---
### I. Between Worlds
*The last thing I remember from my first life is the screech of tires and the taste of copper.*
*Then—nothing.*
*Then—everything.*
When Colt opened his eyes again, the world glowed soft and gold. Not the sterile fluorescence of a hospital, but warm afternoon light filtering through Teddiursa-patterned curtains.
He heard lullabies in a voice he'd never known but somehow recognized. Smelled milk and lavender. Saw the shadow of a Pikachu-shaped mobile spinning lazily above a crib that wasn't his—except it was. Had always been.
Small hands reached up—*his hands*—pudgy and new, and panic caught in his throat like swallowed glass.
*No. No, this is wrong. I'm twenty-three. I was—I had—*
A woman's face appeared above him, haloed in sunlight and exhaustion. Dark eyes crinkled with joy as she lifted him with practiced ease.
> "Good morning, my little one," she whispered, voice thick with love. "Did you have sweet dreams, Colt?"
*Colt.*
The name settled over him like a net—foreign and suffocating and somehow *right*.
She turned, still cradling him, toward a second crib he hadn't noticed. Inside, another baby—wild black hair already defying gravity, one fist clenched even in sleep, drool pooling on the Poké Ball print blanket.
> "Your brother's still asleep. Ash never was an early riser."
She laughed softly, a sound like wind chimes. "I wonder which of you will be the troublemaker."
*Ash.*
The world tilted. Memory crashed against reality like waves against cliffs—scenes from a show he'd watched religiously as a kid, reruns after school, episodes analyzed on forums late at night. The hero's journey. The impossible dream.
*Ash Ketchum.*
Which meant this woman—this exhausted, radiant woman holding him with callused hands and a wedding ring she still wore despite the empty side of the bed—
*—was Delia Ketchum.*
The realization should have broken him. Instead, something else happened. Something darker and more desperate.
*I died,* he thought, staring at his infant hands. *And I've been given a second chance. In a world where ten-year-olds fight monsters and legends walk the earth.*
*So what the hell am I going to do with it?*
---
### II. The Boy Who Remembered
**Age 4**
"Colt, honey, what are you drawing?"
Delia knelt beside him at the kitchen table, flour dusting her apron. Ash was outside, already trying to "catch" wild Rattata with a butterfly net and spectacular failure.
Colt looked down at his crayon work—crude but unmistakable. A blue jackal-like creature with a yellow chest, aura sensors standing erect.
> "It's called Riolu," he said carefully. "It evolves into Lucario."
Delia's smile faltered. "That's... very specific, sweetheart. Did you see one in a picture book?"
> "No." Colt gripped his crayon tighter. "I just... know things sometimes. About Pokémon."
She studied him with those dark, knowing eyes—the kind that saw through childhood fibs and midnight snack raids. But she only ruffled his hair.
> "Well then, I hope you meet one someday. It sounds special."
From that day on, Colt learned to be more careful.
---
**Age 7**
"Professor Oak!" Ash burst into the lab, knees scraped and grinning. "Colt said Charizard can't learn Fly naturally but you can teach it! Is that true?"
Samuel Oak looked up from his notes, then over at Colt, who stood quietly in the corner with a book on Type Advantages propped in his lap—cover visible, but his real attention on the conversation.
> "That's... remarkably astute," Oak said slowly. "Most trainers don't learn about Technical Machines until they're much older. Where did you hear that, Colt?"
Colt felt the weight of those words. He'd been sloppy. Again.
> "I read it somewhere," he lied smoothly. "Maybe in one of your old journals? You let me look at them last week."
Oak's eyes narrowed, but his smile remained. "Curious boy. That's good. Curiosity makes great researchers." A pause. "Or great trainers."
*He knows something's off,* Colt thought. *He's too smart not to notice.*
But Oak never pushed. He just started leaving more books out. More "accidents" where advanced texts on aura theory, battle psychology, and legendary Pokémon ended up in Colt's reach.
