Whoever's idea it was to make the age of adults 14 was going to get a clean knuckle sandwich when he found them.
He had absolutely no life skills, and the streets were unforgiving.
Being basically homeless was not fun. If it weren't for Nurse Joy being an absolute saint of a woman, he'd have likely starved to death already.
Or robbed someone.
But sadly, he couldn't rely on her hospitality forever.
Legally, she couldn't let him stay at the Pokémon Center for much longer, and then he'd really be homeless.
'Hah… This grand adventure is off to such a shit start…'
His dream, unlike most kids his age, wasn't to become the Champion.
Instead, he only wanted to explore. To walk from one end of the world to the other, seeing all the sights as he went. From mountains to deserts, to even the seas and the bottom of the ocean.
To not be stuck in the cracks between places, scraping by.
Every other kid wanted to become a Pokémon Trainer stronger than any before. Or, if they were 'realistic', aim for being an elite four member or gym leader. Something about gaining fame, fortune, or whatever other bull-crap?
Meh.
Silas knew exactly what he wanted. And from what the teachers taught him; training Pokémon was not it. Not only was it just not interesting to him, but it seemed like a hellish endeavor.
He wouldn't mind having to worry about dieting, grooming, health care, mental health and such. That was just the basics of taking care of any creature, Pokémon included.
But battle strategies, team synergies, terrain control, and all that other stupidly complicated crap?
Just… no.
"Unfortunately…" he muttered as he sat near a river, staring into his reflection. "I'm broke and have no parents..."
Silas couldn't exactly fulfill his dream without a Pokémon. He didn't want to be a traditional trainer, but he still needed Pokémon if he was going to be an explorer. A catching limit of at least four. An air mount, a water mount, a ground mount, and a bodyguard.
So, acquiring a trainer license? Pretty much required.
There were two ways to become a Pokémon Trainer. The first was to be sponsored by some official organization or influential person. That would immediately elevate you to Rookie Trainer status, granting you a starter and everything.
Normally, the Pokéschool would sponsor any graduates so they can get off their feet.
Except Silas sort of bombed the test that would qualify him for that.
Literally.
The uh, Geodude that they lent him for the practical exam apparently knew the move Explosion. And the little shit liked using it... a lot. Nobody prepared him for that small fact, but it was also his fault since checking the Pokémon's moves was a part of the test.
Something he... didn't bother doing. Plus, even if he passed that practical, he was fairly certain he would've failed the written test.
He was kind of a mess.
The majority of the reason for his failure lay in his foolish, youthful arrogance.
'What is the difference between Thunderbolt and Thunder?' Easily, he would answer that Thunderbolt was weaker but more accurate, making it a more reliable attack.
From there, he'd stupidly believed he was a genius and stopped studying or paying attention in class.
Why study if the answers just come to you, right?
But then more technical questions came up. Things like the dietary needs of obscure Ghost-types, the chemical composition of antidotes, or the ethical dilemmas of abusing a Pokémon's innate abilities.
And suddenly, all those little facts and half-formed memories weren't enough. His so-called genius failed him.
At that point, he was so far behind it was criminal.
Now, he was stuck with the other method to becoming a Pokémon Trainer.
Shaking his head, he pulled out a letter tucked in his jacket and stared at it. His thumb caught the edge of the envelope, his hands trembling with anticipation.
Everyone knew the most basic level of Trainer License was a Rookie Trainer.
But what everyone politely ignored was that there was a level even below Rookies.
'Youngsters.'
It was something Gym Leader Giovanni had implemented personally, totally separate from the Trainer Association. Something about giving people like Silas a way off the streets? A "public service initiative" or something like that.
Honestly, Silas couldn't help but think he just wanted strong trainers for the Rocket Organization. The guy was not subtle about his fervent recruiting.
Still, the program offered a sliver of hope.
All he had to do was take a test even easier than the graduation exam, and boom. He'd get a free low-level Pokémon, the smallest of allowances, and a catching limit of exactly three.
