Deep within a quiet, empty cave stood a small body of water. The cave, located in a remote, untouched hinterland, had remained barren for hundreds of years, the lake within barely lapping to-and-fro as time lumbered on.

The water stirred in the darkness, gradually eating the silence in the cave. A lapras emerged, and on her back she carried a lone figure. He patted her neck in appreciation as he steadied his breathing, having spent a long time holding his breath underwater. In the dark, he hopped off, turning to give a grateful nod at his ride. The lapras nuzzled him gently and dove back in, her job done. The surface of the water ceased its stirring and the cave returned to stillness moments later.

Boy, unconcerned with his tattered, drenched clothing and the icy wind blowing through the cave, ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. He reflected on the danger he'd fallen into trying to swim alone through the underwater caves. Thinking his skill in swimming was more than adequate, he foolishly dove into the frigid waters, but he had underestimated just how long and deep he had to go and nearly drowned because of it. Luckily, Millie the Lapras, a pokémon he had become friendly with in recent years, came to his rescue. The bag he had prepared for his escape was lost to the depths, but he was alive.

With a shared look, they understood each other immediately. Boy wanted out, and Millie knew the cave system better than anyone, person or pokémon. She'd scooped him up and navigated the dark waters smoothly, occasionally surfacing for Boy's benefit. They arrived at their destination in no time: a cave well away from the Seafoam Islands, expressly chosen because it was isolated and uninhabited.

Boy surveyed the cramped space, able to discern some outlines in the darkness: the cave was unremarkable, containing little more than rocks and moss. His steps echoed through the chamber, breaking its tranquility for the first time in generations, as he negotiated the rough and bumpy terrain. By the light of the full moon shining in, he located its mouth and stepped out. The cave was a pockmark on a craggy cliff. He gulped after taking an ill-considered look into an inky black, with restless ocean waves beating down below.

Determined, he began to climb. He found the indentations in the rock without looking, but clambered up with much difficulty as the moon's gleam became obscured by wandering clouds. Strong gusts of wind slowed his progress, and he hugged the rockface to keep himself from falling. The jagged edges of the cliff dug into his palms and his bare feet; gritting his teeth, he held on until the bluster faded.

Boy remembered many nights like this one, forced to endure the elements in service of punishments levied by his master. Back then, he had decided to accept the inflictions and admonishments because some part of him thought he'd deserved it. Now, scaling the cliff face proved akin to a challenge that harked back to Master, and he recognised that he'd survived those terrible reprimands. He gathered his courage and, with a final heave, Boy surmounted the ridge.

There was a trail winding off into the distance.

Boy rubbed his aching muscles, a grin of triumph on his face as he oriented himself in the direction of his destination. Without Millie, he would not have been able to take this first step. He wished he could have taken her with him, but she was part of a pod and could not leave her family.

Besides, he had already decided on the pokémon that would become his starter. He mused upon an imagined future, in which his campaign to become Champion rested on his first and strongest pokémon. The one with whom he would spend his entire Journey, who he would raise, train and create lasting memories with. His starter, who would emerge victorious and claim the prize with him amidst great fanfare.

He shook his head and suppressed his excitement. As eager as he was, it would do him no good to fantasize; he knew he had a bit of a trek ahead of him before any of that.

Boy stole a few moments to appreciate the cool night air and the open space. It had been a long time since he was last able to enjoy this small pleasure. How long had it been? Three months? Four? He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, allowing the scent of the ocean to waft over him, mingled with the crisp, musky smell of trees and the aroma of wildflowers. The fragrance tickled his nostrils, invigorating his body, and Boy set off.

Best be quick. He needed to put some distance from the cave before he was found out. Master would be positively furious, but Boy's belief in his dream outweighed the anger his escape would undoubtedly stoke in his warden. It was a simple goal: become Pokémon Champion. One he held on to despite the continuous mockery from his classmates and Master's own deep acrimony.

And it was tremendously deep, his indifference bordering on a sweeping dismissal of Boy as a person. Master had repeatedly warned him off chasing adventure, not because any Journey was fraught with peril and he wished to express his concern for Boy's safety. No, he judged Boy unfit to pursue his own dream, and his word was law. The others seemed content to follow him, to do as he commanded, but Boy desired something separate and entirely his own.

