This is the day I'm coming clean, Arven promised himself. He'd made that promise a lot over the past several months, and he hadn't kept it once. It wasn't like he enjoyed lying to the people who'd taken him in here. Far from it. Michina was his third stop in this timeline, but its people were the first to treat him with kindness.

Well, no one treated him with anything at his first stop. On account of no one had been been there. Outside of that strange Pokémon-only world, it had been nothing but a barren wilderness. At least he'd had some rations on hand and made his exit quickly. Only a couple days' wait.

The second stop...that was another matter. But Arven was getting distracted. He knelt down to check on the oven. The worst part about cooking without modern equipment was the lack of heat distribution. Arven had to watch the oven's flames almost constantly and readjust whatever he was preparing to make sure he didn't end up with one half blackened and the other half a step above room temperature. He assumed he would get the feel for it eventually, but until eventually happened, he double-checked everything. The bread was toasting nicely, but not yet finished, leaving him a few minutes to chop up more garlic.

Tonight he'd decided to keep dinner simple. With a bit of a callback to his sandwich-loving roots. After nearly a year in Michina, Arven found himself genuinely wanting to do his best for the people here, as opposed to getting away from them as fast as possible. He even saw Bridge as a friend.

Yeah, but friends don't lie to each other, do they? he thought bitterly.

The initial lie had come because Arven-disoriented and sleep-deprived as he was-had no filter and no ability to improvise. Like his first two stops, Michina had no Pokémon. But unlike those stops, the people here were aware Pokemon existed, naming them Sources and occasionally even calling them into the human realm. On his first day at the castle, Bridge told Arven that eventually he would be able to connect with a Source of his own.

What would have happened if Arven told the whole truth then? It wouldn't have so been hard, would it? He could just picture the conversation now: Oh, yeah. Actually, I know what Source I'm connected to, because we traveled here together. His name is Ting-Lu. Oh, don't be weirded out by how he looks like a clay statue of me. And definitely don't panic when I tell you he's a super-powerful dark-type that feeds on human fear. Overall, he's a real sweetheart!

Okay, obviously that wouldn't have gone over well. The trouble was, Arven didn't think that far ahead when Bridge told him about Sources. In fact, he got out almost everything up to "his name is-" before he realized the truth might be too much for a near-stranger to handle.

"His name is...what?" Bridge had asked, sounding impressed.

Arven had panicked. And he'd spat out the first Pokémon name he could think of: Scovillain. In retrospect, the name had its own suspicious vibes. But Bridge had been fascinated by his descriptions of it, and Arven had been able to fake his way around it for the most part. He'd even earned himself the name Pepper.

He'd meant to rectify the situation right away, of course. Until he overheard about a certain situation in the Paldean Empire. Arven quickly got the vibe that people here didn't care for dark-types. But when he saw how everyone reacted to the news from Paldea, he learned it was much worse. They were terrified of them. Anyone who had a dark-type Source was immediately suspected of having a criminal mind. If they knew Arven had formed a connection with one of those "horrifying Paldean monsters..."

Well, it always became easier to get one more dish to wash, one more meal to prep for, one more chore to excuse him from finding time to fess up.

Until today. Because today he'd taken precautions against his typical, cowering-out self:

"Um, excuse me? Bridge, sir?"

"Pepper?" It was just after breakfast, and Bridge was about to head out for his day's work. He looked decidedly confused at the sudden, formal address. "Everything okay?"

Arven stiffened. "Y-yes. Mostly. I mean, almost completely. But there's something important I need to speak with you about by tonight at the latest, and it absolutely cannot wait any longer than that."

"Okay, okay," Bridge said with a chuckle. "Tonight, then." And with that, he'd walked off, leaving Arven to finish cleaning and get to his other chores. While Arven was relieved that the man wasn't worried, he didn't like the idea of him being amused by the request, either. He wondered what sort of news Bridge thought Arven had to share. Whatever it was, he was almost certainly...

The scent of smoke jostled Arven out of his recollections. He left the knife and garlic cloves on the stone island in the center of the prep area and hurried back to the brickwork oven.

It's done already? Crap! Did I burn it? I better not have burnt it!

He scrambled for the paddle and carefully pulled the steaming dish out of the oven. He'd been going for an ancient version of a panini-vegetables sliced lengthwise, drizzled with oil, vinegar, and seasonings, served between two pieces of flatbread. He might have been stuck in some weird version of the ancient past, but he would not give up his love of preparing sandwiches.

