Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzz.
"Fifteen minutes to get to Professor Oak's lab! I better hurry!" Myra thought to herself.
She jumped out of bed, changed quickly into some athletic shorts and a tshirt, brushed her light brown hair, grabbed her bag, and ran out the door. She could hear her sister, Peggy, playing with her mom's Flareon as it warmed up waffles for her brother, Dean Paul.
Meanwhile Roger was still under his snug Clefairy comforter at the Oak Inn, with a small amount of drool on the pillow. All that was visible was his messy dark brown hair. He had stayed up all night trying to get a glace at Gary Oak, the retired champion who turned his childhood mansion into an Inn when the town became flooded with young trainers around this time.
Myra got to the lab just in time, she could see the other kids in the town starting to file down the street. Some had come from other towns, and travelled miles to receive their starting pokèmon, some had even travelled from other regions, where different kinds of pokèmon she had never seen before lived! Speaking of, she still had to figure out which one she wanted. In the past, young trainers would flock to Pallet Town at the young age of 10, and with no training, they would be thrown out into the world with nothing but a bag and a pokèmon. No wonder they dug around in trash cans for scraps! In these newer times, young trainers started school and learned all there was about pokèmon and how to care for them, battle, and what careers were available. Myra's father was a prominent berry farmer. He choose a Weedle as his starter, who grew to be a strong and fearsome Beedrill, who helps pollinate his berries and also keeps out scavenging Pidgeys and Rattatas. Myra's mother, on the other hand, had to go further in her training. After beating the elite four of her time, she was able to use her band of Eevee evolutions to further study pokèmon and manage all the online classes all the professors of the different regions taught.
With five minutes left to wait, Myra thought through all her training, and which pokèmon she would ultimately choose. At the age of five she had gone to pretraining, where she learned to care for pokèmon. Later in middle training, she learned about all the types of pokèmon in the textbooks. In high training she then learned about how to use certain techniques to further train pokèmon for speed or attack, depending on the pokèmon, and also about special stones and other ways to evolve pokèmon in very hard online classes. Now at the age of eighteen, she felt ready to handle leaving home on her own to make a life for herself. She may have been tall and awkward through school, but she was really starting to grow into her frame now. She may not have been the best at making the shots at Blastoise's cannons, or playing Dodgeball with Jigglypuffs, but she was pretty good at the Ponyta races.
She had learned so much about each pokèmon in school. The lab had more available now as starters with the large amount of kids choosing to further their pokèmon education, but she still really liked the original starters. Bulbasaur, with it's ability to persevere and help other pokèmon, or Charmander, with its fearsome attacks and quick domination, or Squirtle, with its hardy shell and diverse abilities?
While Myra was deciding her fate, Roger was just rubbing groggy eyes. Upon looking at his clock, he realized that at 9:01am, he was going to be a little late. "Oh well," he thought, "I'll still get a good pokèmon, I could beat the elite four with a Magikarp if I had to!"
His older sister, Sally, had previously left with her prized Abra for the big cities. His brother, Leo, was tending a baby Oddish in the yard, he aspired to be a great farmer someday. Roger's father was the engineer who made all the pokècenters across the world, while his mother stayed in their home by Cerulean at a pokèmon daycare center.
Roger rushed out of the hotel, his backpack wide open, seeing the line of aspiring trainers, he realized he didn't have far to go to the end of the line. He had always been a little late to everything, but it usually didn't matter. His tall, athletic frame and unmatched skills usually saved him in these situations, but that wouldn't be able to help him now. He had always been the one to excel in all the competitions at school, not because of skill so much as a determination to be the best. The thing that he really did great at was the mock battles. He never really had to study for them like the other kids, but he still was the four time champion in his high training school.
Myra was still thinking through her options when Professor Oak opened the door. Well not the real Oak, but a hologram. Oak had died many years ago, but the tradition he started was continued on thanks to technology.
"Hello there! Welcome to the world of Pokémon! My name is Oak! People call me the Pokémon Prof! This world is inhabited by creatures called Pokémon! For some people, Pokémon are pets. Other use them for fights. Myself… I study Pokémon as a Professor. Your very own Pokémon legend is about to unfold! A world of dreams and adventures with Pokémon awaits! Let's go!"
The Oak hologram led Myra and a small group of students into the lab, while another Oak hologram went past to welcome the next group, "Hello there! Welcome to the world..."
The first Oak hologram led Myra and her group to the backyard where pokèmon were running free and playing! There was a Pidgey pulling on a Rattata's tail, a Polywhirl sneaking up behind a Machop as it flexed its muscles. There seemed to be a race going on in the small stream, with a Squirtle in the lead, with a Horsea and Magikarp on it's heels. A Ponyta watched nearby, with a Spearow napping on it's back. Caterpies and Weedles were lounging in the trees. Myra was so excited! She was naming off all the pokèmon, remembering all the exams she had to take, but it was so much more exciting in real life! Looking around she realized the students in her group were starting to venture forward to find their pokèmon. Even some from groups just entering the clearing were moving in toward their favorites. She ventured toward the graceful Ponyta, surrounded by a cute Growlithe, a shy Charmander, and a bashful Vulpix.
Roger counted and saw he still had 3 groups in front of him to go. But that didn't matter, because he was deep in thought about all the online classes he has taken from the renowned professors. Should he get a quick and hard striking Charmander? Or maybe get an unconventional sturdy Staryu? But getting the feisty Pikachu would turn some heads. No one since the time of Ash Ketchum could tame and train a Pikachu and make it all the way. And that was over 50 years ago!
Myra noticed people were starting to leave with their chosen pokèmon, walking back into the lab to get a registered pokèdex and a map of the entire Kanto region. Each year, depending on how well the student did, they could stop by the lab and get an update with the next region they could travel. She put her hand out to the Ponyta.
Roger was finally in the door! He walked through hologram Oak right out the back door, past a slightly charred girl leading a pleased looking Ponyta. The yard was almost barren, the pokèmon that were left were either timidly hiding in the trees from all the commotion, or too defiant to be considered by the other trainers. Roger looked at the others in his group. One guy was clearly a nerd, carrying a band instrument on his back(he's sure to choose that shy Eevee behind the tree), there was a redhead surrounded by girls(a Jigglypuff guy if I ever saw one), and a quirky guy with a sly smile(crap he's probably gonna grab that impish looking Squirtle zooming around in the water). Then a ball of feathers smacked into the side of Roger's head. "What...is...this!?" He reached out and pulled back a feisty looking Pidgey, determined to make a meal out of Roger. He looked around and realized it was the last pokèmon, all the girls with the redhead boy were coaxing the timid Caterpies and Weedles out of the trees, the redhead was actually trying to catch a Geodude that kept burrowing itself deeper in the rocks, and the last boy looked like he was having a blast playing with the Squirtle. "Well, at least it's not a Magikarp." That was all he was able to get out before the Pidgey decided it wanted more of his face.