The office of the Pokémon Tech Principal was a far cry from the cold, clinical atmosphere of the Fog Level. It was lined with mahogany bookshelves, smelling faintly of old parchment and expensive tea. The Principal himself, a man whose kindness seemed etched into the very wrinkles of his smile, didn't look like the architect of a "sweatshop." He looked like a man who had tried to build a ladder to the stars and hadn't realized the rungs were made of glass.
"I cannot apologize enough, Regina, Gary," the Principal said, handing over the thick manila folders containing the ecological data requested by Oak and Linda. his voice was heavy with a weary sort of regret. "I started this academy to provide a structured path for those who found the chaos of the road too daunting. I didn't intend to create an environment where the Elite Four are mocked or where theory replaces the heart."
Gary took the reports, tucking them into his bag with a disciplined nod. "My grandfather always says that data without context is just noise, sir. I think your students lost the context."
I looked down at my boots, feeling a rare prickle of guilt. "I... I should probably apologize too, sir. I talked a lot of trash about your school the moment I stepped onto the grounds. I'm a bit of a hothead when it comes to the 'Slum vs. High Society' debate."
The Principal chuckled, a soft, musical sound. "Nonsense, child. You stated facts. And your mention of Principal Oak's school in Alola, and the Naranja and Uva Academies in Paldea... it was an eye-opener. I've been so focused on 'Efficiency' that I forgot about 'Exploration.' I intend to reach out to them. A collaboration, perhaps? A student exchange? I want to make this school better. I want to make it a place where someone like Bruno would feel at home."
As we left the office, we ran into Gisele. She wasn't the "Ice Queen" anymore. Her hair was slightly mussed, and her eyes were red-rimmed, but she looked... more human. She offered a stiff, formal apology, admitting that losing to a "Winter Queen" had shattered her belief in the simulation. Joe, meanwhile, was already packing a rucksack. He'd decided to leave the academy and start a real journey, his glasses gleaming with a newfound, terrified excitement.
"Well," I said, as we walked toward the campus gates, the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon. "Maybe that place will actually turn into something decent."
Gary snorted, though there was no malice in it. "Maybe. But we have a schedule to keep, Regina. Vermilion isn't getting any closer."
"Wait for us!"
I didn't even have to turn around to know it was Ash. He, Misty, and Brock were jogging toward us, Pikachu riding on Ash's shoulder.
Gary groaned, his hands flying to his hips. "Ashy-boy, why the heck are you following us? Don't you have some Caterpies to catch or some rocks to trip over?"
Ash puffed out his chest, looking Gary dead in the eye. "We're going to the same destination anyway, Gary! Might as well travel together. It's safer in a group, right Brock?"
Brock nodded, though he was busy staring at a map. "Statistically, he's not wrong. Plus, the route ahead is known for being... unpredictable."
Gary looked at me, then back at Ash. He knew exactly what was happening. Ash didn't want to leave Gary and me alone. It was a mix of rivalry, protectiveness, and that weird, unnamable jealousy that had been brewing since the school gates. But Gary, being the sophisticated egoist he was, just rolled his eyes and started walking.
I didn't mind. Nelly's "Canon Cartography" was pinging like a sonar. According to the map, the next major "hotspot" was the Hidden Village—a sanctuary for injured and abandoned Pokémon. And after that? The abandoned rock where Goldie's predecessor had once waited. If I stayed with Ash, I was guaranteed to hit the narrative nodes perfectly.
Plus, Brock was currently pulling a portable stove out of his pack. The smell of his cooking was already beginning to drift through the air.
*I am a G-Pro recruit,* I told myself. *I am a researcher. I am a survivor. And I am definitely staying for the stew.*
---
he Oddish and the Irony
"Look! An Oddish!" Misty's voice broke the silence, sharp and excited.
Near a crystal-clear pond, a small, blue-bodied Pokémon with a crown of lush green leaves was dipping its feet into the water. It looked peaceful, serene, and—most importantly—vulnerable.
"Wow, I want to catch that!" Misty exclaimed, reaching for a Pokéball.
I paused, tilting my head. "Misty, aren't you a Water-type specialist? That's a Grass/Poison type. It's literally the natural enemy of your entire roster."
