The morning air after a storm in the Kanto region has a specific clarity to it—a crispness that usually signals a fresh start. But inside the Route 6 Pokémon Center, the air was thick with the lingering scent of antiseptic and the heavy, quiet transition of healing.
Damian's "assets" were no longer numbers on a spreadsheet. They were living, breathing creatures with bandages covering chemical burns, splints on malnourished limbs, and eyes that flinched at every sudden movement. Nurse Joy had worked through the night, her Chansey moving with tireless efficiency, but physical healing was only half the battle. These Pokémon were "The Abandoned," and their spirits were still in the ER.
I pulled up my HUD, scanning the room. My eyes widened. Damian might have been a monster, but he was a monster with an expensive eye for talent.
* **Charmander:** Champion Class.
* **Growlithe:** Pseudo-Champion Class.
* **Abra:** Pseudo-Champion Class.
* **Chinchou:** Elite Class.
* **Shuckle:** Elite Class.
* **Persian:** Pseudo-Elite Class.
"God," I muttered, leaning against the sterile white wall. "These rich kids really do spend their family's fortune on a 'Gold Mine' of potential, don't they?"
Damian hadn't just been a bully; he was a high-stakes investor spending his family money for high potential pokemon. Every single Pokémon in that group possessed a high-tier potential that most trainers would spend their entire lives searching for.
I looked at my friends. They were exhausted, their faces etched with the same grim determination I had seen the night before. They weren't looking at "potential." They were looking at souls. They were the "Hardened Battlers" this world produced—trainers who knew that a high-potential Pokémon was a miracle—but more importantly, they were lovers of the craft. They were exactly what these broken creatures needed: a home where safety wasn't a luxury, but a guarantee.
### The Bureaucracy of Mercy
I walked over to Officer Jenny, who was busy filing the mountain of paperwork Damian's arrest had generated. She looked up, her expression skeptical. "Regina, I understand they want to help, but we usually send these cases to League-protected shelters. We can't just hand over high-potential Pokémon to random travelers."
"They aren't random, Jenny," I said, sliding my G-Pro tablet across the desk. "Look at the backgrounds. Brock and Misty? Future leaders of the Pewter and Cerulean Gyms. Gary? The grandson of Professor Oak and a researcher-trainee. Ash? One of the few trainers personally sponsored by the Pallet Lab. And me? I'm a G-Pro recruit sponsored by Linda."
Jenny paused, her eyes scanning the credentials. The weight of those names—Oak, G-Corp, Gym Leaders—was the ultimate skeleton key in Kanto's bureaucratic lock.
"They have the resources, the knowledge, and the character," I pressed. "These Pokémon don't need a facility. They need families."
Jenny went silent, her fingers tapping the desk. She picked up the videophone and made a high-level call to the Indigo Plateau's Welfare Division. We waited in the lobby, the tension rising with every tick of the clock. A day passed in a blur of feeding and soothing, and then, the confirmation pinged on Jenny's terminal.
Approval granted.
### The Choice of the Flame
I gathered the group in the recovery ward. "Listen," I said, my voice soft but clear. "Officer Jenny got the green light. You guys are authorized to adopt. But only if you want to. There's no pressure to take on more responsibility than you're ready for."
Ash didn't hesitate. He walked straight toward the Charmander, who was sitting on a heated pad, its tail flame finally burning with a steady, hopeful orange. Ash knelt down, his eyes meeting the lizard's at eye level.
He glanced at Gary, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He knew Gary wanted a powerful Fire-type. He knew Gary had been eying the Charmander's Champion-class potential all night.
Gary caught the look. He let out a long, weary sigh, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Don't look at me like that, Ashy-boy. You stayed up all night shielding that flame with your own body. He's already bonded with you. I might be an egoist, but I'm not a thief."
Ash beamed, turning back to the Charmander. "Hey. I'm Ash. I promise I'll never leave you on a rock. I promise we'll become the strongest team in the world. Want to come with me?"
The Charmander didn't wait. It lunged forward, hugging Ash's leg and letting out a happy, trilling "Char!"
**[Data Update: Ash -> Charmander (Champion Class)]**
Gary looked away, a bit of gloom settling over him. "Great. Now I have to go find a Fire-type from scratch. My team composition is totally unbalanced now."
