Somewhere between Pewter City and Cerulean City, sunlight spilled through the trees and danced on the surface of a winding river. At its edge sat a young red-haired girl, her bare feet brushing against the water, a fishing rod steady in her hands.
She had been there for nearly two hours without a single bite, but her grin hadn't wavered once. Misty loved a good challenge — and rumor had it that some unusually strong Water-types lurked in this stretch of river.
If it took her eight hours to reel one in, then so be it.
Maybe she'd catch something exotic — a Seaking, a Tentacruel, even a Slowpoke. Not her style, but respectable enough. Or maybe, just maybe, she'd snag herself a wild Gyarados.
Yeah. Right. Keep dreaming, Misty.
Still, her optimism refused to sink. Whatever Pokémon was swimming down there, she'd make sure it ended up on her team. After all, she needed all the strength she could get for what lay ahead—
A sudden tug snapped her from her thoughts. The rod jerked forward violently, nearly yanking her into the water. Misty braced herself, both hands gripping the handle tight. Whatever had taken her bait was big—really big.
The struggle lasted almost a full minute before she pulled with every ounce of strength she had. Something burst out of the water, arcing high into the air before landing behind her with a heavy thud.
Misty whirled around, Poké Ball in hand——and froze.
On the grass behind her lay a soaked Poliwhirl… and a kid.
"Well," she muttered, lowering the rod, "when I said I wanted the catch of the year, this isn't quite what I had in mind."
The boy groaned, sitting up and shaking river water from his black hair. "Think we lost them, Poli?"
"Whirl," the tadpole Pokémon replied, equally drenched.
Misty tilted her head, amused. "Kid, I get wanting to bond with your Pokémon, but swimming in your clothes? Not the best idea."
"What? No! I wasn't swimming—uh, not this time anyway." He gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "But thanks for the save. I'm Red Tanjiro, and this here's Poli."
"The name's Misty," she said, smiling. "And don't mention it. Though I do have to ask—what exactly were you two doing in the river?"
Before Red could answer, a harsh voice cut through the air.
"THERE YOU ARE, YOU LITTLE RUNT!"
They both turned. Three figures in black uniforms were sprinting toward them, the unmistakable red R emblazoned across their chests.
Misty's eyes narrowed, her hand tightening around her fishing rod. She knew that logo anywhere.
Team Rocket.
"Oh, come on!" Red groaned. "How did they catch up so fast?!"
"Doesn't matter," one of the grunts barked. "You're going to pay for what you did, brat."
Another sneered at Misty. "Run along, sweetheart. Once we're done with him and his Poliwhirl, you're next."
Red stepped in front of her, teeth gritted. "Misty, these guys are dangerous. Get somewhere safe—I'll handle this!"
"As if!" Misty pushed him aside, glaring at the Rockets. "I've got unfinished business with these clowns. No way am I letting some kid play hero in my stead."
One of the grunts smirked. "You should listen to your boyfriend, little girl."
"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" Misty's face went crimson. "And I told you—I've got a score to settle!" She snatched a Poké Ball from her belt and hurled it forward. "Go! Starmie!"
A burst of light revealed a purple, ten-pointed star Pokémon with a glowing red gem at its core. It spun once in midair before hovering beside her, ready for battle.
The Rockets laughed. "Kid, you couldn't have picked a worse matchup if you tried."
Three Poké Balls hit the ground in unison, releasing a Magnemite, a Voltorb, and an Electabuzz—all sparking with static.
Red winced. "Yikes. Triple Electric-types. Not great odds." He unclipped one of his own Poké Balls. "Guess we'll just have to even it up. Misty, I'm with you."
She gave him a quick look—hesitant, then confident. "Alright, Red. Don't slow me down."
Red grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it! Let's do this, Pikachu!"
A flash of light, and a yellow mouse appeared, cheeks crackling with energy.
"Alright, Pika, ready for—"
Before he could finish, Pikachu zapped him square in the chest.
"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" Red yelped, smoke curling from his jacket.
"Pika pika!" came the indignant reply.
"You're still mad I didn't use you in the Gym match, aren't you?"
Another thunderbolt answered him.
Misty pinched the bridge of her nose. "On second thought, I think I'll handle this myself."
Team Rocket burst out laughing, their Pokémon buzzing with amusement. "Wow, kid. You're the biggest joke we've seen all week. How'd you even make it out of Viridian Forest alive?"
"I'll have you know I scored an eighty-seven on my Trainer's Exam!" Red snapped.
"Really? Could've fooled us," one grunt snorted.
Pikachu's ears twitched. That insult crossed the line. No one mocked his Trainer but him.
"Pika pika!" he cried, sparks flaring.
Red grinned. "That's the spirit! Pika, use Thundershock!"
The mouse unleashed a bolt that struck both Voltorb and Magnemite, frying their circuits—but Electabuzz dodged easily.
