Chapter 2: Not Rated E for Everyone

By the time I found Nurse Joy at the arena's medical station, we were out of breath—my sister from laughter and me from exertion; little Dot was getting less little every day.

“Joy-Joy,” she screamed from my shoulders, near deafening me. I don’t know how her voice could pierce my aura when the pressure waves from explosions couldn’t.

“Ah! There you two are,” she said, “I'm just about finished here. Let me close up and then we can head out.” She handed a ball to a familiar trainer that had been patiently waiting, and then headed into the back room to begin shutting down the pseudo Pokémon center. Dot went chasing after her, once I set her down, yelling about some made up adventure she had gone on with her imaginary friend, Joker. Her Evee stuffed animal was dragged along behind; Mrs. Sprinkles would need a trip through the wash tonight.

“Hey Marcus. Congratulations on the win,” I told the teen who had been talking with Joy, “Is Machoke alright?”

“Yes… Lilyanne’s Butterfree had a powerful poison powder… but she’ll be fine,” the new aspirant champion said with a small grin, which was his equivalent of an ear to ear smile. The boy really was the embodiment of a fighting type, perfectly fitting into the classic stoic trifecta. He was incredibly even keeled, especially for a sixteen year old, with an unwavering will and dedication. One only needed to look at his body to see the amount of effort he gave his craft.

He was tall, with dark skin, short curly hair, and looked like he ate dumbbells for breakfast. Some Machokes would be envious. It was incredibly unnatural for a boy only sixteen years old to be this developed, but aura did strange things to people, especially when bonded to a Pokémon. You need look no further than the Joys and Jennys for another example.

“So what’s the plan now that your aspirant year is over?” I tried starting a conversation, “Joining the conference, or going straight to the rangers?” For most I wouldn’t even bother asking. The deep wilds the rangers patrolled were very dangerous, so most waited as long as possible—until they were twenty—to begin their mandatory service. Marcus, however, had a strong sense of responsibility. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was brave—read foolish—enough to enlist early.

“I’m not sure. I wanted to join the force…” he said, confirming my thoughts, then hesitated. He often had long pauses in his speech pattern, but this one was excessive.

“Buuuut?” I lead.

He stared at me critically for a moment, as if judging me, before answering, “Machoke and I found a Hitmonlee.”

“Wow, you caught a Hitmonlee!” I was shocked. The Hitmon line was incredibly rare in Kanto. I could see how that would change his plans. He’d need to dedicate some time to trai-

“No,” he cut off my train of thought, “I challenged it, but I—in my hubris—did so before scanning it or performing a thorough observation… It was blue level,”

I froze, and there was silence for a moment, other than some echoing laughter in the distance.

“What?!” I finally broke, “A blue level on the main routes! And you challenged it!? You’re lucky to be alive!”

“I know… It was probably the biggest mistake I've ever made… and I may have gone a little further out than was strictly allowed… please don’t report me for that,” he said with a sheepish scratch of the head. It was ridiculous seeing a muscled hulk like him be so bashful.

“What happened?” I was shocked he had gotten away. His Machoke—a yellow—had made beating Pokémon at the orange density look easy, and for good reason. If conventional power scaling was to be believed, the aura spectrum grew exponentially. The standard ratios were 2-3 red level Pokémon to beat 1 orange, 5 orange for a yellow, 10 yellow for a green, 20 green for a blue, and so on. Following that logic, the Hitmonlee should have been 200 times more powerful than his Machoke.

Reality wasn’t so neat and simple, but it was still a good guideline. So basically, he had a Vanillite’s chance in hell against that Hitmonlee.

“I was lucky,” he shrugged, “I think it had been recently cleansed… It didn’t take offense at our challenge, and was incredibly mild tempered… It even gave Machoke and I some tips once it was done demonstrating its… superiority.”

“Wow, that was lucky,” is all I could say. Pokémon that had reached the blue density were usually the kings of the wild. Highly aggressive and territorial creatures that only the most powerful trainers could cleanse, which meant it didn’t happen very often.

“Yes,” Marcus nodded, “It was a humbling experience… and made me realize I’m not yet worthy of the Ranger corps… Perhaps next year,” he said with a disappointed droop of his head.

“Ah, well it’s good to know your limits at least,” I tried to encourage the hulking teenager.

“Yes… It has been good talking with you Laiton, but I have a training session I must get to,” he gave me a little bow, which I returned, and then walked off.

I couldn’t help but reminisce as I watched him go. This world still had a lot of the whimsy and wonder I remembered from the show, but it also had dark facets that never would be allowed on Cartoon Network.

Wild Pokémon, for one, weren’t nearly as friendly or tame as their show counterparts. Nature is hardcore, and doesn’t allow for cuddly personalities. It wasn’t as brutal of an ecosystem as back on earth, since most Pokémon subsist off of aura and berries rather than flesh and blood; the key word being most. Still, Pokémon—especially the strongest of them—could be very prideful, territorial, and easily insulted. The smallest slight could enrage one, especially if they hadn’t been cleansed recently.

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Many trainers had overstepped and died to one of the rampaging, superpowered creatures. It was actually the leading cause of death, now that the war was over.

I shook myself away from the pessimistic thoughts. It wasn’t that bad. With the revolutionary invention of things like the Pokédex and its scanning function, or smaller things like repels and space compressing backpacks, trainer mortality was at an all time low. Now, most fatalities were in the ranger corps, and the main routes were well maintained.

“Let’s go Lai-Lai,” I was shocked back to reality and found Dot tugging on my pant leg. I really needed to stop subconsciously circulating aura to my head.

