The chair beneath Jake creaked as he leaned back, the faint glow of dawn bleeding through the thin curtains. His eyes, still hazy from sleep, burned with restless energy. His mind wouldn't let him rest. Not today.
He drummed his fingers on the wooden desk, muttering under his breath.
"If things play out the same way… Ash will be late. Gary's a given—he'll take Squirtle. That leaves me with Bulbasaur and Charmander."
As for Pikachu, Jake knew he wasn't Ash Ketchum who could withstand Pikachu's electric attacks. Yes Pikachu was a legendary killer but he doesn't wanna risk it. He remembered how Ash tamed Pikachu — an angry flock of spearows. Ash would have died if pikachu did not act at the last moments. He couldn't risk his life.
The thought lingered, heavy in the quiet room.
Squirtle also tempted him. The image of a fully grown Blastoise, its water cannons roaring, filled his mind. In the anime, Blastoise had been a fortress—an unstoppable wall that crushed opponents under torrents of water. The gamer in him liked the idea of commanding that kind of raw, defensive power.
But then logic, cold and calculating, smothered the fantasy.
"No," Jake said to himself, shaking his head. "Squirtle's a trap."
He opened his notebook and began scribbling calculations. Brock's Gym came first: Rock-types. Squirtle would ace that. But then came Misty—Water-types. His Squirtle against her Starmie? A slaughter. And beyond that loomed Gyarados, with stats that made Blastoise look like a glorified turtle tank. Why settle for second-rate when better options existed?
"Dead weight after the first Gym. Not worth it."
He flipped the page. Charmander next. The fiery lizard—one of the most iconic Pokémon of them all. For a moment, Jake considered it. The anime had glorified Charizard, and gamers around the world had adored it. But Jake wasn't some wide-eyed kid.
"No… worse than Squirtle," he muttered, pacing now. "Rock-types destroy it. Water-types drown it. And don't even get me started on Surge."
Charizard was powerful later, yes, but Jake knew better. Early on, Charmander was a nightmare—fragile, unreliable, dependent on favorable matchups. Even at its peak, Arcanine outclassed it in raw stats and utility. Why put himself through hell when better fire-types existed?
That left one option.
Jake sat back down, whispering the name like a mantra.
"Bulbasaur…"
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't the fan-favorite. But it was reliable. Status moves, healing abilities, defensive strength. A slow burn strategy that worked in both games and, hopefully, in reality.
"Not Ash. Not Gary. Just me," Jake muttered, gripping his pencil tight. "Bulbasaur it is."
But choosing a starter was only the beginning. Jake knew one simple truth: six Pokémon wouldn't cut it. This wasn't a game with PC storage boxes and infinite safety nets. Pokémon needed care—food, rest, medical treatment. And not every Pokémon would survive the grind.
Yes, survive.
Jake had heard the stories. Trainers who bit off more than they could chew. Teams wiped out by a single Gym battle. Pokémon bleeding in the dirt, bones snapping under the weight of brutal attacks. Nurse Joys worked tirelessly, but not every Pokémon made it to the healing chamber in time.
This world wasn't a Saturday morning cartoon.
"I'll need at least ten… maybe fifteen," Jake whispered. "Options. Backups. Insurance."
He began sketching numbers. Ten to fifteen Pokémon meant food, Pokéballs, medical care. All of it cost money—more money than he had.
His gaze flicked to the papers from the Trainer Association.
₱5000. That was the stipend he'd receive monthly starting tomorrow. Enough to scrape by if he was careful. Barely.
But there was a catch. There was always a catch.
Earn one badge in six months or lose it all.
The Association didn't fund failures. Neither would his family. Their message had been clear—prove yourself, or quit before you waste more resources.
Jake's jaw tightened. "Failure isn't an option."
He did the math.
Pokémon Centers charged ₱100 a day. A full month's stay was ₱3000—over half his stipend, gone. Add food, travel, and supplies, and he'd be broke before he even reached Cerulean.
