When the Hoothoot focused his eyes on me, eyes that were glowing red, my world erupted into colors.

At first, the light was so bright that I couldn't distinguish a single thing- it was overwhelming, incapable of being given distinctive hues. But then the Hoothoot let out a low, whistling noise, and shades of gray washed over my eyes. I could see- and clearly, much more clearly than ever before. I could see the other humans blatantly, the way nature intended them. Dull strands of faded light tied them together, strands that intertwined across all of the people except for me.

Brighter and stronger was the golden cord that wove between the Hoothoot and his trainer. The strands in it were woven together skillfully, beautifully, such that I could see each individual thread if I peered closely enough. The golden light seemed special, almost awe-inspiring. I wanted something like it. I wanted to see that kind of light between me and my Pokemon, even if he was a Drowzee, and I turned my head to look.

No cord existed between my Pokemon and me- there was a smooth, thick line in its place.

It shone blindingly, unnaturally white, and seemed connected as a whole, not tied together in any intricate fashion. I reached out a hand, trying to touch it, but my hand passed straight through- did that make it any less real? I hadn't noticed any sort of bond between my starter and myself; where had this come from?

I half-noticed that the line seemed to dive into my jacket's pocket on my side, so I tucked in my hands awkwardly, wrapping my fingers around Drowzee's poke ball, to see if it had changed. It hadn't. Real life works that way, most of the time.

As abruptly as it had appeared, the light shot away. I blinked rapidly, adjusting to the change better with experience, and saw that the Hoothoot's eyes were fading from brilliant red back to a duller hue. A quick glance further up revealed that Michael's eyes were also fading, from pure white back to brown. Definitely creepy. I looked back towards Drowzee to see that my Pokemon had his eyes closed and was apparently sleeping while standing up. That kind of ruined the whole mystical air about the situation.

"Well?" one of the others asked, impatience and fear coloring his voice. Fear? Really? I was just a kid with an under-trained Pokemon, when all was said and done. I couldn't take on a full-grown man.

"It is... unusual." Michael frowned, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, and his Hoothoot nudged him with his beak. "The boy is not being controlled, but- I cannot decipher what it is that's between them. It's not similar to what I've seen before."

The other men erupted into talk at his words, debating several possibilities (the first being that I was actually a monster in disguise, which didn't bode well for my future). I wanted to ask what the Hoothoot had just done to make the lights all appear, but they (being typical adults) had forgotten that I was right in front of them, or so their actions seemed to indicate. Florence, on the other hand, decided to poke me.

"Hey," I protested, trying to swat her hand away. She jabbed at my shoulder twice as hard in response. "Hey!"

"Well, you do not seem like any kind of ghost," she stated, frowning down at me like I was some object to be ogled over. I rubbed my shoulder defensively. "You claim to be a Trainer?"

"Of course I'm a trainer." Well, technically I wasn't- my parents and I had planned to go down to the central Pokemon Center to get all the registration paperwork filled out after I had gotten my starter, but that had never happened due to the crazy event that had landed me in the whole situation in the first place. I frowned at that memory, recalling the strange green Pokemon and its roundabout words. Perhaps, if I had paid more attention...

"Then you must help me."

"What with?" I asked automatically, before remembering that I didn't even really like this person, not to mention how I had plenty of my own problems to deal with. Like, you know, the adults who were going to decide whether or not to let me starve?

"I need to find my partner, my majū," she replied loftily, sticking her chin up into the air. "You interrupted one of my, ah, attempts out there in the wilderness. Now that Trainer Michael has tested you, however, I am sure that your intentions were noble." She glared at me, making it quite clear that she believed no such thing and would gladly tell that to anyone who asked if I didn't do what she said. I gulped. "But Trainer Michael here will not hear of me traveling to further places, out in the wild. You must travel with me instead."

"Um." Bad idea. "Why don't they want you to find a Poke- a partner?"

She gave me a look which clearly stated that I was an idiot (again), then tugged at a lock of her hair. "Because I'm female. They think I'm too delicate for the calling, and-"

"Okay. Stop it."

If there's anything I hate, it's a sob-story. I can't stand people who bring attention to themselves all the time, people who demand the spotlight. I hate it when people decide that the world is against them and make up reasons for why that's so. I didn't want to think that Florence could be like that- she had seemed practical, if pushy, before.

Florence looked hurt, though, so I decided to explain myself, give her a chance at redemption. "You can't use that as an excuse. There have been laws in place for- oh, over a hundred years now. They were set down by the Pokemon League at its formation, and the laws specifically forbid any kind of discrimination towards beginners based on gender, background, race, whatever. Everyone's supposed to start with an equal chance, though obviously the rich kids will get stronger Pokemon bought for them. Heck, just look at our Champion- she's a girl, isn't she? And no one's beaten Crystal in three years!"

I nodded sagely to prove my point, only to find that Florence was staring at me, flabbergasted. I didn't see why- I was making sense, after all. So what if the people in this strange place used different terms and didn't know about certain cities? Some things had to be the same.

"Trainer Monroe," Florence asked quietly, "in- in your hometown, for how long has the Orange League existed?"

I blinked, deflating my high-and-might attitude and trying to rationalize the strange question while I fished up an answer from my memories. "Um, almost three hundred years, I think." I smiled, remembering certain radio commercials from the previous summer. "They've been making a big deal out of it lately, something about an anniversary coming up and the Orange League being the oldest one existing. It's pretty-"

"It was just formed eight years ago," Florence said quietly.

I froze.

"We've only heard through rumors and from travelers, naturally, but it has been said that Trainers from across the globe will go there to test their bonds and their skills. It's growing in popularity, they say. Other regions are thinking of starting their own local tournaments, these travelers tell us, to encourage Training, since it's such a useful skill."

I was grateful for the fact that Florence was still rambling- her nonsensical words kept me rooted to the world while my head kept spinning. It also helped to keep me from being overwhelmed by the voice in my head that kept saying 'oh. OH.' in such a ridiculously naive way.

"... I had noticed that you were behind the times," Florence said quietly, tilting her head. "It seems like you're actually ahead."

"Trainer Monroe?"

I jumped as Michael addressed me again, head still whirling from what I had just figured out. First reaction: had the adults figured it out? Second: did I want them to?

"We have reached a decision." His Hoothoot had hopped his way up onto his shoulder, and the bird tilted his head to the side, cooing softly, as Michael spoke. "We will give you a chance to prove your good intentions and bond in a battle. If you win, we will assist you in whatever mission you currently travel on; if you lose, you must leave our land immediately."