Thank you to my new Patrons: Caldionus Balkanus, Punching Tucan, Razaekel, Krille Krille, Elmu, Mr Useless 03, LeJordan, Wolf, Mars, Austin King, Smartfolk, Samsara Eternal Enzo, Aconitum, Scanc, Mergulio, KysteTheKing, Sergio, HandyJ, zer0i
-/-
"Kadabra teleports away from another sure-fire disruption as Rattata's jaws clamp down on air! The normal type is thrown to the side by the retaliating Psybeam, but doesn't hesitate to get up again!"
"Oh, that's gotta hurt; just as we thought the match was over, the homing Swift stars disrupted the final blow! Joey's starter escapes defeat by a hair!"
"Rattata again displays his wonderful ability to dodge anything, anywhere and anytime, as he weaves between the chunks of earth thrown at him with telekinesis. He goes in for a Bite, but it's another Teleport in the nick of time! Does this Kadabra not get tired? Does this Rattata not get tired? They've been fighting for almost five minutes straight now!"
"The battlefield has become a mess once again, and we can't see anything, just four white lines fading as quickly as they appear and flashes of purple! Oh, something's happened? Rattata was caught in a psychic hold, but it breaks free with Bite! Is it just me, or does the dark energy seem messier?"
"A beautiful play from Kadabra as it uses Thunderbolt just before impact! It's knocked back and seems to have trouble focusing as the dark energy rampages in its body, but Rattata seems similarly locked up! It's paralysed, it's paralysed! This is a chance that Sabrina isn't going to get again!"
"Sabrina takes advantage of the situation! A Psybeam knocks Rattata back and rattles its bones."
"It's not getting up; it seems that Rattata is down for the count! Has this exciting match finally concluded?"
"No, Rattata is struggling to get back to its feet!"
"But it falls again!"
"Kadabra is waiting; you can see the sweat on its fur and the grimace on the face of its trainer!"
"The referee raises his flag; Rattata is down for the count!"
"The audience cheers! Despite the controversial stall, Jonathan makes history today in this first youngster tournament the region has ever seen! Unfortunately, he's just the foil to the victor, SABRINA the PSYCHIIIICC"
"What an amazing battle!"
-/-
The words of the announcer rang through Joey's head as he lay underneath the large tree in the backyard of the orphanage. He hadn't listened to the man during the battle but had been unable to block it out as he rewatched the battle online after getting home.
He'd been trying to see what he could have done differently.
Tactically, there hadn't been many obvious mistakes. Or maybe he simply hadn't attained a high enough tactical level to identify them. After all, skills were in a permanent state of refinement; perhaps in a decade, he would look back on this battle and see a thousand flaws.
However, was there a point in being sad about not having done something that he hadn't had the ability to do?
Not really.
The only thing he could have done was evolve his Pokemon. Dugtrio was a tier three Pokemon, meaning he could have technically let Diglett evolve with his four badges.
Of course, saying this could have been a potential solution was nonsense because, from Joey's understanding, Diglett was nowhere close to evolution. Still too immature.
The only Pokemon that he could have perhaps evolved was Rattata. However, considering that his starter was still improving quite rapidly in his base form, there wasn't any particular need to lock in at the next level.
Misdreavus? Sure, he could probably afford a dusk stone, but as a ghost, her evolution was actually beyond his authority for the moment.
The only Pokemon he had that would really benefit from evolution and who was also ready was, of course, Metapod.
Just like back at Cerulean, the Everstone in Metapod's stomach was biting him in the ass.
If it had been a battle of Butterfree against Butterfree, he was sure that it would have been him coming out on top, then Diglett could have, with the help of the poison string, maybe defeated the first Kadabra.
Or not. Synchronise was a pain in the ass.
"What if, what if, what if," Joey muttered to himself with a big sigh before stretching his arms and relocating them behind his head, tilting a bit upwards.
He looked at the blue sky and breathed out again. A small cloud of white formed with the action.
It was getting cold. The League season was going to be over in two weeks. Winter break, Indigo conference, and then the rest of Joey's career in Kanto. He had zero doubts that he could get eight badges and participate in the conference, which meant that afterwards, there would be no point in staying in the region.
But what was the point of changing regions when he would inevitably lose everywhere he went? There was always someone better, and even if he was the best, there would always be someone weaker than him who had the perfect counter.