"You call that an Electric attack?" a Rocket jeered. "Electabuzz, show him how it's done! Thunder Punch!"
Lightning surged around Electabuzz's fist as it charged forward, slamming Pikachu with a vicious right hook that sent him flying into a tree.
"Pika!" Red shouted, rushing to him—only for Magnemite and Voltorb to turn their attacks on him.
Before they could hit, a blast of water intercepted them—Poliwhirl's doing.
"Hey! That's against the rules!" Red yelled.
The Rockets cackled. "We're Team Rocket, genius! We don't play by the rules!"
"…Okay, yeah, that one's on me," Red muttered, bracing himself.
"Finish them off!" a grunt shouted. "Electabuzz, Thunder Punch again!"
But before Electabuzz could land the blow, a purple blur shot across the battlefield, slamming into it mid-charge. The impact sent sparks flying.
"Nice one, Starmie! Keep it up—Rapid Spin!" Misty commanded.
Starmie launched forward again, spinning like a blade and striking its foes with precision.
One grunt growled. "Magnemite, Thunder—now!"
A massive bolt struck Starmie dead-on… and did absolutely nothing. The star Pokémon hovered, completely unfazed.
"What the—how?!"
Red blinked in disbelief. "Wait, Electric attacks don't work on it?!"
Misty smirked. "Trade secret."
Starmie darted forward again, slamming into each Electric-type with relentless spins. Within moments, all three enemy Pokémon were down, barely conscious.
"Had enough?" Misty asked coolly.
The Rockets snarled.
"Fine," she said, eyes flashing. "Let's end this. Starmie—Hyper Beam!"
Even Red gawked. "She's not serious—"
But she was. The gem at Starmie's core glowed bright, unleashing a brilliant orange beam that tore through the battlefield and exploded in a wave of dust and heat. When it cleared, the Electric-types lay unconscious.
"So," Misty said with a smirk, "weren't you saying something about us being just a couple of brats?"
The Rockets glared but recalled their Pokémon. "You'll regret this, girl!" one spat before they bolted into the forest.
"I doubt it," Misty said, brushing her hair back.
When she turned, Red, Pikachu, and Poliwhirl were all staring at her in awe.
"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Red's eyes were wide. "How did you do that? Your Starmie just shrugged off Electric attacks like they were nothing! And that Hyper Beam—whoa!"
Misty chuckled, pointing toward the bank behind her. "Take a look."
There, half-hidden under a blanket, was a pile of sand.
"I don't get it," Red admitted.
"Ever heard of a move called Camouflage?" she asked.
He blinked. "Can't say I have."
She smiled knowingly. "It changes a Pokémon's type depending on the terrain. Sand makes it a Ground-type."
Red's jaw dropped. "That's genius! No wonder Starmie was untouchable!" He turned to his partners. "We should totally learn that move!"
"Sorry," Misty said lightly, "but I don't think Pikachu or Poliwhirl can."
"Seriously?" Red whipped out a red device and started frantically tapping. "Let's see what the Pokédex says!"
The screen flickered to life, and a familiar robotic voice spoke:
Starmie — the Mysterious Pokémon.Type: Water and Psychic.Its central core glows with the seven colors of the rainbow. Some believe it came from outer space.
Misty's eyes widened. "That's incredible! What else can it do?"
Red scrolled down, reading aloud:
Camouflage — A Normal-type move. Changes the user's type based on the surrounding terrain.
He looked up, amazed. "So you weren't kidding."
"Told you," Misty said, crossing her arms with a grin. "Now, Cerulean City isn't far from here. You should get your Pokémon checked at the Center."
Red looked down at Poli, who was covered in light bruises, and nodded. "Good idea."
They recalled their Pokémon and started down the path together. After a few minutes of quiet walking, Misty glanced at him.
"So," she said casually, "mind telling me why you were being chased by Team Rocket?"
Red scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "Funny story, actually."
"Well," Misty said with a chuckle, "we've got time."
And so, as the sun dipped lower over the forest, Red began to tell her just how he and his Pokémon ended up being hunted by Team Rocket—a story that was only just beginning.
"That was… surprisingly tougher than expected," Red muttered, turning the small grey badge in his hand.
The Boulder Badge. Proof of his first Gym victory. It was shaped like a simple octagon, about the size of a coin, and yet it carried the weight of everything he'd gone through to earn it.
After the chaos back in Viridian Forest, the police had offered him a ride straight to Pewter City. Originally, he'd wanted to challenge the Viridian Gym—but with its Leader mysteriously "out of town," Red figured it was smarter to head for the next one instead.
When he arrived, he met Brock, the Pewter City Gym Leader. Red was surprised at how young he looked; maybe a year older than Daisy, perhaps younger. But despite that, the guy carried himself with the calm confidence of someone twice his age. Responsible. Grounded.
And patient, too. Before the battle, Brock had taken the time to ask about Red's experience, how many Pokémon he had, and if he'd battled before.
