Official Borek walked away from the podium as if he had just informed them of the weather and not stunned the theater into silence. His footsteps echoed through the room as he walked across the stage, shoes clicking against the wood and sending tiny waves of chaos into the silent crowd. He walked off the stage and exited via a pair of doors in the corner of the room. The doors slammed shut behind him with a crash of metal and like water breaking from a dam, the room erupted in noise.

“What?” That was Lindon. He was shifting his gaze around the room in mild panic, his big, blue eyes wide.

“A Master Ball?” Emilia cried. It was a shout rising up throughout the room.

“They’re giving a rookie a Master Ball?” Cashe said, wheels turning in his head, “That’s one pokemon guaranteed caught. Any pokemon, right?” Cashe blinked, “I didn’t think they were real.”

Cashe stood as the crowd raged around him. People were sprinting out the doors, no doubt heading for the training gym. Lindon was pulling on his arm, trying to get his attention, put Cashe didn’t notice. He was too caught up in his own mind.

He looked at Emilia. She, too, had realized the implications of the announcement, not just for the tournament, but for Cashe, personally. A small spark had reignited in him. A month ago he would have called it hope, but now…

Now it was conflict.

The idea that he might be able to return home was always a distant one, near impossible to achieve. Not only would finding Jirachi be a labor of legend, but catching it and convincing it to send him back elevated the task to mythical proportions. It was something treated as so mind-bogglingly difficult that he had been forced to accept it was impossible and give up.

But now half the task could be completed for him. Years of effort needed to earn the right to a Master Ball could be shaved off in a single month. All he would need to do was find the pokemon once. Just once, and the Master Ball would do the rest.

Except he no longer knew if he wanted to go back. No. He didn’t know if he could. He stared at Emilia as Lindon tugged at his arm. He felt the two pokeballs on his belt. His heart ached with longing for his home. That was nothing new. But now it ached again at the thought of leaving people behind for a second time.

The conflict raged in his mind. The world faded from his perception. He could no longer hear the angry shouting of the trainers or feel the slow, inevitable rocking of the ship. His eyes burned. He closed them. He couldn’t see anyway. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat sending a wave of discord through his body. He wanted it to stop. It all needed to stop.

Warmth touched him. A hand, gentle and soft, wiping away his tears. He opened his eyes. Emilia. She looked at him full of emotion. Sorrow and understanding. Empathy and regret. Her hand dropped from his face and into his hand.

“Come on, let’s go.” Her words were whispered, but they cut through to Cashe like birdsong in morning silence. He nodded and let Emilia lead them from the theater and back to his cabin. Lindon followed, concern and confusion etched onto his face.

The halls of the cruise were crowded all the way back, thousands of trainers rushing to get a last bit of practice in before the start of the tournament. They ignored the excited rush of people as they ran past, soon leaving them alone in the hall.

Back on the third deck and in his cabin, Cashe crashed onto his bed. Emilia took a seat on the small sofa against the wall and Lindon stopped in between them, eyes darting back and forth.

“What’s going on?” He said, “What’s wrong with Apollo?”

Emilia pursed her lips, “Cashe is a bit overwhelmed because of the prize,” she said, “A Master Ball is a really big deal and-”

“Stop,” Cashe rolled over and sat up on his bed. He rubbed his face in his hands, “I’ll tell him. He can know.”

“Know what?” Lindon said.

“Hold on,” Cashe took his pokeballs off his belt and brought out Bulbasaur and Mankey, “You two should hear this as well.”

“Cashe, are you sure?” Emilia said. She looked hesitantly at Bulbasaur and Mankey.

“If anyone needs to know, they do,” Cashe said as his pokemon stared up at him with concern. They could tell something was wrong. Mankey was fidgeting where she stood and Bulbasaur’s vines were reaching out to Cashe to take his hand. Cashe took the vine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Know what?” Lindon said again.

Cashe took a deep breath, “I’m not from here.”

Lindon’s face scrunched in confusion, “We know?” He glanced at Emilia who gave a small shake of her head, “You were from Unova or something, right?”

“I don’t mean I’m not from Kanto, or Johto, or Hoenn, or even Unova,” Cashe said, “I mean I’m not from this planet. My home is in another dimension.”

“What?” Lindon cocked his head to the side like a dog, “Like an Ultra Beast?” His brow wrinkled in fear, “Are you an Ultra Beast?”

“No,” Cashe smiled, “As far as I am aware, I am human.”

