It all started with a letter.

This particular letter was much like any other: a sealed envelope, stamped and certified to make its way between destinations. And much like any other letter, it had been delivered through the Pelipper Post – the preferred form of transit for all such items – to a mailbox, where it sat to await its eventual receipt.

The letter had been delivered that morning to Lavaridge Town, a locale in the Hoenn region that had once been little more than a hamlet, a quick stop for those who wished to partake of one or both of its vanities. These vanities took the form of the Pokémon Gym and the local hot springs, the latter of which were said to possess therapeutic properties. Despite these attractions, though, the relative inaccessibility of the town due to some impossibly steep ledges and a dauntingly long detour had forced all but the most dedicated tourists to give up their plans for visiting the area. Several years' worth of saving by the community had worked to break through this obstacle; with funds gathered by citizens and the few businesses in the area at the time, Lavaridge was able to hire a construction crew and demolish a fair portion of the hillside in order to carve a proper set of stairs into the cliffs, opening the way for commerce to fully embrace their home. Because of this, the town had expanded to become the second-largest populated area in all of Hoenn, with housing and storefronts extending around the bottom of the volcano that provided them with heat and geothermal power.

One of these houses belonged to the Ariae family. The family consisted of a mother and daughter: the mother was fairly respected in her town, having built up a reputation for reliability through years of hard work and perseverance. Letters were common within her house, and she'd received many over the course of her family's stay in their home: some from relatives, some from old friends, and some from merchandisers who sold things that she was interested in.

But the letter that came that day was different, as its recipient would soon see.

-/-

It was about ten o'clock that morning when Rhea Ariae walked outside her home, her arms heavy with the weight of that day's trash. The smell of sugar wafted outside as she shouldered her way over the threshold, clinging to the plastic garbage bag as if to bury the stench of waste in a sea of sweetness, but these efforts were hardly necessary as the woman marched the bag down the walkway and to the sidewalk, where it was promptly dumped into the container set aside for the disposal workers to pick up.

That task accomplished, Rhea took a moment to peer down the road in search of said workers, who had proved somewhat late in attending to her portion of the city in recent weeks. She'd heard something about the change in schedule: less pay, longer hours, and a somewhat uncaring manager had forced a strike amongst the workers… or something to that effect, anyway. Regardless, it just wasn't right to have to punish paying customers because of an issue with employees, and perhaps she'd write a note for the trash people when they came over that day in order to better state such an opinion. But they most likely wouldn't be arriving for a few hours, so she shrugged and turned her attention to the next order of business: the mailbox.

The little green flag opposite the red one was sticking straight up - there was something inside the box. So, opening the back of the mailbox, she reached inside and retrieved that day's mail. This took the shape of a small mountain of paper, which she flipped through whilst she had the convenience of the trash can nearby for the disposal of junk.

Bills were the standard fare that day, it seemed: utility payments, car insurance, and her daughter's tuition fees, the last of which Rhea would be giving to her daughter to take care of. The trash bin did in fact see some use as she continued to sift through the pile, taking the few catalogs she'd been waiting for and tossing the flyers for things like Poké Mart sales – and very nearly threw out an envelope along with one. A mad grab saved it from entering the depths of the bin, and she brought it to the top of the pile, scanning the return address almost absently.

A moment later, she was dashing back inside the house, calling her daughter's name.

-/-

Rhea's daughter lived with her mother, keeping a room in the back of the house so as not to bother her mother with her own concerns. The choice to remain where others her age might have struck out into the world for themselves had been a deliberate one, for this girl had always been somewhat attached to her parent.

At home, Shen was a somewhat quiet girl, keeping her thoughts and activities to herself in the relative privacy of her own room. This room was where she spent nearly half of each day, taking meals only when she wasn't working, studying, or sleeping. Her mother didn't mind this much; Shen was a good girl, after all, and any worries that she might have had about her little girl being a hermit were wiped away the moment that girl stepped outside the house each day.

Outside, Shen was practically a force of nature. She'd long become a well-known personality within their town, mostly being known for her work with a hobby that she'd had since childhood: photography. With a camera, Shen was a savant, and nearly every single postcard sold by the local general store featured a picture that she'd taken at some point since she'd first hit upon the idea of dedicating her life to capturing images. The popularity of her work had allowed her to pursue that dream.

