A New Journey in Pokémon

Cynthia did not enjoy being shaken awake.


"Cynthia, you need to wake up! The League is calling—it's an emergency!" Carolina's voice cut through the room, urgent and far too loud for the hour.


Cynthia groaned, dragging a hand over her face as she forced one eye open. "Did another researcher pass out from the pressure," she muttered, voice thick with sleep, "or did an idiot wake the giant up?"


Carolina didn't laugh.


That alone was enough to make Cynthia sit up.


"…Neither," Carolina said, already holding out a phone. "It's bigger."


Cynthia took it, posture straightening as the last remnants of sleep vanished. The screen was already active—priority channel, League-secured.


She recognized the caller immediately.


Charles Goodshow.


That was not normal.


Cynthia accepted the call without another word.


"Champion," Goodshow said the moment the connection stabilized. His tone was calm—but there was something underneath it. Tension. Focus. "I apologize for the hour."


"You wouldn't be calling if it could wait," Cynthia replied evenly. "What happened?"


A brief pause.


"We have just received confirmation from multiple regions simultaneously. Kanto, Hoenn, Unova, Kalos, Galar, Paldea…"


Cynthia's eyes narrowed slightly. "…Go on."


"Every major technology company and research institution has received the same data packet," Goodshow continued. "Approximately five gigabytes. Highly structured. Highly advanced."


Cynthia's grip tightened on the phone. "…And?"


"No one knows where it came from."


Carolina went still beside her.


Cynthia didn't.


"…That's not possible," she said flatly.


"It should not be," Goodshow agreed. "And yet every verification check confirms the same thing—the transmission originated from a League-class distribution channel."


Silence settled in the room.


Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.


Cynthia's mind was already moving, connecting threads she did not want to connect.


"…What kind of data?" she asked.


Goodshow exhaled quietly. "Computing infrastructure. Chip fabrication. Industrial optimization. It's not theoretical—it's actionable. Years, possibly decades ahead of current systems."


Carolina sucked in a quiet breath.


"Grandma, did you get it as well, or am I going to have to go to Galactic company?" Cynthia asked, lowering the phone slightly.


"I got it as well," Carolina replied. "The storage requirement was massive, but I managed to secure the full download. From what I understand, Galactic failed to retrieve all of it—they only got about half a gig."


Cynthia looked at her grandmother, noting how much more tired she seemed.


"…Right," Cynthia said after a moment. "I'm going to need to review it. And if it's good—if it's actually actionable—we make it public."


She exhaled slowly.


"Immediately."


========

Billy and O'Nare had received the data as well.


Where most companies would be panicking, they weren't.


Their family controlled the one thing that mattered most.


Rotom.


As long as they remained the sole reliable producers and integrators of Rotom-based systems, their position in the technological world was secure.


If anything, this development only accelerated things.

O'Nare's gaze shifted to him. "How is Nemona doing? Still showing all of that enthusiasm about battling?"


A small smile tugged at Billy's lips.


"Yes," he said. "She's bonded well with her Gible. It's already a Gabbite"


He paused for a moment, watching the data continue to scroll.


"…She's going to go far."


======

Professor Professor Sada and Professor Turo stood side by side, screens filled with newly received data reflecting in their eyes.


Turo was shaking.


Not in fear.


In awe.


"This… this is—" he cut himself off, hands moving rapidly as he pulled up another section, then another. "These models… the projections… this isn't incremental, Sada. This is a leap. A complete leap."


His voice dropped, almost reverent.


"…The future."


Sada, by contrast, was silent.


Her focus wasn't on the scale.


It was on the application.


Her eyes moved across the sections dealing with energy structuring, material resonance, and computational modeling. She zoomed in, isolating key fragments, already filtering what mattered.


"…Not just computing," she murmured.


Her hand tapped the screen, bringing up a section on energy stabilization frameworks.


"This can be adapted."


Turo barely heard her. "Do you understand what this means? Fabrication at this scale—processing like this—if even half of this is viable—"


"It is," Sada interrupted calmly.


That made him stop.


She didn't look at him.


Her attention remained locked on the data.


"…And if it is," she continued, "then this changes more than industry."

