Pokémon: An Unexpected Odyssey

Adamos_Amet · Nov 6, 2024

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This fanwork is a non-canon creation by Adamo_Amet, who does not claim ownership of any intellectual properties (IPs) referenced herein. All mentioned IPs remain the sole property of their respective holders.

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"Oh, come on, that's bull crap!" Austin shouted, slouching back on the sofa, frustration bubbling over as he glared at the TV. Seriously? That just happened?

He rubbed his temples, trying to wrap his head around it. How does Pikachu—the same Pikachu that took down a Regice and held his own against a freakin' Latios—lose to a rookie Snivy? Sure, his electric attacks were disabled, but come on! He could've just used Iron Tail and sent that smug little snake flying. It made no sense.

This wasn't the first time the Pokémon anime had pissed him off. No, far from it. He remembered how Ash only took Pikachu with him to Hoenn—completely ignoring the rest of his team. And then he had the nerve to do the exact same thing in Sinnoh. I mean, Bulbasaur showed up for, like, one episode. One. Single. Episode. Who does that?

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he clicked off the TV. "Anyone could do better than that," he grumbled, reaching for his headphones. The moment he put them on, he felt a little more in control, the world fading out as the opening chords of "New Divide" by Linkin Park filled his ears.

Finally. Some peace.

With his parents out for another hour, he had some time to himself. After they got back, it'd be back to the grind—shopping for boring school supplies and whatever else they could think of. But for now? He could just… exist.

He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. But his mind wouldn't stop running laps around the disaster that was the Black and White series. How do you go from Ash in Diamond and Pearl, arguably his peak, to… that? It was just dumb. If he'd brought more than just Pikachu, maybe they wouldn't have made him lose to a beginner's Snivy. It was so stupid, he couldn't let it go. Who writes this stuff?

But as the song played on, something strange happened. His body started to feel heavy. Like, really heavy.

He yawned, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. What the hell? Just a minute ago, I was full of energy, all fired up over the show. Now, it felt like he couldn't even keep his eyes open.

I guess a quick nap wouldn't hurt, he thought, sinking deeper into the cushions. His body felt like it was melting into the sofa, the music swirling around him, pulling him under.

The last thing he remembered before drifting off was the bass thumping in time with his heartbeat, each beat pulling him deeper and deeper into sleep.

Austin felt his nose twitch as the sunlight pierced through the window, forcing him to turn his head away from its blinding rays. Instinctively, he curled up tighter, seeking the warmth of his covers.

…Wait.

He hadn't pulled any covers over himself.

A chill of unease ran down his spine as his eyes cracked open, and he froze. The room around him was definitely not his. His heart started racing, a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck as he shot upright, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

What the hell?

He scrambled out of the bed, his legs wobbly beneath him, like they weren't his. His gaze darted around the room, taking in the bizarre decorations: a Clefairy piggy bank, a Zubat hanging from the ceiling, a giant Snorlax bean bag chair sprawled across the floor, and a broken Voltorb clock with a mini Pidgey perched on top of it.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

He stumbled toward a mirror on the wall, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. As he caught sight of his reflection, his blood ran cold.

The face staring back at him wasn't his.

It was Ash Ketchum's.

No. No, no, no. This… This couldn't be real. His hands trembled as he lifted one to his face, and Ash's reflection did the same, perfectly mirroring his movements. His brain struggled to catch up, his thoughts spiraling out of control.

N-No way… This had to be a dream, right? It couldn't be anything else.

His hand touched his cheek, and the skin was warm, solid. It didn't feel like a dream. His mind reeled. How the hell did I get here? How am I in Ash Ketchum's body?!

"H-How—" He tried to speak, but the voice that came out wasn't his. It was Ash's voice. His heart dropped into his stomach. This was real. Somehow, impossibly real.

He screamed.

The sound ripped through the room, raw and panicked, bouncing off the walls as he lost whatever composure he had left. What the hell was happening to him?!

Almost instantly, he regretted the outburst. Footsteps pounded down the hallway, growing louder, closer. Before he could even begin to think of what to do, the door swung open, revealing a young woman with mahogany hair and amber eyes.

Delia Ketchum. Ash's mom.

"Ash, are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as her eyes searched his face for answers.

Panic tightened its grip on his chest. His first instinct was to confess—tell her he wasn't Ash, tell her this was some insane nightmare that didn't make any sense. But how would that sound? What could he even say? Hey, I'm not your son, I just woke up like this. Yeah, that'd go over great.

"I-I overslept!" he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. His voice—Ash's voice—was strained, panicked. He forced himself to adopt the identity, at least for now. It was the only way to keep things from spiraling further out of control.

Delia's worried expression softened into a gentle smile, but he could still see traces of concern. She didn't push him, though. Thank Arceus for that.

He awkwardly darted past her, his movements clumsy, uncoordinated. Adjusting to this body was like being shoved into clothes two sizes too small—everything felt weird, wrong. His legs were shorter, his arms were thinner, and he didn't know how to move without feeling like he might trip over his own feet at any second.

"Ash, wait! You need to eat something—" Delia's voice faded as he bolted out the door, ignoring the pit in his stomach.

What the hell is going on?

Panic surged through Austin as he sprinted down the street, his legs moving faster than his brain could keep up. He didn't know where he was going, but the need to move, to figure this out, was overwhelming.

This is a dream, he told himself over and over again. Just a really messed-up, hyper-realistic dream.

Any second now, he was going to wake up. He'd be back in his room, back with his parents, getting ready for school shopping or whatever mundane thing was on the agenda. But no matter how hard he wished for it, the wake-up call never came.

His lungs burned, and he slowed to a stop, realizing he hadn't even gone that far. Ash's house was still visible in the distance, standing there like a mocking reminder that none of this made any sense.

"Okay… okay," he muttered under his breath, trying to get a grip. "I'm obviously in Pallet Town."

He swallowed hard, the words barely making sense even as he said them.

"And I've become Ash."

He let out a nervous laugh, half-expecting to blink and find himself in some padded room, wrapped up in a straitjacket. But no, he was still here, in Pallet Town, standing in Ash's skin. The air felt too crisp, the sounds of the town too clear, too real. This wasn't how dreams felt.

His thoughts were interrupted by a distant noise—voices, laughter, and something else. He looked up and saw a crowd gathering near the gates of the Oak Pokémon Lab. Instinctively, he walked toward the commotion, hoping it might help him piece together this bizarre reality.

And then he heard it—a familiar voice, oozing arrogance.

"Well, Ash, better late than never, I suppose."

He stopped dead in his tracks. No way. He turned, and there he was—a boy his age, brown hair, blue shirt, black pants, holding a Pokéball like it was a trophy.

"G-Gary Oak?" he stuttered, feeling his brain short-circuit.

"That's Mr. Gary to you. Show some respect," Gary shot back, his words dripping with superiority. It was exactly how Austin remembered him from the show—the smugness, the cocky attitude. It was unreal.

"Well, Ash, you snooze, you lose. I have a Pokémon, and you don't." He smirked, basking in his own importance.

Austin could feel his blood boiling, but at the same time, a strange calm settled over him. This was his dream, right? He didn't have to take this crap.

"Must be quite the Pokémon to put up with your big head," he snapped before he could stop himself.

Gary's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting Ash to fight back like that. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. For a moment, Austin wondered if he'd gone too far. But then Gary narrowed his eyes, recovering.

"I bet you're wondering what Pokémon it is—"

"Squirtle," Austin said flatly, cutting him off.

Gary's jaw dropped, his ego visibly deflating. "How did you know?!"

Crap. He hadn't thought this through. "Uh, there are only three choices. I just guessed," Austin lied, hoping it sounded somewhat believable.

Gary gave him a suspicious look, but eventually, he let it go. "Well, whatever. Doesn't matter. I've got a journey to start, and you're already behind, Smell ya later? Ashy-Boy."

His signature catchphrase sounded ridiculous now that Austin was hearing it in person. Smell ya later? Who says that? He had to suppress a snicker, wondering if Gary had some weird smell-related fetish or something.

Before he could dwell on that strange thought, an elderly voice cut through the chaos.

"So you decided to show up after all."

He whipped around, and there he was—Professor Samuel Oak, in the flesh. White lab coat, red shirt, brown cargo pants, just like the anime. But seeing him in real life, in front of Austin, was… surreal. The legend himself. He felt his legs go weak.

"P-Professor Oak?" Austin blurted, completely starstruck. His brain short-circuited again. This was just too much.

Professor Oak raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, you look like you're ready for bed, not for Pokémon training," he chuckled, eyeing Austin's appearance.

He glanced down and winced. He was a mess—just like Ash had been in the anime. His clothes were wrinkled, and he looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Great, he thought. Perfect first impression.

"Uh… I can fix this," Austin stammered, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

But then, something shifted inside him. If this was a dream, if he was really stuck in this, he might as well lean into it. He wasn't just Austin anymore—he was Ash. And Ash… Ash had a Pokémon to get.

A grin spread across his face as he looked Professor Oak in the eye, the nervous energy suddenly turning into something bolder.

"But I am ready for a Pokémon," he declared.

For the first time since this whole dream started, Austin felt like he had some control. If he was going to be Ash, then damn it, he was going to be the best version of Ash.

Austin glanced around the lab, his eyes darting over every piece of high-tech equipment, each sound and flicker of light setting his nerves on edge. This was it—where everything began. The beginning of Ash's journey, the place that changed everything. But now it was his. His hands trembled slightly as the glass panel slid open, revealing three Pokéballs.

"Are you alright, Ash?" Professor Oak asked, his voice gentle but probing, as if he could sense the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside Austin.

He forced a smile, mustering every ounce of fake enthusiasm he could. "Oh, I'm fine, Professor. Just excited."

Excited? Austin felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath his feet. He'd dreamt of this moment for years, but now that he was here, the reality felt far more surreal and nerve-wracking.

"Hm… Well, alright then," Professor Oak said, his eyes lingering on Austin for a moment before he sighed and gestured to the Pokéballs. "So, who will be your choice?"

Austin took a deep breath, pretending to weigh his options, even though he knew exactly what he had to do. "Well, Gary said he got a Squirtle, so that's out," he said, reaching for a Pokéball.

"I choose Charmander."

He popped it open, knowing full well it would be empty. His heart raced as he tried to mimic disappointment, turning his face into a perfect mask of letdown. And right on cue, Professor Oak confirmed it.

"That one was also taken by a kid who wasn't late."

"Of course it was," Austin muttered, feigning exasperation. "Well, that's fine. Bulbasaur is a great Pokémon—"

He opened the next ball. Empty again. A pit of anxiety formed in his stomach, despite knowing what was coming.

"The early bird gets the worm, or in this case, the Pokémon," Professor Oak remarked with a knowing smile, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"So… there's no Pokémon left?" Austin asked, pretending to sound crestfallen, though he already knew the answer.

Professor Oak hesitated, clearly torn. "Well, there's still one left, but I—"

"I'll take it," Austin blurted out, his voice too eager, too desperate. He needed to keep moving, to keep moving before he woke up.

Professor Oak blinked at Austin's urgency but nodded, pressing a button. A lone Pokéball, marked with a lightning bolt, rose up.

"I should warn you, there's a problem with this last one," Professor Oak said, his eyes cautious.

Austin's heart hammered in his chest. "I'll take my chances."

"Very well then," Professor Oak said, handing over the ball. Austin grinned, but the moment he touched it, the weight of everything hit him. This was real. He pressed the button, and a flash of light filled the room, materializing into a small, yellow mouse with red cheeks and a lightning bolt tail.

"His name is Pikachu," Professor Oak said as Pikachu turned to them, his tiny face scrunched in a frown.

"Pika," Pikachu grunted, crossing his little arms like a disgruntled toddler.

"Hey, Pikachu," Austin said softly, extending his hand, his heart aching with a weird, nostalgic fondness. This was Pikachu. Ash's Pikachu. No—his Pikachu. But as he moved closer, Professor Oak's voice cut through the moment.

"Wait—!"

Too late. Pain exploded through Austin's body, his muscles seizing up as Pikachu unleashed a jolt of electricity. He collapsed, twitching violently, his vision going white.

Oh god, the pain—it was real. This wasn't a dream, and it hurt like hell. His body convulsed, his teeth clenched as he tried to process what was happening. The shock was overwhelming, his thoughts a scattered mess. Holy shit, he was really here.

"Shocking, isn't it?" Professor Oak's voice cut through the haze, his tone casual, almost amused.

S-S-Screw you, Austin thought, his body still jerking uncontrollably, the words never quite making it out of his mouth.

Pikachu huffed, looking more annoyed than anything, like Austin had offended him personally.

Austin finally regained control of his limbs, though they still tingled from the residual shock. He glanced at Pikachu, who refused to meet his eyes, the little yellow body turned slightly away in what looked like… was that embarrassment? Or maybe Pikachu just didn't care. Either way, the boy was sure of one thing now.

This wasn't a dream.

The weight of the situation hit him all at once, like a tidal wave he wasn't prepared for. How the hell did he end up here? He was in Ash Ketchum's body. Did that mean Ash was in his? A knot twisted in his gut at the thought. Could Ash be back in his world, in his body, with his parents? How would they even handle that? Would Ash try to explain it or just play along?

Austin swallowed hard, imagining his mom's face when her son started acting like a hyperactive, Pokémon-obsessed kid.

Wait, that's literally me.

He shook his head, trying to push the panic down. I have to fix this, he thought, as Professor Oak handed him a Pokédex and a handful of Pokéballs, his expression calm, like nothing in the world was wrong. How was he supposed to fix this? He didn't even know how he got here in the first place.

Knowing his luck, he'd probably end up in a mental hospital if he ever got back home.

Austin stared at the Pokédex, turning it over in his hands before pointing it at Pikachu. The pokemon finally looked up, his brow furrowing, obviously confused by whatever Austin was doing.

"Pikachu, the Electric Mouse Pokémon," the robotic voice of the Pokédex droned on. "The red sacs on its cheeks store energy equal to a lightning bolt. If one finds a charred berry in the woods, it is a sure sign that a Pikachu is nearby."

Austin marveled at it, even though he knew exactly what the Pokédex did. Hearing it for real, standing here, holding this thing… it was like stepping into another dimension. Well, technically, that's exactly what had happened.

"This Pikachu is male, with the ability Static. He knows Thundershock, Growl, and Tail Whip. Age: two years and five months."

Austin blinked at the detail. It even listed Pikachu's age? How had Ash survived half the stuff that happened in the show? Like, Pikachu should be able to incinerate him. That Flamethrower attack from Charizard should've been the end of him! He glanced at Pikachu, who huffed and looked away again, clearly still unimpressed.

"You may want to return him to his Pokéball," Professor Oak suggested, pulling Austin out of his thoughts. Pikachu's ears perked up, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Right. He remembered this part. Pikachu hated being inside the Pokéball. Austin smiled, hoping to smooth things over. "Nah, I think he'd prefer to stay out."

Pikachu's ears twitched, his gaze still suspicious. Austin tried to sound confident, though part of him was screaming to just play it safe. The last thing he needed was another electric shock.

"Besides, how can I be his friend if I keep him in the ball all the time?"

Pikachu made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scoff, his little face twisted into a Yeah, right kind of look.

Great, Austin thought, I'm off to a fantastic start.

Professor Oak scratched his cheek, clearly not convinced. "If you're sure, Ash."

Austin swallowed hard. Ash. He had to remember, he was Ash now. At least for as long as he was stuck here. He couldn't afford to slip up, to let anyone know something was off. Not yet. It would take some getting used to, pretending to be someone else in a world that had been fiction just a day ago.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to settle into Ash's mindset. Carefree. Optimistic. Maybe a little dense. When he opened them again, Professor Oak was staring at him with a concerned expression.

"You alright, Ash?"

"Uh, yeah," Austin stammered, forcing a grin. "Just trying to calm myself because I'm so excited."

Professor Oak chuckled, clearly buying his act. "Well, excitement is a good start for any Pokémon Trainer."

Excitement, Austin thought, feeling the weight of the Pokédex in his hand and the Pokéballs in his pocket. Right. That was one way to describe it. He wasn't sure if excitement was the right word for what he was feeling. It was more like a storm of confusion and anxiety, but he had no choice but to push forward.

Stepping out of the lab, Austin scanned the front of the ranch, half-expecting to see Ash's mom waiting with that warm smile she always had in the anime. But she wasn't there. There was no Delia.

Well, that's one thing that's different, he thought, though the relief was short-lived. A knot of concern tightened in his chest. How was he going to deal with her? Moms notice everything, especially when something's off. What would she think if she picked up on the changes in him?

The possibilities played out in his mind like an endless reel of disasters. Would she think he was possessed by some ghost Pokémon? Maybe she'd think he was finally taking things seriously for once, or worse, that Pikachu's shock had connected Ash's last two brain cells.

The thought made him chuckle, but the humor quickly faded. If she got too suspicious, it could lead to a medical evaluation. What would that even look like here? Would I end up strapped to some machine in a Pokémon Center, electrodes stuck to my head while a Chansey tried to keep me calm, and an Alakazam probed my mind, all while I desperately tried to explain why her son wasn't acting like himself?

He shuddered at the thought, his mind spinning with worst-case scenarios.

"Pika."

Pikachu's voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Austin looked down to see the little yellow mouse staring up at him with an expression that clearly said, Get me out of here.

He hummed quietly to himself. Right, Ash only won Pikachu over because of the whole Spearow fiasco, he thought, considering for a split second whether he should try to recreate that scene. But that idea died the moment it formed.

No way am I doing that. What kind of butterfly—or rather, Butterfree—effect would that bring? He sighed again, realizing just how fragile this world felt. How much could he change? Would the universe try to stick to the plot no matter what he did? Or could he make things better—or worse?

"Come on, Pikachu," he said, trying to break the tension. "Don't I get the benefit of the doubt for not shoving you in the Pokéball?"

Pikachu just stared at him blankly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Pika Pi," he muttered, and although Austin didn't know exactly what he said, the tone made it sound like an insult.

He couldn't help but smirk. Even in this world, Pikachu wasn't taking him seriously—especially while he was still in his pajamas.

Without thinking too much, Austin turned back toward the lab. As he stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was Professor Oak busy with paperwork. Then his eyes landed on something that made his heart nearly stop.

An Alakazam.

The Pokémon floated near Professor Oak, manipulating two brooms to sweep the floor using psychic energy, its silver spoons glowing faintly. Its narrow eyes and small mustache gave it a sharp, knowing look, like it could see right through him.

His pulse quickened. Could it read his mind? Was it doing it right now? Could it tell that he wasn't really Ash? Oh God, was it going to expose him?

"Alakazam!" he blurted out, his voice a little too loud, a little too shaky. He tried to cover his anxiety with a deep breath, but his mind was spinning out of control.

Professor Oak looked up, oblivious to his internal freakout. "Oh, Ash, my boy! Do you need something?" He walked over with a stack of papers, completely casual, while Austin was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

He couldn't stop staring at the Alakazam, sweat forming on his forehead. Could it feel his thoughts? It had to know something was wrong. He had to get out of here.

"Oh, Alakazam is mine," Professor Oak said with a chuckle, sensing his unease. "Don't worry—she doesn't bite."

Bite? Yeah, I wasn't worried about biting. I was worried about her ripping my mind apart with psychic powers.

"P-Professor," Austin stammered, trying to pull himself together. "Do you have a book on how to deal with aggressive Pokémon? And… some ketchup packets?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think, his eyes darting between Oak and Alakazam, who was now narrowing its eyes at him.

"Ketchup packets?" Oak looked at him, amused but a little confused. "Ah, trying to make friends with Pikachu, I see. Great start, my boy."

He motioned to Alakazam to fetch some items, and Austin felt like he could breathe again—at least for a moment. But even as Alakazam floated away, he couldn't shake the paranoia gnawing at the back of his mind. Did she know what he was thinking? Was she judging him?

Oak's voice brought him back. "You might want to stop staring, my boy. People and Pokémon alike don't appreciate that."

He nodded slowly, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. He needed to get a grip.

Within moments, a book titled Handling Fury: Professor Samuel Oak's Guide to Managing Aggressive Mons floated over, followed by a handful of ketchup packets. He grabbed them like a lifeline, muttering a quick "thanks" before practically bolting out of the lab.

The second he was outside, he leaned against the wall, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. He clutched the book and ketchup like they were going to save his life.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the paranoia. He hadn't expected this to be so real.

"Pika."

Pikachu frowned and turned away deliberately, clearly unimpressed. It stung more than Austin wanted to admit, but he wasn't about to give up. He knew there was a way to get through to him.

Austin pulled out a packet of ketchup and carefully tore it open. The rich, tangy scent filled the air, and he squeezed some onto his palm, holding it out like an olive branch.

Pikachu hesitated, but Austin could see his ears twitching, his little nose wrinkling as he caught a whiff. Slowly, Pikachu inched closer, curiosity overpowering his initial distrust. He sniffed cautiously, then reached out a paw and dipped it into the ketchup, tasting it.

Austin's heart swelled as he watched Pikachu's eyes light up with delight. He knew it—ketchup was Pikachu's weakness. This was his chance to connect, to show Pikachu he wasn't just some clueless kid.

Taking a deep breath, Austin placed Pikachu's Pokéball on the ground between them, a gesture of trust. "Look, I know you don't like the situation you were put into," he started, his voice betraying the nerves he was barely keeping in check. He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to hide their trembling. Why was this so hard? It's just a Pokémon, right? But… it was more than that.

Pikachu's eyes shifted from the ketchup to him, his attention fully captured now.

"But I have a simple proposal." Austin tried to sound casual. "You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours."

Pikachu tilted his head, confused. He glanced at his paws, as if checking if something was on them. Austin almost laughed at the sight but managed to hold it in.

"What I mean is… help me catch another Pokémon, and when we reach Viridian City I'll release you." Austin trailed off, gauging Pikachu's reaction. Pikachu looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening as he squeaked, "Pika?" as if to ask why.

Pikachu didn't get it, did he? No one had ever bothered to ask him what he wanted. "I imagined myself in your position," Austin said softly. "Being told you have to travel with a stupid ten-year-old… I'd probably jump off the nearest cliff."

It was a stupid joke, but it seemed to work. Pikachu snorted, a small smile breaking through his initial reluctance. Austin's shoulders relaxed a fraction.

"So, deal?" Austin asked, holding out his hand, praying Pikachu wouldn't reject it. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Pikachu could hear it. Everything felt surreal—here he was, negotiating with a Pokémon, and yet it felt more intense than any conversation he'd ever had.

Pikachu eyed him for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a small, deliberate movement, he stretched out his paw and met Austin's hand.

"Pika."

A simple sound, but it felt like a promise. Relief washed over Austin, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Austin hurried back to the house, flipping through the pages of the book in his hands. Surprisingly, it was in English. He stopped for a second, his mind trying to process that.

Wait… shouldn't this be in Japanese? Or is it in Japanese, and I'm just seeing it as English?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp gasp. He looked up and froze. Delia—Mom—was standing outside, her hand over her mouth, staring at the book like it was some kind of alien artifact.

"Ash, is everything alright?" she asked, her eyes wide, darting between him and the book like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Yeah, he couldn't believe it either. Ash and books? If he were in her shoes, he'd be just as shocked. He forced a smile, trying to play it off.

"Professor Oak gave me this awesome book to help me be the best trainer for Pikachu," he explained, hoping the excuse would fly.

Delia's expression softened as her gaze shifted to Pikachu, who was standing at Austin's side. Her whole face lit up like she was seeing the cutest thing in the world. "Well, aren't you a handsome boy?" she cooed, reaching out to pet him.

Austin opened his mouth to warn her, but it was too late. Pikachu was already bracing himself, his cheeks sparking lightly. But before he could let loose, Delia found the magic spot between his ears. Pikachu's eyes went wide, then half-lidded as he melted into her touch.

"Chaa…" he murmured, looking like he was in heaven.

Austin blinked, completely dumbfounded. What the— How did she manage that? Pikachu practically roasted him earlier, but now he was a puddle of contentment in her hands.

That's not fair.

"Your clothes are out on your bed," Delia said casually, still rubbing Pikachu's head. Austin could see Pikachu leaning into it, tail wagging slightly.

"R-Right…" Austin muttered, shaking his head as he headed inside. The feeling of familiarity hit him hard as he made his way up the stairs. It was Ash's room, but now it felt like it was his too. He stepped in, spotting the clothes laid out neatly on the bed—the exact outfit from the first three seasons.

He changed quickly, pulling on the black shirt and blue vest, followed by the jeans, sneakers, and the red and white hat that felt too iconic for its own good. The moment he put on the fingerless green gloves, he stared at himself in the mirror.

Jesus… I'm really turning into him.

He looked like Ash, down to the last detail. The sight was unsettling, like he was losing pieces of himself the longer he stayed here. With a deep breath, he grabbed the backpack and headed back downstairs.

Delia had breakfast waiting. The smell of food hit him, but instead of feeling comforted, a pang of guilt gnawed at his stomach. She was smiling so warmly, so genuinely, like she was happy to see her son. But he wasn't really her son. Not in the way she thought.

I'm not Ash. The thought was like a weight pressing on his chest. But what could he do? He didn't cause this. He didn't ask to be thrown into this world. He was just trying to survive. Trying to make the best of a completely insane situation.

Pikachu was already chowing down on some Pokémon food Delia had put out for him, looking completely content. Austin tried to get his attention. "Hey, Pikachu."

He didn't even look at Austin. Just kept eating, deliberately ignoring him.

Yeah… still a dick.

"Eat up, you'll need your strength before your journey," Delia encouraged, her voice full of warmth.

Austin nodded, forcing a weak smile as he started eating. He took small bites, chewing slowly, trying to keep his mind from spiraling.

Out of the corner of his eye, Austin saw Delia watching him, her brows furrowing in confusion. He could tell she was noticing the change. Normally, Ash—he—would be stuffing his face like there was no tomorrow. But he was eating slowly, methodically.

She wasn't used to it. To him. And how could she be? Ash had been acting different since the moment Austin woke up. He could see the questions in her eyes, the slight confusion she tried to hide behind that smile.

Austin started stuffing his face in response, and the confusion melted into a warm smile on Delia's face.

The grasslands stretched out around her like an endless sea of green, swaying gently under the soft whisper of the wind. The air was alive with the scent of earth and wildflowers—a peaceful place for most, but for her, it was a battlefield. Her stomach gnawed at her, a relentless ache that overshadowed the dull pain of the wounds she'd gathered from living out here alone. She was hungry. So hungry.

She crept through the underbrush, her small, purple body blending with the shadows. The coolness of the ground seeped into her cream-colored paws, the ache in her belly driving her forward. Each step was cautious, her narrow eyes darting around, ears twitching at every sound. Out here, everything could be a threat—or an opportunity.

The scent hit her like a wave, pulling her in, making her nose twitch with excitement. Food. Her instincts kicked in, sharpening her focus. She followed the tantalizing aroma through the tall grass, her heart racing with anticipation. She would eat tonight. She had to.

She slunk closer, belly low to the ground, until she spotted him—a human boy, standing there, staring off into the distance with wide eyes. He looked almost lost, like he was seeing the world for the first time. Her gaze zeroed in on his backpack, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. That's where the food was. It had to be.

He didn't see her. He was too busy with whatever humans get fascinated by. Perfect. She moved closer, each step deliberate, careful. The hunger gnawed at her, urging her forward despite the fear that prickled along her spine. She had to be quick. In and out. Just grab something and run.

She was so close. Her heart raced, muscles coiled tight, ready to snatch whatever she could. But then—pain. Searing, blinding pain shot through her like a bolt of lightning. Her body convulsed, her fur standing on end as the electricity tore through every nerve. It was like her entire being was on fire, buzzing uncontrollably, her muscles seizing up in a helpless dance.

What's happening? She wanted to scream, but no sound came out, only a faint whimper as she crumpled to the ground. She lay there, trembling, eyes wide with shock and fear. Why? Why this pain? She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was just hungry. She just wanted—

Her gaze met the boy's. There was no anger in his eyes, only something else, something that cut through her deeper than any wound ever could. Disappointment. It felt like he was looking right through her, seeing something she didn't even know was there.

She barely registered the Pokéball in his hand before it flew toward her. She tried to move, to run, but her body wouldn't listen. The red light enveloped her, pulling her in, and everything around her went dark.

Was I wrong to be hungry?

Austin stood in the middle of Route 1, staring down at the freshly caught Pokéball in his hand. His first Pokémon. He should've been more excited, right? But he couldn't shake the disappointment gnawing at him.

"Rattata…" he muttered, trying to find some enthusiasm in the name alone. Not exactly a thrilling start. But then again, this wasn't a game. Plus, any Pokémon can be strong, he had to remind himself. That was one lesson that was always repeated in the anime.

Pikachu glanced back at him briefly, probably wondering why he was just standing there like an idiot.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Austin said, forcing a smile. "You did your part."

Pikachu's ear twitched as he motioned toward the backpack, clearly telling Austin to get on with it and open the damn ketchup. He rolled his eyes but complied, tearing open a packet and handing it to Pikachu. The little Pokémon latched onto it immediately, eyes half-closed in bliss as he sucked on it.

Austin shook his head, watching him. "Let's just get to Viridian City," he muttered, more to himself than to Pikachu. "It'll take a few minutes, and then… well, I'll set you free if that's what you want."

Pikachu glanced at him, his expression unreadable. Part of Austin hoped Pikachu would stick around, but he knew better than to count on it. He knew the Pokémon writers had a habit of nerfing Pikachu every other region, but the electric mouse had always managed to grow strong.

Regardless, Austin resolved to release Pikachu if that was what the Pokémon desired.

He sighed, shifting the Pokéball in his hand.

Just then, a sharp, piercing cry cut through the air.

"Spearow!"

Austin's heart jumped into his throat. He spun around, every nerve on edge. There, perched on a low-hanging branch, was a Spearow, glaring at him with those narrow, fierce eyes. Its feathers were a rough mix of browns and pinks, and its beak—sharp and hooked—looked like it was made to tear things apart. It was small, but it didn't need to be big to be dangerous.

Pikachu tensed beside him, sparks crackling around his cheeks as he prepared to attack. Austin raised his hand instinctively, stopping him.

"No, don't!" he whispered urgently. Starting a fight with a Spearow was a bad idea. He knew how this went. One wrong move and it would call its entire flock. And he wasn't ready for that—not even close.

But the Spearow's gaze hardened, and Austin saw its beak open, ready to let out a call. Panic gripped him, his mind scrambling for a solution. He didn't have time to think, only to react.

His hand moved on its own, grabbing another Pokéball from his belt. Desperation took over as he hurled it at the bird, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst.

"Spear!" the bird screeched, and then it disappeared in a flash of light as the Pokéball hit it dead on. The ball shook violently as it fell to the ground, rocking back and forth. Austin could barely breathe, every second stretching out into what felt like hours. He braced himself, half-expecting the Spearow to burst free and call its friends down on them like a pack of wolves.

But then, the Pokéball stilled. There was a soft, clear ding.

Austin froze, staring at it in disbelief. Did he just…?

"I caught it?" he whispered, the words barely registering in his own mind. He took a hesitant step forward, picking up the Pokéball and feeling its smooth surface under his fingertips. He caught it. He actually caught it.

[Pallet Town - Ketchum Household]

Delia was a whirlwind of emotions—a blend of pride and profound worry that only a mother whose son had just left on a dangerous journey could understand. The tightness in her chest wouldn't ease; her mind replayed every possible danger her son could face.

"Don't worry, he'll be alright. He is his father's son after all," she murmured to herself, trying to find solace in the reminder.

To distract herself, Delia turned on the television, hoping some idle show might soothe her nerves. However, the news only heightened her anxiety. The anchor began a segment that immediately caught her attention and stoked her fears:

"Tragic news from Route 1 as a young trainer named Jimmy was found deceased early this morning, the victim of an aggressive Spearow flock. Experts believe this flock has developed unusually strategic hunting tactics. Dr. Fiona Barkley, a Pokémon behaviorist, notes that the Spearows appear to use a single member to lure unsuspecting trainers or Pokémon into ambushes where the entire flock then attacks. Environmental biologist, Dr. Hank Jennings, suggests that recent habitat disruptions may have forced the Spearows to adopt more aggressive measures to defend their territory. This dangerous flock is known to be active across Routes 1, 25, and 3. The incidents have sparked outrage in several communities, with citizens demanding action from the Pokémon League."

As the report continued, Delia's hands began to sweat, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She clasped her hands tightly together, her knuckles whitening as she whispered a prayer.

Oh, Mew, please keep my baby safe!

Adamos_Amet · Nov 7, 2024

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. Any similarities between real people, living or dead, or places, standing or demolished, in this story are just coincidences. If you appreciate my work and want to support me, you can do so here:
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Adamo_Amet
Discord: https://discord.gg/9BARwq8n

Breathe in, breathe out.

Each breath tore through Austin's chest like sandpaper, sharp and unforgiving. His lungs screamed, his heart pounded against his ribs like a drum, and his legs… his legs felt like they were made of lead. Every muscle burned with raw, searing pain, but he couldn't stop—not with the bloodthirsty flock of Spearow screeching behind him.

He forced himself to remember his brother's advice: "Stay light on your feet. Lean forward. Don't lock your knees."

But it was hard to remember anything coherent when terror was thrumming through his veins, drowning out any sense of control. He stumbled, and a sudden, sharp pain exploded at the back of his head—white-hot and blinding—as a Spearow dove down and struck him. He nearly collapsed, but adrenaline surged through him, sparking every nerve to keep moving, keep surviving.

The pain in his skull barely registered compared to the fear—pure, gut-wrenching terror lodged itself like a stone in his stomach. These Spearow weren't going to stop. They didn't care about mercy, didn't care that he was just a kid. They were relentless. His legs felt like they'd give out any second, but he pushed through it, lungs burning, the air tearing at his throat with each gasping breath.

"Pikachu, get in your Pokéball!" he gasped, his voice barely a choked whisper of desperation.

"Pi?!"

"Listen to me," he begged, twisting his backpack to shield his head from another dive. "I'm not going to let you get hurt!" The thought of Pikachu taking a single hit from those razor-sharp beaks and talons made his stomach churn.

But then, a darker thought slammed into him, harder than any Spearow ever could. Was this my fault? The question gnawed at him, ugly and insistent. Did catching that lone Spearow set the rest of them off? Or… or is this just Ash's fate? Maybe no matter what I do, this is how it always goes.

The doubt tangled into his fear, making his heartbeat trip over itself. He barely had a chance to wrestle with the thought before he realized Pikachu wasn't beside him anymore.

"Pika—!" The defiant cry reached his ears, and his heart plummeted. He spun around, stumbling to a stop, and saw Pikachu standing his ground, tiny body tensed, sparks crackling across his cheeks, ready to take on the entire flock alone.

"No, Pikachu!" Austin's voice broke as he fumbled with Pikachu's Pokéball, his hands trembling. He aimed and shot out the red beam just as Pikachu fired a thundershock, recalling the small Pokémon before he could launch into a losing battle. As Pikachu disappeared into the safety of the ball, the residual shock stunned a few of the Spearow, momentarily dropping them from the sky.

A brief flash of relief flooded Austin, but it was fleeting. The rest of the flock was still hurtling toward him, closing in fast.

He stood there, gasping, every muscle trembling, his skin buzzing with leftover adrenaline. He had maybe a second to catch his breath, maybe two—but he knew that wouldn't be enough. His mind raced, searching frantically for a plan, but the beat of wings drawing closer snapped him back to the present.

Misty. She should be nearby. I need to find her. I need help, he thought, clutching Pikachu's Pokéball in a death grip.

Good. I have a plan, he told himself, ignoring the relentless pounding in his chest. Now, if there's a god out there… give me some luck.

He swung his bag up over his head, using it as a flimsy shield as he sprinted forward, hoping it'd at least soften the blows from those vicious beaks and claws. Each step was a desperate gamble, his legs numb, but he pushed forward, refusing to look back at the screeching flock. All he could do was cling to his plan and pray it'd be enough.

Misty Waterflower didn't consider herself a patient girl. Never had been. In fact, she was pretty much the opposite—more of a firecracker. Kinda ironic, given her dream of becoming a water-type Pokémon specialist. Water was supposed to be calm, cool, flowing. But her? She was more like a stormy sea—unpredictable and restless.

The sun warmed her face as she pedaled through the grasslands, the breeze teasing her hair in a way that was almost calming. Pidgeys darted overhead, and unseen critters rustled in the tall grass, but none of it really held her attention. She had other things on her mind.

She pulled up beside a river and checked her Pokétch, its dot-matrix screen blinking as it confirmed her location. This was the spot. Out here in the wide-open Kanto region, she was on her own quest—proving herself worthy of taking over the Cerulean Gym.

Of course, League missions kept getting in the way. Today's task? Deal with some annoying Spearow. Necessary? Sure. Annoying? Absolutely.

Misty sighed, muttering under her breath, "I'll deal with those pesky flying types later." Right now, she had something better in mind. Fishing. Adding a new water-type to her team sounded like a much better use of her time.

She reached for her fishing rod, her mood brightening at the thought of snagging a new catch, but just as she was about to cast her line, she heard a distant squawk. It was deep, loud, and definitely not the peaceful sound of a nearby river. She turned, eyes narrowing, and that's when she saw him.

A boy. Sprinting toward her like his life depended on it, his backpack thrown haphazardly over his head for protection while he clutched a violently shaking Pokéball in his hands. She blinked, staring in disbelief as he ran, panic written all over his face. He was in trouble, that much was obvious. But then their eyes met, and there was something in his gaze—recognition. Like he knew her. What the hell? She'd never seen this guy before in her life, yet he looked at her like she was some long-lost friend. Or maybe a lifeline.

Before she could even process it, he shouted, "I have an electric type! Can you release your water type?!"

Wait, what?

Misty blinked, confused, but instinct kicked in. She didn't have time to ask questions. Her hand flew to her Pokéball, and with a swift motion, she released Starmie. Her trusted partner appeared, its red jewel core gleaming, spinning in readiness for battle. Starmie and Misty were always in sync—no words needed.

The boy stumbled to her side, gasping for breath. He released his Pikachu, who looked absolutely furious. The situation was bad. She could tell from the swarm of Spearow in the distance, diving like little demons. This wasn't just a few peckish birds; this was an all-out attack.

"Wide Water Pulse!" she commanded. Starmie spun in the air, sending out a massive spray of water. The Spearow, mid-flight, were drenched, their wings suddenly too heavy to stay airborne. As they plummeted to the ground, squawking in confusion, she couldn't help the rush of adrenaline that surged through her. Gotcha.

"Now, Pikachu!"

Pikachu didn't need to be told twice. With a fierce spark, it unleashed a Thundershock on the soaked Spearow, and Misty watched as the entire flock was incapacitated in seconds. The battle was over before she even had time to really take it in.

For a moment, everything was still. Her heart pounded, the rush of the fight still buzzing in her veins. Then she turned to look at the boy and his Pikachu, expecting some sort of triumphant reunion.

Instead, Pikachu was glaring at him, growling low. There was no happiness, no pride. Just… anger.

The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Hey! Don't give me that look. I returned you to your Pokéball for your safety."

Pikachu huffed, turning away, clearly not having any of it. Misty raised an eyebrow, watching the exchange, her curiosity piqued. What's their deal?

And then the boy muttered under his breath, "Stupid fat rat."

It was in the heat of the moment, but the damage was done.

"Oh no," Misty muttered to herself, wincing before she even saw Pikachu's reaction. Sparks crackled dangerously on its cheeks, tiny bolts snapping in the air like a mini lightning storm ready to fry the boy where he stood. Typical electric type—short fuse, especially when insulted. This was about to go from bad to worse.

She saw the fear in his eyes as he glanced at Pikachu, clearly realizing the depth of his mistake. He looked desperate, almost like he was silently begging her for help.

"Excuse me," Misty said firmly, stepping in to break the tense silence. She kept her voice calm, hoping to defuse the situation before Pikachu decided to roast him alive. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

The boy turned to her, half-relieved, half-defeated. "I… yeah, I guess," he said, glancing nervously at Pikachu as he started explaining the whole ordeal—the chase, the swarm of Spearow, his panicked sprint through the fields. Misty listened, nodding along, eyebrows raising at certain details. He looked worn out, like he'd been running for his life.

When he finally finished, she gave a slow nod. "Sounds like you've had a rough day."

"That's… putting it mildly," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Misty extended a hand. "My name's Misty, by the way."

"Austin," he replied reflexively, shaking her hand.

Misty blinked, eyebrows lifting. "Austin?"

He froze. Oh, crap, what did I just say? Panic hit him. I was supposed to be Ash. Not Austin! He swallowed hard, trying to recover.

"Uh… yeah," he stammered, keeping his face neutral. Smooth. Real smooth, genius.

Misty tilted her head, her gaze curious. "So… how do you know me?"

Austin's heart skipped a beat. He tried to look casual, shrugging as he forced himself to hold her gaze. "Well, I recognized someone who could save my life," he replied with a lopsided grin.

Misty squinted, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but she gave a small nod. "Fair enough," she muttered. But she wasn't done with her questions. "And how'd you know I had water types?"

Austin opened his mouth, realizing he didn't have a good excuse. His gaze drifted, looking for anything that might help him. "Uh… the fishing rod," he blurted, pointing at it.

Misty arched an eyebrow, a half-smile forming. "Because I'm fishing, you assumed I had water types?"

He tried to play it cool, grinning sheepishly. "I mean, wouldn't you? Besides, who wouldn't keep a water type near rivers?"

She chuckled. "Alright, good save." Her gaze lingered on him, something familiar but strange. "You're… interesting, kid."

"Interesting?" he feigned offense. "I'm interesting enough to attract a whole flock of angry Spearow. I'll take that as a compliment."

She shook her head, smirking. "Sure, let's call it that."

Pikachu, still glaring, let out an exasperated huff, the sparks on its cheeks dimming.

Misty crossed her arms, studying the boy. "So, Austin… what are you planning next? Because, by the look of things, it doesn't seem like you're prepared for temperamental Pokémon."

He gave a wry smile, scratching his head. "Well, since you saved me, maybe I'll consider some… backup. Got any tips?"

"Plenty," Misty said with a grin. "And the first one? Keep your Pokémon happy." She glanced at Pikachu. "Next time, try skipping the insults."

Austin chuckled nervously. "Yeah… noted." He looked at Pikachu, offering a tentative smile. "Sorry, buddy."

Pikachu huffed again, but its gaze softened slightly.

Misty punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You'll learn. Just don't get yourself fried before you do."

"Don't worry," he replied, smirking. "I'm not tender enough to get fried just yet."

Misty snorted, rolling her eyes. She tapped a few buttons on her Pokétch, and he raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Pretty sweet gadget," he said, trying to get a better look. "What is it?"

"This?" Misty's voice took on a proud edge. "It's a Pokétch. Sinnoh tech. Cost me a small fortune."

Nice going, Austin, he thought, cringing. Way to pop her bubble.

"What's with the call?"

"League's got a relocation team," she said, glancing at him. "They'll move the Spearow flock somewhere safe."

"Good idea. They were out for blood."

Misty raised an eyebrow. "Not the first time I've dealt with angry flying types. People throw Pokéballs at anything."

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. "Yeah…"

She finished the call, glancing at him. "So, anything else I can help you with? Or are you just going to keep running headfirst into trouble?"

"Actually," he said, trying to sound casual, "which way to Viridian City?"

Misty pointed. "Just follow this road. Can't miss it."

"Thanks." He hesitated, feeling awkward. "And… thanks for saving me and Pikachu. Couldn't have handled those Spearow without you."

"No problem." She smiled. "Don't beat yourself up. It's your first day. You and Pikachu just need time to figure each other out."

Austin blinked, surprised by the warmth in her tone. This Misty was… different. Sweeter than he remembered.

"Thanks."

Austin glanced at Pikachu, who was glaring at a bush as if daring it to move. "Yeah, I'll work on that," he muttered. "Hey, Pikachu—you ready to go?"

"Pika," Pikachu replied flatly, but willing to move on.

Austin let out a breath. "Alright. Let's go."

As he passed Misty's bike leaning against a tree, something clicked. Wait… I didn't fry her bike. In the anime, Ash had barbecued her bike, which led to her tagging along. But here? The bike was untouched. Misty had no reason to stick around.

It felt strange, like he'd dodged some important moment. Guess it's just me and Pikachu, he thought, a pang of uncertainty hitting him as he turned to keep walking.

Behind him, he could still feel Misty's presence, like a shadow lingering just out of reach, the ghost of something that should have been. This world was familiar, yet off-kilter in a way that set him on edge. Every step felt like a new direction, like he was rewriting a journey that was supposed to be set in stone.

And he had no idea where it was going to lead.

Ho-Oh soared gracefully through the skies, its feathers shimmering in a breathtaking array of colors. The predominant gold and red hues of its body gleamed under the sunlight, complemented by the vibrant yellow of its tail feathers and the stark white of its underside. At the tips of its wings, green feathers added a striking contrast, while a green stripe adorned its neck, enhancing its regal appearance.

The legendary Pokémon's piercing red eyes, encircled by black rings, reflected a wise and ancient soul. Atop its head, a feathered yellow crest waved like a flag as it glided through the sky. Ho-Oh glanced downward, its gaze falling on a human and a Pikachu watching in awe from the ground below. For a moment, a thought crossed its mind: Something has happened to your chosen, Arceus. Is this according to your will?

Down below, Austin's gaze lifted as the golden bird soared across the sky, its feathers gleaming with every color of the spectrum, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the landscape. The memory of that iconic first encounter hit Austin like a wave—Ash had seen Ho-Oh on his first day too. But here, experiencing it firsthand, the reality of it was… overwhelming. It felt like something out of a legend made real, its beauty almost too much to take in.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching the Legendary Pokémon vanish beyond the horizon, his heart pounding. When he finally tore his eyes away, he looked down at Pikachu, who was still staring up, visibly shaken by the sight.

Austin took a deep breath and knelt in front of Pikachu, holding his Pokéball in one hand, his gaze cast down. The weight of everything—the uncertainty, the fear, the responsibility—settled heavily on his shoulders, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the little yellow Pokémon watching him intently.

"So, Pikachu," he began softly, looking up at his partner. "A deal's a deal. Do you want to keep going with me, or… do you want to go your own way?" He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so vulnerable, but it was there, raw and open. The question hung in the air, and he could feel his heart pounding as he waited.

Pikachu's eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Pika?" He tilted his head, ears twitching as if trying to understand.

Austin forced himself to keep his voice steady. "I mean it. I don't want you to feel like you're stuck with me if you don't want to be." His words were quiet, almost lost in the stillness of the forest around them. He tried to offer Pikachu a small, reassuring smile, but he could feel the uncertainty beneath it. If you want to go… I'll let you.

Pikachu stared at him, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes thoughtful. There was something there—an interest, a curiosity that Austin hadn't seen before. Like Pikachu was sizing him up, weighing his words, deciding if this strange new trainer was worth sticking around for.

After a moment, Pikachu gave a small, firm nod. Not a full, enthusiastic commitment, but a cautious willingness to stay, for now. To see what might come next.

Austin felt a wave of relief wash over him, mixed with a strange, fierce gratitude. He knelt a little lower, gripping the Pokéball tightly as he looked Pikachu in the eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick. "I… I don't know what I'm doing, honestly. I don't know what it really means to be a Pokémon Trainer, and I don't know what the future looks like for us."

He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. "But I promise… I'll give it everything I've got. I don't know much, but I'm not going to quit on you, Pikachu."

Pikachu's gaze softened, just a bit. He wasn't giving Austin blind loyalty, and Austin could see that clearly. But there was an understanding between them now, a quiet acceptance. Pikachu nodded again, and Austin could feel the beginnings of trust, fragile but real.

They stayed there for a moment, just looking at each other, and Austin felt something shift. Something he hadn't expected. This wasn't just a trainer and his Pokémon; this was a partnership, a connection he hadn't thought he'd feel so soon.

"Alright," Austin said softly, pushing himself back up to his feet. He slipped the Pokéball back into his bag and gave Pikachu a small, determined smile. "Let's see where this goes. Together."

"Wow," Austin murmured, taking in his first real look at Viridian City from a high point on the hill.

It was nothing like he'd imagined from watching the anime. The city sprawled out before him, far larger and more alive than the simple depiction he remembered. Low-rise buildings in soft pastel colors dotted the landscape, blending naturally into the lush green forests that surrounded the city on all sides. The buildings seemed to rise out of the trees themselves, like the city had grown with the forest rather than in place of it.

Far below, winding streets twisted and curved, following the natural shape of the land instead of cutting through it. Towering trees shaded the roads, their roots pushing up from the earth, forming gentle, rolling mounds along the sidewalks. It gave the whole place a layered, organic feel, as if the city had been molded to fit within nature's boundaries rather than bulldozed into it.

Great, my first butterfly—ahem, Butterfree effect, Austin thought as he entered Viridian City. I wasn't stopped by Officer Jenny. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or nervous. All he wanted right now was a quiet place to let the weight of the day slip off his shoulders.

Still… where was Officer Jenny? In the anime, she'd stopped Ash around here. Maybe it's because I caught that Rattata and Spearow, he mused. Maybe that small change threw off the sequence of events just enough to keep Team Rocket away. He snorted to himself. Fine by me. I'd love to avoid Team Rocket altogether.

But a nagging unease lingered. What if dodging this encounter had changed things in a way he couldn't predict? What if, by avoiding one trap, he'd set himself up for something worse down the line?

Austin shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the present. No point worrying about hypothetical disasters. He needed to take things one step at a time.

He spotted an older man walking by, a kind-looking gentleman with a Pidgey perched on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir—could you point me to the Pokémon Center?"

The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course, son. Just up the road there, then take a left. You can't miss it."

"Thanks."

Fifteen minutes later, he found it. The Pokémon Center stood at the end of the street, a sleek, modern building that looked completely out of place among Viridian's quaint, forest-blended architecture. It was larger than he'd expected, the facade gleaming in the late afternoon light. The place was a fortress of glass and steel, with a distinct red roof and a glowing Pokéball symbol above the entrance.

To quote Ash… it's gigantic.

The moment he stepped inside, a wave of calm washed over him. The air was cool, faintly scented with antiseptic, but something warm and welcoming filled the space. Trainers of all ages milled about, some chatting quietly, others waiting with their Pokémon at their side.

Behind the counter stood Nurse Joy, with her signature pink hair and gentle smile, exactly as he remembered. Just seeing her made his shoulders relax, even if only a little.

"Welcome to the Pokémon Center," she greeted, her voice soft and almost motherly. She looked at him with a slight tilt of her head, as if she could see the weariness he was trying to hide. "How can I help you?"

"I recently caught these two Pokémon." Austin placed the Pokéballs on the counter.

Nurse Joy picked them up, examining the Pokéballs thoughtfully. "How recent are we talking?" she asked, looking up at him with curiosity.

Austin blinked, a little thrown. "Uh… a few hours ago?"

She gave a small nod. "Then they'll need a standard health assessment for newly caught Pokémon. We'll check for any underlying injuries, illnesses, and administer basic vaccines. Wild Pokémon can carry all sorts of things, and we want to make sure they're in good shape before they get too integrated into training."

Austin nodded, absorbing this. "Right. Vaccines. Makes sense that they'd need that."

Next to him, Pikachu shivered at the mention of "vaccines," and Austin had to bite back a smile. He wouldn't have guessed Pikachu would understand that word, but apparently, Pikachu knew enough to look wary.

"Is this… free?" he asked, feeling a little silly. It was a new world for him, in more ways than one.

"Of course," Nurse Joy said with a reassuring smile. "Basic healthcare is provided for all trainers at Pokémon Centers. It's covered by the League."

"Well, that's a relief," Austin said, exhaling. "How long will it take?"

"A few minutes to an hour, depending on their condition," Nurse Joy replied. "Sometimes wild Pokémon need deworming or hydration therapy, or we'll find small injuries that need treatment."

Austin nodded again, slightly overwhelmed by the reminder of just how real all this was. "Well, you're the professional, so I'll leave it in your hands."

Nurse Joy smiled as she turned to Pikachu, still perched tensely on Austin's shoulder. She motioned gently toward him. "And how about you, Pikachu? Would you like a check-up too?"

Pikachu narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glancing from her to Austin like he was considering making a break for it.

Austin sighed, giving Pikachu a patient look. "Come on, buddy. We've been through a lot today—fighting Spearow, running halfway across the forest. Wouldn't it be a good idea to make sure you're healthy?"

Pikachu's expression was clear: Absolutely not.

Austin tried not to laugh. "I'll give you a ketchup packet if you let Nurse Joy check you out."

At that, Pikachu's ears perked up, and he hopped onto the counter, landing right in front of Nurse Joy with a determined squeak. She chuckled, placing him on a rolling examination cart. A Chansey came over, smiling warmly as it began to push the cart toward the examination room.

Nurse Joy chuckled, glancing at Austin. "You've got an interesting relationship with your Pokémon. He seems pretty attached to you… as long as there's ketchup involved."

Austin grinned, scratching his head. "Yeah, it's a work in progress. But we're getting there."

Nurse Joy gave him an approving nod. "Why don't you take a break, maybe grab something to eat? You can come back in an hour or so to check on them."

Austin hesitated, unsure what to do with himself. "Actually… while I'm here, is there, like, a bookstore nearby? Somewhere I could find books on… I don't know, how to make Pokémon food? Or grooming, training techniques… that kind of thing?"

He realized he was rambling a little and scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. But then he noticed Nurse Joy's expression—she was smiling at him with a kind of surprised delight, like he'd just asked the best question in the world.

He shifted on his feet, a bit embarrassed. "Uh… did I say something weird?"

"Oh, no!" she said, looking slightly flustered herself. "It's just… most new trainers don't think about things like that until they're a year or two into their journey. Usually, they're more focused on battling than learning how to take care of their Pokémon."

Austin chuckled, his awkwardness melting. "Well, I've got a lot to catch up on. If I'm going to be a decent trainer, I figured I should start with the basics."

Nurse Joy's smile softened, her eyes warm with something like pride. "That's a wonderful mindset to have. Trainers who take the time to understand their Pokémon's needs usually end up building the strongest bonds. There's a bookstore just a few blocks from here—Greenleaf Books. They have a good section on Pokémon care."

The bell jingled softly as Austin pushed open the door to the bookstore, the chime echoing in the quiet, cozy space. Shelves lined every inch of the walls, stretching up to the ceiling, crammed with books that looked like they'd been there for decades. The air smelled faintly of paper and something herbal—maybe from the dried plants hanging from the shelves.

Austin was about to start browsing when his attention was drawn to the shopkeeper behind the counter. The man was… something else. He had a long white beard that reached down to his chest, a dark green beanie perched on his head, and a black bathrobe draped over cargo shorts. A curved pipe was clenched between his teeth, from which he blew slow, perfect smoke rings, each one rising lazily toward the ceiling before vanishing.

"That's bad for you, you know," Austin muttered, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

The old man chuckled, a raspy sound that rolled out of him like stones tumbling down a hill. "Kid, at my age, I think I've earned the right to a few bad habits."

Austin didn't know how to respond to that, so he just shrugged and started pulling books off the shelves, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself. Before long, he had a solid stack:

Grooming the Kanto Way: 101 Tips for Pokémon Care by Suzie Yuki

Inside Kanto: A Political Analysis by Martin Greene

Culinary Companions: Over 100 Recipes for Your Pokémon by Emily Turner and James Ford

The Physics of Pokémon: Understanding Their Moves by Professor Magnolia

He brought the pile to the counter, feeling the weight of the books in his arms. The shopkeeper eyed the stack, blowing a smoke ring through it as he raised an eyebrow.

"That'll be 2000 Pokédollars," the old man said, his tone casual.

Austin reached into his pocket, only to come up empty. His heart sank. Right. I'm not on Earth anymore, he reminded himself with a pang of frustration. Of course, I don't have any money here.

Back home, he'd been saving every bit of his pocket money to buy a rare Pokémon card from a friend. He'd nearly had enough, too. But here? None of that mattered. No pocket money, no stash of coins. Just him, empty pockets, and a pile of books he suddenly couldn't afford.

He hesitated, glancing back at the shopkeeper, and a wild idea popped into his head.

"Is… uh, is it possible to barter? I mean, instead of paying with cash?"

The shopkeeper's eyebrow shot up, and he let out another smoke ring, watching Austin with an amused glint in his eye. "Barter, huh? Depends on what you got, kid."

Austin fumbled through his bag and pulled out a Pokéball, placing it on the counter. The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening.

"You know selling Pokémon is illegal, right?" the old man said, his voice suddenly cold.

Austin's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly shook his head. "No, no! I'm not selling a Pokémon—I swear! Look." He popped the Pokéball open to show it was empty, then looked up at the man, cheeks burning. "It's just an extra Pokéball. I thought… I don't know, maybe you could use it?"

The shopkeeper's hard gaze softened a bit, and he studied the empty Pokéball, tapping it thoughtfully with one long, bony finger. After a pause, he gave a slow nod. "Hmm. Pokéballs aren't cheap, y'know. And they're always handy to have around…"

Without another word, the shopkeeper slid a few crisp bills across the counter. Austin blinked, picking them up carefully. Each bill had an intricate design—a mural of Mew, detailed and elegant, almost mystical. The artwork reminded him of the ancient Mew mural from the first Pokémon movie.

The shopkeeper took another drag from his pipe, blowing a perfect ring as he watched Austin count. "That's 3,000 Pokédollars for the Pokéball. Guess that covers your books with a bit of change left over."

Austin stared at the bills, his mind racing. Wait… 3,000 Pokédollars? That means a single Pokéball costs 5,000?! The realization hit him like a Thunder Shock. Holy crap, being a trainer is expensive.

The shopkeeper chuckled, clearly enjoying the shock on Austin's face. "Noticed, did ya?" he said, sounding amused. "Ain't cheap, the trainer life. Food, medicine, Pokéballs… it all adds up."

Austin looked up, feeling a reality check settle in. "How do trainers usually… I mean, how do they make money? How much do they actually earn?"

"Depends." The shopkeeper shrugged. "A simple match might net you 100 to 200 Pokédollars. Gym battles? 500 to 2,000, depending on the place. League's a bit different—there are prizes, but only if you're good enough to make it up the ranks. Most rookies don't make it past the first round, though."

Austin felt like he'd been slapped with reality.

How had Ash even survived? he wondered. If Brock hadn't been there to help him with food and supplies, Ash would've been in serious trouble. No way he could manage without being more careful.

The shopkeeper reached over and placed two more books on Austin's pile:

Pokémon Training for Dummies by Jane Peters

Wealthy Trainer, Wise Trainer: Financial Strategies for Beginners by David Clarkson

Austin swallowed, eyeing the books. They were exactly what he needed. He braced himself, dreading the price. "How much for these two?"

The shopkeeper gave him a long look, then leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Free."

"Wait… seriously?"

The old man nodded, his smile deepening as he tapped the books with one finger. "The only good is knowledge, kid. The only evil is ignorance. And you look like you're actually willing to learn—can't say that about most new trainers. So yeah, take 'em. On the house."

Austin stared at him, not sure what to say. "Thank you."

The old man nodded, his eyes twinkling with a wry wisdom. "Don't thank me yet, kid. Just promise me you'll actually read them."

Austin grinned, tucking the books under his arm. "Deal."

Austin walked out of the convenience store with a small bag of chips, a candy bar, and some other snacks, barely able to contain his excitement. Trying out snacks in another world—it was the kind of thing he'd never even dared to imagine. Who gets to experience something like this? he thought, grinning as he opened the bag of chips and popped one in his mouth. The flavor was unfamiliar, a mix of spicy and sweet he'd never tasted before, and it was surprisingly good.

This is the life, he thought. Here he was, bag of snacks in hand, exploring the world of Pokémon. Sure, there had been a few close calls today, but right now? Right now, he could just enjoy himself, snack on alien junk food, and take in the sights. He took another chip and savored the taste, feeling almost giddy.

And then, just like that, the universe decided to rain on his parade.

A loudspeaker crackled to life nearby, and a repeating announcement echoed through the streets: "Attention, citizens of Viridian City. Attention, citizens of Viridian City. There have been reports of possible Pokémon thieves in the area. Please be on the lookout for suspicious-looking individuals."

Austin froze, chip halfway to his mouth, as the message continued to blare. The voice was familiar—Officer Jenny. His stomach did a flip as he connected the dots.

Wait… I got here before Ash would have. That means…

A cold wave of realization hit him.

Oh no. That means Team Rocket is probably going to hit the Pokémon Center tonight.

His excitement fizzled out in an instant, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. He stuffed the snacks back into his bag, his heart pounding as he sprinted toward the Pokémon Center.

I'm not ready for this, he thought, trying to keep his breathing steady as the Center came into view.

Nurse Joy was at the counter, greeting him with a calm, reassuring smile that felt so out of place compared to the urgency pounding in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Nurse Joy, are my Pokémon ready yet?" he asked, struggling to sound casual, though he could feel his nerves fraying. Please just say they're fine so I can grab them and get out of here.

"Actually, I was just about to update you. We found a few issues with your Rattata."

Austin's heart sank. "Is she… is she going to be okay?"

"She's stable, but… she was in worse shape than we expected. Severe dehydration, signs of malnutrition, and a couple of infected wounds. We're treating her with antibiotics and fluids."

"I… I didn't know. I mean, she looked rough, but…"

Nurse Joy placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle. "There's no way you could have known," she said softly. "From what we can tell, this happened long before you caught her. If anything, you saved her by bringing her in when you did. If she'd been left out in the wild…" She paused. "Let's just say she wouldn't have made it through the night."

Austin felt the words hit like a punch to the gut. He'd known this world could be dangerous, but he hadn't really known. Not like this. It was one thing to watch Pokémon battle on a screen, to see them faint and bounce back like it was nothing. But to hear Nurse Joy calmly explain that Rattata might not have survived the night? That was something else entirely. This isn't a game, he reminded himself, the weight of it settling heavily in his mind.

For a split second, the thought flickered through his head: Maybe I should let Rattata go. Maybe I'm in over my head. But the idea made his stomach twist, and he immediately wanted to slap himself. No. Come on, Austin. Get it together.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to think clearly. You caught her. She's yours now, and she's depending on you. Running wasn't an option.

He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Thanks for looking out for her, Nurse Joy. I… I didn't realize how serious it was."

