"Name?"
"Alex."
"Age?"
"Thirty."
"Thirty?"
The interviewer sitting across from him raised an eyebrow, his scrutinizing gaze landing on the weary-looking man opposite the desk.
The outcome was unsurprising.
Failed.
A man brushing against thirty, in this bleak season, had been ruthlessly tossed by the job market into the category of "discardable labor."
"Sigh—"
Alex yanked off the cheap suit that made his skin crawl and threw himself heavily onto the sofa.
"Failed again…"
When did finding a stable, halfway decent job become harder than climbing to the heavens?
The room fell into a deathly silence.
"…Forget it. Might as well rot."
The cold glow of the computer screen illuminated Alex's expressionless face, tension etched deeply between his brows.
Then—
A familiar melody began to play.
[Let us step forward together, toward that brilliance more beautiful than transparency—everything begins here!]
The screen lit up, and the visuals of the official Pokémon MV GOTCHA! burst forth.
As a textbook otaku, Alex's life trajectory was painfully simple: a straight line between home and his former workplace.
Outside of work, he still held onto the modest hobbies of an ordinary person—listening to music, drawing, watching anime, reading manga.
And games.
Games of all kinds.
Among them, his favorite genre was nurturing and collecting.
After all, from childhood to adulthood, the Pokémon series had always been his greatest love. Anime, manga, every generation of the games—he followed them all without exception.
Almost possessed, he clicked open the game that had once made his heart race for the first time:
Pokémon Emerald.
The pixelated protagonist stepping down from the moving truck.
The Zigzagoon leaping out of the tall grass.
The man in a white coat being chased until he was gasping for breath.
The three Starter Pokémon waiting quietly inside their Poké Balls…
[I want to tell you—you are right here. Everything begins here!]
"If only I could be born into the Pokémon world…"
As the music faded, Alex murmured the deepest wish shared by countless Pokémon fans.
Fatigue washed over him like a tide.
Surrounded by familiar pixel graphics and gentle melodies, he held the game console in his arms and drifted unconsciously into sleep.
---
"…Alex… Alex…"
The soft sound of waves blended with a woman's gentle voice.
"Wake up. We're almost at the Hoenn region."
Little Alex leaned over the ship's railing, standing on tiptoe as he strained to look into the distance.
Before him stretched intersecting waterways. Flocks of Wingull spread their long wings and soared freely through the blue sky. On rocky reefs rising above the sea, several Corsola basked lazily in the sun. The sea breeze, tinged with salt and warmth from the steamship, brushed his cheeks, carrying with it the scent of a faraway land.
This was the Hoenn region.
Alex had been in this world for four years now.
More accurately—
He had been reborn.
His father was a sailor.
His mother, a gentle homemaker.
Their family had originally lived far away in the Sinnoh region.
Because of a job transfer, they moved south, settling in a small fishing village near Slateport City.
Everything was full of hope.
All that remained was for him to grow up and tell his parents that he wanted to set out on the journey he had dreamed of for so long—to become a Pokémon Trainer.
That was how fate should have gone.
But—
In the year Alex turned six, a catastrophic disaster swept across Hoenn.
And everything was overturned.
---
"Alex! What are you spacing out for?!"
Grandpa Hachi's booming voice yanked Alex back to reality, immediately followed by a rough but powerful palm slapping his back with a thwack.
"Hiss—ow, ow, ow!"
Caught off guard, Alex stumbled forward two steps before regaining his balance.
Despite his age, Grandpa Hachi's years at sea had left him with a remarkably sturdy build.
Up on the mast, two Wingull that had been playing were startled. They leaned over to look down at Alex and began squawking loudly, clearly amused.
"Grandpa!"
Alex rubbed his numb back, shooting the two birds an annoyed yet helpless glare.
Grandpa Hachi stroked his graying beard and slowly pulled an old pocket watch from his chest.
"Take a look, kid. What time is it?"
"…Eh?! Oh no!"
Alex's face drained of color.
"I'm going to be late for work!"
He spun around and sprinted toward the path leading into Petalburg Woods, his voice trailing behind him on the wind:
"Grandpa! I'll be back tonight—I'll make curry rice for you!"
"That kid is still as reckless as ever…"
Grandpa Hachi watched Alex's figure disappear into the forest, shaking his head helplessly—though warmth lingered in his eyes.
After a moment of silence, his thoughts drifted back to six years ago.
That disaster had mercilessly taken the boy's parents.
By League regulations, children who lost their guardians were meant to be sent to League-run orphanages.
But Hachi would never forget the look in young Alex's eyes when he woke in the hospital and learned the truth.
There was no hysterical crying.
No hollow emptiness either.
After a period of crushing depression, what surfaced was something far beyond his years—exhausted helplessness, and a stubborn resolve clawing its way out of despair.
That gaze looked as though it had already been beaten raw by the world… yet it still burned with indignation and an unyielding will to move forward.
It wasn't until Hachi noticed the pendant clenched tightly in the child's hand—carved in the likeness of the Pokémon he had searched for his entire life, Relicanth—that everything clicked.
In that moment, Hachi felt it was fate.
An indescribable impulse made him adopt the boy without hesitation.
As a sailor in his youth, Hachi had traveled to many regions beyond the League's reach. In those places, children orphaned by disasters, wars, or disease were sadly common.
But Alex was different.
His initial isolation slowly faded, replaced by diligence far beyond his peers—and an almost obsessive hunger for Pokémon-related knowledge.
It wasn't the way a six-year-old should behave.
Whether it was traveling all the way to Rustboro City to borrow thick professional books, or endlessly rereading the nautical logs Hachi had written in his youth—if it had words on it, Alex would devour it.
Analyze it.
Question it.
Absorb it.
That near-manic focus sometimes frightened Hachi.
Mature.
Steady.
Meticulous.
More than once, Hachi felt as if he hadn't adopted a child at all—but a prematurely grown genius.
Alex never played with the other kids in town. For the past two years, he had even insisted on working at a flower shop beyond Petalburg Woods, claiming he needed to "learn."
Staring at the forest path now swallowed by greenery, Grandpa Hachi let out a deep sigh.
The boy was already twelve.
Sooner or later, he would ask to leave on his own journey.
And once Alex made up his mind, even Tauros couldn't drag him back.
"If not for that cursed disaster…"
Hachi murmured softly.
That forced maturity—this awareness that didn't belong to a child—always left his heart aching with a surreal sense of loss.
The road ahead…
In the end, it could only be walked by the boy himself.
---
Southern Hoenn, on the outskirts of Rustboro City, at the edge of quiet Petalburg Woods—inside the Sheng Chenghua Flower Shop.
"Sister Shoko! Please behave yourself! I'm not that kind of easy guy!"
Alex dodged left and right in disarray, desperately avoiding the "grabbing assault" of a mischievous girl one or two years younger than him, her twin pigtails bouncing as she tried to stuff a handful of dew-covered clover down his collar.
The eldest daughter, Sister Noriko, calmly organized a fresh bouquet of lilies as if nothing were happening.
The second daughter, Sister Reiko, held a watering can shaped like a Wailmer, leisurely watering the pots while watching the chaos with a faint smile.
While desperately blocking Shoko's attack, Alex sent a silent plea to the two older sisters:
"Sister Noriko! Sister Reiko! Help—!"