And now, dear readers, a flash to the past.
As a note, my timeline uses the Julian calendar as its basis. Going off the Shudo novelizations that Ash was 10 years, 10 months, and 10 days old when he started his journey combined with the anime premiering on April 1, 1997, I use the fandom birthdate of Ash as May 22 and year as 1986. I will post a link to my timeline sometime in the future as even now, I am still finalizing things. In the meantime, just know that Ash was born May 22, 1986 and that my timeline revolves around this date.
(April, 1963...)
Taking a deep breath, Samuel reaches out and grabs the door know to the classroom he has been standing out in front of for ten minutes now. Students kept filing in past him, likely taking no notice of the anxious young man. Why he agreed to this he has no idea. Sure, his advisor kind of pushed the gig off on him with the promise that it would be good experience. Not everyone can be a teacher, even if they love the field. Fewer still can rise up to the challenge of learning and preparing a lecture in a subject far from their comfort zone. Doctor Ibram, or Kavi as he has insisted Sam call him, is infamous for assigning his PhD candidates to guest lecture in subjects as far away from Pokémon science as possible.
For Sam on this evening, that means trying his hand at economics, a subject he admittedly slept through in secondary school and undergrad alike. He only passed by doing lots of make-up work to fill in for lost participation and poor test scores. Ask Sam to tell you all about his opinion on the historical significance of the interactions between people and lapras and he could go on for hours. Ask him to discuss different types of markets and he would need to spend time researching his answer before giving it. (That's what he spent the last week doing, too.)
Just as he begins to turn it, however, someone comes down the hall and towards him and the door at great speed. He lets go and backs off, not wanting to irritate someone he is supposed to educate as a stranger usurping control from their usual instructor. She pays little attention to him, but he swears he has seen her before though he cannot place where. He shakes it off quickly and follows inside since the meeting is about to begin.
As the occasion usually goes, the normal professor introduces him to the class, who receive him with lukewarm enthusiasm. He also spots the same young woman who nearly bumped into him sitting towards the middle just three seats back from the front. Although he doesn't even know her, he wouldn't have pegged her as someone who wanted to be actively engaged in the class, which is usually why students sit up front. Then again, it may have just been the last place left since she was nearly late.
The middle-aged man then leaves Samuel full control and exits via the door. Suddenly he feels all eyes on him and gets nervous. The only thing that comes to his mind is a joke his secondary school teacher told them when they got to the unit on resource allocation (it's one of the few things he does recall from that boring man).
"Well, this is sure a full class. You know what they say about resources, though, don't you?" The class blinks back at him in silence. He can almost hear the crickets… "Scarce resources are more valuable, right? So the more people taking this class makes this skill set just a little less valuable and competitive. Not that there's anything wrong with this field of study, of course-"
"Shut up, poindexter, and get to the lecture," a young man with unkempt blonde hair in shorts, a torn Electabuzz baseball tee, and sandals says from the next to the only one he somewhat recognizes. "None of us actually wants to be here on a Tuesday when we could be out enjoying the city."
"Speak for yourself," she says, turning to him. He goes to mouth off again, but she continues. "If you wanted to pick better classes, maybe you shouldn't have flunked out last term and groveled to be reinstated in the middle of the chancellor's office." His face flushes at that, and he sinks into his chair. That was definitely not his best moment. She was only one of many to witness him on his knees, reduced to tears knowing what his parents would do to him if he came home after being kicked out for bad grades and too much partying. Just because she happened to be working that day doesn't mean she has to keep spreading that around. Sure, he was a jerk on the one date they had, but most girls like his advances.
Sam, not knowing any of this background, decides to forget his joke and start the day's lecture. It starts off fine as he recaps the basic principles of supply and demand so he can move into new stuff, namely types of competition. He is easily able to define the terms for them and give off the examples he prepared beforehand. What starts to muck up his whole plan is one red-headed pigtail girl against the left wall half way down the aisle who poses her own example and asks him to clarify which type it is.
