There is a phenomenon known as “Hypnic Jerks”. Essentially this is what causes a person to twitch and move while falling asleep. If you’ve ever been dozing off, only to feel the pit of your stomach drop like you missed the last step on the stairs, you’ve felt this.
It’s more common in those who have irregular sleep schedules, though the exact cause is yet to be determined. Many scientists believe there are a wide range of influencing factors from caffeine consumption to daily life stress.
This is a completely normal phenomena, with most people experiencing it multiple times throughout their lives.
What most people do not experience however, is waking suddenly to the smell of damp soil, the sharp feel of bristles against skin and the realization that they are not wearing shoes.
Back against one of the many trees that formed the woods, said shoeless figure stirs from their sleep.
Early morning sunlight dapples through the dense canopy of the woods, glancing off dew drops and creating a quiet serene atmosphere. In the distance there is a faint rustling, of leaves in the breeze, of creatures big and small starting (and ending) their days.
“This is nice”
His eyes now open, he takes in the scene. Lulled by it as he is, he very nearly falls back asleep, lack of shoes be damned.
That is until the bristles that had woke him up earlier begin to… wriggle.
Startled, he looks down towards the sensation of something pressing against his stomach. What he sees is a small dog-like creature.
Well, he assumes it is a small dog. Its head is stuck deep within his jacket pocket, snuffling and searching, with its cream and brown striped body wiggling back and forth. Hind legs on the ground and front legs on the side of his legs makes an amusing sight.
To an outside observer that is.
Woken by a strange creature, distinctly within his personal space, he is left with one only one response. A deeply ingrained instinct that has been passed down from parent to child since time immemorial.
He screams.
“GAH HOLY SH- GET OFF OF- OUT OF BUGGE-”
The dog, having been rudely interrupted in its business, responds in kind.
“ZIGZAGZIG!”
The dog kicks off with surprising force. Knocking the young man over and into the dirt, as it dives into the surrounding undergrowth.
Face down in the dirt. Beaten by a rogue dog. Without shoes.
Not the best way to start the day.
Pushing themselves up and off the ground, absently wiping away the dirt on their hands against a worn pair of jeans, they take stock of their situation.
Location: Woods.
Time: Morning
Injuries: Minor bruising to Pride.
Clothes: Intact (sans bare feet).
Memory: Hazy. Insert coffee and try again.
Phone and Wallet: Missing …Shit.
Mental checklist complete for the moment, he takes in his surroundings with a more discerning eye.
He is standing beneath the tree/improvised pillow from before. The ground is carpeted by lush grass and shrubbery, ferns and the occasional bush interspersed throughout. A dense canopy rests overhead, and listening closely distant bird cries can be heard.
The phone and wallet are not, as hoped, lying on the ground. In fact, there seems to be a distinct lack of any human presence in the area, save for the startled waker.
There are no paths in sight. No gravel trails or desire paths of flattened foliage. It is untouched, pristine… and confusing.
“Ok… how exactly did I wind up in this situation again?”
When no answer comes, he sighs and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Ew!”
Whipping his hand back out of his pocket, a half eaten slobbery muesli bar follows, landing in the grass.
“Eugh… guess that explains the wake up call”
The slobber is wiped off, joining the dirt on his jeans. Occupied by his efforts to de-slobber, he fails to notice a shape dives back out of the bushes.
Ferociously descending on its half eaten muesli prey, the wild creature shows no mercy. It takes great enthusiasm in returning to defeat its old foe, and makes no attempt to hide the fact.
It is these sounds of dog on snack violence that finally draws his attention away from his task and to the sight of raccoon-dog-thing on half-eaten-muesli violence. This macabre sight finally knocks something loose in the shoeless man's head.
After all, he had seen this creature before. Hadn’t he?
The fodder of the 3rd Generation. The tiny racoon Pokémon.
“Oh. Oh! That’s a Zigzagoon”
A fictional creature. A fictional creature that is distinctly real.
Distinctly real and finishing off the last of his food.
“... and that’s the last of my food, isn’t it?”
“Zig?” Zigzagoon replied, tilting its head and making eye contact. A few rolled oats are stuck in the bristle like fur around the creature's mouth. The brown eyes set against a black furred ‘mask’ glimmer with curiosity at the confused, food-providing human.
Letting out a sigh, the man squats down and maintains eye contact as he does.
“Hey, can you… understand me?”
Zigzagoon does not reply verbally, but his face falls into an expression that distinctly reads as: “Really?”