Nurse Joy offered him a warm, understanding smile. "Of course. Rattata just needs some rest and proper care, and she'll be back to her old self. With a little patience, you'll see her personality come out."

Austin managed a small smile, feeling a flicker of relief. But then his mind snapped back to the announcement he'd heard outside. Team Rocket.

"Good, good," Austin mumbled, nodding. "And… is there somewhere I can stay tonight?"

"Certainly," Nurse Joy said, though she tilted her head slightly, as if noticing his distracted air. "We have rooms for trainers—500 Pokédollars per night, which includes access to the cafeteria."

Austin forced a smile, already mentally tallying his expenses. Great. I need to find a way to make money fast. But he filed that thought away for later, knowing he had bigger concerns right now.

"Nurse Joy, uh…" He hesitated, glancing around the Pokémon Center. "Do you… have any kind of security here? I heard that announcement about Pokémon thieves, and, well… I was just wondering."

Nurse Joy's expression turned serious, her warm demeanor shifting to something more professional. "We do. Officer Jenny is patrolling the area, and the Center has a few security protocols in place. But unfortunately, these kinds of thieves are tricky. They often wait for things to quiet down before they make their move."

"Right. And, uh, what does 'quiet' look like around here?"

She looked at him, perhaps sensing his unease. "Usually, most trainers head to bed around ten or eleven. There's a night shift Chansey who stays up front with me, and Officer Jenny checks in periodically." She gave him a reassuring smile. "But don't worry. We haven't had a real incident in quite some time."

"Right," Austin said, nodding too quickly. "Yeah. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Nurse Joy studied him for a moment, her gaze softening. "You're worried about something, aren't you?"

Austin rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit exposed. "Well… yeah. I mean, I'm new to all of this. And hearing about Pokémon thieves… I just don't want anything bad to happen."

Nurse Joy's expression turned gentle. "It's good that you're cautious. Pokémon Centers are safe places, and we take every precaution. But… if it makes you feel better, you're welcome to keep an eye on things too."

Austin managed a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Nurse Joy. I might… stay up a little tonight. Just in case."

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. "And remember, kid—you're doing a good job. It's rare to see a trainer as thoughtful as you so early in their journey. Your Pokémon are lucky to have you."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "That… actually means a lot."

Nurse Joy gave him one last warm smile before turning back to her duties. Austin took a deep breath and started walking down the hallway, his mind already racing. He glanced up at the clock on the wall: seven hours until things would likely go down.

Alright, Jessie and James, he thought, determination hardening his gaze. You're not getting my Pokémon.

Jessie leaned over the wicker basket of their hot air balloon, her magenta hair fluttering wildly in the night breeze. "Go a little to the right," she directed, turning to her partners with a smirk.

James, his periwinkle hair framing his face, adjusted the controls beside Meowth, who looked up with anticipation, his wide eyes gleaming. As their balloon hovered directly over the Pokémon Center, Jessie checked their position and nodded.

"You two ready?"

Meowth grinned, and James paused to inhale the scent of his rose before pulling out a Pokéball. "Make your entrance, Koffing!"

Koffing emerged in a burst of light, his spherical form hovering as he grinned with a mouth full of pointed teeth. Wasting no time, he descended toward the Pokémon Center, expelling a thick, noxious gas that cloaked him like a smoggy veil.

With a shared look of triumph, Jessie, James, and Meowth prepared their own descent. "Let's go," Jessie said. They each grabbed a rope and leaped from the balloon, heading toward the chaos below.

An urgent alarm blared throughout the Pokémon Center. "Attention! Our Viridian City radar has detected a suspicious aircraft. If you have a Pokémon in your possession, exercise extreme caution."

In the confusion, a young trainer managed to choke out, "What's going on?"

Jessie's mocking laughter cut through the smoky air. "We'll answer your question, little girl."

James nodded, and together, they recited their creed:

"To protect the world from devastation."
"To unite all peoples within our nation."
"To denounce the evils of truth and love."
"To extend our reach to the stars above."
"Jessie!"
"James!"
"Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!"
"Surrender now or prepare to fight!"
"Meowth, that's right!" Meowth finished with a pose.

They grinned, basking in the shock of Nurse Joy and the trainers, only to be interrupted by a piercing fire alarm. Sprinklers embedded in the ceiling activated, drenching everyone and everything below. The water quickly combined with Koffing's gas, creating heavy soot particles that sank to the floor, dissipating the toxic cloud.

Scowling, Jessie released her Ekans. The purple serpent hissed, its eyes glinting with menace.

"I-I didn't do anything," Nurse Joy stammered, visibly shaken.

"Why don't you leave the beautiful nurse alone?" called a voice from the back of the room. Austin stood there, his voice lowered awkwardly as he tried to sound bold. Every head turned to the sight of a kid with a paper bag over his head, layered in three jackets and two pairs of pants—a strange, low-budget hero.

Austin dropped two fire extinguishers onto the floor with a loud thud, the room falling silent as everyone tried to figure out his purpose.

Meowth tilted his head. "And who're you supposed to be, kid?"

"Bag Boy!"

James sniffed his rose with a raised eyebrow. "Kid, don't play hero. You'll only get hurt."

Ignoring his own terror, Austin channeled his best Bane impression. "Oh, you think darkness is your ally? You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, and by then, it was blinding."

Silence.

The room stared in confusion. Jessie looked annoyed, James bewildered, and Nurse Joy faintly supportive. But Austin spotted her slight nod—she'd realized he was stalling for time.

The sprinklers finally shut off. Austin seized his moment, grabbing a fire extinguisher and aiming it at Koffing. Thick foam burst forth, coating the gas Pokémon and smothering its smoky body.

"Ekans, get him!" Jessie shrieked as Koffing faltered.

Ekans lunged, and Austin's heart leaped in fear. But before Ekans could strike, Pikachu darted forward, cheeks sparking. "Pika-CHUU!" He unleashed a Thundershock that arced through the damp room, striking Ekans and sending it convulsing across the floor.

Austin's eyes widened, realization hitting him—his plan was working.

First, neutralize Koffing's gas. In the show, the gas had caused the Pokémon Center explosion. No gas, no explosion. Second, create as much chaos as possible, disrupt Team Rocket, and he'd stand a chance. He wasn't Ash Ketchum; he didn't have plot armor to rely on.

Jessie gaped as Ekans lay twitching. She noticed Austin's rubber gloves and boots, dawning realization on her face. "Poison Sting!" she ordered, but Ekans was too paralyzed to respond.

"Again," Austin said, voice calm despite the pounding in his chest. Pikachu nodded, charging another Thundershock. The electricity struck Ekans, knocking it out cold.

"Now?!" James called, wide-eyed. Meowth nodded, rushing forward.

"Thundershock on Koffing?!" Austin shouted in panic. Pikachu gave a wary "Pika?" but complied, another burst of electricity slamming into Koffing just as it spewed smog. The force knocked Koffing back, straight into James, who staggered under the impact.

Then Austin felt a searing pain across his back—Meowth had clawed him, his makeshift armor doing little to protect him. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out.

"Crying won't save ya," Meowth sneered, leaping for another strike.

Austin reacted on instinct, opening a Pokéball. Spearow emerged in a flash, his angry squawk echoing through the room. Meowth backed off for a moment, then scoffed. "Birds are Meowth's prey, capisce?"

Austin, struggling through the pain, muttered, "Let's show them the true strength of a Great Spearow."

Spearow's eyes flared with determination. With a fierce cry, he launched at Meowth, his beak striking hard and sending the feline Pokémon tumbling.

"Thundershock," Austin ordered, voice shaky. Pikachu's cheeks sparked, and another surge of electricity coursed through Meowth, leaving him convulsing.

Jessie and James scrambled to grab Meowth, faces pale with defeat. "You haven't seen the last of us, kid!" they shouted, retreating hastily as the room echoed with the sounds of their hasty exit.

Nurse Joy pressed her face against the window, curiosity overtaking her as she watched the debacle unfolding outside. James, in a frenzy, scrambled onto a bicycle, his movements clumsy and rushed. Jessie followed, leaping onto the back with the grace of a sack of potatoes hitting the ground.

"Pedal, James, pedal!" she shrieked, punctuating her words with sharp pats on James's back, much like a jockey urging a reluctant racehorse.

Driven more by Jessie's urgency than by the actual need for speed, James began pedaling with wild fervor. His legs moved in a blur as the bike wobbled dangerously, struggling under the mismatched weight and lack of coordination between the two.

Meanwhile, a paralyzed Meowth dangled limply from Jessie's grip, like a ragdoll swinging haphazardly as they made their escape.

Nurse Joy turned, ready to thank the young man who had saved the center—only to find him gone. Nearby, a busted fire extinguisher lay on the floor, foam still gushing out, clearly left behind as a distraction.

"Isn't this really supposed to be a kid-friendly anime?" Austin muttered, peeling off his outer layers. His t-shirt and one of his jackets were shredded across the back, three jagged slashes running through the fabric. He shuddered, realizing how close Meowth's claws had come. The only reason he wasn't bleeding out was the makeshift "armor" of clothes Delia had stuffed in his bag.

His hands trembled slightly as he inspected the ruined fabric. He'd jumped into this world thinking it would be just like the show—safe, colorful, where things always turned out okay. But it wasn't like that, was it? These Pokémon had claws, teeth, and raw power, and they could hurt him. Badly. He forced the thought down, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn't fall apart now.

The whole night had left him shaken, more than he wanted to admit. For the first time, the cheerful, kid-friendly image he'd had of this world felt like it was slipping, replaced by something darker, something real. He tried to shake it off, to push away the creeping disillusionment.

But as he sat there, glancing around the small room, he couldn't help but feel trapped. Running wasn't an option—not with Rattata still in the Pokémon Center recovering. And if he did, wouldn't that just scream that he was the so-called "Bag Boy"? What was he supposed to do? Pretend to be asleep and hope Nurse Joy didn't come looking for him?

As if on cue, a soft knock sounded at the door. Austin's heart leapt into his throat, and he froze, glancing at Pikachu and Spearow. Both went still, sensing his tension.

"Bag Boy?" came Nurse Joy's gentle voice from the other side.

Great, he thought, cringing. She figured it out fast. He stared at the door as if he could somehow will her away. Did she really have to use that name?

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and cracked the door open just enough to see her standing there, a small medical kit in her hands.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course," Nurse Joy replied, her smile unwavering. "Mind if I come in? I brought a first-aid kit. Let me help you, for helping us."

Austin hesitated, looking at her face, really looking. Worry and gratitude shone in her eyes. She didn't seem angry or suspicious—just concerned.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little as he stepped back and opened the door wider. "Alright. But… don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want Team Rocket coming after me."

Nurse Joy nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door softly behind her. "Your secret's safe with me," she said, setting the kit on the table. She motioned for him to sit, and when he did, she carefully examined the red marks on his back.

Her hands were gentle and practiced, and he felt a strange warmth, despite the sting of antiseptic on his skin. He clenched his jaw, trying not to wince, but Nurse Joy caught his reaction and gave him a soft, understanding look.

"You did really well tonight," she said quietly, focusing on his wounds. "It takes a lot of courage to stand up to people like that, especially when you don't have much Pokémon battle experience."

Austin tried to shrug, though it just made his shoulder throb. "Yeah, well… someone had to do something. I couldn't just sit back and let them take all the Pokémon."

Nurse Joy gave him a gentle smile as she wrapped a bandage. "You don't have to pretend it didn't scare you, you know. You did something really brave. But that doesn't mean it wasn't hard."

Austin looked down, his fingers twisting together in his lap. He hadn't let himself think too hard about how scared he'd been. How close it had felt. He swallowed, trying to brush it off. "I'm fine."

They sat in silence as Nurse Joy finished bandaging his scrapes, her hands gentle and practiced. When she was done, she took a moment to gather her supplies, pausing as if thinking something over. Then, with a small, thoughtful smile, she looked at him.

"One last thing," she said softly. "Why did you help us?"

The question hung in the air, and Austin found himself at a loss for words. Why did I help? He knew the answer he'd told himself—because he knew what would happen if he didn't, because he couldn't just stand by and let his Pokémon, or anyone else's, get taken. But it felt incomplete somehow, like there was something deeper he didn't want to acknowledge.

Finally, he shrugged, looking down. "Do I… do I need a reason to help?"

Nurse Joy's eyes softened, and she gave him a small, warm smile. "No," she replied quietly, and there was an understanding in her gaze that made him feel she truly meant it.

Austin managed a faint smile in return, feeling a sense of relief he hadn't expected. Just knowing that she didn't need an explanation—didn't need him to be anything more than he was—helped ease the weight in his chest.

Nurse Joy glanced at Pikachu, who had been sitting quietly by Austin's side, watching him with concern. "Your Pokémon think a lot of you, you know," she said gently. "Sometimes, being a hero isn't about feeling brave. It's just about showing up… even when it's hard."

Austin looked down at Pikachu, who gave him an encouraging "Pika!" Spearow, perched on the windowsill, looked away with an indifferent squawk.

"Yeah," Austin murmured. "I guess I just… didn't expect it to feel so real."

Nurse Joy nodded, her expression softening. "It's different when you're in the middle of it, isn't it? From the outside, it seems clear-cut. But in the moment… it's messier. Harder." She met his gaze, her eyes filled with gentle understanding. "But that's also what makes it matter."

Austin felt something settle inside him at her words, a quiet reassurance he couldn't quite explain. "You think so?"

She smiled. "I do. Being scared just means you understand the risks. And you still did what you thought was right. That's what matters."

He swallowed, feeling a tightness in his throat. "I guess… I'll just have to get used to being scared, huh?"

Nurse Joy chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Probably. But remember, you're not alone. You've got a team now." She glanced at Spearow, who ruffled his feathers and looked away, feigning disinterest. "Even if some of them are a little… prickly."

Austin laughed, the tension in his chest finally starting to ease. "Yeah… I guess I do."

As she finished packing up, Nurse Joy reached into her kit and pulled out a small glass bottle with a spray cap, the liquid inside shimmering a soft, vibrant blue. She held it out to him. "I know this isn't much, but… this is a Max Potion. A thank-you for everything you did tonight."

Adamos_Amet · Nov 17, 2024

Austin woke to the soft murmur of "Pika," breaking through the haze of sleep that clung to him like a heavy fog. Blinking groggily, he turned to see Pikachu perched at the edge of the bed, its round cheeks faintly glowing with residual sparks in the dim morning light. The Pokémon's wide brown eyes glimmered with curiosity and a touch of impatience.

"A Pikachu?" he muttered, his voice hoarse from sleep as he rubbed his eyes. Everything felt disjointed, as though he was caught in the strange limbo between dreaming and waking. The events of yesterday felt like a surreal blur—impossible to grasp.

And then it hit him.

Holy shit, yesterday wasn't a dream!

He bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. The sudden movement startled Pikachu, who let out a yelp and tumbled off the bed with a surprised squeak. As Pikachu hit the floor, the air filled with the sharp tang of ozone, its cheeks sparking dangerously.

"S-Sorry, buddy!" Austin stammered, holding up his hands as if to calm the little Electric-type. "You startled me! Did you need something?"

Pikachu glared up at him, rubbing its head with a tiny paw, before pointing to its belly with an insistent "Pika Pi."

"Right, you're hungry," Austin sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Okay, give me a minute to wash up, and then we'll get some breakfast."

He glanced over at Spearow, curled up at the foot of the bed. Its sharp beak was tucked under its wing, and the brown-and-cream feathers rose and fell with each steady breath. Despite its usual aggressive demeanor, the little bird looked ridiculously peaceful—cute, even—in sleep.

Slipping out of bed, Austin padded toward the small bathroom attached to his room.

The tiles were cold against his feet as he stepped inside, and the chill sent a shiver up his spine. He caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink and frowned as he didn't see his face. But what drew his attention were the bandages. He stared at himself for a moment, his reflection a harsh reminder of the danger this world posed.

Sighing, Austin began peeling off the old bandages, wincing as the adhesive tugged sharply at his skin. He gritted his teeth, hissing softly as the gauze pulled free.

The cuts had scabbed over during the night, their jagged edges tinged with red and swollen where the skin had struggled to knit itself back together. Bruises surrounded the claw marks, blooming in mottled shades of purple and green, spreading like an ugly halo around the injury.

"Hope this doesn't leave a scar," he muttered, tossing the blood-stained wrappings into the trash. But even as the words left his mouth, he couldn't help but trace the claw marks lightly with his fingers, his mind racing.

Pokémon can actually hurt humans here, he thought grimly. Like, really hurt them. How did I survive Pikachu's Thundershock? Was it holding back because of Oak? Or maybe Pikachu was just weaker than Meowth?

He turned the shower knob, and a blast of cold water shot from the nozzle, making him flinch. Gritting his teeth, he stepped under the freezing stream. The icy water hit his skin like a slap, shocking him awake and washing away the dried blood clinging to his wounds.

He hissed through his teeth as the cold water stung his injuries, but he forced himself to bear it.

After a few minutes, his body adjusted to the chill, and the sting dulled to an almost bearable level. As the water streamed over him, Austin's thoughts drifted back to the reality of this situation.

Why was he here? How did he get pulled into this world? Was he Ash Ketchum, or was he still himself, just dropped into Ash's shoes? The questions swirled in his mind, colliding and tangling until he felt dizzy. He tried to ground himself, focusing on the icy sting of the water, the sound of it hitting the tiles, the cold air nipping at his skin.

"No need to worry over questions you won't get answers to," he murmured, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. "Just… go with it. One step at a time."

This was his life now, and every decision he made had real consequences—for him and for the Pokémon he was responsible for.

"Let's just enjoy this journey until you get to Sinnoh and meet God," he joked, a dry laugh escaping him. The absurdity of it all washed over him, the thought of meeting Arceus, of confronting the being that was supposedly the creator of this world. It was insane, impossible, but so was everything else that had happened to him.

He sighed, the cold water doing little to clear the fog of confusion from his mind.

Austin stood there, water from the shower long gone, his skin still clammy and cold as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to piece together the timeline.

How long would it take to reach Sinnoh? The question gnawed at him.

If the series progression was anything to go by, and assuming Ash does age—God, that's a big if—he'd be around sixteen during the Sinnoh arc, assuming every region took a year to complete. That meant he might be living in this world for about six years before he could meet up with Arceus, assuming that's even possible.

Six years. The thought alone was enough to make his head spin.

But then, how canon were the movies to the anime? If they didn't line up, that could throw all his calculations out the window.

"Shit!" Austin swore, louder than he intended, his voice bouncing off the bathroom walls.

He pressed his forehead against the cool tiles, the chill seeping through his skin, grounding him for just a moment. "I'll deal with this when I get to Sinnoh," he muttered, trying to convince himself to let it go. "Let's just enjoy these six years away from school and studying and…"

His voice trailed off as a familiar ache tightened in his chest.

His family. How would they cope without him? Did they even know he was gone? Or had his disappearance been smoothed over, another glitch in the system that no one noticed?

He could see their faces in his mind—his parents, his friends—people he never thought he'd be away from. And now, he was here, in some alternate reality with no idea if he'd ever see them again.

Would they even recognize him if he came back? Would he be the same person?

What if he never made it back?

The thought hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing harder against the tiles, as if he could push the anxiety out through sheer force of will.

"Don't think about it. Just… don't," he whispered to himself, but it was no use. The questions kept coming, relentless and unanswerable.

And then, another thought slipped through the cracks, something he hadn't considered but now couldn't ignore.

Wait. I'm ten now, but by the time I hit Sinnoh, I'll be sixteen. That means… going through puberty all over again.

His eyes flew open, the realization almost comical if it weren't so horrifying. Going through puberty was bad enough the first time—awkward growth spurts, random voice cracks, the whole nine yards. Now, he had to do it again, while fighting off evil teams, being a Pokémon trainer, and trying not to screw up the timeline too badly?

Austin let out a hollow laugh, the sound echoing in the empty bathroom. "Great. Just great." As if being stuck in a world where Pokémon could destroy cities wasn't enough, now he had to deal with hormones and zits all over again.

He leaned back from the tiles, running a hand through his still-damp hair. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger—wide eyes, messy hair, and a hint of fear that he couldn't quite hide.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. One step at a time. Get through today, then tomorrow. Don't think too far ahead. Six years was a long time, but he didn't have to face it all at once.

He could figure this out. Somehow.

As Austin walked through the Pokémon Center, he noticed Nurse Joy behind the counter, her usual warm smile in place. He approached her, trying not to look too out of place with a Spearow perched confidently on his head.

"Good morning!" Nurse Joy greeted cheerfully, her eyes flicking upward. Her smile faltered just a fraction before she let out a soft laugh. "You've got an interesting hat today."

"Yeah, rent's overdue, but Spearow doesn't seem to care."

Nurse Joy chuckled, resting her elbows on the counter. "I don't think it's planning to pay up anytime soon."

"Figured," Austin muttered as Spearow squawked indignantly, tugging at his hair as if to say, You'll take it and like it.

At his feet, Pikachu tapped his foot impatiently.

"Alright, alright, I'm getting to it," Austin said, holding his hands up. He turned back to Nurse Joy with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I'm still figuring out this whole Pokémon trainer thing. Pretty sure I'm doing half of it wrong."

Nurse Joy tilted her head, her smile softening. "Oh, everyone feels like that in the beginning. Pokémon training isn't just about battles—it's about getting to know them. They've all got their own personalities, you know."

"Yeah, I'm getting that. Spearow here's got the personality of a landlord who raises rent every month."

"Sounds like a challenge," Nurse Joy said with a grin. "But challenges make good trainers. You're doing fine."

"Thanks," Austin replied, genuinely appreciating her encouragement.

Spearow, however, seemed unimpressed and tugged at his hair again.

"Spearow! Quit it! I'm going to go bald if you keep this up," Austin groaned, swatting lightly at the bird.

Spearow squawked and settled down, tucking its wings neatly, as if to say, Fine, I'll allow it.

Nurse Joy laughed. "Looks like it's got a flair for drama. So, what brings you over?"

"Oh, right." Austin scratched his head, careful not to disturb Spearow. "I was wondering where the cafeteria is—and if there's a kitchen I could use to whip up something for my Pokémon."

"The cafeteria is just down the hall to your left," Nurse Joy said. "As for the kitchen, you're welcome to use it, but you'll need to bring your own ingredients, and you'll need an intern with you. Safety protocols."

"Intern supervision? Sounds serious."

"Oh, it's not that bad," she said, though her smile widened just a little too much. "They're very… patient."

Austin sweatdropped. "I'll try not to burn the place down, then."

"Good plan," she teased, leaning on the counter. "How's your back doing, by the way?"

He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. "Still sore, but manageable. Nothing I can't handle."

"I'll send some pain relief ointment to your room," Nurse Joy offered. "It'll help with the stiffness."

"Thanks. That'll definitely help."

"Oh, and one more thing," Nurse Joy added. "Your Rattata's just about ready to be picked up. Nurse Chansey's finishing her final checkup now. You can pick her up in about an hour."

"That's great."

"Yes," Nurse Joy said, "And one last thing—Professor Oak called asking about you. He said he'd like you to video call him as soon as possible."

Austin froze for a second. "Professor Oak?" he repeated, keeping his voice casual. "Did he say why?"

She shook her head. "No, just that it's important."

"Got it. I'll give him a call," Austin said, pocketing his Pokédex and forcing a smile. "Thanks for everything."

"Of course," Nurse Joy replied brightly. "Have a good day, hero."

"You too," Austin replied, giving Nurse Joy a quick wave as he turned to leave.

His mind, however, was spinning. What could Professor Oak want? Austin glanced down at his Pokédex, scrolling through the contacts as he walked.

"Let's see," he murmured to himself. Ketchum household number, some restaurant—oh yeah, Delia worked there. Oak's lab… huh, a ton of emergency numbers too.

His thumb hovered over the contact list, but his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of sunlight.

Austin blinked, glancing around. Wait, wasn't I supposed to be heading to the cafeteria?

Looking up, he finally saw the building he'd been aimlessly walking toward. The entrance was bustling with trainers, but what really caught his eye was the small garden visible through the open back. Pokémon lounged alongside their trainers under shady gazebos, their soft chirps and relaxed murmurs blending into a peaceful background hum.

Pikachu, however, had no interest in the scenery. The moment he spotted the food table inside, his ears perked up, and he launched himself forward like a yellow rocket. "Pika!"

"Pikachu, slow down!" Austin called, but it was too late. Pikachu skidded to a halt near the overwhelmed intern manning the table. The poor kid, looking like he'd been awake for days, was handing out plates of eggs, berries, toast, and milk to trainers while hastily refilling bowls of kibble for their Pokémon. His every move was sluggish, like he was teetering on the edge of exhaustion.

Austin grabbed a plate, shaking his head at Pikachu, who was already eyeing the kibble bowls like they were made of gold. He made his way to the back garden, finding a quiet spot under one of the gazebos. Away from the crowd, it felt peaceful—a small slice of calm in the chaos of his new life.

Pikachu followed eagerly, hopping onto the bench beside him, while Spearow fluttered off his head and landed on the table with an indignant squawk.

"You're welcome," Austin muttered dryly, setting his plate down.

As he picked at his eggs, a strange thought wormed its way into his mind. Are these from Pidgeys or Spearows?

His fork paused mid-air as his stomach did a flip. He remembered hints in the anime about Pokémon being used for food, but the idea of eating one made him queasy.

Pikachu glanced up at him, a piece of kibble dangling from his mouth, as if to ask what his problem was.

Austin sighed and took a tentative bite. The taste was incredible—creamy, fluffy, and rich. It was so good, in fact, that he momentarily forgot his earlier concern. "Okay, wow," he said aloud. "Maybe I won't question it. These eggs are amazing."

Pikachu squeaked in agreement, munching happily on his kibble, while Spearow pecked at a berry with what could only be described as regal disdain.

"Guess I'm not going vegan anytime soon. Vegetarian, I guess," he muttered to himself, glancing at the glass of milk on his tray. But then a strange question crossed his mind, one he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

I do wonder… what's the attitude on eating Pokémon in other regions? There's the whole Slowpoke tail thing in Johto…

The thought made his stomach churn. He grimaced, gagging slightly.

Pikachu, who had been peacefully chomping down on his kibble, gave him an unimpressed side-eye.

"Right, sorry," he muttered, shaking off the thought. His gaze drifted to Pikachu's bowl of kibble, the oddly colorful pieces stacked neatly in the ceramic dish. "I wonder what that stuff tastes like…"

Pikachu froze mid-bite, his eyes narrowing. He slowly placed his paw over the bowl protectively, shielding it like a prized treasure.

"Alright, alright! I wasn't going to take it. Geez, you're more protective of that bowl than my bank account."

Meanwhile, Spearow had finished his berries and hopped closer to Austin's plate, eyeing the eggs with greedy curiosity. The boy noticed immediately, narrowing his eyes at the small bird. "Don't even think about it," he warned, pointing his fork at Spearow.

Spearow cocked his head, then hopped even closer, his beady eyes practically daring Austin to stop him.

"Alright, fine. Let's make this interesting."

He swapped the bowls around, sliding Pikachu's kibble to himself, the eggs to Spearow, and the berry bowl to Pikachu. "Come on, guys. Let's try something new for a change."

Pikachu glared at him, cheeks sparking in protest, but the Electric-type reluctantly leaned down and stuffed a berry into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hoarding acorns.

"So cute."

Pikachu paused and blushed at the compliment. Spearow, however, immediately began scarfing down the eggs, popping bits into his beak one after another.

Austin picked up a piece of kibble and popped it into his mouth.

Big mistake.

The second it hit his tongue, he froze. It was like chewing on Styrofoam—bland, dry, and utterly tasteless. He gagged, forcing himself to swallow, and immediately reached for his glass of milk to wash it down. "This… this tastes like nothing. How do you eat this, Pikachu?"

Pikachu shrugged, entirely unbothered, as the boy grabbed a piece and held it for Spearow, hoping to ease some of the tension between them. But the moment Spearow pecked at it, the bird nearly chomped down on his hand instead.

"Ah—ouch!" Austin yelped, pulling his hand back and shaking it out. A faint red mark on his palm throbbed where the sharp beak had almost gotten him. "What the hell, Spearow? You trying to turn me into your next snack?"

Spearow flapped his wings and let out a smug squawk, his beady eyes gleaming with something the boy could only describe as amusement. Was he enjoying this?

Austin frowned, rubbing his sore palm as he studied the bird. It was clear that Spearow still had an edge to his personality—the same aggressive streak he'd shown back when he was part of the flock. But there was something different now. Sure, he was still a pain in the neck, but he wasn't outright hostile.

Why? Austin wondered, his mind racing. Why isn't he as aggressive as he was with his flock? Was it because he fought alongside us? Or is there something else going on here?

He thought back to everything he knew about Spearow. In the anime, Spearow eventually becomes the leader of his flock—an undeniably tough Pokémon with a chip on his shoulder. But maybe, just maybe, this Spearow wasn't there yet.

What if he's young? Austin's brows furrowed as he considered the possibility. That would explain why the flock used him as bait—he was the weakest link, expendable. But he's got potential. That much is clear. And he's got that petty, aggressive attitude to boot. It's probably his way of trying to prove himself.

Pikachu suddenly sparked with electricity, his cheeks crackling as he prepared to give Spearow a piece of his mind.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Austin said quickly, holding up his hands. He reached out and gently placed a hand on Pikachu's head, easing him down. "No Thunder Shock, buddy. We're not frying him."

Pikachu huffed, crossing his tiny arms as he shot Spearow a dirty look. The tiny bird Pokémon, in response, puffed up his chest and let out a mocking chirp, clearly enjoying the chaos he was causing.

Austin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Okay, I can't let this attitude slide. If I do, it's only going to get worse.

The boy looked at the small pile of berries on the table and suddenly had an idea. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the cookbook. Flipping through it, his eyes lit up when he spotted something that made his mouth water just reading it.

"Frozen yogurt berries… covered in chocolate," he said slowly, his voice dripping with exaggerated temptation, like he was announcing the world's most luxurious dessert. "Add a drizzle of honey, maybe some crushed nuts on top… and voila—a heavenly snack."

As he glanced down, he caught both Pikachu and Spearow staring at him, their mouths quite literally watering.

"What do you say, Pikachu? Want to try it?"

"Pika!" Pikachu nodded enthusiastically, his little paws gripping the table edge as he leaned closer, clearly imagining the treat.

"And we could make it even better. Maybe toss in some caramel drizzle, a sprinkle of cinnamon... Oh, the flavors, Pikachu. You and me, buddy—tasting heaven."

The trap was set.

Sure enough, Spearow let out an offended squawk, wings flaring slightly as he hopped closer. The tiny bird Pokémon squeaked indignantly as if to say, Why am I not included in this?!

"I don't know, Spearow," he said casually, flexing his hand dramatically. "My hand hurts too much to whip up snacks for just anyone. Maybe next time."

The effect was instant. Spearow looked down, his wings drooping slightly, and gave a small, pitiful squawk.

Austin sighed softly and reached out to rub a finger over the crown of the bird's head. Spearow stiffened at first but slowly relaxed under the gentle touch.

"Spearow," Austin began, his voice kind but firm, "I want you to know this isn't going to be like your old flock. I'm not here to deal with your aggressive attitude all the time. We've gotta work together. Let's get along, okay? Think about it—I'll give you snacks, train you to be stronger, give you battles, and hey, let's be honest…" He tapped the top of his head lightly. "My head's a pretty perfect nest, isn't it?"

Spearow let out a hesitant chirp, tilting his head in what could only be described as thoughtful consideration.

"Good. Now eat up, genius." Austin smirked as he slid the berry bowl toward the bird while adding some milk.

Austin felt full just watching the duo eat. He pulled out his Pokédex, almost out of habit, like it was his phone.

"Spearow: Male. Ability: Keen Eye. Current moves: Peck, Leer, Focus Energy, and Fury Attack. Age: Four months."

Austin froze, his eyebrows shooting up. Wait—Four months?

He glanced down at the bird perched on the table, who tilted his head smugly, as if to say, Yeah, I'm awesome. What of it?

That's way younger than I expected… And Fury Attack? You didn't know that move the other day.

His thoughts began to race. So, Spearow must've learned it during that scuffle with Team Rocket. That means Pokémon actually gain experience in real-time here, just like in the games. Do they 'level up'? Is there a cap on how many moves they can learn?

The idea of a four-move limit made his stomach churn. Man, if that's a thing, that would suck.

"Guess I'll ask Professor Oak about it later," Austin mumbled, tucking the thought away for now.

Before he could close the Pokédex, something else caught his attention—a small symbol he hadn't noticed before. Intrigued, he tapped it, and a new section labeled "Encyclopedia" popped up.

A video of Professor Oak appeared. "Hello there! Looks like you've found the secret function of the Pokédex. Think of this as a fun quest. As long as you encounter a Pokémon, their entry will be automatically unlocked for you to read. Enjoy!"

Austin couldn't help but grin. He glanced over at Pikachu and Spearow, who had both finished their meals and were now staring at him intently.

"Alright," Austin said, chuckling at their expressions. "Which one should we check out first?"

"Spearow!"

"Pika!"

Austin raised his hands, stepping in before things could escalate. "Okay, okay, let's settle this without frying anything. I'll pick based on who joined the team first."

Spearow seemed to accept the logic, though he still gave Pikachu a sharp side-eye. Pikachu, meanwhile, smirked smugly, knowing exactly how this would play out.

"Let's see what Pikachu's entry says."

[ Encyclopaedia Entry Number #25 ]

Pikachu are a small species of Pokémon which many people find cute, and for this reason have become quite popular as pets, even among people with little interest in Pokémon battles. This is an unfortunate fact which leads to many electrocutions, for a Pikachu can be quite dangerous to handle.

Pikachu are Pokémon which store electricity in their cheeks, but this electricity must be released on a semi-regular basis lest the Pokémon use powerful electric attacks at random, shocking everything in sight. Typically, this is handled by occasionally hooking the rodent up to a special battery which is recharged by its shock, then using the electricity to power the household. Furthermore, they do not only use Thunder Shock to release energy, but also when startled or angry, and they do not have especially forgiving tempers. Many a trainer has been hospitalized or worse when quarreling with their Pokémon, some passing away from shock wounds which could have been properly treated were the trainer not embarrassed for how this reflected upon them as a trainer.

Moreover, there is the issue of weather; Pikachu can seldom be cooped up inside for long, but they are prone to causing nearby people to be electrocuted in rain, and its tail can attract lightning in thunderstorms. Proper care involves the usage of a Poké Ball in inclement weather, but Pikachu are often reluctant to be so confined. Many inexperienced owners are equally reluctant to use them, fearing it will mark them as Pokémon trainers and force them to accept challenges and see their precious Pikachu injured.

Despite this, with a gentle spirit and proper caution, Pikachu can make for excellent pets.

As the encyclopedia entry finished, Austin leaned back, smirking at Pikachu. "So, I guess we know why you fried me when we first met. Honestly, though, if you hadn't held back, I'd probably still be a scorch mark on Route 1. Would've made for a short journey."

He laughed at his own joke, but his smile faltered as he noticed Pikachu's reaction. The little Electric-type's ears drooped, his tail sagged, and his eyes darted nervously to the side. His usual confident, almost cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by visible unease. Pikachu shifted on the table, his small frame stiff as if bracing for something.

"Hey… buddy?" He leaned forward, his tone softening. "What's wrong?"

Pikachu didn't meet his eyes. "Pika…" he murmured lowly, almost like he was apologizing for something.

It hit Austin like a Thunder Shock. Pikachu wasn't just uneasy—he was scared. Scared of his own power. Scared of hurting someone. Maybe even scared of hurting him.

Reaching over, Austin gently placed a hand on Pikachu's head, his fingers brushing through the soft yellow fur. "Hey, that was a dumb joke," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Pika…"

Austin sighed, letting his hand rest there, feeling the tension in Pikachu's tiny body. "Look," he began, his voice steady, "I get it. You're worried about losing control, right? About shocking someone without meaning to?"

Pikachu gave the smallest of nods, his big eyes flicking up to meet Austin's for just a moment before darting away again.

"Well, don't be," Austin said firmly, his tone carrying a confidence he wasn't sure he entirely felt. "We're going to train, alright? Every day. We'll figure this out together, step by step. And I promise you, the chances of you having a random discharge are going to drop to zero. Zero. You'll have more control than a gym leader's Raichu by the time we're done."

"Pika…?"

Austin smiled, scratching behind Pikachu's ears. "Yeah, that's a promise. And if it takes some extra help to get there, then we'll find it. Look, I'll put this special battery on our to-buy list. I'll find one for you, no matter how much it costs."

Pikachu's eyes widened slightly, the nervous tension in his body easing a fraction.

"Yep. I don't care if I have to save up for a year or haggle like crazy. Whatever it takes to help you feel safe, buddy, I'll do it. We're in this together."

Pikachu stared at him for a long moment, his little face still uncertain but softening with something that looked like trust. Slowly, he nodded, his ears perking up slightly.

"That's more like it," Austin said, a grin tugging at his lips. "We've got this. You've got this."

He was about to say more when a sudden, sharp chirp! broke through the quiet moment.

"Ah!" Austin yelped, jumping slightly as the sound rang through his ears. "Spearow!" He turned to glare at the tiny bird looking far too pleased with himself.

Austin groaned, rubbing his ear with his pinky. "Well, aren't you excited? What's the matter? Jealous of the bonding moment? Want some scratches too?"

Spearow gave an indignant squawk, hopping closer as if daring Austin to try.

Pikachu, now more himself, let out a squeaky laugh.

[ Encyclopaedia Entry Number #21 ]

When children are too young to train Pokémon, their mothers typically give them two pieces of advice: "Don't go into the tall grass" and "under no circumstances make a Spearow mad." It would do more trainers well to heed the second piece of advice, even once they get their first Pokémon; alas, many are too hotheaded to listen.

Spearow are a rare and cowardly Pokémon, but quick to anger. If a trainer is too weak to capture or kill one they antagonize (and they are quick to anger), a Spearow will call for backup from its friends, and young children who struggle with one of them now battle a whole flock.

Sometimes trainers have already captured an Electric, Ice, or Rock Pokémon and can use its type advantage to survive, albeit typically in critical condition and dire need of a Pokémon Center. Far more often, young trainers are pecked and scratched to death, and their bodies, along with those of their Pokémon, feed the victorious flock for an entire week.

Austin stared at the entry on his Pokédex, his face pale. His hand slowly slid up to cover his face as the full weight of what he'd just read sank in. His mind went completely blank, save for one horrifying realization.

How close was I to being bird food yesterday?!

He replayed the memory in his head—running as the Spearow flock descended on him, their talons slashing, their beaks stabbing, and the fury in their red eyes.

The boy gulped, his hands trembling slightly as he lowered the Pokédex. I was one peck away from being a corpse in the tall grass.

He glanced nervously over at Spearow, who was perched on the edge of the table, grooming its feathers like it didn't have a care in the world. Pikachu, however, was watching the tiny bird with narrowed eyes, sparks crackling faintly from his cheeks. It didn't take a genius to see that Pikachu was still suspicious of their new "teammate."

Spearow, of course, noticed the Electric-type's stare and cocked its head, giving Pikachu a pointed look that practically screamed, What are you gonna do about it?

Austin could feel the tension in the air like a live wire. Oh, great, he thought, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans.

"Alright, let's calm down here," Austin said, raising his hands in a placating gesture as he stepped between them. "Pikachu, buddy, listen to me. Spearow's not our enemy anymore. He's on our team now, okay?"

Pikachu tilted his head, unconvinced, and crossed his tiny arms. His tail twitched as another faint spark danced off his cheeks.

"Come on, Pikachu," Austin tried again, crouching down to meet the Electric-type's eyes. "I know his flock tried to peck us to death yesterday—"

"Pika!" Pikachu interrupted, pointing dramatically at Spearow as if to say, Exactly! Case closed.

Austin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, fair point. But Spearow isn't his flock, remember? And now he's with us. That's how it works. We're a team, and teams trust each other. Right?"

Pikachu looked unconvinced but glanced back at Spearow, who had paused his grooming to puff out his chest smugly. It was like the bird was daring Pikachu to try something.

Austin groaned inwardly. You're not helping, Spearow.

"Listen, Pikachu," Austin said, his voice softening. "I need you to trust me on this. I promise Spearow's not going to hurt you—or me. And if he tries anything, you've got my permission to zap him into next week. Deal?"

Pikachu's ears twitched at that, and he gave Spearow one last glare before nodding reluctantly. "Pika," he said, though it was clear he'd be keeping a close eye on the tiny bird.

Austin let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Good. Thanks, buddy." He gave Pikachu a gentle scratch behind the ears, earning a contented squeak in response.

Spearow, meanwhile, let out a soft squawk, as if mocking the entire exchange. Austin shot him a look. "And you. No funny business, got it?"

Spearow blinked innocently, as if to say, Who, me?

Austin groaned. Being a trainer is hard work.

"Alright, let's get moving!" he announced, standing up and stretching. He needed to break the tense atmosphere before things spiraled again. "Snacks, anyone?"

"Pika!"

"Spear!"

Austin chuckled. "That's what I thought."

The trip to the shop was quick but left Austin feeling significantly lighter—both emotionally and financially. His wallet had taken a 200 Pokédollar hit in exchange for berries, yogurt, chocolates, and a bag of chips. He figured it was worth it. If food could keep his team happy and distracted from their differences, it was an investment he was willing to make.

As they walked back to their room, Austin noticed both Pikachu and Spearow eyeing the bags he was carrying like vultures circling a meal.

"Seriously, guys? I just risked my bank account for you, and all you care about is the snacks?"

Pikachu didn't even look up, his focus laser-locked on the bag.

Spearow let out a squawk of agreement, his talons clicking against the floor as he hurried to keep pace with Austin.

"Unbelievable," Austin muttered, shaking his head as he pushed open the door to their room. "Food is the way to your hearts, huh?"

Setting the bags down, Austin pulled out Rattata's Pokéball with a small smile. "Alright, let's get you out of there—hello ther—"

Before he could finish, pain exploded across his face like a thunderbolt. He stumbled back, crashing onto the floor as stars danced in his vision. His nose throbbed, and a fiery ache shot through his skull.

"What the—?!" he groaned, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, panicked cry.

"Pika?!"

Electricity crackled dangerously as Pikachu stood on the table, cheeks sparking wildly.

"Pikachu, wait!" Austin raised a shaky hand, his voice strained but urgent. "Don't—"

Spearow, however, had no such restraint. With an aggressive squawk, the bird launched himself into action, wings flapping furiously. Was he trying to protect Austin, or just reacting to the sudden chaos? Austin couldn't tell.

Spearow swooped toward Rattata, his sharp beak glinting as he aimed a Peck at the tiny Pokémon.

"Wait, no—stop it!" Austin yelled, scrambling to his feet as fast as his aching body would allow.

Rattata moved like lightning, darting to the side with a terrified squeak. Spearow's attack missed, and his momentum carried him straight into the nearby window.

Crash!

Glass shattered, the deafening noise cutting through the room as shards flew everywhere. Austin instinctively threw up his arms to shield himself, feeling tiny, stinging cuts on his skin as the pieces rained down.

"Enough!" he roared, his voice hoarse with panic. He staggered upright, taking in the chaos: Spearow flapping wildly near the broken window, Pikachu still sparking with tension, and Rattata, curled up in the corner, trembling violently.

She looked so small. So scared.

The door slammed open, and Nurse Joy rushed in with a Chansey at her side. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene—the shattered glass, the Pokémon on edge, and Austin, bleeding and looking like he'd just walked out of a warzone.

"I—I didn't mean for this to happen," Austin blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in a frantic mess. "The window—I didn't think Rattata would react like that, and—"

"Hold on," Nurse Joy interrupted, her calm, professional demeanor cutting through his panic. "You're bleeding."

Austin blinked, confused. "What?" He reached up to his face and winced as his fingers brushed against his nose. A sharp sting shot through him, and when he pulled his hand back, it was smeared with blood.

Looking in the mirror across the room, he saw it: his nose was clearly broken, and blood was dripping steadily down his face.

"Great. Just great," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and pain.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement—Rattata making a desperate dash for the door. Without thinking, Austin grabbed her Pokéball and recalled her in a flash of red light before she could escape. The room fell eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the Pokémon Center and Austin's ragged breathing.

Nurse Joy was at his side in an instant, her movements calm and precise, though there was an edge of concern in her voice. "Stay still. Your nose is broken," she said as she knelt down next to Austin. Her tone left no room for argument.

Austin winced, still half-dazed. "Broken? Great. What else is new?" His voice came out muffled as he pinched the bridge of his nose instinctively, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Let me see," she said, gently pulling his hand away. Her face scrunched slightly as she examined him. "This might sting a bit."

"Sting? Nurse Joy, my face feels like I headbutted a Golem," he muttered, though he stayed still as she began to work.

"That does seem like something you'd do."

Austin gave her a weak grin through the pain. "Funny. You should take that act on the road."

"Maybe I will," she replied, not missing a beat, as she carefully adjusted his nose.

Behind them, Chansey waddled into the room, balancing a small tray of medical supplies in her stubby arms. She gave a soft "Chansey!" and placed the tray down before surveying the shattered window and scattered glass.

Pikachu took one look at Chansey and immediately grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. He let out a determined "Pika!" and started sweeping the broken shards with tiny, focused movements.

"Pikachu… what are you doing?"

Chansey clapped her little hands together in approval. "Chansey!"

"Alright, alright, overachiever," Austin muttered, leaning back slightly as Nurse Joy gently dabbed at a cut on his cheek.

Meanwhile, Spearow was perched on the headboard of the bed.

"Spearow," he said, his tone sharp, "help them."

The bird's feathers puffed up in indignation, his beady eyes glaring at Austin as if to say, Excuse me?

"Spearow," Austin repeated, his voice firm this time. "Now!"

With a squawk that sounded suspiciously like a teenager saying, Ugh, fine, Spearow fluttered down to the floor. He began picking up larger shards of glass with his beak, occasionally tossing them into the dustpan Chansey held.

Nurse Joy glanced up from her work, watching the scene unfold. "You've got a way with your Pokémon," she said lightly, though there was a trace of amusement in her tone.

"Way with them? More like they've got a way with me."

"Well, considering the number of injuries you've racked up in, what, a day? I can't complain. Keeps me in business," she said, her lips twitching into a teasing smile.

Austin raised an eyebrow, half-skeptical. "Wait a second—aren't Pokémon Centers free?"

"Oh, yeah, but I'm thinking of charging you especially," Nurse Joy said with a sly smile as she carefully removed another glass shard from his arm, the blood glinting faintly under the light.

Austin flinched, wincing at the sharp sting. "Mercy! Please, Nurse Joy, have mercy!" he pleaded dramatically, though his voice cracked just enough to show he wasn't entirely kidding.

Her laugh was light, but her hands remained steady as she worked.

"Great," Austin muttered, gritting his teeth as she pulled out another shard. "I'll go down in history as the trainer who ruined universal healthcare."

Nurse Joy chuckled as the boy let out a half-hearted laugh but immediately winced as another sharp sting shot through his arm.

Okay, Austin, he thought, if you want to make it out of this journey in one piece, you need to start being more cautious. Think things through. Assume the worst.

His eyes drifted down to the Pokéball resting in his hand. The glossy red-and-white surface gleamed faintly in the light, but his thoughts were heavier than the ball itself.

What do I do with you now, Rattata?

He turned the Pokéball over in his palm, the weight of it suddenly feeling more significant. She was scared—terrified, even. And why wouldn't she be? He'd caught her in a moment of desperation, and she clearly didn't trust him yet.

Nurse Joy glanced at him as she finished removing the last shard of glass, her tone softening. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

Austin hesitated, then held up the Pokéball. "It's Rattata. She's… she's scared of me. If I let her out, she'll bolt. I don't know how to get through to her."

Nurse Joy studied him for a moment before setting down her tools. "Can I see her Pokéball?"

Confused, Austin handed it over. He watched as she twisted the front button, and to his surprise, the red top of the Pokéball faded, revealing a tiny Rattata curled up inside.

His jaw dropped. That's… that's like something from the Pokémon manga!

Nurse Joy chuckled. "It's a feature most trainers don't know about. It's meant to help you understand your Pokémon better. Look at her—she's scared. She doesn't trust you yet."

Austin stared at the tiny Pokémon, her little body trembling even inside the ball.

"Talk to her," Nurse Joy continued, handing the Pokéball back to him. "Help her understand that you're not going to hurt her. She needs to feel safe with you. Trust takes time, but you'll get there."

Austin nodded slowly, her words sinking in. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"I need to get back to work," Nurse Joy said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself—and your Pokémon."

As the door clicked shut behind her, Austin sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at the Pokéball in his hand. The room felt too quiet now, and the weight of what had just happened pressed down on him like a ton of bricks.

Austin turned the transparent Pokéball over in his palm, his brow furrowed in disbelief. How does this even work? He tilted the ball slightly, as if doing so might reveal some hidden secret. The science of this world was on another level, and no amount of thinking was going to help him figure it out.

A soft squeak from inside the Pokéball broke his train of thought. He blinked, focusing on the miniature Rattata curled up inside.

"You pack quite the punch, you know that?" Austin said softly, tilting the Pokéball so Rattata was in full view. Her small body trembled slightly, and he could see the tension in her tiny form.

Pikachu snorted audibly, his ears flicking back in clear annoyance as he glared at the Pokéball.

"Okay, buddy, chill," Austin said. "She didn't mean to cause trouble. She was scared."

"Pika," Pikachu grumbled.

"Oh, really? Like you weren't scared when we first met? You literally zapped me into next week."

Pikachu's ears twitched, and he let out a huff, turning away with an exaggerated flick of his tail. His expression screamed, That was different.

Austin smirked but didn't push further. Instead, he turned his attention back to Rattata's Pokéball. "Don't worry," he said gently. "He's just protective. It's a new environment for all of us."

Rattata's small eyes darted around warily, but there was a flicker of something else there—curiosity, maybe.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot," Austin continued. "My name's Austin, and I'm your trainer. And I get it—you're scared. You've got no reason to trust me yet. But… maybe we can change that?"

Rattata tilted her head slightly, her ears perking up. Austin wasn't sure if she understood him, but at least she wasn't outright panicking.

"Trainer," he repeated. "You know, we go on adventures, battle sometimes, eat good food… especially the food."

That last part seemed to hit a nerve. Her ears twitched again, and her nose wiggled slightly, like the mere mention of food had flipped a switch.

"Oh, so that's what gets your attention, huh? Food?"

Rattata's tiny body leaned forward, just a little, her tail flicking with interest.

"Alright, let's make a deal," Austin said, gripping the Pokéball a little tighter. "I'll let you out, but you have to promise me you won't run away. Deal?"

Rattata hesitated but eventually gave a small, tentative nod.

Taking a deep breath, Austin pressed the button on the Pokéball, releasing her in a flash of light. She appeared on the floor, her tiny body tense, but she didn't bolt.

"Good start," Austin said softly, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a handful of berries and held them out to her with an open palm.

Rattata sniffed the air cautiously before inching forward, her little nose twitching furiously. Finally, she took a bite, nibbling at the berries with quick, precise movements.

Austin watched her, something warm settling in his chest. It wasn't just relief—there was something heartwarming about seeing her relax, even if it was just for food. She wasn't some wild Pokémon anymore. She was part of this crazy, mismatched team he was building.

The peaceful moment shattered with a loud screech.

Austin's head snapped up to see Spearow perched on the edge of the bed, his beak glowing ominously as he prepared to dive at Rattata.

"Spearow!" Austin barked. "Stand down, or no snacks for you!"

Spearow froze mid-flap, his head jerking toward Austin. He let out a disgruntled squawk before reluctantly settling down, hopping back to the headboard. His eyes, however, stayed locked on Rattata, sharp and calculating.

"Yeah, yeah, I see you," Austin muttered. "But if you so much as think about dive-bombing her again, you're sleeping outside tonight."

Spearow ruffled his feathers indignantly, but he didn't make another move.

Rattata, meanwhile, hadn't stopped eating. If she noticed the near attack, she didn't show it. She was laser-focused on the berries, her little body hunched protectively over her meal.

"Don't worry," Austin continued. "As long as I'm here, you'll be safe. I promise."

The words felt heavier than he expected, like he was making a vow not just to her, but to himself.

For a moment, the room felt still, as if the words were sinking in for all of them.

Austin let out a slow breath, standing back up. "Alright, team," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Let's take it one step at a time."

Pikachu gave a soft "Pika," his tail flicking in agreement, while Spearow let out a grudging squawk, clearly too proud to openly agree but not entirely against the idea.

As for Rattata, she finished the last of her berries and looked up at Austin, her tiny eyes less fearful than before. It wasn't much. But it was a start.

"Are you... okay?" Austin asked cautiously, eyeing the intern who looked one sneeze away from passing out. The guy's pink hair was an absolute mess, sticking out in every direction, and the dark bags under his half-closed eyes made him look like he hadn't seen a bed—or basic human joy—in days. He leaned against the counter like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

The intern let out a long, dramatic sigh, like he was carrying the weight of the entire Pokémon Center on his back. "Define... okay." His voice was monotone, and he blinked slowly, as though even that required monumental effort.

Austin raised an eyebrow. "Uh, I meant, like... are you good? You look like you're about to keel over."

"I'm fine," the intern mumbled, wobbling slightly on his feet. "Totally fine. Just... what do you need? Dehydrator? Freeze dryer? Blast chiller? Or... I don't know... a time machine?"

Austin tilted his head. "Why would I need all that?"

The intern stared at him like he'd just asked why water was wet. "To... make snacks? For the road? You freeze-dry fruit, dehydrate meat... maybe vacuum-seal it? You know, basic survival stuff." He yawned mid-sentence, his words slurring together. "Otherwise, your snacks are gonna go bad and you'll starve in the wilderness or something. Trust me... it happens..."

"Right." Austin shot a glance at his Pokémon. Pikachu, Spearow, and Rattata were darting around the gleaming kitchen, poking their noses into cupboards and sniffing every utensil they came across. The kitchen itself was a pristine, stainless steel wonderland filled with gadgets and appliances Austin couldn't even name, let alone use. Honestly, it was intimidating.

"Well," Austin began, hoping to keep it simple, "I was just planning to use a double boiler and maybe the freezer. You know, old-school."

The intern froze mid-yawn, his eyes snapping open just a fraction wider. He stared at Austin like he'd just witnessed something miraculous. "You..." He pointed a shaky finger at him. "You're... the Messiah."

Austin blinked, caught completely off guard. "...What?"

"The culinary Messiah!" the intern whispered with the kind of reverence usually reserved for legendary Pokémon. His voice trembled like he'd just had a religious experience. "The chosen one... sent to save us from... the tyranny of... overcomplicated machines."

Austin stared at him, completely baffled. "Dude, it's just a double boiler."

The intern leaned closer, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "A double boiler... of destiny."

"Okay," Austin said, holding up his hands. "You need sleep. Like, right now."

The intern straightened—or at least tried to, but his posture still screamed about to collapse. "You're right. Sleep is good. I'll go do that." He started stumbling toward the door, muttering under his breath. "But you... you are the truth."

"Uh, thanks?"

As the intern shuffled toward the exit, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Or... maybe you're a false prophet. I'll decide after my nap." And with that, he collapsed face-first onto the floor, dead asleep before he even hit the tile.

Austin blinked down at the snoring figure. "Okay, then." He turned back to his Pokémon, exhaling slowly. "Well, that happened."

"Pika!" Pikachu called out, drawing his attention. The little electric mouse stood on the counter, one paw pressed against a teetering cup that looked moments away from falling. Pikachu's wide-eyed expression screamed oops, and Austin could already feel his stress levels rising.

"Seriously?" he muttered, moving to grab the cup before it could shatter. "Pikachu, do me a favor—don't make my day harder than it already is."

Pikachu tilted his head innocently.

Meanwhile, Rattata was nosing around a bag of flour on the floor, looking far too interested for Austin's liking.

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really, really need to find Brock and convince him to join me."

As if on cue, the intern snored loudly, mumbling something unintelligible about "prophecies" and "kitchen appliances." Austin shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Yeah. Definitely need Brock."

Later, as the treats chilled, Austin flipped through The Physics of Pokémon: Understanding Their Moves by Professor Magnolia. A section caught his attention:

Instinctive Moves — These are moves that a Pokémon instinctively knows but requires the catalyst of a battle to 'unlock.' It's like they have these moves lying dormant until the heat of battle triggers them.

Egg Moves — These moves awaken in Pokémon due to interspecies breeding. They are passed down from parents to offspring, sometimes resulting in moves that a Pokémon wouldn't normally learn.

Tutor Moves — A phenomenon known as Pokémon Mimetics shows that Pokémon can teach some of their moves to other species. This can be replicated by professional move tutors, who help Pokémon learn moves outside their natural set.

"Pokémon Mimetics," Austin murmured, imagining a classroom of Pokémon learning moves like students in a school. It was a fascinating thought, but definitely something he'd have to explore later.

TM Moves — TM, or Technical Machine, moves were created by Orrean scientist Konrad Zuse. He discovered that many Pokémon have vestigial organs that allow them to learn moves their species naturally can't. The first successful TM was created in 1941 when an Eevee was taught the move 'Stored Power' using a combination of Psychic-type Pokémon and engineering.

Austin paused, his eyes lingering on the word Orrean. Orre? Isn't that the region from Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness? Nostalgia and worry raced through his mind. Could Team Cipher become a problem for me in the future?

"Pika." Pikachu's gentle pat on his leg snapped Austin out of his thoughts. Pikachu pointed at the clock with his tiny paw, reminding the boy of their current task.

Austin blinked, shaking off the heavy thoughts. "Right. Let's see if the snacks are done."

He pulled out a plate of freshly made treats. Taking a bite, he savored the rich, smooth chocolate melting on his tongue, the cold, creamy yogurt balancing the sweetness, and the burst of tangy berries. It was perfect.

Handing a snack to each Pokémon, Austin watched as their faces lit up with joy. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy this small victory.

Cross the bridge when you come to it, he reminded himself. Focus on what's right in front of you. Talk to Professor Oak, sort out your budget, train, get through those books. Michael and Wes can handle Team Cipher if they become a problem.

Right now, he had his own journey to figure out.

Austin glanced at his Pokémon, still happily munching on their snacks, and felt a sense of peace wash over him.

For now, this was enough.

Austin settled into the communication room, the hum of vintage 90s computers filling the quiet space. The beige, bulky monitors were encased in small partitioned walls, offering a semblance of privacy. The soft glow of the screen was almost calming, but his nerves had other ideas. His leg bounced under the desk as he muttered, "Okay, you got this," before powering up the computer and dialing the number.

The ringing seemed to stretch forever, each chime amplifying the anxious rhythm of his heartbeat.

Finally, a voice crackled through the speakers.

"Hello, this is the Ketchum residence."

It was her, but the video feed hadn't activated yet.

Austin swallowed hard, the guilt settling heavy in his chest. "Hello, Mom?" The word felt foreign, like it didn't belong to him.

There was a cry of joy on the other end, loud and filled with unfiltered excitement. He winced at the sudden noise as Delia's face appeared on the screen, her smile warm and radiant.

"Hi, honey! Is everything okay?"

Her image came into focus, and Austin blinked, his thoughts stalling. Delia was curling dumbbells—big, 50-pound dumbbells. Her toned arms flexed with each movement, her expression focused. For a moment, he didn't know how to process it.

"Where are you, Ash?" she asked, her voice snapping him out of his daze.

"The Pokémon Center in Viridian City," he replied automatically, still processing what he was seeing. Was this her? The sweet, gentle Delia from the show? Or is this world just trying to surprise me in every way possible?

"You're already in Viridian City?" Her tone shifted to something proud, impressed even. "It took your father four days to get there when he started Pokémon training. Oh, he'll be so proud. You're the apple of his eye."

Father.

The word hit Austin harder than expected, like a punch he wasn't ready for. A lump formed in his throat. Ash's dad—a mystery my whole childhood—and now here I am, standing in his shoes.

"Is there a way for me to talk to him?" he blurted, the words escaping before he could think them through. They hung in the air, heavy with years of curiosity he hadn't realized he was carrying.

Delia's smile faltered, just slightly, and her tone became practiced, like this wasn't the first time she'd had to answer this question. "Sorry, honey, you know how busy he is."

There was something beneath her words, something unspoken, but Austin didn't push. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Well, next time you talk to Dad, tell him I'm doing alright," he said, his voice betraying the weight of his emotions.

"Ash, I'm proud of you," Delia said, her eyes soft and brimming with love. "And I want you to know your father is proud of you too."

Austin looked away, his chest tightening with emotions he wasn't prepared to face. This is too much. Too real.

"Hmm," he murmured, barely audible, his voice a whisper of acknowledgment.

He needed an exit. Fast.

"I have to call Professor Oak," he said, his words tumbling out quickly, almost tripping over themselves. "I shouldn't keep him waiting."

"I love you," she said, her tone warm and genuine.

The words hit harder than he'd anticipated. Hearing them—so full of unconditional love—even though he wasn't truly her son, made his chest ache.

"Me too," he mumbled, his voice cracking as he ended the call.

The screen went dark, leaving Austin sitting in silence. It was deafening, the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stared at the blank monitor.

This world, these connections—they're becoming more real with every passing moment.

And he was right in the middle of it all, struggling to navigate his unexpected journey, trying to piece together who he was in a world where everyone already seemed to know him.

"Ring, ring, ring."

"Hello there."

"Ah! My boy. How is your journey going?"

"Who is this?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

Austin bit back a laugh as he stared at the screen, the camera showing only the back of Professor Oak's head. "I would if I wasn't looking at the back of your head," he quipped, watching as the professor fumbled with the setup. Oak's sudden scramble to adjust the camera had him stifling a chuckle until he finally turned around, looking a bit sheepish.

"Looks like you made it to Viridian City," Oak noted, trying to regain his composure, though a faint blush crept across his cheeks.

"Yeah, I was curious why you called the Pokémon Center?"

"I was checking to see your progress since I am your sponsor," Professor Oak explained, his tone taking on a serious edge.

Austin's eyebrows shot up. Sponsor? That was news to him. He felt a twinge of anxiety, like he'd missed a critical piece of the puzzle. What else don't I know about this world?

"And I had my doubts that you'd be able to handle your Pikachu," Oak continued, "but when my grandson said you wouldn't have a new Pokémon by the time you got to Viridian City, I bet him 1,000 Pokédollars that he'd be wrong."