The match had been a two-on-two, with Brock fielding a Geodude and a Graveler, both Rock and Ground types. Red had sent out Poli and Krabby, leaving Pika fuming on the sidelines. The mouse had almost fried him in protest before Red recalled him to safety.
Even with the type advantage, the battle hadn't been easy. Brock's Pokémon were defensive monsters, and their raw power had kept Red on the edge of his seat. If he hadn't switched Krabby for Poli at the last second, that final Rock Throw might've crushed him.
But in the end, victory was his.
Now, walking through the streets of Pewter, badge in hand and his stomach rumbling, Red was searching for the Pokémon Center. That's when he spotted three men standing at the mouth of an alleyway. Black uniforms. Matching gloves.
He froze.
Those outfits looked way too familiar.
Common sense said to keep walking. But Red being Red…
He ducked behind a crate and peeked around the corner. Sure enough—three Team Rocket grunts, all glancing around like they were waiting for someone.
He sighed, pulling a Poké Ball from his belt. "Alright, Poli. Just in case."
The Water-type appeared with a splash of light, immediately giving him a look that said, Really? Again?
"I know, I know," Red whispered. "But this'll just be a quick look, I promise. We're not doing anything crazy this time."
Poli wasn't convinced. His trainer's definition of "crazy" was flexible at best.
They crept closer. After a few minutes, a man in a business suit arrived, briefcase in hand. The four started talking in low voices.
"...specific Pokémon…""...we're the best in the business…""...high reward…"
Red squinted, trying to catch details. Then the man in the suit pulled a photo from his case. From their distance, it was hard to tell—but it looked like a Dragonite. A green one.
"Whoa," Red murmured. "Never seen one like that before—"
Crunch.
He froze. Beneath his foot lay a crushed soda can.
The grunts' heads snapped up.
"I thought you said you weren't followed!" the man in the suit hissed, panic flashing across his face.
One grunt tried to calm him. "Relax, it's probably just a Rattata digging through the trash."
That might've worked—if Red hadn't immediately stepped on another can.
The businessman's eyes went wide. "Forget this—I knew I should've hired Hunter J!" He bolted out of the alley, sprinting for the main street.
"...That's our cue," Red whispered.
He and Poli turned to leave—but the Rockets' voices stopped them cold.
"Do you have any idea how much money you just cost us, kid?!"
Red forced an awkward laugh and slowly turned around. "Uh… hi there! Nice weather we're having, huh?"
A sense of déjà vu hit him hard. Why did this feel so familiar?
One of the grunts narrowed his eyes. "Hold up. Aren't you the brat who ruined one of our operations in Viridian Forest?"
"Yeah," said another. "I heard about some kid with a black-haired and a Poliwhirl who got two of our guys arrested."
"What? No, no, that wasn't me!" Red said quickly. "You must be thinking of someone else—uh, name's… Ruby?"
Meanwhile, in Johto…
A dark-haired boy walking with a hyena-like Pokémon suddenly sneezed."That's weird," he said. "Hey, Nana, you think someone's talking about me?"
The Mightyena barked in confusion.
Back in Kanto…
"I say we teach this punk a lesson," growled a Rocket. "If not for Viridian, then for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."
Red sighed. "Poli—Water Gun!"
Before the grunts could react, three powerful blasts hit them square in the face, knocking them flat.
"Run!" Red shouted, and he and Poli dashed out of the alley at full speed. The Rockets scrambled after them, slipping on puddles as they cursed.
"Seriously," Red panted as they tore through the trees at the city's edge, "I'm pretty sure this has happened before."
"Then, as we kept running, an explosion knocked us straight into the river. Probably one of them used Thunder on us," Red said, finishing his explanation with a sheepish shrug.
"I see," was all Misty replied.
Red glanced at her. "So, I told you my side of the story. How about yours?"
That caught Misty off guard. "Mine?"
"Yeah. You seemed really mad at Team Rocket just now."
Misty hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the water beside them. "Well, why wouldn't I be? They're a bunch of good-for-nothing thieves who do nothing but steal from others." Her voice softened. "But… that's not the real reason I'm angry."
Red tilted his head. "Then what is?"
She took a breath. "About a month ago, they broke into our home while my sisters and I were asleep. Before we even knew what was happening, they escaped—with one of our Pokémon." Her fists clenched. "With my Pokémon."
Her voice trembled between anger and pain. Red could see the conflict on her face—grief barely masked by fury.
He didn't say anything at first. He just listened. Because he understood. He'd be furious too if someone took Poli, Krabby, or even Pika away from him. No matter how much Pika might shock him, losing any of them would break his heart.
"So," he asked quietly, "are you planning to take on Team Rocket?"
Misty nodded without hesitation. "Even if it means facing them all by myself, I will. Not just for my Pokémon—but for everyone they've ever hurt."
