He hadn't slept, because sleep was for casuals.
Heavy rain crashed down on the remote hamlet from blackened skies, the grassy soil waterlogged and swollen. In a house with locked windows and reinforced doors, in a room dimly-lit by a small table-side lamp, the constant roar of nature's fury was drowned out by the tinny sounds of Technical Death Metal bleeding out from the low-quality cobalt-blue earphones in a young boy's ears. His hands moved deftly as he shuffled through the messy piles of papers on his desk for what he swore would definitely be the last time, a ballpoint pen between his gritted teeth.
On the wooden desk before him, he'd arranged a monument to overthinking things, a layered pile of white A4 paper sheets. Pokemon name after Pokemon name had been written down, crossed out, written again beside it, or scribbled out furiously. Rows and rows of calculations in blue pen were interspersed with crude, ugly doodles of certain Pokemon he wanted and Pokemon he wanted his team to never have to worry about. The type chart had been written down on its own piece of paper as a four-by-four grid, and each type was crossed out, some more than once, and some had notches and arrowed lines, every last one hastily scribbled out and the system replaced with a new one. Small vertical lines were made next to each type's name, most of which were crossed out and rewritten until he changed from small lines to small circles, and after that, to small squares. Rejected ideas for Pokemon and the movesets they could have, ideas good and bad, were hidden beneath the weight of violent pen scribbles like live bodies hiding under corpses. It was clear that this boy had spent far, far too much time and energy planning the team he'd use for the adventure he'd finally start today, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he still hadn't planned enough, that he was missing something vital, something that could completely obliterate his entire team if he wasn't sufficiently prepared for it.
The 10-year-old boy sighed and put the papers down, quietly picking his chair up and placing it down a few inches away. He couldn't rework his entire team. Not again, not on this day.
His eyes wandered to a corkboard mounted on the wall, one coated in small sticky notes stuck to the wall with red-marked pins, full of assorted quotes from assorted philosophers. The very sight of it was enough to make him feel so pretentious, so false... To say nothing of how reading through all the self-aggrandizing quotes about war and wisdom and victory and success left his mood... But his parents and grandparents liked seeing what clever-sounding and deep-sounding quotes he would add to the board, so he supposed it had to stay up.
He still found it funny that even though he was named after a great and long-dead poet, a boy with "William" and "Blake" in his name only had one quote on that wall from the ancient man: The one about getting really angry and growing a tree.
I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears, night and morning with my tears; and I sunned it with smiles, and with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night, till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, and he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole, when the night had veil'd the pole; In the morning glad I see... my foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Such a great poem! William Ataerno Quartzcoat Goldsteel Endragon Lucidia Yieldawn Blake absolutely loved it.
Breathing deeply and sighing once again, he decided to give his overworked mind a moment's respite with a simple task. And what task could be simpler than dressing oneself in an outfit the fashion-loving boy had already designed and prepared?
That thought put a small smile on his face as he drifted over to a blue-rimmed full-body mirror on a chestnut-brown stand, and he stared deep into it. A boy with short and unkempt blue hair pushed back haphazardly stared back at him with tired golden eyes and a big smile, which went away quickly. He wasn't some casual kid playing dress-up, he was a real man! One clad in plaid blue and white pyjamas, which he threw dramatically into the air with a single toss so he could begin putting on the outfit he'd officially wear as a trainer, from day one to day one thousand. No, day two hundred. He'd probably change his look after a few hundred days in the same outfit, maybe update it to incorporate parts of other Pokemon he'd have by then, but until that day, it was time to put his planned ensemble together, piece by piece.
First, a simple jet-black T-shirt with long grey sleeves, and some thin white cloth gloves he supplemented with black fingerless leather gloves, complete with little black diamond-shaped metal bumps over the padded knuckles. He didn't plan on punching anyone, but they made him look tougher and they felt really cool. Not as cool as a Pokeball probably would, but they were a start. Next, a pair of baggy blue trousers he'd heard were called 'Cargo Pants' in some places, complete with two zipped pockets on the hips covered by short flaps of fabric. And they weren't just regular thin zippers, they were the thick heavy-duty kind. Those two zippers had cobalt-blue-painted metal sliders replacing the original paintless metal sliders, which his many other zips had. On the front of each leg, just above the knee, a zipped pocket with a cover kept down by a jet-black-painted metal fastener. Or button, he'd heard it both ways. On the side of each lower leg, an identical zipped pocket kept covered by identical black buttons. And on his rear, a set of two more flap-covered and zipped pockets.
Some might look at his trousers and claim he had far too many zips, but those people hadn't seen some of the purchases he'd talked himself out of making. Like the pair of cargo pants that were just like his own, except an additional zipper made its way around each upper leg, allowing the wearer to turn his cargo pants into cargo jeans at a moment's notice. Or better yet, that red military-looking peaked cap with a blackened visor made of whatever sunglasses were made out of, but the red fabric cap part of the hat concealed a flap and zipper, the flap kept down by a fastener made to look like a gold-winged golden circle thing. Each pocket was connected by their own internal linings of dataspace threads, the kind normally seen inside each pocket of the Bags and Backpacks many trainers wore. The kind that converted items placed inside into weightless data until you wanted to use them, but could only carry up to nine hundred and ninety nine copies of each item, because their designer was still too lazy to update the number limits to something larger like nine thousand or nine million.
He worked his feet into rugged grey "Steel toe cap" boots made from thick and stiffened leather, the inside armoured with a thin layer of actual steel. These boots weren't just made for walking, they were made for hiking, mountain-climbing, not letting muddy water into his feet, and most importantly, allowing the wearer to laugh off any heavy objects that might fall upon his toes. Like attacks aimed at them. Running shoes? Those were for casuals, casuals who expected to spend their time casually jogging around major cities like a casual, instead of leaving the beaten path and hunting Wild Pokemon down, miles from civilization, like a real man. He wasn't the type of casual that would probably his their shoes in the mud somewhere and have no replacement shoes to change into. He wasn't any type of casual, he was a real man! And soon to be a real Pokemon Trainer, too! That'd show his parents.
He wasn't some bargaining chip to be traded for Pokeballs and political points!
He was his own man, and he'd prove it to the world!
