Kai stood outside the Pokémon Center, ₽500 in his pocket, and stared at the red roof and white walls like they were a fortress. The building was cheerful and welcoming, with automatic doors that slid open whenever a trainer approached. He'd watched three kids walk in over the last ten minutes, all of them with clean clothes and multiple Poké Balls on their belts.
He looked down at himself. Filthy jacket, stiff with dried sweat and greenhouse dirt. Torn jeans with holes in both knees. Dried blood on his hands from the Rattata fight, under his fingernails, and on his sleeves. T The bandage on his arm was barely holding together, soaked through with something that smelt wrong.
The infection was getting worse. Red streaks had started spreading from the bite wound up his forearm. The pain was constant now, throbbing with every heartbeat. He needed treatment.
And he had money. Real money.
Kai pushed through the doors.
The interior was exactly like the games: clean white floors, pink accents, and the soft hum of medical equipment. Nurse Joy stood behind the counter in her pink uniform, currently handing a Poké Ball back to a young trainer.
Everything his alley wasn't.
"Your Oddish is all healed up! Please come back if you need anything else!"
The trainer thanked her and left. Nurse Joy's eyes landed on Kai, and her professional smile faltered slightly. Taking in his appearance.
"Hello! Welcome to the Pokémon Center!" Her voice was kind and automatic. "How can I help you today?"
Kai approached the counter, acutely aware of the trail of dirt his shoes were leaving on the pristine floor. "I need medical treatment. I can pay."
He set ₽200 on the counter. A quarter of everything he had, but worth it for treatment.
Nurse Joy's smile became strained. "I... I'm sorry, but Pokémon Centers only treat Pokémon. That's what our facility is designed for. If you're injured, you should visit the clinic in Viridian City—"
"That's three hours' walk. I have an infected wound that needs treatment now." Kai kept his voice level.
"The clinic in Viridian—" She paused, looking at his arm where blood was seeping through the bandage. Her expression softened.
"Charges how much?"
"I... I don't know their rates."
"Guess."
Nurse Joy's lips pressed together. "Probably ₽1,000 minimum for infection treatment. Maybe more if you need antibiotics. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help."
Kai's jaw clenched. He had ₽500. Not even half of what he'd need.
"What about Potions?" he asked. "Can I buy those?"
"Potions are for Pokémon—"
"I just want to know if I can buy them."
Nurse Joy hesitated. "The Poké Mart next door sells them. But Potions are formulated for Pokémon physiology. Using them on humans could be dangerous. We don't recommend—"
"Can I buy them or not?"
"...Yes. But—"
Kai was already walking toward the door. Behind him, Nurse Joy called out, "Please be careful! And get proper treatment if you can!"
The automatic doors closed behind him. The afternoon sun was too bright after the centre's soft lighting. Kai stood there, hand pressed against his infected arm, running calculations.
Clinic: ₽1,000 minimum. Impossible. Even if he walked three hours to Viridian City, he'd arrive broke and still ₽500 short. They'd probably turn him away at the door.
Potion: It was unknown if it would work on human tissue. Possibly dangerous, possibly deadly. Nurse Joy's warning had been genuine. But it was something.
Do nothing: Die slowly of blood poisoning. Sepsis. Multi-organ failure. He'd watched enough medical shows in his old life to know how that went. Fever, delirium, shock, death. Days, maybe a week if he was unlucky.
Not much of a choice.
He walked next door to the Poké Mart.
*
The Mart was busier than the Centre. It made sense; the Centre was free for registered trainers, but the Mart was where they spent their money. Trainers browsed shelves stocked with colourful items. Poké Balls in various types—red and white standard balls, blue and white Great Balls, even a single Ultra Ball under glass with a ₽1,200 price tag. Potions in graduated sizes from small to large. Status heals in different colours. Held items under glass cases, glittering and expensive.
Everything was organised and labelled with prices. The soft background music was probably designed to encourage spending.
His stomach sank. That was double what he'd seen in the games. In Pokémon Red, Potions cost ₽100. Here, the price was double.
"Can I help you find something?"
A clerk had approached, a middle-aged man with a Mart employee vest, friendly but watchful. The kind of watchful that tracked dirty kids who might shoplift.
"Potion," Kai said. "This one. It says ₽200."
"That's correct. Did you need more than one?"
"Why is it ₽200? I thought the standard price is ₽100."
The clerk's expression shifted. Understanding. "You're not registered, are you?"
"No."
"Then it's ₽200. Registered trainers with League ID get the discount pricing. You're paying full retail." He said it matter-of-factly.
Kai stared at the price tag. "So a registered trainer pays ₽100. I pay ₽200. For the exact same item."
"League subsidy covers the difference. It's how they support registered trainers on their journeys." The clerk shrugged. "If you want the discount, you can register at—"
"Can't register." Kai cut him off. "How much for two Potions?"
"₽400 total."
Most of his money. Almost everything he'd earned. But the infection was spreading. He could feel it, a fever starting, the wound hot and swollen.
