Kai sat in his usual spot behind the general store, chewing slowly on an Oran Berry he'd stolen from a different tree this morning. His arm still ached from yesterday's Rattata bite, but the wound was scabbing over. Progress. He'd learnt to wrap it with strips torn from his shirt, and the makeshift bandage kept dirt out of the punctures.
Two berries down. Four more to steal before nightfall if he wanted to eat tomorrow.
The maths was getting worse. His body was adapting to the constant hunger, or maybe just giving up, but either way, he needed more calories than two berries provided. He needed protein. He needed actual food. He needed—
"—and I'm telling you, NO ONE wants the job!"
Kai's head snapped toward the voices. Two men stood near the store's back door, one of them gesturing emphatically. The shopkeeper, based on the apron. The other man wore a Pokémon Ranger uniform, arms crossed, shaking his head.
"It's Ekans, Hiroshi. Poison-types. In an enclosed space. That's not something I can handle."
"I know it's dangerous!" The shopkeeper, Hiroshi, threw his hands up. "That's why I called YOU! You're a Ranger!"
"My team's built for Route patrol; Pidgeot for aerial surveillance, Furret for tracking. I don't have anything that can safely handle multiple Poison-types in close quarters without risking my Pokémon getting poisoned or the shed catching fire." The Ranger shook his head. "You need someone with the right team composition. Call a professional exterminator."
"I called three! They all want ₽5,000 minimum because it's Ekans. FIVE THOUSAND! For a storage shed!" Hiroshi's voice cracked with frustration. "They're eating my stock! I've lost ₽2,000 in produce already!"
The Ranger sighed. "Look, I sympathise, but I'm on route duty for the next six hours. I can't abandon my post, and even if I could—" He gestured at the shed. "—enclosed space, nesting Ekans, probably eggs involved? That's a specialist job. One wrong move and someone gets poisoned."
"So what am I supposed to do?!" Hiroshi jabbed a finger at his shed, twenty feet away across the back lot. "Those things moved in three days ago. They're breeding. If I don't deal with this NOW, I'll have a dozen Ekans by next week!"
"Then hire someone who specialises in Poison-types. Or call the Pokémon Centre; see if they know a trainer looking for work."
"With what money?!"
The Ranger was already walking away, hands raised in surrender. "Sorry, Hiroshi. Maybe post a job board notice. Some rookie trainer might take it for cheap experience."
Hiroshi stood there, shoulders sagging, staring at his shed like it was a ticking bomb.
Kai's mind was already moving. Ekans. Poison-type. Territorial, aggressive, but predictable. Learns Wrap at level 4, Poison Sting at 9. Prefers dark, enclosed spaces for nesting. Hunts small Pokémon and rodents.
And no one wanted to deal with them because Poison-types in close quarters meant risk of being poisoned. An injured trainer meant medical bills. A fainted Pokémon meant Pokémon Center fees. Even for registered trainers with insurance and resources, it was just expensive and annoying.
For Kai, it was an opportunity.
He stood, brushing dirt off his jeans, and walked toward the shopkeeper before he could second-guess himself.
"I can do it."
Hiroshi spun around, startled. His eyes travelled over Kai's ragged clothes, dirty face, and the kind of kid you'd normally shoo away from your store, and his expression soured. "Do what?"
"Clear your Ekans problem." Kai kept his voice steady and professional. "Non-violent. No captures. Pure pest control."
"You?" Hiroshi's eyebrows climbed. "Kid, those are EKANS. You got a Pokémon?"
"Don't need one."
"Then you're insane." Hiroshi turned away. "Get out of here before—"
"I don't want money."
That made Hiroshi pause. He looked back, suspicious. "Then what?"
"One Poké Ball. Standard issue. And whatever I can salvage from the shed—berries, supplies, whatever you were going to throw out anyway."
Hiroshi stared at him. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"You're either desperate or stupid."
"Desperate," Kai said flatly. "But I know what I'm doing. You're not paying ₽5,000 to an exterminator. I'm not asking for ₽5,000. We both win."
Hiroshi chewed his lip, eyes darting between Kai and the shed. Finally: "If you get bitten, that's on you. I'm not paying for an antidote."