He pulled a zipped-up hooded jacket over his head and onto his chest, one such a deep blue, it looked just like the metallic-blue armor of a shiny Bisharp. Its arms, below the slightly-stiff and slightly-pointy shoulders, were grey, because he'd taken those sleeves off and replaced them with the sleeves of a different jacket of the same make and model, only grey. Warm, comfortable, and cool. He put his hands into the jacket's two front pockets, their linings of dataspace threads allowing his hands to touch each other even though there was a long zipper running down his jacket's front to split the two pockets apart. Reaching further in, his hands passed each other and emerged from the unfastening and unzipping pockets at the ends of each trouser leg. He grinned and waved to himself with one hand and gave himself a thumbs-up with the other, then pulled his arms out of his jacket pockets while the cargo pants zipped themselves back up.
...The belt. He'd forgotten the belt.
Opening a chest of drawers, he grabbed one black faux-leather belt from a pile of similar black leather belts, only his chosen one had a thin band of steel embroidered into the upper and lower rim of the belt, to reinforce it. He dramatically threaded his belt through his black cargo pants, and posed for the mirror with folded arms and a cocky grin. Then noticed he forgot a loop on the rear left side, slowly unthreading the belt and rethreading it properly. Deciding to pretend that never happened, he fastened his belt tight, and he threaded the spiky bit of his belt through an extra hole he'd been forced to make in the belt. He threaded the excess belt material into his belt's threads, and admired the gold-coated spiky thing on its steel buckle, the thing you threaded through a hole to keep a belt up, the thing he couldn't remember the name of right now. The white and yellow of Arceus came to the forefront of his mind when he looked at that steel buckle and gold pointy bit. Then he covered it up with a decorative belt buckle in the mirror, it was sturdy painted steel, Pokeball-shaped, but it was a Master Ball. Because he was a Master. Masters were cool. He could take that buckle off whenever he wanted the gold-covered steel bit to speak for itself, but when he wanted to look more like a regular trainer... A regular trainer who loved Steel-Dark Pokemon and considered himself worthy of a Master Ball, someone who seemingly overestimated his own abilities and should be underestimated in turn, he could keep the buckle on. Genius! Truly, he was a genius when it came to designing clothes. He'd prefer to be a genius in something more useful, like using aura or psychic abilities to cheat in Pokemon battles, or even a genius in Pokemon battles themselves, but he supposed it took all kinds to fill a world, or however that saying went.
"Technology truly is incredible," The boy whispered to himself with a satisfied smile. And to think, since he'd ordered the cargo pants and jacket directly from an independent tailor that took requests and made these things by hand(Well, made them with a machine and then modified them by hand), and then made his own modifications to his blue jacket, his whole ensemble only cost him seven thousand Pokedollars in total! He heard over in casual-infested countries like Kalos, individual bags made by "Big names" with bigger egos could cost more than a hundred times that! He was glad this region's law kept the prices of services and goods like that, forcing manufacturers to compete and enhance their product's quality to get the common trainer's Pokedollar. In any case, pockets were just so much more efficient than a big clumsy old-fashioned-looking backpack. And they were harder to steal from, too. Only a filthy casual would walk around miles from civilization with an easily-stolen backpack. Sure, Pokemon were great for foiling thefts, but thieves had Pokemon too. Out in the wild, losing whatever you kept your food, tent, camping supplies, and Pokemon food in could mean never going back to civilization at all. And, to the delight of many thieves, never getting to describe the thief to the cops.
He pulled its hood up with both hands on its sides, admiring the golden fabric 'axe blade' on the head that stood itself up only when the hood was up. He stared at that 'Axe blade', and shook his head from side to side a little, watching it flop around. That yellow thing he'd added to the hood, he supposed it looked alright when his head was perfectly still, but he still felt a little silly with that floppy pointed thing just... there. It was a somewhat daft-looking thing he wished he'd put something inside to stiffen it, even though that would make it harder to fold up when his hood was down. Images flowed from his memory unbidden, images of dumb girls with dumb outfits themed after dumb feline Pokemon with two dumb feline ears sticking from the top of their hoods. And worse, even dumber girls with even dumber Pikachu hoodies with dumb floppy Pikachu ears. Not for the first time, he wished he'd instead put a more conservative yellow racing stripe on the top of his hood. Surely, authentically looking like his chosen Pokemon could take a back seat to not feeling absolutely ridiculous, right? No, he'd decided on this head-axe blade for that precise reason. His outfit needed at least a tiny splash of impracticality, so he'd fit in amongst any environment. And by focusing the impractical energy here, at the top of his head and away from his body, he'd perfected his outit. He pushed the hood back down, the axe blade bending in the middle and folding to the side, unzipping the zipper on his jacket's chest juuust a little. Grabbing the upper right side of his jacket and pulling it to the side with an elbow raised and pointing to the side, then adjusting the jacket slightly with his right hand to get his jacket's widened V looking juuuuust right, he smiled. He'd spent days designing outfits on paper, scribbling furiously over bad designs, buying the necessary parts, and trying to get that Giratina-cursed head axe blade looking the best it could... And as he folded his hood's drawstrings into a loose knot and let the ends hang down, William Blake finally felt like a real Pokemon Trainer.
He felt within him the urge to scream in delight like a little girl getting a real Charmander for her tenth birthday, and he fought it down, settling for simply grinning like an idiot. Finally... He was finally going to become a real Pokemon trainer! He wanted to sing with delight, but his grandparents would be asleep at this hour, and he liked them too much to wake them up.
His parents, on the other hand... His mother was still with the Engineering Corps over in Dorandal, living in her office to save on travel time and have an excuse to spend so little time with her son, and his father's tour in the far-off war-torn region of Carmal wouldn't be done for two more months. Wait... Didn't that finish six months ago? If so, the old man was now with the rest of his support unit, squatting in the mostly-Ferexian settlement of Zekko, trying to keep the peace in a mudhole that didn't know the meaning of the word.
Sure, he hadn't seen either of his parents since he was six, unless letters counted as human contact, but some rogue part of him, the optimistic and idealistic spark responsible for that ridiculous all-legendary team taking up space on his planning papers, was hoping his parents would be there. Or, at the very least, his father. Right now, it seemed the Gym Leader and self-proclaimed worldwide master of Steel-type Pokemon would not be home in time for his son's big send-off, the day he went from boy to man, and his mother wouldn't be there either.
