"I had the weirdest dream," I muttered, my voice sounding like I'd swallowed a handful of gravel. "I was in the Pokémon world. There was a tiny flower-fairy with an attitude, a giant beetle trying to turn into a shish kebab, and a bird the size of a Cessna..."
I rubbed my eyes, expecting to feel my soft pillow and hear the hum of my computer fan. Instead, my hand brushed against a stiff, strangely textured fabric. I squinted. The ceiling above wasn't the familiar white plaster of my bedroom. It was high, vaulted, and crisscrossed with high-tech ventilation ducts and soft LED lighting.
I sat up, or at least I tried to. My body imdiately filed a formal protest. My muscles felt like they'd been through a blender, and my left thigh gave a sharp, throbbing spike of pain that made hiss through my teeth.
"Okay, definitely not a dream. Dreams don't co with this much inflammation," I groaned.
I looked down at the bed. The sheets were bright blue, patterned with dozens of tiny, smiling Piplup. Even the pajamas I was wearing—which were definitely not mine—had a repeating print of Poké Balls on the sleeves.
"Wow. Whoever owns this place really leans into the aesthetic," I whispered.
Then, the mories hit like a Tackle move. The rift. The Eterna Forest. The Pinsir. The Staraptor. I was actually here. I was in the Pokémon world. A giddy, slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up in my chest.
"I'm in Sinnoh," I realized, my inner fanboy finally waking up. "I could actually see an Arcanine. I could pet an Eevee! I could get chased by a Charizard and—wait, maybe not that last one. But still! This is insane!"
"It's good to see you haven't lost your sense of wonder," a calm, dry voice said from the corner of the room.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, which was a bad idea because my leg reminded that it was currently out of commission. "Gah! Who—where—who are you?"
A man in a crisp white lab coat and rectangular glasses stepped into the light. He held a digital clipboard and looked like the kind of guy who organized his sock drawer by fabric density.
"Easy there, jumper. You've had a rough twenty-four hours," the man said. "I'm Marcus, a senior research assistant here at the lab. You're currently in the dical Wing of the Pokémon Research Center."
"The lab? Wait, whose lab?" I asked, my heart racing. "And thank you! For saving , I an. That Pinsir was... well, it was a jerk."
Marcus pushed his glasses up his nose. "Actually, I can't take the credit. Professor Rowan was out in the field investigating so peculiar spatial readings when he heard your—let's call it a 'spirited' cry for help. He reached you just in ti on his Staraptor."
Professor Rowan? I thought, my jaw dropping. The big boss of Sinnoh himself? That explained the Staraptor. Rowan wasn't just a researcher; the man was a tank in a sweater vest.
"Wait! The Flabébé!" I blurted out, frantically looking around the room. "The little white Pokémon with the blue flower! Is she okay? Was she hurt? She used up all her energy saving my clumsy self."
Marcus's expression softened slightly. "The little one? She's currently with the Professor. She was exhausted, but physically she's fine. We were actually quite confused. Flabébé aren't native to Sinnoh. They're almost exclusively found in the Kalos region, thousands of miles away. Seeing one here is like finding a penguin in the middle of the Sahara."
He looked at intently. "We didn't find any ID on you. No Trainer Card, no Poké Balls, nothing. Just a kid in strange clothes with a rare foreign Pokémon. Care to tell how you ended up in the middle of a Pinsir's territory?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. 'Oh, I fell through a hole in the universe after watching a cartoon' probably wouldn't get a Trainer license. It would get a one-way ticket to a psychiatric ward.
Before I could invent a believable lie, the door hissed open.
In walked a man who looked exactly like a mountain that had decided to wear a tie. His hair and mustache were a shocking, disciplined white, and his eyes were sharp enough to cut diamonds. Professor Rowan didn't just walk into a room; he occupied it.
"Professor! The boy is awake," Marcus said, stepping aside.
"I can see that, Marcus," Rowan rumumbled. He walked to the foot of my bed and pulled a small, clicking device from his pocket. He pointed it at , and a faint blue light swept over my body.
"The fluctuations are fading, but they are still present," Rowan said, mostly to himself. He looked dead in the eye. "Young man, do you have any idea how lucky you are? Eterna Forest is a maze of spatial anomalies. You fell through a rift—a tear in the fabric of space-ti."
I gulped. "I... I think I figured that out when I hit the dirt, sir."
"These rifts have been appearing with increasing frequency," Rowan continued, his brow furrowing. "The prevailing theory among my colleagues is that the legendary powers of Dialga and Palkia are in a state of flux. People and Pokémon are being plucked from their hos and deposited elsewhere. That Flabébé we found with you? She shows the sa energy signature. She's a traveler, just like you."
