The road stretched endlessly beneath the dying light of afternoon, a ribbon of dirt winding through the fading green of Viridian Forest's edge. The air still carried the faint scent of ash from the city behind them, and though the wind was gentle, it whispered through the trees like an echo of the chaos they'd barely survived. The group walked in silence — Joy with her gaze fixed on the ground, Misty occasionally glancing back toward the horizon as if expecting another explosion, Ashley hugging Pikachu close against her chest. Bob led at a steady pace ahead, his steps heavy, his arm still wrapped in makeshift bandages from the poisoned barbs that had pierced him the night before. The pain had dulled, but the questions had not.
He waited until the others were far enough back — until their footsteps softened into background noise — before muttering under his breath, "Aqua, I need you to start talking."
For a moment there was only static, the faint buzz of data realigning itself somewhere deep in his skull. Then, like a slow reboot, her voice filtered through — fragile, yet threaded with sarcasm as always.
{Define start talking. You mean about the Alpha exp overflow? Or about the part where a literal moon goddess decided to hijack my network and treat you like her new favorite show?}
Bob frowned, brushing a branch aside as he walked. "The goddess part. Kaguya. She wasn't supposed to exist outside her world, much less… freeze time. That's not even possible for her."
There was a long, synthetic sigh — the kind that somehow carried exasperation even from an artificial voice.
{Yeah, about that. So… remember the Fourth Great Ninja War? The one where Naruto and Sasuke fought Kaguya? The prime Kaguya, I mean. That battle didn't just happen in one dimension — they tore through realities. In-between spaces. Prototypes. They ripped the seams between worlds wide open. And when they left? Those places didn't vanish. They stayed. Incomplete. Unfinished. Abandoned.}
Bob's brows knitted. "You're telling me those leftover battle zones became… universes?"
{Exactly. Think of them like glitch copies in a multiversal hard drive. When a creator — or what you people call an author — stops working on a world, the data doesn't delete itself. It just… drifts. Someone might call it a forgotten realm. Others might call it… fanfiction.}
He stopped mid-step, trying to absorb that. "So this version of Kaguya — she's not the real one?"
{Nope. She's an echo. A fragment that evolved into its own being. The original author stopped maintaining her timeline, but her consciousness lingered. Alone. On this world's moon. For thousands of years. And after all that time… you, my unlucky human, caught her attention.}
Bob glanced up at the canopy above, the leaves shifting in the amber light. "Because of Gardevoir."
{Because of your Alpha. The energy output when she purged the enemy units overloaded every magical, psychic, and digital frequency within a hundred-mile radius. It pinged every dimension-layer connected to this reality. And guess who's been stuck on the cosmic equivalent of a deserted island with nothing to do for eons?}
He groaned. "A lonely, reality-bending goddess."
{Bingo. And she found you entertaining. Think of yourself as the latest season in a show she didn't know she needed.}
Bob let out a dry laugh. "Perfect. I survived Team Rocket, and now I've got a celestial stalker."
{You're welcome, by the way. She patched the system before your brain turned into a hot pile of neurological soup. I'd thank her if she didn't terrify me.}
He rubbed his temple. "Why would she help? If she's that powerful, why not just—"
{Because she's bored, Bob. That's the whole point. Power doesn't mean purpose. She didn't help you out of mercy — she helped because watching mortals struggle amuses her. You're her entertainment.}
Bob exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Great. I'm a walking soap opera for gods."
{You always were. Just took one to notice.}
He opened his mouth to fire back, but Aqua's tone suddenly softened, her usual energy fading.
{But listen, that overload took a lot out of me too. Running systems across dimensions isn't what I was built for. I need a few hours to cool down. Try not to die before I reboot, okay?}
"Aqua?" he asked quietly. "You good?"
There was a faint digital murmur — almost like a sleepy sigh.
{Zzz… diagnostics… naps… goodnight…}
The line went dead.
Bob stared ahead, then muttered, "Figures."
---
By the time the sun began to set, the group had reached a small clearing deep in the woods. A fallen oak stretched across the ground, its massive trunk half-swallowed by moss and roots. The air smelled clean, filled with the earthy sweetness of pine and soil. After everything that had happened, the quiet almost felt unreal — like the world was pretending it hadn't burned just the night before.
Ashley's stomach growled loud enough to startle Pikachu awake in her arms. The little Pokémon blinked, then whined softly in agreement. Misty gave a small, tired laugh, and even Joy cracked a faint smile despite her exhaustion.
"Well," Bob said, dropping his pack beside the tree, "that's democracy for you. The stomachs have spoken. We're stopping."