===========

Meanwhile, in the small town of Pallet Town, Professor Samuel Oak allowed himself a quiet smile.


The retired champion—and war veteran—sat at his desk, surrounded by scattered notes, early prototypes, and half-finished schematics. For years, he had been working toward a modern evolution of Professor Laventon's Pokédex: something capable of automatically scanning, cataloging, and retrieving Pokémon data in real time.


It had been a long-term project—careful, methodical, and slow.


Until now.


Oak adjusted his reading glasses, eyes scanning across the newly received data, his mind already racing ahead as pieces began to fall into place. Limitations he had been working around for years simply… vanished. Processing constraints, storage bottlenecks, signal reliability—problems that had defined the project were suddenly no longer barriers, just steps to solve.


"…Well now," he murmured to himself.


The prototype timeline shifted instantly in his head. Not ten years. Not even close.


"One year," he said quietly, already certain.


A full, functional prototype ready for field testing.


He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression settling in. Originally, this had been something he hoped would be ready by the time his grandson set out on his journey—a distant goal, a future milestone.


Now?


Oak smiled faintly.


"Maybe I should contact that Blackthorn kid… Lance, wasn't it? The new champion would probably be interested in this."

Ethan knew something was coming the moment he was called into the main room.


Not because of the setting.


Because of the silence.


He stepped in, eyes flicking between Cynthia and Carolina. Both were seated. Both watching him.


"…What?" he asked, already guarded.


Cynthia didn't answer right away.


Ethan's expression flattened.


"…This about my mom?" he asked.


That made Carolina flinch slightly.


Cynthia exhaled.


"Yes."


Ethan let out a quiet breath through his nose, looking away for a moment.


"…Took you long enough, so… how did she go?" Ethan asks

Cynthia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ethan—"


"No," he cut in, looking back at her. "Don't. Just tell me the truth."

"Self-immolation via fire type." Carolina states, causing Ethan to wince.



"…Right," he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. Not softer—just steadier.


The room fell silent. Cynthia watched him carefully, like she was waiting for something—an outburst, a crack, anything.


It didn't come.


"…There was a note," she said instead.


Ethan's gaze snapped back to her. "What did it say?"


Carolina hesitated, but Cynthia didn't.


"We haven't decided if you should read it yet."


That got a reaction. Ethan's expression hardened immediately.


"You're kidding."


"Ethan—"


"No," he snapped, sharper now. "You don't get to decide that. Not after hiding it."


The words hung in the air. Cynthia didn't flinch.


"It wasn't about hiding it from you," she said evenly. "It was about making sure you were ready to hear it."


Ethan let out a short, humorless breath. "And you figured now was better?"


"No," Cynthia replied. "I figured now was unavoidable."


That stopped him for a second. Then he looked away again, jaw tightening.


"…Fine," he muttered. "Keep it. Add it to the list."


Carolina shifted slightly, concern written across her face, but she didn't interrupt. Cynthia gave him a moment before continuing.


"The funeral is in a month," she said. "It will be a closed service."


Ethan didn't look up. "Because there's nothing left."


"Yes. We'll be burying an empty casket."


Ethan nodded once. "…Okay."


The word came out flat, but it carried weight.


Cynthia watched him for another second before moving on. "In four days, you're coming with me to Unova."


That pulled his attention back, if only slightly. "…Unova?"


"There's a conference," Cynthia said. "And afterward, we'll be visiting Blueberry Academy."


Ethan frowned faintly, processing that, but didn't argue.


"After we get back," Cynthia continued, "everything from your home will be brought here. We'll go through it together."


That one landed differently. Ethan went still.


"…All of it?" he asked.


"Yes."


He nodded slowly, eyes dropping again. "…Okay."


Silence settled over the room once more.


Carolina finally spoke, softer now. "Ethan…"


He didn't look up. "…Can I go?"


Cynthia held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."


Ethan turned and walked out without another word. The door clicked shut behind him.


For a long moment, neither woman spoke.


Carolina exhaled quietly. "He didn't cry."


Cynthia's eyes remained on the door. "No."


A pause.


"He's processing," she said, though there was tension beneath it.


