The road to Cerulean City was paved with good intentions and a lot of static electricity. Sparky, my tiny yellow anarchist, had finally reached a truce with me. It wasn't "friendship" yet—more like a mutual non-aggression pact. He still looked at me with those judgmental, Timid eyes, but he'd stopped trying to turn my nervous system into a toasted marshmallow every time I reached for my water bottle.
Zubat, on the other hand, was easy. One bowl of high-protein, G-Pro grade nectar and he was practically vibrating with Joy. Jolly by nature, Elite by birth, and now officially the team's overenthusiastic scout.
I was finishing up a final drill near a stream, watching Eevee perfect her Iron Tail against some river stones. My plan for the Cerulean Gym was simple: if Misty's sisters were professional like Brock, I'd give Sparky, Spearow, and Eevee the stage for some high-level experience. But if they were the "Sensational Sisters" from the anime—the ones who cared more about synchronized swimming than STAB moves—Sparky was going to one-punch the entire Gym.
I smirked, imagining the look on their faces when a tiny mouse vaporized their Starmie. God, that would be a core memory.
The Golden Anomaly
We were packing up when I heard it—the harsh, grating sound of a voice that sounded like gravel in a blender.
"Useless. Absolutely pathetic. You have the genes of a champion and the heart of a Magikarp."
I peered through the tall grass. A trainer stood there, decked out in high-end, brand-name gear that screamed 'New Money.' He had spiky hair and a permanent sneer. I recognized him instantly from the deep archives of the franchise: Cross.
But it wasn't him that made my mouth water. It was the Pokémon shivering in front of him.
It was a Charmander. But instead of the usual bright orange, its skin was a pale, shimmering gold. A Shiny.
My HUD flickered to life, the text glowing an urgent red.
[Data Scan: Shiny Charmander]
Gender: Female
Class: Elite (Potential Weakened: Original Champion Class)
Level: 15
Note: Inconsistency during transport has caused a temporary "Potential Dampener." Can be restored with high-tier care.
[Side Mission: Challenge Cross – Save the Golden Flame]
Reward: 5,000 Points + Poké-Finder x1
My heart did a backflip. My first game ever was FireRed. My first partner, my first pixelated friend, had been a Charmander. Seeing one—especially an Elite-tier Shiny—being treated like trash made my 'Slum Survivor' blood boil.
Cross kicked a clump of dirt toward the tiny lizard. "I don't care how rare your color is. If you can't beat a basic Geodude, you're just a glorified nightlight. Get out of my sight. You're released."
The Charmander let out a heartbroken "Char...?" and lunged forward, grabbing Cross's pant leg with her tiny claws, pleading. He just shook her off like a piece of filth.
"Hey, Garbage Man!" I yelled, stepping out of the brush and kicking my skateboard into my hand.
Cross turned, his sneer deepening. "Who are you? Another brat looking for an autograph?"
"I'm the person about to humiliate you," I said, my voice dropping into that cold, G-Pro edge. "You're leaving? What's the matter, Cross? Scared that a 'girl on a wooden plank' might actually show you what a real battle looks like? Aww, poor baby. Does the big bad trainer need his diaper changed?"
Cross's face turned a mottled purple. "You want to lose that badly? Fine." He looked down at the shivering gold Charmander. "Last chance, you useless lizard. If you win this, I'll take you back. If you lose, stay in the dirt where you belong."
The Battle of Spite
Cross didn't even use a different Pokémon. He commanded the exhausted, heartbroken Charmander to fight.
"Nugget, center stage," I said softly.
My Torchic hopped down, her feathers ruffling. She looked at the Shiny Charmander with a mix of pity and fierce competitiveness. She knew what it was like to be cornered; she remembered the alleyway.
"Ha! An exotic Torchic?" Cross laughed, checking his own high-end Pokedex. "I have three Shinies in my PC right now, not counting this one. Color is just a luxury for people with money. It doesn't mean anything if the stats are trash."
"Stats aren't trash, Cross," I whispered. "Only the trainer is."
"Charmander, use Dragon Rage!"
"Dodge and use Flame Charge!"
