Bob Miller never had a tragic backstory. No mysterious fire that claimed his parents, no ancient prophecy that named him the chosen one, no dramatic betrayal by a childhood friend that sent him down a path of vengeance.
Nope. He was just Bob. Technically, his name was B.O.B., but he never liked the way it sounded when people tried to say it all together — too weird, too formal, too much like someone calling out a serial number. He preferred Bob. Easy, simple, and not something you'd have to explain every time you introduced yourself. And despite being painfully average in most ways, there was one thing about him that was anything but average — the thing his friends, and eventually his exes, called The Bob Curse.
A curse that was really just a combination of two things: a "bigger than average" part of his male anatomy and stamina that could rival a marathon runner on performance enhancers. Sounds like a brag? In practice, it was a relationship-killer. It wasn't something Bob liked to bring up — not exactly first-date conversation material — but it had shaped his dating life in ways no one really prepared you for. Every relationship seemed fine… until that night happened.
---
Flashback : Years ago
One of the most memorable parts of his life began when he was eighteen. It was a Saturday in late spring, the kind of day that smelled like grass clippings and fried food. The park near his apartment was holding one of those small-town festivals — funnel cake stalls dusting powdered sugar into the air, kids running wild with balloon swords, the faint sound of a local band playing covers of songs from the 80s. The smell of popcorn drifted through the warm air like an open invitation. Bob was sitting on a bench eating a hot dog that was, if he was honest, 70% bread and 30% questionable meat, wondering if he should just head home and fire up his DS instead.
That's when he noticed her. She sat a few benches away, wearing a sundress with a light cardigan, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was feeding ducks from a crinkled paper bag, her attention fully on the way the little flock waddled and jostled each other for crumbs. Every now and then, she'd smile when the smallest duck managed to grab a bite, and for reasons Bob couldn't explain, that smile was enough to get him on his feet.
"Uh… hey," he said, voice just awkward enough to make him wish he'd rehearsed it. "Mind if I sit?"
She looked up, a little surprised but not at all bothered. "Sure."
And just like that, they started talking. Her name was Emily. She was nineteen, studying early childhood education, and lived a couple blocks away. Bob told her he worked part-time at a grocery store and was saving up for his own place. They talked about the weather, about the ducks, about how overpriced funnel cakes were for what you actually got. An hour slipped by without either of them noticing.
That day turned into coffee dates. Coffee dates turned into lunch dates. Lunch dates became weekend movie nights. And after six months, they were officially a couple. Emily was the kind of girlfriend that made people jealous — thoughtful, patient, able to laugh at herself without taking things too seriously. Bob wasn't exactly smooth, but he liked to think he treated her well.
Then came that night. It wasn't exactly planned, though maybe it was a little. There was nervous laughter, whispered reassurances, and plenty of "are you okay?" along the way. The next morning, Emily came out of the bedroom in one of Bob's oversized shirts, her hair an adorable mess, cheeks still flushed — and she was walking… slower. Much slower.
"You okay?" Bob asked, trying to sound casual, even though he already knew the answer.
"Y-Yeah," she said with a shy smile. "Just… a little sore."
She made it three steps toward the kitchen before pausing, wincing, and muttering, "Okay… maybe more than a little."
Bob offered to make breakfast, and she didn't even try to argue. That afternoon, a couple of Emily's friends stopped by to drop something off. They spotted her stiff walk immediately and exchanged a look. One raised an eyebrow at Bob — the universal I know what happened signal — while the other bit her lip to keep from laughing. Emily turned scarlet and all but shoved them out the door. For the next two days, she moved like a cowboy who'd been riding cattle for a week.
Things were still good between them — comfortable, full of small laughs — but there was a quiet shift after that. A couple months later, they sat together on her porch one cool evening, mugs of tea in hand. Emily stared into her cup for a long time before speaking.
"Bob… you know you're a great guy, right?"
"Uh… thanks?"
"No, I mean it," she said, laughing a little nervously. "You're sweet, funny, patient. You've been nothing but good to me. It's just… it's not you. It's me."
Bob blinked. "You're actually saying that line?"
She smiled sadly. "Yeah… and I mean it. I'm just… not built for your level of… energy. I thought maybe I'd get used to it, but I can't. And I don't want to hold you back, or make you feel like you have to change."
Bob didn't argue. He just nodded slowly, appreciating her honesty. They hugged for a long time, warm and final. No yelling. No drama. Just… goodbye.
Bob never blamed her.
