After starting school, time seemed like it sped onwards at a far faster pace than it had before.

At school, I learned, learned, and learned some more. Not everything I learned was what the school taught. I was forced to participate in activities that I’d either never done before, or that I’d forgotten about from my first childhood.

At least this time, I wasn’t being teased and harassed for playing with the girls. I don’t remember much of my first childhood, but I recall that I hadn’t enjoyed playing with the boys, so hung out with the girls, and defended them when an idiot was being himself.

I’d forgotten the fact that I’d enjoyed my time playing with the girls far more than the boys, likely due to the teasing and harassment. It might have been why I’d originally become withdrawn from people and preferred to read, living vicariously through them. Getting moved between schools every mukin’ year didn’t help either.

This time around, I was able to enjoy myself more. I tried to open up and release my inner five year old, and it worked, to a point. There was still a small part of me that viewed my activities as frivolous, but I was able to mostly ignore it.

Among the things I did was playing with dolls. Holding tea parties with them, not so fun. Dressing them up. That I enjoyed. Well, I enjoyed dressing up myself as well, so it was more an extension of that. I even contributed a few pieces to the doll wardrobe. Dyeing the things had been a pain, but I’d gone spider-girl with thread making and had produced some nice cloth.

The cloth-making I kept secret. The clothes-making, not so much. There were sewing supplies in the house, which had been really fun to explore, so I’d put together a little basket of things to use to keep my hands busy when I couldn’t read. Like when watching TV with my onee-chan.

Hmm, should I call her that, or maybe big sister, or just sis?

Anyways, multi-tasking for the win!

To hide the source of my special cloth, I had convinced mommy to take me shopping for stuff. Several times, in fact, once I’d proved I knew my way around a needle.

OK, fine. I wound up with a large collection of various sewing related items in one corner of my bedroom. While some of the stuff I do manually, I did get a sewing machine, many spindles of different color and thickness thread, and a special table to accommodate them without cluttering up the room.

I didn’t limit myself to just doll clothes either. Once I got into it, and realized making clothes was fun for me, I made stuff for the family to wear, though most of it was for us girls, and not just the ones I lived with. Sammi and I gave away fabric flower hair clips with the class during a holiday to celebrate spring known as flower day. She hadn’t been able to make very good ones, but had helped me by preparing the materials.

I still read voraciously, despite other things taking time away from it, and by the time the school year ended, I’d finished all of the books through the fourth grade and made a decent dent in the fifth grade stuff. Some of it I already knew, having not changed how it worked between the worlds, but other stuff was different.

Like literary style.

The way people write, and therefore the interpretations thereof, vary between places. Even within a single country there’s variations, let alone different nations and continents. I’d learned to read and write in the local language, but the style was different enough that it took time for me to adjust to using it rather than the what I’d used before.

I’d participated in some of the language portions of the class because of this. Including having to write stuff. My handwriting saw great improvement… because it was nearly unreadable before. Now it could be read. With difficulty.

It’s getting better, though! I swear!

Besides that part of class, I also took part in art, science, and P.E.

Art was fun. We did several things through the months, from painting, though I refused to finger-paint, to sculpting, to basic arts and crafts. I’d actually had the idea for the hair clips here, since we made paper flowers in class. My eye for aesthetics wasn’t the best, but mommy seemed happy with what I showed off, so I was happy too.

In science classes we studied basic stuff. I knew most of it when it came to humans, plants, and geology, but when it came to pokémon, the most important topic after humanity, I’d started with certain notions for how humans viewed them.

Sadly, many of those notions were correct. Many thought of pokémon as tools more than partners. That hadn’t been helped by the destruction wrought by the Wormhole Crisis.

But the worst one was that even unwilling pokémon could be forced to obey the one who caught them, depending on what was used to catch them.

