One Step at a Time

[Frost41]

Well, I decided to give it a shot and see how it is recieved.

 

[Frost41]

One Step at a Time
Word Count: 1,359
Chapter One: Advent

Kael's eyes snap open.

The first thing he registers is light—blinding, pale gold, cutting through the leaves above like needles. Then the pressure: dirt in his palms, the uneven throb in his skull, the stiffness in his back. He groans and rolls onto his side.

He's in a forest. A real one. Not virtual, not imagined.

His breath fogs in the cool morning air.

"Okay. Oh…kay. Where am I? Think."

The words leave his mouth in a voice that's not quite his own. Higher. Smoother. He freezes. Brings a hand to his throat. Then to his face.

Too sharp. Too slim.

Not his face. Not his body.

Panic claws at his gut. He sits up quickly, heart hammering. And that's when it hits him—not just the forest—the weight of his mind.

There are two sets of memories swirling in his head.

One: his world. The digital age, anime episodes watched too many times, exams, grocery lists, usernames, death.

Two: battle drills, chakra diagrams, tactical breakdowns, a lazy drawl in his voice—Shikamaru.

And they're fused, overlapping like broken glass—too many edges to make sense of, too painful to sort.

"No. No way. This is a dream."

His hand moves on instinct, pressing two fingers together in a familiar way. He exhales—slow and practiced—and a flicker of shadow jumps under a nearby leaf.

Kael stares at it in horror.

"This isn't a dream."

Then he hears a rustle. His head turns, slowly—and locks eyes with a low, cautious form in the brush: an Eevee? Scar on one ear. Light brown fur puffed in warning. But it doesn't run.

"...So this is the Pokémon world?"

He tries to stand. His balance is off—center of gravity changed. Shorter, leaner. He staggers, and steadies himself against a tree.

The Eevee doesn't flee. It watches him, judging.

Kael squints at it.

"You're going at it alone too, huh?"

The Eevee tilts its head.

He takes a slow step forward. It doesn't bolt.

Okay. Deep breath. Tactical breakdown. Prioritize.

Step One: Figure out which rules this world follows—game rules, anime rules, manga rules, or worse—some sick combination.

Hopefully this world isn't auditioning for the grimdark genre.

Step Two: Blend in. Sinnoh orphan. Keep the powers hidden.

Step Three: Survive. Learn. Win.

His hand lowers slightly, open-palmed.

"I won't hurt you," he says slowly. "I don't know what's going on either. But I think we could both use a friend."

The Eevee's ears twitch. It hesitates… then takes one careful step forward.

Kael Wren exhales.

One step at a time.


---

Kael wipes his hands on the legs of his too-loose pants and trudges forward through the undergrowth. The light is rising now—sharpening shadows and painting the world in muted golds. The forest smells alive, damp soil and sun-warmed leaves mingling into something real and comforting.

Behind him, faint padding sounds follow. Not close, not far.

The Eevee's still tailing him.

Kael doesn't turn around. He just talks, voice low and flat.

"Alright. Let's figure out the first priority: water. If I can find a stream or a pond, I can orient by the sun, maybe track where people are."

The Eevee says nothing, naturally.

Kael sighs.

"Not much of a talker, huh? Guess that's fine. I'm used to monologuing to myself anyway. Kind of a coping mechanism."

A light crack of twigs makes him pause—Eevee again. Still cautious, still not running.

He steps over a gnarled root, scanning ahead. The forest slopes slightly downward. A good sign.

"Okay, next: population centers. If this is Kanto, there are several cities and towns set in a decent gridlike pattern. Which means civilization should be that way."

He gestures vaguely eastward, muttering more to himself than anyone.

"Of course, if this is one of those timelines, the forests are full of crazed criminals, wild Pokémon with traumatic backstories, and Professor Oak is secretly a time-traveling warlock. So... y'know. Caution."

A rustle. He looks around, taking in the stillness of the forest. The Eevee trots up beside him this time, ears alert.

Kael glances down.

"Oh, now you want to be social?"

The Eevee doesn't respond, but it doesn't leave either.

"Look, I get it. I'm sketchy. You're sketchy. We're all sketchy. But you've got scars and I've got baggage, so I think that makes us compatible."

A faint twitch of its ear almost seems like a response.

He keeps walking, hands tucked into his jacket sleeves. The words keep spilling out—not frantic, just controlled. Deliberate. Out loud so they stay manageable.

