(Grey's POV)
It has been quite a while since I was born into this world—precisely ten years. When I first opened my eyes to the vibrant colors and sounds of Pokémon, I thought I'd be living out my childhood dreams, just like the characters in my favorite shows and games. I had assumed it would be easy, filled with adventures and battles won with the flick of a Poké Ball. But man, was I wrong. This world was more similar to the manga than the games. If you haven't guessed it yet, let me just say it out loud: I was reborn in the world of Pokémon.
I wasn't born in Pallet Town, nor was I born to a rich noble, an Elite Four member, a champion, or even a gym leader. No, my parents are common people. My father is a construction worker in Celadon City, and my mother works part-time at the Celadon perfume store. That too is only a recent thing. We don't even live in Celadon as the rent prices are quite high, we reside in the outskirts, in a modest little house that feels too cramped at times. But it's home.
Every day, I wake up early, the sun barely rising over the horizon, casting a soft glow over our small neighborhood. While the other kids play outside, I sit at our rickety kitchen table, poring over books and notes. I've been preparing the essentials to become a Pokémon trainer because at the age of ten, I get the right to be one. But it isn't as easy as the show or the games made it seem.
Professor Oak still shows bias to Pallet residents when it comes to starter Pokémon, giving them rare and powerful options. I can't blame him, really. He was an ex-champion, and after retiring to become a professor, he established his lab in Pallet Town. The locals adore him, and he returns the favor by sponsoring kids from Pallet who reach the age of ten. It's like a lottery that I can never enter.
And then there's the Trainer's Exam—the real gatekeeper in this world. Yeah, there's an exam for trainers to get their license, and it's brutal. The show and games seem to have skipped it, but in reality, it's a competitive exam where you need to score at least a 30 out of 100 just to pass. Even that feels impossible. The League doesn't allow just anyone to be a trainer; otherwise, there would be Pokémon abuse, recklessness, and deaths among trainers in this chaotic world. This exam serves as a minimum criterion to prevent that.
For the past few months, I've been preparing for this exam, studying at school and silently in the evenings. I've dedicated almost a year to this preparation, pouring over books, flashcards, and online resources. A lot of people might think that a reincarnated person like me wouldn't need to prepare. Shouldn't I know it all? Wrong. The world is more real than any game, and the questions are so complicated that even an adult could struggle.
The exam has two formats: a written test and a battle format. The written exam is out of 200 points, covering basics that should be enough for a typical kid to pass. But to excel, I have to grasp a variety of concepts like Pokémon law, medical knowledge, genetics, history, geography, and moves. I've even charmed my way into borrowing books from Celadon's Nurse Joy and Officer Jenny, who maintain a wealth of knowledge at their centers. They see my innocent, kid-like face and can't say no, allowing me to take books home or study at the center.
But every bit of knowledge comes at a cost. The syllabus isn't concrete; two consecutive years of papers can be wildly different. For laws, I sometimes ask Jenny or read information from law books, and even bug other officers for tips. It's a hassle, but I learn to work with what I have. My parents aren't affluent—quite the opposite, really. I often have to beg or borrow materials. They support my ambition, but I can't trouble them for more. Food is a daily struggle, and I don't want to add to their worries.
Sometimes, I manage to get my hands on books from Joy herself for other subjects. One book by Professor Westwood, the guy who provides info for the Pokédex in the anime, is a treasure. I could guarantee it would help me crack at least ten questions on the quiz—knowledge worth its weight in gold.
As the exam approaches, I feel a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. The pattern is unpredictable. I want to be in the top one percentile; just getting above 30 might land me a common Pokémon like Caterpie or Rattata. Sure, all Pokémon can become strong, but I want to secure the best possible start with the resources I have.
Then, in the last week before the exam, an announcement shook everything. This year, the Elite Four would sponsor the top four trainers with a Pokémon of their choice. The possibilities were endless; we could get anything, and it would at least be one of their types—ice, fighting, ghost, or dragon. My heart raced. I was getting more nervous and excited at the same time. I had a shot at starting out better than most.
Most candidates do receive Pokémon from the League, but they aren't the best. Gym leader-sponsored trainers or company-sponsored trainers have far superior Pokémon. For the League to offer something for regular kids like me felt like a glimmer of hope—a chance to rise above the ordinary.
As I walk to the examination center, my mind races. What if I don't pass? What if I mess up? But deep down, I know I've done everything I can. I've studied hard, and this is my moment to prove that even someone like me, born in the outskirts, can become a great Pokémon trainer.
The exam hall looms ahead, and I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenge. No matter the outcome, I'm ready to fight for my dreams.