The guy—Takehara—swallowed hard. "What... what do you want to know?"
Zane could see the fear rolling off the man in waves. He'd never been on this side of an interrogation before, but he'd seen enough cop shows to fake it. He put on his best poker face.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice flat.
Staring at the dead-serious kid and remembering the apocalyptic light show from earlier, Takehara answered immediately. "The Hoenn region." He paused, then quickly added, "This is Petalburg Woods, just west of Petalburg City."
Okay, good, Zane thought with a flicker of relief. He's not one of those fanatics who'd rather die than talk. This should be easy.
"Who are you people?" he continued.
"We're Pokémon Hunters."
Pokémon Hunters. Right. So, basically, poachers. Not like Team Magma with their crazy 'more land' agenda, just regular scumbags in it for the cash. They hunt down rare Pokémon for the black market.
That explains the 'auction' I heard over the walkie-talkie, Zane realized, the pieces clicking into place. They were going to sell that little Ralts.
The whole situation was suddenly crystal clear. In his past life, he'd been lucky enough to keep crime at arm's length. Now, faced with two actual criminals, he wasn't entirely sure what the protocol was.
In the games, you just beat them and they hand over some cash before running off. Real life is a bit more complicated.
After a moment's thought, Zane asked, "How long would it take to walk to Petalburg City from here?"
Takehara didn't know what the kid was planning, but he had a sinking feeling it involved deciding their fate. He swallowed again. "W-walking? It'd take about two hours."
"Hm." Zane nodded. So the little Skwovet was pointing me in the right direction after all. He stood up and started gathering the items he'd laid out on the ground.
Takehara's eyes widened in disbelief as he watched Zane stuff his wallet, his ferry ticket, and his Poké Balls into his own jacket.
"H-hey! That's my stuff!"
Zane shot him a look, a smirk playing on his lips. "Your Mightyena assaulted me. Consider this compensation for medical expenses and my personal pain and suffering."
Takehara was speechless. He was the one who robbed people, not the other way around! He opened his mouth to argue, but one look at the dumb-as-a-rock bird on Zane's shoulder made him shrink back.
Zane didn't say another word. He finished packing and turned to leave.
Seeing him about to walk away, Takehara panicked again. "You can't just leave us here!" he yelled. "The wild Pokémon will tear us to pieces by nightfall!"
"Relax," Zane said without turning around. "Someone will be along to pick you up."
The police, specifically.
Ignoring the man's frantic protests, he walked away.
As he got closer to the edge of the woods, the local wildlife started to change. The larger, more cautious Pokémon were gone, replaced by swarms of Caterpie and Weedle—critters with zero interest in fighting. Zane walked on, casually scanning their info and moods with his editor.
You know, now I get why not every ten-year-old with a starter Pokémon becomes the Champion, he mused. This whole 'trainer journey' is a goddamn meat grinder.
They were just kids, barely old enough to be left home alone, thrown out into a world full of things that could poison, paralyze, or eat them. Forget gym battles; just surviving out here was a challenge. It was no wonder so many kids probably quit after their first humiliating loss or just got tired of sleeping on the hard ground.
The ones who actually made it all the way to the Pokémon League had to be a tiny fraction of a fraction. The grind was real.
Two hours later, Zane finally stepped out of the dim forest and into the brilliant afternoon sun. A wide, clear road stretched out before him. He took a deep, long breath of fresh air.
Finally! Civilization!
A signpost stood at the forest's edge: "Please Have Your Pokémon Ready Before Entering the Woods."
Zane hitched his makeshift bag higher on his shoulder, licked his dry lips, and grinned as he saw actual, living people walking down the road. The sight filled him with a new burst of energy, chasing away the exhaustion from his trek. He followed the wooden signs and, before long, found himself standing in the bustling streets of Petalburg City.
Surrounded by the sight of people and Pokémon living together in harmony, he felt an overwhelming wave of emotion. He was so tired, so hungry, but for the first time since arriving, he felt genuinely safe. He almost felt like crying.
Focus. Business first, food later. Shaking off the sentimentality, Zane approached a passerby to ask for directions to the police station.
The person didn't seem to mind his disheveled appearance. "Oh, you must be a trainer on your journey!" they said warmly. "You should head to the Pokémon Center to get some rest!"
Trainer? Not yet. Then another, more worrying thought struck him. Wait a second... if I transmigrated from another world... does that mean I don't technically exist here? Am I an illegal alien in the Pokémon world? Great. Just what I needed.
A headache was already forming. He thanked the person for their help and, with Cramorant in tow, found the police station. He walked in and told Officer Jenny at the front desk all about the Pokémon Hunters in the woods.
Her response was immediate and efficient. After confirming the location, she hopped onto a black-and-white police motor-trike, her Growlithe leaping into the sidecar, and sped off down the road in a flash.
It wasn't long before she returned, the two poachers handcuffed and crying in the back.
After the situation was verified, another Officer Jenny, in charge of processing the criminals, gave Zane a formal thank you.
That's it? Zane thought, a wave of disappointment washing over him. I hand you two criminals on a silver platter, and I don't even get a bounty? Lame.
Before leaving, he stopped at the front desk again. "Excuse me, Officer," he said. "I have a question. If someone were to lose their ID, where would they go to get it replaced?"
Officer Jenny looked him over. "Are you a trainer on a journey?"
Zane wasn't, but he could pretend. He nodded.
She must have assumed he'd lost his Pokédex. "You don't need to replace it," she explained. "As long as you have your gym badges and can provide your name, you're eligible to enter the League Conference."
Zane understood. Right, the Pokédex. The VIP pass of the Pokémon world. It was an exclusive item given to kids with connections, who were then tasked with helping the local Professor collect data. In exchange, they got perks, like free access to Pokémon Centers. The rest of the plebeian trainers had to pay their own way.
"What about a normal person?" Zane pressed.
Officer Jenny looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Well... I have a friend," Zane started, using the classic line. "He grew up in the forest with his parents, totally isolated. He's never even been to a city before."
That, she understood. It wasn't unheard of. There were stories of kids being raised by Pokémon, after all. "Oh, that's simple enough," she said after a moment. "He'll just need to come to the station with his parents to register his identity. We'll get his data uploaded to the network."
Zane felt a wave of relief. "And what if," he asked carefully, "what if his parents passed away?"
Officer Jenny's expression softened into one of professional sympathy. "Then," she replied seriously, "he'll just have to come in and register by himself."
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