"So as I'm sure you know, Silph Co. produces much of the Pokémon medicine in Kanto. There's a rival string of natural pharmacies in Johto popping up claiming not to use synthetic chemicals. Since we're sister regions and all, do those two have an oligopoly on Pokémon health?" All along, he's been nodding his head and keeping good eye contact with the woman to show how much he is paying attention. He uses that to his advantage now as he pauses to think of how to not answer that incorrectly by seeming like he is being thoughtful.
"Well, it sounds like it since two would be considered only a few number of firms competing."
"It sounds like it, or it is?"
"It is," he concludes. The class seems to buy it and nods along as they jot that example down in their notes alongside the others he supplied. One person, however, is not convinced.
"You're wrong," the one who almost ran him over says. He gets defensive though he doesn't know why.
"How am I wrong? They're both selling Pokémon medicine, which is the same product."
"Except that it's not." That further irritates him, and he feels his left eye unconsciously start to twitch, a tell he inherited from his father that gives away when he is getting angry.
"Then why don't you go on to explain it. I mean, you are the student, and I'm only the teacher."
"You study Pokémon. That hardly qualifies you to teach even just one lecture on economics."
"You didn't answer my question. It sounds to me like you're the one unqualified to speak on this topic." The rest of the class looks at each other, not quite sure what to make of the spectacle. Some are enjoying it (Electabuzz guy wants to see her knocked down a peg) while others are kind of feeling awkward.
Sam stands there and waits for something, whether it be her getting angry and yelling at him or finally giving an explanation as to her claim. The longer it takes for something to happen, the more he starts to sweat under his collar. (He shouldn't have listened to Kavi. This was such a dumb idea…) He doesn't realize this but she enjoys watching the man nervous like he is. He walks around the campus like he's the smartest one, even if he doesn't mean to put off that aura. It just comes across whenever he speaks because his passion shines through to reach even the most uninterested listener. It also doesn't help that his friend, rich boy from Sinnoh, is constantly talking him up. The man must have zero accomplishments himself. As much fun as this is, though, she also wants to prove she knows of what she speaks.
"They might both produce medicine, but the goods aren't interchangeable. One company courts the hippy woo crowd while the other uses science-based empirical evidence to create remedies that actually work. I would think a man in your standing would at least appreciate that." His eye twitches again. "And even though they're going after different main demographics, they're still trying to convince new buyers to switch or purchase it for the first time. It's kind of an oversimplification, but it borders more on an imperfect competition model."
The authority in her tone convinces the students that she is the one who is right, and they begin scratching out what he said and replacing it with her example. This is not lost on him, but he has no recourse. Even though he has no clue, he figures that she probably is right. Now he's just been shown up as the fish out of water he truly is in a subject he has no business trying to teach.
At the same time, though, it's actually a little refreshing. Normally people, especially young women, fawn over everything he says. Not only does he come from a prestigious family but he is well-known as the resident smart guy, having entered university at age fifteen, only to be working on his third degree five years later. It also doesn't help that Marcellus likes to brag about his friend's accomplishments (usually in relation to getting a date for one or both of them). Up until she spoke up, he could tell the class bought everything he was saying as accurate. Strangely enough, he feels a little grateful that she corrected his error and pointed out in front of a large group that he is not infallible. Maybe word will spread and people will start treating him like a normal guy.
"You're probably right," he admits, both to her and to the class. "This subject isn't my forte, but I thought I had enough background and did enough research in preparation to teach it okay. But a good teacher learns from his students as they learn from him. So thank you for adding to my knowledge. I'm sure it will be useful in the future."
His statement is slightly annoying to her, but what is more annoying is the way the rest of the class reacts. It's all in their body language, how they sit up higher and face forward, pen in hand. They respect him for what he just proclaimed, even though he was completely off-base. He must notice it, too, because his confidence returns and he continues on as if he didn't trip mid-stride. The rest of his lecture goes off without a hitch.