"What about Super Potions? Full Heals?"
"Those require registration to purchase. League regulation. Basic consumables are available to anyone, but advanced items are restricted." The clerk gestured to the shelves. "Potions, Antidotes, Paralyze Heals, and Awakening, those you can buy. Anything above that tier needs ID."
"Poké Balls?"
"You can buy as many as you want. No restrictions on standard Balls. Great Balls and Ultra Balls require ID though."
The system was elegant in its oppression.
"Two Potions," Kai said.
The clerk rang them up. "₽400. Will that be all?"
Kai handed over the coins, watching his total wealth evaporate. ₽100 left. Enough for maybe two days of food if he was careful.
The clerk bagged the Potions and handed them over. "Word of advice, kid. These are formulated for Pokémon. Using them on yourself is technically off-label use. I can't recommend it." He lowered his voice. "But I also can't stop you from doing whatever you want with your own property."
Their eyes met. The clerk knew. He'd seen this before. Other desperate people in Kai's position, faced with the same impossible choice.
"Thanks," Kai said quietly.
He walked out with two Potions and ₽100 to his name.
*
Kai returned to his alley behind the general store as the sun was setting. His spot, a corner where two buildings met, out of sight from the street, had become almost familiar. Safe, in the way that any territory becomes safe through repeated use.
He sat with his back against the wall and pulled out the first Potion. The bottle was small and clinical, with a spray nozzle on top. The label had a long list of ingredients he didn't recognise and a warning in bold.
Kai set it aside and unwrapped the bandage on his arm.
The smell hit him first. Wrong. Rotten. The kind of smell that meant tissue was dying. The wound itself was worse than he had anticipated; the bite marks were swollen, pus-filled, and encircled by furious red skin. The red streaks he'd noticed earlier had spread halfway to his elbow. Blood poisoning. Sepsis. He'd die within days if it progressed unchecked.
He picked up the potion again, turning it over in his hands.
'Potions work on Pokémon physiology. Burns, poison, and paralysis have an impact on both Pokémon and humans due to their similar biological makeup. Cross-species disease transmission exists in this world, which implies compatible biology. Potions heal damaged tissue at an accelerated rate, presumably through cellular regeneration. Therefore, Potions should work on humans…. Probably.'
"This is insane," Kai muttered. "This could kill me, but so would the infection. At least this is a chance."
He released Pidgey. The bird materialised, looked at him, and chirped once.
"If this goes wrong," Kai said, "you're free. The ball's right here. You can just... leave. Find a new flock."
Pidgey tilted its head, not understanding words but understanding tone.
Kai aimed the Potion spray at the wound and pressed the nozzle.
The liquid hit the infected tissue, and his entire arm ignited. Not metaphorically. It felt like fire. Like acid. Like every nerve from his fingertips to his shoulder had been connected to a live wire. Kai bit down on his jacket sleeve, teeth clenching so hard his jaw creaked, trying not to scream. The pain intensified. Worse than the infection. The Potion was doing something; he could feel it – tissue moving, cells regenerating – but the process was agony compressed into seconds.
Thirty seconds that felt like an hour.
Then, gradually, the burning faded to heat. Heat faded to warmth. Warmth faded to a dull ache.
Kai released his jacket, gasping, vision spotted. He looked at his arm.
The wound was closing. His tissue was slowly knitting together over the course of a minute. The swelling was going down. The red streaks were fading.
It was working.
It was actually working.
The wound closed further, leaving an angry red scar but no longer open. No longer infected. No longer trying to kill him. He sat there, panting, arm cradled against his chest.
Pidgey hopped closer, examining the newly healed scar with one eye. The bird made a soft sound—not quite approval, but acknowledgement.
"I know," Kai said, voice hoarse. "Stupid risk. But it worked."
He looked at his arm, scarred, still sore, but functional. The constant throbbing was gone. The fever was already starting to break. He could move his fingers without pain.
₽400 spent. ₽100 remaining. But he had his arm back.
Kai pulled out the last of the contaminated potting mix from the greenhouse and poured some for Pidgey. The bird ate while Kai counted his remaining coins.
₽100.
Enough food for maybe three days if he was careful. Then he'd need another job. But at least he could take another job now. With a functioning arm and a Pidgey that was starting to trust him, he could work.
The grey market existed. Tomás had implied it. People with problems who couldn't or wouldn't pay premium rates for registered trainers. Small jobs, dirty jobs, jobs that required thinking instead of battling.
Kai could do those.
"We're going to survive," he said to Pidgey. The bird looked up from its meal. Pidgey chirped. It sounded almost like agreement.
Kai leaned his head back against the wall, exhausted but alive. His arm was healing. His Pidgey was eating. He had ₽100 and knowledge nobody else in this world possessed. Tomorrow, he'd find more work. Would undercut the professional rates. Would solve problems in ways registered trainers wouldn't think of.
Tonight, he just breathed. Felt his pulse without the underlying throb of infection and watched the stars slowly appear above.