A grin spread across Austin's face. "You won that bet," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I caught two Pokémon—Rattata and Spearow."

Professor Oak's laughter filled the room, easing some of Austin's tension. "Well done! A Spearow?" Oak's expression shifted to concern, the amusement fading. "That Pokémon is hard for new trainers to handle."

"We'll see."

"Confidence, that's good to see," Oak said, smiling again. There was a warmth in his voice that made Austin feel like maybe he wasn't doing so badly after all.

"Professor, I had a few questions on my mind. Do you mind answering them?"

"Ask away," Oak encouraged, leaning forward, his eyes keen and focused.

"Can Pokémon use more than four moves?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?" Oak tilted his head, clearly curious about the question.

"Well, I saw this Pokémon match, and they only used four moves," Austin said, leaning back. He needed to know the rules here, to figure out what was real and what was just part of the show.

"That's because the Pokémon League rules limit each Pokémon to four moves during official battles, making the matches more strategic," Professor Oak explained. Austin nodded, filing that information away.

"Any other questions?"

"Uh, yeah." Austin hesitated, then pushed on. "When you say you're my sponsor, what does that mean exactly?"

Professor Oak chuckled, shaking his head. "You weren't paying attention during the lecture, were you?"

Austin forced a nervous laugh, feeling like he'd just been called out in class.

"Okay, being a sponsored trainer is pretty straightforward. I give you access to the Oak Lab's ranch, and the League provides you with a monthly stipend of 10,000 Pokédollars to use as you see fit," Oak explained.

Austin's jaw dropped.

"Ten thousand Pokédollars?"

He couldn't believe it. That was more money than he'd ever seen, let alone had to spend. He knew being a trainer was expensive, but still…

"But what's the catch?" Austin asked, trying to keep his voice steady. There had to be a catch. Nothing was ever this easy.

"The catch is that you're considered an active trainer who operates on my behalf and represents me in official tournaments while conducting your own adventures. Essentially, you get paid to battle and bring prestige to the lab. The better you perform, the more substantial the grants I receive from the League, and the bigger your stipend becomes," Oak continued.

"So I'm like a walking advertisement for the Oak Lab?"

"Something like that," Oak said, smiling. "But it's more about supporting young trainers and advancing Pokémon research."

Austin paused, letting it all sink in.

"But what if someone doesn't want to battle?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"You, of all people, don't want to battle?" Professor Oak raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

"No, no, no," Austin backtracked quickly. "It's just that I recently found out how expensive it is to be a trainer, plus I plan to catch a lot of Pokémon, so a big stipend would be really helpful." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he was exposing too much of his hand.

Professor Oak laughed, the sound easing some of Austin's tension. "Wow, I didn't expect you to start changing in just a day. The Ash of yesterday wouldn't have even bothered with this stuff."

Austin pursed his lips.

"The League's stipend can primarily be increased through your contributions to lab research or through gaining prestige in battles. However, that's not something you need to concern yourself with immediately. Managing six Pokémon with the 10K Pokédollars monthly stipend should be quite feasible. If you find yourself catching more Pokémon than you can comfortably manage, you can always send the extras to the ranch," Oak said.

Austin nodded, trying to process everything. This was… a lot.

But one thing still bugged him.

"Wouldn't sending my extra Pokémon to the ranch affect your finances?"

Professor Oak paused, looking momentarily taken aback. "Oh, you don't know."

"Know what?"

"The ranch generates revenue by selling by-products from Pokémon. For example, we store Pikachu's electricity in batteries; Tauros's fur can be harvested and sold; Miltank provides Moomoo Milk, and so forth," Oak explained, and suddenly, a lot of things started clicking into place.

"Professor Oak, I've read that many people need a second job alongside being a low-level trainer. Why don't more people get into this ranch business?"

"That's because trainers aren't exactly paid in cash; the ranch simply takes care of your Pokémon in exchange for the ownership of these by-products," Oak clarified.

"Okay, last question," Austin said, trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling too much. "You mentioned a 10K stipend."

"Yes?"

"So, where's my money?"

"In your bank account."

Austin blinked, feeling a bit stunned. Why the hell does a ten-year-old have a bank account?

As Austin left the bank with 5,000 Pokédollars in his pocket and headed for the Poké Mart to stock up on essentials, he flipped open Pokémon Training for Dummies by Jane Peters. The first section outlined the core staples of training any Pokémon: Knowledge, Diet, and Rest. Curious, Austin skipped the part about diet for now—he was more interested in what the book described as training specific to each Pokémon.

The book detailed:

A Pokémon's capabilities can be categorized into specific stats based on their physiology and the average abilities inherent to their species.

It listed several stats:

Health Points (HP) or Stamina: How much damage a Pokémon can take before fainting.
Attack: Often referred to as Physical Attack, this determines the damage dealt by physical moves.
Defense: Influences how much damage a Pokémon receives from physical moves.
Special: Divided into Special Attack and Special Defense, which affect special moves' impact and resistance.
Speed: Determines a Pokémon's ability to dodge, move, and attack quickly.

Austin continued reading, intrigued.

"Every Pokémon species has been scientifically shown to have an affinity towards one of these stats. For example, an average Pikachu will always be quicker than it is durable. Therefore, when training, exercises related to enhancing speed should be prioritized over those that increase stamina."

The book included a table mapping each species to their stat affinities. Austin scanned the list, noting where Kanto Pokémon fell.

"So in the games, stats are actual numbers, but here they're more about a Pokémon's natural inclinations… I should model my training around these," he realized, nodding. It was a fascinating new angle for working with Pikachu, Spearow, and Rattata.

"Pika!" Pikachu chirped, pulling Austin from the book. He looked up and blinked, adjusting to his surroundings.

A passerby caught his eye. On a whim, Austin asked, "Excuse me, is that the Poké Mart?"

The man pointed at the giant sign over a massive building. Austin muttered a quick thanks, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

The Poké Mart was huge—a Pokémon-world version of Costco. Inside, it was even grander, with high ceilings and endless rows of shelves packed with items for trainers: toys, treats, grooming kits, and specialized gear like fire-retardant pet beds. Near the front, behind checkout counters, a wide glass case showcased familiar staples—Pokéballs, potions, and… glowing metal cubes?

Austin raised an eyebrow. Definitely not in the anime.

Grabbing a cart, he headed to the first aisle labeled Electric, steering carefully. Pikachu hopped in with a delighted chirp, wide-eyed at the spectacle. Austin pulled out his shopping list.

It was simple: Pikachu's special battery, high-quality food, and a grooming kit. He paused at a bag labeled League Recommended Omnivore Pokémon Food Blend. The back description was vague, promising "balanced nutrients" without specifics. He grimaced, shaking his head. Not good enough.

"Nah, I'll just make the food myself," he muttered. Pikachu perked up, ears twitching in approval.

Navigating through aisles, Austin grabbed essentials, avoiding gimmicks. At the bookshelf section, he picked up Under the Stars: A Modern Guide to Camping by Emma Clarkson. Feeling accomplished, he headed to checkout.

A teenage girl in a blue apron greeted him with a wide, practiced smile, quickly stashing away a magazine.

"Find everything okay?"

"Just fine, thanks," Austin replied, eyeing the glowing cubes in the glass case. "What are those?"

"TMs," she said, scanning his items.

Austin's heart skipped. Teaching Pokémon new moves? Game-changer. "Can I buy one?"

She held up a card listing available TMs, but his excitement plummeted when he saw the price: the cheapest was 20,000 Pokédollars. He didn't bother asking about the moves. Way out of my league right now.

"Which aisle is the Silph Co. bag in?" he asked, eyeing an ad for the high-tech backpack that used Pokéball technology to expand its storage. Priced at 8,000 Pokédollars, it even had an installment option. Too good to be true?

"Wow, that's some gift," the girl said, impressed.

"Uh, it's not a gift. Why'd you say that?"

"It's weird to waste money on a Silph Co. bag when you already have one," she said casually.

Austin blinked. "Pardon?" He quickly pulled off his backpack, holding it up. "I already have one?"

"Oh, you didn't turn it on." She tapped a small grommet, and the weight he'd been carrying vanished. It felt like the bag wasn't even there.

"How?" Austin stammered, his brain struggling to process.

"Same principle as Pokéballs—matter-to-energy, space-expanding tech," she explained, sounding as unsure as he felt. "It's bigger on the inside. Somehow."

Physics be damned, Austin thought, his mind doing somersaults.

"Your total is 5,600 Pokédollars," she announced, snapping him back to reality.

Austin grimaced. More than expected. "Is there, like, a first-time discount?" he asked, trying a hopeful smile.

Pikachu caught on immediately. The little Electric-type looked up at the cashier with wide, sparkling eyes, letting out a soft, heart-melting "Pikaaa!"

The girl hesitated, her practiced smile faltering. "Cute," she said, before scanning the final item. "But no discounts, sorry."

Austin sighed.

"Fucking taxes," Austin muttered under his breath, stuffing the crumpled receipt into his pocket as he left the Poké Mart. An extra 30 Pokédollars gone, just like that. Taxes! In a world where ten-year-olds roamed forests filled with dangerous creatures, the government still managed to squeeze out a little extra. His wallet felt lighter, and his mood wasn't far behind as he approached the Pokémon Center.

Stepping through the doors, he noticed a commotion near the entrance. A familiar voice, loud and heated, cut through the usual hum of trainers chatting and Pokémon calls. Curious, Austin glanced over and spotted Misty, her arms crossed, frustration radiating off her like steam from a kettle.

"I can't believe this!" she practically yelled, her fiery orange hair bouncing as she threw her hands up. Heads turned, some trainers openly staring, others pretending not to notice.

Austin jogged over, his gut telling him this wasn't his problem, but his curiosity getting the better of him. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

Misty whipped around, her glare fierce enough to make him momentarily regret his decision. "Team Rocket stole my bike!" she spat, practically shaking with outrage.

Austin had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. "Uh… that sucks," he said, keeping his voice steady. "But hey, I'm sure Officer Jenny will get it back."

"Yeah, right," Misty snapped. "You think I'm just going to sit around waiting for that? I need that bike! I was planning to ride straight through Viridian Forest—no stopping."

Austin winced internally. Viridian Forest? On a bike? That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. A forest full of bug Pokémon and a trainer with a bug phobia? No, thank you.

"Well," he said, shrugging sympathetically, "good luck with that." He offered an awkward smile and started backing away.

As he turned, a nagging thought tugged at his mind. Should I ask her to come with me? Traveling together could be helpful… but then he remembered the screaming. Oh, Arceus, the screaming. The mental image of Misty losing it at the sight of a Caterpie sent a shiver down his spine. Nope. He'd rather face a swarm of angry Beedrill alone.

"Good luck with the bike," he called over his shoulder, quickening his pace before she could rope him into her chaos. His focus shifted back to his next steps—research to do and snacks to make.

Hours later, Austin sat in his room, surrounded by a pile of books about camping, Pokémon nutrition, and battle strategies. To his surprise, the books were more engaging than expected, each page packed with insights and tips that made his head spin.

Still, his body was calling it quits. His eyes grew heavy, the words on the page starting to blur. Rubbing his face, he muttered, "Just two more pages," flipping his notebook open to jot down a few notes. "Then I'll call it a night."

From the corner of the room came a soft rustle and a quiet squeak. Glancing down, he spotted Pikachu sitting on the floor, watching him with drooping eyes. Rattata was curled up on the couch, her chest rising and falling steadily. Even Spearow, perched near the windowsill, looked half-asleep, his feathers puffed out slightly.

Austin smiled. "Why don't you all get some sleep?" he suggested, stifling a yawn. "I'm almost done here."

Pikachu blinked up at him, his expression clearly saying, You should take your own advice. Spearow, however, acted first. With a sharp flutter of wings, he hopped onto the table and gave Austin's notebook a pointed peck.

"Alright, alright!" Austin said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I get it. You're my strict bedtime enforcer now?"

Spearow let out a quiet chirp, hopping back to the windowsill with a smug look.

With a sigh, Austin pushed back his chair and trudged to the cot. The thin mattress creaked as he flopped down, pulling the blanket over himself. Almost immediately, a soft weight landed on his chest. Cracking an eye open, he found Pikachu curled into a tiny ball of yellow fur, his warm body settling comfortably.

"Comfortable?" Austin asked with a soft chuckle. Pikachu's ear flicked in response, but his eyes stayed shut.

Rattata stirred on the couch, letting out a sleepy squeak. After a moment's hesitation, she scurried to the cot and curled up near his feet. She didn't get too close, but it was enough to make Austin's smile widen.

"Well, look at that," he murmured, adjusting the blanket to cover her. His gaze shifted to Spearow, still perched by the window, scanning the world outside. The bird gave a quick glance back, as if to say, Don't worry, I've got this.

Austin let out a quiet laugh. "This… this is what I've always dreamed of. Being a trainer. Having a team."

Rattata's ears twitched, and though she didn't move closer, her dark eyes stayed on him, half-listening. Pikachu snored softly, his body rising and falling in time with Austin's breathing. Spearow ruffled his feathers but kept his silent vigil.

"Thank you," Austin whispered, his words meant for all of them. "For being my friends."

Rattata squeaked faintly, curling tighter at his feet.

His eyelids grew heavy, and this time, he didn't fight it. Warmth spread through him as he drifted into peaceful dreams, surrounded by the first true companions he'd ever had.

Hey everyone!

If you've been following closely, you've probably noticed the encyclopedia-style Pokémon entries sprinkled throughout the story. Pretty cool, right? Well, I've got some exciting news—those entries come from a fan-made Pokédex created by the incredibly talented Birdboy!

Some of you were curious about their origins, so I'm officially confirming it: Birdboy generously gave me permission to use his amazing Pokédex entries in the story! The level of detail and effort he's poured into them is mind-blowing, and I'm so grateful for the chance to incorporate them. They add such a unique, immersive layer to the worldbuilding, don't you think?

For the skeptics out there (hey, I see you

), here's the proof:

Proof Screenshot (https://ibb.co/52T9NR5)

A massive thanks to Birdboy for allowing me to share his work with you all. If you're loving the extra lore, you know who to thank!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, you can do so here:
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Adamo_Amet
Discord: https://discord.gg/9BARwq8n

Your support means the world to me. Knowing you're enjoying the story keeps me pumped to stick to my weekly posting schedule! Don't forget to leave a comment or review—your feedback genuinely makes my day.

Take care, stay awesome, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

Much love,

Admaos_Amet

Adamos_Amet · Nov 25, 2024

As Austin zipped up his well-packed backpack, he took a step back to assess the weight on his shoulders—both literal and metaphorical. Inside the bag was everything he thought he might need for the road ahead: extra clothing, a lightweight tent, a sleeping bag and pad, several bottles of Pokémon Repel, and a lighter tucked safely in a side pocket. Practical tools for someone heading into the unknown. Yet, as he added Pikachu's special battery and neatly stacked Tupperwares filled with dehydrated and freeze-dried food, his thoughts lingered on a question that had been nagging at him since waking up in this world.

Did he have to follow Ash's path exactly? Did he need to collect every single Pokémon that Ash had captured over his journey? The sheer thought of it felt daunting. It wasn't just the logistics—it was the idea of living someone else's life, following their footsteps so closely he couldn't see where his own journey might lead. Wouldn't that defeat the whole point of being here? Or was there some unseen force pushing him to stay on that path, whether he liked it or not?

"You ready to say goodbye to Viridian City?"

Pikachu's ears perked up, and he hopped onto Austin's shoulder, nodding with a confident, "Pika!" The little Electric-type had been through a lot in the past few days, but if anything, his bond with Austin seemed to be growing stronger. Pikachu wasn't afraid of what lay ahead. Maybe Austin shouldn't be either.

Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, Austin made his way toward the Pokémon Center lobby. As he walked through the familiar space one last time, he glanced around at the other trainers—some waiting in line at the counter, others tending to their Pokémon or chatting excitedly about their plans. The air buzzed with the kind of energy only a place like this could have: the promise of endless adventure, tempered by the comforting presence of Nurse Joy and her team of Chansey.

Speaking of which.

"Heading out?"

"Yeah," Austin replied, stopping a few feet from the counter. "Just wanted to say thanks. For… you know, everything." He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to phrase what he was feeling. "Especially after the, uh, window incident."

"Don't worry about it. Honestly, I've seen worse. You're not the first new trainer to leave a bit of a mess behind. I'd say you're doing alright."

Austin laughed lightly. "Yeah, well, the 'alright' bar isn't exactly set that high right now."

Joy tilted her head slightly, studying him. Her smile softened, but she didn't lose the gentle confidence that seemed to follow her everywhere. "You're nervous," she said simply. It wasn't a question, just an observation.

"I guess. I mean… yeah." He glanced down at the Pokéballs on his belt. "It's just… a lot, you know? Feels like there's this mountain ahead of me, and I'm not sure I've got the right shoes for the climb."

"You've got more than you think," she said. "Most trainers starting out don't even realize what they already have."

"Like… what? A bunch of questions I don't know the answers to?"

She smiled again, smaller this time, but no less warm. "Like a team that trusts you. Like instincts that'll kick in when you need them to. Like the fact that you're still here, still trying, even when you're not sure of yourself."

He blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of her words.

"You'll figure it out," she continued. "One step at a time. That's how it works."

Austin nodded, her words settling somewhere deep in his chest. "I'll try."

"Good. And remember—there's always a Pokémon Center wherever you're going next. You've got more support out there than you think."

Austin managed a small, lopsided grin. "You're just saying that so I don't break another window."

She snorted. "That too. But mostly because it's true."

With that, Austin turned toward the sliding doors, his backpack snug against his shoulders and Pikachu's tail swishing gently beside his cheek. As the doors hissed open, letting the bright sunlight of Viridian City spill into the lobby, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Nurse Joy. For everything."

"Take care," she said simply. "And take care of them."

Austin nodded, stepping out into the morning light. The city stretched out before him, full of possibilities he couldn't yet see. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he glanced at Pikachu. "Well, partner, I guess we'll figure this out as we go."

The transition from Viridian City to the dense embrace of Viridian Forest felt almost seamless. As the paved roads gave way to dirt paths lined with towering trees, the air itself seemed to change, growing heavier with the scent of pine and earth. It wasn't long before the urban sprawl disappeared entirely, swallowed by the endless expanse of green.

Austin paused in front of a wooden sign at the forest's edge, its faded lettering welcoming travelers to the wilderness ahead. For a moment, he stood still, lost in his thoughts.

Okay, so let's set some ground rules for myself. I'm not going to be Season 1 Ash, he decided. That means no aimless running into every Pokémon battle, no careless captures, and definitely no catching 30 Tauros. He snorted at the mental image of herding all those Tauros. Maybe I'll catch one—or none.

He shifted his stance, glancing down at Pikachu, who stood beside him, tilting his head curiously. And who knows if I'll even have the chance to catch the same Pokémon Ash did, Austin thought. I've already changed things. I've got Rattata and Spearow. For all I know, someone else might've caught Caterpie or Pidgeotto by now.

Pikachu tapped his trainer's leg with a small paw, jolting him from his thoughts.

Austin blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, buddy. Just lost in thought." He gestured forward. "Let's get going."

The two set off, weaving their way into the forest. As they walked deeper into the shaded expanse, Austin made a silent vow to himself: This is my journey. I'm not just going to copy Ash's path—I'm going to make my own decisions, forge my own bonds with my Pokémon. The thought gave him a surge of determination, even as his mind began drifting toward the future.

What kind of team would I want? He began mentally listing possibilities. An Eevee could be fun—so many options for evolution. Or maybe a Scyther? Scyther's cool. And a Ninetales? Definitely on the wishlist.

After hours of trekking, the initial enthusiasm began to wear off. His boots dragged a little more with each step, the forest canopy filtering the sunlight into patches of gold and shadow on the dirt path. The Pokémon Repel he'd applied earlier worked like a charm—too well, in fact. The lack of wild Pokémon encounters meant a peaceful, uneventful journey, but it also made the trek duller than he'd expected.

Eventually, Austin spotted a large tree with a thick trunk and plenty of shade. Gratefully, he dropped his pack and slumped against the rough bark, sighing in relief as he let himself rest. His legs ached, his shirt clung to his back, and his spirits had dipped significantly from when he first set out.

"Pika pi!" Pikachu chirped, pumping his tiny arms like a coach trying to rally his trainee.

Austin gave a tired laugh, shaking his head. "Let's not overdo it, alright?" He pulled a freeze-dried lemon slice from his pack and bit into it, the sharp tartness snapping his senses awake momentarily. "I'm just going to take a rest. You can explore if you want."

Pikachu gave an approving "Chu!" before scampering off, his yellow tail flicking behind him as he poked around nearby bushes and tree roots. Austin leaned back and let his head rest against the bark, watching his partner with a faint smile.

But sitting still only made him more aware of how dull the day had been so far. With a sigh, he rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a worn book—Pokémon Training for Dummies. Flipping it open to his bookmarked page, he started to read.

Before he could get far, a handful of loose papers fluttered out from between the pages. "Huh?" he muttered, picking them up and smoothing them out.

"Pokémon Tech Academy," Austin read aloud, spotting the label scrawled at the top of one page. He frowned, the name tugging at a faint memory. I've heard of that… somewhere. Shrugging, he turned his attention to the content, his curiosity piqued.

The notes were surprisingly detailed, written in neat but hurried handwriting. The section that caught his eye was titled Why Do Pokémon Need Humans?

According to the notes, Pokémon formed bonds with humans because they craved companionship—much like humans did. The theory, dubbed the Companionship Bond, suggested that Pokémon had a level of sentience comparable to humans. They experienced social needs, sought safety, and desired guidance.

Most Pokémon parents only care for their young for about a month before letting them go off into the world on their own, one paragraph read. This leaves many young Pokémon searching for companionship and guidance, which humans provide.

Austin's eyebrows furrowed as he absorbed the information. He'd always known Pokémon were loyal, but the idea that they sought out humans for emotional and social fulfillment gave him a new perspective. He leaned back against the tree, the notes still in hand.

"Is that why, in the games, wild Pokémon always pop out when you step into tall grass?" he mused aloud, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe they just want to be your friend…"

The thought was oddly comforting. He liked it.

Before he could dwell on it further, a rustling sound nearby pulled his attention. His body tensed instinctively, and he lowered the notes, scanning the area. A small pressure against his leg made him freeze. Slowly, he glanced down.

A Caterpie.

It was small and green, with a segmented body and a yellow underside. Its bright red antenna twitched as it stared up at him with wide, shiny eyes. For a moment, Austin just stared back, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once.

His mind raced. Is this… Ash's Caterpie? Or just a Caterpie? The idea made him laugh nervously. There was no way to know. It didn't really matter, did it?

The Caterpie, seemingly undeterred by his inner turmoil, began to climb up his leg. Its soft, squishy body pressed against his jeans as it pulled itself forward with surprising determination.

"Okay, little guy, easy," Austin said, gently placing his hands on the Caterpie to ease it back onto the ground. "No," he added softly, pointing at the Pokémon like he was trying to teach it boundaries.

"Pika!" Pikachu's sharp cry shattered the moment. Austin jumped just in time as a crackling Thundershock lit up the area. The air buzzed with electricity, the sharp scent of ozone filling his nose.

When the light faded, Caterpie lay motionless on the ground.

Austin's jaw dropped. "Sweet mother of goose, Pikachu, you're a monster. An irredeemable monster."

Pikachu crossed his arms and gave him a mock-innocent look, his tail flicking smugly.

"Alright, fine. Guess this means we're setting up camp."

Pikachu tilted his head, clearly confused.

Austin gestured at the unconscious Caterpie. "We've got a patient to take care of now, don't we?"

Pikachu perked up at that, his sulk vanishing in an instant. Austin chuckled as the Electric-type began rubbing against his leg, seeking forgiveness—or perhaps just confirmation that he'd be getting a snack out of this.

"Help me out, and I'll give you two snacks," Austin said, earning a cheerful "Pika!" in response.

As Pikachu darted off to fetch supplies, Austin glanced back at the Caterpie and sighed.

"What am I going to do with you now?"

Helping the Caterpie turned out to be simpler than Austin expected. A quick spray of the potion, and it looked better almost instantly, at least on the outside. He carefully placed it on his sleeping bag, watching it wiggle slightly as he began setting up camp.

"Thanks, Dad. You really taught me well," Austin muttered to himself as he worked. He could practically see his dad, the calm and patient way he used to teach him how to do things step by step. His dad never rushed, always making sure Austin understood every part of what he was doing. Now, as he laid out the tent materials in the fading light, those lessons came back effortlessly. His hands moved through the motions automatically, muscle memory guiding him as if his dad were still there, guiding him.

He and Pikachu moved in sync, as they often did now. Austin spread out the tent materials while Pikachu darted around, gathering small stones for the fire ring.

Once everything was laid out, Austin pulled out a Pokémon Repel, spraying a careful circle around the campsite. The scent hit hard, sharp and pungent, like a chemical barrier.

"Pika..." Pikachu groaned, rubbing his nose in disgust. Austin couldn't blame him; even he had to stop himself from breathing too deeply.

"If it's too much, you can go back to your Pokéball."

But, true to form, Pikachu shook his head stubbornly and pointed toward the trees and then back at the fire ring.

"Alright, alright," Austin laughed. "Try to grab some fallen branches." He settled down onto his sleeping pillow, watching as the sun slowly sank behind the treeline, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

He let his thoughts drift. How will the night sky look tonight? He wondered aloud, feeling a bit lighter as the first stars peeked through the darkening sky. There's something calming about watching the stars. It always felt like… like they were constant, unchanging, even if everything else in life wasn't.

Then he heard a soft rustle. Caterpie was waking up.

"You okay?" Austin asked softly, keeping his voice low to avoid startling the small Pokémon. The Caterpie stirred weakly, wiggling its stubby feet—nubs, really—like it was trying to reacquaint itself with the world after being unconscious for so long. Austin chuckled quietly, reaching into his pack and pulling out a piece of freeze-dried candy. He held it out, and the Caterpie cautiously nibbled at the treat before eating more eagerly.

Austin watched it closely, his smile fading into thoughtfulness. For a fleeting moment, the idea crossed his mind—maybe Caterpie was waiting for something. An invitation, perhaps? To join him?

The thought lingered in his chest, but the boy stayed silent. A tightness built in his throat, a familiar unease rising. He wanted to ask, wanted to offer… but something held him back. It felt wrong, like he should have offered more, but the words wouldn't come. Couldn't. He watched, frozen, as the Caterpie lingered for another heartbeat, then turned and crawled back into the undergrowth, vanishing into the sea of green.

Austin let out a slow breath, realizing only then that he'd been holding it. His heart raced, a strange mix of guilt and relief twisting in his chest. He pressed his palms against the rough bark of the log, grounding himself. What am I doing? he wondered. Could this one decision mess things up down the line? Will this come back to haunt me?

He shook his head, trying to shove the thought away, but it gnawed at him, stubborn and relentless. Before his spiraling thoughts could drag him down further, Pikachu returned, dragging a large branch toward the campsite with an exaggerated effort. The sight was so absurd that it snapped Austin out of his daze.

"Alright, alright," Austin muttered, standing up to help, brushing the dirt off his pants. The tightness in his chest hardened into resolve, like a knot pulling tighter. I will not emulate Ash Ketchum.

This wasn't Ash's journey—it was his. Ash had taken in a Caterpie and watched it evolve into a Butterfree. But Austin? He didn't need to follow that same path. Why should he invest in a Caterpie when he knew—knew—it might not stick around? The memory of Ash releasing Butterfree floated to the surface, and Austin's stomach churned. He couldn't afford to make decisions based on nostalgia.

He had to be practical. Every choice mattered, and taking in another Pokémon just because it felt right? That wasn't smart. It wasn't realistic.

Ash's Butterfree might've been special to him, but I'm not Ash, Austin thought firmly. And this isn't the same world.

The warmth of the fire wrapped around him like a blanket as he stirred the pot of tomato berry soup, its tangy scent mingling with the earthy aroma of dried berries, sweet potato chunks, and tofu bobbing in the bubbling broth. The flickering firelight cast soft, shifting shadows against the trees.

Austin ladled out bowls for Rattata and Spearow, who had just stretched their wings and legs after being released from their Pokéballs. The two eagerly dug into their meals, their tiny faces focused on the simple task of eating. Austin watched them quietly as he ate his own portion, sitting cross-legged beside the fire. The rhythm of their chewing and the crackling flames were oddly soothing, a small reprieve from the weight pressing on his mind.

But his thoughts wouldn't rest. To distract himself, he pulled out his Pokédex and flipped open Caterpie's entry—not because he particularly cared, but because he needed something to keep his hands busy, something to fill the silence in his mind.

Encyclopedia Entry Number #10
Of the five Pokémon on the Japanese Continent that can learn String Shot, only Caterpie produces actual string. Weedle produces a weak fiber similar to cotton, used solely for the construction of textiles. Wurmple produces a smooth, silky thread that is pleasant to the touch, while Spinarak and Ariados produce a powerful adhesive.

For utility, however, none of these are as valuable as Caterpie string. It can be used in archery, to make ropes, or for a thousand other things, half of them improvised in times of scarce resources. Other fibers made from plants are occasionally used elsewhere, typically in places which lack trade links with Viridian City and its adjoining forest where most of Viridian's people work. The task is tough and thankless, for it requires extensive harvesting of leaves to feed the bug Pokémon year-round. The string after spraying must be collected by hand, they must avoid battling them (save for the few lucky enough to afford Everstones) as evolution weakens the string, and profits have never been very high.

Austin froze mid-bite, his spoon hovering over his bowl. Japanese continent?

His brain scrambled to make sense of the words. What did that even mean—Japanese continent? Was it a mistake? A relic from the human world he'd come from? Or was this world closer to his own than he'd thought?

He set the Pokédex down, staring into the fire. How many continents are there in this world? He'd always assumed it was just the regions he knew from the anime—Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh and Unova. But what if there were more? Places the anime never showed? Pokémon he'd never even heard of? The thought sent his mind spinning with equal parts excitement and unease.

He glanced up at the sky. The stars twinkled like countless diamonds scattered across an infinite expanse of darkness, their light cold and distant. For the first time since he'd arrived here, the sheer scale of this world hit him. The night was vast, so vast that it made him feel small. Insignificant, even.

But when he looked back at his Pokémon—Rattata slurping her soup with gusto, Spearow carefully dipping his beak into the bowl—he felt a different kind of smallness. Not bad. Not empty. Small like a single thread in a sprawling tapestry, part of something so much bigger than himself.

Austin let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back against the log. "This is so much better than boring school," he said, mostly to himself. No walls. No droning teachers. No rigid schedules. Just him, his Pokémon, and a future that was his to shape.

This was freedom. This… was the life he had always dreamed of.

The first light of dawn pierced through the trees, hitting Austin square in the face and dragging him out of the last remnants of sleep. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest. His body longed to stay wrapped up in the warmth of his sleeping bag, but the cold air and the dying fire had other plans. Reluctantly, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching until his muscles slowly came back to life.

As he glanced around the campsite, Austin didn't notice the pair of eyes watching him from the underbrush, too caught up in his own thoughts. Pikachu and Rattata were huddled together near the remains of last night's fire, still lost in their dreams. Spearow, on the other hand, was perched on a nearby branch, alert as ever, scanning the surroundings like he was always ready for action. Austin wasn't surprised—Spearow was built for intensity.

Just as Austin began to enjoy the quiet of the morning, the flap of wings broke through the stillness. His eyes shot upward, catching sight of a Pidgeotto swooping down, its brown feathers glowing in the early light. The pinkish-red on its head gleamed as it circled above, its sharp gaze locked on them. Austin recognized that look instantly. This Pidgeotto wasn't here to make friends.

Spearow was already locked in, his fierce eyes sizing up his opponent with that familiar intensity. Austin's heart raced—this was it. "Hey, Spearow, you up for a battle?"

The flying type answered with a loud cry, eager and brimming with fire. The shout woke the others. Pikachu shot to his feet, alert, his eyes darting between Austin and the Pidgeotto. Rattata twitched awake, visibly annoyed by the sudden commotion but not protesting.

Spearow wasted no time, launching himself into the air, feathers bristling with aggression as he locked onto Pidgeotto. "Fury Attack!" Austin shouted, his command spilling out before he even realized it.

Spearow became a blur, his beak jabbing at Pidgeotto with brutal precision. For a moment, Austin thought they had the upper hand. But Pidgeotto wasn't backing down. With a furious squawk, it flapped its powerful wings, swatting Spearow away like he weighed nothing. The impact hit Austin hard—Pidgeotto was fast, much faster than he had anticipated.

Before Austin could think of the next move, Pidgeotto followed up with a Quick Attack, rocketing toward Spearow like a bullet. "Twist while you're falling!" Austin shouted, hoping Spearow could react fast enough.

Spearow managed to pull off the maneuver, twisting just in time to dodge the hit and regain control. He was back in the air, but Austin knew they couldn't keep dodging. "Peck!" he ordered, hoping for a clean hit this time.

Spearow dove, but Pidgeotto was ready. In a move that made Austin's stomach drop, Pidgeotto caught Spearow's beak in its talons mid-dive, twisting sharply and slamming Spearow into the ground. The impact echoed in Austin's bones. His fists clenched as he stared at Spearow, urging him to get up.

Austin's hand hovered over Spearow's Pokéball, ready to call him back. This battle wasn't going the way he'd expected, and he wasn't about to let Spearow get hurt over a bad call. But then, before he could recall him, Spearow let out a defiant cry—a stubborn, fiery shout that told Austin he wasn't backing down.

Their eyes met, and Austin could feel it—the determination, the will to keep going. "You sure?"

Spearow gave a sharp nod. He was sure. Alright then.

"Leer and then Fury Attack!"

Spearow's eyes glowed with a fierce intensity, his glare cutting through the air like a blade. Pidgeotto responded with a blinding Sand Attack, and Austin felt his heart sink—until he remembered Spearow's Keen Eye. The sand meant nothing. Spearow could see right through it. With a final burst of speed, Spearow launched forward, his beak flying in a relentless assault. Pidgeotto tried to counter, but the onslaught was too much. After a few more brutal strikes, Pidgeotto faltered, collapsing to the ground, too weak to continue.

Austin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was over. They'd won.

He rummaged through his pack and pulled out a gold berry, tossing it toward the Pidgeotto. The bird cautiously nibbled at the berry, slowly regaining its strength. Spearow squawked, his eyes full of confusion. He wasn't used to this—winning and then helping?

"You won," Austin said, kneeling beside him. "No need to take it too far."

Spearow tilted his head, still trying to understand, while Pidgeotto seemed to get it. With a nod of gratitude, it flapped its wings and flew off into the forest.

For a moment, Austin felt a twinge of regret. Maybe he should've caught it... But then he looked at Spearow, standing tall with his feathers ruffled but proud. He'd fought with everything he had, and Austin could see the potential in him. He didn't need another flying type.

Austin smiled, looking down at Spearow. "Yeah, I think I'm good with just one flying type."

There was a pair of eyes watching Austin and his team from the underbrush. Hidden in the shadows, the creature stayed perfectly still, its gaze sharp and unblinking. It had been observing them for a while now, its curiosity piqued by the commotion of the battle. As Austin and Spearow celebrated their victory, the eyes narrowed slightly, taking in every detail—the bond between the trainer and his Pokémon, the way they moved together, the way they fought.

It didn't move, didn't make a sound, blending seamlessly into the surrounding foliage. Whatever it was, it was watching, waiting, its presence unnoticed by Austin and his team.

"Shut up!" Jessie snapped, hurling a rock at a cluster of Pidgeys that scattered into the early morning sky. Her frustration echoed through the clearing as the flying types flapped away hurriedly.

James groaned awake, the discomfort evident on his face as he uncurled from his makeshift bed on a tree branch. Sleeping on such uneven surfaces was always a nightmare, and he could feel every aching muscle protesting as he tried to stretch.

I can't believe we were beaten by a stupid kid in a paper bag, Jessie growled repeatedly, her annoyance simmering with each repetition. Neither Meowth nor James had the energy or the desire to calm her down, especially not first thing in the morning.

"Hey, there's a message from headquarters," Meowth announced as he brandished an R-shaped phone. "All Team Rocket personnel have been issued a command from the executives to find an Eevee currently hiding in the Viridian Forest. Any operative that succeeds in capturing this Eevee will be granted an apprenticeship under an executive."

Jessie and James's jaws dropped in unison, their earlier irritation quickly replaced by a surge of excitement. This could be our chance at redemption.

"This message was sent an hour ago," Meowth added with a sly smile, watching as excitement practically bubbled over in his companions.

"Most of the operatives will be here in about 20 minutes to an hour," James estimated, trying to calculate their advantage over the others. The urgency of the situation was clear.

"Come on, we have to find this Eevee and get our deserved promotion!"

The morning had started out so perfectly, peaceful and bright, the kind of day Austin wished could last forever. The clear, cloudless sky stretched above him, and the warmth of the sun on his back was just right. Making pancakes outdoors felt like the perfect way to start the day, even if he had to cheat with a store-bought mix. Just add water, stir, and bam—instant breakfast. What could go wrong?

Apparently, a lot. As he tried to flip a pancake, his enthusiasm got the better of him. Hot butter splashed onto his arm. "Ouch!" he yelped, the sudden sting sharp and burning, leaving an angry red mark.

His Pokémon—Pikachu, Rattata, and Spearow—stared at him, wide-eyed, clearly curious about what had just happened.

"Don't worry, guys, just a minor setback," he muttered, though the skin on his arm still tingled. Determined, he flipped the next pancake perfectly, placing it on a plate with a small surge of pride. It was a victory, a small one, but he'd take it.

Before he could savor the moment, though, a clatter broke the peace. Austin turned just in time to see the plate sliding across the flat rock, the pancake disappearing in an instant. His frown deepened as he scanned the area, searching for any sign of the sneaky culprit, but all he found was a small puddle of water next to the rock. Suspicious.

Alright, so that's how we're playing it? A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. Whoever or whatever had swiped his pancake wasn't getting away that easily. He placed another pancake on the plate, this time ready, waiting. Come on, show yourself.

At first, nothing happened. Patience. His Pokémon watched with mild curiosity. "Okay, guys, turn around. Don't scare off our little thief," Austin whispered. Pikachu and Rattata grumbled but obeyed, while Spearow seemed more bored than anything.

"Hey, Spearow," Austin called, flicking a snack towards him. Spearow's sharp eyes locked onto it, and with a swift motion, he snatched it mid-air. Austin had to admit—Spearow's reflexes were impressive. Pikachu and Rattata, not wanting to miss out, gave him those classic big, pleading eyes, silently begging for a share of the treats. But Austin stomped the ground firmly, signaling them to stay put. They grumbled but stayed where they were.

And then it happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, Austin saw it—a blue paw creeping out from behind the rock, as quiet as a shadow. Gotcha. His heart raced as he lunged, catching the movement reflected in his Pokédex's screen. But by the time he reached the plate, it was already too late. All that remained were pancake crumbs, now floating in the puddle where the pancake used to be.

Wait… floating?

Austin grabbed a nearby stick and hesitated for just a moment before prodding the water gently. His heart raced, the sound of his pulse loud in his ears. The water rippled, and then—two black eyes stared back at him.

"What?" he whispered, barely able to process it. The water began to shift, swirling and forming into a distinct shape. A Pokémon.

Slowly, it emerged—a Vaporeon, its light blue skin shimmering, dark blue markings accentuating its sleek form. Austin's mind raced. Vaporeon? Here?

"Reon!" it cried out, but before Austin could even think, Pikachu leapt into action. Instinctively, he unleashed a Thundershock, the electricity crackling through the air toward the water-type.

But something unexpected happened.

A white glow engulfed Vaporeon, its body shifting, transforming before Austin's eyes. The light faded, and in its place stood a yellow, spiky Pokémon.

"Jolteon?!" Austin gasped, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. The fur—the way it absorbed Pikachu's attack like it was nothing—it sent chills down his spine. No way... No freaking way.

This was Vee. The special Eevee from Pokémon Adventures manga. The one who could evolve and devolve between the three Kanto Eeveelutions. But how? How was Vee here, in this world? Wasn't this the anime world? How could he be here?

And if Vee was here... Did that mean Red was out there too? Austin's mind swirled with questions, none of which he had time to answer because Jolteon was already on the move. It sent a Thundershock racing toward Spearow. Austin could see it all happen in slow motion—the electricity sparking, Spearow flapping desperately to dodge—but he wasn't fast enough. The bolt hit him directly, sending him tumbling to the ground with a sickening thud.

Austin's heart dropped.

Pikachu and Rattata were ready to leap into action, their eyes filled with determination, but Austin couldn't let this escalate.

"Stop it!"

The air seemed to freeze around them. Austin felt every muscle in his body tense as Jolteon—no, Flareon now—stood before them, transformed yet again. The light of evolution had faded, leaving behind this new form, its reddish-orange fur gleaming in the dim light of the forest. Its dark, intense eyes locked onto Austin's, and he swore he could feel the heat radiating from its body.

Vee stood by Austin's side, but he couldn't tell if Vee was ready or terrified. Maybe both. He sure was. His mind raced. What now? What's its next move? What's his next move?

Everything was silent for a heartbeat, then Austin's instincts kicked in. "Cover me!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the urgency of the situation. He didn't have time to think—he just moved. Flareon's eyes flicked towards Pikachu, and Austin saw the embers starting to gather in its mouth.

Quick as he could, Austin snatched Spearow's Pokéball. But he wasn't fast enough. Flareon's embers clashed with Pikachu's Thundershock mid-air, the two attacks colliding in a bright, blinding flash. The noise was deafening—a sharp crack, followed by the sizzle of sparks raining down on them. A

"Rattata, go!"

His little lady was already moving before he could finish the command, darting forward in a blur of speed. He barely had time to register her movement before his attention shifted back to Spearow.

"Spear…"

Spearow was singed, his feathers charred from the last attack.

"You did your best, buddy." Austin's voice came out soft. He grabbed a potion from his pack, spraying it over Spearow's injuries with a shaky hand. "Just rest now. We'll take it from here."

Austin returned Spearow to his Pokéball, trying to push down the guilt gnawing at him. His focus needed to be on the battle, but a part of him kept screaming: What if he hadn't been fast enough? What if Spearow had been hurt worse?

He shook his head. No time for that. Eyes back on the fight.

Rattata was already dodging Flareon's Swift attack. Those yellow stars shot out from its mouth, sharp and fast. Too fast. Austin's heart leapt into his throat, but Rattata—she's… she's incredible. She swerved to the right, narrowly avoiding the first barrage, but the stars—damn it—they were coming back. They boomeranged.

He felt his breath catch as the stars closed in, but Rattata… she flipped, like something out of a movie, and those stars slammed into each other mid-air. An explosion of light and sound, and suddenly, there was an opening.

She was going for it!

"Go, go, go!" Austin found himself cheering, not caring how stupid it sounded. He couldn't help it. Rattata slammed into Flareon with a full-body tackle, knocking the fire type off balance. His heart soared. She did it.

"Wow," Austin breathed, staring at the small Rattata in disbelief. She was fast—faster than he'd ever thought possible. And clever, too. There was something sharp in the way she moved, the way she read her opponent and adapted. This wasn't just a scrappy little Rattata scraping by; she was a fighter.

But before Austin could fully process what he'd just witnessed, distant voices reached his ears. They were faint at first, but unmistakably getting closer.

"James, do you hear that? The sound of battling. Eevee might be there."

Jessie's voice, dripping with sharp confidence. And where Jessie was, James and Meowth wouldn't be far behind. Austin's heart sank like a stone in water. Team Rocket. Of course, they were here. Of course, they were after Vee.

His stomach twisted as the pieces clicked into place. He'd thought—hoped—that coming through Viridian Forest a couple of days later might help him avoid this exact situation.

His eyes darted to Pikachu, panic rising in his chest like a tidal wave. If they saw him—if they recognized him as Bag Boy…

"Pikachu," Austin whispered sharply, "hide in the tent. Don't let Team Rocket see you."

Pikachu's ears twitched, his eyes flicking between Austin and the forest. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he nodded, scampering off toward the tent. Austin exhaled in relief, his mind racing as he fumbled with his backpack. His fingers closed around the Max Potion Nurse Joy had given him, and without wasting a second, he splashed it over the injured Eevee.

The blue liquid hissed and crackled as it made contact with Vee's body, releasing a sharp, almost metallic smell that was both sterile and faintly sweet. The sound of sizzling filled the air as the Pokémon's wounds began to heal, vanishing before Austin's eyes. Vee blinked in confusion, his body stiffening as the pain faded. He looked up at Austin with wide, uncertain eyes.

"Vee," Austin whispered, crouching down slowly, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible, "come with me. I can keep you safe."

The Eevee didn't move. Why would he trust him? Austin could practically see the doubt written all over the Pokémon's face.

"Listen," Austin said softly, glancing over his shoulder. He could hear the crunch of footsteps growing louder. "Team Rocket's closing in. You've got two choices: You can run and hide, but how long do you think that's going to last? Or you can trust me, and I'll get you out of this forest. No one will even know you're here."

Vee's ears twitched, his expression unreadable. He didn't run, but he didn't step closer either. Austin's heart pounded in his chest. He didn't have time for this.

He reached into his backpack again, this time pulling out his thermos. His fingers were trembling as he unscrewed the lid. "Look," he said, "just… do the Vaporeon water thing, okay?"

For a moment, Vee just stared at him, his large eyes searching Austin's face for something—what, Austin didn't know. He tried to hold his gaze, to keep his expression calm. Please trust me. I'm not like them. I'll keep you safe.

And then, something shifted. Vee's cautious stance softened, his eyes narrowing with a hint of determination. Maybe he remembered the berry Austin had offered Pidgeotto, or the way Austin had helped Spearow without hesitation. Or maybe it was the Max Potion, the undeniable proof that Austin wasn't here to hurt him. Whatever it was, Vee made his decision.

The Eevee's body shimmered for a moment, his form shifting as he transformed into water. Austin watched, holding his breath, as the liquid form slipped effortlessly into the thermos. He screwed the lid on tightly, his hands shaking. "I've got you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His grip on the thermos tightened as he crouched lower, whispering to the Pokémon inside. "If things go south, I want you to run. I'll hold them off."

Vee's watery form swirled slightly, his wide eyes visible through the container.

"Alright, here's the plan," Austin muttered, snatching a scarf and a pair of glasses from his bag, hurriedly pulling together a makeshift disguise.

"Hey, you!"

Jessie, James, and Meowth stumbling out from the undergrowth, tangled up in Misty's bike. They looked like they'd been through hell, clothes torn, hair disheveled, and their eyes fixed on him with a mixture of desperation and frustration.

Austin's fingers tightened around the thermos, feeling Vee tremble inside. He could practically feel the anxiety radiating from Vee, but he had to keep calm, had to keep them from noticing anything off. His mind raced, trying to come up with something—anything—that would get him out of this without giving away Vee.

"Have you seen an Eevee around here?"

"Yes," Austin replied, forcing his voice to stay steady, even though inside, he was freaking out as he sat down on a nearby rock, acting like he had all the time in the world, but his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might explode. Play it cool, Austin. Just play it cool.

Jessie's patience was wearing thin. "Tell us!"

"What do I get in return?"

They exchanged a glance, desperation clear in their eyes. Austin could see the exhaustion, the weariness. Maybe, he could use that to his advantage. His mind scrambled for something to stall them with.

"What do you want?"

Meowth, cut in, "How do we know you ain't pullin' our leg?"

Austin let out a chuckle, motioning for Rattata to join him, feeling a weird surge of confidence, even if it was all an act. "You know," he started, "the Eevee I fought was doing something weird… evolving and devolving into Flareon, Jolteon, and Vaporeon." He waved his arms dramatically, really selling it while 'accidentally' knocking over the thermos.

Jessie wasn't having it, though. She got right up in Austin's face, her grip suddenly tight on his shoulder. Rattata growled low in her throat, her ears and tail bristling. Austin felt his muscles tense under Jessie's hold, but he had to stay calm. Had to stay in control.

"Tell us!" she barked.

"How about that bike?"

Jessie shot a look at James, who sighed and handed it over reluctantly. Austin pointed off into the trees to the right. "That way."

"How do we know you ain't just yanking our chain?"

Austin just smiled, his heart pounding in his ears. Timing was everything now.

And right on cue, the distant call of an Eevee echoed from the direction he pointed. The trio's heads snapped toward the sound, and without another word, they bolted, vanishing into the trees. Austin didn't waste a second. His hands moved quickly, packing up his belongings as fast as he could. They bought it. They actually bought it.

His plan had been simple—distract them long enough for Vee to slip away, lead them on a wild goose chase, and then circle back. As Austin turned, he spotted him. Vee emerged from the bushes, his brown fur blending in with the forest as he quietly padded over. His cream-colored tail flicked, eyes wary but relieved.

"Welcome back," Austin whispered. Pikachu hopped into the basket of the bike, ears twitching as he glanced up at Austin. Vee hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting Austin's, and he could tell Vee was unsure.

"Come on, we've gotta move. They'll be back any minute." Austin patted the basket, and Vee jumped in beside Pikachu. His hands gripped the bike's handles, and he took a deep breath.

Alright. Let's go.

Austin pushed off, his legs pumping the pedals as fast as they could. The wind rushed past them, cool and crisp against his skin, but his heart wouldn't slow down. It was like the wind was pulling him forward, like he could outrun everything if he just kept going. Pikachu's ears flapped in the breeze, and Vee looked ahead, his wide eyes taking in the forest rushing by.

They have no idea what's coming next. And neither do I. But for now, Austin just had to keep riding. Keep moving forward.

Two hours later, an exhausted Austin finally slowed to a halt, parking the bike near a fallen log and slumping down onto it. His legs ached from the relentless pedaling, and his breath came in uneven bursts. He reached into his bag, pulling out a bottle of water and a small pack of dehydrated lemons. The forest around him was tranquil, the faint rustling of leaves and distant chirping of bird Pokémon providing a serene backdrop to his rest.

Vee leapt gracefully out of the bike's basket, his light steps barely making a sound on the forest floor. He paused, his wide, dark eyes fixed on Austin as he sniffed the air cautiously. Austin popped a piece of lemon into his mouth, the tangy taste drawing his attention back to Vee. The Eevee tilted his head, curiosity glimmering beneath his wariness.

Austin chuckled softly, holding out a piece of the dried fruit. "Here," he said, his voice calm. "Try it."

Vee approached slowly, his body low to the ground, each step hesitant and deliberate. He snatched the lemon with a quick motion, retreating a few paces before biting into it. His eyes widened immediately, his ears flicking back as his tongue darted out to combat the sharp sourness. Austin couldn't help but laugh at the reaction.

Pikachu, perched nearby, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the exchange. Noticing the jealous look, Austin grinned and tossed him a slice as well. "Don't worry, I didn't forget you."

Pikachu sniffed it, took a tentative bite, and instantly scrunched his face in exaggerated disgust. His ears shot upright, and his tail twitched wildly as if the lemon had personally insulted him. Austin burst into laughter, his worries momentarily forgotten in the humor of the moment.

The lightheartedness faded as Austin turned his attention back to Vee, his expression softening. "Vee," he began, his voice steady but gentle. The Eevee's ears perked, his muscles tensing as he looked up at Austin warily. "Can I ask you something?"

Vee didn't move, but his watchful gaze told Austin he was listening.

"Do you want to join us?" Austin asked, leaning forward slightly. "Not just for today, not just until the forest is behind us. I mean… really join us. As part of the team."

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Vee's body stiffened, his ears pinning back as a flicker of doubt flashed through his wide, dark eyes. Then, in an instant, he bolted. His small frame darted through the underbrush, leaves scattering in his wake. He couldn't trust this human—he couldn't trust anyone. They were all the same. They wanted his power, and they would hurt him to take it. His heart twisted painfully at the thought, but it only fueled his determination to run.

"I can permanently fix you!"

Vee skidded to a halt, his claws digging into the dirt as he froze mid-stride. His breath came in shallow pants, and he turned his head slowly, cautiously, to look back. Austin hadn't moved from his spot on the log. He was sitting there calmly, his expression unreadable, but his tone carried a strange weight—one that cut through the noise of Vee's panic.

"I can make it so you never have to experience that pain again."

Vee's ears twitched, and he turned fully now, his gaze locked onto the human. There was no greed in Austin's eyes, no hunger for power, no cold calculation like the scientists who had poked and prodded him.

Austin raised his hands slowly, palms open in a gesture of peace. "I know you've been through a lot. I don't know the full story, but I can tell you're hurting. That instability in your body—what they did to you—it's not fair. And it doesn't have to be permanent. I can help you."

Vee stayed rooted in place, his chest rising and falling as he processed Austin's words. His body trembled with the urge to run, but something in the boy's tone made him pause. For the first time in a long while, it felt like someone was offering more than just promises. It felt like hope.

"Your body—this thing you can do, evolving and devolving—I can tell it's not natural. It's unstable, and I bet it hurts like hell. But I can help you fix it." His eyes locked onto Vee's. "I don't have all the answers yet, but I know where to start. I just need you to trust me."

Vee's tail stopped flicking, and his ears flattened as he stared at Austin. Something about the boy's words seemed to chip away at his defenses, but doubt lingered in his wide, dark eyes.

Austin placed a Pokéball and a thermos gently on the ground between them.

"It's your choice. ome with me, I promise I'll do everything I can to make things better."

Pikachu, sitting nearby, gave Vee a small, reassuring nod, his eyes full of quiet understanding.

Vee hesitated, glancing at the Pokéball, then back to Austin, then to Pikachu. His claws dug slightly into the dirt as he stood motionless, his body caught between the instinct to flee and the desire to believe. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped forward.

Finally, Vee lowered his head and touched the Pokéball with his nose. A soft click echoed through the quiet forest as he was pulled inside.

Austin stared at the Pokéball in his hand, feeling its faint weight and the enormity of what had just happened. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Welcome to the team, Vee."

Inside the Pokéball, Vee's mind swirled with uncertainty and a fragile hope. The pain he had carried for so long felt distant for the first time, like a storm finally breaking. Maybe this human really could help him. Maybe this time, he had made the right choice.

Author's Note:

1— I originally thought about having Austin catch both Caterpie and Pidgeotto, like how Ash did in the anime. You know, keeping it nostalgic, staying true to the roots and all that. But then I realized… nah. This isn't Ash's story; it's Austin's. The whole point is for Austin to forge his own unique path—not just copy-paste Ash's journey with minor tweaks. Sure, he'll have some advantages from knowing the anime's events, but this dude's carving out his own story.

2— Let's talk about Vee—our Eevee. If you're not familiar with it, here's the quick rundown: Vee's a special case. It was experimented on (yeah, kind of dark), and as a result, it has the unique ability to evolve and devolve between the three original Kanto Eeveelutions—Flareon, Vaporeon, and Jolteon. This idea comes straight from the Pokémon Adventures manga. In the manga, Red helps his Eevee evolve into an Espeon. Cool, right? But there's a catch—once it evolves permanently, it loses that whole evolving/devolving ability.

So here's the question for you guys: Should I follow the manga's route? Like, have Austin help Vee evolve into a permanent Espeon, Umbreon, or even Sylveon, which would mean it loses its ability to evolve and devolve? Or… do I keep that unique ability intact and let Vee switch between all the Eeveelutions—from Flareon to Sylveon?

I mean, letting Vee keep the ability would be pretty badass. But sticking to the manga might feel more grounded, right? I dunno—what do you guys think? Drop your opinions in the comments; I'm really curious to hear your thoughts.

Anyway, thanks for sticking around and for all the support. Seriously, it means the world to me. Can't wait to see what you guys decide. Stay awesome and have a great day!

Adamos_Amet · Nov 27, 2024

Austin was relishing the newfound speed afforded by the bike as he pedaled closer to Pewter City. Although his legs were tiring, he preferred the swift pace to another night potentially dodging Team Rocket in Viridian Forest. The wind brushed against his face, and the rhythmic sound of the bike's tires on the path provided a soothing backdrop to his thoughts of progress and distance.

Suddenly, his peaceful ride was interrupted when a figure abruptly jumped into his path. Austin slammed on the brakes, the bike skidding to a halt. Pikachu, disoriented from the sudden stop, clutched his spinning head.

"Are you crazy?" Austin yelled at the figure before him—a boy dressed in striking samurai armor, complete with prominent yellow horns on his helmet that curved outward like a beetle. The armor was predominantly black with red accents, giving it an imposing look.

"Halt!" the boy commanded, unsheathing a katana with a Pokéball for a cross guard. The blade glinted menacingly in the sunlight—a real sword that reminded Austin of weapons from the Pokémon Adventures manga.

I'm probably overthinking this. I distinctly remember weapons being in Season 1 of the anime. This is probably something like that, Austin reassured himself.

His musings were cut short when the samurai boy demanded, "Are you from Pallet Town?"

Austin, not appreciating the sharp end of a blade pointed at him, cautiously pushed the sword aside and replied, "No."

The samurai scrutinized three poorly drawn pictures he took out, one of which comically featured Ash with a dunce cap. He studied them as if solving a great mystery. "Wait," the samurai suddenly exclaimed, comparing Pikachu to the photo and back. "You have a Pikachu."

"No, it's a Pidgey. Right," Austin played along, turning as Pikachu stretched his lips with his paws to mimic a beak and chirped, "P-P-P."

"See?" Austin continued, barely containing his amusement.

"That's a Pikachu," the samurai insisted, narrowing his eyes.

"No, man, this is a new type of Pidgey from the Orre region," Austin replied, the corners of his mouth twitching as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Really?" The samurai, curious, poked Pikachu's red cheeks and was promptly zapped.

Austin couldn't hold back any longer and burst out laughing as the samurai fell on his butt with a loud "Ouch!"

"Stop laughing and battle me."

"Don't feel like it," Austin replied nonchalantly, leaning against the handlebars of Misty's bike.

"Come on, please, I have to get paid," the samurai pleaded, making Austin raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I thought you wanted to fight me for revenge."

"H-How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess, I guess. Hey, that rhymes," Austin joked.

"No, you're just repeating the same words," the samurai responded with a deadpan expression, not quite catching the humor. Austin shrugged it off.

"Okay, so what's this about getting paid?"

"Well, a few days ago, I was harvesting silk," the samurai began. Austin immediately recalled Caterpie's encyclopedia entry as the boy continued, "Then some trainer in a red car came in and battled me, which caused my Caterpie to evolve, and my business was ruined."

"Sounds rough, buddy."

"Gary Oak, however, was generous enough to offer me a deal. I battle all the trainers coming from Pallet Town, and he pays me."

"Why not just catch another Caterpie and continue your silk business?"

"The money was going to be used to buy a Pokéball."

"Five thousand Pokédollars?" Austin was flabbergasted at the sum, wondering how Gary could throw around that kind of cash so casually.

"Ten thousand if I beat all of Pallet Town's trainers," the samurai added, his tone serious yet hopeful.

"Okay, so what will be the rules?" Austin asked. Up to now, his Pokémon battles—if you could call them that—had been anything but conventional.

"Official tournament rules are fine by me. Two-on-two Pokémon."

Austin nodded, excitement surging through him. This was going to be his first official Pokémon fight.

"Pinsir to the battlefield!" Samurai announced, releasing a bipedal, coleopteran insectoid Pokémon.

The Pinsir, with its wide, dull-brown body segmented by thin lines and topped with large, gray, spiky pincers, looked menacing. Its mouth, full of long, flat teeth, and its triangular eyes added to its intimidating appearance.

Austin gripped the handlebars tightly, his nerves fraying at the sight of the Pinsir up close.

Pikachu leapt from the basket onto the battlefield.

You can do this.

Samurai picked up a rock, and Austin nodded, understanding that the match would start as soon as the rock hit the ground.

He strategized quickly in his mind. Okay, let's do run-and-hit tactics.

The sound of the rock thudding against the ground was the signal.

"Vice Grip!"

"Dodge with Quick Attack!"

Pinsir lunged forward, attempting to snatch Pikachu with its massive pincers, but Pikachu was already darting to the right.

"Thundershock!"

Pikachu's cheeks glowed yellow, and he unleashed multiple lightning bolts toward Pinsir.

"Lightning rod tactic!" Samurai countered.

"What?!" Austin exclaimed in confusion. Suddenly, Pinsir plunged its hands into the dirt, effectively grounding itself and neutralizing the electrical attack.

Austin's heart raced as he realized that Samurai was far more formidable than he had been depicted in the anime.

With Pinsir momentarily stuck, he saw an opportunity.

"Quick Attack into Tackle!"

Pikachu slammed into the bug type with force, jarring Pinsir enough to free its arms. However, Pinsir quickly recovered and went for a Bind attack, its arms glowing as it ensnared Pikachu in a tight hug.

"Pika?!"

Pikachu's cry of pain cut sharply through the air, his distress piercing Austin's composure. A wave of fear washed over him; his body froze, muscles tensed as a chilling helplessness gripped him. His mind went blank in the face of Pikachu's cry.

Austin immediately recalled Pikachu into his Pokéball, ensuring his safety.

"Hey, you earned a penalty," Samurai yelled across the field, his voice sharp with reprimand. Austin bristled, almost yelling back in the heat of the moment, but he caught himself and instead focused on checking Pikachu's condition.

"Pika!" Pikachu's frown greeted him as Austin looked down, a wave of regret washing over him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't... want you to get hurt," he stammered, his voice low. Pikachu puffed out his chest and thumped it with a small paw. Austin smiled faintly, chastising himself internally.

Pokémon aren't your normal pets, dumbass. They are far stronger than they look.

"You okay?" Samurai asked, his tone softening as he observed Austin's distress.

Austin nodded, his face still tense. "Sorry, I just panicked... I..."

"No need to explain. Many people do the same, but you have to learn that Pokémon aren't weak. While your decision was noble, it ultimately earned you a penalty. Learn to overcome the fear that takes over your mind on the battlefield," Samurai advised, his eyes steady on Austin.

"Thanks. What does the penalty mean?"

"Well, if you recall a Pokémon while it's being attacked, that Pokémon is penalized and cannot continue the battle," Samurai explained.

Austin sighed deeply, absorbing the consequences of his actions.

He reached for Rattata's Pokéball, knowing he couldn't use Spearow because the flying type was still recovering from earlier injuries, and he wanted to build a stronger bond of trust with Vee before sending him into battle.

