Hana Miyamoto

  Hana had always trusted her instincts.

  Growing up in Fortree City, surrounded by ancient trees and wild Pokémon, you learned to read the forest. The way the Taillow went quiet before a predator passed through. The subtle shift in air pressure that preceded a storm. The particular rustle of underbrush that meant something large is moving versus the gentler sounds of foraging Zigzagoon.

  Her father had taught her to listen. Her mother had taught her to watch. And years of wandering the forests around her home had taught her to trust that small voice in the back of her mind—the one that said pay attention or something's wrong or, occasionally, this is interesting.

  That voice had spoken up the moment she'd spotted the stranger on the road.

  He'd been standing at the forest's edge, disheveled and dirt-stained, with a Pokémon she'd never seen before pressed against his legs. His posture had been wary but not aggressive—the stance of someone who'd been through something difficult and was bracing for more. His eyes, when they'd met hers, had held a complicated mix of fear and hope and desperate calculation.

  Lost, her instincts had said. Genuinely lost. Not a threat.

  She'd approached anyway, because lost people on empty roads could still be dangerous, and because Treecko had tensed beside her in a way that meant I'm ready if you need me. But the closer she'd gotten, the more certain she'd become that this man wasn't going to cause trouble.

  It was something about how he held himself. How he'd positioned his body between her and the strange Pokémon, protective rather than possessive. How his voice had stayed steady even when his hands were shaking.

  And then there was the Pokémon itself.

  Hana had studied Hoenn's species extensively—it was required for Ranger certification, and she'd always been a dedicated student. She knew every Pokémon native to the region, most of the common imports, and a fair number of exotic species from her research into other regions' ecosystems. But she'd never seen anything quite like the small green feline that watched her with wary red eyes.

  Sprigatito, the man had called it. From Paldea.

  Paldea was distant—across oceans, accessible only by expensive flights or long sea voyages. Their Pokémon rarely appeared in Hoenn outside of specialist breeding programs or research institutions. For one to show up in a forest, bonded to a man who claimed amnesia and couldn't explain how he'd arrived...

  It was a mystery. But Hana liked mysteries.

  So she'd offered to walk with him. Partly because it was the right thing to do—leaving a confused, unarmed stranger alone on a darkening road wasn't something she could justify to herself. Partly because she was curious. And partly because that small voice in her head had said this one matters.

  She'd learned to trust that voice.

  The walk to Littleroot had been... informative.

  Jason—he'd given his name so readily, no hesitation, which suggested either honesty or a very good lie prepared in advance—wasn't much of a talker at first. He'd answered her questions with short, careful responses, revealing little while appearing cooperative. Classic deflection technique, the kind you learned when you had something to hide but didn't want to seem suspicious.

  But he'd relaxed as they walked. Whether it was exhaustion lowering his guard or genuine comfort in her presence, his responses had grown longer, more natural. She'd learned that he didn't remember anything before waking up in the forest. That he'd found the Sprigatito—Sprig, he called her, with obvious affection—near an Aether Foundation transport crash. That he was scared but functional, compartmentalizing his fear to focus on immediate survival.

  Practical, she'd noted. Disciplined. Either trained for crisis situations or naturally resilient.

  His reaction to Pokémon had been interesting too. When they'd passed a meadow with a some Furrets lounging in the sunlight, he'd stopped. Just... stopped, staring at the Normal-types with an expression of barely contained emotion that she couldn't quite read. Longing? Delight? Some combination that seemed far too intense for a simple wild sighting.

  He'd made a sound—a small, strangled noise, quickly suppressed—and then forced himself to keep walking with visible effort.

  That was strange, she'd thought. He looked at that Furret like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

  Sprig had noticed too, looking up at her trainer with what Hana could only describe as concern. The bond between them was already strong—stronger than it should have been after only a few hours. They moved together, adjusted to each other's pace, communicated through glances and small sounds. It was the kind of connection that usually took weeks or months to develop.

  Either he's a natural, Hana had concluded, or there's something unusual about how they met.

  Maybe both.

  Littleroot had been exactly what Jason needed—a small town with resources and people who could help. She'd watched him take it in, his eyes moving over the buildings and streets and Pokémon-human pairs with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming. Like he was seeing everything for the first time.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Maybe he is, she'd thought. Amnesia could do that.

  But something about his reactions had felt off. Not wrong, exactly, but... layered. He'd looked at the Pokémon Center like he'd expected it to be there. He'd navigated the social interactions with trainer etiquette that shouldn't have come naturally to someone with no memories. He'd known things—small things, easily overlooked—that suggested familiarity with trainer culture even as he claimed complete ignorance of his past.

  He's not lying about being lost, Hana had decided. But he's not telling the whole truth either.

  That was fine. Everyone had secrets. What mattered was whether those secrets were dangerous.

  She didn't think Jason's were. Confusing, yes. Potentially complicated, certainly. But dangerous? No. Whatever he was hiding, it wasn't malicious intent. She'd stake her Ranger candidacy on that.

  When they'd parted at the Pokémon Center, she'd meant what she said about looking him up if she passed through again. He was interesting—a puzzle she wouldn't mind revisiting. And Sprig was fascinating from a research perspective, a Paldean species adapting to a Hoenn environment with a trainer who didn't quite fit any normal category.

