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PART I

A New World

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Even the mightiest of forests begin as mere saplings. No matter how bad the storm, no matter how cruel life can be, or how terrible the stakes are, the sapling will find a way to grow. It all starts with a voice in the middle of a stormy night, in a room covered in dust. A couple dozen teenage boys lay sleeping here. Wind howled past the lone window at the far end, and rain pelted the roof.

‘...I think, yes, we are through! We have contact! Quick, it might break again!’

‘...Yes, yes! We must hurry now, quick! There he is!‘

In a room together with dozens of snoring peers, George alone lay turning and twisting in his bed. The lightning thundering in the distance had kept him up all night, much to his frustration. Now he was hallucinating voices on top of that.

‘...George, George! There’s no time for us to explain, but you have to listen to us, okay?’

‘Come on, I’m trying to sleep here. I don’t need another smack on the fingers in the morning for everyone to laugh at, George, c’mon.

‘...Your entire world is about to get turned on its head, but we have no choice. We need you. Everyone in Eravate needs you…’

‘Ngh…’

‘...the saviour is a Trojan Horse. The shackles around Eravate are tightening, and you can break them. You’ll be what you always wanted to be, we promise!...’

‘Too good to be true. I know better.’

‘...We know how you feel about your life. Your struggles. Your pain. I have felt it myself through the ripples of time.’

‘...This’ll be a rude awakening, George. I’m so sorry. But you’ll have so much more if you stay strong.’

‘Empty promises, voice in head. But might as well accept it anyway. Not like life here’s going anywhere.’

‘...Just open your eyes in a moment… this promise is very real.’

The darkness surrounding George vanished in a flash, and the sounds of wind and rain assaulting the foster’s home disappeared with it. Everything went silent as a mouse. A sample of death before the faint singing of birds reached his ears, as did an ache creep up his chest. He opened his eyes to a bright blue sky.

“Nrghhh… Where am I?”

George pushed himself to his knees, a heave spilling out of his mouth partway through. Somehow this morning was worse than usual. “Urgh, did I fall asleep under a closet last night? Wouldn’t put it beyond her to make me,” he said, rubbing his head, before it hit him.

‘Wait… What is this place? Is this another dream? Great, a fancy dreamland before waking back up in the foster’s home, just what I needed…’

Gone were the city and the others sleeping in their beds, gone was the cold hardwood floor and the door leading out of the sleeping room. Instead he was face to face with a stream, trees surrounding him on all sides. His nostrils teemed with the scent of fresh grass, crisp leaves and blooming flowers.

The grogginess persisted as George stood up. Nothing felt right; face, chest, arms, legs, everything seemed condensed. Strangest of all was the feeling flowing out his spine. The only thing normal was how thirsty he was. Without thinking, he waddled to the stream and dipped his head down to drink from it. There was no filthy taste or lecture from the headmistress to watch out for dirty water - on the contrary, it was clear and refreshing despite being in the middle of nowhere. The water worked wonders even to the touch. George put his hands in and splashed his face, then drank some more. It made him happy for some reason.

‘Ah, this was fantastic! Why does water taste so good now? It’s even better than the-’

He froze as if a poisonous needle pierced his skin. Down in the water was a reflection, but George did not see himself staring back. Where his own face was supposed to be, there instead was a small animal staring back with a happy, then dire expression.

“Wha- What?!” his foot shifted back across the grass. The animal’s reflection followed. George shook his head; nothing changed. The reflection remained the same. A small creature with a white face, black eyes and triangular ears on both sides of his head. His chest was covered in light blue fur and sported a seashell. It looked somewhat like an otter’s, but not exactly. It looked like a Pokemon. George slapped himself with his small hands.

“That’s an Oshawott… did I knock myself on the head too hard?! Pokemon aren’t real, they’re, they’re not real! They just aren’t!” George smacked himself in the face; the reflection followed suit. “Go away already!”

George backed away from the stream. It had to be a hallucination, or so he believed with all his heart. Regardless of what was right and wrong, far more pressing was the situation at hand. Stranded in a place he had never seen before, with no one else around to help, if they were even willing to. Frowning, he sat down against the stump of a tree, fiddling with the seashell on his chest, which was strangely hard and sharp for a seashell.

‘Okay… This might be a dream, but I’m not waiting here to find out. No chance someone’s getting me out of this mess, and there’s gotta be predators that would love to take a chunk out of me right now-’

“This way. We must be getting close now.”

“Hah, been one big walk just to find ‘im! What kinda Pokemon do ye think he’s been turned into?”

“That doesn’t matter. We’re going to find him, and save the whole world a lot of bloodshed. End of story.”

George’s ears sprang up. Company. One heavy, beast-like voice, and a feminine one that sounded authoritarian, like the headmistress had come to this world as well. Fearing the worst, he jumped and ran into the bushes, his steps clumsy and unfocused, all while the thumping of heavy footsteps approached. Branches prickled him on all sides, and tree roots made him trip face first. No matter how much pain and muddy smears he’d receive, he had to leave. His lone source of nourishment was gone, just like that.

