The memories faded.
The first thing Roy did every morning was always the same.
Wash his face.
Brush his teeth.
Then feed his Pokémon.
“Breakfast time, Litwick.”
“Lit!”
A wisp of pale blue ghostly fire suddenly burst from Roy’s shoulder.
Moments later, the tiny candle Pokémon emerged.
Its body was made of smooth white wax, with melted wax covering its right eye, leaving only its bright left eye visible.
Litwick was, in a way, Roy’s very first Pokémon.
Why only in a way?
Because Roy had never actually caught it with a Poké Ball.
That’s right.
He didn’t even own one.
Yet that didn’t stop Litwick from considering itself Roy’s Pokémon.
On Roy’s very first day at Mt.
Pyre, Litwick had attached itself to him and refused to leave.
Its adorable appearance, versatile abilities, and tremendous growth potential had quickly won Roy over.
Eventually, Roy simply accepted the little Ghost-type as his partner.
As for how Litwick could suddenly appear from Roy’s shoulder…
It was much like how Gengar could hide inside a person’s shadow.
Ghost-type Pokémon possessed a spiritual form that allowed them to phase through walls and solid objects almost like ghosts in old horror stories.
Of course…
Litwick wasn’t the only one who reacted when it heard the word breakfast.
Another Pokémon floated out from the surrounding darkness.
It wore a mask resembling a human skull, complete with three teeth and hollow eye sockets.
A blue ghostly flame flickered from the top of its head, while two white markings resembling thigh bones decorated its back.
Its short arms remained folded behind its body, and beneath it floated a cloud-like lower half.
Roy’s second Pokémon.
Duskull.
If Litwick was hardworking…
Duskull was the complete opposite.
It excelled at absolutely nothing.
Except eating.
“Duskull.”
“After breakfast, we’ve got work to do.”
“Dus…”
The one-eyed Ghost Pokémon floated over obediently.
Its round figure made it look surprisingly adorable.
Unlike most Duskull, however…
Roy’s Duskull was exceptionally chubby.
Nearly half again as large as an ordinary member of its species.
Unlike Litwick, Duskull didn’t enjoy hiding inside Roy’s body.
Instead, it preferred lying quietly in dark, cool corners, doing absolutely nothing all day.
Under the eager gazes of both little ghosts…
A cluster of deep violet energy appeared in Roy’s palm.
This was Ghost Force.
A unique spiritual power taught to him by Phoebe’s grandparents.
Unlike the Ghost-type energy naturally drifting through Mt.
Pyre, Roy’s Ghost Force was purer.
It contained none of the negative emotions normally mixed into ghostly energy.
No resentment.
No fear.
No hatred.
It was spiritual energy refined to its purest form.
Because of that…
Ghost-type Pokémon found it both more delicious and far easier to absorb.
At first, Litwick had stubbornly refused to consume it.
The little Pokémon had mistakenly believed Roy was sacrificing his own life force.
Only after Roy repeatedly demonstrated that Ghost Force naturally regenerated over time did Litwick finally accept it.
The two little Ghost-types immediately clung to Roy’s hand.
The violet energy behaved almost like soft jelly as they happily devoured it.
Within moments…
Every last trace of Ghost Force disappeared.
Not even a drop remained for Roy.
“…You two really don’t know how to leave any leftovers.”
After finishing his own breakfast, Roy handed his empty bowl to Phoebe.
“I’m heading out.”
“I still have to clean every gravestone on the eighth level today.”
Phoebe grinned mischievously.
“Don’t forget to buy me snacks on your way back!”
“Extra spicy!”
“I know.”
After changing into a set of athletic clothes, Roy picked up an iron pickaxe and a wooden bucket filled with cleaning supplies from the corner of the room.
He waved goodbye.
Then opened the cabin door.
Just as he was about to step outside…
“Wait!”
Roy stopped and looked back.
“What now?”
Thanks to spending years with someone as carefree and shameless as Roy, Phoebe had grown far more cheerful and energetic than the quiet girl remembered from the games.
“My grandpa asked me to give you this.”
She handed him a small plastic card about the size of an identification card from his previous world.
It served as both an official identity card and a bank card.
At first glance…
It didn’t seem particularly important.
In reality…
It was almost indispensable.
Whether purchasing Poké Balls through the Pokémon League…
Healing Pokémon at a Pokémon Center…
Or registering for official League competitions…
An ID card was required.
Without one, life in this world was almost impossible.
Roy stared quietly at the photograph printed on the card.
Finally…
It was approved.
He was officially recognized as a legal resident of the Pokémon world.
Reality wasn’t the same as the anime.
Ten-year-olds couldn’t simply grab a backpack and travel the world.
A single wild Raticate was more than capable of killing an ordinary person.
Capturing Pokémon also differed greatly from the games.
Wild Pokémon were independent living beings.
They had their own thoughts.
Their own personalities.
Throwing a Poké Ball at one didn’t magically make it loyal.
A Trainer had to earn its trust.
Otherwise…
A captured Pokémon might attack its own Trainer.
Some even broke out of poorly made Poké Balls by force.
Incidents like that happened all the time.
Take Roy’s Litwick and Duskull, for example.
Neither had ever entered a Poké Ball.
Yet both willingly acknowledged Roy as their Trainer.
They followed him because they trusted him.
Not because a machine forced them to obey.
This…
Was the real Pokémon world.
Not one where someone could throw a Poké Ball at every legendary Pokémon they saw and somehow succeed.
Roy had never understood that kind of fantasy.
If Gengar hadn’t saved him two and a half years ago…
He would have died beneath Mt.
Pyre before his adventure had even begun.
To prevent tragedies like that, the Hoenn League prohibited anyone without a Trainer License from freely traveling through dangerous wilderness.
Of course…
Enforcement was fairly relaxed.
If someone was caught, League officers usually escorted them back to the address listed on their ID card and gave them a warning.
If they insisted on sneaking out again…
That was their own responsibility.
The League also maintained strict control over Poké Balls.
Every official Poké Ball manufactured by the League carried its own registration number and was recorded by Pokémon Centers across the region.
By law, only people aged ten or older could legally purchase one.
Naturally…
Rules always had exceptions.
Many prestigious families allowed their children to grow up alongside Pokémon long before they turned ten.
Once they reached the proper age, they simply completed the capture process with an official Poké Ball.
As long as no one abused the system, the League generally chose to look the other way.
After all…
The League wasn’t the only organization capable of manufacturing Poké Balls.
A standard League Poké Ball cost 500 Pokédollars.
It could reliably contain Pokémon up to around Level 40.
Anything significantly stronger could simply break free.
A Great Ball could restrain Pokémon up to Level 50, but cost five times as much.
Private workshops also produced much cheaper Poké Balls.
Some sold for as little as 50 Pokédollars.
The quality, however…
Was unpredictable.
Sometimes the Poké Ball might suddenly burst open while you were simply walking down the road.
For official League tournaments, though…
Only League-registered Poké Balls were permitted.
As a result, some Trainers didn’t officially obtain their very first Pokémon until just before entering their first sanctioned competition.
Roy’s situation was different.
The only reason he hadn’t bought Poké Balls earlier…
Was because he didn’t possess an ID card.
Now that his identity had finally been approved…
It was time.
His partners deserved proper homes.
He smiled to himself.
Today, Litwick and Duskull were finally getting their very own Poké Balls.