His mouth moved, but no sound emerged. "How thematically appropriate." He silently muttered to himself. It wasn't like they were around for much of his life. If they hadn't been around to raise him, why would they be around to see him leave them? They probably thought he'd be coming back in a year or two anyway, tail between his legs, ready to accept the fate they'd chosen for him like a filthy casual. He kept himself from excessively moping about those two by thinking of all the sad poor orphans in the region for a few moments, and trying to appreciate his parents for sending his mother's parents the money needed to look after him, the bare minimum of what a parent was supposed to do for their child or children. He could barely remember their faces, but he supposed this technically made them better than gene donors. Then again, as that ultimatum he'd been given on his ninth birthday came to the forefront of his mind and echoed around his skull once more, he wondered if their raising of him justified where they planned to put him if he didn't gather enough badges before the deadline. He sighed, looking back at his papers. The papers, and everything he'd written on them. The cold world of facts and theories always helped distract him from dumb unproductive feeling-fests, and he didn't have the time or energy for feeling sad right now. Some Trainers took up their Pokeballs to escape their home life, sure, but it wasn't THAT bad, right? At least his parents approved of his desire to become a Pokemon trainer... Though this came with its own downside. Failing his journey would mean his whole life would be over, and he had a time limit no runaway would ever have to deal with. He focused harder on the papers, shuffling them while glaring at them. He started wondering what unusual teams he was unlikely to ever see, like a team with six Tyranitars, could do to his team, and what he could do to counter this team, then he remembered his more-important and most-recent team-planning documents.
He had a whole team of Pokemon written down and planned out, each one's role, type, and final moveset written down. Some were marked as definites, Pokemon he definitely HAD to have. Some were marked as potentials, and they shared their slot with one or two extra Pokemon, Pokemon that could all fill the same slot almost as well, but the one furthest to the right was always the best option, unless one was marked with a star, then the starred Pokemon made a better addition to the team. And if one was marked with two stars, it was a better option added after that first one was added. Some were crossed out, if a Pokemon added at a later date did its job far better or made its job unnecessary. Some did its job better while giving his team too many Pokemon of a certain type, forcing him to completely overhaul his whole team. But after the first few overhauls, he started instead making arrows that pointed to altered copies of the teams, making the pages a bit less comprehensible to someone other than himself, while making them look less like some of the ugly scribble-covered messes he'd made on other pages.
Below that team, he had three more similar teams of Pokemon planned out: A slightly-different and slightly better team he could hopefully get, if he got lucky when hunting for Pokemon, or if he won enough matches and gathered enough cash to buy the eggs of some of the best pokemon in existence, a less-than-ideal one that could still work if he had to substitute certain core Pokemon he couldn't find in the time his journey planner allotted for each town, and a particularly-idealistic team with two of the region's very best Legendary Pokemon, and some substitutions based around that. One team was composed of Ferexaltian-exclusive Pokemon and only Ferexaltian-exclusive Pokemon, even when a Pokemon that could also be found in Sinnoh, Kalos, or Unova would cover more team weaknesses. One team was composed of Ferexian Pokemon, plus a Bisharp, since they originated in this region. And more importantly, they were effective Pokemon that looked awesome. One week-old team plan he couldn't bring himself to throw away still silently stared at him, a team born from that strange mixture of wishful thinking and daydreaming one achieved after a night or two without sleep made it easier to remain awake while sleeping. It was a theoretical team composed solely of Legendary Pokemon, some of which weren't even native to this region! But it would definitely ensure his victory over any trainer and Gym Leader, even other trainers that somehow also had full teams of legendary Pokemon. He doubted he'd ever catch even one of these Legendaries, but if he did, he'd be a very happy Pokemon Trainer.
Finally, the sheet he had been searching for, a planning document for the route he was going to take through the Region of Ferexalt. The page featured several sketches of the region, each a different size, each with different points of interest marked down as stars, or circles for areas with Pokemon he wanted to catch at least one of, or stars for areas that would make great EV Training locations. One of the first locations on his map was , a great place for Rock and Steel-Type Pokemon, including Pawniard.
Sparing a glance at the limited-edition "Dragon Type" jet-black Poketch with yellow trim on his wrist, he saw it was around 4 in the morning, and he smiled. Only two more hours, and he'd finally be able to get his Pokemon, become a man, and prove to his parents and the world that he could be his own man.
He decided to get out his new Ferexian Poképhone, a glossy black number with a touchscreen 5.7 inches in height and 4 inches in width, a touchscreen that slightly curved around the phone's edges to make the touchscreen juuust a little bigger than it had to be, because excess was fun. The uncreatively-named Pokephone was protected by a thick jet-black rubber case with a dark-purple eye symbol on its back, the international symbol for "Psychic-Type" because they were one of the coolest types ever, and he tapped a button on the side to awaken his phone. Three rows of three dots greeted him, and his thumb slid its way through the security system, sliding through all nine dots in a somewhat predictable spiralling pattern. 5 horizontal rows with 4 apps each in front of a unchanged pale-blue background greeted him, and he activated the one application he'd actually unlocked as a non-trainer besides the camera's basic image-taking functions and the downloaded database on Pokemon moves, stats, and types: A video service that allowed him to watch videos while connected to the internet and save up to three videos for offline viewing.
He began searching online for the most recent tournament matches, and while he'd seen the Semifinal and Final matches at last year's PokEVO, he hadn't yet watched the earlier matches. As his phone began to download the first match the tournament's winner entered, his bedroom door opened, and two elderly figures greeted him. He saw the wrinkled faces of his mother's grandparents, their respective shaggy steel-grey manes like metal wire, and their own nondescript black-shirts-and-brown-shorts outfits. The only thing he could really say about those outfits was that they matched each other as exactly as their matching silver wedding rings. Even their faces carried many of the same wrinkled patterns. The only real differences he could make out at their age was his grandfather's large, prominent, heavy, wrinkled brow, and his thick and bushy white eyebrows. His grandmother had an average brow and an thin pair of eyebrows, as if his caterpillars had consumed most of that hair.
Will wasn't expecting this, so he decided to just say hello and see what happened.
"Hi," He whispered. It was still early in the morning, after all. Whispering just felt right.
"We're awake, Son." Will's grandfather said flatly. He'd always claimed to find 'Grandson' too time-consuming to say, whenever someone from outside the family asked, and Will never felt like asking that question or questioning that answer. The real answer would probably be something super dumb or super sad, or both. Or worse, something so sad and so dumb that it grew in sadness and dumbness the more you thought about it. Either way, while Will normally detested willful ignorance, he was sure the answer here was something he didn't want to know.
"Oh. So, uh..." Will said, not sure what to say to that. He decided to settle on posing, striking that jacket-gripping raised-elbow pose from before. "How do you like the new look?"