“Haha, I ain’t afraid of a lil’ water!”

“Skal, you’re part rock. Watch your step.”

“‘Ey, I know that, Terez. Save the warnings for the lil’ guy.”

* * *

George kept running. To where, he didn’t know; anywhere away from the voices back at the stream. From bush to branch, from stump to dirt trench, he was exhausted and breathless, but he didn’t dare to stop for even a slight rest. No matter how hurt he’d get from the constant trips and bush scratches, he couldn’t stop. No time to think, look, or listen. What if they caught up with him? What merciless fate would await him then?

‘Where on earth do I go? Can’t stay here for long. Those footsteps sounded like a giant dinosaur. I’m not going to become a dinosaur’s lunch, damn it!’

Adrenaline had taken control, causing him to bump into an oddly shaped spotted bulb. George fell over backwards on the ground; a strange murmur filled the air.

“Shiroo!”

“Ah!”

The bulb turned towards George. It cried out as it glared at him, then began to shake. Terrified, George jumped back to his feet and ran. The peace of the forest was irreversibly disturbed by other plants joining in with the bulb, their anger focused like a laser on the trespasser in their midsts. Tears began to well up in George’s eyes.

‘Why can’t I just wake up already?!’

His vision now blurry, and his feet aching harder than ever, George was at his wit’s end. Slowly it dawned on him that this wasn’t just another dream gone awry, or an obsession with a strange fantasy that he was bound to snap out of. The pain stung, the exhaustion latched onto him like a grappling hook, and fear welled up inside him as the murmurs behind wouldn’t fade, not until a cold wind shrieked behind. It sounded as if nature itself cried out in pain. Whatever it was, the murmuring stopped. No other sounds replaced it. Secure for the moment, George’s feet were spent. He crashed against a tree and slid down the bark, panting heavily in the process.

The escape had not been kind on him: He was covered in mud and scratches from the many falls and branches he had scraped against. The mud wasn’t just staining his fur, he tasted it in his mouth too, and no amount of spitting made the taste go away. His throat was sore and his head throbbed, his feet felt like they were about to rot right off. Confused, George’s little body slumped down, his hands coming to a rest on the shell attached to his chest.

It was awfully quiet. George glanced at the thick canopy hanging above. ‘Those voices… what on earth did they do? What is this place? Why am I being followed?‘

George looked around. A gentle breeze swayed the nearby vegetation; the rustling of the leaves above was a small comfort he desperately needed. It gave him an opportunity to think. About the voices in the darkness, about the voices following him in the light, and his own body most of all. The aching was fading, but his eyes were not playing tricks on him.

‘So a voice spoke to me, and now I’m an Oshawott. Pokemon aren’t real, they’re just a fantasy… although, I always wanted them to be real. A friend that won’t leave me behind like everyone else? That would have been perfect. But I didn’t ask to be turned into one, what is this? Did the voices turn me into one somehow? Darn it, this isn’t possible! Yet it still doesn’t feel like a dream!’

He ran a few fingers through the blue fur around his scalchop. Since he was an Oshawott, it was no ordinary seashell, but a weapon. That’s why it felt so much sturdier than any other seashell. Slowly but surely, his breathing calmed down to a somewhat ordinary tempo. What passed for ordinary in a body this small, anyhow.

“This is me now. I’m a Pokemon alright. Just when things couldn’t get any stranger… Life is just one surprise after another, isn’t it,” he whispered to himself. “And what did they say again about needing me? Well, I always wanted to make a difference, help others. Not that I know how, but the idea is pleasant-”

The bushes ahead shook violently. George stirred from his thoughts as a gasp erupted from his lungs.

“Who’s there?!” he yelled, forcing his way through the pain in his feet to stand up. He wasn’t taking any chances. Not after the first chase. Little fists clenched, teeth gritted, he watched as a reddish arm poked out of the bush.

And just as he was prepared to face his new visitor, so too was he ready to book it.

“Aahh!!!”

He muscled his way past the bushes which now shook with the force of a fierce storm. They were thicker than anything before, and he struggled to keep balance. He fell into a dark patch of vegetation. Twigs from all sides poked and prodded - George struggled his way to a point of light up ahead, his lone ticket out.

Once close, he threw himself forward, eyes closed, hoping for the best. With a thud, something his size collided against him, and he fell back on his rear.

“Ow!”

“Aah! Hey, watch out!”

“Ow… ow…” George rubbed his forehead before reopening his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of an orange lizard looking annoyedly at him.

“You could have gotten really hurt there!”

The triangular ears on George’s head twitched backwards. “Y-you can talk?!” he said with eyes wider than a bug’s. The lizard chittered, his flaming tail cautiously flickering behind him.

“Um, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

George’s cheeks flushed red. “Oh, ehrm, well, uh, I’m not used to seeing li- I mean, I’m not used to seeing Charmanders talk, that’s all.” ‘Please tell me there’s others who would say that.’ “Um, I don’t think I’ve ever heard one talk before, not where, uh, not where I’m from.”

