I casually fried the assembled meat steak in the pan, and when it was about 70% cooked, I plated it and sprinkled some black pepper and chili on top.
In this life, Tetsuya particularly enjoyed spicy food—he liked to put a little chili on everything he ate.
Taking a bite, he nodded in satisfaction. Tetsuya had been single for forty years across two lifetimes. He couldn't say much about other aspects of himself, but he was undeniably an excellent cook.
After finishing his meal, he glanced at the time. Nearly an hour had passed—enough time for his Pidgeot to cover more than 2,000 kilometers. This Arbok was proving to be a real challenge to track down.
Just as he was lost in thought, a familiar cry rang out from above.
"Beep!~"
Looking up, Tetsuya squinted instinctively. The midday sun was blindingly bright.
A large shadow descended swiftly, kicking up dust and sand in its wake.
Without needing any instruction, Rockruff—who had just finished his meal—calmly controlled the swirling dust, ensuring it settled quickly.
Pidgeot's powerful chest rose and fell slightly. For it, this was just a matter of focusing a little more on the terrain during flight than usual. It wasn't particularly strenuous—more of an extended warm-up than actual exertion.
Still, it was lunchtime, and even Pidgeot felt a little hungry.
Tetsuya placed the pre-prepared meal down in front of it. Pidgeot wasted no time digging in, while Tetsuya gently tidied the bird's slightly ruffled feathers—evidence of its long flight.
He sighed. It had already been nearly two years since he and Pidgeot started traveling together.
Time had flown by. He hadn't even realized how much Pidgeot had grown. Pokémon evolution was truly an incredible thing.
After Pidgeot finished its lunch, Tetsuya put the Arbok matter on hold for the moment. He had Chicken Strong incinerate his paper plate, leaving no trace behind.
At the same time, he used the stream water to rinse the cookware and utensils of all three Pokémon, finishing with a quick disinfection using Chicken Strong's flames.
Fire-type Pokémon—an essential kitchen companion.
If he paired this with a Water-type for cleaning and a Grass-type for food production, he'd have a fully self-sufficient setup.
Tetsuya chuckled at the absurd thought. Was this how the concept of the three starter Pokémon came about?
Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea. The deep-rooted foodie instincts from his past life were making themselves known again. No matter where he went, food was always on his mind.
After tidying up the area and making sure his Pokémon were in top shape, he turned his attention back to Pidgeot.
"So, what did you find?" he asked.
"Beep, beep..." Pidgeot began relaying its report, and Tetsuya quickly pieced together what had happened during its flight.
Pidgeot's Perspective
I, Pidgeot, am the king of the sky. No matter how big, yellow, or green a creature is, it can't outrun me.
The trainer tasked me with finding an Arbok today.
Seriously? Easy. Just a snake, right? Should be a piece of cake.
The first one I found? I could've taken it down with just one move.
But nooo, the trainer insists we follow some nonsense strategy. Something about "the way of dogs." We don't even have a dog Pokémon! Weird.
Still, he's the boss.
I flew for a while but saw no sign of any snakes.
It's summer—shouldn't they be out basking in the sun? What are these youngsters doing? Staying indoors all day? Not good for their health.
Hmm… nothing here either.
"Hello? Any snakes down there? If so, please respond. Thank you."
Oh! Found one!
Hey, little buddy! Come play!
Wait… you're busy? Ah, trying to impress a female Arbok, I see.
Give it up, man. She's not even that pretty.
What? You mad? Spitting venom at me? Rude.
Want me to slap you?
———
Of course, what Tetsuya actually heard was a much more simplified version:
Pidgeot had circled the area for over half an hour before finally spotting an Arbok. However, there was a female Arbok with it, and Pidgeot—being Pidgeot—provoked them. That was why it took longer to return.
Before leaving, it had given both of them a parting Air Slash for good measure.
Tetsuya nodded slightly. Two Arbok? Not a big deal.
He asked Pidgeot if it had seen their nest location clearly. Upon receiving an affirmative response, he stood there in thought.
Pidgeot's provocation was believable. He knew all too well how talkative and annoying his Pidgeot could be. It was undoubtedly responsible for leading Chicken Strong down the same mischievous path.
After surveying the surrounding terrain, Tetsuya quickly formulated a plan.
He walked toward the direction Pidgeot indicated.
Rockruff dug several pits of varying depths in strategic locations, covering them with disguised quicksand traps.
Pidgeot's job was simple—annoy the Arbok into chasing it into the traps.
Tetsuya, Rockruff, and Chicken Strong hid atop a large rock, watching.
Pidgeot, delighted at the chance to stir up trouble, quickly returned to where it had found the Arbok pair.
It taunted them in Pokémon language, and soon enough, the two furious Arbok took the bait, slithering after it despite their obvious disadvantage.
Pidgeot made sure to slow down just enough to keep them engaged, tossing gusts of wind their way and creating minor obstacles to further enrage them.
Blinded by anger, the first Arbok launched itself forward—only to plummet into the first pit.
The second Arbok, caught up in the chase, didn't even notice and fell into the second, deeper trap moments later.
Tetsuya gestured for his Pokémon to hold off on attacking immediately.
The first Arbok, using sheer strength, managed to climb out first. It wasted no time spraying venom and acid toward Pidgeot, completely forgetting about its partner still trapped behind.
"Boom!"
It fell straight into the second, even larger pit.
Tetsuya signaled Rockruff to apply gravity to keep them pinned. Chicken Strong followed up with powerful Fire Blasts and Flamethrowers, while Pidgeot continued striking with Air Slash.
It was over in minutes.
Tetsuya tossed two Poké Balls. The captures went through without resistance.
Exhaling, he finally relaxed. Mission complete.