One short of his goal.
But the way to increase his catching limit was possible, it would just take a lot of time and effort.
He swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth.
The envelope sat heavy in his hands, far too much riding on a single sheet of paper. His thumb hovered over the flap, unmoving.
'What if I just… don't pass?'
The fear behind that thought slithered in before he could stop it.
Being a Pokémon Trainer wasn't even close to his goals, but it was his only way forward. If the letter said he didn't pass then, that was it. No second chances to advance the legal way.
It was either this... or…
"Hahh…" He sighed.
Silas stared at his reflection again. He didn't see a winner, or a would-be adventurer, or even a trainer.
No, he saw a child.
He saw himself. A boy with brown skin that masked the dirt and grime that caked on him. With curly unkempt hair, and dark eyes with scary rings of crimson in the center.
A child with dirt under his nails, clothes that didn't quite fit anymore, and bags under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises. He saw wasted potential in human form.
But underneath all of that, he saw himself. Someone who refused to give in no matter the circumstances.
His expression darkened.
Even if he failed… this wasn't the end. He'd crawl his way out of this region whether the world liked it or not. The adventure he sought was not a possibility, but an inevitability.
Morality and legality be damned.
'I just hope I don't have to go that far. That would be… unpleasant.'
The envelope crinkled faintly as his grip tightened. His hands were shaking again. Then, with one sharp breath-
Crack!
Silas froze.
Someone, or something, was nearby.
He turned his gaze beyond the slope of the hill he was sitting next to. It led back to the city, but there was a small forest in between the city and his location.
Silas' eyes scanned the shadows between the trees.
A shape stumbled through the undergrowth.
It limped into the clearing on four unsteady legs, a small, trembling form outlined in the fading afternoon light. Light brown fur, matted and caked with dirt. A single ear torn at the edge. One hind leg dragged behind it, stiff and bloodied.
"Is that... an Eevee?"
It limped forward another few feet before collapsing in the gravel with a soft whimper.
"Whoa, hold on!" Silas jumped to his feet.
The Eevee twitched at his voice, trying to rise, but it only managed to stumble sideways, letting out a weak growl before curling in on itself. One of its legs bent at a crooked angle, and a deep gash ran down its side.
"It's okay," he assured it, palms raised. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
The kit looked at him warily, but didn't bolt. It didn't have the strength.
Slowly, he crept forward, until he eventually reached it. And when he did, it didn't resist.
He slipped his arms underneath it and lifted gently. Its fur was damp, heartbeat fast against his arms. It couldn't have been more than a few months old.
"Shit," he muttered. "You're a mess."
He glanced over the fence, toward the streets of Saffron City. They couldn't be far from the Pokémon Center but he'd have to take the side paths. If anyone saw him carrying a wild Eevee, unlicensed at that, he'd be just asking for trouble.
But still…
"We're going," he said, more to himself than to the dog. "You might not survive if I take any longer."
The Eevee gave a tiny whimper of a sound, soft and pained, before nuzzling weakly into his chest.
Silas looked down at it, jaw tightening.
But just as he was about to start running, a voice echoed from behind.
"Put down that Pokémon and back away slowly."
Silas flinched, hard.
He turned on a swivel, shielding the injured Pokémon in his arms on instinct.
A boy stood at the edge of the lot. Rather skinny, around the same age as Silas. Long, red hair that reached his shoulders. A Pokégear attached to a green wristband, marking him as a Rookie Trainer. Two Pokéballs on his belt, one of them already unlatched.
His Nidoking loomed behind him, breathing steady.
"I said back off," the boy repeated, taking a threatening step forward. "That Eevee's mine. I already caught it."
But Silas wasn't focused on the present moment. His mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, flashes of memories he didn't have surfacing from nowhere.
Red hair. Team Rocket. Arrogant. Thief.
The name came out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"...Silver?"
The boy froze mid-step.
