Adamo Amet
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Chapter no.18 Pokémon League
🕑 Added 2024-07-14 18:55:43 +0000 UTCAustin stirred awake, the soft sheets of the Pokémon Center bed tangled around his legs. His head was heavy, his body sluggish, and his mind foggy from the unexpectedly long nap he’d taken. The muted amber hues of the evening sky leaked through the curtains, painting the room in a tranquil glow. He rubbed his face, blinking away the remnants of sleep, before groaning and running a hand through his messy, spiky hair.
“I need coffee,” he mumbled groggily, his voice scratchy from the nap.
Dragging himself out of bed, Austin shuffled over to the small mirror in the corner of the room. His reflection wasn’t exactly impressive—his hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his face still had the faint imprint of the pillow. He gave himself a half-hearted attempt at finger-combing his hair into something that didn’t look like he’d been electrocuted by Pikachu.
“Good enough.”
Steam hissed softly from the hot water dispenser as Austin grabbed a flimsy plastic cup. He filled it with boiling water, the heat radiating through the thin material, before fishing a packet of instant coffee from his bag. Tearing it open, he poured the granules into the water, watching as they swirled and dissolved into a murky brown liquid. He stirred it with a tiny plastic stick, the scent of bitter coffee wafting up and nudging him further awake.
Taking a tentative sip, Austin winced slightly at the harsh, acrid taste. “Instant coffee,” he muttered, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Not good, but it works.”
Cup in hand, he wandered over to an empty table near the window. The view outside was breathtaking, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across Pewter City, while streaks of violet and gold painted the horizon. It was a calming sight, and for a moment, Austin let himself get lost in it.
Reaching into his backpack, Austin pulled out Inside Kanto: A Political Analysis, the weighty book he’d bought earlier to satisfy his growing curiosity about the world he now found himself in. He flipped to the table of contents, scanning the chapter titles before settling on one that caught his eye: The History of the Pokémon League. Intrigued, he turned to the page.
The chapter began with an unexpected twist. According to the book, the Pokémon League had its roots in the Holy Michina Empire. Austin paused, his brow furrowing.
“Michina…” he muttered under his breath, the name ringing a faint bell. And then it hit him. “Wait, isn’t that the place from the Arceus movie?” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “So the movies are canon here too? Great… maybe I can meet Arceus one day and get some answers.”
His amusement faded as he read on. The book described how the Michina Empire had used Pokémon battles as both entertainment and warfare. The Ludi Gladiatori Sinica Monstra—gladiatorial games involving Pokémon—were the precursor to the modern Pokémon League. Austin grimaced as he read about how slaves were forced to participate in these games, both as trainers and as part of the spectacle.
“Yikes,” he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee.
The book went on to explain that exceptional trainers, known as Lanista Monstra or “Monster Trainers,” could earn their freedom by excelling in battle. These trainers were often recruited into the Michina military, a tradition that echoed in modern times, where Pokémon League champions were often scouted for elite roles like Rangers or police officers.
As he flipped the page, his enthusiasm waned. The rest of the chapter barely scratched the surface of the gladiatorial games, leaving him wanting more. “Seriously?” he grumbled, tapping the book in frustration. “Would it have killed you to include more details?”
Still, what he’d learned was fascinating—and a little unsettling. His eyes wandered across the room as he mulled over the information, eventually landing on a colorful poster pinned to the cafeteria wall. It advertised the Indigo League with bold text and vibrant images of gym badges.
I haven’t registered for the League yet!
His chair screeched loudly as he pushed it back, startling a nearby group of trainers. Muttering an apology, Austin bolted out of the cafeteria, the half-finished coffee forgotten on the table.
Austin skidded to a stop at the front desk, panting slightly. Nurse Joy, in the middle of arranging a tray of Pokéballs, looked up at him with mild concern.
“Is everything alright?”
“I need to register for the Indigo League!”
Nurse Joy blinked, clearly unimpressed by his urgency. “You ran all the way here for that?”
“Uh… yeah?”
With a small sigh, she reached under the counter and pulled out a registration form, sliding it toward him. “Fill this out and submit it before nine o’clock tonight. Once the Indigo League processes it, you’ll receive your League card in about a week.”
“A week?!” Austin repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“That’s the standard processing time. You’re welcome to ask around if you don’t believe me.”
Austin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered, snatching the form. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Take your time,” she said, returning to her work with an air of practiced patience.
As Austin walked away, he grumbled under his breath. “A week… Great. Just great.” Still, he tried to look on the bright side. “At least I’ll have more time to prep for Brock…”
Back in the cafeteria, Austin returned to his table, form in hand. He opened his Pokédex, using Ash’s information as a reference to fill out the necessary details. Most of it was straightforward, but when he reached the section asking for a parent’s name, he paused.
“Father’s name…” he murmured, reading the entry in Ash’s records: Alexander Rothsvale.
Austin blinked, staring at the name in confusion. “Who the hell is Alexander Rothsvale?” he muttered to himself. He’d been expecting Red, Silver, or even Giovanni. But this? This was anticlimactic.
“Guess Ash’s dad isn’t as special as people think,” Austin muttered, jotting down the name anyway.
Before he could finish, a loud voice rang out from across the cafeteria.
“Hey! Whose Fearow—uh, I mean Spearow—is this?!”
Austin froze, his stomach sinking. “Oh no…”
“That’s my bird!” he called, jumping up from his seat and rushing toward the commotion.
After a few awkward apologies and wrestling his stubborn Spearow away from the chaos, Austin returned to his seat, flanked by his Pokémon. Pikachu and Eevee sat beside him, looking sheepish, while Spearow perched nearby, utterly unapologetic.
“You can’t just steal someone else’s food, Spearow.”
Spearow squawked dismissively, turning his back on him with a huff.
“You’re really not making this trust-and-teamwork thing easy, you know that?”
Pikachu and Eevee exchanged a knowing look, their ears twitching as if to say, We’ve got a lot of work to do.
Shaking his head, Austin picked up the form again and got back to work. Spearow, meanwhile, continued to sulk, occasionally shooting him indignant glares.
At least I have a week to work on my team, Austin thought, leaning back in his chair. He paused, his gaze drifting toward the window as his mind wandered. I wonder how different Brock would be in this world. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. If Brock was the same skill level as the anime, the manga, or even the games, this should be easy… right?
His train of thought was interrupted when Pikachu leaned over curiously, sniffing his coffee. With a tentative lick, the Electric-type’s face immediately scrunched up in disgust, and he spat it out with an exaggerated “Pikaaa!”
Austin burst out laughing at the sight, holding his stomach as Pikachu gave the cup an offended glare.
The Eevee sniffed it cautiously, wrinkled his nose, and quickly backed away as if the mere scent of it was enough to offend his sensibilities.
“And of course, you wouldn’t like it either,” Austin said with a smirk, glancing at Spearow. The bird puffed up his feathers and turned his head away with an indignant squawk, the very picture of a tsundere refusing to admit he might be interested.
Austin leaned forward, his fingers tapping the edge of the cup thoughtfully. No, I’m not going to underestimate this world, he reminded himself, his smile fading into a look of quiet determination. Let’s prep.
