a/n: This story takes places in the same universe as Penny Saves Paldea. You don't have to read it first per se; just be aware you might find spoilers for it here. (I mean, I won't tell you not to read it, but I'm biased.) If you're fine with the idea that Arven will be time-traveling with one of the Treasures of Ruin for arbitrary plot reasons, you're more or less good to go.

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Ash Ketchum had seen a great number of open, green fields in his lifetime. But there was something different about this one.

Despite his travels taken him through many forests, swamps, mountains, and a myriad of other natural formations, even the furthest of them almost had some sign of modern civilization. Well-maintained paths in the forest. Posted signs to watch for falling Geodude in the mountains. Tracks from off-road vehicles embedded into the wet mud of the swamp. And even when none of these things were present, there was a certain scent to the air–not bad per se but more artificial. It wasn't a distinction Ash had been able to make for the first ten years of his life. He'd grown up in the modern world, after all. To him, it simply smelled…normal.

But Ash's sense of smell had changed since his encounter with Dialga and its time-traveling powers. Amid the crisis to calm Arceus's fury, he'd found a few precious moments to simply stand outside and breathe. It had shaken him to his core how fresh and natural, and…real it'd felt out there.

That was the key difference with this unknown field he now found himself in. It smelled like the past.

Ash stood and rubbed his head, trying his best to remember the last events he'd seen or heard. He had saved Arceus from drowning in the poisonous silver water. The massive, powerful Pokémon had thanked him. He'd turned to make sure all his allies got their due credit as well: Damos and Sheena, Brock and Dawn. And of course, the Pokémon…

Ash froze. Something else was strange about this place. He felt his belt, but there were no Poké Balls attached to it. His shoulder felt cold and painfully light.

"Pikachu?" he called out, turning this way and that. If his friend had woken up first, maybe he'd run off to get help? But Pikachu rarely ran off without Ash in tow. The two were inseparable. And when Ash called Pikachu's name, nothing replied except the rustle of several hundred swaying stalks of a grass. A sea of greenery that seemed to stretch on forever.

Ash shook his head. He was getting off track. If he could remember the last thing that happened, maybe he could remember how he got here.

Maybe he could remember what happened to Pikachu.

He closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the strangely fresh taste of the air, and pulled on more of his memories.

With Arceus pacified, Sheena had called out to Dialga to return them to their current timeline. Ash had stood alongside her and his friends. Streaks of light had come flying past them while colorful balls of light floated alongside them like fellow passengers.

Yes, it was coming back now. Brock had been the farthest ahead with Piplup leaping from orb to orb to catch the former gym leader. Pikachu had jumped from Ash's shoulder to race Piplup. Dawn had giggled while Ash laughed and threw out his Poké Balls, calling on his other friends to join in the fun. Once the Pokémon had exited and begun to play, they'd left the open Poké Balls suspended alongside the spheres of lights.

Then something had tickled Ash's shoulder–like a pattering of raindrops. He'd ignored it and moved back to get a better view of the slow-motion race. The sensation behind him had intensified and spread over his body. It'd felt like floating under an invisible waterfall. Then, for some reason, everyone else was flying faster–while Ash felt himself slowing down, sinking back to where he'd come from as Dialga's powers gave out. A speck of light in the darkness had opened up like a cave into daylight. Ash could still see the shadows of his friends as they stepped into the present day once gain.

For the next several minutes–though time became literally impossible to tell by that point–he'd heard them call out to Arceus, begging it to stop and go back.

Arceus had turned to each of them with surprise and recognition in its face. I see the timeline has changed…we cannot return now. But…you creatures who protected me? Sheena…Dawn…Brock…your Pokémon allies…was there not another human with you?

A cry from Dialga. A solemn nod from Arceus in reply. So he has returned to the past?

A slow shake of Dialga's heavy steel head.

Ah. A different stream entirely. That is much more difficult to disentangle, then.

The last thing in Ash's memory before he blacked out was a ghostly gray image of Arceus, arching its head to the clouds. Very well. Let us see how this plays out.

Everything had gone dark then. Until the moment Ash had awoken here. In a field grass in the middle of nowhere.

"Was it…a dream?" he pondered aloud. It wasn't as if there were any other humans around to embarrass himself in front of. There didn't even seem to be any creatures at all.

He took another step forward, the tall blades bending and caving under his worn sneakers. To his surprise, some sort of creature flew up out of the grass. It looked like a Butterfree, but it was–Ash squinted–small. Really small. Not even a third…more like a thirtieth the size of a normal Butterfree. He waited and listening, hoping to get a feel for its mood by the sound on its voice. But either it didn't make noise or whatever noise it did make didn't rise to a high enough volume for humans.

"Weird," he muttered. He took several more steps, and three more of the strange miniature Butterfree also flew out, their white wings flapping rapidly as they moved away from him.

"Hello?" he said. "Sorry, to bother you, but I'm looking for my friend, Pikachu? Can you tell me if you've seen–?"

They had gone. They didn't even turn around to acknowledge him. He knew Butterfree could be skittish Pokémon, no matter how friendly a tone he had. But getting outright ignored kind of hurt.

Ash hugged himself. The weather wasn't chilly at all; it felt quite mild and pleasant. But the sting in his chest, the hole in his heart where his best friend should have been felt like its own type of cold. And it wouldn't go away.

"Pikachu…" he said, and the shaking started. He tried not to cry. Tears wouldn't do any good now. They would only slow him down and keep him from finding Pikachu. But he didn't even know what direction to go. There was no sign of civilization anywhere he could see. And if he was still in the distant past like he thought, there was a good chance he was nowhere near any civilization.

