Chapter no.8 Talks with Oak

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The trip to the shop was quick but left Austin feeling significantly lighter—both emotionally and financially. His wallet had taken a 200 Pokédollar hit in exchange for berries, yogurt, chocolates, and a bag of chips. He figured it was worth it. If food could keep his team happy and distracted from their differences, it was an investment he was willing to make.

As they walked back to their room, Austin noticed both Pikachu and Spearow eyeing the bags he was carrying like vultures circling a meal.

"Seriously, guys? I just risked my bank account for you, and all you care about is the snacks?"

Pikachu didn't even look up, his focus laser-locked on the bag.

Spearow let out a squawk of agreement, his talons clicking against the floor as he hurried to keep pace with Austin.

"Unbelievable," Austin muttered, shaking his head as he pushed open the door to their room. "Food is the way to your hearts, huh?"

Setting the bags down, Austin pulled out Rattata's Pokéball with a small smile. "Alright, let's get you out of there—hello ther—"

Before he could finish, pain exploded across his face like a thunderbolt. He stumbled back, crashing onto the floor as stars danced in his vision. His nose throbbed, and a fiery ache shot through his skull.

"What the—?!" he groaned, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, panicked cry.

"Pika?!"

Electricity crackled dangerously as Pikachu stood on the table, cheeks sparking wildly.

"Pikachu, wait!" Austin raised a shaky hand, his voice strained but urgent. "Don't—"

Spearow, however, had no such restraint. With an aggressive squawk, the bird launched himself into action, wings flapping furiously. Was he trying to protect Austin, or just reacting to the sudden chaos? Austin couldn't tell.

Spearow swooped toward Rattata, his sharp beak glinting as he aimed a Peck at the tiny Pokémon.

"Wait, no—stop it!" Austin yelled, scrambling to his feet as fast as his aching body would allow.

Rattata moved like lightning, darting to the side with a terrified squeak. Spearow's attack missed, and his momentum carried him straight into the nearby window.

Crash!

Glass shattered, the deafening noise cutting through the room as shards flew everywhere. Austin instinctively threw up his arms to shield himself, feeling tiny, stinging cuts on his skin as the pieces rained down.

"Enough!" he roared, his voice hoarse with panic. He staggered upright, taking in the chaos: Spearow flapping wildly near the broken window, Pikachu still sparking with tension, and Rattata, curled up in the corner, trembling violently.

She looked so small. So scared.

The door slammed open, and Nurse Joy rushed in with a Chansey at her side. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene—the shattered glass, the Pokémon on edge, and Austin, bleeding and looking like he'd just walked out of a warzone.

"I—I didn't mean for this to happen," Austin blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in a frantic mess. "The window—I didn't think Rattata would react like that, and—"

"Hold on," Nurse Joy interrupted, her calm, professional demeanor cutting through his panic. "You're bleeding."

Austin blinked, confused. "What?" He reached up to his face and winced as his fingers brushed against his nose. A sharp sting shot through him, and when he pulled his hand back, it was smeared with blood.

Looking in the mirror across the room, he saw it: his nose was clearly broken, and blood was dripping steadily down his face.

"Great. Just great," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and pain.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement—Rattata making a desperate dash for the door. Without thinking, Austin grabbed her Pokéball and recalled her in a flash of red light before she could escape. The room fell eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the Pokémon Center and Austin's ragged breathing.

Nurse Joy was at his side in an instant, her movements calm and precise, though there was an edge of concern in her voice. "Stay still. Your nose is broken," she said as she knelt down next to Austin. Her tone left no room for argument.

Austin winced, still half-dazed. "Broken? Great. What else is new?" His voice came out muffled as he pinched the bridge of his nose instinctively, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Let me see," she said, gently pulling his hand away. Her face scrunched slightly as she examined him. "This might sting a bit."

"Sting? Nurse Joy, my face feels like I headbutted a Golem," he muttered, though he stayed still as she began to work.

"That does seem like something you'd do."

Austin gave her a weak grin through the pain. "Funny. You should take that act on the road."

"Maybe I will," she replied, not missing a beat, as she carefully adjusted his nose.

Behind them, Chansey waddled into the room, balancing a small tray of medical supplies in her stubby arms. She gave a soft "Chansey!" and placed the tray down before surveying the shattered window and scattered glass.

Pikachu took one look at Chansey and immediately grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. He let out a determined "Pika!" and started sweeping the broken shards with tiny, focused movements.