Her words hit Red harder than he expected. That kind of determination… it was admirable. Inspiring, even. Misty wasn't just strong—she was brave.
"You won't have to take them on alone," he said suddenly.
She blinked. "What?"
"I'm going to help you rescue your Pokémon," Red said firmly.
Misty stopped walking, eyes wide. "You're serious?"
"You remind me of a friend," Red continued. "Something happened to her a while ago. She never told us much, but I could tell it wasn't good. She tries to deal with it all on her own—and that bothers me. She's got friends who care about her, friends who want to help, but she keeps it all bottled up." He looked down, a faint smile on his lips. "I just wish she'd trust us more."
He remembered the day Blue finally opened up—how she'd been taken from her family at just three years old, forced into some twisted experiment. While he was playing games with his parents, she was fighting to survive under a madman's control. The thought still made his stomach turn.
"That's why I want to help you," Red said, meeting Misty's eyes. "Please. Let me."
Misty studied him in silence. Team Rocket wasn't something to underestimate—but Red's expression told her everything she needed to know. Determination. Empathy. Heart. She'd only seen that same fire once before—in her own reflection, the night she swore to get her Pokémon back.
A small smile tugged at her lips. "That girl is lucky to have you as a friend. Fine then—it's the two of us against them. You up for it, Red?"
He grinned. "Come on, do you even have to ask?"
Misty crossed her arms with mock seriousness. "Good. Once your Pokémon are fully healed, I'm making sure you and your team are battle-ready."
"Wait, what?"
"I mean, I'm glad you want to help," she said, teasingly smirking, "but after seeing how you handled those grunts, you could use some work."
"Hey! In my defense, we were still tired from our battle with the Pewter Gym Leader! If not for that, I'd have mopped the floor with them."
"Sure you would've," she said, laughing. "Still, a little training won't hurt. Let's get stronger—together—so we can teach those clowns a lesson!"
"You bet we will!" Red said, raising his fist beside hers.
For a moment, the two trainers stood there beneath the setting sun, united by a shared purpose.
It was in that moment that Red decided to take on the criminal organization.It was in that moment that Team Rocket's greatest threat was born.
The late afternoon light poured through the high glass windows of the Pewter Gym, casting long amber shadows across the rocky battlefield.
A boy stood in the challenger's square—lean, sharp-eyed, his posture calm but his smile edged with confidence. His dark green jacket fluttered slightly with each breath of wind that slipped through the cracked windows above.
Green Oak.
To anyone else, he looked perfectly in control, the picture of a seasoned trainer despite being barely a teenager. But inside, a single thought pulsed behind his cool expression:
"I really hope this works."
Across the field, Brock—the Pewter City Gym Leader—stood with arms folded. His expression was unreadable, his muscles tense beneath his sleeveless vest. Behind him, faint laughter of children could be heard from deeper within the Gym's residential area.
"So," Brock said, his tone calm and measured. "You're here for the Boulder Badge?"
Green nodded, holding up a Poké Ball and twirling it lazily between his fingers. "That's the idea. Heard you're the toughest Gym Leader on this side of Kanto. Thought I'd see for myself."
Brock's eyebrow raised slightly at the cocky tone, but there was something honest behind it—a spark of curiosity rather than arrogance.
"I hope you're ready, kid," Brock said. "My Pokémon are trained for real battles, not playground matches."
Green smirked. "Good. Because I don't play."
The referee stepped aside. "This will be a two-on-two Gym Battle between Brock of Pewter City and the challenger, Green from Pallet Town. Begin!"
Round One: Machop vs Geodude
Green's Poké Ball snapped open with a burst of white light.
"Let's hit it, Machop!"
The fighting-type landed with a solid thud, flexing its arms and smirking at its opponent. Brock mirrored the motion, tossing his own Poké Ball.
"Geodude, go!"
The rocky sphere emerged, eyes glowing, fists slamming together like hammers.
The two Pokémon stared each other down, tension crackling in the air.
Brock raised a hand. "You can take the first move."
Green didn't hesitate. "Machop, Karate Chop—start strong!"
Machop lunged forward, its hand glowing white. Geodude braced itself, rock-hard skin shimmering in defense. The hit landed with a sharp crack, but Geodude barely flinched.
"Counter with Mega Punch!" Brock shouted.
Geodude's fist slammed into Machop's gut, sending the smaller Pokémon sliding backward, clutching its stomach.
Green exhaled through his nose, his confident smirk tightening slightly. "He's tougher than expected… Alright, new plan."
Machop steadied itself. Green's voice was calm but precise, like a tactician in battle. "Feint left, then Low Kick!"
Machop darted forward, moving left, then spun low—its leg sweeping under Geodude. The rock-type lost its balance, crashing hard onto its back.
"That's it!" Green shouted. "Now, Seismic Toss!"
Before Brock could react, Machop grabbed Geodude, muscles tightening, and leaped high into the air. Then—wham!—it slammed Geodude into the ground, dust exploding around them.