“Bulba?” Bulbasaur tugged on his hand. Cashe picked him up and placed him on his lap, scratching the space between his bulb and his head to comfort him.

“That’s right, buddy, I was alone, just like you.”

“What? How?” Lindon’s mouth was hanging open in confusion and shock.

“A pokemon, of course.” Cashe sighed, “You may have of heard of it. Jirachi.”

Lindon frowned, “We learned that Jirachi was sleeping for a thousand years.”

“It woke up,” Emilia said, “I’m not clear on the details, but apparently a researcher predicted this years ago.”

“Jirchi grants wishes,” Cashe said, “And it must have interpreted one of those wishes as meaning to bring me from my world to yours.” Cashe swallowed, not sure how he should say his next sentence. He looked down at his pokemon. Mankey, for once, was still and silent. Bulbasaur was relaxed and content as Cashe scratched him.

“My initial goal was to find Jirachi and wish myself back home,” Cashe said, his voice soft. Bulbasaur tensed in his hands and Mankey’s eyes narrowed. Lindon’s face was blank, still processing the entire situation. “It took me a while, but I eventually accepted that it was impossible. That was only a couple of weeks ago, actually.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” Lindon said, biting his lip, “It must be really hard.”

“Some parts more than others,” Cashe nodded, giving Bulbasaur an affectionate pat, “But yeah.”

“But the availability of a Master Ball…” Emilia said.

“It makes things more complicated,” Cashe nodded, and Mankey stirred on the floor, “I don’t know what I would do if I had the opportunity now. But I’m not going to leave anyone behind. Not again.”

Lindon nodded, looking like he didn’t know what to do. In the end he decided on a hug, hopping up beside Cashe and wrapping his arms around him, “Even if you leave, I’m glad I met you,” he said.

Cashe smiled and wrapped an arm around the boy. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about nothing, playing with their pokemon and chatting about nothing in Cashe’s cramped cabin. Omanyte, Bulbasaur, and Magnemite played some sort of game with Magnemite’s pokedoll that no one could make heads or tails of, while Charmander sat next to Mankey, sending nervous glances her way every few seconds.

They skipped dinner in the trainer cafeteria, instead dipping into their packed food for their adventure, having an impromptu picnic in the room. The day grew late and Lindon and Emilia eventually made to leave. The first matches of the tournament were tomorrow afternoon.

As they left, Emilia paused at the door of Cashe’s cabin, turning back with an inscrutable look on her face, “Cashe?”

“Yeah?” Cashe looked up. Emilia’s large, brown eyes were wide and conflicted.

“When I win the tournament, I-I’ll give you the Master ball, if you ask.”

Cashe’s stomach dropped. He bowed his head, swallowing the well of emotion in his chest, “Thanks.”

“Are you going to ask?” Emilia’s voice was laced with tension. She was gripping the door in her hands so hard her knuckles were white.

Cashe squeezed Bulbasaur in his arms, “I don’t know.”

***

Cashe looked up at the huge display mounted on the wall of the cruise ship’s stadium. It hung above a desk with two harried Pokemon League officials who were dealing with a mob of trainers. Cashe paid the group no mind, squinting in the bright, morning sunlight as he looked up at the display.

The screen showed an enormous tournament bracket, two trees filled with names, facing each other and tapering to a point. He was on the same side of the bracket as Lindon, but not Emilia. She was actually ranked high enough that she had a bye in the first round, so she wouldn’t be battling until the next day.

Though the tournament bracket was shown for all to see here, it was not set in stone. Each round the highest ranked trainer on one side of the bracket would face off against the lowest ranked on the same side, with the second highest against the second lowest, following that pattern all the way through until the two trainers in the very middle of the rankings faced off. This repeated for every round, which meant that the actual structure of the bracket could change greatly depending on who won each round of the tournament. The only exception was for trainers with a bye. Besides skipping the first round, they were also given the privilege of choosing their first opponents.

This suited Cashe just fine. He was in the top five percent of trainers here, by ranking. It meant that he would not have to face off against Lindon until the quarter finals, at least, and that the top ranked trainers would be unlikely to challenge him.

“Looking pretty worried there, aren’t ya, bud?”

Cashe turned to see a familiar face pushing his way through the crowd. A familiar and unwelcome one. Sunglasses looked the same, tight black tee-shirt, board shorts, and flip flops. He was even more tanned than before, somehow, and his dyed blond hair was no longer spiked, but flat on his head and lying in parted waves. The toothpick was gone, too, replaced with a large tropical drink with a little umbrella sticking out of it, but the aviator sunglasses were still there, and were still too large for his head.