"Pikachu… what are you doing?"

Chansey clapped her little hands together in approval. "Chansey!"

"Alright, alright, overachiever," Austin muttered, leaning back slightly as Nurse Joy gently dabbed at a cut on his cheek.

Meanwhile, Spearow was perched on the headboard of the bed.

"Spearow," he said, his tone sharp, "help them."

The bird's feathers puffed up in indignation, his beady eyes glaring at Austin as if to say, Excuse me?

"Spearow," Austin repeated, his voice firm this time. "Now!"

With a squawk that sounded suspiciously like a teenager saying, Ugh, fine, Spearow fluttered down to the floor. He began picking up larger shards of glass with his beak, occasionally tossing them into the dustpan Chansey held.

Nurse Joy glanced up from her work, watching the scene unfold. "You've got a way with your Pokémon," she said lightly, though there was a trace of amusement in her tone.

"Way with them? More like they've got a way with me."

"Well, considering the number of injuries you've racked up in, what, a day? I can't complain. Keeps me in business," she said, her lips twitching into a teasing smile.

Austin raised an eyebrow, half-skeptical. "Wait a second—aren't Pokémon Centers free?"

"Oh, yeah, but I'm thinking of charging you especially," Nurse Joy said with a sly smile as she carefully removed another glass shard from his arm, the blood glinting faintly under the light.

Austin flinched, wincing at the sharp sting. "Mercy! Please, Nurse Joy, have mercy!" he pleaded dramatically, though his voice cracked just enough to show he wasn't entirely kidding.

Her laugh was light, but her hands remained steady as she worked.

"Great," Austin muttered, gritting his teeth as she pulled out another shard. "I'll go down in history as the trainer who ruined universal healthcare."

Nurse Joy chuckled as the boy let out a half-hearted laugh but immediately winced as another sharp sting shot through his arm.

Okay, Austin, he thought, if you want to make it out of this journey in one piece, you need to start being more cautious. Think things through. Assume the worst.

His eyes drifted down to the Pokéball resting in his hand. The glossy red-and-white surface gleamed faintly in the light, but his thoughts were heavier than the ball itself.

What do I do with you now, Rattata?

He turned the Pokéball over in his palm, the weight of it suddenly feeling more significant. She was scared—terrified, even. And why wouldn't she be? He'd caught her in a moment of desperation, and she clearly didn't trust him yet.

Nurse Joy glanced at him as she finished removing the last shard of glass, her tone softening. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

Austin hesitated, then held up the Pokéball. "It's Rattata. She's… she's scared of me. If I let her out, she'll bolt. I don't know how to get through to her."

Nurse Joy studied him for a moment before setting down her tools. "Can I see her Pokéball?"

Confused, Austin handed it over. He watched as she twisted the front button, and to his surprise, the red top of the Pokéball faded, revealing a tiny Rattata curled up inside.

His jaw dropped. That's… that's like something from the Pokémon manga!

Nurse Joy chuckled. "It's a feature most trainers don't know about. It's meant to help you understand your Pokémon better. Look at her—she's scared. She doesn't trust you yet."

Austin stared at the tiny Pokémon, her little body trembling even inside the ball.

"Talk to her," Nurse Joy continued, handing the Pokéball back to him. "Help her understand that you're not going to hurt her. She needs to feel safe with you. Trust takes time, but you'll get there."

Austin nodded slowly, her words sinking in. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"I need to get back to work," Nurse Joy said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself—and your Pokémon."

As the door clicked shut behind her, Austin sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at the Pokéball in his hand. The room felt too quiet now, and the weight of what had just happened pressed down on him like a ton of bricks.

Austin turned the transparent Pokéball over in his palm, his brow furrowed in disbelief. How does this even work? He tilted the ball slightly, as if doing so might reveal some hidden secret. The science of this world was on another level, and no amount of thinking was going to help him figure it out.

A soft squeak from inside the Pokéball broke his train of thought. He blinked, focusing on the miniature Rattata curled up inside.

"You pack quite the punch, you know that?" Austin said softly, tilting the Pokéball so Rattata was in full view. Her small body trembled slightly, and he could see the tension in her tiny form.

Pikachu snorted audibly, his ears flicking back in clear annoyance as he glared at the Pokéball.

"Okay, buddy, chill," Austin said. "She didn't mean to cause trouble. She was scared."

"Pika," Pikachu grumbled.

