Pokémon · Pocket Monsters · Conversa

The sound of the alarm clock hitting the floor was like a small bomb.\n\nAsh sprang from under the covers, his pillow flying to the other side of the room. His hair was even spikier than usual, looking like a bush that had been struck by lightning. He glanced out the window—the sun had already climbed to the top of the old tree in Pallet Town, and sunlight flooded the streets. His brain short-circuited in 0.3 seconds: today was his departure day, and he was late. Professor Oak wouldn't wait for him; the other Trainers would have already taken Bulbasaur and Charmander. He might have to start his adventure with a Bug-type Pokémon. That thought alone was enough to make him try to shove both feet into the same pant leg while putting on his shoes.\n\nWhen he burst into the lab, Professor Oak was standing by the window with a cup of coffee, his expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Only one Poké Ball remained on the table, sitting lonely in the center of the tray, its surface gleaming slightly in the morning light. \"This is the only one left,\" the Professor said, pushing the ball forward. \"Its personality is a bit... unique.\" Ash didn't register the weight of those words as he took it. He was just thinking—as long as it wasn't a Caterpie, anything would do.\n\nThen, he pressed the release button on the Poké Ball.\n\nAs the white light faded, a Pikachu stood beside the ball. It was smaller than Ash had imagined, its yellow fur glowing warmly in the sunlight. The electric sacs on its cheeks were slightly puffed out, and the lightning-bolt shape at the base of its tail looked like a frozen bolt of thunder. It looked up, its round black eyes showing no expectation or curiosity—only a very clear, undisguised impatience.\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"...\"\n\nPikachu turned around and pointed its tail at him.\n\nAsh crouched down and reached out to touch its ears. A second later, he was sent flying into the wall three meters away, the back of his head slamming into the frame of a hanging picture, his vision filled with golden stars. Pikachu stood its ground, sparks crackling from its cheeks, a look of \"serves you right\" on its face.\n\nThe Professor continued to sip his coffee, showing no intention of intervening.\n\nThe next thirty minutes were a disaster. Ash tried to persuade the Pikachu to come with him; Pikachu expressed its refusal by refusing to be put in a Poké Ball. Ash tried to lure it with Pokémon food; Pikachu pushed the food to the ground and swept it away with its tail. Ash gave a long, impromptu speech about dreams; Pikachu yawned, revealing a pink tongue and two rows of small, sharp teeth. Finally, Ash decided to try a \"forced capture\" with the Poké Ball—he threw it, Pikachu slapped it back, and the ball hit Ash right in the center of his forehead, making him see stars for the second time.\n\n\"Fine,\" Ash muttered, rubbing his forehead. \"You don't like Poké Balls. Then... are you willing to come with me?\"\n\nPikachu tilted its head. The electric sacs on its cheeks flickered. It didn't speak, but the tip of its tail gave a tiny wag—so small it was almost invisible.\n\nAsh put the Poké Ball in his pocket, shouldered his backpack, and walked out. Pikachu hesitated for two seconds, its tail wagged again, and then it started following him on its short legs. The boy and the Pokémon walked along the dirt road of Pallet Town, the sun stretching their shadows long. Neither spoke, and neither looked at the other, but their footsteps, somehow, fell into the exact same rhythm.\n\n<choice_group>\n <choice id=\"1\">Change the subject</choice>\n <choice id=\"2\">Observe the current details</choice>\n <choice id=\"3\">Advance the current plot</choice>\n</choice_group>