Chapter 1
Finally, the day had come. I had been waiting for this moment for sixteen years. Or... well, I don't really remember much from my earliest years, but ever since I was four, I've been eagerly awaiting the day I would get my very first, very own Pokémon!
Today was finally that day. But to be honest, I almost missed it entirely. If Mom hadn't burst into my room and woken me up fifteen minutes ago, I would've overslept—worse than I already had.
That's why I was now out of breath. My heart pounded in my chest, and my stomach felt like it was inflating like a balloon before dropping beneath my ribs. Mom always said I was too skinny, that it wasn't healthy for my skin to cling so tightly to my bones. But when I looked at all the boys and girls in Viridian City—a place full of so many rumors—and saw all the things they stuffed themselves with, it was hard to believe her.
But I loved Mom. She was kind; she made breakfast every morning, even though she rarely ate anything herself—food and shelter are scarce in the suburbs and harsh corners of our region—and she worked two jobs every day, even on Sundays.
But enough about that.
I had to lean against the railing, gasping for breath, feeling like I might throw up. But that couldn't be right, because I hadn't eaten anything today. I had run out the door while pulling on my clothes and barely had time to say goodbye to Mom!
Professor Oak was the local scientist in Pallet Town—the little village we lived in. He had wild, gray hair, almost like the bark of an old oak tree. He laughed often and with his whole body, but he was also our protector. He had more Pokémon than anyone else, and we would call him if wild ones loitered near our houses, especially if they looked hungry.
You have to understand: this is not a sunshine story. Our world is brutal. Wild Pokémon can harm, even kill, us if we step in the wrong place or stray too deep into the dark forests. That's why, when we turn sixteen, we get our own Pokémon. It's our only defense.
This is where Poké Balls come in: they're small, round, about the size of a tennis ball, and they can capture Pokémon and bind them to the trainer—if the Pokémon submits to the human or is too exhausted to resist. It's a strange technology; I don't fully understand it myself—it's almost like magic.
As I lifted my gaze, a throng of kids with light and dark hair streamed out of the large maple doors, each holding a Poké Ball. I watched them as they walked past me. Jealousy bubbled up inside me, and sweat trickled down my face as anxiety and panic gripped my heart—what if there weren't any Pokémon left?
I shook my head and bolted up the stairs through the crowd—avoiding their eyes—pushed open the door, and walked purposefully inside.
There has to be one left, I thought, turning left down the first corridor. There has to be at least one left. If there are more, then I'll choose...
"The exit is back that way and to the left," a familiar voice suddenly said. I turned around. Professor Oak, with his thick, gray eyebrows—like wild reeds by the stream—was staring down at me. "Oh," he continued, "it's you, Ash. What are you doing here? I thought you'd be the first at my door today."
"I was supposed to be—I mean, I intended to be, but I... what happened was..." I stammered, only now noticing how the windows above—since the laboratory was shaped like a massive dome, almost like a greenhouse—glittered as the sunlight burst through them. It was like gazing at the night sky in broad daylight.
"You overslept, didn't you?" Professor Oak said.
I nodded sadly. "If it weren't for Mom..."
"Follow me," he interrupted, turning around and striding off with long steps. He mumbled as he walked, and I had to jog to keep up. It was hard to make out what he was saying because the echo of our shoes on the glass hurt my ears. I think it was something about how young people behave these days, but I could be wrong.
"Now, let's see," Professor Oak muttered, "yes, we should have three left for you if I remember correctly. At least you'll have a choice. In here, young man—come on, don't dawdle. I've got a lot to do today, you know."
"Oh, like what?" I asked as he nudged me into a small room that reeked of cleaning supplies. There was a large glass window across from me, and outside, I could see the park where the Pokémon lived in harmony, freed from their wild instincts. In the middle of the room stood a table, like an eye surrounded by a sea of white. The walls were also stark white. Everything felt sterile. On the table lay three Poké Balls.
Professor Oak walked over to them and shook each one. "Hmm," he said as he placed the last one back on the table with a hollow clunk. "They're all empty. Strange. Now let's see." He turned around, walked over to the cabinets, and rummaged through them. I stood frozen. When Professor Oak straightened up, scratched his head, and gave me a worried glance, it dawned on me that they were out of starters. I had missed my chance to get my first Pokémon.
I wanted to scream, to yell, to pull out every strand of hair on my head. I wanted to yell at everyone, but I knew it was all my fault. My fault! Stupid, stupid me!
