And just like that, Lucas was alone.

Alone again.

Right back where he'd started. His only friend.

Cold wind licked his face in a gust. The sound of rustling grass and trees whispered in his ears as he trekked through the gravel route at night.

In his hand, a single, small Pokéball, squeezed tightly in his palm. This was his first time in the wild. At night.

The chiming and ringing of Kricketune calls filled the air as the crescent moon hung in the sky like a silver banana.

He gripped his scarf.

"What would Ma think of this? Me, out here in the wild by myself?" he muttered, strolling past a wall of shadowy trees—inky black towers with gnarled arms and fingers reaching out like claws. "If she was home, I bet none of this would be happening. Why isn't she ever home? I mean, I get the contests are super important and she's super busy... but maybe, just once, she could stop by her own house and see how her only son is doing. What if I'm dead and she doesn't know? What if she's dead and I don't know?"

Those were Lucas's true thoughts. Thoughts that only surfaced when he was alone.

No Barry. No Dawn. Just a gravel path surrounded by trees and grass. Alone again. Right back where he'd started. He was his only friend. His fingers fidgeted with the hard sphere in his hand. Maybe he wasn’t really alone.

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He pressed the small white button between the red and white.

Deep in the dark of night, an eruption of white light flooded a small area.

Lucas looked down at his Piplup. Its royal blue feathers shimmered with a silver sheen under the moonlight, and those stubborn sapphire eyes stared back at him, staunch as ever.

He remembered how much affection Dawn showed hers and thought maybe he could try the same. So, he crouched down.

"Hey... I'm so happy to see you, my sweetie dear," Lucas said, his voice tinged with an awkward sweetness as he stretched his arms wide for a warm reunion.

He was met with a sharp peck to the face that sent him stumbling back onto the gravel trail with a groan.

"OWW! What's WRONG with you?" Lucas rubbed his throbbing nose, feeling a damp drop on his fingers.

Blood.

"No. It’s my bad," he muttered. "I thought I could do something I’ve never done before. Sorry. I must've freaked you out."

Piplup let out an angry chirp, leaping onto Lucas and mauling him out of the blue. It poked and nipped him relentlessly until he managed to grab hold of the feisty Pokémon.

"Just chill out, okay? We can't be fighting. We've got a long journey ahead of us, and we need to get along! You wanna get stronger, right? Let’s do it together—no need to be so rough."

But no. The rowdy little bird seemed uninterested in peace. Its only goal was to prove it couldn’t be stopped.

For the next few minutes, Lucas was battered, nipped, and pecked by his Piplup without mercy—his hair, his jacket, nothing was spared.

Meanwhile, rustling claws moved through the tall grass under the cover of night. The creeping presence of unseen danger was underscored by malevolent howls, the chilling cries of unseen predators, and the not-so-soothing chimes of Kricketune in the distance.