I wasn’t sure what town I had been taken to on the back of the Staraptor, but I did manage to recognize the Pokémon Center with its iconic red roof. The building was much larger than the games made it seem, standing four stories tall.

  I had been ushered into a side room where a nurse entered, took a blood sample, and ran a number of tests I didn’t understand.

  Not that I was complaining—she had also brought a tray of food with her. I wasn’t sure exactly what the meal was, but having survived on Magikarp that Kingdra had caught and the few berries the Horsea had brought back, I didn’t care. It was delicious and I cleared the entire plate.

  The lady who had rescued me eventually came back and tried to take Manaphy with her, but I stepped between them. Manaphy was a rare Pokémon—one I hadn’t caught in a Pokéball yet. The last thing I wanted was someone else capturing her and running off.

  The longer we stayed together, the deeper my bond with Manaphy grew. She had hatched after absorbing enough of my aura, so it made sense—at least to me—that we would have some sort of innate connection. It wasn’t strong enough for telepathy or anything; although I attributed that to Manaphy being only a day old. But it did give me a good idea of what she was feeling at any given moment: how she felt safe when I held her, and how she grew anxious at the lady’s approach, picking up on her intent to separate us.

  I need to find out her name instead of referring to her as “the lady,” I thought as I stood my ground, not letting her reach Manaphy.

  Eventually she let out a frustrated grunt, turned around, and left again. I shrugged and went back to playing with Manaphy. I’m sure she’ll return in due time, I thought. She did say I would have to be questioned. If only I knew who was doing the questioning—I could plan how much to tell them.

  The nurse was next to return, bringing with her a change of clothes. I noted how she had bright pink hair. I wondered if she dyed it or if she was part of the Joy clan. I assumed they existed in this world if the Pokémon Center’s nurse had pink hair. She tried to make conversation but quickly gave up when I didn’t understand anything she said.

  The clothes she brought were a simple plain white pair of jogging bottoms and a white shirt. The material felt a lot less durable than what the lady had given me before, based on how the nurse made sure to pick the pants up, I assumed she wanted them back and that they were likely expensive. Still, the new clothes were much more comfortable, and after going without clothes for so long, I was happy to regain some modesty.

  It took around an hour before the door opened again—this time the person who entered was someone I knew.

  Well, I didn’t know her, but I recognized her from the games: Champion Cynthia.

  If the Champion is here, I must be in big trouble, I thought.

  Flanking Cynthia was a man wearing a red suit with deep purple hair—Lucian, the Psychic-type master of the Elite Four. Following behind him was an Alakazam.

  “Greetings, human named Roland. I am told that you may be open to psychic conversation,” the Alakazam spoke directly into my mind.

  “While I’m not able to communicate telepathically myself, I’m aware that your trainers do not speak my language, so we’ll likely need a Pokémon such as yourself to act as a translator,” I replied, keeping my voice steady and my words respectful. The sheer power radiating from the two in front of me made me want to curl up in the corner.

  Alakazam looked surprised at my response—perhaps he wasn’t expecting me to be polite. I am giving off a lot of aura… maybe they’ll let Horsea drain some away so I come across as less threatening.

  “Could you tell us where you come from, Roland?” Alakazam asked.

  “That’s… complicated. I’ve been trying to work out how to explain my situation to someone, and I’ve yet to come up with an answer that won’t make you all think I’m crazy.”

  “If your story is that unbelievable, I could always read your memories.”

  “You can read memories? Actually, that might make this way easier. Will it hurt?” I asked.

  “An unpracticed practitioner could do real damage delving into someone’s head. I am not unpracticed and would only be doing a light dive. As long as you do not fight me, you will face no pain or lasting harm,” Alakazam explained.

  “Can I ask that you keep my memories secret—outside of your trainer and the Champion, of course.” I was hesitant to agree, but I didn’t see a better way forward. Keeping my origins secret would probably serve me better in the long run—at least until I had a better lay of the land.

  Alakazam turned to Lucian, whose face quickly shifted to shock. Cynthia narrowed her eyes before saying something I couldn’t understand.

  “They have both agreed to keep your secrets, provided that doing so won’t put any people or Pokémon in harm’s way. Should they have to reveal what I learn, they will only do so to those who need to know.”

  I guess that's as good as I'm going to get, I mused, then gave Alakazam the go-ahead.

  His spoons floated as he crossed his legs, levitating into the air. It became hard to breathe as what felt like a ton of bricks pressed on my chest. Then I saw my life flash before my eyes—from my earliest memories, waddling around the house with a golden Labrador taller than I was following me closely, hoping I’d drop something she could eat. The scene flashed to my college graduation with a degree in Animal Studies, then to the night I lost my life.

  Eventually I rewatched my interaction with Arceus and everything that followed. When Alakazam finished, he returned to standing, his spoons falling back into his hands.

