Chapter 4: Grar.

(Jason Fremont)

Jason usually did not believe that one could have "too much fun." In his book, there was no such thing. Now, however, he was starting to admit that this kind of glee might wind up being hazardous to his health.

He'd been crashing around in the underbrush of Route 2 to the north of Viridian for a while, but so far he hadn't managed to encounter a single wild Pokémon. He'd been trying for almost a full day, but still nothing could sully his mood. Just the fact that he had been tromping around outdoors looking for them was sheer victory in his eyes. There was no more school, no homework, no struggling not to fall asleep in lessons, no accidentally picking a fight with the brother of the biggest, meanest girl in his class. There were countless reasons to be thrilled that he was as far away from Saffron City as he could get without flying over to Cinnabar Island.

Thinking about Cinnabar almost made him skip on the spot. It was too much to handle.

Another hour of stomping around in the grass still yielded no results though, and Jason was getting tired. He started the short walk back into Viridian City to grab something to eat.

Marco had headed out into the forest a while ago, and Jason had bid him farewell. Jason desperately wanted to go into the forest too, but he somehow could not bring himself to plow through there without at least seeing his starter in a battle first.

This was part of the reason he was so eager to find something to beat the tar out of. Jason firmly believed all trainers should meet their Pokémon for the first time in a battle setting. It would show Bulbasaur that Jason was the alpha in this situation, and set up a good rapport for them going forward. A Pokémon was hardwired to want to fight, but was also very amenable to taking orders from humans. It always fascinated Jason that Pokémon had grown alongside humans in this way; even a detail as small as Pidgeys making wonderful couriers, or Growlithes serving as great guard dogs surprised Jason. Pokémon were, after all, so much cooler than people. Why they would bother humoring Jason's species, he'd never know.

Jason ordered a burger from a hole-in-the-wall grill, and was pleasantly surprised by its utter greasiness. He listened to the people next to him at the bar commiserate about their Pokémon experiences.

"I swear, my Squirtle actually fell asleep when I was trying to train it! I was lucky there were no wild Pokémon around at the time. I just wanted to see its moves and it wouldn't even do that for me!"

Jason shook his head and took a gulp of his vanilla milkshake. Typical, he thought. These guys clearly don't know the first thing about training.

"Man, you think you've got it bad? My Bulbasaur pelted me with leaves. I should be happy it's at least trying to learn Razor Leaf, but dang!" Jason, interested in the Bulbasaur issue, turned his head slightly just in time to see the guy lift up his shirt. Jason was very confused for a moment before he saw a spattering of band-aids all across him. He felt his eyebrows raise high across his forehead at the sight.

"Are you kidding me? Your Pokémon did that to you? What the heck?"

"I know! Do you think that Drake guy gave us a bad batch?"

Jason paid for his food with a frown and requested a to-go container. Soon he was walking down the dirt paths of southern Viridian near Route 1, his half-finished milkshake in one hand and the bag containing his burger and fries in the other. He was still fairly confident that the unfortunate souls in the diner had merely made bad mistakes in training. Jason wracked his brain for the right things to do, but all he could remember in the blistering sun with a full stomach was the tidbit about seeing your Pokémon for the first time in a battle setting. There were so many different takes on training it wasn't even funny. The namby-pamby people who were all for discontinuing Pokémon training (hah, fat chance) believed that Pokémon needed to be pampered like pets, kept indoors, and fed a balanced diet of PokéChow in between their salon appointments. It made Jason nauseous.

Then of course, there were those who refused to see their team anywhere but in battle, and Jason didn't think that was any fun. He'd hate to be cooped up in a little metal sphere, only brought out for the occasional fight. Jason planned to play fetch with his Pokémon, let them fly around for exercise, and of course, walk around town with them just to show off. Pokéballs, in his eyes, should be used only for the convenience of traveling down various Routes.

While Jason was walking near the entrance of town, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He was lost in thought and almost dropped his milkshake, turning around to see a somewhat nervous-looking kid with dark eyes and mussed-up black hair.

"What's up?" Jason asked, a second before he realized this could be an invitation to battle.