"No way I can rely on the stipend alone. I'll need Gym money."
He pulled out another sheet, reviewing the notes he'd made.
Gym Tiers
Tier 3 – Levels 10–20 → ₱5000–₱10000
Tier 2 – Levels 21–30 → ₱20000–₱30000
Tier 1 – Levels 31–40 → ₱50000–₱70000
Elite – Levels 40–50 → ₱100000–₱150000
His lips curled into a grin. Gym battles weren't just milestones—they were paychecks. Badges weren't just shiny trinkets—they were survival.
"Win, and I eat. Lose, and I starve."
Brutal. Efficient. Exactly the kind of system a gamer like him could exploit.
He slammed his notebook shut, whispering like a vow.
"I'll win. Every Gym, every fight. No wasted battles."
Then his thoughts drifted to the looming Competition.
Unlike the games, this world had a system—a brutal one. The Pokémon Competition was held once every two years. Entry required eight badges, no exceptions. And for rookies, this was the only chance to fight on a level playing field.
The Rookie Competition was reserved for trainers within their first two years. Miss it, and next time you'd be facing veterans—trainers with four, six, even eight years of experience.
"Miss Rookie, and you're finished," Jake muttered. "I have to get in this time."
Winning meant more than glory. Cash prizes, sponsorships, recognition. The difference between being a starving rookie and a professional trainer.
Jake flipped to a fresh page. Now for the real planning.
First three Gyms: Rock, Water, Electric.
Bulbasaur handled Brock easily, but Misty was the real problem. He remembered the anime—Ash meeting Misty by a lake, a flopping Magikarp nearby. Everyone laughed at Magikarp. But Jake saw the truth.
"If I can grab a Magikarp there… and a Water Stone… Gyarados solves Misty."
A risky investment. Magikarp was dead weight until evolution. But once it transformed, it became a monster.
For Surge, the solution was simple: Ground-types. Nidoran was common, easy to find, and evolved fast. Nidoking was versatile, brutal, and most importantly, immune to electricity.
"Bulbasaur. Magikarp. Nidoran."
And for scouting, early mobility, and quick aerial support? Pidgey. Reliable. Not flashy, but useful.
"Four solid options. Enough to push through the first three Gyms."
He tapped his pencil against the desk. Beyond that, planning was useless. The world was unpredictable—Pokémon weren't locked into encounter tables, and trainers weren't bound by scripted teams. He needed flexibility, not rigid routes.
"Plan for the start. Adapt later. Gamer rule number one: never overcommit."
By the time he looked at the clock, it was already 10 p.m. His body sagged with exhaustion. He'd spent the whole day crunching numbers, plotting strategies, and preparing himself. Tomorrow, the real game began.
He was about to collapse into bed when a voice called from downstairs.
"Jake! Come down for a moment."
His mother.
He groaned but obeyed, trudging down the stairs. In the living room, she stood waiting with a small bundle in her arms. Her smile was soft, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"This," she said, pressing the bundle into his hands, "is everything you'll need for your first steps. Clothes, food, some emergency money. And…" Her hand rose to his cheek, trembling slightly. "…a part of me to keep you safe."
Jake's throat tightened. He wasn't easily shaken, but the sight of her fragile smile pierced through the steel walls he had built around himself.
"Mom…"
"You're my son," she whispered, pulling him into a hug. "I know the world out there is dangerous. I know you'll face things I can't even imagine. But promise me, Jake… promise me you'll come back safe. I don't care how many badges you win, or how many battles you fight. Just… don't lose yourself."
The weight of her words pressed down heavier than any Gym battle ever could. Jake swallowed hard, then nodded.
"I promise," he said firmly. "I'll be safe. I'll make you proud. And when I come back… I'll be stronger than ever."
Her tears finally fell as she hugged him tight. For a moment, the harsh realities of Gym battles, money, and survival vanished. He was just her son again.