Omega followed the Gastly through the dark forest.
He'd been following for hours now—or what felt like hours. Time moved strangely when you were walking through an alien landscape with a floating purple gas ball as your only guide. The Gastly drifted ahead of him, never quite close enough to touch, never quite far enough to lose sight of. Its permanent grin caught the moonlight in unsettling ways, casting strange shadows across its translucent body.
"I hope you know where you're going," Omega called ahead. "Wandering aimlessly through an unfamiliar forest is statistically one of the least efficient ways to—"
The Gastly stopped. Turned. Fixed him with those narrow, suspicious eyes.
"Gastly."
It wasn't a friendly sound. It was a warning. Be quiet and follow.
Omega raised his hands in mock surrender. "Merely making an observation. Continue."
The Gastly stared at him for another long moment, as if weighing whether he was worth the trouble. Then it turned and continued drifting, its pace somehow more brisk than before.
Impatient, Omega noted. And clearly not fond of commentary.
His phone buzzed. The yellow Rotom inside had been quiet for most of the journey, but now it formed words on the screen:
GASTLY ARE KNOWN FOR THEIR TRICKSTER NATURE. THIS ONE IS... DIFFERENT.
"Different how?"
MORE FOCUSED. MORE SERIOUS. MOST GASTLY PLAY PRANKS. THIS ONE HAS PURPOSE.
Omega looked at the floating creature ahead of him. It moved with deliberate purpose, checking shadows as it passed, pausing occasionally to listen to sounds Omega couldn't hear. It reminded him of something—someone—but he couldn't quite place it.
"You're on guard duty," he realized suddenly. "You're not just wandering. You're patrolling."
The Gastly didn't acknowledge him, but its posture shifted. Straighter. More alert.
"That cabin. The one we found. You were protecting it. The Rotom were there, and you were watching over them."
GAST.
A single sound. Affirmation.
"And when we showed up, you gathered reinforcements. The Dratini. The Kangaskhan. The Abra. You organized a response to the threat."
The Gastly stopped again. This time, when it turned, its eyes were sharper. More assessing. Like it was reevaluating him.
"You're young," Omega continued, his researcher's mind piecing together the evidence. "Your behavior suggests inexperience—the impatience, the suspicion, the need to prove yourself. But you're also responsible. You take your duty seriously. You organized others. You coordinated a response." He tilted his head. "You're the leader of whatever group lives in that cabin, aren't you?"
The Gastly floated in silence for a long moment. Then, slowly, its grin widened—not threatening, not playful. Something else. Approval.
"Gastly."
It turned and continued drifting, but this time its pace was slower. Deliberately matching his walking speed.
Omega felt something shift in his chest. He'd been assessed—and found acceptable.
"How old are you?" he asked, falling into step behind it. "In Pokémon years, I mean. If such a concept exists."
The Gastly glanced back. Its eyes flickered, as if considering whether to answer. Then it did something unexpected—it stopped, floated closer, and pressed its translucent body against his phone.
The yellow Rotom inside darted forward, and for a moment, the two creatures seemed to... communicate. Light passed between them. Understanding.
Then the Gastly pulled back, and text appeared on Omega's screen:
GASTLY IS YOUNG. YOUNGER THAN THE OTHERS. BUT IT PROTECTED THEM WHEN THE OLDER ONES LEFT.
"Left?" Omega frowned. "Left where?"
THE CABIN WAS HOME TO MANY. DRATINI. KANGASKHAN. ABRA. OTHERS. THE STRONG ONES WENT TO FIND NEW HOME. THE YOUNG ONES STAYED. THIS GASTLY STAYED TO PROTECT THEM.
Omega stared at the words. Then at the Gastly floating patiently beside him.
"You stayed behind," he said softly. "When the stronger Pokémon left to find somewhere better, you stayed to protect the ones who couldn't fend for themselves. The Rotom. The babies. The—" He stopped. "How old are you? Really?"
The Gastly's eyes met his. And for the first time, Omega saw past the permanent grin, past the suspicious glares, past the impatient gestures.
He saw exhaustion.
This creature was tired. Tired of being on guard. Tired of being responsible. Tired of pretending to be stronger than it was because there was no one else to do the job.
"You're a child," Omega breathed. "You're a child protecting other children."
The Gastly's eyes flashed—defensive, proud, angry. It didn't want pity. It didn't want to be seen as weak.
"I'm not pitying you," Omega said quickly. "I'm recognizing you. There's a difference."
The Gastly's gaze narrowed. Questioning.
"When I was young—younger than I am now—something happened. Something that meant I had to grow up fast. Had to be responsible. Had to protect what was left of my family, even though I was just a kid and had no idea what I was doing."
He hadn't meant to say that. The words slipped out before he could stop them, pulled by something in the Gastly's eyes that he recognized too well.
The Gastly floated closer. Its expression hadn't changed—that grin was permanent—but something in its posture softened. Just slightly.
"You understand," Omega whispered. "You understand what it's like to carry weight you didn't ask for."
Gast.
A single sound. Gentle.
