Dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and gold as Jason stepped out of the Pokémon Center for the last time.

  His pack sat heavy on his shoulders—heavier than he'd like, but necessary. Supplies for a week, camping gear, Pokéballs, medicine. Everything a trainer needed to survive between towns. Sprigatito walked beside him, her step light and eager, apparently unburdened by concerns about weight or distance.

  Must be nice to travel without carrying anything.

  Before meeting Tommy, Jason had one more stop to make.

  Professor Birch's lab was already bustling when he arrived, researchers moving between workstations with the focused energy of people who loved their work. The Professor himself was at his usual desk, buried in papers, but he looked up immediately when Jason entered.

  "Jason! Early start, I see." Birch stood, crossing the room to meet him. "Heading out today?"

  "Yeah. Oldale first, then Petalburg." Jason shifted his pack. "I wanted to thank you before I left. For everything—the sponsorship, the money, the advice. I don't know what I would've done without your help."

  Birch waved a hand dismissively, but his expression was warm. "Nonsense. Helping trainers is what I do. Besides—" his eyes dropped to Sprigatito, who was investigating a Zigzagoon near the door "—you've given me a research opportunity I couldn't have anticipated. A Paldean species adapting to Hoenn in real-time? I'll be publishing papers on this for years."

  "Happy to contribute to science," Jason said dryly.

  Birch laughed, then turned to rummage through a nearby shelf. "Before you go—here. A parting gift."

  He handed Jason a small pouch made of woven fabric, surprisingly heavy for its size.

  "Berry pouch," Birch explained. "Insulated, keeps berries fresh longer. And I've stocked it with a few essentials—Oran Berries for healing, Pecha Berries for poison, a couple of Sitrus Berries for emergencies. Should help on the road."

  Jason opened the pouch, examining the contents. A dozen berries in various colors nestled inside, each in its own small compartment. "This is... thank you. Really."

  "Take care of yourself out there. And take care of that Sprigatito—she's something special." Birch's expression turned serious for a moment. "Check in when you can. Send updates through your Pokégear, or stop by if you're ever back in the area. I meant what I said about documenting her development."

  "I will. I promise."

  They shook hands—a firm grip, the handshake of two people who respected each other—and then Jason was heading out the door, the berry pouch tucked safely into his pack.

  Good people, he thought as he walked toward the Pokémart. This world has good people.

  The Pokémart was already open when he arrived, Hideki behind the counter with his Meowth and a cup of something steaming. The clerk nodded a greeting as Jason entered.

  "Early start. Good. Best time to travel—cooler temperatures, fewer wild Pokémon active."

  "That's the plan." Jason glanced around. "I'm also looking for a Pokégear. Basic model, nothing fancy."

  "Aisle three, bottom shelf. Got a few refurbished units that work fine for half the price of new."

  Jason found the devices and selected one that looked reasonably sturdy—a compact blue model with a flip-open screen. The price tag read 800 Pokédollars, which stung but was manageable.

  "Good choice," Hideki said as he rang up the purchase. "That model's reliable. Battery lasts about a week with normal use, longer if you're not constantly checking maps."

  "How do I set it up?"

  "Turn it on, follow the prompts. It'll ask for your trainer ID—just input the number from your card. After that, it syncs with the League database automatically. Takes about ten minutes."

  Jason thanked him and stepped outside to wait for Tommy. The morning air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of grass and distant flowers. Littleroot was waking up around him—shutters opening, Pokémon stretching in yards, the first early risers heading to work or errands.

  Four days, he thought. Four days, and this already feels almost normal.

  "Jason! Hey!"

  Tommy came jogging down the street, Zigzagoon racing ahead of him. The kid was dressed for travel, his own pack bulging with supplies, a Pokéball belt at his waist.

  "You got one!" He pointed at the Pokégear in Jason's hand. "Nice. Here, let me help you set it up."

  They sat on a bench near the town square, and Tommy walked him through the setup process with the ease of someone who'd done it a hundred times. Input trainer ID, confirm identity, set preferences, add contacts.

  "My number's 0772-4419," Tommy said. "Add me first so we can test it."

  Jason input the number and sent a test message. Tommy's Pokégear chirped a moment later.