"I leave everything to you, my lady," Austin chuckled softly as he released Rattata onto the battlefield.

"Vice Grip!"

"Towards the tree!" Austin countered quickly.

Rattata, understanding the urgency, dashed toward the base of the tree just as Pinsir's looming shadow reached her.

"Through Pinsir's legs!" Austin yelled, and Rattata ran, pushing off the tree trunk with her hind legs. Pinsir, unable to halt its momentum, drove its pincers into the tree, getting them stuck.

"Tail Whip!" Austin directed, seizing the moment.

A white aura enveloped Rattata's tail as she swung it with force, striking the trapped Pinsir.

Once free, the bug type turned only to be met with another Tail Whip, its defense lowering with each hit.

"Bind!" Samurai called out. Pinsir's arms glowed ominously as it prepared to wrap Rattata in a tight hold.

"Again through the legs!" Austin instructed sharply.

Rattata darted underneath Pinsir, avoiding the Bind and slapping it with another Tail Whip as she passed.

"Seismic Toss!"

Pinsir grabbed Rattata by her horns, leaped into the air, and flung the Normal type down hard onto the ground behind it.

Seeing Rattata weakly trying to rise, Austin was about to call off the match, but a tap from Pikachu stopped him.

He didn't need to coddle his Pokémon.

He needed to trust them.

"Tail Whip!" he shouted again.

Rattata's attack struck Pinsir just as it landed from its toss.

"Vice Grip!"

"Tackle!" Austin responded immediately.

The two attacks collided in a fierce clash, but the weakening effects of the multiple Tail Whips took their toll. Pinsir's pincers broke under the impact of Rattata's solid Tackle, sending the bug type crumbling to the ground, knocked out.

"You okay, baby girl?" Austin said, as Rattata nodded, panting heavily from the effort.

Samurai recalled his defeated Pinsir.

"Hey, is Pinsir going to be okay?"

"Of course. Give it a few days, and those pincers will regrow. Plus, I could sell the broken pincers and get the big guy some good Pokémon food," Samurai responded with a reassuring smile.

Austin chuckled dryly, still adjusting to the attitude of this world.

"You will not win against my second Pokémon," Samurai declared, sending out his next fighter.

"Bring it," Austin replied confidently, already anticipating his opponent's choice.

A green cocoon Pokémon, Metapod, emerged.

"Do you fear him?" Samurai asked, laughter in his voice.

Austin shook his head dismissively and gestured for Rattata to continue.

"Tackle," he ordered before Samurai could react.

Rattata, however, used Quick Attack, slamming into Metapod, who cried out as the impact sent him reeling.

The second Pokémon was beaten almost as swiftly as it had appeared.

"You are very strong."

"Thanks, but I'm curious—how did you plan for that Lightning Rod strategy?"

"Oh, that," Samurai began, "I devised that strategy because Gary said he would pay me 20k if I managed to beat a Pallet Town trainer with a Pikachu."

Austin sweatdropped at the mention of Gary's name, unable to suppress a smirk at Gary's transparent attempt at one-upmanship.

Really? The guy's willing to blow 20k just to get a cheap win? He must be more desperate for bragging rights than I thought.

"I'm Austin. Nice to meet you," he greeted, extending his hand to the kid, who blinked, apparently having forgotten as well.

"Right." The kid smiled, reaching over to shake his hand. "I'm Nobunaga. Oda Nobunaga. And likewise."

Austin stared. "You can't be serious. You can't."

"Oh, but I am."

"Your parents hated you, didn't they?"

"Shut up."

Austin strolled leisurely alongside his bicycle, gripping the handlebars lightly. The wheels crunched over the forest floor, littered with leaves and twigs. Beside him, Nobunaga consulted a large, well-worn map of Viridian Forest, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"So, you live in Viridian Forest."

Nobunaga nodded, his eyes not leaving the map.

"It's easier that way. I'm close to business, and I don't have to pay rent."

"I am curious, where did you get your Pinsir?"

"A gift from my father. It's my starter."

Their conversation ended abruptly as they heard the buzzing and humming of countless wings—a sound like rapid, crackling static. As they turned, they saw a swarm of Beedrill flying aggressively towards them.

"Is your cabin close?" Austin asked quickly, swinging his leg over his bike, ready to move.

"Yeah."

"Then hop on," Austin said, releasing Vee into the bike's basket.

"Vee, use Helping Hand on Pikachu," Austin commanded. Vee's paw glowed warmly as it touched Pikachu, who seemed to pulse with increased power, its cheeks sparking energetically.

"Thundershock!" Austin yelled. Pikachu leapt from the basket, sending a massive surge of electricity into the swarm of Beedrills descending towards them. The effect was immediate: several Beedrills were knocked out, some fell to the ground paralyzed, while others twitched, trying to recover from the shock.

Austin pedaled hard, the muscles in his legs burning as he picked up speed with Nobunaga on the backseat, leading them through a narrower path that snaked its way deeper into the forest.

The trees blurred past as Austin focused on the path ahead, his heart pounding.

Finally, Nobunaga pointed towards a structure partly hidden by the dense foliage. Austin followed his gaze to see a modest cabin built of rough logs, its small windows peeking out shyly between the trunks of towering trees. A thin wisp of smoke drifted lazily from a stone chimney.

Inside Nobunaga's cabin, simplicity ruled. The furnishings were sparse—a few stools, a low table, and a rugged, handmade shelf. One corner of the room was dedicated to tools for string crafting—spindles, shuttles, and fine hooks, all meticulously arranged on a homemade wooden rack that stood beside a sturdy workbench.

As the Beedrills' angry buzzing grew louder outside, Nobunaga acted swiftly. He hurried to a corner and grabbed what looked like a weed sprayer, but Austin recognized the distinct scent—it was Pokémon repel. Nobunaga worked quickly, spraying around the entrance before dashing back inside just as a louder buzzing heralded the arrival of a larger swarm of Beedrills.

"Is this normal?" Austin asked, eyeing the windows where the repel formed an invisible barrier against the agitated swarm.

"No, most Beedrills don't leave their territories unless provoked," Nobunaga explained. Austin knew all too well the likely cause of this chaos—Team Rocket.

"You want me to get you anything? Water, food?"

"Thanks, but I'm good. You guys need anything?" Austin responded, glancing at his Pokémon. Pikachu and Vee shook their heads, their attention fixated on a silk string yarn ball lying near the corner of the room.

"Austin, can I tell you the truth?"

"Yes."

"I don't exactly have your prize money," Nobunaga admitted. "Didn't you say that you kept all your money in your cabin? That's why we were coming here," Austin said, confusion evident in his tone. It was not a large sum—merely 200 dollars at most.

"I know, I know," Nobunaga hurried to explain, "but originally I was going to have you stay in the cabin while I ran to Viridian City to get Gary to give me my reward for battling the Pallet Town trainers. I was going to give you your money from that."

"That's fine by me."

"But there is a problem," Nobunaga continued. "Today was the deadline for the offer, and with the swarm outside, I don't think I can..."

"Don't worry, man, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay. You're the winner, and you deserve your reward," Nobunaga insisted, standing abruptly as a thought struck him. "Hey, would it be alright to substitute the money for something else?"

"Sure."

Nobunaga rushed to a shelf and grabbed a box, placing it on the table with a sense of purpose. He pulled out what appeared to be an old war map, marked extensively in red ink.

"Last year, I bought this treasure map from an antique store in Viridian," he explained, his eyes lighting up with excitement. It had taken him months, but he had managed to decipher the cryptic symbols and coordinates scrawled across the parchment.

"You really want to give me this after all your hard work?"

"The thing is this place is a little deeper into the Beedrill territories of the Viridian Forest. Even if I wanted to, I'm not strong enough to go there," Nobunaga admitted, reluctantly handing over the map.

Just as Austin took the map, examining the intricate details, the unexpected sound of helicopters flying above startled them. Austin peered anxiously through the window as the helicopter emblazoned with Team Rocket's menacing red 'R' approached.

His heart sank.

Out of the corner of his eye, Austin noticed Vee trembling, the small Pokémon's body shaking uncontrollably with fear.

"Hey, the rangers have come to rescue us."

Austin grabbed Nobunaga's shoulder, his grip tight.

"Nobunaga, do you want to live?"

"What?"

"If you don't listen to me, you'll die," Austin said urgently, his voice low and serious.

"What are you talking about?!"

At that moment, the door of the hovering helicopter swung open, and a Pokéball plummeted to the ground near the cabin. It snapped open upon impact, revealing a Starmie that floated in the air, held aloft by its psychic powers. The swarm of Beedrills, already agitated, directed their fury towards the new threat. They dove at the Starmie in a frenzied attack, their stingers slashing through the air in multiple swift movements of Fury Cutter. Despite the onslaught, the Starmie maneuvered with ease, its star-shaped body spinning gracefully as it dodged each attack. The scene resembled a dance, the Starmie almost toying with the storm of angry Bug-types surrounding it.

A cold and emotionless command rang out: "Star! Use Ice Beam!"

In an instant, a chilling beam of white light shot from Starmie, striking the swarm of Beedrills. The impact was horrific. The bug types were instantly frozen mid-flight, their bodies turning into brittle ice sculptures. As they hit the ground, the frozen Beedrills shattered with a sickening crunch, their blood splattering the ground in a gruesome display of red and ice.

Austin and everyone at the window recoiled in horror.

Nobunaga's hands trembled uncontrollably, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the ground. His wide eyes were fixed on the lifeless Beedrill scattered across the dirt. His breath hitched, shallow and erratic, as his mind struggled to process the scene before him.

"I… I didn't…" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen… They deserved it, didn't they? They had to…"

His words were frantic, a desperate attempt to convince himself, but the horror in his voice betrayed the truth. Nobunaga's face was pale, his lips trembling as if his body were rejecting the mere sight of death.

Austin knelt beside him, placing a steady hand on the boy's shoulder. He didn't blame Nobunaga for his reaction—not everyone could face death without falling apart. Austin himself had once felt the same helpless, nauseating terror. But now? Now he could look at death with a grim calmness, a survivalist's detachment.

"Breathe," Austin said firmly, his voice cutting through the boy's spiral. "Focus on me. We don't have time for this."

Nobunaga turned tearful eyes to Austin, his expression equal parts pleading and lost. Austin could see it—the doubt, the guilt, the fear consuming him whole.

"They… they're just Pokémon," Nobunaga stammered, his voice breaking. "They can't… it's not supposed to be like this."

Austin shook his head, keeping his own emotions tightly locked away. "Not now, Nobunaga. If you freeze, we're next."

That snapped something into place for the boy. He nodded shakily, swallowing the bile rising in his throat. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he simply wiped at his eyes, trying to push down the overwhelming nausea clawing at his gut.

Austin turned his focus outward, forcing himself to block out the heavy weight of the scene. He needed a plan, and fast.

Think. Think.

His gaze darted to the window. That was it. Without hesitation, he pulled it open, letting the cool night air rush into the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Not dying," Austin shot back tersely. He yanked off his shoes, tossing them into his backpack before stepping outside. He purposefully pressed his feet into the soft soil, leaving deep, deliberate footprints that veered off into the distance.

"Vee, I'm going to need some fur," Austin said quickly, turning to his Eevee.

The Evolution Pokémon tilted its head for a moment, then bit down on a pen Austin held out, allowing him to pluck small tufts of fur from its coat.

"Sorry, buddy," Austin said, meeting Vee's eyes with an apologetic look. "It's for our safety."

The Eevee nodded, understanding in its gaze despite the discomfort.

"Pikachu, Vee, return," Austin commanded as he quickly returned the two Pokémon to their Pokéballs.

"W-What do I do?" Nobunaga stammered, his hands shaking. Despite his fear, Austin could see the trust solidifying in the boy's eyes.

"Climb up that chimney. Release Pinsir inside to help you stay secure."

Nobunaga's instincts kicked in, and he scrambled toward the chimney. Meanwhile, Austin turned his attention to his injured Spearow.

"You're going to have to fly, buddy," Austin said softly, pulling out a potion from his pack. He sprayed the Spearow's wounds, watching as the bird's posture straightened and its injuries healed rapidly. "I need you to scatter Vee's fur and lead them away from us. Can you do that?"

The tiny bird Pokémon grabbed the tuft of Eevee fur and took off, rising into the sky.

With Nobunaga climbing and the Spearow creating a false trail, Austin knew it was his turn.

He crouched low, waiting for the helicopter to land, the roar of its blades slicing through the air.

They have the high ground, General Kenobi, Austin joked to himself, though the tension in his chest made the humor feel hollow.

He glanced down at his feet, caked in mud from his trek through the woods.

No use getting caught because of something so stupid, he thought, quickly slipping on his shoes, careful not to leave any incriminating footprints.

What he was about to do next required precision—and no loose ends.

As soon as the helicopter's landing gear touched down, Austin moved swiftly, his body low and his steps light. He pressed himself against the rough bark of a nearby tree, testing its strength with a firm push. Satisfied, he began his climb, his hands moving quickly but deliberately, fingers finding grooves and sturdy branches.

The chill of the air bit into his skin, sharp and unrelenting, but Austin ignored it. He focused on his goal, his breath steady as he pulled himself higher into the tree. The dark canopy offered cover, but he knew he had to move fast.

Reaching the top, Austin scanned his surroundings. His sharp eyes locked onto the cabin roof, just a few feet away across a narrow gap. The tiles gleamed faintly in the sunlight, the space between them a void he couldn't afford to miss.

With a deep breath, he crouched and sprang forward, leaping across the gap. His heart thudded as his feet hit the roof. The tiles shifted slightly beneath him, but he landed firmly. Exhaling slowly, he stayed low to keep his profile hidden.

Without wasting time, he climbed higher up the sloped roof, each step calculated to avoid loose tiles that might betray his presence. He finally reached the base of the chimney, pressing his back against its cold, soot-stained surface.

The narrow space offered just enough cover. Austin crouched there, his breath clouding in the frigid air. From his vantage point, he could see everything—the helicopter below, the Team Rocket grunts disembarking—and then, he saw her.

The woman was a striking figure, tall and imposing, her long teal coat fluttering as she stepped off the helicopter. The prominent R on her coat gleamed ominously in the dim light. Her silver-colored hair, slicked back with a widow's peak at the front and four cowlicks sprouting out, added to her commanding presence. Beside her floated a Starmie, its gem pulsing softly.

"Sird," Austin muttered under his breath, his stomach sinking.

Sird was no ordinary Team Rocket operative—she was one of their infamous "beasts." Ruthless, cunning, and dangerous.

But Austin knew better.

"She's not even really Team Rocket," he whispered to himself.

She's a double agent for Team Galactic.

The realization sent a cold chill down his spine. Sird wasn't someone to take lightly. She was the type to hunt him down like a dog if she caught even the faintest whiff of his presence.

Why am I encountering so many things from the Pokémon manga?

He clenched his fists, forcing the thought aside. Now wasn't the time to dwell on the mechanics of this strange world. He had to stay hidden—stay one step ahead.

His eyes remained fixed on Sird as she prowled below. For now, she didn't seem to notice him. But Austin knew one thing for certain: if she did, things would spiral out of control fast.

The grunts sprang into action. Flames crackled as they unleashed their fire-type Pokémon. The acrid scent of burning Beedrill carcasses mixed with the smoke, forming a foul haze that clung to the air.

Austin pressed himself tighter against the chimney, holding his breath.

Don't move. Don't make a sound. Wait.

As Sird entered the cabin below, Austin cautiously peeked over the edge of the roof.

The coast is clear.

He scanned the area once more before quietly swinging himself into the narrow chimney.

The soot-lined walls scraped against his jacket as he braced himself, pushing his hands and feet outward to maintain his position.

So glad I have a ten-year-old's body, he thought grimly, pressing tighter against the walls to keep steady.

Below, the narrow confines of the chimney revealed an almost comical sight: Nobunaga perched atop a massive Pinsir. The bug-type's enormous body was crammed tightly into the space, its horns pressing awkwardly against the brick walls. Its size made it impossible for Nobunaga to slip or fall, the creature's bulk serving as an anchor in the cramped vertical shaft.

Austin smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Good.

Slowly, he reached into his backpack, pulling out two Poké Balls.

"Vee, start using Helping Hand on Pikachu."

Vee turned to him, its wide eyes trembling with panic. The Eevee's tiny paws clung to the chimney wall, its breathing shallow and rapid. It looked like it might bolt or faint altogether.

Austin gently grabbed the trembling Pokémon, pulling it close to his chest. The soot smudged against Vee's fur as Austin held it securely near his heart.

"Hey, hey," he murmured softly, his voice soothing. "It's okay. We've got this, alright? Just breathe. I need you, Vee."

The Eevee's large ears twitched, and it looked up at him with anxious eyes. Slowly, it placed a paw against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. Austin's heart was racing, but his voice was steady, unwavering.

"See?" Austin whispered with a small, encouraging smile. "I'm scared too, but we're still here. Let's give it our all, okay?"

Vee hesitated, its paw lingering against his chest. Its breathing evened out, and the panic in its eyes dulled. With a small nod, Vee began channeling the glowing energy of Helping Hand.

"Report!" Sird's voice cut through the crackling of the dying fire outside.

"Madam, we've burned the corpses of the Beedrill," a grunt responded crisply. "A thorough search of the cabin reveals it to be empty, but we found evidence that someone was here just minutes ago."

"Show me," Sird demanded.

The grunt pointed to an oddly positioned bike leaning near the back corner of the cabin. Its tires were splattered with mud, and it looked like it had been abandoned in haste.

"We also found bare footprints in the mud outside."

"Bare footprints?" Sird muttered, her sharp eyes narrowing as she pieced together the details. Someone had been here recently—so recently, in fact, that they hadn't had time to cover their tracks.

"Madam," another grunt interjected, "we've also recovered Eevee fur near the forest trail a few meters from the cabin."

Sird's lips tightened into a thin line, her mind racing. This behavior—abandoning a bike, leaving behind footprints and fur—it all pointed to one thing: whoever had been here knew the value of the Eevee they carried. They hadn't stayed to fight but had fled with purpose.

"Set up a pincer movement," she commanded. "I want teams of two to sweep the back and both sides, heading in the direction of the footprints. I'll oversee the operation from the air."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Without another glance at the smoldering Beedrill corpses, Sird turned and strode back to the helicopter, her coat trailing behind her like a shadow.

The grunts snapped into action, their movements brisk as they organized into pairs. Each team checked their gear one final time before disappearing into the woods, their boots crunching against the scorched ground. The cabin emptied within moments, leaving behind only smoke, ash, and silence.

From his position in the chimney, Austin felt a wave of relief wash over him as he watched the helicopter take off. The rumble of its blades faded into the distance, and he allowed himself to breathe.

"Can we go down?" Nobunaga's voice was a barely audible whisper from below.

"Let's wait another fifteen minutes," Austin replied softly. His paranoia hummed in the back of his mind, warning him to be cautious. Better safe than sorry.

Fifteen minutes later, Austin and Nobunaga climbed out of the chimney, their movements slow and deliberate. They emerged covered in soot, black streaks marring their faces and clothes. Neither of them said a word about their appearance; there was no time to care about cleaning up.

The smell outside was overpowering. The charred remnants of the Beedrill swarm filled the air with a sickening mix of ash and burnt chitin. It clung to their noses and throats, making it hard to breathe without coughing.

Inside the cabin, the duo sat in silence. Nobunaga's blank expression betrayed his trauma, his eyes fixated on the forest floor outside where the once-lush greenery was now scorched and lifeless.

Austin remained deep in thought, weighing their options. Running in the dead of night seemed suicidal—Team Rocket could still have scouts in the area, and making a move now could lead them straight into danger. He suspected Sird had moved toward Viridian City, but there was no guarantee she wouldn't double back.

"Austin, do you want to go to sleep?" Nobunaga's voice broke the heavy silence, pulling Austin from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Austin replied quietly. "But I can't sleep."

"Who were those people?"

"Team Rocket," Austin said bluntly. "They're bad people who steal and sell Pokémon."

"Oh…" Nobunaga's voice wavered slightly. "But why did they come here?"

"They're looking for a rare Pokémon in Viridian Forest," Austin replied, his tone neutral.

"How do you know that?"

"Before our fight, I ran into a few Team Rocket grunts. They said as much."

"Oh…"

The silence stretched again until Nobunaga spoke once more. "What now?"

"As soon as it's light, I'm heading to the spot on your map. From there, I'll make my way to Pewter City."

"Pewter's a few days away," Nobunaga pointed out, concern creeping into his voice. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Thanks, but I think it's better if you head to Viridian City."

"What's the point? Gary's not going to pay me, and I haven't even finished bundling the silk strings properly," Nobunaga muttered, frustration clear in his voice.

Austin tossed his last remaining Poké Ball to Nobunaga, who caught it with a startled look.

"Catch yourself a Caterpie," Austin said, forcing a grin. "You'll have a business in Viridian Forest now."

Nobunaga blinked, his expression softening as his grip on the Poké Ball tightened. "Thank you. You're… a kind dude."

Austin managed a small smile, though it felt hollow. Inwardly, he couldn't ignore the truth.

Giving Nobunaga the Poké Ball wasn't entirely altruistic. It was tactical. By creating a sense of obligation, Austin hoped Nobunaga would think twice if Team Rocket ever tried to extract information from him.

Trust isn't free, Austin thought grimly, his eyes drifting back to the ash-stained forest outside. And neither is survival.

As dawn broke, a sleep-deprived Austin carefully made his way along the path outlined on the map.

The soft light of early morning filtered through the trees, casting a gentle glow over the landscape. He walked slowly, holding his bike by the handlebars, mindful of any noises that might alert Team Rocket or disturb any potentially aggressive Pokémon.

"Pika," Pikachu squeaked softly from its perch on the bike, where it sat alongside Rattata. Vee, now transformed into Vaporeon, was cleverly concealed within a thermos to save space. Above them, Spearow circled, keeping a vigilant eye on the surroundings.

The forest was mostly quiet, an advantage of traveling so early when most Pokémon were still asleep. Everyone was on high alert; after all, this was dangerous territory. Austin paused to consult the map again, verifying their location.

"We're here. So, let's start looking around; this is the place where the treasure is supposed to be," Austin instructed, as he leaned against the base of a tree to rest for a few minutes. His mind wandered to the map, pondering its origins.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his reverie by a sharp cry from above.

"Spear!"

"Did you find something, Spearow?"

Spearow extended his wing, pointing towards the grass.

Austin followed the direction indicated and noticed an unusual sight—a patch of soil in the shape of a half square where the grass refused to grow. It looked distinctly unnatural, a clear sign that something was buried underneath.

"Everyone, come here! Spearow might have found the treasure."

The team set to work on the curious patch of ground.

Vee used Water Gun to soften the earth, spraying it until the soil was saturated and easier to dig through. Austin and his Pokémon then began the laborious task of digging, their hands and paws working in unison. Mud splattered and clung to their clothes and fur as they scooped and clawed at the damp earth. Dirt smeared their faces, and the physical effort required left them all breathless.

After several minutes of intense digging, their efforts were rewarded with a metallic clang.

They had hit something solid.

The object was partially buried in the ground, resembling the air supply drops Austin had seen in movies and video games—a large, metal crate with reinforced corners and a sealed lid, meant to withstand the impact of a drop.

Getting the crate out required a coordinated effort.

Austin, alongside Pikachu, Rattata, and Vee, grappled with the heavy object, their bodies straining under its weight.

Although small, Spearow contributed by attaching a strap to the crate and pulling upward as it flew, adding just enough lift to help the others maneuver the crate out of the hole.

Once the crate was finally on solid ground, everyone collapsed around it, exhausted and covered in mud and sweat.

They rested for a moment, taking deep breaths of the fresh forest air, which seemed even sweeter after their exertion. Austin pulled out some snacks from his backpack, and they all shared a much-needed meal.

As Vee directed a strong stream of water at the front of the crate, the mud washed away, revealing faded lettering that read "Northern Front Battle Items." Austin paused, a berry half-eaten in his hand, as he read the inscription.

"Let's open this puppy up," he declared, his fatigue vanishing as adrenaline surged through him. Grabbing a nearby stick, he wedged it into the crate's edge. The wood, aged and weakened by time, broke easily under the leverage, revealing its contents to the eager group.

The inside of the old crate was a sorry state: filled with dirt, water had seeped in over the years, creating a sludgy mess that had decayed its contents.

Austin began to empty the crate, his nose wrinkling at the stench of rot and rust.

One by one, he pulled out the items.

Expired potions, their labels peeling and contents spoiled, were set aside with a grimace. Bands or cloths—so deteriorated it was impossible to determine their original use or form—were gently washed by Vee's Water Gun, though it did little to salvage them. A few old rusted Pokéballs and a rusted dagger were also revealed.

As Austin sifted through the remnants of the crate, his hand closed around something unexpected. He held it up, mud-caked and obscured, until Vee's Water Gun streamed over it, revealing its true form. In his hands lay a sharp, elongated claw, slightly curved, with a smooth, shiny, beige surface.

"No way!"

Quickly, Austin placed the item in front of Rattata, who gingerly picked it up with her mouth.

"Run!"

In an instant, Rattata vanished from sight. The only evidence of her departure was the gust of wind she left in her wake, which tousled Austin's spiky hair and caused Pikachu and Vee's ears to flap wildly. Spearow, flying above, struggled to maintain balance as its feathers were ruffled by the sudden turbulence.

Thud!

Everyone turned sharply as Rattata abruptly stopped, her body slamming into the trunk of a tree with a soft thump. She stood there, slightly dazed but unharmed, the claw still securely held in her mouth.

Vee, Spearow, and Pikachu stared in awe at the display of incredible speed. Austin chuckled as Rattata's performance had confirmed his suspicion—the item was indeed a Quick Claw, a rare and valuable tool that significantly boosts the speed of the Pokémon holding it.

Caterpie perched melancholically on a leaf, nibbling half-heartedly as he gazed up at the sky. The faint golden light filtering through the forest canopy made his tiny heart swell with longing.

Maybe one day, I'll get to fly, he thought, dreaming of soaring above the trees as a Butterfree. The idea seemed so far away, like a star he could see but never touch.

The underbrush rustled suddenly, snapping Caterpie out of his reverie. He froze, antennae twitching as he scanned the area. A human emerged from the bushes—Nobunaga—his intense expression somehow both comical and purposeful as he scoured the forest floor.

"Come on, where are you? Caterpie!"

Caterpie blinked. That's… me.

Curiosity and a spark of flattery prompted him to shuffle out of the bush. He waved a tiny limb, as if to say, I'm over here!

Nobunaga whirled around, his face breaking into a broad grin. "There you are!"

Caterpie felt his cheeks heat up (if Caterpie could blush, that is). He wiggled happily, doing a little dance on the leaf. But before he could fully bask in the joy of being so highly sought after—

Bonk!

Without so much as a second thought, Nobunaga hurled a Pokéball, hitting Caterpie square on the head. The little bug let out a surprised squeak as the ball engulfed him in a flash of red light. Inside, Caterpie had only a moment to think.

Can I at least finish my leaf?

The Pokéball wiggled once… twice… and clicked shut.

Nobunaga picked up the ball and chuckled to himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Austin was right. Caterpie's always hanging around this spot."

He turned the ball over in his hand, staring at its smooth surface. Catching Caterpie had been straightforward, but the decision to leave his cabin—and the life he'd built—was far from simple.

Nobunaga glanced back toward the forest trail leading to his old cabin. He clenched the Pokéball tighter, a faint shadow of guilt crossing his face. Leaving his home behind felt like walking away from everything he'd known, the only safe haven he had.

His parents had named him Nobunaga. He could still remember his father's booming voice on the day of his birth: "We have named you Nobunaga so that you will one day stand tall, a man of vision, strength, and greatness. The world will know your name."

But instead of rising to greatness, Nobunaga had spent his days weaving silk, trading thread for whatever coin he could scrape together. He wasn't a samurai. He was just a simple farmer—a nobody.

The thought stung.

Greatness? he scoffed inwardly. The only battles I fight are the ones against hunger and bad weather.

But something had shifted in the past few days. Meeting Austin had been like standing at the edge of a river, watching someone forge ahead without hesitation, despite the danger. Austin didn't have swords or armor, but he carried himself with a quiet resolve that Nobunaga envied. The boy had risked everything, even his life, to protect his Pokémon and those around him.

Now, as Nobunaga stared at the Pokéball containing Caterpie, he felt a stirring deep within him. Maybe his parents had been wrong about his destiny. Or maybe he'd been the one holding himself back.

As Nobunaga approached the outskirts of Viridian City, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of two police officers blocking his path. A Meowth stood between them.

"Hello there, kid," the male officer said, his tone brisk but polite. "I'm Officer James, and this is Officer Jessie."

"Don't forget Meowth," the feline added, crossing its arms.

Nobunaga blinked, confused but wary. "Can I help you?"

"We've received reports of trainers releasing invasive species into Viridian Forest," James explained, pulling out a laminated photograph. It was of an Eevee. "Have you seen or caught this Pokémon?"

Nobunaga felt his stomach tighten.

"No," he said quickly, then added, almost bitterly, "I just realized I could've caught an Eevee instead of a Caterpie."

Jessie gave him a long, skeptical stare before finally releasing his shoulders. "Oh."

With that, the trio quickly lost interest in him, moving on to question someone else. Nobunaga exhaled, relief flooding through him as he continued toward the Pokémon Center.

As he walked, his gaze fell once again to Caterpie's Pokéball. He held it up, staring at it as though it might contain answers to questions he hadn't yet asked.

The realization struck him like a blade. The rare Pokémon that Team Rocket had been so desperate to capture—the one that had put Austin's life in danger—was Eevee. Austin had gone to extraordinary lengths to protect it, knowing exactly how valuable it was.

Holding the Pokéball against his forehead, Nobunaga closed his eyes, his thoughts racing.

Don't worry, Austin. I'll keep my mouth shut. These people are dangerous, and they'll come after you. I'm not strong, and there isn't much I can do to protect you, but I can pray. I'll pray with all my heart that you'll stay safe.

The thought of praying made him scoff. Was that all he could do? Hide behind hope and faith while others risked their lives?

No.

Nobunaga opened his eyes, his jaw tightening with resolve. Prayers weren't enough—not anymore. His parents had given him a name steeped in legacy, in greatness. Maybe he didn't have swords or armor, but he had his own strength to find.

It's time I stop hiding and start walking the path I was named for.

Nobunaga tucked Caterpie's Pokéball safely into his bag. The threads of his old life—the silk, the farm, the safety—were unraveling. But maybe it was time to weave something new.

Something worthy of the name Nobunaga.

The thought brought a small, determined smile to his lips.

Austin had done more for him than he could have ever expected, and now Nobunaga felt the weight of that debt settle firmly on his shoulders. But it wasn't a burden—it was a call to action.

What can I do to repay my friend?

Author's Note:

Okay, quick note: Nobunaga now has Ash Ketchum's Caterpie in his team.

"In the anime, Samurai Boy—aka Nobunaga—was just a one-episode wonder. You know, the guy from Viridian Forest who took battling way too seriously and challenged Ash. But here? I've taken that character and fleshed him out. I've expanded his story, his personality, his role in the plot—basically gave him the glow-up he deserved. So, what do you think? Did I handle the transition well? How's my version of him holding up?"

"Now, about that 'Northern Front Battle Items' air supply drop: Here's the deal. It was pretty straightforward, yeah? The crate Nobunaga had originally came from the war era—like, literal wartime logistics. Soldiers in the northern front of the war (which is what we now know as Viridian Forest) would get these supply drops. The map he had? It marked where those drops would happen. The crate itself? It was loaded with items meant to help soldiers—choice bands (those destroyed cloths Austin pulled out), potions, quick claws—all gear meant for survival in battle. Obviously, Austin's gonna dig deeper into the history of the war, but don't worry, I'm not gonna drown you in exposition unless you really want me to. So, what's your take? How'd you feel about the ruthless introduction of Sird and Austin picking up that quick claw? Too much? Just right? Let me know."

Thank you for your support and for enjoying my work. I upload every week.

I hope you have a blessed rest of the day, and please share your thoughts in the reviews!

Adamos_Amet · Nov 28, 2024

Nobunaga stepped into the Pokémon Center, the gentle hum of machinery and the soft murmur of trainers filling the air. His sandals clacked lightly against the tiled floor as he approached the front counter. The intern behind it looked like he was on his last legs. Dark circles framed his eyes, and his slumped posture practically screamed I need a nap. He gave Nobunaga a weary glance but straightened up as best as he could when the young samurai approached.

"Excuse me," Nobunaga began. "Could you direct me to the communication room?"

The intern blinked, as though it took a moment for the words to register, then lifted an arm and pointed limply toward a door at the far end of the center. "Over there."

"Thank you." Nobunaga gave him a curt nod, but before turning away, he placed the Pokéballs containing his team on the counter. "Could you check on my Pokémon while I'm there? They've had a rough few days."

"Yeah, I'll take care of it. Give me a few minutes."

Nobunaga paused for a moment, watching as the intern started loading the Pokéballs into the healing machine. His movements were sluggish, but his hands were steady, a testament to his experience. Nobunaga couldn't help but wonder what kind of journey had brought someone like this to a job like this. Shaking the thought from his mind, he turned and made his way toward the communication room.

The screen flickered to life, and Nobunaga quickly dialed the number Gary had given him. After a few rings, the call connected, but it wasn't Gary who answered. Instead, the face of a teenage girl popped onto the screen, her blonde hair perfectly styled and her lips glossed to a shine. She wore an expression that was equal parts boredom and curiosity.

"Yo, what's up?"

Nobunaga blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… is Gary there?"

The girl leaned back, adjusting her camera to show more of her surroundings. Behind her, another girl with dark hair sat cross-legged on a plush seat, fiddling with a nail file. The soft sounds of a Pokémon battle echoed in the background, but neither girl seemed particularly interested.

"Gary's, like, in the middle of a Gym Battle with Brock right now," the blonde replied. "What's the 411?"

Nobunaga hesitated. He wasn't used to this kind of informal chatter. "Just… tell him I need to talk to him when he's done."

Before the girl could respond, the dark-haired one suddenly leaned into view, her smile mischievous. "Ooooh, Amanda, who's this? Your boyfriend?"

Nobunaga's face flushed immediately, his usual composure cracking. "Wh-what?! No!" he stammered, his hands instinctively going to adjust his armor as though it might somehow make him look more respectable.

Amanda shoved her friend playfully, rolling her eyes. "Jessica, seriously, cut it out." She turned back to Nobunaga, smirking. "Don't mind her. She's always like this."

"C'mon, Amanda, I'm just saying, he's cute for a cosplayer." She gave Nobunaga another once-over. "What's with the samurai getup anyway? You going to a convention or something?"

"It's not a…!" Nobunaga started, but then caught himself. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, can you just tell Gary I need to talk to him?"

"Alright, alright. Chill, dude, I'll pass it on. But seriously, what's the deal? You battle him or something?"

"Yes," Nobunaga said shortly, still trying to regain his composure. "I completed the challenge he gave me. I battled the trainers from Pallet Town."

"Oh snap, for real? Even that kid with the Pikachu?"

Nobunaga frowned. "Yes, his name is Austin."

Jessica tilted her head, confused. "Austin? I thought the Pikachu kid was Ash."

"Whatever. Gary calls him 'Ashy-boy,' so who even knows."

Nobunaga frowned but didn't press further. "Just let him know I kept my end of the deal."

Amanda held up her hands. "Alright, alright, I'll let him know. But hey, you gotta work on that vibe, dude. You're never gonna snag a honey sounding so uptight."

Nobunaga gave her a deadpan look. "…Thanks for the advice."

Amanda giggled, clearly enjoying herself. "No prob, samurai dude. Hold tight—Gary's wrapping up. I'll get him for ya."

"Gary! That samurai kid's on the line! The one from the forest!"

A moment later, Gary's face appeared on the screen, his cocky smirk in full force. He looked slightly disheveled, likely from his battle, but his confidence was as unshaken as ever. "Nobunaga, right? What's up, man?"

"I finished the challenge you gave me. I battled all the trainers from Pallet Town, including the one with the Pikachu."

"The Pikachu kid? You mean Ash?"

"No," Nobunaga replied firmly. "His name is Austin."

Gary frowned slightly. "Whatever. So, you want your payout, huh?"

"Yes," Nobunaga replied. "25,000 Pokédollars."

"Wait, what?!"

Nobunaga crossed his arms. "You promised 5,000 for battling the Pallet Town trainers, 10,000 if I beat them, and an extra 20,000 for defeating the one with the Pikachu."

Gary groaned, rubbing his temples. "I was joking when I said that last part, man! You seriously expect me to—"

"Are you saying you won't honor your word?"

Gary froze, his eyes darting to the side. Nobunaga could faintly hear the sound of Brock's voice and the giggling of Amanda and her friends in the background. Gary clenched his jaw, clearly weighing his options. His reputation was on the line.

"Fine," Gary said through gritted teeth, forcing a tight smile. "I'll pay up. Give me your account number."

Nobunaga nodded, reciting the details. As soon as the transaction was complete, Gary let out a loud sigh and waved dismissively at the screen. "There. Happy now?"

"Yes. Thank you," Nobunaga replied simply. He didn't wait for Gary to say more before cutting the call.

As the screen went dark, Nobunaga leaned back in the chair, exhaling deeply. His hands were shaking slightly, the adrenaline of the interaction still coursing through him. He couldn't believe Gary had actually paid up. But as the relief began to settle, a new thought struck him like a lightning bolt: I don't have Austin's contact information.

Nobunaga groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Of course. Why would I think of that beforehand?"

He considered calling Gary back but immediately dismissed the idea. There was no way he could risk exposing his scam, not with Gary already fuming over the payout.

That left only one option.

"I'll just have to track him down myself," Nobunaga muttered, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Guess I'm a traveling trainer now."

Honestly, there were easier ways for Nobunaga to get the money to Austin, but deep down, he didn't care about easy. He wanted to do this. He wanted to travel, to grow stronger, to step out of the shadow of the life he'd lived before. He wanted to stand on equal footing with Austin—not as someone repaying a debt, but as someone worthy of respect. More than anything, he wanted to fight Austin again—not out of anger, but to test himself, to see how far he'd come.

Whether Austin realized it yet or not, he had a new rival.

Hidden within the dense forest south of Viridian City, the Southern Warehouses stood as decaying sentinels of another era. Vines choked the rusted walls, windows sat shattered in jagged frames, and the heavy scent of moss and rot blanketed the area. To any wandering trainer or Pokémon, it was just another derelict structure in a forgotten corner of the world.

But beneath this façade lay something far more sinister.

Jessie, James, and Meowth trudged through the overgrowth, the weight of their failure pressing on their shoulders like boulders. The forest buzzed with life—the chirping of Pidgey, the rustling of Rattata in the bushes—but none of it calmed their nerves. They exchanged glances, their anxiety unspoken but shared. Reaching the warehouse, Jessie brushed aside overgrown vines to reveal a faded metal warning sign bolted to the wall. It read: DANGER: STRUCTURE UNSTABLE.

"You sure this is the right place? I thought it was the one with the 'No Trespassing' sign."

"Shut it, James," Jessie snapped. "You think Team Rocket just advertises our hideouts with a giant neon R?"

Before James could retort, Jessie pressed her ID card against the rusted sign. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the ground beneath them groaned as a section of the forest floor slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling into the earth. A rush of cold, damp air greeted them.

Meowth groaned, his claws digging into James's pant leg. "Every time we come here, it feels like I'm descendin' into my own grave."

"Well, at least we'll all be buried together," James quipped with a nervous laugh as the three descended into the shadowy stairwell. The entrance sealed shut behind them, plunging the area back into silence, erasing any trace of their presence.

The underground chamber was massive, its walls lined with steel and concrete that hummed faintly with the sound of hidden machinery. The room was illuminated by the cold, blue light of enormous monitors that loomed over rows of desks where Team Rocket grunts stood at attention. At the front of the room stood a cadre of captains, their uniforms sharp and polished, though their postures betrayed unease.

Jessie, James, and Meowth slinked to the back of the room, trying to stay inconspicuous, but the tension in the air was palpable. Everyone was waiting.

The glow of the massive screen revealed a shadowed figure seated in a high-backed chair, his face obscured in shadows. By his side lounged a Persian, its sleek coat catching the light from the screen's glow. The Pokémon's blood-red gem glimmered like a warning, and its piercing gaze swept the room with an air of detached superiority.

The smaller monitors lining the walls flickered next, displaying the faces of Team Rocket's most prominent executives: Archer, Arianna, Proton, and Sird. Each carried themselves with a distinct air of authority—Archer with his icy calm, Arianna with her fiery intensity, Proton with his sharp, almost mocking smirk, and Petrel with his eerie detachment.

Giovanni's deep voice rumbled through the room like distant thunder. "Report. What is the status of the Eevee operation?"

The captains exchanged uneasy glances before one of them stepped forward. Sird's voice wavered as she spoke. "Sir… we haven't secured the Eevee yet."

The room fell into an icy silence, broken only by the sound of Giovanni's Persian letting out a low, unimpressed growl.

Archer's sharp teal eyes narrowed. "Then why are you wasting our time? If you can't do the job, you're not fit to wear that uniform."

Arianna scoffed, her scarlet hair gleaming under the light. "Pathetic. Do you think we'll tolerate failure? If you're not up to the task, we'll find someone else who is."

The captains wilted under their gazes, retreating without another word. Sird clicked her tongue.

Before the tension in the room could escalate further, Proton's voice broke through, lighthearted but cutting. "Why don't we open it up to the floor? Surely someone here has something worth our time."

The green haired executive gestured toward the rows of assembled grunts. "Anyone?"

The room was silent. No one dared to move.

Until Jessie stepped forward.

"We have a lead on the Eevee!" she blurted out, her voice cracking slightly as all eyes turned to her. James and Meowth flinched, visibly sweating, but Jessie stood her ground.

"Oh? Then step forward."

The grunts parted like water, forming a path for the trio to approach the center of the room. Jessie, James, and Meowth exchanged nervous glances before walking forward. The weight of hundreds of eyes on them made every step feel heavier. Once they reached the front, Giovanni's voice rumbled again. "What have you found?"

Jessie swallowed hard. "We—uh—encountered a boy in Viridian Forest. He claimed to have battled an Eevee that could evolve and devolve between forms."

The room erupted into murmurs. Even the executives seemed momentarily taken aback, their expressions shifting from disinterest to intrigue. Giovanni's fingers drummed against the arm of his chair, the sound amplified in the silent room. "And this boy? Where is he now?"

James stepped in, his voice shaky. "He… uh… had a scarf and cap covering most of his face. We didn't get a good look."

"He had a Rattata," Jessie added quickly, hoping it was enough to redeem their report. "A rookie trainer's Pokémon."

Archer's eyes narrowed further. "And you didn't interrogate him?"

"We hoid an Eevee's cry while we was talkin' to him," Meowth said, rubbin' the back of his neck nervously. "Figured it was da Eevee, so we went chasin' afta it instead."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Finally, Giovanni spoke. "A Rattata is common among rookie trainers. If he is participating in the Pokémon League, his next destination would likely be Pewter City."

The executives nodded in agreement.

"Here are your orders. A squad will remain in Viridian Forest to continue the search. Additional operatives will be dispatched to Pewter City to monitor any trainers with an Eevee. And we will secure the route through Mount Moon. The boy will have to pass through there, and when he does, I expect results."

"Yes, Boss," the room replied in unison, the grunts and captains saluting crisply.

"As for you three… you've proven yourselves resourceful, if not entirely competent. You deserve a reward."

The trio perked up, their eyes widening with hope. For a brief, shining moment, they imagined praise, promotions, or even a rare Pokémon to call their own.

Giovanni's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Which of my executives will take them under their wing?"

The screens flickered, but none of the executives spoke. Archer looked bored. Arianna's lip curled in disdain. Proton smirked, but it was clear he had no intention of volunteering. Petrel didn't even glance at the camera, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

Finally, Giovanni broke the silence. "Sabrina."

The screen switched to Sabrina, the youngest of the executives. She was seated calmly, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. Her small, purple eyes barely flicked to the trio before she sighed dramatically. The nail file floating in front of her, held aloft by psychic energy, didn't stop moving.

"Great," Sabrina said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now I have to babysit three losers."

Jessie, James, and Meowth paled in unison as the screen went dark, leaving them to contemplate the dubious nature of their "reward."

The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, bathing the rugged mountain city of Pewter in a golden glow. Flint Harrison stirred awake on his usual park bench, the cold metal biting into his back and shoulders. With a groan, he sat up, brushing his hand over his weathered face. The fine lines etched into his skin told stories of regret, loneliness, and the weight of years he wished he could erase.

The mountain air was crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the heaviness that seemed to cling to Flint's chest. As he glanced around the quiet park, still shrouded in the soft haze of morning, he thought to himself: Even after all this time, I still can't get used to sleeping on this bench.

Why the bench? The answer was painfully simple: it was a choice. A self-imposed punishment. Flint refused to waste what little money he earned on comforts he didn't believe he deserved. Comfort was for people who hadn't abandoned their families. This was his penance: a life stripped of ease, a constant reminder of his failings.

With a sigh heavy enough to rival the mountains that loomed over Pewter City, Flint began his morning routine. He folded the battered piece of cardboard that had served as his mattress, shaking off the faint dew that clung to it. Inside the public restroom, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he splashed cold water onto his face. The icy sting jolted him awake, the water running in rivulets down his scruffy beard. Flint caught his reflection in the cracked mirror, his eyes locking with the ghost of the man he once was. His brown eyes, once bright and full of fire, now stared back at him dull and heavy, like embers buried under ash.

He applied his disguise with methodical precision: a dirty fake beard and a worn red beanie. It wasn't much, but it did the job. Flint didn't want to be recognized. Blending into the background of life had become his specialty, and this simple disguise allowed him to remain a ghost in the city he once called home.

Flint trudged through the twisting streets of Pewter City toward his first job of the day: cleaning dumpsters. The city had grown around the mountain like a stubborn weed, but it hadn't lost its ancient charm. Unlike the flat, cookie-cutter towns of the modern era, Pewter City was carved into the mountainside itself.

Stone streets wound through towering rock walls, each bend revealing homes and shops carved directly into the mountain. The facades were adorned with intricate carvings—Geodudes, Onix, and Sandshrew frozen in mid-motion, etched into the rock with painstaking detail. The buildings were tiered like a natural amphitheater, rising higher into the mountain as though reaching for the heavens. Long banners of crimson and white fluttered from iron poles, adding a touch of life to the stone-dominated cityscape. Lanterns hung outside doorways, casting soft glows on the stone paths even in daylight.

To Flint, the beauty of the city had become background noise. He barely glanced at the finely-carved rock homes or the towering gates engraved with kanji symbols that told stories of Pewter's founding. He had lived among these wonders for years, but they only served as a painful reminder of the life he'd left behind.

Flint's wheelbarrow groaned under the weight of collected refuse as he pushed it through the narrow back alleys of Pewter. It was an old, rickety thing, its single wheel wobbling precariously. The smell of rotting trash clung to his clothes, but Flint didn't mind. This was honest work—lowly, yes, but it allowed him to scrape together enough Pokédollars to survive another day.

The wheelbarrow jolted suddenly, the rusted wheel giving way with a loud snap. Flint stumbled as the barrow tipped forward, spilling its contents—a sour-smelling mountain of garbage—onto the cobblestone path.

Nearby shop owners paused their work to watch, their eyes full of pity and mild annoyance. Flint could feel their stares boring into him as he scrambled to gather the spilled refuse.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice hoarse. He grabbed his ragged blanket and used it to bundle the trash together. His hands trembled as he worked, the strain of years of hard labor evident in the way his back hunched and his movements slowed. No one stepped forward to help. They rarely did.

With great effort, Flint hauled the makeshift bundle onto his back and continued toward the Pewter Waste Facility, his steps heavy and uneven.

The facility, located at the edge of town, was a stark contrast to the ornate stone architecture of Pewter City. It was a functional, industrial space, its metal walls dull and weathered by years of exposure to the elements. Workers like Flint brought their collections here to be weighed and sorted. Payment was issued based on the amount of waste delivered.

Flint's load earned him a measly twelve Pokédollars. He accepted the coins without complaint, slipping them into his pocket with a quiet nod to the cashier. The small sum wouldn't even cover a proper meal, but Flint had long since stopped dreaming of anything beyond the basics.

His second "job" of the day awaited him on the outskirts of Pewter City. Flint walked to a rocky outcrop by the road, his feet dragging slightly with each step. He didn't bother unpacking his cardboard sign—most of the locals already knew him. Instead, he sat on a large rock and waited for passing trainers or travelers who might need a guide.

It wasn't much, but the work gave Flint a faint sense of dignity. He could pretend, for a little while, that he was still a man of worth.

Flint was lost in his thoughts when the crunch of gravel under wheels snapped him to attention. He looked up to see a young boy on a bike, a thermos swinging from a strap around his neck. The boy's clothes were slightly dusty, his cap pulled low over his face. Flint squinted at him—there was something odd about the way the boy looked at him, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle only he could see.

"Excuse me," the boy said, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "Do you know where the nearest antique shop is?"

Flint raised an eyebrow at the unusual question. Most trainers asked for directions to the Pokémon Center or the Pewter Gym, not antique shops. "You lookin' to hire a tour guide?" Flint asked, deciding to stick to his script.

The boy smirked faintly, his sharp eyes flicking to the rocks scattered around Flint's feet. "Don't you sell rocks for a living?"

Flint blinked, momentarily thrown. The question was both unexpected and oddly specific. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, surprising even him. "You're funny, kid," he said, shaking his head. "For that, I'll give you a discount. How about a hundred Pokédollars?"

"Deal," the boy said without hesitation, dismounting his bike and extending a hand.

"Flint," he replied gruffly, shaking the boy's hand. He gestured toward the mountain city behind him. "Alright, kid. Let's get started."

Austin glanced around, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took it all in.

Flint paused, gesturing grandly toward the cityscape. "Welcome to Pewter City, kid. The city of stone and steel." There was a flicker of pride warming his tone. He savored moments like this—when outsiders gazed at Pewter City with awe.

"Stone and steel?!"

Flint nodded, a faraway look in his eyes as he continued. "This place is named after pewter—the alloy. You know, a mix of tin and lead? It's strong but malleable, useful in the hands of the right craftsman. That's what this city's always been about. The miners, the stonemasons, the Rock type Pokémon—it's a place built on strength and endurance, but also adaptability. Like pewter itself."

Austin glanced at the carved Pokémon etched into the walls. Strength and endurance. It seemed fitting for a city built into a mountain. He wondered how much of this history had been skipped over in the anime, reduced to just another town on Ash's journey. Here, though, it felt… alive. Heavy with meaning.

Flint smirked, noticing Austin's thoughtful expression. "Bet they don't tell you that in tourist guides, huh?"

Austin gave a faint smile.

"Come on," Flint said, waving him forward as they walked deeper into the city. "Let me show you more of the place. Pewter's got a history most people miss if they're too busy looking for the Gym."

Austin adjusted his bag's strap and followed, but his mind was already spinning. It was official now: this wasn't the Pokémon anime.

So what was this place, then? Was he in some alternate universe that loosely followed the anime but made its own rules? Or was this what the Pokémon world would be like if it were grounded in reality—where cities had history, grit, and culture, not just bright colors and repetitive plotlines?

The questions buzzed in his mind like a swarm of Beedrill, relentless and unyielding. The uncertainty weighed on him, but he quickly shook it off. No use getting bogged down in theories he couldn't answer yet. For now, he just had to keep moving forward and piece it together one step at a time.

The antique shop was dimly lit, the warm glow of oil lamps casting dancing shadows on the cluttered walls. Every inch of the space seemed to be crammed with history—faded books, tarnished trinkets, peculiar-looking fossils, and the occasional gleam of polished gemstones.

As Austin stepped through the creaking door, a small brass bell above it jingled faintly, announcing his arrival. Behind the counter, an elderly man sat hunched over an ancient ledger, his silver hair neatly combed back, his hands deftly jotting notes with a quill pen.

"Afternoon," the man said, his voice steady but weathered, like the creak of an old oak tree. He closed the ledger with deliberate care and placed it to the side. "What brings a young traveler to a dusty old place like mine?"

"I found some antiques in Viridian Forest. Thought maybe you'd be interested in them." He began unpacking the items carefully, setting each one on the counter: a rusted dagger, a weathered crate, a few cracked bottles of expired potions, tattered pieces of cloth, and finally, the map Nobunaga had passed on to him.

The shopkeeper straightened in his chair, his sharp gaze flicking from one item to the next. He reached for the dagger first, lifting it gingerly and tilting it under the lamplight. His fingers traced the grooves in its rusted surface as though reading a story only he could see. He then inspected the crate, running his hand along its weakened edges, before pausing at the map and cloth.

"You've brought me an interesting assortment," the shopkeeper said, his voice soft yet tinged with intrigue. "Not all of it is valuable, mind you, but there are stories here. Stories worth telling."

"What do you think they're worth?"

The man set the dagger down and folded his hands over the counter, his expression thoughtful. "Let's start with the cloth." He lifted the tattered fabric and held it up to the light. "Unfortunately, this is beyond salvage. Age has taken its toll, and there's little left here for a collector to cherish."

Austin nodded, unsurprised. "What about the map?"

"This… could have been something remarkable," he murmured. "A historical artifact, perhaps, from an era long past. But these markings"—he tapped a few faded, amateurish annotations scrawled in ink—"they've compromised its authenticity. A collector seeks a piece untouched, unaltered. This has been tampered with."

Austin sighed, leaning against the counter. "I see. And the rest?"

The old man's expression brightened as he picked up the dagger once more. "This, however, is splendid. A relic of wartime, no doubt—a soldier's sidearm. The rust is unfortunate, but it adds to its character. A piece like this would intrigue certain buyers."

He then gestured to the crate and bottles. "The crate is fragile, yes, but it holds a story of its own—something a historian might find worth preserving. And the potions, though expired, could serve as display pieces in a collector's cabinet."

"How much are we talking?"

The shopkeeper's fingers drumming lightly on the counter. "I'd say… 4,000 Pokédollars for the lot."

"5,000!"

The shopkeeper chuckled. "Ah, a young man with spirit. I admire that. How about we meet in the middle—4,500?"

"4,600."

The shopkeeper grinned. "You drive a hard bargain, boy. Very well—4,550. My final offer. And a fair one at that."

Austin extended his hand, and the old man clasped it firmly. His grip was stronger than Austin expected, steady and sure. "Deal."

As the shopkeeper prepared the payment, he glanced up at the boy. "You've got the look of someone with questions," he said. "Go ahead. Ask. A relic isn't worth its rust if you don't know the story behind it."

"What's the history behind this… air supply drop?"

The shopkeeper exhaled deeply. "World War II."

Austin froze, blinking in disbelief. For a moment, he wondered if he'd misheard. "I'm sorry—what?"

The old man turned back to him, his expression somber but certain. "World War II. This crate belonged to the Axis powers."

Austin's stomach dropped. He rubbed his ears as though the act might help the words settle in. "I-I must've misheard you. Did you just say 'World War II'? As in... a global war? Here?"

The man nodded solemnly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes. The war began in 1939."

Austin's hands shot up as if to steady himself. Wait, what? That doesn't—the pokemon world had a World War II? His thoughts churned like a storm, struggling to reconcile the Pokémon-filled world around him with the weight of human conflict from his own world. "I wasn't expecting to hear anything like that…"

"I imagine the idea of such a war is a shock to someone your age. It's not something people talk about often."

Austin nodded faintly, still reeling. "Okay… uh… can you tell me who was involved? Which sides were fighting?"

"There were two sides: the Allies and the Axis powers. The Allies were made up of Unova, Galar, the Soviet Republic of Sinnoh, and Northern Kanto. The Axis powers included the Greater Orrean Reich, the Kingdom of Kalos, and Southern Kanto."

Some of the regions the man mentioned were straight out of the anime, others felt like echoes of real-world history, and some sounded like a bizarre fusion of the two.

Wait… does that mean Cynthia is Russian?!

The thought hit him like a stray Pokéball, completely derailing his focus for a second. A mental image of Cynthia in a fur-lined coat with a thick Russian accent popped into his head, completely unbidden. "Da, comrade. My Garchomp crushes your hopes like the winter crushes weak trainers."

Austin chuckled to himself at the absurdity, quickly shaking it off. Focus, man. Focus.

He cleared his throat, his curiosity dragging him back to the question at hand. "So, uh… Northern and Southern Kanto?"

The old man nodded. "Let me show you." He walked behind the counter, pulling out a faded, centuries-old map. It depicted Johto, Hoenn, and Kanto, but not as separate regions—rather, they were united under one vast territory labeled The Kingdom of Ransei.

"This was our region about 200 years ago," the shopkeeper explained, tracing the borders with a finger. "Ransei was once a unified kingdom. But over time, infighting caused it to dissolve into separate regions. Hoenn became its own nation, while the Eastern Ransei Empire emerged, claiming to be the true successor to the Ransei throne. That empire, however, was less a nation and more a collection of warlords fighting for dominance. Eventually, the people of the north grew tired of the chaos and overthrew the warlords, creating Northern Kanto. Meanwhile, the southern warlords banded together to form Southern Kanto."

"So, Southern Kanto is… Johto?"

The shopkeeper nodded again. "Yes. Over time, the lines we know today were drawn. But back then, these divisions were sources of tension—and during World War II, they became battle lines."

"How did the war start?"

"It began when the Greater Orrean Reich invaded the Orange Islands. That act of aggression drew the rest of the world into the conflict. The Reich sought to expand its territory, and the battlefront spread across the globe. Here, in what's now Kanto, the Northern and Southern regions became one of the most heavily contested areas of the war."

"What about the Northern Front? What was that?"

The old man sighed heavily, as though the memories themselves weighed him down. "The Northern Front was the heart of the conflict in this region. It stretched from what we now call Viridian Forest to beyond Pewter City. It was where the most brutal battles were fought… and where the most lives were lost."

Austin nodded, though the words felt distant, like something out of a textbook rather than reality. He didn't feel the weight of the loss the shopkeeper clearly did. But he could see the sorrow in the man's eyes. "How did it end?" Austin asked softly.

The shopkeeper's expression darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "Mew."

Austin blinked. "I'm sorry—Mew? As in the Pokémon Mew?"

The old man nodded solemnly, his eyes distant, as if reliving a moment long buried in memory. "Yes," he said quietly. "It was near the end of the war. The Axis powers had launched a massive invasion from the south, landing on Pallet Beach. Their forces tore through the region, leaving nothing but ash and rubble in their wake. The battle seemed all but lost—until they made a fatal mistake."

"What mistake?"

The old man's gaze sharpened, his voice growing heavier. "They blew up a truck. A truck under which Mew was sleeping."

The moment the words left the shopkeeper's mouth, Austin's jaw dropped. He blinked at the man, the weight of the revelation hitting him—before his brain caught up with what he had just heard.

"Mew… under a truck?"

The sheer absurdity of the mental image was too much for him to process. A beat of silence passed before the corners of his lips started twitching. And then, it happened. He laughed. He tried to hold it in—he really did—but the ridiculousness of it broke through like a tidal wave.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow as Austin doubled over, struggling to catch his breath between fits of laughter. "I'm sorry—" Austin wheezed, clutching his side. "Mew—under a truck—I—" Another laugh escaped him.

The shopkeeper, to his credit, remained remarkably calm, his mouth twitching as if he was suppressing a small smile. "Are you quite finished, young man?"

Austin waved a hand weakly, still laughing. "No—no, sorry—I just—I can't believe this. The truck under Mew—I mean—" He wiped at his eyes, gasping for air. "This is straight out of one of those rumors you'd hear on the playground back home."

"Back home?" The old man raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, I mean…" Austin faltered for a moment, then quickly covered, "You know, uh, trainers tell stories all the time."

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd probably laugh too."

That sobered Austin up real quick. He froze mid-chuckle, his head snapping up to look at the shopkeeper. "Wait—you saw it?!

"I did. I was just a boy, holding my injured Arcanine in the middle of the battlefield. We were surrounded by the enemy, with no hope of escape. And then… I heard it."

"Heard what?"

"Giggling," the old man said, his voice trembling. "A soft, playful giggle. I turned, and there it was—Mew. It healed my Arcanine with a simple touch. And then… it turned to the battlefield." He paused, swallowing hard. "You can't imagine the power, boy. It wasn't just strength—it was reality bending. No weapon, no Pokémon, nothing could stand against it. The enemy was wiped out in minutes. Five minutes, to be exact. And just like that, the invasion was over."

"What happened next?"

"Mew didn't stay. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. But its actions turned the tide of the war. The Northern forces regrouped and launched a counteroffensive, pushing into Southern Kanto. The Axis powers were crippled."

The old man's voice wavered. "To this day, Kanto honors Mew by putting its image on our money."

"What about the other Axis powers? How were they defeated?"

The shopkeeper shrugged. "I don't know the full details. Information about the war is… limited. A lot of it isn't talked about openly. Too much pain, too much shame."

Austin frowned. "Why? What happened?"

The shopkeeper hesitated before answering. "The government doesn't want people dwelling on the past. Kanto—our people—did things during the war that… well, they don't like to talk about. Things that shouldn't have been done." His voice grew heavy. "It's a taboo subject. Even now."

Austin nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of those words. But one last question burned in his mind. "Was a bomb dropped?"

The shopkeeper sighed. "No one knows for sure. There are stories, rumors. My brother served in the navy back then, and he told me something strange…"

Austin was hanging on every word.

"He said he saw a blue comet streak across the sky over the ocean. Moments later, a shockwave so strong it cleared the clouds for hundreds of kilometers rippled through the air. When the dust settled, the Greater Orrean Reich was gone—burned to ash."

Austin felt a chill run down his spine. "What kind of comet could do that?" he whispered.

The shopkeeper's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Not a comet. A Pokémon."

Austin's breath hitched. "What… Pokémon?"

The old man leaned closer, his eyes locking with Austin's. "Victini."

Outside, Flint sat against the wall, idly snacking on a berry Austin had handed him earlier. Pikachu stood guard beside the thermos. Flint glanced at the little Electric-type, chuckling softly. "Your trainer's… different. I like him."

The shop door creaked open, and Austin stepped out, his face pale and blank. "What happened?"