His grandfather gave an overblown mostly-fake grimace as he glanced at his wife - He'd known the old man long enough to tell the difference between his fake grimaces and his real ones - and his wife gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. "Well," He eventually said, "At least you don't look like a Furf-"
His wife jokingly nudged him a little harder, smiling like she expected this. "-Pokemaniac," The old man finished, as if that was what he was going to say all along.
"Thanks! I wanted the hooded jacket and cargo pants to make me look all cool and urban, so I could blend into any urban environments. But it's also comfortable, hood for running, its material breathes, and it's sturdy enough for proper hiking and camping. The Dataspace Thread-lined pockets at the front let me pull out whatever Pokeball I want without tipping the opponent off and telling him or her which order I normally keep my team in and how many Pokemon I carry around. I can counterpick someone's lead without telling him I'm counterpicking! It's great. But it's still distinctive and Bisharp-themed and it'll still look great when I'm posing for the cameras on TV next to my Bisharp!"
"Yeah, great. You know, when I was your age, we just sort of wore whatever we liked. None of this 'Sewing feathers and horns on your own clothes' business..." Will's Grandfather muttered, and he reached into his pocket, getting out a letter. He paused for a moment, holding the letter in his hands, eyes staring off into the distance while his thumb stroked the letter, feeling and memorizing its texture. His wife nudged him again, and without moving anything more than his arm, he passed the letter to his son. "Here's a letter for you."
"Thanks." Will said suspiciously. That is, he suspected that the letter would hold something terrible within it, and that he couldn't trust it as far as he could throw it. And not just because he wouldn't be able to throw it very far, what with it being near-weightless paper and all. Maybe if he spun it horizontally like a frisbee, he'd get more distance? Anyway, that wouldn't change how little he trusted this letter right now. He turned it over in his hands and saw a third-class stamp, along with his home's address. He peeled the right corner of the letter apart and stuck his index finger in, then tore it open by using his finger as a letter opener. Opening it up, he found a single piece of A4 paper folded up into thirds, and a small rust-red fabric bag that he'd assume could hold around five small pebbles before reaching its maximum capacity, if he didn't know it'd probably have Dataspace Threads.
"Well, that's one way to save on postage, I suppose." He quietly and distractedly said to himself as he pocketed the bag, and then unfolded the letter and began to read it.
Dear William Ataerno Quartzcoat Goldsteel Endragon Lucidia Yieldawn Blake
Hello, son.
"Hi, mom and dad." Will snarked at the letter. "It's great to see you again after all these years."
His grandparents glanced at each other, and he pretended not to notice. He was tempted to say something else about how long it had been since he'd seen them, and how he'd be sure to remember this last sight of his parents when he was travelling alone, as he furiously glared at this stupid, stupid letter... But he didn't want his grandparents to worry about his mental state. Or, more likely, feel bad for him.
He didn't need anyone's pity.
And he didn't want it.
We all know how vital the first few months as a Pokemon trainer can be for a young man. These earliest memories will shape much of your development, and while your supplies are low and your supplies are few, losing too many battles can spell the end of your career.
"Thanks, Mum, I love you too." He muttered to himself. He didn't know why he was reading this stupid thing, it was probably going to be garbage. Self-aggrandizing 'Look at us, we love you so much we wrote it down!' nonsense from the parents that wanted to put him in an arranged marriage with some girl whose father owned a gimmicky Pokeball company. Married off at the age of 12 to a girl he'd never met, and for what? Free Pokeballs? Free money? Sure, these things sounded nice. Who didn't love Pokeballs and money? But still, what was the cost? His whole life, tied down to one woman who'd probably turn out to be horrible. That wasn't something he'd let happen to him.
That wasn't something that happened to cool people!
Arranged marriages were for princesses in fairy tails and tragic tales of star-crossed lovers, who'd inevitably get bailed out of them by the heroes! Or those princesses or lovers would bail themselves out by becoming the heroes of the story! Arranged marriages had no place happening to a guy, not in an awesome story about an awesome Pokemon Trainer becoming the absolute greatest trainer there ever was and could ever possibly be!
...At least, that's what he hoped his life's story would be.
The most important advice I can give you is to pace yourself. Keep yourself moving forward at a sustainable pace. Don't wipe out deep in the middle of forests, don't burn yourself out with intense training unless there's a Pokemon Center nearby, and don't lose to trainers you don't trust. Take regular breaks between training sessions, and don't let any training sessions go on for more than an hour or two. Oh, and I should say to believe in yourself, I suppose, but let's be real here, you aren't going to give up. You're William Q. Blake. You're our son. Remember, whether you find a well-travelled route with a nearby Pokemon Center and camp there, picking battles with passerbys, or spend a few days or weeks camping in forests or on mountain peaks, it's important that you're ready for anything, no matter what it might be. Make a habit of visiting the Pokemon center more often than you need to, because if your team wipes, you'll be lucky to end up in one.
Speaking of being ready for anything...
Enclosed is a bag containing six Pokeballs. These Pokeballs contain a team of six Pokemon, powerful Egg Moves bred onto each one, though I decided not to use TMs on any of them. After all, a law against giving Pokemon with TM Moves to trainers without a single Gym Badge was passed a few months ago. Thanks, Osana! In any case, these six Pokemon are ones I'm very proud of, and they are all dual-types with the Steel typing, so you can spend your journey training the Pokemon you'll be using in the gym once you inherit it.
And yes, I included a Pawniard. You planned on dressing up as a Bisharp, according to your grandparents, so it just wouldn't look right if you didn't have one of those.
Select four to form your initial team, and deposit the additional two in your PC account at your earliest convenience. When you've defeated Craig's idiot son in Ironaxe, withdraw the additional two and set your sights on the other Pokemon Gyms before visiting your father's. If you want to feel cool, tell your grandparents you don't want to take these Pokemon, argue with them for a while, then do your career a favour and take them. I didn't give you anything TOO good, so it's fair.
Pawniard, Steel and Dark, Jolly nature, knows Psycho Cut already. That should be useful against the many Fighting Pokemon you'll see over the course of your journey. He might seem unusually joyless and focused on training for a supposedly Jolly Pokemon, but just wait until you see him in a battle. He has the cutest victory dance, taught to him by his mother. It doesn't do anything, but it's cute.