The way pokéballs worked was they forged a link between pokémon and trainer, which is what prevented other pokéballs from working on them. This link influenced the pokémon to obey, regardless of their desires. The stronger the pokémon, the more powerful pokéball required to force their obedience. To enslave them.

Of course pokémon that were well treated and liked their owner didn’t require such methods. Trainers who sought out willing pokémon or bonded with their captured ones didn’t have to resort to such forceful methods. Pokémon raised this way tended to become stronger, since they could put more effort into growth than trying to fight the leash restraining them.

The local schools taught coexistence, being the hometown of famous figures followed that philosophy, but they mentioned that not everyone was nice to their pokémon. Abuse was forbidden, but that was only if there was evidence of said abuse. Many wounds could be written off as battle damage, so there were ways to easily hide such abuse, especially since pokémon tended to heal quickly, even without visiting Pokémon Centers.

Learning about how bad it could be made me really glad I had reached a state of perfect transformation prior to leaving the valley. It also made me put effort into making backup plans should something go wrong.

Since the house, mansion, I lived in was huge, I was of course given my own room. When I was alone, I practiced. I needed to be stronger, more precise, and most of all, I needed to be able to blend in among humans better.

I worked on perfecting my human transformation skills to allow me to use different forms than the one I preferred. Ideally, I wanted to be able to shift between forms quickly, and without opening myself up to capture. I got better at it with practice, but it’d take years to get really good, so I focused on just a few forms to begin with.

I first worked on versions of my current self before developing alternates. I was already perfect with this child form, but I worked on older versions. These didn’t require as much effort as making a new one from scratch. So within days I could change to nearly any age of my current body.

I discovered I really wasn’t looking forward to reaching puberty.

Where was I….

Ah, classes I participated in. Yeah, there.

P.E. Physical Education.

Yup, did that. Do I want to talk about it? Meh. It was P.E. in elementary school. We exercised, then played around. Not much to really say. Though I was more fit than many of the others due to my efforts. Being weak sucks, so I worked out every day right after getting up. Having a home gym made it easier to do so.

I did refrain from using my powers in competition, leaving them only on passive reception for threats. Didn’t want to be a cheat, did I?

During this time period there were five birthdays in the family.

Henry was born February twenty-fifth. He turned fourteen this year. He talked mommy and daddy into letting him have a party at a place with laser tag. While we celebrated with him, Sammi and I were too young to be allowed to run around with them, the place didn’t let kids under ten in the arena.

Next was my birthday. I turned six (officially). I didn’t know my exact birthday, since it was the seasons wild pokémon took note of, not months or days, but once we discovered the egregious errors the initial social worker made to my file, we got some of it updated. We did leave off parts that might bite me in the posterior later.

So, since we didn’t know what day I’d actually been born, I got to choose a nearby date to be my birthday. I chose March fourteenth. Sadly the year did not end in 15, but if it had, that’d have been amusing.

For my birthday party I chose to go to a nearby ranch to ride ponies. I’d ridden horses exactly twice before, once at a ranch my grandfather’s friend owned when I was young, and then during a family reunion when I was in my twenties. I’d enjoyed it, and now that I was a girl, I could say I wanted to ride ponies without getting looked down on.

Yes, I am being stereotypical, but if it’s fun, then it’s fun.

This was the first birthday I could remember with a good number of friends coming to the party. Due to reasons, one of which was the school switching mentioned previously, I’d had at most five friends at a time before circumstances separated us and we lost contact. Now I had more! Though I had to be careful since even at this age, some of my class were being friendly to get benefits. I didn’t count those people as friends, just acquaintances.

I was wearing a special pink cowgirl outfit to the party. I’d made it after getting my parents approval for the party venue. The place didn’t just have ponies, it also had a petting zoo, cornfield maze (though not right now), and other fun stuff.