  I raised my hand to my face to wipe away tears I hadn’t realised were falling.

  “We will have to ask you to wait here while we discuss what I just saw… it was more than I had expected,” the voice said after a moment of awkward silence. I simply waved them out of the room and curled up on the bed provided to me, holding Manaphy tight.

  I sat at a desk as Alakazam relayed Roland’s memories into my head. This wasn’t something people could normally do, but with enough use of aura one could dampen the pain to manageable levels.

  “Sweet Arceus,” I swore, looking up at Lucian once the memory transfer was completed. “Now we know why he was so willing to subject himself to memory reading.”

  “Indeed,” Lucian commented as he tried to make sense of the deluge of information. “I think Alakazam could set up a psychic link between the three of us so we could converse normally—now that I’m fairly certain he’s not some criminal mastermind.”

  I scoffed. “No, he’s just someone with zero training walking around with a legendary Pokémon who was sent by god. At least he’s not from another region—legendaries, could you imagine the political mess that would have caused?”

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  Lucian shivered. “Best not to. What do you want to do with him now? The A.C.E tried to take the Manaphy away. She reported the look he gave her told her without a doubt that while she could have recovered the Pokémon, she would not be able to do so without resorting to violence and detaining him. She said she decided it was wiser not to piss off the naked man with more aura than she’d ever seen.”

  “A wise move indeed,” I laughed. “I think our next step is figuring out what Roland wants. We need more information. We’ve seen who he was but not who he will be. Currently he has insane aura potential and, albeit a baby, a legendary Pokémon. It doesn’t take a genius to see he’s likely to be a strong trainer in the future. So unless we want to entertain the idea of killing him now, the objective should be to make friends with him so he may work with us in the future.”

  “You want to recruit him for the League?” Lucian asked, surprised.

  “No—nothing formal. But if he grows to be as strong as Red, then I want him to look favourably upon Sinnoh and not throw everything into chaos before disappearing,” I explained.

  “As strong as Red? You think he’ll be able to beat you?” Lucian asked incredulously.

  Lucian was smart; he saw the potential in the man in the other room. But I had built a sort of mystique as Champion, having held the position since I was fourteen. Twenty years was a long time to remain the strongest in the region. Truth be told, I was growing tired of it, but Sinnoh still needed me—I would fight until I could leave it in the best shape possible.

  “No—well, not for a few years at least. I don’t plan on stepping down anytime soon,” I laughed.

  “Ha, the idea of you ever ‘stepping down’ is laughable,” he snorted.

  “Indeed,” I said with a smile. “Now, let’s go find out what our wayward traveller wants.”

  I watched the three re-enter the room, placing Manaphy onto my lap as I sat on the bed. The lady had tried to take Manaphy before, and the panic I felt from her was unbearable. I knew I had to protect her. It drove my reaction at the time, but after calming down, I felt… uncomfortable.

  Is Manaphy affecting the way I act? It wasn’t that I wasn’t in control, but I definitely overreacted. I should probably apologise if I get the chance.

  Still, I wasn’t planning on letting them take Manaphy, so placing her on my lap was my way of telling them she was mine.

  Alakazam spoke telepathically. “Would you consent to me opening a four-way conversation?”

  I blinked in surprise. “You can do that?”

  “Of course. I told you I am not untrained.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  A pressure built in my head before settling.

  “Can you understand us?” Cynthia asked, smiling.

  “You cannot understand how good it feels to finally be able to talk to someone,” I said, smiling widely. Talking with Kingdra had kept me sane, but it wasn’t the same as speaking with another human.

  “I’m glad it’s working,” Cynthia replied. “So, Mr. Roland, what do you plan on doing next?”

  I stared at her, surprised. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I assumed you’d have more questions.”

  “Oh, we have plenty, don’t worry,” she laughed lightly. “But what I want to know most is: what do you want? You’re not from this world, and based on your conversation with Arceus, I don’t believe returning to your original world is possible. So what do you want to do? The League would be happy to help you get set up.”

  “I haven’t really thought about it,” I lied—poorly. Cynthia raised a single eyebrow.

  “Okay, I have thought about it. But I don’t have enough information yet. I want to research before committing to anything.”

  “A wise choice. What sort of information do you need?” she asked.

  “Well… I’m not sure how much you saw, but in my world Pokémon weren’t real—they were a game franchise and a show. Most people played the games where you’d go on a journey, collect eight badges, then challenge the Elite Four and Champion. But I don’t actually know if that’s how things work here.”

  I paused to collect my thoughts.

  “If that is the case… is it something I even want to do? Becoming Champion sounds like a terrible idea. In the games you win, then go back to being a normal trainer. But here, from what I understand, the Champion is both the strongest trainer and basically runs the region. Government politics was never something I was interested in.”

