Salt.
That was the first thing I tasted.
Salt… and freedom.
My eyes snapped open to the cry of Pidgey wheeling overhead and the deep, resonant horn of a ship cutting through the morning mist.
For a few seconds, I didn't move.
"…Where am I?"
The sky above me was a pale gold, the sun just beginning to climb over the horizon. The ocean stretched endlessly behind the ferry's railing, waves shimmering like sheets of glass.
Then it hit.
Not pain.
Not physical.
Memories.
A small wooden house in Dendemille Town, nestled beneath windmills that turned lazily in the cold mountain breeze. Laughter echoing from the kitchen. A mother with soft hands brushing snow from my coat. A father in the backyard, commanding his Pokémon with steady confidence.
Then—
A crash.
Flames licking at broken beams.
Smoke swallowing the sky.
Silence.
A funeral beneath falling snow.
A letter stamped from Vermilion City.
Uncle.
My breath caught in my throat as the flood of foreign-yet-familiar memories locked into place.
They weren't dreams.
They weren't imagination.
They were real.
They were this body's past.
I wasn't James anymore.
I was Oliver Montclair.
Fourteen years old.
White-haired.
Alone.
And yesterday… I turned fourteen.
Trainer age.
The ferry horn blared again, snapping me fully into the present. Crew members shouted orders as ropes were thrown and secured. The ship eased toward port.
I rushed to the railing, gripping it tightly.
There it was.
Vermilion City.
The harbor bustled with life. Fishermen shouted across docks. Sailors hauled cargo. Pidgey and Spearow swooped overhead, riding the sea breeze. The city itself glowed in warm morning light—buildings painted in creams and reds, banners fluttering from balconies, the distant silhouette of cranes near the docks.
It was overwhelming.
It was beautiful.
"Hello, Vermilion City!" I shouted without thinking.
Several people turned to stare.
I froze.
"…Sorry."
I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly, but I couldn't stop smiling.
In my previous life, I had dreamed of traveling the world. Exploring. Discovering. Becoming something more than a student trapped behind a desk.
School. Exams. Expectations.
But now?
This wasn't a game.
This wasn't fiction.
This was Pokémon.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I blinked and quickly pulled my phone from my pocket.
Uncle Adrian Cross.
Former trainer.
I answered immediately. "Hey, Uncle. How have you been?"
His deep, warm voice came through clearly. "Good, my boy. Have you arrived safely?"
"Just docked."
"Excellent. Hurry home. I have good news."
Good news?
My heart skipped. "Really? I'm on my way!"
I ended the call and bolted off the ferry the moment it anchored, nearly tripping over my own feet in excitement.
The streets of Vermilion were alive—vendors setting up stalls, trainers walking alongside their Pokémon, children pointing excitedly at a passing Growlithe. The salty sea air mixed with the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.
"It's so beautiful!" I shouted again.
More stares.
I coughed and lowered my voice.
Focus, Oliver. Dignity.
After navigating through winding streets and checking the address twice, I finally stood before a beautiful two-story house near the harbor district. A wide backyard stretched behind it—clearly designed with Pokémon in mind.
This was it.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I checked the letter again.
Right address.
Just as I raised my hand to knock again, the door swung open so suddenly I nearly got smacked in the face.
A tall blond man stepped out—broad shoulders, confident posture, and the easy presence of someone who had seen the world. His eyes softened when they landed on me.
I recognized him instantly.
"Long time no see, Uncle."
He grinned. "Sure has. Look at you. You've grown."
He stepped aside. "Come in."
The house interior was warm and welcoming. Framed photos of battles, journeys, and Pokémon lined the walls. He showed me my room—simple but comfortable—then led me to the living room.
I didn't waste time.
"What's the good news?"
He chuckled. "Straight to the point, huh?"
He leaned back slightly. "I remembered you always wanted to be a Pokémon trainer. So I called an old friend. He's opening a laboratory here in Vermilion and needs a field researcher."
My pulse quickened.
"I recommended you."
My breath stopped.
"He agreed. And he's prepared to give you a starter Pokémon."
For a split second, my brain short-circuited.
A professor opening a lab in Vermilion…
It could only be—
Professor Cerise.
"Really?!" I shot to my feet.
He nodded calmly, clearly enjoying my reaction.
I may have jumped.
More than once.
"He's at the Cerise Laboratory. I told him you'd be arriving today."
I didn't even wait for directions.
I waved wildly. "Thanks, Uncle!"
And ran.
Behind me, I faintly heard him sigh.
"It's fine… he'll figure it out."
Ten minutes later, lungs burning, I came to a sudden stop.
"…I didn't ask where it is."
Brilliant.
I was standing in an alley. I quickly darted toward a main road—
—and collided with someone solid.
I fell backward with a thud.
"Ouch!"
A girl's voice.
I scrambled up, brushing dust from my clothes.
And then I froze.
Standing in front of me was a girl with long light-brown hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. She looked slightly older than in the anime—more mature, more composed.
Chloe Cerise.
From Pokémon Journeys: The Series.
Seeing her in person felt surreal.
Trainer age here was fourteen, not ten like in the anime timeline. That explained it.
I quickly extended my hand.
"Are you alright?" I asked, giving her my best reassuring smile.
She blinked at me, a faint blush dusting her cheeks before she took my hand.
"I'm fine," she said calmly. "But maybe watch where you're going next time."
Fair.
"My name's Chloe Cerise," she added.
I tried not to react too strongly.
"I'm Oliver Montclair. From Kalos. I was actually looking for the Cerise Laboratory."
I grinned sheepishly. "Guess I ran into the right person."
She studied me for a second, then nodded. "Follow me."
We walked side by side. I attempted small talk, but she wasn't particularly chatty. Not cold—just reserved.
Soon, we turned a corner.
And I stopped.
Before us stood a massive, elegant building—white walls, red roofing, tall windows reflecting the sky. It looked less like a lab and more like a castle built for research and discovery.
The Cerise Laboratory.
Chloe gestured toward it. "That's it. Goodbye."
She turned to leave.
"Wait," I said quickly.
She looked back. "Yes?"
"Thanks."
A small pause.
Then she nodded. "No problem."
And walked away.
I watched her go for a second before turning back toward the building.
This was it.
New region.
New life.
New beginning.
I stepped forward, heart pounding—not with fear.
But with anticipation.
Let's begin.