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David sat cross-legged on his creaky bed, gently cradling the golden-patterned Dreepy egg in his hands like it was the last slice of pizza on Earth.
He stared at it, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in awe. It radiated warmth, life, and a lowkey aura of "Feed me or suffer."
After a long moment of admiration, David sighed and placed the egg delicately onto his pillow like it was royalty. He even fluffed the pillow. Twice. That was the softest thing in his whole room, unless you counted his dignity, which had been on vacation for years.
But as he took a step back to admire the absurd turn his life had taken—from nearly getting a Caterpie with asthma to somehow owning a champion-tier pseudo-legendary—reality came crashing down on him like a Snorlax doing a belly flop.
"…I'm broke," he muttered with the deadpan tone of someone who just remembered rent exists.
The excitement drained from his face like ketchup from a dropped hotdog. "Melissa gave me 300,000 coins. I was supposed to use that to improve my life. Maybe buy some decent clothes. Or, I don't know, furniture that doesn't give me splinters."
Instead?
"I bought a baby dragon," he said aloud, like someone explaining a bad impulse purchase on a dating app.
And not just any baby dragon—Dreepy, a Pokémon so high-maintenance, it might as well come with a tuxedo and a trust fund.
Breeding cycle? Long.
Combat power at the start? Practically zero. Couldn't even win a fight with a damp tissue.
Cost to raise properly? Somewhere between "you'll be fine" and "you'll need a second job selling your organs."
David rubbed his forehead like he was trying to massage the anxiety out of his skull. "I've basically adopted a ghost-type financial crisis."
Sure, once it evolved into Dragapult, it'd become a terrifying, jet-speed death missile with 600 Species Strength and a habit of launching its own children like torpedoes. But until then?
It was just an expensive little freeloader in an egg. And David was its butler, chef, and soon-to-be-broke babysitter.
He stared at the egg again, sighing dramatically. "Great. I'm going to be the first trainer in history to declare bankruptcy before my Pokémon even hatches."
Still, he couldn't help but smile a little. There was something adorable about Dreepy, even in egg form. The quiet hum of potential, the shimmer of the patterns, the faint "I'm gonna cost you everything" energy it gave off. He already loved it.
"Alright, alright. Enough moping," David said to himself, shaking his head and inhaling deeply like a washed-up gym coach trying to inspire the team.
He turned to the shimmering blue screen of his system panel. His hand hovered dramatically over the "C-level Prize Pool" option like he was about to press a big red launch button.
"System," he said with the tired voice of a man who just accepted his fate. "Use up the rest of my negative emotion points. Dump it all. Let's spin that stupid wheel."
The system, ever cheerful in its robotic indifference, replied:
[Using 1,000 negative emotion points. Initiating draw.]
As the prize wheel began spinning again, with colorful lights flashing like a Vegas slot machine having a seizure, David leaned back, arms folded behind his head.
His face was serene.
He had no expectations left. He already had a pseudo-legendary egg on a pillow and a wallet full of lint.
At this point, anything else was just the cherry on top of a cake he didn't know how to afford.
"Let's do this," he muttered. "David, the broke dragon dad, rides again."
And the wheel kept spinning…
The moment the prize wheel started spinning, David leaned back in his chair like a man waiting for his microwave popcorn to finish—half hopeful, half expecting it to explode. The screen flashed and blinked like a disco ball possessed, and he squinted at it while absentmindedly talking to himself.
"Alright, so Dreepy's great and all," he muttered, "but it's also basically a ghostly jellybean right now. No offense to the little guy, but if I send that thing into battle tomorrow, it'll probably get sneezed on and disintegrate."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What I really need is a starter. Something with, you know… actual attacks. And arms. That would be a good start."
The pointer on the prize wheel gradually slowed down, ticking like a countdown to his financial ruin. David didn't even flinch. After all, if he got another golden S-tier reward, he'd start to suspect the system was secretly trying to off him early. You know—give a man too much hope, and boom—heart attack.
But then, something strange happened.
No gold. No glitter. No heavenly choir. Just… a low, soft purple glow.
David's eyes narrowed. "Wait… why is the screen purple? That's not good. That's never good. That's, like, the color of bad grapes and villain capes."
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining an A-level reward!][Pokémon: Pikachu +1!]
"Wait—what?" David blinked.
And then, before he could even process that he now owned a literal mascot, there was a high-pitched chirp from above:
"Pika pi~!"
A small, bright orange blur came sailing out of the system screen like it had just been launched from a T-shirt cannon.
Thump!It landed on his shoulder with the grace of a gymnast and the weight of a feathery meatball.
David turned his head slowly… and locked eyes with two giant, sparkly brown pupils and cheeks that crackled faintly with electricity.