Klefki, Steel and Fairy, Calm nature, knows Pursuit. Feel free to replace this move with something more useful, preferably Play Rough. This keyring might not look particularly impressive, but she's banned in Dorandal. Yes, one of the biggest regions in the world banned any Trainer from bringing this Pokemon into their borders, and getting caught using one in an official battle over there with money on the line is punishable with a prison sentence of up to ten years. Why? These moderately aggressive keyrings have Prankster, and they can be taught Swagger and Thunder Wave from simple, commonly-available TMs. Paralyze a Pokemon, its speed is reduced, and its chance to successfully use an attack is lowered. Confuse a Pokemon with Swagger, its Attack is doubled and its chance to use a move successfully is reduced further. Use Play Rough on something that had its attack doubled, preferably something big and powerful and intimidating, a physical attacker commonly seen among the Pokemon most of the denser mid and mid-tier trainers use, and you'll see why a team of six Klefkis destroyed Dorandal's very own regional Champion, spurring on the aforementioned ban. You could, if you wanted, teach her Double Team and give her one of those items that lowers the accuracy of your opponent, reducing the chance that your foe will be able to successfully hit you with any of the oft-inaccurate attacks these physically-oriented foes tend to use, but a tiny chance that you'll be hit is still a chance. It may be mostly certain that an opponent would be unable to really hurt your Klefki, but I prefer not to rely on "Mostly certain", not when I could instead rely on "Say goodbye to your Mega Lucario".
Riolu, Steel and Fighting, Adamant nature, knows Blaze Kick. As cliché as it may be to start your journey with a Pokemon of this evolutionary line, and as common as his kind may be amongst the trainers that can afford one from a registered breeder(And the careless and mindless scum willing to buy Pokemon from unlicensed breeders), they make fine companions in battle, and this one's stereotypical I-am-Lucario-I-have-honor personality is tinged with an unusual prideful streak, along with a poor ability to take losses well. Might not want to give this one's evolution a Mega Stone unless you train some better sportsmanship into him, or you're sure the Pokemon you have who are still up for a fight could restrain him if need be. As for his unusual choice in Egg Moves, I'm sure the shocked face of every Ferrothorn user will be even sweeter than the last. Also, no, I did not include a Ferrothorn in this team. They may be good for countering Spore-abusers, but so is any Pokemon that can hold a Lum Berry. Blaze Kick should also allow this Pokemon to defeat the MANY Lucario you'll see on your journey. I know I saw plenty back in the day.
Ferexian Excadrill, Steel and Ghost, Brave nature, knows Curse. I think 'Amusingly overconfident and borderline delusional' would be a better term for his personality than 'Brave', but remember, my child, you're the trainer and you're the one who decides when you fight and when you run. And at least he isn't frustratingly mopey or juvenile or soulless like so many of his ghostly or steely types. After he carries out his role as a bulky physical sweeper, use Curse. Curse is great for depleting the HP of an opponent's important Pokemon, or forcing it off the battlefield if you're facing someone that knows a Ghost's Curse is, for some reason, one of those status effects that fades away upon re-entering a Pokeball. But wait, his ability is Shadow Tag! So your opponent CAN'T switch out until you do! Be sure to teach him that Steel-type move, Repair, that heals 50% of the user's HP but only has 5PP. Combine with Stealth Rock for added fun.
Beldum, Steel and Psychic, Naughty nature. These things aren't native to Ferexalt, so actually getting one would be a pain if this wasn't one of those Pokemon sold worldwide by many professional breeders hoping to cash in on its incredible popularity, a status it shares with Pokemon like Eevee and Riolu. These things don't breed in the traditional sense, so I was unable to give it any good Egg Moves. However, I was able to get a colleague to teach it Headbutt. Take out all the weak Pokemon you can and make frequent trips to the Pokemon Center until it reaches level 20 and evolves into Metang. From then on, it should be a far more useful companion. Also, watch it carefully around computers, especially those owned by anyone you wish to remain friends with. It likes using its psychic abilities on keyboards to add questionable things to the search histories of others, and laughing when others discover the 'Surprises' it left for them. If you can't afford any Mega Stones by the time you're 16, your father will give you his Metagross stone. It's not like he uses it much any more after teaching you-know-who you-know-what. I'd nominate this for 'Get left in the PC until I get my first Gym Badge' duty. Also, it didn't object when I started calling it a he for a while, so feel free to do that.
Rotom, Electric and Ghost, though he's technically an Electric and Steel Pokemon when in anything that'll give him a Steel-type form, as your father insisted. Though I wanted this slot to be taken by a Ferexian Rapidash instead, because Steel and Flying fits this team better than another Ghost. Timid nature, he's a complete coward outside of any appliance he can take control of and use in battle. Has a concerning tendency to perform unnecessary shows of dominance to the Pokemon he would be intimidated by without his appliance, you might want to train that out of him before you enter him into any publically-viewed tournaments. Remember, he isn't a Legendary Pokemon, and anyone who calls him one is a fool. His base stat total is only 440, and if Pokemon with 600 BST like Garchomp and Tyranitar aren't considered Legendaries, Rotom isn't one. Even when Mega Forms bring their BST to an absurd 700, a gimmicky special attacker shouldn't be considered a Legendary. I included the appliance for his Battery Rotom forme, but you'll have to find or buy the rest yourself. Don't ever buy second-hand appliances unless they're from someone who's retiring.
Don't talk to strangers unless you've got at least one fast and decently powerful Pokemon out beside you, ready and willing to defend you if need be. If you're in an establishment where Pokemon are forbidden, get out of that establishment and do not give them your money, the Pokemon of our children are our last line of defense! If you must enter one, make your chosen Pokemon something small and cute, something well-behaved nobody could refuse access to. And always keep at least two healthy Pokemon and ten revives and ten Ethers on you at all times, once you're allowed to buy those at a store, just in case. Max Revives are great, but you can always use other healing items to restore the HP of anyone that needs it. Invest your money by buying healing items that can't be taken away from you if you lose a battle. This region just isn't as safe as it was when we were younger. Once again: Thanks, Osana.
Also, We love you. Be good.
And now, here's a message from your father.
Hi, Will!
I'm sorry that I couldn't be there with you, but you know how much Dorandal sucks. Carmal isn't much better, I hear a rebellion is forming over there, but I don't want this letter to get messed with, so I won't say anything too bad about Carmal. I'll probably be sent over there once my upcoming vacation is done. Speaking of that vacation, you know where I'll be spending it. That's right, my Gym. Which could, maybe, potentially, be your Gym some day!
