Pokémon : An Unexpected Odyssey

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Misty sat cross-legged on the windowsill of her rented room at the Pokémon Center, staring out over the serene waterways of Cerulean City. The afternoon sun sparkled on the canals, the sound of water trickling against stone faintly audible through the glass. It should have been peaceful, but her mind churned with unease.

Her hands gripped the windowsill tightly, as if bracing herself against a sudden gust of wind, but no breeze came. The conversation with Austin played on an endless loop in her mind, each word echoing like a stone dropped into still water.

He'd offered her everything—an opportunity to seize the dream she'd been chasing since she was old enough to understand what being a Gym Leader meant. A chance to prove to herself and everyone else that she was more than just "the youngest," the one who was always overlooked, the sister who would never quite measure up.

And she'd turned him down.

She let out a long sigh.

Why had she said no?

At first, it had been simple: pride. She didn't want to take handouts, didn't want to owe anyone anything. But the longer she thought about it, the clearer it became that it wasn't just pride holding her back. It was fear. Fear of putting herself on the line, fear of failing in front of someone who genuinely seemed to believe in her.

Her hands tightened into fists.

She hated this feeling. This uncertainty. This knot in her stomach that refused to go away. She'd always been decisive, always charged forward without looking back. But now? Now she felt trapped in place, her feet stuck in the mud of her own doubts.

A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts. Misty's head snapped toward the sound, and for a moment, she considered ignoring it. But the knock came again, firmer this time.

Grudgingly, she slid off the windowsill and crossed the room. When she opened the door, Austin stood on the other side, looking far too casual for her liking. Pikachu perched on his shoulder, chewing on what looked like the remnants of a ketchup packet.

"Hey," he said, holding up a takeout bag. "Thought you might be hungry."

Misty blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon, and certainly not bearing food. Her stomach growled softly in response, betraying her.

"Lunch?" she asked warily, narrowing her eyes. "Or another attempt to change my mind?"

"Can't it be both?" he replied with a grin, stepping past her before she could tell him to leave.

She closed the door with more force than necessary, turning to see him already unpacking the food onto the small table by the bed. There were two plates, each piled high with pasta in a creamy sauce, along with a small container of garlic bread.

Misty hesitated before sitting across from him. Her appetite was there, but her irritation lingered.

"So, what's the plan this time?" she asked, picking up a fork but not yet digging in.

"No plan," Austin said, twirling some pasta onto his fork. "Just lunch."

She didn't believe him, not for a second, but the aroma of the food was too tempting to resist. She took a cautious bite, the rich, buttery flavor melting on her tongue.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence, the only sound the occasional clink of silverware against plates. Misty found herself relaxing, though she kept stealing glances at Austin, trying to figure out what his angle was.

Finally, he spoke.

"I've been thinking about what you said yesterday," he began, his tone thoughtful. "About not wanting to be a burden."

Misty's grip on her fork tightened.

"And?"

"I think you're underestimating yourself," he said simply.

Her jaw tightened. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not," he replied, meeting her glare with a calm look. "I mean it. You've got what it takes, Misty. I've seen it."

She laughed bitterly, setting her fork down. "You've known me for what? A few days? You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough," Austin said, leaning forward slightly. "I know you've got more fight in you than most people I've met. And I know you're holding yourself back because you're scared."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

"I'm not scared," she snapped, though her voice wavered.

"Yeah, you are," he said. "And that's okay. Everyone's scared of something."

Misty looked away, her nails digging into her palms. She hated how easily he'd seen through her.

"I don't get it," she said after a moment, her voice quieter now. "Why do you care so much? Why are you doing this for me?"

Austin hesitated, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his expression.

"Because I've seen what happens when people stop chasing their dreams," he said finally. "And I don't want that to happen to you."

His words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken.

Misty swallowed hard, her emotions swirling. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that his intentions were pure. But the doubts wouldn't let her.

"What's in it for you?" she asked, her voice sharp. "What do you get out of this?"

Austin smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair. "I get to see you succeed. That's enough for me."

She shook her head, laughing softly but without humor. "No one's that selfless."

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But this isn't about me. It's about you."

Misty stared down at her plate, her appetite gone. The weight of Austin's words pressed against her chest, almost enough to make her crumble. Almost. But the more she thought about it, the more a familiar frustration began to burn in her stomach.

This entire situation didn't make sense—Austin didn't make sense.

She raised her head, her sharp eyes locking onto his. "Okay, enough," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "What's your angle?"

Austin blinked, clearly startled. "My angle?"

"Yeah, your angle." She stood abruptly, shoving her chair back with more force than she intended. Her hands rested on the table as she leaned forward, her glare pinning him in place. "This whole act you've been playing—'I want to see you succeed, I want to help you achieve your dreams.' It's almost convincing. Almost. But I'm not moving an inch until I know the truth."