He crouched near a shallow dip in the ground where water once gathered, brushing aside damp leaves and gravel. "This'll do. We'll set up a fire pit."
Misty arched a brow, crossing her arms. "You actually know how to make fire?"
Bob looked up at her, deadpan. "I'm a grown man. Of course I know how to make fire."
Ashley tilted her head. "Have you ever made one before?"
He hesitated just long enough for Libre to snort quietly behind him. "…No further questions."
Gathering sticks and bark from the forest floor, he stacked them the way survival videos always showed — only to realize he'd forgotten half the method halfway through. He sat back, grabbed two sticks, and started rubbing them together like his life depended on it.
For five minutes, the only sound in the clearing was the dry scrape of wood, the labored rhythm of frustration, and Bob muttering curses under his breath. Sweat began to bead at his temple. Libre tilted her head, watching in silence, while Ashley and Misty exchanged amused glances. Pikachu gave a weak "Pika…" — which could have meant encouragement or pity.
"Don't help me," Bob grumbled through gritted teeth. "I've got this."
More scraping. More sweat. Nothing.
Then — a whisper of smoke.
He froze, leaning close. A single ember glowed faintly between the sticks. "Come on… come on…" He blew gently. The ember grew. The faintest flicker of light pulsed within the dry bark.
"Yes!" he shouted, laughter bursting out uncontrollably. "Yes! It worked! Fire! I made fire!"
He jumped to his feet, arms raised in victory like a caveman discovering civilization. "Behold! I have conquered nature itself! Witness my greatness!"
Behind him, Gardevoir stood in perfect stillness. Her head tilted slightly, eyes glowing faintly with soft blue light. With a single, almost bored flick of her wrist, a tiny wisp of mystic fire drifted from her palm and landed on the ember.
The pit ignited instantly.
Bob froze mid-victory pose, staring at the fully formed campfire now crackling merrily in front of him. "...It worked," he whispered in awe.
Diana quietly folded her hands behind her back, face calm and unreadable, while Libre clapped her paws twice — slow, sarcastic applause. Pikachu snickered outright.
Misty smirked. "Yeah, sure. Great survival skills, Bob."
He sat down on the log, panting but grinning like a madman. "I don't care how it happened. Fire's fire."
Ashley giggled softly. "You sound like you just evolved from caveman to man."
Bob pointed his stick at her. "Step one — survive. Step two — burn things."
Even Joy laughed at that, the sound fragile but real. The firelight danced across their faces, chasing away the shadows that had followed them since Viridian.
For the first time in days, the air didn't smell like smoke and death — just wood and warmth.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, they were no longer survivors.
The laughter faded, leaving behind the gentle hiss of firewood and the soft hum of the forest at night. The glow of the flames flickered against the dark, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts over bark and faces alike.
Bob leaned forward, rubbing his palms together, looking far too proud of himself for a man who had nearly set three logs and half a boot on fire in the process. "Alright," he said, voice still tinged with triumph. "Now that we've got fire, step two."
Ashley blinked. "Step two?"
"Dinner," Bob said with absolute confidence.
She gave him a look somewhere between disbelief and admiration. "You actually have food?"
"Oh, I've got everything," Bob replied.
And then, somehow, he proved it.
From his bag — the same small, worn pack he'd been carrying since Viridian — he began pulling out objects that had no business fitting inside it. A collapsible pot, a pair of metal utensils, a foldable table, two compact chairs, and a spice tin. Even a cloth to lay beneath the setup.
Ashley, Misty, and Joy all stared, frozen mid-thought, like they were watching a magic trick that refused to stop.
Ashley was the first to find her voice. "Bob… how do you even have all that?"
Bob froze for half a heartbeat, then smiled with suspicious calm. "Ah… well, funny story."
---
Flashback — last Night.....
Viridian slept under fractured moonlight, the air still heavy with smoke from what once was the Pokémon Center. The streets were quiet, eerily so, the only sound the faint hum of distant generators.
Bob crouched in the shadows near the edge of the broken Pokémon Mart, his head wrapped in a torn black shirt like a discount ninja mask. His jacket sleeves were rolled up, and a single flashlight dangled from his belt, flickering in and out.
He pressed his back against the cracked wall and whispered, "Operation… Totally Legal Resource Acquisition… commence."
From behind, a calm voice brushed his mind — not Aqua's artificial tone, but the elegant echo of Diana herself.
"Is this truly necessary, Master?"
"Necessary? It's called being prepared," Bob whispered.
"Prepared," she repeated slowly, her voice soft but clearly skeptical. "By breaking into a damaged marketplace?"