I hate that I can't be there to see you off in person, but I know you'll be fine without me. You're strong, stronger than I was at your age. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you, and I know you're going to make me even prouder soon enough. I know your current home isn't too far from my city, but I won't be done with this stupid war for a few more months. Please try to get least 5 badges, preferably 7, before challenging my gym, and if you could wait until I get back before you challenge that gym, that would be great. Spend the time training, because I'll use the best team I can get away with using. You and I will battle for the ownership of the Gym, and it will be incredible! Every day I'm forced to spend in this war-torn wasteland, knowing I might die any second, will be worth it because I know I'll get to see you soon enough in the land I fought to defend. Knock 'em dead, my boy!
We love you, son.
-Jackson and Aria Blake
"Oh." Will breathed, not sure what to say. He felt his eyes start to tear up, so he quickly folded the letter up and shoved it into his pockets. He felt the letter fade away into weightless data, though this didn't make him feel any better. His jacket might contain a digitized copy of that letter until he took it out, but his heart would bear a copy of that letter forever.
"What did it say?" His grandmother asked as he took miniturized Pokeballs out of the bag two at a time and put them in his jacket's front pocket.
"It was a letter from my parents, they gave me advice on my journey and told me to use the Pokemon they'd given me." Will said distractedly "But, I was hoping I could, sort of... Get a Starter from the Lab in town, and just use that at first. Then catch all the other Pokemon myself, too."
"And you're dressed like a Bisharp, because?" His grandfather asked pointedly, raising a wrinkled eyebrow.
"I planned out my whole route for the next year I'm going to spend on the road, and I can catch a Pawniard in Ironaxe's Mine. Then I can get a Ferexian Larvitar at the peak, too! But first, I'll start with just a normal starter, like a normal trainer.
"You aren't a normal trainer, Will." His grandfather stated.
"I know, I know, I'm the heir to the Gym." Will sighed. "I need to bring pride to my family, not shame, and-"
"Forget pride, Trainers are going to know who you are and how rich and powerful you simply 'must' be." His grandfather said pointedly. "The second they realize who you are, they're going to challenge you. Back to back, if they have to. Some might even challenge you two on one, or three on one! If you can beat three trainers in a row, five more will want their shot. If you can beat six trainers in a row, ten more will be waiting, sure that if they all wear you down enough with 'the power of friendship', they'll eventually 'Take you down a peg'. You represent something they can never have or be. It doesn't matter what they have that you don't, you have something they don't and they'll resent you for that, whether they realize it or not. You need these Pokemon so you can make it clear to every last one of them that you're not just some rich boy with more money than sense, ready to have his pockets plundered and Pokemon plucked, you're William Ataerno Quartzcoat Goldsteel Endragon Lucidia Yieldawn Blake. and to challenge you is an exercise in futility!"
He knew how stubborn these two could be, and he knew the usage of his full name meant the conversation was over, but he also knew there was no way he'd accept an unfair advantage that was just given to him. He only accepted unfair advantages when he'd earned them! For example, if he'd caught a Water-Type Pokemon and trained it up specifically to use against a Fire-type Gym Leader!
Then again... All these Pokemon were still at a very low level. Would... would it still count as earning the right to use them if he trained them all himself? Sure, he didn't catch them himself in some far-off field... He began to speak. "I see your point, I really do-"
"Then shut up and take these Pokemon!" His grandmother snapped. "You aren't going to impress anyone by denying what you were born with. This world isn't fair, William. Some people were born with uncaring parents that let them train their 'Pet' Pokemon and battle anyone that wandered by, without making their kids wait until they could get their license first. While they were as young as five or six in some cases! Some people were born with the ability to see the future and predict your every move, and not all of them are polite enough to advertise this fact by dressing in purple and throwing their Pokeballs around without touching them. Some people from the poorer areas will know all the latest cheap and dirty tricks, and their Pokemon will be on ALL the stolen vitamins. Some people were born with parents willing to hand all their mid-level Pokemon over to their kids at the start of their journeys. Some mediocre level thirty-five Gabite only needs to obey its trainer once to destroy any Pokemon it'll face along its path to the Badges needed to properly train it and order it around. And you? You were born with parents that wanted to give you a competitive edge, while still letting you develop your own battling style and understanding of strategies. Don't reject that, or them, or what they gave you. It's part of who you are."
Will didn't know what to say. His eyes glanced around the room, hoping he'd find something that could give him some kind of insight on what to say. His papers? The papers he'd used to plan his journey, and what team he'd end up with? "I... The team I planned out didn't plan for any of them except Pawniard!"
"Then just use Pawniard and replace the others if you find anything better than them." His grandfather said, as if it was obvious, and he was getting tired of his grandson's stupidity.
"It's alright, Will. You can take them." His grandmother said understandingly, noticing his inner turmoil. "Take them, and keep them on you until you need them. If you can get four Gym Badges without using a single one, you can put them all in your PC. But if you're backed into a wall and you're fighting a group of trainers at once or a bunch of trainers in a row, take these Pokemon out and annihilate them. After all, if they aren't going to play fair, why should you?"
"Good point," Will said, glancing at his front door. "So, uh... Goodbye."
"Call us when you get to the first town with a Gym!" His grandmother said warmly.
"Don't die. Or talk to foreigners!" His grandfather announced.
"Got it." Will said, and opened the door. He hesitated, not sure what to say.
"Something you forgot?" His grandfather asked.
"Thank you for letting me live here." Will said and left, closing the door behind him, and the sound of his feet were muffled by the rain as he ran away like he was being chased. Soon, the teardrops falling from the sky had drowned out his departure completely.
"Why did you-" His grandfather began, turning to his wife.
"Because now it's a challenge for him to fail." She said with a knowing smile. "Give it two days, he'll have used two of those Pokemon. Then he'll decide he might as well use the rest and give up on his little 'Fight like an ordinary trainer' challenge."
He sighed. "That boy... How long do you think he'll last before coming home and giving up on his little 'Prove to myself and my family I'm strong enough to inherit what I've already inherited' challenge?"
"Give it three months, he'll be back." She said with certainty. "Either that, or he'll have defeated every trainer in Ferex at least once, captured at least one of every Pokemon in the region, including Legendaries we didn't even know we had, saved the world from three criminal syndicates at the same time, humiliated some other region's champion in combat, dominated an international Pokemon Contest tournament just to prove he could and get back at some gussied-up bint that insulted him, and when we call him to check up on him and ask why his voice is echoing so much, he'll tell us he's sitting on the Champion's Throne, in the Champion's room, which he made bigger and renovated to fit some new clashing mix of themes only he can appreciate."