The ponies weren’t just animals, some of them were pokémon as well. I got to ride a ponyta! I didn’t show off, but I talked to it and got it to do stuff the trainers usually didn’t let them do, like gallop with a child on their back. The place didn’t just host parties, but was a breeding facility as well for horse pokémon for riding purposes. That was why mommy gladly threw her support behind my suggestion. She was friends with the owners.

After my birthday came Sammi’s on April sixth. She chose an ice-skating rink for her party. It was fun! Though it took some getting used to the skates. After I was, I tried doing tricks. I failed most of them unless I cheated with my powers.

Mommy’s came next on April 24. Mommy refused to say how old she was, which didn’t surprise me. She had aged very well, and looked like she was in her early thirties, though I knew she was older than that. She didn’t have a big party like us kids. It was just family. Though I did get to meet Grandma and Grandpa Winston, mommy’s parents. They lived far away, so they didn’t see mommy’s family very often, but they always came for her birthday if they could. Mommy’s big brother and his family couldn’t make it, but he called to wish mommy a happy birthday.

I’d never met any of them in person until then, though I’d been introduced to them with video calls. I still hadn’t seen Grandma and Grandpa Oak. They’d been unable to be reached when we tried, so we’d only been able to leave a video mail.

Grams and gramps were very happy to meet me, doting on me and Sammi as soon as they arrived. They might have come for mommy’s birthday, but they spent more time with us kids then her. Not that she minded. She joined in on the doting.

Patrick’s birthday was the last one before the school year ended, being on May third. He turned sixteen. His party was a pool party at the house with a barbecue. Unlike the rest of us whose presents were stuff like cute clothes and toys, his were more useful. Now that he was sixteen, he could get his trainer’s license and have his own pokémon.

He could also leave on his training journey.

The Journey was based on an ancient tradition that was a rite of passage into adulthood, but had been updated to fit the current times and knowledge. Even a century ago it had been deemed fine for ten year olds to go, but that was asking for unnecessary deaths. So now the lower limit was sixteen, the same age one could get a driver’s license.

This did not mean that one had to leave on their journey at this age, and even if they did tradition dictated that it should only be done on one’s own feet or pokémon they caught, no vehicles or hitching rides outside of emergencies. Many chose to delay their journey until they graduated high school.

The reason for this was simple. Even going on the Journey didn’t mean you could stop your schooling. Sure one could test out of school, like taking the GED in my original world but being recognized as being a school graduate, and not have to worry about it, but for most young trainers, they still had to access the internet to do classwork online. There were no classes they had to attend, but they did have to take periodic tests at schools along the way to prevent cheating.

Patrick didn’t want to deal with that, and had been doing what I did. A heck of a lot of reading. He was scheduled to take his school exemption exams shortly before the school year ended. Mommy and daddy wouldn’t let him leave for his Journey if he didn’t pass it. But that was a few weeks away.

On his birthday, he woke up early and had gotten to go down to the closest Pokémon Center and register as a trainer. He’d been lucky his birthday was on the weekend or he’d have had to wait till after school to do so. At sixteen he was considered old enough to be responsible for taking care of and training his own pokémon. Getting said pokémon was left to the individual.

Some places gave away pokémon to those preparing for their journey, like great-grandpa Oak had with Ash and Gary, but most of the time one had to either catch their own or buy a youngling or egg.

Fortunately, mommy was prepared for this. Her birthday present was an egg for Patrick to hatch and raise. She refused to tell him what it was though. Sometimes there was a way to tell by the shell markings, but not in this case. Mommy had somehow gotten the egg to be all white, so there were no clues to it’s occupant.

If it was something mommy prepared personally, I knew what it might hatch into from following her around her lab and meeting the pokémon she was raising and breeding. If she’d had help, then all bets were off.

Patrick worked hard, taking care of the egg, studying, and preparing for his journey. He still spent time with us, but not as much as he had previously. I probably spent the most time with him, since I was able to do so while helping him study. That I could made me laugh. He was a decade older, but I could still help him prepare for his exams.