Ash sunk to his knees, and the shakes came harder. He bit his lip, but it did no good. "Pikachu…" he sobbed again. "Pikachu…"

"Young man?" a voice asked.

Ash gasped and looked around. He sniffled and rubbed his nose. Which was silly, if he thought about it–his burning eyes and wet cheeks made it obvious he'd been crying hard.

"Young man? Are you okay?" came the voice again. And it sounded familiar. The type of voice that might have faded from memory had Ash gone on in his own timeline. But here in this place, he'd heard it recently.

"Damos?" Ash brightened and hurried over to where he'd heard the voice. Damos was indeed pushing through the long grasses, trying to make his way to Ash. His expression relaxed when he saw Ash moving towards him unharmed.

"How did you get all the way out here, my boy? And…" Damos frowned as he looked Ash over. "What are you wearing?"

Ash rubbed his head and looked over his clothing. He supposed he was a bit dirty. His shirt had some grass stains and his shoes were muddied. But looking over him, Damos didn't really seem that much better. His face was dusted with soot and grime, as were his clothes. Which was strange, because he appeared to have changed them recently. Instead of the white and blue tunic he'd been wearing the last time Ash saw him, his was beige with some sort of crimson insignia. "I guess it is still weird to see these kinds of clothes for you, huh?" He stood up and dusted himself off. Damos said nothing, only looked at Ash in confusion.

"I…suppose so?" he said.

"The thing is, I'm not exactly sure what happened," Ash said as he rubbed the back of his head. "Dialga was bringing my friends and I back to our time period, and then Piplup started hopping around on these colorful orb thingies, and then Pikachu followed, and I let the rest of my Pokémon out to follow, but then I started falling behind, and it looked like I ended up traveling back here instead of to the future."

He paused for a breather. Maybe he'd babbled a bit, but it was such a relief to see a friendly face in the midst of a crisis. Even if Damos didn't have any immediate idea as to how to get Ash home, he could at least give him a place to stay and help him figure it out.

Except Damos wasn't looking at him with sympathy. He was looking at him like he'd grown more heads than a Dodrio. "I-I…don't even know where to start," he said. "You're trying to travel to the future with this…Dialga person?"

"Dialga's not a person," Ash chuckled. He'd forgotten how different things were here. Cynthia had told him once that people only a few hundred years ago called Dialga "Sinnoh." Who knew what it was named over a thousand years ago? They didn't even call Pokémon "Pokémon."

"No?" Damos asked.

"Dialga is a…magical creature," Ash explained, rather proud of himself for remembering the right words for Damos to understand.

The trouble was, Damos didn't seem to understand. The more Ash spoke, the more the older man's face creased with concern. "A what?"

"A…creature that can use magic?"

"So…a person?"

"No, not a person! I already said that!" Ash gritted his teeth. He was doing his best here, so couldn't the guy try a little harder to close the gap? "Come on, Damos. I know 'magical creature' is what you called Pokémon before."

Damos face softened. "Ah. I think I see at least part of our little miscommunication here." The man laid a hand on his chest. "I'm not sure who you've met that resembles me, but my name is not Damos. It's Bridge."

"Bridge?" Ash felt deflated. "Do you have a twin brother or something?"

The man gave an awkward laugh. "Not to my knowledge. But it seems you've come from somewhere far away–"

"Yeah, the future," Ash said. His voice sounded clipped, and he didn't mean for it to. But if this wasn't Damos, he was back where he was before: lost somewhere in the past without any of his friends with no way to survive and no one around to help him.

"So you've said. And from your clothing, I'm inclined to believe you." He rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure if it's possible, but…I did mean someone out here about a year ago claiming to be a time traveler as well. Perhaps you know each other? Shoulder-length blond-ish hair? Fond of cooking?"

Ash shook his head. "One of my friends does like to cook, but that doesn't sound like him." Unless Brock has had a serious hair change."I'd still like to meet him though, if I could." If whoever this guy was could travel through time, maybe he could help Ash get home.

"I think that could be arranged. Though his job at the castle keeps him quite busy…"

"He cooks at the castle?" Ash asked. "I could help with that!" He would admit, he didn't have the most refined palate. But sometimes Brock would let him help out with chopping up veggies or watching the lazy-boy stew to make sure it didn't burn. Once he even asked Ash to pick the spices for a dish. (Though since it only happened once, he probably hadn't done so well.) In any case, getting on the good side of a time-traveling chef could only help him out.

"I'm sure he won't turn down an extra hand scrubbing the dishes," Damos–or rather, Bridge–said with a smirk. "Let's hurry, then. Here." He closed his eyes, turned, and thrust his hand out ahead of him. To Ash's shock, a blast of air very much like a Whirlwind attack flew from Bridge's palm, cutting a clear line through the endless sea of grass. With the stalks parted, Ash could just make out a dirt road in the distance.

"Y-you…" Ash pointed, his jaw slack. "You just made a Whirlwind!"

Bridge cocked his head, then looked between Ash and the parted path. "If that's what you want to call it, I suppose. Come on, now. I have a schedule to keep, and rescuing time-traveling children was not part of it." He took off at a brisk walking pace, leaving Ash to alternate between walking and jogging to keep up with him.

I'm not a child, Ash wanted to say. He'd turned eleven recently, which anyone could agree was more of a tween. Then again, given how little he knew about this strange place he'd fallen into, he felt more like a clueless little kid than he had in a long time.