Boring.
That was Green's mood.
Just… boring.
Ever since they left Cerulean City, Green had felt nothing but a dull monotony stretching out before him. Beside him, walking with a steady, silent gait, was Brock, the former Pewter City Gym Leader. He'd joined Green after deciding to see more of the world, a solid and mostly quiet presence. The rhythm of the road had done little to spark any excitement.
Maybe he could have lingered in the cities longer, but that would have meant handing Red the upper hand in their competition. Losing by a single Gym badge still stung. He had to get stronger. But so far, the Gyms were pathetic. The first had been a walk in the park, and the second was run by fashion-obsessed siblings.
He knew he could come off as a jerk, but the more Gyms he saw, the more a part of him started to see the twisted point in what that Rocket grunt had said. The Vermilion City Gym Leader better be an actual challenge. If not, he might as well turn around. If he was going to waste his time, he'd rather do it from the comfort of his own bed.
Wait, he still had to catch Pokémon for his grandpa's research…
Okay, maybe not home, but the frustration remained.
"You're brooding again," Brock's calm voice cut through his thoughts. "Another Gym on your mind?"
"Just expecting another disappointment," Green grumbled, kicking a pebble off the path.
Just then, they saw a boy in a clearing up ahead. He looked about their age, with spiky green hair and a black and red shirt. He was commanding a team of three Rattata, a Beedrill, a Butterfree, and a Sandshrew. Each Pokémon wore a peculiar, weighted-looking harness. They were in the middle of a fierce sparring session.
"Alright, Beedrill, Fury Attack! Butterfree, dodge and counter with Razor Wind on the opening!" the kid shouted.
The Pokémon obeyed. Beedrill became a blur of relentless strikes. Butterfree danced through the first few, but was soon overwhelmed, hit four times before a fifth sent it spiraling to the ground.
"Nice job, Beedrill! Butterfree, ya gotta work on your speed! If we're aiming to win the Indigo Conference, we gotta be in peak condition, got it?" The boy's declaration was met with a unified cry from his team, the Butterfree pushing itself back up with determination.
Green saw that as their cue to move on, but one of the Rattata spotted them and chirped an alert. The boy turned and called out before they could leave. "Hey there! What's up?"
Green sighed, but Brock offered a friendly nod as they approached. "Not much," Green said. "Heading to Vermilion. Saw you training. What's with the harnesses?"
"Oh, these? They help my Pokémon build strength. Best way to describe it is like your head and arms being constantly pulled toward your stomach," the boy explained.
Brock's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That seems intense. A balanced training regimen is crucial for healthy development."
"Can't reach the top if you ain't serious. No pain, no gain," the boy replied, his team vocalizing their agreement. "So, challengin' the Vermilion Gym?"
"Planning on it," Green said. "And they better not be another joke. So far, it's been a parade of letdowns."
"Really? I heard they were tough as nails."
"So did I. Seems we heard wrong."
Brock crossed his arms. "Lieutenant Surge has a reputation for powerful Electric-types. Underestimating him because of past experiences would be a mistake, Green."
"If you're challengin' Gyms, you're in the Conference, right?" the boy asked.
"Yeah. You?" Green replied.
"I am! But I ain't takin' the Gym path. I train at my own pace, my own way. The preliminaries be damned; we go all-out or not at all. Name's A.J.," he said, offering a handshake.
"Green. This is Brock."
"A pleasure," Brock said, shaking his hand firmly.
"I can tell you ain't much of a talker," A.J. said to Green.
"Oh really? Gee, what gave it away?" Green deadpanned.
A.J. grinned. "I like folks with attitude. Say, since we're all thinkin' about the League, how about a match?"
"Why? You feel like losing?" Green's trademark cockiness surfaced.
"More like I wanna see what to expect on the battlefield. Your Growlithe looked pretty fierce back on the route."
Green's hand went to the Pokéball at his belt. "Sure. One-on-one?"