"Understood."
"And if you make it worse—"
"I won't."
Hiroshi exhaled through his nose, then jerked his head toward the shed. "Fine. You've got two hours. After that, I'm calling the exterminator anyway." He reached into his apron and pulled out a single Poké Ball, holding it up. "This stays with me until the job's done. Understand?"
Kai's eyes locked on the ball. Red and white casing, scuffed from use but functional. Real. Solid. His.
If he earned it.
"Understood," he said.
Hiroshi unlocked the door but refused to open it, just handed Kai the key and stepped back. "Good luck, kid."
Kai pushed the door open slowly. The smell hit him first: musty wood, rotting produce, and something sharper. Reptilian. The interior was dark, lit only by thin cracks in the walls where sunlight bled through. Crates were stacked haphazardly, some overturned, their contents spilt across the dirt floor. Broken Berry crates. Torn sacks of grain. And everywhere, the faint sound of movement.
Hissing.
Kai's eyes adjusted to the gloom. There, coiled on top of a crate in the far corner, was a purple serpent, maybe four feet long. Ekans. Its yellow, slit-pupiled eyes tracked him, tongue flicking out to taste the air. Another hiss came from his left. A second Ekans, smaller, half-hidden under a shelf.
His pulse quickened, but his mind stayed cold. Two visible. Probably more hidden. Ekans were ambush predators, preferring to strike from concealment. He couldn't see the whole shed from the doorway, which meant there were likely more in the darker corners.
No Pokémon to fight them. No Potions if he got bitten. Just him, his knowledge, and the environment.
Kai stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. The darkness deepened. The hissing grew louder.
He thought about humans. Real humans, before Poké Balls and technology and the Alliance's neat little system. How did they survive in a world where every forest had territorial Pokémon? How did they deal with creatures that could poison, paralyse, or burn?
They didn't fight fair. They used tools, terrain, and intelligence. They made the environment hostile to threats while staying safe themselves. They were weaker, slower, and more fragile, but they thought. And thinking was the only advantage that mattered.
Kai pulled the scrap metal from his pocket. Thin, jagged, and about the size of his palm. He dragged it across the shed's metal support beam.
The sound was sharp, piercing.
The hissing stopped. Then erupted. The Ekans on the crate reared up, hood flaring. Wait, no, Ekans didn't have hoods. That was Arbok. This one just coiled tighter, head raised, tracking the sound. The second one slithered out from under the shelf, moving toward the noise with predatory focus.
Kai kept clanging. Territorial species responded to threats by investigating or attacking. In confined spaces, they'd converge on the disturbance. He moved along the wall, banging the metal against crates, beams, anything that echoed.
Three more Ekans emerged from the darkness. Five in total. Not a full nest, but close. They followed the sound, hissing, moving in that sinuous, hypnotic way snakes moved. Kai edged toward the far wall, keeping obstacles between himself and them.
Ekans hunted through ambush, but in groups, they relied on intimidation and numbers. If he could funnel them, control their movement, he could—
One lunged.
Kai saw it coming – the telltale coil and the slight shift in weight before the strike – and threw himself sideways. The Ekans sailed past, slamming into a crate with a hollow thud. Kai grabbed the edge of the crate and pushed.
It toppled forward, crashing down and trapping the Ekans underneath. Not crushed—the crate was half-rotted wood but pinned, thrashing angrily.
The other four hesitated. Good. Fear response. They'd just seen one of their own fail an ambush and get punished. Ekans weren't stupid. They reassessed threats.
Kai moved deeper into the shed, dragging the metal across surfaces, creating noise patterns that led away from the door. The Ekans followed, slower now, wary. He reached the back corner and found what he was looking for: a pile of old rags, a bucket of cleaning solution (probably ammonia-based from the smell), and behind it, the nest.
Seven eggs. Pale purple, leathery, about the size of his fist. They sat in a depression in the dirt floor, surrounded by shredded rags and bits of insulation the Ekans had pulled from the walls.
That was why they were here. That was why they were aggressive. Nesting behaviour. Protecting their eggs.