Carolina didn't look convinced. "Or he's burying it."


"I feel like we failed him by keeping it from him for this long," Cynthia states

Ethan was dressed in a suit as they boarded the Dragonite bus, the cold air brushing past them as passengers moved inside. It was going to be a long trip to Unova.

He adjusted his collar, clearly not used to the outfit, then glanced over.

"Aunt Cynthia," he said, "why are we not taking a plane?"

Cynthia winced.

There it was again.

Not Big Sis.

Not the easy, familiar title he'd used without thinking before.

Formal. Distant. Intentional.

Her eyes flicked toward him, catching the way he didn't even look at her when he said it.

"…You're really sticking with that?" she asked.

Ethan shrugged as he stepped further into the cabin. "You said to behave. I'm still grounded afterall."

Cynthia exhaled quietly, letting it go for now. Pushing it would only make him dig in harder.

"Because this is a League-secured transport," she said instead, nodding toward the Dragonite outside. "No delays, no public interference, and no unnecessary attention."

Ethan glanced toward the massive Pokémon, watching it with mild interest.

"…So the VIP route," he said.

"Yes."

He nodded once, accepting that, then moved to his seat.


Ethan wasn't truthfully mad, not really. He understood—at least part of him did. His father had just died in a lab accident, something involving Eve, something no one had fully explained to him yet. And then his mother… gone too, in a way that made everything heavier instead of clearer.


If he had been them—if he had been Cynthia or Carolina—he probably would've done the same thing. Kept it quiet. Waited. Made sure. Protected the kid from the full weight of it until they could handle it.


That made sense. It all made sense.


The problem was that his thoughts didn't stay there.


Because the next part of his mind didn't care about logic—it cared about what he experienced. The empty space where the truth should've been. The way people looked at him differently for too long without speaking. The feeling that something had been sitting behind every conversation for weeks and no one told him until it finally spilled out on their terms.


His chest tightened slightly. Not enough to show, just enough to exist.


So instead, he did what his mind could manage and compartmentalized it into something simpler.


They hid it from me. Even if it was for a reason. Even if it made sense.


They still hid it.


Ethan shifted in his seat, eyes drifting toward the window as the Dragonite lifted them into the air.


"How do they carry so much weight with their tiny wings? Is it just heavy use of flying type energy?" Ethan asks

Cynthia glanced at him, the sudden shift in topic not surprising in the slightest.


"In part," she said. "Flying-types don't rely purely on physical lift the way planes do. There's energy reinforcement involved—something that reduces effective weight and improves maneuverability."

=====


""Ethan."

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

Not rough. Just enough.

He blinked awake, vision blurry for a second before sharpening. "…What?" he mumbled.

"We're landing," Cynthia said.

That did it.

Ethan sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he looked out the window. The city below was bigger than anything he'd seen in person—taller buildings, tighter layouts, more movement everywhere.

Unova.

Right.

The carriage dipped, then steadied as the Dragonite brought them in for landing. Ethan watched it for a moment, and despite everything, he smiled just a little.

"…Still awesome," he muttered.

The landing was smooth. A soft jolt, then stillness.

They had arrived.

---

The event was… boring.

Well, mostly boring.

The most interesting part was the discussion surrounding the five-gigabyte data packet. Apparently several regions had struggled just to store it, and now they were negotiating access, replication rights, and physical transport of the data itself.

Ethan caught fragments as he passed groups of adults:

"Yes, after using over a hundred rolls of magnetic tape we managed to store about 2.3 gigabytes…"

"…Silph Co. is developing improved photolithography for integrated circuits…"

"…but current processing is still limited to early micro-scale switching systems…"

It all sounded important.

It also sounded slow.

Painfully slow.

Ethan tugged slightly at his collar, already regretting the suit.

At his feet, Eevee sat neatly, also dressed for the occasion—or as close as one could reasonably manage. The small Normal-type looked deeply unimpressed with everything around him.

"Vee…" Eevee muttered as another group of adults passed.

"Yeah," Ethan murmured back. "Same."

Ethan scanned the room again, letting his gaze drift across the crowd. That was when he noticed them—two other kids standing off to the side.