Austin didn't answer at first. He just closed his eyes and took a long, shaky breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was distant. "I… I need to sleep."

Flint didn't press him. He simply nodded and gestured for Austin to follow. "Come on. Let's get you to the Pokémon Center."

The two walked in silence, Austin pushing his bike beside him. After several minutes, Austin broke the quiet.

"Flint," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "what year is it?"

Flint glanced at him, confused by the odd question. "It's 1997. Why?"

Austin exhaled sharply, his chest tightening. 1997. The year the anime had first aired.

Author's Note:

Hey everyone! Just wanted to take a moment to share a few thoughts and updates about this story. Your feedback has been fantastic, and it's been helping me shape the world and characters in ways I didn't expect. So, let's get into it:

1. Nobunaga's Character Arc:
I didn't anticipate how well-received Nobunaga would be as a character, but your response inspired me to expand on his role. I wanted to give him more depth by adding a morally grey side to his decisions and giving him a strong reason to begin his own Pokémon journey. His goal of repaying Austin for his "kindness" is the driving force behind his development, and I think it makes him a more compelling figure.
What do you think of this direction? Is Nobunaga's journey resonating with you so far?

2. Gary's Red Car & Cheerleaders:
Let's talk about one of the weirdest elements from the anime—Gary's red car and cheerleaders. Where did they come from? Why do they just… disappear? I tried to give these aspects some context by tying them into Gary's personality and his need to flaunt his superiority. The girls' dialogue was fun to write—I went all-in on 90s slang for authenticity (shoutout to Google for helping me channel that vibe).
Did their dynamic and Gary's over-the-top energy land for you? Let me know what you think of how I've worked them into the story.

3. Giovanni's Name:
Yes, you read that right—Giovanni's full name in this story is Giovanni John Gotti. It's a nod to the infamous real-life mobster John Gotti, who led the Gambino crime family in New York. Known as "The Teflon Don" for repeatedly dodging convictions before his eventual downfall, Gotti's larger-than-life presence felt like the perfect inspiration for Giovanni. After all, Team Rocket's leader should exude that same aura of power, control, and danger, don't you think?

4. Team Rocket in the Pokémon Adventures Manga:
For those unfamiliar with the Pokémon Adventures manga, you might be surprised to learn that Sabrina, Koga, and Lt. Surge are all canonically part of Team Rocket. It's such a fascinating twist, and I plan to incorporate that dynamic here.
Will Koga and Lt. Surge appear as Rocket members in this fanfic? Well, you'll have to keep reading to find out.

I also dropped a hint about the upcoming confrontation between Team Rocket and Austin at Mt. Moon—what do you think of that brewing conflict?

5. Pewter City's Design:
If you're curious about what Pewter City looks like in this story, imagine Petra in Jordan, with its beautiful sandstone architecture. Now, take that Middle Eastern style and blend it with Japanese aesthetics to reflect Kanto's culture. That's the vibe I'm going for—ancient yet enduring, carved into the cliffs and rich with history. Hopefully, that paints a clearer picture!

6. Ransei & The Great Islands:
Ransei, the ancient kingdom that once unified Kanto, Johto, and Hoenn, isn't something I made up. It's actually a reference to Pokémon Conquest, a game that brings a feudal Japan-inspired world to life. I'm excited to expand on its legacy and show how the dissolution of Ransei shaped the modern regions.

The Great Islands, on the other hand, are the historical name for what we know today as the Orange Islands Archipelago. In this story, they served as the Pokémon world's equivalent of Poland, and their invasion by the Greater Orrean Reich was the spark that ignited World War II. It's an alternate-history take that I hope adds depth to the worldbuilding.

7. In this timeline, Victini is the reason Orre became the wasteland it is today. The Greater Orrean Reich—a Pokémon equivalent of the Nazi regime—was obliterated during World War II.

But here's the question I want you to think about: why did Victini go that far?
Was it because of the horrors the Reich committed, its corruption, and the suffering it caused? Was it a divine reckoning, a moment of justice dealt by a legendary Pokémon? Or… was it fear? Anger? Or even a response to being provoked or manipulated?

This act wasn't just about defeating the enemy—it was about erasing them, reducing everything they stood for into ashes. That kind of destruction goes beyond war; it's a statement. Victini didn't just defeat the Reich—it annihilated them so thoroughly that their land and legacy were reduced to nothing but a cautionary tale.

Does that make Victini a hero? Or does it blur the lines between savior and executioner?

I wanted to frame this moment as one of awe and dread. Yes, Victini represents the potential for ultimate victory, but at what cost? And what does it say about the world that such power exists—and can be unleashed?

Thank you all so much for your continued support and for taking the time to read and engage with my work. Your reviews and feedback mean the world to me, and they've been instrumental in shaping this story into something I'm truly proud of. I aim to update every week, so stay tuned for more adventures.

I hope you all have an amazing day, and please don't hesitate to share your thoughts in the comments. What's working? What's surprising you? What are you excited to see next? I'm all ears!

Until next time,
~Adam

P.S. Who else is excited for the Mt. Moon showdown?

Adamos_Amet · Nov 30, 2024

Austin stirred awake, the soft sheets of the Pokémon Center bed tangled around his legs. His head was heavy, his body sluggish, and his mind foggy from the unexpectedly long nap he'd taken. The muted amber hues of the evening sky leaked through the curtains, painting the room in a tranquil glow. He rubbed his face, blinking away the remnants of sleep, before groaning and running a hand through his messy, spiky hair.

"I need coffee," he mumbled groggily, his voice scratchy from the nap.

Dragging himself out of bed, Austin shuffled over to the small mirror in the corner of the room. His reflection wasn't exactly impressive—his hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his face still had the faint imprint of the pillow. He gave himself a half-hearted attempt at finger-combing his hair into something that didn't look like he'd been electrocuted by Pikachu.

"Good enough."

Steam hissed softly from the hot water dispenser as Austin grabbed a flimsy plastic cup. He filled it with boiling water, the heat radiating through the thin material, before fishing a packet of instant coffee from his bag. Tearing it open, he poured the granules into the water, watching as they swirled and dissolved into a murky brown liquid. He stirred it with a tiny plastic stick, the scent of bitter coffee wafting up and nudging him further awake.

Taking a tentative sip, Austin winced slightly at the harsh, acrid taste. "Instant coffee," he muttered, shaking his head with a small smirk. "Not good, but it works."

Cup in hand, he wandered over to an empty table near the window. The view outside was breathtaking, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across Pewter City, while streaks of violet and gold painted the horizon. It was a calming sight, and for a moment, Austin let himself get lost in it.

Reaching into his backpack, Austin pulled out Inside Kanto: A Political Analysis, the weighty book he'd bought earlier to satisfy his growing curiosity about the world he now found himself in. He flipped to the table of contents, scanning the chapter titles before settling on one that caught his eye: The History of the Pokémon League. Intrigued, he turned to the page.

The chapter began with an unexpected twist. According to the book, the Pokémon League had its roots in the Holy Michina Empire. Austin paused, his brow furrowing.

"Michina..." he muttered under his breath, the name ringing a faint bell. And then it hit him. "Wait, isn't that the place from the Arceus movie?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So the movies are canon here too? Great... maybe I can meet Arceus one day and get some answers."

His amusement faded as he read on. The book described how the Michina Empire had used Pokémon battles as both entertainment and warfare. The Ludi Gladiatori Sinica Monstra—gladiatorial games involving Pokémon—were the precursor to the modern Pokémon League. Austin grimaced as he read about how slaves were forced to participate in these games, both as trainers and as part of the spectacle.

"Yikes," he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee.

The book went on to explain that exceptional trainers, known as Lanista Monstra or "Monster Trainers," could earn their freedom by excelling in battle. These trainers were often recruited into the Michina military, a tradition that echoed in modern times, where Pokémon League champions were often scouted for elite roles like Rangers or police officers.

As he flipped the page, his enthusiasm waned. The rest of the chapter barely scratched the surface of the gladiatorial games, leaving him wanting more. "Seriously?" he grumbled, tapping the book in frustration. "Would it have killed you to include more details?"

Still, what he'd learned was fascinating—and a little unsettling. His eyes wandered across the room as he mulled over the information, eventually landing on a colorful poster pinned to the cafeteria wall. It advertised the Indigo League with bold text and vibrant images of gym badges.

I haven't registered for the League yet!

His chair screeched loudly as he pushed it back, startling a nearby group of trainers. Muttering an apology, Austin bolted out of the cafeteria, the half-finished coffee forgotten on the table.

Austin skidded to a stop at the front desk, panting slightly. Nurse Joy, in the middle of arranging a tray of Pokéballs, looked up at him with mild concern.

"Is everything alright?"

"I need to register for the Indigo League!"

Nurse Joy blinked, clearly unimpressed by his urgency. "You ran all the way here for that?"

"Uh… yeah?"

With a small sigh, she reached under the counter and pulled out a registration form, sliding it toward him. "Fill this out and submit it before nine o'clock tonight. Once the Indigo League processes it, you'll receive your League card in about a week."

"A week?!" Austin repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"That's the standard processing time. You're welcome to ask around if you don't believe me."

Austin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine," he muttered, snatching the form. "Thanks, I guess."

"Take your time," she said, returning to her work with an air of practiced patience.

As Austin walked away, he grumbled under his breath. "A week... Great. Just great." Still, he tried to look on the bright side. "At least I'll have more time to prep for Brock…"

Back in the cafeteria, Austin returned to his table, form in hand. He opened his Pokédex, using Ash's information as a reference to fill out the necessary details. Most of it was straightforward, but when he reached the section asking for a parent's name, he paused.

"Father's name…" he murmured, reading the entry in Ash's records: Alexander Rothsvale.

Austin blinked, staring at the name in confusion. "Who the hell is Alexander Rothsvale?" he muttered to himself. He'd been expecting Red, Silver, or even Giovanni. But this? This was anticlimactic.

"Guess Ash's dad isn't as special as people think," Austin muttered, jotting down the name anyway.

Before he could finish, a loud voice rang out from across the cafeteria.

"Hey! Whose Fearow—uh, I mean Spearow—is this?!"

Austin froze, his stomach sinking. "Oh no…"

"That's my bird!" he called, jumping up from his seat and rushing toward the commotion.

After a few awkward apologies and wrestling his stubborn Spearow away from the chaos, Austin returned to his seat, flanked by his Pokémon. Pikachu and Eevee sat beside him, looking sheepish, while Spearow perched nearby, utterly unapologetic.

"You can't just steal someone else's food, Spearow."

Spearow squawked dismissively, turning his back on him with a huff.

"You're really not making this trust-and-teamwork thing easy, you know that?"

Pikachu and Eevee exchanged a knowing look, their ears twitching as if to say, We've got a lot of work to do.

Shaking his head, Austin picked up the form again and got back to work. Spearow, meanwhile, continued to sulk, occasionally shooting him indignant glares.

At least I have a week to work on my team, Austin thought, leaning back in his chair. He paused, his gaze drifting toward the window as his mind wandered. I wonder how different Brock would be in this world. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. If Brock was the same skill level as the anime, the manga, or even the games, this should be easy... right?

His train of thought was interrupted when Pikachu leaned over curiously, sniffing his coffee. With a tentative lick, the Electric-type's face immediately scrunched up in disgust, and he spat it out with an exaggerated "Pikaaa!"

Austin burst out laughing at the sight, holding his stomach as Pikachu gave the cup an offended glare.

The Eevee sniffed it cautiously, wrinkled his nose, and quickly backed away as if the mere scent of it was enough to offend his sensibilities.

"And of course, you wouldn't like it either," Austin said with a smirk, glancing at Spearow. The bird puffed up his feathers and turned his head away with an indignant squawk, the very picture of a tsundere refusing to admit he might be interested.

Austin leaned forward, his fingers tapping the edge of the cup thoughtfully. No, I'm not going to underestimate this world, he reminded himself, his smile fading into a look of quiet determination. Let's prep.

Flint walked quietly down the narrow streets of Pewter City, his boots scuffing against the uneven cobblestones. The houses here were old, their stone walls and arched doorways a reminder of simpler times. His steps slowed as he neared a familiar house—the one he had once called home. The weight in his chest grew heavier as he gazed at the worn wooden door, the same one he had walked through countless times as a younger man. His hand trembled at his side.

It was his family's home. The home he had abandoned.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. Inside was everything he had managed to save this month, the meager earnings from odd jobs and handyman work. Flint bent down and carefully placed the envelope on the doorstep. His fingers lingered on it, the temptation to knock gnawing at him. To face them—to face Brock, his oldest son, and the others. To explain. To apologize.

But what could he say? The weight of his past mistakes felt suffocating. The sound of footsteps from within the house broke his thoughts.

"Coming!" Brock's voice called out.

Flint's heart leapt into his throat. Panic set in, his chest tightening with every passing second. He couldn't do it. His body moved on instinct, turning him away from the door. He hurried down the street, ducking into a shadowed alley just as the door creaked open. Pressing his back against the cold stone of a nearby building, he clenched his fists, his breath shaky.

"Coward," Flint muttered bitterly to himself, his voice a low rasp. He slammed his fist against the wall, the pain grounding him for a moment. But it wasn't enough to drown out the shame.

He stayed there for a long moment, hidden from view, before finally pushing himself away from the wall. His shoulders slumped, and his steps were slower now as he drifted toward the city's park.

The park was alive with energy, a stark contrast to Flint's somber mood. Children ran and laughed, their voices carrying through the air as trainers gathered near a dusty battlefield to watch matches. The ring was simple—a patch of hardened dirt surrounded by flat stone platforms for spectators. Flint found himself drawn to the commotion, stopping under the shade of a tree to observe.

Among the crowd, he spotted a familiar face—Austin. He was walking toward the battlefield alongside another young trainer, a boy named Jimmy who radiated cocky energy. The two seemed to be exchanging a few barbed words, but Flint was too far away to catch the specifics.

Flint's interest piqued when the trainers took their places on opposite sides of the field.

Jimmy went first, tossing out a Pokéball. A Poliwag appeared in a flash of light, its glossy blue skin glistening under the sun. Its large, round eyes and the swirling black-and-white pattern on its belly gave it an almost hypnotic charm.

On Austin's side, he released a small Rattata. The purple Normal-type stood firm, its eyes sharp and alert. Flint raised an eyebrow. "A Rattata?" he muttered under his breath. "This kid's gonna need some luck."

But then Flint's eyes narrowed as he noticed Austin carefully strapping something onto Rattata—a weighted training vest. Flint's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why the hell is he using that now?" he murmured. "It's gonna slow her down. She'll get wiped out."

Jimmy seemed to have the same thought. "What's that supposed to be? You think I'm some kind of joke?"

"Not at all. Just trying something new."

Jimmy's face turned red with anger, and he let out a frustrated grunt, tossing a rock into the air. The small stone arced high before clattering back to the ground. "Fine! Let's see if your little stunt pays off!"

The match began with Jimmy calling the first move.

"Poliwag, Bubble Beam!"

"Run right! Wait for my signal," Austin instructed.

Poliwag opened its mouth and unleashed a flurry of blue bubbles, each one gleaming as they hurtled toward Rattata. Despite the extra weight of the vest, Rattata darted to the side, her movements quick and precise. The bubbles burst harmlessly behind her, leaving small craters in the dirt.

"Turn your head!" Jimmy called out.

Poliwag swiveled its head, redirecting the stream of bubbles toward Rattata's new position. The attack swept across the field like a water cannon.

"Jump!" Austin shouted.

Rattata leapt into the air, the Bubble Beam passing just beneath her. She landed gracefully, her tail flicking in anticipation.

"Quick Attack into Tail Whip!"

Rattata charged forward, her small form blurring with speed. Though the added weight of the vest made the Quick Attack slightly off-target, she used the momentum to spin mid-run, slapping Poliwag across the face with her tail.

"Water Gun!"

Poliwag steadied itself and fired a jet of water from its mouth. The high-pressure stream shot toward Rattata like a bullet.

"Dodge with Quick Attack!"

The Quick Claw on Rattata's vest glinted in the sunlight as she bolted to the side, narrowly avoiding the Water Gun. She moved with an agility that seemed impossible given the added weight she carried.

"Hypnosis!" Jimmy barked in desperation.

Poliwag began swaying, the spiral on its belly spinning hypnotically. The air seemed to shift, the pattern almost drawing Rattata in.

"Tail Whip, now!"

Before the hypnosis could take hold, Rattata spun again, her tail striking Poliwag's face with a sharp crack. The attack broke Poliwag's rhythm, disrupting the hypnotic swirl.

"Quick Attack!" Austin shouted.

Without hesitation, Rattata lowered her head and charged forward. The impact of the headbutt sent Poliwag tumbling backward, its energy spent. The combination of Quick Attacks and repeated Tail Whips had taken its toll.

Poliwag collapsed onto the dirt, defeated.

Jimmy groaned in frustration, recalling his fallen Pokémon. "No way... You've gotta be kidding me!"

Austin crouched down, a proud smile on his face as he gently stroked Rattata's head. "You were amazing out there," he said softly. He examined her closely, noticing the faint dilation of veins along her tail—a clear sign of how hard she'd pushed herself.

"You've been working hard, huh? Time to rest."

But Rattata puffed out her chest, clearly eager for another fight.

Austin chuckled, tapping her nose lightly. "Nope. One battle. That's what we agreed on."

Rattata huffed but didn't resist as Austin scooped her up and placed her on his shoulder. "See? You get the best seat in the house."

Pikachu's eyes narrowed as it watched Rattata claim the coveted shoulder spot. With a defiant squeak, Pikachu hopped onto Austin's other shoulder, glaring at Rattata.

Austin groaned, his balance thrown off as the two Pokémon jostled for space. "Guys, seriously?"

"Ahem!" Jimmy interrupted. "We're not done here!"

"Oh, right. My bad. Ready for round two?"

"You're gonna regret that cocky attitude!"

Jimmy smirked with confidence as he released his second Pokémon: a Nidorino. The large, purple quadrupedal Pokémon landed on the field with a low growl, its spiny ears flicking as it sniffed the air. Its black eyes gleamed with a predator's focus, and its sharp horn shone menacingly in the afternoon sun. Austin assessed the Nidorino carefully. The Poison-type looked tough, no doubt about it. Its movements were deliberate and strong, and Austin could already tell this wouldn't be an easy fight. With a practiced flick, he released Spearow onto the battlefield. The small bird materialized in a burst of light, shaking his feathers as he squawked defiantly. Despite his smaller size, Spearow radiated a fiery determination that made him seem larger than life.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at the sight of the weighted training vest strapped to Spearow's body, along with the Quick Claw necklace Austin had fastened earlier. His lips curled into a smirk. "What's that supposed to be? Some kind of fashion statement?" he jeered. "You think you can win with your Pokémon weighed down like that?"

"You'll see."

"Alright then, let's get this over with. Nidorino, Poison Sting!"

Nidorino's horn began to glow white, firing off a flurry of sharp, poisonous darts. The sound of the stingers cutting through the air was enough to make the spectators flinch.

"Dodge!" Austin shouted.

Spearow flapped his wings hard, rising into the air despite the weight of the vest. The darts zipped past him, narrowly missing their mark. His movements were slower than usual, but his agility hadn't been completely hindered.

"Not bad," Jimmy admitted with a shrug. "But you're still too slow. Nidorino, Water Pulse! Hit him while he's airborne!"

Nidorino opened its mouth, and a shimmering orb of water formed between its jaws, pulsating with energy. The orb expanded into a ring of water that blasted forward with incredible speed.

Austin's eyes widened. "Fly up!"

Spearow flapped hard to gain altitude, but the Water Pulse clipped him, drenching his feathers and sending him spiraling down. He hit the ground with a wet thud, mud splattering around him.

"Spearow!" Austin called out, his heart tightening in his chest. "Can you get up?"

Spearow twitched, shaking his body as water dripped from his feathers. With a defiant squawk, he stood back up. "That's the spirit," Austin said. "We're not out of this yet. Peck! Let's go!"

Spearow lunged forward, his beak glowing as he aimed for Nidorino's flank.

"Leer, then Poison Sting! Keep him back!"

Nidorino's eyes glowed red as it locked Spearow in a piercing glare. Spearow faltered for a split second, the intimidating look throwing him off balance, but he pushed through, darting to the side to avoid the barrage of poisonous darts that followed.

"Shake it off, Spearow!" Austin shouted. "Use Fury Attack! Let's show them what you've got!"

Spearow let out a fierce cry as he ripped off the training vest in one swift motion. Freed from the added weight, he moved like lightning. His talons glowed as he slashed at Nidorino in rapid succession, each hit precise and relentless. Nidorino growled in frustration, unable to keep up with the sudden increase in speed.

"Water Pulse! Point blank!"

Nidorino opened its mouth, ready to launch another Water Pulse, but spearow was faster.

"Quick Attack! Close the distance!"

Spearow darted forward, white energy trailing behind him as he slammed into Nidorino's side before the Water Pulse could form. The impact sent the larger Pokémon stumbling backward.

"Don't let up, Nidorino! Peck! End this now!"

Nidorino charged forward, its glowing horn aimed directly at Spearow. The little bird was visibly tired, his breaths coming in labored puffs. Austin clenched his fists, searching for an opening, a way to turn the tide.

And then it happened.

A dark aura began to swirl around Spearow's beak, faint at first but growing more intense with each passing second. The crimson-black energy seemed to pulse and crackle as if responding to Spearow's determination.

"What the—?" Austin muttered, his mind racing. He didn't recognize the move, but there was no time to think. "Go for it, Spearow! Give it everything you've got!"

Spearow let out a piercing screech as he launched himself into the air. The dark aura around his beak flared brighter as he dove straight toward Nidorino, his small body cutting through the air like an arrow.

"Water Pulse! Stop him!"

Nidorino fired the pulsating ring of water, but Spearow didn't dodge. Instead, he pushed straight through it, the dark energy around his beak shielding him from the worst of the attack. He rammed into Nidorino's neck with a force that shook the battlefield, the dark aura exploding outward on impact.

A blinding light enveloped the field, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

When the light faded, Nidorino lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Spearow, though poisoned and exhausted, stood triumphantly for a moment before collapsing onto his side.

Austin rushed forward, quickly recalling Spearow into his Pokéball. "You were incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with pride.

He pulled out his Pokédex, desperate to understand what had just happened. The screen displayed information on a move called Assurance. It was a Dark-type attack that doubled in power if the target had already taken damage.

"So that's what it was," Austin murmured. "You've got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought."

Jimmy approached, his expression a mix of frustration and grudging respect. He extended his hand. "You earned that win. I've got to admit, you're a lot tougher than I thought."

Austin shook his hand, his grip firm. "Thanks. You gave me a real challenge."

"You're gonna need it if you're heading to Pewter Gym. Brock's no joke."

Austin stretched his arms over his head. "Guess I've got some more training to do," he said. "But hey, a little intel wouldn't hurt. Mind telling me about Brock?"

"Figures. That's your prize, huh? You know, you might be the first trainer I've met who uses Pokémon battles to squeeze out information instead of just fighting for cash or bragging rights."

"Well, hey, it's called strategy. I can't afford to buy guidebooks when I can just battle locals for free tips. Multi-tasking at its finest."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, stuffing his Pokéball into his bag. "You do realize most trainers just ask, right? No battles required."

"Where's the fun in that? A little blood, sweat, and tail-whipping really builds trust. Also, if I lost, there wouldn't be much talking—just me quietly leaving with my pride in shambles."

Jimmy barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, you're definitely one of a kind. Fine, pay attention, because I'm only saying this once..."

[DAY 2]

The next morning, Flint found Austin back in the park. This time, the boy wasn't battling but was fully immersed in an intense training session with his team. Flint leaned against a tree, watching quietly from the shade as the young trainer worked.

Rattata darted back and forth across the open field, her small body strapped with a weighted training vest that looked far too heavy for her size. Her paws kicked up small clouds of dust as she zigzagged around obstacles Austin had set up—stones, buckets, and even a tipped-over trash bin.

Not far away, Pikachu held a glowing metal rod in his small paws, connected to a battery with wires that hummed faintly. Sparks danced across his cheeks as he bit down on the rod, his body trembling slightly from the effort. Flint recognized the setup immediately—training designed to strengthen an Electric-type's attacks by conditioning them to absorb and withstand higher voltages.

Eevee was engaged in a more playful exercise with Austin, though it was no less challenging. Austin tossed bright plastic rings into the air, calling out commands as Eevee darted after them, leaping and twisting midair to catch them in her mouth. Above them, Spearow circled lazily at first, but at Austin's whistle, he began sharp aerial dives, mimicking the movement of a predator in pursuit. Every now and then, Spearow swerved to intercept a ring mid-flight, his beak snapping shut with a satisfying clink.

Flint's eyes drifted to a neatly arranged pile of protein shakes and vitamin drinks on a blanket nearby, each labeled with a Pokémon's name. His brow furrowed slightly.

He continued to watch as Austin knelt beside a notebook, scribbling furiously while occasionally glancing at his Pokémon. Flint didn't need to see the pages to know they were filled with strategies, observations, and notes. The kid's focus was impressive, almost unnerving.

A moment later, a boy slightly older than Austin approached, his posture cocky and his expression confident. Flint recognized the type instantly—someone who enjoyed throwing their weight around, especially with less experienced trainers.

"You," the trainer said, smirking. "I've heard you're battling around here. You want to go a round with me?"

Austin looked up from Spearow and cocked an eyebrow. "Sure. Why not?" He didn't sound intimidated in the slightest, but Flint caught the flicker of nerves that flashed across his face when he saw the trainer send out Onix.

The enormous, rock-serpentine Pokémon coiled itself onto the battlefield, its massive body casting a shadow over the ground. Flint noticed Austin's hand tighten slightly around Pikachu's Pokéball, but he stayed composed as he sent the electric type out to fight.

The battle was brutal. Pikachu used everything he had; even a daring move where he tried to ride up Onix's rocky spine to land a hit. But the size and sheer resilience of the Onix were too much. A single Rock Tomb brought Pikachu to his knees, leaving Austin with his first defeat of the day.

As the older trainer gloated, Flint kept his eyes on Austin. The boy crouched beside Pikachu, murmuring something softly as he gently rubbed the Pokémon's head. Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his pants, and walked straight over to the other trainer.

"Hey," Austin said. "Got a second?"

The trainer raised an eyebrow. "What, you want another beating?"

Austin shook his head, smiling slightly. "Nah, I just want to know how you trained your Onix. How'd you teach it to use Rock Tomb so precisely? And that counter you used against Quick Attack—was that something you came up with on the fly, or do you practice that?"

The older trainer blinked, his smirk faltering. "You're asking me… for advice?"

"Why not?" Austin said with a shrug. "You're good. I'd be stupid not to learn something from you."

The older trainer looked taken aback but eventually nodded, his tone softening. "Alright, kid. Let's talk."

Flint watched from the sidelines as Austin spent the next hour asking questions, scribbling notes, and absorbing every piece of advice the older trainer had to offer. The boy's humility and hunger for growth were undeniable.

[DAY 3]

The following day, Flint didn't find Austin in the park. Instead, he stumbled upon the young trainer on the rocky cliffs just outside Pewter City. Austin had turned the uneven terrain into a makeshift training ground, and his Pokémon were hard at work.

Rattata, Pikachu, and Eevee scrambled up the steep rocks, their bodies heaving as they adjusted to the weighted vests strapped to them. Every movement was calculated, the incline forcing them to push their limits as they leaped between ledges, sometimes faltering but always getting back up. Spearow circled above, his sharp eyes tracking his teammates. Occasionally, the bird swooped down, catching one of them if they slipped too far. His flight patterns were noticeably tighter and more deliberate than they had been in the park.

Austin sat on a flat rock nearby, a notebook balanced on his knee and a pen in hand. Flint noticed a pile of papers scattered beside him, one of which caught his eye. It read: Strategies to Beat Brock.

"Oh, hey Flint," Austin said as he noticed the man approaching from the trail. He snapped his notebook shut, a light breeze rustling the loose papers around him. "Didn't expect to see you out here."

"You've got a real knack for showing up in the strangest places, kid," Flint said. "What are you doing all the way out here? This isn't exactly a tourist spot."

"Training," he said simply. "After yesterday's loss to that Onix, I realized we needed to work on handling bigger, heavier opponents. Something that size? You can't just outspeed it—you have to out-think it."

Flint arched a brow. "Huh. Most rookies would've chalked it up to bad luck and tried again without changing much."

"Bad luck's just an excuse for not being prepared," he said firmly. "That trainer didn't win because he got lucky. He won because I didn't have a plan."

Flint gave a low whistle. "That's some mature thinking for someone who doesn't even have their first badge yet." His eyes drifted to the pile of crumpled papers next to Austin. "What's all this, then?"

Austin followed his gaze, then smirked. "Homework," he said, patting the notebook. "I've been talking to trainers who've battled Brock—figuring out his strategies, the Pokémon he uses, their moves, even the items he might rely on. Jimmy, that kid from the park, was bragging about beating him, so I made him spill everything he knew."

"Let me guess—one of those 'beat me in a battle and I'll pay you' kind of deals?"

Austin chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "Close. I offered him 500 Pokédollars if he beat me, but if I won, he had to give me the full rundown on Brock. Turns out, he's not half as good as he thinks he is. But his info was solid."

"You're really putting in the work for one Gym Leader. Most trainers just show up and hope for the best."

"Yeah, well, 'hope for the best' didn't stop that Onix from wiping the floor with Pikachu yesterday," Austin replied, a wry smile on his face. "I've seen what happens to trainers who just wing it. Their pokemon get hurt." He paused, his gaze drifting to his Pokémon. "I'm not gonna be one of those trainers."

Flint studied the boy for a long moment, the afternoon sun casting sharp shadows across his face. "And the training vests?" he asked finally. "You used them in battle yesterday too. What's the deal with that?"

Austin reached over and grabbed one of the vests, holding it up for Flint to see. The weights glinted faintly in the sunlight. "They're for endurance and speed training," he explained. "The idea is simple—if my Pokémon can handle battling with extra weight, they'll move faster and hit harder once it's off. It's like resistance training."

"And you don't think it's a bit... much? I mean, they're still just starting out."

Austin's expression softened as he set the vest down. "It's not about pushing them too hard," he said quietly. "It's about making sure they're ready. I don't want them going into battles unprepared, getting hurt because I didn't train them well enough." His voice dropped, just enough that Flint almost missed it. "I owe them that much."

Flint felt a pang of respect. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. More than I can say for most rookies."

He watched Austin walk away, the young trainer's determination still lingering like a spark in the air. Flint stood there for a moment longer, hands shoved into his pockets, before turning back toward the winding streets of Pewter City. His boots scuffed against the old cobblestones as he moved, each step dragging with the weight of the encounter.

He couldn't shake the thought of Brock—his son—and what this would mean for him.

Lost in his thoughts, Flint stopped abruptly when a familiar voice broke through the murmur of the city.

"Big Brother Brock! I want chocolate ice cream!"

His head jerked toward the sound, his heart tightening in his chest as he spotted them—Brock standing in the town square, surrounded by his siblings. The youngest, a wide-eyed girl, tugged at Brock's sleeve as he patiently crouched to listen to her request. Beside her, two younger boys playfully tugged at each other's shirts, while the older siblings tried to keep the little ones in line.

Brock's expression was warm and steady, a quiet strength radiating from him even as the chaos of his siblings swirled around him. To any passerby, it would have been a heartwarming scene—a dutiful older brother lovingly taking care of his family. But to Flint, it was a stark reminder of his own failures.

This wasn't Brock's responsibility. It should've been his.

Flint's fists clenched tightly at his sides as he watched. He'd left Brock to bear the burden of a family too big for one child to handle, forcing him to mature far too quickly. Brock had become the pillar of his family because Flint had abandoned them. And now… now this kid was about to crush his son in battle.

Most trainers see battles as fights, Flint thought bitterly, his fingers curling tighter. But that kid? He sees them as chess. He's not just fighting to win—he's fighting to dismantle his opponent, to prove that every move they've planned means nothing against him.

The image of Brock standing in front of his siblings, confident and steady, morphed into a haunting vision of him defeated—crushed under the weight of an overwhelming loss, his pride and confidence shattered. Flint couldn't bear the thought of Brock's siblings witnessing that.

He felt the lump in his throat rise, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He had already failed Brock as a father. He couldn't let his son face humiliation like that, not when he had the power to stop it.

"I can't let this happen," Flint muttered, his voice shaky. "I won't let this happen."

Without fully forming a plan, Flint turned and hurried toward the outskirts of the city. His feet carried him down a familiar dirt path, overgrown with weeds but still etched into his memory. The old, abandoned cabin came into view—a relic of his younger days with Lola, Brock's mother. It had been their secret hideaway, a place where they'd escape the strict rules of their families. Now, it was a hollow shell of those happier times. Flint pushed the door open, the wood groaning under the strain of rusted hinges. Inside, the air was stale, filled with the faint scent of dust and decay. The sunlight filtered through cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting uneven beams of light across the room. His eyes scanned the space, landing on a dusty photo sitting on a rickety shelf. It was a picture of him, Lola, and a baby Brock, barely a month old. Flint froze, his breath hitching as he reached out to touch the frame. The smiling face of his infant son stared back at him, unburdened by the weight of the responsibilities he would one day carry.

Tears stung the corners of Flint's eyes as he clutched the photo. "I'm sorry, Brock," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've failed you."

His gaze shifted to a small metal cube sitting beside the photo, the sheen of the TM glinting faintly in the light. Flint's jaw tightened. He grabbed the cube and bolted out the door, his mind set on what he had to do.

Austin couldn't help but snort as he pedaled along the outskirts of Pewter City. The memory of how he and countless others back in his old world used to brag about how they'd easily be Pokémon Masters if they were in this world amused him to no end. "Just use items," they'd say. "Plan strategies," they'd boast. Austin had been one of those kids.

But now, actually living in this world, he realized how naive that mindset had been. It wasn't a video game, and it wasn't as simple as planning for easy wins. Just the information he'd gathered on Brock alone made him realize how real and difficult this was going to be. This wasn't about memorizing type matchups; it was about preparation, adaptation, and thinking on your feet. Brock was going to be a real challenge.

The warm breeze brushed past him as he breezed down the dirt path on his bike, Pikachu perched contentedly in the front basket, nibbling on a bottle of ketchup he'd swiped from the Pokémon Center cafeteria. Vee, meanwhile, was sitting comfortably behind him on the bike's rear rack, his large ears flopping happily with the motion.

The quiet ride didn't last long.

Out of nowhere, a panting, disheveled Flint appeared in the middle of the path, waving his arms frantically to catch Austin's attention.

Austin barely managed to screech to a halt, the tires kicking up a small spray of dirt as he stopped just short of crashing into the man. "Seriously?!" Austin groaned, steadying his bike as Pikachu and Vee held on for dear life. "Why does everyone think jumping in front of a bike is a good idea?!"

Flint bent over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his brow. "S-Sorry," he wheezed, his words barely coherent. "I just... I need to talk to you. It's important."

"What is it now? And please tell me it's not about selling me another magic rock."

Flint shook his head quickly, standing upright and holding up a hand as if to calm the boy down. "No, no! Nothing like that. I need to... I want to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" He crossed his arms, his tone wary. "Okay, what kind of deal are we talking about here?"

Flint reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small metal cube. He held it up, the sunlight catching the polished edges. Austin blinked in surprise as he realized what it was.

"A TM?!"

"Yeah," Flint confirmed, taking a step closer and extending the TM toward him. "It's Hidden Power. A rare move. You can have it... on one condition."

Austin frowned, his curiosity now mixed with caution. "What condition?"

"Don't fight Brock."

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, all Austin could do was stare at Flint, processing the absurdity of the request. Then, he burst out laughing!

"Wait, wait," Austin said between fits of laughter. "You're telling me you ran all the way out here, panting like a dying Rapidash, just to bribe me not to battle Brock? Are you serious?"

Flint's jaw tightened, but he didn't waver. "I am serious," he said firmly. "Take the TM, kid. Skip Pewter Gym. Go challenge another Gym first. Just... don't fight Brock as your first battle."

Austin's laughter died down as he straightened up. "Okay, hold on," he said, his tone sharpening. "Why? Why are you so desperate for me to avoid Brock?"

Flint hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground as if searching for the right words. "Because..." he began, "if Brock loses to you, it's going to break him."

Austin blinked, caught off guard by the raw emotion in Flint's voice. "Break him?" he repeated, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

Flint ran a hand through his hair, his movements frustrated and restless. "Brock's strong, yeah. But he's been carrying so much weight on his shoulders for years. He's not just a Gym Leader, you know. He's been raising his brothers and sisters, taking care of them, making sure they have a good life—all while keeping up the Gym's reputation. If you come in here, with all your prep and strategy, and crush him..." Flint trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. "It might shatter his confidence. And Brock doesn't deserve that."

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then, with a sigh, Austin dismounted his bike, setting the kickstand and stepping closer to Flint.

"You really think so little of your son?" Austin said, his voice quiet but laced with an edge. Flint's eyes snapped up, his expression one of shock. "You think Brock's so fragile that losing one battle is going to destroy him?"

"That's not—"

"No, listen to me," Austin said, his voice growing firmer. "I know Brock. I know what he's done, what he's sacrificed. Do you think I don't know how strong he is? The guy gave up his own dreams to raise his siblings because you weren't there to do it." Flint flinched as if struck. "And you're standing here, trying to protect him from me, like he's some kind of glass statue that's going to shatter the moment it's touched? Give me a break."

Flint's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his guilt and frustration boiling to the surface. "You don't understand!" he snapped. "Brock's already been through enough—"

"Exactly!" Austin shot back. "He's been through enough. Which is why he's stronger than this! If Brock does lose, he'll get back up. Because that's what strong people do."

Flint was silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he processed Austin's words. The boy stepped closer, looking Flint dead in the eye.

"You don't need to protect Brock from me," Austin said. "What you need to do is stop running and be the father he needs. Because no matter how strong he is, he shouldn't have to carry everything alone."

Flint's throat tightened, and he looked away, his vision blurring slightly as tears threatened to spill. Austin didn't wait for a response. He turned, hopping back on his bike and pedaling away, Pikachu and Vee glancing back at Flint as they disappeared down the path.

Flint stood there, frozen, the TM still clutched tightly in his hand. The boy's words echoed in his mind, louder than his own guilt, cutting through the years of shame he'd buried himself in.

"Lola... what do I do now?"

Night had descended upon Pewter City, cloaking the world in a serene hush, broken only by the faint hum of streetlights and the occasional Pokémon call in the distance. Inside the Pokémon Center, the communication room glowed dimly, a soft blue light illuminating Austin's face as he waited for the call to connect. He tapped his fingers idly on the desk, sipping the remnants of his earlier coffee, now lukewarm and bitter.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a haggard-looking Professor Oak, who blinked blearily at the camera. His silver hair was disheveled, and his white lab coat looked slightly wrinkled, as if he'd been wearing it for far too long without a break.

"Hello?" Oak asked, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the screen. "Who is it?"

"Professor, you look like you haven't slept in days. Do I need to remind you to take a break?"

"Oh, it's nothing, my boy. Just reviewing a dissertation for one of my students—Professor Elm's doctoral approval, actually. Quite the ambitious thesis. I'm almost done, though."

"Let me guess," Austin said, smirking, "It's something about Pokémon eggs?"

"How did you know?" Oak asked, genuinely surprised.

"Lucky guess," Austin replied with a laugh, shaking his head.

"Don't go burning through all your luck at once, my boy," Oak chuckled faintly. "But I doubt you called just to check in on me at this late hour. What's on your mind? Need something?"

"Yeah," Austin said. "I was wondering if you could help me figure out how to teach my Pokémon Iron Tail and Steel Wing."

Oak's eyebrows lifted slightly, the faintest spark of interest lighting up his weary expression. "Ambitious, I see. You're not aiming for beginner techniques, are you? I like that."

"I figured they'd give me an edge. But... I'm not sure how to go about it."

Oak stroked his chin thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "Ah, a simple simulation exercise should do the trick."

"Simulation exercise? What's that supposed to mean?"

Oak leaned forward again, his tone turning slightly more animated, as if the topic energized him. "Do you know what instinctive moves are?"

"Yeah, I've read about them... sort of."

"Good. Then you'll know they're moves that Pokémon unlock in high-stress situations, usually as a natural response to a challenge. Think of it like a human's fight-or-flight reflex," Oak explained. His hands moved animatedly as he spoke, despite his earlier fatigue. "For Pokémon, that response often manifests as an ideal move for the scenario."

Austin's mind flashed to the moment Spearow unlocked Assurance in his battle against Jimmy. The pieces clicked into place, and his eyes widened slightly in realization. "So... you're saying if I create a scenario where Iron Tail or Steel Wing is the ideal response, my Pokémon will unlock them?"

"Precisely!" Oak said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Austin through the screen. "Smart lad. You catch on quickly."

"So... how do I set up these scenarios?"

"Ah, I'll send you some notes," Oak replied, standing up and stepping out of view for a moment. Austin heard the faint shuffling of papers and the clatter of objects being moved. A minute later, Oak returned, tapping something on his keyboard. "I'll transfer them directly to the teleporter system in the communication room. You should see it activating now."

Austin glanced to his left as the machine beside the computer began to hum softly. A faint glow signaled its activity, and moments later, two neatly printed pages appeared in the tray. Austin picked them up and scanned the title: Unlocking Moves: Johto Edition.

"These pages detail specific ways to unlock Steel Wing and Iron Tail," Oak explained, gesturing at the pages through the screen.

Austin frowned slightly. "Why only a few pages? Is this some kind of teaser?"

Oak chuckled. "It's all you'll need for now. These pages are sold separately in specialized PokéMarts, but they're not cheap, mind you. Consider this my gift to you."

"Figures," Austin muttered, flipping through the pages. "Nothing in this world comes easy, does it?"

Oak chuckled, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling. "Welcome to the life of a trainer, my boy. Everything worth having comes with a price—be it effort, time, or money."

Austin set the pages aside and leaned forward. "Thanks, Professor. This is really going to help."

"Nonsense. It's my job to support young trainers like you. Speaking of which, how's life as a trainer treating you so far?"

Austin hesitated, swirling the remnants of his coffee in his cup. "It's... harder than I expected. But honestly? It's kind of fun. I think I'm starting to enjoy it."

"That's the spirit," Oak said, his smile genuine. "Any plans for the immediate future?"

"I'm training for Brock. Waiting on my League ID to arrive too," Austin replied.

"Good, good. And what about Pokémon? Caught anything new?" Oak asked, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You know, Gary's already caught twenty so far."

Austin rolled his eyes. "Let me guess—he dumped most of them into the ranch without even trying to bond with them."

Oak's smile turned slightly sheepish. "Well... you're not entirely wrong."

"I don't get it," Austin said, shaking his head. "How do you take a Pokémon from its home and not even try to form a connection? It feels... wrong."

Oak studied the boy for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You've changed," he said finally, his voice soft.

"H-How so?"

"Do you remember the bet you made with Gary? About catching the most Pokémon?"

Austin nodded slowly.

"Back then, it was all about numbers for you two. A competition. But now..." Oak's gaze softened. "It seems like you're starting to understand the responsibility that comes with being a trainer. Pokémon aren't just tools for battles. They're companions. Partners. And you're treating them that way."

"I guess... having a team depending on me kind of forced me to grow up a bit."

Oak chuckled warmly. "It's a good change. One I think your mother would be proud of."

Austin's smile faltered slightly, and his gaze shifted to the side. "Yeah... I should probably call her soon."

"You should," Oak said, his tone encouraging. "She'd love to hear about your adventures. You might not realize it, but just hearing your voice would mean the world to her."

"I'll try," Austin said, his voice quiet but sincere.

Oak nodded, his expression satisfied. "Well, I still have a pile of papers waiting for me, so I'll let you go. But remember this—you're doing great, my boy. Keep it up."

The screen went dark, leaving Austin alone in the quiet room.

"Call my mom, huh?"

The suggestion was harmless on the surface, but each word felt like a subtle tug, pulling at a string of guilt buried deep in Austin's chest. Talking to Delia wasn't just difficult—it was strange. It felt like he was slipping into someone else's role, playing the part of a son he wasn't. Every interaction with her left him feeling both exposed and disconnected, a peculiar discomfort that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk and resting his face in his hands. His fingers dug into his temples as he let out a slow, heavy sigh.

I don't want to feel this way.

The idea of cutting off communication entirely crossed his mind—a clean break, no more awkward calls, no more pretending. But the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Excommunication wasn't the answer. It felt too cold, too final, and far too selfish for someone like Delia, who had no idea what was truly going on.

She deserves better.

He sat up straighter, brushing his hands over his face as though trying to wipe away the uncertainty clinging to him.

I'll try to be better. I'll try to be a better son than Ash ever was. At the very least, I owe her that.

The words felt like a quiet promise, one that wasn't entirely selfless. Deep down, Austin knew the truth—he was lonely. In this strange world, where he was expected to lead his Pokémon and forge ahead, he lacked a human connection that grounded him. And maybe, just maybe, he hoped that Delia could fill that role. Not just for her sake, but for his own.

For the first time since arriving in this world, Austin let himself imagine what it might be like to have someone to lean on. Someone who cared, unconditionally. And for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe, with time, he could build that.

He wasn't ready to call Delia yet—not tonight. But soon. Soon enough, he would try.

Austin sipped his coffee sluggishly as he sat in the park, the sky still cloaked in pre-dawn darkness.

Around him, Pikachu, Rattata, and Vee were half-asleep, barely aware of the morning chill. Only Spearow was fully awake, perched alertly on a nearby branch.

They were up at the ungodly hour of 5 AM for a specific reason: to unlock the moves Iron Tail and Steel Wing for his Pokémon. The method, however, was daunting.

First, the Pokémon had to exhaust all their moves. Then, they had to brace their muscles while the trainer hit their tail or wing with a steel rod several times. After that, they would engage in battle with a weight attached to the tail, which supposedly would help unlock the desired move.

"Spearow, wake them up, please, so that I don't get an abuse case because of this," Austin mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

Obliging, Spearow let out a call loud as a rooster's crow, startling the trio awake. "Good," Austin said, his head bobbing as he fought the urge to sleep.

"Spearow!" the bird chirped again, a bit too enthusiastically.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Austin grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Spearow!"

"Okay, now you're doing this on purpose, mister," Austin said with a pointed look, though Spearow seemed quite proud of its antics.

Turning to the now slightly annoyed trio, Austin asked, "Who wants to go first?"

Rattata jumped forward eagerly as Austin pulled out his Pokédex to check her moves: Tackle, Tail Whip, Focus Energy, Quick Attack, and Bite. "Do them one by one until you can't," he instructed.

Rattata nodded and began her routine, quickly exhausting her moveset.

This was because Pokémon moves relied on a special type of energy within their bodies called Pokemon Power but abbreviated as PP.

Austin had facepalmed when he had read that.

Picking up the metal rod, Austin looked at his exhausted little Rattata.

He couldn't bring himself to strike her tail. "Pikachu, you be the abusive drunk."

"Pika?"

Pikachu was clearly confused by the odd request but complied, slamming the rod against Rattata's purple tail.

Austin winced as her tail flickered with a glow.

"Okay, next step," Austin said quickly, his resolve firming. He grabbed a stone and wrapped it around Rattata's tail, his stomach churning slightly. "If it hurts..."

"Rattata," the purple Pokémon called out, pointing a claw at Pikachu and then motioning through her neck.

Pikachu nervously giggled.

"Well, you two have fun."

Austin sat on the park bench; his posture relaxed yet his mind racing with thoughts for the next few days.

The cool morning air brushed against his face, carrying the fresh scent of dew-laden grass, providing a calm backdrop to his intense thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, gazing absently at the battle between the two.

We have four days to prepare.

Back on Earth, Austin was a competitive Pokémon battler, having clinched victories in local tournaments. His experience had taught him the importance of adopting a specific battle style. Unlike Ash Ketchum's aggressive and unpredictable approach, Austin favored a more balanced style.

Now, free from the confines of the games, Austin realized the vast possibilities that lay ahead. He could weave more complex strategies into his battle plans, an aspect he had always wished was more prevalent in the anime—combo moves.

He vividly remembered Ash's battle against Maylene in Sinnoh, where Buizel had impressively combined Water Pulse and Aqua Jet— a strategy that had left a significant impression on him. The potential of using such combinations excited him, stirring ideas of inventive battle strategies in his mind.

Lost in thought, Austin was suddenly jolted back to the present as Pikachu zipped over his head, a blur of yellow energy.

"Pika!"

Turning his attention to the field, Austin's eyes widened in delight. Rattata stood proudly, her tail glistening with a metallic sheen—she had successfully unlocked Iron Tail.

Nice, now let's create our first combo move.

Time had slipped through Austin's grasp like sand through fingers, and before he knew it, the day he had been waiting for had arrived.

"No pushing."

In the room with an envelope in hand, the young trainer felt a flurry of movement as Rattata, Pikachu and Eevee vied for a spot on his shoulders, each trying to claim a better view. The playful jostling quickly grew cumbersome, prompting a slight look of annoyance to cross Austin's face. Deciding to bring some order to the chaos, he picked up Pikachu.

"Okay, let's do it this way."

The young trainer said as he set his starter gently on the table, giving the little electric mouse a better vantage point and more space to himself.

"You are going to help me open it."

Pikachu nodded.

He then adjusted Rattata and Eevee, positioning them more comfortably on his shoulders, easing the cramped cluster. Soon, the soft flutter of wings followed by the light pressure of Spearow landing on his head.

"You all need to learn how to give me some personal space," Austin sighed, his words falling on deaf ears as his Pokémon's attention remained fixed on the envelope.

With a careful slice from Pikachu, the envelope opened to reveal its contents: a card and some papers. The card resembled a driver's license, complete with all the necessary information displayed on the front alongside a yellowish chip. The back of the card was empty, plain and unadorned.

Austin carefully extracted the ID card, examining it for a moment before placing it into his wallet. He then turned his attention to the papers as he began reading it out loud.

[Subject: Official Entry to Kanto League Tournaments]

[Dear Ash Ketchum,

Congratulations on your eligibility to participate in all Pokémon League-sanctioned events across Kanto. As a recognized trainer, you now hold the privilege of competing in these prestigious tournaments, provided you meet the necessary prerequisites for each event.

Enclosed with this letter, you will find your official Indigo League Identification Card. This card serves as your primary credential for all Pokémon League events and is recognized as a valid form of government identification within the region. Should your ID card be lost, damaged, or stolen, please visit your nearest Pokémon Center for a replacement. Note that a fee may be applicable and can vary depending on the location.

Please be aware that participation in the Junior's Division of the Indigo League requires the successful completion of at least eight gym battles. These battles must be recorded and encrypted on your ID card to validate your qualifications.

We at the Pokémon League are excited to welcome you to this new chapter in your life, filled with adventures and the forging of new friendships. We wish you the best of luck on your journey as a Pokémon trainer.

Sincerely,

Blue Oak

Champion of Kanto]

Austin's hand froze, the paper trembling slightly as his eyes locked onto the final few words scrawled in bold print.

Blue Oak? Champion?!

A cold wave of disbelief rippled through him, his mind scrambling to make sense of the words. Blue Oak. The Blue Oak. The name practically leapt off the page, dripping with the weight of its implications.

Wait a minute. Blue Oak? Champion of Kanto?

His grip tightened as he re-read the words, his brain almost refusing to process them. It had to be a mistake, right? Blue Oak. It couldn't be that Blue, the one from the Pokémon Adventures manga.

Austin smirked, shaking his head. "I've got to be losing it."

Sure, he'd encountered elements of the manga in this bizarre Pokémon world—Sird from Team Galactic, see-through Pokéballs, and Vee—but this? This was pushing it.

"Let's think this through logically," he muttered. "I've already run into Gary Oak. Gary, not Blue. So how could Blue Oak exist here too? Unless…"

The thought lingered, unwanted and absurd, but Austin couldn't help entertaining it. What if Blue Oak was Gary's father?

He snorted loudly, the sound startling Pikachu.

And yet, as ridiculous as it seemed, the idea clung to his thoughts like a Stun Spore. Gary had never mentioned his father—at least, not in the anime.

The absurdity of it made him laugh again, this time more openly. So, what does that make me? If Gary's dad is Blue, does that mean my dad is Red? So what about Alexander Rothsvale?

Austin sighed, shaking his head. You know what? Forget it. If Blue Oak really is the Champion, I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now…

"Let's focus on what's ahead. Food, warm-ups, and then winning our first gym badge."

At his words, a chorus of cheers erupted from his Pokémon.

[ Pewter City Gym ]

Austin approached the Pewter Gym, its architecture instantly recognizable from the anime as it was built from stone with a robust steel frame, loomed ahead just as it did in the anime. Bold letters spelling out "Pewter Gym" were mounted on the front. He pushed through the metal doors and was immediately greeted by a secretary who bore a strong resemblance to Brock.

As he handed over the papers for his gym battle, curiosity piqued.

"Excuse me, but is a gym reservation a normal thing?"

"Not for most gyms," the secretary, Sally, responded, her voice calm as she sifted through the documents.

"So why here?"

"The thing is, most gyms have a filter system where trainers would fight apprentice trainers of a gym," Sally explained, finishing up with the paperwork. "Pewter doesn't have the funds to sponsor apprenticeships because we have alot of mouths to feed."

The last part was left unsaid, but Austin managed to piece it together.

"So, Brock faces every challenger?"

"Yes." Sally confirmed, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Wow, he is amazing."

"I am sure Big brother would love to hear that," Sally smiled as she scratched Pikachu's head.

"Good luck on your match."

Austin grinned appreciatively before he pushed open the next set of doors and stepped inside, only to find the lights off. "Who goes there?" a voice called out.

A spotlight suddenly illuminated the other side of the room, revealing Brock dressed in brown cargo pants, an orange shirt, and a green vest, sitting with his legs crossed.

"I am here for my gym battle."

At his declaration, another one of Brock's siblings — Forrest, stepped into the rock-covered arena wearing referee clothing, marking another deviation from the anime. It was clear the gym wasn't just run by Brock; he had the support of multiple siblings.

"Excuse me, Sir, do you know the rules of the match?" Forrest inquired, his tone official.

"Run me by them."

Forrest nodded slightly, a hint of confusion flickering across his face before he composed himself to begin the briefing. "This will be an official gym battle with the gym leader using two grade 1 Pokémon."

"Grade 1 Pokémon?"

"Yes, a gym leader has multiple teams based on the number of Gym badges the challenger has. Since this is your first gym battle, Brock will be using Pokémon on the same level as a 1-badge trainer, also known as grade 1." Forrest explained.

Just like in Pokémon Origins.

"You are allowed to use up to six Pokémon," Forrest continued. "The rules will be that both trainers can only use up to four moves from a Pokémon, doing more will gain you a penalty. One item per Pokémon use, and any illegal items will result in disqualification or an arrest."

"There are illegal items?"

"Yes, many items like Rare Candies are extremely harmful to a Pokémon's health; hence why they are banned."

Austin nodded slowly, processing the information. If Rare Candies level up your Pokémon in the games, what does it do when levels aren't a thing?

Forrest continued with the rules, "Any intentional act of violence on trainers or audience will result in disqualification."

"Like if I have Pikachu attack Brock?"

"Yes," Forrest replied, then added, "Using illegal strategies will also result in a penalty."

"Illegal strategies?"

"Any strategy that can be exploited and harms the basics of battling, like recalling Pokémon the moment a move is made to save it from harm," Forrest detailed.

"Got it."

"The matches will last until a Pokémon is knocked out or the trainer forfeits. These are the rules, any questions?"

"No questions."

Forrest glanced at Austin, who offered a confident smile.

"Good, this will be an official 2 vs..." Forrest trailed off.

"Let's say several Pokémon," Austin stated ambiguously, leaving the exact number open, which was within his rights since there wasn't any official rule requiring him to disclose the number.

For the first time, Brock felt an unease against a rookie.

It was unsettling to him that this rookie, who refused to brag about how many Pokémon he caught, could be such an enigma.

'This guy is different,' Brock thought, his heart rate picking up as he readied himself for the challenge.

Forrest moved to the referee zone with a clipboard in hand, his body language professional yet visibly more tense.

"Let's begin the Pewter City Showdown!"

Brock released his first Pokémon—a brownish-gray boulder Pokémon known as Geodude. Its bulging, rocky eyebrows and trapezoidal eyes with brown pupils gave it a formidable appearance, complemented by muscular arms ending in five-fingered hands. Unlike its portrayal in the anime, this Geodude clutched a smooth, partly crystalline rock in its left hand.

As the dust settled around the rocky terrain, it swiftly transformed into a swirling sandstorm. "Sand Veil," Austin murmured, his tongue clicking in slight annoyance.

"Pika," Pikachu voiced, sensing Austin's concern.

"Don't worry, I have a plan," Austin reassured, leaning down to whisper something to his partner before extending his hand for him to jump off.

Brock watched this with a frown. Given the electric type's disadvantage, he wondered, Did I overestimate this rookie?

"Forrest signaled the start of the match. "Hajime!"

Before Brock could issue a command, Austin shouted. "Jump and Thunder Wave!"

Brock observed without much worry as the nimble electric type leapt into the air, cheeks sparking. Pikachu released a wave of electricity, but not at Geodude. Instead, it aimed at the ceiling.

Ceiling? Brock puzzled over the target until he gasped in realization just a moment too late.

The electricity struck the sprinklers, triggering them to release water throughout the arena. The sandstorm was immediately quelled, and the rocky terrain began to turn muddy under the deluge of water.

Brock gulped as he caught sight of Austin's smile.

In a single calculated move, Austin had neutralized the advantages Brock's setup provided—the Smooth Rock that extended the sandstorm, Geodude's evasion boost, and the familiar dry terrain were all rendered useless.

'I was right, this guy isn't an ordinary trainer,' Brock thought, But how did he know about the sprinklers?

Brock shouted, "Rock Polish!" and Geodude slammed its fists together, causing the rocky skin across its body to glow white with increased speed.

"Quick Attack!"

Pikachu's response was lightning-fast, vanishing the instant it touched a rock, leaving only a yellow blur in its wake.

"Fire Punch!" Brock countered as Geodude's newly gained speed allowed it to catch up with Pikachu, thrusting an uppercut enveloped in flames towards the electric mouse.

"Iron Shield!"

Pikachu reacted with astonishing speed, twisting in mid-air just feet before Geodude's fiery punch could connect. The attack was intercepted by Pikachu's tail, which had taken on a metallic sheen, cushioning the blow and deflecting the force. Pikachu was thrown into the air, but the Pokémon seemed unfazed by the impact, thanks to its Iron Tail used defensively as an 'Iron Shield.'

"Roll out to dodge!"

Geodude curled into a ball and rolled forward, dodging just in time as Pikachu struck the ground where the Rock-type had been, mud splashing from the impact.

"Roll out!"

"Double team!"

Geodude spun rapidly towards Pikachu, flinging mud in its wake. Simultaneously, multiple figures of Pikachu ran from the other side; Geodude phased through the illusory clones, but its momentum carried it straight into a rock, sending it airborne.

"Sword Strike!" Austin's voice rang out clear.

"Sword Strike?!" Brock echoed, confused by the unfamiliar move. He watched as Pikachu, assuming a stance of a Quick Attack, charged as a blur towards where Geodude would land.

"Rock Tomb!"

Due to the move Rock Tomb, rocks flew towards Pikachu, attempting to envelop him. However, Austin had prepared the electric type for this exact scenario. Pikachu leapt, skillfully dodging some of the rocks, and used a swiftly approaching boulder as a platform to launch himself higher.

How?! Brock thought.

Pikachu's Quick Attack stopped abruptly, its inertia and momentum carrying into a spin. In a swift, fluid motion, Pikachu used Iron Tail like a sword, slamming it downward with the combined force of its Quick Attack momentum and gravity.

The impact was tremendous; Geodude slammed into the mud-covered ground, mud splashing everywhere from the force.

The arena fell silent for a moment before the referee declared Geodude knocked out, the Rock-type Pokémon lying motionless in the muddied pit it had created on impact.

Brock returned his Geodude as he noticed that Pikachu was inflicted with confusion, its head bobbing slightly from side to side. The flaw of your Sword Strike, the gym leader thought, seeing an opportunity to launch a free attack on Pikachu, since the rules prevented recalling a Pokémon under a status effect without waiting a turn.

Suddenly, Pikachu pulled out a bitter berry and ate it, immediately shaking off the confusion and sprinting back to his trainer, effectively dousing Brock's hopes for an easy advantage.

"An amazing performance," Brock conceded.

"Thanks, I have been training for it for like a week," Austin boasted, his tone deliberately arrogant. He wanted Brock to think he was overconfident; an arrogant opponent might be deemed prone to mistakes against a much more intimidating foe. Plus, Austin couldn't deny that it felt somewhat satisfying to brag a little.

"Well, then let's see how you'll perform against him," Brock said as he threw out his next Pokéball. In a flash of red, a Pokémon composed of a giant chain of gray boulders that became smaller towards the tail emerged. Its formidable size made it the tallest Rock-type Pokémon, with black eyes and a rounded snout topped by a rocky spine.

Intimidating was indeed an understatement.

As the giant Pokémon appeared, Pikachu took a hesitant step back, but Austin remained utterly calm. He knew that unlike in the games where battles could be resolved with a simple button press, here a lot of other factors mattered in a battle.

If he appeared scared, then his Pokémon's morale would falter.

With a steady hand, Austin released Spearow into the battlefield.

Brock raised an eyebrow, curious about the choice of Pokémon and the next move.

The commands came quickly.

"Double Team!"

"Leer!"

Onix moved like a snake burrowing into sand, disappearing into the muddy terrain with a swift, smooth motion. Suddenly, three Onixes burst from the ground, a common intimidation strategy that Brock employed. Austin, having been forewarned by Jimmy, quickly discerned the real Onix by noting which one actually emerged from a hole in the ground.

"To your right!" Austin shouted. Spearow spread his wings wide, catching the air displaced by Onix's massive form, and maneuvered like a kite in a gust of wind. The maneuver allowed Spearow to dodge the gigantic rock snake's attack gracefully. Spearow's eyes then glowed red, successfully lowering Onix's defense.

"Rockslide!"

Onix roared, its body glowing white momentarily before it summoned multiple rocks outlined in a white glow, hurling them at the flying Pokémon.

"Aerial Wing!"