Lacking tongs or a spatula and not quite trusting himself to wield the paddle when he started, Arven had taken to using chopsticks for moving any hot food around. He pulled the latest pair he'd made from his apron pocket. This was the test version of the panini, so it didn't have to be perfect, but a few prods revealed a crispy crust with delicate, soft innards. He pulled a piece of carrot and pepper out at the same time. The texture was perfect-the pepper melting on his tongue, while the carrot kept a nice firmness.

Arven sighed with relief. With the first test successful, he could stay on schedule and move right into preparing the meal proper. He took a few more bites of his creation to satisfy his growling stomach before he picked up the knife again.

Saving the food provided a few moments' relief from his worries. But the nearer dinnertime got, the more it frayed Arven's nerves. He ran a knife across the skins of some fresh-picked carrots. If he'd just been able to leave Michina as quickly as he had his other stops, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation. He should have been moving steadily forward through history on his eventual way back home. But for nearly a year, the signal from Sada's time machine had been silent.

So how come I still can't cook without checking the food every minute? he thought with a sigh. Maybe he'd gotten thrown off-course somehow? Since he had skipped nearly every history class for his first year and a half of school, his sense of place on the timeline was shaky at best.

Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps-along with Bridge's familiar voice-enter the dining room. He tried to ignore it. After all, he still had preparations to focus on. But the conversation took a sharp turn that he couldn't tune out no matter how hard he tried:

"...Sources can't be evil. Can they?"

Arven had no clue who had asked the question, thought it sounded like a pretty young guy. Maybe one of Bridge's relatives or something? But it wasn't the questions that were important. It was the answers:

"...four powerful dark-type Sources entered the human realm and ran rampant in Paldea's capital city...they flooded people with dark energy and wrecked havoc wherever they went..."

Arven's hand shook violently as he held it over the carrots. He tried to bring it down and continue his work but only cut the carrot in half and just barely missed cutting his finger in the process.

"...please don't be concerned. I assure you, Paldea is quite far away. And even if we were find someone wielding the power of such a creature, I would use any force necessary to keep them from hurting our home."

Arven gave up on the carrots and tried to chop up some tomatoes instead. He'd mutilated two of them by the time Bridge's voice approached the entrance kitchen.

"Interesting. So these Sources of yours...Pokémon you called them? You say they travel alongside you all the time?"

This time, the knife straight-up fell from Arven's grip. It didn't do any damage, but it did fall on his chopsticks and send them spiraling. They slid over the table's edge and chattered to the stone floor. He hurried over and picked them up right as Bridge walked in with a total stranger.

A total modern stranger.

If he hadn't used the term "Pokémon," his outfit would have given him away even to someone born in this time period. The guy looked to be a few years younger than Arven, wearing a white and red T-shirt, a blue vest, and jean shorts. Oh, and a cap with the Kanto Pokémon League logo on it. Maybe he wasn't perfectly out of Arven's timeline-he looked a bit more like he belonged in the 1990s-but it was close enough. Arven struggled to stay calm. Did this mean the machine was active again? That he could get one step closer to home?

But no one else has ever used it before, he mused. I didn't think that was possible. Unless this kid came here in some unrelated way?

"...and this is Pepper," Bridge was saying.

Arven suddenly realized his mentor was gesturing towards him. The modern kid smiled and held out his hand.

"Hi, Pepper!" he said with excessive enthusiasm. "I'm Ash!"

He threw his hand out to shake, which Arven looked at skeptically before taking it. Ash had a strong grip. Nemona would get along great with the guy. "So, Bridge here says you time-traveled, too?"

Arven nodded. It was a fact he preferred to keep under wraps, but if Bridge had already let the secret out, there was no need to deny it.

"I...suppose I shouldn't have shared that so quickly," Bridge said. He laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "But the boy's attire spoke for its origins. I take it you two don't know each other, then?"

Arven pulled himself free of Ash's extra-long handshake and shook his head. "Afraid not."

"It's okay, though!" Ash said. "If we're the only modern people around, I'm sure we'll get along great. Which Pokémon sent you here, Pepper? Was it Dialga? Celebi? Arceus?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Arven held up his hands, the chopsticks still in his grip. "Why are you talking like you've met those Mythical Pokémon?"

"'Cause I have," Ash said like it was the most obvious thing in the time-space continuum. "I kind of assumed you've met them, too. How else would you get to the Michina Town of the past?"

