The first sign that something was different came when Marcus tried to walk to the Pallet Town Pokemart.
He made it exactly fourteen steps before a Dragonite swooped down, picked him up by the back of his shirt, and deposited him gently on its back.
"I—what? I was just going to buy potions!"
The Dragonite made a happy rumbling sound and flew him the remaining two hundred feet to the Pokemart entrance, where it landed with surprising grace and nudged him off with its snout.
"I could have WALKED."
The Dragonite looked at him with an expression of pure adoration, like he had just suggested doing something dangerously inefficient when a perfectly good dragon taxi was available.
"...Thank you?"
The Dragonite trilled with joy and settled down outside the store to wait for him, its tail wagging like a dog's.
Marcus stared at it for a long moment.
Then he looked at the OTHER seven Dragonites that had apparently followed and were now forming a protective perimeter around the Pokemart.
"This is going to be a thing, isn't it," he said to nobody in particular.
Inside the Pokemart, the cashier was having a small crisis.
"S-sir," she stammered, "there's a Mewtwo. Looking through the window."
Marcus turned. Indeed, one of his two Mewtwos was hovering outside, its face pressed against the glass, watching him with unsettling intensity.
"It's fine. That's just... Steve."
"You named a Mewtwo STEVE?"
"I was twelve and thought it was funny." Marcus grabbed a basket. "He's harmless. Mostly."
The Mewtwo—Steve—telepathed through the glass: "I am observing to ensure your safety. This establishment appears structurally unsound. I could reinforce it with psychic barriers if you wish."
"That's not necessary, Steve."
"I have also scanned the minds of everyone within a two-mile radius. None harbor ill intent toward you. The cashier thinks you are 'kind of weird but cute.' The man in aisle three is stealing Pokeballs. Shall I intervene?"
Marcus looked at aisle three. A shifty-looking guy was indeed stuffing Pokeballs into his jacket.
"Maybe just... alert him that you're watching?"
Steve's eyes glowed. The shoplifter suddenly went rigid, screamed, dropped everything, and sprinted out of the store like he'd seen death itself.
"What did you show him?" Marcus asked.
"A glimpse of the void between dimensions. Very educational."
"STEVE."
"He will not steal again. You are welcome."
It only escalated from there.
When Marcus tried to eat lunch, he found that his team of Blisseys had somehow commandeered an entire restaurant and were preparing a five-course meal specifically for him. The head chef was crying in the corner—not from distress, but from joy, because apparently watching Blisseys cook was "the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed."
"You didn't have to do this," Marcus said, staring at a plate of perfectly prepared food.
The lead Blissey—nicknamed "Mama B" in his HeartGold game, a name he now deeply regretted—patted his head with her egg and made soothing noises.
"I'm ten. I can feed myself."
Mama B's expression suggested that she vehemently disagreed and that he was clearly a malnourished baby who needed constant attention.
The other four Blisseys nodded in agreement.
A Chansey emerged from the kitchen with a dessert that looked like it had been crafted by angels.
Marcus ate the entire meal because honestly, it was incredible, and also because Mama B was watching him with an intensity that suggested not eating would cause her physical pain.
After lunch, he attempted to have a private moment to process everything.
This was a mistake.
"I just want five minutes alone," Marcus said to the crowd of Pokemon that had followed him to a small hill overlooking what remained of Pallet Town. "Five minutes. That's all."
The crowd exchanged glances.
Then, very slowly, they backed up approximately ten feet and continued watching him.
"That's not what 'alone' means."
They backed up another two feet.
"You know what? Fine."
Marcus sat down on the grass. Within seconds, a Furret had curled up in his lap. Two Eevees—he had seven, WHY did he have seven—nestled against his sides. A Snorlax created a windbreak behind him. An Altaria settled above his head, its cloud-like wings providing perfect shade.
He was, essentially, buried in affection.
"I'm trying to brood dramatically," he protested weakly.
The Furret in his lap began purring.
Marcus sighed and accepted his fate.
An hour later, Champion Lance arrived.
His Dragonite descended from the sky with impressive gravitas, clearly meant to establish dominance and authority. Lance himself was every bit as impressive as Marcus remembered from the games—cape flowing, hair dramatic, expression stern.
The effect was somewhat undermined when Marcus's eight Dragonites immediately surrounded Lance's Dragonite and began what could only be described as aggressive friendship.
"What is—get OFF—" Lance's Dragonite tried to maintain its dignity while being nuzzled by eight overenthusiastic relatives. "These are—are these all YOURS?!"
Marcus waved from his pile of affectionate Pokemon. "Hi, Champion Lance. Yes. Sorry."
Lance stared at him.
Then Lance stared at the sky, where Rayquaza was doing lazy loops around the clouds.