Eventually the time came for him to take them. He was worried, but I gave him a psychic hug and reassurance as we separated in front of the school. I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I hadn’t done it physically. Plus, even with the rumors going around, I hadn’t shown off my powers and made it a fact. It remained an unsubstantiated rumor. It was easier that way.

When school had ended for the day, we had walked home together as usual. Patrick was still worried about how he did, so I played cute little sister and held onto his hand, smiling up at him. He relaxed. Not completely, but enough to not have a breakdown.

The exam results were released a week before school ended, to give people time to celebrate and prepare, or get over being depressed for failing. Many of Patrick’s yearmates seemed like they had the same kind of deal with their parents he had regarding the journey. Most of them would not be joining him, and most of those that would had to still do the work. The year above them had more people who succeeded.

His results? He passed of course.

He did plenty of social things like hanging out with friends and going to parties and on dates, but he was still an Oak. Bookworm was in his blood. He’d not only passed, but gotten the highest score, leaving him fumbling to write a speech as the schools Valedictorian.

Yes, the exam was also used to decide that. He wasn’t happy, not wanting to do it, but the ultimate weapon was unleashed on him to convince him. Cute little sisters looking expectantly excited at big brother. He caved. It was hilarious.

Graduation came and his speech was well-written. It wasn’t the best delivery, but was still well received. After congratulating him, we went home, and he went to party with the other graduates.

After that came the waiting. One could not leave on their journey without a pokémon, and an egg would not protect him from aggressive wild pokémon.

Mom was also a little puzzled, and tested the egg. The inhabitant was still alive, and not weakening yet, but should have hatched prior to graduation so he could begin training it.

It wasn’t until two weeks after school ended that it finally hatched. There’d been some warning, so Patrick had time to get to the hatching room. There was a good reason for such rooms. Not all pokémon would instinctively imprint on the first being they saw, but many would. So it was best to have the trainer be the only one present.

But since breeders and trainer’s families liked seeing the hatchings when possible, the room was equipped with a one-way mirror, allowing others to watch from the viewing room without influencing things.

It still took a while for the egg to hatch, so everyone got comfortable. Since mommy wanted to be there when it happened, when we got hungry Henry was sent to get snacks for us to eat. The ones for Patrick were pushed through a drawer to him.

The drawer was there to allow occupants to be supplied without allowing anything to easily escape. If an egg was close to hatching, but was taking longer than anticipated, some took days to hatch, it allowed the egg’s recipient to maintain their strength without leaving.

Fortunately, this egg didn’t take that long. After only an hour of clicking and rattling, the shell broke and the inhabitant fell out into big brother’s hands. It was a silver-colored dratini.

Huh. Guess she must have collaborated with someone. I never saw any of that evolutionary line in mommy’s lab.

The little thing was sooo CUUUTTEEE!!

Being a newborn, it wasn’t too large, though it’d grow a lot in the next little while now that it could be fed ultra nutritious food. And that coloring! If it kept it, it’d be a silver dragon when it reached its final evolution.

I wanted to pet it and hug it, but I couldn’t interrupt my brother. He was holding the little one and gently stroking it as they gazed at each other for a while. After a while, he came out of the trance and offered it some food. Mommy had prepared the food, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what pokémon it was by looking at it. He’d tried. I’d laughed.

After they were well enough acquainted with each other, Patrick offered up a pokéball to the little dear, whom he named Argent. Veeerrry original… I was somewhat displeased that he was capturing the youngling so quickly, but I noted that the ball was all white, not the usual red and white.

“Mommy, what kind of pokéball is that?”

“That is a special friend ball I had made for them. Usually they’re colored green and white.”

“Friend ball?”

“It’s a special ball that helps the trainer and pokémon become friends.”

“How does that work?”

