Chapter 1
"HELLO, Earth to Erika! You need to wake up and get ready!"
A voice pierced through the foggy veil of my dreams, accompanied by a persistent shaking of my shoulder. The sensation was unwelcome, and I attempted to bat away the offending hand with a grumble.
"Five more minutes," I mumbled, burying my face deeper into what felt like a sack of... rice?
"Not this time, young lady. We have the Silph Company gala this afternoon, and your father specifically requested your presence. Now, up!"
The shaking grew more insistent. Reluctantly, I pried my eyes open, blinking against the soft light filtering through what appeared to be... wooden slats? My vision cleared gradually, revealing rows of neatly organized containers, jars, and sacks surrounding me. The scent of spices, dried herbs, and various grains filled my nostrils.
"Erika? Are you with me now?"
Erika? That wasn't my name. Was it?
A strange sensation washed over me - the certainty that "Erika" wasn't my name conflicting with a disturbing inability to recall what my name actually was. In fact, I couldn't remember... anything specific. Just vague impressions, a life somewhere else, different from this one. Different how? The memories slipped away like water through my fingers the more I tried to grasp them.
"I'm... awake," I said, my voice sounding higher than expected.
I turned toward the voice and found myself staring into the exasperated face of a young woman kneeling beside me. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties with honey-blonde hair woven into an elegant French braid. Her features were delicate yet defined - high cheekbones, full lips pressed into a disapproving line, and striking amber eyes that seemed to gleam with intelligence and just a hint of fondness beneath their current irritation.
"The kitchen pantry, Erika? Really?"
Something felt fundamentally wrong. I glanced down at my body and nearly gasped. My hands were small and delicate - a child's hands, not an adult's. And my clothing... I was draped in an elaborate silk kimono in various shades of green with intricate floral embroidery. The fabric was exquisite, clearly expensive, and utterly foreign to me.
"I, Lynette, have been your au pair for the last two years, young lady," the woman continued, placing her hands on her hips, "and you never fail to fall asleep in the most unexpected places. How will you function in society? Someone could take advantage of you! What if you had an allergic reaction to something in here? What if—"
"What if I develop a sudden rice phobia and need extensive therapy? Gosh she's loud.." I muttered under my breath.
Her voice faded into background noise as I struggled to process my surroundings. I was in a walk-in pantry larger than some apartments, stocked with imported goods from what looked like every corner of the world. The shelving was hand-carved mahogany, and even the floor beneath me was polished marble.
I rose to my feet, my body moving with an unfamiliar lightness and proportion. Lynette stepped aside, still lecturing, as I wandered out of the pantry into a kitchen that took my breath away.
Gleaming granite countertops stretched in every direction. Professional-grade appliances in brushed steel reflected the sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. A massive island dominated the center, topped with a single slab of blue-veined marble and surrounded by elegant bar stools upholstered in cream leather.
"—are you even listening to me?" Lynette's voice cut through my daze.
"Sorry, I was busy calculating how many average apartments would fit in this kitchen alone," I mumbled, my eyes now drawn beyond the kitchen to what appeared to be the main living space.
The ceiling soared at least twenty feet high, with crystal chandeliers cascading down like frozen waterfalls. The living room featured plush sofas arranged around a fireplace large enough to stand in, with a mantle carved from what appeared to be a single piece of jade. An ornate dining table stretched beneath another chandelier, set with china and crystal that sparkled in the afternoon light. And at the far end, a grand staircase curved upward, its banister inlaid with what couldn't possibly be actual gold, could it?
"Where am I?" I whispered, the question escaping before I could stop it.
Lynette's expression shifted from irritation to concern. "In your home, of course. Are you feeling unwell?" She pressed a cool hand to my forehead. "No fever. Perhaps you're just disoriented from your nap. Come along, we need to get you ready. Your father expects us at the Silph Company building by four."
My father? The words felt hollow, meaningless. I had no connection to them, no memories to attach.
"Great. Nothing like being paraded around at corporate functions to build character," I said, the sarcasm flowing naturally despite my confusion.
"Upstairs with you now," Lynette urged, seemingly unfazed by my tone as she gently steered me toward the staircase. "Refresh yourself and make sure your appearance is suitable. I've laid out your formal kimono for the event."
I nodded absently, my feet carrying me up the stairs without conscious direction. The banister beneath my fingertips was cool and smooth, the polished wood gleaming. Each step on the plush carpet felt like walking on clouds.
"Sure, because what every kid wants is to be trussed up like a decorative shrub," I muttered to myself.