Then Lance stared at the lake, where a Kyogre was teaching a school of Magikarp how to create whirlpools.
Then Lance stared at the Mewtwo—Steve—who was hovering protectively behind Marcus and radiating "I will end you if you threaten my trainer" energy.
"I was told," Lance said slowly, "that there was a situation in Pallet Town."
"That's accurate."
"I was told that a young trainer had somehow manifested 'a large number' of Pokemon."
"Also accurate."
"At no point was I told that 'a large number' meant 'SEVERAL THOUSAND INCLUDING MULTIPLE LEGENDARY ENTITIES.'"
"The person who called probably couldn't count that high while panicking."
Lance dismounted from his Dragonite—which was now being groomed by three of Marcus's Dragonites despite its protests—and walked toward Marcus with the careful gait of a man approaching a bomb.
"How," he said.
"Divine intervention gone wrong."
"Explain."
"Arceus got annoyed at me for catching too many Pokemon across multiple parallel timelines and decided to punish me by making them all manifest at once."
Lance opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"I'm going to need you to repeat that."
"God is real, he's a llama, and he's petty about Pokedex completion rates."
Lance turned around and walked back toward his Dragonite.
"Where are you going?" Marcus called.
"To retire. I've decided to retire. This is above my pay grade, my jurisdiction, and my will to continue."
"You can't retire! You're the Champion!"
"Watch me."
Lance did not actually retire, but he did sit down very heavily on a rock and put his head in his hands for about ten minutes.
Marcus felt bad for him.
"Can I get you some water?" he offered. "One of my Blisseys could make you something to eat. They're very good."
"I'm fine," Lance said in the voice of a man who was not fine.
A Blissey appeared anyway, offering a glass of lemonade and a sympathetic head pat.
Lance accepted both.
"Okay," the Champion said finally, rallying his composure. "Okay. Let's... let's approach this logically. You have approximately five thousand Pokemon."
"Four thousand, eight hundred and forty-seven."
"And they include multiple legendary Pokemon. Pokemon that, traditionally, should not be able to exist in multiples."
"Yeah, about that—"
"And you claim this happened because of ARCEUS. The creator deity. Who is also apparently one of your Pokemon."
"Several of them, actually. I have twelve."
Lance stared at him.
"Event distributions," Marcus explained.
"I don't know what that means and I don't want to know." Lance took a long drink of lemonade. "What I NEED to know is whether you're a threat."
Before Marcus could answer, approximately fifty Pokemon bristled.
Steve the Mewtwo floated forward, eyes glowing ominously. "Define 'threat.' Are you threatening our trainer? Because if you are threatening our trainer—"
"I'm not threatening anyone!"
"Your tone suggests suspicion. Suspicion is the precursor to hostility. I am monitoring your neural pathways. If I detect hostile intent, I will—"
"STEVE," Marcus interrupted. "He's not going to hurt me. He's the CHAMPION. He's a good guy."
Steve turned to look at Marcus. "You are certain?"
"I literally played through his games multiple times. He's cool. Dramatic fashion sense, great taste in dragons, once helped save the world from Team Rocket. He's fine."
Steve considered this.
"I will monitor him anyway," the Mewtwo decided. "But I will refrain from erasing his consciousness."
"That's... appreciated," Lance said weakly.
The conversation continued, though Lance kept glancing nervously at Steve.
"So you're not planning to take over the world?"
"No."
"You're not planning to challenge the Pokemon League with an army of legendaries?"
"That seems unsporting."
"You're not affiliated with any criminal organizations?"
"I'm TEN."
"Team Rocket has recruited younger."
"Fair point, but no. I just want to, I don't know, exist? Maybe figure out where all my Pokemon are going to LIVE?"
Lance nodded slowly. "That's... actually the main concern from the League's perspective. You have Pokemon that can control WEATHER. Pokemon that can manipulate TIME and SPACE. Pokemon that—" He gestured at a Groudon that was napping in the distance, "—could cause continental-level geological events by SNEEZING."
"They won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because they like me."
Lance blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"They like me," Marcus repeated. "All of them. I don't fully understand why, but apparently the bond thing Arceus mentioned is real. They remember me. Every journey, every battle, every time I trained them or gave them berries or just... carried them in my party because I liked them."
He gestured at the Pokemon surrounding him. "I have over four thousand Pokemon who apparently view me as their favorite person. They're not going to destroy anything because they know it would upset me."
Lance looked at the gathered Pokemon—the legendaries, the pseudo-legendaries, the army of Eevees and Pikachus and everything in between.
Then he looked at a Gardevoir that was literally generating a small reality warp to create comfortable seating for Marcus.
