The music faded into silence, and Jason became aware of how quiet the forest had become.

  The birdsong had dimmed, either because the local wildlife had grown accustomed to his presence or because they'd decided he wasn't worth the attention. The smoke from the crashed transport had thinned to almost nothing, suggesting the fire—if there had been one—had burned itself out. The only sounds now were the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the soft, rhythmic breathing of the Sprigatito pressed against his leg.

  She'd fallen asleep.

  Jason looked down at her, this impossible creature who had no business existing outside of a video game, and felt something dangerous happening in his chest. She was so small. The fur on her head curled just so, and her tiny paws were tucked under her chin, and her whiskers twitched slightly as she dreamed, and—

  No. Stop it. You're a grown man. You have dignity.

  But God (or Arceus, now… he supposed), she was cute. Unfairly, unreasonably cute. The kind of cute that made him want to gather her up and tell her she was the most precious thing in the universe and nothing bad would ever happen to her again.

  He didn't, of course. She was scared and traumatized and had known him for all of twenty minutes. Boundaries mattered. Consent mattered. Even with animals—especially with animals—you didn't just grab them because you wanted to. You let them come to you. You earned their trust.

  Besides, if anyone from his old life could see him right now—the quiet IT guy who kept to himself, who spoke in calm monotones during client calls, who never seemed to get excited about anything—they'd never let him live it down.

  "Jason Cahill, brought low by a fictional cat. News at eleven."

  He let her rest for a while longer, using the time to think. His situation was... well, "unprecedented" felt like an understatement. He was in the Pokémon world. That was either the best thing that had ever happened to him or the worst, and he genuinely couldn't tell which.

  His mind drifted, unbidden, to home. To Nonna in her armchair, to his brother making dinner, to the empty space where Poppy used to sit. March felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at once. He'd been there at the end, holding the old man's hand, promising to take care of Nonna. Promising to take care of the family.

  And now he was... here. Wherever here was. With no way back and no way to tell them what happened.

  They'll think I'm dead. Or missing. Or—

  He cut the thought off before it could spiral. That way lay madness, and he couldn't afford madness right now. One problem at a time. Survive first. Freak out later.

  Poppy would've told me to stop moping and start moving.

  The memory almost made him smile. Almost.

  The transport was in worse shape than he'd initially thought.

  Jason carefully shifted Sprigatito—she grumbled but didn't wake—and approached the wreckage. The front end had crumpled against a massive tree trunk, the driver's side door hanging open at an awkward angle. He peered inside.

  Empty. No blood, no signs of injury, just an abandoned seat with the safety harness unbuckled. Whoever had been driving had walked away from the crash.

  The cargo hold had burst open on impact, scattering crates across the forest floor. Jason picked through them methodically, Sprigatito cradled in one arm like a particularly precious football.

  Medical supplies—Potions, he realized, recognizing the distinctive purple spray bottles from countless hours of gameplay. He grabbed two. Dried Pokémon food in sealed bags. He took as much as he could carry. A flashlight that still worked. Rope. And—his heart skipped—a folded map.

  He set Sprigatito down on a soft patch of grass and unfolded the map with shaking hands.

  Hoenn.

  The coastline was unmistakable. The mountain ranges, the island chains, the distinctive shape of the landmass. He traced his finger across the familiar geography—Littleroot, Rustboro, Dewford, Slateport, Mauville—and felt the reality of his situation settle into his bones.

  Hoenn. Ruby and Sapphire. Team Aqua and Magma. Groudon and Kyogre.

  He knew this region. Knew the gym leaders, the routes, the dangers. Knew that somewhere out there, two teams of eco-terrorists were probably already plotting to reshape the world according to their respective visions.

  Useful knowledge. Dangerous knowledge. Don't think about it yet.

  Sprigatito stirred, yawning widely and displaying tiny fangs that were more adorable than threatening. She blinked up at him with those luminous red eyes, then looked pointedly at the map, then back at him.

  Okay, that's not fair. She's not allowed to be that cute AND smart.

  "Map," Jason said, holding it up. "Trying to figure out where we are."

  "Spriga." She padded over and sniffed the paper curiously.

  "We need to find a town. People. Someone who can help us figure out what's going on."

  She looked up at him with an expression that clearly said well, what are we waiting for?

  Jason folded the map, tucked it into his pocket, and stood. "Yeah, okay. Point taken. Let's move."

  They walked for hours.

  The forest eventually thinned, giving way to rolling hills covered in tall grass that swayed in the afternoon breeze. The sun arced across the sky, marking time in a way that felt almost normal—almost terrestrial—if you ignored the occasional impossible things that kept catching Jason's eye.

  A Zigzagoon darted across their path, its distinctive brown-and-cream striped fur unmistakable. Jason stopped mid-step, watching it disappear into the underbrush with a mixture of wonder and disbelief.

  That was a Zigzagoon. An actual Zigzagoon. Running around. In the wild. Like it's normal.

  Which, here, it was.