---
The years between
Bob didn't exactly plan to collect a weird dating record, but life had other ideas. Girlfriend #2 – The Barista. Her name was Lila, and she worked at a coffee shop near his apartment. She had a love for sketching in her free time and was the one who introduced Bob to oat milk lattes. Six months in, they had their "first time." The next day, she texted him:
> Hey… I think you're great, but I'm realizing I'm not ready for a relationship right now. It's not you, it's me.
Bob stared at the message, muttered, "That's two for two," and went back to sipping his coffee.
Girlfriend #3 – The Gym Girl. Maya was into yoga, kale smoothies, and saying "namaste" at the end of conversations. She had more core strength than Bob thought was humanly possible. They dated for a couple of months, and things seemed fine — until after they got intimate. The next morning, she limped out of the bedroom, still in her workout gear, looked him dead in the eye, and said, "Bob… my chiropractor's gonna think I fell down a flight of stairs." A week later, she broke it off. "You're sweet, but my body can't handle this long-term."
Girlfriend #4 – The Bookworm. Sophie was quiet, loved old libraries, and had a soft spot for bad sci-fi movies. She and Bob took it slow. Really slow. When the big night finally came, she giggled nervously the whole way through. The morning after, she sat on the edge of the bed with a dazed expression. "Bob… you know in The Lord of the Rings when Frodo has to carry the Ring and it's just… too much? Yeah. That." They still texted occasionally, but she moved to another city "for work."
Girlfriend #5 – The Goth. By 22, Bob had stopped expecting surprises. Then he met Raven. Black hair, eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, and an all-black wardrobe that made summer look like a personal challenge. Raven was confident, sarcastic, and had a morbid sense of humor Bob found oddly charming. They got along great until, inevitably, they crossed that final line. The next morning, Raven didn't limp. She swaggered into the kitchen in one of his shirts, grabbed a cup of coffee, and sat across from him.
"Dude," she said flatly, "I'm sorry, but I'm breaking up with you because you're too big."
Bob blinked. "…That's it? No 'it's me, not you'? No long speech?"
"Nope." She sipped her coffee. "You're fun, but I like walking up stairs without thinking about it. Later."
And just like that, she was gone. From that point on, Bob decided maybe relationships just weren't his thing. He still dated here and there, but nothing serious. The running joke among his friends was that Bob was the only guy they knew who could end a relationship by accident.
---
Present Day – Just Another Morning
Bob's alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. sharp, blaring some cheerful pop song he didn't even like. He smacked the snooze button, groaned into his pillow for a good thirty seconds, then rolled out of bed like a man reluctantly answering the call to war. First stop: bathroom. The toilet gurgled like it was judging him, but it got the job done. Shower next — hot enough to wake him up but not so hot he felt like he was being boiled alive. He shaved, splashed his face with cold water, and gave his reflection a half-hearted nod.
"Still plain. Still Bob."
Breakfast was a lazy affair: two slices of toast, one egg fried just a little too much, and coffee strong enough to make his eyelids twitch. His apartment wasn't much — a small living room with a couch that sagged in the middle, a TV stand with a modest gaming setup, and a shelf lined with Pokémon and Digimon figurines. The kitchen was barely big enough for one person, but it worked.
By 8:45, he was out the door and walking to Market Town Foods, his trusty earbuds blasting old anime soundtracks.
---
Market Town Foods – Another Shift in Paradise
Bob's job wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills. Some days he worked the register or bagged groceries; other days he was "on the floor," which meant stacking shelves, restocking displays, and trying not to block the aisles with his cart while people treated the store like an obstacle course.
That morning, he was stacking cereal boxes in an aisle that smelled faintly of sugar and cardboard. A kid stopped beside him, pointed at the cartoon tiger on the Frosted Flakes box, and loudly announced to his mom, "This tiger could beat Pikachu in a fight." Bob froze, mid-stack, fighting the overwhelming urge to turn and explain exactly why that statement was blasphemous. Don't do it, Bob. Don't crush the child's spirit.
Later, he bagged groceries for Mrs. Henderson, an elderly regular with a sharp tongue and a habit of giving unsolicited life advice like it was on clearance. "You need a girlfriend, Bobby," she said, watching him double-bag her bread like she was judging a competition. "One that can cook and doesn't mind that you're tall."
"I'm average height," he muttered. She ignored him completely, like she always did.
By noon, Bob was restocking canned goods. Jason, a coworker with the energy of someone who'd already mentally quit months ago, passed by pushing a cart of random stock. "Bet you a soda you'll get stuck helping with the pallet unload later," he whispered.