In essence, there was no particular reason to be butthurt that he'd lost.
However, inevitably, he still was.
"Fucking three Kadabras," he said.
From an outside perspective, he'd never stood a chance. From an inside perspective, he knew that he could have probably done better somehow.
"Are you alright, Joey?" Theresa suddenly said from beside him.
He'd been so involved in his own head that he hadn't even seen her approach.
"You win some, you lose some," he said in an annoyed voice. "I'll get over it."
"Well, I thought that the battle was incredible, it almost looked like something you'd see in the first few matches of the conference," the red-haired matron said encouragingly.
Thinking back on it, the tactical attainment of the match had been quite obvious. Still, considering his reincarnation, it wasn't anything he should be proud of. If anything, it just showed that Sabrina was a prodigy.
"It was a good prologue for next year, I guess."
"Going on your very own journey. I'm so happy for you. It's going to be a very special year, trust me." Theresa beamed. "Anyway, a letter came for you from Pallet Town," she said, causing Joey to turn his head to look at her.
The older woman wore washed-out jeans and a green sweater, which went very well with her aggressively red hair.
She was holding a letter in her hands and reaching it towards him.
Joey snagged it out of her hands.
"Thanks, should be a reply from Professor Oak," he said, not knowing if he felt like opening it quite yet. Was he really in the mood for more bad news?
Although good news might very well be the thing that could improve his mood. Decisions, decisions.
"Did you know that 99% of gamblers stop just before they're about to hit big," he said quietly while thinking of what to do.
"Joey!" Theresa exclaimed. "Don't talk about gambling. It's immoral and addictive!" She tutted and shook her head. "Why, I never," she muttered before turning around and walking off in a huff. Joey saw that there was a hole in the back of her sweater, revealing a white undershirt.
The youngster put that out of his mind and opened the letter, for lack of anything better to do, just to get it done with.
Dear Mr. Joestar.
"That's not a good sign, starting with my last name," Joey said to himself before continuing to read.
Thank you very much for reaching out to me with your desire to participate in our lab sponsorship.
I actually had the opportunity to watch your most recent battle in the Youngster Tournament finals and was very impressed by your tactical literacy and the clear quality of the training that you provide to your Pokemon.
Unfortunately, supporting, even peripherally, the youngster program does not align with the values of our research group.
Looking at the trajectory of your career as it stands currently, we have no doubt that you will accomplish whatever you set your mind to.
Best regards,
Professor Samuel Oak.
Joey finished reading the letter before promptly ripping it up in his hands. Then, when he looked at the pieces of paper now littering the otherwise pristine green lawn, he decided to go for one more and shot a Shadow Ball at the offending debris.
A small explosion resounded through the backyard of the orphanage as the young boy underneath the tree glared angrily at the distorted scorch mark he left on the floor.
He scrambled to his feet and shook in place as his body trembled between wanting to kick or punch the air before he eventually did both at the same time and fell straight back on the ground.
He brushed his head painfully against the tree behind him before simply giving up on life, rolling over and lying on his back in a starfish position.
"Man," he said as he stared blankly at the sky.
"Seriously."
"Fuck this month."
-/-
Joey had started off the morning in the backyard of the orphanage, lying on the ground after having read Professor Oak's letter.
What would have happened after, if it had been a normal day, would have been that he would have gone outside the city to train or to challenge others on the Routes.
Unfortunately, all of his Pokemon were out of commission, and with Nurse Joy. The only thing he could thus do was kill time by bumbling around town.
He was self-aware enough to know that he was in a horrible mood and as irritable as a typical teenager on their best day. In other words, it was an irritability that was unacceptable for any adult.
Thankfully, as an adult, he knew how to regulate his mood and thus set a very specific itinerary to do exactly that.
The wounds of his lost battle and the disappointing letter were still too fresh, so what he had to do was distract himself for at least a full day so that he could think about it more rationally the next day.
Unfortunately, other people weren't making the being distracted part very easy.
He went to his favourite brunch place to look longingly at the endless mimosa fountain while eating an incredibly pimped-up bowl of cooked amaranth grain. It had everything from raisins to chocolate to frozen berries and pieces of salt caramel.
"Uh," an older girl sitting at the table next to his interrupted him only to follow it up with, "I saw your battle yesterday, and it was really good, and I'm super sorry that you lost. It was so close, really," she said before going back to her avocado toast with a side of omelet and three friends already deep into their cups.