"A traveler..." I repeated. "So... you think that's why she was there? She was lost too?"
"Precisely," Rowan said. "Now, I've checked the databases. There is no record of a 'Julian Reed' in any of the Sinnoh town registries, nor in any neighboring regions. Tell , do you rember where you were before you found yourself in the forest?"
Here it was. The mont of truth.
"I... it's all a bit fuzzy, Professor," I said, putting on my best 'I'm a confused victim' face. "I rember my na. I rember how the world works—you know, Pokémon, Gyms, the League. But my ho? My family? It's like there's a fog over that part of my brain. I rember the flower falling on , and then the Pinsir, and then... nothing."
I felt a little guilty lying to a legend, but Rowan just nodded thoughtfully.
"Amnesia. Not uncommon with spatial displacent," he muttered. "The human mind isn't designed to be folded through dinsions. mory is tied to ti—Dialga's domain. It's possible your personal tiline has been scrambled. You retain your sense of self and general knowledge, but your 'history' has been erased or locked away."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. He'd actually rationalized it for ! "So... what happens to now?"
"Once you can walk without winced, we'll take you to the International Police post to see Officer Jenny. We'll file a missing persons report, though I suspect we won't find a match. Until then, you are a guest of this lab."
Suddenly, a high-pitched, frantic chirping echoed from the hallway.
"Pei-Pei! Flabé!"
The door burst open, and a blur of white and blue shot through the air. The Flabébé didn't even slow down; she slamd into my chest with enough force to knock the wind out of , clinging to my Poké-patterned pajama shirt like her life depended on it.
"Whoa! Hey! I missed you too!" I laughed, wincing as she accidentally poked my sore leg. She looked up at , her tiny eyes brimming with tears, chirping a mile a minute as if she were telling off for fainting.
"She's been quite difficult to handle since she woke up," Marcus said, smiling despite himself. "She refused to eat her Pokémon food until she saw you."
Rowan watched us for a long mont. "The bond between a human and a Pokémon is a mysterious thing. It often forms in the heat of battle, or in monts of shared peril. This Flabébé clearly views you as her anchor in this strange new world."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a gleaming, red-and-white sphere. My heart skipped a beat. Every kid knows that shape.
"Normally," Rowan said, his voice grave, "I would contact the Kalos authorities to have this Pokémon returned to a sanctuary in her ho region. She is a long way from the fields of Santalune."
The Flabébé froze. She looked at the Professor, then back at , her tiny hands gripping my shirt even tighter. She began to shake her head frantically, a low, sad "Pei..." escaping her.
"However," Rowan continued, a rare, microscopic glint of a smile appearing under his mustache, "I am a firm believer that Pokémon should choose their own paths. And she seems to have made her choice."
He held the Poké Ball out to .
"Julian, you are a boy with no ho and no past. She is a Pokémon in the exact sa position. Perhaps you can find your way together."
I reached out, my hand trembling as I took the sphere. It was cool, smooth, and surprisingly heavy. "Are you serious, Professor? You're letting ...?"
"Don't make regret it," Rowan said. "A Trainer's journey is not just about catching monsters; it's about responsibility. If you take this ball, you are promising to protect her, to feed her, and to grow alongside her. Do you accept?"
I looked down at the tiny creature on my chest. She was looking up at with so much hope and trust that it actually made my throat tight. I'd spent my whole life playing the gas, but this wasn't a ga. This was real.
"Yeah," I said, my voice firming up. "I accept. Flabébé... do you want to stick with ? No more falling through rifts alone. We'll see this whole world. Every region, every legendary, every weird snack they have to offer. What do you say?"
"PEI-PEI!" The Flabébé didn't hesitate. She reached out a tiny hand and tapped the button in the center of the Poké Ball.
In a flash of brilliant red light, she was converted into pure energy and pulled into the sphere. The ball sat in my palm, clicking softly. It wobbled once... twice... and then pinged, the light turning off.
"I... I just caught a Pokémon," I whispered, the weight of the mont hitting . "My first partner. We did it."
I released her back out imdiately. She appeared in a shower of sparkles, landing right back on her favorite spot—my head—and letting out a triumphant cheer.
"Welco to the team, Flabébé," I laughed. "Now, let's see if we can find so of those Oran Berries that don't belong to a Pinsir."
Rowan watched us, his arms crossed. "A perfect capture. She trusts you completely. I suspect your journey is going to be a very interesting one, Julian Reed. Now, get so rest. Tomorrow, your life as a Trainer truly begins."
User Comments
0 comments from readers