prologue.

She remembers. When she was six her father took her through the gravel path behind their yard to the far field where the tauros grazed. Their tough hard hooves stomped the grass and deep in their chests they rumbled their gravely groans. Blades of grass longer than her legs vanished inch by inch into their maws, twisted between blunt yellow teeth.

Dad pressed a hand to her shoulder. ''You wanna go over, Jane? You wanna pet one?'' He nudged her forwards, not gently.

Jane clung to his arm and planted her feet as best as she could on shaking legs, brown eyes brimming with tears. She squeezed them tightly shut as her face burrowed into his shirt.

Dad squinted in the sun, through the grass, at the bulky brown beasts in the distance. ''They're not like you see on television, Jane. Those things are dangerous. They come over here, they'll trample you, if they don't catch you on their horns.'' She gasped, eyes flying wide as the curved grey prongs glinted metallic in the sun.

It was too easy to see herself speared through, bloodied and shaken about in the air with every toss of their heads, and Jane whimpered. She thought of running. Dad's glinting dark eye froze her bodily.

''Do you still want to pet pokemon?'' She shook her head wildly. ''Will you ask again?'' She shouldn't have. The neighbor's meowth had seemed so soft she'd only-

"No,'' she choked, tugging on his arm. ''Can we go?''

He lumbered over and hoisted her up, propping her against his hip as he brushed away her tears with a firm hand, and they started down the beaten path home. All around them the land was warm and green and smelled fresh as the dawning spring, the tall grass crawling with little mongrels, and twice Father stomped his foot to scare off skittering rattata that sunk away into deep dank ground holes in a flash of purple. She saw caterpies' pink antennae peek through the green, serpentine bugs scaling trees as their suction cups left slimy trails over the bark. Somewhere high above in the flowering branches a pidgey tweeted sunnily, and Dad tensed at the sound, mouth curling into a silent snarl. He bent down awkwardly, Jane braced against his side, and picked up a round grey pebble he bounced in his hand. Then he flung it hard, smacking the tree, narrowly missing the bird that flew up with a squeak. Dad watched it go. Eye skyward, his hand came up to flatten his long bangs over his left eye socket, which was sewed shut, skin pulled taut over nothing.

He never told her why. But Jane would find out, years later, a fearow had plucked out his eye.

She learned it as she and Aunt Mary sorted through all his stuff, stuff she didn't even know he had, like a single rusted badge collecting dust in the bottom of a shoebox. Upon discovery it drew from Auntie the short tale of Dad's brief, ill-fated trainer journey, and then with a quiet sigh the badge was thrown away like so much else. The house was sold to pay off debt, his clothes were given away. Some things like his favorite watch and his guitar, Jane took with her to Mother's, all the way over in Alola, where home was supposed to be now that Dad was dead. He'd passed on Thursday, maybe Friday. Jane didn't know how long he'd help up after the stroke, because Auntie had kept her away from the hospital and told her to watch television and always insisted that Dad would be fine, just fine, just you wait, until she couldn't. Then she took to insisting that Jane would be fine. She'd go stay with her mom and stepfather in Alola and everything would be just fine.

Hau'oli was a breezy city nestled in Melemele Island by the oceanside, wide streets lined with green palm trees and colorful rooftops. In the afternoons Jane would race out to the marina pier and stare at the foaming waves crawling over the sandy shore, at the wingull flocks flying high, at the far blob of the sun spilling over the ocean its burning reds and melting oranges. Tracing striations of light dappled across rippling waves with her eyes until the world turned dark. Then, feet dragging under her, she'd crawl home, barely in time for dinner. Seven o'clock. Everybody there, half the food gone. Slink into a chair.

They sat, picture imperfect. Jane, quiet, pushing dinner around in her plate. Mother scarfing down her latest odd craving. Sam talking fast as ever through mouthfuls of steak, getting drunker and louder, though the only response he received were whines and growls from the canine under the table. Once in a while her stepfather would pause to throw his lycanroc a scrap, then go off ranting again, about his work, his baby, his political candidates. It made her sick to watch him chew. She kept her eyes low on her plate, half-shut, oh so heavy, and drifted.

''-Jane won't mind. We'll paint it blue, she won't mind, will you, Jane.''