"Oh, really? Like you weren't scared when we first met? You literally zapped me into next week."

Pikachu's ears twitched, and he let out a huff, turning away with an exaggerated flick of his tail. His expression screamed, That was different.

Austin smirked but didn't push further. Instead, he turned his attention back to Rattata's Pokéball. "Don't worry," he said gently. "He's just protective. It's a new environment for all of us."

Rattata's small eyes darted around warily, but there was a flicker of something else there—curiosity, maybe.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot," Austin continued. "My name's Austin, and I'm your trainer. And I get it—you're scared. You've got no reason to trust me yet. But… maybe we can change that?"

Rattata tilted her head slightly, her ears perking up. Austin wasn't sure if she understood him, but at least she wasn't outright panicking.

"Trainer," he repeated. "You know, we go on adventures, battle sometimes, eat good food… especially the food."

That last part seemed to hit a nerve. Her ears twitched again, and her nose wiggled slightly, like the mere mention of food had flipped a switch.

"Oh, so that's what gets your attention, huh? Food?"

Rattata's tiny body leaned forward, just a little, her tail flicking with interest.

"Alright, let's make a deal," Austin said, gripping the Pokéball a little tighter. "I'll let you out, but you have to promise me you won't run away. Deal?"

Rattata hesitated but eventually gave a small, tentative nod.

Taking a deep breath, Austin pressed the button on the Pokéball, releasing her in a flash of light. She appeared on the floor, her tiny body tense, but she didn't bolt.

"Good start," Austin said softly, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a handful of berries and held them out to her with an open palm.

Rattata sniffed the air cautiously before inching forward, her little nose twitching furiously. Finally, she took a bite, nibbling at the berries with quick, precise movements.

Austin watched her, something warm settling in his chest. It wasn't just relief—there was something heartwarming about seeing her relax, even if it was just for food. She wasn't some wild Pokémon anymore. She was part of this crazy, mismatched team he was building.

The peaceful moment shattered with a loud screech.

Austin's head snapped up to see Spearow perched on the edge of the bed, his beak glowing ominously as he prepared to dive at Rattata.

"Spearow!" Austin barked. "Stand down, or no snacks for you!"

Spearow froze mid-flap, his head jerking toward Austin. He let out a disgruntled squawk before reluctantly settling down, hopping back to the headboard. His eyes, however, stayed locked on Rattata, sharp and calculating.

"Yeah, yeah, I see you," Austin muttered. "But if you so much as think about dive-bombing her again, you're sleeping outside tonight."

Spearow ruffled his feathers indignantly, but he didn't make another move.

Rattata, meanwhile, hadn't stopped eating. If she noticed the near attack, she didn't show it. She was laser-focused on the berries, her little body hunched protectively over her meal.

"Don't worry," Austin continued. "As long as I'm here, you'll be safe. I promise."

The words felt heavier than he expected, like he was making a vow not just to her, but to himself.

For a moment, the room felt still, as if the words were sinking in for all of them.

Austin let out a slow breath, standing back up. "Alright, team," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Let's take it one step at a time."

Pikachu gave a soft "Pika," his tail flicking in agreement, while Spearow let out a grudging squawk, clearly too proud to openly agree but not entirely against the idea.

As for Rattata, she finished the last of her berries and looked up at Austin, her tiny eyes less fearful than before. It wasn't much. But it was a start.

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"Are you... okay?" Austin asked cautiously, eyeing the intern who looked one sneeze away from passing out. The guy's pink hair was an absolute mess, sticking out in every direction, and the dark bags under his half-closed eyes made him look like he hadn't seen a bed—or basic human joy—in days. He leaned against the counter like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

The intern let out a long, dramatic sigh, like he was carrying the weight of the entire Pokémon Center on his back. "Define... okay." His voice was monotone, and he blinked slowly, as though even that required monumental effort.

Austin raised an eyebrow. "Uh, I meant, like... are you good? You look like you're about to keel over."

"I'm fine," the intern mumbled, wobbling slightly on his feet. "Totally fine. Just... what do you need? Dehydrator? Freeze dryer? Blast chiller? Or... I don't know... a time machine?"

Austin tilted his head. "Why would I need all that?"

The intern stared at him like he'd just asked why water was wet. "To... make snacks? For the road? You freeze-dry fruit, dehydrate meat... maybe vacuum-seal it? You know, basic survival stuff." He yawned mid-sentence, his words slurring together. "Otherwise, your snacks are gonna go bad and you'll starve in the wilderness or something. Trust me... it happens..."