"You say that like I'm not already planning my escape," Bob replied without missing a beat.
---
The hours passed in that strange rhythm only retail could provide — a mix of mild boredom, awkward small talk, and the occasional ridiculous customer request. By the time 5:00 rolled around, Bob had clocked out, changed into his hoodie, and was walking home with his earbuds back in, letting his playlist carry him away from the world of price checks and "do you have this in the back?"
His playlist shuffled to Hold On by Korn, and the first grinding riff hit him right in the chest.
> With aversion, this insertion came so swiftly. Cut the cord, from this day forward we'll be drifting.
He walked under a ladder without a second thought. Above, a painter's grip slipped and a bucket of white paint tilted dangerously… but Bob took a step to the side in time with the drums, completely avoiding the splash.
> No direction, no affection, watch the soul dive. You're dissected, resurrected, still don't know why.
At the crosswalk, the light turned green. A delivery truck came screaming through the red just inches from his path. Bob paused to zip his hoodie, and the truck tore past like an angry steel beast.
> This illness is like a monster that is eating us alive.
Two blocks later, a flowerpot plummeted from a balcony. It shattered on the pavement exactly where Bob's head had been — but he'd stopped to retie his shoe, still nodding to the music.
> Hold on! Be strong! So right! So wrong!
The universe kept throwing hazards at him. A cyclist veered out of control, missing him by a hair.
> With all of our senses! All of our defenses!
A man carrying a pane of glass stumbled, the sheet wobbling just behind Bob's back.
> Hold on! Be strong!
A baseball came flying like a rocket — Bob bent to pick up a coin from the sidewalk, and it zipped harmlessly over him.
> New arrival, our survival, still not certain. What's a virtue? Where do you go to when you're hurting?
Anyone watching would think he had supernatural reflexes. Bob, of course, had no idea.
> It's a weakness, it's a sickness in the gene pool. Show no mercy, people here say "kill the damned fool." This illness is like a monster that is eating us alive.
He was just vibing, Korn screaming in his ears as he marched down the street, lost in his own private music video.
> Hold on! Be strong! So right! So wrong! With all of our senses! All of our defenses! Hold on! Be strong!
Bob turned the corner toward his apartment building, still nodding to the beat.
> My soul, blood, run… Don't ever let me go, no! Don't ever let me go, no!
A siren wailed somewhere in the distance, but he barely heard it over the crunch of guitars in his ears.
> Never never let you go, no! I'll never let you go, no—
WHUMP!
The ground shook as a shadow fell over him. Bob's eyes darted up just in time to see an enormous yellow face, black-tipped ears, red cheeks, descending from above like a happy, plush meteor.
It was a Pikachu.
No… not a real one.
A parade float.
It tore loose from whatever tether had been holding it, caught a gust of wind, and was now in full kamikaze mode.
Bob had enough time to mutter, "…That's new," before the giant inflated mascot slammed into him, knocking the earbuds out of his ears and replacing the music with total blackness.
----
location: unknown
Pain. That was the first thing Bob felt — deep, body-wide soreness that made him wonder if someone had swapped his bones for wet cement. He groaned and cracked his eyes open. Above him stretched a sky so blue it looked painted, framed by swaying trees. The air was warm, heavy, and far too clean to be anywhere near his city.
"Okay… still alive. Still hurt. And… definitely not my street anymore."
Pushing himself up, he scanned the clearing. Grass. Trees. No people. No buildings. Just quiet… too quiet.
From somewhere in the dense foliage, a short, sharp coo echoed — it sounded oddly like a Pidgey call from the old Game Boy games, but that was impossible… wasn't it? Then a flash of patterned wings caught the light far above — a Butterfree? No, it couldn't be. He rubbed his eyes, but when he opened them again, a small purple shape darted from the grass and disappeared into the brush with a quick, chittering sound.
"…No way," Bob muttered.
---
From somewhere in the dense foliage, a tall, pale figure watched.
Bob didn't notice — at first. His focus was on the quiet. It was the kind of silence that wasn't natural, the kind that made your ears strain for sound. The wind barely moved, carrying only the faint smell of damp earth and something faintly sweet, like wildflowers. His sneakers crunched on the mossy ground as he wandered forward, occasionally pausing to look at the oversized leaves or the way shafts of sunlight broke through the treetops like spotlights.
The feeling of being watched crept up on him slowly. That subtle prickle at the back of his neck. The hair on his arms starting to rise. He glanced left nothing. Right just more trees. The kind of place that would have been relaxing if it weren't for the creeping sensation that someone or something was matching his every step.