"…Yellow mouse?" he muttered.
Pikachu tilted its head, blinked innocently, and nuzzled its cheeks against David's face, making soft purring noises and lightly zapping him with what felt like electrostatic affection.
"Ow—Okay—Yep, hi. That's my face. Yep. Still attached. Great," David winced, but didn't move away.
The moment of shock passed, and a big dumb grin spread across his face.
"Are you kidding me?" he laughed. "I literally just said I needed a starter, and you send me this guy?"
The Pikachu—now settled happily on his shoulder like a fuzzy shoulder-mounted taser—gave a cheerful "Pika pika!"
David reached up and gently lifted the mouse off his shoulder like he was handling something holy and extremely flammable. Pikachu's fur was soft, warm, and buzzing faintly, like a battery-powered teddy bear.
He held the Pokémon in front of him, face to face, their eyes meeting in a moment of awkward but genuine affection.
"Well," David said, adjusting his posture and suddenly acting way more formal than he ever had in his life. "I'm David. You're Pikachu. We're probably both gonna end up electrocuting each other by accident, but hey, let's make this work."
He extended a hand with dramatic sincerity. "From now on, I'll be your Trainer. Please teach me lots of stuff. Like how not to die."
"Pika!"Pikachu happily slapped its tiny paw into his palm, sparks flickering gently between them.
David let out a happy sigh. Two Pokémon. One broke Trainer. Zero plans. But things were finally looking… shockingly good.
***
The moment David heard the little electric mouse chirp, his internal panic about being flat broke and owning a ghost lizard egg was instantly dialed down from "financial meltdown" to "mild anxiety with a side of cuteness." As Pikachu settled in his lap, the familiar ding of the system returned like an overenthusiastic app notification.
[Hint System Activated!]A glowing data panel popped up in front of his eyes, nearly blinding him with stats, numbers, and system jargon. David squinted at it like an old man trying to read small print without his glasses.
[Pokémon: Pikachu (Electric)][Gender: Male][Level: 11 (Mature Stage)][Ability: Static (May paralyze contact attackers with electric fuzziness)][Personality Trait: Serious? (Neutral. He's not dramatic, just focused.)]
[Individual Values:]HP: 25Attack: 31Special Attack: 31Defense: 26Special Defense: 21Speed: 31
[Moves: Quick Attack, Thunderbolt, Thunder Shock, Charm][Held Items: None][Potential: Elite-level]
David's jaw dropped. "Elite potential?" he muttered, blinking rapidly like the words might change. But nope, they were still there, shining in all their holy glory.
And then his eyes landed on the individual values, particularly the Attack, Special Attack, and Speed. All maxed out.
"…Excuse me?" David whispered like he was talking to a legendary creature rather than a glorified spark plug. "You're telling me this little donut-sized fuzzball has perfect stats where it actually matters?"
He looked down at Pikachu, who blinked up at him with innocent eyes and gently booped his nose with a cheek. A small static spark zapped his face, and he yelped, rubbing his nose.
"Okay, ow, but also—thank you?"
Pikachu giggled. Literally giggled. The thing had the audacity to laugh while looking adorable.
David leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Three perfect IVs… in exactly the spots that matter most for Pikachu. Are you some kind of genetic experiment or Ash Ketchum's long-lost cousin?"
The mouse tilted its head at the mention of Ash, clearly having no clue who that was. Which was probably for the best.
"You're basically one thunderstone away from becoming an overcaffeinated Raichu with god-tier sprinting skills." He gave the little guy a proud nod, then gently pinched his chubby yellow cheeks. "You know, you might just keep me from eating instant noodles for the next six months."
The soft warmth of Pikachu's fur, coupled with that little static fuzziness, actually soothed him more than any therapist ever could. Not that he could afford therapy.
As he held Pikachu in his arms like a proud dad, the looming weight of his current situation started to shrink just a little. He still had no money, sure. And yes, he had an unhatched ghost-rocket Pokémon that might take a small mortgage to raise properly. But now, at least, he had a battle-ready electric rodent that could vaporize wild Pidgeys with style.
David glanced at the level again: Level 11.
That was important.
Because unlike in games where every level 5 Pokémon can somehow Tackle a boulder to death, in the real world, levels 1–10 were basically daycare age. Fragile, innocent, and totally unfit for battle.
"You know," David mused, "back in the old days—like yesterday—I thought you could just throw two baby Pokémon into a fight and hope for the best. But apparently that's how you end up in court."
In this world, Pokémon in their early levels were like toddlers in oversized fur coats. Making them fight too early wasn't just frowned upon—it was a crime. Trainers who did it irresponsibly were stripped of their licenses faster than you could say Poké-loser.
