The morning sun didn't just rise over Sandgem Town; it seemed to announce itself with a golden fanfare, reflecting off the white laboratory walls and the dew-kissed grass of my front yard.
"Alright, everyone! Eyes on the lens! Three, two, one... cheese!"
Click.
I looked at the instant photo as it slid out of the camera. In the frame stood a black-haired boy wearing a crisp blue tracksuit and a red baseball cap—the classic "I'm going on an adventure" starter kit. A blue Flabébé sat perched on his head like a living crown, while a Sylveon leaned against his leg, her ribbon-like feelers wrapped affectionately around his forearm. Behind us, the familiar gate of the Rowan Research Institute stood like a silent guardian.
I flipped the photo over. Taking a black marker, I wrote in my best handwriting:
April 8th, Year 243, Alliance Calendar. Julian, Flabébé, and Sylveon. Our journey begins here. P.S.: It's wonderful—like the place where dreams start. Let's record every step from here.
I tucked the photo into a protected pocket of my backpack. I had prepared for this trip with the meticulousness of a man who knew exactly how dangerous a wild Pokémon can be when it hasn't had breakfast.
My bag was a marvel of Alliance spatial technology; despite its modest size, it was currently housing a mountain of all-purpose medicines, Super Potions, sleeping bags, and a gourmet assortment of Pokéblocks I'd spent the last week blending myself.
"Ready, Flabébé?" I asked, adjusting the straps of my bag.
"Pei-Pei!" she cheered, fluttering her tiny hands.
"Sylveon, you should probably rest for the first leg," I said, holding up her Luxury Ball. With a soft chime, she was pulled into the sphere, leaving just me and my tiny navigator to face the horizon.
The first day of a journey is always a wake-up call for the hamstrings.
By the time the sun began to dip toward the trees, I had covered about ten kilometers. In my old life, that would have been a light hike. In this fifteen-year-old body—which had spent the last year hunched over microscopes and eating research-grant curry—it felt like I had climbed Mt. Coronet twice.
"Okay... stopping point... found," I wheezed, sliding down the trunk of a large cedar tree.
Flabébé, who had spent the entire day hitching a ride on my head and looking at the scenery, flew down and patted my forehead sympathetically.
"It's okay, I'm just... getting my 'travel legs,'" I muttered, reaching into my bag for a water bottle and some dried fruit. "I should have spent less time reading about the Fairy-type and more time on a treadmill."
Since leaving Sandgem, the world had changed. The paved roads gave way to dirt paths, and the sounds of the city were replaced by the rhythmic thrum of Kricketot and the distant, melodic cries of Shinx. It was beautiful, but it was lonely. If it weren't for the tiny weight of Flabébé on my shoulder, the silence of the forest might have felt heavy.
Our first destination was Jubilife City. It was the crown jewel of the region, and more importantly, it was hosting the Jubilife Pokémon Contest in exactly one week.
"We're going for it, Flabébé," I said, sharing a slice of apple with her. "The research is done. Now it's time for the stage. Your Counter Shield is going to blow those judges away. And once we finish there, it's a short hop to Oreburgh City for our first Gym Badge."
Flabébé did an excited loop-de-loop, her blue flower leaving a faint trail of sparkles in the twilight.
The next four days were a crash course in "Real World Pokémon 101."
I learned that the weather in Sinnoh is as moody as a Primeape with a headache. One minute the sun was shining, and the next, I was huddled under a makeshift tarp while a sudden thunderstorm turned the path into a mudslide.
Fortunately, my Doctor-level Pokédex was a lifesaver. It didn't just tell me what a Pokémon was; it gave me real-time weather alerts and identified edible berries. But the most interesting part of the trip wasn't the weather—it was the attention.
"Pei?" Flabébé chirped, looking at a cluster of bushes.
A group of Starly suddenly burst from the leaves, fluttering around my head. They weren't attacking; they were... sniffing.
"Again?" I laughed, pulling out a bag of low-grade, bird-friendly Pokéblocks.
Over the past year of high-quality "cultivation" (basically, me feeding her like a queen), Flabébé's flower had begun to emit a scent that was subtly different from wild specimens. It wasn't the "Eat Me" smell of a Bounsweet that attracted predators; it was a calming, hypnotic fragrance. It made wild Pokémon curious and peaceful rather than aggressive.
I fed the Starly, letting them perch on my shoulders. One even started preening my hair, thinking I was part of the flock.