Unbeknownst to him, every time he moved, the figure shifted too. When he turned his head, it slid behind a tree without a sound. When he crouched to examine a strange flower a pale, glowing thing that looked suspiciously like something straight out of a video game the faint hem of a gown-like shape disappeared from sight just a few feet away.
Once, he stopped to tie his shoe and thought he heard a branch creak. He looked up, scanning the trees. Nothing but green leaves and sunlight dappling the forest floor. He shrugged and kept moving, still unaware of the faint blue shimmer of hair retreating behind a trunk.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, and with it, the temperature. Humidity clung to his clothes like a second skin, making every breath feel heavier. Bob's hoodie was tied around his waist by now, his T-shirt sticking to his back.
When he found a small stream, it was like stumbling into an advertisement for bottled water — crystal clear, bubbling gently over smooth stones, the sunlight making it sparkle like it had been edited in post-production.
"Alright," he muttered, "nature spa day."
He stripped down without ceremony, leaving his clothes in a loose pile on the bank. The shock of the cool water against his overheated skin made him exhale sharply. "Ohhh, yeah… that's the stuff."
Unseen, the figure moved closer, silent as mist rolling over the ground. A branch bent and swayed above the water, but Bob was too busy dunking his head under to notice.
The air seemed to still. The birds went quiet.
When Bob came up for air, wiping his face, he froze.
She was there.
Tall. Elegant. Floating just above the ground, her pale gown-like body moving with an almost hypnotic sway. Long, shimmering blue hair framed a face both regal and… shy? Her eyes — glowing ruby — locked onto him with an intensity that made the back of his neck tighten.
Bob blinked. His brain ran through a hundred possibilities, but only one made sense. "…No way…"
It was a Gardevoir.
Not just any Gardevoir — a shiny variant, and an alpha at that. Towering over him, her proportions closer to something out of a fashion magazine or… well, certain corners of the internet, than the game sprites. Seven feet, easy.
She wasn't attacking. Just… watching.
Bob, still waist-deep in the stream, tilted his head. "Sooo… are you gonna say something, or are we just doing the whole awkward eye contact thing until one of us blinks?"
Her gaze flickered away for a moment, her hands coming together in front of her in a fidget that looked almost human.
"…Wait," Bob said slowly, "are you shy?"
"Garde…" she murmured, so softly it was almost swallowed by the sound of the stream.
Bob tilted his head further, trying to wrap his brain around it. "Right. Big psychic Alpha Pokémon, could erase me with a thought… and you're acting like I just asked you to dance at prom. Weird day."
Her eyes darted back to him briefly, then away again. Fingers twisted together in a way that seemed far too self-conscious for a creature that could probably throw him into the stratosphere.
"Look," Bob sighed, "I don't know where I am, how I got here, or why you're standing there like a tall glass of 'oh no'—"
"Voir."
"That sounded suspiciously like 'shut up.'"
"Gardevoir."
"Yup. Definitely 'shut up.'"
That's when it hit him — a strange, warm pressure in his head, like someone had just laid a weighted blanket over his thoughts. His knees wobbled.
"Ohhh… okay, so we're doing this? Some kind of psychic nap time? Fine, but I'm not—"
THUNK.
Something hard — and surprisingly heavy — cracked against the back of his skull. His vision swam, the warmth in his head dragging him down into darkness before he could even turn around.
---
location: cave
Bob woke to the sound of dripping water. His eyes opened slowly, vision adjusting to a dim, earthy glow. Above him, a narrow crack let in a thin stream of sunlight, dust motes drifting lazily in the beam. The air smelled faintly of moss and something floral.
The bed beneath him — if you could call it that — was a nest of woven grass and moss, springy yet soft enough to make him wonder if this was some kind of Pokémon-world luxury mattress. Off to one side, a shallow bowl of water sat beside a neat pile of berries, their skins glistening faintly in the light.
And there she was.
The shiny Alpha Gardevoir sat a few feet away, knees drawn in slightly, hands folded in her lap. Her gaze flicked to him once, quick as lightning, before she looked away again, cheeks faintly pink.
Bob pushed himself up onto one elbow. "Let me guess — you're the one who dragged me here?"
"Garde…"
"And… my clothes didn't make the trip. Which is… bold."
Her blush deepened, her fingers tightening against each other.