Arven held up a finger. "First off, it's Michina City, and second-"

"Oh, wait, I don't think Dialga is considered a Mythical Pokémon," Ash said, mimicking the motion. "Most people call it a Legendary one. Pretty sure the other two have Mythical status, though."

That is so beside the point, I can't even- Arven bit his tongue. He had zero standing to complain here. Less than zero when Bridge clearly thought he and Ash would be instant friends. But his confession wasn't supposed to have an audience. And after the conversation in the dining room, he didn't want to make a confession anymore, period. Maybe he should push it off for another day?

"Ah, yes! You said you had something to tell me about?" Bridge asked cheerfully.

Arven froze. All he could hear in his head was the senator's voice. Telling the truth right now would be suicide. Even in the best-case scenario, he'd be imprisoned, unable to search for any signal that the time machine was working again. In a less-than-great-scenario...

"I was, um, actually going to tell you I didn't think I could handle tonight's meal prep without extra help," Arven said. "But, hey, problem solved there, right?" He glanced back at Ash, who stood waiting for directions. "How are you at chopping vegetables?"

"Not bad," Ash replied. "The pieces don't always come out the same size, though. Is that all right?"

From behind the two of them, Bridge let out a chuckle. "Well, I'm glad everything worked out. I'll leave you two to your duties, then." And with that, he turned and waved Arven good-bye as he walked back out the open doorway.

Arven sighed. Another failure. He really shouldn't have been surprised at this point. At least he had Ash to distract him from his guilt for now. This wasn't the first cooking lesson he'd had to give, and it likely wouldn't be the last. "Okay, why don't you sit over there..." He motioned towards a barrel in the corner. "...and you can watch me before you start?"

Ash nodded and eagerly plopped himself down. At least the kid had enthusiasm-something Arven hated to admit he hadn't experienced himself in a while. When each day became about survival, emotional energy kind of faded from the picture.

He held up the knife. "Rule number one is never slice towards your hand. Antibiotics haven't been invented yet. Neither have pain killers, for that matter. You hurt yourself, you'll be way more sorry than you would back home."

Ash frowned and gave a solemn nod. "Don't kill myself making a salad. Understood. What else, Mr. Pepper?"

"'Mister'?" Do I look that much older? Arven cleared his throat. "Um, just 'Pepper' is fine." He pulled some more carrots from a basket hanging from the ceiling and laid them out in front of him. "Actually, 'Pepper' is the name I got when I came here, after we figured out which Source-erm, which Pokémon I could connect to."

"Oh, neat!" Ash said. When Arven didn't elaborate, he added, "So...which one was it, then?"

"Maybe I'll tell you later," Arven said and went on to peeling the carrots.

Ash looked disappointed and pressed Arven for stories about his time travels before he got here. It was an easy segue away from an uncomfortable topic, and Arven was happy to oblige. He began with tales of his second stop, where he'd had a run-in with a tiny clan of farmers.

As best he could tell, the people there had only recently transitioned from being straight-up nomads who hunted and foraged whatever they could find as they moved from place to place. Despite everything he'd seen in movies, the ancient people did not think he was a deity. They did suspect he might be a barbarian from a distant land, which didn't pan out well. The girl tending her family's herd of Gogoat whacked him upside the head with a large stick when he approached their grazing area. He managed to pacify them by showing how good he was at milking Gogoats and preparing the mushrooms they'd gathered for eating.

Well, he'd called them Gogoats. They lacked a Gogoat's typical leafy mane and didn't seem to use any attacks or understand him when he spoke. The family simply called them "goats." Maybe because they'd been domesticated and therefore, didn't go places as much as they used to?

Or...maybe these weren't Pokémon at all, but other creatures that lived with humans in this universe?

Ash didn't have any suggestions on the matter. Not that Arven expected him to. It'd be weird if this new kid suddenly had answers he'd spent the past year pondering with no luck.

Even Ting-Lu had been clueless on this particular topic. The Pokémon, who had found himself able to freely travel through the veil that separated humans and "Sources," once suggested that Arven "borrow" a goat from the herding family and test if it could come back the to Pokémon realm with him. Arven had declined the offer.

Arven's conversation with Ash died down after a bit and so did his pangs of guilt, as they usually did when he renegaded on yet another self-promise to confess his real Source. He tried his best to focus on the positives of the situation. He was less alone in his time travels now. And just using the term 'Pokémon' again felt pretty nice. He could see himself...maybe...eventually...getting used to Ash after all.