  I hope he figures things out, she'd thought, watching him disappear into the Center. Whatever's going on with him, he deserves some answers.

  The next morning, Hana rose before dawn.

  Her room at the Pokémon Center was sparse and functional—all she needed for a brief stopover. She'd resupplied yesterday, her pack now heavy with provisions for the next few weeks of wilderness training. Treecko was already awake, perched on the windowsill, watching the sky lighten with patient eyes.

  "Ready to go?" she asked quietly.

  Treecko nodded, hopping down to land on her shoulder. His weight was familiar, comforting—they'd been partners for three years now, since she'd found him injured in the Fortree forest and nursed him back to health. He wasn't officially her starter (she'd never gone through the traditional trainer registration process), but he was hers in every way that mattered.

  She gathered her things and slipped out of the Center without checking if Jason was awake. She'd said her piece last night. There was no need for a prolonged goodbye.

  The forest north of Littleroot was different from the Fortree woods—younger, less dense, with more undergrowth and fewer towering canopy giants. But it was still forest, and Hana felt herself relax as the town disappeared behind her. This was where she belonged. Among the trees, with wild Pokémon and open sky and no walls to cage her in.

  Three more months, she reminded herself. Three months of field training, then the certification exam, then...

  Then she'd be a Ranger. Officially, finally, after years of preparation. She'd protect wild Pokémon and their habitats, respond to emergencies, work with the League to maintain the balance between human development and natural preservation. It was everything she'd ever wanted.

  Dad would be proud.

  The thought brought a familiar ache. Her father had been a Ranger too, before the accident. Before a mission went wrong and left him with injuries that ended his field career. He trained new candidates now, passing on knowledge he could no longer apply himself, and Hana knew—knew—that when she finally earned her certification, it would mean as much to him as it did to her.

  Almost there. Just a little longer.

  Treecko chirped softly, drawing her attention to a Wurmple inching along a nearby branch. She paused to observe it, noting the subtle variations in its coloring that indicated it was close to evolution. Silcoon or Cascoon? The species seemed random, but Rangers had identified environmental factors that influenced the outcome—temperature, humidity, the prevailing emotional states of nearby Pokémon.

  Probably Cascoon, she decided, based on the cooler morning air and the Wurmple's positioning on the shaded side of the branch. It's seeking darkness, not light.

  She made a mental note to check this spot on her way back, to confirm her prediction. Small observations, carefully recorded, were the foundation of Ranger work. You couldn't protect what you didn't understand.

  By midday, Hana had traveled deep into the forest, far from any maintained trails.

  This was the kind of training that couldn't be taught in classrooms—learning to navigate without landmarks, to find water and shelter, to read the forest's mood and respond appropriately. Her instructors had dropped her here two days ago with minimal supplies and instructions to reach a checkpoint twenty kilometers north within the week. The journey was the test.

  She made a small, temporary area beside a stream, setting up a mat and other items to have just a quick place to sit and eat while Treecko stood watch. The forest here was alive with Pokémon—she'd spotted Taillow, Zigzagoon, Shroomish, and what she was fairly certain had been a Slakoth high in the canopy, though it had been too lazy to confirm her identification.

  Good ecosystem health, she noted. Prey species abundant, predators present but not dominant. The balance is holding.

  As she ate a simple lunch of travel rations, her mind drifted back to Jason.

  She wondered if he'd found what he was looking for. If Professor Birch had been able to help him. If he'd taken the first steps toward building a life in this world he seemed so unfamiliar with.

  Strange thought, she reflected. "This world." Like he came from somewhere else.

  But that was ridiculous. People didn't just appear from other worlds. There were no documented cases of interdimensional travel, no credible theories about alternate realities containing alternate versions of their world. Whatever had happened to Jason, it had a rational explanation.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  Treecko made a questioning sound, and Hana realized she'd been staring into space.

  "Sorry. Just thinking." She finished her meal and stood, brushing off her pants. "Let's keep moving. We should make another five kilometers before dark."

  The forest swallowed them up, green and endless and full of secrets.

  That night, camped beneath a towering oak, Hana dreamed.

  She dreamed of a man walking out of nowhere, carrying a Pokémon that shouldn't exist in this region, speaking with the careful precision of someone choosing every word. She dreamed of red eyes watching from the shadows—not threatening, just watching, with an intelligence that felt older than it should.

  She dreamed of her father, standing at the edge of the Fortree platform, looking out over the forest with the expression he always wore when he was thinking about things he couldn't say.

  "Some people are meant to find things," dream-father said. "And some things are meant to be found. Don't ignore the ones that come to you, Hana. They're there for a reason."

  She woke to dawn light filtering through her tent and Treecko curled against her side, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something important had happened.

  Just a dream, she told herself. Stress and new experiences mixing in my subconscious.

  But as she packed up camp and continued her journey north, she found herself thinking about Jason again. About his too-intense reaction to a wild Furret. About the way he'd held Sprigatito like she was the most precious thing in the world. About the grief she'd glimpsed beneath his practical exterior, carefully contained but unmistakably present.

  I hope you find what you're looking for, she thought, sending the wish into the forest like a prayer. Whatever that turns out to be.

  The trees swayed in the morning breeze, and somewhere far to the south, a stranger was taking his first steps into a new life.

  Hana smiled, adjusted her pack, and walked on.