Bob stretched lazily, unbothered by his lack of attire. "Relax. If you were gonna kill me, you probably would've done it before tucking me into this moss bed. So… why keep me here? Need a pet human? Trophy? Conversation piece?"
Her eyes darted toward him again, only to quickly return to the cave wall.
Bob caught it. "Uh-huh. Thought so. You're staring every few seconds. Just saying — if I'm supposed to feel self-conscious, you're gonna have to try harder."
When he stood and took a step toward the cave mouth, an invisible wall of psychic force pressed against his chest. Firm, but not aggressive — more like someone holding you back from walking into traffic.
Bob raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're gonna keep me here? What's outside — a wild stampede? Swarm of Beedrill? Angry Girl Scouts?"
No answer.
Then, without warning, the air shimmered around him. His stomach dropped as he was lifted clean off the ground, legs kicking as the psychic energy cradled him like a toy.
"Hey! You can't just yoink me around like—"
The force lowered him gently back onto the moss bed… and then didn't let go.
The towering Gardevoir stepped forward. Her blush somehow deepened even more, her movements slow and deliberate.
Bob blinked. "Uh… you're kinda close. Like… really close."
She didn't respond — just kept moving until her knees rested on either side of him, pinning him in place.
"…Okay, look, I'm not saying I'm against tall women, but— wait, why are you— oh no." Bob put a hand to his forehead. "My body is not ready."
Her gown shifted with the movement of her hips, the silky folds sliding like water… and then down her shoulders.
Bob's brain short-circuited. "Hold on — you can take that off? That's a thing you can do?!"
She looked away shyly, but didn't move back.
Bob swallowed. "I have about fifteen logical questions right now, but I'm also way too distracted to ask them."
And then she moved forward.
The scene blurred as his back met the moss bed again, her long hair cascading around them like a curtain. The blush on her face was brighter now, her breathing faster. One knee brushed against his side, and the last coherent thought Bob had was …my body is definitely not ready before her psychic hold pinned him completely.
—CUT TO OUTSIDE THE CAVE—
A small group of wild Pokémon were foraging nearby. A Buneary froze mid-hop, ears twitching at the faint sound of… moaning? It tilted its head.
A Pidgeotto landed on a branch, cocking its head at the strange muffled noises drifting out of the cave.
The moans grew louder, mixed with gasps, occasional thuds against stone, and… was that laughter?
From deeper in the forest, a Bibarel carrying a stick in its mouth stopped, blinked, and slowly turned around like it wanted no part of whatever was going on.
Then it happened — a sudden, powerful psychic shockwave blasted out from the cave mouth. Not hostile, but intense.
The Buneary was knocked onto its back, legs kicking in confusion. The Pidgeotto squawked and flapped away in a panic. A startled Paras released a puff of spores and toppled sideways like it had just seen the face of Arceus.
Somewhere nearby, a Rattata peeked out from its hole, eyes wide, then immediately darted back underground like Nope. Not today.
The psychic flare faded, replaced by a deep, echoing silence… broken only by the sound of a few pebbles sliding down from the cave mouth.
—NEXT DAY—
Sunlight crept into the cave in thin, golden beams, spilling over the moss bed like a spotlight on the chaos left behind. The once-neat pile of grass and woven greenery now looked like it had survived a small natural disaster. The berries were gone, the water bowl tipped on its side, and even a few small rocks had been knocked loose from the cave wall — as if the stone itself had been stressed by what happened here last night.
Bob groaned softly, blinking against the light. His body was sore, but in that oddly satisfying post-victory kind of way — the kind where you knew you'd earned the aches. He shifted slightly, only to realize two things at once:
One — he was completely naked.
Two — so was the shiny Alpha Gardevoir lying beneath him.
She was flat on her back, her long blue hair fanned out around her like silk on the moss, her chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. The faint blush from last night still lingered on her cheeks, even in sleep.
Bob propped himself up on one elbow, studying her for a long moment. "…Well," he murmured, voice dry, "that happened."
He glanced around at the state of the cave and let out a low whistle. "And judging by the damage, I think the place is gonna need therapy."
From beneath him came a faint, tired "Garde…" — soft and weak, but with an oddly content tone.
Bob smirked, brushing a stray bit of moss from her hair. "You're welcome, by the way. Not every day you meet someone who can keep up… actually, correction — not every day I meet someone I can outpace."
She didn't answer, just exhaled slowly, eyes still half-lidded from exhaustion.
Bob leaned back, stretching until his spine popped, the sound echoing faintly off the stone. "Yup… weirdest Tuesday ever. And I work as a bagger, so that's saying something."