Spearow became engulfed in streaks of white light, charging at the opponent with its wings aglow. The attack, resembling Aerial Ace but with the added strength of Steel Wing, wasn't as fast as the traditional move but potent enough to break through the Rockslide, striking directly on Onix's horn.

Brock watched as the impact momentarily stunned the flying type. "Bind!" he called out quickly. Onix wrapped its tail around Spearow, squeezing tightly.

Austin smirked, all according to plan. "Assurance."

"Onix, let that bird go!" Brock yelled, realizing too late the setup Austin had laid out.

Spearow's beak, glowing with a crimson black aura, slammed into Onix's tail, causing visible cracks in the rock snake's armor.

The speed at which Onix released its bind and roared for another Rockslide surprised everyone in the gym. Austin contemplated recalling Spearow, but he saw a defiant look in his Pokémon's eyes, a look of pride that refused to back down.

"Steel Wing!"

Almost humorously, Spearow used his wings like a bat, swinging at the rocks flying toward him, using the motion to inch closer despite his wings showing damage from the Bind attack.

"Fury Attack!" Austin yelled next.

Spearow descended with his talon aimed at Onix's right eye, missing narrowly but continuing the assault.

"Spear!" Spearow yelled as he twisted mid-fall, setting his second talon strike, which landed on the lower mouth of Onix as the flying Pokémon fell to the ground. Before Spearow fainted from the ordeal, he cast one last Leer at Onix, further reducing its defense.

"Your prideful son of a bitch, couldn't just take the easy way out," Austin muttered as he recalled the brave but injured Spearow.

Onix's segmented body was suddenly enveloped in a greenish glow, a clear sign of healing.

Austin noticed that the glow was particularly bright around its third segment, indicating the hidden location of the item—Leftovers which allowed Onix to gradually recover health, but the intense brightness of the glow betrayed its exact placement.

Austin had pieced together that Brock's Onix possessed an ability known as Weak Armor, which decreased its defense but increased its speed with every physical hit it took. Despite the rapid healing from Leftovers, the repeated strikes from Spearow had left Onix defensively weakened yet incredibly fast.

"I need to get rid of that item."

"Little lady, I call for your help!" He then sent Rattata onto a rock in the muddy terrain.

"You are a very unconventional trainer," Brock commented, crossing his arms in a pose that caught Onix's attention—a clear signal between trainer and Pokémon.

"Let's start off with Sword Strike!"

Rattata moved with astonishing speed, even outpacing Pikachu, and charged towards the rock snake.

Onix responded by glowing its horn, creating a sphere of white energy that plummeted to the ground.

As the energy sphere made contact with the ground, a distinct smell of ozone permeated the air. The sphere unleashed a massive wave of electricity that radiated outwards in an omnidirectional burst. The electrical discharge crackled violently, sending arcs of blue-white energy dancing wildly around the battlefield. The air around it seemed to vibrate with the raw power of the unleashed electricity, causing the hair on the back of Austin's neck to stand on end.

Hidden Power: Electric, Austin realized, recalling the information he had gleaned from Jimmy.

The battlefield was soon covered in a dense smoke cloud.

Suddenly, darting out from the concealing smoke, Rattata appeared, completely unscathed. Brock's jaw dropped in astonishment while Austin couldn't help but smirk; he had trained Rattata to use her iron tail to slam into the ground, effectively creating a lightning rod to counteract Onix's Hidden Power: Electric.

With swift agility, Rattata climbed up Onix's massive body, deftly snatching an item that resembled a half-eaten apple. She had removed Onix's Leftovers, which was critical for its recovery. As she completed her theft, she spun into a backflip, her tail whipping across Onix's face as she gracefully landed on the ground.

"Rockslide!"

"Sword Strike!"

Rattata executed the move combo perfectly, targeting the weakened spot where Spearow's Assurance had previously hit, causing Onix to scream in pain. The small purple Pokémon she leapt onto Onix's tail. In an instant, she scaled the rock snake's body again.

"Onix, shake it off!" Brock yelled, but it was too late.

Rattata opened her mouth, dark type energy swirling around her teeth as she bit down hard into Onix's horn.

The Pokémon roared in agony and then fell silent as its defenses crumbled.

The attack was too much, especially directed at the horn that seemed to magnetize each segment of the Pokémon. Onix began to crumble into boulders, the once formidable rock snake now defeated and knocked out.

"Pika Pi!" Pikachu cheered from the sidelines. Austin placed his hand on his rapidly beating chest, his breath catching with the thrill of victory as he saw Rattata stood proudly on the head of the defeated Onix, her posture one of triumph.

Austin stood frozen in the center of the arena, the echoes of the battle still lingering in the air like a distant roar. The gym was silent now, save for the hum of the lights above and the faint click of Onix being recalled into its Pokéball. The flash of red light marked the end, but Austin's mind struggled to catch up. For a fleeting moment, it didn't feel real. He had won. They had won.

The realization struck him like a jolt of electricity, and before he could even move, a purple blur crashed into his legs, followed by a flash of yellow. Rattata and Pikachu tackled him to the ground in an explosion of joy, their triumphant cries filling the quiet gym. Austin's laughter erupted uncontrollably as he fell back onto the cold stone floor, his Pokémon climbing over him, their tiny bodies radiating warmth.

Staring up at the vaulted ceiling, the gym lights casting a soft glow, Austin let out a deep, shaky breath. The Pewter City badge was theirs. His first gym victory. And as he lay there with Rattata perched proudly on his chest and Pikachu nestled against his side, he couldn't help but grin.

This wasn't just his victory—it was theirs!

Author's Note

Hey, everyone!

So, there you have it—Austin's first gym battle in Pewter City! What did you think? I wanted this fight to feel intense and layered, blending strategy, character growth, and a bit of unpredictability. I really wanted to showcase how much Austin has adapted to the world of Pokémon, turning battles into more than just a turn-based numbers game. His clever use of the sprinklers, Rattata's iron tail as a lightning rod, and the emotional bond with his team were all intentional touches to highlight how different he is from Ash—and honestly, how much he's growing as a person and a trainer.

Also, can we just take a moment to appreciate Spearow being the scrappy little fighter he is? That bird is such a prideful menace, and I love him for it.

But seriously, what did you think of Brock's characterization here? I wanted to give him a bit more depth—showing his pride in his siblings and his role as a Gym Leader, but also his human side as someone who's surprised by Austin's unconventional tactics. And, of course, there's Flint—man, he's such a mess, huh? I love writing his guilt and conflicting emotions as he grapples with being a terrible father.

Also, I couldn't resist throwing in the little mystery around "Blue Oak" being the Champion. I mean, come on, how wild would it be if Blue was Gary's dad? Do you think Austin is overthinking it, or are we onto something juicy?

Anyway, I'd love to hear what you all thought of this chapter! Did the battle feel exciting and believable? Did Austin's strategy make sense, or were there moments that felt off? And how are you feeling about his team so far? (Rattata is MVP, don't even try to argue.

)

Drop your thoughts, theories, or anything else in the comments—I read everything, and your feedback keeps me hyped to keep writing. Thanks for sticking around and sharing this journey with me.

Adamos_Amet · Dec 5, 2024

The warmth of their small bodies against his chest, their rapid little heartbeats, and the undeniable bond they shared filled the boy with a deep sense of accomplishment.

"You two are incredible," Austin whispered. "I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you."

Pikachu chirped happily, nuzzling closer to him, his cheeks sparking faintly with excitement. Rattata let out a tiny squeak, her tail flicking with pride as she nestled against his arm. For a moment, Austin stayed like that, holding them close. It wasn't just about the win—it was about how far they had come together. It was their effort, their trust, and their teamwork that made this victory mean something.

When he finally stood, gently setting Pikachu and Rattata back on the ground, Austin turned to see Brock and Forrest standing a few feet away. Brock had a calm, approving smile on his face, while Forrest had his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sorry for the delay," Austin said. "Got a little caught up in the moment."

"No need to apologize. If you don't celebrate moments like these, what's the point? You earned it."

Forrest stepped forward, holding a small wooden box. He opened it with a click, revealing the Boulder Badge inside. The badge's metallic surface gleamed faintly in the gym's lighting, its rugged, rocky design simple yet powerful.

"Thanks," Austin said softly, turning the badge over in his hand. He paused, then added, "Wait, what happens now? I thought the League encrypted my ID or something to keep track of wins."

"Yeah, that's part of it. The encryption confirms your win, and the League automatically deposits your prize money into your account. Should hit in a day or two."

Austin raised an eyebrow. "So… the badge is just for show, then?"

"Not exactly. The Boulder Badge is more than a trophy."

Austin glanced down at the badge, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Brock's tone shifted, taking on the weight of a teacher explaining an important lesson. "The Boulder Badge isn't just proof of your win—it's a tool. When your Pokémon absorbs its energy, their physical attacks become stronger."

Austin blinked, his mind struggling to process the idea. "Wait, you're telling me this thing boosts stats? Like… in real life?"

Forrest snorted in amusement. "Yup. Pretty cool, huh?"

Brock nodded, folding his arms. "There's a reason Pokémon are capable of things most humans can't even comprehend. Think about it—how do you think a Machoke can lift boulders ten times its size? Or a Pikachu can generate enough electricity to knock out a full-grown Rhydon?"

Austin tilted his head, considering the question. "PP?"

Forrest burst out laughing, and even Brock let out a small chuckle.

"Close, but not quite," Brock said. "PP just measures how many times a Pokémon can use their moves before they're too drained. The real answer is Aura."

"Aura? Like that thing Lucario's known for?"

"Exactly," Brock said with a nod. "But Aura isn't just something Lucario can use. It's the life energy that flows through every living being—humans, Pokémon, plants, even the environment. It's what gives Pokémon the incredible strength and abilities they have. And it's also why items like berries or evolutionary stones work—they're infused with natural Aura."

Austin's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. "So… the badge has Aura in it?"

"That's right," Brock confirmed. "The Boulder Badge carries Aura from the rock and ground types we train with here. When a Pokémon absorbs that energy, it amplifies their physical strength. It's a natural boost—not an artificial one like some items you might find from Silph Co. labs."

"Wow…" Austin trailed off, turning the badge over in his hand again. It suddenly felt a lot more significant. "That's… amazing."

"It is," Brock agreed. "But don't rely on it too much. Badges are meant to enhance the bond you already have with your Pokémon, not replace it. Trust, strategy, and teamwork will always matter more than any stat boost."

Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Got it. Thanks for explaining all that."

Brock clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. I think you're going to go far."

Before Austin could respond, Brock straightened, his expression shifting to something more neutral. "Forrest will take care of the rest of the paperwork. I need to get Onix to the Pokémon Center."

Austin raised an eyebrow, noting the way Brock seemed a little too eager to leave. "Pokémon Center, huh?"

Forrest groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, here we go."

"What?" Austin asked, feigning innocence. "What's the rush, Brock? Nurse Joy waiting for you?"

Brock froze mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly before he turned to give Austin a sheepish grin. "Just making sure my Pokémon are in top condition. That's all."

"Sure," Forrest muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Totally not about Nurse Joy. Absolutely not."

Austin smirked. "It's fine. You're, uh, dedicated to your team's health."

Brock gave an awkward laugh, muttering something about responsibility as he hurried out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Forrest leaned against the wall with an exaggerated sigh. "I swear, that guy needs a hobby that isn't… that."

"What, flirting?"

Forrest snorted. "If you can even call it that. It's not just about Nurse Joy—it's every woman he meets. He's convinced we need some kind of… I don't know, 'mother figure' in our lives."

Austin frowned slightly. "Mother figure?"

Forrest crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Brock's been the head of our family since Mom died. He's the one who keeps everything running—makes sure the younger kids have food, clothes, all of it. But because of that, he's got it in his head that we're missing something. Like we need someone to fill the role Mom left behind."

Austin was quiet for a moment, the usual humor of Brock's antics taking on a different tone in light of what Forrest was saying. "That's… kind of sad," he said softly.

"It is," Forrest admitted. "His heart's in the right place, but he doesn't get that we don't need him to fix everything. We just need him. But try telling him that."

Austin nodded slowly, a new respect for Brock settling in his chest. "I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually."

Forrest rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile on his face. "Yeah. Hopefully before someone files a restraining order."

The sound of a furious shout and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor echoed through the air, shattering the lighthearted moment between Austin and Forrest. Both of their heads snapped toward the noise, and without exchanging a word, they bolted outside.

What greeted them froze them in their tracks.

Brock was straddling a man on the ground, his fists coming down like a hammer. Each punch landed with a sickening crack, blood splattering across the floor. The man—an older, more rugged version of Brock—barely raised his arms in defense. His nose was a twisted, bleeding mess, a dark bruise already blooming across his left cheek. His split lip trickled blood down his chin, and his body was still, as if resigned to take the beating.

"Get up!" Brock roared, his voice filled with raw fury. "You coward! Get up and fight!"

Sally stood a few feet away, trembling so violently that her tiny frame looked as though it might collapse under the weight of her fear. Tears streaked her pale face as she clutched her Sandshrew tightly to her chest, frozen in place.

Forrest snapped into action, rushing to his sister and scooping her into his arms. "Sally, it's okay," he whispered, though his voice was shaky. "I'm here. I've got you."

Austin, heart pounding, rushed forward, grabbing Brock by the shoulders. "Brock! Stop it!" he shouted, yanking hard, trying to pull the gym leader away from the beaten man.

Pikachu darted to Austin's side, his cheeks sparking dangerously, while Rattata positioned herself between Brock and the man on the ground. Her fur bristled, her tail raised in a threatening arc as she hissed.

"Brock, he's not fighting back!" Austin pleaded, his grip straining as Brock thrashed against him.

"He doesn't deserve to fight back!" Brock roared, his voice raw and filled with venom. He tried to lunge forward, his muscles bulging as he resisted Austin's hold. "He deserves this! He deserves worse!"

"Brock, he's your father!"

The words hit Brock like a slap. His movements froze for a moment, his breath heaving. "He's not my father," he spat, his voice low and cold, like the edge of a blade. "A father doesn't abandon his kids. A father doesn't walk out when his family needs him the most."

Austin flinched under the intensity of Brock's words, but he didn't let go. "Brock, this isn't helping. Look at him. Look at Sally!"

At the mention of Sally, Brock stiffened. His head whipped around to see Forrest cradling their sister, her face buried in his shoulder, her sobs muffled but heart-wrenching. Behind them, a small crowd of Brock's other siblings had gathered, peeking out from behind corners and doorways. Their faces were a mixture of fear and confusion, some of the younger ones clutching each other tightly, others with wide, tear-filled eyes.

One of the older boys stepped forward cautiously, his voice trembling. "Brock… is that… Dad?"

Brock's eyes darted between his siblings, his fury momentarily replaced with something that looked like shame—or maybe regret. His lips pressed into a tight line, and his fists clenched at his sides as if he was barely holding himself together.

"No," he said sharply, his voice cold and clipped. He turned back to the man on the ground, his glare like fire. "This isn't Dad. This is just some… nobody."

The word hung in the air, bitter and heavy.

"Brock…" one of the younger girls whimpered, her voice cracking.

"Enough!" Brock barked, his voice snapping like a whip. His siblings flinched, and he immediately regretted the harshness, but he didn't soften. He couldn't. "All of you, go back to the playground. Now!"

The children hesitated, their small faces twisted in confusion and fear. When none of them moved, Brock's temper flared again. "I said now!"

The shout sent them scurrying, some of them crying as they ran back inside or out toward the yard. Forrest hesitated, his arms still around Sally, his jaw tight as he looked at Brock. Finally, he turned and led her back toward the house, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder.

With the children gone, Brock rounded on Austin. His expression was hard, his jaw tight, but his voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "Get him out of here," he said, his words trembling with restrained rage. "Before I do something I'll regret."

Austin swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."

Brock stepped back, his chest still heaving with heavy breaths, and Austin cautiously approached the man on the ground. Flint—there was no mistaking it now—lay in a crumpled heap, his head bowed. Blood dripped from his nose and lip, staining his shirt. His eyes, though swollen and bruised, stared down at the dirt, hollow and filled with shame.

"Flint," Austin said quietly, crouching down and offering the man a hand. Flint didn't respond at first, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Come on," Austin urged, his voice soft but firm. "Let's get you out of here."

Flint hesitated, then slowly reached out and took Austin's hand. His grip was weak, and he winced as Austin helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but Austin steadied him, draping one of Flint's arms over his shoulder.

As Austin started to lead him away, Flint's voice broke the tense silence. "I deserved it," he muttered, his tone flat, almost emotionless. "Every punch. Every word. I deserved it all."

Austin didn't respond immediately, glancing back at Brock, who stood rooted in place, his head bowed and his fists still clenched. "Maybe," Austin said quietly, his gaze shifting back to Flint. "But the kids didn't deserve to see it."

Flint flinched at that, his face twisting briefly with guilt before he let himself be led away.

As Austin helped Flint out of sight, Brock finally let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline drained from his body. He ran a hand down his face, smearing sweat and dirt across his skin. His legs felt weak, and he sank onto the nearest bench, burying his face in his hands.

Forrest appeared a moment later, standing a few feet away. "That wasn't exactly the reunion we imagined," he said, his tone even but heavy with unspoken emotion.

Brock didn't look up. "I don't care," he muttered. "He doesn't get to waltz back in here after all these years and pretend everything's fine."

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Forrest replied, his voice quieter now. "But yelling at the kids, beating him up in front of everyone… that's not you, Brock."

Brock sat on the bench, staring at the ground. His hands rested limply on his knees, and his shoulders slumped under a weight no one else could see. He didn't say a word.

Forrest sat down quietly beside him, not speaking at first. He didn't try to force anything, just let the silence stretch between them, heavy but unbroken. After a while, he reached out and placed a hand on Brock's shoulder. It was a small gesture, but steady.

"You don't have to carry all of this alone," Forrest said softly, his voice low but firm. "We're here for you. I'm here for you."

Brock's jaw tightened, but he didn't look up. His hands curled slightly, gripping the fabric of his pants. A single tear rolled down his cheek, hitting the floor below with a faint pat. Then another. And another.

Forrest didn't say anything else. He just stayed there, his hand never leaving his brother's shoulder.

Austin handed a cold soda to Flint, who collapsed heavily onto the sidewalk, his shoulders slumped and his bruised face grimacing as he pressed the can against his swollen cheek. For a moment, they sat in silence. The faint hiss of Austin opening his own soda and the quiet fizzing of Pikachu's can were the only sounds. Pikachu sipped contentedly from the straw Austin had rigged up, his ears flicking as he watched the scene unfold.

Flint didn't answer at first. His hand trembled slightly as he shifted the cold can to his black eye. "For everything I've done… this doesn't even begin to cover it."

Austin studied Flint for a moment, unsure how to proceed. The man looked older than he probably was, his face lined not just from age but from regret. Blood still trickled faintly from his split lip, and the bruises forming on his face made him seem almost unrecognizable from the proud father Austin had imagined Brock once had.

"Getting pummeled by your own son isn't exactly a great look," Austin said lightly, hoping to break the tension. But his voice carried more curiosity than humor.

Flint let out a bitter laugh, a dry, hollow sound. "I earned it," he muttered. "Every punch, every bruise—I earned all of it."

Austin leaned back against the wall behind him, the cold concrete seeping through his jacket. "Why, though? What could you have done to make Brock that angry?"

Flint hesitated, staring at the pavement as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. The silence stretched long enough that Austin thought he wouldn't answer, but finally, the older man exhaled deeply, his breath shaky.

"It started six years ago," Flint began, his voice heavy with the weight of the past. "Back then, I had it all—a loving family, kids who respected me, and a community that saw me as someone worth admiring. Pewter City was my home, and I was proud of the life I'd built. My wife, Lola, was expecting our tenth child." His voice cracked slightly on the word "tenth."

Austin blinked, surprised. "Tenth? Jeez, did you think a condom was a Pokémon move?"

Flint offered a faint, humorless smile but didn't comment. "Around that time, the position of Pewter City Gym Leader opened up. The old leader had retired, and everyone said I'd be perfect for it. I was strong, experienced, and people looked up to me. It felt like my calling. I even promised Brock that I'd become the new leader—told him it was going to change everything for us. He was so excited... proud of me, even." Flint's hands tightened around the soda can, the metal creaking slightly under the pressure.

Austin stayed quiet, letting him continue.

"I applied for the position. To be a gym leader, you have to prove yourself—earn 1,000 official battle wins and then pass the League's challenge, which involves battling an Elite Four member or their ace Pokémon. It's no small feat." Flint paused, his jaw tightening. "I wasn't ready. I didn't have the strength or the skill. So, I left."

"You left?" Austin repeated, confused.

"I started traveling," Flint clarified. "I told myself it was to train, to get stronger so I could prove myself worthy of the title. But somewhere along the way… I got lost. The training, the battles—they weren't about becoming a better gym leader anymore. They became about me. About the fame. People started recognizing me, cheering my name. And I… I let it consume me."

Flint's voice grew quieter, tinged with shame. "I stopped calling home as much. I told myself it was temporary, that I'd make it up to them once I became gym leader. But the truth was… I liked being away. I liked the freedom. The attention. It was easier than being a husband. Easier than being a father."

Austin frowned, the soda in his hand forgotten. "What about your wife? Your family? Did you just… ignore them?"

"I tried not to think about them," Flint admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But then… the League finally approved my application. I was set to face one of the Elite Four's ace Pokémon in an official match. It was my chance to prove myself. My chance to bring something great back to my family. But…"

Flint closed his eyes, and Austin could see the pain etched deeply into his face.

"But what?"

"Before the match, I got a call," Flint continued, his voice trembling. "Lola was in labor. She'd gone into complications, and the doctors said it wasn't looking good. I should've been there. I should've dropped everything and gone to her. But I didn't."

Austin's stomach turned as the words sank in.

Flint's hands trembled as he spoke, his grip tightening on the can until it crumpled slightly. "I told myself the match wouldn't take long. That I could win quickly and still make it in time. But I didn't. By the time I got back to Pewter, it was too late." His voice broke completely, tears streaming down his face. "Lola… my baby girl… they were gone."

Austin felt a lump rise in his throat. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? He looked down at Pikachu, who had stopped sipping his soda, his ears drooping as if he understood the gravity of the moment.

Flint wiped at his face with his sleeve, his shoulders shaking. "I abandoned them when they needed me most. I let her die alone because I was too selfish to leave that damn match. And for what? A stupid badge? A title I didn't even want anymore?"

The weight of Flint's confession hung heavy in the air, the silence between them almost suffocating. Austin finally managed to find his voice.

"What happened after that?" he asked quietly.

"Brock came home," Flint said, his voice steadier now but no less pained. "He had just finished his first journey as a trainer. He was so proud, so excited to show me everything he'd learned. And there I was—this broken, useless shell of a man. I didn't have the heart to tell him what I'd done. But he figured it out. He always did. Brock's smart like that." Flint laughed bitterly. "I told him everything one night. I thought it would help, thought it would make me feel less… alone. But all it did was destroy him."

Austin could picture it: Brock, young and full of admiration for his father, only to have that image shattered in an instant. It made his chest ache just thinking about it.

"After that, I couldn't face him," Flint said. "I couldn't face any of them. So I ran. I left everything behind and hid like the coward I am."

"You abandoned them," Austin said, his voice sharper than he intended. He immediately regretted it when he saw the way Flint flinched.

"I did," Flint admitted. "And I've regretted it every single day since."

Austin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So why come back now?"

Flint looked at him, his bloodied face weary but determined. "Because you reminded me what it means to be responsible," he said simply. "When you told me to stop hiding, it hit me. If I don't try to fix this now, I never will. I'll spend the rest of my life running."

Austin studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally, he nodded. "So, what's your plan?"

Flint exhaled deeply. "Every day, I'll show up. I'll beg Brock and my kids for a chance. I'll work whatever jobs I can find, earn money to help them, even if it's just a little. I'll do whatever it takes to prove to them that I'm not the same man who left."

"That's… going to take a long time," Austin said. "Brock's not exactly the forgiving type."

"I know," Flint replied, his voice steady. "But they're worth it. Every second of it."

Austin nodded slowly. He still wasn't sure how to feel about Flint, but he could respect the man's resolve.

Before they parted, Flint reached into his bag and pulled out the TM, handing it to Austin. "Take this," he said.

"What's this for?"

"Hidden Power," Flint replied. "Think of it as my way of saying thanks. For knocking some sense into me."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," Flint interrupted. "Do me a favor and use it. That way, even if I fail, I'll know I did one thing right."

Austin hesitated but eventually took the TM, nodding. "I'll put it to good use."

Flint smiled faintly, his eyes tired but hopeful. As Austin watched him walk away, he couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe Flint had a long road ahead of him, but at least he was finally walking in the right direction. As Flint disappeared from view, Austin took a sip of his soda, the fizzy drink cool against his throat. A thought bubbled to the surface, unbidden. So… what does this mean for me? Am I really going to go through this journey solo without Brock?

Author's Note:

Whew. This was a heavy one to write, wasn't it? Flint's story isn't the neat, happy resolution you might expect in a typical Pokémon journey, but I wanted to add a layer of complexity here. Not every redemption arc is quick, and not every apology fixes the pain. Flint's road ahead is going to be long and messy, but at least he's taken the first step—and that matters.

For Austin, this chapter might have been more about listening than acting, and that's intentional. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to just be there for someone else's pain. It's a learning moment for him as much as it is for Flint, especially since Austin's already questioning his own role and purpose in this journey.

Also, a huge thank you to all of you who've stuck with me through these character-focused chapters. Balancing a Pokémon journey with emotional depth is tricky, but I hope it's worth it for you as much as it is for me. We've got plenty of action, battles, and more lighthearted moments coming, but these slower, introspective parts are where the characters breathe, and where (I think) the story really comes alive.

If you want to support my work, you can do so here: Patreon

Your support helps keep the story going, and who knows—maybe I'll start posting bonus content, behind-the-scenes notes, or sneak peeks for you awesome readers over there.

Until next time, trainers! Stay safe, stay strong, and keep catching those dreams.

~ Adamo Amet

Adamos_Amet · Dec 6, 2024

The store was a small, cozy haven tucked into the corner of Pewter City's quiet streets, a place Delia Ketchum had frequented for years. It smelled faintly of dust and worn leather, the scent of nostalgia. As she stepped through the door, the old, familiar tinkle of the bell above the frame greeted her. The place felt frozen in time, with rows of VHS tapes neatly arranged on shelves that stretched to the ceiling, each shelf packed with colorful covers and handwritten labels.

"Delia Ketchum," came a familiar drawl from behind the counter. "Back again already? What, run out of tapes to obsess over?"

Roger, the store owner, didn't look up from his magazine as he leaned lazily against the counter. His face was lined with faint wrinkles, the kind that came more from laughter than age, and his ever-present smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't act so surprised," Delia said, feigning offense as she walked toward the counter. "You knew I'd be back."

"Yeah, well, I was kind of hoping for a paying customer this time."

"I will pay," Delia replied with mock indignation. "Just, you know, when the holidays roll around."

"Sure, you will," Roger said, finally glancing up at her with a raised eyebrow. "The same way you were totally going to pay me back for that special edition Pikachu's Day Off VHS, right?"

"Hey, that was an emergency," Delia said with a grin. "Ash was sick, and I needed something to cheer him up. Besides, you know I'm good for it."

"Yeah, yeah. So, what's on the docket this time, Queen of Kanto Cinema?"

"Queen of Kanto Cinema? I like that. It's way better than the last nickname you gave me—what was it? The VHS Goblin?"

"That's because it was accurate," Roger deadpanned. "Now, are you gonna browse, or are you just here to talk my ear off?"

Delia laughed and turned to the stack of new arrivals he had set out on the counter. Her fingers brushed over the titles, her eyes lighting up as she spotted one. "Ooh, Meowth Impossible—I've been waiting for this one. And look, Pidgeot Cage by Steven Sparrows! Didn't this just come out last week?"

Roger grinned. "Straight from Pokéstar Studios. You're welcome."

Delia grabbed both tapes, then spotted another title further down the stack. "Oh my goodness, A Staraptor is Born? Don't mind if I do."

Roger shook his head in mock disapproval as she gathered the tapes. "You know, most people rent one, maybe two tapes at a time. But not Delia Ketchum. Oh no. You don't do things halfway, do you?"

"What can I say?" Delia said, flashing him a cheeky smile. "I have refined tastes."

Roger chuckled, scribbling her rentals into his worn ledger. "So, how's your little adventurer doing? Still off chasing fame and glory?"

"He's doing great. He made it to Pewter City and should have his first Gym badge by now."

"Not bad for a beginner," Roger said, nodding approvingly. "You planning to send him anything to celebrate?"

"What do you think would be a good idea?"

Roger tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Easy. Get him Poké Kart 64."

Delia raised an eyebrow. "The one where the guy in overalls jumps on Squirtles and throws banana peels?"

"That's the one," Roger said confidently. "Trust me, he'll love it."

Delia considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I'll take it. You got any in stock?"

"Always," Roger said, ducking behind the counter to grab a copy of the game. "But I gotta warn you—it's highly addictive. Last time someone rented this, I didn't see them for weeks. They might've been sucked into a Poké Kart black hole."

"Good thing I have self-control," Delia quipped, grabbing the game and adding it to her growing pile.

Roger raised an eyebrow. "You? Self-control? Didn't you once stay up for 48 hours binging Blastoise Wars?"

"That was research," Delia said quickly, her cheeks coloring slightly.

"Uh-huh. Sure it was."

Delia stuck her tongue out at him and gathered her rentals, heading out the door with a spring in her step. When she arrived back at her small restaurant, she noticed the answering machine blinking on the counter. She hit the playback button, her heart skipping a beat as her son's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Mom, uh… hey, it's me. I… I just wanted to talk to you about something. Can you call me back? I don't know how to handle this on my own." A pause, then a muffled, "How do you turn this thing off?" before the message cut off.

Delia's chest tightened. Ash's voice had been uncertain, almost fragile. Without wasting a moment, she dialed the Pokémon Center's number, hoping he was still nearby.

After a brief wait, the call connected. "Hello?" came Austin's voice, quieter than usual.

"Sweetie-pie, it's Mama," Delia said, her voice warm and soothing. "What's wrong, my little Pika-poo?"

"Pika… what?!"

"It's a new one," Delia replied, grinning to herself. "I'm trying it out. You like it?"

"Not really," Austin muttered. "Can we stick to 'sweetie' or, you know, Ash?"

"Oh, alright, my Snorlax Cub," Delia teased, unable to resist.

Austin groaned.

"Okay, okay," Delia said. "What's going on, hon? Did something happen?"

Austin hesitated before launching into the story—Flint's reappearance, Brock's outburst, and the complicated family drama that unfolded in the wake of his Gym victory. He spoke in halting sentences, his voice uncertain, like he was trying to make sense of it all as he went. Delia listened quietly, her heart aching at the weight her son seemed to be carrying.

When he finally finished, there was a long pause.

"Baby, that's a lot to deal with," Delia said gently. "What do you think you want to do?"

"I don't know," Austin admitted. "Part of me thinks I should just leave. It's not my business, right? But another part of me feels like… I don't know, like I should do something. Try to help. I just don't know what's the right thing."

Delia leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowing in thought. "Austin, you're a kind boy—always have been. But you're also just one person. Flint and Brock… that's their family's stream, their journey. You can't steer it for them."

"Stream?"

"Like a river," Delia explained. "Your life is one stream, and theirs is another. Sometimes streams flow together for a while, and sometimes they drift apart. But you can't force them to go where you want them to. That's not your job."

Austin was quiet for a moment, mulling over her words. "So… you think I should just leave?"

"I think," Delia said carefully, "that you should ask yourself what you need right now. Do you want to help? Or are you staying because you feel like you have to? There's a difference, my little Jiggly-boy."

Austin let out a small, exasperated laugh. "Please stop with the nicknames."

"Never," Delia said, her voice light but her words full of love. "But seriously, sweetheart, it's okay to move on if this feels like too much. It doesn't make you selfish—it makes you human. You're not responsible for fixing everyone's problems."

Austin exhaled, the tension in his voice easing slightly. "That… actually helps. Thanks."

"Anytime, my darling Psyduck," Delia said cheerfully. "Now, tell me about your Gym battle. I want to hear every detail."

As the boy recounted his battle, his voice grew more animated, the earlier weight of the conversation seeming to lift with every detail he shared. Delia listened intently, her smile widening as she imagined her little boy—no, her young man—standing confidently in that arena, facing the challenges of his journey with the determination she had always admired in him.

Her gaze drifted to the bag of rentals she had brought home from Roger's shop, her eyes landing on the copy of Poké Kart 64. She let out a small, amused sigh as she picked up the box. It was brightly colored, with Pikachu, Jigglypuff, and even a grumpy-looking Gengar racing tiny karts across a checkered track. She tilted the box, letting the light catch the glossy cover.

"Now, how am I supposed to get this to him?" she wondered aloud. Her brow furrowed in thought. "If he's still in Pewter, I could mail it… but knowing Ash he'll probably leave the second he's done at the Pokémon Center."

She tapped her chin. "Maybe I could send it to Viridian's Pokémon Center and hope he swings by on his way back? Or... should I just hold onto it until I hear from him again?"

Then, a more pressing realization hit her, and her expression froze mid-thought.

"Wait a second…" she muttered, holding the box up and narrowing her eyes at the tiny print on the back. "What's he even going to play this on?"

Delia's lips slowly curling into a grimace. "Did I just… buy him a game without a console to play it on? Oh no."

She groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead as the answer became painfully clear. "Damn you, Roger," she muttered under her breath. "You conned me into this, didn't you? You knew I wouldn't think about the console! Ugh!"

Flopping dramatically onto the couch, Delia clutched the box to her chest, glaring at the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do now, huh? Send him a game console next? What's next, Roger? Do I send him a TV and surround sound, too? A recliner? Maybe a popcorn machine while I'm at it?"

With a huff, she tossed the game onto the coffee table and grabbed the remote. She popped Meowth Impossible into the VHS player and leaned back with her popcorn. As the movie started, her grumbling continued, though now laced with humor.

"People think I'm the dramatic one," she muttered, shaking her head as the opening credits rolled. "At least I don't accidentally light my underwear on fire."

Somewhere in Pewter City, Austin sneezed violently, startling Pikachu, who dropped his half-empty ketchup bottle. Pikachu shot him a glare, and Austin sniffled. "Ugh, I think someone's talking about me."

Pikachu chirped something that sounded suspiciously like "Yeah, they're probably saying you need to buy me more ketchup."

The Pokémon Center room was calm, lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Inside, Pikachu, Spearow, Rattata, and Vee gathered around their evening meal, their trainer absent for the moment. The sound of plates being shuffled and occasional squeaks of approval filled the air as they enjoyed their dinner. Spearow, however, wasn't so thrilled. His wings were wrapped in a cast, a stark reminder of his battle injuries, and he glared at it with open disdain.

"I hate this," Spearow grumbled, his raspy voice echoing his frustration.

Pikachu rolled his eyes while carefully sprinkling some dehydrated ketchup powder—liberated from their trainer's supplies—onto his food. He licked his lips and replied with a smirk, "You're the one who kept going in the fight, tough guy. Now you're grounded, and not in the flying sense."

"Only cowards run from a fight."

"Only idiots forget when to stop," Pikachu countered smoothly.

Rattata, chewing noisily, decided to chime in. "At least we fought," she said sharply, shooting a pointed glare at Vee, who was quietly nibbling at his food in the corner. Her tone practically dripped with disdain.

Vee's ears perked up at the comment, his big eyes narrowing as he set down his food. "What are you trying to say?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."

Vee frowned. "I don't. Enlighten me."

Rattata turned fully toward him, her tail flicking with agitation. "All of us—me, Pikachu, even this featherbrain—train and fight for our human. You? You just sit around and do nothing. Why? What makes you so special?"

"I…" Vee hesitated, his voice faltering. "I don't decide that. The human hasn't sent me into a battle yet."

"Maybe because he doesn't trust you," Rattata said with a sneer. "Or maybe you're just a liability."

"Hey, lay off him," Pikachu interjected. "You're taking this way too far."

But Rattata wasn't done. "Am I? Why should we carry the weight while he gets to just lounge around and eat like the rest of us? If he's not going to fight, why is he even here?"

Vee's ears flattened against his head, his breath quickening. "I—I didn't ask for this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't ask to be here."

"And yet, here you are," Spearow added gruffly, joining Rattata's side. "You've done nothing but bring trouble to the team. You're not pulling your weight, and you're dragging us down."

The words hit Vee like a stone. His heart pounded, and a wave of panic washed over him. His small body trembled as he glanced between his teammates, unsure of where he stood anymore. Were they right? Was he just a burden? His breathing grew shallow, his chest tightening with fear.

"Enough!" Pikachu's voice cut through the tension like a thunderbolt, sharp and commanding. He stepped between Vee and the others, his cheeks sparking faintly. "Back off, both of you. Now."

Before anyone could say another word, the door creaked open. Austin stepped into the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene. The tense atmosphere was palpable, and it didn't take him long to realize something was wrong.

"What's going on in here?"

The Pokémon froze, exchanging awkward glances. Pikachu turned to Austin and let out a series of squeaks and gestures, doing his best to explain the situation. Spearow squawked something unintelligible, Rattata huffed and crossed her tiny arms, and Vee remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Austin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Everyone, line up."

Austin crouched to their level and looked at them seriously. "Alright, I can tell something's going on here. Pikachu, you're the charades master. Walk me through it."

Pikachu took a deep breath, miming the whole argument with a mix of gestures and occasional squeaks. He pointed at Rattata, mimicked her strutting, and then pretended to snap at Vee. He imitated Vee's frightened shrinking and then turned to Spearow, miming his dismissive flaps and sharp jabs.

Austin frowned, piecing it together. "So... Rattata and Spearow were giving Vee a hard time for not battling?" He glanced at the culprits, who avoided his gaze. "And Pikachu stepped in to stop it?"

Pikachu nodded firmly.

"Alright, Rattata. Apologize to Vee."

Rattata blinked up at him, her pink nose twitching in disbelief.

"Don't give me that look," Austin said. "I know being wrong isn't easy to admit, but you crossed the line, and you know it."

Rattata's defiant stance faltered. She squeaked softly, glancing down at the floor. Her tail flicked toward her bowl of food, and then she pointed at her Pokéball with a quick tap of her paw. She made a sharp motion to Vee, then to the food again, trying to explain herself in the simplest way possible.

"You're saying that because Vee eats the same food as you but doesn't fight, you don't think it's fair?"

Rattata gave a firm nod, puffing out her chest slightly as if to double down on her argument.

Austin crouched down to her level and smiled softly. "First of all, I enjoy making food for all of you. You're my team. I don't care if you're fighting, training, or just sitting around enjoying the sun—you're still my Pokémon. That means you all get to eat. Even you, Spearow," he added, chuckling.

"But," Austin continued, his tone growing more serious, "I'm the one who decides who fights and who doesn't. Not you. Not Pikachu. Not anyone else. Me." He glanced at Vee, whose ears perked up slightly at the sudden attention. "And there's a reason I haven't sent Vee into any battles yet."

The room grew quiet, everyone now paying close attention.

Austin took a deep breath and crouched lower so he was on eye level with Vee. The little Eevee flinched slightly but didn't look away. "Vee," Austin began gently, "to help you, I need to make you evolve."

Vee's ears flicked nervously at the word, and his paws shuffled against the floor.

Austin held out his hand, palm up, an unspoken offer of trust. "I know the idea of evolution scares you," he said. "But it's the only way to help you stabilize. I don't want you to hurt anymore. I don't want you to keep thinking your ability is a curse. That's why I haven't pushed you into battles yet. I wanted to give you time to feel safe. Time to trust me."

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted a trembling paw and placed it on Austin's hand.

"The thing is," Austin continued, addressing all of them now, "Vee's been through more than any of us can imagine. Those experiments didn't just hurt his body—they messed with his mind, too. He can evolve into three unstable forms, and it's painful for him. My goal is to help him evolve into something stable—like Espeon or Umbreon—so he doesn't have to suffer anymore."

Pikachu's ears drooped slightly, his earlier frustration with the argument replaced with understanding. Rattata looked down at her paws, her earlier pride now replaced with a sense of shame. Even Spearow glanced away with a slight frown, as though quietly rethinking his earlier judgment.

"Starting tomorrow, we'll begin training together. I won't push you into battles until you're ready, but I want you to know that I believe in you. You're part of this team, and you're going to be amazing. Do you trust me?"

Vee hesitated only a moment before nodding, his stance firmer now.

"Good," Austin said, standing up and turning to Rattata. His expression grew serious again. "And as for you, little lady, I expect better next time. You're strong, and I respect that, but strength doesn't give you the right to put down your teammates. Got it?"

Rattata squeaked softly, her ears drooping even further. She turned to Vee and mimed a small bow, her squeaks quiet but apologetic. Vee blinked, surprised, but then nodded in acceptance.

"Good," Austin said, clapping his hands together. "Now, here's the deal. If there's ever a problem, you come to me. We don't fight amongst ourselves. We talk it out. Clear?"

The Pokémon nodded, each of them looking slightly sheepish but resolute.

Austin grinned and raised his voice slightly. "Because we are a team."

The Pokémon exchanged confused glances, unsure of what he wanted them to do.

Austin repeated, louder this time, "We are a team!"

Pikachu tilted his head, then let out a confident "Pika!" Rattata followed with a hesitant but growing "Tata!" Spearow grumbled something that vaguely sounded like "Row," and Vee let out a soft but clear "Eve!"

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Just as the moment seemed perfect, a muffled voice shouted from the hallway. "Would you shut up in there?!"

Austin froze, his grin faltering for a moment before he burst into laughter. The Pokémon quickly joined in,

As the laughter died down, Austin glanced out the window toward the distant hills of Mt. Moon. His smile faded slightly as he thought about what lay ahead. Mt. Moon wasn't just another stop on his journey—it was Team Rocket territory.

And Austin wasn't looking forward to it.

The next day, Austin found himself standing in front of the Pewter City Indoor Climbing Center, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He had spent the night strategizing and sketching out ways to train his Pokémon that didn't rely on battling alone, and this idea had taken root like a stubborn tree. If his team was going to tackle the treacherous caves of Mt. Moon—and whatever Team Rocket nonsense was lurking ahead—they needed to sharpen more than their moves. They needed agility, coordination, and teamwork.

And what better way to simulate rocky, uneven terrain than climbing?

He'd heard about the climbing center in passing from a couple of trainers at the Pokémon Center the other day and made a mental note. Now, standing in front of the glass doors with his team gathered at his feet, he adjusted his cap and took a deep breath as he pushed open the doors, stepping into the cavernous gym.

The first thing that struck him was how massive the space was. Expansive walls stretched high above him, covered in colorful climbing holds that formed intricate routes. Some looked deceptively simple, the kind you'd find on a playground rock wall, while others seemed downright impossible, with overhangs and tiny nubs that practically sneered at gravity. Skylights bathed the room in natural light, and the air smelled faintly of chalk dust. The occasional sound of climbers scaling walls, the slap of hands against holds, and rustling chalk bags filled the space.

"Whoa," Austin breathed, glancing around. "This place is insane."

"Pi...ka..." Pikachu murmured beside him, tilting his head as he gazed up at a climber halfway up a particularly daunting wall. Spearow, with his wing still in a cast, ruffled his feathers irritably, already annoyed at the prospect of being stuck as an observer.

"Don't look at me like that," Austin teased the bird with a smirk. "I didn't put you in the cast. You're here to supervise."

Spearow responded with a sharp squawk.

At the front desk, a young woman with cropped hair and a bright smile greeted him with enthusiasm that was borderline disarming. "Hi! Welcome to Pewter City Indoor Climbing Center. How can I help you today?"

"I'd like to register for climbing classes," Austin said confidently, leaning an arm on the counter like he'd been planning this for weeks—which, in a way, he had. "I heard there's a weekly fee?"

"That's right!" she said, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she brought up the registration screen. "It's 1000 Pokédollars per week. Oh, and you'll need a Flying-type Pokémon for safety reasons."

"Why a Flying-type?" he asked, though he already had a good idea. He figured it would be good to play along and get the details straight.

The woman gestured toward one of the walls, where an older man—a coach, by the looks of it—was scaling the wall with a Pidgeot hovering nearby. The bird's sharp eyes followed his every move, its wings flaring occasionally to keep close to the climber. "Flying-types act as safety monitors," she explained. "If a climber falls or gets stuck, the Pokémon can assist."

"Got it," Austin said, glancing at Spearow. "He might not be happy about it, but I've got a Flying-type."

"Great!" she said brightly. "You're all set, then. Classes start in about an hour. Feel free to check out the facilities and meet the coach if you'd like."

"Sounds good." He gave her a thumbs-up before signaling to his team, who were already inching toward the climbing walls with wide-eyed curiosity. "Alright, guys, let's scope it out."

Austin spent the next hour familiarizing himself with the gym. The walls were categorized by difficulty, with the beginner section on the far left and the expert routes—with their insane overhangs—on the right. He watched the climbers, paying close attention to their techniques and the way their Pokémon assisted them. A group of trainers practiced on a smaller wall meant for Pokémon, which had been designed to mimic natural rocky terrain. It was perfect.

As he made mental notes, the coach from earlier approached him. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a rugged but approachable demeanor that instantly put Austin at ease.

"You must be the new guy," the coach said, extending a hand. "Name's Cole. First time climbing?"

"Yeah," Austin admitted, shaking his hand. "I'm Austin."

"Good to meet you, Austin." Cole gave his gear a quick once-over before nodding approvingly. "You're all set. Let's get you started on a beginner route."

"Sounds good," Austin said, turning to his Pokémon. "Alright, team, watch and learn. I'm going up first."

Austin's first attempt... did not go as planned.

He reached for a hold that was clearly out of his range, missed by a mile, and ended up swinging wildly from the rope. Spearow squawked indignantly, flapping his good wing to steady the rope, only to get tangled in the process.

From the ground, Pikachu and the others watched with varying degrees of concern. Vee's ears flattened against his head, and his tail flicked nervously. Rattata let out a squeaky laugh that only she found funny, while Pikachu crossed his arms, looking equal parts worried and unimpressed.

"Alright, alright," Austin muttered as he steadied himself. "Let's take it slow this time."

By his second attempt, Austin was starting to find his rhythm. With Cole's guidance, he learned to rely on his legs more than his arms and to plan his moves instead of scrambling aimlessly. As he climbed higher, he felt his confidence grow, the initial fear fading into focus.

When he finally reached the top, he let out a triumphant laugh, holding onto the final hold for a moment before letting Cole lower him back down.

"Nice work," Cole said, clapping him on the back. "You've got potential."

"Thanks," Austin said, grinning. He turned to his team, whose expressions ranged from excited to relieved. That's when an idea struck him.

"Hey, Cole, do you let Pokémon climb too? You know, for training?"

Cole's face lit up. "Absolutely! We've got a whole section for that."

"What do you guys think? Ready to climb?"

The Pokémon buzzed with excitement, their enthusiasm practically contagious—except for Spearow, who glared at everyone with a look that could curdle milk, clearly dreading the extra effort this would undoubtedly require.

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of Austin's slow, steady breaths. After several hours of grueling rock climbing and teamwork exercises with his Pokémon, he barely managed to drag himself to the bed. The moment his body hit the mattress, a deep, exhausted sigh escaped him. The bed felt like heaven—soft and inviting, as though it had been waiting all day just for him. Every muscle in his body ached in that satisfying, post-workout kind of way, like the ache had meaning.

As he stared up at the ceiling, he muttered, "If this bed could marry me, I'd say yes."

Across the room, the Pokémon were gathered in their own little huddle. Pikachu was happily munching on an apple he'd snuck from dinner, while Rattata and Vee seemed to be engaged in some kind of playful competition—Austin couldn't quite tell what it was, but it involved darting around the room, dodging imaginary obstacles. Spearow, however, sat off to the side, feathers fluffed up and his cast still wrapped securely around his wing. He looked about as thrilled as a Murkrow stuck in a sunny field.

Austin turned his head just enough to catch Spearow's glare—the bird's signature mix of judgment and disdain. If looks could talk, this one would be saying: This is all your fault, you human disaster.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Austin said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "But hey, you pulled through. I told you it'd be worth it."

Spearow tilted his head skeptically, but Austin just smirked and reached over to the nightstand. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the Boulder Badge, and he grabbed it. Holding it up, he studied the badge in the dim light. It gleamed faintly, its rugged, rock-like design a symbol of everything they'd worked for.

"Here," Austin said, leaning forward and gently placing the badge in front of Spearow. "You earned it."

The rest of the team immediately perked up, their heads snapping toward the badge like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Pikachu stopped mid-bite, Rattata froze mid-pounce, and even Vee, who was usually the calmest, looked wide-eyed and curious. They all turned to look at Austin as if to say, Wait, really?

"Come on," Austin said with a grin. "The grumpy bird deserves it. He worked his tail feathers off, literally."

Spearow's sharp eyes narrowed, flicking between Austin and the shiny object on the floor. Slowly, cautiously, he hopped forward, his talons clicking softly against the floor. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out with his beak, lightly tapping the badge.

The reaction was immediate. A soft, grayish aura began to swirl around Spearow, like mist curling through the air. The room seemed to grow just a little quieter, as though holding its breath. The transformation was subtle but undeniable. Spearow's feathers smoothed out, his stance grew more upright and confident, and his eyes gleamed with a sharp, vibrant energy. He let out a low caw, testing the newfound strength coursing through him.

The other Pokémon stared in awe. But then, as the excitement settled, Austin caught the flicker of disappointment in their expressions. Pikachu scratched behind one ear awkwardly, Rattata's tail flicked with a faint pout, and Vee's ears drooped ever so slightly.

Austin sighed, sitting up fully now. "Alright, alright, don't look at me like that. You think I forgot about you guys?" He reached into his bag and pulled out the TM cube Flint had given him. "How about we try out some new moves, huh?"

That was all it took. Pikachu and Rattata practically bounced in excitement, and even Vee's ears perked back up. Spearow, still basking in his aura upgrade, gave them a smug little side-eye as if to say, Good luck topping that.

Austin recalled each Pokémon into their Pokéballs, one by one, and placed the capsules into the TM cube. The device hummed softly, a gentle vibration running through his hands as it activated. A faint glow filled the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

He leaned back, watching in fascination. "Man, TMs are wild," he muttered to himself. He'd always thought they were cool in the games, but seeing them work in real life was something else. It was like the device was transferring a piece of knowledge—an actual, living memory of the move—directly into the Pokémon. The process reminded him of downloading software, only way more sci-fi.

When the cube finally went quiet, Austin opened each Pokéball, releasing his team back into the room. They blinked at him expectantly, eager to see what they'd gained.

Austin grabbed his Pokédex to check. "Alright, let's see what we've got."

He scanned Rattata first. "Hidden Power: Dark," he read aloud. Rattata grinned, her sharp teeth glinting as if she already had ideas for how to use it. "Nice," Austin said with a nod.

Next was Pikachu. "Hidden Power: Grass. Huh. That'll give us some coverage for those pesky Rock-types, buddy." Pikachu puffed out his chest proudly.

Finally, Austin turned to Vee. He paused. "Hidden Power: Normal," he said, frowning slightly. That was weird. Hidden Power: Normal wasn't possible in the games. Something didn't add up.

He decided to experiment. Vee into Flareon, then checked the pokedex. To his surprise, the move shifted—now it was Hidden Power: Fire. His mind raced. He had to test it further. He watched Vee become a Vaporeon, and sure enough, Hidden Power changed again—this time to Hidden Power: Water. Then, it became Hidden Power: Electric when Vee evolved into Jolteon.

What the hell? Hidden Power was adapting to each evolution. This wasn't how it worked in the games, and Austin's mind started spinning with theories. Could it be linked to the elemental affinity of each Eeveelution? Was there something about how the move interacted with the transformation process?

He was just starting to piece together some thoughts when his stomach growled, loud enough to break his concentration. It was almost comical. Here he was, uncovering something that could be a huge breakthrough, and his body was reminding him of more pressing matters.

"Let's eat fast so we can eat again!" he said to no one in particular, a grin spreading across his face.

Food first, theories later.

For two days, Austin had been preparing, but as he sat alone in the cafeteria, poking at his cold plate of eggs and toast, he couldn't ignore the pit of anxiety in his stomach. His fork hovered aimlessly over the plate, stabbing at the same piece of toast over and over. The faint hum of the radio played in the background, the usual morning news filling the air with talk of weather, politics, and random city events. His ears pricked at every mention of Mt. Moon, though.

He was waiting—hoping—for some news. Any news about Team Rocket.

It wasn't just paranoia; it was a pattern. In the anime, in the games, Mt. Moon was where Team Rocket had made their first big move. It wasn't a question of if they'd show up, but when. The thought of running into them made his chest tighten. If something went wrong—if Team Rocket came after him—what would happen to Pikachu? To Vee? To the rest of his team?

He clenched his fist under the table. Just thinking about it made his gut churn.

Beside him, a map of the area lay open, its edges creased and worn from constant folding and unfolding. His finger traced the mountain range's winding paths for the hundredth time. Mt. Moon wasn't just a mountain—it was a sprawling network of caves and tunnels that cut through the rocky terrain, offering a shortcut between Pewter City and Cerulean City. The alternative? Trekking two weeks over harsh mountain paths. For most trainers, the caves were the obvious choice.

But Austin wasn't most trainers.

He had thought about skipping Mt. Moon altogether, taking the longer, safer route. But every time the idea crossed his mind, he imagined Team Rocket ambushing him on the mountain trail instead, and his grip on the fork tightened until it bent under the pressure. He'd prepped for this. He'd battled hard to make his team stronger. He'd trained himself to climb. He'd cooked enough meals to last them two weeks, packed carefully, planned meticulously. And yet, no amount of preparation erased the doubt gnawing at him.

He glanced at the map again, then at the clock on the wall. It was time to execute Plan A.

Plan A was simple: call in a false report to the Pokémon Rangers. Lure them to Mt. Moon under the pretense of an emergency, and let them deal with any Team Rocket presence before he even got there. It was their job, right? Protecting civilians? Handling criminals? This was the smart move—safer, cleaner.

But even with the plan ready, Austin couldn't shake the weight of unease pressing down on him as he approached the phone booth. It was tucked away at the edge of a small park, its faded blue paint chipped and rusted in places. The glass was scratched and fogged with age, making the inside feel cramped and oddly claustrophobic. As he stepped inside, he adjusted the mask on his face—a simple precaution to keep himself anonymous—and took a deep breath.

This had to work.

His hand shook slightly as he dialed the number for the Pewter City Pokémon Rangers. The line clicked, and a pleasant but professional voice answered.

"Pewter City Ranger Station, how can we help you?"

Austin pinched his nose to alter his voice, adding a faint tremble of panic to sell the story. "H-hello? Is this the rangers? Please, I need help!"

"Sir, are you okay? What happened?" The operator's voice immediately shifted to concern.

"I—I was hiking near Mt. Moon when these Pokémon thieves attacked me! They—they're crazy! I barely got away!" He let his voice shake, adding a rasp to make it sound like he'd been running.

"Pokémon thieves? Sir, when did this happen?"

"An hour ago," he lied, gripping the receiver tightly. "I—I just made it to safety on my Rapidash. They—they had these uniforms with a big red 'R' on them." He was laying it on thick, but it had to be convincing.

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, Austin thought the operator believed him. But then her tone changed, growing sharper. "Sir, are you sure about this?"

"Yes!" he insisted, his voice rising slightly. "They're still there! I swear!"

"Sir," the operator interrupted, her voice firm. "We've had a patrol stationed at Mt. Moon for the past week. They check in every hour. Either you're mistaken, or you're playing a very dangerous prank."

Austin's stomach dropped. "I—I'm not—"

But the line cut off before he could say anything else.

He stared at the phone in stunned silence, his heart hammering. A patrol? Every hour? That wasn't what he'd expected. His whole plan relied on Team Rocket being unchecked at Mt. Moon, but if the rangers were actively monitoring the area...

Am I wrong? he thought, his mind racing. Are they not there? Or are they hiding from the rangers entirely?

Stepping out of the booth, the morning air felt cool against his skin, but it did nothing to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in his head. What now?

He paced a few steps, staring down at the sidewalk. Maybe he'd been paranoid this whole time. Maybe Team Rocket wasn't even at Mt. Moon. But the idea of traveling through the tunnels, even with the rangers' presence, still left him uneasy. What if they weren't enough? What if they missed something?

He paused, glancing back at his map. Should he stick to the original plan and take the long, safer route around the mountain? It would cost time, but it would keep him away from the threat. Or should he trust the rangers, push through the caves, and hope for the best?

His gut twisted with indecision. For all the preparation he'd done, all the scenarios he'd planned for, he hadn't anticipated this.

Taking a deep breath, Austin squared his shoulders. Whatever choice he made, it had to be his own. No one else was going to protect him or his team. If he wanted to make it through this journey, he'd have to trust himself—and his Pokémon.

For now, though, he needed to keep moving. One way or another, Mt. Moon awaited.

Author's Note:

Hey folks! Let's unpack a few things from this chapter, shall we? First of all, Delia. I wanted to breathe more life into her character here. In the games and anime, she's often just painted as the "supportive mom," but there's so much room to explore what makes her tick. I wanted her to feel a bit more like a real person—someone with quirks, routines, and hobbies outside of just worrying about Ash. That VHS obsession? That's her little slice of escapism. The quirky, back-and-forth banter with Roger is my way of showing how she connects with her community. It makes her feel more grounded—less of a one-note "worried mom" and more of a character with her own fun side. .

Speaking of the movies, I went all-in on the references this time. Here's a quick cheat sheet in case you missed them:

"Meowth Impossible" – Obviously a spoof on Mission: Impossible. I imagine Meowth as some kind of reluctant secret agent, complete with a sassy attitude and gadgets.

"Pidgeot Cage by Steven Sparrows" – A nod to the Bird Cage and Steven Spielberg mashed up with Pirates of the Caribbean's Jack Sparrow. This one's a reach, but it's silly, and that's the point.

"A Staraptor is Born" – A Star is Born, but you know, with Staraptor. If Staraptor isn't dramatically singing about heartbreak, is it even cinema?

And, of course, Poké Kart 64 – You KNOW if Mario Kart existed in this world, Delia would be peer-pressured into renting it for Ash. I threw in her realization about not buying the console for humor, but also to subtly highlight how Delia's impulsiveness can land her in these ridiculous situations. She's just trying her best, okay?

Now, onto the Pokémon drama with Rattata and Vee. Let's rewind to Rattata's capture. If you remember, she was caught when she was at her most vulnerable—starving and scared. That hunger and desperation have shaped her personality. She's scrappy, fiercely independent, and still carries that survivalist mindset even though she now has access to food and safety. So, when she sees Vee—who in her eyes hasn't "earned" his keep—enjoying the same meals, it triggers that old feeling of injustice. In her mind, it's not fair. She fought for her place on the team, and she doesn't understand why Vee isn't expected to do the same. It's a little petty, sure, but it's human (well, Pokémon). This kind of nuance makes the team dynamics feel richer, I think.

On the flip side, Vee is carrying a ton of insecurity. His abilities make him a wildcard. He's been through hell, experimented on and forced to evolve into unstable forms, and now he's stuck in this weird limbo where he doesn't know his place on the team. He wants to be useful, but he also doesn't want to suffer again. The confrontation with Rattata and Spearow really highlights his anxiety, but it's also a turning point for the team. After Austin steps in and clears the air, there's a sense that they're starting to actually gel as a unit, even if they have a ways to go.

Finally, this chapter was meant to be a breather after the emotional weight of Brock and Flint's story. I love stories that can balance lighthearted fun with darker elements, and Pokémon is a great medium for that. At its core, this is still a journey of growth, teamwork, and adventure, but I want to keep sprinkling in moments of moral ambiguity and emotional depth—whether it's through Team Rocket's looming presence, Vee's struggle with identity, or Rattata's lingering survival instincts. It's Pokémon, but with more stakes, you know?

That said, I couldn't resist lightening the tone here. Delia's goofy nicknames (I had way too much fun with these), Austin struggling with a fake emergency call, and the hilarity of Pikachu and co. watching him fumble his way through rock climbing were all meant to balance out the heaviness. You've got to let the characters breathe in these quieter moments before diving back into the chaos.

Next up: Mt. Moon. It's going to get real. Team Rocket might—or might not—be lying in wait, and the team's new moves and training will be put to the test. Plus, Austin's theories about Vee's Hidden Power? Oh, those are definitely going to come back into play. Let's just say Mt. Moon is shaping up to be more than just Zubats and Geodudes. Stay tuned, folks—things are about to escalate!

If you want to support my work, you can do so here: Patreon

Let me know if you enjoyed this little detour into the more lighthearted side of the journey or if you're eager to get back into the nitty-gritty drama. Either way, thanks for reading!

Adamos_Amet · Dec 10, 2024

[Mt. Moon]

Arianna stood at the cliff's edge, her sharp gaze tracing the endless stretch of rocky crags and jagged peaks silhouetted against the setting sun. The mountain range sprawled out like a labyrinth of shadows, its winding paths swallowing every trace of light as night fell.

The wind howled through the valley below, carrying the sharp tang of pine and dust. Arianna inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp air. The mountains always did this to her—invigorated her, sharpened her focus. Up here, in this stark and unfiltered clarity, failure seemed intolerable.

"Ma'am."

A grunt's voice broke her reverie. She turned slowly, her crimson hair catching the last golden rays of sunlight. Her piercing gaze landed on the young man standing stiffly behind her, his nervous energy poorly masked by a rigid posture.

"Report."

He snapped to attention. "Captured trainers now total twenty-six. Supplies are running low—food and clean water won't last more than four days unless we start rationing. Some of the prisoners are causing disruptions—one even broke a Pokéball containment unit. Repairs are underway, but—"

"Stop." Her gloved hand rose, and the grunt fell silent mid-sentence, swallowing hard.

Arianna stepped toward him, her boots crunching against the gravel. "You're telling me," she began, her tone icy, "that despite controlling one of the most strategic locations in this region, despite a team of thirty grunts under my leadership, you can't manage something as basic as rations?"

The grunt's mouth opened and closed uselessly. His eyes darted toward his partner, a stocky woman standing nearby, smirking faintly at his predicament.