“You’ve learned how pokéballs influence the pokémon to be obedient, right?” I nodded, a frown on my face. “Don’t frown, your face will freeze like that. This type of ball is expensive since people don’t like it, so it isn’t commonly made. It makes the trainer and the pokémon feel each other’s feelings. If they like each other, they’ll get along better, if not then the pokémon won’t have to listen to their trainer.”

“Then it doesn’t force them to obey?”

“Nope. I noticed that you don’t like that kind of thing. You always look angry or sad when people force obedience. Well, I’m the same way. Usually. There are some pokémon that have to be forced to obey, since they’ll hurt others if they aren’t.”

I nodded. That made sense. I’d had to fight, and sometimes kill, pokémon who just wouldn’t back down. It would be no different for humans.

Patrick had released Argent as soon as it was linked to the pokéball, letting it wrap itself around his arm, with the head resting on his shoulder.

CUTE!!!!

“No.”

I looked up at my mother.

“Huh?”

“You’re too young to have a pokémon, so no.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

“Hmph.”

I pouted and turned away. It was rare I could get away with stuff. Her maternal senses were too good at picking up on our cues. I know she’d even noticed some stuff I wasn’t yet willing to share, but she’d refrained from mentioning anything. So far.

I trusted her, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to trust her with that… yet.

Since there was no longer a need for Patrick and Argent to be alone, we gathered in the living room. I immediately claimed a seat right next to Patrick, on the side Argent was.

“You’re beautiful, Argent. May I pet you?”

I spoke human words, but also pokémon speech at the same time. The reason pokémon can understand each other regardless of their verbal cries is that it is built into us. My theory is that it goes back to the source of all the different pokémon species.

Mew.

I’d come to notice that the verbal portion of the language, regardless of what was being said, seemed to trigger mostly dormant portions of the speaker’s abilities.

Psychic abilities.

Abilities derived from having descended from the same species of pokémon, a psychic type that had altered themselves to fit into their different habitats, and giving up most, but not all, of their original abilities. Even having altered themselves so much, they’d retained enough to be able to speak to each other easily, and to humans if they had kept most of the psychic powers.

Or that’s my theory. I might be wrong. I may use the theory to try to get a doctorate in something when I go to college.

But for the time being, it was more important to spend time with those close to me.

And by that I mean Argent, because it is too cute to resist!

They, since I still wasn’t sure of their gender yet, turned their head to look at me in surprise. Yep, that’s the look I always get when I speak to pokémon in our language.

I’d seen it a lot when helped out mommy and daddy with a few things by talking to the pokémon on the estate. No one but family knew about it, not even our employees. I only used it when it was just us.

Though surprised, Argent let me touch them. Its scales felt like those of a snake, but somewhat softer, and were warm. Even if it looked somewhat snake-like, it was still a warm-blooded creature.

Sadly, I couldn’t pet it for long, since others wanted a turn as well, and it started getting sleepy.

“I said no, Rynn.”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?”

----

After Argent hatched, Patrick worked with her to grow and become stronger with the pokémon my parents had. Yep, her. Turns out Argent was a girl. She’d had her genetics tuned up by the breeders that had worked on her, and they preferred to only do so on females since more of the changes were passed on to future generations that way. Most of the cellular information comes from the mother, since eggs are like a million times bigger than the itty bitty sperm.

Or something like that. Been a while since biology, and I hadn’t gotten back to there in my reading yet.

After gaining what they thought was sufficient strength for the start of their journey, Patrick and Argent left Pallet town, retracing the path great-grandfather and his rival took so very long ago.

We’d had a farewell party the night before, and saw him off at the trail-head at dawn. He was dressed in heavy-duty traveling gear, stuff that could handle the rough terrain he’d go through, with a backpack stuffed with plenty of supplies.

Miniaturization tech had improved over the years, so the bag was little bigger than a school bag, but had enough space for several cubic meters of space, while also lessening the weight of the carried items to something manageable. It only worked because the laws of physics had a few differences from what I’d learned.

He gave us all hugs, and then walked off, not looking back.