Forty minutes later, when all is said and done, the students pack up and leave into the night. Some drop him a compliment before they go, even Electabuzz guy, but most run off to go find something more exciting to do. Sam packs his things up and is the last one out of the door. He, too, is looking forward to spending his evening doing his own favorite activity (reading through the latest journal articles on his specialty of human/Pokémon dynamics). He heads down the hall and goes to turn the corner when he is suddenly ambushed by someone blocking his path. He stops on his heels just before running into her. Given how quickly she grabbed her things and left, he didn't expect to see her again. A memory suddenly hits him then as he can finally place where he saw her before.
"You were in the quad making a scene that day," he says.
"What are you talking about?"
"Last month. You stomped though the quad. My friend and I heard you all the way from the bell tower." She crosses her arms at the mention of him.
"You mean that pretty boy?" Sam kind of smirks, remembering the stare he caught Marcellus giving.
"I should tell him you said that."
"Go ahead. He could use the self-esteem boost. The way he's always going on about you is pathetic."
"And just how do you know that? Are you stalking us or something?"
"Hardly. I'm just unfortunate that you two show up to places I'm already at."
"I'm sure that's it."
He moves to go around her and end thus end the conversation, but she is not done with him yet.
"Where are you going?" Once again annoyed like he was during lecture, he stops and stares down at the shorter woman.
"Home. I have things to do."
"Like what, reading?" When someone says that out loud, it sounds nerdy, and he does not want to confess to it for some reason. He never cared about coming off like that before.
"I do take breaks from academics sometimes, you know."
"I somehow doubt that."
"Think whatever you want. I'll be leaving now." He actually goes around this time and thinks that will be the end of it until she speaks again.
"And here I was going to invite you out for some stimulating conversation." The notion amuses him, and he turns back around.
"We don't even know each other, and I doubt we have anything in common. Besides, I don't go on dates with strangers."
"Leave it to a man to think that just because an attractive woman wants to spend time together, it has to be a date."
"'Attractive'?" he mocks. (He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he doesn't actually disagree.) She doesn't respond to his sarcasm and instead tries to stare him down. Something about her expression then occurs to him, and he thinks he knows what's going on. He has seen that look before. It's not easy being one of the smartest people at school. "You want something from me, don't you?"
"What could I possibly want from you?"
"I don't know. You tell me." His calm stare is frustrating. Usually it doesn't take much prying to get people to bend to her will, but he is different. He's stubborn despite the outer appearance of a bookworm wimp. She'll have to tell him the truth. Just the thought is annoying, but she needs to pass that damn class or else she'll end up like Electabuzz guy. He had the luxury (if you want to call it that) of having to fail every class before he got in trouble. For someone on partial scholarship like her, even one subpar mark means the boot. That cannot happen.
"Fine," she concedes with great self-loathing. "I need your help."
"With what?"
"A class."
"And there's no one else you can ask to do this?"
"I'm not exactly good at making friends."
"You got that right. You ask me for a favor after you showed me up in class and then threw me under the bus. Why should I help you after that?"
"You're aiming to be a professor, right? Isn't teaching a main part of the job?"
"True," he agrees. "And teachers don't always have to like their students."
"Students don't always have to like their teachers, either," she counters.
"Also true. But if I actually agree to this, I need something from you in return."
"What?"
"Most people treat me like an untouchable genius who needs to be fawned over. You're the first person in a long time to call me out when I'm obviously wrong. Aside from that, you seem like a reasonably intelligent person. I think we could probably have some interesting conversations. Besides, you said you have trouble making friends. Might as well start somewhere."
"You want to be my friend?" He shrugs.
"Why not? I've done dumber things, like volunteer to teach a class on econ when I barely passed it myself."
"I knew you had no idea what you were talking about."
"I prepared for over a week. I knew enough."
"Obviously not or I wouldn't have been able to so easily show you up."