The hallway at the top of the stairs stretched in both directions, lined with doors and adorned with paintings that looked like museum pieces. Somehow, my body knew which way to turn, which door to approach. Muscle memory, perhaps, belonging to whoever's body I now inhabited.
I pushed open a door and stepped into what must be "my" bedroom. The space was easily three times the size of any bedroom I could vaguely recall having, though the details of that comparison remained frustratingly elusive. A canopy bed dominated one wall, draped in silk the color of spring leaves. The bedding looked rumpled - apparently, I hadn't actually gone to sleep in the pantry.
"Rich people," I scoffed, taking in the opulence around me.
The walls were painted a soft cream with gold accents, complementing the antique furniture that looked both valuable and ancient. A writing desk beneath one window held leather-bound books and expensive-looking stationery. Bookshelves lined another wall, filled with volumes whose titles I could just make out - books on botany, horticulture, and what appeared to be "Grass Pokémon Husbandry."
Pokémon? The word triggered something, but before I could grasp it, my attention was drawn to a sliding door on the far wall. I approached it and slid it open to reveal a walk-in closet that would make celebrities envious.
Rows upon rows of kimonos hung in perfect order, organized by color and occasion. Designer dresses, blouses, and skirts filled another section, many still bearing tags from what I presumed to be fashion houses from this world. The shoe collection alone occupied an entire wall - everything from traditional wooden geta sandals to what looked like handmade Italian leather boots.
"You've got to be kidding me," I breathed, taking in the ridiculous excess.
Whoever this "Erika" was, she lived in unfathomable luxury.
Turning back to the bedroom, I noticed a set of French doors leading to a balcony. Drawn to them, I stepped outside into the warm afternoon air and gasped at the view before me.
A sprawling metropolis stretched to the horizon, a harmonious blend of traditional architecture and modern skyscrapers. The buildings nearest to what must be my home were clearly residential - other mansions and upscale apartment complexes nestled among meticulously landscaped gardens. Beyond them rose the city proper, with gleaming towers of glass and steel reflecting the sun. Parks dotted the urban landscape like emerald islands in a concrete sea, unusually verdant and lush even from this distance.
"If this is a coma dream, at least my brain went all out on the details," I muttered.
The air smelled clean despite the urban setting, with a subtle hint of flowers and greenery. I could hear the distant hum of traffic, but it was muted, almost peaceful. This was clearly the wealthiest district of what appeared to be a thriving city.
A flash of movement caught my eye, and I turned to see a large bird land on the roof of a neighboring building. It was about three feet tall with cream-colored feathers, a reddish-brown crest, and sharp talons. It cocked its head, regarding me with an intelligence that seemed far beyond that of any normal bird.
"That's a..." The name rose from somewhere in my fragmented memory. "A Pidgeotto?"
The bird - the Pokémon - seemed to respond to its name, puffing out its chest slightly before taking flight again, soaring off into the city skyline.
"Fan-fucking-tastic," I said flatly, gripping the balcony railing for support. Pokémon. This was the Pokémon world. A world I somehow knew intimately despite it being fictional where I came from. A world of creatures with extraordinary powers, of trainers and badges and...
"Erika? Are you daydreaming again? We're on a schedule!" Lynette's voice called from inside.
"Heaven forbid we keep the corporate overlords waiting," I called back, making my way inside with unsteady legs.
Shakily, I made my way back into the bedroom, my mind racing faster than I could process. Pokémon were real here. This wasn't a dream - the solid floor beneath my feet, the scent of perfume lingering in the air, the distant sounds of the city, all felt too vivid, too consistent to be a dream.
My eyes fell on a vanity table I hadn't noticed before, its surface cluttered with hair accessories, makeup (despite me apparently being a child), and several magazines. One lay open, displaying a spread of fashionable young women posing with various Pokémon. The title across the top read Poké Chic in elegant script.
"Of course that's a thing," I snorted, picking it up and flipping through pages showcasing the latest trends.
"Coordinator Corner: Battle Style Meets High Fashion" featured elaborate outfits meant for Pokémon Contests. "Weather-Proof Your Wardrobe: Dealing with Pokémon-Induced Climate Changes" offered tips for dressing around fire, water, and electric types. "Kanto's Top 10 Designer Kimonos" displayed creations that made even the elaborate one I was wearing look simple.
"Nothing says 'take me seriously as a trainer' like being unable to run away from danger," I mumbled, turning to the back cover where I noticed the mailing label: "Erika Hirano, 7 Celadon Heights, Celadon City, Kanto Region."
Celadon City. The pieces suddenly clicked together with such force that I had to sit down on the plush vanity stool.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Erika. Kimonos. Wealth. The Pokémon world. Celadon City. And that persistent sleepiness...
