Jason woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the weight of a small, warm body curled against his chest.

  For a long, disorienting moment, he didn't know where he was. The ceiling was wrong. The sounds were wrong. The smell of the sheets was wrong—clean but foreign, lacking the familiar detergent his grandmother had used for as long as he could remember.

  Then Sprigatito shifted against him, making a small chirping sound in her sleep, and everything came rushing back.

  Pokémon world. Hoenn. Littleroot Town. Trainer.

  He lay still for a moment, letting the reality settle over him like a second blanket. Yesterday had been... a lot. The forest, the crash, the walking, meeting Hana, arriving in town, Professor Birch, the capture, the quiet breakdown under the stars. His body ached in places he didn't know could ache, muscles protesting the unexpected hike through rough terrain.

  But he was alive. He was safe. He had a roof over his head and a Pokémon partner and, against all odds, something resembling a plan.

  One day at a time. That's all you can do.

  The Pokémon Center room was small but comfortable—a single bed, a desk, a chair, a window overlooking the town's main street. Nurse Joy had been kind last night, asking no questions about his disheveled appearance or the unusual Pokémon at his heels. She'd simply handed him a room key, pointed him toward the cafeteria, and wished him a good night's rest.

  Jason checked his phone. 48% battery—the music last night had cost him a few percentage points. He'd need to figure out a charging solution soon. The device was his last tangible connection to his old life, and he wasn't ready to let it go dark.

  Problem for later. Focus on today.

  He sat up carefully, trying not to disturb Sprigatito, but she woke anyway—blinking up at him with those luminous red eyes, yawning widely enough to display her tiny fangs.

  "Morning, Sprig."

  "Spriga." She stretched luxuriously, her back arching in that distinctly feline way, then hopped off the bed and padded toward the door. She looked back at him expectantly.

  "Hungry?"

  "Sprigatito!" The enthusiasm in her voice was unmistakable.

  "Yeah, me too. Let's see what passes for breakfast around here."

  The Pokémon Center cafeteria was busier than Jason had expected.

  A dozen trainers occupied the scattered tables, ranging from kids who couldn't be older than twelve to adults who looked like weathered veterans. Their Pokémon were everywhere—perched on shoulders, curled under chairs, eating from bowls on the floor beside their trainers. The noise level was considerable: conversations overlapping, Pokémon calls punctuating the chatter, the clatter of dishes and utensils.

  Jason grabbed a tray and joined the line, acutely aware of the looks he was attracting. Or rather, the looks Sprigatito was attracting. She trotted beside him, apparently unbothered by the attention, but he could see other trainers pointing, whispering, pulling out their Pokédexes to scan her.

  Unknown Pokémon, he imagined them reading. Species not found in regional database.

  He loaded his tray with what looked like eggs, toast, and some kind of fruit he didn't recognize, then found an empty table in the corner. Sprigatito jumped up onto the chair beside him, her nose twitching at the smells.

  "Here." Jason set down a bowl of Pokémon food he'd grabbed from the designated station. "This should be good for you."

  Sprigatito sniffed the kibble suspiciously, then took a tentative bite. Her eyes widened, and she dove in with enthusiasm, crunching happily.

  Good. At least one of us has simple needs.

  The eggs were... eggs. Slightly different in texture, maybe a bit richer in flavor, but recognizably eggs. The toast was toast. The fruit was sweet and tangy, somewhere between an apple and a mango. Jason ate mechanically, his mind already racing ahead to the day's tasks.

  He needed to learn how this world actually worked. Not the game version, with its simplified mechanics and convenient abstractions, but the real version—the version where trainers needed money and food and shelter, where Pokémon battles had actual consequences, where the journey from "new trainer" to "Conference competitor" was measured in months and years rather than hours of gameplay.

  Professor Birch had promised to help. That was step one.

  A shadow fell across his table.

  "That's a Sprigatito, isn't it?"

  Jason looked up to find a boy standing beside his table—maybe fourteen or fifteen, with messy brown hair and an eager expression. A Zigzagoon sat at his feet, watching Sprigatito with undisguised curiosity.

  "Yeah," Jason said carefully. "She is."

  "I've never seen one in person! They're from Paldea, right? Grass-type starter? I read about them online but they're super rare here because Paldea doesn't have official League exchange programs yet and—" The boy caught himself, flushing slightly. "Sorry. I'm rambling. I just—she's really cool."

  Despite himself, Jason felt his wariness ease. The kid's enthusiasm was genuine, not threatening.

  "Thanks. I'm Jason."

  "Tommy!" The boy stuck out his hand, and Jason shook it. "Tommy Ashford. I'm from Rustboro, but I'm doing the gym challenge so I'm traveling around." He glanced at Sprigatito again. "Can I... would it be okay if I pet her? If she's okay with it, I mean."