The younger girl looked completely out of place in the best possible way, like she didn't care at all about the formal setting or the adults around her. She was visibly bored, but alert in a way that suggested she was only waiting for something interesting to happen. The kind of attention that felt like it was constantly scanning for a battle trigger.

Beside her, the older girl stood much straighter. Composed. Careful. She was clearly watching the adults, mirroring their posture and expressions with practiced precision—like she was already learning how to sit inside the world they were building.

Ethan paused.

Okay. Good. Not the only kid here.

That alone made the room feel slightly less suffocating.

At the exact same moment he looked over, the younger girl turned toward him.

And they made eye contact.

Ethan didn't look away. Neither did she.

A beat passed.

Then Ethan stood up.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath.

Eevee tilted his head up at him.

"If two trainers' eyes meet," Ethan said quietly, "they have to battle."

He walked over and stopped in front of her. "Hi, I'm Ethan."

"I'm Nemona," the girl replied immediately.

"Are you a trainer?" Ethan asked.

Nemona nodded without hesitation.

Ethan gave a small shrug. "Well, you know what they say. When two trainers make eye contact, they have to battle."

"YES! SEE SIS I TOLD YOU THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" Nemona cheered, practically vibrating with excitement.

Her older sister looked mortified. "Nemona, this is a formal—this is a diplomatic event—you can't just—"

"It's a battle," Nemona said simply, like that answered everything.

Ethan stood there for a second, feeling the weight of several very important people now looking directly at him.

"…This is going to get me in trouble," he muttered.

"Ethan."

Cynthia's voice cut cleanly through the room.

She was already moving.

Not rushed—but fast, controlled, and very clearly in problem-solving mode.

She reached him in seconds, eyes scanning the situation before immediately dropping to his Eevee.

"…Why is she out," she said flatly.

Eevee looked up at her. "Vee?"

Cynthia did not look reassured.

"That is a conference hall," she continued, lowering her voice. "There are glass fixtures, structural supports, and I've seen your Eevee fire off hyperbeam."

Ethan blinked. Wow Cynthia sounded stressed "… she's fine?"

Cynthia's stare sharpened.

"That is not what I asked."

Before the situation could escalate further, another voice cut in—calm, grounded, and carrying easily over the tension.

"Well now, sounds like y'all are makin' a fuss over somethin' that's already got a solution."

A large man stepped forward from the crowd, arms loosely folded, expression mildly amused.

Clay.

"There's a battle ring right outside," Clay continued, jerking a thumb toward the exit. "Place was built to handle demonstrations. Reinforced ground, clear sightlines, whole setup."

That got immediate attention.

Nemona lit up even more somehow.

Cynthia, however, didn't relax.

"…Does it have the barrier system?" she asked immediately.

Clay paused. Then looked at her. "…Barrier system?" Now I hardly reckon that such a thing be needed for a little youth demonstration."


"My younger sister had a gabbite." Everyone turns to look in surprise at the girl who couldn't be older than 8.


Cynthia didn't blink. "Energy containment fields. Impact dampening. Spectator shielding."

Clay stared at her for a second "I can see why those might be needed. But it's a battle ring," he said slowly. "Ground-type reinforcement. Solid stone. That's usually enough."

Cynthia's expression did not change.

"It will not be enough," she said flatly.

There was a brief silence.

Then she gestured, just slightly, toward Ethan's Eevee.

"I am not concerned about structural integrity," she clarified. "I am concerned about overperformance."

Clay followed the gesture.

Looked at Eevee.

Then back at Cynthia.

Then back at Eevee again.

"…That little thing?" he asked.

Eevee preened . "Vee!"

Cynthia did not smile.

"Yes," she said.

There was a pause.

Clay scratched his chin, then shrugged. "Well, if we're turnin' this into a full production, might as well do it right."

Cynthia gave a short nod. "Good."

Ethan looked between all of them.

"…You all are taking this way more seriously than I thought," he said.

Nemona leaned forward, eyes practically shining. "It's a battle."

Ethan stood on one side of the practice field, adjusting the sleeves of his suit as he looked across at Nemona.


Three Poké Balls.


That was… a lot.


Especially for someone around his age.