His expression shifted. From confusion, to suspicion, before finally on blind rage.
"How do you know my name?!"
Silas's mouth went dry. His brain scrambled to play it off, to pull back, but it was too late.
"You're not from around here," Silver said coldly. "Nobody around here knows that name."
He took a step forward, now fully focused on Silas. "You followin' me? Did my father send you to spy on me?"
Silas's grip on the Eevee tightened, the panic within rising until he started rambling.
"That doesn't even make sense!"
Silver stopped.
The words had been blurted out before Silas could even think. But once they were out, he didn't stop. "Why would I, some random kid in an abandoned lot, be sent by anyone to spy on you? I don't even have a damn Pokémon-"
He stopped himself, glancing down at the kit trembling in his arms. "Well, technically."
A tense silence settled over the lot, broken only by the low growl of the Nidoking glaring at him.
Silver's eyes narrowed.
Then, slowly, the fury bled out of his face.
He looked over Silas once more, and Silas felt like he was being examined by a predator. The kid was about the same age as him, but it wasn't Silver that terrified him.
It was Nidoking.
The monster hadn't stopped watching him, its eyes unblinking and filled with barely in check hostility.
"Yeah…" Silver finally said. "Yeah, you're just some weakling."
He scoffed, shaking his head like he was annoyed at himself for even reacting so strongly.
"Whatever. I don't care how you knew my name. You're just some nobody, squatting in garbage with a half-dead disappointment."
He held out his hand expectantly.
"Just hand over my Pokémon, will you? I'm getting tired of looking at you."
Silas stared at the hand, then down at the Eevee. Blood still dampened the soft fur on its flank. It twitched in his arms with a soft groan.
He looked up, eyes steady now.
"No," he said. "I'm taking them to a Pokémon Center."
Silver's brows lifted, surprised by the audacity. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Silas said, shifting the fawn protectively. "They're in terrible shape. Which means you clearly weren't taking care of them."
He stepped forward, jaw set. "This Eevee's not going anywhere with you."
Silver stared at him, the disbelief fading fast into something harsher.
"Last chance," he said flatly. "My patience is running thin."
Silas didn't respond.
He stepped forward. Slowly, steadily, as if Silver wasn't there. Silver didn't say a word, just watching him with an eyebrow raised. Silas kept walking, intent on simply walking past him and adamantly going to the center.
He was almost past him when Silver's voice dropped to a snarl.
"Idiot."
Silas didn't even see it.
One moment he was walking, heart hammering in his chest, his emotions caught somewhere between courage and fear. And the next… it felt like he'd been hit by a truck.
A massive purple arm slammed into his side, and everything went sideways.
The air was forced from his lungs.
Eevee flew from his arms with a strangled yelp as he was launched clear across the lot, crashing through a trash-strewn patch of gravel and slamming hard into the rusted metal fence with a hollow clang.
Just before he passed out, he heard a voice cut through the darkness.
"Stop whining and let's go, Eevee."
And then nothing.
— [ + ] —
He wasn't awake, but he wasn't quite unconscious either.
He was… falling?
Sinking into an inky abyss, where clumps of memories wantonly impacted his consciousness.
Memories… of somewhere else.
Laughter while watching internet clowns over cheap instant noodles.
Scrolling through endless forums on a cracked phone, reading crackpot theories with amusement.
Street names in a city that didn't exist, all within a world of a different name.
Multiple birthdays. Multiple candles. Multiple cakes.
An incident.
The beeping of some machine in a hospital. Tears and heartfelt talks.
His own haggard face, one that didn't match the name Silas, staring back from a mirror.
…Everything.
His past life hit him all at once like a tsunami, overwhelming in its clarity and scope. He remembered now. Exactly who he was and where he came from. The reason why he had small memories and random facts in his head that didn't make sense.
The reason he knew things he shouldn't.
Because he wasn't just Silas of the Pokémon World.
He was also Silas of Earth.
A world without Pokémon.