"Right." Austin shot a glance at his Pokémon. Pikachu, Spearow, and Rattata were darting around the gleaming kitchen, poking their noses into cupboards and sniffing every utensil they came across. The kitchen itself was a pristine, stainless steel wonderland filled with gadgets and appliances Austin couldn't even name, let alone use. Honestly, it was intimidating.

"Well," Austin began, hoping to keep it simple, "I was just planning to use a double boiler and maybe the freezer. You know, old-school."

The intern froze mid-yawn, his eyes snapping open just a fraction wider. He stared at Austin like he'd just witnessed something miraculous. "You..." He pointed a shaky finger at him. "You're... the Messiah."

Austin blinked, caught completely off guard. "...What?"

"The culinary Messiah!" the intern whispered with the kind of reverence usually reserved for legendary Pokémon. His voice trembled like he'd just had a religious experience. "The chosen one... sent to save us from... the tyranny of... overcomplicated machines."

Austin stared at him, completely baffled. "Dude, it's just a double boiler."

The intern leaned closer, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "A double boiler... of destiny."

"Okay," Austin said, holding up his hands. "You need sleep. Like, right now."

The intern straightened—or at least tried to, but his posture still screamed about to collapse. "You're right. Sleep is good. I'll go do that." He started stumbling toward the door, muttering under his breath. "But you... you are the truth."

"Uh, thanks?"

As the intern shuffled toward the exit, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Or... maybe you're a false prophet. I'll decide after my nap." And with that, he collapsed face-first onto the floor, dead asleep before he even hit the tile.

Austin blinked down at the snoring figure. "Okay, then." He turned back to his Pokémon, exhaling slowly. "Well, that happened."

"Pika!" Pikachu called out, drawing his attention. The little electric mouse stood on the counter, one paw pressed against a teetering cup that looked moments away from falling. Pikachu's wide-eyed expression screamed oops, and Austin could already feel his stress levels rising.

"Seriously?" he muttered, moving to grab the cup before it could shatter. "Pikachu, do me a favor—don't make my day harder than it already is."

Pikachu tilted his head innocently.

Meanwhile, Rattata was nosing around a bag of flour on the floor, looking far too interested for Austin's liking.

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really, really need to find Brock and convince him to join me."

As if on cue, the intern snored loudly, mumbling something unintelligible about "prophecies" and "kitchen appliances." Austin shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Yeah. Definitely need Brock."

Later, as the treats chilled, Austin flipped through The Physics of Pokémon: Understanding Their Moves by Professor Magnolia. A section caught his attention:

Instinctive Moves — These are moves that a Pokémon instinctively knows but requires the catalyst of a battle to 'unlock.' It's like they have these moves lying dormant until the heat of battle triggers them.

Egg Moves — These moves awaken in Pokémon due to interspecies breeding. They are passed down from parents to offspring, sometimes resulting in moves that a Pokémon wouldn't normally learn.

Tutor Moves — A phenomenon known as Pokémon Mimetics shows that Pokémon can teach some of their moves to other species. This can be replicated by professional move tutors, who help Pokémon learn moves outside their natural set.

"Pokémon Mimetics," Austin murmured, imagining a classroom of Pokémon learning moves like students in a school. It was a fascinating thought, but definitely something he'd have to explore later.

TM Moves — TM, or Technical Machine, moves were created by Orrean scientist Konrad Zuse. He discovered that many Pokémon have vestigial organs that allow them to learn moves their species naturally can't. The first successful TM was created in 1941 when an Eevee was taught the move 'Stored Power' using a combination of Psychic-type Pokémon and engineering.

Austin paused, his eyes lingering on the word Orrean. Orre? Isn't that the region from Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness? Nostalgia and worry raced through his mind. Could Team Cipher become a problem for me in the future?

"Pika." Pikachu's gentle pat on his leg snapped Austin out of his thoughts. Pikachu pointed at the clock with his tiny paw, reminding the boy of their current task.

Austin blinked, shaking off the heavy thoughts. "Right. Let's see if the snacks are done."

He pulled out a plate of freshly made treats. Taking a bite, he savored the rich, smooth chocolate melting on his tongue, the cold, creamy yogurt balancing the sweetness, and the burst of tangy berries. It was perfect.

Handing a snack to each Pokémon, Austin watched as their faces lit up with joy. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy this small victory.

