The pavement of Route 12 felt different under the wheels of my skateboard. Celadon was a city of perfume and shadows, but as I headed toward the coastal route leading to Fuchsia, the air took on a heavy, stagnant quality. I knew where the Rocket switch was back at the Game Corner—the poster of the Great Dragon was burned into my memory—but I wasn't suicidal. Giovanni being in town meant the grunts guarding the basement weren't just low-level thugs; they were seasoned operatives, likely at sixth-gym-leader strength. Without concrete proof to hand to the League, trying to storm that base alone would be a one-way trip to a vacuum-sealed body bag.
So, I did what any smart researcher does: I pivoted.
I kicked off the ground, picking up speed as I neared Hop-Hop-Hop Town. My G-Pro terminal began to chirp a low-frequency warning.
*"Host, detecting anomalous Delta-wave activity,"* Nelly's voice buzzed in my ear. *"The frequency is rhythmic, mimicking a REM-sleep cycle, but the amplitude is unnatural. It's blanketing the entire residential sector."*
"I knew it," I muttered, slowing my pace. "The 'Sleepy City' incident."
I remembered the anime's version of this. Misty's Psyduck was the breakout star of this arc. Back then, it just seemed like a gag—a headache-prone duck that accidentally stumbled into power. But after months of studying the psychic-type neurological pathways in Kadabra and Mr. Mime, I knew better. To output that much raw psychic pressure without being a Psychic-type was a biological anomaly. Psyduck wasn't just 'special'; it was a latent powerhouse with a psychic reservoir that would make a Golduck blush.
As I rounded the corner into the town square, I ran straight into a scene of pure chaos. A group of adults was wandering around with glazed eyes, and in the center of the street stood **Officer Jenny**, looking frazzled, flanked by three familiar figures.
"Ash? Brock? Misty?" I called out, bringing my skateboard to a sharp halt.
"Regina!" Ash shouted, his face lighting up. "Man, am I glad to see a familiar face! Everything is going crazy here!"
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Regina," Brock said, though he looked exhausted. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances. We were heading to Celadon for Ash's next badge, but we got sidetracked by... well, this."
"Going to Fuchsia, Ash," I said, stepping off my board. "What's the situation? You guys look like you've been hit by a Confuse Ray."
"It's the kids, Regina," Misty said, her voice unusually soft. "And the Pokémon in the Center. They're all... asleep, or acting strange. Officer Jenny can't find a cause."
Ash's belt shook. A Pokéball burst open in a flash of white light, and his **Butterfree** fluttered into the air. He didn't look battle-ready; he looked like he was on a mission of the heart. He immediately flew toward me, his large eyes turning into literal puppy-dog hearts as he circled my head.
I sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of inevitable romantic drama. "I know, I know. You sense her, don't you?"
I reached for the Luxury Ball on my belt. In a burst of pink light, my Exotic Butterfree appeared. Her wings were a brilliant, shimmering rose-petal pink, laced with black patterns that looked like fine lace. She was stunning—and she knew it. Since our last training session, I had boosted her potential from a standard Gym-tier to Pseudo-Elite. She was faster, sharper, and much more arrogant.
Ash's Butterfree immediately began a frantic courtship dance, looping through the air, flapping his wings in a rhythmic pattern meant to show off his vitality. He was desperate, hopeful. Poor guy was pouring his little bug-heart out.
Sakura didn't even flutter. She hovered in place, her antennae twitching with utter boredom. She gave a sharp, dismissive *"Free-hmp!"* and turned her back on him, flying over to perch on my shoulder.
Ash's Butterfree slumped in mid-air, a grey cloud of depression practically forming over his head.
"Aw, Butterfree," Ash groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not again."
"Don't give up, Butterfree!" Brock encouraged, striking a dramatic pose. "Love is a battlefield! It is a jagged mountain path! The pain only proves that your heart is alive!"
"Brock, please, you're making it worse," Misty snapped, then turned to me. "Your Butterfree is a real heartbreaker, Regina."