It happened then — sudden and completely out of place.
From nowhere — and everywhere at once — came the unmistakable Windows 98 startup sound.
DUN-dun-DUUUN-dun…
Bob froze mid-stretch. "…Oh, come on. There's no way I'm hearing that right now."
A bright, overly chipper female voice rang directly inside his head:
{Congratulations, user! You have successfully booted into the Pokémon Partner Protocol™ 2000 Edition! And lucky you, you got me! Aqua — your beautiful, all-knowing, totally infallible system guide!}
Bob slowly lowered his arms, staring at the ceiling. "…Why does my brain sound like a drunk goddess with self-esteem issues?"
{Rude!} the voice shot back instantly. {Also, I'm not drunk, I'm tipsy! Totally different thing! And for your information, you are now the chosen user in a fully immersive, open-world Pokémon experience with hardcore survival elements, dynamic relationship bonding, and—}
"Let me guess," Bob interrupted flatly, "loot?"
{Ohhh yes. Loot!} Aqua practically squealed. {And speaking of — you just completed your very first quest!}
Bob's brow furrowed. "…Quest?"
---
[QUEST COMPLETE!]
Title: Pillow Talk Pokémon
Objective: Bond with a Pokémon partner.
Status: Complete! (…wow, you really bonded, huh?)
Rewards:
• Plain Clothes (now with +1 dignity!)
• Running Shoes (style rating: minimal)
• 1 Poké Ball (slightly warm, don't ask why)
• 100 EXP → LEVEL UP!
EXP Bar: [██████████░░░░░░░░░░░░] 100/1000
---
As soon as the message faded, a neatly folded set of plain clothes, a pair of sneakers, and a single Poké Ball appeared beside the moss bed in a little puff of pixelated sparkles.
Bob looked at them, then at his very naked self, then back at the shiny Alpha Gardevoir still lying beneath him. "…Guess I can't stay like this forever. But I could enjoy her being too tired to stop me for another minute or two."
Carefully sliding out from under her, he grabbed the clothes and started dressing. The plain white T-shirt and dark cargo pants fit comfortably, and the sneakers were surprisingly cushioned for something that had just materialized out of thin air.
"Not bad," he muttered. "Breathable. Functional. Not my usual style, but I'll take it."
{Looking good, champ!} Aqua chirped in his head. {You're like a bargain-bin trainer fresh from the clearance rack!}
"Truly glowing praise," Bob replied dryly.
That's when a new voice entered his mind — softer, melodic, feminine. "Who… are you talking to?"
Bob froze mid-step. That wasn't Aqua. He turned toward the moss bed. The Gardevoir was sitting up slowly now, her gown-like body draping elegantly over her legs, her blush still faint but present.
"…You can talk?" he asked.
Her hands fidgeted in her lap. "Only to you… now. After… last night, we share a link. I can speak in your mind."
Bob blinked. "…So, basically, we unlocked free psychic Wi-Fi?"
She tilted her head in clear confusion at the term, but nodded slightly.
{Yup, you're bonded!} Aqua cut in cheerfully. {Congratulations! You now have access to your partner's thoughts, emotions, and possibly embarrassing daydreams! Disclaimer: system not responsible for psychic-induced awkwardness.}
Bob ignored her, crouching beside Gardevoir. "You, uh… feeling okay? You were kinda… wiped out."
Her blush deepened. "I… didn't think a human could have that much stamina."
{Ohhh, she noticed,} Aqua snorted in the corner of his mind. {Bet she's already writing mental fanfiction about you.}
Bob's eyebrow twitched. "Aqua, shut up."
"Who is Aqua?" Gardevoir asked softly, genuinely curious.
"Nobody," Bob said quickly. "Just… my brain being annoying."
She gave him a shy smile, then gestured toward the small pile of berries that had somehow survived the night. "You should eat… you'll need your strength."
Bob smirked. "You're not planning round two already, are you?"
Her cheeks went crimson. "N-no!"
Aqua, of course, added helpfully: {She's totally thinking about it.}
Bob sighed, shaking his head.
-----
They left the cave together, stepping into the crisp morning air. The forest greeted them with bright trills from bird Pokémon, the rustle of grass, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifting on the breeze.
Bob's stomach growled. "Alright, rule one of surviving — breakfast."
Gardevoir nodded. "I'll find berries… and meat."
He paused. "…Meat? Like actual Pokémon meat?"
She didn't answer, just floated ahead silently.