  Sprigatito watched the Zigzagoon go with mild interest, then looked up at Jason as if to ask why they'd stopped.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "Still adjusting."

  They kept walking.

  More Pokémon appeared as the afternoon wore on. A flock of Taillow wheeling overhead, their distinctive forked tails cutting sharp silhouettes against the blue sky. A Wurmple inching along a branch, which Jason gave a wide berth—he knew what those things evolved into, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with a Dustox.

  And then, in a meadow just off the faint trail they'd been following, he saw something that made him stop dead.

  A Furret.

  It was lounging in a patch of sunlight, its long, sinuous body curled in a lazy spiral, eyes half-closed in contentment. Its cream-and-brown fur practically glowed in the golden light.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Jason's brain short-circuited.

  Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

  He'd always had a soft spot for Furret. Always. Something about the way they moved, the ridiculous proportions, the inherent friendliness of their design. He'd had one on his team or at least caught one in every region he could. He'd spent actual real-world money on Furret merchandise.

  And now one was right there, real and breathing and so impossibly cute he thought his heart might actually give out.

  Do not approach the wild Pokémon. Do not approach the wild Pokémon. You are a grown adult with self-control and—

  The Furret opened its eyes, noticed him staring, and tilted its head curiously.

  Jason made a sound that he would later deny ever making. Something between a wheeze and a whimper.

  "Sprig?" Sprigatito was looking up at him with what he could only describe as concern.

  "I'm fine," he managed. "Totally fine. Just—give me a second."

  The Furret, apparently deciding he wasn't a threat, yawned and went back to sunbathing.

  Jason stood there for a long moment, struggling with the intense urge to walk over and ask very politely if he could pet it. It was a wild Pokémon. It probably wouldn't appreciate being approached by a random human. He needed to respect its space.

  But God it was cute.

  Sprigatito bumped her head against his ankle, breaking the spell.

  "Right," Jason said, his voice slightly strained. "Right. Moving on. We're moving on."

  He walked past the meadow with tremendous effort, glancing back only twice. Okay, three times. The Furret didn't seem to notice or care.

  This world is going to kill me.

  The faint trail eventually connected to something more substantial—a dirt road, packed earth with patches of gravel, winding through the hills toward distant trees. Signs of civilization. Progress.

  Jason consulted his map, trying to orient himself. If he was reading it correctly, Littleroot Town should be somewhere to the southwest. The road seemed to be heading in roughly the right direction.

  Finally. Something going right.

  They walked along the road as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold. Jason's feet ached—blisters were definitely forming—but he pushed through it. They needed to reach shelter before dark. He had no idea what kind of Pokémon came out at night in Hoenn, but he suspected he didn't want to find out while alone and unprepared.

  Sprigatito trotted alongside him, her earlier fear replaced by something like contentment. She'd relaxed considerably over the hours, growing more confident with each step. Occasionally she'd dart ahead to investigate something interesting—a flower, a bug, an unusual rock—before circling back to check on him.

  She's adapting faster than I am, Jason thought. Then again, she didn't leave behind a family.

  The thought brought a fresh pang of guilt. His brother was probably freaking out. Nonna—

  Stop. You can't do anything about it right now. Focus on what you can control.

  The road curved around a hill, and Jason spotted something in the distance that made his heart lift. Smoke—not the acrid chemical smoke from the crash, but the thin gray wisps of cooking fires or chimneys. Signs of habitation.

  "Sprig, look." He pointed toward the horizon. "That's got to be a town."

  She followed his gesture, ears perking forward. "Sprigatito!"

  "Yeah. We're almost—"

  A sound from behind made them both freeze.

  Footsteps. Someone else on the road.

  Jason turned, instinctively positioning himself between Sprigatito and the unknown. His heart hammered against his ribs as he squinted into the fading light.

  A figure was approaching from the direction they'd come—maybe fifty meters back, walking at an easy pace. Human, definitely. Someone about his height, maybe a bit shorter, with dark hair and practical traveling clothes. At their side, a small green shape moved through the grass.

  Jason's brain cycled through options. Run? Hide? Stand his ground? He had no Pokéballs, no official trainer status, no way to defend himself except—

  Except Sprigatito, who had moved to stand beside him, her small body tense but not afraid. She was watching the approaching figure with alert curiosity rather than fear.

  She doesn't sense danger. That's... probably a good sign.

  The figure drew closer, and details resolved. A young woman, late teens or early twenties, with dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Her clothes were designed for outdoor travel—sturdy boots, loose pants, a jacket in muted greens and browns that would blend well with forest terrain. The Pokémon beside her was familiar: green skin, red underbelly, a large tail that ended in a distinctive leaf shape.

  Treecko. One of Hoenn's starter Pokémon.

  Ranger? Trainer? Either way, probably not a threat.

  The woman slowed as she approached, her eyes moving between Jason, Sprigatito, and the road ahead. Her expression was calm, assessing—not hostile, but definitely cautious. The look of someone who spent a lot of time in the wilderness and had learned not to take strangers at face value.

  "Heading to Littleroot?" she called out when she was about twenty meters away.