The lizard, whose telltale orange body and flaming tail were unmistakable for anything else, crossed his arms. “You’re weird… Where are you from?” he asked, tilting his head rightwards. George clicked his tongue; his ears once again fell backwards.

‘Okay, what have I gotten myself into. I’m covered in dirt and now I’m talking to a Charmander, all while being an Oshawott. And now it’s asking me questions? What do I even do?! I can’t just tell him the truth, can I? Would he even believe me? Would he attack?! I guess I have the type advantage. Ugh, it feels so strange thinking about it like that!’

George put his hands against his chest, and breathed in deep. ‘Might as well come out with it now. I can’t even convince the headmistress I did my homework properly.’ “Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but I’m actually a human.”

“A human?!” The Charmander jumped backward, wide eyed. “B-but you look like any ordinary Oshawott!”

George winced and took another deep breath. “I know! But I’m not lying, I swear! At first I was sleeping in my bed, and then suddenly I heard a voice! And before I knew it, I woke up in the middle of the forest, feeling like I had been run over by a car.”

“A ‘car’?”

“Oh, uh…” George looked off towards a neighbouring patch of grass. ‘That’s right. There’s no cars in the Pokemon world, I forgot.’ “It’s like this big metal thing. And really fast. It’s uh, it’s kind of like… like… getting hit by… a… steel… Miltank, I guess?” he said with puffy cheeks and an awkward smile.

The Charmander stared at him; nothing was keeping him or George company aside from a howl of the wind, before the red lizard broke the silence by bursting into laughter.

“Haha, You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

George nervously laughed back. “I guess you could say that.” ‘Looks like I won’t have to figure out how to blow bubbles just yet.’

“You’re weird. But I like you!” The Charmander took a step towards George, who merely stood and watched. For a stranger in the middle of the woods, he sure was one jolly fellow. Especially for a lizard with a tail that’s on fire. “Do you have a name?”

George looked off to both sides first before daring to reply. “Well, my name is George.”

“George? That’s a strange name…”

“Is it?”

“It sure is! Must be a human name, right? Makes sense, actually! Yeah, George! I think I like it, it’s unique!” The Charmander put on a strong, confident smile. “I’m Blitzer!” he said, one finger pointing towards his chest. The Oshawott gave him a dumbfounded stare in return.

‘And he said I was the one with the weird name.’ “Alright, Blitzer I guess. That’s definitely unique too, right?”

“Darn straight! Nothing beats being unique! I’m sure you know all about it, right George?”

“I sure do!” said George. “No one’s more unique than me!” ‘Well, unless there’s other people turned Pokemon walking around here.’

“That’s the spirit! You and I… we’re going to be the best of friends, George! I can feel it!” The flame on Blitzer’s tail flared intensely. George shielded his eyes from the light with an arm. Somehow, he had somewhat forgotten that Blitzer was an orange lizard with a flame burning on the end of his tail.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, it’s just the fire there, that’s all,” George said, harkening back on his memories of reading something about the tail flame. The details were fuzzy, but it was a measurement of health of some kind. Not something he’d have ever guessed on his own.

Blitzer laughed. “Haha, you’re not the first! I get complimented on it all the time! ‘Ooh wow, Blitzer, you really are full of life!’ It’s great!”

“That sure is neat.” George looked down at scalchop. “Do you think people would notice the size of my shell, too?”

“Sure! I think I remember hearing that Oshawotts are destined to become great warriors through those shells!” George’s eyes opened up wide. ‘Warrior? M-me?’ he thought to himself. He was so surprised that he jumped up as Blitzer suddenly poked him in the chest.

“Hey, I know, why don’t we go back to my home? I’m sure my parents would love seeing you! And I want to hear more about you too!”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds fine, but wouldn’t they uhm, don’t I look a little dirty?” said George as he scratched the back of his head.

“I always come back home looking like that! You’ll be fine, don’t worry. The village is not so far from here.” Blitzer pointed George to an inconspicuous part of the woods. “Come on, let’s go! Oh, I almost forgot! The rest will be happy to see you too!”

And just like that, George and Blitzer got on their way through the forest. George breathed easy, even as the aching in his body kept at it. It was nice knowing that not everything in this world wanted to attack him immediately. Furthermore, there was some kind of civilization in this world. Probably nothing spectacular, but after living in a grey city for years, that wasn’t a bad thing.

Still, what would happen now? Those voices following him are still out there. He had lost them for now, but there was no chance they would have simply given up. Could he avoid them forever? Especially given that there didn’t seem to be any way back. But even more impactful was the Charmander he had met.

‘We’re going to be the best of friends, George!’

Countless questions lingered in George’s mind, but he didn’t doubt that Blitzer was one colorful individual. Young and full of energy, happy and optimistic at just about everything George had told him. They might have only known each other for ten minutes, but George felt confident following in his footsteps. After all, this unknown world had all the opportunity to be that new dawn he had been longing for.