*He's testing me,* Colt realized. *Seeing what I do with knowledge I shouldn't have.*
So Colt became strategic. He asked questions a smart kid might ask. Let Ash take the spotlight. Positioned himself as the "bookish twin" who studied while his brother played.
But at night, in the dark, he whispered to the ceiling:
> "Ash will start his journey, oversleep, and get Pikachu. Team Rocket will follow him. He'll make friends named Misty and Brock. He'll see legendary Pokémon and lose leagues but never give up."
He swallowed hard.
> "And I'll be there. Not to steal his story—but to make sure the people who die in this world don't. The Pokémon who suffer in the background. The tragedies played for drama."
*Because I remember what people forget. This isn't a show anymore.*
*This is real.*
*And in the real version, people die.*
---
**Age 10 – The Morning Of**
Colt woke at 5:47 AM, three hours before they needed to be at Oak's lab.
He'd barely slept. His room was pinned with notes, theories, calculations. Optimal team compositions. Type coverage charts. A hand-drawn map of Kanto with routes marked, danger zones circled, Gym Leader tactics annotated.
On his desk: a worn wristband made of braided cord, burned with the kanji for *Focus* using a magnifying glass and sunlight. He'd been working on it for two years—his own version of the Mega Evolution accessories he knew existed but wouldn't reach Kanto for years.
*Placebo,* he admitted to himself. *But belief shapes aura. And aura shapes reality here.*
He fastened it around his wrist. The weight felt right.
Across the hall, Ash's snoring could wake Snorlax.
Colt smiled despite himself. Some things really didn't change.
---
### III. Starter Day – The Divergence Begins
"COLT! ASH! YOU'LL BE LATE!"
Delia's voice shattered the morning peace.
Colt was already dressed, bag packed, breakfast eaten. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, watching his mother's panic with quiet amusement.
> "I'm ready, Mom."
> "Oh thank Arceus—WAIT, where's your brother?"
A crash from upstairs answered that.
Moments later, Ash tumbled down the stairs, one sock on, shirt backward, cap somehow already in place. He shoved toast in his mouth and grinned through crumbs.
> "Ready!"
> "Ash Ketchum, you are NOT going to Professor Oak's dressed like that—"
> "MOM, WE'RE FINE—"
Colt checked his Pokétch (a gift from Oak for "research assistance"). 8:52 AM.
> "We actually are cutting it close."
Ash's eyes went wide. "WHAT?!"
They burst out the door in a whirlwind of apologies, leaving Delia laughing and crying on the porch, one hand over her heart.
> "Be safe, my boys! Call me! Don't forget to change your underwear!"
> "MOM!"
They tore through Pallet Town—past the school where they'd learned about type matchups and Poké Ball mechanics, past the market where Mr. Hiro sold Berries and battle items, past the sign that read:
**PALLET TOWN: Where Dreams Take Flight**
Pidgey scattered. Old trainers chuckled. The Ketchum twins were a force of nature.
They hit Oak's lab at 8:58, gasping, doubled over.
The door was already open.
---
### IV. The Empty Pedestals
The lab was quiet. Too quiet.
Three glass pedestals stood in the center of the room, each topped with a Poké Ball and brass plaque.
**BULBASAUR – GRASS/POISON TYPE**
**CHARMANDER – FIRE TYPE**
**SQUIRTLE – WATER TYPE**
All three pedestals were empty.
> "No..." Ash whispered. "No, no, no—"
"Ah, the Ketchum twins."
Professor Samuel Oak emerged from the side room, lab coat crisp, eyes twinkling with something between amusement and exasperation. Behind him trailed his grandson, Gary Oak—spiky brown hair, cocky smirk, arms crossed in a posture that screamed *I'm better than you.*
> "Late as always," Gary drawled. "I got here at 8:00 sharp. Picked Squirtle. Two other trainers from Viridian arrived early and took the others." He examined his nails. "Guess you snooze, you lose, Ashy-boy."