"I'm not so sure how to do this, but, do you want to battle? Or something?"

It was so awkward. Jason was sure he pulled a face, but he tried to hide his disappointment. "Hell yeah!" he said, trying to inject some gusto and flare into this sad situation. "Bring it."

The kid looked a little intimidated by his outburst, and took a few steps back to clear some space. Jason put his food down on the grass beside him and unclipped Bulbasaur's Pokéball from his belt.

Okay buddy, he thought to the ball. Here we go. Please don't Razor Leaf me.

Jason could have pressed the button on his Pokéball, the way most people did these days, but he instead chose to throw the ball down to the ground. It deployed, thankfully—he would have looked pretty dumb if it hadn't—and his opponent fumbled with his own. Red light erupted from Jason's, and a second later his Bulbasaur appeared. Jason's face split into a huge grin as his Pokémon turned to face front, automatically knowing what to do.

The other kid actually put his Pokéball down on the ground, faced it towards Bulbasaur, and pressed the button that way. The boy then leaped back from it, as if afraid it would explode. Jason definitely made a face that time.

It turned out to be a Weedle, of all things. Jason wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. The guy had another Pokéball attached to his belt though, so it was possible this was just a warm-up.

Jason waited. He was pretty sure his opponent was turning red now. He cleared his throat.

"Um… challenger attacks first?" the guy said, making it sound like a question somehow even though it was general knowledge.

"Uh-huh," Jason responded, giving the guy a weird look. This was so lame.

"Okay." Was it just Jason, or did the Weedle look as nervous as its trainer? "In that case, I'm going to start the battle and command Weedle to use Poison Sting."

Jason felt a withering feeling of pity in his chest. That battle command had been pathetic. Somehow Weedle had pulled the information "Poison Sting" out of that rambling sentence, and it did its gung-ho best to leap forward and hit Bulbasaur. Jason waited, on the edge of his proverbial seat, to see how Bulbasaur would react.

The Weedle was not very fast. Bulbasaur remained in place—perhaps he was playing hardball.

The Weedle was very close now. Bulbasaur could move aside at any moment.

Then the sting hit, and Bulbasaur moved his shoulder slightly, as if in annoyance. That was the only action he made. Jason had no idea what his face was doing now.

"Uh…" he said, utterly thrown off. "Bulbasaur, Tackle!"

Bulbasaur took a moment to stretch, a bizarre thing to see. The Weedle, meanwhile, was looking very, very discouraged. It had no real facial expression, so to speak, but Jason could tell the thing was nervous. Meanwhile his Bulbasaur was doing some Pokémon version of yoga, and Jason's opponent was looking at him with wide eyes as if to say "now what?"

This was so not how he had imagined his first battle.

Finally Bulbasaur was done stretching out his hamstrings, and started a galloping dash towards Weedle. The Weedle went to dodge—Jason could not believe a worm was actively trying to evade while his own Pokémon had not even attempted to—but Bulbasaur veered to catch it. He lowered his head and tossed Weedle up into the air, then watched as it made its way back down to earth with a small thud.

"Uh, I am now going to take my Pokéball, and ask Weedle to return." The kid thrust the Pokéball out towards Weedle and hit the button, still looking terrified of the technology he held. Weedle was recalled and Jason fought a twitch that was developing under his eye. This guy really had to stop narrating everything.

"Now I am going to send out—"

"Please, just do it."

"Squirtle," the guy said, now definitely red. Jason took a deep breath to zen himself out, then said, "Kay, Bulbasaur, Growl!" He was a little curious to see this move.

Bulbasaur sighed. For a second, Jason thought that had been his Growl attack. Then Bulbasaur hunkered down to the ground, and uttered a deadpan sound that could only be described as: "grar."

Jason had no words in his vocabulary for how confused he was.

"I am now—" at the look on Jason's face, his opponent stopped his play-by-play mid-sentence. "I… Squirtle, Tackle?"

The Squirtle moved forward, then paused, as if doubting the validity of that command since it had sounded so much like a question. Then it made up its mind and charged Bulbasaur, apparently not at all intimidated by the monotone "grar."

