coming out to see history in the making! Now I, Gary Oak, am off to learn the ways of the pokémon trainer!”

As he smugly walked down the path, most of the crowd began to disperse, leaving the other kid standing there, mouth agape, until what Gary said finally began to sink in. The kid turned red with anger and said something under his breath.

Professor Oak, who had made it down the path while Red wasn’t looking, addressed the boy.

“So, you decided to show up after all?”

The kid whipped around upon realizing that the Professor was there. “Oh! Professor Oak! Where’s my pokémon?”

“Your pokémon?”

“Yes, I’m ready!”

“You look like you’re ready for bed, not pokémon training. I hope you don’t think you’re going to train in your pajamas?”

“Oh, no, Professor! I got messed up this morning and I was, uh… a little late, but believe me, I’m ready for a Pokémon!”

Professor Oak sighed and turned back towards the lab.

“Well, Ash, you’d better get moving, or the morning will be over by the time you hit the road.”

‘Ash, huh…’ Red murmured. He vaguely recognized the name, but he could hardly be expected to remember everyone, even in a town as small as Pallet.

“You too, Red.”

He jumped a bit, realizing that the two had already reached the door of the building behind him. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

Ash only gave Red a quick glance before rushing inside the lab, eager to get his new pokémon. Red paused for a moment, confused.

‘Didn’t the Professor say we had gotten the last of the pokémon?’

He decided to pay the thought no mind, given that it didn’t really concern him. Besides, he had bigger things to think about. Since he had already bought supplies the day before, he was all set to head out, and he even had ₽1000 left over. A meager amount, but definitely useful. He could always get more by battling other trainers, or running errands for people who needed help.

A brisk fifteen-minute walk to the edge of town later, and Red found himself at the entrance to Route 1. A large sign proclaimed:

YOU ARE NOW LEAVING PALLET TOWN!

AHEAD:

ROUTE 1

PALLET FIELDS

A rather crude painting of a Pidgey, placed beside the writing, waved him goodbye.

‘They sure don’t keep it subtle, huh.’

Red took in a deep breath, then made his first step onto the sandy path leading out of his hometown. He took one last look back, then shook his head.

‘No use getting sentimental. It’s not like I’m never coming back.’

He ran down the road with a strengthened resolve, ready to start his very own journey.