I was halfway out the door, my beat-up skateboard tucked under one arm and my pride tucked under the other, when Professor Linda's voice cracked through the air like a whip.
"Regina. Stop right there. Where exactly do you think you're going without a proper kit?"
I turned back, feeling a bit like a kid caught stealing cookies—which, considering the three extra sandwiches currently stuffed in my bag, wasn't far from the truth. "To the tall grass? To fulfill my destiny? To avoid becoming a Beedrill's lunch?"
Linda didn't laugh. She walked over and dumped a small, heavy satchel into my hands. Inside were ten pristine, red-and-white Pokéballs and a sleek, high-end smartphone.
"Go to Pallet Town," she commanded. "See Professor Oak. He's holding a Pokedex for you."
I stared at her, my internal GPS already calculating the mileage. "Wait. You want me to go from Viridian... down to Pallet... and then back up through Viridian to get to Pewter City? That's an extra three-day trek. My legs are already protesting the one battle I had today."
Linda sighed, a sound that suggested I was the most taxing investment she'd ever made. "The Pokedex isn't just an encyclopedia, Regina. In the modern league, it is your Trainer ID. It's your permit, your medical record, and your legal pass through regional checkpoints. I could give you a standard plastic card, but you're a G-Pro recruit. You need the best. Besides, check the phone."
I swiped the screen. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There was an integrated banking app with a balance that made my previous "Joey Tax" look like pocket change.
"I am your sponsor, remember?" Linda said, crossing her arms. "You'll get a monthly budget. It's reasonable—meaning it covers food, basic medicine, and gear. If you want luxury, you win tournaments. Now, get moving. I've already informed Officer Jenny that you're heading to Pallet to register. Don't make me look bad."
I nodded, genuinely touched despite my sarcastic exterior. "Thanks, Professor. Really."
The Road to Pallet
I didn't walk. I dropped my board onto the paved path of Route 1 and kicked off.
The "real" Pokémon world is surprisingly high-tech. While kids are out there wrestling monsters in the dirt, the financial infrastructure is purely digital. No more carrying heavy bags of coins; it's all tap-to-pay and QR codes. It's a strange contradiction—nature at its most primal, and technology at its most clinical.
"Ready, nugget?" I tapped the Pokéball on my belt.
Torchic didn't like being in the ball for long, but for a high-speed downhill stretch, it was the safest place for him. I felt the wind whipping through my hair, my new black cap turned backward so it wouldn't fly off.
The road to Pallet Town was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache. Huge Pidgey flocks circled overhead, and the smell of wild Apricorns filled the air. But I kept my eyes on the path. I saw a few other trainers—kids in those ridiculous skirts I'd noted earlier—struggling through the tall grass while I zipped past them on the asphalt.
Strategy over tradition, I thought. Always.