The lab always had a rhythm to it.
Not loud. Not chaotic.
But never truly quiet.
A steady hum pulsed through the space—machines cycling through diagnostics, containment units maintaining stable environments, faint electronic tones rising and falling in carefully measured intervals. Every sound had purpose. Every movement, intention.
Today, that rhythm felt tighter.
More focused.
Rows of starter Pokémon sat within glass enclosures at the center of the lab, each chamber softly illuminated to highlight its occupant. The polished surfaces reflected the overhead lights, giving the entire display an almost ceremonial feel—like this wasn't just a selection.
It was a beginning.
I leaned against one of the side panels, arms loosely crossed, watching a Bulbasaur lazily flick its vine against the inside of its enclosure.
"You could at least pretend to look impressive," I muttered.
"Bulba…"
Unbothered.
Across the room, Professor Oak stood near the main console, reviewing a set of documents. His posture was relaxed, but there was an awareness in everything he did—subtle, controlled. Even without looking up, he knew exactly what was happening around him.
"You've been staring at them for a while," he said casually. "Planning to take one before the official process begins?"
I pushed off the glass slightly.
"If I were," I replied, "you wouldn't know until inventory check."
A pause.
"…I'm choosing to believe that was a joke."
"Fifty percent."
The lab doors slammed open.
"Squirtle, Bulbasaur, Charmander—anyone's fine! Just please save one for me!"
The words came fast—breathless, desperate, dragging in a gust of outside air with them.
I didn't need to turn.
Late.
Ash stumbled in, clothes thrown together in a rush—pajamas, mismatched shoes, hair sticking out in every direction. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he tried to catch his breath, eyes locked onto the starter display like it was the only thing that mattered.
Behind him, the fading echo of cheers lingered outside.
"Gary, Gary, he's our man!"
Ah.
So that's how far behind he was.
"Professor Oak!" Ash called, nearly tripping as he rushed forward. "Where's my Pokémon?!"
Oak turned calmly, as if this had been expected all along.
"You look like you're ready for bed," he said evenly, "not for Pokémon training."
"I—I got messed up this morning," Ash said quickly, words tumbling out. "But I'm ready! I really am!"
He stepped up to the display, breathing still uneven.
"I thought about it a lot," he said, voice tight with urgency. "And I've decided—I choose Squirtle!"
He grabbed the Pokéball immediately, gripping it tightly.
"Okay… okay…"
Click.
The Pokéball opened—
And nothing came out.
Ash blinked.
"…Huh?"
He leaned forward slightly, staring into the empty space, as if something had simply failed to appear.
"That one was already taken by someone who arrived on time," Oak said calmly.
Ash's head snapped up.
"…Then—then Bulbasaur!"
He reached for the next Pokéball, knocking it slightly loose before catching it.
Click.
It opened.
Empty.
Ash froze.
"…No…"
"Also taken," Oak replied.
Ash turned faster this time, breathing sharper now.
"…Charmander!"
He lunged for the last Pokéball, fumbling it before catching it tightly.
"Come on…"
Click.
It opened—
Nothing.
Ash didn't move.
"…No…"
"The early bird gets the worm," Oak said calmly.
Ash's shoulders dropped slowly, like something inside him had given way.
His eyes darted across the display again, searching.
"…There has to be one left."
A plea.
"…Does that mean all the Pokémon are gone?"
That's when I looked past him.
Past the display.
Into the back.
Rows of Pokéballs.
Organized.
Unused.
Ready.
There are still plenty.
I glanced at Oak.
He didn't look at me.
But he knew I saw.
"Well," he said slowly, "there is still one left."
"I'll take it!"
He led Ash toward the back of the lab.
The difference was immediate.
The lighting dimmed slightly. The hum of machinery shifted—less refined, more functional. A containment unit sat apart from the rest, faint arcs of electricity flickering across its surface.
"I should warn you," Oak said, "there is a problem with this one."
"I don't care! I just need a Pokémon!"
The unit opened.
Ash grabbed the Pokéball immediately.
"Alright… let's go…"
Click.
Light formed this time—condensing outward before settling.
Pikachu
"Oh, it's so cute!" Ash said, crouching slightly.
Pikachu stared.
Still.
"Hey there, Pikachu—"
ZAP
Ash stumbled back as electricity cracked through the air.
The smell of ozone lingered faintly.
"…High output," I muttered.
Ash forced a smile.
"Okay… let's try this properly."
He grabbed a Pokéball and tossed it forward.
Pikachu flicked its tail.
Fast.
Precise.
And smacked the Pokéball straight back.
Thunk.
Ash caught it.
"…What?"
Again.
Throw.
Slap.
Catch.
The rhythm built quickly.
I shifted slightly.
"…That's not defiance," I murmured.
"…That's refusal."
"Just—stay—inside!" Ash snapped.
Throw.
Slap.
Catch.
Pikachu crossed its arms.
Unbothered.
"It seems," Oak said calmly, "this one prefers its freedom."
Eventually, Ash left.
Frustrated.
Pikachu followed—not obediently, just… going the same way.
Silence returned.
I walked toward the back.
Tapped one of the unused Pokéballs.
"…There were still plenty."
"…Yes."
I turned.
"Then why?"
"…A favor," Oak said. "To an old friend."
"And Pikachu?"
"That one is far from ordinary."
I nodded.
"Got it."
"You're not going to ask more?"
"If I needed to know, you'd tell me."
Outside—
The air felt wider.
The structure of the lab fell away behind me as I stepped into open space. The sky stretched endlessly above Pallet Town, sunlight spilling across rooftops, dirt paths, and distant fields swaying gently in the breeze.
The scent of grass and earth replaced the sterile air of the lab.
For a moment—
I just stood there.
This is it.
"…Finally."
My Rotom Bike hummed to life beneath me, faint currents dancing along its frame.
I eased forward, leaving the lab behind.
The road stretched ahead.
Open.
Unrestricted.
Alive.
Further ahead—
Movement.
Ash.
He stood in the middle of the path.
A small Pidgey had landed nearby, pecking idly at the ground.
"That's it…" Ash muttered.
He grabbed a rock.
Threw it.
Missed.
Completely.
The rock struck dirt behind the Pidgey.
The Pidgey reacted instantly.
Wings snapping open—
A sharp burst of wind surged forward.
"—Wait—!"
The Gust hit Ash square in the chest, knocking him backward as he lost footing and hit the ground hard.
Dust rose around him.
Above—
Pikachu sat on a branch.
Watching.
Then—
It laughed.
"Pika—pika—!"
Ash groaned, pushing himself up.
"Hey! That wasn't funny!"
I let out a quiet chuckle.
"…Yeah. About what I expected."
The Pidgey took off, disappearing into the trees.
Ash brushed himself off, muttering.
Pikachu remained where it was.
Still not helping.
I shook my head slightly.
No battle sense.
No awareness.
No control.
"…This is going to get worse before it gets better."
I eased the throttle.
The bike surged forward.
Behind me, Ash's voice faded.
Ahead—
The road stretched on.
And this time—
I didn't slow down.