Austin, a die-hard Pokémon fan, is disenchanted with the series' direction post-Sinnoh. After a typical late-night binge-watch, he drifts off to sleep, only to wake up in an unimaginable reality: he is Ash Ketchum, and today is the morning his legen...
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Austin strolled leisurely alongside his bicycle, gripping the handlebars lightly. The wheels crunched over the forest floor littered with leaves and twigs. Beside him, Nobunaga consulted a large, well-worn map of Viridian Forest, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"So, you live in Viridian Forest."
Nobunaga nodded, his eyes not leaving the map.
"It's easier that way. I'm close to business, and I don't have to pay rent."
"I am curious, where did you get your Pinsir?"
"A gift from my Father. It's my starter."
Their conversation ended abruptly as they heard the buzzing and humming of countless wings—a sound like rapid, crackling static. As they turned, they saw a swarm of Beedrill flying aggressively towards them.
"Is your cabin close?" Austin asked quickly, swinging his leg over his bike, ready to move.
"Yeah."
"Then hop on," Austin said, placing Vee into the bike's basket.
"Vee, use Helping Hand on Pikachu," Austin commanded. Vee's paw glowed warmly as it touched Pikachu, who seemed to pulse with increased power, its cheeks sparking energetically.
"Thundershock!" Austin yelled. Pikachu leapt from the basket, sending a massive surge of electricity into the swarm of Beedrills that were descending towards them. The effect was immediate: several Beedrills were knocked out, some fell to the ground paralyzed, while others twitched, trying to recover from the shock.
Austin pedaled hard, the muscles in his legs burning as he picked up speed with Nobunaga on the backseat leading them through a narrower path that snaked its way deeper into the forest.
The trees blurred past as Austin focused on the path ahead, his heart pounding.
Finally, Nobunaga pointed towards a structure partly hidden by the dense foliage. Austin followed his gaze to see a modest cabin built of rough logs, its small windows peeking out shyly between the trunks of towering trees.
A thin wisp of smoke drifted lazily from a stone chimney.
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Inside Nobunaga's cabin, simplicity ruled. The furnishings were sparse—a few stools, a low table, and a rugged, handmade shelf.
One corner of the room was dedicated to tools for string crafting—spindles, shuttles, and fine hooks, all meticulously arranged on a homemade wooden rack that stood beside a sturdy workbench.