"So let's assume I keep my chakra hidden. I focus on learning the rules of this place first. How people train, what counts as legal, how battles are judged. I play dumb, but not too dumb—people hate prodigies, but they also hate dead weight. I've gotta ride that middle line."

"And if I need to test the physics of this world… you'll help me, right? Maybe tackle a log or something? See if type advantage even means anything here?"

"And we're not catching a Caterpie. Not even once. That's a red flag. That's how Nuzlockes start."

Behind a nearby tree, the faint sound of leaves crunching.

Kael freezes. Eevee's ears flick.

A voice—rough, confused, amused—calls out:

"That's quite the conversation you're having, young man."

Kael turns slowly.

From behind the trees steps an older man in a lab coat, pants dusty from travel, a thick field bag slung over one shoulder. Sharp eyes beneath thick brows. A walking stick in one hand. A half-smile on his face.

Professor Samuel Oak.

"Chakra and warlocks, huh? Either you've read too many comics... or you're a very interesting young man."

Kael's mouth opens. Closes.

"I'm guessing this is Kanto… but yeah. I might be a little lost."

Oak chuckles. "So I gathered."

He steps forward, then glances at Eevee—who had placed himself between Kael and the professor—then back to Kael. There's something sharper in his eyes now—evaluation, maybe even recognition.

"Come on. Let's get you something to eat and drink, and you can tell me where you're really from."

Kael hesitates, looking at Eevee, then nods once.

Eevee follows without hesitation this time.

 

[Frost41]

AN: I'm testing out different chapter lengths to see which fits my pacing best. Reviews are always welcomed!

One Step at a Time
Chapter 2: Introductions
Word Count: ~3,000


---

Kael sits crouched on his heels beside a patch of flattened grass just outside the barn, elbows resting on his knees, watching a few Oddish wiggle around the base of a tree. Eevee sits beside him, alert but calm, tail twitching slightly with the breeze.

"Oddish," Kael mutters. "Basic grass type. Decent for status effects. Evolution path splits into Vileplume or Bellossom. Either's viable for support, but their speed and durability is an issue."

Eevee chuffs softly beside him.

Kael half-smirks.

"Right, too squishy for your taste."

He stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back on his palms, eyes scanning the terrain. A distant Doduo races a Tauros across the ridge, both blurs of motion and hooves. Kael watches them, then looks back at Eevee.

"So. We should talk about your eventual evolution."

Eevee's ears perk.

Kael's tone shifts—just a little more serious.

"I'm not gonna force it. That's not how this will work. I want you to choose. But if we're going to move forward—challenge gyms, deal with threats, be partners—I need to know what role you want to fill."

Eevee tilts his head.

Kael taps his temple.

"I've got ideas. Of course I do. But you get final say."

He ticks off on his fingers.

"Flareon would give us power, but it overlaps with too many obvious fire types. We'll need one eventually, but that job's probably going to someone else. Same thing with Leafeon."

"Jolteon's a speed demon—great for scouts and counters—but I don't see you as twitchy or spastic. No offense."

Eevee snorts.

"Vaporeon has bulk and adaptability. You'd be near impossible to take down, and we'd get solid coverage."

A pause.

"There are good arguments to be made for Glaceon or Sylveon. But Umbreon…"

He glances at Eevee again.

"That's the one I think fits. Not just because it's dark type. Not even for the edge factor. Because it's a support specialist with durability, control, and precision. You'd be my wall. My anchor."

Eevee doesn't respond immediately, but his ears lower slightly—thoughtful. He doesn't turn away.

Kael exhales.

"I figured as much. I'll let you mull that over. We're not in any rush."

He leans back against the wall, eyes on the clouds now.

"So here's plan A."

"You. Umbreon. Defensive backbone. Moonlight regen, toxic stall, maybe Curse depending on move availability."

"Second slot's already scouted: Gengar. High mobility, status infliction, immunities, plays in shadows. Ghost/Poison is perfect for disrupting strategies."

"Third—Alakazam. Mental speed. Psy-type coverage. Sets up screens, pivots, shuts down brute force. Also opens up communications for larger-scale battle coordination."

"Then Crobat. The Zubat line gets a bad rap, but their final evolution is a monster—fast, evasive, flexible, poison flier. That's perfect flank control."

Eevee watches him quietly. Listening, learning.

Kael sits forward again, elbows back on knees.

"That's a core of four. Synergistic, flexible, status-heavy. We don't have to hit like a truck—we strangle the map. Zone control, misdirection, punishing overreach. No wasted movement. No wasted power."

He taps the grass beside him.