When the smoke cleared, Geodude lay still.
"Geodude is unable to battle," said the referee. "Machop wins!"
Brock silently recalled his Pokémon. His jaw tightened—not out of anger, but focus. "Not bad. Most challengers don't even get this far."
Green shrugged. "Guess I'm not most challengers."
Round Two: Machop vs Onix
Brock's next Poké Ball hit the ground with force.
"Onix, you're up!"
The Gym trembled as the massive rock serpent emerged, towering over Machop. Its roar echoed through the arena, sending pebbles tumbling from the ceiling.
Green's smirk faltered for a brief moment. Yeah… definitely bigger than I thought.
Still, he raised his hand, voice sharp. "Machop, Low Kick again!"
Machop charged forward—but Onix slammed its tail down, creating a shockwave that sent Machop tumbling backward.
"Bind!" Brock commanded.
Before Machop could recover, Onix's massive body coiled around it, squeezing tightly. Machop struggled, gasping, its strength fading.
Green gritted his teeth. "Come on… come on…" His hands clenched into fists.
Then he made a mistake.
"Break free with Karate Chop!"
Machop tried, but its arms were pinned too tightly. The command was useless—and Brock took full advantage.
"Rock Throw!"
Onix whipped its tail, hurling a barrage of stones at close range. Machop took the brunt of the hit and collapsed.
Green cursed under his breath. "Rookie error… should've waited for an opening."
"Machop is unable to battle!" declared the referee. "Onix wins!"
Green recalled his Pokémon, letting out a quiet sigh. His expression shifted—not frustration, but concentration.
"Alright. You did great, Machop. Get some rest."
He reached for his next Poké Ball, holding it for a second before tossing it. "Your turn, Growlithe!"
Round Three: Growlithe vs Onix
Growlithe landed gracefully, fur flaring bright orange as flames flickered in its mouth. It barked fiercely, the heat of its presence cutting through the dusty air.
"Fire won't do you much good here," Brock warned. "My Onix has seen plenty of fire-types."
Green's smirk returned. "Then let's try something new. Growlithe—use Ember! But aim at the ceiling!"
Brock blinked. "The ceiling?"
Growlithe spat several small flames upward—not at Onix, but at the old sprinkler system above.
The fire caught briefly, triggering a loud beep-beep-beep! before water burst from the ceiling in thin streams. The entire battlefield was soon soaked.
Brock's eyes widened slightly. "You… planned that?"
Green shrugged with an innocent grin. "Hey, accidents happen."
Now, Onix was dripping wet, its rock body glistening. Green raised a hand sharply. "Growlithe—Flame Charge, now!"
"What? Fire attacks shouldn't—!"
But as the flames wrapped around Growlithe's soaked body, the heat created a burst of steam, shrouding the arena. Visibility dropped to zero.
"Perfect," Green whispered. "Now circle and strike!"
From within the mist, Growlithe's glowing eyes darted, moving unpredictably. Onix swung wildly but hit nothing but air. Then—bam!—Growlithe struck its side with a tackle charged by heat and momentum.
Onix roared, reeling backward.
Brock clenched his jaw. "Onix, Dig!"
The rock serpent dove underground, disappearing beneath the drenched floor. The ground rumbled violently.
"Stay sharp," Green murmured. "Listen, Growlithe… Don't watch—listen."
Growlithe closed its eyes, ears twitching.
Then, suddenly—cracks appeared beneath them. Onix erupted from below, lunging up—but Growlithe had already moved, springing sideways.
"Now! Flame Wheel, full power!"
Growlithe spun, wreathed in fire and steam, and slammed straight into Onix's head. The impact echoed like thunder. When the dust cleared, Onix's eyes had gone blank.
The referee raised his hand. "Onix is unable to battle! The winner of this match is Green from Pallet Town!"
The battlefield was silent for a heartbeat, then Brock smiled faintly, recalling his Pokémon. "You did it. Honestly… that was impressive. I didn't think anyone your age could adapt like that mid-battle."
Green rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh. I made some dumb calls early on. Machop took the worst of it. But mistakes are just... part of figuring things out."
Brock nodded. "That's something even seasoned trainers forget."
He approached, holding out a small grey octagonal badge. "Here. The Boulder Badge. You've earned it."
Green took it, holding it between his fingers. The metal glimmered faintly in the fading light. "Thanks. Not bad for a first try, huh?"
Brock chuckled. "Not bad at all."
After the Battle
The two walked out of the Gym together, the evening settling over Pewter City like a cool blanket.
Brock glanced sideways at the boy who'd just beaten him. "So, what now? Heading for Cerulean?"
"Yeah," Green replied, hands in his pockets. "Figured I'd get a head start before my grandpa lectures me about pacing myself."
"Grandpa?"
"Professor Oak," Green said casually.
Brock's eyes widened slightly. "So that's who you are."