I walked over to the corner where a Growlithe was sitting. It was a magnificent specimen, despite its ribs showing. Its coat was a deep, vibrant orange, and its eyes held a sharp, disciplined intelligence.
"Gary, look," I pointed. "Maybe you've already found your Fire-type."
Gary pulled out his Pokédex, scanning the pup. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Arcanine had been his favorite since he was a toddler. He knew the stats by heart.
* **Charizard Base Stats:** 534
* **Arcanine Base Stats:** 555
"Pseudo-Champion potential?" Gary whispered, his voice trembling with excitement. "And it's a stone evolution! If I can get my hands on a **King Premium Fire Stone**, I could push its potential into the **Champion Class** or higher during the evolution."
In Kanto, the Growlithe line was almost entirely monopolized by the Jenny family for police duty. The public only ever got the "low-potential" leftovers. Finding a Pseudo-Champion Growlithe in the wild—or in the hands of a brat like Damian—was like finding a diamond in a coal mine.
"He's perfect," Gary breathed, kneeling down. The Growlithe sniffed his hand, sensing the legacy of the Oak family and the smell of high-quality travel gear. It let out a sharp, loyal bark.
**[Data Update: Gary -> Growlithe (Pseudo-Champion Class)]**
Nelly's voice whispered in my ear. *"Butterfly effect detected, Host. In the original timeline, Gary's Arcanine was a standard Gym-tier catch, probably adopted from the jenny family, left over growlith with the help of Prof Oak connections. It was famously defeated by a single Hyper Beam from Ash's Snorlax. By directing him to this specific Growlithe, you have fundamentally altered the power scaling of your primary rival."*
I smirked. *Guess that Snorlax is going to have a much harder time in this world, huh?*
### The Spread of the Sanctuary
The rest of the adoptions happened with a natural, quiet ease. Misty took in the **Chinchou (Elite Class)**, her eyes shining at the prospect of a Water/Electric dual-type to cover her team's weaknesses. Brock adopted the **Shuckle (Elite Class)**, fascinated by its incredible defensive potential and its ability to ferment berries into high-grade medicine.
Even the **Persian (Pseudo-Elite Class)**, who was the most skittish of the group, found a home. Ash's mother, Delia, had called at the Center to check on her son. The moment she saw the elegant, bruised cat, she fell in love.
"Oh, you poor dear," Delia cooed, seeing the Persian. "You don't need to fight anymore. You just need a warm rug and all the Moomoo Milk you can drink."
The Persian purred, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the entire room. All was well. We immediately teleported Persian to Delia. The police was okay as she was one of the reserch assistant of prof. Oak so the trust was there.
### The Reward of the Anomaly
I stood back, watching my friends celebrate. I felt a strange sense of peace, but also a lingering "Researcher's Envy." I had done all the work, and they had gotten the Royal-tier gifts.
"Well," I muttered. "I guess I'll just stick with my 42 Pokedollars and my sassy Pichu."
Then, I saw him.
In the very back of the room, sitting on a high shelf, was an **Abra**. It was small, its yellow armor-plating dusty, and its eyes were closed in a deep, meditative sleep.
**[Data Scan: Abra]**
* **Class:** Pseudo-Champion
* **Status:** Observing
I stopped dead. "Nelly... for me?"
"It appears the world decided to grant the Anomaly a reward for her systemic intervention," Nelly chuckled. "Or perhaps it just wants someone to keep it awake."
I walked up to the Abra. "Hey. I'm Regina. I'm a bit of a nightmare to work with, but I'll never leave you on a rock. Want to be my friend?"
Vwoop.
The Abra teleported. I sighed, shoulders sagging. "Yeah, too good to be true. I'm too intense for Psychics."
Then I felt a weight on my bag. I turned around. The Abra had teleported directly onto my rucksack, tapped the button on a spare Pokéball hanging from the strap, and vanished inside with a soft click.
I blinked. "Did he just... skip the theatrics because he wanted to go back to sleep?"
"He saw you punch a man twice your size for a Charmander, Host," Nelly noted. "Psychics value security. You are the ultimate insurance policy."
Well All's Well that Ends Well.