Then he looked at a Machamp that had brought Marcus a smoothie at some point during their conversation and was now standing guard like a four-armed security detail.
Then he looked at Kenneth the Shuckle, who was just sitting there. Vibing.
"They really do like you," Lance said, sounding almost awed.
"Yeah." Marcus smiled slightly. "It's kind of overwhelming, honestly."
"You were a good trainer," Steve telepathed, and his mental voice was oddly gentle. "You always treated us with respect. You never forced us to fight when we were tired. You gave us names and remembered them. You returned to old games just to visit us."
Marcus felt his eyes sting. "I didn't think you guys would... I mean, you were just data. Weren't you?"
"Perhaps once. But something happened when we manifested here. We became... more. Our memories became real. Our bonds became tangible." Steve paused. "We love you, Marcus. All of us. In our own ways."
Marcus definitely wasn't crying. That was just allergies. From the fifty different Grass-types releasing pollen nearby.
"I love you guys too," he managed.
A collective wave of happy Pokemon noises washed over the area. A Togepi waddled up and hugged his leg. A Flygon draped itself across his shoulders like a scaly shawl. A Jigglypuff started singing—not the sleep-inducing kind, just a happy little song.
Lance watched this display with an expression that suggested he was reevaluating his entire understanding of trainer-Pokemon relationships.
"Well," the Champion said finally. "I suppose I should report to the League that this isn't a threat. Just a... very unusual situation."
"That would be great."
"I'll also need to coordinate with Silph Co. about resources. Housing. Food." Lance pulled out a notepad. "You said you have seven Snorlaxes?"
"Yes."
"Each eating approximately 900 pounds of food per day?"
"Yes."
"That's 6,300 pounds of food. Daily. Just for the Snorlaxes."
"...Yes."
Lance stared at his notepad, then at Marcus, then at the sky where a Rayquaza was now playing with a Mew.
"I'm going to need a bigger notepad," he said.
By evening, Marcus had learned several important things about having 4,847 Pokemon who adored him:
Thing One: Privacy was a concept of the past.
Every time he tried to be alone, at least fifteen Pokemon would appear to "keep him company." The Psychic-types claimed they needed to maintain a "mental link for his protection." The Dragon-types claimed they needed to "guard their treasure." The Normal-types just wanted snuggles.
Thing Two: His opinion had become law.
He'd offhandedly mentioned that the Groudon and Kyogre should "maybe calm down a bit" and they had IMMEDIATELY stopped their eternal rivalry. Just like that. Millions of years of conflict, ended because Marcus thought it was stressful.
Rayquaza was honestly looking a bit lost without a purpose.
Thing Three: Physical affection was now a group activity.
He couldn't so much as sit down without becoming the center of a cuddle pile. At any given moment, he had at least three Pokemon touching him. The Pikachus fought over who got to sit on his shoulder. The Eevees had established a rotation schedule for lap time. The larger Pokemon had worked out a complex system where they took turns being his "living furniture."
He was currently sitting on a Snorlax, leaning against an Arcanine, with a Glaceon on his lap, two Jolteons at his feet, and an Umbreon on his head.
This was just his life now.
Thing Four: His Pokemon had OPINIONS about each other.
The seventeen Pikachus had formed a democracy and elected Ash's Pikachu as their honorary leader after it beat them all up.
The Eeveelutions had split into factions based on type and were engaged in a friendly but intense rivalry.
The Legendaries had established something like a council, with Arceus (all twelve of them, which was confusing) serving as a reluctant mediator.
The Magikarp had somehow organized into a union and were demanding better representation.
Thing Five: Kenneth the Shuckle was vibing, and that was the one constant in Marcus's increasingly chaotic existence.
Night fell on Pallet Town—or what was left of it.
Marcus was lying on his back in a field, using an Altaria as a pillow and a Ninetales as a blanket, staring up at the stars. Around him, thousands of Pokemon had settled in for sleep.
It should have been overwhelming. It WAS overwhelming. But it was also...
Kind of nice?
"Hey," he said quietly. "Any of you guys awake?"
A few hundred eyes opened in the darkness.
"I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For how this happened. You all got pulled out of your worlds because of my choices. Because I couldn't stop catching Pokemon."
"Do you regret catching us?" one of the Alakazams asked.
Marcus thought about it.
"No," he admitted. "I loved every journey. Every game. Every moment I spent with you guys, even when I thought you were just pixels on a screen."
"Then why apologize?"
"Because now you're real, and you're stuck with me, and I don't even know if I can take care of all of you properly. I'm just a kid. A weird, reincarnated kid with too many Pokemon and no idea what he's doing."
Silence.
Then, slowly, the Pokemon closest to him began to move. The Altaria nuzzled his head. The Ninetales curled tighter around him. A Dragonite's tail wrapped gently around the whole pile.