His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. There was something familiar about her, something that sat just out of reach. Not in the way of recognition, but in the way of importance—like he was supposed to know who she was.


Then his vision flickered.


A translucent overlay snapped into place in front of him, his HUD booting up automatically. Google opened an he was looking at A late Teens nemona who was a damn champion as a teen.

He blinked.


Then blinked again.


…You've got to be kidding me.


He stared at her.


Then did a very small double take.


Fuck me, she's a future champion?


Across the field, Nemona was practically bouncing on her heels, completely unaware of the existential recalibration happening on his side of the battlefield.


"Are both trainers ready!" Cynthia called from the referee platform, voice carrying cleanly across the reinforced arena.


Nemona shot her hand into the air. "Yes!"


Ethan didn't answer immediately.


He was still looking at Nemona.


Re-evaluating.


Recalculating.


Then he exhaled slowly and reached for his Poké Ball.


"…Yeah," he said.


His grip tightened slightly.


"Future Champion of Paldea…" he called out, voice carrying just enough to reach her.


Nemona lit up even more.


"I challenge you."


He threw Eve off his shoulder launching his Starter and only publicly known pokemon in this world.

From the referee stand, Ethan heard Cynthia mutter, very clearly—


"Arceus damnit, Ethan."


He ignored that.


Across from him, Nemona grinned and snapped her arm forward. "Alright! Let's go, Gible—" She paused, then corrected herself mid-throw with even more enthusiasm. "GABITE!"


Her Poké Ball burst open, and her Gabite hit the field with a heavy thud, claws digging into the reinforced ground as it let out a sharp, eager cry.


Ethan didn't hesitate. "Eve! Extreme Speed—into Hyper!"


Eevee vanished. One moment it stood in place; the next it became a blur, the air cracking in its wake as it crossed the field instantly. The impact came a heartbeat later, a compressed burst of force slamming into Gabite's side before it could properly react.


Gabite staggered, claws carving deep lines into the stone as it fought to stabilize—but Eevee didn't give it the chance. Rebounding off the initial strike, it twisted midair as energy rapidly condensed in front of it, light building fast and dangerously dense before releasing all at once.


The Hyper Beam detonated at point-blank range, flooding the field with golden-white energy and driving Gabite back several more feet. The reinforced ground cracked under the pressure, and the barrier systems flickered under the sudden spike.


Cynthia's head snapped toward the control panel. "…Good call," someone muttered behind her.


As the light faded, Eevee landed cleanly, skidding once before settling into a low stance, ears forward and body tense.


Across the field, Gabite was still standing—barely, but standing.


Nemona's grin only widened. "YES! That was awesome!"


Ethan blinked, thrown for half a second. "…That's not the reaction I expected," he muttered.

"Come on back, Gabite!"

Her Gabite dissolved into light and returned to its Poké Ball, leaving faint scorch marks and cracked stone behind as the only evidence of what had just happened.

Ethan let out a small breath, shoulders relaxing slightly now that the immediate pressure had passed. "I'm surprised it was still standing after that," he said honestly. "You've got a really devoted Pokémon there. It reminds me a little of Aunt Cynthia's Garchomp… though hers can go blow for blow with legendaries."

His voice carried.

Farther than he intended.

---

Cynthia felt her eye twitch.

Why is he saying that out loud.

Around her, several heads turned—not sharply, but enough. Champions, Gym Leaders, and professors didn't react loudly, but they noticed things like that.

Implications.

Statements that didn't line up with what a child should casually know.

Ethan's voice echoed again in her head, unhelpfully clear.

"…go blow for blow with legendaries."

Cynthia's posture stiffened slightly.

That wasn't the concerning part.

The concerning part was how certain he sounded.

Her thoughts shifted, unbidden, back to the ruins… to his urgency… to the way he had pushed toward Regigigas like he was working on a timeline no one else could see.

…Is that why?

The idea settled in her mind, unwelcome but persistent.

Am I going to have to fight legendaries?

Cynthia exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing her focus back onto the field.

One problem at a time.

---

Across the battlefield, Nemona didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

If anything, she looked more excited.

"Alright! That was awesome!" she said, already reaching for another Poké Ball. "Let's keep going!"