Jason watched in horror as Bulbasaur sat there again and took the full brunt of the attack. Jason expected to hear his Pokédex start beeping, but it was not doing anything so far. He took that moment to pull it out and execute a "rookie move" that he had sworn he would never do. He peered through the viewfinder on his Dex to get information about the battle. Bulbasaur was right around half-health, and Squirtle, of course, was at full. While he looked through the lens he said, "Tackle!" to Bulbasaur, vowing silently to never, ever use Growl again.

Bulbasaur charged, and Squirtle evaded. "Tackle!" his opponent shouted. Jason was pleased to see the boy was getting marginally more lively. Bulbasaur rolled awkwardly out of the way, a very odd move for a Pokémon with a plant on his back. Squirtle sure seemed confused.

"Tackle again," Jason commanded, and watched as Bulbasaur landed this hit properly. Squirtle's health dropped, but Jason was getting worried. Sure enough, the next Tackle hit Bulbasaur head-on, and then the Pokédex started beeping. It was a shameful sound; Jason wondered if there was a way he could disable it.

He could choose to back down and fork over some marks now, but something in him wouldn't allow it. "Tackle!" he shouted again, pocketing his still-beeping Dex even though he didn't expect this battle to last another turn.

Something strange happened. Bulbasaur took many steps back, hunkered down again the way he had during Growl, and Squirtle suddenly had a strange look on its face. Bulbasaur didn't give it another second and charged full force, knocking the wind out of the Water-type and slamming it into the ground. There was a "bweeeooop" sound from Jason's pocket. He fumbled to yank out the Pokédex, hardly believing it. That was the "this Pokémon can no longer fight" sound. Bulbasaur snorted slightly, looking much more alert than he had throughout this whole fight.

His opponent looked shaken and recalled Squirtle with a surprising lack of narration. "Um," he said, looking scared. "Do I have to send out Weedle again?"

"… No," Jason said, frowning. "I mean, I'm not gonna force you or anything."

"Okay," the kid said, digging around in his pockets and producing some marks for Jason. Jason felt sort of bad accepting them, but figured he'd do more damage to his ego if he didn't take them. The guy ran off the second the exchange was made and Jason looked down at Bulbasaur, dumbfounded.

His Pokémon looked up at him with strange fuchsia-colored eyes, and though he didn't have an eyebrow to speak of, Jason thought maybe he raised one at him anyway. He keyed through his Dex to look up information about Bulbasaur's combat.

When in dire situations, this Bulbasaur is likely to show a heightened attack strength and a slight boost to all his stats.

Jason raised his eyebrow back at Bulbasaur, who sat down and did more Poké-stretching. "Coulda said so," he muttered.

Not long after that Jason decided to simply forego Viridian and its awkward trainers altogether. He ate breakfast at a divey bar that had fantastic chili cheese fries, packed his bags and checked out of his room at the Pokémon Center. The woman sighed as she signed him out, and shook her head once. Jason wondered what that was all about, and he'd had to fight back the impulse to ask her what she was thinking.

The path to the Viridian Forest was short enough, and Jason found himself glaring out into the tall grass of Route 2 as he passed it by. Why wild Pokémon were so intent on avoiding him was simply beyond him. He waited for the slow and rattly automatic doors to swish open and crossed into an air conditioned little building with cushy chairs and bookshelves full of Pokémon reference material. It was a strange little pit stop, the last one before the forest, and Jason made a mental note to come back here at some point and check out their books and vending machines. For now he was too intent on making it through to Pewter City.

The forest wasn't all that scary. He'd heard that this was where a lot of trainers experienced their first loss of nerve, but Jason couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Granted it was still daylight outside, so that could have had something to do with it. He sighed, ran a hand through his spiked blond hair, and pulled Bulbasaur's Pokéball off his belt. When his companion materialized before him he looked sleepy and malcontent, as if Jason had interrupted him dozing. Bulbasaur yawned and looked grumpily up at him.

"Figured you might want to get some exercise, since you're so keen on stretching and all."