This pursuance, in turn, had attracted a number of opportunities for her to turn her work into something a bit more worthwhile. Or, at least, such had been the line delivered to her by many a prospective employer. But Shen hadn't been interested in working for gossip tabloids or celebrity rags, for her portfolio, when she had taken the time to build it, had been given to the newspaper.

The newspaper in question was the Hoenn Standard Times, a weekly publication that spread the fruits of professional journalism to every corner of the continent. The men and women that worked for such an organization were some of the best in their field, and their efforts had earned their parent paper more than a few awards for the depth of its storytelling and the weight of emotion that went into every single photograph. It was these people, Shen had decided, that she wanted to work for, and she had waited for weeks – three of them, to be exact – for her application to be reviewed. Those weeks had been a study in stress and worry, with hope becoming a thing that she did not dare to touch.

So when her mother called her, she knew what was coming.

-/-

"Shen! Shen, you have a letter!"

Rhea had made her way through the house by that point, coming to a stop in front of her daughter's door. Thankfully, she didn't have to knock in order to get the girl's attention, for within seconds, the door opened, the sounds of a television program fading to silence. Immediately afterward, Shen's brown-haired head made an appearance, followed closely by the rest of her.

"It's here?" she asked, knowing full well that she wouldn't have to explain what 'it' was. Both her and her mother knew exactly what she was expecting.

"It's here."

Shen heard the unfathomable concern of a mother contained in that two-word sentence and smiled.

"Well, let's go open it!"

-/-

About five minutes later, both mother and daughter were sitting in the living room, with the letter resting upon a table before them. Silence reigned in that space, for the good-hearted nature in which Shen had received her delivery had faded as the true significance of the document weighed upon her.

How odd it was, she thought, that such a small thing as a letter would have such an effect on her. But it was so, for the words printed on the paper that was undoubtedly within the envelope on the table would dictate the course of her life for a very long time to come.

Were her bid to be accepted by the newspaper, it would be the realization of a dream. However, she would most likely have to leave everything she knew behind in order to take that step: her family and her home. The thought of taking that step into the unknown was at once chilling and exciting, and the mixture of these emotions twisted her stomach into uncomfortable shapes – and she hadn't so much as touched the letter.

But this moment and all its gut-churning fear was something that she had wanted. So, allowing the wistful smile that that knowledge brought to cross her lips, she picked up the letter, tore the adhesive that kept the envelope sealed, and peered inside.

Within the envelope was a single sheet of paper, folded twice upon itself in order to allow it to fit inside its prison. And as she unfolded it, words came into focus.

Dear Ms. Ariae,

We at the Hoenn Standard Times wish to inform you that we have received your portfolio and request to be considered for the position of Field Journalist. As you may know, one opening for this position was recently made vacant. Amongst the many applications that we have received for this opening, we have chosen to select yours for further scrutiny, and are pleased to offer you a paid trial period in which we may test your skills.

This 90-day trial period, set to commence upon your arrival at our office in Mauville City, will take place in the Kalos region. This is an area that we wish to open up to our readers, many of which will never travel, and we wish to allow you the opportunity to work in our branch in beautiful Lumiose City.

As your pictures will allow an entire continent to experience a new world from the comfort of their homes, workplaces, and anywhere they may wish to read a newspaper or make use of our PokéNav application, we expect any images that you send to us to be of the highest quality. Your colleagues in the Kalos region will assist you in ensuring that this expectation is met.

If you wish to accept this offer, please notify our office by phone within three days of receiving this letter. We hope that you will enjoy your time spent with us!

If applicable to yourself, please ensure that you take no more than one Pokémon along with you to your posting, for space on our transit system is limited.

Sincerely,

- Leoric Blomford

Editor-In-Chief, Hoenn Standard Times

Shen stared at the paper for a good ten minutes, reading and rereading every line to make sure that the letter wasn't a hallucination.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. This… this can't be real.

Even though she'd known the extent of her accomplishments at home, she hadn't truly been prepared for her application to even be considered for a position, let alone accepted for it. The fact that it had been – the proof inherent in the letter she held in shaking fingers – was a world-shattering experience, something that logic dictated could not possibly be true.

They want me to work for them.

That knowledge alone was the key to a world filled with opportunity. Working with a newspaper would enable her to travel, to see places that no one else could access without an entire team of Pokémon and a great deal of influence. It was everything that she'd dreamed for – a dream now come true.