He crouched lower, glancing through the broken glass doors. "Not breaking into. Entering… uninvited."
"There is a word for that," she said.
"Resourceful," Bob replied.
"Criminal."
He winced. "Semantics."
She sighed, the sound like wind through crystal. "You are… impossible."
"Efficient," he countered, sliding through the shattered entrance.
Inside, the store was chaos. Shelves overturned, glass littering the floor, packaging scattered like confetti. But to Bob, it looked like opportunity. He began filling a new heavy-duty backpack with everything useful — potions, Poké Balls, camping kits, cookware, medical sprays, two brand-new field tents, even a water purifier still in its box.
Diana floated silently nearby, watching him work. When he stacked a few items too hastily, she raised a brow. "And you plan to pay for these?"
He hesitated. "Eventually."
"When?"
"When the economy stabilizes."
Her expression didn't change, but her silence said enough.
Minutes later, as he slung the bulging bag over his shoulder, his gaze caught something near the counter — a spray can among the fallen merchandise.
He picked it up, shook it once, and turned to the cracked white wall behind him.
Diana's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"
"Insurance."
He pressed the nozzle, painting a bold, dripping red "R" across the wall.
Diana blinked once, psychic aura flickering faintly. "You are leaving… a signature?"
"Correction," Bob said, grinning under his makeshift mask. "I'm leaving a scapegoat."
"You're… framing Team Rocket."
"Exactly!" He stepped back to admire his work. "If anyone finds this mess, they'll blame them. Team Rocket ruins everything — it's basically a law at this point."
Diana folded her hands delicately. "Deceit. Theft. False attribution. You truly are a complex human."
"I like to think of it as morally flexible," he said proudly.
When they finally left, the red "R" gleamed faintly under the moonlight — bold, messy, and unmistakably criminal. The kind of mark that made people whisper rumors later.
---
Present — Back at the Campfire
Bob clapped his hands together. "And that's how we got all this."
Ashley blinked. "You… bought all that?"
"Yup."
"In the middle of the night?"
"Yup."
"In a half-destroyed store?"
"Big sale."
Misty crossed her arms. "That sounds like you sto—"
Bob immediately stood, cutting her off with forced cheer. "Anyway! Water! We need water. Stream's that way, about some meters east. Take these." He handed over two canteens with the speed of a guilty man.
Ashley raised a brow but took one. "You're suspiciously eager to change topics."
"Hydration is important," he said quickly.
As they disappeared through the trees, the camp grew quieter. The fire crackled, soft and steady. Joy lingered near the edge, watching him.
"You know," she said softly, "you're not fooling anyone."
Bob grinned faintly. "Don't need to. Just need to survive."
Before she could reply, a sound broke the peace — a deep, wet crack that echoed through the trees, followed by another.
Joy turned sharply. "What was that?"
Then she saw her.
Diana stepped out from the dark, her silhouette ghostly in the moonlight. Floating behind her in telekinetic grip were four large Pidgeottos, necks bent at grotesque angles, feathers ruffled and drifting like snow.
Joy's mouth fell open. "She—she killed them?"
Bob didn't even flinch. "Dinner."
Diana set them gently beside the fire, her expression calm, voice echoing faintly in their minds. "You required sustenance."
Joy looked away quickly, hand covering her mouth. "You… two are insane."
Bob smirked faintly, crouching by the fire as he reached for his knife. "Welcome to life outside the city, Joy. Out here, the food doesn't come prepackaged."
The forest fell silent again, save for the crackle of fire and the faint rustle of feathers.
----
5 mins later, Misty and Ashely return.
The fire crackled softly, sending lazy sparks up into the night as the stew simmered. The scent of roasted meat and wild herbs hung heavy in the air, rich and mouthwatering despite the uneasy quiet that surrounded the camp. Bob stirred the pot slowly, his face lit by the orange glow, eyes steady and unreadable. Behind him, Gardevoir knelt beside her organized pile of ingredients — the once-majestic Pidgeottos now plucked, gutted, and cleaned with surgical precision. Her movements were mechanical, practiced, and eerily calm.
Ashley sat close to Pikachu, both of them watching silently. She didn't look away this time. She didn't want to see it — but she also knew pretending wouldn't make the hunger go away. Her stomach growled faintly, and she placed a hand on it with quiet shame. Libre, sitting beside her, gave a soft "Pika…" of understanding and nudged her leg gently.
Joy sat a few steps away, pale as moonlight. She looked like she might be sick. "This… this can't be right," she whispered, voice trembling. "You can't just… eat Pokémon."
Misty nodded, hugging her knees tightly. "Yeah! That's— that's insane! They're supposed to be our partners, not— not dinner!"
