The town of Maplefall sat at the edge of Unova like it had been forgotten on purpose.
It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name, your business, and what you ate for breakfast. A place where nothing ever happened unless a Herdier escaped its fence or a Pidove got stuck in the Pokémon Center vents.
To most people, Maplefall was a dead end.
To Grant Calder, it was a starting line.
Grant leaned against the wooden fence outside his house, eyes fixed on the distant hills where Route 3 disappeared into the horizon. The wind tugged at his jacket, and he didn't bother pulling it closed. His mind was already somewhere else.
Sixteen years old. Too tall for most doorframes. Always restless. Always dreaming.
He had the kind of energy that made teachers sigh and Gym trainers smirk. The kind that made people say, "That boy's going to get himself into trouble one day."
Grant hoped they were right.
Because trouble meant adventure.
"Grant! If you're going to stand there daydreaming, at least bring in the laundry!"
His mother's voice cut through the wind.
Grant sighed dramatically. "Mom, I'm mentally preparing for my destiny."
"Your destiny can wait five minutes," she replied. "The wind's stealing my socks."
Lena Calder was a former field medic for the Pokémon Rangers. Sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued, and terrifying when angry. She wore her hair in a braid and still carried a utility belt even though she retired years ago.
She had stitched up Pokémon, trainers, and once even a Gym Leader.
She did not tolerate nonsense.
Grant's father, Marcus Calder, sat on the porch polishing a fishing rod.
"Let him dream," Marcus said calmly. "It's the only thing keeping him from climbing the radio tower again."
Grant winced. "I said I was sorry."
"You said the same thing when you tried to ride a Gogoat off a cliff," Lena reminded him.
Grant grinned. "And I survived."
"Barely," both parents said together.
Marcus chuckled. A former sailor who now ran the town's supply dock, he was broad-shouldered and permanently relaxed. Nothing rattled him. Not storms. Not pirates. Not even the time Grant accidentally released thirty Wingull inside the warehouse.
"You're leaving soon," Marcus said softly.
Grant stiffened.
Lena crossed her arms. "Professor Juniper called."
Grant's heart jumped. "And?"
"She said you're officially approved."
Silence fell.
Grant swallowed. "So… it's real."
Lena walked over and fixed his collar. "It's real."
Grant didn't get far before he heard running footsteps.
"DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE."
He turned just in time to be tackled by a blur of red hair.
"Rhea, I swear—"
Rhea Volkner stood up and dusted herself off. Mechanic's daughter. Grease on her gloves. Goggles on her head. Smart enough to build a Poké Ball modifier from scrap metal and reckless enough to test it on herself.
"You were totally going to sneak off," she accused.
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were."
Grant shrugged. "Okay, maybe."
Behind her came Tobin Hale, tall, quiet, bookish, and permanently carrying three devices at once. The future Pokémon researcher of Maplefall.
"I calculated the probability," Tobin said. "There was a seventy-eight percent chance you'd avoid a goodbye."
Grant scoffed. "Traitor."
Rhea crossed her arms. "So. Tomorrow's the big day."
Grant nodded.
Tobin smiled. "First real trainer from Maplefall in twelve years."
Rhea grinned. "You better not lose your first Gym battle."
Grant smirked. "I won't lose any."
She punched his shoulder. "That's what you said before you got beaten by Mrs. Dalloway's Watchog."
"That Watchog cheats."
Later that evening, Grant climbed the hill to Professor Juniper's lab.
The building glowed against the darkening sky.
Inside, Professor Juniper adjusted her glasses and watched him approach.
"You're pacing," she noted.
"I'm trying not to explode."
She smiled. "That's normal."
Grant took a breath. "Do you really think I can do this?"
Juniper folded her arms. "Grant, you once tracked a wild Zebstrika through a thunderstorm using only hoofprints and instinct."
"Okay, but—"
"And you rebuilt a broken Pokédex from spare parts."
"But—"
"And you challenged a Ranger to a battle without owning a Pokémon."
"…I lost that one."
"You still showed up."
She leaned closer. "Champions aren't born. They're stubborn enough to become one."
Grant straightened.
That night, Maplefall threw him a farewell party.
There was music. Food. Stories. Even fireworks.
Rhea gave him a toolkit "for emergencies." Tobin gave him a data chip loaded with maps. His mom gave him a medical kit. His dad gave him his old compass.
Grant stood in his room later, packing slowly.
Each item felt heavier than it should.
His dream wasn't just his anymore.
It belonged to everyone who believed in him.
The Road Awaits
At dawn, Grant stepped outside.
Backpack on. Boots tied. Heart pounding.
His parents stood on the porch.
Rhea and Tobin waited by the road.
Grant Calder barely slept.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw three Poké Balls sitting on a silver tray. Every time he opened them, something different jumped out. Fire. Grass. Water. Destiny.
By the time the sun finally rose over Maplefall, Grant was already dressed, boots laced, backpack strapped tight. He stood in the kitchen pretending to eat breakfast while his heart tried to sprint ahead of the rest of him.
"Slow down," his mother said, sliding a cup of tea toward him. "You'll trip on your own excitement."
Grant took one sip. Burned his tongue. Didn't care.
"I'm ready," he said.
His father smiled from behind his newspaper. "That's what you said before your first swimming lesson."
Grant groaned. "That was different. The pool was evil."
Lena rolled her eyes. "You were afraid of the diving board."
"It was very high."
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "Go. Professor Juniper hates it when people are late."
Grant grabbed his bag and rushed for the door, stopping only when Marcus cleared his throat.
"Compass," his father said, holding it out.
Grant took it carefully. "I won't get lost."
Marcus smiled. "That's not what it's for."
Grant clipped it to his bag.
Then he ran..