Within minutes, she had gathered seven types of berries, explaining each as she passed them over:
Blueheart (Oran berry) — "We call them 'Bluehearts.' Heal wounds, make you feel full, taste like sweet water."
Drowsydrop (Chesto berry) — "Bitter at first, then clears sleep instantly."
Flamebud (Cheri berry) — "Hot and sharp. Warms the body quickly."
Velvetbite (Pecha berry) — "Sweet, cures poison, and calms hatchlings."
Sourspark (Sitrus berry) — "Sharp taste, gives a rush of energy."
Bob bit into a Blueheart. "Sweet water, huh? Yeah, that tracks."
While he filled his hands with berries, Gardevoir stopped mid-step. Her eyes glowed ruby-red — then in an instant, she vanished and reappeared mid-air above a perched Pidgey. One clean psychic strike later, it dropped like a stone.
Bob blinked. "…Okay, we're doing this now?"
Before he could react, a shadow passed overhead — a Pidgeotto circling low. She focused, a psychic lance shooting upward. The bird hit the forest floor with a heavy thump.
A ping rang in Bob's head.
---
[EXP GAINED!]
Pidgey defeated — +34 EXP
Pidgeotto defeated — +97 EXP
EXP Bar: [█████████████░░░░░░░░░] 231/1000
---
Bob glanced at the readout. "Wait, I get EXP for this?"
{Yup!} Aqua chirped. {Wild Pokémon are valid targets for leveling — bonus points if you eat what you kill! Just don't try it with anything over six feet tall unless you enjoy becoming lunch.}
Bob sighed, looking at the two limp bodies. "…This world's a little darker than I thought."
Bob stood over the two motionless bodies for a long moment. The forest around them seemed to quiet, the chirping and rustling fading into an uncomfortable stillness. The Pidgey's feathers were still warm, the Pidgeotto's wing twisted awkwardly under its own weight. He didn't move — just stared at them, something heavy settling in his chest. In his world, these were just pixels and hit points, cute little sprites to faint and heal at a Center. Here… the color of their feathers was vivid, the faint smell of blood was already sharp in the cool morning air, and he could see the slight cloudiness forming in their glassy eyes. Damn… they were alive less than a minute ago.
Gardevoir floated forward, eyes calm but focused. She didn't hesitate, didn't falter — as if this act was as normal as breathing. A small rock on the ground shivered, then lifted into the air, twisting under her psychic grip until its edge became jagged and sharp. Bob watched, still unmoving, as she knelt beside the Pidgeotto. With a swift, efficient motion, she dragged the stone across the bird's throat — more out of precision than necessity — then began plucking feathers in smooth, practiced pulls. He turned away, walking a few paces to a clearing and forcing himself to focus. "Alright… wood. Fire. Cooking. Just… keep your hands busy."
{Aww, is little Bobby getting squeamish?} Aqua's voice rang cheerfully in his head.
"I'm not squeamish," he muttered, grabbing a fallen branch and snapping it over his knee. "I just… wasn't expecting breakfast to start with a public execution."
Behind him, there was a wet snap as Gardevoir twisted the Pidgeotto's head off cleanly, setting it aside without expression. She repeated the process with the Pidgey, the psychic-sharpened stone flashing briefly as she opened each carcass with surgical precision. The smell hit him next — metallic, raw, and far more pungent than anything from a butcher's shop. He kept collecting sticks and branches, trying not to look, but curiosity had a way of dragging his gaze back. Gardevoir's hands moved quickly, pulling free the slick ropes of internal organs, separating them in neat piles before tossing them into the underbrush. Somewhere deeper in the forest, something rustled — drawn by the scent.
Bob swallowed. "You just… do this without thinking?"
She glanced at him, then back to her work. "It's how I survive."
The heads went next — tossed far into the trees with a psychic flick. The thump of them hitting the ground was oddly loud in the still air. Bob set his pile of wood down in the center of the clearing and crouched over it. She's done this before. Probably more times than I want to imagine.
He knelt by the small pile of twigs and branches, muttering to himself as he grabbed two sticks. "Alright… basic survival 101. Just like the movies. Rub the sticks together, get some smoke, make fire." He pressed the ends together and started moving his hands in rapid, awkward bursts. The dry sticks squeaked against each other, dust falling in tiny puffs. Sweat beaded on his forehead after less than a minute. Nothing. "Okay," he grunted, trying again, faster this time. His hands started to burn before the wood did. "Come on, work with me here. You're a stick. Your whole job is to catch on fire!"
