Oaks POV
The boy is… unusual. Not merely intelligent or precocious, but precise, ruthless, and aware beyond his years. To deduce a Rattata's lifespan, its growth potential, and elemental transition in a glance; few adults could manage this. Perhaps Blaine would be intrigued. But first: no lineage, no benefactors, no chance of manipulation.
Oak walked to the secondary orphanage. Its walls were worn, paint peeling, floors creaking. Resources flowed to the main orphanage; this one survived on scraps.
A nun opened the door. "Professor Oak, may I help you?"
"I wish to donate and inquire about one of the boys here. Alexander Creed."
Her smile froze. "Alex? Yes… I found him eight years ago. No name, no letter. He named himself at four. He was normal… a little withdrawn, a little mature. Helpful, kind."
Her voice faltered. "Then he found a Caterpie. I wanted to release it. He persuaded me to let him keep it. Two months later, he disappeared into the forest, returning with a Metapod. By six, he had a Butterfree on the cusp of Attunement. He stopped celebrating birthdays. His behavior… shifted. He became cold, distant, and increasingly obsessive. He spent days in the forest alone, sometimes returning with scratches and leaves bandaging wounds we could not explain."
Oak sipped tea, listening.
"One day he left for four days with his Butterfree… returned covered in green and red blood. We never saw that Butterfree again. He earned ten thousand poke dollars legally and left the orphanage. The law allows children to leave if they can earn it, to gain independence. He survived on his own. The corpses… the bees… we can only guess."
Oak's mind raced. There is only one Pokémon in this forest whose blood is green, non-toxic… Butterfree. And Alex had it on him.
Six years old. He witnessed his first Pokémon kill; and it was his own.