Green smirked. "Don't worry, I'm not him. I like doing things my way."
They both laughed softly.
Then, from behind, a familiar voice broke the quiet.
"Then go and make those dreams of yours a reality."
Both turned.
There, standing under the streetlight, was a man in a worn cloak, holding a notebook and a nervous smile.
Brock's eyes widened. "...Dad?"
Green blinked. "Wait—Rock guy?!"
The man chuckled sheepishly, pulling off his hood and false beard to reveal a face nearly identical to Brock's, just older and more tired.
"Rock guy?" Brock echoed, deadpan.
Green nodded. "Yeah. He kind of scammed me earlier. Sold me a 'souvenir rock' for 10 PokéDollars."
Flint coughed into his fist. "Tough times. Gotta make a living."
Brock folded his arms. "You're unbelievable."
Flint's tone softened. "Brock… I know what I did was wrong. When I failed my journey, I thought running away was easier than facing everyone. But I robbed you of your chance to chase your own dreams. I'm sorry, son."
Brock stood silently for a long moment, staring at the man he'd once looked up to—and resented for years. Then, slowly, his frown melted into a small, bittersweet smile.
"Dad… I'm still mad. But… I get it."
Flint blinked, surprised.
Brock handed him a small bundle from his pocket. "Sussie always rips her dresses, so you better learn how to sew. Timmy likes cold spaghetti, and Tommy only eats cornflakes for dinner."
"Wait, wait—slow down, I need to write this down," Flint said hurriedly, pulling a notepad from seemingly nowhere.
Green snorted, barely holding back laughter. "You two are way too alike."
Brock turned back to him. "So… you're heading east, right?"
Green nodded. "Cerulean. Heard the Gym there's run by a water specialist."
Brock looked down at his badge case, then back at Green. "Mind if I come along? I think it's time I started chasing my own dream again."
Green smirked. "You sure your dad can handle nine kids?"
Flint, already scribbling in his notebook, waved them off. "As long as they don't explode the kitchen, I'll be fine!"
Brock exhaled with a smile. "Yeah… I think he'll manage."
And so, as dawn broke over the stony cliffs of Pewter City, Green Oak and Brock set out together toward the road that led to Cerulean.
The confident boy and the once-weary Gym Leader—each carrying their own lessons, their own mistakes, and their own goals.
That morning marked the start of something new—a friendship built not on rivalry, but on respect.
And though Green would never admit it out loud, as he walked beside Brock, he thought to himself:
"Guess traveling with someone might not be that bad."
"HEEEEELP!"
The desperate cry echoed through the forest.
A brown-haired boy — well, if you could call a scrawny fifteen-year-old a man — was running for his life through the trees. His heart hammered in his chest, breath coming fast and uneven.
Behind him, voices shouted. Team Rocket grunts.
The boy — Bill — pushed his legs harder. He'd already lost them, but the fear of being caught kept his feet moving. He didn't dare stop. Not yet.
Unfortunately, that also meant he didn't notice the thick roots jutting out from the forest floor.
His foot caught.
"—Whoa!"
Bill tumbled forward, face-first into the dirt.
"Ow," he groaned, wincing as he tried to push himself up.
"See, this is why you should always look where you're going," said a voice — female, casual, with a trace of amused sarcasm.
Bill blinked and looked up. Standing there, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her lips, was a girl about his age. Brown hair, blue eyes, and the kind of confidence that said she never got lost in the woods.
Next to her stood two Pokémon: a round pink Jigglypuff humming idly, and a small Ditto perched on her shoulder.
"Jiggly, puff," cooed Jiggly, smiling.
"Di, ditto," added Ditty in agreement.
"Hey, you still alive down there?" the girl asked.
Bill rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the concern."
"You know," the girl said, hands on her hips, "you kinda remind me of a friend of mine. He never watched where he was going either — especially when he was excited."
Bill gave a nervous laugh. "I wouldn't exactly call this excitement."
He hesitated, then straightened up and extended a hand. "Oh, uh, I'm Bill. Nice to meet you, um…?"
The girl blinked, then turned on her heel. "Sorry. I don't usually give my name to people I just met. Anyway, if you'll excuse us, we've got places to be. Sooo…"
She and her Pokémon began walking off.
"Wait!" Bill cried, stumbling after her. "You can't go that way!"
The girl stopped and glanced back. "Why not? Cerulean City's that direction. Fastest route's through Mt. Moon."
"Yeah, but—it's not safe!"
"What, the wild Pokémon? I can handle them."
"It's not that!" Bill shouted. "Team Rocket's on Mt. Moon!"
At that, the girl froze.
Team Rocket.
Again.
She sighed, already annoyed. "You sure?"
Bill nodded furiously. "I was doing some field research in the cave when I ran into them. I tried sneaking out, but they spotted me — and they took one of my Pokémon!" His voice cracked, grief and guilt bleeding through. "Please, you have to help me get it back!"