Austin leaned back in his chair, his calm demeanor slipping slightly as her words hit him. "Misty, there's no act—"

"Don't you dare," she snapped, cutting him off. "Don't stand there and lie to my face. People don't just throw twenty thousand Pokédollars at someone they barely know for no reason. So either you're the most naïve person I've ever met, or you've got some kind of agenda."

He didn't respond immediately, his expression carefully neutral.

But Misty wasn't about to let him off the hook. She pushed away from the table, pacing the small room like a caged Growlithe, her frustration boiling over.

"You think I don't know how the world works?" she continued, her voice rising. "I've spent enough time around people who promise one thing and mean something else entirely. My sisters, trainers, so-called 'friends.' People always want something, Austin. So tell me—what do you want from me?"

Austin watched her silently, his hands folded in front of him. He looked calm, but Misty could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight twitch in his jaw. She crossed her arms, stopping mid-step to glare at him.

"Because if you think I'm just going to sit here and let you play the hero without knowing why, you're wrong," she said, her voice quieter but no less firm. "I'm not some charity case. I'm not someone you can fix, or save, or whatever it is you think you're doing."

Austin took a deep breath.

The truth was simple, yet unfathomably deep: he was doing all this because of fate. Fate—a concept he had scarcely considered before, but now it seemed impossible to ignore.

This world wasn't the anime he knew. I guess it wasn't from day one. I just figured it was a world that was more realistic yet still anime.

The exact nature of his reality was elusive, yet one thing was increasingly clear: this world was striving to adhere to the canon of the anime, despite the variations he encountered.

He had already gotten another chance to persuade Brock to join him at the Saloon, mirroring the anime's plot point of Ash getting Brock as his companion. He had encountered the Clefairy tribe, just like the show, despite Seymour explaining that no one was allowed near their sacred lands. And now, Misty was "coincidentally" near Cerulean City and perfectly positioned to agree to his plan, poised to become his companion as if scripted by Fate.

Yet even through all of that, he had Vee, Rattata, and Spearow as his Pokémon. He had left behind Caterpie and Pidgeotto.

He clearly had free will. He clearly had more.

So, was everything else just a domino effect on the system, or was something actively working to make sure the world stayed true to the anime?

Honestly, this was the reason he was doing this.

As long as he got answers, Austin was willing to use Misty to glean insights into the workings of fate and the extent of its grip on him.

Was this fair to Misty—to make her his guinea pig?

Probably not.

But in his mind, she stood to benefit from his plan, which tempered any moral reservations he might have had.

Austin's thoughts churned like a stormy sea as he sat across from Misty, her piercing gaze demanding the truth—a truth he couldn't possibly divulge.

As he sifted through his thoughts, he realized that no matter how he phrased it, any attempt to explain his true motivations would cast him as delusional, perhaps even insane. Misty was already suspicious of him; adding such an explanation would only solidify her doubts and might push her further away.

"Do you want the truth, or do you want a truth?"

Misty frowned. "What's the difference?"

"The truth is the main reason why I'm doing this," Austin explained, meeting her gaze without flinching. "A truth is just one of the many reasons why I'm doing this."

"Give me the truth," Misty demanded, her voice low and laced with frustration.

Austin took another deep breath. "I can't tell you."

Misty's eyes narrowed, her tone cutting as she snapped, "Then excuse yourself out the door."

He straightened slightly, holding her gaze. "It involves the safety of my Pokémon."

"Pardon?"

"I know it's confusing," Austin replied. "But my agenda… it's tied to my Pokémon."

"Then why involve me?"

Austin leaned forward, his expression sharp with purpose. "Simple. You accomplish your dreams, and I accomplish my goal. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. Simple as that."

Misty's eyes didn't waver, her voice cold as she asked, "How do you know everything about me?"

"Asked around," Austin said with a shrug, his lips quirking slightly. "Rumors travel faster than a Dodrio on caffeine."

Misty huffed, clearly unsatisfied but unwilling to push further. "Fine. I'll have to think about it."

"Well, we've got a lot of food left," Austin said, motioning to the spread in front of them. "Why not think it over while eating?"

Misty sighed, but the temptation of the free meal was too much to ignore. She grabbed her fork and started eating again, her expression guarded.

The silence stretched between them for a moment before Misty spoke, her tone curious. "What would you say if I asked for a truth?"

Austin looked at her, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "I'd still tell you I think you're cute."

Misty paused mid-bite, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as she focused on her food, trying to hide her flustered expression.

Unbeknownst to her, Austin studied her reaction with mild amusement, though his thoughts remained detached.

Misty had been his childhood crush, the kind of idealized admiration born from countless afternoons watching her on screen. But now that she was real, the idea of pursuing a relationship with her didn't cross his mind. Even if he were older, Misty simply wasn't his type—her fiery personality and sharp edges clashed with what he thought was his type.

"You know," Misty began suddenly, her voice quiet, "when I was little, my sisters used to call me the Ugly Psyduck."