  "Perfect! Now you're connected." Tommy grinned. "Send me updates on your journey, okay? I want to hear how you do against Roxanne."

  "Same to you with Brawly."

  They stood, and for a moment, neither seemed sure how to say goodbye. Then Tommy stuck out his hand, and Jason shook it firmly.

  "Good luck, Tommy."

  "You too, Jason. And take care of Sprig!”

  "Sprigatito!" Sprig chirped, apparently pleased by the compliment.

  Tommy headed off toward the docks, Zigzagoon at his heels, raising one hand in a final wave before disappearing around a corner. Jason watched him go, then turned to face the road leading north.

  Route 101.

  The first step of a very long journey.

  "Ready, Sprig?"

  "Spriga!"

  Jason took a breath, settled his pack more comfortably on his shoulders, and started walking.

  Route 101 was nothing like the games had depicted.

  In the games, it had been a short stretch of grass between two towns—maybe thirty seconds of walking, a handful of wild encounters, forgettable in every way. In reality, it was a proper road winding through genuine wilderness, with actual distance and actual terrain and actual time required to traverse.

  The main path was well-maintained, packed earth with occasional gravel patches, wide enough for two people to walk abreast. But the forest pressed close on either side, dense and green and alive with sounds Jason was slowly learning to identify. Taillow calls from the canopy. Zigzagoon rustling in the underbrush. The distant drone of Bug-types going about their business.

  He walked at a steady pace, not pushing too hard, conserving energy for whatever lay ahead. Sprigatito ranged ahead and behind, exploring, investigating, occasionally darting into the grass to chase something only she could see. Her earlier wariness had faded entirely; she moved through the forest like she belonged there.

  She's a Grass-type, Jason reminded himself. This is her element. Of course she's comfortable.

  The morning passed pleasantly enough. They encountered a few other travelers—a merchant with a cart pulled by a Tauros, a pair of trainers heading south toward Littleroot, an older woman walking a Poochyena. Everyone nodded or waved in passing, the casual acknowledgment of strangers sharing the road.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Around midday, Jason found a clearing just off the main path and stopped for lunch. He sat on a fallen log, digging through his pack for travel rations, while Sprigatito investigated the surrounding area.

  "Don't go too far," he called. "Stay where I can see you."

  "Sprig!" An affirmative chirp, followed by the sound of her pouncing on something in the grass.

  Jason ate mechanically, his mind wandering. The route to Oldale should take about a day and a half at this pace—one night of camping, then arrival by tomorrow afternoon. From there, another day or two to Petalburg.

  Norman. Normal-types. Slaking, Vigoroth, probably Linoone or something similar.

  He knew the gym leader's team from the games, but he also knew that game knowledge didn't translate perfectly to reality. Norman might use different Pokémon, different strategies, different everything. And even if the team was exactly what Jason expected, beating them with just Sprigatito would be... impossible. He’d want to first move on from there and go on to Rustboro and hopefully face his first real gym challenge in Roxanne.

  Need to catch more Pokémon. Build a real team.

  Reina had mentioned Ralts near a lake. The Pokédex confirmed that Ralts could occasionally be found on Route 102, west of Oldale. Ralts. Psychic-type, eventually Psychic/Fairy if he remembered correctly. Evolves into Kirlia, then Gardevoir—one of the stronger evolutionary lines. One would be a real asset to the team, not to mentioned he’d always had a soft spot for Ralts, Gardevoir, etc. Find the lake. Find a Ralts. Convince it to join us.

  Easier said than done. Ralts were notoriously shy, sensitive to emotions, and difficult to approach. They could sense feelings from a distance and would flee from anything that felt threatening or aggressive.

  Good thing I'm more tired than threatening right now.

  Sprigatito returned from her exploration, a leaf stuck to her head, looking extremely pleased with herself. Jason reached over and plucked it off, earning an indignant mrrow.

  "Very dignified," he said dryly. "Truly the picture of a fearsome Pokémon."

  "Sprigatito!" She swatted at his hand, then hopped up onto the log beside him and began grooming herself with exaggerated care.

  Jason watched her for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. She was ridiculous and adorable and fierce all at once, and somehow, impossibly, she was his.