Cross the bridge when you come to it, he reminded himself. Focus on what's right in front of you. Talk to Professor Oak, sort out your budget, train, get through those books. Michael and Wes can handle Team Cipher if they become a problem.

Right now, he had his own journey to figure out.

Austin glanced at his Pokémon, still happily munching on their snacks, and felt a sense of peace wash over him.

For now, this was enough.

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Austin settled into the communication room, the hum of vintage 90s computers filling the quiet space. The beige, bulky monitors were encased in small partitioned walls, offering a semblance of privacy. The soft glow of the screen was almost calming, but his nerves had other ideas. His leg bounced under the desk as he muttered, "Okay, you got this," before powering up the computer and dialing the number.

The ringing seemed to stretch forever, each chime amplifying the anxious rhythm of his heartbeat.

Finally, a voice crackled through the speakers.

"Hello, this is the Ketchum residence."

It was her, but the video feed hadn't activated yet.

Austin swallowed hard, the guilt settling heavy in his chest. "Hello, Mom?" The word felt foreign, like it didn't belong to him.

There was a cry of joy on the other end, loud and filled with unfiltered excitement. He winced at the sudden noise as Delia's face appeared on the screen, her smile warm and radiant.

"Hi, honey! Is everything okay?"

Her image came into focus, and Austin blinked, his thoughts stalling. Delia was curling dumbbells—big, 50-pound dumbbells. Her toned arms flexed with each movement, her expression focused. For a moment, he didn't know how to process it.

"Where are you, Ash?" she asked, her voice snapping him out of his daze.

"The Pokémon Center in Viridian City," he replied automatically, still processing what he was seeing. Was this her? The sweet, gentle Delia from the show? Or is this world just trying to surprise me in every way possible?

"You're already in Viridian City?" Her tone shifted to something proud, impressed even. "It took your father four days to get there when he started Pokémon training. Oh, he'll be so proud. You're the apple of his eye."

Father.

The word hit Austin harder than expected, like a punch he wasn't ready for. A lump formed in his throat. Ash's dad—a mystery my whole childhood—and now here I am, standing in his shoes.

"Is there a way for me to talk to him?" he blurted, the words escaping before he could think them through. They hung in the air, heavy with years of curiosity he hadn't realized he was carrying.

Delia's smile faltered, just slightly, and her tone became practiced, like this wasn't the first time she'd had to answer this question. "Sorry, honey, you know how busy he is."

There was something beneath her words, something unspoken, but Austin didn't push. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Well, next time you talk to Dad, tell him I'm doing alright," he said, his voice betraying the weight of his emotions.

"Ash, I'm proud of you," Delia said, her eyes soft and brimming with love. "And I want you to know your father is proud of you too."

Austin looked away, his chest tightening with emotions he wasn't prepared to face. This is too much. Too real.

"Hmm," he murmured, barely audible, his voice a whisper of acknowledgment.

He needed an exit. Fast.

"I have to call Professor Oak," he said, his words tumbling out quickly, almost tripping over themselves. "I shouldn't keep him waiting."

"I love you," she said, her tone warm and genuine.

The words hit harder than he'd anticipated. Hearing them—so full of unconditional love—even though he wasn't truly her son, made his chest ache.

"Me too," he mumbled, his voice cracking as he ended the call.

The screen went dark, leaving Austin sitting in silence. It was deafening, the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stared at the blank monitor.

This world, these connections—they're becoming more real with every passing moment.

And he was right in the middle of it all, struggling to navigate his unexpected journey, trying to piece together who he was in a world where everyone already seemed to know him.

------

"Ring, ring, ring."

"Hello there."

"Ah! My boy. How is your journey going?"

"Who is this?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

Austin bit back a laugh as he stared at the screen, the camera showing only the back of Professor Oak's head. "I would if I wasn't looking at the back of your head," he quipped, watching as the professor fumbled with the setup. Oak's sudden scramble to adjust the camera had him stifling a chuckle until he finally turned around, looking a bit sheepish.

"Looks like you made it to Viridian City," Oak noted, trying to regain his composure, though a faint blush crept across his cheeks.

"Yeah, I was curious why you called the Pokémon Center?"

"I was checking to see your progress since I am your sponsor," Professor Oak explained, his tone taking on a serious edge.

Austin's eyebrows shot up. Sponsor? That was news to him. He felt a twinge of anxiety, like he'd missed a critical piece of the puzzle. What else don't I know about this world?