"For someone who wants my help, you sure do like insulting me."
"But you make it so easy."
He has a comeback for that line, but he keeps it to himself. As much as he strangely likes going back and forth with her, he also realizes that it could potentially go on for a while. She seems to like arguing with him, too (or maybe she just likes to argue in general- perhaps he'll be able to find that out). Out of character for him, he loops his arm with hers and begins to walk yet again, dragging her along. Once she realizes what he's done, she yanks away though they don't stop.
"What's the big idea?"
"You wanted to go out and pick my brain, right? I thought we could talk over coffee."
"Not that place on campus. I spend enough time with those losers already in class."
"You think awfully highly of yourself, don't you?"
"Someone has to." That comment he finds off, and he glances at her. She retains the non-expression she's had the entire conversation, and he decides not to think more about it.
"I actually know a small place off campus. It's got a rustic feel to it, and it's mostly older people who seem to go there. We shouldn't run into anyone from school."
He stops and opens the door that leads out of the building, holding it to allow her through. He follows and closes the short distance quickly, and the pair now walks along the sidewalk. Although it is past seven, the sun is still setting in the April sky. It's a warm enough night out, and the familiar smells of spring are wafting through the air. Some pidgey are picking up the crumbs that lazy students have left lying around, and some stray meowths walk along the bushes, not getting to close to people but obviously also not really bothered by them.
"I guess it sounds good enough then."
"You're hard to please."
"No, just discerning." He chuckles to himself at that, but something suddenly occurs to him.
"So if I'm going to help you, I'd like to at least know your name." There is some hesitation on her part, but he's right. Plus her parents did instill in her manners, even if she often hides them.
"It's Minerva Sakaki. Do not shorten it, and do not give me any nicknames."
"No problem as long as you don't call me Sammy. Marcellus does it all the time, even though I've asked him not to."
"Is that pretty boy's name?"
"Yeah, that's him. Maybe I'll introduce you some time."
"Don't bother. I have no use for people like him."
"What do you mean people like him?"
"Rich, spoiled jerks who are handed everything and never have to work a day in their lives."
"Marcellus isn't like that. He left his family's money behind in Sinnoh and transferred here to do his own thing."
"How's he paying for this place then?"
"Well, okay, they are paying his tuition. But he works on the side to pay for other things himself. He works at the coffee place, actually. That's how I heard about it."
"He's not going to be there tonight, is he?"
"Probably not. I think he has a date."
"Of course he does."
Samuel silently agrees. Although they are best friends, Marcellus' antics get on his nerves. The man is always searching for someone to take out. Usually it ends in one physical encounter, which is mutual on both ends, and then he moves on. Sam is the opposite. Being so busy with his studies since age fifteen, he never had time to go out and seek those things. He knows he would like to eventually find someone to share his life with, maybe even someone who is as passionate about Pokémon as he is. For now, though, he just gets to hear Marcellus' stories and silently wonder if the man will ever be serious about anything. He's kind of floating through his studies as well with no clear goal in mind. How nice it must feel to be so care-free.
But that's a rant for a whole other conversation. Maybe if he really does become friends with the one beside him, he can gripe all about it to her sometime since she already has a negative opinion of the man anyway. For tonight, though, he's just going to focus on his duty as a teacher and his role as a nice guy.
The pair eventually makes it to Sam's destination and sits down for coffee and conversation. He doesn't want to assume anything and thus only orders for himself though he does make sure it is known that he'll pick up any tab. Although it annoys her, him presuming she needs such an offer (despite it being true and despite it being proper etiquette), she takes him up on it. There is nothing said verbally, however. Her only acknowledgment of it is to order something, but he takes the hint. He also decides to initiate the conversation as they wait for their drinks.