“Okay that's… a fair response” the man continues “I’m just a bit out of it at the moment. Do you know where we are?”
“Zig Zig Zagoon Zag” Zigzagoon replies, face remaining in an expression of exasperation.
“Ah. Yeah I forgot about the whole language barrier didn’t I?”
Zigzagoon nods in response, eliminating any doubt that the Pokémon could understand him.
“Um. Hmmm.” Wracking his brain for anything to distract himself from the impending breakdown, he snaps his fingers as a plan forms.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Right! Could I ask you to guide me to the nearest town? Or people?”
“Ziiiig…” The exasperated expression drops off Zigzagoons face as they appear mull over the question.
“Hey, you ate my muesli bar” The man continues with growing confidence “If you’re able to guide me out of here we can call it even. Sounds good?”
The Zigzagoon lets out a bark of approval and takes off a few feet away, before stopping and turning back. A second bark back gets the man to start moving after the Zigzagoon who takes off again in a zigging and zagging path.
“Haha, I take that’s a yes?”
Another bark, as the pair begin to pick their way through the woods.
“Alright then, lead the way boss”
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While Zigzagoon darted back and forth, sniffing and investigating various roots and bushes, the walk gave the man plenty of time to think.
Pokémon were real. That was a difficult fact to avoid given that his current guide was one.
This fact was only further cemented as the journey through the woods continued.
Webbed cocoons hung from several trees, which opened their eyes to watch the travelers passing below.
There was the occasional appearance of other Zigzagoons, who tended to take off into the undergrowth after being spotted.
The most notable encounter was crossing paths with a pack of Shroomish. It was surreal to watch the group, about 15 to 20 of the little mushrooms, bounce along the grassy floor. The whole while they vocalized their names in a rhythm reminiscent of a marching band.
“Shroom!” “Ish!” “Shroom!” “Ish!”
One of the Shroomish broke off from the pack, to approach Zigzagoon, and the two seemed to chat in their own Poké-Language, before the Shroomish seemed satisfied and took off after the pack.
After an hour or two of walking, and a few unfortunate splinters in the bare feet, the duo reached the edge of the woods.
The thick canopy gave way to a clear blue sky. Stepping out from the tree line into the sun, a small lake laid before them. The water was still and peaceful, looking closely as flashes of light reflected off of scales, several schools of Magikarp could be spotted below the surface
“You mind if we take a break for a moment?” The man spoke to his guide. “I need to get some of these splinters out.”
“Zag zig” came the affirmative reply as Zigzagoon sat down and began to scratch at its ear.
Sitting on the lake he took in the view of the late afternoon lake.
To the left, the woods continued to trace along the shoreline as it curved into the distance reaching across to the opposite side of the lake. Further along the lakeside a plain dirt road could be made out, leading into the woods and linking up to a set of wooden bridges. The bridges spanned the length of the lake.
The bridges joined to a path on the other side of the lake, leading towards a city in the distance. That would be it then. Get into town, get some shoes and then finally process everything that’s happened this morning.
A cold wet sensation pressing against the back of his hand startles the man.
Looking down, Zigzagoon is pressing their nose against their hand. In its front paws is a round blue berry the size of about the size of an apricot. Or would it be an apricorn now instead?
Focus. Thinking can wait.
“Is this for me?”
At Zigzagoon’s insistent nod he takes the fruit and tentatively bites into it.
It tastes… good? A soft and mildly sweet fruit, with an almost mint like aftertaste. It’s surprisingly not very juicy. Which, given the state of things wiped onto his jeans, is probably a good thing.
Seeing the man finish the oran berry, Zigzagoon nods with satisfaction and begins to move towards the city, weaving along the shoreline.
“Zig Zag”
“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.”
As he walked along the shoreline it felt distinctly like he was forgetting something important.
But, that was probably nothing.
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Another 30 minutes or so of walking, brought them around the lake and to the edge of the city.
A sign proudly stood at the entrance to the city. Stylized block white lettering was placed ontop of a deep red background.
Welcome To Rustoboro. The city probing the integration of nature and science!
Inside the city proper came the sounds and smells of civilization. Namely, cheap coffee and the footsteps of pedestrians.
“Well” The man turned to his doggy companion for the last few hours with a grin “You kept your end of the bargain. Consider the snack debt repaid”
Kneeling down he gave the Zigzagoon a scratch behind the ear, that was well received if they way their hind leg twitched was any indication.
“Thanks for the trip, stay safe out there alright?”