  Jason looked at Sprigatito, who had paused her eating to observe the newcomer. Her ears were forward, her posture curious rather than defensive.

  "Sprig? This is Tommy. He wants to say hello. Is that okay?"

  Sprigatito considered for a moment, then chirped an affirmative, returning to her food but leaving her side accessible.

  Tommy crouched down slowly, extending his hand for her to sniff before gently stroking her fur. His touch was careful, respectful—the touch of someone who understood that Pokémon weren't toys.

  "She's so soft," he breathed. "And her fur smells like... herbs? Is that normal?"

  "Seems to be." Jason found himself relaxing further. "Her species produces aromatic oils. Helps them hunt in the wild—the scent calms prey."

  Tommy's eyes went wide. "That's so cool! How do you know so much about them if they're not from here?"

  Because I played the games. Because I read the Pokédex entries. Because where I come from, she's a collection of pixels and data, not a living creature.

  "Research," Jason said vaguely. "I like to read up on different species."

  "Me too!" Tommy straightened, his Zigzagoon coming to stand beside him. "I want to be a Pokémon researcher someday. Like Professor Birch, or maybe Professor Sycamore in Kalos. Traveling the world, studying different species, learning how they live and interact with their environments." He grinned. "The gym challenge is just for fun. And for experience, I guess. Hard to study Pokémon if you can't work with them."

  "Makes sense." Jason finished the last of his eggs. "How far along are you? In the challenge, I mean."

  "Just started, really. I have one badge—Roxanne, in Rustboro. She's tough! Rock-types are no joke." Tommy's expression turned thoughtful. "Are you doing the gym challenge too? I noticed your trainer card when you checked in last night. New registration."

  Observant kid.

  "That's the plan," Jason said. "Though I've got a lot to learn first. Just arrived in Hoenn yesterday."

  "Oh! Well, if you want, I could show you around town? I've been here a few days already, resupplying and training. I know where everything is." Tommy's eagerness was almost puppy-like. "And we could train together! Zigzagoon needs practice against Grass-types anyway."

  Jason hesitated. He'd planned to spend the day with Professor Birch, learning the basics of this world. But having a guide—someone who actually knew how things worked here—could be valuable. And Tommy seemed harmless enough. Enthusiastic, maybe a bit naive, but not malicious.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  "Sure," he said finally. "A tour would be great. But I need to stop by Professor Birch's lab first. He's helping me with some... paperwork."

  "Cool! I'll come with. I love the lab." Tommy was already bouncing on his heels. "Let me just grab my stuff from my room. Meet you outside in ten minutes?"

  "Sounds good."

  Tommy dashed off, Zigzagoon racing to keep up with him. Jason watched them go, then looked down at Sprigatito.

  "Well. Looks like we made a friend."

  "Sprig." She didn't sound particularly impressed, but she also didn't sound opposed.

  "Yeah, I know. He's a lot. But he seems nice." Jason stood, gathering his tray. "Come on. Let's go see the Professor."

  Professor Birch's lab was even more chaotic in daylight.

  Researchers bustled between workstations, carrying tablets and samples and equipment Jason couldn't identify. Pokémon wandered freely—a Wingull perched on a filing cabinet, a Poochyena napping in a patch of sunlight, several Zigzagoon (apparently the lab's unofficial mascots) weaving between people's legs. The air hummed with activity and purpose.

  Birch himself was at a large desk in the center of the main room, surrounded by papers and screens, talking animatedly into some kind of communication device. He spotted Jason and waved him over, wrapping up his conversation with a few quick words.

  "Jason! Good morning. Sleep well?"

  "Well enough. Thanks again for the help yesterday."

  "Happy to do it. Unusual circumstances deserve unusual responses." Birch's eyes dropped to Sprigatito, who was examining a Zigzagoon with wary interest. "How's she settling in?"

  "Good, I think. She ate breakfast, seems comfortable." Jason paused. "I was hoping you could help me understand some things. About how... everything works. Training, the gym challenge, money, all of it. The games— sorry, the information I have is pretty basic."

  "Of course!" Birch gestured to a pair of chairs near his desk. "Sit, sit. Let's talk."

  The next two hours were an education.

  Birch explained the trainer system—how registration worked, what rights and responsibilities it conferred, how the League structured its various programs. He explained the economy—trainer stipends for badge holders, prize money from official battles, the job board system that let trainers take on tasks for pay. He explained the gym challenge—eight badges required for Conference entry, no set order in Hoenn (unlike some regions), each gym testing different skills and strategies.