It starts off generic enough (him ascertaining just what exactly she needs help in), and he is pretty much able to not just give some clarification but also offer up his own resources. He used them himself when he was working through his lower division intro courses. Everyone may think he is a genius who never had to struggle, but the untold truth is Pokémon anatomy was something he had trouble with. There's just so much to know, and there are always new discoveries as more research is done.
His best advice: put them into groups based on body style and not types. Not only does it visually make more sense but it's just more useful. He inquires then as to why someone who apparently is much better at economics is taking a course on Pokémon usually reserved for people going into that field. Normally she would not answer such a prying question, but he has agreed to help her out. (And for some reason, in a world where she learned the best way to get by was to keep to herself, she feels like she can trust this guy.)
Unlike his rich, pretty boy friend, her parents worked hard and saved to pay for her education. Even then, it was not enough. Celadon University may be prestigious, but they also pride themselves on looking like the most charitable of places to their rich donors. (In a world built on inequality, there is still enough pity around for the poor.) They extended an offer to a few promising enrollees based on entrance exams and performances in secondary school, and she happened to be one of them. Where her parents' savings fell short, they would bridge the difference. The catch for those selected to receive help was that they keep every grade above a mid-level C and take a breadth of courses on Pokémon along with their intended majors. Sam never realized how rigorous the standards were for the already less advantaged, but he thinks it is better to keep this to himself.
In return for her telling him some of her past, she more or less demands he do the same. He decides he may as well describe why he, too, has come to the most esteemed university in all of Kanto. When he was a boy, he used to like to just sit and watch Pokémon in their natural state. He even worked on his drawing skills so he could record on paper what fascinated him so. Like other ten-year olds, he started off on a journey, where he learned even more things. Then, when he was twelve, some travelers found a rare fossil of an ancient Pokémon in what was recently named Grampa Canyon. It brought a glut of others, trainers and schemers alike, to the area, looking for more. At the time, there was no such technology that could bring them back to life (it still does not exist, but people are working on it). Still, they were valuable.
Unfortunately, this was also displacing the native Pokémon, which was causing much controversy. His father followed the debate closely and encouraged all three of his sons to research and think about the issue themselves. Sam's two older brothers thought nothing was wrong with the situation, but Sam decided it wasn't tight for people to use Pokémon or push them aside for personal gain. Surely there was more to coexisting than that. After all, he had spent hours upon hours watching the creatures, admiring them, sketching them, wondering how he could help the world they all lived in. By the time he turned thirteen and the canyon had largely been abandoned (no other fossils ended up being found, so people left, and the Pokémon never returned to their ruined home), he decided he wanted to dedicate his life to studying the interactions between people and Pokémon. And here he is.
His story is by far better (she's come for selfish reasons in her opinion: to earn a degree and hopefully do better than her parents in life). Leave it to the resident genius to also be noble. Wanting to change the subject away from such personal matters for he may discover she is nothing like him, she decides to order them both something else to drink. While they wait for the second time, she asks about his current research. He is more than happy to oblige. Most people ask to be polite, but she seems genuinely interested.
Two more cups each of coffee later and the hands on the clock approach ten o'clock. Although the place closes at 10:30, they've both had far too much caffeine and could go on talking for a while more. The conversation moved away from his studies and onto something that interests them both: interpersonal interactions. While he prefers to delve into the human/Pokémon ones, she has always found the way people interact with each other to be more fascinating. He can almost be coaxed into thinking so as well. At least, he lets himself get wrapped up in the subject.
"You're really cynical enough to think that people can never do a favor for someone else just because they feel like being nice?" he says in disbelief. He always did seek out the best in people.
"I'm not cynical. I'm just not naïve enough to believe that people can act without expecting something in return."
"But people help each other all of the time."
"Yes, because they expect to get something for it." He goes to protest some more, but she doesn't give him the chance. "Life is just one social transaction after another. Sometimes we spend capital, sometimes we earn it, and sometimes we invest in a future return, hoping to get it back at a later time."
"What do you mean by that last part?" He may be well-versed in the creatures they share a world with, but when it comes to people, he never thought to look beyond what he always saw as simple interactions with each other.
