Hey. I’m writing this in advance in case things don’t work out. I might be a criminal, but I still uphold my deals. You’ve more than earned these back over the past few days. Maybe we’ll meet again one day. Maybe not. We’ll just have to see~

I’m keeping the money, though. It’s not yours, anyway, it’s your friend’s, so that’s ‘his problem to deal with’. Right?

Anyways, catch you on the flipside, Green

It was the seventh time now that Red had read that message, and it still confused him to no end. And annoyed him.

“Not that it doesn’t make things easier, but how did she manage to slip these things to me,” he grumbled, looking at the inside of his jacket, where he had re-pinned his badges. They had come with the letter.

Then… he paused.

How long could he keep brushing this aside? For all he knew, Green and Ritchie could be… could… be…

No. They were fine. Green was an adult and he had no doubts that her pokémon were much more powerful and experienced than his. She was more than capable of finding her way out of that mountain.

As long as she and Ritchie didn’t get separated, they would be fine, right?

Right?

He let out a harsh cough, beginning to walk a little bit faster. He couldn’t let himself linger on these kinds of thoughts. Yes, it was concerning, but he was only ten, what could he do about the situation?

Red crumpled up the piece of paper, muttering under his breath in frustration. He tossed it at a nearby tree, catching a previously dozing Venomoth by surprise, then quickly scurried forward- he didn’t intend on getting into a fight, not in this condition. He was six days out from the Cerulean Range and had no idea where he was. The plan had been to go to Vermilion City, but the most glaring flaw with that was that he had no idea how to get there.

So he had just picked a random direction away from the mountain and walked, hoping to find a smaller town with a Pokécenter where he could reorient himself. He had not been so lucky.

Red cringed, feeling a sudden damp breeze. Looking up, he noticed an army of dark gray storm clouds rapidly blotting out the sun, casting a dark shade over the landscape.

As he stepped out of the covering of trees onto what seemed to be a high cliff-top coastline, the wind began to pick up, and he shivered. He decided, then, that he should try to find some sort of shelter before the rain hit- he had already had one bad experience with a storm on his way to Viridian City, and wasn’t too keen on reliving that.

Holding an arm out in front of him to protect himself from the biting gale, he slowly pushed forward over the brittle grass, gritting his teeth as he fought off the winter squall. As he came to the crest of a small hill, he scanned the surrounding area for a place to stay. If worse came to worst, he supposed he could try to make his way to the beach down below, and shelter behind the cliff’s edge- that was a not-so-preferable option, however, as he could easily slip and crack his skull on the way down.

Thankfully, he soon caught sight of a tall building made of marbled stone resting further down the cliff’s edge. “A lighthouse,” he murmured, sighing in relief. “Hopefully someone lives there.”

If that was the case, he could even contact the professor and course correct back towards Vermilion! He could catch two Spearow with one pokéball.

Red dashed over towards the tall structure, wincing as he felt spots of rain beginning to fall all around him, which were only growing more forceful and numerous by the second.

“Hey!” he yelled, banging against the door as raindrops bounced off his back in a chorus of pitter-patters. “Is anyone home?”

Red breathed a long sigh of relief when, only a few moments later, the door opened. He scrambled inside with all the grace of a rampaging Tauros, pushing past a very surprised young man, who began to protest- then closed his mouth, understanding dawning on him as he saw the storm outside. It took a couple of seconds for Red to catch his breath enough to say anything, but when he did, the first thing that came out of his mouth was an apology. After all, he had just barged into a man’s home, which was generally a rude thing to do, even if it was justified.

“It’s pouring buckets out there,” he explained, his chest still heaving from his mad dash to safety. “I just need somewhere to stay until the storm blows over.”

“Ah,” the man said, smiling. “Well, my name’s Bill. Pleased to make yer acquaintance.”

“Have some chamomile tea. I picked a few too many leaves this morning, and it would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

“Uh, thanks,” Red said, taking the cup from Bill. He hadn't had very much tea before, and wasn’t sure if he’d like the bitter taste, but he didn’t want to reject the man’s hospitality when he had nowhere else to go. “Do you mind if I let my pokémon out? I normally feed them around now.”

Bill grinned. “Oh, yer a trainer? Sponsored or just a normal application?”

“Normal,” Red responded, taking out his three occupied pokéballs. Gym leaders and professors could occasionally sponsor trainers to take the gym challenge, paying most of their expenses if they agreed to certain conditions. Professor Oak was sponsoring Gary this year, naturally. “And two badges so far, in case you were wondering.”

‘Real lucky I still have ‘em, though,’ Red thought to himself, grimacing. ‘Though, now that I think about it…’

“Hey,” he added, looking up at Bill. “A few days ago, me and a couple other people got separated in the Cerulean Range. I think they’re fine, but I just want to be sure… Do you have some way to contact the authorities?”

“The Cerulean Range? Why were you all the way up there?”