They stood together in the dark forest—a boy from another world and a creature made of gas, connected by something deeper than words.
---
The Gastly led him to the cabin.
Not the front—the back. A small entrance Omega hadn't noticed before, half-hidden by overgrown bushes. The Gastly drifted through the door without waiting, and Omega hesitated only a moment before following.
Inside, the cabin was different than he remembered.
The front rooms had been dusty and abandoned, but this back area—a small, hidden room behind the kitchen—was lived in. Old blankets formed nests in the corners. Scraps of food were piled neatly in one spot. A cracked mirror hung on the wall, angled to catch what little light filtered through a small window.
And in the center of the room, on a pile of soft moss, were three smaller shapes.
Rotom.
Not the ones in their phones—these were different. Smaller. Younger. Their forms flickered weakly, colors pale and unstable. They huddled together for warmth, their lights dim, their movements sluggish.
The Gastly drifted to them immediately, hovering close, making soft sounds that Omega couldn't interpret but understood completely.
I'm here. I'm back. You're safe.
The young Rotom stirred, their lights brightening slightly at the Gastly's presence. One reached out with a spark of electricity, touching the Gastly's gaseous form, and the Gastly's permanent grin somehow softened into something almost tender.
Omega stood in the doorway, watching, and felt his heart crack just a little.
"You've been taking care of them alone," he said quietly. "No help. No rest. Just you, every day, making sure they survive."
The Gastly didn't look at him. But its shoulders—if a gas cloud could have shoulders—drooped slightly.
"How long?"
No answer.
Omega pulled out his phone. The yellow Rotom inside was watching the young ones with an intensity he hadn't seen before. Recognition. Longing.
"Are they family?" Omega asked softly. "The Rotom. Are they yours?"
ROTOM ARE CONNECTED. WE ARE MANY. WE ARE ONE. THESE ARE... YOUNGER. WEAKER. LEFT BEHIND.
"Left behind when the stronger ones went to find a new home," Omega repeated. "And Gastly stayed."
GASTLY STAYED. GASTLY PROTECTED. GASTLY IS YOUNG BUT STRONG IN WAYS THAT MATTER.
Omega looked at the Gastly—really looked—and saw it clearly for the first time. Not a threat. Not a suspicious guardian. Just a kid, doing a job no one else would do, protecting the vulnerable because someone had to.
Just like him.
"What do they need?" he asked.
The Gastly's head snapped toward him. Suspicion flared in its eyes.
"I'm not offering charity. I'm asking as a researcher—as someone who wants to understand. What do they need to thrive? What's missing?"
The Gastly stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, it gestured with what might have been a limb toward the young Rotom. They flickered weakly, their forms unstable, their lights dim.
"Energy," Omega murmured. "They need electricity, don't they? They're energy-based lifeforms. Without a power source, they—"
He stopped. Pulled out his phone. Looked at the yellow Rotom inside.
"You're powered by this device. By whatever energy the gods built into it. Could you—" He hesitated. "Could you share that? With them?"
The yellow Rotom pressed against the screen, looking at the young ones. Its light flickered—uncertainty, maybe fear.
"I won't force you," Omega said quietly. "It's your energy. Your choice. But if there's a way to help..."
The yellow Rotom was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, it did something remarkable.
It phased through the phone.
Omega stared as the yellow creature emerged from the device, its form crackling with contained electricity. It floated toward the young Rotom, and the Gastly immediately moved to block its path—protective, suspicious, ready to fight.
"It's okay," Omega said quickly. "It's trying to help. Look."
The yellow Rotom extended a tendril of electricity toward the smallest of the young ones. Gentle. Tentative. Offering.
The Gastly watched, tense and ready, but didn't interfere.
The young Rotom reached out. Touched the tendril.
Light flared—soft, warm, alive. The young Rotom's form stabilized, its glow brightening, its flickering ceasing. It made a sound—tiny, happy—and pressed closer to the yellow Rotom.
The Gastly's eyes widened.
More tendrils extended. The other two young Rotom received the same gift, their forms strengthening, their lights becoming steady. The yellow Rotom's own glow dimmed slightly with the effort, but it didn't stop. Didn't pull away. Just kept giving, kept sharing, kept helping.
Omega felt his throat tighten.
"You're amazing," he whispered. To the Rotom. To the Gastly. To all of them.
The Gastly floated closer to him. Its eyes were different now—still suspicious, still wary, but underneath that, something new. Curiosity. Wonder. Hope.
"Gastly?"
It was a question. Omega understood.
"You want to know why. Why help. Why care."
The Gastly nodded.
Omega considered the question carefully. He could give the logical answer—that helping the Rotom might earn trust, might lead to information, might improve their chances of survival in this world. All true. All valid.
But that wasn't the real reason.
"Because I know what it's like," he said finally. "To be young and responsible for things you shouldn't have to be responsible for. To carry weight that isn't yours. To pretend you're stronger than you are because if you don't, everything falls apart."
The Gastly's eyes held his.
"I had to do that, once. After my mother—" He stopped. Swallowed. "After she was gone. My father checked out. Stopped being present. And someone had to hold things together. Someone had to be the responsible one. Even though I was just a kid and had no idea what I was doing."