"Slot five and six are open. Might go with a starter. Bulbasaur fits better long-term than the other two—status, regen, utility typing. Or maybe Ekans. Arbok's got intimidation value and terrain familiarity."

"Either way, the team's built to control tempo. We're not here to fight fair—we're here to make every fight ours. To win."

Eevee stretches lazily, then settles back into a crouch beside him. He doesn't seem bothered. He seems… ready.

Kael gives him a glance.

"You okay with that?"

The fox doesn't answer with a cry or a bark. Just a soft flick of his tail and a calm stare.

Kael grins faintly. "Yeah. Me too."

A breeze rustles the grass around them. In the far distance, someone's voice calls out, approaching the barn. Kael doesn't hear the words—but the voice is light, a little too casual.

Female.

Someone's arrived.

Kael exhales through his nose.

"Guess the fun's about to start. Hopefully she isn't a blonde."

He stands slowly, brushing off his pants.

Eevee jumps lightly onto Kael's back, curling across his shoulders like a living scarf.

---

Kael steps around the side of the barn, brushing loose straw from his pants. Eevee is draped across his shoulders, tail flicking occasionally like a living warning flag.

He hears voices before he sees anyone.

Oak's tone is familiar—calm, amused, patient. The other voice is female. Confident. Not loud, but present, like someone who's used to being listened to. Kael slows.

The moment he rounds the corner, she's already looking at him.

She has her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised. Brown hair under a cap tilted back just enough to flash sharp green eyes. Her jacket's unzipped like she just got off a bike, and there's a faint grass stain on one knee. A belt with two Pokéballs rests at her hip.

Kael freezes. Just for a second.

Not blonde. Small mercies.

Oak turns toward him. "Ah—Kael. Just in time."

The girl crosses the distance in three easy steps, extending a hand.

"Leaf."

Kael stares at the hand like it might bite.

Direct and confident. Oversteps boundaries without hesitation. Possible-probable-control freak. Or worse—an extrovert.

He takes her hand anyway. Brief, firm shake. Let go first.

"Kael."

"Professor says you're new. I guess that means you're my competition."

Kael blinks. "...Your what?"

Leaf grins. "He's only got so many licenses to sponsor. And I got here first. So unless you're really special..."

Kael opens his mouth. Closes it.

Oak chuckles behind her. "Now now. No need to scare him off. Kael's already registered."

Leaf turns to Oak, mock-affronted. "You already signed him?! I haven't even seen his team!"

Oak shrugs. "Didn't need to. He made an impression."

She eyes Kael again. Not hostile. Just measuring.

This one's going to be a problem. I just know it.

Kael sighs. "So… you live here or something?"

"I grew up in Viridian," Leaf replies. "But I train out here a lot. Fewer distractions. Plus, Oak says I'm his favorite."

Oak doesn't confirm or deny. He just pats her shoulder and starts walking toward the main pasture. "Why don't you two take some time to get acquainted? Leaf can show you around the training field."

Kael watches him retreat with a look of subtle betrayal.

Leaf spins back toward him. "Alright, come on, mystery boy. Let's see what you've got."

She turns and walks, clearly expecting him to follow.

Kael glances at Eevee.

Eevee yawns.

"I can already tell this is going to be a lot."

Eevee flicks his tail once, noncommittal.

Kael follows.

---

Leaf doesn't stop talking.

It's not obnoxious. Not exactly. It's just… constant.

"This is the southern field," she says, waving as they pass a row of low shrubs and fence posts. "Usually we let the Tauros roam out here, but one of them broke the gate last week, so Oak's keeping them penned for now. Up that hill's the test corral. We bring in wild Pokémon sometimes—low threat, nothing that'll kill you unless you fall on something sharp."

Kael walks beside her, silent, hands tucked into his pockets. Eevee remains comfortably perched around his neck, tail brushing back and forth across his shoulder like a furry pendulum of judgment.

Leaf doesn't seem to notice the silence.

"Watch your step through here, by the way. That patch there's where Oak keeps his test colony of Sandshrew. Real territorial. Like, bite your ankles and roll off laughing territorial."

Kael steps carefully over the worn dirt path. "Good to know."

"And if you see a sleeping Arcanine, don't pet it. He's friendly, but he drools. A lot."

She hops a low fence like it's nothing, spins midair, and keeps walking backward while talking.

She doesn't even notice she's giving intel. It's not the most useful, but it's something.

Hyperverbal. Distracting. But informative.