As if Jason had reminded him, Bulbasaur began to stretch his legs out, crouching down like a dog ready to play. Then he stretched forward onto his front legs and pressed himself forward like a mermaid sunning on a rock. Jason sighed.

"Walking time is now," he said, trying to sound stern and firm. He headed out, not waiting to see if Bulbasaur would follow. Twenty paces in he caved and turned around to check. It was a good thing too, since Bulbasaur was still stretching and showed no signs of following Jason at all. Jason glared at the back of his plant.

"Come on! I didn't bring you out so you could do Pilates! Move, move, move!"

Bulbasaur yawned again and lay down, blinking slowly at Jason as if to say, Stop and smell the flowers maaan! Jason fumbled with his Pokéball.

"You're going back in here if you don't start moving."

Bulbasaur took a deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh, then got up and began a very slow stroll down the path. Jason went faster, but found that "slow and steady" was the only speed Bulbasaur seemed to know. Jason groaned and made faces at Bulbasaur, but his Pokémon was simply unflappable. It was not long before he took to jogging circles around him out of sheer annoyance.

This was how his second opponent came across him. The girl frowned at him, freezing in her tracks and then quickly taking a few steps back. "Um..."

Jason looked up and abruptly stopped circling his Pokémon. Bulbasaur continued and bumped gently into his leg. "Hey," Jason said, trying not to sound surprised.

"Hi," she said, still with a wary look. "So, uh, you a trainer?"

"Mmhmm," Jason said, slipping his hands in his pockets in a vain attempt to look casual. "Pallet Initiative. You?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. "You let your Pokémon out when you're not battling?"

"Oh, yeah," Jason said, making it sound like he did this all the time. Bulbasaur gave him a remote, skeptical look. "He loves it." His Pokémon made a sound like "feh."

"Ah, cool." The girl looked to the left, then back at Jason, and then to the left again. Jason also looked to her left, wondering if anything interesting was happening over there. "So, wanna battle?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said, taking those few automatic steps backwards. He desperately hoped this battle would not be as horrendously awkward as his first one. Jason glanced down at her Pokébelt out of curiosity, and felt a sudden weird surge of fear. He wasn't well-versed with fear, which very frequently lead him into injuries, accidents, and mistakes. Yet somehow the mere sight of five Pokéballs shining on her belt, each one labelled with a different number, filled him with dull dread. His belt was very empty, with only Bulbasaur's Pokéball. Meanwhile his zenned-out starter loafed around in front of him. Crap, Jason thought.

The girl sent out a Pidgey, and Jason glanced nervously at Bulbasaur. He seemed eager for once though, and pawed at the dirt, ready. The girl didn't ask him what to do, thank God. "Gust!" she said, jabbing her finger forward. The small bird took to the air and flapped its wings furiously.

Jason had to admit, this attack intrigued and baffled him and he was eager to see it live. He'd never understood how air could hurt a Pokémon. Jason quickly found out it was not the actual air that did the damage. If anything, this attack should be called Flying Debris. Bulbasaur was pelted with rocks, sticks, leaves and other things that were lying around. It seemed more of a nuisance than anything, but it still tired out his Pokémon a little resisting it. Jason himself received a few nicks and scrapes from residual bits of nature.

"Tackle!" Jason demanded, and Bulbasaur jumped shockingly high in the air and head-butted the Pidgey. Pidgey lost air and hit the ground, then struggled upright once more. The girl scowled and used Gust again, but Bulbasaur hunkered down, smarter this time around, and avoided much of the damage. The next Tackle took Pidgey out of the battle, and Jason whooped and pumped his fist in the air. Bulbasaur calmly rolled his shoulders out.

The next Pokémon the girl sent out was a Rattata, and Jason felt a twinge of jealousy. Maybe this girl had captured all the wild Pokémon in Routes 1 and 2, and that was why there were none left for him. It was his turn to start this battle, and he had Bulbasaur use Tackle once more, still sticking by his decision to boycott Growl forever.

Bulbasaur shot forward, but the rat evaded the attack. Jason cursed softly under his breath. Frickin' speedy purple thing.