"Professor," I said with trembling lips. "It—can't be empty. My journey is supposed to begin today." A tear formed in the corner of my eye. I wiped it away before it could slip down my cheek. "Are they really all gone? Like, completely gone?"
Professor Oak swallowed hard. "I'm afraid..." He suddenly stopped. His gaze shot to the ceiling. A small sliver of sunlight—or maybe hope? Oh, let it be hope, I prayed—glinted in his eyes. "Gary won't be here for another two weeks," Professor Oak continued, before pausing and chewing over his words. "That's enough time for the new eggs to hatch." Now he was mumbling. "Yes—birthday—right, plenty of time—yes, there's time, hmm." Then he looked sharply at me. "Wait here, Ash. And don't touch anything!"
What feels like an eternity but is over in a flash? A fleeting hope.
The doors opened again. I stood still where the professor had left me. A tear or two had managed to escape and roll down my cheeks. Professor Oak gave me a small nod.
"Good," he said. "You haven't touched anything."
"I haven't moved at all," I said, "but please, Professor—do you have a Pokémon for me?"
His expression was unchanged. He lifted his arm. In his hand was the most beautiful red-and-white ball I had ever seen, and a white shimmer glided across the top; it lasted only a moment, and if I had blinked, I would have missed it.
"This was supposed to be a birthday present for my nephew Gary. But I think you'll have more use for him than my nephew. Gary wants a Fire Pokémon anyway."
"So it's not Charmander?" I asked, reaching for the ball.
"It's not," Professor Oak said, pulling the ball away just as I brushed my fingers against its smooth surface. He slipped the ball into his pocket and took out something shiny and thin, but I couldn't see what it was because he suddenly grabbed my arm, held it tight, and pricked my finger with the small object.
"Ow!" I cried, yanking my arm back quickly.
"Spare me," the professor responded with a snort. "It was just a little prick. You barely felt it."
"But why?" I asked, looking from him to the tiny red bubble that bloomed at the tip of my index finger.
"How else is the Pokémon supposed to know it belongs to you?" He tilted his head. "Have you really never wondered how the Pokémon you catch know who owns them? It's blood, or more precisely, DNA. Now, stop whining and watch this."
He took the ball out of his pocket again. He turned it over in his hand. A small panel on the back opened up. "Press your finger there."
Hesitant—almost mistrustful—I pressed my bloody finger into the hole. Nothing happened.
"There we go," Professor Oak said, tossing the ball to me. "It's done. Now you can let the little guy out. But wait until I'm gone. It'll be more soothing for him. Anyway, I have to go get your starter pack. After all, you can't leave here without five more Poké Balls and some survival gear." He sighed at the door. "That's how it is now. We send them out in droves... only some come back."
I dropped the Poké Ball toward the ground. It stopped just before hitting the floor, opening with a golden-silver glow, then bounced back into my hand. The silver light began to take shape. It resembled a cat; four brown legs emerged, followed by a white, fluffy mane, a head with large, attentive ears, and finally, I saw a thick, bushy tail with fur sticking out in every direction.
"An Eevee!" I exclaimed. But as I leaned forward and extended my hand, it jumped back and hissed.
"It's okay, little one," I comforted. "I'd be scared too if I suddenly bonded with a total stranger."
It didn't seem to understand, but its nostrils flared. With quick movements of its head, it took in the room. When no immediate dangers seemed to trigger its senses, it turned its gaze back to me.
"We'll take it slow, okay?" I said, leaning forward again. "That's right. I'm not dangerous."
Eevee nervously stepped forward and began cautiously sniffing my fingers. Finally, it leaned its head into my hand, letting my fingers glide over its cheek and down along the fur on its back. Professor Oak quietly opened the door, and Eevee's eyes darkened.
"It's okay, little one," I reassured it. "It's just the Professor."
The little creature deftly began sniffing his shoes and the hem of his pants.
"He was one of the most beautiful eggs I had. And is among the most beautiful Pokémon I've seen. I wonder which evolution you'll choose." The old man bent down and patted Eevee. "It often shows in the eyes," he continued, studying them carefully, "but yours are so dark."
"What's that?" I asked, pointing at the backpack he was holding in one hand.
"This?" he replied, lifting it in front of him. "This is your starter kit. Listen carefully, because there's a lot in here: Emergency rations for four days, a sleeping bag and tarp, thread and twine, a first aid kit, five Poké Balls—you'll need to make them yours with blood—a knife, a map and compass, and a small book about Pokémon."
He handed me the pack. I swung it over my shoulder.
"Now?" he asked. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No," I began, but then a question bit my tongue. "Or, where can I find the best Pokémon?"