Bob didn't stop stirring.
He finally looked up, meeting her eyes across the fire. His tone wasn't cold, but it wasn't kind either. It was the sound of someone who'd already had this argument with himself a hundred times. " Pokémon hunt each other every day. You've seen it — a Pidgeot eats a Magikarp. A Gyarados swallows that same Pidgeot. Out here, everything eats something. That's the world, Misty. Not the one you see in books or shows. The real one."
Misty's mouth opened, but no sound came. She looked away, biting her lip, unsure whether to argue or cry. Joy still stared at the pot as if it were filled with ghosts.
Ashley broke the silence, her voice small but firm. "He's right… I didn't want to, either. But after what happened back in Viridian… I don't think we have the luxury to pretend."
Joy looked at her, stunned. "Ashley…"
Ashley's eyes softened. "I don't like it. I hate it, actually. But… we're not hurting them for fun."
Pikachu rubbed his cheek against her hand and let out a soft chirp of agreement.
Gardevoir finished her task, rising gracefully to her feet and moving toward the fire. Her gown was flecked with crimson, but her expression was serene, almost priestly. She placed the cleaned meat on a cloth beside Bob, then looked down at Joy. "You heal the wounded. I ensure the living remain fed. Different duties. Same purpose."
Joy's lip trembled. "That's… not how it's supposed to be…"
Gardevoir tilted her head, eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. "Then perhaps your world was kinder than mine."
Bob handed her the ladle silently, and she began stirring. He turned to the group, motioning to the bowls he'd laid out. "It's not much, but it'll keep you moving. Eat what you can. The forest's not exactly generous."
Misty shook her head. "I'm not eating that."
"Suit yourself," Bob said, serving Ashley first.
Ashley hesitated, staring into the steaming bowl. It smelled good. Too good. Her stomach twisted — part hunger, part guilt — but she finally took a small bite. The flavor was shockingly rich. Wild, smoky, alive. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to swallow, then exhaled slowly.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. The quiet acceptance was enough.
When she noticed the smaller Pokémon nearby — a few wild Oddish peeking from the grass, and Pikachu's gentle gaze — she reached into Bob's bag and pulled out the pack of Pokéfood. "Here," she whispered, pouring it out into small piles for them. "You guys eat too."
Libre helped, patting a few Oddish heads with her paw.
Joy watched that small kindness and said nothing. Her heart ached — torn between the healer she was and the reality she now faced.
Misty, meanwhile, tried to distract herself by staring at the fire — until she heard a rustle from behind.
Something small and green inched from the bushes, eyes bright and curious.
"Caterpie!" Ashley gasped softly, smiling.
The bug Pokémon chirped happily, inching closer, drawn by the scent of food.
Misty screamed. "Nope! No! Keep it away! WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MANY LEGS?!"
Ashley laughed despite herself. "Misty, it's just a Caterpie!"
"JUST—?! It's a BUG! A GIANT BUG!"
Bob groaned, rubbing his temples. "You just watched people eat birds, and this is your limit?"
"YES! BECAUSE BIRDS DON'T SLITHER!"
The Caterpie blinked sadly, its antenna drooping. Pikachu hopped forward, giving it a reassuring pat, trilling something that sounded like, "Ignore her, she's weird."
Misty peeked from behind Joy. "If that thing touches me, I'm burning the forest down."
Ashley giggled and gently picked the Caterpie up, letting it curl in her hands. "You're adorable," she said softly. The little bug trilled, happy again, and rubbed against her cheek.
Bob smirked. "Well, looks like we found our next travel companion."
Misty went pale. "WHAT?"
"Relax," Bob said, ladling himself a bowl. "He's too small to eat."
"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!"
Libre snorted. Even Gardevoir looked vaguely amused, though her lips didn't quite form a smile.
----
The camp was quiet that night. The only sound came from the fire's last breaths — faint pops, the lazy sigh of ember smoke curling into the treetops. One by one, the others had drifted off: Ashley wrapped up with Pikachu with her captured Caterpie in his ball next to them, Misty mumbling in her sleep, Joy sitting upright until exhaustion finally pulled her under, and Diana sleeping, while libre kept warch for the night, in Bob's sleeping bag.
Bob, though, couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of the Pokémon Center in Viridian — fire, smoke, shattered glass, Joy's trembling hands. It replayed like a loop that refused to fade. He turned over, trying to force it away, and stared at the dimming coals. The warmth was fading, but his thoughts burned hotter.
Then, the world stopped.
Not slowed — stopped. The fire froze mid-flicker, embers hanging motionless in midair. Even the chirping of nocturnal Pokémon cut off mid-note. It was as if time itself had forgotten to breathe.
