It had been three days since the Hyper Beam Incident.
That was what Carolina called it, at least—said in the same tone one might use for earthquake or minor apocalypse. Since then, Ethan’s training privileges had been… adjusted.
By which he meant he was being watched.
Constantly.
If Carolina wasn’t “casually” in the garden cataloging stone fragments, then a b flying type was “coincidentally” patrolling the surrounding forest. If it wasn’t that, then some researcher was suddenly very interested in wild Bidoof migration patterns in the exact area Ethan liked to train.
It was exhausting.
Which was why Ethan had walked much farther than usual today—past the usual trails, past the maintained paths, and into a stretch of forest that even Celestic Town didn’t bother keeping tidy. Old trees loomed overhead, their canopies blotting out the sun, and the air felt quieter here. Heavier. Untouched.
Eevee trotted along beside him, tail swishing, clearly enjoying the break from supervision.
“Okay,” Ethan muttered, stopping at st. “This should be far enough.”
He gnced around once more, then focused inward.
The interface slid into pce without resistance.
Pokémon GO.
The map overid the forest, soft pastel roads failing to align with reality this time—no PokéStops nearby, no Gyms, just green and the occasional spawn ripple.
Good.
Ethan opened his storage.
Poké Balls. Berries. TMs.
And Pokémon.
“…All right,” he whispered. “Let’s see if this actually works.”
He selected one.
A common one. Low risk.
A Pidgey.
Eevee looked up at him, ears twitching. “Vee?”
“Stay close,” Ethan said quietly. “And… maybe brace?”
He hesitated only a second longer before tapping Deploy.
An a pokeball appeared in his hand.
Eevee stiffened immediately, ears snapping forward as it locked onto the object in Ethan’s hand.
“Vee.”
“I know,” Ethan said quietly. “Just… stay close.”
He took a breath, raised the Poké Ball, and pressed the button.
It snapped open.
A burst of red light spilled out, clean and familiar, striking the ground a few feet in front of him. The light condensed, shaped itself — and with a rush of dispced air, a Pidgey appeared.
It fluttered violently for a moment, wings beating as it gained its bance, then hopped backward, head swiveling as it took in the unfamiliar forest.
“Pid… gey?”
“Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s see if this works both ways.”
He pressed the button.
A thin red beam shot out, enveloping the Pidgey mid-hop.
“Pid!”
In an instant, the Pokémon was converted into light and drawn back into the ball with a soft click.
The forest fell quiet again.
Ethan stared at the Poké Ball for a long moment an it disappeared from his hand.
“…It works.”
The interface was updated in his vision.
Pidgey was stored. Pokémon Go was made real.
“Vee?”
Ethan exhaled slowly.
“So… yeah,” he muttered. “That changes everything.”
=======
Carolina was panicking.
“I want to know,” she said, voice tight but dangerously calm, “how my five-year-old grandson managed to disappear.”
The b was dead silent.
Three research assistants stood in a line, looking like they were waiting to be sentenced. One of them finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
“He didn’t trigger any perimeter alerts. None of us saw him leave. An he appears to have lost the swellow charged with watching him, taking cover in the tree canopy.”
Carolina didn’t raise her voice. She simply tapped the secure League line.
The connection was nearly instant, only two rings.
“Cynthia,” Carolina said. “Ethan is missing.”
There was no gasp, no crackle of panic. Just a measured pause, as if the silence itself had weight.
“How long?” Cynthia asked.
“About two hours,” Carolina replied evenly.
“Eevee with him?”
“Yes,” Carolina said.
“Then he should be fine… at least until I’m done with this afternoon's meeting in another two or three hours. If he’s still not found by then, I’ll join the search myself.” Cynthia responds
====
The forest blurred around them as Ethan ducked under low-hanging branches, Eevee at his side, ears pinned and eyes sharp. They were te an he was going to miss his new curfew if they didn’t rush back.
An Eevee was excited like zoomies excited, a Pokémon with zoomies was terrifying. Every rustle, every shadow was met with a fsh of movement.
A wild Bidoof appeared on a fallen log. Eevee lunged. A streak of gold and white shot through the air—Extreme Speed. The Bidoof yelped and was sent tumbling backward, nding in a soft patch of moss, an Eevee was suddenly king of the log.
“Eevee! Calm!” Ethan shouted, though his voice carried more awe than authority. The Pokémon’s tail swished, and it pivoted, already spotting the next threat.
A wild Starly swooped down from the canopy, its sharp cry cutting through the forest air.
Eevee moved.
Not ran—vanished.
One heartbeat it was at Ethan’s side, the next it was a pale blur tearing across the ground. The impact came almost immediately. The Starly didn’t even have time to juke or climb—its wings fred uselessly as it was struck mid-motion and sent skidding across the forest floor.
Before it could recover, Eevee was on it.
Pinned. Clean. Controlled.
The Starly chirped once in protest, then froze, instincts screaming surrender.
Ethan could only shake his head.
“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Using TMs from Pokémon GO really is cheating.”
Eevee hopped back lightly, tail flicking, clearly pleased with itself. Whatever that move technically was—Extreme Speed, or something dangerously close to it—it had taken root fast. Too fast. An Eevee barely a week into structured training should not be moving like that.
And yet.
The interface flickered again at the edge of his vision, numbers stabilizing just long enough to read.
CP: 2,456 (Projected Cap)
Ethan swallowed.
“That’s… insane.”
If the projection was even remotely accurate, then evolution wouldn’t just be a boost—it would be a leap. Three thousand CP at minimum. Maybe more. For Espeon… possibly well into the four-thousands if the scaling held.
That wasn’t just strong. That was Champion level and could even compete with most legendaries.
That was League-breaking.
He looked down at Eevee, who was now trotting back to him like nothing had happened, ears perked, eyes bright.
“All right, We need to get home.” Ethan states
