'Will we catch others?' Gible asked, and I detected a hint of concern in the mental voice. 'Will there be more partners?'
"Eventually," I confirmed. "But you'll always be first. You'll always be the one I trust most."
That seemed to satisfy Gible, and we continued up the hill in comfortable silence.
The path was steeper than it looked, and by the time I reached the top, my legs were burning from the exertion. But the view was worth it—from this elevation, I could see most of Pallet Town spread out below, and beyond it, the route that led north toward Viridian City.
Route 1.
The first path every Kanto trainer walked.
A wooden sign marked the entrance to the property: OAK RESIDENCE - PRIVATE PROPERTY.
I walked past it and approached the house.
Oak had undersold it significantly. This wasn't just a house—it was practically a mansion. Three full stories, constructed from dark wood and stone, with large windows that overlooked the town and route below.
The architecture was traditional but elegant, conveying a sense of both wealth and taste. Smoke rose from a chimney, indicating the heating system was active.
I pulled out my Pokédex and held it up to the security panel beside the front door. The device beeped, the lock disengaged, and the door swung open.
Inside was even more impressive.
The entry hall was spacious, with hardwood floors polished to a mirror shine and walls decorated with what looked like family portraits—generations of Oaks staring down from painted canvases.
A grand staircase led to the upper floors, and I could see doorways branching off into various rooms—a sitting area, what looked like a kitchen, and a study.
I stopped in front of one of the portraits.
It was recent—much more recent than the others. The painting showed four people: a man and woman in their forties, clearly the parents, standing behind two younger figures. A boy and a girl, probably around five or six when this was painted.
The boy was unmistakably Gary Oak. Same facial structure I saw in the mirror every morning, same confident posture, same sharp intelligence in the eyes.
Beside him stood a girl—his sister, presumably. She had similar features, the family resemblance clear, but where Gary's expression was confident, hers was softer, more thoughtful. Blonde hair, wearing a green headband.
And the parents...
I stared at them, feeling something stir in the back of my mind. Not my memories—Gary's memories, fragments of the life I'd inherited when I transmigrated into this body.
The system notification appeared suddenly:
[MEMORY INTEGRATION UPDATED]
[Current Integration: 50%]
[New Memories Accessible]
And then they hit me.
Like a dam breaking, flooding my consciousness with images and sensations that weren't mine but were becoming mine.
I saw the parents in the portrait, but not frozen in paint. I heard my mother's voice (Gary's mother's voice) calling me down for breakfast.
Felt my father's hand on my shoulder as he explained something about Pokémon biology. Saw my sister laughing at something I'd said, shoving me playfully.
Normal memories.
Happy memories.
And then—
Darkness. The house at night. Sounds of something breaking downstairs. My parents' voices raised in alarm, then fear.
I was moving down the stairs (Gary was moving), heart pounding, not understanding what was happening. My sister is behind me, grabbing my arm, whispering for me to stop, to go back.
But I kept going.
The front door was open. Cold air rushing in. And in the entryway stood a woman.
I couldn't see her face clearly—the memory was fragmented, incomplete—but I saw enough. Tall. Commanding presence. Dark clothing. And beside her, a Pokémon who was too dark to see.
My father stepped forward, positioning himself between the woman and his family. "Get out. You have no right—"
The woman's voice cut through his words.
"You should have cooperated when you had the chance."
What happened next was chaos.
My father's Pokémon emerging from their balls to defend. Battle sounds—roars, impacts, the smell of burned flesh.
My mother is screaming.
My sister was pulling me back, dragging me up the stairs as I fought to go forward, to help, to do something—
And then nothing. The memory cut off abruptly, leaving only the echo of violence and the certainty of loss.
I gasped, staggering back from the portrait, my hand bracing against the wall for support.
'Samael?' Gible's voice cut through the disorientation. 'Are you okay? What happened?'
I looked down at the little dragon, trying to steady my breathing, trying to process what I'd just experienced.
Gary's parents were dead. Murdered. By a woman whose face I couldn't quite remember, whose identity was locked behind memories I didn't yet have full access to.
And his sister—where was she? The memory had ended before I could see what happened to her. Was she alive? Dead? Missing?
I looked back at the portrait, at the four faces staring down at me, and felt a surge of anger so intense it took my breath away.
This wasn't my family. These weren't my parents, my sister. But Gary's memories were bleeding into mine, integrating at fifty percent now, and I couldn't separate my emotional response from his.
Someone had killed them. Someone with Pokémon, with power, with enough confidence to walk into the Oak residence and commit murder.
'Who?' I thought, staring at the painted faces. 'Who did this? And why?'
The system offered no answers. The memories were incomplete, fragmented. I knew something terrible had happened, but the crucial details—the woman's identity, the motive, what happened to Gary's sister—all of it remained locked behind the other fifty percent of memories I hadn't yet integrated.
"I'm fine," I said to Gible, though my voice was shaky. "Just... remembering things. Things that happened before."