Joey clenched the silver spoon he was using to eat in his hand as his eyebrow twitched.
After having eaten, he continued on to the biggest art gallery in the city, which had a new exhibition depicting the fashion of the Heian era, which had come to an end approximately 900 years ago.
It was very interesting to see the more traditional garb of Kanto displayed on lifelike mannequins as these strolled around under the command of a hidden ground-type Pokemon.
As he passed through the exhibition, he was thinking whether he should purchase a yukata for himself before he was suddenly interrupted by someone patting him on the shoulder.
"Hey, kid, I just wanted to say it was a crazy battle yesterday. You almost had it, really. I was on the edge of my seat until the very end," an older, more corpulent man said from behind him. He was dressed in a tweed suit and had a particularly strict handlebar moustache, which was offset by the pity in his eyes.
Joey's eyebrows once again did a little dance as he gritted his teeth and left the exhibition towards his next destination.
Second-hand clothing had been something of a pastime for him in his last life, partially because of the wide array of styles available and partially because he'd been a cheapskate and didn't support the fashion industry.
In this world, due to his occupation as a trainer, which directly influenced him to have one set of interchangeable clothes tailored for those suffering elemental attacks on a weekly basis, the passion had, for the most part, disappeared.
However, he still went sometimes, just for the sheer pleasure of it, and would occasionally buy something that he could bring back to the orphanage.
It was as the bells attached above the door jingled as he entered the store that he saw three of the twelve occupants turn towards him with recognition on their faces.
Unwilling to admit defeat and run away before he could even do what he'd come here to do, he ignored all of them and started looking through a rack of sweaters that he thought would fit Theresa. It was going to be winter soon, and the orphanage always followed the style of putting on more clothes rather than turning up the radiators.
It was as he identified a white woolen sweater that looked like it would bring out the colour of the matron's eyes that he was interrupted by what looked to be an art student in his early twenties.
"Hey little man," the guy said cheerfully as he flipped his green hair from one side to the other. "I know the struggle of having to go up against those snotty brats with more privilege than skills, and I was really thrilled to catch a part of the battle yesterday on TV while at work." He then lifted up a blue baseball jacket with the number one brazenly stitched to its back. "I think you're gonna go far, number one, you could say. Here's a little gift from me to you; got to pimp up your wardrobe, dawg," he said before shoving the baseball jacket right into Joey's arms and leaving the store without even a goodbye.
The youngster, for his part, simply looked at the jacket, which he would need another three years to grow into, before going to the counter of the store with the white sweater that he had picked up earlier.
"Can I exchange these?" he asked with a deadpan, at which the girl behind the counter simply popped the pink bubble gum in her mouth and waved him off. Joey put the white sweater in a bag, left the jacket, and exited the store.
He went to his favourite food truck to get a burrito. The owner gave it to him for free and told him that he'd win a tournament someday. The small TV in the corner of the truck, blasting a commentary of what must have been an ongoing gym battle, didn't leave many secrets as to exactly where the owner had seen Joey's defeat.
The burrito tasted like ash, and the only reason why Joey didn't throw it away was because he respected the food and somewhat the gesture. At least the man had given him something for free, something that he had expressed a desire for in the first place.
Thinking that there was at least one place that he could go where he wouldn't be bothered by others' asinine need to remind him of his failure yesterday, he went to the cinema in broad daylight. There, he sat down alone in an almost completely empty hall to watch Pikachu Detective 2, the Electric Boogaloo.
It was after two hours of somewhat mind-numbing relaxation that he exited the cinema with a smile, only for that attendant to pat him on the back and wish him luck the next time.
Joey was left standing outside the large cinema structure on the busy street and could clearly see that at least every 20th person recognised him and threw him a pitying look.
It seemed that, at least in Saffron, the youngster tournament had been relatively popular.
If Joey was someone who enjoyed being pitied, then the day after the tournament would have been an absolute harvest.
-/-
It was after this rather frustrating attempt to distract himself from the bad news that he had received and from the battle that he had lost yesterday that something happened that raised his mood.
His Pokemon were ready to be released from the Pokecenter. Of course, it was never going to take more than a day; after all, they hadn't been hurt that badly. They'd just been suffering from extreme exhaustion and also had a few bumps and knocks.
Two weeks ago, there had been a gym battle, and that had been followed by two hard weeks of training, another gym battle, and then, immediately after, a tournament.