Kai didn't touch the eggs. Instead, he grabbed the bucket and poured the cleaning solution around the nest in a wide circle. The chemical smell was immediate and overpowering, sharp enough to make his eyes water. Ekans had excellent senses, better than most Pokémon, which made them vulnerable to strong odours.
The nearest Ekans recoiled, hissing louder. Its tongue flicked frantically, then it pulled back, retreating from the chemical barrier.
Kai soaked the rags in the solution and tossed them onto the nest area—not ON the eggs, but around them. The message was clear: this space was uninhabitable. The smell would cling to everything. The eggs would absorb it. The nest was compromised.
The Ekans went wild.
They didn't attack him; they couldn't, not without crossing the chemical barrier, but they thrashed, hissing, coiling and uncoiling in agitation. Kai backed toward the door, keeping his eyes on them, moving carefully. He knew Poison Sting had a range of about ten feet, and Wrap required contact. As long as he stayed outside their comfort zone and kept obstacles between them, he was—
One of them went for the eggs.
It darted past Kai, ignoring him entirely, diving toward the nest. It grabbed one egg delicately in its coils and began dragging it toward the door. Toward escape. The others followed immediately, each claiming an egg, moving in a coordinated retreat.
Kai flattened himself against the wall and let them pass. One by one, the Ekans slithered out through the gap under the door, eggs secured, abandoning the shed for safer nesting grounds. The last one, a smaller individual, probably a juvenile, paused at the threshold, turned back to hiss at Kai one final time, then vanished into the grass outside.
Silence.
Kai stood alone in the shed, heart pounding, chemical smell burning his nose. The trapped Ekans was still under the crate, thrashing weakly. He approached carefully, lifted the crate's edge, and stepped back. The Ekans shot out like a released spring, heading straight for the door without a backward glance.
Gone.
All of them. Evicted. Not captured. Not killed. Just... removed.
Kai exhaled slowly, hands shaking now that the adrenaline was fading. His back was damp with sweat. His legs felt weak.
But it had worked.
He'd done what no registered trainer wanted to do, using nothing but environmental manipulation and knowledge of behaviour patterns. No Pokémon. No items. Just primitive human survival instincts applied to a world that had forgotten humans could be dangerous without Pokémon.
Kai searched the shed methodically. Most of the produce was ruined—punctured by fangs, contaminated by shed scales and waste.But he found a half-sack of berries that were still edible and a torn backpack that could be repaired.
He gathered them and stepped outside into the sunlight.
Hiroshi was standing exactly where Kai had left him, staring at the shed with wide eyes. The Ekans were gone; Kai could see them in the distance, disappearing into Route 1's tall grass, eggs secure.
"You..." Hiroshi's voice was hoarse. "You actually did it."
"They'll relocate," Kai said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Probably to the forest on Route 1's north side. Better nesting environment. They won't come back."
"How did you—" Hiroshi shook his head. "You didn't have a Pokémon."
"Didn't need one." Kai held up the salvaged items. "Is this the stuff I can take?"
Hiroshi blinked, then seemed to remember their agreement. "Yeah. Yeah, take it." He reached into his apron and pulled out the Poké Ball.
Kai's breath caught.
Hiroshi held it out, and for a moment they just stood there, the shopkeeper staring at the ragged kid who'd just done the impossible, the kid staring at the object that would change everything.
"You earned it," Hiroshi said quietly.
Kai took the ball. It was heavier than he'd expected, or maybe that was just the weight of what it represented. The casing was cool against his palm, the button smooth under his thumb. Red and white. Standard issue. Nothing special.
Everything.
"Thank you," Kai said.
Hiroshi nodded slowly. "If you ever need work, pest control, hauling, whatever, you come find me. Understand? You've got a reputation now, kid."
Kai looked down at the Poké Ball in his hand. One ball. One chance. One opportunity to stop being nothing.
"Understood," he said.
Kai returned to his spot behind the store, the Poké Ball clipped to his belt, the backpack slung over one shoulder. The berries inside weren't much, enough for two days if he rationed, but combined with what he could steal, it bought him time.
Time to catch a Pokémon.