Misty didn't even look back. "It was near water, Regina! That makes it an honorary Water-adjacent Pokémon in my book! Don't judge my process!"
I shrugged. "No comments. Your funeral, your Pokedollars."
Misty stepped forward, but as she got closer, the Oddish's leaves quivered. It let out a tiny, frightened squeak, its large red eyes filling with tears. It backed away, its little roots tripping over the grass.
"She looks a bit scared," Misty noted, her tone softening. But the "Trainer Instinct" was too strong. She needed the catch. "Starmie, go! Water Gun, gently!"
The star-shaped Pokémon emerged, its core pulsing with a soft light. A stream of water knocked the Oddish off its feet. It was a standard, textbook capture setup. Misty threw the ball—a clean arc toward the dazed Oddish.
WHIP-CRACK.
A vine, thick and fast as a lightning bolt, lashed out from the tall grass. It intercepted the Pokéball mid-air, smashing it into the dirt.
Then, he stepped out.
The Bulbasaur was smaller than the one Gary and I had earned in the Garden, but its presence was massive. Its eyes were narrowed into fierce, protective slits. It didn't look like a wild animal; it looked like a soldier guarding a refugee.
With a single, fluid motion, the Bulbasaur launched a Vine Whip that sent Misty's Starmie reeling.
The Green-Eyed Monster
The silence that followed was heavy with the sound of my own internal screaming.
"Gary," I said, my voice trembling with a very specific kind of rage. "Tell me I didn't just see that."
Gary was standing as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the spot where the Bulbasaur had disappeared. "You saw it, Regina. A wild, high-potential Bulbasaur. Just... wandering around. On a public route."
"Gary..." I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of awe and homicidal rage. "Could Ash's luck actually be that good? We... we spent **1.5 million Pokedollars each** to feed an entire botanical garden. We spent three days doing manual labor. We negotiated with a mountain-sized Venusaur just to get a Pseudo-Champion Seed. And he just walk in on one, for free."
"Don't," Gary hissed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his belt.
"Nelly," I muttered under my breath. "Scan that Bulbasaur. Give me the potential readout."
**[Data Scan: Bulbasaur (Wild)]**
* **Class:** Pseudo-Champion
* **Potential:** Royal Tier (Peak)
* **Ability:** Chlorophyll (Hidden)
I felt a vein in my forehead begin to throb. "He just... he just found one. In the wild. Drinking water. For free."
Gary looked at me, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "How high, Regina? Tell me the truth. Is it a trash-tier? Is it an 'Elite'?"
I let out a ragged, hysterical chuckle. "It's the same as ours, Gary. High-tier Pseudo-Champion potential. With a defensive trait that would make a G-Pro recruiter sell their own mother."
I grabbed Gary by the lapels of his expensive purple sweater, shaking him. "Gary, hold me back. Hold me back or I am going to tackle that kid into the pond. It's not fair! The universe is literally handing him the 'Main Character' package while we're out here grinding for scraps!"
Gary didn't move. He was staring at the back of Ash's head with a look of pure, unadulterated envy. "I think you should rather stop me from killing him, Regina. My grandfather has three of those in the lab, and I had to pay a fortune in kibble to get my own 'Self-Made' version... and Ash just... he just finds one?"
We stood there, two "Elite" trainers, practically glowing with a green aura that had nothing to do with Grass-types. Ash, meanwhile, was busy cheering. "Did you see that, guys?! That Bulbasaur was awesome! I'm definitely catching it next time!"
"I hate him," Gary and I said in perfect unison.
---
### The Bridge and the Abyss
"We need to cross the river," Brock said, pointing to a rope bridge that looked like it had been constructed by someone who had a deep-seated hatred for human life. It swayed precariously over a churning, white-water rapid.
"Yeah, no," I said, reaching for my belt. "Fearow, center stage!"
"Pidgeotto, let's go," Gary added, his voice still tight with resentment.
We hopped onto our respective flyers, the wind whipping through our hair as we rose above the canopy. Below us, Ash looked up, his jaw dropping.
"Hey! That's a great idea! Pidgeotto, come on out!" Ash released his own bird, but he only had one. Misty and Brock were left standing at the edge of the bridge, looking at the swaying ropes with profound dread.