"More than enough. Right, gang?" Another unified cry answered him.
The group moved to the center of the clearing. Green and A.J. took opposite sides, while Brock observed from the sidelines. A.J. gathered his team, whispering for them to pay close attention. All but Sandshrew moved to the edge.
Green smirked. This was in the bag.
"Growlithe, let's go!" The capsule burst open, and the fiery puppy Pokémon emerged with a bark, flames flickering at its collar.
"A Growlithe? Now that's more like it!" A.J. said, eyes gleaming.
"What can I say? All-out or not at all," Green quoted back at him.
"Alrighty! I'll take the first move. Sandshrew, start with Fury Swipe!" A.J. commanded.
"Dodge and use Ember!" Green countered.
Sandshrew lunged, claws gleaming. Growlithe nimbly leapt aside, the claws swiping through empty air, and unleashed a burst of small fireballs.
"Sandshrew, Defense Curl!" A.J. ordered instantly.
Sandshrew curled into a tight ball. The Ember attack struck the hardened shell, the flames dissipating against the increased defense with a *whoosh*. When Sandshrew uncurled, a faint glow shimmered over its body.
"Not bad. But we ain't pushovers," A.J. said, his smile undiminished.
"You got one freebie. Growlithe, Tackle now!" Green ordered.
Growlithe shot forward like an orange arrow. "Dig, now!" A.J. shouted.
Sandshrew vanished into a hole just before impact. Growlithe skidded to a halt, sniffing the ground warily.
"Stay alert, Growlithe! Listen for movement!" Green called out. Brock watched intently, his expression focused.
The tense seconds stretched. Then—*CRACK*.
The sound of earth splitting came from behind Growlithe. Both Green and his Pokémon spun, but they were a fraction too slow.
"Now, Sandshrew! Fury Swipe!" A.J. yelled.
Sandshrew erupted from the ground, claws already flurrying. Five rapid strikes landed on Growlithe's side before a sixth sent the Fire-type tumbling with a pained yelp.
"Growlithe! You okay?" Green asked, his cockiness replaced by sharp concern.
Growlithe staggered up, fur scuffed and breathing heavily, but its eyes burned with determination.
"He's got spirit," A.J. acknowledged. "But he's hurt. Sure you wanna continue?"
Green gritted his teeth. He looked at his Pokémon, then at Brock, who gave a slow, considering nod. It was Green's call. He thought of Red, who'd probably stubbornly fight to the last breath.
But he wasn't Red. The difference was, Green was a winner. And winners knew when to push.
"We're not done! Growlithe, Flame Wheel!" Green commanded.
Growlithe roared, cloaking itself in a swirling helix of fire and charging.
"Dig, again!" A.J. countered.
Sandshrew disappeared underground once more. But this time, Green was ready.
"Now, aim an Ember straight down that hole! Superheat it!"
"What?!" A.J. gasped.
Growlithe stopped at the hole's edge and unleashed a concentrated stream of fire into the tunnel. A muffled *thump* echoed underground, followed by a yelp of pain. A new hole erupted a few meters away, and a scorched, disoriented Sandshrew was launched into the air.
"Now! Follow up with Take Down!" Green shouted.
"Sandshrew, Defense—" A.J. began, but it was too late.
Growlithe smashed into the airborne Sandshrew with devastating force, driving it into the dirt. Before the dust could settle, Green pressed the advantage. "Finish it! One more Ember, point-blank!"
Some might call it overkill. Green called it ensuring victory.
A final burst of flames sealed the match. When the smoke cleared, Sandshrew lay unconscious. Growlithe stood over it, panting heavily but victorious.
"Holy Miltank," A.J. whispered, stunned. He recalled his Sandshrew gently. "Guess you really weren't all talk. You just ended our win streak."
Green applied a Potion to Growlithe before facing A.J. "You're strong. Honestly, the most challenging trainer I've faced so far."
"Thanks," A.J. said, shaking Green's offered hand. Brock approached, a note of approval in his voice.