  He explained medicine—Pokémon Centers provided free healing for registered trainers, but more serious injuries required specialized care that could be expensive. He explained law—Pokémon battles were legal only with mutual consent, harming a trainer's Pokémon outside of sanctioned combat was a serious crime, and catching wild Pokémon was regulated in certain protected areas.

  He explained things Jason hadn't even thought to ask about—trainer etiquette, regional variations in rules, the complex politics of the League system, the differences between trainer licenses and breeder licenses and researcher licenses.

  Jason's head was spinning by the end of it, but he had a much clearer picture of what he was getting into.

  "The most important thing," Birch concluded, "is to take it at your own pace. There's no rush. Some trainers complete the gym challenge in a year. Some take five years. Some never finish at all, and that's fine—not everyone's goal is the Conference. Figure out what you want, and work toward that."

  "What about money? Right now, I have..." Jason checked his wallet. "Nothing usable. The currency from my... from wherever I came from doesn't work here."

  "Ah, yes. Well." Birch rummaged through his desk drawers. "As your sponsoring professor, I can provide a small starter fund. Standard practice for trainers in unusual circumstances." He handed over an envelope. "Five thousand Pokédollars. Enough for a few weeks of basics—food, supplies, Pokéball restocking. After that, you'll need to earn your own way."

  Five thousand. Jason had no idea if that was a lot or a little, but it was infinitely more than zero.

  "Thank you. I'll pay you back when I can."

  Birch waved a hand dismissively. "Consider it an investment in research. A Paldean Pokémon bonding with a trainer in Hoenn—I'll want to document Sprigatito's growth and adaptation. With your permission, of course."

  "Of course. Anything you need."

  "Excellent!" Birch beamed. "Now, I believe you have a young man waiting for you outside. Tommy Ashford—good kid, knows his stuff. A bit excitable, but his heart's in the right place. He'll be a good guide for your first day."

  Jason blinked. "How did you—"

  "Small town. Word travels." Birch's eyes twinkled. "Go on. Explore. Learn. And come back if you have questions—my door's always open."

  Tommy was indeed waiting outside, practically vibrating with energy.

  "Ready for the grand tour?"

  "Lead the way."

  Littleroot Town in daylight was different from Littleroot Town at dusk. The streets were busier, filled with people going about their daily lives. Children ran past with Pokémon at their heels. Shopkeepers arranged displays in their windows. A delivery truck trundled by, its bed loaded with crates marked with various company logos.

  Tommy proved to be an enthusiastic guide, pointing out landmarks with the practiced ease of someone who'd made it his business to know everything about everywhere he went.

  "That's the general store—they have pretty much everything you need for basic travel. Potions, Pokéballs, camping gear, food. Prices are fair." He gestured across the street. "Pokémon grooming salon. You probably don't need it yet, but once Sprigatito's fur gets longer, regular brushing helps keep it healthy. Plus they do nail trims and stuff."

  They passed a small park where trainers were gathered, their Pokémon playing or sparring in designated areas. Jason watched a Treecko dodge around a Taillow's aerial attacks, impressed by the coordination between Pokémon and trainer.

  "Training grounds," Tommy explained. "Free to use for any registered trainer. Good place to practice, meet other trainers, maybe find some battles." He glanced at Jason. "Speaking of which—want to see what Sprigatito can do? Zigzagoon and I could use the practice."

  Jason looked down at Sprigatito, who had been observing everything with alert interest. She met his gaze, her ears perking forward.

  "What do you think, Sprig? Feel like a practice battle?"

  "Sprigatito!" The enthusiasm in her voice was unmistakable—a stark contrast to the trembling creature he'd found hiding under wreckage yesterday. She wanted to fight. To prove herself. To show what she could do.

  Okay then.

  "Sure," Jason said to Tommy. "Let's see what we've got."

  The training grounds had a few empty practice fields—marked rectangles of packed earth with simple boundary lines. Tommy led them to one, taking position on the opposite side while Jason and Sprigatito claimed the other.

  "Standard practice rules?" Tommy called. "One-on-one, no items, battle ends when one Pokémon can't continue or surrenders?"

  "Works for me."

  Jason's heart was pounding. This was it—his first actual Pokémon battle. Not a game, not a simulation, but a real fight with real consequences. Sprigatito could get hurt. Would get hurt, probably, because battles meant taking hits.

  Trust her. She wants this. Just... guide her.

  "Ready, Zigzagoon?" Tommy's partner bounded onto the field, its striped fur bristling with eagerness.

  "Ready, Sprig?"

  Sprigatito stalked forward, her body low, her movements suddenly fluid and predatory in a way Jason hadn't seen before. She looked... dangerous. Like the cute housecat exterior had peeled back to reveal something wilder underneath.