"Sorry, guys, I'm already spoken for," I said, gently shooing them off so I could keep walking.
I'd checked the stats of dozens of Pokémon that had approached us over the last few days using the Pokédex's scan feature. While there were many healthy specimens, none of them had that "spark"—that rare ability or unique temperament that made me want to reach for a Poké Ball. I was a Doctor, after all; I was looking for a partner who could bring something unique to the team.
"Let's go, Flabébé. We're only half a day from Jubilife. I can almost smell the city's famous poffins."
The Hunter in the Shadows
We were passing through a particularly dense section of the woods when the forest went silent. No bird calls. No rustling leaves.
Flap, flap, flap!
The Starly I had been feeding suddenly took off in a blind panic, their wings beating a frantic rhythm as they vanished into the canopy.
"That's a bad sign," I whispered, my hand instinctively dropping to the Poké Ball on my belt. "Flabébé, battle stations."
"Pei!" She flew down from my head, hovering in front of me with a determined look.
I'd spent a year studying under Professor Rowan, and my ears had become tuned to the cries of the forest. I heard a dry, rattling hiss coming from the shadows of an old, rotting log.
"Ariados," I muttered. "Type: Poison and Bug. Known for its high-tensile silk and its habit of tagging prey to lead it back to the nest. Watch the bushes, they're ambush hunters."
Suddenly, a streak of white, sticky silk shot out from the dark, aimed directly at my legs.
"Dodge it! Fairy Wind!"
Flabébé spun like a whirlwind. A gust of shimmering pink energy erupted, catching the silk mid-air and twisting it into a useless tangle before blowing it back into the brush.
The Ariados emerged, its four red legs clicking on the bark of a fallen tree. It looked mean, its mandibles dripping with a faint purple liquid. It let out a screech and lunged, its fangs glowing with Bug-type energy.
"It's using Bug Bite! Move back, then use Lucky Chant!"
Flabébé drifted backward, riding the draft of her own wind. As she hovered, a series of glowing, golden runes materialized in the air around her. In the games, Lucky Chant just prevents critical hits. In reality, it was much cooler—it sharpened her focus, allowing her to see the flow of the battle and spot the tiny gaps in the opponent's movements.
The Ariados missed its bite, hissing in frustration. It reared up, ready to fire a String Shot to pin us down.
"Now! Razor Leaf! Aim for the joints!"
Flabébé spun her flower, and a flurry of sharp, glowing green leaves launched forward. Because of the Lucky Chant, her aim was surgical. The leaves didn't just hit the Ariados; they sliced through the silk it was trying to fire and slammed directly into the creature's sensitive head and leg joints.
Critical Hit!
The Ariados let out a pained chitter. Even though Grass moves weren't very effective against a Bug/Poison type, the sheer precision of the strike—hitting every vital spot at once—was too much. Realizing it had picked a fight with a "Doctor's" Pokémon, the spider turned tail and scuttled back into the deep dark of the woods.
The Debut Awaits
"And that," I said, letting out a long breath as the tension left my shoulders, "is why we don't skip practice."
I walked over to Flabébé, who was looking quite proud of herself. I gave her a gentle scratch behind her tiny ears. "Great job with the Lucky Chant. Your accuracy is getting scary."
"Pei-Pei!" she chirped, nuzzling my hand.
I looked at my leg, which was thankfully silk-free. "I guess my reaction time is improving too. A year ago, I would have been wrapped up like a cocoon before I could even say 'Fairy Wind.'"
The skirmish had been a good reminder. The wild wasn't a playground; it was a living, breathing ecosystem where type disadvantages could be overcome with the right strategy. Flabébé was a pure Fairy-type (at least in my eyes and soon the world's), and Ariados was her natural predator. Yet, by using the environment and specialized moves, she'd won without taking a scratch.
I checked my watch. "If we keep this pace, we'll hit Jubilife City by sunset. We'll get a room at the Pokémon Center, grab a massive dinner, and tomorrow... tomorrow we register for the Contest."
I looked up through the breaks in the trees. Far in the distance, I could see the tall buildings and bright lights of Jubilife reflecting against the sky.
My heart did a little flutter. This was it. No more labs, no more dusty books, no more "what-ifs." I was a Trainer on the road, with my partners by my side and a world of possibilities in front of me.
"Let's go, Flabébé! Next stop: the big stage!"
As we walked toward the edge of the forest, the pink glow of the setting sun seemed to dance on Flabébé's blue flower, a silent promise of the adventures to come.