"That was well-fought. Your Sandshrew's endurance is impressive."
Before more could be said, a chorus of growls erupted—from A.J.'s team, from Growlithe's Pokéball, and even from Brock's belt.
Brock chuckled. "Sounds like everyone's reached a consensus."
"Hey, I got an idea," A.J. said, perking up. "Why don't you guys join us for lunch? My place isn't far. Consider it a reward for beatin' me."
Green opened his mouth to refuse, but Brock spoke first. "That's a generous offer. A proper meal would be good for all our Pokémon after such a battle." He gave Green a look that said *free food means saved supplies*.
Green shrugged. "Alright. Lead the way."
As they followed A.J., conversation resumed. "So, where ya from, Green?"
"Pallet Town. Brock's from Pewter City."
"Saku Town, myself. Tiny place, you've probably never heard of it."
"Pallet's not much bigger," Green admitted.
Brock smiled. "It's not the size of the town that matters. It's the heart of the Pokémon and trainers who come from it."
As they walked, the boredom that had clung to Green since Cerulean finally began to lift, replaced by the satisfying ache of a hard-won battle and the prospect of a decent meal. Maybe the road ahead wouldn't be so dull after all.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The sun beat down on Route 6, turning the path into a shimmering ribbon of heat. The only sounds were the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant, lazy buzz of summer insects.
"Could we take a small break?" Misty asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she fanned her face with her hand.
"I don't mind. My feet are staging a mutiny," Red replied, his own steps having slowed to a tired shuffle.
Two days had passed since their adventure in Maebashi City, and the journey to Vermilion was proving far more arduous than either had anticipated. The distance on the map had seemed manageable, but the reality was a long, hot trek that made the roads between Viridian, Pewter, and Cerulean feel like short strolls in comparison.
Spotting a relatively shady clearing just off the main path, they gratefully stumbled into it. They sank onto the soft grass, immediately tugging off their shoes to massage aching feet.
"Let's give the team some air," Red suggested, reaching for his Poké Balls. Misty nodded in agreement, releasing everyone except her Goldeen.
The Pokémon emerged, blinking in the bright light before relaxing into the break. Pikachu, with a contented "Pika-pi," immediately sought out the deepest patch of shade beneath a broad oak and curled up for a nap. Venusaur and Poliwhirl settled nearby, keeping a gentle watch over their newest, timid teammate.
After registering the captured Pinsir, Red's Pokédex had revealed two facts: she was very young, and she was female. For some reason, that had struck him as profoundly significant. He'd named her Tongu, after the Kantonian word for pincers. Original? Maybe not. But it felt right.
Starmie and Staryu, curious and smooth-gliding, floated over to greet the new arrival. Tongu shrank back, her large pincers clicking together nervously. A soft croak from Poliwhirl and a low, reassuring hum from Venusaur seemed to calm her. Tentatively, she began a halting, clicking conversation with the stellar Pokémon.
Misty watched the interaction, a complicated shudder running through her. "Well," she thought, steeling herself. "I guess I'm just going to have to get used to seeing giant bugs around. Deep breaths."
"I never thought Vermilion would be this far," Red mused aloud, pulling Misty from her thoughts as he pulled his socks back on. "It feels like we've been walking forever."
"Tell me about it," Misty agreed, leaning back on her hands. "Cerulean to Viridian for the annual Gym Leader meetings was one thing. This is… another league entirely. This is officially the farthest I've ever been from home."
"Well, look on the bright side," Red said, a spark of enthusiasm returning to his eyes. He dug into his jacket pocket and produced two slightly crumpled coupons. "Once we hit Vermilion, these are our tickets to freedom."
Misty's face lit up. The coupons for a free bicycle each, a token of gratitude from the Pokémon Lovers Fan Club in Maebashi after they'd helped rescue the stolen Pokémon from Team Rocket. Mr. Ishizuka had sworn by a particular shop in Vermilion. The promise of wheels was the only thing making this endless walk bearable.