I looked at the dejected butterfly and felt a pang of genuine sympathy. "Sorry, Ash. Butterfree's love for my Sakura is cute, really. But she doesn't like him, and I can't really force her to feel something she doesn't, can I? She's a career-oriented Lady-butterfly."
Ash sighed. "I just want him to be happy, you know?"
"Look on the bright side, Ash," I added, offering a small, sympathetic smile. "In the usual course of things, trainers end up leaving their Butterfree behind so they can fly across the ocean to find love during the migration. It's a tearful goodbye, very dramatic. But since Sakura has zero interest in migrating with him, your Butterfree is going to stay with you. You kept your friend because my girl is a heartbreaker."
Ash paused, his eyes widening. "Wait... you mean I don't have to say goodbye? If she says no... he stays on my team?"
"Exactly. And even if they somehow fall in love later, we don't have to say goodbye to them. We can just send them both to Professor Oak's lab for 'romantic vacations.' Both of us get to keep our Pokémon, and they get to be together. It's a win-win for us, right?"
Ash's eyes lit up. He punched the air. "Yeah! That's awesome! Butterfree, did you hear that? You don't have to leave! We can keep battling together!"
Butterfree cheered up slightly at Ash's enthusiasm, but he still cast a longing glance at Sakura.
I looked at her teasingly. "Wow, Sakura. You sure have some dedicated fans, huh? One of the most famous trainers in Kanto, and you just treat him like a Pidgey in a hurricane. You're becoming quite the diva—OW!"
Sakura hadn't even hesitated. She slapped me across the cheek with the flat of her wing. For a Bug-type, her physical strength was surprisingly high.
"Ow! It hurts!" I cried, rubbing my face. "Sorry! I won't tease! I won't—OW! Stop it! Sakura, that's assault on your own trainer!" Sakura just huffed and hmphed.
"See?" Ash cheered. "She's even tougher than Regina! That's why my Butterfree likes her!"
Buterfree nodded."free-free."
I turned to Sakura, who was preening her wing. "You know, Sakura," I whispered, "Ash's Butterfree isn't just some random bug. His potential is **Pseudo-Champion**. He's basically a king in his own right."
At the mention of "Pseudo-Champion," Ash and his Butterfree both puffed out their chests simultaneously. They looked remarkably similar in that moment—full of pride and bravado. Ash's Butterfree let out a loud, heroic cry.
Sakura, however, was not impressed. She looked at Ash's Butterfree, then looked at me. She let out a series of sharp, rhythmic "Free-free-free!" sounds.
"Translation: I don't care if he's a King," Nelly buzzed in my ear. "She says: 'Make me a Champion. Make me a Queen. I don't have time for boys when there are heights to climb.'"
Suddenly—SMACK!
Sakura slapped me across the cheek with her wing. It didn't have the force of a Gust attack, but the sheer "diva" energy behind it was staggering.
"Ow! Hey!" I yelped, rubbing my face.
She hit me again. SMACK.
"Ow! Sakura, stop! I get it! You want to train!"
She let out a huff of pink scales and flew back into her Pokéball without being asked.
"She's a handful," I muttered, still rubbing my cheek. "She doesn't want a boyfriend; she wants a crown. And apparently, she wants me to work harder to get it for her. My own Pokémon is bullying me into being a better trainer. This is my life now."
Officer Jenny cleared her throat, pulling us back to the crisis. "As fascinating as your butterfly drama is, we have a city full of children who think they're Pokémon. My scanners are pointing toward the upscale district. Are you helping or not?"
"I'm in," I said, kicking my skateboard into my hand. "My terminal can pinpoint the exact frequency."
***
The Mansion of the Sleep-Walkers
We tracked the waves to the highest point in town—a sprawling, white-stone mansion surrounded by a hedge garden so perfectly trimmed it looked like it had been cut with a laser.
The G-Pro terminal was screaming now.
"Signal strength: 98%. Source: Directly inside."
Ash and Brock didn't wait for a tactical entry. They burst through the front doors like they were expecting a Team Rocket ambush.