Something pressed gently against his chest.
Bob blinked and found himself staring into a cascade of pale, silvery hair that caught the starlight like liquid glass. Floating above him was a figure too perfect to be real — her robes drifting like mist, her skin luminous against the still night, and her eyes… ancient, infinite, rippling like the moon reflected in deep water.
Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.
Bob froze, words caught in his throat. "You again?" he muttered finally, his voice low and cautious. "You're not supposed to exist here."
Her tone was calm, almost curious, the faintest smile touching her lips. "Existence is merely a matter of perception. Your Alpha's mind was an interesting doorway — one I couldn't resist peering through."
He frowned. "You went through Diana's memories?"
"I wished to understand her nature," Kaguya replied, her voice smooth and distant, as though speaking from everywhere at once. "But in tracing her thoughts, I found you. The mortal who tempers power with restraint. The one who touches monsters with compassion." She tilted her head slightly. "And then I found… something else. In that cave."
Bob's face went crimson. "Oh for— you saw that?"
"I felt it," she corrected softly, her fingers brushing the air above his cheek. "Strange, that your kind can weave creation from something so fragile… and yet, it stirred me. It reminded me of sensations I'd long forgotten." Her gaze softened, though the weight of it pinned him in place. "I wanted to see what a mortal could do — to understand the fascination your kind has with intimacy."
Bob swallowed hard. "I don't suppose saying no works on gods, huh?"
Her smile deepened. "No."
She lowered herself until her forehead nearly touched his. The air shimmered, heavy with her power. "Do not fear," she whispered. "Your body will survive. Perhaps even… improve."
Time resumed its crawl — but only for them.
The moon sank and rose again. The fire, once frozen, burned low to ash. And when the stillness finally lifted, dawn light spilled through the trees.
Bob blinked awake sometime later, the memory hazy and dreamlike — the kind of thing the mind half-refuses to believe happened. But his body told another story: every muscle ached, yet hummed with strength, warmth thrumming in his chest like a second heartbeat. For a fleeting moment, he thought he could feel the world breathing through him.
Then he looked down… and saw the dirt.
Or more specifically, the deep, perfect outline of his backside pressed into it like an offering to the gods.
Bob stared at it. "...Seriously?"
A faint voice brushed against his mind — soft, teasing, familiar.
> "A parting gift. The vitality of my clan flows within you now… Uzumaki blood, in mortal flesh. Use it well."
And just as suddenly as it came, the voice faded.
Bob groaned, dragging his hand over his face. "Great. I've been blessed by the Goddess of Sealing and Humiliation." He rolled onto his side, grimacing as he sat up. The air around him shimmered faintly with residual chakra — a pulse that wasn't there before.
"...Guess I'm part anime now," he muttered to himself.
The sun crept higher, painting gold through the forest canopy. From the campfire, the faint snoring of Pikachu and the soft rustle of blankets signaled life returning to motion.
And in the quiet, deep in his mind, the system's faint tone began to buzz again — weak, but alive.
{…Reboot sequence complete… initializing consciousness layer…}
Bob froze mid-stretch. "Oh, joy," he sighed. "She's gonna have questions."
The voice brightened instantly.
{ Goooood morning, Bob! System back online! Cognitive functions stable, heart rate within survivable limits, and—wait a second… what's this?! }
Static crackled. A pause. Then a shriek of pure digital panic:
{Why are your stamina reserves off the chart?! What the fuck happened while I was gone?! }
Bob rubbed his temples. "A lot, Aqua. Long story. Cosmic nonsense. Don't ask."
{ Don't—what do you mean don't ask?! Your biology looks like someone stuffed an entire Uzumaki clan inside you! }
He sighed, shoulders sagging. "And my back feels like they're still in there throwing a party."
Aqua's voice spiked again. { You have divine residue! That's Kaguya-class energy! How are you even alive?! }
Bob leaned back against a tree and yawned. "Barely. I'm gonna need a vacation. And maybe a pillow for my ass."
A long pause followed, then static laughter.
{ Oh my god… you did something stupid, didn't you? }
"Define stupid."
{ …Never mind. I don't want to know. }
He gave a tired grin. "Smart."
The system sputtered into silence, trying to reconcile divine interference with modern code. Bob exhaled, let his head fall back, and watched the sunlight flicker through the leaves. His body might've been half-broken, his mind overloaded, but somehow he'd survived — again.
Birds sang overhead. The wind rustled softly. And in the dirt beneath him, an all-too-distinct imprint of his backside marked the spot where divine mischief had flattened him.