> "It's ASH!"
Colt's jaw tightened. He'd forgotten about Gary—no, he'd *remembered* Gary, the early-series rival who'd fade into the background after Johto. But this Gary was real. Smug and talented and already ahead.
*Good,* Colt thought darkly. *Let him underestimate us.*
Gary's eyes slid to Colt. "And you. The quiet one. I heard you've been hanging around the lab, playing researcher. Cute." He tossed his Poké Ball casually. "But being a trainer takes guts, not books."
> "We'll see," Colt said evenly.
Gary snorted and left, door swinging shut behind him.
Ash looked ready to cry. "Professor, I—we trained for this. I know I overslept, but—"
Oak raised a hand. "Peace, Ash. I'm not sending you home empty-handed." His expression softened. "The traditional starters are gone, yes. But I have two Pokémon that... require special trainers."
He moved to a reinforced cabinet in the corner, pressed his thumb to a scanner, and pulled out two Poké Balls. One marked with a lightning bolt. One marked with a paw print.
> "These two were entrusted to me by colleagues. Neither has had an easy life. They're powerful—but they're also hurt, stubborn, and distrustful."
He placed the lightning-marked ball on the table. Released it.
A flash of light—and there stood Pikachu.
Smaller than Colt expected. Electric sacs crackling faintly, eyes sharp and wary, tail rigid. A faint scar traced its left ear.
> "This Pikachu was rescued from an illegal breeding ring in Viridian," Oak said quietly. "He's been mistreated. He doesn't trust humans. I've been rehabilitating him for six months, but he still refuses to obey."
Ash's anger melted instantly. He knelt, not reaching out, just meeting Pikachu's gaze.
> "Hey," Ash said softly. "I'm Ash. I don't know what happened to you. But I promise—if you come with me, I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
Pikachu's ears twitched. It didn't attack. Didn't flee.
Just watched.
Oak nodded slowly. "That's a start."
Then he turned to Colt and released the second Pokémon.
---
### V. The Aura Pokémon
Riolu materialized in a flash of red light—and Colt's breath caught.
The Pokémon was small, maybe two feet tall, with blue and black fur and a cream-colored chest. But its eyes—crimson, ancient, *knowing*—locked onto Colt like targeting lasers.
The air between them *hummed.*
> "Riolu," Oak said, voice careful, "was found abandoned near Mt. Silver. No trainer. No pack. Alone." He paused. "Fighting-types are social Pokémon. Riolu especially. Abandonment is... traumatic for them."
Colt felt it—a pulse of emotion that wasn't his own. Anger. Loneliness. A desperate, wounded *why did you leave me?*
*Aura,* Colt realized. *I'm feeling its aura.*
He knelt slowly, mimicking Ash's posture. Riolu's stance shifted—defensive, coiled to strike.
> "You don't trust people," Colt said quietly. "I don't blame you."
Riolu's eyes narrowed.
> "But I'm not asking you to trust me. Not yet." Colt held out his hand, not to touch—just to show. "I'm asking you to take a chance. Travel with me. Fight with me. And if I ever break your trust..."
He met those crimson eyes levelly.
> "...you have my permission to leave. No Poké Ball. No force. Just choice."
Silence.
Ash glanced over, worried. Oak watched, fascinated.
Then Riolu did something unexpected.
It stepped forward. Touched Colt's outstretched hand with one paw.
And the world *flared blue.*
---
### VI. Aura Awakening
Colt gasped as energy surged through him—not painful, but *overwhelming.* He saw flashes:
*—A Lucario, strong and proud, standing beside a young Riolu—*
*—Laughter, warmth, safety—*
*—Then darkness. Shouting. The Lucario falling, bleeding, a man in black recalling it into a Poké Ball—*
*—Riolu alone, crying, searching—*
*—Days of hunger. Nights of cold. The slow realization: abandoned.—*
The vision shattered.