"You're right," she said, a new determination in her voice. "With bikes, the whole world will feel smaller. No more feeling like my legs are about to fall off."
"Exactly," Red said, finishing with his laces and standing up with a faint groan. "Okay, rest stop's over. Vermilion's not going to come to us."
Misty let out a long, dramatic sigh but began putting her own shoes back on. "It was a glorious five minutes."
"I think I saw a sign a while back for a place called 'Nornel Town' a few miles ahead," Red said, offering her a hand up. "We can stop for a real meal, maybe even a cold drink. Something that isn't warm canteen water."
Misty took his hand and pulled herself up. "An inn, too? Please? One with actual beds? I'm not asking for a penthouse suite. Just a roof and a mattress that isn't the ground."
Red grinned, shouldering his pack. "If it gets dark, maybe. But it's gotta be a budget-friendly roof and mattress. We shouldn't blow our savings unless we have to."
"Deal," Misty said, recalling her Pokémon with a series of soft red beams. Red did the same, gently returning the dozing Pikachu and the still-socializing Tongu.
As they stepped back onto the sun-baked road, the heat rose in visible waves. The promise of a town—any town—with a cold drink and a patch of shade was the only thing pulling them forward, one step at a time, toward the distant sea air of Vermilion City.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The meal at the little diner in Nornel Town had been exactly what they needed. Revitalized and with packs restocked, Red and Misty stood on the town's outskirts, studying their map.
"See? It's practically a straight shot now," Red said, tracing a line with his finger from Nornel Town, across a bridge spanning a deep ravine, and straight to the outskirts of Vermilion City. "We could be there by nightfall."
"Don't jinx it," Misty warned, but she was smiling. The promise of their destination, and the bikes that waited there, was a powerful motivator.
Their optimism, however, was short-lived. As they approached the bridge, they saw a caravan of merchants and their Mightyena-drawn carts heading dejectedly back towards town. The men looked harried and defeated.
"Excuse me, sir?" Red called out, jogging up to the lead merchant. "Is everything alright?"
The man, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, let out a heavy sigh. "That obvious, is it?"
"You all look like you just lost a battle," Misty observed, coming to stand beside Red.
"Might as well have," the merchant grumbled. "It's the bridge. It's blocked. Completely impassable."
"Blocked? By a landslide or something?" Red asked, peering down the road.
"I wish it were something that simple. It's a Snorlax. A great, big, sleeping mountain of a Snorlax is planted right in the middle of the bridge entrance. Won't budge an inch."
Misty winced in sympathy. "That sounds… problematic."
"Problematic is an understatement, young lady," the merchant said, gesturing to his laden carts. "This is the fastest route to Vermilion. We hit a rockslide on the main road this morning and took this detour. Our delivery is due in two days. If we have to double back and find another way around this ravine…" He shook his head, the financial implications clear on his face.
"That's terrible," Misty said. "I wish there was something we could do."
Red, who had been quiet, suddenly snapped his fingers. "Maybe there is."
Both Misty and the merchant looked at him. "What do you mean, kid?"
"We'll handle it," Red declared, a confident grin spreading across his face.
"*We* will?" Misty asked, her voice laced with deep skepticism. "And how, exactly, is *we* going to move several hundred kilograms of sleeping Pokémon?"
"Just trust me!" Red said, giving her a thumbs-up that did nothing to reassure her.
"That is not a plan, that's a slogan," Misty muttered under her breath. But seeing the hopeful look on the merchant's face, she sighed. "Fine. Lead on, oh fearless leader. But if this ends with us being sat on, I'm telling your mom it was all your idea."
They followed the merchant back to the bridge. Just as described, a colossal, dark blue-green Pokémon lay sprawled across the entrance, its tremendous belly rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm. Its sheer size was daunting, completely sealing the path.
"Wow," Red breathed, pulling out his Pokédex.
