Xiu placed the expensive book back on the shelf, turned sharply, and walked out of the Ōto Bookstore without another word. Seven hundred Poké Dollars for an introductory text? Preposterous. Completely beyond his current means. And even if he could afford it, one or two books wouldn't be enough. He needed comprehensive knowledge, practical application guides, maybe even specific skill tutors eventually. A single overview wouldn't cut it.
His primary objective – acquiring affordable skill training materials – had failed. Frustration gnawed at him, leaving him momentarily adrift, unsure of his next step.
Still, the trip into the city center wasn't a complete waste. He needed supplies, ingredients for the improved Pokémon food formulas he'd been developing based on the Stationmaster's notes.
And… there was another place he wanted to visit. The Fuchsia City Pokémon Center. He needed to see it, understand its role, maybe even subtly probe its resources. It represented the most visible, accessible arm of the Pokémon League, the dominant force in this world. Understanding its function felt crucial.
The Pokémon Center wasn't hard to find. It occupied a prime location right in the heart of Fuchsia City, a testament to its importance and influence. Its sheer size was impressive – not particularly tall, perhaps twelve stories, but sprawling, covering a huge footprint. The architecture incorporated distinct Kanto-region aesthetics, with sloping tiled roofs and prominent red accents, a far cry from the standardized, identical buildings depicted in the games of his past life.
A wide, marble-paved plaza stretched out before the main entrance, sectioned into designated areas for vehicle drop-offs, pedestrian walkways, and decorative flower beds. It hummed with activity, Trainers coming and going, Pokémon Center staff moving purposefully.
Stepping inside, Xiu was immediately struck by another difference from his preconceived notions. This wasn't a simple clinic run solely by Nurse Joy clones. The vast, open lobby bustled with numerous staff members in various distinct uniforms. Subtle variations in color, cut, and insignia seemed to denote different roles, different levels of seniority. A clear hierarchy was visible.
Directly opposite the main entrance stood a long reception counter, staffed by several attendants handling inquiries and admissions. Rows of comfortable-looking chairs lined the sides of the lobby for waiting visitors. Deeper within the hall, he saw a bank of bulky, large-headed computer terminals.
To his left, a massive glass wall looked into a dedicated aquatic therapy area, complete with a large swimming pool. Several Water-type Pokémon – Goldeen, Staryu, and a Shellder – could be seen swimming lazily or receiving treatment from specialized staff.
To his right, another large area was visible through open double doors. People milled about inside. Peeking closer, Xiu saw three standard-sized Pokémon battle arenas, complete with surrounding tiers of spectator seating – enough to hold maybe a thousand people, he estimated. A battle was currently in progress on one of the fields, overseen by an official referee, though only a handful of spectators watched from the stands. Interesting, but not his priority now.
He headed towards the computer terminals. They looked archaic compared to the sleek machines of his previous life – large, integrated units combining monitor and processor into a single, clunky beige box. Still, functionally, they seemed familiar enough. Like accessing a terminal at an old internet cafe. He paid the usage fee at a nearby kiosk and, following brief instructions from an attendant, logged onto one of the machines.
Despite the unfamiliar hardware, the underlying principles felt instantly recognizable. He had died in front of a computer, after all. Years spent as a programmer gave him an intuitive grasp of the machine, and after a few minutes of exploring the interface, he felt comfortable navigating this world's nascent network.
Their primary functions appeared limited to basic tasks: video calls, email, accessing curated databases and official websites. The vibrant, chaotic, user-driven internet he remembered didn't seem to exist here, or at least wasn't publicly accessible through these terminals. The network felt… sterile. Formal. Mostly official information channels, news portals, organizational websites. No forums, no social media, no endless stream of user-generated content.
But the foundational logic… the programming, the network architecture… that felt strangely familiar. And worryingly insecure. Browsing through the available directories, accessing public-facing servers… it felt like walking through a house with all the doors unlocked, windows wide open. Information lay exposed, defenses rudimentary at best. To someone with his background, it felt… naked. Tempting.
He quickly searched for what he needed – information on Pokémon skills, training manuals, Breeder resources. Yes, the information existed. He found online catalogues, including one for the very Ōto Bookstore he'd just left. But frustratingly, no downloadable e-books. Only listings for physical copies, with prices matching the exorbitant ones he'd seen in the store. Digital distribution clearly hadn't taken hold here yet.
A kernel of an idea began to form in Xiu's mind. An audacious, potentially dangerous idea, leveraging his old skills against this primitive network. But it would require planning. Preparation. Time. He filed the thought away for later consideration.
He finished gathering the specific information he'd initially sought – mainly locations for bulk ingredient suppliers – logged off the terminal, and checked the usage time. Over two hours online had cost him more than sixty Poké Dollars. Steep. Considering his daily food budget was barely twenty Poké Dollars, regular internet access was another luxury he couldn't afford.
He left the Pokémon Center, a growing sense of disillusionment settling in. This nexus of Pokémon care and League authority… it felt expensive, inaccessible, catering to established Trainers, not struggling newcomers like him. Standing on the bustling street outside, surrounded by the city's prosperity, he felt a renewed sense of being an outsider, adrift. This life, the one represented by the Pokémon Center and the expensive bookstore, wasn't his life. Not yet.
He spent the rest of the afternoon navigating the city's markets and wholesale districts, tracking down the specific herbs, minerals, and other ingredients needed for the advanced nutritional supplements described in the Stationmaster's notes. General goods were reasonably priced, but anything remotely related to Pokémon – even basic ingredients like Oran Berries or Pecha Berries – carried a significant markup. He haggled fiercely, visiting multiple suppliers before finally securing the necessary items at prices that still made his metaphorical heart bleed. 'Can't cut corners here,' He reminded himself grimly. Abra's development, Scyther's recovery, Happiny's growth… they depend on proper nutrition. He'd budgeted carefully, but these purchases consumed a worrying amount of his remaining funds. Have to make this money last.
As evening approached, navigating by landmarks and a slowly developing mental map of the city outskirts, Xiu found himself, almost unconsciously, back at the small, neglected park where he'd spent the previous night.
The place was just as quiet as before. Only the occasional pedestrian hurried past on the nearby street, oblivious to the park's existence. Looking at the familiar dilapidated slide and rusty swing set, Xiu smiled faintly. "Might as well check in on an old friend," he murmured to himself.
He walked over to the pile of construction debris where he'd first encountered the Pichu. He leaned down and tapped lightly on a large, hollow pipe protruding from the pile.
"Anyone home?" He called softly.
A moment later, rustling sounds came from within the pipe, and then a small yellow head poked out, tilting curiously as it recognized him.
"Hello again," Xiu smiled, greeting the Pichu.
It blinked, seeming less timid than the previous night. It remembered him, cautiously emerging from the pipe, and finally standing on the grass before him.
"Finished those pellets I left you?" Xiu asked conversationally. He started to reach out a hand to offer a friendly pat, but the Pichu instantly shied away, taking a step back, avoiding his touch.
It then let out a series of soft "Pichu~ Pichu~" chirps, looking slightly distressed.
Xiu didn't need Abra's telepathy this time; he understood the implication from its body language and the memory of last night's accidental shock. It was afraid of discharging electricity again, afraid of hurting him unintentionally.
Seeing its hesitant, almost apologetic posture, Xiu found it endearing rather than frustrating. He chuckled softly. "Still worried about that little zap?" He didn't press the issue of touching it. Instead, he took a simple Sitrus Berry from his pack – less potent than an Oran, but still nutritious – and held it out.
"Here. Eat this."