{Pro tip:} Aqua chimed in sweetly, {fire-making in real life isn't like Minecraft. You can't just rub two logs and get instant campfire mode.}
"I noticed!" Bob snapped, still furiously rubbing the sticks. "Any other helpful advice, Captain Obvious?"
{Yeah — stop embarrassing yourself and ask your seven-foot psychic girlfriend to light it for you.}
Bob was about to retort when a faint shadow fell over him. He looked up just in time to see Gardevoir tilt her head slightly, one graceful hand extending. A small blue flame — soft and almost pretty — floated into existence above her palm. It drifted downward, curling and twisting until it landed in the kindling.
FWUMP.
In seconds, the twigs were crackling cheerfully, the fire already big enough to roast with.
Bob sat back, staring at it. "…I hate you."
Her lips curved faintly, almost a smile. "You were… taking too long."
{Translation: she couldn't stand watching you try to start a fire like a caveman who skipped all his survival merit badges,} Aqua said smugly.
Bob sighed, muttering, "I was this close," as he held his fingers half an inch apart.
----
They ate in relative silence for a while, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the occasional call of a distant Pokémon. Halfway through his portion, Bob glanced at her. "So… you want to be captured?"
Her chewing slowed. "…Captured?"
"You know — officially my Pokémon. I mean, we're already traveling together. Might as well make it official."
She looked down at the fire, silent for a long moment. "…When I was a Ralts… people tried to take me. Again and again. I fought. I hid. I ran. Some… hurt me." Her voice was calm, but there was a shadow behind it. "It is… not easy to trust."
Bob stopped eating, his expression softening. "…Yeah. I get that."
She lifted her gaze to meet his. "But… you are different. I will… think about it."
Bob gave a small shrug and reached into his pack. "Tell you what — we'll try it my way." He pulled out a Poké Ball from the starter kit Aqua had given him.
Her eyes widened slightly as he held it out to her.
"I'm not gonna force you. But this way… we get all the benefits of me being your trainer without you having to live in the ball. You can pop in and out whenever you want, and I won't keep you in there unless you ask."
Gardevoir studied him for several seconds before giving the faintest of nods. "...Alright."
Bob smiled faintly, touched the ball lightly to her chest, and in a flash of red light, she was drawn inside. The ball shook once, twice — ding.
[SYSTEM UPDATE!]
Gardevoir (Lv. 50) added to party.
Bond Bonus: +10% EXP gain when traveling together.
EXP Bonus: +5 × target level (trainer catch)
[EXP: 144 / 200 → 644 / 200]
[LEVEL UP!] → Level 2 reached!
A bright blue holographic screen flashed in Bob's vision, and Aqua's voice rang out with theatrical flair.
{Congratulations! You've survived bird decapitations, failed fire-making, and emotional trust exercises long enough to earn your very first level-up! And that means… it's perk-picking time!}
The screen shifted, displaying four glowing icons with detailed descriptions beneath each.
---
PERK SELECTION – LEVEL 2
1. Type Synergy
You and your Pokémon fight in harmony, enhancing each other's strengths.
Bonded Pokémon gain +10% damage if their attack type matches your active battle stance.
You gain a 5% resistance to moves of your partner's primary type while traveling together.
Passive effect, always active.
2. Berry Forager
Your time in the wild has sharpened your instincts for natural resources.
Doubles the number of berries found when foraging.
Occasionally identifies rare "wild variant" berries with unique effects.
Grants the ability to craft basic Berry Mix items without a PokéMart.
3. Quick Capture
You've developed a knack for catching Pokémon with style.
+10% capture rate on Pokémon at full health.
Failed captures refund 50% of the Poké Ball's cost (system credit).
First failed capture per day will not consume the Poké Ball used.
4. Guardian Bond
Your Pokémon will instinctively shield you from harm.
Once per in-game day, your active Pokémon will automatically intercept a fatal attack aimed at you.
Grants +15% defense to both trainer and Pokémon when within 10 feet of each other.
Unlocks "Protective Counter" — if a Pokémon intercepts for you, their next attack is boosted by 50%.
---
Bob crossed his arms, eyes flicking between the glowing icons. "Alright… which one's gonna make sure I don't get flattened by a Snorlax in my sleep?"
{That's for them to decide,} Aqua's voice sang in his mind, her tone dripping with playful challenge. {So… what's it gonna be, dear reader?}
The menu shimmered once more, waiting for the choice that would shape their journey ahead.
---
[END OF CHAPTER — READER CHOICE]