  Lucian was trying not to laugh.

  Cynthia gave him a sharp look. “Did I say something funny?” I asked.

  “You didn’t say anything wrong,” Lucian said. “Most people begin their journeys at fourteen. Not everyone challenges the Gym circuit, and very few collect all eight badges. Even fewer stand up to experienced trainers at the Conference. Only the winner earns the right to challenge the Elite Four, and only after defeating us can they challenge the Champion.”

  “I’m sorry—so what part was funny?”

  “Of the hundreds of thousands who set out each year, only one challenges the Elite Four. In the last twenty years, none have managed to reach the Champion, let alone stand against her. I just found the idea that if you decided to become a trainer, you’d become Champion, amusing.”

  “Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were weak. It’s just how the games worked.”

  “And why would that imply we are weak?” Cynthia asked.

  “Because you’re the Champion?” I said, confused.

  “And what makes you think I am the Champion?”

  “Are you not Cynthia, Champion of Sinnoh? You look just like her…”

  “I am Cynthia, and I am the Champion of Sinnoh. I just wanted to see how accurate your games were. To hear that I am a character is… interesting.”

  “Oh. Well, in the games set in Sinnoh, you were the Champion. The Elite Four were Aaron, Bertha, Flint, and Lucian, in that order. The Gym Leaders were Roark, Gardenia, Fantina—”

  “That is correct,” Cynthia said.

  “I see, well they can't be completely accurate, since Pokemon can learn more than four moves."

  “A Pokémon can only learn four moves in these games?” Lucian asked.

  “Yeah, it added strategy. You had to choose which moves to take into a fight and relearn others with TMs or tutors, but honestly it was probably more just a limitation of the hardware”

  “Hm. I wonder how that would play out in a real battle,” he mused.

  As we continued talking, they explained that most people were not Pokémon trainers, and that after their journeys most settled down with regular jobs. Being a trainer was expensive, after all. Then a realisation hit me.

  “Wait—if people from the games are real… does that mean Team Galactic is also a thing?”

  Both Cynthia and Lucian froze.

  “What do you know of Team Galactic?” Cynthia asked sharply.

  “Uhh… that their leader Cyrus plans to destroy the world by summoning Dialga or Palkia using the lake trio. They have bases in Veilstone and Eterna. They also attack the Valley Windworks, though I don’t remember why—”

  Both raised their hands to stop me.

  “Some of that we know already. Some is new. All of it will be heavily classified,” Lucian said.

  Makes sense—information on terrorist organisations is rarely public.

  “We’ll need a full debrief once we move to a secure facility,” he added.

  “He’s right, I’m afraid,” Cynthia said. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Roland, but this involves Sinnoh’s national security. I must insist you come with us to a secure facility for an in-depth discussion.”

  “Can’t you just read my memories again?” I asked.

  Both looked shocked.

  “Roland,” Cynthia said slowly, “reading someone’s memories is one of the most invasive things a Psychic-type can do. We only agreed before because you were a stranger with a legendary Pokémon and more aura than I’ve ever seen. At the time you were considered a national security threat. Now that we know you aren’t, we don’t have the legal standing to read your memories. Even if we did—last time Alakazam skimmed through your life and only focused on recent memories. Reading them in detail would be… unpleasant.”

  “Unpleasant how?” I asked.

  “It would hurt more than anything you’ve experienced,” Lucian said bluntly. “Like your head being cracked open and your brain pulled out.”

  “I see… and I can’t use aura to numb the pain? Like when I practiced telepathy?”

  Cynthia looked to Lucian. He pondered.

  “Normally I’d say no—the pain would overwhelm any aura you could produce. But you have more aura than anyone I’ve met. In theory it could work… but I don’t know if it’s worth risking.”

  Silence hung thick for several minutes.

  “As lovely as a memory scan sounds,” I said dryly, “I’d rather avoid it. Still… Team Galactic’s plans are really messed up. I don’t want to get involved with them personally, but giving you the best possible account is probably the right thing.”

  Would a player character appear to save the world like in the games? And even if so, was I comfortable leaving the fate of the world in the hands of a fourteen-year-old? No. But I also didn’t want to fight terrorists.

  “How about this,” Cynthia suggested. “We debrief now. Afterward, we provide you with aura training. If we can stop Team Galactic without a memory scan, wonderful. If not, we wait until you're strong enough to handle the pain.”

  It wasn’t perfect—there was no guarantee aura could prevent the pain—but aura training from some of the most qualified people on the planet wasn’t exactly a downside.

  “Alright. That sounds like a good enough plan—at least tentatively. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Great. Now let’s have Alakazam teleport us back to the League so we can begin the debrief,” Cynthia said brightly.

  Alakazam nodded, his eyes flashing as the world shifted around me—right before I emptied my lunch onto the floor.