"It's a little thing called indirect reciprocity." His stare remains blank. Although social relationships are his thing, he has never heard that term before. Perhaps it is because many Pokémon lack the cognitive skills humans have that such a concept does not exist. Anyone else looking at her like an idiot would be annoying, but he is the first person to actually listen to what she is into. Maybe this friend thing could work out after all. "I do something for you today with the expectation that someone will do something else for me later on."
"Oh, I get it. So under that theory, my helping you is because I expect someone else to notice and then do me a favor when I want it."
"Helping a poor, young woman on a scholarship is good social capital. If people find out you donated your time, then you'll get even more respect than you already have. If you need a favor, I guarantee you there would be lots of people to choose from." He mulls that over in his head, not liking the way she simplifies all of human to human interaction to the chase for favors and good standing among peers. Then again, he is going to school to earn his PhD, which will help him help others. That idea alone makes him feel good plus it'll make his dad proud. Both of those things are not exactly unselfish. Even still, there has to be more to people than that.
"That isn't the reason I'm helping you, you know." She picks up her mug and takes the last sip of what will be her last coffee tonight. She has an early morning class, after all.
"I know."
He watches her closely for a few seconds before picking up his mug to finish his off as well. When he sets it back down, she pushes her chair back and stands up.
"Well, it's been fun, but I should be getting home." He agrees and gets up, too, leaving plenty of payment on the table plus a tip. He cannot believe time got away from him so quickly, but it has actually been fun. It's been a long while since he had a good conversation with someone, let alone someone he just formally met. He'll save the compliment for a different time, though.
Being a gentleman and all (which she points out again is a way for him to gain good favor with her he can save for later, much to his annoyance), he drops her off at the off-campus place she is staying in with three other people. It's cheapest that way, and she needs to cut every corner she rightfully can. He even hands over his number, reminding her that she agreed to be his friend. He swears that's all he wants when she narrows her eyes at him, but she ends up taking it without another word before shutting the door for the night.
He leaves to head home himself and settles into his recliner by the front window of the apartment he shares with Marcellus. He still has much reading to do before the morning, when he has to talk to his advisor about the works. They ideally should have been read three days ago, but all of his free time was spent preparing for the lecture tonight. Oh well, he thinks. Although he loves the subject, sometimes the papers are super boring. After all of that caffeine, he could use some help in falling asleep. Besides, he does not want to be up when and if Marcellus brings his date home. He doesn't want to hear the details secondhand and most especially not in person.
Luckily, Sam starts to feel drowsy only fifteen minutes in. By minute twenty-five, he is constantly yawning. This is when he decides to call it a night. After turning everything off, he heads to his room, changes into his pajamas, and crawls under the covers. He expects he will have no problems falling asleep, and he is right.
What he does have problems with is staying that way. After being asleep for less than an hour, he is forced awake again by his thoughts. Before he knows it, it is three hours later, and he is lying in bed hopelessly trying to fall back asleep. As much as he tries not think about it, he cannot help but replay the evening in his head. He also cannot help but remember his last words to her.
Yes, he did start off just wanting to make a new friend. Marcellus is a great guy and all, but life needs variety. Now, though, he fears it has turned into something more in the short span of time they spent together. He overheard his father once giving advice to Timothy about finding the right one. Their father relayed his own experience in relation to their mother. He said you'll know when you can't fall asleep, can't stop thinking about that person. You can toss and turn all you want, but nothing will get rid of the feeling. When you lie awake thinking about them above all else, then you're done for.
And so it is with a heavy sigh that the PhD student and professor in training turns onto his left side and tries once more to fall asleep in a new position, even though he knows it's hopeless. The entire thing is hopeless, but yet, he cannot regret his earlier question. He squeezes his eyes shut, pulls the pillow over his head, and mumbles 'damn' before trying once more in exasperation for rest.
TBC...