Ash lay sprawled out on the cool grass, his small hands tucked beneath his head as he stared up at the drifting clouds. The mud path beside him wound its lazy way toward Professor Oak's laboratory, but for now, he had no intention of moving.
The faint chirping of Pidgey filled the morning air, and somewhere nearby, a Rattata scurried through the tall grass, rustling the blades as it searched for food. The world felt alive in a way television had never captured. The smells, the sounds, even the faint breeze brushing against his cheeks—it was all too vivid, too real.
Yet here he was, lying down and waiting, when countless kids would be sprinting toward the lab as fast as their legs could carry them. He could almost imagine the commotion up ahead: trainers crowding the steps, eager shouts as Poké Balls snapped open to reveal their first partners, Professor Oak's calm voice doing his best to manage the chaos.
But Ash? He was deliberately late.
A small smirk tugged at his lips. Let them have their Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle. If I walk in after the dust settles, I can still get Pikachu. Or… maybe even Froakie.
His mind circled back to the strange survey—the surreal little questionnaire that had landed him in this reality in the first place. If it really had power… then shouldn't Froakie still be possible?
He chuckled under his breath. "Wouldn't that be something? Pikachu and Froakie both. A dream team right from the start."
The thought made his chest tighten with excitement. In the anime, Ash had stumbled into those bonds through sheer chance and persistence. But this time, he had foresight. Knowledge. And maybe a bit of luck.
He rolled onto his side, pulling his wrist up so he could glance at the battered watch strapped there. It was an older model, simple and a little scuffed around the edges, but it ticked faithfully. His lips curled into a softer smile as he remembered how it had come into his possession.
### Flashback
Before leaving home, he'd scoured every drawer and shelf for anything that might prove useful on a journey. His room was full of little trinkets and toys, but most of it was junk, useless outside of Pallet Town.
Then he'd spotted it—a coil of rubber rope shoved into the back of a closet. He had no idea if it was meant for chores or some half-forgotten project, but instantly his mind had leapt ahead. If Pikachu really is my starter… I'll need this. Better safe than sorry.
He had tucked it neatly into his bag.
The search continued until his eyes landed on something sitting inside a small wooden box. A watch. Its leather strap was worn, its metal edges dulled with age.
"Whose is this?" he'd asked aloud, holding it up as Delia entered the room.
She smiled faintly, her expression tinged with nostalgia. "That was mine. I used it back when I traveled more, before you were born."
His heart had squeezed at her tone. In his old world, he knew Delia as the supportive, almost too-cheerful anime mom who stayed home. But here… she had mementos. A history. A life of her own.
He'd asked if he could take it, and she had nodded with a warmth that caught him off guard. "Of course. A trainer should always keep track of time."
The words had carried a weight that lingered in him. He had strapped it on immediately, as if it were a badge of honor.
Finally, he packed the rest of the essentials into his green bag—the very same style he remembered from the anime. He had stared at it for a long moment, half amazed at how closely it matched the one he'd seen on-screen countless times.
But when it came to clothing, he'd hit a wall. His options were laughable: either the exact outfit anime Ash had worn, or his sleepwear. Hardly the kind of variety a journey demanded.
He'd sighed and muttered to himself, "Guess I'll have to change clothes once I'm on the road."
And with that, he'd slung the bag over his shoulder, feeling both ridiculously cliché and completely ready.
Back to Present
Ash blinked and returned to the present, the steady ticking of the watch grounding him in the moment. The hands pointed neatly at 10:55.
Time had slipped by faster than he expected.
He sat up slowly, brushing stray blades of grass from his hair and shirt. The professor's lab wasn't far now. From where he sat, he could see its roof peeking above the treeline, white against the morning sky.
He stood and dusted himself off, then deliberately slowed his pace, each step measured. He wanted to arrive just late enough that the main rush was over, the other starters claimed.
A grin tugged at his lips. *If Pikachu's waiting, then it's meant to be. If Froakie's somehow there… even better. And if not… well, I know where to find more Pokémon. Just like the anime. Charmander, Bulbasaur, Squirtle—I can gather them along the way.*
The idea filled him with a strange sense of calm. The odds of Froakie being here in Kanto were slim, almost laughable. Kalos was halfway across the world. But then again, nothing about his current situation was exactly normal.
He glanced at the watch again. 10:57.
The seconds ticked by. His anticipation grew heavier, twining with uncertainty. The survey, the reincarnation, the choices he'd made—it all led here, to this moment.
He inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves.
Whatever happened inside those lab doors, his journey as Ash Ketchum—no, as the reborn Ash Ketchum—was about to beg