Jonas inhaled deeply as he cocked back his arm, focusing on the small blue bird perched on a branch nearby. In his hand, he clutched a pokéball crafted by his father from a green apricorn. It was just a few days until Jonas’s tenth birthday and the start of his pokémon journey. He had to be ready.

The rookidee tweeted a joyful song from the branch as a gentle wind blew through the forest, stirring the verdant leaves and tousling Jonas's dark brown hair. He crept closer to the pokémon, unnoticed. With a swift motion, he flung the ball forward as hard as he could. The momentum of his throw carried him forward, and he lost his footing. He hit the ground with a thud. Grumbling as he scooted to a sitting position, he watched the rookidee fly away, the ball falling uselessly to the ground. Jonas stood, brushing dust from the front of his simple linen shirt and trousers. Another miss.

For weeks now, Jonas had been waking at dawn to complete his chores early. When he turned nine, his father had entrusted him with the important job of pest control, which he took very seriously. Running through the orchard, he would shoo stray rookidee and wurmple from the crops before fetching water from the well to water the new growths. From there, it was to the creek to collect rocks for throwing practice in the woods. Of course, he never tried to actually hit the pokémon. He simply needed to know he could when the time came.

Sighing, Jonas searched the undergrowth for the apricorn ball, finding it tucked safely among the roots of a tree where it had rolled.

Maybe it’s better that I missed it, he thought, turning down the dirt path back home. I can get this ball back before Dad notices it’s gone!

Jonas frowned when he thought of his father toiling away at the orchard, grinning beneath his wide-brimmed hat as he plucked the vibrantly colored fruit. He would take them to his workshop, where he would hollow them out and craft them into balls for pokémon trainers. Jonas supposed he should be proud of his father. A lifetime of skill and tradition had gone into the orchard, and Jonas knew he worked hard on the pokéballs. But where was the adventure? Jonas had never even seen his father use one of the apricorn balls himself. In fact, his father only had two pokémon: the mudbray who pulled their cart to town, and the lazy pignite who had struggled to keep pests away before Jonas took that job.

Jonas grimaced at the thought of pests as he rubbed his arms, still sore from his run-in with a combee swarm a week prior. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He had been practicing his throws like usual when a tree dripping with sticky, golden honey caught his eye. A nest hung from a branch a few feet up the tree, and several combee buzzed lazily nearby, chubby and content. Jonas was certain he could hit the nest.

As soon as the stone struck the nest, the combee began buzzing angrily, and they descended on Jonas, a droning mob of wings and stingers. He ran as fast as he could for home, but didn’t make it before receiving a large number of stings.

He shuddered, scratching at the few red welts still visible on his arms. Lost in the memory, Jonas failed to notice the rookidee perched on a bush ahead until it chirped a familiar melody. It was the same one as before! Of course, rookidee were common in these parts, but Jonas just knew it was the same one. That tune was exactly the same. Nine years old or ten, it didn’t matter. This was his chance to catch his first pokémon, and he wouldn’t miss again.

With the grace of a stalking liepard, Jonas crept forward, his head filling with dreams of soaring over the rolling prairies of the Lintang Region astride his mighty corviknight, sleek black feathers glistening in the sun.

Picturing the throw in his mind, he planted his foot firmly in the dirt. The ball left his fingers with a small flick of the wrist, arcing through the air toward his target. It flew straight, and Jonas's face split into a wide grin.

A sudden rustling erupted from the bushes, and the rookidee took flight again, cawing indignantly as the green ball soared by just below, the perfect throw wasted.

“No!” Jonas shouted as the ball disappeared into the bushes. He rushed over to where the ball had landed, visions of corviknight dashed to pieces. Relief washed over him as he saw the ball, still intact, nestled on the soft moss of the forest floor. That relief, however, very quickly turned to dread as the ball rocked back and forth gently. One shake. Two shakes. Three…

Jonas held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, his small fists clenched at his sides. Finally, his heart sank as the ball stopped rocking with a final horrible click.

***

Jonas bounded up the creaky wooden steps of the farmhouse to his bedroom.

“Jonas Brooks! How many times have I told you?! No running in the house!” his mother scolded from the kitchen. The sweet aroma of stewing custap berry broth wafted from the stove. “What’s got you in such an all-fired hurry anyway? Lunch is ready. Wash up and come eat.”

“Sorry, Ma!” Jonas replied, taking the rest of the steps two at a time. He shut his bedroom door and sighed with relief. The pokéball weighed heavily in his pocket, but at least he’d managed to get it past his mother.

“You’ll have to wait a little while longer,” he whispered to the ball, tucking it under his pillow before heading back downstairs to join his family for lunch.

Jonas hardly managed to hide his excitement as he shoveled spoonfuls of the sweet, hearty, red stew into his mouth.

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“Slow down there, munchlax!” Jonas's father laughed as he washed up in the basin. “Keep eating like that, and I’ll have to take you out in the field with me to work it off.” Jonas grinned at his father but slowed his pace ever so slightly.

“Hey, Pa?” Jonas asked after his father had finished washing up and settled down into his chair, ladling a large helping of the stew onto his wooden plate, “What all kinds of balls do you make?”