"You." Arianna's attention snapped to the woman. "Since your colleague has lost the ability to speak, perhaps you'd like to explain why our logistics are failing?"

The woman straightened but didn't lose her edge. "Ma'am, the supply issue stems from the volume of prisoners we're taking. Transporting and holding trainers this far from our bases isn't exactly—"

"Volume of prisoners?" Arianna's voice rose, sharp as a blade. "Are you suggesting we stop taking prisoners? That we allow these meddling trainers to wander off, alert the authorities, and bring the wrath of the Rangers down on us?"

"No, ma'am," the woman replied quickly, her confidence cracking under Arianna's glare.

Arianna studied her for a long moment, letting the weight of silence settle. Finally, she laughed—a sharp, humorless sound.

"Good. Because if I hear about dwindling supplies one more time, I'll test the efficiency of our rations myself—starting with yours." She smiled, the threat hanging in the air.

"Yes, ma'am," the grunt stammered.

"Now leave," Arianna commanded, dismissing them with a flick of her hand. "And take him with you."

The grunts scrambled to obey, the younger one nearly tripping over his own feet as he hurried off. Arianna's smirk returned as another figure emerged from the shadows, his gait lazy and unbothered.

Slate leaned against a support pole, his foxlike face split in a perpetual smirk. His uniform was pristine, his slicked-back hair untouched by the wind. Yet there was an air of mockery in the way he lounged that would've earned any other grunt a reprimand.

"Trouble in paradise, boss?" he drawled.

"Careful, Slate." Her voice was light, but her eyes gleamed with warning. "Your habit of speaking out of turn might get you reassigned to waste disposal."

He chuckled. "Oh, come on. You know you'd miss me. Someone has to point out when you're about to lose your temper."

"I don't lose my temper," Arianna corrected coolly. "I employ precision anger when it's warranted."

"Right. Precision. Like when you smashed that grunt's PokéNav because he stuttered during a report?"

"That was a calculated loss."

Before he could retort, a third grunt ran toward them, tablet in hand and breathless. "Ma'am!"

Arianna's gaze sharpened. "What is it?"

"We've spotted movement in the southern range." He thrust the tablet toward her. The grainy thermal image showed a faint humanoid figure weaving through the terrain.

"They're not using fire or visible light," the grunt continued. "The way they're moving—it's deliberate. Avoiding open areas. Almost as if they're trying not to be seen."

Arianna's lips curled into a predatory smile. A lost hiker wouldn't behave like this. Someone trying to hide, though—that was interesting.

"Have you tracked where they're heading?"

"They've stopped for now. It looks like they've set up camp near the ridge overlooking the west valley."

Her mind raced. A Ranger wouldn't operate this covertly. A random trainer wouldn't have this level of tactical awareness. This was no ordinary trespasser.

"Slate," she said, her voice suddenly sharp with authority.

"Yes, boss?"

"You're in charge until I return."

His smirk faltered. "Wait, you're going personally? For one trainer?"

"I have a feeling about this one," she said, pulling on her gloves. "And I don't entrust interesting opportunities to those less competent."

"Don't forget to send a postcard," Slate quipped, but there was an edge of unease in his tone.

Arianna ignored him, her smile growing. The hunt was on.

The clearing was eerily quiet when Arianna stepped into it, her heels crunching against the uneven ground. Her crimson hair caught the faint glow of the rising moon, casting a sharp silhouette that made her presence all the more commanding. She moved slowly, deliberately, her steps a calculated rhythm that seemed to echo in the still air.

The first thing she noticed wasn't the trainer—or rather, the lump curled in a sleeping bag—but the Pokémon. The Pikachu stood rigid, its tiny body tense, sparks dancing faintly on its cheeks. The Spearow, one wing bandaged, flapped restlessly on a nearby rock, its beady eyes locked onto her like a predator sizing up a rival.

"Sorry for intruding," Arianna said, her voice smooth, almost disarming. "I was hiking and didn't expect to find someone out here in the middle of nowhere."

Her gaze shifted to the sleeping bag, where the figure stirred slightly but didn't fully emerge. The trainer turned just enough to keep her in view, his movements stiff and guarded.

"You're in luck then," came the muffled reply, the voice distorted by a deliberate gruffness. Arianna's sharp eyes caught the faintest quiver in his tone—forced bravado, she thought with quiet satisfaction.

Her gaze lingered on the scarf wrapped snugly around the lower half of his face. It was an odd choice. The cold mountain air justified it to an extent, but the way he adjusted it every so often, like a reflex, betrayed something else entirely. Hiding his face. Hiding himself.

How amusing. What are you so afraid of, little trainer?

"Most people don't."

"Is that so?" Arianna looked closely. No fire. No light. Interesting.

"Sleeping without a fire," she said. "Brave—or foolish?"

"Who needs a fire when you've got an electric blanket?"

"Clever," Arianna replied, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her gloves. "But not exactly the mark of a seasoned camper. Most trainers would prefer the warmth of a real fire."

"Well, I'm just doing my part for the environment. Why burn wood when you've got Pikachu? So, what's your story, Arianna?"

He dropped her name with unsettling ease, and for a fleeting moment, her composure wavered.

"Oh, nothing much," she said lightly. "Just trying to find my place in this strange world. Same as everyone else, really."

"Amen to that," he replied. "Food?"

The question caught her off guard, though she didn't let it show. What did catch her attention, however, was the way he turned his entire back to her, an oddly defensive move that screamed calculation rather than carelessness. His rummaging through the backpack was slow—too slow—each movement deliberate, almost exaggerated. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he tossed a container toward her with a lazy, nonchalant arc.

Arianna caught it effortlessly, but the lack of eye contact wasn't lost on her.

Still, she played along, settling onto a nearby rock and placing the box beside her. "Kind of you."

"Gotta share the wealth."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. Arianna's eyes darted to the Pokémon briefly before returning to the trainer.

"You're an unusual one," she mused. "Most trainers are friendlier. More... trusting."

"Trust is earned," he shot back.

"Fair enough," she conceded, though the edge in her voice sharpened slightly. "But people don't normally have their entire back turned during a conversation. Or cover their face like they've got something to hide."

The sleeping bag shifted slightly, and she caught the faintest flicker of tension in his movements.

"Guess I'm not most people."

"No," she said, her smile turning razor-thin. "You're certainly not. You wouldn't happen to have an Eevee with you, would you?" Arianna's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing—not the faint twitch of his hand nor the subtle movement near his bag. Beneath the flap, half-hidden, was the unmistakable glint of an electric taser.

"Pity, though," she added, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "I was starting to enjoy our little chat."

"NOW!"

Austin's voice rang out sharply as the meal prep box she'd set aside burst open, revealing a Pokéball. From it, Vee materialized in the form of Jolteon, its spiny fur crackling with electricity.

"Pikachu, Thunder Shock! Spearow, Sand Attack!" Austin's voice was steady now, all pretense dropped as he emerged fully, a paper bag covering his face.

Arianna was ready. With a flick of her wrist, her Pokéball opened, and a swirling storm of pink petals erupted around her. The tornado acted as a shield, deflecting Pikachu's Thunder Shock and scattering Spearow's Sand Attack like they were nothing. The attacks fizzled out uselessly, the dense petals absorbing the energy with cruel efficiency.

As the storm settled, Austin stiffened beneath his paper bag mask, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her Pokémon. Standing imposingly, Arianna's Vileplume emerged, its massive red flower with five bulky petals towering over the battlefield. The indigo, bipedal Pokémon's beady red eyes glinted in the dim light, and the air was instantly poisoned with its suffocating stench.

Austin gagged, covering his nose with his arm. Pikachu's ears flattened in discomfort, while Spearow squawked, flapping its wings at the air. Even Vee hesitated, its fur bristling as it stepped back.

"Apologies," Arianna said mockingly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Vileplume tends to leave... an impression."

Austin forced himself to stand firm, despite the nausea clawing at him. "Yeah, smells like you've got a great deodorant sponsorship," he shot back, though his voice was tight.

Arianna chuckled coldly. "I admire the courage," she said, her tone sharp. "But it won't help you."

"Sunny Day."

Arianna's voice cut through the tension like a blade. Vileplume's flower glowed as it unleashed an orb of radiant energy into the air, bathing the campsite in harsh, artificial sunlight. The oppressive heat seemed to choke the air, the shadows now obliterated.

Austin's mind raced. Chlorophyll. He gritted his teeth. That ability doubled Vileplume's speed in sunlight. Worse, it also neutralized his one advantage: the cover of darkness. She wasn't just fast; she was clever, dismantling his every option before he could act.

"Pikachu, Helping Hand! Spearow, Growl!" Austin barked out his commands.

Jolteon leaped forward, paw glowing as it used Helping Hand, boosting Pikachu's power. Spearow and Pikachu combined their Growls, their cries rippling through the air, momentarily lowering Vileplume's attack power.

But Arianna's confidence didn't waver. She smirked, her icy composure unnerving. "That's cute, really. Vileplume, Solar Beam."

Austin's eyes widened in horror. The sunny day wasn't just for speed—it enabled Solar Beam to fire instantly.

The flower on Vileplume's head flared gold, the sunlight bending and twisting around it like a living thing. The air itself seemed to hum with power, vibrating in Austin's chest as the energy condensed into a devastating beam. When it fired, the world went white. Pikachu braced itself, sparks dancing wildly along its fur as it released a desperate Thunder Shock. For a split second, the two attacks clashed, lightning crackling against the golden beam.

Then, like a tidal wave crashing through a sandcastle, Solar Beam tore through.

"Sword Strike!"

In an act of sheer desperation, Pikachu's tail glowed silver, the steel-like appendage cutting into the beam. Sparks flew as Pikachu dug in, refusing to yield. But the strain was too much. The blast exploded, sending Pikachu hurtling backward.

The shockwave rocked the campsite. When the dust settled, Pikachu was on the ground, its small body trembling, its fur scorched and singed. Its breathing was labored, blood seeping from cuts across its side.

"You're trembling," Arianna said, her voice like ice, sharp and unforgiving. She stepped forward, heels crunching against the rocky ground. "Relax. Team Rocket doesn't kill. Not directly, anyway. But your Pikachu..." She crouched slightly, leveling a gaze at Austin that felt like a blade against his throat. "It's so brave. Almost enough to make me forget that rule."

Austin staggered back as her gaze locked onto him. There was a predatory glint in her eyes—a mix of sadistic amusement and cold calculation. It wasn't just terrifying; it was paralyzing. Her expression told him everything: she was enjoying this. She wanted him to suffer.

"Let's see how far we can push those limits."

With a snap of her fingers, Vileplume unleashed Petal Blizzard. A storm of razor-sharp petals erupted from its flower, swirling into a tornado of vibrant destruction. The petals cut through the air with horrifying precision, aimed directly at Pikachu.

"Pikachu, move!" Austin screamed, his voice cracking. But Pikachu, battered and exhausted, couldn't dodge in time.

The petals struck like blades, each one cutting deeper than the last. Pikachu's cries of pain ripped through the air, sharp and agonizing, until they abruptly stopped. Its small body collapsed onto the rocky ground, battered and broken. Blood pooled beneath it, staining the dirt crimson.

"Look at that," Arianna mused, her tone devoid of pity. She stepped closer, the sharp scent of Vileplume's toxic spores filling the air. "Still breathing. Barely. You must be so proud." Her smile widened, cruel and predatory. "But pride doesn't win battles, does it?"

Austin's knees buckled, his hands trembling as he reached for Pikachu. Every breath felt like fire in his chest. He could barely see through the tears blurring his vision, but one thought screamed louder than the rest: This is my fault.

"Don't blank out now, boy," Arianna's voice taunted. "What's wrong? No plan left? No more clever tricks?" She leaned forward slightly, her tone mockingly sweet. "You wanted to play with the big leagues, didn't you? This is what it feels like to lose."

A sudden cry snapped Austin out of his paralysis. Spearow!

Austin's mind cleared just enough for a spark of focus. He couldn't afford to freeze. Not now. Not with Pikachu's life on the line.

"Hidden Power: Water!" Austin's voice cracked as Vaporeon formed an orb of glowing energy. "Spearow, Hidden Power: Fire!"

The two attacks streaked through the air, colliding with a blinding flash. Fire and water clashed violently, erupting into a billowing wave of steam. The heat was suffocating, the mist so thick it blurred the world into nothingness.

"Run, run, run," Austin muttered under his breath, scrambling to recall Vaporeon and Spearow into their Pokéballs. His hands fumbled, shaking so badly he almost dropped them. The mist was buying time, but not much. He threw himself onto the bike, his pulse thundering in his ears.

From somewhere in the mist, Arianna's voice rang out, cold and mocking. "You're only prolonging the inevitable, boy. This is my mountain. My territory. You can't hide from me forever."

Austin tore down the steep slope, his bike rattling violently over rocks and loose gravel. The wheels spat dirt into the air, the frame groaning under the strain of his frantic pace. The wind lashed against his face, cold and unrelenting, but it couldn't mask the tears streaking down his cheeks, soaking into the damp paper bag he wore. His breathing was ragged, each inhale sharp and uneven, like his lungs were fighting against the weight crushing his chest.

Pikachu's screams wouldn't stop. They echoed in his mind, relentless and agonizing, a symphony of pain and fear that threatened to drown him. The memory of blood dripping onto the ground—the red stark against Pikachu's yellow fur—flashed before his eyes, blinding him more than the tears ever could.

The weight of failure pressed down on him like a vice. His hands trembled against the handlebars, his knuckles white as he gripped tighter, desperate for any sense of control. Fear clawed at him, sinking its teeth into his mind, whispering that he wasn't good enough—that he'd gotten his team hurt because he wasn't strong enough, smart enough.

But he couldn't give in. Not now.

His team needed him. Pikachu needed him. They didn't need a terrified mess of a boy; they needed a trainer. A leader. Austin swallowed hard, forcing the bile rising in his throat back down. With every ounce of willpower he could muster, he shoved the fear into a corner of his mind, locking it away.

The mist blanketing the mountain swallowed the world around him, cloaking the path ahead in eerie silence. But Arianna's voice echoed in the back of his mind, sharp and mocking: Run, little boy. Run. You can't hide from me. This is my mountain. You're only delaying the inevitable.

Austin's jaw tightened. He gritted his teeth, the anger bubbling up in his chest giving him something solid to cling to. If she thought this was over, she was wrong.

The bike hurtled forward, the slope steepening, gravity pulling him faster and faster. The tears still came, unbidden, but his grip didn't falter. His team needed him alive, no matter what. They needed him to fight, even if it meant clawing his way out of the darkness inch by inch.

Tonight was a nightmare—a blood-soaked, haunting hell that felt like a boiling pot he couldn't escape. But if he couldn't get out now, he could do the next best thing: plan ahead.

Adamos_Amet · Dec 14, 2024

The night sky stretched endlessly above, a dark canopy speckled with stars that seemed indifferent to the chaos below. The faint outline of Mt. Moon loomed in the distance, its shadowy ridges sharp and foreboding. Austin stood at the base of a jagged cliff, his breaths visible in the chill air. His legs felt like lead, his muscles burned, and the weight of the bicycle strapped to his back was a cruel reminder of his predicament. But this wasn't the time to complain. Arianna and her grunts would be scouring the forest floor for him, their numbers growing as they spread like a plague.

The forest wasn't safe anymore, but the cliffs? A cave carved into the side of the rock face—that might be.

His eyes tracked upward, where Spearow circled the cliff. The bird Pokémon let out a sharp cry, swooping down and landing on the narrow ledge beside Austin. Its talons clinked against the metal of the climbing gear strapped to his chest, tugging at one of the carabiners with a sense of urgency.

"All right, all right, I get it," Austin muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. He reached into his bag, retrieving a coil of rope. Spearow hopped closer, its sharp eyes tracking his every move.

"You're really into this, huh?"

Spearow let out an impatient squawk and gripped the rope in its talons, flapping its wings for balance as it tugged it free from Austin's pack. The bird darted up to the first ledge, finding a secure rock outcrop to anchor the line. It looped the rope with precision, its sharp beak working like a tool as it tightened the knot.

"Not bad," Austin muttered. "Maybe I should let you do all the hard work."

Spearow gave him an annoyed glare before fluttering back down to Austin, landing lightly on his shoulder.

"All right, partner," Austin said, securing the other end of the rope to his harness. He tested the tension with a few experimental pulls, the rope holding firm. "Let's do this."

He grabbed hold of the first handhold, his fingers digging into the rough stone as he began the ascent. The climb was slow, each movement deliberate as he adjusted his weight to account for the heavy bicycle strapped to his back. Spearow hovered nearby, darting ahead to scout for better grips and footholds, chirping directions when needed.

"Yeah, yeah, I see it," Austin said through gritted teeth as Spearow screeched and pointed its beak toward a sturdier ledge to his left. He shifted his weight carefully, reaching for it with trembling fingers.

At one point, his foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel, sending small rocks skittering down the cliffside. His stomach dropped as he clung desperately to the ledge, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

In an instant, Spearow swooped down, grabbing hold of the bicycle's frame with its talons. The bird flapped its wings furiously, easing the strain on Austin's back just enough for him to regain his footing.

"Thanks," he rasped, pressing himself flat against the rock face for a moment to steady his nerves.

Spearow chirped sharply, as if to say, Stop messing around and focus.

"I'm trying, okay?!" Austin shot back. "You're not the one carrying half a bike shop on your back."

The climb continued, the muscles in Austin's arms and legs screaming in protest. Spearow remained vigilant, darting between him and the higher ledges to secure the rope and scout the best path forward. At one point, it even tugged on the straps of Austin's pack to shift the weight, making the climb just a little more bearable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Austin hauled himself over the last ledge and into the narrow mouth of a cave. He collapsed onto the dirt floor, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Spearow fluttered down beside him, its feathers ruffled but its eyes sharp and alert.

"You… are officially the MVP," Austin panted, giving the bird a weak thumbs-up.

Austin sat up slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow as he glanced around the small space. It wasn't much, just a shallow cave carved into the side of the cliff, but it would do for now.

Before he could fully relax, a sharp cry echoed from deeper within the cave. Spearow immediately shot forward, a blur of motion as it used Quick Attack to strike at whatever had made the noise. A soft thud followed, and Austin quickly reached into his bag for his flashlight. He flicked it on, the beam cutting through the darkness to reveal the creature Spearow had intercepted.

It was a Sandslash.

The bipedal, spiny Pokémon stood its ground, claws extended and glinting in the light. Its quills bristled with tension, and its almond-shaped blue eyes burned with fierce protectiveness. Behind it, two smaller forms huddled—a pair of Sandshrew, trembling as they pressed against the walls of the cave.

"Whoa, whoa," Austin said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Easy there."

The Sandslash didn't move, its sharp claws scraping the ground as it shifted into a defensive stance.

Austin reached for his belt and released Rattata, the small Pokémon landing on the ground with a soft thud.

"Rattata," he said softly, keeping his voice calm, "tell them we mean no harm. We just need a place to rest, and then we'll leave."

Rattata gave him a nod, her tail flicking as she cautiously approached the Sandslash. She squeaked and chattered, her tone soothing as she communicated with the wary Pokémon.

Austin, meanwhile, dug into his bag and pulled out the small meal he had packed for the morning. He opened the container, letting the aroma of cooked rice and berries waft through the air.

"Tell them they can have this," Austin said to Rattata, his voice steady but soft. "If they'll let us stay for a while."

The Sandslash's eyes darted between the food and Austin, its quills slowly lowering as Rattata continued to squeak. After a tense moment, the Sandslash relaxed slightly, giving a small grunt of approval.

"Thank you," Austin murmured, carefully setting the container down on the cave floor before backing away.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Austin turned his attention to Pikachu. The electric mouse lay motionless, its small chest rising and falling in shallow intervals. A lump formed in his throat as he pulled out a clean cloth, a bottle of water, some antiseptic, and a Full Heal. His hands trembled as he knelt beside his injured partner.

The injuries were worse than he'd let himself admit.

Pikachu's fur was matted with blood, deep cuts crisscrossing its body like a grim map of the battle they had barely survived. The sight made his chest tighten, guilt twisting in his gut.

"This shouldn't have happened," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry."

Gritting his teeth, Austin poured water onto the cloth and began cleaning the wounds with slow, deliberate care. Each wipe felt like an eternity, the stench of blood and antiseptic mixing in the cold, stale air of the cave. Pikachu's body twitched faintly with every touch, and Austin flinched, his heart aching with every sign of pain.

Once the wounds were clean, he sprayed the Full Heal over them, watching as its restorative properties took effect. The cuts began to close, leaving faint scars in their place. It was almost miraculous, but the process was slow, each passing second stretching the weight of his guilt.

Finally, Austin cradled Pikachu against his chest, resting his head against the small, battered body. He closed his eyes, letting the soft rhythm of Pikachu's breathing ground him.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

The sound was steady. Reassuring. For now.

A soft tap on his arm broke the silence. He opened his eyes to find one of the Sandshrew standing beside him, holding a smooth rock in its tiny claws. The little Pokémon placed the stone in his hand, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Austin felt a lump rise in his throat as he clutched the rock tightly against his chest. "Thank you," he whispered.

The Sandshrew chirped happily before scurrying back to its family, who had begun cautiously nibbling on the food he'd offered.

Rattata returned to his side, nudging his cheek with her nose and letting out a soft squeak.

"Sorry for not calling you out earlier," Austin said, stroking her fur gently. "I was planning to use you for a sneak attack, but... she was too strong."

Rattata squeaked again, her tone a mix of frustration and reassurance.

"I know," he murmured. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Leaning back against his backpack, he let his exhaustion catch up with him. The cold, hard floor of the cave pressed against his back, but he was too tired to care. Spearow perched at the cave entrance, sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond, while Rattata curled up beside him, her presence a small comfort.

For now, they were safe. But the question loomed in his mind, heavy and unrelenting: What do we do next?

A faint hiss broke through the silence—a Pokéball opening. The sound was familiar, enough to rouse him from his shallow rest. Instinctively, he kept his body still, listening for any further movement. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

Vee had released itself.

There was no noise, no movement after that. Just... silence. Curiosity overtook his need for stillness. Opening one eye, he caught sight of Vee sitting a few feet away, motionless. The Pokémon stared blankly at Pikachu, its ears drooped low, its entire posture heavy with an emotion Austin recognized but didn't know how to address.

"Don't worry, Pikachu is fine," Austin said softly. The words were as much for himself as they were for Vee. In truth, he didn't know if Pikachu was fine. He could only hope. The little electric mouse hadn't stirred much since their harrowing escape from Arianna.

"Eve..." Vee's voice was low, almost a whisper, but its body betrayed the sound. Its fur bristled, and its gaze flicked sharply toward the forest beyond the cave's entrance. A low growl rumbled in its throat.

"Angry?" Austin asked gently.

Vee turned its head to meet his gaze, and the unrelenting, burning anger in the Pokémon's eyes was unmistakable. It wasn't just anger born of frustration. It was an anger steeped in helplessness, in the pain of witnessing things it couldn't control.

Austin felt something different. His anger wasn't a wildfire like Vee's—it was cold, sharp, and calculating. But it burned all the same, smoldering beneath his skin.

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. The confession drew every eye in the cave—Vee, Rattata, Spearow. Even Pikachu, unconscious as it had been, stirred faintly at the sound.

"I'm angry too," Austin continued, his voice growing stronger, steadier. "But I know those feelings won't help us right now. We're in a bad situation, and I don't know about you, but I'm not going down without a fight."

The cave fell silent, save for the faint rustle of the wind outside. For a moment, Austin wondered if his words had even reached them.

Then, softly, a weak voice broke through the quiet: "Pika..."

Everyone turned, eyes widening as Pikachu stirred, barely able to lift its head. Its eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but the flicker of determination within them refused to die.

Austin placed a gentle hand on Pikachu's back, careful not to touch its still-tender wounds. "Don't push yourself too hard, buddy."

Vee growled low in its throat. Spearow gave a sharp cry, and Rattata squeaked, her tail flicking with energy.

Austin looked around at his team, a small smile spreading across his face. "Good to see everyone on board."

Turning his gaze to the Sandslash family, he bowed his head slightly in respect. The mother Sandslash stood protectively in front of her babies, her sharp claws glinting in the dim light.

"Miss Sandslash," Austin began, his tone calm and measured. "How would you like some extra food for your babies? In exchange, you could help us with something."

2:00 AM – Somewhere in the forest

Christopher Hayes trudged through the dark forest with a scowl that could curdle milk.

"You want the damn kid so bad? Go find him yourself, you psychotic harpy!" Christopher muttered, just loud enough for himself to hear. It was the only outlet he had. He would never dare say it to her face. Arianna was like a storm—beautiful and terrible all at once. And terrifying. Let's not forget terrifying.

Adjusting his flashlight, the beam sliced through the thick underbrush. He hated this assignment. He hated the forest. But most of all, he hated that trainer for making his life more difficult.

Christopher sighed, his boots crunching against the forest floor. His hand hovered near his Pokéball, ready to defend himself if something jumped out. He was already imagining the tongue-lashing he'd get from Arianna if he came back empty-handed, when suddenly, the bushes ahead rustled.

"Finally," he muttered, his fingers closing around the Pokéball. His heart raced as the bushes shook again. He braced himself for some wild Pokémon or—if he was lucky—the kid himself.

Instead, a small Rattata burst out, darting straight toward him.

Christopher exhaled sharply, relaxing his grip on the Pokéball. "Just a stupid Rattata," he grumbled, stepping aside to let it pass.

But the Rattata didn't pass.

The moonlight glinted off the Quick Claw necklace, and Christopher's instincts screamed at him—a moment too late. The Rattata lunged, its body a blur as it slammed into him with Quick Attack, knocking the air from his lungs.

White-hot pain exploded in his head as he hit the ground hard, his vision swimming. The world tilted and spun, a nauseating whirlpool of shadows and light. His ears rang, and blood trickled from his temple where he'd struck a rock.

He groaned, trying to push himself up, but his arms felt like jelly. Through blurry vision, he saw a figure step out of the shadows.

A boy.

No, not just a boy. A boy wearing a paper bag over his head. The crude disguise only made him more unsettling in the moonlight.

Christopher's breath hitched as realization dawned, cold and sharp as a knife. This was Arianna's target.

And he was screwed.

When Christopher came to, the first thing he noticed was the sensation of water being sprinkled on his face. It was cold and irritating, snapping him out of his daze.

He blinked groggily, only to find himself in a horrifying predicament. His body was buried in a shallow hole, dirt packed tightly around him. Only his head stuck out, leaving him completely immobile.

"Someone help me!" Christopher yelled, panic overtaking him as he struggled futilely against the packed earth.

A sharp slap across his face silenced him.

"Quiet," the boy with the paper bag said, crouching down to his level. His voice was calm, almost eerily so. "I'd suggest you take a moment to assess the situation before you start yelling again."

Christopher's breath hitched as he locked eyes with the boy—or rather, the two crude eyeholes in the bag. The sheer absurdity of it only made the fear worse.

Swallowing hard, Christopher forced himself to calm down, his mind racing. The boy could have killed him. He hadn't. That meant there was a reason. A way out.

He plastered on a nervous smile, his survival instincts kicking in. "Alright, boss," he said, his voice shaky but trying to sound cooperative. "What do you need?"

"Name?"

"Christopher Hayes," he replied immediately, forcing the smile to stay.

"Do you know why you're here?" Austin asked, his fingers absently drumming on the thermos by his side.

The question was deceptively simple, and Christopher's mind scrambled to form an answer that wouldn't land him in more trouble. His throat was dry, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

"We were ordered to capture a special Eevee. That's it!" he blurted out.

Austin gave a low hum, nodding slightly. His demeanor was casual, almost indifferent, but every movement and word was deliberate. The way he tapped the thermos wasn't idle—it was a subtle distraction, drawing Christopher's focus toward the container and making him wonder what it held. Keeping his enemy guessing was part of the game.

"Interesting," Austin said after a pause. He motioned toward Vee, who gracefully shifted into its Vaporeon form. Its liquid body shimmered in the moonlight as it slipped into the thermos. The sight was mesmerizing, and Austin let the silence stretch, giving Christopher time to let his imagination run wild.

"And do you know who created this special Eevee?"

"I—I don't know. Please, just let me go."

The grunt's voice cracked, panic seeping through every word. Exactly what Austin wanted—fear made people malleable, desperate to escape the nightmare they thought they were trapped in.

Austin didn't respond immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his backpack, his movements deliberate and calm. To Christopher, the nonchalance conveyed authority—Austin was in control here, and Christopher was powerless.

"I'll tell you who made him," Austin said finally, pulling out a small syringe. "I did."

Christopher blinked, stunned. The absurdity of the claim threw him off balance, which was precisely the point.
"That's impossible. You're just a kid."

Austin's head snapped toward him, his tone shifting to sharp indignation.
"I have Benjamin Button's disease."

The unexpected statement left Christopher speechless, his mind reeling. It didn't make sense, but the conviction in Austin's voice made him hesitate. Doubt was a powerful tool, after all.

Austin shook his head, muttering as he tore the syringe's packaging open and placed it beside the thermos, carefully keeping both out of Christopher's view. The placement was deliberate, creating a connection in Christopher's mind between the syringe and the mysterious contents of the thermos.

"You don't find it a little too convenient that an Eevee experimented on by Team Rocket just happened to trust a trainer it met in Viridian Forest?" Austin's tone carried a mocking edge, as if Christopher should have figured it out already.

Christopher's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. The sheer absurdity of the situation scrambled his thoughts. Exactly what Austin needed—an overwhelmed mind was easier to manipulate.

"What do you want from me?"

"Open your mouth," Austin said, his tone chillingly casual.

Christopher clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

Pikachu trotted up, slapped him hard across the face, and let its cheeks spark menacingly.

Left with no choice, Christopher yelped and opened his mouth.

In one smooth motion, Austin squirted water from the syringe into the grunt's mouth.

Christopher coughed and gagged, panic rising with every breath.
"What—what was that?"

"Vaporeon's liquid form," Austin said evenly, motioning toward the thermos.

Christopher froze, his face draining of color. The calm, matter-of-fact way Austin spoke made it impossible to dismiss.

"No… I—"

"Do you feel it?" Austin interrupted, his voice low. "Or do I need to inject some into your jugular for you to really understand what's happening?"

Christopher's breath hitched. He could almost feel something moving inside him. His stomach churned as the power of suggestion took hold, the placebo effect amplifying his fear into physical sensations.

"I—I feel it! I feel it!" Christopher cried, nodding frantically, tears streaming down his face.

"Good," Austin said. "You see, Vee can hold its liquid form for a long time. But here's the catch: if it decides to stop maintaining that form… well." He paused, letting the silence stretch unbearably. "Imagine every molecule of that liquid solidifying inside you. Spikes, claws, an explosion of tissue, organs… Gone in an instant."

Christopher's lip quivered, his mind conjuring the horrifying image Austin had painted. The mental picture was vivid, gruesome, and utterly believable.

"You understand now, don't you?" Austin continued, his voice dropping lower. "You're alive because I'm letting you be. And that's not something I do lightly."

Christopher broke. His sobs were uncontrollable as tears streamed down his face.
"Please! I have a sick mother who needs surgery. Please, I'll do anything!"

Austin stood back, arms crossed, letting the man's cries echo in the night. He didn't interrupt, didn't mock. The silence was part of the strategy, letting Christopher's imagination run rampant, filling the void with dread.

Finally, when Christopher's sobs dulled into pathetic sniffles, Austin spoke. His tone softened, almost kind.

"Anything?"

"Yes, yes!" Christopher nodded rapidly.

"Good." Austin's voice hardened again. "Then all you need to do is what you've done your entire life."

"What?"

"Obey," Austin said simply.

"Obey..."

"Exactly," Austin said, snapping his fingers. "Sandslash!"

The mother Sandslash, who had been watching the exchange from a distance, stepped forward. With practiced ease, she began digging Christopher out of his makeshift prison.

"What Pokémon do you have?"

"Oddish and Venonat," Christopher mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Austin's mind raced. Those Pokémon weren't powerhouses, but they had utility. He could work with that.

"Great," Austin said with a nod. "You're going to help me. And if you try anything stupid, remember..." He motioned toward the thermos.

Vee, still maintaining its liquid form, rippled faintly, its body shimmering ominously in the dim light.

Christopher nodded fervently, his thoughts too clouded with fear to question anything.
"I'll do whatever you say."

"Good." Austin straightened, his tone commanding. "Let's get started."

The forest was cloaked in the stillness of night, shadows stretching long across the uneven ground. A faint wind rustled the branches, carrying with it the distant sound of scurrying Pokémon and soft hoots. The grunt moved cautiously, his flashlight cutting through the dark as he scanned the underbrush. His hand rested on his PokéBall, ready for anything—or so he thought.

The sound of digging shattered the eerie calm, sharp and abrupt. The grunt flinched, spinning toward the noise with his heart racing.
"Who's there?" he barked, trying to mask the fear creeping into his voice.

Before he could react further, twin bolts of electricity streaked through the air, slamming into him. His body seized as the thundershocks coursed through him, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap. Paralysis locked his limbs, and his breath came in shallow gasps.

From the shadows, Austin stepped forward, his paper bag tilting slightly as he looked down at the prone grunt. Venonat skittered to his side, its radar-like eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

"Good job, everyone," Austin said, his tone calm, almost disconcertingly casual. He crouched beside the grunt, yanking the PokéBalls from his belt and tossing them into his bag.

Christopher emerged from the trees a moment later, his shoulders hunched and his head down, just as he had been for the past hour. He glanced at the unconscious grunt, then at Austin, who was already stripping the man of his uniform.

"Good job, boss," Christopher muttered, his tone flat but not without a hint of admiration. For the past hour, he had been helping Austin systematically take down Rocket grunts across the forest, one by one. With Venonat's radar vision, they had managed to sneak up on each of them undetected, incapacitating them before they could alert others.

Each time, the routine was the same: Austin would disable the grunt, strip them of their belongings, lock their PokéBalls, and tie them to a tree in nothing but their underwear. It was efficient, ruthless, and oddly precise—everything a Team Rocket operation wasn't. Christopher didn't comment on it anymore; he'd learned quickly to keep his head down and follow orders. It was easier that way.

"Fifteen-minute rest before we move on to Mt. Moon," Austin announced, shaking the satchel to dump its contents onto the ground.
"So, how many grunts are there?"

Christopher sighed inwardly. This was the fifth time Austin had asked, and he wasn't sure if the kid didn't trust him or just liked to double-check everything.
"Fourteen grunts, two captains, one executive."

"Good," Austin said. "We've already taken out four grunts in the forest. That leaves a captain at the front entrance, another at the exit, and about ten grunts inside. Half of them should be asleep by now, right?"

Christopher gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, we do shifts. Half the grunts sleep while the other half pretend to be useful. It's the Team Rocket way."

Austin didn't react to the joke, his focus fixed on the map. "Perfect. That means we only have to deal with one captain and five grunts. Should be easy."

"Easy," Christopher echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. Austin spoke as though destroying an entire Team Rocket operation was just another errand to run.

Austin sifted through the satchel's contents, pausing when he pulled out a gleaming Boulder Badge. He held it up, turning it over in his fingers. "Mind telling me how he got this?"

"Poker night," Christopher said. "This Eevee mission was supposed to be a quick job—two days tops. But it's been dragging on for a week or so now. Trainers keep coming through Mt. Moon, so we've been capturing them to check their Pokémon and supplies, seeing if they've got anything worth taking. When we didn't find the Eevee… well, all that loot had to go somewhere."

"Loot?"

Christopher shifted uncomfortably, as if realizing how bad it sounded. "Yeah, we started using the stuff we confiscated—Pokéballs, money, TMs—as prizes for poker nights. You know, to keep morale up."

"Morale. How noble."

"It wasn't my idea," Christopher muttered defensively. "I just… played along. I even won a TM for Flash during one of the games."

"Convenient," Austin said, his tone flat. "So how exactly are you dealing with the rangers inside Mt. Moon?"

Christopher sighed, his hand brushing through his hair as if trying to smooth out the growing tension.
"There are only four of them stationed there. Not exactly an army. We dealt with them pretty quickly."

"Four rangers?" Austin asked. "Must have been such a challenge."

"You're underestimating how annoying they can be," Christopher said. "But their main job is to make sure normal people don't wander into Pokémon territories. I'm sure you know why."

"I do," Austin said, the paper bag shifting as he nodded. "But I like to let my 'goons'—" he stressed the word—"explain things. Makes them feel important."

Christopher chose to ignore Austin's earlier jab, though his face tightened. "Mt. Moon's huge," he continued. "There are tons of Pokémon colonies hidden inside. The public trail is set up so it avoids those territories completely. The rangers are there to make sure people stick to it. Because if someone wanders off and ends up in a colony..."

"They don't come back."

"Exactly," Christopher muttered, casting a glance toward the shadowy forest around them. "Most people don't get how dangerous it is. They think wild Pokémon are just obstacles, not predators."

Austin was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the map in his hands. Then, without looking up, he asked, "And the trainers you've captured? What's happening to them?"

Christopher hesitated, sensing the weight of the question. He had to tread carefully. "We haven't... done anything to them," he said. "By executive orders, they're fed once a day, given water when they ask. Sure, it's not comfortable, but we're not torturing them or anything."

"No assault?"

Christopher shook his head quickly. "None. That kind of thing would bring way too much heat on us. Think about it—if it got out that Team Rocket was assaulting trainers, whether physically or..." He paused, swallowing hard, "...or worse, it'd be all over the news, and we don't want that kind of attention."

"Whose attention are you so afraid of?"

"The Pokémon League," Christopher said immediately. "You think they're just a sports league? They're way more than that."

"Enlighten me."

Christopher exhaled heavily. "Sure, they run tournaments, but that's just the public face. The League's a pipeline for talent—trainers who win get recruited into all kinds of organizations: the military, the Rangers, G-Force, even private security firms. That's why the League's top members are people you don't mess with."

"The Elite Four," Austin said flatly.

Christopher nodded. "Exactly. Those guys aren't just celebrities—they're powerhouses. If even one of them got wind of what we were doing here, it'd be over. They'd rip through our operations like tissue paper."

The conversation lifted a small weight off Austin's chest. Knowing that Team Rocket hadn't crossed certain lines—at least not here on Mt. Moon—was a relief. If someone had been subjected to something truly heinous because of their hunt for Vee, because of him, Austin knew he would never forgive himself.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice calm but pointed. "Do you know Sird?"

"Yeah, I've met her."

"She killed some Beedrill in Viridian Forest," Austin said evenly. "Why not avoid that kind of mess?"

"Pokémon die in the wild all the time. A few dead Beedrill don't raise any red flags. But humans? That's a whole different story. You kill a person, and suddenly the League, the government, and the media are all over us. Pokémon deaths can be swept under the rug. Human deaths can't."

Austin hummed, the sound low and thoughtful. "Convenient," he said, the word heavy with unspoken judgment.

Christopher stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond. The conversation had veered into uncomfortable territory, and he didn't trust himself not to say something stupid.

Austin held out his hand. "Hand it over."

Christopher hesitated for a split second before pulling the TM from his pocket and placing it in Austin's hand. He didn't need to ask why—he already knew the answer. The boy wasn't leaving anything to chance.

"Is this, like, a justice thing?" Christopher asked after a moment, his tone edging on awe. "You're gonna return all this stuff to the trainers it belongs to?"

Austin snorted. "Hell no. Finders keepers. I'm gonna use it."

"Oh." Christopher blinked. "And the uniforms?"

Austin glanced at the pile of black fabric and shrugged. "Free fabric. I'll use it to make new clothes."

Christopher raised an eyebrow. "You know those uniforms are military-grade, right? Pretty durable stuff."

Austin's hand paused mid-motion. He hadn't known that, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Exactly," he said, as if it had been his plan all along.

Austin checked his watch and folded up the map. "Okay, break's over. Let's move. We have to take down Team Rocket before sunrise."

Christopher glanced at Venonat, then at the unconscious grunt tied to a tree. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Austin tilted his head, the paper bag rustling slightly. "Maybe. But crazy gets results."

"Fair enough."

The entrance to Mt. Moon was as foreboding as the rumors suggested. Slate stood there in the uniform of a Pokémon Ranger. The ground was a coarse mixture of gravel and dirt, littered with faint tracks from trainers who had passed through earlier in the day. The massive cave mouth yawned before him, its interior pitch black except for the faint flicker of a dim, oil-fed lantern hanging from a rusty hook. The flickering light barely illuminated the craggy edges of the entrance, casting shadows that danced ominously in the night.

Around Slate, the air was cold and still, with only the occasional whisper of wind threading through the pine trees dotting the rocky terrain. Beside him, another grunt—a woman with short, dark hair tied back into a ponytail—was watching the mountain's path with mild disinterest. Both were on guard duty, but neither expected much trouble. After all, who would be foolish enough to come here at 4 o'clock in the morning?

The stillness was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Christopher stumbled into view, dragging what appeared to be an unconscious Austin behind him. The boy's face was obscured by a scarf, his limp body slung over Christopher's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Boss," Christopher called out. "I captured the trainer Executive Arianna was talking about!"

Slate straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, well," he said, his voice deep and gravelly as he sauntered toward Christopher. "Looks like you might've actually done something useful for once, grunt."

Christopher flinched at the condescending tone but forced a sheepish grin. "Yeah, boss. Lucky break, right?"

Slate chuckled. "You're lucky Arianna isn't here to see this pathetic excuse of a haul. You think dragging a kid in like this is impressive? She'd eat you alive."

Christopher unceremoniously threw Austin off his shoulder, letting the unconscious boy hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Hey, easy there."

"I'll do what I want," Christopher snapped, rolling his shoulder as if Austin had been some unbearable burden.

"Oi, the grunt's grown himself a pair of brass ones now, huh?" Slate mockingly patted Christopher's face, his fingers tapping just enough to be irritating.

Christopher slapped Slate's hand away, glaring. "Of course I've got balls. I just captured Arianna's target and the Eevee the big boss has been searching for. You know what that means? Sweet promotion. Maybe even a transfer out of this backwater assignment. So, maybe you should show me some respect, bitch." He blew a raspberry.

Slate's smirk dropped like a stone. His jaw tightened, and a vein pulsed in his temple as he stepped forward, grabbing Christopher by the collar and yanking him close. "Watch it—"

But before Slate could finish his threat, Austin's body shifted—too fast for an unconscious man. In one fluid motion, he twisted and drove a taser straight into Slate's thigh.

The electric crackle filled the air as Slate's eyes went wide with shock. His body seized up, muscles locking as he let out a guttural growl of pain, yet surprisingly, he stood up. Unfortunately for the man, Spearow threw something toward him from the sky. Just as he reached for his Pokéball, a flash of color exploded above him. The Oddish unleashed a cloud of Sleep Powder that blanketed Slate, the shimmering particles clinging to his body. His eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, the female grunt barely had time to react before Pikachu appeared in front of her. The electric mouse unleashed a point-blank Flash, blinding her completely. She stumbled backward, hands clawing at her eyes, just as Rattata leapt forward and delivered a powerful Iron Tail to her stomach. She hit the ground with a heavy thud, unmoving.

Austin dusted himself off, motioning for his team to regroup.

"Good job, everyone." He crouched down, quickly stripping Slate of his Pokéballs, satchel, and—after a moment of hesitation—his uniform. He left Slate in nothing but his underwear, tying him securely to a tree.

Turning to the unconscious female grunt, Austin frowned. "Mama raised me better," he muttered under his breath. He decided against taking her uniform, settling for removing her Pokéballs and securing her hands with rope instead.

"What now, boss?"

Austin straightened, holding up the items he had looted. "You're going to the camp where the grunts are sleeping. Use Oddish to Sleep Powder them, loot everything useful, and head to Plan B."

"We're still doing Plan B?!"

"Yes," Austin said firmly. "Take Sandslash with you. I'll handle the prisoners."

Christopher nodded and disappeared into the shadows with Sandslash at his side.

Austin pulled out the crumpled map, his fingers tracing the marked route toward the ranger outpost hidden deep within Mt. Moon. He unfolded it carefully, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the path. With a slow exhale, he secured the map back into his bag, adjusted the straps, and climbed onto his bike.

The cavernous walls of the mountain loomed around him, jagged shadows dancing under the faint glow of his headlamp. The bike's wheels hummed softly against the dirt as he pedaled forward, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence of the tunnels.

After a few minutes of riding, he came to an abrupt stop. His heart seemed to stall as his eyes landed on something out of place—a shattered red convertible, its paint gleaming faintly in the dim light of the cave. The vehicle was tilted at an awkward angle, its front left wheel blown out and the body scuffed with deep scratches.

Gary's car.

Torn, abandoned, left to rot in the eerie quiet of the mountain.

Austin felt a strange, creeping numbness crawl over him, starting in his chest and radiating outward. His grip on the bike handles slackened, his arms hanging limply at his sides. It wasn't shock—it was a hollow, suffocating weight that settled deep in his core. His thoughts slowed, grinding to a halt as if his brain couldn't—or wouldn't—process what this meant.

This was Gary's car. Which meant Gary had been here. Which meant—

A small, sharp jolt brought him back. Pikachu nudged his arm with a spark from its cheek, the faint zap snapping him out of the trance. Austin blinked, his breath hitching as his fingers curled back around the handlebars.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured, his voice hoarse and distant. He reached down, giving Pikachu a light pat on the head. "I'm taking responsibility. I'll make this right."

The ranger outpost was a dimly lit, cramped structure carved into the side of Mt. Moon. Its walls, made of rough-hewn stone, radiated dampness. The air was thick, humid, and stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. On the floor, scattered haphazardly like forgotten toys, lay 26 trainers, most of them children barely older than 10. Their wrists and ankles were tied tightly with thick rope, the coarse material digging into their skin. A few older trainers were slumped against the walls, their faces pale and hollow, their eyes open but empty, staring at nothing.

The flickering light of a single lantern hanging from the ceiling cast long, jagged shadows that danced eerily across the room. Most of the kids were asleep, curled up for warmth, but their sleep was restless—filled with soft whimpers, muffled sobs, and the occasional twitch of a body jolting awake from a nightmare. The small water canisters on a table near the door were almost empty, and the stale scent of fear and despair hung heavy in the room like a suffocating blanket.

At the center of the outpost, two female Team Rocket grunts stood near a makeshift table littered with half-eaten rations.

"Ugh," groaned Marla, the taller of the two, a lean woman with sharp features and a perpetual scowl. "I'm so over this assignment. Babysitting a bunch of snot-nosed brats wasn't what I signed up for."

"Yeah, well, at least they're not screaming anymore," Della, the shorter grunt, replied, her stockier frame hunched over as she stuffed a cracker into her mouth. "Could be worse. Remember that one kid from Viridian who wouldn't stop yelling about his dad being a cop?"

"Yeah, but quieter isn't better. Quiet just means they've given up. Creepy little zombies."

"Whatever," Della said, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food. "It's not like they're our problem. Execs just want them alive. No point stressing about it."

Marla snorted, tapping her boot against the floor. "Still, doesn't feel right. Even for us. I mean, look at them. Half of them look like they'd keel over if we so much as sneezed in their direction."

"Yeah, well, we don't get paid to feel right," Della said, shrugging. "Besides, Arianna would rip us apart if we stepped out of line. No touching, no tormenting, no fun."

"No fun," Marla echoed bitterly. She grabbed a ration bar from the table and bit into it angrily. "It's like she's got a goddamn rulebook for how to be a boring villain. No killing, no beating the prisoners, no..." She gestured vaguely.

Their banter was cut short by a sharp knock at the door.

Both women froze, their casual demeanor vanishing in an instant. Marla's hand instinctively went to her belt, fingers brushing over the Pokéballs clipped there. "You expecting someone?"

"No," Della whispered, her voice low. She glanced toward the door, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe Slate?"

Marla frowned, motioning for her partner to stay quiet. She took a cautious step toward the door, her boots scuffing softly against the floor. The knock came again, louder this time, echoing through the outpost like a challenge.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Della grabbed a flashlight from the table, clicking it on. "This better not be the men playing pranks," she muttered.

The duo suddenly heard the sound of water splashing onto the door. The tension in the room eased immediately, and Della rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, screw you guys for pranking us," Della muttered, slamming the flashlight onto the table.

From beyond the door, a distorted laugh echoed—a tinny, artificial sound, like it was coming through a walkie-talkie. The laugh was exaggerated, almost cartoonish, but familiar enough to make them drop their guard.

"Yeah, hilarious," Marla said with a sarcastic snort. "Slate probably sent one of the new grunts to mess with us."

She unlocked the door with an annoyed huff and pulled it open, only to be met with the sharp, glowing tail of Rattata swinging straight at her face. The Iron Tail connected with a sickening thud, and Marla crumpled to the ground, unconscious before she even hit the floor.

"What the—!" Della shot to her feet, but her words were cut short as the puddle at her feet began to shift. The water coalesced, reforming into the sleek, shimmering figure of a Vaporeon.

Before she could react, a blast of water hit her square in the chest, drenching her completely. The shock was enough to knock her back, but what came next sealed her fate—Pikachu darted out from the shadows, his cheeks sparking brightly as he unleashed a Thunder Shock. The electricity coursed through the water, amplifying its effect, and Della let out a strangled yelp before collapsing beside her partner, twitching slightly before going still.

The room was silent for a heartbeat, save for the faint hum of Pikachu's sparks fading into the air.

Then, like a floodgate breaking, the prisoners erupted.

A wave of relief swept through the tied-up trainers as they stirred, their once-empty eyes lighting up with hope. Murmurs of "We're saved!" and "Someone came for us!" filled the room. A boy no older than ten began sobbing openly, his face buried in his hands. An older girl with a bruised cheek whispered, "Thank you," over and over again as if it were a mantra.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Austin's eyes immediately locked onto one person in the back of the room. Gary Oak.

Unlike the others, who looked exhausted but relatively unharmed, Gary lay slumped against the wall, unconscious. His wrists were tied tightly behind him, his usually pristine hair matted with sweat and dirt. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, and a streak of dried blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. Surrounding him were his cheerleaders, their faces pale and streaked with tears. They huddled close to him, some whispering his name in desperate pleas for him to wake up, while others glared toward the grunts, their fear barely masking their fury.

Pretty sure Gary wouldn't stay still if he could help it, Austin thought grimly. The sight of him beaten and subdued only reinforced how far things had gone.

"Hero?" someone called out, their voice trembling with hope.

Austin blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He realized the trainers were looking at him now, their faces a mixture of gratitude and desperation. Cries for help filled the room, overlapping and frantic.

"Help us!"
"Please untie me!"
"They barely feed us!"

Austin raised his hand to silence them, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "Don't worry," he said, scanning the room. "I'm going to help you all. But you need to stay quiet—"

A voice interrupted him, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

"So that someone dangerous doesn't get alerted?"

The room fell deathly silent.

Austin's blood turned to ice as he whipped around, his heart pounding in his ears.

Standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall, was Arianna. Her lips curled into a cold, dangerous smile as her sharp eyes took in the scene. She looked almost amused, like a predator toying with its prey.

"Well," she said, her voice smooth and dripping with menace. "Looks like the little hero decided to play savior. How adorable."

Austin's Pokémon immediately reacted, their anger palpable in the tense air.

The oppressive fear in the room seemed to shift as the Pokémon stood their ground, their anger a blazing defiance against the cold smile Arianna wore—a smile that widened as if she was savoring the challenge, making the air in the outpost feel suddenly colder.

"I hope you're ready to bleed for that bravery!"

Adamos_Amet · Saturday at 12:55 PM

The rain had just stopped, leaving the air heavy and cool, the kind of silence that settles after a storm. Arianna stood in the muddy yard, her red hair sticking to her face as she gazed at him—her son, her little Silver. Seven years old, with a shock of wild red hair that matched her own and piercing silver eyes that seemed to see everything. He was laughing, his tiny boots splashing into puddles, water spraying around him like a halo of joy.

"Mommy, look!" he called out, his voice high and light, his grin wide enough to melt her heart. He jumped into another puddle, the splash soaking his pants. He didn't care. He was so full of life, so happy, so hers.

Arianna couldn't help but smile, her chest tightening with that overwhelming, all-consuming love only a mother could feel. For a moment, the world felt right.

But then a shadow fell over them.

She turned sharply, her heart lurching as a massive Alpha Fearow descended from the sky, its talons crackling with dark energy. Perched on its back was a figure cloaked in black, their face hidden behind a mask of ice. Two black, soulless eyes and a mouth frozen in an eerie, eternal grimace stared back at her, framed by long white hair that whipped in the wind.

"No!" Arianna screamed, her voice breaking as she stumbled forward, reaching for her son.

But the Fearow swooped low, its talons outstretched, and she could do nothing but watch as they closed around her son's tiny body.

"Silver!"

Her legs wouldn't move. Her arms felt like lead. She was rooted to the ground, helpless, as the bird shot back into the sky, her son's terrified screams ripping through the air.

"NOOOOO!"

Arianna jolted awake, her entire body lurching forward as her chest heaved for breath. Her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused, the nightmare still clinging to her like a second skin.

She was in the ranger outpost. The room spun as she blinked, trying to shake off the lingering images of her dream. The cold sweat on her skin made her shiver. Her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling as they gripped the edges of the wooden chair she had passed out in.

The soft ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound in the room. It was steady, unfeeling, and yet it tethered her back to reality. She stared at the clock's hands, unblinking, as the echoes of her son's cries faded, replaced by the suffocating silence of her waking world.

It had been two years.

Two years since that day.

And yet she could still hear him, still see him, still feel his little hand slipping out of hers as though it had happened only moments ago. Her chest ached, an old wound tearing open anew.

Arianna pressed her palms hard against her ears, her nails biting into her scalp. But it didn't stop the memories, the guilt, the never-ending refrain of You weren't strong enough. You weren't enough to save him.

Her hands dropped to her lap, shaking as she stared at them. These hands failed him.

She dragged her fingers through her damp red hair, slick with sweat, and leaned back in her chair, staring up at the stained ceiling. Her mind wouldn't stop racing. Silver's laughter mixed with the icy silence that had replaced Giovanni's love after their son vanished.

She had once thought of Giovanni as the sun in her universe, a magnetic force that pulled her in and made her believe she was someone important, someone who mattered. He had loved her once. She was sure of it. She remembered the way his eyes softened when she first told him she was pregnant, the way he held her hand, the way he whispered, "We're going to have a family, Ari."

But that man was gone.

The day Silver disappeared, something broke in Giovanni. He became a hollow shell, burying himself in his work, his plans, his empire. She'd tried to reach him, to pull him back, to remind him that she was still there, that they still had each other. But he didn't care.

And maybe he was right not to.

Because she had failed too.

I should have been stronger.

The constant tension in their marriage had been unbearable. Every conversation turned into an argument, every glance was filled with unspoken blame. Giovanni had once called her his queen, but now he barely looked at her. And when he did, his eyes were empty, cold, like she was nothing more than another one of his subordinates.

She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn't cry. She refused to cry.

Instead, she thought about the stranger out there—the mystery trainer who had slipped through their grasp again and again. How someone so young had managed to evade her team this long was infuriating. But more than that, it was dangerous. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not when her failure here would only give Giovanni another reason to discard her completely.

He didn't love her anymore. She knew that. But she couldn't lose his respect too.

The clock's ticking grew louder in her ears, each second a reminder of how much time she was wasting. She pushed herself to her feet, her movements stiff and sluggish.

"I don't have time for this," she muttered under her breath.

Arianna grabbed the handheld transceiver. "Slate," she called out. "Give me some good news. Is the brat food yet?"

Silence.

Arianna's frown deepened. She tapped the device, irritation flaring. "Slate. Report."

Still nothing.

Her lips thinned. Of course, that idiot's probably trying to score with some other grunt. Slate had a reputation, one that Arianna usually ignored because, for all his flaws, his loyalty was absolute. And loyalty in their line of work was as rare as a shiny Pokémon—it was invaluable. But there was a limit to how far her patience stretched.

With a growl of frustration, she clicked through the other channels, cycling through each captain's frequency.

The only answer was silence, static crackling faintly like a whisper in her ears.

Arianna froze, her mind racing. This wasn't laziness. It wasn't incompetence. There was only one explanation.

The boy.

He'd taken them all out.

The thought gnawed at her pride, sharp and unrelenting. Arianna's jaw tightened as a flood of questions surged in her mind.

Was it revenge?

She exhaled slowly, her expression hardening into a mask of cold focus. Reaching for a Pokéball at her hip, she pressed the release button, a flash of light spilling forth as her Pokémon materialized.

The towering form of her Honchkrow emerged, its dark-blue plumage glinting faintly under the dim ranger outpost lighting. The bird stood proud and imposing, its massive feather crest reminiscent of a fedora, its white chest puffed out like a mob boss straight out of a noir film. Despite its blind eyes, Honchkrow exuded confidence, the kind that only came from years of training and trust.

"Let's see if our guest is still playing hide-and-seek."

She crouched slightly, her hand brushing over Honchkrow's chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of its breath. She knew this Pokémon better than any other—her starter, her partner, abandoned as a Murkrow because it was blind, deemed useless and weak. She had found it, broken and forgotten, and made it strong. Now it was her sharpest weapon, her most loyal soldier.

"Anyone nearby?"

Honchkrow let out a low, resonant screech, its wings flaring as it adjusted to the surroundings. Arianna had trained it to use echolocation—a painstaking process that had taken years of trial and error. The bird emitted a series of sharp, high-pitched clicks, the soundwaves bouncing off the walls of the outpost and into the surrounding terrain.

A pause.

Then, Honchkrow's head twitched to one side, its beak pointing toward the far side of the outpost. It screeched again, this time with more urgency, its talons scratching against the stone floor.

"What is it?"

Honchkrow shook its head, a habit it had when it couldn't pinpoint movement.

"So they're not sneaking up on me..." Arianna straightened. She smirked. "Oh. Looks like they still want to play the hero."

Her voice dripped with mock amusement, but there was an edge to it—a dark undercurrent of danger.

Honchkrow flapped its wings, the sound reverberating in the quiet space.

"Let's go, my dear," Arianna said. "Our prey thinks they're smart. Let's remind them who's really in control."

Austin clicked his tongue, his mind racing as he locked eyes with Arianna. Too soon. She's here too soon, he thought, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The flicker of movement behind her drew his gaze upward, where Honchkrow hovered. He felt it—the faint rush of wind brushing against his soaked skin, a telltale sign.

Tailwind, his mind noted grimly. She's boosting her speed. That means I don't have time to escape.

His heart pounded as he released Spearow from its Pokéball. The tiny bird appeared with a determined screech, wings bristling with energy. He glanced at his team—Pikachu stood at his side, cheeks sparking faintly, and Vee, now in Jolteon form, shifted its stance.

"Not going to release your other Pokémon, Arianna?"

Arianna's smile was sharp and condescending. "For you?" she said, her tone as smooth as silk. "You're not exactly someone that requires my full power."

Cocky bitch. But she wasn't wrong. If he made one mistake, she wouldn't need her full team to deal with him.

"Thundershock!"

Pikachu's cheeks sparked to life as arcs of yellow lightning exploded toward Honchkrow. At the same moment, Jolteon fired its own blast of electricity, the charged beams streaking through the air like bolts of vengeance.

"Whirlwind!"

Honchkrow's wings unfurled, and with a single powerful flap, it unleashed a torrent of wind that roared through the room. The electricity was snuffed out mid-air, dissipating harmlessly in the gust. Austin felt the force hit him like a truck, sending him and his team flying backward. His shoulder slammed into the cold stone floor, and he skidded into the pile of prisoners, who cried out in panic.

Austin groaned, the sharp ache in his ribs a stark reminder of how overpowered he was in this situation. Damn it. He could feel the prisoners' fearful eyes on him, but he didn't have time to reassure them. He needed to think.

Austin stayed motionless, sprawled out on the cold stone floor. He cracked one eye open just enough to glance at Arianna. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her sharp eyes locked on him.

Honchkrow didn't make a move either. Arianna wasn't stupid. She wasn't coming in, and she wasn't sending Honchkrow or any of her other Pokémon forward. She was waiting, assessing.

Slowly, his fingers inched toward the two Pokéballs clipped to his belt, careful not to make any sudden movements that would alert her. His mind began piecing together a plan, each move clicking into place like a puzzle.

The prisoners stayed silent, each one hoping that remaining unnoticed would spare them from harm.

"You can get up," Arianna said suddenly, her voice cutting through the stillness. "I'm not underestimating you like last time."

"Aww, I thought that would work," Austin said, brushing off his clothes with exaggerated casualness. "Like catching your grandma after a shower—a very ugly surprise."

Arianna's expression didn't waver, but her Honchkrow let out a low, confused caw.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Austin shrugged. "Oh, just something weird to get under your skin. Keeps the mind sharp." He turned slightly. "Ever happened to you? What about you, Rattata?"

"Enough games," Arianna snapped. "If you've got a move, make it. Otherwise—"

"It's a distraction, bitch," Austin cut her off. "Now!"

In one fluid motion, he whipped out Spearow and Vee's Pokéballs, the red light pulling both Pokémon back in before Arianna could react. The second the balls clicked shut, Rattata launched forward with Quick Attack, her small form a blur of speed as she darted across the room.

"Honchkrow—"

Before she could finish, Rattata slammed into the wall near the corner of the room, her tiny body ricocheting off the alarm switch. A deafening CLANG echoed as the sprinklers above roared to life, drenching everyone in a sudden downpour.

Water poured down in heavy streams, soaking everything in the room. The metallic tang of water mixing with stone filled the air. The prisoners shivered, some coughing in the cold downpour, while Austin's team shook off the water, their drenched forms glinting faintly in the dim light.

"Your timing's off, brat," Arianna mocked. "What was the plan here? Evolve into a Wet-Type before I capture you?"

"Flash!"

Pikachu's body sparked instantly, electricity surging across its soaked fur. With a sudden burst, the room erupted into a searing white light. The intense brightness combined with the cascading water created a dazzling effect, scattering the light into hundreds of shimmering beams that refracted off the droplets. The outpost transformed into a disorienting, blinding storm of illumination.

Arianna cursed, raising an arm to shield her face. Even with her eyes shut tight, the light penetrated through her lids, a kaleidoscope of white-hot pain exploding behind her vision. The refracted light turned the water into a mirror-like shield, amplifying the effect and leaving her momentarily stunned.

Honchkrow, blind as it already was, remained unaffected.