The golden Charmander unleashed a roar, a blue-tinged flame erupting from her maw. It was powerful—Elite-tier powerful—but her heart wasn't in it. She was shaking. Nugget blurred, a streak of crimson fire that circled the field, her speed increasing with every rotation.
"Now, Quick Attack!"
Nugget slammed into the Charmander's side. The gold lizard tumbled, but scrambled up, looking at Cross for a shred of approval. She saw only a cold, impatient stare.
"Use Fire Fang! Rip that bird apart!"
The Charmander lunged, her teeth glowing with heat.
"Counter!" I screamed.
Nugget stood her ground. She took the hit on her wing, her feathers singeing, but then she channeled all that kinetic energy back into a devastating physical strike. The shockwave sent the Charmander flying backward. She hit a tree and slumped to the ground, eyes spiraling. Fainted.
The Abandonment
Cross didn't even walk over to check on her. He just scoffed and turned his back.
"Pathetic. Just like I thought."
"Hey!" I shouted, my hand trembling with rage. "You know abusing and abandoning a Pokémon like that can get your license revoked, right? I've got this entire encounter on record for the G-Pro archives."
Cross flinched for a split second, then a smirk spread across his face. He pulled out a stack of empty Pokéballs. "Check your facts, brat. I never caught that thing. It followed me out of a breeding lab. I never registered it. No capture, no ownership. No ownership, no law broken. It's just a wild animal I decided to kick."
He turned and walked away, his laughter echoing through the trees.
I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they'd crack. "Bastard," I hissed.
I ran over to the golden Charmander. She was waking up, looking around frantically for the man who had just discarded her. When she realized he was gone, a small, pathetic sob escaped her throat.
I knelt in the mud, ignored the soot on my jeans, and gently pulled her into my lap. "Hey... it's okay," I whispered. I leaned down and kissed her warm, scaly forehead. "I'm here. I'm not like him. I would love you until the sun burns out, you hear me? I'll never let you suffer again."
The Charmander looked up at me, her big, watery eyes reflecting my own determined face. She let out a tiny, weak "Char..." and tucked her head under my chin.
[Side Mission Completed: The Golden Flame is Saved.]
[Reward: 5,000 Points & Poké-Finder Added.]
The Bitter Truth
I rushed her to the Cerulean Pokémon Center. I was fuming, my skateboard nearly snapping under the pressure of my grip.
"Nurse Joy, I need an emergency checkup for a victim of abandonment," I said, slamming my ID on the counter. "And I want to file a formal complaint against a trainer named Cross."
Nurse Joy took the golden Charmander with practiced tenderness, her face softening. But after she checked the database, she let out a long, weary sigh.
"Regina... I'm so sorry. But because the Charmander was never registered to his ID, and because there's no evidence of 'lethal' intent... officially, he hasn't broken any League laws. Abandoning a non-captured Pokémon is legally considered 'interacting with wildlife.'"
"Interacting with wildlife?" I asked, my voice rising an octave. "He kicked her! He manipulated her heart to make her fight until she collapsed! You're telling me that's okay?"
"It's not okay," Joy said, her voice heavy with the weight of seeing this every day. "But the law is slow to catch up to cruelty. Please, Regina. You've saved her. That's what matters now. Rest. You both need it."
I nodded, my heart heavy. I sat in the lobby, watching the golden Charmander through the glass of the recovery ward. She was sleeping now, a small bandage on her tail.
"The world is a mess, Nelly," I whispered.
"The world is what you make of it, Host," Nelly replied, her voice unusually soft. "You have the points. You have the potential. And now, you have the flame."
I looked at my hands. I had the Poké-Finder now—a high-tech G-Pro tool for locating rare items and hidden Pokémon. But more importantly, I had a new reason to win.
Cerulean Gym was tomorrow. And if I saw a single person treating a Pokémon like an object... Sparky wasn't just going to one-punch a Starmie. He was going to send a message.
I pulled out my sketchbook and started drawing a gold-and-crimson crest. If I was going to raise a Queen of Dragons, she was going to have the best gear Kanto had ever seen.
"Sleep well, Goldie," I whispered. "Tomorrow, we start the real climb."