Chapter 2: Something's wrong with my starter Pokemon
Professor Oak is a respectable man in the community.
Actually, scratch that. He's respected worldwide.
Naturally, I respected him too.
That is... until yesterday.
He didn't come to my birthday party. Not that I expected cake and balloons from him or anything. I assumed he was busy, like he always was. Fair enough.
But he also didn't show up at my mother's funeral.
Not even a glance. Not a word. Not a shadow of the man who was always jogging past our street, sipping morning tea, and chatting with the neighbors about his great-grandson like some proud grandpa with a megaphone.
Yeah. He had time for morning gossip, but not for a grieving kid.
I know. I shouldn't have been upset. He wasn't family. He wasn't obligated.
But when you look up to someone for years, when you see them almost every other day, even exchanging a few polite hellos... you'd expect them to show up when your world burns down.
He didn't.
And yet... here I was, at his doorstep.
I always wondered: why the hell isn't there a Pokémon Center in Pallet Town?
Seriously!
It's not some backwater village. Loads of people have moved in over the years. But nope. No Center, no Mart, no vending machine, nothing. We might as well still be living in the Stone Age.
If not for Professor Oak's research lab, I'd have probably lost Charmander already.
The little guy lay in my arms, warm, fragile, barely holding on. His flame that was faint was the only light I had in the darkness. Literally and metaphorically.
It's funny, really.
A tiny lizard with a candle on its tail is what saved me from breaking completely.
But the flame was too small.
And I knew vaguely that if a Charmander's flame goes out, that's it. Game over.
I'm no Pokémon expert, but even I remembered that much.
So I ran.
With all the strength I had, I bolted toward Professor Oak's laboratory.
It was far.
Even at full speed it took fifteen minutes just to reach the main gate.
And then came the real challenge: getting in.
Because the lab had a gate. A big one. With a bell.
A very, very slow bell.
I mashed that button like my life depended on it. Because, well... someone else's did.
But no matter how many times I pressed that bell, there was no response.
Silence.
Not even the usual mechanical buzz of denial.
That's when something clicked in my brain... a faint memory.
"Yeah, I have a conference tomorrow..."
Professor Oak had said that. Days ago.
And me? I'd conveniently forgotten. Genius-level move.
Now that I thought about it, the Professor never really hired assistants. No interns, no lab aides... just him, playing Pokémon daycare for what had to be thousands of creatures trainers sent over.
I remembered one summer he held a public camp. I got a rare peek at those Pokémon: fully trained, majestic, powerful.
They were incredible.
So yeah, even if he wasn't here right now, the lab should not be empty. Someone had to feed the Pokémon, right? You can't just ghost hundreds of living creatures. That's not science. It's cruelty. It's abuse!
But…
As questions began piling up in my head, I just kept pressing the button. Again. And again. Like a lunatic. Like I could summon salvation if I clicked hard enough.
Then—
"Ark?"
A voice.
A familiar one.
I froze. Turned to my left.
And there he was.
Professor Oak.
In his full summer-grandpa glory: sandals, casual shirt, half-lowered socks, and a plastic bag with groceries in one hand like he'd just stepped out for bananas.
I didn't know what to say.
Couldn't thank fate fast enough.
All I managed was a strangled breath and a few panicked words:
"Professor! Charmander! He's going to die!"
The flame was nearly gone. Barely a flicker.
Professor Oak's expression shifted instantly. No hesitation.
He saw the Charmander in my arms, his gaze tightened, and he rushed toward me—
—ran faster than me, actually.
Old man or not, he could've won a medal in the Pallet Town senior sprint. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing.
But I was too grateful to care.
In that moment, he was exactly who I needed him to be.
Professor Oak didn't waste a second. He unlocked the gate quickly and called me inside. The door slammed shut behind us as he led me straight to the treatment bay at the back of the lab.
The room was cool, filled with machines that hummed softly, and the faint antiseptic smell reminded me of hospitals except with more Pokéballs and fewer sad magazines.
He gently took Charmander from my arms. His expression had sharpened; the usual warm-old-man vibe was gone, replaced by the precise focus of someone who'd done this a thousand times before.
I watched in silence as he worked: hooking up strange equipment, scanning Charmander, injecting fluids, adjusting the oxygen mix in the room.
And through it all, I just stood there. Damp, tired, and -now that the adrenaline had worn off- aching in places I didn't even know existed.
After what felt like an hour, Professor Oak finally looked up.