“Zig! Zig!” With one last parting remark, the Zigzagoon watched as the man walked into the city proper.
And, after a moment followed him in.
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As it turns out Rustboro City loves its stone architecture. The buildings, the roads and their public spaces, all stone.
On a related note, the sun also loves stone. The sun loves stone more than it loves the forest floor or the calm lakeside.
This is a fact the man is quickly reminded of as he dashes between spots of shade in an effort to keep his feet un-scorched.
“Ow! Ow! Tsh! Ah!”
Needless to say his reintegration into civilization was going smoothly.
He stops under a shaded awning to catch his breath, a moment of calm and respite after an orde-
“Are you alright young man?”
Jumping with fright the man whips around. Next to him in the shaded awning is an older gentleman. A salt white beard fails to hide a mischievous smile.
“Haha! You’ve certainly got the legs of a Nincada! Lose your shoes to a wild Poocheyna?”
“Ah, something like that” The younger man replies “Got into a bit of a scuffle, and lost most of what I had on me unfortunately” As he pulls his pockets out showing them to be empty, besides for the last crumb of a muesli bar.
That last part was a lie. Or rather it felt like a lie, truthfully no memory of how he had ended up in the woods surfaced during the hours of walking to the city.
“Ah you’ll be wanting the center then, it’s not far from here” At this the gentlemen gestures widely down a nearby street “You should be able to get some new ID if you talk to the good nurse”
That would be something to get sorted. That and some source of food, and shelter, and water, and -
No.
Focus.
PokeCenter first. Panic later.
“Right, that’s good to know. Thanks for that” He sheepishly replied.
“Not a worries young man” The older man said with a grin “They might also have some gear leftover in the lost and found for you to nab.”
At these words the younger man is suddenly made very aware of his appearance.Glancing in a nearby window he takes in his appearance.
A reflection of a tall man, early 20s at a guess, with messy brown hair looks back. A worn green jacket, with traces of slobber. A faded graphic tee, which once showed the name of some band. Rounding out the weary traveler look, a worn pair of jeans complete with dirt stains and fraying threads.
Overall a chic, timeless, look that just screams: I would like to shower then sleep for a year
“Yeah, that’s a smart idea”
Bidding the gentleman farewell, and realizing in the process he never got his name, the younger man made his way down the street. A few strange looks were received from other pedestrians and Pokémon, but the final leg of the journey was completed unimpeded, as he arrived outside the red and white building.
The Pokémon center was hard to miss, nestled as it was between taller stonework buildings. It was an eye-catching red from the second floor upwards with the lower floor being painted an off-white colour. An iconic Pokéball icon was displayed proudly over the door.
The clean, almost futuristic appearance stood in contrast to the old stone buildings that seemed to be prevalent throughout the rest of Rustoboro.
Stepping through the sliding doors the cool air of air conditioning breezed out into the street. Faint music could be heard coming from speakers in the lobby.
Strangely the place seemed practically deserted, the only other inhabitants being behind the desk on the far side of the lobby.
A middle aged woman stood behind the desk, tapping a pen against her chin. To her side a pink egg-like creature, a Chansey, stood. The two of them were staring, almost angrily at something on the desk in front of them.
“No, that’s not right” The woman muttered. Her pen tapping in time to the music of the lobby.
“Chan, Chansey” Her companion replied, moving to point at something behind the desk.
Partway through the motion, Chansey spots the new arrival.
“Chanse!” Lightly jabbing the woman behind the desk with a stubby appendage, Chansey nodded towards the bedraggled young man approaching the desk.
Looking up, the woman, tears her attention away from her task.
“Welcome to the Pokémon Center! Would you like us to heal your tired Pokémon?”
“Err.. no actually” the man replies “I was told I should come here to sort out my ID?”
There is a silent moment as the woman takes in the appearance of the man on the other side of the desk.
“Yes…” she replies after some careful consideration “I’m going out on a limb and guessing it needs re-issuing?”
“Err.. I definitely need a new one.” Comes the sheepish reply “That and some shoes”
The woman moves over to the side of the desk where a computer sits. The Chansey has remained stationary. Closer to the desk the young man can make out a half filled crossword puzzle that Chansey continues to puzzle over.
“Well!” The woman begins to click the mouse with force as she moves through the program. “I can manually look up your ID number and get a new license printed in pretty short order.”
“Really? That would be fantastic”
“All I need is your full name and date of birth and I can get that printed.” The nurse says with an expectant tone.
Ah.
That’s what he was forgetting.