He looked at the Gastly, at the young Rotom now glowing steadily thanks to the yellow Rotom's gift, at the small hidden room that had become a sanctuary.
"You remind me of me," he said softly. "And I think... I think maybe I needed to see that. To remember that I'm not the only one who's ever had to grow up too fast."
The Gastly floated closer. Closer still. Until it was right in front of him, its translucent body inches from his face, its eyes searching his.
Then, slowly, it reached out with a wisp of gas and touched his cheek.
The sensation was cold—like winter air, like morning frost. But underneath the cold, something else. Warmth. Connection. Understanding.
"You're not alone anymore," Omega whispered. "None of you are."
The Gastly's grin widened—not threatening, not suspicious. Genuine. Happy.
"Gastly!"
It turned and darted toward the door, then back to him, then toward the door again. Follow. Hurry.
Omega smiled—actually smiled, a real smile—and followed.
---
The Gastly led him through the cabin, past the dusty front rooms, out onto the sagging porch. The sun was rising, painting the forest in gold and amber, and standing in the clearing were—
"Omega!"
Gamma's voice. Gamma's face. Gamma running toward him with Alpha and Beta behind her, their faces breaking into grins at the sight of him.
"You're alive!" Gamma threw her arms around him, and Omega stiffened—he wasn't used to physical affection—but after a moment, he relaxed. Just slightly. Just enough.
"I am, in fact, alive," he said dryly. "Your observational skills remain exceptional."
Gamma pulled back and punched his arm. "Shut up. We were worried."
"We were," Alpha agreed, stepping forward. "Khan here helped us find you." He gestured at the massive Kangaskhan standing at the edge of the clearing, baby Kanga waving cheerfully from her pouch.
"And Aurora helped," Beta added, the Dratini coiled around his shoulders like an elegant scarf. "She could sense the direction. Something about energy patterns."
Omega looked at his friends—really looked. They were different. Changed. Gamma had an Abra sitting on her head, looking profoundly uninterested in everything. Alpha stood easy and comfortable beside a creature that could crush him without effort. Beta glowed with quiet confidence, a dragon wrapped around him like armor.
And Omega... Omega had a Gastly floating beside him, a yellow Rotom in his phone, and a small hidden room full of young Pokémon who would survive because someone had cared enough to help.
"We should go to the cabin," he said. "There's something you need to see."
He led them inside, to the hidden back room, where the young Rotom were now playing with the yellow one, their lights bright and steady. The Gastly floated beside them, watching with something like pride.
Gamma gasped. "They're—they're babies. Little baby Rotom."
"Left behind when the stronger Pokémon went to find a new home," Omega explained. "Gastly stayed to protect them. Alone. For weeks, maybe months."
Beta moved closer, his doctor's eyes assessing. "They look healthy now. Stable. But before—"
"Before, they were fading. The yellow Rotom shared energy with them. Stabilized them."
Beta looked at Omega's phone, then at the yellow Rotom now playing with the young ones. "That's... that's incredible. Selfless."
The yellow Rotom glanced back at them, made a small sound, and returned to playing.
Alpha crouched down to get a better look. "So what now? We can't just leave them here."
"No," Omega agreed. "We can't."
He looked at the Gastly. The Gastly looked back. Something passed between them—an understanding, a promise.
"They'll come with us," Omega said. "All of them. We'll find a way to care for them, to protect them, to give them a home."
"That's a lot of responsibility," Gamma said quietly.
Omega nodded. "I know."
He looked at the Gastly—young, tired, responsible beyond its years—and felt a connection deeper than anything he'd expected to find in this world.
"But I think we're ready for it."
The Gastly floated closer. Pressed against his side. And for the first time since they'd met, its eyes held no suspicion, no wariness, no fear.
Just trust.
"Gastly," it murmured. Soft. Content.
Omega reached out—hesitated—then gently touched the creature's gaseous form. Cold against his skin, but warm underneath. Like the feeling of coming home.
"Thank you," he whispered. "For trusting me. For showing me what responsibility really means."
The Gastly's grin widened. And somehow, Omega knew—everything was going to be okay.
---
They left the cabin together as the sun climbed higher. Four humans, four bonded Pokémon, and three tiny Rotom riding in a makeshift sling Beta had created from his jacket.
The Gastly floated beside Omega, alert and watchful, but no longer suspicious. No longer alone.
"Hey, Omega," Alpha called from ahead. "You never told us—what did you wish for? Back with the gods. Your secret wish."
Omega smiled—a small, private smile.
"Maybe someday I'll tell you."
"Aww, come on!"
"Not today."
Gamma groaned. Beta laughed. The Dratini adjusted her position to catch the light better. The Abra teleported from Gamma's head to a nearby branch without opening its eyes. The Kangaskhan mother walked in patient silence, her baby waving at everything.
And Omega walked with a Gastly by his side, carrying the weight of responsibility not as a burden, but as a choice.
A choice he'd made freely.
A choice he'd never regret.