Chapter 1 – Wrong World
The shift ended at half past ten.
Ryan shrugged into his jacket, nodded to the security guard, and stepped outside. The factory's constant rumble died the moment the heavy doors clicked shut gone in an instant, the hum he hadn't noticed for months. In its place was chill air, slick pavement, and the kind of silence you find only in deserted streets after dark.
He slipped in his earphones and began the walk home.
Twenty minutes. The same route every night. He knew every crack in the sidewalk, every flickering streetlamp, even the shortcut that saved ninety seconds but always felt worth it. His feet moved on autopilot; his mind had already checked out.
It wasn't a bad life. Steady job, modest apartment, enough cash for rent, bills, and the occasional video game. No wild dreams chasing him, no ghosts pursuing him just one shift after another and those vague "plans" at the back of his mind, nebulous enough he never had to face their likely dead end.
He turned onto the final stretch dark, poorly lit, utterly empty of traffic.
Then the tightness hit, without warning.
Not sharp at first, just a deep pressure, as if someone were squeezing his chest. He slowed, pulled out an earbud, and halted, pressing a hand to his sternum as if measuring the squeeze might explain it.
"Okay," he whispered. "That's new."
Then it exploded.
His legs gave way before his mind could react. He hit the ground knees first, bone-on-concrete then shoulder and cheek. The earphone cable snagged near his chin. All he could see from the pavement was the base of a lamppost, a clogged drain, a stray cigarette butt wedged in the curb.
The pain was total, not a pinprick but a crushing wave that folded his lungs shut. His left arm felt detached, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth throbbed. He tried to inhale and barely got enough air to live.
He fought to push himself up.
His arms refused. One hand scraped the wet pavement, then froze.
"Come on," he muttered. "Not here. Not like this."
The agony peaked white-hot, all-consuming. Every thought dissolved into it. And yet, beneath the white, one memory surfaced: his mother's text from three days ago, still unread. He'd meant to reply.
He was still planning to respond when everything went black. No tunnel, no light just an abrupt cutoff, as if someone hit pause on his life.
Then, without warning, something else.
Soft earth instead of hard concrete, the rich scent of pine and leaves. A breeze rustling real trees someone had never paved over.
Ryan's eyes opened.
Giant trunks ringed him, bark dark and rough, splitting the sky into slivers of deep blue. Dusk clung to the horizon.
He sat up.
No pain in his chest. No scrapes on his knees. Two fingers pressed to his neck found a steady pulse, as if those last ten minutes had been erased.
He stared at his hand.
Then around him. Trees in every direction. No roads, no buildings, no distant traffic hum, no music drifting from an apartment window.
Just forest Breeze.
He let panic recede and focused on facts forest, night, last memory of pavement and agony, his mother's unread message in his pocket.
He checked his phone. No signal. Sixty percent battery. Clock read 22:51 useless here.
He stood. His legs held firm.
He chose the clearest path and started walking. Staying put felt worse.
Minutes passed. Light faded. Trees closed in. He breathed evenly shock or calm, he couldn't tell. Still, an itch at the back of his mind nagged that none of this was right.
He stopped.
He recognized the feel of this place not a real memory, but a pattern learned from hours watching a screen, tracing routes until they became instinct.
He spun slowly, absorbing the fading sky, the spacing of the trees. "No," he said softly. "That's not it."
A different hush took hold, the kind that descends when something large moves nearby and everything smaller freezes. Ryan froze.
Heavy breathing drifted from the shadows thirty meters away, between two wide trunks. He squinted toward the sound. Whatever it was, it wasn't small.
"Okay," he murmured. "Just a wild animal. Back away slowly no sudden moves."
He eased one step backward.
The breathing deepened to a low, menacing rumble.
A pale beam of moonlight revealed four massive legs, thick fur standing in a ridge along its spine, a scarred muzzle, dark eyes glinting like wet stones.
Ryan's mind delivered the name before he could stop it.
Ursaring.
A living, breathing Ursaring, sizing him up.
For two heartbeats, he couldn't move.
Then: "Oh my God," he breathed. "That's a real "
She flared her nostrils and stepped forward.
Ryan staggered back. "Easy," he said, raising his hands. "I'm not here to fight. I have no idea how I ended up here. I'm not"
A rustle to his left.
He glanced sideways.
Big round eyes stared back at him from behind a bush. Small ears, brown fur, that familiar cub shape.
A Teddiursa.
He looked from the cub to the mother.
"Her…" he started.
The Ursaring charged.
"Kid. Right. Running now."
He tore through the trees no plan, just blind flight arms flailing, branches ripping at his jacket, roots grabbing at his feet. Each of her footfalls rattled the ground behind him.
"Of all the Pokémon," he panted, dodging a low branch, "Ursaring at night, for her cub fantastic start, Ryan."
He veered left around a massive trunk. The Ursaring's momentum carried her wide with a thunderous crash.
He pushed himself harder.
His lungs burned. His jacket tore. Darkness swallowed the trail, and roots and rocks caught him one step in four.
She was gaining.
The earth trembled with her strides. He dared a backward glance.
She was almost on him.
A paw swung
A pale blue beam of light sliced through the darkness and struck her flank.
The Ursaring roared, recoiled, shook off the hit, then paused to assess both him and the unseen attacker. That gave Ryan just enough momentum to burst into a small clearing and skid to a stop, chest heaving, hands on his knees.
At the tree line, the Ursaring lingered, breathing heavily, eyes flicking to his right. Then, with a final snort, she turned and vanished into the gloom.
Ryan straightened, trembling, his heart still hammering. He took a shaky breath, then laughed because his body needed to release something, and laughter won over tears.
"Pokémon," he whispered to the empty clearing. The word felt absurd. "I'm in actual Pokémon."
No Pokéballs, no team, nothing. He'd collapsed on city pavement and woken up in a wild forest, been chased by a protective mother, and narrowly escaped thanks to a mysterious attack.
"Okay. Think first steps"
"You really shouldn't be out here alone at night."
The voice came from the shadows behind him, calm, unhurried, faintly amused.
Ryan turned slowly.