***Snorlax, the Sleeping Pokémon. Normal Type. It is not satisfied unless it eats over 880 pounds of food every day. When done, it goes promptly to sleep.***
"I've heard they can weigh over a thousand pounds," Misty whispered, awe mixing with frustration. "So much for pushing it."
Red's eyes, however, gleamed with a different idea. He reached for a Poké Ball on his belt—not a standard one, but a Great Ball he'd bought from a sketchy vendor in a back alley. "We don't need to push it. We'll catch it! It's sleeping! This'll be the easiest catch ever!"
"Red, no, that's not how—" Misty's warning was cut off as the ball left his hand.
It sailed in a perfect arc and bonked softly against Snorlax's stomach, activating and sucking the giant inside. The ball dropped to the ground and gave a single, hopeful *wobble*.
"See? What did I tell—" Red began to celebrate.
***CRACK.***
The Great Ball shattered into digital fragments as Snorlax materialized back on the spot, its sleep utterly undisturbed. It even gave a contented snore.
Red's jaw dropped. "What?! But… it was *asleep*!"
"So much for the easiest catch in history," Misty said dryly.
The merchant rubbed his temples. "Son, that was the first thing we tried. Threw a whole net of Poké Balls at it. Didn't even make it twitch. They say a sleeping Snorlax's spirit is too content to be captured. You'd have better luck catching a mountain."
"But it was a *Great Ball*!" Red protested, devastated. "I paid fifteen hundred Pokédollars for it!"
The merchant blinked. "Fifteen hundred? Lad, they retail for six hundred. You got swindled."
"I *told* you not to buy from that guy in the trench coat!" Misty groaned.
Red's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Now what?"
"Well," Misty said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe your high-tech Pokédex has an idea. It's supposed to be helpful, right?"
Nodding, Red scrolled through the device, past battle data and habitat notes, until he found an entry under "Key Items." His eyes lit up. It showed a simple blue flute with a red Poké Ball design at its end.
***Poké Flute: An ancient instrument that plays a piercing melody capable of rousing any Pokémon from even the deepest sleep.***
"That's it!" Red exclaimed, his excitement returning. "We don't need to move it or catch it while it's asleep. We just need to wake it up! A Poké Flute!"
"And where are we supposed to find one of those?" Misty asked.
"Wouldn't be a problem," the merchant interjected, a spark of hope returning to his own eyes. "We've got a couple in the caravan. Used 'em for our Singing Hypno's act back in the day. But here's the real question: do either of you kids know how to play one?"
Red and Misty looked at each other.
"I know which end to blow into," Red offered weakly.
"I took tambourine in junior performance camp. I was first chair," Misty said, then deflated at their unimpressed looks. "What? Rhythm is important!"
"Right," the merchant said slowly. "Well, the instruments are back with the carts. We can fetch them. But we'll need to find someone in town who can actually play a proper tune. A wrong note might just make it roll over."
As they turned to head back to the caravan, Red cast one last, longing look at the slumbering Snorlax. The setback was temporary, he was sure of it. One way or another, they'd clear this path. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get a second shot at catching that incredible Pokémon once it was awake. The thought made him smile all the way back to town.
It took some doing, but they finally found their musician: an elderly hippie named Beau who lived in a van painted with fading Psyduck patterns on the outskirts of Nornel Town. For the price of a hot meal and a promise to "spread good vibes," he agreed to help.
The group returned to the bridge, the afternoon sun casting long shadows. Beau took a deep breath, raised the simple blue Poké Flute to his lips, and began to play.
The melody that emerged was not a song, but a series of clear, piercing, almost ethereal notes that seemed to vibrate in the air itself. The sound cut through the deep, rumbling snores of the Snorlax.
The effect was immediate. One enormous eyelid fluttered open. Then the other. The Snorlax let out a groggy, earth-shaking yawn that ruffled everyone's hair, and slowly, ponderously, began to push itself up onto its feet, blinking sleepily at the sudden audience.
