I was sprawled out in nothing but my swim trunks, a cold glass of orange juice sweating on the table beside me. In my arms, Sylveon was curled into a contented ball of pink and white fur, her ribbons draped over my chest like silk scarves.
Next to us, on a miniature beach chair I'd specially requested from the steward, Floette was lying flat on her back. She had her large blue flower positioned over her head like a high-end designer parasol, shielding her delicate skin from the midday sun.
"Ah, man," I sighed, taking a long sip of my juice. "I didn't expect to be living the high life so soon after starting my journey. I feel like if I stay on this ship for a few more days, I'm going to lose my edge. I won't want to go back to sleeping in tents and eating canned beans ever again."
"Sylve-on~" Sylveon murmured, half-asleep. She gave my arm a lazy squeeze with a feeler, her eyes barely cracking open to soak in the warmth.
"Flo-ette~" Floette added from her tiny chair, looking like she was in a floral coma.
"Think about it," I said, looking up at the clear sky. "We haven't really had a proper break in a year. Between the PhD research, the intense training sessions back at the lab, and then jumping straight into the Jubilife Contest and the Oreburgh Gym... we've been sprinting. This? This is the pit stop we deserved."
The sea breeze swept over the deck, carrying that sharp, refreshing scent of salt and adventure. It was peaceful. It was perfect.
It lasted exactly three minutes.
"Attention, passengers! Welcome aboard the S.S. Sinnoh, currently en route from Canalave City to Vermilion City in the Kanto region!" the intercom crackled to life, shattering my zen. "To help everyone enjoy their time at sea, a special Trainer Competition will be held on the main deck in one hour! Generous prizes await the top three winners. For registration and rules, please visit the bow deck. We wish you all a pleasant journey!"
I groaned, letting my head fall back against the headrest. "Of course. The moment I mention relaxing, the universe throws a tournament at me. What do you guys think? Do you want to give it a try or should we just keep working on our tan?"
Floette didn't even move. She just shifted her blue flower slightly to cover a patch of sunlight on her shoulder. She was clearly retired for the day.
Sylveon, however, was a different story. The moment she heard the word "competition," her ears perked up. She sat bolt upright in my lap, her eyes sparkling with competitive fire. She let out an excited cry, her ribbons fluttering in the wind.
"Alright, alright, I get it," I laughed, putting my glass down. "Looks like a battle is unavoidable if I want any peace from you. Floette, what about you? Are you staying here?"
Floette tilted her head, looked at the empty orange juice glass, then at me. With a soft sigh, she floated up and landed right on top of my head, using my hair as a new nest.
"Fine. You're coming, but you're sunbathing on my head while I walk. Real classy, Floette."
We made our way to the registration desk at the bow. A small crowd of trainers had already gathered—mostly vacationers and younger kids. I saw a few Sinnoh starters like Turtwig and a couple of Kanto natives like Beedrill, but honestly, nobody looked like a serious threat.
Then, I looked at the prize board.
1st Place: 3 Great Balls.
2nd Place: One box of "Excellent-grade" Pokéblocks.
3rd Place: Pokémon League Limited Edition Commemorative Hat.
I stared at the list for a long moment, my face deadpan.
What kind of bargain-bin tournament is this? I thought. Great Balls? They're barely better than regular ones. If you can't catch it with a Poké Ball, you just weaken it more. And a box of mid-tier snacks? I could make better ones in my hotel room with a blender and some berries. This is literally the most underwhelming prize list in the history of the sea.
"Hey, Sylveon," I said, turning to leave. "You saw the prizes. They're terrible. There's no point in—"
My voice caught in my throat. My gaze had drifted to the physical display for the Third Place prize.
It was a red and white baseball cap. It had a very specific, sharp-angled green logo on the front—a stylized "L" or a triangle with a piece missing. It looked slightly retro, a bit worn, but undeniably iconic.
My brain stalled. Wait. No way.
I recognized that hat. It was the "official" Pokémon League promotional hat. The one Ash Ketchum famously won by sending in about a million postcards. It was a limited-edition run from years ago, now a rare collector's item for anyone who followed the history of the League. In this world, that wasn't just a hat; it was a piece of legendary memorabilia.
The collector in me screamed. I didn't want the Great Balls. I didn't want the snacks. I wanted that hat.
"Fly-ah? (So we're leaving?)" Sylveon asked, looking disappointed. She'd sensed my initial lack of interest.
"Change of plans!" I said, my eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. "Sylveon, we are entering this tournament. But we have to be tactical. We're not going for gold. Gold is for suckers."
Sylveon tilted her head, looking utterly confused. "Sylve? (What?)"
"Listen, the people who want those Great Balls probably really need them for their journey," I explained, trying to sound noble while actually being completely selfish. "We shouldn't rob them of that! So, we're going to participate, but we're going to aim specifically for Third Place. We're taking that hat, and then we're forfeiting the rest!"
Sylveon gave me a long, skeptical look. She could tell I was being weird, but she shrugged her ribbons anyway. A battle was a battle.
One hour later, the "S.S. Sinnoh Amateur Cup" began. It was a total slaughter. Sylveon moved through the first few rounds like a pink whirlwind. Most of the opponents were trainers who had barely reached their second badge. One kid sent out a Magikarp that just flopped around until Sylveon gently pushed it back into the pool with a ribbon.
Once we secured the "Top 4" spot, I realized I had to pull off the "Great Forfeit."
After winning the match that guaranteed us a trophy, I walked up to the referee before the semi-finals started. I put on my best "concerned trainer" face and rubbed my arm.
"I'm so sorry, sir," I said, sounding fake-exhausted. "The accumulated stress from the previous matches is too much for my Sylveon. We've decided to forfeit the final rounds to prioritize her health. We'll happily accept the Third Place prize."
The referee looked at Sylveon, who was currently doing a joyful backflip and looked like she could fight a legendary dragon, then back at me. He sighed. "Very well. Forfeit accepted."
Minutes later, I was back in my cabin, clutching the red-and-white hat like it was made of solid gold. I carefully tucked it into the most protected pocket of my spatial backpack, right next to my research journals.
Wait, a thought struck me. Why did I lie to Sylveon? I could have just told her I wanted the hat and she would have helped me win it anyway. Why did I create a whole secret mission in my head?
I shook my head, slapping my cheeks to snap out of it. The "Collector's Fever" was a dangerous thing. But hey, I had the hat. The Ash Ketchum original.
"Okay, focus," I muttered to myself, looking at the map pinned to the wall. "Next stop: Vermilion City. Then Pallet Town to see the Professor."
As I thought of Vermilion City, a sudden chill went down my spine. Vermilion... the port... the "collector" types... and that one guy. I started to picture a certain trainer with a very specific, annoying attitude toward "catching 'em all" without any bond. A guy who treated Pokémon like digital icons on a screen.
I hugged my arms, getting literal goosebumps. "No. No way. He won't be there. That thing won't be there. Let's think about happy things. Pallet Town. Oak. Science. New Pokémon."
I took a deep breath, looking out the porthole at the vast, open sea.
"Pallet Town, here I come!"