PART ONE: WELCOME TO THE OLD WORLD

On most kid's tenth birthdays, or sometime around then, they'll get their first official Pokemon and start the biggest adventure of their lifetime. That's what I grew up believing, anyway. How could I not, with the evidence all around? Adults had Pokemon. Teenagers had Pokemon. Trainers had lots of Pokemon, and other people who specialized in the creatures had even more. And there was always the news about who had challenged Gym Leader Whitney today, or which new hotshots had started up a battle in the streets of our city.

But ten feels a long way away when you're nine and some months of change, and I was never really battle-crazy to begin with, not like some of the kids in my class. Oh, I had my daydreams. I could close my eyes and imagine the cheers, the action, the badges that someday I'd hang on the wall, and the eternal friends who would be more than pets, who would be my team.

Dreams are dreams, though, and there's a lot more to life than training Pokemon. Like gadgets, you know? Like inventions. I always loved making things, and I especially loved it when they worked. I can remember sneaking into Dad's office as a toddler so that I could play with all the shiny tools and bits of metal, trying to see what went where and the cool things that would happen when I put them all together.

Dad's an engineer for Devon Corporation, which is really huge and located all the way down in Hoenn. He's a poke ball designer, and there's no one better at the job! That's what Mom always says, anyway. She's pretty proud of him. But then Dad will say that there's no one smarter than Mr. Kurt, and most people agree with him. Dad's always going on business trips down to Azalea to talk to Kurt about ideas he has, and apparently that's a big deal since Kurt doesn't like most engineers, or something. I wouldn't know; I've never actually met him.

When Dad's at home, he'll let me work with him sometimes, so I've heard all about the interior mechanics of poke balls and Sodi's Theory on Energy Transfusion, as well as a bunch of other stuff that most kids think is boring. Sometimes I think all the technical details are dull, too, to tell the truth. But I never let Dad know that.

Anyway, the point is that I never had plans that were too big for my Pokemon journey. I would get my starter, sure, and I'd travel for as long as I could 'cause that would be fun, and if I beat all of the gym leaders and became the Johto Champion that'd be so awesome, but I always knew that I'd eventually go back home to get back to learning. After all, the sooner I knew everything my school had to teach me, the sooner I could go to college in Sinnoh. There's a really great technical school near Snowpoint where all the best inventors are from, and it's been my dream to go there ever since I first saw it on the news. They take really smart and advanced kids, too, and Mom always told me I was above average, so I'm going to get there someday. Just me and my Pokemon (who switched species over time, from a shiny and ultimately cool version of Zapdos when I was a toddler to a Rotom, then an Elekid, then a Voltorb as I got older and progressively more logical); we'd go off and become awesome, like Dad and his Magneton did.

What they don't tell you, though, is that the stories about how all those badass trainers like Lance or Cynthia started out kind of skip over the more boring parts.

… like waiting for your father to get home so you can figure out which Pokemon you're getting already.

So, yeah, it was my tenth birthday, and sure, I was excited. I knew my parents had either bought or caught me a starter, since Mom hadn't even tried to hide it; the poke ball was sitting right there on the kitchen table, just waiting. A sticky note was attached to it, a note which read, 'If you open this before your father gets home you'll be grounded for the next year'. Which figured.

Since I didn't even dare to touch the ball for fear of being delayed I was spending my time slouching in my chair and staring at it. It was the regular model, a few years old, I'd judge, and shined up a bit. The dim light that glowed from behind the button meant that Mom wasn't playing a trick on me; there was definitely a Pokemon in there, and it wasn't her Jigglypuff's ball, either, since that one was actually dented from the number of times she'd dropped it. And I had my hopes. The sticky note was yellow, after all. Surely that meant that the Pokemon inside would be electric!

I had been infatuated with electric Pokemon for practically as long as I could remember, ever since I saw Dad's Magneton do a Thunderbolt attack when I was only four. They're powerful, they can paralyze an opponent just by touching them, and they're only weak against ground types. Besides, an electric type would be perfect as a partner later in life, since they could help me power my inventions. A steel type would be fine, too, but I knew very well where my heart lay.

"Mooooom," I said for what felt like the tenth time, "when's Dad coming home?"

"I still don't know," she replied evenly from the kitchenette, not bothering to look up from a counter covered with books and papers. Mom's an accountant. She's really good at math and money and understanding long lists of information, which I personally think is the most boring stuff in the world. She also doesn't believe in surprises, which is why she had no qualms about putting my present out there for everyone to see, never mind how much worse it would make the wait.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I scuffed my feet against the linoleum floor and briefly shifted my gaze to the small view out of the window. Our apartment building is located right in the middle of Goldenrod, which means that you can see everything going on at night when all the signs are lit up. I could even see the Radio Tower's spotlight between a few other buildings, though it was kind of fuzzy. 'Course, most things that are far enough away look fuzzy to me; glasses can only help your vision so much.