She threw it without hesitation.

A flash of light—

And a Paldean Tauros hit the field, hooves striking hard against the reinforced ground as it snorted, muscles coiled and ready.


"Eve double double!" Ethan shouts as Eve is suddenly double teaming as it rushes at the Tauros almost as fast as extreme speed going for the double edge attack. .


Cynthia was shocked with how good Ethan was. She had seen trainers struggle for years to chain moves like that under pressure.

Ethan had just done it on instinct.

Cynthia's expression tightened slightly.

"…That's not beginner behavior," she muttered under her breath.

Because the Hyper Beam was one thing, and even the earlier burst of power could be written off as an unusually strong Eevee. But this—this was sequencing, timing, and pressure management. This was experience. Cynthia felt the thought settle heavily as she watched him, a quiet realization she didn't like. Arceus… that conversation after the party is going to be difficult. And then another, sharper one followed. How did his Eevee just one-shot that Tauros?

==========

Across the field, Nemona looked like she'd just found her favorite thing in the world.


"That was AMAZING!" she said, already moving. "Okay, okay—let's keep going!"


Another Poké Ball arced through the air, bursting open in a flash of light as a Rotom materialized, its plasma body flickering and distorting as it zipped erratically through the air.


"Jarvis, let's go!" Nemona called, grinning. "Thunderbolt!"


Rotom snapped into motion immediately, crackling with electricity as it darted sideways, the bolt lancing out in a jagged arc that forced Eevee to break its forward line. The ground sparked where the attack struck, residual energy snapping and fading.


Ethan's eyes tracked it once, recalculating. Fast, airborne, unpredictable.


"Stay on it," he said calmly.


Eevee moved again, blurring forward, but this time Rotom didn't let it close. It dipped low, then shot upward, firing another burst of electricity that forced Eevee to veer off mid-run. The afterimage from its speed split briefly, but Rotom wasn't aiming at the illusions—it was watching the real one, adjusting with sharp, reactive movements.


"Keep your distance, Jarvis!" Nemona pressed, fully engaged now. "Don't let it get close!"

For a few seconds, it worked. Rotom danced just outside Eevee's reach, attacks snapping out in quick intervals and forcing constant adjustments. The pace of the fight shifted, less explosive now and far more technical—positioning, prediction, and control.


Ethan exhaled slowly, eyes tracking the movement with growing impatience. "What is that Rotom's speed stat…" he muttered, then his tone sharpened as he raised his voice. "Eevee—stop playing with your food. End it."


Eevee responded immediately.


The hesitation vanished.


It cut right instead of left this time, baiting another quick shot as Rotom fired to intercept—but Eevee didn't commit. It pivoted hard mid-step, acceleration spiking as it snapped into a tighter line than before, the distance collapsing in an instant.


Rotom tried to adjust.


Too late.


"Crunch."


The hit forced Rotom out of its evasive pattern and sent it crashing to the ground, its form flickering erratically before going still. A moment later, Eevee landed lightly, skidding once before settling into a steady stance, ears forward and alert.


Ethan let out a breath as the tension eased from his shoulders. "That was a decent battle," he began, tone calm and almost analytical. "Overall, I think you put up a good—"


"YOU HAVE A CHAMPION-LEVEL EEVEE!"


He blinked mid-sentence.


Nemona wasn't frustrated or upset. She looked ecstatic, eyes shining with pure excitement.


Ethan glanced down at Eevee, then back at her, giving a small, casual shrug. "…Yeah."


That seemed to confirm everything she needed.


Nemona stepped forward, completely serious despite the grin still on her face. "I love you. Please marry me so we can battle all the time."

Ethan froze, his brain taking a second too long to process that.


The battlefield went quiet in that peculiar way where everyone had heard it and no one quite knew how to react.


"…I'm six… seven," Ethan said, correcting himself mid-sentence.


"That's perfect, I'm eight!" Nemona shot back immediately, completely unfazed. "Can we battle again?"


Ethan stared at her for a second, then glanced past her toward where her Pokémon had gone down. "…Shouldn't you get your Pokémon healed first?" he asked, tone drifting back toward practical.