"He'll live," he said calmly. "But barely. He's severely dehydrated, underfed, and that tail flame… another ten minutes and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My knees almost gave out.
The Professor turned to me, his expression softening.
"You look like a dead Rattata. Go take a bath."
"…Seriously?"
"Yes. The treatment will take a day, maybe longer. You won't do the little guy any good by collapsing next to him. There's a guest room. Towels are inside. Soap too, unless Gary used it all last time he visited."
I blinked. "Wait, Gary? As in... your grandson?"
Professor Oak just smirked and pointed toward the hallway.
The shower was warm. Too warm, maybe. But I wasn't about to complain.
For a while, I just stood there under the stream, not moving. Letting the grime, sweat, and leftover dread wash away.
It was only when I noticed the tears mixing with the water that I realized I'd started crying.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just quiet, steady tears that refused to stop.
I didn't try to fight them. I think I needed it.
Eventually, I pulled myself together, dried off, and found the clothes laid out on the bed. Clean. Fresh. Slightly oversized.
A dark blue jacket with a red trim. Black pants. Fingerless gloves. A worn-out cap with a scratched Pokéball symbol stitched onto it.
I stared at the clothes for a long time before slipping them on.
When I walked back into the lab, Professor Oak looked up from his console.
He took one glance at me and gave a low whistle.
"Well, well. My grandson's clothes suit you perfectly, eh?"
I looked down at myself.
"These are Gary Oak's?"
He chuckled. "The very same."
I stared at him. "You mean the Gary Oak? The Champion of Johto? Legendary-tier, five-region badge holder, beat-Cynthia-in-a-close-match Gary Oak?"
"That's the one."
I blinked. Slowly. "And you just… let me wear his clothes?"
Oak shrugged. "He won't mind. Probably. And besides, it's old clothes. He wore them when he was ten... In the recent visit he was just reminiscing of old times and probably forgot to out them away. Suits you."
"Haha, but how can I wear Sir Gary's clothes... no like, it's not some random person we are talking about. It's SIR GARY! The one who is famously known as Sir Ash's first rival... I mean how can I... I don't think these deserve to be here! They should be in museum! I'll remove them immediately! I-"
Professor Oak clicked his tongue and sighed, "Tsk tsk tsk, you speak a lot."
He gave a smack on my head before continuing, "As I said, they suit you. Heck you look just like him when he was young..."
I was just a kid and getting compared to a legend simply made me blush.
"...You've got that same look he had when he first brought home a nearly-dead Eevee. Determined. Stubborn. And just a little stupid."
I narrowed my eyes. "Thanks, I think."
I felt embarrassed. But it was that good kind.
Oak smiled, then turned serious. "The world's changed since Gary's time. Trainers aren't just kids with dreams anymore. There's structure now. Rankings. Championships. Tiers."
"Tiers? They didn't exist earlier?"
He nodded.
"Rookie. Pro. Master. Elite. Champion. And above all… Legend Tier. That's where the true monsters live."
I simply gave a nod. I knew all this already.
"Sir Gary was the first person to be placed in the Legend Tier," I added casually. "Sir Paul was second. Sir Ash was added as the third."
Professor Oak smiled faintly. "True. And as always… Ash is behind them again."
There wasn't a trace of mockery in his voice. Only nostalgia. Like he was sifting through the golden dust of memories long gone.
I stayed quiet, letting the silence stretch. My eyes drifted toward the small recovery pod where Charmander lay, its tail flame flickering gently in the soft light.
It was looking back at me.
There was something in that gaze. It felt somewhat familiar. A sort of stubborn spark, maybe. As if this little lizard had already decided things on its own.
On impulse, I raised my hand and gave a small wave.
Charmander blinked. And then slowly it raised its tiny left arm, pointed a clawed finger at me… and then at itself.
The message couldn't have been clearer if it were carved into stone.
"You. Me. We're stuck together now. World domination, let's go."
"Uh…"
I turned toward Professor Oak, hoping for some kind of adult guidance in this increasingly bizarre scenario. But the old man was still lost in thought, probably recalling the time his grandson wiped the floor with the League.
"Professor," I asked, "do I… get to pick a starter Pokémon, or...?"
No response.
But Charmander responded just fine.
It puffed up its tiny chest, flared its nostrils, and gave me a look that said:
"I am your starter, you clueless cabbage. Get with the program."
"…"
"Okay, I guess you're my starter then..."