I was pondering whether I was willing to risk Mom's wrath by suggesting that we tune in to Buena's Password (she hates having distractions on in the background when she’s working) when the front door's lock clicked and Dad stepped in. I look a lot like him, only shorter; we're both gangly with pale skin, and our flat black hair is identical. I inherited Mom's long nose and poor eyesight, though.

"Happy birthday, Monroe," he told me quietly as he closed and locked the door behind him, swinging his briefcase onto the table. Before I could get a word in about my unfair situation he had picked up the poke ball and plucked off the post-it. "Lina," he asked, amused, "did you really make him wait all day?"

"Well, I thought you ought to be here. You did catch it," Mom said without looking up from her papers, though she smiled a little.

"Him," Dad corrected absently, which sent a slight thrill up my spine. My Pokemon was male! That did mean that it (no – he!) couldn't be a Voltorb or a Magnemite, but an Elekid or even a Mareep would still be pretty cool. "Far be it from me to stand between my son and his starter." He winked and tossed me the ball with an expert flick of the wrist that sent it spinning through the air.

I caught it clumsily – hand-eye coordination isn't one of my strong suits – and rolled my fingers around the sphere for a moment, closing my eyes. You get a feel for things once you've handled them enough, and I'd played with many empty prototype balls. This one was smoother, and also warmer, though I was probably imagining that. I opened my eyes again, grinning now, then squeezed the ball and tossed it into the air like I'd seen people do on TV.

It didn't spin, doing a slight arc instead before it opened up automatically. A burst of light pooled out of it and rushed to form a shape on the ground as the energy converted itself back into its physical form, and I found myself bouncing slightly as the light faded away, revealing –

I couldn't help but freeze upon recognizing the Pokemon in front of me.

"Droooow," he said, yawning widely and stretching his stubby arms above his head. His long snout waggled back and forth as he moved, and he didn't even bother to open his eyes. I actually caught the ball reflexively as the energy backlash sent it flying back to me, too startled to fumble it.

"It's a Drowzee," I pointed out after a moment had passed, looking back at my parents and raising my eyebrows. Dad was fiddling with something in his briefcase already, but Mom looked up and quirked an eyebrow at me. She's really pretty, actually, though she can talk you out of believing it.

"Drowzee are excellent Pokemon," she told me sternly, "and you know very well that I don't want you starting off with some electric creature that will explode at the slightest –"

"Dad's Pokemon doesn't explode!" Mom and I have this long-standing argument, see. Both Dad and I love electric types, but she thinks they're too dangerous for kids. I was of the opinion that I could handle one. To make it worse, have you ever looked at a Drowzee? They're really, really weird. Mine was already proving his weirdness by walking towards me in a really slow, really creepy way, his eyes still closed.

"Magneton is well trained," she told me sternly, "and it had its own issues when it was young – come on, Yuto, back me up."

Dad jumped slightly when she addressed him, dropping the thing he'd been playing with. It rolled across the table to where I was standing, so I grabbed the sphere left-handed before it could roll off the edge. Thinking it was another one of his prototypes, I flipped it over, only to find that it was actually quite solid. The ball was gold and silver in color and had a few odd marks carved into the front. It felt… different, somehow, from all the poke balls I’d seen before.

At that point, several things happened at once.

Dad jumped up quickly with a sharp look in his eyes and held out his hand for the ball.

Drowzee, his eyes still closed and right next to me by now, lifted up his trunk and passed it over the ball as he made a humming sound in the back of his throat.

And something broke down the front door.

After that, things started happening really, really quickly. Instinct made me grab at Drowzee with the hand that was still holding his poke ball – he brayed in protest at that and finally opened his eyes – even as a large Pokemon that I couldn't name off the top of my head barged in through the gaping doorway with a few people dressed all in black on its heels. Mom was already diving for the phone to call the police or something, I don't know, and Dad had Magneton's ball out and was yelling something about Team Rocket (which was stupid, 'cause everyone knows they've been disbanded for years), but one woman just walked in after all the others and took charge of the situation.

"Put that down," she told Mom sharply, pointing a manicured fingernail at her. Mom obeyed and even looked a little scared, and that made me feel scared. That feeling got confused when I looked at the woman, though – she seemed a little transparent, which made me feel queasy. The woman turned to Dad and opened up her palm. "You. Hand over the Ge-ess Ball."

Dad stuttered something unintelligible, but it didn't matter because one of the guys in black had just noticed me and the odd gold and silver ball I was holding. He looked more than a little transparent too, and so did Dad and Mom and the whole apartment, for that matter. I swayed on my feet as he shouted, and the last thing I saw before everything faded out completely was the woman turning to face me, the look of greedy satisfaction on her face shifting to one of anger and shock.

So logically, at first, I thought I had somehow died. I mean, there aren't that many other explanations for what's going on when everything around you suddenly fades away. Except that then I saw a Pokemon, and I'm pretty sure that Mew, or Arceus, or whoever you see when you pass away, isn't green.