"And I had my doubts that you'd be able to handle your Pikachu," Oak continued, "but when my grandson said you wouldn't have a new Pokémon by the time you got to Viridian City, I bet him 1,000 Pokédollars that he'd be wrong."

A grin spread across Austin's face. "You won that bet," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I caught two Pokémon—Rattata and Spearow."

Professor Oak's laughter filled the room, easing some of Austin's tension. "Well done! A Spearow?" Oak's expression shifted to concern, the amusement fading. "That Pokémon is hard for new trainers to handle."

"We'll see."

"Confidence, that's good to see," Oak said, smiling again. There was a warmth in his voice that made Austin feel like maybe he wasn't doing so badly after all.

"Professor, I had a few questions on my mind. Do you mind answering them?"

"Ask away," Oak encouraged, leaning forward, his eyes keen and focused.

"Can Pokémon use more than four moves?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?" Oak tilted his head, clearly curious about the question.

"Well, I saw this Pokémon match, and they only used four moves," Austin said, leaning back. He needed to know the rules here, to figure out what was real and what was just part of the show.

"That's because the Pokémon League rules limit each Pokémon to four moves during official battles, making the matches more strategic," Professor Oak explained. Austin nodded, filing that information away.

"Any other questions?"

"Uh, yeah." Austin hesitated, then pushed on. "When you say you're my sponsor, what does that mean exactly?"

Professor Oak chuckled, shaking his head. "You weren't paying attention during the lecture, were you?"

Austin forced a nervous laugh, feeling like he'd just been called out in class.

"Okay, being a sponsored trainer is pretty straightforward. I give you access to the Oak Lab's ranch, and the League provides you with a monthly stipend of 10,000 Pokédollars to use as you see fit," Oak explained.

Austin's jaw dropped.

"Ten thousand Pokédollars?"

He couldn't believe it. That was more money than he'd ever seen, let alone had to spend. He knew being a trainer was expensive, but still…

"But what's the catch?" Austin asked, trying to keep his voice steady. There had to be a catch. Nothing was ever this easy.

"The catch is that you're considered an active trainer who operates on my behalf and represents me in official tournaments while conducting your own adventures. Essentially, you get paid to battle and bring prestige to the lab. The better you perform, the more substantial the grants I receive from the League, and the bigger your stipend becomes," Oak continued.

"So I'm like a walking advertisement for the Oak Lab?"

"Something like that," Oak said, smiling. "But it's more about supporting young trainers and advancing Pokémon research."

Austin paused, letting it all sink in.

"But what if someone doesn't want to battle?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"You, of all people, don't want to battle?" Professor Oak raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

"No, no, no," Austin backtracked quickly. "It's just that I recently found out how expensive it is to be a trainer, plus I plan to catch a lot of Pokémon, so a big stipend would be really helpful." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he was exposing too much of his hand.

Professor Oak laughed, the sound easing some of Austin's tension. "Wow, I didn't expect you to start changing in just a day. The Ash of yesterday wouldn't have even bothered with this stuff."

Austin pursed his lips.

"The League's stipend can primarily be increased through your contributions to lab research or through gaining prestige in battles. However, that's not something you need to concern yourself with immediately. Managing six Pokémon with the 10K Pokédollars monthly stipend should be quite feasible. If you find yourself catching more Pokémon than you can comfortably manage, you can always send the extras to the ranch," Oak said.

Austin nodded, trying to process everything. This was… a lot.

But one thing still bugged him.

"Wouldn't sending my extra Pokémon to the ranch affect your finances?"

Professor Oak paused, looking momentarily taken aback. "Oh, you don't know."

"Know what?"

"The ranch generates revenue by selling by-products from Pokémon. For example, we store Pikachu's electricity in batteries; Tauros's fur can be harvested and sold; Miltank provides Moomoo Milk, and so forth," Oak explained, and suddenly, a lot of things started clicking into place.

"Professor Oak, I've read that many people need a second job alongside being a low-level trainer. Why don't more people get into this ranch business?"

"That's because trainers aren't exactly paid in cash; the ranch simply takes care of your Pokémon in exchange for the ownership of these by-products," Oak clarified.

"Okay, last question," Austin said, trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling too much. "You mentioned a 10K stipend."

"Yes?"

"So, where's my money?"

"In your bank account."

Austin blinked, feeling a bit stunned. Why the hell does a ten-year-old have a bank account?