  "Yeah," Jason replied, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "You?"

  She nodded, closing the remaining distance at an easy walk. Her Treecko regarded Sprigatito with open curiosity, tilting its head in that reptilian way they had. Sprigatito returned the look, apparently deciding the other Pokémon wasn't a threat.

  "You look like you've had a rough day," the woman observed, her gaze flicking over Jason's disheveled appearance—the dirt on his clothes, the scratches on his arms from pushing through underbrush, the general aura of just survived something weird.

  "Rough doesn't begin to cover it." Jason hesitated, then figured honesty was probably his best policy. "I woke up in the forest a few hours ago. No idea how I got there. Found her near a crashed transport." He gestured to Sprigatito. "We've been walking ever since."

  The woman's eyes narrowed slightly—not with suspicion, exactly, but with sharpened interest. Her gaze lingered on Sprigatito for a long moment.

  "I don't recognize that species," she said finally. "And I've studied Hoenn's Pokémon pretty extensively."

  "She's from Paldea." The words came out before Jason could think better of them. "At least, I think so. The transport had some kind of logo—Aether something?"

  "Aether Foundation." The woman's expression flickered with recognition. "They do conservation work, relocations. That explains the transport, at least." She paused, still studying Sprigatito. "But it doesn't explain you."

  "No," Jason agreed. "It doesn't."

  A moment of silence stretched between them. The woman seemed to be making some kind of decision, weighing options Jason couldn't see.

  Finally, she nodded, something in her posture relaxing slightly.

  "I'm Hana. I'm heading to Littleroot for supplies before continuing my training in the northern forests." She glanced at her Treecko, who chirped an affirmation of something. "The town's still a few hours away. We could walk together, if you want. Safer than traveling alone."

  Relief washed through Jason's chest. "I'd appreciate that. I'm Jason, and this is Sprig." The nickname felt right, rolling off his tongue naturally.

  "Sprigatito!" Sprig chirped, apparently pleased with the introduction.

  Hana's lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "Sprig. Cute." She turned and started down the road, her Treecko falling into step beside her. "Come on. We should make good time before dark."

  Jason and Sprigatito exchanged a glance—an actual glance, like they were checking in with each other—before following.

  They walked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds their footsteps and the evening chorus of Pokémon settling in for the night. Hana moved with the easy confidence of someone who knew these roads, occasionally pointing out landmarks or warning Jason about uneven terrain.

  Her Treecko—she hadn't named it, Jason noticed—ranged ahead of them, occasionally climbing a tree to scout or investigate an interesting sound. Sprigatito watched it with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, not quite ready to play with the unfamiliar Pokémon but not hiding from it either.

  "So," Hana said eventually, breaking the silence. "Crashed transport. Amnesia. Paldean Pokémon." She glanced at him sidelong. "That's quite a story."

  "I know how it sounds."

  "Do you?" There was no accusation in her voice, just genuine curiosity. "Because it sounds like something out of a bad movie."

  Jason laughed despite himself. "Yeah. It really does." He kicked a pebble down the road, watching it skitter into the grass. "For what it's worth, I'm as confused as you are. More, probably. I don't—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I don't know how I got here. Don't remember anything before waking up in those trees. Just... nothing."

  Hana was quiet for a moment, processing this.

  "That must be frightening," she said finally. "Not knowing."

  You have no idea.

  "It's not great," Jason admitted. "But panicking won't help. So I'm just... taking it one step at a time. Finding help. Figuring out what to do next."

  "Practical." Hana nodded, a note of approval in her voice. "Most people would be falling apart."

  Most people didn't spend years helping care for a dying grandfather. You learn to compartmentalize.

  He didn't say that. Couldn't say that. Instead, he just shrugged. "Falling apart comes later. After I've got a roof over my head and some answers."

  Sprig chose that moment to bound forward, pouncing on a leaf that had blown across the road. She missed, tumbled, recovered with as much dignity as a small green cat could muster, and pretended she'd meant to do that.

  Jason's heart did a complicated thing in his chest.

  Stop being so cute. I'm trying to have a serious conversation.

  Hana actually smiled this time, a small but genuine expression. "She likes you."

  "The feeling's mutual." He watched Sprig chase another leaf, her earlier fear completely forgotten in the simple joy of play. "She was terrified when I found her. Hiding under wreckage, shaking. I think the crash really traumatized her."

  "Pokémon are resilient. Especially young ones." Hana's gaze was thoughtful as she watched Sprigatito play. "They bounce back if they feel safe. The fact that she's already this comfortable with you says something."

  "Says what?"

  "That she trusts you." Hana glanced at him. "That's not nothing."

  Jason didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. They walked on as the sun continued its descent, the sky deepening from orange to purple to the first hints of starlight.

  Somewhere ahead, Littleroot Town waited. Answers waited. A whole new life waited, whether he was ready for it or not.

  He wasn't ready. Not even close.

  But Sprigatito was warm at his heels, and Hana was a steady presence at his side, and for now—just for now—that was enough.