They round a bend and step into an open field bordered on one side by a sparse treeline and on the other by the distant silhouette of Oak's lab. The grass is worn in places, patchy with old impact marks and uneven terrain. Clearly a battle field.

Leaf stops in the center and spins on her heel.

"Alright," she says, grinning. "You've been giving me 'brooding loner who's secretly a genius' vibes all morning."

Kael's eyebrow lifts. "That's... specific."

"So let's test it. You, me, one-on-one. Just our starters."

Kael hesitates.

Leaf's smile doesn't falter. "What? Scared?"

Eevee huffs softly against Kael's ear.

She's baiting him. Statistically effective, emotionally lazy.

Kael sighs and unclasps Eevee from his shoulders. The fox drops to the ground, ears twitching as he scans the field.

"Alright," Kael mutters. "We'll play."

Leaf steps back several paces, already unclipping a Pokéball from her belt.

"Let's go, Cyndaquil!"

With a flash of light and a puff of embers, a small, rodent-like Fire-type appears on the field, flames licking up from its back. It lets out a determined chirp and stamps its foot.

Great. Fire. Just what I wanted.

Kael studies Eevee—tense, alert, but waiting for instruction.

I have no idea what moves you know. Best case, you've got Quick Attack and maybe Sand Attack. Worst case, nothing but Tackle and hope. We'll have to play this by ear.

Leaf gestures wildly, pointing dramatically. "Cyndaquil, open with Ember!"

Kael doesn't respond with an attack. Instead:

"Eevee—circle right. Dodge!"

Cyndaquil spits a quick burst of fire toward them. Eevee darts hard to the side, low and fast, the flames barely grazing past.

"Now cut in—feint high, then low!"

Eevee snaps left, jukes right, then lunges. Not a full Tackle—just a jarring bump that throws Cyndaquil off-balance.

Leaf frowns. "Cyndaquil, back off—use Smokescreen!"

Kael's eyes narrow as the battlefield vanishes into a haze of black smoke.

Perfect.

"Eevee—listen for movement. Let him come to you."

The smoke thickens, swirling across the field. Leaf calls out commands, but Kael doesn't. He watches. Waits.

A flicker of shadow. A rustle to the left.

"Pivot. Tail sweep."

A soft thump, then a squeak of surprise as Cyndaquil's legs are knocked out from under him.

Leaf swears under her breath. "Cyndaquil, Quick Attack—now!"

A blur shoots through the smoke.

"Drop low!"

Eevee flattens instantly, the streak of fire zipping overhead.

"Turn and slam his flank!"

A heavy collision. Cyndaquil tumbles backward, claws scrabbling to regain footing. The smoke's clearing now, and both Pokémon are panting.

Leaf squints, biting her lip.

"You're not calling attacks," she says.

Kael shrugs. "I'm calling concepts."

"Yeah, well—cute trick. Cyndaquil! Flame Wheel!"

Kael's eyes widen slightly. "Flank, now!"

Eevee lunges sideways again—but not far enough. The spinning fireball clips his hindquarters, and he yelps, rolling hard across the grass.

Kael winces.

Not fast enough. That's on me.

Eevee pulls himself up, limping slightly, but growling low.

Still willing. Good.

Kael raises his voice—calm, clear. "Pull back. Wait for the next rush. Don't meet him head-on."

Cyndaquil, still glowing from the fire spin, charges again.

Kael watches the rhythm. The footfalls. The pattern.

"Now! Use his momentum—roll and counter!"

Eevee drops into a sideways spin, catching Cyndaquil's front leg and redirecting the charge. The Fire-type stumbles, topples—and Eevee slams into his side with a decisive body blow.

Cyndaquil groans, sparks flickering out. He doesn't rise.

Leaf sighs. "Okay. That was actually kind of impressive."

Kael exhales slowly, then nods once. "Thanks."

Eevee limps back to him, and Kael crouches to meet him.

"You good?"

Eevee huffs.

Kael smirks. "Yeah. Me too. Let's go get you two all healed up."

---

Interlude: Professor Oak

Professor Samuel Oak was not, by nature, a suspicious man.

Cautious? Certainly. Seasoned by time and experience? Of course. But not suspicious. He preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt—to observe, to study, to understand. That was, after all, the scientific method.

Still, Kael Wren had caught his attention the moment they met.

He'd stepped out of the woods near Route 1 looking like a boy half-pushed through a paper wall between worlds. Clothes slightly off—secondhand, but not worn in the usual ways. Posture too aware. Alert in a way no child of the local routes ever was.