He looked at his wife with that special brand of tired but warm, familiar, playful amusement only some elderly couples that still loved each other after more than fifty years together could show. "You watch too much of that modern nonsense on TV."
"And you watch too much of that old nonsense! There are more types of shows out there than 'Elderly Man Tries To Make Money: The Show', you know!"
"Says someone who only ever watches 'Loud Boy Tries To Win Fights: The Show'." He snarked.
"Pack it in, you." She said with a smile.
Outside, the constant crash of heavy rain streaming down from blackened skies was how Ferexalt chose to greet Will and commemorate his first day as a trainer, his footfalls sinking a quarter of an inch into the mud with each carefully-angled yet rushed step as he made his way to the Pokemon Lab in town, slamming the door open and entering the room. Scraping his muddied shoes on the tough fibers of a small brown "Unwelcome" mat, he stepped inside and looked around.
It was a simple building with easily-cleaned tile floors and painted-white plaster walls, some bookshelves here and there, some aides keeping an eye on the crowd of kids in the corner he didn't care about... And at the end of the building, there was one wonderfully attractive fourty-something woman by the name of Professor Magnium. Greying black hair on a woman her age, a body clad in a closed-up white labcoat, these things weren't supposed to look good, but on her, it did. And big purple eyes made bigger by large glasses always looked good, in Will's world. The grey circles of sleep deprivation around her eyes had no right to look this cute. And her black hot-pants and her black trainers with white highlights and white lace... Oh, how he loved the way she looked!
Her outfit and maturity certainly made her stand out in a room with thirty children standing, each one carrying a black clipboard with a sheet of paper and a black pen, and each one dressed like a Pokemon to some degree. The filthy casuals merely wore coloured shirts, and the less-filthy casuals wore hats and shirts with specific patterns, like the Skitty-themed girl in a pink shirt with a yellowish circle on its chest, and a pink beanie hat with Skitty ears sewn onto it. More dedicated and serious Pokemon trainers dressed up a little more, like the green-haired girl in a Xatu-themed robe with eye-like patterns dyed on, the bleached-blonde girl with greyish sunglasses and a cream-white white knee-length fur coat that'd already gotten soaked in this rain, and the crimson-haired black-clad kid with long furry gloves that ended in black paws and blunt plastic claws.
"Alright, new kid," Professor Magnium sounded a bit tired, and Will wished she'd take him to another room, open up to him, and tell him all about whatever had gotten her down while he massaged her shoulders and made her happy. She reached over to a cupboard behind her he hadn't noticed, opened a drawer, pulled out another clipboard with a quiz clipped to it and a pen looped through an extra loop of thin plastic on the side, and handed it to the new arrival. "Ten questions, to see how good of a trainer you are. Budget cuts stopped me from getting the usual shipment of Starter Pokemon, and we don't have enough of every species for everyone. That means you can't all pick Charmander today. So we're doing a little quiz, and the smartest trainers get to pick their Starters first, got it?"
He accepted her challenge, and the offered clipboard, with a confident grin. "Got it!" He declared, and decided he wouldn't walk over to the corner with the other kids, he'd just look down and stand on the spot, and fill it out quickly, right in front of her! And she'd be so impressed, she'd fall for him and become one of his obligatory girls all cool Trainer men travelled with! He sure hoped things would go that way if he did well enough, but he tried to remain realistic. Women this old had seen tons of kids, he knew, so she'd only fall for him after he got all the badges and became the best Trainer ever! Which, of course, was what he already wanted to do.
He decided to stop daydreaming and start answering. Ten questions, that was what he saw on the page, and they looked simple.
First, three square icons with rounded edges, and each one was one of the Three Important Colours. Squares for a red ember, blue water drop, and green leaf. Some text said to draw the proper type matchups using a cycle of arrows to indicate which type dealt super-effective damage to which type, and he did.
Secondly, it showed a simple yellow sketch of a Pikachu, with some text asking for the Pokemon's name, and telling him to write the Pikachu's name in the provided black box.
And then, it asked what 215-106 was. 109, of course.
After that, it asked what the ability Blaze did. It increased the damage of Fire-type attacks when your health was low, of course!
Then, the same question, but for Overgrow. He gave the same answer, except the word Fire was replaced with grass. Torrent didn't get a question dedicated to it, for some reason.
And after that, the next five questions were simple facts on Ferexaltian history anyone should know. Questions that asked what Ferex's full name is, when Garland VI's reign ended, where the inventor of the Pokemon Cyber-Replica system was from, where the inventor of the Master Ball was from, and where the inventor of the Poképhone was from. Ferexalt, 1066, Ferexalt, Ferexalt, and Ferexalt.
"Done!" He declared as he thrusted his clipboard towards the woman, balancing his pen atop it instead of looping it through its side properly.
And it hadn't even taken him ten seconds to complete. How on earth were the other kids still struggling with their quizzes? As she took the clipboard and checked it, he wondered if he'd been given an easier version of the test, due to his ancestry, heritage, and parentage.
She'd finished reading it, and she smiled. "Ten out of ten! Impressive." She beamed with pride.
[That's right], Will thought pridefully, [I'm impressive!]
"Did he just finish that in ten seconds?" A blonde boy in the crowd of kids wondered in angered disbelief, dressed up in the kind of Pikachu onesie you'd wear to bed, clad in nothing else except a black backpack and a pair of normal-looking and nondescript black shoes.
"Bet he cheated," A green-haired girl in white trainer shoes, a red skirt, and a green shirt with a red circle on the front commented.
"Since your test scores were the highest, you get the first choice." She said as she turned to the drawers behind her and opened one, revealing a drawer divided into square chunks by cardboard dividers, names of Pokemon on each of the thirty squares available. And as Will walked up to it and saw six squares arranged per row in five rows, he noticed that some Pokemon, like Bulbasaur and Mudkip, had more Pokeballs in their boxes than other Pokemon, like Torchic and... Flaaffy?
"But Professor, he's Ferexian!" Some girl cried, distracting him from his thoughts. It was as if she was saying "But miss, he's cheating!". He couldn't tell where the girl in a thick yellow raincoat that covered her modest green frock was from, all he knew was that she probably wasn't from Alola, and not just because she looked nothing like people from Alola. He heard people from that place were supposed to be nice.
The Professor frowned, as if there was something she wanted to say to that, but couldn't.