Colt found himself on his knees, breathing hard, Riolu's paw still pressed to his hand. Tears he didn't remember crying cooled on his cheeks.
> "I'm sorry," Colt whispered. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
Riolu pulled back, expression unreadable. But it didn't flee.
Oak's voice was very quiet. "Colt... you just experienced an aura link. That should be impossible for someone without training."
Colt looked up. "Then I guess we'll figure it out together."
He pulled out Riolu's Poké Ball—then set it on the floor between them.
> "This is yours. I won't force you inside. You can walk beside me, like a partner. Not a possession."
Riolu studied the ball. Then it tapped it with one paw, minimizing it, and batted it toward Colt.
*Your responsibility,* the gesture said. *Don't lose it.*
Colt smiled and clipped it to his belt.
---
Across the room, Ash was gently petting Pikachu's head—and the Electric-type, miraculously, wasn't shocking him. Just watching with wary curiosity.
> "I think," Oak said, voice thick with emotion, "you two will do just fine."
He handed them each a trainer pack—Pokédex, five empty Poké Balls, Potions, and a Town Map.
> "You're registered trainers now. Ash Ketchum. Colt Ketchum." He shook their hands formally. "Treat your partners with respect. Learn from them. And remember—"
His eyes met Colt's, sharp and knowing.
> "—Pokémon battles aren't just about strength. They're conversations of trust."
*He knows I'm different,* Colt thought. *And he's telling me to be careful.*
> "We will, Professor," Colt said.
Ash just grinned. "We'll make you proud! Come on, Pikachu!"
The Electric-type followed, tail swishing—but when Ash tried to pick it up, electricity sparked.
> "OW! Okay, okay, personal space! Got it!"
Colt chuckled. Riolu walked beside him, silent and alert.
Outside, sunshine burned bright. Delia was waiting on the lab steps, a packed lunch in each hand and tears in her eyes.
> "My boys," she whispered, pulling them both into a crushing hug. "My brave, stupid, wonderful boys."
> "Mom—can't—breathe—"
She released them, laughing through tears. "Call me every day. Eat your vegetables. Don't talk to strangers. If Team Rocket—"
> "Team Rocket?" Colt asked carefully.
> "A gang of criminals," Oak interjected. "They steal Pokémon. Mostly operate in Saffron and Celadon, but they've been spotted near Viridian recently." His expression darkened. "If you see anyone in black uniforms with a red R, run."
*Team Rocket,* Colt thought. *Jessie, James, and Meowth will show up soon. Following Ash.*
*Following us.*
> "We'll be careful," Colt promised.
Delia kissed both their foreheads. "I love you. So much."
> "Love you too, Mom," they chorused.
And then they turned toward Route 1—the dirt path leading north to Viridian City, forests and fields and the vast unknown.
Pikachu trotted stubbornly ahead of Ash, refusing its Poké Ball.
Riolu walked beside Colt, alert and silent.
> "So," Ash said, adjusting his cap. "You really doing the Gym Challenge?"
> "Yeah," Colt replied. "But I'm not rushing. I want to build a team first. Catch Pokémon that can handle themselves."
> "Battle junkie."
> "Realist."
They grinned at each other—the same grin, mirror images despite different paths.
> "Race you to Viridian?" Ash challenged.
> "You'll lose."
> "Will not!"
They took off running, laughter echoing across the fields, two boys chasing the same impossible dream in different ways.
Behind them, Delia waved until they disappeared into the tall grass.
And in the sky, unseen, a great bird circled—gold and crimson, watching with ancient eyes.
*Not yet,* Ho-Oh seemed to say. *But soon.*
---
### VII. First Blood
By afternoon, the novelty had worn off and reality set in.
Route 1 was beautiful—golden fields, scattered trees, the occasional Rattata scurrying past. But it was also *hot*, and the dirt path offered no shade.
