The sky was pale with early morning light when Rhea stepped onto Route 1.

  The grass shimmered with dew. The path stretched ahead, loose dirt and scattered stones, winding gently between low hills and the distant line of forest. Birds chirped somewhere overhead. A slight breeze ruffled the trees.

  And for the first time, she was alone.

  No supervision. No warm kitchen waiting behind her. No Rhyhorn dozing in the yard or Mega Charizard guarding the skies.

  Just her. A backpack heavy with supplies. A satchel at her hip. A Poké Ball resting in her hand.

  She stood still for a moment, staring at the path ahead, her heart thudding with calm pressure.

  “I can do this,” she whispered.

  Then she stepped forward, and the journey began.

  The first hour passed without incident. She stuck to the edges of the path, moving quietly, observing every twitch in the grass. Her father’s advice pyed in her mind like a checklist:

  Look for movement near berry bushes.

  Watch the treetops—Flying-types often perch there.

  If the wind dies suddenly, something might be stalking.

  And above all: stay calm.

  It was around the second hour, when she veered toward a small clearing to rest, that she saw it.

  A blur of red and grey swooped low from a branch. She ducked instinctively, spinning just in time to see it nd on a rock.

  Fletchling.

  Its body was sleek, compact. Feathers gleamed like polished steel. Its eyes locked onto her with curious boldness.

  Her pulse spiked.

  Not from fear—but excitement. Her first encounter.

  She slid the Poké Ball from her belt.

  “Froakie, let’s go.”

  In a fsh of light, Froakie nded between her and the Fletchling, crouched low, ready.

  But something was off.

  He didn’t gnce back at her.

  He just stared straight ahead, muscles tight.

  Rhea took a breath. “Okay, we can do this. Use Bubble—lead with pressure, don’t give it time to charge.”

  Froakie didn’t move.

  The Fletchling tilted its head, then unched forward like an arrow.

  “Dodge left!” Rhea shouted.

  Too slow.

  The bird clipped Froakie’s shoulder with a sharp Peck, sending him tumbling into the dirt.

  He rolled, nded on his feet, but gred back at her—briefly.

  What was that look? she thought. Frustration?

  She shook it off. “Circle it. Keep your distance, then hit it with Pound.”

  Froakie dashed forward—finally responding. But the timing was off. Fletchling fpped upward at the st second, dodging with ease, and sshed down with another Peck across Froakie’s arm.

  “Get out of there!”

  Too te again.

  Froakie staggered back, breathing hard. His stance faltered.

  This wasn’t like training simutions. This was messy. Real. And worse—they weren’t working together.

  Rhea gritted her teeth. “Just use Bubble, now! Fast!”

  Froakie let out a growl—almost annoyed—but opened his mouth and fired.

  A cluster of bubbles shot forward, catching Fletchling mid-glide. The bird shrieked, wings sputtering as it spiraled down into the grass.

  They stared at it.

  It didn’t move.

  Rhea stood frozen, unsure whether to cheer or feel… uneasy.

  Froakie didn’t celebrate. He just stood there, panting, not even turning toward her.

  Rhea exhaled. “Return.”

  The red beam pulled him back into the Poké Ball.

  She didn’t throw another.

  She just walked over, checked the Fletchling—dazed, not injured—and nudged it gently away from the path.

  Then she sat down on a rock and stared at the ground.

  Ten minutes passed.

  The forest rustled. The sun climbed higher.

  And Rhea stayed still, one hand gripping Froakie’s Poké Ball tightly in her p.

  “That sucked,” she said aloud.

  No one answered. Of course.

  She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “I thought… I thought I had this figured out.”

  The battle repyed in her head, second by second. Her calls were sharp. Her decisions logical. But Froakie… he hadn’t responded like she expected. No sync. No flow. No trust.

  She unhooked the ball, pressed the button, and watched as Froakie appeared again.

  He stood there, arms folded. Dirt on his knees. A scuff near one eye.

  They looked at each other for a long moment.

  “I get it,” she said finally. “You don’t trust me yet.”

  Froakie didn’t blink.

  “I gave you orders like you were a tool. I told myself I picked you because you had the best stats. That’s true… but that’s not why I wanted you.”

  She looked down at her hands.

  “In my old life, I used to dream about this world. I watched Trainers fight. I knew every evolution chart, every stat spread, every Gym Leader’s team. I could have told you the best counter to half of them without thinking.”

  Froakie tilted his head slightly.

  “But watching it wasn’t the same as living it.”

  She looked up again.

  “That battle? I messed up. Not because I didn’t know what to do. But because I didn’t stop to think about you. You’re not a move list. You’re not a number. You’re you.”

  Froakie’s arms slowly lowered.

  “I want to see this world,” she said. “All of it. Not from behind a screen. Not from a cubicle on my lunch break. I want to travel every route, every city, every region. And I want to do it with you.”

  She stood, stepped closer.

  “I can’t promise I’ll always have the perfect call. But I will learn. I’ll adapt. And I’ll treat you like a partner—not a weapon.”

  Froakie blinked once.

  Then walked up to her.

  He didn’t jump into her arms or chirp or dance.

  He just reached up and tapped her fist with his.

  And it was more than enough.

  Rhea smiled. “Then let’s go make this worth it.”

  They moved deeper into the route that afternoon—not to catch anything, just to walk together.

  This time, Froakie stayed close, not out of obligation, but choice. He scanned the trees. Adjusted his pace to match hers. Once, when a bush rustled, he moved between her and the sound instinctively.

  It wasn’t a perfect partnership yet.

  But it had started.

  That night, they camped near a stream.

  Rhea released Froakie again after dinner—cooked rice and berries, nothing fancy—and sat across from him as the stars blinked into pce overhead.

  “You know,” she said softly, “back then, I used to wonder if I could ever live here.”

  Froakie raised an eyebrow.

  “I used to think, if I could just wake up in this world, I’d be happy. Like it’d solve everything. But I never really thought about what it would cost. I didn’t think about how hard it would be to start over. Or how much I'd miss knowing what comes next.”

  Froakie tilted his head.

  Rhea ughed quietly. “Sorry. I talk too much.”

  She leaned back against her pack.

  “But I still think it’ll be worth it. This journey. These battles. You.”

  Froakie sat down beside her.

  Not too close.

  But close enough.

  And under the stars, with the sounds of the forest around them, it was the first time Rhea truly felt like she was here. Not just visiting. Not just pying the part.

  She was part of the world now.

  And it was waiting for her.