The sterile quiet of Professor Oak's laboratory seemed to hum with anticipation. The gleaming steel pedestal in the center of the room stood like a shrine, its polished surface reflecting the dim overhead lights. Ash's heart was pounding in his chest so loudly that he was convinced the professor could hear it. His palms sweated despite the cool air drifting through the wide windows.
He finally blurted the question that had been dancing nervously on his tongue:
"Professor… will I even get a starter Pokémon?"
His voice cracked ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, Ash regretted asking so directly. But then, the actor inside him stirred — the same actor who had saved him countless times when his clumsy bravado needed covering. He let his expression melt into one of exaggerated pleading, eyes wide, posture leaning forward, the perfect picture of desperate sincerity.
Just like in the stories he had replayed in his mind a hundred times, he practically begged.
"Please, Professor! Any Pokémon is fine for me. I don't care which one! Just—just give me a chance. Any Pokémon at all!"
The corners of Oak's mouth twitched as though he were suppressing a chuckle. He folded his hands behind his back and studied Ash for a moment, his gaze sharp yet gentle. Finally, he replied in a voice that was both measured and carrying a weight of subtle amusement:
"No… there is still one left."
Ash's heart leapt into his throat, but before he could exclaim, Oak raised a hand.
"But there's a slight problem with him."
Ash didn't hesitate even for a breath. "That's fine! Any starter will be fine!" His voice carried both desperation and determination, and in his mind, he thought with a mixture of anxiety and excitement: Now the question is… which Pokémon will he give me?
Professor Oak turned toward the pedestal. With a deliberate motion, he pressed a concealed button on its side. A faint mechanical whir rose, and with a smooth hiss, a hidden compartment opened. From its depths, a single Poké Ball rose, illuminated by a soft blue glow that made it seem almost sacred.
The Poké Ball clicked into place at the center of the pedestal. Ash's breath caught.
Oak's eyes softened, though a trace of seriousness lingered in his tone. "This Pokémon… does not hate humans. No, far from it. But according to my observation, it is searching. Searching for something beyond the ordinary—a trainer worthy of its loyalty. It has already rejected eight trainers before you."
Ash's eyes widened. Rejected eight?
Oak continued, his voice carrying the authority of years spent studying and guiding. "When I learned there would be four of you this year, I knew three Kanto starters would not be enough. I reached out to my colleagues in Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, and Alola. But all of their starters had already been given out. Just yesterday, however, I received a call from Professor Sycamore of Kalos."
The old professor's lips curled into a small smile, as if recalling an amusing detail. "He told me that this Pokémon had rejected yet another trainer. It returned to his lab of its own accord—unwilling to follow someone it did not deem fit."
Ash's thoughts raced like lightning. His pulse hammered in his ears. This sounds… familiar. It has to be Froakie.
The boy's lips curved into a grin. Without waiting for Oak to say more, he stepped forward, hand trembling but firm, and closed his fingers around the Poké Ball. The cool metal felt electric in his palm, as though the weight of destiny itself had been pressed into his hand.
Raising it with almost theatrical flair, Ash pointed the ball toward the polished floor and declared, his voice brimming with youthful conviction:
"I choose you!"
And though he would never admit it aloud, he thought privately with a childish thrill: *Wow… that sounded so cool.*
The Poké Ball cracked open in a burst of radiant white light, spilling energy across the laboratory floor. The light swirled, condensed, and with a soft thump, a small blue figure emerged. Its body was sleek, with bubbles clinging to its back like a frothy cape. Its eyes were large, bright, and intelligent, studying the boy before it with unnerving intensity.
"Froakie," Oak announced with a faint nod of approval. "The Bubble Frog Pokémon. A Water-type from the Kalos region."
Ash's heart flipped. His guess had been right.
But the moment quickly sobered when Froakie tilted its head, arms crossed, its gaze scrutinizing. It wasn't the playful curiosity of a typical Pokémon. This was… evaluation. The little frog seemed to measure every twitch of Ash's face, every shift in his stance, as if deciding whether the boy before it was worth a second more of its attention.
Ash felt the weight of that stare. It was almost suffocating. So… this is what Professor meant. It doesn't hate humans. It just hasn't found someone… someone it can truly believe in.
And now, the challenge had landed squarely on him.
He now had the responsibility to make frokie believe in himself ash inwardly thought I need to prove myself in a battle
Ash broke the staring contest with froakie after hearing professor oak's voice "here ash this your pokedex and pokeballs"
Professor oak handed ash a pokedex and 5 pokeballs ash opened the pokedex while professor oak explained the features of the pokedex and called it the pokemon enscolopidia
After opening the pokedex he pointed it at froakie
Froakie
Species: bubble frog pokemon
Type: Water
Height: 0.3 m (1'00")
Weight: 7.0 kg (15.4) lbs
Ability- torrent
Froakie secretes flexible bubbles from its chest and back. These bubbles cushion physical impacts and allow it to spring into battle with remarkable agility. Highly alert, Froakie remains calm even in dire situations. It carefully observes its surroundings, choosing the precise moment to act. Though small, its strength and speed make it a formidable opponent for larger foes.
Nature- serious
Moves-bubble, pound, quick attack, water pulse, smokescreen.