Two weeks. Fourteen days of cramming biological charts, migration patterns, and elemental physics until my brain felt like a Magikarp using Splash—completely useless and flopping around in distress.
But it paid off.
I stood in front of the bulletin board at the Viridian Licensing Center, staring at the digital screen.
Rank 1: Regina. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Professor Linda had beamed at me, her expression a mix of "I knew it" and "Don't make me regret this." She'd handed me a stipend for my initial gear—a decent chunk of change that felt like a fortune until I actually looked at the price tags in this world.
"Money, here I come," I muttered, tucked the credits into my pocket, and grabbed my skateboard. "Come on, nugget. We're going shopping."
Torchic hopped onto my shoulder, nuzzling my ear with a heat that was genuinely comforting. "Chic-tor!"
The Fashion Crisis
I avoided the high-end boutiques. I have a soul for fashion, believe me—I can spot a faux-leather trim from a mile away—but my wallet had a soul for survival. I found an older shop on the edge of the shopping district. It wasn't "trend-forward," but it wasn't the disaster I saw some other fifteen-year-olds wearing.
I mean, seriously? Girls heading into the tall grass in mini-skirts and silk ribbons? Have they ever met a Beedrill? That's not a fashion statement; that's an invitation to a skin graft.
I picked out four breathable, layered tops, two pairs of rugged denim shorts that actually had pockets (a feminist victory in any universe), a fresh pair of high-top sneakers, and a sleek black cap. I changed in the back, checking myself in the cracked mirror. With my skateboard tucked under my arm and my deep-red Torchic on my shoulder, I looked... well, I looked like I belonged here.
"Not bad, Regina," I whispered. "Very 'urban-chic meets survivalist.'"
The Viridian Mall
Then came the Viridian City Mall. Since Giovanni—the strongest Gym Leader in Kanto—ran this city, the mall was a titan of industry. I walked into the Trainer Supply Store and nearly fainted at the prices.
"Unlimited space backpacks?" I blinked at the display. Apparently, using the spatial energy of Psychic-type Pokémon to create pocket dimensions was a thing. "Forty-thousand credits for a rucksack?! Is it made of Dragonite leather?!"
I looked at my stipend. I needed a week of Pokémon food, my own rations, medicine, potions, and antidotes. In the "Lala Land" version of this world, you just find items in the grass. In the real world, an Antidote costs more than a decent dinner.
I reached for the cheapest, smallest bag—a cramped little thing that looked like it would pop if I put a heavy book in it. I sighed, looking at Torchic. He looked back at me with those big, trusting eyes.
"Fine," I grumbled, shoving the cheap bag back. I grabbed a mid-tier, reasonable-sized spatial pack and a stack of basic Potions. "We're going to be broke, nugget. I might have to 'borrow' some sandwiches from the Professor's fridge before we leave."
The "Youngster" Encounter
I was walking toward the city exit, my bag feeling lighter than my heart, when a kid blocked my path. He couldn't have been more than twelve, wearing an oversized cap and a t-shirt that said TOP PERCENTAGE.
"Hey! You! You're a trainer, right?" he shouted, pointing a finger at me.
"I'm a girl trying to calculate how long I can survive on crackers and spite," I said, trying to push past. "Move it, kid."
"I'm Joey! And my Rattata is the best! I saw you come out of the center with that weird bird. Battle me!"
"No. I have shopping to do and a soul to maintain."
"I'll bet sixty Poké-dollars!" Joey countered, puffing out his chest.
I stopped dead. Sixty dollars. That was... three extra cans of high-protein Torchic food. Or four very good sandwiches for me.
"Sixty, huh?" I turned, a slow, "girl boss" smirk spreading across my face. "Nugget, I think we found our lunch money."
First Blood
We moved to a designated dirt clearing. My heart was suddenly hammering against my ribs. This wasn't a game. There was no 'A' button to mash.
"Go, Rattata!" Joey yelled.
The purple rodent hissed, its eyes sharp. Joey froze for a second when he saw my Torchic properly. "Whoa... what kind of Pokémon is that? It's so... red! Is it from another country?"
"He's a Hoenn native," I said, trying to sound cool, though my hands were shaking. "And he's about to ruin your day. Torchic, let's go!"
It was a mess.
I thought I knew the mechanics, but when the Rattata lunged with a Quick Attack, it was a blur of purple fur. I tripped over a loose rock, nearly face-planting in the dirt as I tried to call out a command.
"Torchic, Ember! No—wait, use Scratch!"
The Rattata was fast. It nipped at Torchic's flank, and I felt a pang of genuine fear. "Nugget! Get out of there!"
Torchic rolled, his feathers ruffled and dusty. He looked at me, chirping a sharp, fiery note. He wasn't scared; he was waiting for me to get it together.
"Right. Sorry! Flame Charge! Now!"
Torchic burst into a cloak of flickering crimson flames. He wasn't just fast; he was a heat-seeking missile. He slammed into the Rattata, sending the rodent tumbling back into Joey's legs.
"Rattata! Tail Whip!" Joey screamed.
But the level gap was too wide. Torchic was an Elite-class hatchling, and Joey's Rattata was... well, a Rattata. One more Ember sent the rodent scurrying back to its trainer, fainted.
"I... I lost?" Joey stared at his Pokéball in shock.
I didn't act cool. I didn't act like a "legend." I ran over to Torchic and scooped him up into a massive hug, spinning around. "We did it! You were amazing! You're the best little fire-chicken in the world!"
Torchic chirped happily, nuzzling into my neck and nearly singeing my new cap.
The Aftermath
Later that evening, back at Professor Linda's ranch, I sat on the porch eating a sandwich I had technically not stolen (she said 'help yourself,' right?).
That sixty dollars had been a godsend. It meant I didn't have to eat literal leaves for the first three days of my journey. I watched the sun set over the Viridian horizon, my new gear packed and ready by the door.
"It's not a game, nugget," I whispered, watching Torchic chase a stray Hoppip through the garden. "It's loud, it's expensive, and I'm pretty sure I bruised my tailbone when I tripped. But..."
I looked at my Rank 1 certificate and the fierce little bird I'd saved from the alley.
"...it's definitely not boring."
What should be our first real destination on the map tomorrow?