It was early morning in Pallet Town, and the sky was a soft blue with a few clouds drifting by. Today was a big day—Trainer Registration Day.
Kids were running around, saying goodbye to their parents, bragging about which starter they were gonna pick. Everyone looked excited.
Except for one guy.
He was leaning against a fence near Professor Oak's lab, arms crossed, just watching. Messy black hair, dark hoodie, tired eyes. His name was Dex.
Nobody really knew him. He didn't grow up in Pallet Town, and he didn't have any family around either. But he had the same goal as everyone else:
Become a Pokémon Master.
Professor Oak stood by the gate, clipboard in hand, calling names. One by one, trainers stepped forward, got their Pokédex, and chose their first Pokémon.
Then it was Dex's turn.
He stepped up slowly, kind of stiff, like he wasn't used to walking. He smiled, but it looked a little… off. Not creepy or anything. Just weird. Like he'd practiced it in a mirror but hadn't quite figured it out yet.
"Name?" Oak asked.
"Dex," he said. "Just Dex."
Oak nodded and handed him a Pokédex and a Poké Ball. "Well, Dex, looks like you're the last one. Only one left. Charmander."
Dex looked at the Poké Ball in his hand and nodded. "Sounds good."
___
Charmander walked a little ahead, sniffing the grass and flicking his tail. Dex followed behind, hands in his pockets.
"You know," Dex said, glancing around, "I've seen this route before. Pidgey to the left, Rattata to the right… real predictable."
Charmander stopped and turned. "You sure sound confident for someone who just became a trainer."
Dex blinked, then smirked. "You can talk?"
"You can understand me?" Charmander tilted his head.
Dex looked around, checked that no one was watching, then said quietly, "Yeah. I'm not exactly a normal trainer."
He glanced around again, then his face shimmered. Just for a second. Not enough to change. Just a little ripple across his cheek.
Charmander's eyes widened. "Wait a sec. You're—"
"Shhh!" Dex waved him down. "Don't say it out loud! I'm trying to keep that part a secret."
Charmander narrowed his eyes. "You're a Ditto. You're a Pokémon."
Dex sighed. "Yeah. Got sick of being used. I wanted something else. So I took a shot."
Charmander didn't say anything at first. Then he gave a small snort. "You're weird. But I kinda like it."
Dex grinned. "Thanks. I like you too, Fire Lizard."
They kept walking. A Pidgey flew by overhead. Rattata darted into a bush.
"So, what's the plan?" Charmander asked.
"Simple," Dex said. "Catch Pokémon. Beat Gyms. Don't get found out."
Charmander nodded. "Cool. But if you mess up and melt in front of a Gym Leader, I'm pretending I don't know you."
"Fair."
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
Then Dex added, "By the way, I picked you on purpose."
"Huh?" Charmander blinked.
"I saw you in the lab. You looked bored. Like you were just waiting for something to happen. Figured you might get me."
Charmander looked thoughtful. Then, with a grin, he said, "Alright, weird trainer. Let's burn our way to the top."
Dex bumped fists with him—well, paw—and smiled.
"Let's do it."
By the end of the day, they'd battled a Rattata (won), tried to catch a Caterpie (missed), and got pecked by a Spearow (rude). But Dex was having fun. Real fun.
And for the first time, he didn't feel like just a blob with a job.
He felt like a trainer.
Sort of.