He had come of age, he would begin his Journey, and nothing would stop him. So he had decided to get away and begin his quest. It was this obstinance that often put him at odds with Master and the others, and also made him a bit reckless. But he had done it, he had finally escaped from Master's clutches, and he was free to pursue his ambition.

Though, unless he managed to reach his destination quickly and demonstrated his ability as a trainer clearly, there was every chance that Master would capture him and throw him into even further confinement. Boy could not bear to see his dream drift further away from him.

He broke off a branch from a nearby thicket. The wind carried the noise of the wild to him, so he crept silently, blending into the shadows. Even at this late hour, predators roamed. While some would eschew a sole traveller, there were just as many that would not be deterred, even if the traveller was armed. Boy could defend himself; he was quite adept at single combat, but there was a chance that he would come upon a pack of hunters and he did not like those odds. With weapon in hand, Boy hugged the ground as he went.

The trail was easy enough to follow, dotted on both sides by bushes and trees. It was peaceful under the night sky and the moon's warm glow illuminated the path. His destination was still a fair bit off, but if he hurried he was confident he would arrive by dawn. Boy journeyed over hills large and small, before they gave way to a long, flat section of road. There was a wooden sign at a crossroads with general warnings about wild pokémon and directions to the nearest Pokémon Ranger Lodge. Boy scoffed quietly and found his way back onto the trail. He had taken great care and been perfectly safe.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As if to challenge that thought, a large form appeared in front of him. Instinctually, he darted into the brush.

What was it? It was hard to tell in the darkness, because the moon had been covered by inconvenient clouds overhead. Luckily, it hadn't yet noticed him. Boy relaxed his grip on the stick slightly and tried to identify his obstacle. He peered into the impenetrable black, and his eyes gradually adapted to the lack of light.

It was... a bird of some sort, preening itself in the middle of the pathway. The shapes in the dark were difficult to make sense of, and Boy, impatient, tried to sneak past. But the bird suddenly jolted and stiffened – it had sensed him, and he still didn't know what it was. There was nothing for it, he thought, except to scare it off and make a run for it. Quickly scanning the immediate area around him, he picked up a large, round stone. He took aim and lobbed it at the creature: it sailed through the air and hit the pokémon on the head. The bird squawked but did not flee; instead, it decided to turn to face its attacker.

Boy cursed under his breath and ran. The much-aggrieved pokémon darted forward with unexpected speed, reaching him in moments. It was a doduo. Boy's instincts echoed urgently in his mind, but he lifted the branch too late and the bird kicked him right in the stomach. He fell roughly onto his back, air escaped his lungs and his vision began to blur. The world was a confusing, frightful mix of colours, but Boy resolutely held on to his stick. The doduo pinned him to the ground with its deceptively strong feet. Its two heads lurched down towards him, and he was just able to block the series of pecks with the branch.

The time for quiet was gone. Boy screamed in the bird's faces as he tried desperately to break free from its grip. The doduo crowed and cawed in response, unyielding. Even at this close range, he could not see its heads clearly. He struggled under the pokémon, his blows weak and useless, but his writhing and flailing seemed to save him from the worst of its attacks. The doduo did not expect such volatile prey, as its usual quarries were feeble and meek; it paused for just a moment to examine him. Boy, quick to recognise the opportunity, slammed the stick into one of the bird's heads.

Blood. The doduo let out a deafening screech as the stick splintered upon impact. It staggered up and away in pain.

Boy scrambled away and onto his feet, his eyes transfixed on the thrashing and spasming bird. In that moment, moonlight bathed the pathway, the clouds having moved on in the night sky, and Boy saw a chunk of the stick lodged in one of the doduo's eyes. The bird was hopelessly clawing at its face with its foot, but it was only making things worse. It seemed to give up and just stood there, but Boy could hear its afflictive whimpers and laboured breathing and he was not sure what to do.

He had nothing on him, having lost his satchel during his ill-informed dive to freedom, so his first thought was to take it to the nearest Pokémon Center, but that was a somewhat long detour. He remembered the Pokémon Ranger Lodge a ways back. It was closer, and the Rangers would be able to help, but he risked exposing his location to Master, who had considerable means to end his adventure before it could really get started. Boy frowned and stared at the doduo. There wasn't much choice: it was his fault that this had happened and he could not abide its suffering. He steadied his breathing and stepped cautiously towards the injured bird, but it was too spooked and bolted off into the wilderness. Boy hovered with his arm out, deflated.

