A big break was a bit of an understatement. This was huge for us. Mom's job at the grocery store and my gig at Lucky Andy's were enough to keep us going and chip away at her medical bills. It wasn't cushy by any stretch but we weren't starving, just kind of getting by as best we could. I suddenly became aware that I was staring at the ticket, my hands were sweating and I hadn't said anything in response. My mom would be able to relax and stop taking as much overtime, I could take less shifts at the bar, maybe look into college classes-

"Titus, it's okay. Just breathe."

And I did. The ticket and my phone fell from my grasp and clattered to the coffee table. I felt relief, a backpack of stress and worry slid from my tired shoulders. My mother's hand wrapped around my forearm, comforting, reassuring. I looked at her more closely this time.

She was tired, but she was so happy. Her dark brown hair had a few gray streaks, but her smile was like a sunbeam. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at me.

"You worked so hard, sacrificed so much to help me. I want you to take the journey you wanted to. I know it's not ideal, I know you wanted to leave at 15 with all of your friends, but you can still go. It is okay."

"Thank you Mom..I…I need some time to think about this, this is huge."

I wrapped both arms around her, hugging her. I wanted to cry but she returned the hug.

"Go get some rest. You've more than earned it."

With that, I went to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. Light from the streetlamps and the city outside my window filtered in through the window but I clicked on the desk lamp, illuminating the desk and the tiny room. The desk had features for a computer, an undertray for the keyboard and mouse, holes for the wiring, and a cubby for the tower to sit in. I'd never made use of those except for the undertray. I sat in the worn out office chair and pulled the tray towards me, revealing a ring-bound notebook covered in dust.

I reached for my old notebook, my hands shaking and a hollow sensation growing in my stomach. It was the feeling of digging up something that I'd long since tried to bury and hide.

I mean, she said it was ok, right? What would be so wrong with trying at least once? I deserve that much, don't I?

I looked up from the notebook before I opened it. Taped to the back panel of the desk was a hastily scrawled map of the Sinnoh region, with routes and highlights for the entire thing. A meticulous plan I'd drafted a thousand times and decided this was the best I could come up with. In truth, it wasn't great. The placement of Canalave, Snowpoint and Sunyshore made for a real time sink getting there and traveling the way back. And if you lost your Gym battle to one of them? You were even further behind at that point, having to wait at least two weeks before you could challenge them again. I touched the sketch of the Sinnoh region, my perfectly laid plan, the graphite from the pencil staining the tips of my fingers. I crumpled it into my hand, then with both hands I tore it apart, discarding it into the waste bin nearby.

My notebook was more of the same. Every Pokemon Type, in order of how native they were to the region and the chances of actually being able to catch and raise one. Some pages had a fat red X drawn on them with a marker when I'd noticed some flaw in planning. I'd circled a select few that were high priority targets, Gible, Staryu, and Fletchling to name a few and-

I chucked the entire notebook into the trash.

Most new Trainers in Sinnoh have the dream of recreating Champion Cynthia's legendary first-year sweep of not only the Gym Circuit but the Conference as well. No one's ever been able to do it, though over the past several years a few have come close to that glory.

I was not Cynthia. But then again, who said I had to be? My only chance was here and it had come late but damn it I was taking it.

Tomorrow, anyway. I guess 2 AM isn't the ideal time to decide you want to be a Pokemon Trainer.

I put on more comfortable clothes, a pair of athletic shorts and a baggy old T-shirt, before rolling into bed and drifting off.

*********************************

As I pulled out my keys to open Lucky Andy's, I saw lights and movement on the inside. Cautiously, I cracked the door open, but it was just Glen wiping down the bar. Weird. He wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow, but maybe he lost track of the days?

"Titus? Fuck you doin' here on a Sunday?"

Glen was certainly a character. He was a bit of an old grouch and had to be in his sixties or maybe younger with a lot of hard living. Strong muscled arms underneath tanned skin from working outside his entire life, and a nose that had clearly seen the business end of someone else's fists. His thinning hair and mustache were gray and he wore a plain white shirt tucked into black jeans that were both in pristine condition. Most people couldn't tolerate his gruff exterior or his sailor mouth but he really didn't mean any harm. There were definitely worse people to work for than him.

"It's uh. It's Saturday Glen.", I replied, grinning.

He threw the towel in his hand across his shoulder before squinting at me, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"Ah shit, I got up for 'nuthin again huh?", he muttered, tossing the towel onto the bar before walking out from behind it. Glen rolled his shoulders before settling onto a bar stool.

"Well, you can get me a drink then, seeing as how it's still my day off. My usual, if you don't mind."

Glen's usual, bafflingly, wasn't just a drink. From a jar in the fridge, I obtained for him a pickled egg and from under the bar a small onion. I set the two in front of him before pouring him a shot of his personal stock of vodka. He bit into the raw, bulbous onion before downing the shot. The egg was, of course, his breakfast.

I had thought about telling Glen tomorrow about how I was leaving, but he was here right in front of me, and I knew he would respect me more for saying it right away.

"Glen, this is gonna be my last shift. I'm taking on the Circuit this year."