"Tail Whip!" the girl shouted.

This was yet another attack that Jason couldn't wrap his mind around, and he watched eagerly to see how this could possibly be effective. Rattata shot forward, faking Bulbasaur out. Even Jason took a step back out of shock. Rattata did a somersault and shot its tail quickly out in front of Bulbasaur, and his Pokémon flinched from the near-contact. Rattata bounded back into place and crouched, whipping its tail back and forth in agitation. The body language was pure aggression, and Bulbasaur seemed a bit more wary. "Tackle!" Jason said again.

Bulbasaur had a second of hesitation, but tore forward with renewed energy, and this time he hit target. Bulbasaur clipped the Rattata and sent it off in a different direction. Rattata rolled back up to its feet and did its own Tackle when its trainer gave the order. Bulbasaur was not able to dodge, and winced from the impact. Jason fought the urge to whip out his Pokédex again. He desperately wanted to learn how to gauge his team's health by look and feel alone. "Tackle," he ordered again, and watched with satisfaction as Bulbasaur carried out his order.

"Return," the girl said, giving Rattata a forewarning before she aimed her red laser and recalled it. She took her time re-attaching it to her belt and plucked off a different Pokéball. When she chucked it out onto the battlefield, out popped another Bulbasaur.

Jason had been curious to see another Bulbasaur, and was pleased to spot at once that he would definitely be able to tell his apart from hers. For one, the demeanor was totally different. Hers was fierce and irritated, glaring and fidgeting as it stared them down. It also had different spot patterns and darker eyes, more of a blood red than his own Pokémon's magenta ones.

It was Jason's turn again. "Tackle!" he demanded, and the Bulbasaur versus Bulbasaur battle began.

Jason realized he was in trouble about a minute into the fight. His Bulbasaur was pretty good, but hers had more of an edge to it. It sucked at dodging, which worked to his favor, but its attacks were downright brutal. Jason felt the blood rising in his face, part anger and part shame. His Pokémon was starting to look a little worse for the wear, and hers was still going strong. Then there was the fact that her belt still had another two Pokéballs left. Jason grit his teeth, considering calling the fight off.

"You can forfeit, you know," the girl said, with just the faintest hint of smugness in her voice. Jason felt his blood boil. "I mean, if you want."

"Not a chance," he growled back, and ordered another foolhardy Tackle. It turned out to be the last move of this battle; the girl ordered her final assault on his Pokémon, and Bulbasaur, too tired to move out of the way, took a hit to the chest head-on and rolled backwards.

The beeping that had started from his Pokédex last round changed to the dreaded "bweeeooop." Jason groaned as he dug for his money. He had just barely managed to hand it to the girl when he felt a weird warmth from his pocket. She stepped back from him at once and shook her head.

"Should have given up," she said, actually sounding sympathetic now. "I've had that happen to me, and it's not fun."

The words "had what?" were almost out of his mouth when Jason felt it happening. The warmth spread from his pocket to his thigh. It raced up and down and filled him with static electricity, and Jason suddenly found every nerve ending on his body alive with tingles. What the hell! was his last coherent thought before the forest dissolved around him.

A second later Jason emerged from wherever the hell he had gone, feeling like he had been dunked in ice water and energetically tickled all over his body. He twitched and recoiled as if from a million poking fingers. The end result was a weird little dance.

When he had recovered he glanced around to make sure no one had seen that. Then he checked his Pokéball to make sure Bulbasaur was inside it. He was, and he was also pretty unconscious. Feeling like the cruelest trainer in the world, Jason slid from his place on a bench at the side of Viridian's Pokémon Center and started his way around to the front. He glanced up as he walked and saw a sign above the bench that said "Trainer landing area — keep clear." Jason groaned and tried not to flush bright red as he slunked his way in through the Center doors. The receptionist who had shaken her head at him was still there. He hadn't been gone more than an hour.

"I saved your room key for you," she said, her kindness somehow sounding nagging to Jason's ears. "Number sixteen, right? I'll take your Pokémon for you."

"Thanks," Jason grumbled with the precise flat tone of Bulbasaur's "grar."