He slumped onto the ground and let out a deep sigh. His branch lay strewn in pieces on the pathway, and now that he thought about it, the doduo's pecks must have weakened it enough for it to shatter the way it did. That was fortuitous, but Boy knew better than to depend on that. He spent a bit of time looking for a thicker piece of wood, and fashioned a heavy bludgeon out of a nearby tree limb. He tested the feel of it with a few practice swings; he would not be caught unprepared again.

The trail led into a forest, and Boy spotted a few pokémon on trees and in bushes, sleeping or foraging. The scratches he obtained from the scuffle with the doduo brought him some discomfort, and the ugly bruise on his chest was particularly painful. He winced as he lightly examined the area under his shirt. Even though his expectation of a straightforward journey was practically ruined, Boy would not let this minor setback stop him. His journey had barely begun; giving up was not his style, so he doggedly continued on. There was a dull and continuous pain, but there would be time for rest later.

Boy distracted himself by counting the many bug-type pokémon crawling lazily on the forest floor and on the trees. They were very adept at camouflage, so being able to spot them was an amusing challenge that passed the time quite well. Before long, Boy noticed the sky brightening above him. It was nearly morning.

He exited the forest, feeling significantly better, and attributed it to the fresh and clean air of the countryside. Cresting a hill, he smiled as he recognized the beginnings of civilization, and by his estimation his destination was not far off. With barely-contained excitement, Boy quickened his pace, jogging through tall grass, eager to achieve his self-imposed first objective: to reach his destination before dawn.

The grassy knoll gave way to lush farmland. Boy skipped over some wooden fences, running through rows of vines and creepers growing on wooden supports. He grabbed a few fruits as he passed through and discarded the heavy bat, seeing no need for the weapon any longer. Nearby, there was a barn, and he briefly considered stopping here to rest, but decided against it. Advancing steadily through the vineyard, he scoffed down some pecha berries, and his stomach rumbled in appreciation.

He spotted a tap and strolled over to it, seeking to quench his thirst. But something caught his eye, so he turned, and there, too close, was a farmhand shovelling dirt. His heart lodged in his throat, and not for the first time today, he scrambled to hide, ducking behind a large cart and peeking out warily.

The young man in muddy coveralls, hat and well-worn boots mopped his brow and continued his work. Something about him tickled the back of Boy's mind — a little wink of familiarity — but the thought was gone before Boy could examine it closely.

Boy blinked and focused instead on the task at hand. He needed to leave before the farmhand saw him. If he was caught, it would invite difficult questions about who he was, what he was doing here, and why his clothes were in tatters. Luckily, the farmhand had not noticed him.

From behind the cart, Boy observed the young man who was engrossed in his labour. He needed just a few seconds to escape, and he had already picked out the path he was going to follow. The farmhand looked up at the sun peeking out from the horizon and mopped his brow again, then stabbed the shovel upright into the dirt and walked off. This was it; he appeared to be taking a break, so Boy scurried away.

Quiet as a rattata, he hopped the fence and searched for the main road. It was likely that no one would be using it before sunrise, and it was the quickest way to get into town. About thirty minutes later, Boy discovered the entrance to the town and whooped internally.

Boy thought back to his boast that he could cover such a large distance in a day, and how Master's reproach had only stoked the fire of his resolve. It was not that his pride was on the line — at least it was not the sole reason for his defiance — he just felt compelled to prove Master wrong, while the others simply cowered in agreement. There was a fear there that did not seem to penetrate as deeply with Boy, even with the myriad punishments. He chalked it up to being too hard headed, a quality he was proud to hold.

Now, he was mere minutes away from the town border, surprising even himself. The doduo incident notwithstanding, he felt justified in stealing away in the dead of night and being true to his word — even if it had started out as a brag. He would deal with Master's certain chastisement later.

Boy entered the sleepy valley town. As he ambled through the empty streets with a satisfied smile on his face, he observed a rather large fountain in the middle of it. Curious, he sauntered closer. The sunrise was beginning in earnest behind him, slowly illuminating the placard at the front of the fountain. He stepped up and examined the sign:

WELCOME TO PALLET TOWN

Shades of Your Journey Await!