Startled, she looked up and saw the conversation turning to her. She opened her mouth, then shut it, gripped by a sinking feeling of wrongness. It felt surreal. They were talking about her.

''How old is she again - ten already? Next week? Right. Baby's due in July, we can paint the room-''

Jane didn't so much mind having a blue room as their sticking a crib in it, crying newborn attached.

''-after she's off.''

She blinked.

''And how, Sam, do you mean for her to go?'' Mother said in a tired voice, shifting her bloated belly heavily in her chair, and pinched the bridge of her nose. ''Tell me."

''Why not? She's almost ten.''

Jane glanced between them with growing alarm, eyes wide as saucers, and had the sinking feeling they'd had this talk before. They hadn't included her.

''Look at the girl! She runs screaming out of the room every time Fang barks, and he's just a tame lycanroc. Can you imagine her on a route alone? With wild pokemon that can attack? And people that can do Arceus knows what-"

''Kids do it everyday. Why is she any different? What are you so worried about, Liz? Plenty of kids do it. I did. Turned out fine, didn't I? And children love these things. Going on a trainer journey! Beating the great island challenge!'' He chuckled heartily, winking over at Jane. She stared back with her mouth agape. Sam reached over and clapped her on the shoulder twice. "Your very own pokemon journey, look at that!"

''I don't have a pokemon,'' she blurted. She'd never had one, never asked for one. She would have thought that disqualified her from any training prospects. Most kids who wanted to go on journeys were well used to handling pokemon, either through family or training school. Not Jane. Dad was adamant she didn't have any contact with the creatures and - Dad was gone.

And Sam didn't care if she was qualified, or even willing. He waved her off. ''We'll find you something.''

Mother huffed, pushing her plate away. ''And who do you suppose will pay for her starter? Her pokedex, her gear, her pokeballs, all that crap? Are you coming out of pocket, Sam?''

''She doesn't need all that. You know back in the old days we'd catch rattata with a stick and net. And then they'd send us off. Just a boy and his rattata.'' He clapped his knee violently, spitting. ''That's the trouble with kids these days, they're too soft! Too coddled. Want fancy lab starters and the newest model pokedex and for what? Run screaming when they see a pikipek.''

Flocks of pikipek could chase down lonely travelers with their ruthless pecking. Jane had seen it on tv.

''But-'' She stopped herself, covering her mouth with a shaking hand, and glanced wordlessly at her mother. Mom didn't look her way, just shuffled in her chair, shaking her head and rubbing her belly, counting the baby's kicks. Her whole body looked bloated, sagging, crumbling under its own weight. What do you want me to do, Jane, it seemed to say.

Take me home, Jane would have said, but Dad was gone, and this wasn't home. That had been clear since the beginning. Since she'd disobeyed Sam and been made to sleep outside.

What do you want me to do, Jane, Mother had said, it's his house, we're just living in it.

And Jane not for long now.

She wasn't mad. Just scared.

''We'll go out and catch her something. There's a spearow nest around here. I can hear the little critters every morning, wake me up bloody early. Fang brought home a dead one the other day. Fang! Atta boy, you want to go hunting with us tomorrow, don'tcha?''

He tossed the lycanroc a scrap of meat and patted his fur roughly, smiling like he was particularly astounded at his own generosity. Fang growled softly and leaned his head into the man's hand, his beady dark eyes watchful and hungry. Whenever Jane met them she always felt profoundly disturbed, like she was a particularly tasteless prey who was only spared for its lack of nutritional value.

Feeling queasy, she excused herself. All she wanted was to sleep the night away and hope morning wouldn't come too soon. Maybe tomorrow he'd have changed his mind. She hadn't much time though: she'd be ten next week.

NEXT UP: In which a pokemon is caught.

A question for you, reader. What wild pokemon will Jane, Sam and Fang catch as her starter? Give it your best suggestion, please. Just has to be a pokemon that can be found on Melemele Island. Other than that, be as creative as you want. No conventional starters.

This is my first time writing a pokemon story and well, I'm hype! Sun/Moon really re-lit my love of the franchise, thus I wanted to do something Alola based. Our heroine (wellll, she's not particularly heroic yet but give her some time...), ahem, our heroine's story takes place some time after the plot of the SunMoon games, some ten years after. A lot will have changed in the meantime, but some things always linger... you'll see. Thanks a lot for reading.