Noting the fresh sheen on Arbok's scales, he realized it had just shed its skin. That explained its aggression.
Thankfully, this area wasn't home to any Spearow or Fearow. Otherwise, Pidgeot wouldn't have been able to be so carefree.
Now, all that was left was to locate the Arbok nest. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long.
After all, he had no intention of missing dinner.
Surely, his luck wasn't that bad… right?
Tetsuya breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the nest, lucky to have found a freshly shed Arbok skin.
After tossing everything into his backpack, he stroked his chin in thought.
This place was actually quite suitable for hunting Arbok and making some money. But judging from the size of their territory, there were probably only these two around here. If only he could have Pidgeot search through the forest as freely as it did in open areas, the efficiency would skyrocket. This was only possible now because there weren't many Flying-type Pokémon living in this region.
Back in town, he headed to the trading center to sell some older snake skins.
"A portion of Arbok skin that's about half a month old is worth 150 Alliance Coins per gram. This batch is 1,182 grams, totaling 177,300 Coins.
Then, two packages of Arbok skin that are about a month old, valued at 100 Alliance Coins per gram. That's 2,032 grams, making it 203,200 Coins.
That brings your total to 380,500 Alliance Coins."
The staff member quoted the price smoothly before sighing. "You've got some real skills. I'm guessing you took on mission 0519? Didn't expect you to make such a hefty profit on the side."
Tetsuya simply smiled and replied that he got lucky, then took the money and left.
At the appraisal department of the bounty hunter center, he pulled out the only fresh Arbok skin he had for evaluation.
For long-term missions that required specific quality standards, an official appraisal was necessary before submitting the task manually to receive a reward. The payout depended on the quality of the item.
Tetsuya could estimate the value himself, but without an official certification, it wouldn't be recognized.
After receiving the appraisal report, he returned to the manual service area to submit the mission. Swiping his ID card, he watched as the mission reward was automatically transferred to his bound account.
Checking his balance, he saw that he had earned 400,000 Alliance Coins. A solid payout. If the second Arbok hadn't just shed its skin, he'd have been lucky to get 300,000 considering its average strength.
Leaving the Hunter Center in high spirits, he checked his watch messages. His Leaf Stone had arrived, picked up by Brock.
At the same time, Nurse Joy from the Pokémon Center notified him that a package was waiting for him in the lockers. He just needed his ID to retrieve it.
Not a bad day—three pieces of good news, even if one was a bit of a stretch.
On the way, he stopped by a black market buyer to sell the three Ekans he had captured—one at the elite level and two at the standard level. Because of their species' special status, they only sold for 3.2 million Alliance Coins.
Nearly 4 million in a single day. Making money was easy with enough strength.
Though Tetsuya only had two elite-level Pokémon, considering their battle capabilities, they were more than enough to put him in the "powerful" category.
According to an Alliance report, 60% of registered civilian trainers were novice trainers, 35% were standard trainers, and only the remaining 5% had reached the elite level or higher.
Among standard trainers, nearly 80% only owned Pokémon at the standard level, without a single elite-tier Pokémon.
It might sound exaggerated, but it was reality.
Consider an average person. They finish basic studies around age ten and move on to advanced education.
This is the first hurdle. Many people don't have the grades or qualifications to advance, so they end up doing low-level jobs like their parents before them.
The Alliance system ensures that no one starves, but living well? That's a different story.
Owning a Pokémon? Not even an option for those who fail to make the cut.
The next step is completing advanced studies. The fastest students finish in four years, while the slowest take six. Not everyone is as naturally gifted as Tetsuya.
Even then, graduating only grants the qualification to become a trainer—it doesn't automatically make you one.
First, you need a Pokémon.
There are four main ways to get one:
Inheriting from Pokémon-owning parents.
Buying one on the black market.
Obtaining one from an official breeding center after passing Alliance qualification checks.
Catching one in the wild, risking your life in the process.
The first and fourth methods are the most common. But those who go with the latter? Many never make it back. As for the first, your parents' Pokémon might just be a low-potential Caterpie.
The second and third options require money, with the second being the easier route.
The third method is strict—eligibility is based on family tax contributions and criminal records. If your family has paid enough taxes and has a clean record, you can receive a randomly assigned Pokémon with at least standard potential. But don't expect anything rare.
Even then, owning a Pokémon doesn't mean you're a trainer yet.
Not all Pokémon can evolve, and evolution depends on both their potential and the way they're raised.
If raising a Pokémon was as simple as feeding it enough food, breeders wouldn't exist as a profession.
Wrong feeding methods can cripple a Pokémon's potential. Quantity and quality of nutrition matter.
Otherwise, that Caterpie you raised might never evolve—not even into a Metapod.
The Alliance doesn't teach breeding techniques. That's why those from trainer families have a massive advantage.
In the wild, some Pokémon evolve through survival habits, but it's inefficient.
This also explains why most trainers prefer to raise Pokémon from eggs. Once a wild Pokémon reaches its final form, its strength and potential are often already fixed.
So, at the start, most people have Pokémon but no idea how to train them. Their Pokémon stagnate.
Or worse, through reckless handling, they damage their Pokémon's potential, permanently capping their growth.
Only a lucky few—either born with talent or fortunate enough to have a high-potential Pokémon—break past this limit.
But even among those, many waste their Pokémon's potential due to poor training.
With zero mistakes so far, Tetsuya was already ahead of most people from the start.
Of course, none of this applies to those born into trainer families. They start learning early, absorbing more knowledge than the average person. They also have experienced elders guiding them on how to raise specific Pokémon.
They get hands-on training much earlier too.
In a way, this world is a little warped due to Pokémon's existence. Social mobility is scarce.
But at least, little by little, things are improving.