“It’s a long story,” Red grumbled, pressing the release button on each of his pokéballs. With a flash and a pop, Ivysaur, Mankey, and Clefairy appeared on the ground before him, stretching and shuffling around as they took in their surroundings.

Bill hummed, looking down at the three pokémon, while Red took a bag of pellets out of his bag.

“Woah woah woah,” Bill shouted, upon seeing the package of pokémon chow. “Yer feeding them that stuff? At the very least, that Mankey should be getting more protein-rich food. She’s tiny!”

“It- she… is?” Red asked, looking down at Mankey in confusion.

“Yes! She’s physically weak, undersized, and sluggish. Clear signs of not jus’ malnourishment, but a lack of proper battling, too! Mankeys need lots of physical activity to expend their natural energy, just like other pokémon, but even more so fer them ‘cause of their natural temperament! Don’t you have a pokédex?”

“I mean- uh- yeah, I do-” Red stammered, caught off guard by the sudden aggressiveness.

“Then use it! Properly! It should tell ya everything ya need to know about caring fer pokémon, which you clearly don’t know a thing about! You were just up in the Cerulean Range, right? Now that I got a good look at yer Ivysaur, I can tell, because its flower is wilting! It should be getting at least two hours a day direct exposure to sunlight to recover! And this… is this what I think it is?” Bill asked, pointing at Cleffa.

“Um. It’s a Cleffa, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yer the one ‘fesser Oak entrusted with the prototype of the pokédex tracker? And one of the few trainers to have captured a Cleffa? Ya probably don’t know, but yer a pretty hot topic in the breeder community right now! Imagine how riled up all those guys are gonna get when I tell them that ya don’t even care for yer pokémon well!”

“What do you mean?!” Red shouted, growing angry at the accusations that were being thrown at him. “Of course I care for my pokémon!”

“I’m not sure I believe that when ya can’t even tell their genders apart!” Bill shouted, glaring at him. Then he took a deep, frustrated breath, and resumed talking.

“Listen. Do ya know how many trainers give up on the league challenge within a year of startin’ it?”

“Uh… not that many, right? Like… two percent?” Red was making a wild guess, but he couldn’t imagine that many people would forgo the gym challenge that quickly.

“Wrong. It’s actually twenty-eight percent. And most of ‘em do it ‘cause their pokémon ain’t acting the way they should be. There are far too many instances of trainers saying their pokémon are too weak for their level of experience, are always angry or morose, or won’t do what they’re told. It’s because none of them are giving their pokémon the specialized care and attention they need! As a pokémon researcher and breeder, do you know how painful that is for me?”

“I- well- I guess so…” Red stammered. “But while I can understand where you’re coming from, I still barely know you! I appreciate the hospitality, but you have no right to tell me how to take care of my pokémon!”

“I’m not telling ya how to do anything,” Bill sighed, the energy draining out of him as he collapsed onto a couch facing Red. “I’m just makin’ suggestions. You have promise, Red. I don’t wanna see it go to waste.”

Red looked down silently, slowly lifting the now lukewarm tea to his lips and taking a long sip. His pokémon looked between the two of them in bewilderment, and he was unsure how much of the conversation they had grasped- though, ugh.

Bill was right. He’d been cutting corners, even if he hadn’t really given much thought to it. He had planned to give his pokémon more specialized care at the beginning of his journey, but after everything that had happened, and how much harder the trainer life was than he had realized, it had just… fallen to the wayside.

He needed to get serious about pokémon training if he wanted to have a shot at winning the Indigo League Championship this year.

Before he could say anything however, he heard a distant groan- not unlike a Wailord’s cry, or a foghorn. Bill immediately stood up, running towards a large window at the far end of the room. Red looked over at him curiously, slowly getting out of his seat to follow him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand slowly resting on the windowsill.

“Nothing,” Bill sighed, looking out towards the sea with a frown on his face. “I’ve been hearin’ that cry for the past few days, and I’m pretty sure it’s a Dragonite. It’s very rare to find one of those in the wild.”

Red hissed. “It’s dangerous, though,” he added. He’d heard horror stories of people who had gotten on the bad side of a Dragonite.

“For a researcher like me, that’s a small price to pay. Though I get the concern.”

Humming, Red followed Bill’s gaze, wondering what would happen if he did meet a Dragonite. Scary, yes… but he had a feeling Bill was right. It would be kind of cool, in a weird way.

“The storms’ not letting up anytime soon,” Bill remarked, turning towards him. “How about ya stay here fer the night? You can sleep on the couch or somethin’. And I’ll get in contact with Oak and ask him to keep an eye out for yer friends.”

“Oh, well- uh- I don’t want to be a burden,” Red said, idly patting Bulbasaur’s head. The pokémon let out a happy croak in response.

“It’s fine. Don’t wantcha freezing half to death in the rain, after all.”

Red smiled. Maybe things would turn out fine, after all. He just needed to try a little harder to get back up on his feet.

But for now, he had gotten a collective eight hours of sleep over the last week and he was sleepier than a Snorlax. He needed to go to bed, stat.