"You are our trainer," Steve's voice echoed in his mind. "We chose you. In every timeline, in every game, we chose to follow you. That has not changed."
"We will help you," another psychic voice added—one of the Gardevoirs. "We will protect you. We will be your family."
"Besides," a third voice chimed in—a Gengar, sounding amused, "do you have any idea how BORING it was being stuck in a PC box? This is WAY better."
Marcus laughed despite himself. "You guys were conscious in the PC?"
"Kind of? It was more like dreaming. But we could feel you. Every time you checked on us, every time you pulled us out for a battle or just to say hi... we felt it."
"I'm so sorry—"
"Don't be. You visited more than most trainers would. Some of us hadn't been touched in YEARS in other games. But you always came back."
Marcus felt tears streaming down his face now, and he didn't bother hiding it.
"I'm going to do better," he promised. "I'm going to figure this out. I'll find a way to give all of you good lives, no matter what it takes."
"We know," Steve said. "That's why we love you."
From somewhere in the pile, Kenneth the Shuckle made a small noise.
It might have been agreement.
It might have been gas.
Either way, Marcus appreciated it.
Later that night, after most of the Pokemon had fallen asleep, Marcus received a visitor.
The air shimmered, and suddenly Arceus was standing before him—not all twelve copies, just one. The original, if such a distinction mattered.
"Well," the God of All Pokemon said, looking at the peaceful scene around them. "This wasn't what I expected."
"What DID you expect?" Marcus asked, too tired to be intimidated.
"Chaos. Destruction. Perhaps a complete mental breakdown on your part." Arceus's expression was unreadable. "Instead, you've somehow turned this into a... functional arrangement. Your Psychic-types have established a communication network. Your Legendaries have agreed to cooperate. Your small army of Rattata have formed a scouting corps."
"They did?" Marcus hadn't known about that last part.
"They're very efficient." Arceus paused. "I may have... underestimated the strength of the bonds you formed."
"You gave me all these Pokemon as a PUNISHMENT."
"I did."
"But they're not a punishment. They're a gift. The best gift I've ever gotten."
Arceus was quiet for a long moment.
"You humans," he said finally, "continue to surprise me. Even after millennia of observation."
"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"
"I was never 'mad.' I was... perturbed. The system was not designed for someone like you." Arceus's wheel spun slowly. "But perhaps that's not a bad thing. The system was becoming stagnant. Predictable. You've introduced a new variable."
"So... are you going to take them back?"
"No." Arceus actually sounded amused. "They're yours. They've always been yours. I simply... expedited the reunion."
"That's a very generous interpretation of what you did."
"I'm a generous god."
"You dropped a Wailord on Professor Oak's laboratory."
"Professor Oak will recover. Eventually." Arceus began to fade. "Take care of them, Marcus Chen. All 4,847 of them. And perhaps try not to catch any more—the system has enough strain as it is."
"Wait! What am I supposed to DO with all of them?"
Arceus's voice echoed as it disappeared: "Whatever you want. That's the beauty of having an army of gods at your command. The possibilities are... endless."
And then he was gone.
Marcus lay back down, staring at the stars.
"No pressure or anything," he muttered.
A Jirachi—he had four of them, from various events—floated down and curled up on his chest.
"Wish?" it asked sleepily.
"Not yet, buddy. Save those."
"Okay." The Jirachi yawned. "Love you, trainer."
"Love you too."
And despite everything—the chaos, the confusion, the approximately five thousand responsibilities now resting on his ten-year-old shoulders—Marcus smiled.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
MORNING AFTER STATUS REPORT:
Marcus: Emotionally compromised (in a good way)
Pokemon: Aggressively affectionate
Champion Lance: Filing the weirdest report of his career
Professor Oak: Still processing
Gary: Has been adopted by the Mareep, refuses to leave their pile
Ash: Now commands a Pikachu army, living his best life
Kenneth: Vibbing
Cuddle Pile Participants (current):
1 Altaria (pillow)1 Ninetales (blanket)1 Dragonite (big spoon)4 Jirachi (chest warmers)7 Eevees (distributed randomly)17 Pikachus (forming protective perimeter)1 Mewtwo (hovering watchfully)1 Shuckle (Kenneth)
Tomorrow's Agenda:
Find housing for 4,847 PokemonEstablish food supply chainMaybe attend therapyPet everyone at least once
[A/N: I didn't expect to make myself emotional writing this but HERE WE ARE. Next chapter: Marcus tries to actually organize his Pokemon and discovers that having multiple Legendaries means having multiple EGOS. Also, Team Rocket shows up and immediately regrets it. Leave a comment about which Pokemon's love you want to see Marcus experience next!]