Ash had already tried to catch three Pidgey. All three attempts failed spectacularly:
1. He threw a Poké Ball too hard and hit a tree. The ball bounced back and hit him in the face.
2. He tried to sneak up on one and tripped over a rock.
3. He threw his jacket instead of a Poké Ball.
Pikachu watched each failure with increasing amusement, little sparks dancing in its cheeks.
> "Oh, laugh it up, wiseguy!" Ash snapped. "You could help, you know!"
*Pika.* (Translation: *No.*)
Colt, meanwhile, was observing.
He'd studied wild Pokémon behavior in Oak's books, but reading about Rattata aggression patterns was different from watching one size up Riolu, whiskers twitching, deciding whether to fight or flee.
> "You want to battle it?" Colt asked Riolu.
The Fighting-type's ears perked. It shifted into a combat stance—one Colt recognized from martial arts tournaments in his old life. Low center of gravity. Balanced.
> "Alright. Let's start simple. Quick Attack."
Riolu blurred forward—faster than Colt expected—and slammed into the Rattata with a crack of displaced air. The Normal-type tumbled, dazed.
> "Now—wait."
Colt pulled out a Poké Ball, but something stopped him. The Rattata was struggling to stand, terrified but defiant, teeth bared.
*It's scared,* Colt realized. *This is its home. We're invaders.*
> "...Let it go."
Riolu glanced back, confused.
> "It's weak," Colt explained. "And it doesn't want to leave. Forcing it wouldn't make it stronger. It'd just make it miserable."
*Like you were,* he didn't say. But Riolu seemed to understand.
The Rattata limped into the grass. Riolu returned to Colt's side.
Ash jogged over. "Dude, you had it! Why didn't you catch it?"
> "Not every Pokémon is worth catching," Colt said. "I want a team that *chooses* to fight with me. Not prisoners."
Ash frowned, glancing at Pikachu. "...Yeah. I get that."
They walked in silence for a while, the sun sinking lower.
Then Ash stopped.
> "Hey... what's that?"
A cluster of Spearow were pecking at something near the path—a berry bush, Colt realized. One of them was smaller than the others, bullied away from the food.
Ash, in true Ash fashion, picked up a small rock.
> "Hey! Leave the little guy alone!"
He threw the rock.
It hit the largest Spearow square in the head.
*Oh no,* Colt thought.
The Spearow's eyes went red. It screeched—a sound like tearing metal—and the entire flock turned toward them.
> "Ash," Colt said slowly. "Do you know what you just did?"
> "Uh... helped?"
> "You challenged a Spearow flock. They're territorial. Aggressive. And you just assaulted their leader."
The Spearow shrieked again. The flock rose as one—a dozen avian bodies blotting out the sun.
> "RUN!" Ash screamed.
> "NO!" Colt grabbed his arm. "Running triggers chase instinct! We FIGHT!"
But there were too many. They dove—talons extended, beaks sharp enough to pierce skin.
Riolu leapt, kicking one out of the air. Pikachu finally sparked to life, electricity crackling.
But they were outnumbered.
> "This way!" Colt shouted, pulling Ash toward a small ridge overlooking a river. "High ground—they can't surround us!"
They scrambled up the rocks, Spearow screeching overhead. One raked Ash's shoulder—blood welled, and he cried out.
> "ASH!"
> "I'm fine! PIKACHU, PLEASE!"
The Electric-type looked at Ash—really looked at him. Saw the blood. The desperation.
*The choice.*
> "I know you don't trust me yet!" Ash shouted over the wind. "But I'm asking anyway—help me protect my brother!"
Something shifted in Pikachu's eyes.
It stepped forward, electricity building—not in anger, but *resolve.*
The Spearow dove.
---
### VIII. Thunder
Colt had seen Thunderbolt in the anime. A powerful attack, sure. Flashy. Dramatic.
This was *nothing* like that.
The sky itself seemed to crack open.
Lightning erupted from Pikachu's body in a column of pure white fury—not aimed, not controlled, just *rele