Pokemon: An Unexpected Odyssey

"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. This wasn't happening. How was this happening?

"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, 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 thing 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, Austin 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 him.

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. Pikachu 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. "Didn't try to run away?"

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? he wondered, his brow furrowing. 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 season.

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!