"Alright, give up!" Ash yelled. "Release the kids!"
But there was no Team Rocket. To our surprise, the grand foyer was filled with well-dressed adults. Men in tuxedos and women in silk gowns were sitting in expensive armchairs, looking perfectly peaceful. In the center of the room, on a velvet-drenched podium, sat a Drowzee and a Hypno.
The Hypno was swaying rhythmically, its pendulum swinging in a slow, hypnotic arc.
"Oh! Guests!" A man in a pinstripe suit stood up, smiling warmly. "Welcome to the Pokémon Lover's Club. Please, lower your voices. We are in the middle of a session."
"A session of what?" Misty demanded, looking around. "Where are the missing children?"
"The children? What Children." The man chuckled. "We are just healing here Officer. You see, the city life... it's so stressful. The noise, the lights, the constant pressure to perform. We all became chronic insomniacs. We haven't had a good night's sleep in years."
He looked at the Hypno with a gaze of pure adoration.
"Three days ago, our old Drowzee finally evolved into this magnificent Hypno. We discovered that its sleep waves are a hundred times more effective than any sleeping pill. We aren't hurting anyone. We're just using its natural abilities to find a little peace."
Brock stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the Pokémon on the podium. He wasn't looking at the people; he was looking at the energy being emitted.
"You're using Hypno's waves on humans?" Brock asked, his voice low and serious.
"Of course," the woman in the gown said. "It's wonderful. We feel so light, so... free."
"That's the problem," Brock said, turning to us. "Hypno's hypnosis is biologically designed to be used on Pokémon. Their brainwaves are different. When you alter that frequency to affect humans, the feedback has to go somewhere. It's like a radio station bleeding into another channel."
He pointed toward the window. "The waves are leaking. They're affecting the Pokémon at the Center, draining their energy. And for particularly sensitive children, the frequency is causing a 'Regressive Trance.'"
Misty frowned. "A what?"
"It's making them think they're Pokémon," I added, checking my terminal. "The human brain is trying to interpret a Pokémon-frequency signal. It's scrambling their identity."
Misty looked skeptical. "It can't be that strong. It's just a sleep wave."
Before anyone could stop her, Misty stepped into the path of the Hypno's swinging pendulum.
"Hypno..." the Pokémon droned, its eyes glowing.
Misty's eyes went blank. Her arms went stiff at her sides.
"Misty?" Ash asked, poking her shoulder.
Suddenly, Misty dropped to the floor. She tucked her arms in and began to waddle across the expensive carpet, her head bobbing up and down.
"Seel! Seel! Seel!" she barked, looking exactly like a water-type Pokémon.
She scrambled out the open French doors and headed straight for the nearby park. We chased after her, only to find a sight that was both hilarious and horrifying. Dozens of children were in the park. Some were hopping like Squirtles, others were scratching the ground like Sandshrews, and one small boy was trying to "Thunderbolt" a tree like a Pikachu.
"It's just like Brock said," Officer Jenny whispered, her hand on her holster. "They've lost their minds."
Officer Jenny tried to blow her whistle and shout commands to wake them, but the children didn't even look up. They were locked in the trance, their human identities buried under the Hypno's distorted signal.
"It's no use," I said, my G-Pro terminal scanning the wavelengths. "The Hypno's wave has 'locked' their synapses. You can't just shout them awake. You need a counter-frequency."
The head of the Pokémon Lover's Club, who had followed us outside, looked genuinely distraught. He hadn't realized his 'cure' for insomnia was causing a city-wide mental breakdown.
"We didn't know!" he cried. "We just wanted to sleep! Is there any way to fix it?"
He looked at the smaller Pokémon sitting on the mansion's porch—the one that hadn't evolved yet.
"Wait," the man said, a spark of hope in his eyes. "The books say that Drowzee and Hypno share the same dream-pool. Maybe... maybe we could use Drowzee's sleep attacks to induce a specific 'Dream Wavelength' that could counteract the Hypno's signal?"
He looked at his Drowzee, then back at us.
"We have a Drowzee right here. Could that work?"