The laboratory in Pallet Town was silent save for the faint hum of machines and the scratch of Professor Oak's pen. It was late evening, most aides already gone home. A pile of reports sat neatly stacked on his desk, field data from Ash's travels, letters from Gym Leaders, his own half-finished paper on Kantonian migration patterns of Pidgey.
But one file lay open, its pages distinctly different.
Ren's handwriting. Precise, deliberate, a little too mature for someone his age.
Oak adjusted his glasses, leaning forward, eyes scanning carefully. At first he thought it was a typical field diary: observations of habitats, trainer behaviors, common Pokémon interactions. But the deeper he read, the more his heart began to race.
"Eevee evolution… into… psychic type?" he whispered aloud, eyes flicking to the carefully drawn diagram of an elegant foxlike Pokémon. Notes covered the margins: conditional exposure to sunlight, consistent bonding during daytime, heightened mental resonance with its trainer.
Another page: the same Eevee evolving into a sleek, black-coated creature with glowing rings. Notes in precise lines: moonlight influence, nocturnal cycles, deeper emotional ties.
And still more: sketches of Eevee with leafy growths along its body, one cloaked in icy crystalline fur, one soft-pastel with fairy-like ribbons.
Oak leaned back in his chair, hand pressed to his chin. The clock on the wall ticked quietly.
"This… this is beyond speculation. These are frameworks. Complete theoretical evolutions. Detailed pathways." He exhaled, a little laugh escaping. "And none of these exist in any database. Which means…"
He stared down at the pages again, his pulse quickening. "He didn't stumble onto this. He created this."
For the first time in years, Samuel Oak, the most celebrated researcher in Kanto, felt like he was staring into the future… and the future was written in the scrawl of a boy half his age.
The lab doors creaked open, and a voice as sharp as a blade sliced through the quiet.
"You're still awake, Samuel. Don't tell me you've lost yourself in paperwork again."
Oak grimaced. He didn't need to look to know who it was. Agatha stepped inside, her cane clicking against the tiled floor, her Haunter trailing her like a mischievous shadow.
Oak slid the notes instinctively closer, but Agatha's eyes caught the edge of Ren's handwriting instantly.
Her expression softened. "Ah. My grandson's work."
Oak frowned. "You knew he was writing this?"
"Of course." Agatha settled herself into the chair opposite him, leaning on her cane. "The boy writes all the time. He has the heart of a scholar, though he'll never admit it."
Oak tapped the notes. "This isn't just scribbles, Agatha. This is… theory decades ahead of its time. He's mapped out evolutions of Eevee that no one has even dreamed of. If he pursues this path, he won't just be a trainer, he'll surpass me as a Professor within ten years."
Agatha's eyes gleamed, but her smile was sharp. "And yet, he won't. Because he's mine. The boy is heir to shadows, Samuel. He carries my bloodline, my gift, my legacy. His place is at the League, not in a dusty office surrounded by test tubes."
Oak's jaw tightened. "He could change the world with discoveries like these. He could elevate Pokémon research beyond anything we've achieved. You'd cage him in the Elite Four?"
Agatha's laugh was low, dark, but not unkind. "Cage? You mistake me. The Elite Four is power, Samuel. Influence. He'd hold the title of Ghost Master. He'd shape generations of trainers, strike fear into those who would misuse Pokémon. That is freedom."
The two elders stared at each other, silence heavy with decades of history.
Oak broke it first. "He doesn't even want your seat. He told me himself, his dream is a… haunted house." His voice faltered, unsure whether to laugh or sigh.
Agatha's eyes twinkled. "Yes. He tells me the same. And yet, when he battles… when he commands shadows, he does so with the presence of a King. You saw his performance at Celadon, didn't you?"
"I did," Oak admitted. "And it frightened me."
Agatha leaned forward, her voice low. "That's because you don't understand ghosts, Samuel. Fear isn't weakness. Fear is power. The boy knows this instinctively. He was born for it."
Oak shook his head. "He wasn't just born. He learned. His thinking, his writing, it's beyond a boy his age. He approaches battles like a chessboard, strategies layered, notes on every possibility. That's the mind of a scientist, not just a trainer."
Agatha's lips curled into a wry smile. "Perhaps he is both. And perhaps that is why you and I will always argue."
Before Oak could respond, the lab's video communicator pinged. Oak reached over and pressed the button, Ren's face flickering onto the screen.
Ren looked tired, as though he'd been writing late into the night himself. Ghastly floated lazily behind him.
"Oh," Ren said, blinking at the sight of both elders. "Professor. Grandmother. Didn't expect you'd both be awake."
Oak cleared his throat. "Ren, I've been reviewing your Eevee notes. This is… groundbreaking. How did you come up with such detailed frameworks?"
Ren hesitated. His eyes flicked to Agatha, then back to Oak. "…I just thought about what Eevee could become, given the right conditions. If fire, water, and thunder stones trigger adaptations, then… well, sunlight, moonlight, plants, cold, emotions… it made sense."
Oak stared at him with awe. "Made sense? Ren, you may have outlined evolutionary possibilities that entire research teams haven't touched. This could change the entire study of adaptive Pokémon."
Agatha cut in sharply. "And yet, he writes it as pastime, not purpose. Don't mistake idle brilliance for ambition, Samuel."
Ren sighed, rubbing his forehead. "If you two are about to argue about my future again, don't bother. I told you, I don't care about titles or chairs. I just want my house of ghosts. Everything else is noise."
The screen flickered for a moment as silence hung.
Oak spoke carefully. "Even so, Ren, you should know… if you wished, you could pursue academia. Your potential is limitless."
Agatha's voice overlapped, firm and unyielding. "And if you wished, you could inherit my mantle, my seat at the League. The ghosts already follow you."
Ren's expression didn't change. He only muttered, "…Then I wish neither." And the screen cut to black.
The lab was quiet again. Oak rubbed his temples, the pages of Ren's notes still glowing in lamplight. "The boy… he's walking a path that doesn't exist. Not mine. Not yours. His own."
Agatha rose, her cane tapping against the floor. "Good. That's how shadows thrive."
She turned to leave, but just before stepping through the door, she looked back, her expression unusually soft.
"You see brilliance, Samuel. I see power. But in the end… perhaps he'll make fools of us both."
The door closed. The lab returned to silence. Oak stared down at Ren's drawings of Sylveon, Espeon, Umbreon, Leafeon, Glaceon, Pokémon that technically didn't exist yet, and whispered:
"Or perhaps… he's already rewriting history."