Cashe repressed a scowl as the man continued to approach him.

“Not that I blame you. Win, and you’ve got to face me,” Sunglasses flexed his arm not holding his drink, showing off a fair bit of muscle.

“I’m sorry, have we met? Who are you, again?” Cashe said before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted to anyway. The man was an ass.

Sunglasses laughed. It sounded forced. Good. He swaggered closer to Cashe, coming within a foot of him and taking a long sip of his drink. “You’re talking to the tournament favorite, bud.”

“Ashely Werner?” Cashe said, “Or are you Felicia Harrow? Pretty sure I’ve met all the other favorites.”

Sunglasses smirked and took another sip of his drink. Cashe could smell the alcohol on it. He pulled off his sunglasses and folded them into the collar of his shirt. His eyes were a distinctive bright, steely, blue.

Oh no.

“Name’s Steven Stone III.” Sunglasses said, pausing to smirk again, “And after you beat Dumpy Beth or whoever your first opponent is, you’re facing me.” Steven tipped his drink, letting the remainder of its contents spill on the deck, splattering all over Cashe’s clothes. “See you around, Mr Blood Money.”

***

Red raised an eyebrow, giving the pokebreeder a questioning look as he raised the adorable ball of white fur and ice. It was incredibly heavy for its size, nearly one hundred pounds packed into a two foot ball.

“He’s the best one of his litter,” the pokebreeder said, scratching his patchy beard, “Faster than the others by a country mile, and bigger too. Don’t often see that. Not a strand of Ditto in ’em either, full blooded, this one.” he adjusted his thickly stained overalls, “I reckon he’s going to be battle ready in another week, if you can wait that long. If not, you can take him now, but you’ll have to swear you’re not going to battle him.”

The pokebreeder gave Red a critical stare. He didn’t care that Red was a former champion, or that he had upset the pokemon world with his return to society over a month ago. The breeder only cared that his pokemon were going into good hands. Red liked him.

“I swear,” Red said with a solemn nod, “As long as you can guarantee he’ll be as fast as I need him to be. I don’t know much about regional forms and I know even less about Galar.” He scratched his own beard which was much fuller than the breeder’s, “All I see are stubby little legs. Now I may be an old man, but in my day, stubby legs meant slow pokemon.”

“Darumaka isn’t the fastest pokemon, it’s true,” the breeder scrunched his face up and spat, “But Darmanitan here in Galar are fast. Give him a scarf and he’ll out speed almost everything.”

“That limits my options,” Red pointed out, “Flexibility is the key to battling in the modern day, I hear. Or it always had been, perhaps. It’s been so long since I had proper competition,” Red sighed, his old body aching from years of hard training, “Easy to forget small things like that.”

“I wouldn’t go and say you're wrong,” the breeder said, despite doing just that, “But if you have a big enough hammer, it’s everyone else that needs to be flexible, not you.” He put a hand on the Darumaka’s head, “This is the hammer.”

“Dar.” Darumaka said, wiggling his stubby little arms around. He clearly agreed.

“Well, I suppose that will do,” Red said with a short nod.

The breeder gave him a thin smile, “Good. Let’s go back into the ranch and get the paperwork sorted.”

The breeder led him across the grassy field of the farm. Baby pokemon were everywhere, rolling around the field and chirping in delight as their parents watched from the edge of the fence enclosing them.

“You know when I was coming up on my pokemon journey, eggs hadn’t even been discovered yet,” Red started.

Unbeknownst to him, the breeder grimaced and sighed, “That sounds very interesting,” the breeder said politely, “Now how about we get inside and-”

“Imagine my surprise when an Aggron my Charizard was friendly with suddenly came to us with an egg!” Red laughed, “I had no idea what to do, or why Charizard was acting so guilty!” Red laughed again.

“I’m sure it was very surprising,” the pokebreeder gave a wan smile.

“You bet! Especially when it started shaking. I had no idea what to do. Let me tell you-”

The breeder put on a polite smile and nodded, tuning Red out. He walked inside the ranch, no longer caring if he was followed or not. It was not the first time Red had descended into a story. The last one had gone on for half an hour.

Entering his office with the chatty old man, the breeder sighed and started the transfer paperwork. Fifty years of isolation had clearly driven the old man mad. Eggs hadn’t been discovered yet? Preposterous.

*****