Blue — though Bill didn't know her name yet — stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable.
Then she said flatly, "Nope."
"Wha—wait, what?!"
"Look, Bob—"
"It's Bill."
"—whatever. You seem nice and all, but I've got my own schedule. If I were you, I'd go to the police instead of begging strangers in the woods."
"I would," Bill said quickly, panic rising in his voice, "but I don't have any way to contact them! The nearest station's in Cerulean! By the time help got here, Team Rocket would already be gone! Please, I'm begging you!"
His voice broke, and before he realized it, he'd dropped to his knees. Tears welled in his eyes as he bowed deeply.
Blue stared, silent.
For him, every second of that silence stretched like an eternity.
Finally, she sighed. "Sorry, but the answer's still no."
Bill froze. The color drained from his face. When she turned to leave again, he stayed kneeling there — trembling, shoulders shaking as quiet sobs escaped him.
Blue stopped a few paces away.
She didn't turn around right away, but her jaw tightened.
Sure, she could help him. But his problem wasn't her problem. She'd already tangled with Team Rocket once before — and honestly, she still wasn't sure why she'd done it. Maybe because she hated seeing Pokémon treated like tools. Maybe because the man in charge reminded her too much of him. Or maybe just because Erika had been insufferable that day and she needed to punch something.
Whatever the reason, that had been different. Right?
But as she glanced back, she saw Bill — hunched, shaking, broken.
And, despite herself, a thought flickered across her mind.
Did anyone cry like that when I was taken away?
Blue stopped walking. Jiggly tilted her head, confused. Ditty blinked twice.
Then, Blue threw her head back and yelled,"GODDAMN IT, RED!!!"
The shout was so sudden, both her Pokémon jumped. Somewhere far away, a black-haired boy sneezed loudly, startling his redheaded companion.
Bill looked up, startled by her outburst. Tears still streaked his face as he saw her marching back toward him.
"Alright," she said, crossing her arms. "If we're doing this, you do exactly as I say. Got it?"
"Wha—what?" Bill stammered.
"You want your Pokémon back, don't you?"
"Of course, but you said—"
"I know what I said," Blue interrupted. "Look, I want to get to Cerulean fast. You want to rescue your Pokémon. Turns out both those things involve Mt. Moon. So, we team up, we get this done, and we both move on. Deal?"
Bill blinked, his mind taking a few seconds to catch up. Then his expression softened into sheer relief. "Oh, thank you, thank you! You have no idea—"
"Whoa, whoa, hold your Rapidash, pal," Blue said, taking a step back as he almost hugged her. "Let's get something straight. This doesn't make us friends. It just means our paths line up for now."
"Right! Sorry! I just—thank you. Really. Um… Miss—?"
Blue paused. She hadn't actually thought about what to call herself. She definitely wasn't giving him her real name.
Her gaze drifted upward — to a tree branch where a single green leaf fluttered in the breeze.
"You can call me… Leaf," she said finally.
"Leaf?" Bill echoed. "So that's your name?"
"Let's just say it's the name you get to use," she replied coolly. "Look, you seem decent, Brad—"
"Bill."
"—but only four people have earned my trust enough to know my real name. You're not one of them. Yet."
Bill smiled sheepishly. "Fair enough, Leaf. And thank you again. Really."
For reasons she didn't quite understand, that made her smile. Maybe it was seeing him calm down. Maybe it was the faint echo of who she used to be. Or maybe, annoyingly enough, it was Red's influence creeping in.
Either way, she felt… lighter.
"Alright then," Leaf said, turning toward the shadowy mountains in the distance. "Start talking, Bill. Tell me everything you know about these Rocket clowns."
She adjusted her gloves, eyes narrowing with focus.
If she could take down an entire Rocket operation on her own, stopping a handful of grunts in a cave would be child's play.
Green was now in a town west of Cerulean City. It had been a few days since he defeated the Pewter City Gym, though oddly enough, the experience hadn't been quite what he expected.
Before arriving, he'd heard that the Gym Leader was young — maybe around his sister's age — yet respected by everyone. Someone calm, capable, and reliable. Someone who could be trusted to keep things together no matter what.
When Green finally stood in front of the Gym, the stories hadn't done justice to the man who greeted him. Brock wasn't what Green had imagined — quiet but commanding, his very stance radiating strength and focus. The battle that followed wasn't easy. It was the first time Green had felt pushed, forced to think rather than simply act. He'd won, yes, but not without losing a Pokémon — and that loss lingered more than he wanted to admit.
Now, with his first badge and some reward money, Green's next goal was already clear: head east, to Cerulean City, and crush its Gym Leader.
And this time, he wasn't alone.
Brock had decided to tag along for a while — partly to travel, partly to keep an eye on him, though Green didn't know (or care to ask) which reason mattered more. Truth be told, it was a little comforting having someone else around. Someone who could cook, fix campfires, and offer quiet advice when things went south.