He looked at me like I'd just grown a second head, his eyes bulging out slightly as he chewed on the rest of his egg. His fingers drummed on the bar for a few seconds, and I could tell he was being careful with his next few words.

"Well, shit, that's terrific but you even got a 'Mon to use? 'Last you told me neither you or your mother owned any. You takin' on Roark with your bare fuckin' fists?", he chuckled.

Glen raised a valid point. I didn't even have a starter yet. Some people bought theirs, had connections to a professor that would give them one or had family that could do the same. I was coming from nothing, not even the family Herdier past its prime. I had wanted a Chatot years ago but Mom vetoed that decision.

"No, but the League has a program for rehoming lost or abandoned Pokemon that -"

"Bad idea. That programis for 'Mons that didn't get a fair shake outta life, Trainers that treated 'em like shit. They need a good home away from all that. That ain't gonna be you, you're battling and taking on the Circuit. You'd be doing more harm than good to 'em, kid."

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, took a drag and continued.

"Look, it's been good havin' you take over the bar, give me some days off for myself. But let me pay it forward. My boy Nathan, the one that works with the Rangers, came across a stray a while back. It's a baby, no Trainer to speak of and between Ranger duty and his first kid, he ain't got time to raise the thing. You say the word and I'll get him on the horn."

I was flabbergasted. I nearly asked what species the Pokemon was, but I'd heard that old adage about looking a gift Ponyta in the mouth. I was in need of a starter, and it needed a Trainer to take care of it. I just hoped the thing wasn't unruly or dangerous.

"Holy shit, what type is it? Where did he find it?"

"Tyrogue. It wants to pick fights and train but Nathan can't keep up with him. You'd be doin' him a favor takin' it off his hands."

A Fighting Type huh? I'd originally wanted a Fire or Water Type as a starter when planning my team but Tyrogue would have a favorable matchup against three Gyms. Although Fantina's Ghost Types would be a major issue and a hole I'd need to patch in my team as soon as I could.

"I'll call up my boy, you go get signed up for the Circuit and we'll get this business with your starter squared away."

Until now, I hadn't had a reason to ever be inside a Pokemon Center. The place was incredibly clean, the floors were polished to a mirror shine and there was a subtle tang of some kind of cleaning chemical lingering in the air. It had almost everything a Trainer on the Circuit might need. There were rooms to stay in, along with medical care for you and your Pokemon as well as a cafeteria. Although, I'd heard that the food left a lot to be desired. At the reception desk, a woman wearing a Nurse Joy in a pink wig was helping two kids that looked to be younger than me. As I approached, she turned her attention from them to me.

"Are you signing up as well or…?"

"Yeah, I'm signing up."

"Great! Just fill this out, ", she handed me a white clipboard with a pen attached to it, ", and get it back to me once you're finished!", she replied with a cheery smile.

I flicked through the pages, just to see how much I was in for, before one of the kids spoke up. She had blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail with streaks of pink running through it, and a nose that made her look like she was constantly sneering.

"Aren't you, like, kinda old to be signing up for your first year on the Circuit?"

Ouch. I guess the one thing that never changed regardless of the generation was that children were dicks. I wasn't more than a few years older than them either.

"I'm 18, just getting a late start is all.", I replied as I tried to turn my attention back to the clipboard.

Her companion, a tall boy with dark skin and a smug expression, leaned down to her and whispered something in her ear. She giggled, and another Nurse Joy approached them, handing them their new Trainer IDs and Pokedexs, which they collected before walking past me to leave.

"Cope and seethe, loser.", the girl threw back before they exited the Pokemon Center.

Well, that was certainly something. At least with the number of Trainers joining every year there was a fair to great chance I'd never have to see them again.

The paperwork was filled with a lot of disclaimers, namely that the League couldn't be held responsible for injury or death in the wild. I filled out the forms and handed the clipboard back, and a few minutes later a nurse took me for my physical. I was in good health from what they told me, and a few minutes later I was placed in line with a group of kids like the ones from the reception desk. I did my best not to take a completely awful photo, after which they printed my new Trainer ID. It was a fascinating bit of tech, even if I had no idea how it worked. It had my photo, along with a digital screen that featured my badges and the amount of money in my account, which I opened and placed my pay from last night. It wasn't very much, but the League also gave new Trainers like me 10000 Poke-Dollars to get them started. Now that I was signed up, I wouldn't have to pay for the services at the Pokemon Center but I was still on the hook for supplies, medicine and food I took with me into the wild, plus anything else I might need.

Once all of that was finished, I was handed my Pokedex along with instructions as to how it worked. While the Trainer ID was interesting, the Pokedex was a vital tool. Scanning a Pokemon would let me see the moves they knew, any moves they could learn, as well as their Ability and biological information. I would have more information about Tyrogue once I scanned him. It took more than an hour to complete the whole application process, but I didn't mind.

After that I made my way back to the bar, where Glen was waiting outside next to his truck. He threw his cigarette and crushed it under his boot as he waved at me.

"Nathan's waitin' on us, we'll ride out to the Ranger Station and make the transfer."