Austin quickly pressed two PokéBalls into the trembling hands of Amanda—one of Gary's cheerleaders. Her eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"Hide them," he whispered urgently. "Don't let them see."

Amanda nodded shakily, clutching the PokéBalls tightly to her chest as Austin turned toward the window. Without hesitation, he slammed his foot against the glass with all his strength. The pane shattered outward with a sharp, ear-splitting crash, shards scattering like falling stars into the damp room.

He didn't waste a second. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed a small box and hurled it onto the ground. The compact object expanded instantly, unfolding into his trusty bike with a series of metallic clicks and whirs.

"Still can't believe this works," he muttered, mounting the bike. Pikachu leaped onto his shoulder, while Rattata hopped onto the back, both of them alert and ready.

Austin pushed off, pedaling furiously as the bike shot forward through the pouring rain. Behind him, Arianna snarled, recovering from the flash.

"Honchkrow! Sky Attack!"

Honchkrow's body became enveloped in a sharp white aura.

Austin didn't look back, his heart pounding as he pedaled harder.

"Now!"

Back in the room, Amanda's trembling hands tightened around the PokéBalls. Her hesitation lasted only a second before she hurled one forward with all her might.

The PokéBall burst open, and Spearow erupted like a missile, grabbing its own PokéBall mid-air. Its form instantly glowed with the sharp energy of Aerial Ace. With an ear-piercing screech, Spearow shot through the air like a knife.

Arianna's eyes tracked the blur of Spearow's assault. The sheer force of its attack sent a gust of wind surging forward, whipping her crimson hair wildly around her face.

But Honchkrow was faster. It intercepted Spearow with a thunderous squawk, its body aglow as it unleashed its charged-up Sky Attack. The two attacks collided mid-air in an explosion of force, sending a shockwave reverberating through the area. Feathers scattered like falling leaves as the impact left Spearow vulnerable.

Austin's chest tightened as he saw Spearow pinned under Honchkrow's crushing grip.

Arianna's suspicion sharpened into realization as she spotted something clutched tightly in the tiny bird's beak—a PokéBall.

The PokéBall snapped open mid-flight, releasing Vee in its shimmering Vaporeon form. Its liquid body glimmered briefly in the moonlight before it launched a forceful Water Gun directly at Honchkrow. The stream of water collided with the larger bird Pokémon, drenching it entirely and forcing it to retreat mid-air with an indignant squawk.

Arianna jumped back, her boots splashing in the muddy ground outside the outpost. Vee didn't linger. The moment the attack landed, it returned to its PokéBall in a flash of red light, leaving Spearow to catch the capsule in its beak once more.

The small bird wheeled around, its tiny wings beating furiously against the rain as it shot toward Austin, who was pedaling with everything he had.

Arianna's lips pressed into a tight line, her mind racing. How is he able to communicate so quickly with his Pokémon? It wasn't just fast—it was precise, like a seamless chain of commands. The tactics weren't improvised; they were fluid, perfectly timed even under pressure.

Did he plan this from the start? she wondered, clenching her fists. Even anticipating a surprise encounter with me?

She couldn't let him go.

"You're not getting away that easily!"

Arianna hurled a PokéBall forward like a fastball. The ball cracked open mid-air, releasing an Arbok with a serpentine hiss. Its massive hood flared wide, displaying a menacing face-like pattern of eyespots and sharp, black markings that glared at Austin and the others.

Rattata's Quick Claw shimmered faintly in the dim light as her small frame blurred forward with incredible speed.

Arbok's yellow eyes narrowed, and with a guttural hiss, its fangs ignited in searing flames. The massive serpent lunged forward, its jaws snapping with deadly precision.

The bite connected.

Arbok's Fire Fang clamped down on Rattata's back, searing her fur and flesh. The acrid smell of burnt fur filled the air as Rattata let out a high-pitched squeak of pain. Flames licked at her body, her legs buckling under the agony. Tears welled up in her eyes, but even as her small body trembled, she didn't give up.

"Sand in its eyes!" Austin shouted.

From above, Spearow swooped into action, wings beating furiously as it positioned itself behind Arbok. Without hesitation, the bird flapped hard, sending a cloud of dirt and mud flying directly into Arbok's eyes.

The sand struck true, coating the serpent's face and forcing its eyes shut. Arbok hissed and thrashed, its grip on Rattata loosening as it recoiled, blinded by the attack.

Rattata seized the moment. Tears streamed from her wide eyes as she twisted her body free. Despite the searing pain coursing through her, she gritted her teeth, her tail glowing brighter as she poured every ounce of her strength into a single, defiant strike on Arbok's jaw. The impact reverberated through the area, and the massive snake recoiled violently, hissing in fury as it skidded backward.

"Spearow, get her!" Austin shouted.

Spearing through the air, Spearow dived low, talons locking gently onto Rattata's scruff. With a determined flap, he carried her into the air just as Arbok lunged again, its fangs snapping shut on empty space.

Austin pedaled harder, his drenched clothes clinging to him as his legs burned with effort. The tiny bird swooped toward the bike, its wings laboring under the weight of Rattata. With a final burst of strength, Spearow gently deposited her onto the back of the bike.

Pikachu immediately steadied her, his tiny paws carefully holding her in place as Rattata let out a weak, pained squeak. Her eyes fluttered, but the determined glint in them hadn't faded.

"Good job, you two!" Austin called over his shoulder, his voice steady even as his heart hammered in his chest.

There was no time to process the relief of getting Rattata out of harm's way. Behind them, Arbok hissed furiously.

"Pikachu, Thundershock! Vee, Water Gun!" Austin shouted, his voice sharp and commanding.

Above them, Spearow soared, releasing Vee's PokéBall mid-flight. The capsule burst open with a flash, and Vaporeon materialized mid-air. Its sleek body twisted gracefully as it launched a high-pressure Water Gun directly at the serpent. The torrent slammed into Arbok, drenching its scales and momentarily throwing it off balance.

In perfect sync, Pikachu unleashed a Thundershock. The crackling electricity coursed through the water and struck the serpent with a sizzling snap. Arbok convulsed under the dual attack, its hissing drowned out by the rain and chaos. The combined assault created a smokescreen of steam and mist, obscuring the battlefield as Austin veered into a side tunnel—one of the unmarked paths away from the public trail.

His walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Boss, I've sleep-powdered the rest of the grunts and captains in their sleep," Christopher's voice came through, laced with triumph. "Looted them too. You won't believe how much stuff I found. Bastards really kept the good stuff for themselves."

Austin's eyes stayed locked on the uneven path ahead. "List them out. Fast."

Christopher began rattling off the items: TMs, badges, high-quality PokéBalls, evolution stones, and a ton of cash. Austin's adrenaline-fueled brain processed the inventory, already forming contingencies.

"Chris," Austin cut in. "Is Plan B good to go?"

"Yeah, I'm working on it," Christopher replied.

"Good. Change of plans," Austin said, pedaling harder as he took a sharp turn, the damp air stinging his face. "Do you know where Arianna keeps the prisoners' PokéBalls?"

There was a pause before Christopher answered. "Yeah, there's an outpost near the back of Mt. Moon's tunnel. Probably there."

"Perfect. I want you there. Get the PokéBalls, free the prisoners, and get out of Mt. Moon."

"What about Plan B?"

"I'm taking over Plan B," Austin said, his tone calm but resolute. "Now, listen carefully. I need you to leave these items behind for me. Got it?"

The two exchanged a flurry of quick instructions, Austin's voice steady despite the chaos around him. Christopher's last words came through the static: "Good luck, boss."

A few minutes later, Austin arrived at a dead-end cave. The light from a lantern bounced off the jagged stone walls, creating twisting shadows that danced in the enclosed space.

With practiced precision, Austin leaned hard into the turn, executing an Akira slide. The tires screeched as he tilted the bike just enough to come to a dramatic stop, the back wheel spinning slightly before momentum died. Gravel and dust scattered around him, the echo of his entrance fading into the stillness of the cave.

Breathing heavily, Austin hopped off his bike, his drenched clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His eyes landed on the bag Christopher had left behind, neatly placed beside a small lantern.

Crouching down, Austin tore the bag open and began rummaging through its contents. His fingers moved quickly, checking each item—TMs, healing supplies, and spare PokéBalls—his mind racing as he pieced together the next phase of his plan.

"Everyone," he said, turning to his team. "We have about five minutes before Arianna catches up to us."

His Pokémon watched him intently, their exhaustion and injuries evident but their resolve unwavering.

"We aren't strong enough to take her on directly," Austin admitted. The statement hung in the air like a grim truth, but no one flinched. Not even Spearow retorted. They all knew it was true.

"But I have a plan," Austin continued, meeting each of their gazes. The absolute trust he saw in their eyes fueled him.

A rustling sound came from the ground, and Austin turned to see Miss Sandslash popping out of the dirt, her quills bristling and her sharp eyes focused. She gave a small nod, acknowledging the urgency of the situation.

"Looks like everyone's here," Austin said, his lips curling into a faint smirk despite the tension. He knelt down, gesturing for everyone to gather around. "Alright, here's how we're going to do this..."

[10 Minutes Later]

Austin sat alone in the dead-end cave, the glow of the lantern casting an eerie light on the paper bag he now wore instead of his soaked scarf. He slouched deliberately, his body language casual—almost too casual—as though he weren't cornered by one of the most dangerous people in Team Rocket.

The sound of measured footsteps echoed through the narrow tunnel. Arianna emerged from the shadows, her confident stride and piercing gaze commanding the space.

"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "A paper bag? What's the look? Inspired by... Ariados-Man? Or was it Zubatman?"

Austin tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words, but said nothing.

"You know," Arianna continued, "you're probably one of the only people who's given me this much trouble in a long time. You're young, smart, and certainly stronger than the average trainer. Why not join Team Rocket? Give me that Eevee, and I'll make you my second-in-command."

Austin leaned back against the cave wall, humming thoughtfully, as though genuinely contemplating her offer. After a moment, he spoke. "I have some demands, then."

"Demands?" She arched an eyebrow. "Bold of you. Fine, let's hear them."

"I'll give you a hint. It involves you, a maid outfit, and my bed."

For a split second, Arianna's confident demeanor cracked. Her expression flickered between shock and incredulity before she quickly recomposed herself. "Wow," she mused, her tone biting. "No one has the audacity to speak to me like that. I'm almost impressed."

"You're right," Austin replied smoothly. "Sorry, maybe that was too much to ask. After all... you really don't look smart enough to figure out how to use a mop."

Her smile faltered, replaced by a dark glare. She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Oh, I'm going to make sure you wish Team Rocket didn't have a no-kill policy."

Austin raised his hands in mock fear, mimicking a trembling Waluigi. "Wah, I'm scared! Wah!"

Arianna's expression hardened, but before she could retort, a faint rattling sound echoed through the cave. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and alert.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"Well," Austin said with exaggerated calm, "this is my plan to defeat you."

"You think you can defeat me?" she asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

"Third time's the charm, right?"

"And what's that going to look like?" She stepped closer, her presence looming. "You running away again?"

"No, it's going to look like me asking for help."

"Help? From who?" she snapped.

Austin's voice turned cold, his words cutting through the tension. "Behind this wall lies the biggest Zubat colony in all of Mt. Moon."

Arianna's eyes darted to the stone wall behind him, her confident smirk fading slightly. She took a cautious step back. "You're bluffing."

Austin crouched suddenly, curling into a protective turtle position. His voice was eerily calm. "Guess you'll have to find out."

The rattling grew louder—a skittering, fluttering noise that vibrated through the cave walls. Arianna instinctively braced herself as Pikachu leapt from a hole in the rock above, sparks flying from its cheeks.

"Pika!" Pikachu's voice rang out, and the cavern was instantly flooded with light as it used Flash.

The blinding illumination pierced the darkness, revealing the jagged edges of the cave and casting sharp shadows. Suddenly, the wall behind Austin began to crack, chunks of stone crumbling away as the sound of hundreds of wings erupted into the air.

The Zubats awoke in confusion, their shrill cries filling the space with a deafening cacophony. A massive swarm of small, dark bodies surged forward, wings flapping in chaotic frenzy. The damp air reeked of disturbed bat Pokémon, their high-pitched screeches grating against the ears.

Arianna's Honchkrow flapped its wings furiously, attempting to create a gust to fend off the swarm, but the sheer number of Zubats overwhelmed the narrow tunnel. The swarm engulfed the area, their erratic movements obscuring visibility.

"Damn you!" Arianna growled, shielding her face with her arms as the Zubats flew at her, disoriented and maddened by the light and noise.

Austin kept his head down, hands covering his ears as the rush of countless wings swept over him. Arianna's shouts and Honchkrow's frantic cawing filled the air, but he didn't dare lift his head.

"Good luck dealing with that!" he shouted over the chaos.

The cave felt alive, pulsing with the pandemonium of screeching Zubat and Golbat. Their wings beat furiously, creating a relentless storm of movement and sound. Arianna stood in the center of it all, blood dripping from a gash on her forehead where a stray Zubat had clawed her.

"Arbok, Rock Tomb! Now!"

Arbok hissed, its body coiling tightly as glowing energy gathered around it. With a powerful slam of its tail, jagged boulders erupted from the ground, encasing Arianna and her Pokémon in a protective circle. The stones formed a crude but sturdy shield, blocking out the relentless swarm of bats that spiraled above, their wings beating furiously against the air.

For a moment, it seemed Arianna had bought herself some time. The living wave of bats crashed against the stone barrier, their screeches muffled by the thick walls of the tomb. Inside, Arianna wiped blood and sweat from her brow, glancing at her battered team. Vileplume leaned heavily against one of the boulders, its petals shredded and its breaths labored. Arbok coiled protectively in front of her, ready to strike at any moment.

But the reprieve didn't last.

The Zubat and Golbat outside began to shriek in unison, their cries growing louder and louder until they reached a piercing crescendo. Supersonic waves echoed through the cave, vibrating violently against the walls of the Rock Tomb. Arianna's heart sank as the realization struck her—this wasn't just noise. It was an assault.

The sound was unbearable. Hundreds of Zubat and Golbat unleashing Supersonic at once created a deafening cacophony that reverberated through the narrow cavern. The boulders trembled under the auditory onslaught, cracks spidering across their surfaces as the sound waves battered them mercilessly. Arianna pressed her hands to her ears instinctively, but it was no use. The sound penetrated everything, shaking her resolve.

"Hold the line!" she shouted, her voice barely audible above the chaos.

Arbok thrashed violently, its head whipping from side to side as it hissed in pain, pupils dilated and unfocused. Honchkrow let out a distressed caw, its wings twitching erratically as it stumbled from its perch. Vileplume whimpered, its stubby legs buckling as it collapsed against the trembling rocks.

And then it happened.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in Arianna's right ear. For a moment, everything went silent. She gasped, staggering back as her vision swam, the world tilting unnaturally. Reaching out blindly, her fingers gripped the jagged edge of a boulder to steady herself. Warm blood trickled down the side of her face, staining her torn uniform.

Her right eardrum had ruptured.

Arianna gritted her teeth, the pain threatening to overwhelm her. But she refused to falter.

"Vileplume, Sunny Day! Light this place up!"

Trembling and battered, Vileplume obeyed. Tilting its massive flower toward the faint light filtering through the cracked wall, it released a pulse of golden energy. The confined space blazed with an artificial sun, the glaring light banishing the oppressive darkness. The Zubat and Golbat screeched in confusion, their night-sensitive senses thrown into disarray.

"Now, Solar Beam!"

Chlorophyll surged through Vileplume, the sunlight supercharging its strength. Its massive flower glowed brilliantly, humming with immense power. With a shattering roar, it unleashed a concentrated beam of golden energy. The Solar Beam carved through the swarm like a blade, knocking dozens of bats from the air. The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed through the cave, mingling with the shrill cries of the survivors.

For the first time, Arianna felt a flicker of hope. Her strategy was working. The swarm's numbers were thinning. The overwhelming tide no longer seemed endless.

And then she heard it.

A low rumble vibrated through the cavern floor, growing louder with each passing second. Arianna turned, her sharp eyes narrowing as she scanned the area. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she spotted the source.

The wall to her left began to crumble, pieces of stone falling away to reveal a gaping hole. Standing within it was a Sandslash, its claws caked with dirt and stone dust, its silhouette framed by the artificial sunlight. In its claws was a sack bulging with Pokéballs.

The Sandslash locked eyes with her, its expression almost smug. Without hesitation, it tossed the bag into the chaos below.

"No—" Arianna started, but the word caught in her throat.

The sack hit the ground, and with a series of rapid bursts, the Pokéballs snapped open. One after another, Pokémon emerged in flashes of white light. The air filled with battle cries and roars as Rhyhorn, Machoke, Koffing, and others materialized, their bodies twisting in confusion. Arianna's stomach sank. These weren't wild Pokémon. These were hers—her grunts' Pokémon. The ones she had sent into the mountain.

The realization hit her like a freight train: the boy. He hadn't just planned to fight her. He'd planned to dismantle her entire operation, piece by piece, from the shadows.

The Zubat swarm turned on the newly released Pokémon, their chaotic movements driving the disoriented Pokémon into a frenzy. The battlefield erupted into chaos. Thunderbolts crackled through the air, Earthquake shook the ground, and Poison Gas filled the narrow space, creating a swirling maelstrom of destruction.

Arianna's chest tightened. This wasn't just a fight—it was a warzone.

Fifteen Minutes of Hell

Arianna fought like a demon, her commands sharp and precise as she directed her Pokémon through the chaos. Honchkrow dove and slashed with Aerial Ace, its talons cutting through anything that strayed too close. Vileplume's Petal Blizzard became a whirlwind of death, the razor-sharp petals slicing through Zubat and Golbat with brutal efficiency. Arbok struck with terrifying precision, its Fire Fang and Poison Tail keeping attackers at bay.

But the cost was heavy.

Arianna's body trembled as she forced herself to remain upright. Every breath felt like shards of glass scraping through her lungs. Her ribs ached with sharp, deep pain, hinting at fractures. The ruptured eardrum left her dizzy and nauseous, her balance faltering with every step. Blood streamed from a gash across her forehead, pooling into her eye and blurring her vision. Her uniform hung in tatters, exposing burns and abrasions along her arms and legs. Her boots squelched with each step, soaked in blood.

Her Pokémon fared no better.

Honchkrow perched low to the ground, its left wing mangled and feathers bloodied. The joint twisted at an unnatural angle, and the bird's chest rose and fell erratically as it struggled to stay conscious.

Vileplume's massive petals were shredded, their edges browned and curling as if scorched. Its vibrant colors had dulled to a lifeless hue, and the once-proud flower now drooped with exhaustion.

Arbok was the worst of them all. Its sleek, coiled body was a battered mess, large sections of its scales torn away to reveal raw, bleeding flesh. Its hood hung limp, the fearsome pattern burned and shredded. Its fangs were cracked, and its jaw trembled from overuse. One eye was swollen shut, crusted with blood, while deep claw marks marred its sides.

The battlefield was a graveyard of broken bodies. The narrow tunnel was littered with unconscious Zubat, Golbat, and grunt Pokémon. Blood smeared the stone floor, pooling around the faintly twitching forms of those who had collapsed. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and burnt ozone from the unleashed energy.

Arianna's ears rang as the sound of clapping echoed through the cavern. Her heart jumped into her throat, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it was some phantom mocking her—a hallucination brought on by pain and exhaustion. But no—it was him.

Austin stood in the Zubat cave. His clothes were shredded, his figure hunched slightly, but he looked impossibly steady. Arianna's blood ran cold as she realized why. Beneath the tattered layers of fabric, he'd worn multiple layers—padding himself against the storm of Zubat and Golbat he had unleashed. He'd planned for this. Every last second of it.

But it wasn't the boy that terrified her. It was his Pokémon.

Rattata stood by his side, its small body radiating an eerie crimson aura that pulsed with raw, concentrated energy. Arianna recognized the effect immediately—Guts. The little Pokémon had taken every ounce of pain it endured and turned it into pure power.

Next to it was Spearow, and Arianna's breath hitched. The small bird didn't just look determined—it looked unnatural. Its feathers gleamed unnaturally bright, like its body had been chemically or artificially enhanced somehow.

"Rattata," Austin said quietly, his voice cold, "Bide."

Rattata's body tensed, outlined in a vibrant crimson glow as it gathered every ounce of pain it had suffered. The air around it seemed to hum with energy, the intensity growing unbearable.

"Vileplume," Arianna rasped, "Petal Blizzard!"

Vileplume staggered forward, its petals trembling as it tried to summon the strength for the move. But it faltered. The exhaustion, the injuries—it was too much. The petals fluttered weakly before falling to the ground.

Desperate, Vileplume made its choice. With trembling legs, it threw itself between Arianna and the glowing Rattata, its battered body acting as a shield. The crimson beam of energy shot forth from Rattata like a cannon, slamming into Vileplume with devastating force.

"Vileplume!"

Before she could move, Pikachu appeared in front of her barely standing Pokémon, its iron tail glinting in the light. With one clean, brutal strike, it brought the tail down, and Vileplume's body went limp.

Arianna's heart cracked. She felt it—a physical pain in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

Spearow darted forward with unnatural speed. But it wasn't flying—it was running, its small claws scraping against the rocky walls as it gained momentum. Honchkrow moved to intercept, its body glowing as it prepared a Tri Attack. The three-colored beams shot forth, but before they could connect, a shimmering storm of stars from Vee's Swift collided with the attack, breaking it apart.

Spearow leapt into the air, its claws glowing faintly with Fury Attack. It slashed at Honchkrow with relentless precision, each strike driving the larger bird back. Honchkrow let out a pained cry, its wings faltering under the barrage.

Pikachu was already on Arbok. Its iron tail burned with energy as it met the serpent head-on. Arbok hissed, lunging with its charred, battered fangs, but Pikachu was faster. With a single, devastating strike, its tail slammed into Arbok's mouth, sending the snake crashing into the cave wall. The impact shook the tunnel, dislodging loose stones and sending a shower of dirt and debris raining down.

Arianna collapsed to her knees. She couldn't take it anymore—the chaos, the pain, the sheer brutality of it all. Her throat felt raw, her body trembling. She clasped her hands tightly, her bloodied fingers digging into her palms as tears welled in her eyes.

"Please," she choked out. Each word felt like it was clawing its way out of her throat, tearing at her pride and everything she had built. "Please, stop this. I give up. You win. Just—just don't hurt my Pokémon anymore."

Austin froze, his body still as the words echoed in the cavern. He stared at the woman before him, her crimson hair matted with blood and sweat, her once-imposing figure trembling with defeat. Her voice carried no arrogance, no malice—only desperation. She wasn't pleading for herself. She was pleading for them.

"Would you have shown me mercy if I was in your position?" His voice was ice.

Arianna stayed silent, her lips trembling as the words refused to come. She couldn't lie.

Instead, she lowered her head further, her forehead pressing against the cavern floor. "Hurt me. Attack me. Do whatever you want to me. Just... don't hurt them. Please."

Her hands outstretched, shaking as if offering herself up for punishment. Her voice cracked again, barely audible. "They've done enough. It's me you hate, not them. I'm the one you want, so take it out on me."

Austin's grip on his Pokéball tightened, his heart pounding in his chest.

He didn't enjoy this. Even if she was his enemy, even if she was a villain, the love she had for her Pokémon was undeniable.

"Tell your Pokémon to stop resisting!"

Arianna raised her head just enough to yell, "Honchkrow, Arbok—it's over! Stand down!"

Honchkrow and Arbok screeched, their battered bodies pinned and trembling, but they obeyed. Arianna's voice dropped to a whisper, thick with anguish. "We lost."

Austin nodded to his team. "Knock them out."

Vee stepped forward, releasing a pulse of electric energy that coursed through Honchkrow's body, leaving the massive bird unconscious. Rattata, her crimson aura still glowing faintly, leapt forward and sank her teeth into Arbok with a Bite, the serpent collapsing moments later.

Austin pulled out the walkie-talkie, his voice steady but tired. "Alright, you can drop the Ditto disguise. It's over."

The cavern fell silent, save for the sound of Arianna's ragged breathing. Austin stood still, his paper bag masking the storm of emotions in his eyes.

He felt no victory, no triumph. Only the heavy weight of what this battle had cost both of them.

"You know," Austin said, his voice calm, almost detached, "I regret that it had to go this far."

For a moment, Arianna froze, confusion flashing across her face. Regret? Did he pity her? Did this boy—this child—think of himself as some merciful hero, standing above her like a judge passing sentence?

"You regret it?" she hissed, venom dripping from every syllable. "Then why do all this?"

"An eye for an eye, right?" Austin replied. "Team Rocket didn't just mess with me—they crossed a line. You dragged me into this. You took people, experimented on Pokémon, hurt them. So I hurt you. That's how it works."

His tone was cold, factual, like he was explaining the weather. The world tilted under her feet. The sheer audacity of this boy—to speak so lightly, so casually, about what he had done to her, to her team—made her stomach churn with fury.

And then he said it.

"Maybe Giovanni will learn to not mess with me after this."

Her breath caught. The name hit her like a fist to the chest, reverberating in her skull. Giovanni.

No. No, no, no.

Her thoughts spiraled, her carefully constructed composure cracking under the weight of that single word. That name was sacred, a secret guarded fiercely. Among Team Rocket's highest ranks, only a handful dared to whisper it. Archer. Proton. Petrel. Sabrina. Her.

So how does this boy know?

Her mind raced, grasping at fragments of logic that refused to coalesce. Who is he? A spy? A defector? A weapon sent by someone to destroy us? To destroy Giovanni? Her eyes widened as another thought slithered into her mind, cold and venomous: If he knows Giovanni's name… does that mean he's going to kill me?

The realization paralyzed her. If he was revealing something so dangerous, so intimate, did that mean this was her end? Her breath quickened, her chest heaving as panic crept in.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice eerily calm. "It's over."

Her body stiffened. It's over? Did he mean her life? The mission? The struggle? Or did he mean Team Rocket?

The boy wasn't a boy anymore.

He was him.

For a fleeting moment, the paper bag obscuring his face seemed to flicker, replaced by the blank, emotionless mask that had haunted her nightmares for years. The Masked Man. She could see it as clearly as if he were standing there in the flesh: the Alpha Fearow's wings beating furiously against the storm, Silver's screams echoing into the void.

Her body trembled violently as the image burned into her mind. She blinked, and the paper bag was there again.

Austin turned to leave, Pikachu leaping from his shoulder to deliver a sharp Thundershock. The electricity surged through Arianna, her body convulsing before collapsing to the ground with a choked gasp. The pain was sharp, searing—but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache it left behind.

She lay there trembling, staring up at the rocky ceiling. Her right ear throbbed, her vision blurry from blood and sweat. Yet through the haze, she saw him walking away.

It wasn't relief she felt. It was humiliation. The same humiliation she had endured years ago, when the Masked Man left her broken and powerless. Both of them had looked at her and decided she wasn't worth the effort to finish.

Her body began to tremble, not with fear, but with rage.

You should have killed me, she thought bitterly.

Her mind twisted, warping the boy's image into something monstrous. He wasn't just a boy anymore. He wasn't just a trainer who had defeated her. He was a symbol—a second humiliation. A second failure. He represented everything she couldn't destroy, everything she couldn't protect, everything she couldn't save.

Giovanni doesn't care about me, she realized, the thought bitter and final. He hadn't cared when Silver was taken. He hadn't cared when she broke herself to please him. And he wouldn't care now.

Not after this.

The hollow space in her heart, once filled with love for Giovanni, was consumed by the fire now burning for the boy who stood above her.

If I ever draw breath again, you will regret this day. You'll regret sparing me. You'll regret everything.

She let her head fall forward, her bloodied hands pressing into the dirt. The edges of her vision blurred, darkness creeping in like a slow, inevitable tide. Her limbs were heavy, useless, as the last shreds of strength slipped away.

But even as the void claimed her, a single thought burned through the haze, searing itself into her consciousness.

No mercy shown will be no mercy given.

Author Note

Okay guys, chapter over! What did you think of Arianna as a character? Personally, I loved exploring her layers in this chapter—her fear, her pride, her desperation, and that final crack in her resolve. I wanted to show how much she cares about her Pokémon, even as a hardened Rocket Executive.

Now, I know some of you might feel like Austin should've just killed Arianna and been done with it, but gentle reminder: Austin is still mentally a 15-year-old kid. Sure, he's been thrown into situations that demand maturity, but he's still normal enough not to want to cross that line into outright murder.

Will this decision come back to bite him? Oh, absolutely. That's why I added the ominous "No mercy shown will be no mercy given" line at the end. Arianna now subconsciously views Austin as the Masked Man (a major villain from the Pokémon manga, not an OC). Both humiliated her, both spared her, and in her mind, both stripped away her power. Her anger and what Austin represents will fester and drive her future actions.

Also, for those wondering about the moves: Rattata's Bide and Vee's Swift came from TMs Christopher had placed.

Anyways, let me know your thoughts! Was this chapter too brutal? Just right? Or do some of you crave even more violence, you little edgelords? Haha. I'd love to hear your feedback on the dynamic between Austin and Arianna, the action, and the emotional toll this chapter had.

Next chapter will deal with the aftermath, and after that, expect some lighter, more fun moments as we ease out of this arc. Until next time!

Adamos_Amet · Monday at 10:15 PM

The sun was barely cresting over the horizon, its warm glow cutting through the early morning mist that hung over the dense jungle surrounding the Mt. Moon range. The air was cool and crisp, filled with the faint scent of wet earth and leaves. Austin pedaled his bike through the winding forest paths, his paper bag fluttering slightly in the breeze. He glanced down at his watch: 6:00 AM sharp.

He was over the moon.

The events of the past few hours played over in his mind, leaving a faint grin on his face. He had done it. Team Rocket's grip on Mt. Moon was shattered. The prisoners were free, running to Pewter City to alert the authorities. Soon enough, this place would be swarming with rangers and police officers, cleaning up what remained of Team Rocket's operation.

Austin's chest swelled with a sense of accomplishment. The thought of Arianna being dragged off to jail was satisfying. He could already picture Giovanni's fury as his executive's failure became public knowledge. If nothing else, this would force Team Rocket to lay low for a while, buying me time to strengthen myself.

But it wasn't just the victory that had him in high spirits—it was the loot. He had made out like a bandit.

Austin mentally tallied the haul once again: 20,000 Pokédollars, 20 spare Pokéballs, ten Boulder Badges, three Cerulean Badges, a Moon Stone, Leftovers, a Sharp Beak, and six TMs—Bide, Water Pulse, Rain Dance, Whirlwind, Bubble Beam, and Flash.

"Not bad for one night's work," he thought, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ahead, he saw a familiar figure waving at him. Christopher stood in the middle of the narrow trail, his Venonat standing beside him. The former Team Rocket grunt's expression lit up with relief when he saw Austin.

"Boss!" Christopher called, jogging up to meet him. "You did it, didn't you? You beat her?"

"Of course," Austin replied, his voice dripping with mock arrogance as he brought his bike to a halt. "Did you doubt me?"

Christopher pumped his fist in the air. "I knew you could do it! Damn, boss, you're a legend!"

Before Austin could respond, there was a sudden rumbling beneath their feet. Both of them froze, their eyes darting to the ground as it shook slightly. Then, with a burst of dirt and rocks, Miss Sandslash emerged, her claws glinting in the early morning light.

"Sandslash," she said firmly, nodding at the boy.

Austin chuckled and crouched down, meeting the mother Pokémon's gaze. "Of course, Miss Sandslash. How could I forget?"

He reached into his bag, pulling out the bundle he had prepared—a two-week supply of food he'd packed before coming to Mt. Moon. The bundle was wrapped in a makeshift blanket, sewn together from the shirts he had stripped from defeated Team Rocket grunts. He and Christopher tied the bundle securely, double-checking the knots before handing it to Sandslash.

The mother Pokémon sniffed the bundle, her sharp eyes scanning Austin as if to judge his sincerity. Finally, she gave a satisfied nod and hoisted the package over her back with ease.

"You really hold your end of the bargain," Christopher said, watching as Sandslash turned to leave.

"Of course I do," Austin replied, standing up and brushing dirt off his pants. "The last thing I want is to deal with an angry mother who worked her tail off to feed her kids. You take that away, and suddenly Team Rocket doesn't seem like such a big problem anymore."

Christopher nodded in agreement, watching as Sandslash disappeared into the undergrowth.

There was a moment of quiet between them before Christopher broke it.

"So… about the Eevee in my stomach."

"What about it?"

"Well… how do we get it out? Do I throw it up? Or do I have to—uh—you know… pass it?" Christopher asked, his tone somewhere between nervous and hopeful.

"Chris, it's just water."

There was a long silence. Christopher blinked, his expression blank as the words settled. Then, slowly, his face contorted into one of pure outrage. "You— You lied to me?! You made me believe I had an Eevee living in my stomach?"

"Relax," Austin said. "Think of it as a free detox cleanse."

"That's not how it works!" Christopher shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "Do you have any idea how stressed I was? I thought I was about to give birth to an Eevee!"

"Hey," Austin replied. "Could've been worse. I could've told you it was a Wailord."

Christopher froze, his face cycling through disbelief, anger, and resignation.

"You're a psychopath, boss!"

"Not my fault you're gullible," Austin said, ignoring Christopher's indignant spluttering. There was no time to waste; his Pokémon needed the Pokémon Center.

"Hand over your debit card," Austin said casually, his tone making it sound more like a request than a demand. "And strip."

Christopher groaned, muttering something under his breath about "evil geniuses," but complied nonetheless. He pulled out his wallet and handed the card to Austin, who took it with a nod.

As Christopher began unbuttoning his shirt, Austin smirked. "Surprised you're not putting up more of a fight."

The man shrugged, his shirt now half off. "Why would I? Even if my life isn't in your hands anymore, I saw what you can do. Considering you just defeated Arianna, I'd rather not piss you off."

"Is the debit card in your name?"

"No. It's in my dad's name."

"Does your dad know you work for Team Rocket?"

"My dad knows," Christopher admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He hates it. Every time he sees me in this uniform, I can see it in his eyes—how much he wishes I'd never joined. But what can we do? My mom's treatment isn't cheap, and every day without it feels like another nail in her coffin. I took his card so that… if I didn't make it out, at least he could still get the money. It's my way of saying sorry—for everything."

"What's wrong with her?"

Christopher looked down, his expression darkening. "Blood cancer." He didn't elaborate at first, letting the words hang in the air like a lead weight. Finally, he added, "Stem cell transplants aren't cheap. And every day without one feels like she's slipping further away. I thought joining Team Rocket would solve it… but…"

"It didn't," Austin finished for him.

"Crime doesn't pay—not for people like me. You think Team Rocket's this big operation, full of rich masterminds, but for grunts? We're lucky if we can scrape enough to buy food. I joined thinking I'd climb the ranks, make enough to save her, but…" He gestured vaguely at himself, his voice cracking. "Look at me. I'm just another nobody, barely surviving, and she's slipping away."

"Is this how you saw your life turning out?"

"No," Christopher admitted quietly. His voice wavered, but he pushed forward, forcing himself to be honest. "But I told myself if I pretended long enough, if I played the role well enough, maybe I wouldn't feel it anymore. Maybe I wouldn't have to think about how wrong this all is. Deep down, I always knew… but as long as my mom stayed alive, I told myself it didn't matter."

"Even though I've got you tied to a tree, you're planning to escape, aren't you?" Austin said.

"Sharp as ever, huh?" Christopher replied with a wry smile.

Silence stretched between them.

"Think about it," Austin said. "If you ran, how quickly do you think Team Rocket would find you? Out of all the grunts who'll get captured by the police today, only your name would be missing. Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?"

Christopher's lips parted slightly as the realization sank in. "No. I don't want that."

"Good," Austin said, stepping back to inspect the ropes one last time. "Then, like every other grunt on Mt. Moon, you'll be captured by the police and sent to prison. That's your way out."

Christopher frowned. "But… a lot of the grunts saw me helping you. Won't they rat me out?"

"Don't worry about that. I made sure to spread a story about having a companion—a Ditto disguised as a Rocket grunt. That should give you a good alibi. Just tell the police you were captured like everyone else and explain the Ditto story."

Christopher blinked. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"

"I don't take chances," Austin replied, his tone clipped. He began packing his supplies, but Christopher's voice stopped him.

"Wait… why take my debit card then?"

Austin turned slightly, adjusting his bag as he spoke. "Simple. I'm going to deposit some money into your dad's account. Enough for your mom's treatment. When he visits you in prison, tell him what happened and make sure the money is used right."

"You'd do that? Why?"

"Let's just say… I've got a soft spot when it comes to family."

Christopher stared at him for a moment, the boy's words stirring something deep in his chest. "There was… 45k Pokédollars. That's how much I collected from all the grunts. I'm sorry, I—"

"You took 25k," Austin interrupted.

Christopher nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. The doctors said my mom's treatment will cost around 70k. I've managed to save up 15k over the months, but…" He hesitated. "That was the first time I'd ever seen so much money in one place. I… I couldn't stop myself."

"It still won't be enough," Austin said quietly.

"I know," Christopher murmured. "I'm hoping my dad can take out a loan to cover the rest. It's not guaranteed, but it's all I've got left to hope for."

Austin didn't miss a beat. "I'll deposit 30k."

Christopher's head snapped up, his breath hitching as the words sank in. "Thirty thousand?" he repeated. "That's… that's all the money you looted, plus your own…"

Austin nodded. "It'll be enough to cover what's left. Make sure it's used for her treatment."

Christopher's lips quivered, and before he could summon the words, tears spilled freely down his cheeks. His voice caught in his throat, choked by a wave of overwhelming emotion. He couldn't even thank the boy—he could barely breathe. All he could think, over and over, was that his mom would live.

From the corner of his eye, Austin spotted movement and turned to see Oddish peeking out from behind a tree. Its little body trembled as it cautiously stepped closer, its eyes fixated on its trainer.

"Is Oddish guarding the 25k?" Austin asked, his voice soft.

Christopher nodded.

Austin strode over, crouching down to meet the tiny Pokémon. He smiled faintly and patted Oddish on the head, offering it a berry from his pocket. "Good job, buddy," he murmured. Oddish chirped softly, nudging his hand before scurrying back to its trainer.

Straightening up, Austin swung a leg over the seat. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Wait!" Christopher called out. "Your name—what's your name?"

"Austin," the boy said after a moment. He knew it didn't matter. To the world, he was Ash Ketchum. This name wouldn't lead back to him. It was safe.

As Austin pedaled away, the sunlight breaking through the trees painted the world in soft hues of gold and green. The shadows of the forest seemed less heavy now, less suffocating.

"I don't know how long I'll be in prison…" Christopher's voice broke through the quiet morning air, trembling but steady with emotion. "But when I get out—no matter how long it takes—if you ever need me, for anything, I'll be there. You gave me a second chance, boss. I owe you my life, and I won't forget it. Just call me… and I'll come running."

Austin didn't turn back, his silhouette growing smaller with every rotation of the bike's wheels. The forest slowly swallowed him, the rustling leaves and birdsong returning to fill the quiet.

Christopher leaned his head back against the tree, the dampness of the bark pressing into his hair. His chest heaved with deep breaths as the sunlight warmed his face.

Everything's going to be alright

6:45 A.M.
Brock sat outside the Pewter City Gym, the crisp morning air clinging to his skin. The world was quiet, painted in soft hues of dawn. He sipped on a can of iced tea, savoring the rare moment of solitude. The city was still waking up, and for once, he felt like he could breathe. No challengers, no League business—just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then, the peace shattered.

A police siren screamed through the stillness, its wailing echo bouncing off the Gym walls. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and Brock shot to his feet, his heart thudding. A police cruiser skidded to a halt in front of the Gym, and Officer Jenny stepped out, her face pale and her movements hurried.

"Brock!" she called, urgency in every syllable. "There's been an attack at Mt. Moon."

"What?" he barely managed to say before another voice echoed his surprise. He turned and saw Flint stepping out from behind some bushes.

What's he doing here? Was he spying on me?

"Flint? Is that you?"

Flint chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, it's me."

"I thought you were dead," Jenny said bluntly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Brock's jaw tightened. Dead? He might as well have been.

Jenny shook her head, refocusing. "There's no time for this. We need to go now," she said, motioning toward the car. "I'll explain everything on the way."

Without a second thought, Brock moved, sliding into the passenger seat before Jenny could finish her sentence. "Drive," he said, his tone sharp.

His focus was already on Mt. Moon, his mind racing through the possibilities—wild Pokémon driven into a frenzy, rogue trainers fighting over rare resources, or a territorial conflict between Pokémon colonies spilling onto the public paths. But the thought of Flint lingered at the edge of his mind, gnawing at him like a persistent Rattata.

Jenny hesitated, her eyes flicking between Brock and Flint. The tension was thick, almost palpable.

"Get in," Brock said, the words bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out.

The people at Mt. Moon needed help. The city needed reassurance. And no matter how much it grated on him, they needed every capable trainer.

Flint's eyes widened in surprise as he climbed into the back seat.

Jenny slammed her foot on the gas, and the car roared forward. The city blurred past as they sped toward Mt. Moon, the siren wailing, cutting through the early morning calm like a warning to the world. Brock stared at the horizon, his jaw set. He would deal with his father later. Right now, there were people who needed him.

By the time they reached Mt. Moon, the scene was pure chaos.

The early morning light cast long shadows across the base of the mountain, where police officers, Pokémon Rangers, and medical teams swarmed like a disturbed Beedrill hive. Reporters crowded every available space, microphones thrust forward like weapons as they bombarded the arriving vehicles with questions. The air was thick with tension, punctuated by the sounds of injured Pokémon crying out and the distant rumble of emergency vehicles.

Jenny punched the horn, the sharp blast cutting through the cacophony. The reporters parted just enough for the car to pull in. The moment the vehicle stopped, Brock stepped out, only to be met with an onslaught.

"Brock! What can you tell us about the attack?"
"Is it true wild Pokémon were involved?"
"Do you have any comment on reports of a vigilante?"
"What's the response from the League?"
"How many are injured? Are there fatalities?"

Brock's head pounded as the questions came at him from every direction. The reporters' voices blurred into a single overwhelming noise, their flashing cameras blinding him with every step. He ignored them, forcing his way toward the police line. Focus. Don't let them distract you.

The sight beyond the reporters turned his stomach.

Stretchers lined the area, filled with injured trainers and Pokémon alike. Medics worked frantically, applying potions and bandages while issuing orders to each other.

As he neared the police line, a familiar voice rose above the commotion. "Brock, good to see you."

Turning, Brock spotted Greg, the Superintendent of the Pokémon Rangers. Broad-shouldered with an air of authority, Greg's presence commanded respect even in chaos. Before Brock could say a word, Greg closed the distance and swept him up in a bone-crushing bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.

"Good to see you too," Brock managed, his voice muffled against Greg's shoulder. "But could you put me down before the media spins this into a story about you slacking off on the job?"

"What, I can't hug my nephew?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," a voice cut through. Flint.

The temperature between the three shifted instantly. Greg's jovial expression hardened as he turned toward Brock's father, his gaze darkening. Brock could practically feel the tension radiating off both men. He acted quickly, pinching Greg's arm just enough to break his focus.

"The media's here," Brock muttered. "Not the time."

Greg exhaled slowly. His voice dropped to a low growl as he placed a heavy hand on Flint's shoulder. "After this is over, Flint, we'll talk. Best friendo."

The words dripped with something more than sarcasm—a promise that nothing about this reunion would be easy. Flint only nodded, his expression unreadable. He turned toward the reporters swarming the scene like Spearow drawn to a carcass.

"I'll handle the media," Flint offered. "You two focus on the situation."

Brock didn't answer. He just watched as Flint approached the reporters. A ripple moved through the crowd as someone recognized him.

"Wait, aren't you The Boulder?"

Flint snorted, slipping into his old persona like it was a comfortable coat. "That's right! The Boulder is back, baby," he declared, his booming voice carrying over the crowd.

"Where have you been all these years?"

"The Boulder is conflicted… on whether to tell you that information."

His father was putting on a show, distracting the press from the real issue. It was working, but it didn't make it any less irritating. Greg, still watching, muttered under his breath, "You know your mom came up with that nickname, right?"

"I didn't know that," Brock replied absently, his attention shifting as Greg motioned him away from the media frenzy.

"Jenny gave me the basics, but what happened in there?"

Greg sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's a mess. Team Rocket has always been dismissed as just another poaching gang—more organized than most, sure, but still just thieves. But now they pull this? Taking over ranger posts, kidnapping trainers, and holding them as prisoners? That changes things, politically and practically."

Brock frowned. "How so?"

Greg's tone became grave. "Kidnapping licensed trainers is a whole different ballgame. Up until now, they've stayed under the radar—sticking to theft and poaching, stuff that doesn't draw too much attention from law enforcement. But holding trainers hostage? That's bold. And it puts the Rangers directly in the spotlight. It forces accountability."

"And what does that mean for the Rangers?"

"It means scrutiny. Investigations. Pressure from cities, local governments, and anyone who thinks this could happen again. We're going to be questioned at every level—how this happened, why we didn't see the signs, and why it wasn't stopped sooner. Heads will roll, Brock. And if we don't manage the narrative, it won't just be Team Rocket's reputation that takes a hit—it'll be ours."

Brock nodded slowly. "What about this vigilante I keep hearing about?"

Greg shook his head. "Gone before we arrived. Age unknown. Height described as that of a ten-year-old. We only know some of his Pokémon."

"What do we know?"

Greg sighed. "The kid had a Rattata, Pikachu, Eevee, and Spearow. There's evidence he had a Pokémon capable of digging through solid rock—possibly a Sandslash. From what we've pieced together, he mapped out the entire mountain, ambushed most of the grunts, and…" Greg hesitated, his voice lowering. "He brutally overpowered the leader."

"How brutal?"

"Brutal enough that the leader is now being transported to the ER alongside her Pokémon. She's in critical condition, Brock. And it's not just her. An entire Zubat colony was disturbed, dozens of stolen Pokémon are in disarray, and we found grunts tied up. They're shaken, injured, and completely out of it."

Brock's thoughts spiraled. A kid? With a roster like that? His mind briefly drifted to Ash Ketchum. Boy, had that kid left an impression on him. But he shook his head.

Ash was barely a month into his journey. No way was he taking down an entire Team Rocket operation. That was just impossible, even if the kid was a prodigy.

"What was Team Rocket even after?"

"From the grunts we've interrogated, we've pieced together that Team Rocket was after an Eevee. Not just any Eevee—it had been experimented on. According to them, this Eevee had the ability to evolve into Vaporeon, Flareon, and Jolteon at will."

Brock's mind immediately clicked the pieces together. The vigilante… his motive was to protect his Eevee.

Greg nodded. "That's what we're thinking. He went to extreme lengths to keep it out of Team Rocket's hands. Judging by the chaos he left behind, this wasn't just some spur-of-the-moment decision. He planned every step, all to safeguard that Eevee."

"What's the next move?" Brock asked, his voice quieter now.

"Officially? Damage control," Greg said. "The Rangers are already working to protect their image. They'll spin the story to focus on the vigilante angle—hero or anti-hero, it doesn't matter. The media will eat it up. It buys us time to clean up the mess without losing public trust."

"And unofficially?"

Greg sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn't light one, just toyed with the box in his hands. "Unofficially, we're trying to figure out who this kid is and why he went after Team Rocket like this. If we don't, someone else will. Either way, we need to get ahead of it."

Brock thought for a moment. "You think this could escalate?"

"If we don't handle this properly? Absolutely. But even now, this situation has already escalated in ways that are… worrying. Team Rocket is going to regroup, no doubt. And the fear this whole incident has sown—among civilians, trainers, and even the Rangers—it's a powder keg waiting to explode."

"What exactly are we looking at here?"

Greg hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The G-Force is getting involved."

Brock's head snapped up, his expression one of pure shock. "The G-Force? Dragon Master Lance?!"

"Yeah. An Eevee that's been experimented on—an Eevee that can switch between Vaporeon, Flareon, and Jolteon at will—that's not something you can just sweep under the rug. And with the number of people who saw it in action? We can't silence that kind of information, Brock. Word is already leaking out, and if this is a possibility..."

"The demand for that kind of experimentation on the black market," Brock said, finishing the thought. "It's going to skyrocket."

"Exactly," Greg said, his tone grim. "It's not just Team Rocket anymore. We're talking about creating a ripple effect that could reach far beyond them. Other criminal organizations, independent scientists, people with enough money to buy power they don't understand. The implications are... terrifying."

"And if the G-Force is involved... you think the government is going to step in?"

"They have to," Greg said simply. "The idea of genetically altering Pokémon like this? They'll want to understand it, regulate it—or worse, weaponize it. Either way, this isn't just a local problem anymore. It's national. Maybe even global."

"This is just the beginning," Brock said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of realization.

Greg didn't respond. He didn't need to. His silence was all the confirmation Brock needed.

[Pewter City - Pokémon Center Communication Room]

Austin's fingers moved quickly over the phone's buttons as he dialed the Viridian City Pokémon Center, leaving a brief voicemail before switching immediately to a more personal call. Dealing with Delia right now… yeah, that was going to be tough.

The events at Mt. Moon were all over the media, plastered across every headline, turning the entire region into a hotbed of gossip and speculation. For someone like Delia, who was already overly protective, this was the worst-case scenario. Her son—her pride and joy—was out there in the middle of it all. Add Gary to the mix, and it was no surprise she was a wreck.

The call connected, and he didn't even get a chance to say "hello" before her sobs reached him through the receiver.

"Mom," Austin said softly, his voice barely cutting through her crying. "Hey, it's me."

She didn't respond right away, letting her emotions pour out. Between her sniffles and shaky breaths, fragments of her worries slipped through—how terrifying the news was, how she feared the worst, how the thought of him being caught in the chaos nearly broke her.

He stayed silent, letting her vent while his mind wandered. Should I feel guilty? Maybe. But he didn't. Not exactly. What he felt was exhaustion—a bone-deep weariness that never seemed to go away. It was like running a marathon with no finish line, always a step ahead of disaster but never far enough to rest.

"I'm fine. Really," he said, finally cutting in. "No injuries, no scars, not even a scratch. I didn't even go to Mt. Moon. I was making sure that all my underwear is clean."

That got a shaky laugh out of her, though he winced at his own joke.

She sniffled, her voice soft but still tinged with fear. "Just… promise me that you are safe, okay?"

"I promise," he said, meaning it this time. He glanced at the flashing notification of another incoming call. "Look, I've got someone else on the line, but I'll call you again soon. I promise."

Her sigh came through the receiver, heavy and filled with a mother's endless worry. "Okay, sweetie. Just… don't make me wait too long."

"I won't," he said, switching over to the next call before her words could twist any tighter around his heart.

The moment Nurse Joy from Viridian appeared on the screen, her usual professionalism was undercut by a wry smile. "Well, looks like you've been busy, Bag Boy," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "Was Mt. Moon also the darkness that shaped you?"

Austin blushed, the memory of that ill-advised distraction attempt flooding back. "I regret ever using that Bane speech," he muttered.

"Regret or not, it's stuck now," she teased, before her tone softened. "So, what can I do for you, hero?"

"I'm sure you've seen the news about Mt. Moon."

"In passing," she admitted. "But the reports are vague—lots of speculation, not much substance. What's really going on?"

He gave her a quick rundown, carefully avoiding the bloodier details. By the time he finished, her smile had faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown.

"So, you need me to treat your Pokémon?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Low-key, though. Too many questions might lead Team Rocket straight to me."

"That's smart, but have you thought about how much of your trail is already traceable? The Viridian Center has your Pokémon's data. You were also first spotted here. If Team Rocket's serious, they could piece things together."

Austin's stomach dropped. "I hadn't thought of that…"

"Relax," she said. "I already scrubbed your records from the Viridian database. Even if someone tries to dig, they won't find anything linking you here."

Relief washed over him like a wave. "You're a lifesaver. How long will the check-up take?"

"An hour. Just send them via the teleporter," Nurse Joy replied. "I'll keep you updated."

As the call ended, Austin stared at the phone for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle. His thoughts swirled with fragments of plans and concerns, but one thing stood out: Gary. Dialing Professor Oak's lab, he was greeted by the assistant, who quickly explained that the professor was already en route to Pewter City to check on Gary personally.

Guess I'll check up on Gary, Austin thought, setting the phone down. His eyes wandered to the teleporter. The technology of this world still baffled him. Most of it seemed stuck in the '90s, yet there were pockets of sci-fi-level advancements

What now? he wondered, desperate for a distraction until Nurse Joy called him back.

An hour later, Austin walked into the Pokémon Center, his nerves slightly calmer after completing an errand. Depositing some of the money had provided a brief reprieve. No way was he depositing the full 75k all at once—that kind of activity raised too many questions.

Sitting back at the communication terminal, Austin noticed something off about Nurse Joy's expression.

"What kind of situation were you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an edge.

"Life-threatening!" he replied, leaning forward.

She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as though trying to process the enormity of it all. "Well, I've got bad news and good news. Which do you want first?"

"Which one takes longer?" Austin asked. He needed a moment to brace himself.

"The bad news," she admitted, hesitation creeping into her tone.

"Good news it is."

Nurse Joy allowed a faint smirk. "The good news is that your Pokémon can make a full recovery. And, by the way, nice job treating Pikachu. Honestly, you did better than most trainers I've seen. If being a hero doesn't work out, you could always work for me."

"I just cleaned his wounds and slapped on a Max Potion. Nothing special," he said, waving it off. "Plus, I'd rather not end up like your intern."

Her smirk widened, laced with a hint of an inside joke. "I promise, I'd treat you slightly better than my ex-husband."

They both laughed, the tension lifting momentarily, but Austin could feel the storm of bad news brewing.

"The bad news?" he asked, his voice quieter.

Nurse Joy's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. "The bad news is that all your Pokémon are in serious condition."

She began reviewing her notes, her tone turning clinical. "Let's start with Pikachu. He sustained deep lacerations across his skin, and while the Max Potion sealed the wounds externally, it didn't treat the underlying trauma to his nerve endings and muscle tissue. Additionally, Pikachu's electrical reserves are dangerously depleted, likely due to overexertion in combat. If this isn't managed properly, it could lead to nerve damage or long-term energy instability."

Austin swallowed hard. "What's the solution?"

"First, we'll apply a specialized nerve-soothing salve to repair the damage beneath the surface and prevent scarring along the nerve pathways. Pikachu will require daily therapeutic massages to relax strained muscles and improve circulation. For his energy depletion, we'll put him on a high-protein, high-nutrient diet paired with controlled exposure to electricity using a calibrated electrical pad for Electric-types. Lastly, he'll need at least a week of strict rest—no battling, no high-energy activities. I'll oversee the first few sessions here, but it'll be up to you to enforce the rest once you're back on the road."

"Got it. What about the others?" he asked, bracing himself.

Nurse Joy's expression shifted, and he knew they were moving on to the harder cases.

"Rattata, on the other hand," she said, her voice heavier, "sustained significant injuries. The bite from Arbok left deep puncture wounds across her back, and the venom caused localized tissue damage. On top of that, the burn marks from Fire Fang further aggravated the area. You cleaned and stabilized her well, but the damage goes deeper than what a Potion can fix."

"How bad is it?" Austin's voice was barely above a whisper.

"We'll administer an antivenom flush to neutralize lingering traces of the Arbok's venom. After that, I'll treat the burned tissue with a regenerative ointment to promote healing and reduce scarring. Unfortunately, because of the severity of the burns and puncture wounds, we'll need to shave the affected area to clean and treat the injuries. She'll also need painkillers and anti-inflammatory medication for internal swelling and discomfort. While the wounds will heal, her use of the Guts ability pushed her body beyond its limits, causing significant muscle strain. Without enough rest, she could be more susceptible to future injuries."

"How long will it take?"

"Two weeks minimum. And absolutely no battling during that time."

Austin exhaled slowly. At least there was a plan.

"Lastly, we need to talk about Spearow," Nurse Joy said, her gaze sharp. "To be honest, if I didn't know you, I'd have to question your intentions as a trainer. What's happened to Spearow borders on abuse."

"Nurse Joy… I would never."

"Let me ask you this: how many Badges have you used on Spearow?"

"Eight on Spearow," Austin admitted after a pause, "and two on Rattata."

"That explains a lot," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Explains what?"

"A normal Spearow weighs about two kilograms. Do you want to guess how much your Spearow weighs now?"

"I don't know."

"Forty kilograms," she said bluntly.

Austin's heart stopped. "That's impossible."

"Not impossible—just unnatural. The Boulder Badges drastically increased Spearow's muscle mass, but at a cost. The weight gain is putting immense strain on its body. Spearow's hollow bones are designed for flight, but at 40 kilograms? Flight is nearly impossible. Worse, this excessive weight is compromising its skeletal structure. It's not if Spearow suffers a fracture or injury—it's when."

Austin felt sick, guilt gnawing at him, but Nurse Joy wasn't done.

"The biggest issue," she continued, "is Spearow's heart. It's not built to support such a massive body. Carrying this extra weight is overwhelming its cardiovascular system. If we don't address this soon, Spearow could develop heart failure. Its lifespan could be reduced to less than a year."

He covered his face with his hands, his stomach churning. What have I done? He thought he was making Spearow stronger, but instead, he'd been pushing it toward its breaking point. Toward death.

Nurse Joy's voice softened. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But this is the reality now."

Austin lowered his hands, his voice trembling. "What do we do? How do we fix this?"

"There are two options," she explained. "The first is surgery. We'd remove some of the excess muscle mass from the badge enhancements. It's invasive, but it would immediately relieve the strain on Spearow's heart and bones."

"Surgery…" Austin flinched. "What's the risk?"

"Surgery is always risky," Nurse Joy admitted. "While Spearow is stronger than most, the procedure is complex, and there's always a chance of complications. But it's a proven method—many wealthy trainers who overuse badges or supplements have had to resort to it."

"This is... common?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Nurse Joy said, her expression hardening. "Many wealthy trainers—or those who think they can shortcut their way to success—use both legal and illegal enhancements on their Pokémon. They see it as a fast track to glory, but more often than not, it ruins their Pokémon in the process."

Austin cringed, guilt settling heavier on his shoulders.

"What's the second option?"

Nurse Joy's eyes softened, but there was a flicker of something unusual there.

"The second option is riskier. Most trainers—or even medical professionals—don't consider it. But in Spearow's case, because of its unusual resilience, I think it might be worth trying."

"What is it?"

Nurse Joy hesitated for a moment before answering. "Becoming an Alpha Pokémon."

Austin blinked, staring at her like she'd just started speaking a foreign language.

"Pardon."

"Alpha Pokémon," she repeated patiently. "Have you ever heard of them?"

"No... ma'am."

"In the wild, there are rare Pokémon—larger, stronger, and more dominant than their usual counterparts. They're called Alpha Pokémon. These creatures aren't just bigger; they're physically superior in almost every way. They're extremely rare and often considered the apex of their species."

Austin stared at her, his mind racing to comprehend what she was saying. "So... you're telling me Spearow could become one of these Alphas?"

"It's possible," Nurse Joy said with a small, measured nod. "Spearow's condition is unique. Its enhanced body mass and increased bone density, combined with its natural resilience, make it a candidate. But the process isn't guaranteed. Evolution is a critical trigger point, and if handled correctly, it could stabilize Spearow's condition while pushing it to Alpha status."

"Just like that?"

"Yes," Nurse Joy confirmed. "When a Spearow evolves, its body mass normally increases dramatically—from about 2 kilograms to around 38 kilograms. But in Spearow's case, because of the enhancements, we estimate it could grow even larger as an Alpha."

"How much larger?"

Nurse Joy hummed, doing some mental math. "Based on Spearow's current weight and its expected growth patterns, I'd estimate around nine feet tall with a wingspan of approximately twenty-eight feet."

Austin shot out of his chair, his hands slamming onto the counter. "Jesus Christ!" He could barely process it. That was no longer a bird—it was a flying tank.

Nurse Joy raised an eyebrow at his outburst but continued calmly. "It's a massive change, both physically and behaviorally. Alpha Pokémon are not only larger but also more aggressive and more difficult to control."

Austin ran a hand through his hair, his brain spinning. "I mean... Spearow would probably love being an Alpha," he muttered. "But—wait—how do I even handle something that huge? Do I need a bigger PokéBall? Do I have to buy special food? Where am I even going to keep it?"

Nurse Joy gave him a knowing smile. "That's the price of responsibility, hero. But if you're willing to take it on, Spearow could thrive."

Austin rubbed his temples, already feeling the weight of what he was agreeing to. "Okay," he said, finally looking up at her. "What do we do next?"

"First, we'll prepare Spearow for the evolution. That means closely monitoring its condition, adjusting its training to minimize strain, and providing it with a specialized diet to stabilize its current mass. The goal is to ensure a smooth transition into Alpha status without putting too much strain on its heart or skeletal system."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Nurse Joy's expression turned serious. "If it doesn't work, we'll have to fall back on the surgical option to reduce its body mass. But based on Spearow's current condition, I think the Alpha route is its best chance."

Austin nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in.

"I want to talk to Spearow about this before moving forward."

"Your choice, hero. Just make sure you're both on the same page. In the meantime, I'll get started with the treatment for the rest of your Pokémon. They're tough little fighters, but they need some serious care."

"Thank you."

As the call ended, Austin leaned back in his chair, the room falling into an uneasy silence.

"...This is going to bankrupt me," he muttered under his breath. He could already imagine Spearow's reaction when he explained the Alpha option. That little firecracker of a bird would be over the moon about the idea, no doubt about it. There'd be no stopping him.

Austin let out a tired sigh, a small smile creeping onto his face despite everything. "Guess we're all in now!"

Author Note:

Well, that was certainly a fun chapter, wouldn't you agree?
So, what did you guys think of Christopher as a character? Do you want to see him in the future as Austin's goon?
Also, how do you feel about Austin getting an Alpha Fearow? For those wondering, I added this as a response to the feedback about Pidgeot being able to mega evolve. Since Spearow doesn't have that option, I decided to give it a unique power-up instead—Alpha Fearow! I think it adds a nice twist and helps Spearow stand out as something truly special.

Thank you, as always, for your incredible support and for taking the time to read my work. Your feedback keeps me motivated, so let me know what you think in the comments.

Wishing you a blessed and fantastic day ahead! Keep being awesome, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

Pokémon: An Unexpected Odyssey

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