"I'll carry Pikachu!" Ash yelled, hopping onto his Pidgeotto. "Misty, Brock, you guys start crossing! We'll keep watch from above!"
It was a disaster waiting to happen. As Misty and Brock reached the center of the span, a sudden gust of wind—sharp and jagged—ripped through the gorge. The old ropes, weathered by years of neglect, finally gave way with a sickening *CRACK*.
"BROCK!"
The bridge snapped. Brock, who had been leading the way, was catapulted into the air. He flailed for a second before plunging into the roaring river below.
"MISTY! PIKACHU!" Ash screamed.
Misty was dangling from a single frayed rope, Pikachu clinging to her hair. Ash's Pidgeotto dived, and with a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, Ash managed to lean out and grab Misty's arm, hauling her and the mouse up onto the bird's back.
Gary and I circled down, scanning the churning water. "Brock's gone!" I yelled over the roar of the wind. "The current's too fast!"
We spent the next hour scouring the riverbanks. Ash was a wreck, his face pale, his eyes scanning every rock and fallen log. Misty was shivering, her hands tucked into her soaked vest.
"We'll find him," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Brock's a rock-type specialist. He's sturdy."
As we made our way down to a calmer stretch of the river, the ground suddenly vanished beneath Misty's feet.
"WHOA!"
She disappeared into a hole. We all rushed forward. It was a pit trap—deep, well-camouflaged, and smelling suspiciously of Team Rocket's brand of idiocy.
"I'm okay!" Misty's voice echoed from the dark. "But I'm covered in dirt! This is the worst day ever!"
Ash pulled her out, but ten minutes later, a stray rope caught Misty's toe.
*SNAP.*
Before I could even shout a warning, a net hidden beneath the leaves whipped upward, scooping Ash, Misty, and Pikachu into a tangled mess of hemp and vines. They dangled five feet off the ground, swinging back and forth like a bunch of oversized Exeggcute.
"Are you kidding me?!" I groaned, leaning against a tree. "Is this a forest or a funhouse?"
"Maybe Brock was washed to sea," Ash speculated from inside the net, his voice muffled by Pikachu's tail. "Maybe he was shanghaied by pirates! He's probably on a ship right now, forced to cook for a crew of scurvy-ridden ruffians!"
"Ash, we are in the middle of a forest," Gary sighed, rubbing his temples. "There are no pirates here."
"Actually," a voice drifted from the bushes, "the pirates were surprisingly polite about the whole 'no-shoes' policy."
The bushes parted, and there was Brock. He looked remarkably dry, his clothes ironed, and a serene, almost dazed expression on his face. He walked over and, with a quick flick of a knife, sliced the net, dropping the trio into a heap on the grass.
"Brock!" Ash yelled, hugging him. "You're alive! Did you fight the pirates?!"
"No pirates, Ash," Brock said, his eyes glazing over as he looked toward a hidden path. "I was caught in the rapids... the water was cold, the rocks were sharp... and then, I saw her. An angel in a blue dress. She pulled me from the water. She saved me."
Brock turned, gesturing toward a small clearing hidden behind a veil of weeping willows. "Come. I want you to meet her. She's created a paradise."
We followed him, Gary and I sharing a skeptical look. But as we stepped through the willows, the forest opened up into a beautiful, sun-drenched valley. There were small huts made of thatch, flowerbeds that looked like they were tended by a master gardener, and Pokémon everywhere. Injured Rattatas, bandaged Oddish, and a very familiar Bulbasaur standing guard at the gate.
Standing in the center of the village was a girl. She had long, dark hair tied with a simple ribbon, and a smile that radiated a pure, unadulterated kindness.
"Everyone," Brock said, his voice dropping into a reverent whisper. "This is Melanie. And this... this is the Hidden Village."
I looked at Melanie, then at the Bulbasaur at her side. The "G-Pro" investigator in me was already scanning the area for data, but for a moment, even I was silent. Because in the middle of a world of competition, greed, and 1.5-million-dollar kibble, we had found something that wasn't for sale.
"Welcome," Melanie said, her eyes warm. "I hope the traps didn't cause too much trouble. We have to be careful... not everyone who finds this place has a kind heart."
I looked at Gary, and then at Ash. The journey to Vermilion had just taken a very "hidden" detour.