So David was extra thankful his Pikachu was already out of its baby phase. Level 11 meant it could actually train, battle, and handle itself in the wild without bursting into tears or spontaneously combusting.
"This changes everything," he said, petting Pikachu's head as the mouse let out a soft "Pika~" and leaned into the touch.
David smiled. "You and me, buddy. We're gonna survive this chaos together. Maybe even… thrive. Or at least get to the point where I don't have to steal ketchup packets for dinner."
As he placed Pikachu gently down on the bed beside the Dreepy egg (which, for some reason, looked even more like a fancy art piece now), he couldn't help but feel the tiniest flicker of hope.
Two Pokémon.
One Trainer.
And zero idea what the hell he was doing.
But hey… it was a start.
David sat cross-legged on his bed, looking at Pikachu like it was a winning lottery ticket that had sprouted fur and started making cute noises.
"I was expecting a baby Pichu," he muttered, still in disbelief, "not a fully functional spark cannon with emotional support features."
Thanks to the system, he hadn't just gotten Pikachu—he'd skipped the fussy baby stage entirely. No teething, no crying in the middle of the night, and no electrocuting the toaster by accident. This Pikachu had already hit the mature stage, which meant it came pre-installed with basic common sense, battle readiness, and probably a decent sense of humor.
It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Honestly," David said to no one in particular, "this is like adopting a teenager who already knows how to cook and do taxes."
He glanced over at the Dreepy egg, still resting like a decorative paperweight on his pillow. Dreepy, the little ghost dragon that would one day evolve into a Dragapult, was currently doing... absolutely nothing. Because it was still in an egg. A weird, slightly glowing, probably haunted egg.
"Yeah," David sighed, "you're gonna take forever to hatch, aren't you? Meanwhile, I've got a Pikachu that can already zap squirrels off telephone poles."
With Pikachu now in his life, David's financial problems were at least temporarily back under the "not catastrophic" category. He could hold off on buying another starter Pokémon. Pikachu could cover that gap, and the money he didn't spend would buy time—and more importantly, snacks.
And oh boy, snacks were expensive.
"Don't let the 300,000 Alliance coins fool you," David grumbled. "After buying one halfway decent Pokémon and feeding it for a week, I'll be out here trying to barter Magikarp scales for ramen."
The money Melissa had given him sounded like a fortune until he realized just how fast it evaporated. Pokémon food? Expensive. Medical care? Even worse. Training equipment? He might as well take out a student loan. Honestly, the Pokémon world was basically one giant financial trap disguised as an adventure.
But thanks to this little yellow lightning bolt, he'd dodged a huge expense.
He reached out and rubbed Pikachu's cheeks gently. The fur was warm and fluffy—until he rubbed a little too hard and got a static shock to the thumb.
"OW! Okay, okay, you win," he muttered, shaking his hand. Pikachu chirped and grinned like it had just won a game of tag.
David sighed, but he was smiling too. The universe, or maybe just the system, had finally tossed him a bone.
He turned to check the system interface again—and saw the negative emotion points had hit rock bottom.
"Wow," David said. "I guess those sixty straight bad draws finally paid off. All those times I got garbage… and now suddenly it's like karma went, 'Our bad, here's a ghost dragon and a super Pikachu.'"
First, the Hint System had popped out of nowhere like a fairy godmother. Then came Dreepy, a quasi-legendary with champion potential. And now Pikachu, with elite-level stats and the personality of a cuddly electric war machine.
David narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Wait… is this a setup?" he whispered, glancing around his room. "Am I about to get hit by a truck? Or randomly sucked into a volcano?"
Because let's be honest—when life hands you three absurdly good things in a row, it's probably about to dropkick you into misery next. That's just how balance works.
"Please don't let this be the kind of compensation that comes with... you know... a bill from the Grim Reaper."
"Pikapi~" Pikachu's cheerful voice snapped him out of it.
The little guy scampered up the bed, leapt onto David's shoulder with the grace of a gymnast, and started nuzzling his cheek like an affectionate electric sponge.
David chuckled. "Alright, alright. You win. You're too cute to be a trap."
From the moment it had spawned out of the system, Pikachu had treated David like its best friend, mentor, dad, and personal pillow all in one. The bond between them felt instant, like a cosmic connection or a match made by the most chaotic dating app in the world.
Pikachu's affection meter was maxed out, and David felt it. For the first time in a while, things felt… hopeful.
No, he wasn't rich. Yes, he had an unhatched ghost egg chilling next to his alarm clock. And sure, he was probably going to need to Google how to raise a dragon without dying.
But at least he had Pikachu.
And that was enough—for now.