Chapter 3: The Screen
Aarav kept moving.
Not quickly—just enough to keep momentum. Stopping too long in the open forest felt like a bad idea, especially when everything around him was alive and watching.
The path beneath his feet wasn't a proper trail, more like a suggestion. Grass was flattened in places, soil packed down by repeated movement—Pokémon, he realized, not people. The prints were wrong for human shoes. Too rounded. Too uneven.
He stepped carefully.
Pokémon were everywhere.
A group of Lechonk rooted noisily near a fallen log, snouts buried deep in the soil. They snorted and bumped into one another, completely uninterested in him. Farther up, a Tarountula clung to a tree trunk, silk threads glinting faintly in the sunlight as it adjusted its position.
Aarav slowed instinctively.
"Okay… just passing through," he murmured, even though he knew they didn't understand his words.
His heart was still beating too fast, but not from fear anymore. It was something else—something dangerously close to excitement. The kind he hadn't felt since he was a kid himself, watching Pokémon battles on a screen and wondering what it would be like to stand there in person.
Except now he was standing there.
The forest felt untamed in a way the anime never fully captured. Pokémon weren't waiting to be encountered. They were living their lives—feeding, resting, watching.
A sudden buzz made him flinch.
A Pawmi scurried across the path in front of him, cheeks sparking faintly as static danced around its fur. It paused mid-step, glanced up at him, then hurried off into the undergrowth.
Aarav laughed under his breath.
"Right. Definitely Paldea."
He kept going.
The terrain shifted subtly as he walked. Trees thinned, giving way to open patches where sunlight hit the ground more directly. Wildflowers dotted the grass, and with them came more Pokémon.
A pair of Smoliv rolled lazily across a slope, their bodies wobbling as they went. One bumped gently into Aarav's shoe and immediately froze, eyes wide.
Aarav froze too.
They stared at each other.
Then the Smoliv wobbled away as if nothing had happened.
He let out the breath he'd been holding.
"I really don't want to start my second life by getting attacked," he muttered.
Despite his caution, he couldn't deny the feeling building in his chest.
This was real.
This was the world he'd memorized maps of, argued about online, watched for years. And now he was inside it—no screen, no safety barrier.
He didn't know what to do yet.
But he wanted to see more.
As he rounded a bend in the path, the forest opened into a wider clearing. Tall grass swayed gently, hiding movement beneath the surface. He stopped immediately.
Tall grass was never empty.
A rustle confirmed it.
Something darted through the blades, too quick to identify. Another followed, then another. Shapes shifted just out of view.
Aarav backed up slowly, careful not to step deeper in.
"Not today," he said quietly.
The grass parted near the edge, and a Fletchling burst upward, wings flapping hard as it escaped whatever had startled it. A second later, a sleek Maschiff emerged, nose low to the ground, clearly tracking something.
The Maschiff noticed Aarav.
It stopped.
Its ears rose. Eyes locked onto him.
Aarav didn't move.
Maschiff weren't aggressive by default, but they were territorial. And he had no Pokémon. No way to defend himself.
He slowly raised his hands, palms open.
"Easy," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I'm leaving."
The Maschiff sniffed the air, growled low in its throat, then turned and padded back into the grass, apparently deciding he wasn't worth the effort.
Aarav waited a full ten seconds before moving again.
His palms were sweaty.
"Okay," he breathed. "That could've gone worse."
He stepped around the clearing instead of through it, adding distance even if it meant more walking. As he moved, his excitement dulled into something more grounded.
This world wasn't a game.
Pokémon weren't obstacles or collectibles. They were neighbors—and some of them could seriously hurt him.
He needed a town. A road. Anything human.
The path began sloping downward, and the forest gradually changed again. The sounds shifted—fewer rustles, more open calls. He spotted Hoppip floating lazily between trees and a Deerling grazing in the distance.
Civilization couldn't be far.
That's when his vision twitched.
Just a flicker at the edge of his sight.
Aarav stopped immediately.
He blinked.
The forest stayed put.
Probably nothing, he told himself. Stress. Lack of food. Shock.
He took another step.
The flicker returned—stronger this time. His eyes blurred as if someone had dragged a transparent film across his vision.
He stumbled and grabbed a nearby tree for balance.
"Whoa—okay," he said, forcing himself to breathe. "Not now."
The blur didn't fade.
Instead, it sharpened.
A translucent blue shape slid into existence directly in front of him.
A rectangle.
Floating.
Perfectly aligned with his vision.
Aarav froze.
The Pokémon around him didn't react.
A Hoppip drifted straight through the space where the screen hovered, completely unaffected.
His heart pounded.
"No," he said flatly.
Text appeared.
---
Do you want to log in to your account?
---
Below it sat a single button.
YES
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No exit.
Aarav stared at it.
"This is getting ridiculous," he muttered.
He waved a hand through the screen. His fingers passed through without resistance.
He stepped sideways.
The screen followed.
He crouched.
The screen adjusted.
"Of course you track eye position," he said dryly.
A Lechonk wandered past behind the screen, snorting happily, completely unaware of Aarav's existential crisis.
He looked back at the button.
YES.
No NO.
No close option.
No ignore.
Aarav swallowed.
He didn't like this.
He didn't like unknown systems, unknown rules, unknown consequences. He liked information. Data. Clear cause and effect.
But at this point, his life had already gone far past reasonable expectations.
Reincarnated. Younger body. Pokémon world. Paldea wilderness.
Could it really get more weird?
He glanced around once more.
Pokémon everywhere.
Real, breathing, existing Pokémon.
Whatever this screen was, it hadn't erased that reality.
"If you're going to mess with me," he muttered, "you picked a bad time."
The screen didn't respond.
The button waited.
Aarav closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Fine."
He focused on the button.
Pressed YES.