  Four days ago I woke up in a forest with no idea how I got here. Now I'm a Pokémon trainer, sitting on a log in the wilderness, eating weird travel food while my magical cat cleans herself next to me.

  Life is strange.

  He finished his lunch, packed everything away, and stood. "Come on, Sprig. We've got ground to cover."

  The afternoon brought their first wild encounter.

  They'd been walking for maybe two hours when Sprigatito suddenly froze, her body going low and tense. Her ears flattened against her head, and a low sound emerged from her throat—not quite a growl, but definitely a warning.

  Jason stopped immediately, scanning the area. "What is it?"

  The underbrush rustled. Something was moving through the grass, something low to the ground, approaching from the left.

  A Poochyena emerged into the open, its gray-and-black fur bristled, lips pulled back to reveal small but sharp teeth. It wasn't large—maybe knee-height—but its eyes were fixed on Sprigatito with obvious aggression.

  Territorial, Jason realized. We walked into its space.

  "Easy, Sprig. Don't provoke it."

  The Poochyena barked once, sharp and challenging. Sprigatito's response was immediate—she hissed, her fur puffing up, making herself look larger than she was.

  So much for not provoking it.

  The Poochyena charged.

  "Leafage!" Jason shouted.

  Sprigatito was already moving, dancing to the side as glowing leaves materialized around her. The Poochyena's Tackle missed by inches, and the Leafage barrage caught it mid-turn, several leaves scoring hits along its flank.

  The Dark-type yelped, more surprised than hurt, and whirled to face Sprigatito again. Its eyes had gone from aggressive to angry, and Jason could see it preparing for another attack.

  "Again—Leafage, then dodge!"

  Sprigatito fired another volley, but the Poochyena was ready this time. It zigzagged forward, avoiding most of the leaves, and slammed into Sprigatito before she could get clear.

  "Sprig!"

  She tumbled but recovered quickly, scrambling to her feet with her hackles raised. A thin line of blood marked her shoulder where the Poochyena's teeth had grazed her.

  She's hurt. Need to end this fast.

  "Scratch! Go for the face!"

  Sprigatito lunged, claws extended, and the Poochyena reared back to avoid the strike. That moment of retreat was all she needed—she pivoted, bringing her claws around in a second swipe that connected solidly with the Dark-type's muzzle.

  The Poochyena yelped, stumbling backward, and Sprigatito pressed her advantage. Another Leafage, point-blank this time, the leaves shredding into the Poochyena's fur with audible impacts.

  The wild Pokémon broke.

  It turned and fled into the underbrush, crashing through the grass in its haste to escape. Within seconds, the sound of its retreat faded, leaving Jason and Sprigatito alone in sudden silence.

  Jason let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Sprig. You okay?"

  She limped toward him, favoring her non-injured shoulder, but her expression was proud. We won. I protected us.

  "You did great. Really great." He knelt down, examining the wound. It wasn't deep—more a scrape than a gash—but it needed treatment. "Hold still. I've got a Potion."

  He dug through his pack and found one of the purple spray bottles, carefully applying it to Sprigatito's shoulder. She winced at first, then relaxed as the medicine took effect, the wound visibly closing over the next few seconds.

  Pokémon medicine is insane, Jason thought, not for the first time. That would take weeks to heal naturally.

  "Better?"

  "Spriga." She tested her weight on the leg, then nodded.

  "Good. That was... that was real." Jason sat back, processing the encounter. His heart was still racing, adrenaline still coursing through his system. "Our first wild battle. You did well. We did well."

  Sprigatito preened at the praise, her earlier tension fading.

  "But we need to be more careful," Jason continued. "Watch for territorial Pokémon. Maybe avoid the thicker underbrush where they like to hide."

  "Sprig." Agreement.

  They continued on, both a little more alert than before, both a little more aware of just how real this world could be.

  As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, Jason started looking for a place to camp.

  The main road had smaller paths branching off at intervals—some leading to clearings, others disappearing into the forest. He chose one that seemed promising and followed it until he found what he was looking for: a small clearing with a fire ring already established, clearly used by previous travelers.

  "This'll work."