  That's right. She's not a pet. She's a Pokémon. A creature with instincts and abilities I can barely imagine.

  "Whenever you're ready!" Tommy called.

  Jason took a breath.

  "Sprig—Leafage!"

  Sprigatito moved. Leaves materialized around her, glowing with green energy, and launched toward Zigzagoon in a rapid barrage. The attack was faster than Jason expected, sharper, the leaves cutting through the air with an audible whistle.

  "Dodge and use Tackle!" Tommy commanded.

  Zigzagoon was fast—really fast. It zigzagged (of course) across the field, most of the leaves missing wide, and closed the distance to Sprigatito in seconds. It slammed into her with surprising force, sending her tumbling.

  "Sprig!"

  She was up again almost immediately, shaking off the hit, her eyes narrowed with determination rather than fear.

  She's okay. She can take it.

  "Again—Leafage! Aim for where it's going, not where it is!"

  This time Sprigatito adjusted, firing her leaves in a spread pattern that Zigzagoon couldn't entirely avoid. Several connected, drawing a yelp from the striped Pokémon.

  "Sand Attack!" Tommy countered.

  Zigzagoon kicked up a spray of dirt and sand, aiming for Sprigatito's eyes. She flinched, turning her head, her next attack going wide.

  Damn. Status moves. I forgot about those.

  "Shake it off, Sprig! Use your nose, not your eyes!"

  She blinked rapidly, tears streaming from irritated eyes, but her nose was twitching, tracking Zigzagoon by scent. When the striped Pokémon charged again, she was ready—dodging to the side and raking her claws across its flank in a move that looked like Scratch.

  "Nice!" Tommy shouted, genuine admiration in his voice. "She's got good instincts!"

  The battle continued, back and forth, neither side gaining a decisive advantage. Sprigatito was faster and had better ranged options, but Zigzagoon was more experienced, its movements more practiced. They traded hits, each exchange teaching Jason something new about how battles actually worked—the timing, the spacing, the constant need to read your opponent and adjust.

  Finally, after a particularly hard collision, both Pokémon stood panting in the center of the field. Zigzagoon's fur was ruffled and cut in several places. Sprigatito was favoring one leg, her earlier tumble apparently leaving a bruise.

  "Call it a draw?" Tommy offered.

  "Yeah." Jason was already moving toward Sprigatito. "That's enough for today."

  He knelt beside her, checking her over with careful hands. The leg didn't seem broken—probably just sore—but he'd want Nurse Joy to look at her anyway.

  "You did great, Sprig. Really great."

  "Spriga..." She leaned into his touch, exhausted but pleased. He could feel it through the strange new connection between them—her satisfaction, her pride, her eagerness to do it again.

  Later, he promised silently. After you rest.

  Tommy jogged over, Zigzagoon at his heels. "That was awesome! She's really strong for a new catch. How long have you been training her?"

  "About eighteen hours," Jason admitted.

  Tommy's jaw dropped. "Seriously? She fights like she's been at it for weeks!"

  Jason looked down at Sprigatito, who was preening slightly at the praise.

  "She's special," he said simply.

  And he meant it.

  They spent the rest of the day exploring, training, learning.

  Tommy showed him how to shop for supplies efficiently, which items were essential and which were tourist traps. He demonstrated basic training techniques—how to build endurance, how to practice accuracy, how to condition a Pokémon for battle without exhausting them. He explained the social dynamics of trainer culture, the unwritten rules and expectations that no guidebook would teach.

  By evening, Jason's head was full and his body was tired, but it was a good tired. A productive tired. The kind of tired that came from actually doing something, from making progress instead of just worrying.

  He sat on a bench outside the Pokémon Center, watching the sun set over Littleroot Town. Sprigatito was in his lap, freshly healed by Nurse Joy, drowsing contentedly. His phone showed 42% battery—he'd resisted the urge to play music all day, saving it for when he really needed it.

  Maybe tonight. After everything settles.

  Tommy had gone back to his room, promising to meet up again tomorrow if Jason was still in town. And he probably would be—there was more to learn, more to practice, more to figure out before he felt ready to actually start traveling.

  But the shape of a plan was forming in his mind. Train in Littleroot for a few more days. Learn the basics. Get comfortable with battling, with traveling, with surviving in this world. Then head north, toward Oldale Town, and from there to Petalburg City and beyond.

  The gym challenge awaited. The Conference awaited. A whole new life awaited.

  One step at a time, he reminded himself. That's how you eat an elephant.

  Sprigatito shifted in his lap, making a small sound of contentment, and Jason let himself smile.

  For the first time since waking up in that forest, he felt something like hope.