"Pikachu!"
A young man with spiky black hair suddenly sat upright. He looked around the familiar room, then scratched his head.
"So it was just a dream…"
He glanced at the clock on the bedside table.
8:30.
"Uh-oh, I'm already late!"
He leapt out of bed, washed his face, brushed his teeth, changed clothes, and rushed downstairs. His mother had already prepared breakfast.
"I'm stuffed!"
Finishing his breakfast in a hurry, he walked to the entrance, slipped on his sneakers, grabbed a red and white hat from the shoe cabinet, and put it on. He called out to his mother as he ran out the door.
"I'm leaving!"
"Don't run so fast! It's still early. Ash, did you hear me? Ash? Ash!"
"Honestly…" Watching the boy vanish into the distance, his mother shook her head. "That kid is still so reckless…"
His name was Ash, an ordinary boy from Pallet Town who aspired to become a Pokémon Master.
Today was the day he would receive his first Pokémon. Normally, Ash would have overslept due to excitement, but this time, a nightmare had jolted him awake just before the appointed hour.
Even though he was thrilled to finally start his journey with a Pokémon, Ash couldn't stop thinking about that strange dream.
He couldn't remember the details, but he had a vague feeling that someone had taken everything from him...
But he quickly shook off the thought—he had arrived at Professor Oak's lab.
"Professor Oak, I'm here to collect my Pokémon!"
"Ash? Why are you just getting here now?" Professor Oak said, frowning at the out-of-breath boy. "Everyone else has already picked their Pokémon and set off."
"Huh? But I arrived on time!" Ash checked the clock. "It's exactly nine o'clock."
"You were supposed to arrive ten minutes early. Don't young people know the value of being punctual?" the professor said with a sigh.
"I don't get it," Ash admitted honestly. Then, brightening, he added eagerly, "But let's not worry about that! Professor, where's my Pokémon?"
"What's the rush?" Professor Oak muttered as he walked over to a nearby console. He pressed a button, and a panel slowly lifted to reveal three Poké Balls.
"I already made up my mind last night," Ash said confidently. Without hesitation, he grabbed one. "The decision is made—come out, Charmander!"
Pop!
Nothing happened.
"Professor, why's this Poké Ball empty?"
"Charmander was taken by someone who arrived earlier."
"What?!" Ash's shoulders slumped, but he quickly reached for another ball. "Then... you're next, Bulbasaur!"
Still empty.
"Squirtle!" he cried, grabbing the last one.
Also empty.
"Why are they all gone, Professor?!"
"Well, there were a lot of kids this year," Professor Oak replied. "But there is one Pokémon left. It's just that this one has… a few issues. No one has ever taken it."
Without missing a beat, Ash said, "I'll take it, Professor Oak!"
"Are you sure? Alright." The professor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a Poké Ball. "Here it is."
"Come out, my partner!"
Ash threw the ball.
A burst of white light flashed, and the next moment, a small, blue Pokémon appeared before him.
"Croak?"
"Huh? Who's that Pokémon?" Ash started, surprised. Then he muttered, "And why isn't it Pikachu…"
"This Pokémon is native to the Kalos region," Professor Oak explained. "It's called Froakie."
"Froakie?"
Ash nodded slowly. He crouched down, stretched out his hand, and spoke gently to the croaking little Pokémon,
"Froakie, I'm Ash. I hope we can be good partners."
"Qua…?"
Froakie looked at the outstretched hand, then up at Ash's goofy grin. After a moment of hesitation, it saw the sincerity in Ash's eyes. Froakie let out a soft cry and placed its small hand into Ash's.
A smile spread across Ash's face.
Then Professor Oak added, "However, there's a little problem with this Froakie."
Before Ash could respond, Froakie suddenly vanished from his hand and reappeared in front of him. In a flash, Froakie lifted a foot—and kicked Ash hard in the face.
Whack!
Ash spun through the air in a 720-degree arc.
"It's incredibly fast," Professor Oak continued, finishing his sentence.
"Ow…" Ash groaned, rubbing his cheek. He stared at the smug Froakie, now standing coolly with its arms crossed. "Is this Pokémon always this violent?"
"Yes," Professor Oak said matter-of-factly. "That's why novice trainers usually can't handle it. Do you want to wait for the next batch? It'll be ready in a week."
"It doesn't matter—I'm choosing Froakie!" Ash said without hesitation. He extended his hand to Froakie once more and smiled broadly.
"You're strong, Froakie. My name's Ash, and I'm training to become a Pokémon Master."
"I may be weak now, but I'm going to get much stronger. So… will you help me?"
"Quack…"
Froakie stared at him, stunned. Even after getting kicked across the room, this human was still smiling at him.
This one felt… different.
And his touch felt more natural. More comfortable.
Froakie fell into deep thought.
A Pokémon Master? Hmph. Interesting.
In the next instant, Froakie disappeared again. Before Ash could react, his Poké Ball lit up with a red glow. Froakie had returned to it on his own.
Ash blinked, then grinned even wider.
"Then please take care of me."
"Quack."
Inside the Poké Ball, Froakie heard Ash's voice and let out a soft cry that no one could hear.
Don't get the wrong idea—it's just that your hand feels nicer than most. You'll make a better target.