[Pallet Town – Dusk Approaches]
The sun was lowering gently, casting long shadows across the trees. Birds chirped softly, and the breeze carried the smell of fresh-cut grass and home cooking.
Aiden was heading home after the long day at Oak's. His mind drifted to the peaceful energy of the garden, the strength of the Pokémon, and the laughter of his friends. It had been a perfect day.
He was halfway down the familiar dirt road when he noticed it.
The wind shifted.
A strange silence settled in the air. No more chirps. No rustling. Just stillness.
Aiden's steps slowed.
Then… a sharp, metallic shriek cut through the air.
He broke into a sprint.
⸻
[Five Minutes Earlier – Aiden's Home]
A rustling in the bushes. Then another. Then the sharp hum of slicing wind.
A Scyther burst from the nearby woods—its movements sharp, efficient, violent.
It wasn't supposed to be here.
Green-level Talent.
Its blades hummed with a vibration that cut through wood and stone as if they were cloth. A dungeon must've opened nearby—unmapped, undocumented. One of the white-level dungeons gone wrong.
Inside the house, Aiden's father grabbed the iron rod from behind the door.
"Stay back!" he shouted at the approaching blur of green.
But Scyther didn't hesitate.
It slashed once—and blood splashed across the wall.
Aiden's mother tried to flee through the back, screaming his name even before he arrived.
Then… silence.
⸻
[Present – Aiden Arrives]
"AIDEN!!" Oak's voice cried behind him, distant.
But Aiden had already seen the door.
Open. Cracked. Blood on the frame.
He stepped inside.
And stopped.
His mother's body lay crumpled near the kitchen doorway. His father, collapsed near the front, hand still gripping the iron bar, now bent and bloodied.
Scyther was gone.
But its damage remained.
Aiden didn't scream.
He walked forward slowly, hands trembling.
He knelt beside his father. Touched his wrist.
Nothing.
Then he turned to his mother.
Nothing.
His breath quickened. "No… please—no—"
⸻
[His Aura Awakens]
It came slowly at first.
Like the feeling of a second heartbeat. But it wasn't in his chest.
It was in the air.
The air responded to him.
Cracks formed in the wood under his knees.
A soft hum began in the air.
Then the lights shattered. One by one.
Professor Oak stumbled in behind him. "Aiden! Stop! You have to—!"
The words didn't register.
Because a second force emerged.
Not just aura.
Psychic energy.
It spiraled outward like a tremor, lifting plates, shattering the hanging lamp, making the pictures on the wall spin.
Aiden stood, eyes wide, glowing faintly silver. Hair rising slightly. His shadow stretched unnaturally behind him, though the light was dim.
"Why…?"
"I should've been here."
"It was just Green-level. Why…?"
His fists clenched.
The wind stopped.
Every breath of nature around the house froze.
Oak backed up.
He'd seen aura. He'd seen psychics. But never… like this.
Not fused. Not so raw. Not in a child.
And especially… not someone whose Talent hadn't even been awakened yet.
⸻
[Collapse]
Then, as if a switch flipped, Aiden collapsed.
No light. No hum. Just a boy crying, not with sound — but with breathless, broken sobs.
Professor Oak rushed forward and pulled him into an embrace, even as debris and smoke filled the air.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so… sorry."
Aiden didn't answer.
He just stared at the blood on the floor. At the torn furniture. At the pieces of what used to be home.
And deep in his heart… something began to change.