"She can tell." Will smirked smarmily, saying it for her. Some of the few Ferexian kids around the room have a quiet snort of repressed laughter, while others reacted in shock like most of the non-Ferexians. Unfortunately, the ones that found his joke amusing looked like the rich ones. Dang it, this was the exact opposite of how the books and TV shows said your first day as a trainer was supposed to go! Well, if fate wanted him to play the part of an annoyingly cocky Ferexaltian rival, he'd play the part. Without waiting for a response, he focused on the Pokemon.
"Oh, that does it!" The kid shouted angrily, voice cracking. "When I get out of here, you and me are having a Pokemon battle!"
"Looking forward to it, lamer." Will shot back without turning around, getting his Pokephone out and pointing it at the Pokeballs in preparation as he awkwardly thumbed his way through the device's screen after screen of apps. Why did he download so many terrabytes of apps before he left? ...Oh, right, because it was better to have something and not need it than need it and not have it. Old Ferexian motto.
Inn any case, he still felt everyone's stares focusing on him, and thought that he should pick a Pokemon soon.. Some were curious or mildly interested stares, some were jealous glares, and some were impatient... Why wasn't there a third word that rhymed with stare and meant the same thing, only a slightly different variation of that thing? In any case, he got up and walked to the front of the class, checking the case of Pokeballs. He wondered if this was how kids in Pokemon School felt when they raised their hands and answered a teacher's question, and all the kids were ready to lose it with laughter if he picked the wrong choice.
"Be sure to check each Pokemon before settling on it," Professor Magnium noted. "Because Ferex is a land famed for its unique evolutionary variants, we have many Starter Pokemon from other regions, in addition to our land's versions of them. Though I'm sure you knew this already."
"Yep!" Will said brightly. He looked closer at each set of Pokeballs, between two and six of each depending on the Pokemon's popularity. According to the named labels above each set's, the top row's options were Kanto and Johto's starters: Bulbasaur, Charmander, Squirtle, Chikorita, Cyndaquil, and Totodile. On the second row, his options were Hoenn and Sinnoh's starters: Treecko, Torchic, Mudkip, Turtwig, Chimchar, and Piplup.
The third row had Unova and Kalos's starters: Snivy, Tepig, Oshawott, Froakie, Fennekin, and Chespin.
The fourth row that had Alola and Ferexalt's starters: Rowlet, Litten, Popplio, Hedgedog, Burnny, and Sadpole.
The fifth and final row seemed to be reserved for unique picks and terrible ideas. Riolu, Gible, and Aron, he could appreciate. Shinx and Mareep, not so much. And finally, Eevee, though there was only one Eevee Pokeball left.
Choose something Ferexian, something in him commanded him. Represent your country with pride!
The mighty and defensive powerhouse that was the Grass-type Hedgedog, which evolved into the bulldog-like Bushdog, which evolved into the spiky-eared Cactuspaniel. Or the swift and deadly Fire-type Burnny, which evolved into the Fire and Fighting-type Embounce, which evolved into the Fire and Dark-type Loplaze. Or the honestly-rather-mediocre Water-type Sadpole, which evolved into Sadolfin, which evolved into Dolfun.
But he could get those later, probably. Right now, he wanted something that was already dual-typed from day one! And who was the best, out of all the Pokemon here that were already dual-typed? None other than the Fire and Grass-type Ferexian Snivy!
He found and activated his Pokephone's Pokedex app, and began scanning each of the five Snivy Pokeballs in a row. Sure, each scan took a half-second longer than it should have, but phone apps were cheaper than real Pokedexes. Some kids started to sigh or mutter, but he ignored them. He found a Ferexian Serperior with contrary, but its nature sucked. A Careful nature? What was this professor thinking, giving out a Pokemon with a nature that bad? Then again, anyone dumb enough to just take a Pokemon this important without checking its nature first deserved a bad-natured mon. He continued on and scanned the next one, and he saw that it had a Quiet nature. That was pretty good, it boosted Special Attack, but it lowered Speed, and he wanted a lot of speed. He scanned the next Snivy, and saw that it was a Ferexian one with a Timid nature. It boosted speed and lowered Attack, which no dedicated special attacker ever really used or needed. A few slightly-weaker Tackles and Vine Whips in the early months would be SO worth it once he started throwing around Giga Drains and Leaf Storms!
"You're mine!" Will declared, picking that Pokeball up and raising it to the sky. Then, he noticed the kids glaring at him, and he remembered what his grandparents warned him about. The Professor seemed a bit disappointed with his choice, but at least it was a Ferexian Pokemon.
"What's that supposed to be, your catchphrase?" A kid dressed as a Garchomp asked bitterly.
"You'll hear my catchphrase after I destroy anyone foolish enough to challenge me!" Will boasted with arms outstretched, beginning to take long, dramatic strides out of the room. He remembered what his parents said about showmanship, long ago. Play the part, and they won't get mad at you for not playing the part. Push them just enough to make them think they'll be heroes if they fight you, and must therefore act like heroes when fighting you. But don't push them so far that they'd do anything to take you down.
"Wait, I haven't got my Pokemon yet!" That kid who wanted to battle Will shouted out.
"Ferexalt's future Champion waits for nobody!" Will declared imperiously, confidently striding out of the building, into the rain, and away from the town.
And once he was out of view, he legged it. He broke out into a sprint, fled from the town like he was being chased, and didn't slow down even a bit once he approached tall grass that blocked the way out of town.
He knew that with all these Pokemon trainers starting their career, and the start of a new official League Season, it wouldn't be long before everyone would end up fighting over the Pokemon in the local area, getting into battles over who could train in what areas and who saw some rare Pokemon first.
Which meant it was his job to get as far away from the initial battles as possible, so he didn't get caught up in them and end up forced to waste valuable early-season time fighting trainers with level 5 Charmanders over a patch of grass with some level 3 Starlys and level 2 Rattatas, only to end up needing to visit a Pokemon Center to heal up and miss out on valuable training time anyway.
He had limited time, as the local resources would soon be fought over, and he needed to get away from that and fight something more suited to his Pokemon.
This wasn't going to be a cheerful and happy stroll through a friendly and welcoming continent, and he wasn't here to make friends. He was here to win battles, train hard, take the best training spots and Pokemon for himself, and become the greatest trainer in all the land.
And first, he was heading straight for the nearest forest to find some weak Bug-type Pokemon and weaker Bug-catching Trainers.
There was only one path to victory, and he was walking it alone.