  He set up camp with the methodical efficiency of someone who'd watched dozens of camping tutorials online but never actually done it for real. The tent went up after only two false starts. The sleeping roll unfolded smoothly. The small cooking kit produced something that could generously be called "dinner" if you squinted and didn't think too hard about it.

  Sprigatito ate her Pokémon food without complaint, then curled up near the small fire Jason had managed to start, her eyes half-closed in contentment.

  With dinner finished, Jason turned his attention to Sprigatito.

  "Come here, Sprig. Let me check you over."

  She padded toward him, apparently understanding his intent, and sat patiently while he examined her. The Potion had healed the shoulder wound completely—not even a scar remained—but he checked anyway, running careful fingers through her fur to feel for any bumps or tender spots he might have missed.

  "Does this hurt? No? What about here?"

  "Sprig." Negative. She seemed more curious about his attention than bothered by it.

  Her fur had picked up debris during the day's travel—bits of leaf, a few tiny twigs, some dust from the road. Jason dug through his pack until he found the small brush he'd bought at Hideki's recommendation ("Grass-types need regular grooming, especially the furred ones").

  "Hold still. This might feel weird at first."

  He started brushing, gentle strokes that worked through her fur from head to tail. Sprigatito tensed initially, unfamiliar with the sensation, but relaxed as she realized it felt good. After a minute, she was practically melting under his hands, a low purr rumbling in her chest.

  Oh no. That's adorable.

  Jason kept his face carefully neutral, refusing to acknowledge the warmth spreading through his chest. He was a grown man. He had dignity. He was not going to coo over his cat like a besotted pet owner.

  "Spriiiig..." The purr intensified.

  Okay. Maybe a little.

  "You like that, huh?" He worked through a small tangle near her ear, and she tilted her head to give him better access. "We'll do this every night. Keep you looking good, feeling good. Sound fair?"

  "Spriga." Emphatic agreement.

  By the time he finished, her fur was gleaming in the firelight, soft and clean and faintly fragrant with that herbal scent her species produced. She looked—and clearly felt—like a well-cared-for Pokémon.

  This is what matters, Jason thought. Not just training, not just battling. Taking care of them. Earning their trust.

  He gave her one final scritch behind the ears—dignity be damned—and reached for the berry pouch Birch had given him.

  "Here. A treat. You earned it today."

  He held out an Oran Berry, and Sprigatito's eyes went wide. She sniffed it once, twice, then delicately took it from his fingers and began eating with obvious relish.

  "Good?"

  "Sprig!" Extremely good, apparently.

  Jason smiled, watching her enjoy the treat, and felt something settle in his chest. This was right. This was what being a trainer should feel like.

  The forest around them had shifted with the fading light. The daytime sounds were giving way to evening sounds—different Pokémon, different rhythms, different songs. It was peaceful in a way that Jason hadn't expected, a natural quiet that the modern world he'd come from had mostly forgotten.

  He pulled out his phone. 52% battery—he'd have to conserve it until he reached Oldale. But a little music wouldn't hurt.

  He scrolled through his library, looking for something that matched his mood. Not sad tonight. Not heavy. Something... hopeful. Forward-looking.

  He settled on Journey. "Don't Stop Believin'."

  The familiar piano intro filled his ears, and Jason leaned back against his pack, watching the stars emerge one by one in the darkening sky. Different stars, but still beautiful. Still vast and mysterious and humbling in their scope.

  Streetlight, people...

  Sprigatito's ears perked at the music, her head turning toward him with curiosity. He pulled out one earbud and held it toward her, an offering.

  She sniffed it, then nudged her head closer. He held the earbud near her ear, letting her listen.

  For a long moment, she just sat there, listening to sounds from another world. Then she made a small, contented sound and settled back down, apparently satisfied.

  "You like it?"

  "Sprig." Neither enthusiastic nor dismissive. Just... accepting.

  "Yeah. Me too."

  The song played on, and the fire crackled, and somewhere out in the darkness, the Pokémon of Route 101 went about their lives, unaware and unconcerned about the strange human and his strange partner sharing their forest for the night.

  Tomorrow, they'd reach Oldale. Tomorrow, new challenges would begin.

  But tonight, under the stars, with music in his ears and warmth at his side, Jason felt something he hadn't expected to feel so soon.

  He felt at home.