Not that Green would ever say that aloud.
At the moment, Green was walking down a small street when someone began shouting for him.
He ignored it.
The voice called again.
He walked faster.
Unfortunately, the caller didn't seem the type to give up easily.
"WHAT?!" Green snapped, spinning on his heel to glare at whoever was shouting.
A little kid — six, maybe seven — stood there, blinking up at him with wide brown eyes. His yellow shirt and backwards blue cap made him look even smaller.
"Are you a Pokémon Trainer?" the kid asked innocently.
Green's left eye twitched. "…What if I am?" he said through clenched teeth.
The boy didn't seem to notice his irritation. "I heard a bunch of trainers are battling at the park! They said whoever beats them all gets a big surprise!"
And with that, the kid ran off.
Green stared after him for a few seconds before sighing, muttering, "Kids."
Brock chuckled quietly beside him. "You are a kid, you know."
Green shot him a glare. "Not like that kid."
"Sure," Brock said, smiling faintly. "You gonna check it out?"
Green shoved his hands in his pockets. "Might as well. Maybe I'll find someone decent for once."
The park wasn't far, and by the time they arrived, a small crowd had gathered around a roped-off battle area. Trainers were lined up, waiting for their turns, while a man in a white jacket stood near the front, overseeing the whole thing.
"Hey," Green said, stepping forward. "I heard that if I beat your lot, I get a reward. That true?"
The man turned to face him. He was in his mid-thirties, with slick purple hair and an expression that screamed I think I'm better than you.
"Why yes, that's true," the man said smoothly. "But I must warn you, boy — this trial isn't for the faint of heart. Only the strongest may take part in my event."
Green raised an eyebrow. "That so? Heh. Then this might not be a total waste of time after all."
Brock crossed his arms, glancing at the organizer. "You sure about letting him in? He tends to break egos faster than bones."
The man's confident smile faltered slightly. "Is that so…? Well then, let's see if the young man can back that attitude. Your first opponent awaits just ahead."
Green walked past with a smirk. "Start getting my reward ready. This won't take long."
As he passed, Brock murmured under his breath, "Confidence's good. Overconfidence? Not so much."
"Relax, old man," Green said without looking back. "I've got this."
The first trainer wasn't much older than Green — maybe fifteen, with a bowl cut, a yellow jacket, and shorts that didn't fit.
"So, a new challenger, huh?" the trainer called, puffing his chest out. "I should warn you — four people have already tried this and none got past me!"
Green gave him a flat look. "I'm nothing like the mediocrity you've faced so far."
Brock gave a low whistle. "And here I thought I was the one with a rock-solid ego."
The trainer flinched, clearly rattled by Green's cold tone. His intimidation routine had worked on others — just not on this kid.
"Y-you won't be so smug once I'm done with you!" he barked, throwing a Poké Ball. In a flash of light, a large brown rodent appeared, baring its fangs.
"Raticate!"
Green pulled out his Pokédex, scanning it with casual interest.
Raticate the Mouse Pokémon and the Evolved Form of Rattata
A Normal Type, Pokedex number #020
It uses its whiskers to maintain its balance. It apparently slows down if they are cut off.
"Not exactly threatening," Green muttered. He pocketed the Pokédex and tossed out his own ball.
"Champ — let's go!"
His Machop emerged, flexing its arms and stomping the ground with a confident grunt.
The opposing trainer's face fell. "A Fighting-type?! That's—"
"Unfortunate for you," Green cut in.
Brock smirked slightly, arms folded. "Kid's learning type matchups fast."
"Champ, Low Kick!" Green commanded.
Raticate lunged with Hyper Fang, but Champ ducked beneath the bite and swung its leg around, knocking the rodent clean off its feet.
"Now, Seismic Toss!"
Green's voice carried sharp confidence — too sharp. Machop grabbed Raticate mid-fall and hurled it into the ground with a loud thud. Dust rose.
When it cleared, Raticate wasn't moving.
"Raticate is unable to battle!" someone announced.
Green smirked. "Told you this wouldn't take long."
The older trainer recalled his Pokémon, shoulders slumped. Brock stepped closer to Green, tilting his head.
"Good power control," Brock said. "But you got cocky between moves. If that Raticate had recovered a second faster, Champ could've taken a bite."
Green frowned, folding his arms. "Didn't happen."
"Yeah," Brock said calmly, "but learning from what didn't happen — that's how you keep winning."
Green grumbled something under his breath but didn't argue. Brock smiled faintly — the kid was stubborn, but he listened more than he let on.
As they walked to the next battle, Brock glanced at him sideways. "So… think the next guy'll last longer?"
Green shrugged. "Doubt it. But let's hope he's smarter. I'm starting to get bored."
"Careful what you wish for," Brock said. "Strong trainers have a way of humbling you when you least expect it."
Green smirked. "Good. I could use the challenge."