A collective sigh of relief swept through the merchants. "It worked! You're a lifesaver, Beau!"
"All in a day's groove," Beau smiled, polishing the flute on his tie-dye shirt.
Red, however, saw not a cleared path, but a second chance. His eyes locked onto the stretching, confused Snorlax. The plan formed instantly: it was awake, vulnerable. This was his moment.
"Alright… now!" he whispered, pulling another Great Ball from his belt—one of the two remaining from his expensive, dubious purchase.
"Red, what are you—?" Misty started, but it was too late.
The ball flew in a perfect arc, striking the Snorlax squarely on its cream-colored belly. With a bright flash, the massive Pokémon was sucked inside. The capsule fell to the ground and began to shake.
Red punched the air. "Yes! I told you! See? Easy!"
"Wait a minute," Misty's voice was dangerously calm. "You bought *more* than one of those overpriced balls?"
"I, uh… bought three," Red admitted, his triumphant grin faltering slightly as he watched the ball wobble. "It was a bundle deal!"
"A *bundle*? You spent over four thousand Pokédollars on a *bundle* of fake-rare Poké Balls?!"
"The price doesn't matter now, Misty! The important thing is that I finally—!"
***POP!***
The sound was definitive. The Great Ball burst open, and the Snorlax materialized back onto the bridge, now fully alert. It looked down at the red-and-white capsule at its feet, then slowly lifted its gaze to the boy who had thrown it.
A profound silence fell. The Snorlax's initially drowsy confusion melted away, replaced by a deep, rumbling annoyance. Its beady eyes narrowed, focusing squarely on Red.
Red's victorious smile vanished. "But… but it was *awake*!"
The lead merchant facepalmed. "Lad, I said you *could* catch it while it's awake. I never said it would *let you*. You just poked a bear… a thousand-pound bear."
A low, guttural growl emanated from the Snorlax. ***"SNOR… LAX!"***
In a move of perfect, unspoken coordination, every merchant, Misty, and even old Beau took one large, synchronized step backward. A forest of fingers pointed directly at Red.
"Him!"
"It was the kid!"
"We don't know him!"
Snorlax's roar of indignation shook the very planks of the bridge. It took a single, ground-quaking step forward.
Red's survival instincts finally kicked in. "Uh oh."
He turned on his heel and ran.
What followed was a chaotic, high-stakes chase. Red zigzagged desperately across the bridge and the clearing, the enraged Snorlax thundering behind him, each footfall like a minor earthquake. It wasn't a graceful pursuit—the Snorlax was slow, but its sheer size meant every lunge covered a terrifying amount of ground.
"I'M SORRY! IT WAS A COMPLIMENT, REALLY!" Red yelled over his shoulder, ducking just as a massive paw swiped through the air where his head had been.
Misty watched from the supposed safety of the merchant caravan, a hand over her mouth. "He's going to be flattened into a Red-shaped pancake," she moaned, though a traitorous part of her was filing the scene away for future teasing material. If he survived.
The great challenge of Vermilion City had suddenly become very, very immediate—and it was wearing a nap-disrupted snarl.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Welcome back, everyone.
First and foremost, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your incredible patience. I am truly sorry for the long and unexpected silence following my last update.
While my final semester exams concluded in November as planned, life had a few other assignments in store for me immediately after. I was pulled into a demanding, time-sensitive research project that required my full focus—a kind of real-world final exam I hadn't seen coming. Navigating that, alongside some necessary personal time to recharge after the intensity of the semester, meant my return to writing was delayed far longer than I ever intended.
I am so grateful that you've stuck around. Your messages and support have been a constant motivator, even when I couldn't be at my keyboard.
The bridge to Vermilion City is finally clear, Red has (hopefully) stopped running, and our journey is ready to resume. I can't wait to share the next chapter with you all very soon.
Thank you for your understanding, your kindness, and for being here.
With sincere gratitude,
Neo