"I want to ask you… how I bee a Pokémon Trainer?" After a brief moment of hesitation, the boy spoke seriously, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness.

  Sato didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, gazing toward the distant Lingua Town. It eaceful and serene, a pce of quiet prosperity.

  "Why do you want to bee a Pokémon Trainer?"

  "Huh? Well… Trainers are amazing! They and all sorts of powerful Pokémon in battle. I want to be a Traioo—to bee a super-strong Trainer like Mr. Land defeat bad guys!"

  The boy became increasingly animated as he spoke, even waving his fists iement, as if he would step onto a Champion's battlefield any sed.

  Sato suddenly recalled that, once upon a time, his own reason for being a Trainer had been just as simple… and just as na?ve.

  "Lingua Town is a great pce. You'll never go hungry, life is peaceful, and you don't have to veo dangerous mountains. There's no risk," Sato said calmly, stroking the Spinarak that g to his chest.

  "What's so great about it? Lingua Town is b! Everyone's life is already set in stone. If I don't go out ahe world, I already kly what I'll be like ten years from now!"

  The boy poioward the orchard, where his elders were busy w. His voice carried far more vi than before.

  "Do you have a starter Pokémon?"

  "No…" The boy looked disheartened. He knew how important a starter Pokémon was, and he didn't want to just pick a random Butterfree from the orchard.

  "Do you have the money for your journey?"

  "...No." He ched his fists. It was an obstao child could overe alone. His family could provide a fortable life, but they had ra funds to send him on a Pokémon journey.

  "How much do you know about Pokémon?"

  The boy suddenly hesitated. He didn't want Sato to think less of him, so he bit his lip and answered, "I think I know quite a lot."

  "Alright, then—when would a Psychic-type move be effective against a Dark-type Pokémon?"

  "…Huh?" The boy froze. He had memorized the type effectiveness chart long ago, but Sato's question pletely tradicted the basics he had learned. For a moment, he was at a loss, uo answer.

  Sato let out a quiet sigh. The question wasn't difficult. Ah even a basiderstanding of Psychion would know about a move called Miracle Eye.

  "Do you see this?" Sato raised his bandaged right hand and shook it slightly. "I got this injury during my journey. And this is one of the lighter wounds. I have personally seen human corpses in the wild, torn apart aen by vicious Pokémon."

  The boy's face turned pale as a sheet. Words like "corpse" and "devoured" were far beyond what a child his age could prehend.

  "And among those who were killed… the ones who died the most were young, inexperierainers—people who had little skill and no survival knowledge."

  The boy was thteo speak. His legs trembled slightly—he was scared. He had never imagihat being a Pokémon Trainer could be so dangerous.

  Seeing his rea, Sato didn't push any further.

  He casually tossed Spinarak forward, and the little Pokémon skillfully shot out a string of silk, tg onto a tree branch. It swung bad forth, happily pying.

  After the young boy ran off, Sato absentmindedly assigned Zoroark to train Larvitar and Spinarak's evasion skills, while he himself stepped aside, l his head with a somewhat forlorn expression.

  The underground research facility i, along with the boy's as, forced Sato to once again seriously pte the true nature of the Pokémon League.

  In order te underground anizations, the League had no qualms about smearing Team Rocket's name, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

  Not long after, news of a sudden massive colpse he National Park spread, catg media attention.

  Just as Sato had predicted, although this research facility hadn't been exposed at the most opportune moment, every news outlet's reports were already shifting the bme entirely onto Team Rocket.

  In an instant, Team Rocket became the prime target of public e, ned by all. Opposition voices filled every er of Johto, growing louder by the day.

  With the rise of Pokémon Trainers as a profession, tless young trainers set out on their journeys daily, much like an endless stream of travelers crossing a vast river.

  The young boy from earlier, including Sato's past self, had all been influenced by the League's propaganda.

  With so many young prodigies emerging, the number of trainer deaths in the wild each year also tio rise.

  To mitigate these casualties, the Pokémon League introduced Pokédexes and starter Pokémon, using various methods to promote their importand shift aspiring trainers' focus toward obtaining them.

  Through a series of sing processes, only a small number of exceptionally talerainers were granted access to a starter Pokémon and a Pokédex.

  As reckless travelers dwihe Pokémon League further ted its influence by providing free starter Pokémon, Pokédexes, and plimentary Pokémoer treatments, seg the loyalty of high-potential trainers who would likely align with the League iure.

  They were ruthless in achieving their goals yet dedicated to nurturing talent. Among the League's upper ranks, there had to be more than one ambitious strategist or visionary leader.

  Pushing these s aside, Sato focused entirely on training his Pokémon.

  His immediate goal remained Goldenrod City. In a short while, something signifit would take pce there, and if he could seize the opportunity, his Pokémon's strength would see siderable growth in a short period.

  Since his injuries hadn't fully healed, Sato decided to remain in Lingua Town a while longer.

  The elderly couple, Takeno and Masanobu, treated him well, and he found himself uedly enjoying this peaceful life.

  However, just as Sato assumed the young boy wouldn't return, he appeared before him again the very day.

  "I want to be a Pokémon Trainer! I want to bee stronger! I don't want to be a farmer for the rest of my life!"

  "Aren't you afraid of dying?"

  "I am. That's why I have to bee stronger! I've seeh before. Once, a rampaging Nidoking attacked the town. I saw it kill Uncle Iwakō, and in the end, it was Grandpa Masanobu who drove it away. The adults didn't let us near, but I hid and saw everything with my own eyes."

  The boy was slightly out of breath, clearly having rehearsed that spee his mind for a long time.

  Sato didn't reize Iwakō, but Masanobu was Takeno's husband.

  At this point in life, the only Pokémon he had left was a Jumpluff, which was retively long-lived and easy to care for. His stronger partners, including his once-mighty Heracross, had long since passed away.

  Gng at the boy, who stared up at him with rge, dark eyes full of determination, Sato asked in a calm voice, "What's your name?"

  "Takeshin!"

  "I'm Sato. You watch me train, but whether or not you bee a Pokémon Trainer is a decisioween you and your parents—not me."

  "I uand! I'll work hard!"

  Sato said nothing more and turned back to training. Spinarak stared bnkly at Takeshin, puzzled by how much darker he was pared to Sato.

  How someohis dark? Spinarak didn't uand.

  For the few days, Sato selectively dispyed basic trainihods in front of Takeshin without expining anything, leaving it up to the boy to figure things out on his own.

  One m, after training for nearly half an hour, Sato noticed that Takeshin hadn't shown up yet. Just as he was beginning to wonder why, the boy suddenly came running toward him, lookied—clutg a Hoppip in his arms.