Jonas’s father looked up suddenly, a gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, finally taking an interest in the family business, are we? Well, gosh, son. There are all kinds. Heavy balls, lure balls… of course there’s the regular pokéballs, made from brown apricorns, but those aren’t exactly exciting, are they? What’d you have in mind?”

“What about….” Jonas hesitated. “What about the green ones?”

“Friend balls! Jonas, those are some of the most useful balls a pokémon trainer can carry! A friend ball makes it really easy to become friends with whoever you catch. Why, take ol’ Pignite there. You ever seen him give me any hassle?”

Jonas giggled at the idea. His father was right. The pignite was the most placid creature Jonas had ever encountered. He couldn’t imagine the pig pokémon giving anyone a hard time.

“No, sir,” Jonas answered when he finally quit laughing.

“I caught him in a friend ball when I wasn’t much older than you. Speaking of, I think it’s high time we get you your first pokémon. Old Man Crandall just got himself a tinkatink. We could ask where he found it. Or maybe Forrester’s miltank’ll be calving soon. Heck, we could maybe even swing a favor with the Buchanans for one of their mareep…”

“Let the boy think, Ethan!” Jonas's mother interrupted, smiling. His father raised his hands defensively.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jonas, but your first pokémon is an important decision. It’s best to pick something that’ll be a friend as much as anything else. They’re not just tools or pets. Your first pokémon can very well change the course of your whole life."

“Oh, look at his face! You’re upsetting him!” Jonas's mother shot his father a stern look.

“May I be excused?” Jonas asked, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

“Of course, dear,” his mother replied at the same time his father said, “Sorry, son.” Jonas pushed in his chair and went upstairs as fast as he could without running.

***

Back in his room, Jonas rushed to his bed and retrieved the ball he had stowed beneath his pillow. He exhaled heavily, a mixture of dread and anticipation coming over him.

I’d better get it over with, he thought, and before he could change his mind, he clicked the button on the center of the ball and hoped with everything in him that a rookidee would emerge.

A bright white light flashed out from the ball and coalesced into the shape of a stout canine pokémon that shook out its tawny fur and yawned.

The growlithe glanced around curiously at the simple room. Photos of far-off regions and fascinating pokémon adorned the walls, and a simple desk, bed, nightstand, and wardrobe populated the small space. The growlithe wandered to the windowsill, where it began sniffing Jonas's collection of interesting rocks and feathers. Seemingly satisfied, it turned its attention to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, burrowing in before emerging triumphantly with a sock clasped in its jaws.

“You’re not so scary, are you?” Jonas asked with a laugh. The pokémon’s gaze settled on Jonas. It tilted its head with a small whine. Jonas crouched down and extended his hand.

"Hey there, boy," he said gently. Dropping the sock, the growlithe crept forward slowly, sniffing his fingers before giving them a tentative lick. Jonas laughed at the feeling of the raspy tongue on his skin. He smiled and stroked the pup's back. Its tail began wagging happily. Falling onto his bed, Jonas patted the quilt beside him, and the growlithe hopped up, bringing along Jonas’s sock.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Jonas chided, grabbing the sock and pulling. The growlithe growled low and playfully, tossing his head from side to side in a gentle tug-of-war for the sock.

“Give it here!” Jonas laughed. Finally wresting the sock free from the growlithe’s mouth, Jonas held it aloft victoriously. The growlithe wiggled its hindquarters and responded with a hearty woof!

Jonas's eyes went wide, and he dropped the sock, one hand flying to his lips as the other reached to pet the growlithe, who went back to chewing on the soiled sock.

“Shh!” he hissed, anticipating the sudden arrival of his parents to investigate the sound. As seconds ticked by with no sign of them, Jonas sighed with relief and removed his hand from the growlithe’s flank. Suddenly, the growlithe reached out and playfully nipped Jonas's hand.

“Ow!” he cried out, shaking out his fingers. The pokémon was warm and full of potential, but also ever so slightly dangerous. He reminded Jonas of a newly started fire.

“Easy now, boy. You need to be careful. We both do.” Jonas shook his head, noting the small bead of blood forming on his finger, while the growlithe shook the sock, paying no attention.

“I guess you’ll need a name, huh?” Jonas thought for a moment. Like a newly started fire... “What about Flint?!”

The growlithe barked in agreement, and Jonas chuckled.

“Alright. Flint it is. Nice to meet you, Flint. I’m Jonas. Now, no more biting. How about we go outside and play?” Jonas opened the bedroom door, and Flint rushed ahead of him, ready for adventure. Jonas bounded down the stairs and caught a knowing glance from his mother.

"Let me guess. You’re skipping your chores to go adventuring again?" She noticed Flint peeking out from behind Jonas's legs. "A growlithe! I hope you didn't steal another of your father's apricorn balls. He’ll have your hide, Jonas!”

Jonas grinned sheepishly. “I only borrowed one. And look! I found my partner, Flint! Isn’t he the best?” His mother shook her head, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

“I see. Well, if Flint is going to be staying, you’ll have to work twice as hard around here.”

“Don’t worry, Ma. Flint and I will be sure to lend a hand….or a paw, that is.” He winked, and his mother couldn’t help but laugh. Jonas and Flint burst from the house onto the lawn, where they tumbled to the ground, rolling in the grass. As laughter and barks rose in the summer air, Jonas forgot all about corviknight.