Austin raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden confession. "Psyduck can evolve into Golduck," he said matter-of-factly.

Misty blinked, caught off guard by the seemingly random response. "Obviously," she said. "Future water master and all."

"Hm. An ugly Psyduck into a beautiful Golduck."

Misty's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"When I was a kid," Austin began, "my mom used to tell me a story. It was about a Psyduck who was mocked for being clumsy and awkward, but one day it evolved into a strong and graceful Golduck. It became something everyone admired."

Misty's expression softened slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. It was her favorite bedtime story—one her mom had always told her to lift her spirits.

"I think," Austin continued, "one day you'll grow up to be a beautiful Golduck."

Misty's cheeks flushed a deeper red as she quickly looked away, focusing on her plate. For a fleeting moment, Austin's words reminded her of her mother—encouraging, supportive, unwavering.

"Eat, you idiot, or else it'll get cold," she said brusquely, trying to hide the lump forming in her throat.

Austin smiled faintly, saying nothing as he turned to his Pokédex, fiddling with the buttons.

"What are you doing?" Misty asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Entertainment," Austin replied nonchalantly. "Sometimes I listen to Pokédex entries when I'm eating."

Misty tilted her head. "Can you check Psyduck's entry?"

Austin nodded, scrolling through the device. "Sure."

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Psyduck Pokédex Entry:

For all mankind's inventions—volcano monitoring, satellite tracking of hurricanes, and the like—there remains no better predictor of natural disasters than the intensity of a Psyduck's headache. Although perpetually confused and in pain, Psyduck possess a telepathic bond with the Earth itself. When the world cries out in pain and upheaval, this link activates, causing its headaches to grow ever worse and its telekinesis to often become uncontrollable. While inexperienced trainers may mistake this for the Pokémon's usual erratic behavior, wise trainers have learned to run for cover whenever a Psyduck cries out in pain.

Unfortunately for those in some hotspots, these cries happen regardless of the nature of the disaster in question. It is not unheard of for people to run for cover on a Psyduck's warning fearing a hurricane, only to be crushed by that very cover in a freak earthquake. This unpredictability has underscored mankind's need to develop better disaster prediction methods—though, so far, efforts have largely failed. Additionally, many trainers feed headache medication to their Psyduck, which, while making them more effective in battle (except for psychic attacks), means far fewer Psyduck are left capable of giving warnings.

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Austin chuckled softly as the entry ended. Gathering the leftover food containers, he stacked them neatly before placing them into the takeout bag. He wiped the table with a napkin, ensuring there were no crumbs left behind. Standing up, he glanced around the room, checking to see if he'd missed anything.

"Well then, it's been nice. If you ever want to mooch off someone, I'm just down the hall."

Misty rolled her eyes but still punched him lightly on the arm.

"Kidding," Austin added quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender.

As he reached for the doorknob, Misty's voice stopped him.

"How long are you planning to stay in Cerulean if I don't agree to your plan?"

Austin paused, his hand hovering over the handle. "I don't know. I'll probably leave right away."

Misty's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable. "Who are you, Austin?"

He turned back to meet her gaze, his tone softening. "Just a boy trying to survive in the world, Misty. A boy hoping to make sure he and his Pokémon are safe. A boy looking for answers from a world that seems to throw more questions at him every day."

Misty's expression shifted, her features softening as his words resonated with her. She knew what it felt like to face the unknown, to feel lost and unsure.

"I'll give you my answer tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Misty," Austin replied, offering her a small, grateful smile. She gave a slight wave before closing the door behind him.

"You've been awfully quiet," Austin muttered, raising an eyebrow as he walked down the hallway.

"Pika, pika," Pikachu said slowly, exaggerating his tone as he made exaggerated kissing motions.

Austin snorted, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I'll get back at you when Dawn's Buneary shows up."

"Pika?" Pikachu squeaked, tilting his head in confusion, clearly unsure what Austin meant.

Austin chuckled, stepping into the Pokémon Center lobby. He made his way to the trash can and tossed the bag in, the sound of it landing echoing faintly in the otherwise quiet space.

As he turned to leave, something caught his eye—a bright yellow poster pinned to the nearby bulletin board. He stopped in his tracks, his breath hitching as he read the bold letters:

"Nugget Bridge Challenge - Come for the gold if you have the guts!"

Austin moved closer, studying the poster intently. The details were uncanny—almost identical to how the challenge had been portrayed in the games, from the structure to the location. His jaw tightened.

"If it's like the games…" he muttered under his breath, his mind racing. He knew what that could mean.

His eye twitched as the thought struck him.

"Team Rocket," he whispered, the words heavy with frustration.

Pikachu chirped curiously, sensing the shift in his trainer's mood.

"Looks like we've got more work to do, buddy," Austin said, his voice low but resolute. Pikachu nodded, sparks flickering faintly from his cheeks as they headed back to their room to prepare for whatever lay ahead.