Rhea, however, was not able to see the letter herself. Because of this, she had watched the color drain from her daughter's face, but though she wanted to say something, to understand just what the letter she'd gotten had contained, she kept silent. Shen, after all, looked as if she'd shatter if pressed about it. After a while longer, though, her daughter lowered the paper and settled back into the couch with a long, drawn-out sigh, and Rhea finally got the chance to find out what was going on.

"What is it, honey?" she asked. "What did they say?"

"Well… they want to hire me, Mom. They saw my portfolio, and they want me to come work for them. They're looking for someone to help in the Kalos region, so I'd have to get there first, but it pays really well, and…"

She trailed off as she noticed the look on her mother's face. Something had settled into those aging cheeks, deepening the creases that lined them, and though it took her a few moments to figure out the source of such a change, Shen was horrified to discover the specific emotion: pain.

Some deep, hidden part of her had known that telling her mother that she would have to leave the house – perhaps permanently – would wound the person that had kept her safe for her entire life. She was her only child, after all, and the only person to keep her company in the later years of her life, which had turned her once golden hair to platinum blonde and streaked her face with wrinkles. For that child to leave the house now and go overseas would be nothing more than a death blow to whatever hopes she'd had of keeping her daughter close and away from the dangers of the world outside their city – and Shen knew exactly how that would feel. "Oh, Mom…"

"It's okay, honey. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…"

She'd known the size of the wound she'd open, but actually seeing it was something different, and in that moment, her resolve faltered. No dream job, no opportunity, nothing was worth the stake she'd driven into her mother's heart. She could find something else to do, something closer to home. Something that wouldn't tear the two of them apart. She opened her mouth, prepared to make the sacrifice.

But Rhea saw her daughter's expression, the regret in her eyes, and smiled. "Honey, it's okay. Every little bird has to fly the nest sometime, right? And you're a big girl now – you don't need me to shelter you. Take the job. Go for that dream of yours, and make me proud, all right?"

A lump grew in Shen's throat at those words, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. When she finally swallowed it, her voice came out as a croak – but the words were heartfelt.

"Thanks, Mom."

-/-

After the necessary phone call was made to inform her new employer of her consent to their terms, and long after the inevitable tears were shed between a mother and daughter about to be separated, Shen took the time to pack. Granted, she actually didn't have a lot to pack: some spare clothes, a mini-tent, her makeup pouch, and her wallet, which folded neatly into her backpack. Her camera bag was attached to her pack, slotted into a special holder that held the two bags snugly together while allowing her easy access to the sole device that made her life worthwhile: her camera.

Her camera was something special. One of her uncles, an engineer at the Devon Corporation, knew of her dreams, and had given her a Devon Snaptech X – a prototype that he had designed himself – for her birthday present one year. He'd asked her to help him field-test it, and Shen had fallen in love with the thing almost instantly, for the camera was lightweight, easily stored, practically indestructible, and possessed many different firing modes. Unfortunately, all these features had been judged far too cost-ineffective for the camera's mass production, and though the list of its attributes had drawn the interest of many photographers, its expense had forced it to remain in the experimental phase until it could be produced without negatively impacting profits. As such, the only working model rested in Shen's hands, and she was only too happy to make use of it, knowing full well that many of her peers would have gratefully killed to get their hands on it.

Even thoughts of her camera, however, could not stall her for long. She had to leave, and so she picked up her backpack and slung it onto her shoulders, pausing on her way out to look into the mirror. A young woman looked back at her: someone of average height and average build. This woman had intelligently changed into a pair of cargo pants, a nylon shirt, a hiking vest, and some boots, but had indulged in a single vanity: a necklace, upon whose slender silver chain a red oval hung. A few errant tear-tracks still lined her cheeks, she saw, and these she wiped away.

She was ready. But though she didn't truly feel ready, she walked downstairs, opened the front door of the house, and stepped into the world that awaited her. She didn't look back; to do so would have been to succumb to the doubt that plagued her despite her mother's reassurance.

Every little bird has to fly the nest sometime, right?

Ten minutes later, she was outside the city limits. The sun was just beginning to rise above the cloud of soot that spiraled endlessly from the core of Mt. Ember, and even though she was leaving behind all she knew, Shen found a certain happiness in the fact that she was following her dream.

And keeping that happiness safely in her heart, she began her walk down the road to a new life.