Then there was the way he spoke: guarded, deliberate, like he was choosing his words two layers deep. He was polite, yes, and clever. But Oak had spent a lifetime listening to people explain things they didn't want to admit.

Kael's story had all the right parts—Sinnoh orphan, traveling alone, memory fuzzy from a fall. Tragic, sympathetic, believable.

Too believable.

Oak hadn't said anything at the time. He'd simply offered food, a place to rest, and company. Then he watched.

Kael's behavior didn't scream liar. He didn't try too hard. He didn't fish for pity. But the boy watched everything. Catalogued it. From how Oak powered on the terminal to how the utensils were sorted in the drying rack.

"He doesn't act like someone on the run. More like someone who doesn't trust the world to make sense unless he double-checks it."

Then there was the Eevee.

Skittish at first, but already attached. It mirrored Kael's caution. But more than that—it followed him with a soldier's loyalty. Oak knew that wild Pokémon, especially wounded ones, didn't give that kind of trust overnight.

Something had passed between them. Something more than just kindness.

"He didn't catch that Eevee. Still hasn't caught that Eevee. I'll make sure to get him a Pokéball."

The first real break came the morning after.

Kael had been out early—exploring the ranch perimeter, talking to himself and to Eevee in low, thoughtful tones. Oak had watched the playback. The questions Kael asked weren't childish. They weren't even normal.

They were precise.

"If battles follow the anime's soft rules, then moves are half-improvised and attacks can clash midair. I think they call it the 'Rule of Cool'.

"Do trainers have aura? Or is that just a movie thing?

"If you evolve, would your stats reset? Would I lose early move access?"

And then, later—barely caught on the edge of the mic—Kael had stood by the edge of the lower pond, skipping stones and murmuring to Eevee with a strange tension in his voice:

"I could tell him. About Team Rocket. About what they do… what they'll try to do.

"But what if they aren't that bad here yet? What if saying too much makes it worse?

"We wait. Watch and research. No sense in waving a flag if no one's hunting us."

Oak had frozen on that clip. Replayed it. Then filed it away in his private notes, under a simple heading:
Risk Management: Voluntary Misinformation?

"So he knows of Rocket. And others. But he's choosing not to say anything. Not out of malice… but caution."

That should've set off alarm bells.

But Oak wasn't alarmed.

He was fascinated.

And now—he sat in the quiet hum of the lab, watching the field through his cameras. The boy and the Eevee moved in tandem. No wasted effort. No panicked shouts. Just clipped instructions and adjustments.

Kael didn't call out moves. Didn't even test them before the match.

"That's still tactically unsound… unless you're deliberately hiding information."

Or—and this was the more likely truth—Kael didn't know what moves his Eevee had.

Oak chuckled aloud.

"Walks into a match with no move list and still holds his ground," he murmured. "That's either foolish… or brilliant."

The way Kael gave orders—"circle left," "wait for the opening," "counter off his back leg"—it wasn't a trainer's script. It was a soldier's cadence. Focused not on elemental typing or energy readings, but on weight, timing, stance.

It reminded Oak of drills from a long time ago. Back when battles weren't all contained within tidy white chalk circles. Back when he wore a different kind of uniform and command meant life or death.

"Someone trained this boy to fight humans."

But it wasn't just training. It was restraint.

Kael hadn't panicked. Hadn't struck wildly. He'd been gentle with Eevee, precise in the way he adjusted his distance from Leaf. Even in uncertainty, he'd anchored himself in observation and trust.

Oak leaned back, folding his arms as Leaf barked another command and Cyndaquil rolled forward in a burst of flame.

Eevee darted wide, pivoted off a rock, and used the momentum to slam a tackle into Cyndaquil's flank.

Oak smiled.

"You don't need to know the name of the move if you know what you want it to do."

This wasn't raw instinct. This was applied theory. Lived experience. A mind trained for conflict, choosing not to escalate. A stranger who didn't ask for power, but did everything possible to understand the rules of the world he woke up in.

"He's not here to conquer it. He's here to make sense of it."

Oak stood slowly, taking his mug with him to the window. Outside, the match continued under a lazy sun. Two kids and their Pokémon, learning each other, testing boundaries. The kind of thing he lived for.

"Not from Sinnoh," he murmured. "Not by blood. But maybe by spirit."

"And wherever he is from… he's choosing to be kind."

Oak nodded to himself and turned back toward the monitors. His mind already spinning with what Kael might need: records, tools, reading material. Not just for safety.

For understanding.