“How did it go?” I asked the pink haired woman as she entered the security code for the medical center. Thick blast doors lowered into place, and an aura barrier layered over that with a soft hum. Some would consider it overkill, but with the value of all the fancy medical equipment inside—if anything—it wasn’t enough.

“Everything was fairly standard. Gordon’s Geodude was slightly damaged when a vine whip pierced his protective aura, but its rock shell absorbed most of it. A couple spritz of potion and a day’s rest and they’ll be right as rain,” she said with the classic Nurse Joy smile, “The rest just had standard aura exhaustion. It was boring really, just popping their Pokéballs in the machine for a quick recharge.”

“That’s good,” In the medical field, boring was a blessing. Even if it made the workday feel twice as long.

“Let’s goooooooo,” Dot whined, “I wan’ Slowmoe tail,”

“It’s Slowpoke,” I corrected gently, “And we already had Pidgey nuggets. I don’t know if you should be having more deep fried food.”

“Noooooooo!” the girl wailed and began pounding on my leg, “big meanie! I wan’ it!”

“That isn’t very polite Dorthy,” Joy chided, “Use your words.”

The adorable brat struggled to contain herself with a deep calming breath, just like we’d taught her, and smiled in such a way that it would melt a Steelix’s heart, “Can-can I hawve a Slowmo-poke tail,” Joy raised an eyebrow, “Pwease!”

“Well…” the pink haired nurse pretended to think it over, “I suppose just this once, but only if you promise to behave yourself at the ceremony tonight.”

“YAY!” Dot cheered, and started wiggling and bouncing around while spinning Mrs. Sprinkles.

I smiled at her silly dance, and secretly pulled out my Pokédex to take a video. It was adorable, like a Furret caught in a Confusion. It would be a great pick-me-up during one of the rough moments I knew were in my future… and probably wonderful blackmail too, many years down the line.

We spent the next hour on the mainstreet of Pallet, enjoying the little festival that had sprung up. It was a bit of a mix between a farmers market and a carnival, with the Pokémon twist. A Miltank rancher sold his produce, a Ponyta breeder charged some tourists to go on scenic Rapidash rides, thrill seekers could get strapped onto a Pidgeot’s back, and a whole plethora of berry farmers hawked their wares.

There were tons of stalls, the highlight being the two run by Devon and Silph, but the majority were simple fold out tables where locals sold their produce. An interesting few were set up by border guards, selling their harvested resources and the occasional Pokémon.

I got guilted into playing one of the scammie prize games to try and win Dot a Ditto plush; she said Mrs. Sprinkles needed a friend and I felt bad about the toys lost with my backpack. It cost me several times more to win one than I would have spent on it in a store—I swear the rings were being psychically manipulated to bounce off the pegs—but Dot gave me a big hug when I gave it to her, so I didn’t dwell on it too much…

Ok, I admit it. She had me wrapped around her finger tighter than a Tangela hug.

The Slowpoke tails were delicious, deep fried, and glazed in honey. Originally, when first awakening in this world, I had been horrified to discover people ate Pokémon; the idea of killing and consuming sentient creatures didn’t sit right with me. I had gone full vegetarian for several months, much to Joy’s confusion, until someone finally explained to me that there were pokémon and Pokémon.

It wasn’t fully understood why, but 99% of Pokémon were born without aura. This prevented them from cultivating or gaining sentience. These “dull” pokémon were simply seen as oddly shaped cattle by people, and even other Pokémon. In the wilds, if a baby hatched with aura, the parents would love and nurture them to adulthood—much like humans—or at least the more friendly species would. A dull child, however, would be kicked from the nest immediately and had to fend for itself.

Many didn’t last long with carnivores being a thing. However, since one hundred dull were born for every “real” Pokémon, they still made up a vast majority of the wild population. It was these dull groups that were farmed and hunted for all the animal products society needed. Yet another dark reality that wouldn’t be shown in a children's show.

Eventually, Dot wore herself out and needed a nap, so we walked back to the Pokémon center. It was the second largest building in town, only behind Oak’s lab. An expansive, five story building, with several subfloors that acted as an emergency bunker. It was a bit much for a community of Pallet’s size, but the professor had wanted the best.

“Chansey!” Joy’s starter greeted us as we entered. The spacious lobby was empty. A good sign.

“Any visitors while we were gone?” the nurse asked the adorable pink blob.

“Chan-chan,” he shook his head, as I had expected.

We got appointments for basic check ups on the local Pokémon, but—outside standard operating hours—the center was usually empty. Occasionally a Ranger would fly in with an emergency, or a border guard would have an unlucky encounter, but that was rare. Pallet Town was rather out of the way, and lacked a gym to draw in wandering trainers. Thus, our guest lodging almost always remained empty.

“Hm,” Joy replied with a gentle smile. Seemingly happy with the response, but I knew she was often bored with the peaceful atmosphere.

I went to my room as she put Dot to bed. It was a rather modest affair, with a single bed, basic desk, bookshelf, and little else. Being an orphan, I didn’t have much money, and the small amount I did wasn’t going to be wasted on trivial things; the tournament betting with the boys was an outlier.

The trainer life was expensive, especially when you first started out, and I wouldn’t have much financial backing. I knew Nurse Joy would give me a small sum as a congratulatory gift tonight, just like she had Johnny last year and all the others before that, but that would only take me so far. I had been doing a variety of odd jobs for years to try and save up, and had managed the tidy sum of five thousand Pokédollars. That sounded like an impressive sum for a fifteen year old orphan, and it was. Yet, it wouldn’t cover a single great ball.

With a shake of the head, I tried to banish away my financial worries. I wouldn’t be needing to contain, or—heavens forbid—catch a Pokémon with yellow or green aura for quite a while. I had time.