Considering the intensity of recent times, it was actually the perfect time to take a season break from battling. They would still train, of course, but there would be no gym battles, no tournaments, and hardly any other trainers to fight.
After all, when trainers weren't travelling around the region to battle gym leaders, it was very hard to meet them on the road. This meant that most of the battling occurred in the public squares designated for the activity. However, even that was heavily impacted because people genuinely needed a break every now and again.
Creating a strong battler consisted of successfully joining two separate methodologies. One was the intentional training of physical and tactical qualities, and the other was the practice that one got from fighting others.
It was this fighting of others that sometimes needed to be interrupted so that the experience could be better integrated into the whole. In addition, having periods of time in which one committed oneself to pure training could be beneficial since the results would be better without the constant interruptions of either a journey or a stay in the Pokecenter to recover from a battle.
These were all issues that Joey had been deeply reading about ever since he'd decided to become a trainer, so he knew perfectly well what he had to do in the next few months.
But before talking about months, he had to do what he had to do today.
First, he called out all of his Pokemon to thank them for their contribution and their hard work in the recent hellish schedule. He relived the highlights that they had experienced together, focusing in this case only on the good. Then, he encouraged them with promises of more strength to come and more battles to be won in the future.
In essence, he thanked them, praised them, and encouraged them.
Of course, words were wind, and actions spoke louder, so in addition to his carefully prepared speech, Joey also had a few gifts to distribute.
Considering that Pokemon didn't really need clothes or material possessions, his rewards mostly existed on the level of food.
He'd specifically splurged the day before the tournament to purchase a series of Pokepuffs tailored toward the species and the preference of his team.
It had cost him quite a lot; good food often did. But, as he watched his team munch down on the offered snacks in one of the enclosed training grounds that he'd booked, most of which were now completely empty, he knew that it was worth it.
What he'd prepared was multi-functional. If they'd won, it would have been a good celebration. If they lost, as they had, well, good food cheered everyone up, right?
He smiled as he watched all of his Pokemon lay down in different positions in an approximation of a food coma after they were done eating. He'd bought a lot, specifically to really let them gorge themselves. The painful fullness of their stomachs would distract them from their emotions, which were probably in flux right now.
Rattata was already dozing off with a belly bigger than his head, while Metapod was lying on her side and releasing the occasional groan. Eventually, the bug decided to shoot out a large amount of String Shot to get rid of the fullness in her stomach.
Diglett, for his part, simply flopped forward on his face and seemed to be contently resting.
Even Misdreavus, who didn't generally require physical nourishment, was floating a few meters lower than usual due to ingested food weighing her down.
As for Joey? He'd already done his thing. It hadn't really worked. Thinking about it, to be honest, from the perspective of an adult, there was only one way to cheer himself up.
That was why he'd sent a message on his Pokenav to someone whom he hadn't thought he was going to be contacting so soon after the tournament.
He had recently decided that he was done letting outside factors determine his momentum and that from now on, he was going to be taking things into his own hands.
The only way an adult could relieve stress was to fix the problem at hand. Everything else was just emotional simulation.
A bright flash of blue suddenly illuminated the enclosed space they were in, and his Pokemon all twitched up from their previous relaxation to look up urgently at the psychic girl who had just appeared from thin air.
"Sabrina," Joey nodded in greeting.
"Joey," the girl replied with a flat stare. "What do you want?" she asked.
"Well, I was just thinking that maybe it's time to cash in on that favour you owe me. I did help you with those Murkrow after all," the boy replied.
The girl frowned but eventually nodded. "What?" she asked.
Joey steepled his fingers together from where he was sitting. "You think your teleportation can reach Pallet Town?" he asked. "I've recently found out that I have some business to settle down there," he added before looking at his Pokemon. "You think you're up for one last battle this season?" he asked. "Last one, I promise."
He'd already battled Elite Four, future Elite Four, and gym leaders.
If he had to, he wasn't completely against adding a former champion to that list.
It was time to beat some sense into an old man.
-/-
AN: This chapter is slightly anti-climactic, the surprise is that it was just a set-up for an increasing amount of hype. To be quite frank, I think the next 15 chapters of this fic are some of the best chapters I've ever written for anything. I'm like three chapters away from finishing the entire book 1 (if you consider Joey's first year as a book) on patreon, quite excited for what comes next.