Chapter Seven: The Youngsters of Pallet Town

“No helping it—you were late, after all. But… I do happen to have one Pokémon left, though there’s a bit of a problem with it…”
“Anything is fine! Please, Professor!”
“This is Pikachu…”
“Pikachu? How cute… This is wonderful!”
“You’ll need to be careful…”
“Ah, ah, ah!”
“You see? Pikachu is shy and withdrawn—it doesn’t get along with people easily. Especially this one; if you touch it without permission, this is what happens.”

…

When Am, Sonoko, and the others returned to the Professor’s main lab, they saw the young man they’d just passed in the corridor, now being shocked by a Pikachu, his hair standing on end from the attack known as Thunderbolt.

Though it looked alarming, neither Shinichi nor anyone else moved to check whether he was all right. In this world, humans had a strangely high resistance—though their strength paled in comparison to Pokémon, people were unusually hardy not just against Pokémon attacks, but also high falls and deep-sea pressure. Unless a Pokémon attacked with murderous intent, the harm was minimal.

Plus… “Thunderbolt” was just a name. Like “Splitting the Mountain” couldn’t actually split a mountain, Thunderbolt wasn’t truly a hundred thousand volts!

This scene struck Am as oddly familiar, and he eyed Professor Oak suspiciously.
He’d thought Ash’s story wouldn’t repeat; after all, March 1st to 10th was the window for receiving starters—how could anyone be late, and with a set number of starters, if you arrived late, there’d be none left. How could there be an extra one?
Yet this guy really showed up on the 11th?
Am didn’t understand how this came about, but he was sure Professor Oak had bent the rules again!

“Maybe you should just wait until next year…” Professor Oak was about to suggest.
But Ash clung to the Pikachu that had just shocked him—though the Pokémon now looked rather disdainful—and said, “It’s fine! I choose this one! Pikachu, let’s get along from now on… ah, ah, ah!”
He was electrocuted again.
It seemed that even at sixteen, Ash hadn’t changed one bit!

“Are you all ready for your journey?” Professor Oak now turned to Am and the others.

Seeing how unconcerned Professor Oak was, Am and Shinichi were reassured—no one would die from that shock.
“Yes, thank you for all your help. We’ll be counting on you from now on, too!” Am replied politely.
Indeed, they would rely on him. The Poké Balls in this world possessed a mysterious power, said to come from processed fruits. When resonating with a human’s mind, they could connect to another world to store Pokémon temporarily, but there was a limit to this connection.
Once you had more than six, your spirit would begin to weaken, and “overloading” the balls would cause accidents. So, starting with the seventh Pokémon, new ones would be sent to a designated lab or daycare to be fostered, rather than kept in the balls.
Shinichi and Ran had theirs sent to Professor Agasa’s, Sonoko’s family had enough space at home…
Am’s designated foster location was right here with Professor Oak!

“No need to be so formal. I’ll be heading to Rainbow City myself in four months—good luck!” Professor Oak encouraged them.
Then he turned to the others. “I know you two aren’t aiming to be trainers…”
“Hee-hee,” Sonoko feigned innocence, while Shinichi offered an awkward smile.
“But whether you become detectives or pursue something else, Pokémon are humanity’s greatest companions and helpers. Traveling will do you good. And… Ran, I think you have real talent for Fighting-types—perhaps you could become a Fighting-type trainer.”
“Oh! Not at all… You flatter me.” Ran quickly demurred.
Shinichi muttered quietly, “I think so, too…”
Actually, Am agreed. In this world, Fighting-type trainers were generally good fighters—being able to fight was almost a prerequisite!
Just as Psychic-type trainers tended to have psychic abilities.
If you ranked trainers by their own combat ability, probably nine of the top ten in Kanto would be Fighting-types…
Normally, while Psychic, Ghost, and Fairy-type trainers had some special powers, it was usually limited to making a Poké Ball float in their palm or, with great effort, bending a spoon with their minds. In a real fight, a Fighting-type could kick their faces sideways with one big boot.
Of course, there were exceptions—like Sabrina, the Psychic Queen of Saffron City. Nine out of ten might be Fighting-types, but she was definitely number one.

“Oh! Are you all rookie trainers this year too? I haven’t seen you before—are you from out of town? I’m Ash from Pallet Town, and I’ll become the world’s greatest Pokémon trainer! How about a battle right now?”
Ash had finally recovered from his shock and came over to greet Am and the others, immediately challenging them.
“I think you should focus on your battle with Pikachu first…” Sonoko pointed out bluntly.

“That’s right! Maybe Pikachu and I will start getting along through battle!” Ash clearly missed the point.
“This Pikachu…” Am studied it closely, even moving in a little.
“Pika pi?”
Pikachu showed some suspicion and wariness at Am’s approach, but… it was much better than its attitude toward Ash!
After all, Am had a “slightly above average” favorability with all Pokémon. If this shy, unsociable Pikachu usually had a favorability of “-10 to 3” with strangers, Am was probably at 1 or 2.
“It seems pretty strong,” Am commented, though he didn’t quite know why.
Indeed, Am couldn’t tell what made it strong, but… that was what made it strong. After all, Pikachu’s record in the anime was nothing to scoff at—at least, if you only counted the highlights!
“Yes, its level is only about eight, but it’s already learned Thunderbolt. That’s very promising for a Pikachu. It’s just harder to train than most… Maybe you need an Electric Heart,” Professor Oak speculated.
The Electric Heart was a special talent—an affinity for Electric-types. The most famous of its kind was the “Dragon Heart,” like what Lance, one of the Johto Elite Four, possessed.
But Am didn’t think that was it, and besides, what he meant by “pretty strong” wasn’t just “learning Thunderbolt at level eight.”
“How about we have a battle?” Ash saw Am’s interest and pressed eagerly.
“I suppose we could—my Bulbasaur is also newly received.” Am instinctively felt that sending out his overpowered Exeggcute would be a bad idea!
“Let’s do it! Professor, can you be our referee?” Ash exclaimed, completely unabashed.
“Of course,” Professor Oak replied, as if he had nothing better to do.
“It’s not an official match, and we’re only using one Pokémon each—no need for the official competition balls, right?” Am confirmed.
“Competition balls?” Ash looked adorably puzzled.
Am: …
You don’t even know about competition balls—so which of us is the real transmigrator here?