I was in the body of Erika, the Grass-type Gym Leader of Celadon City - or rather, the future Gym Leader, since this was clearly the body of a child. The Erika from the games and anime who was constantly drowsy, who wore traditional kimonos, who came from wealth and privilege.
"This isn't me," I whispered, staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror. A young girl of perhaps ten or eleven stared back, with glossy black hair arranged in a perfect bob, cut straight across her forehead with bangs. Her eyes were deep brown, her features delicate. "Who am I? Why am I here?"
But no answers came, only the persistent absence of my own identity. I could recall general knowledge about the world I came from, but nothing specific to me - no name, no face, no personal history.
"Wonderful. I know the branches of US government and differential equations but not my own birthday. Perfect."
A hollow feeling spread through my chest. I was a stranger in a stranger's body, with no way back to a life I couldn't even remember. For all intents and purposes, I was now Erika Hirano, daughter of wealth, future Gym Leader of Celadon City.
If this was my reality now, I would have to adapt. And the first order of business would be asserting some control over my new existence.
"Screw the kimono," I decided firmly.
Shedding the constricting fabric took determination and patience. The elaborate obi was a puzzle of its own, but eventually the silk garment pooled at my feet. Scanning the clothing options, I bypassed all the formal wear for something that felt more... me. Or at least, more comfortable.
A pair of dark green pants with a relaxed fit caught my eye, along with a pale green blouse that looked soft and breathable. Neither had likely ever been worn, given their pristine condition. From the extensive shoe collection, I selected a pair of what appeared to be the Pokémon world's equivalent of designer sneakers - sleek, white, and thankfully devoid of the over-the-top embellishments that characterized many of the other footwear options.
Returning to the vanity, I removed the ornate headband that had been holding my hair in its perfect shape, letting the black strands fall more naturally around my face. The girl in the mirror still wasn't me - would never be me - but she looked less like a porcelain doll and more like someone I could potentially become.
This was my reality now, and I would need to find my footing in it.
"Time to piss off the staff," I muttered with a grim smile, heading back downstairs.
My footsteps were lighter now, unburdened by layers of silk and restriction, and I found myself appreciating the simple pleasure of being able to take a full stride down the stairs.
Lynette was waiting in the foyer, checking something on what appeared to be this world's version of a smartphone - sleeker than what I vaguely remembered, with a translucent screen displaying vibrant holographic icons. She looked up as I descended, and her jaw quite literally dropped.
"Young lady!" she gasped, nearly dropping her device. "What have you done? We are going to a formal gala event! Why have you taken your kimono off?" Her eyes traveled from my loose hair to my casual clothes with mounting horror. "What will your father say? This attire is not becoming of a lady of your standing!"
I squared my shoulders, something resolute settling in my chest. "This is what I'm wearing, or I'm not attending. And frankly, option two sounds pretty good right now."
Lynette blinked rapidly, clearly taken aback by my sudden backbone.
"I... but your father specifically requested..." she stammered, then narrowed her eyes. "Are you feeling rebellious today? Is this some new phase?"
"It's not a phase," I replied, continuing down the stairs until I stood before her. "It's a choice. My choice. I'd rather be comfortable than decorative."
Something shifted in Lynette's expression - surprise giving way to thoughtful consideration. She studied me for a long moment, then, unexpectedly, a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Well," she said, her tone softening, "I must say, it's refreshing to see you assert yourself, Erika. You've always been so... accommodating." She tilted her head, the smile growing. "Your father may not approve, but I find myself rather proud of your confidence."
That wasn't the reaction I'd anticipated. Relief washed over me, and I returned her smile with a wry one of my own.
"Thanks," I said, genuinely grateful for her understanding. "Though I think 'accommodating' is just a polite way of saying 'doormat.'"
Lynette choked back a surprised laugh. "I've never heard you speak this way before."
"Consider it personal growth," I replied.
"Don't thank me yet," Lynette warned, though without real heat. "Your father still has final say, and he's meeting us at the gala." She checked her watch, a delicate timepiece that looked far more expensive than any accessory an au pair should reasonably own. "We should get going."
"Are we taking a car?" I asked, following her toward what appeared to be the main entrance. The foyer alone was larger than some apartments, with marble floors, a crystal chandelier, and Baroque-looking art pieces that belonged in museums rather than private homes.
"Not today," Lynette replied, pulling open one of the massive front doors. "The traffic would be unbearable. We're taking the teleportation network."
Teleportation. Of course. This world had psychic Pokémon capable of bending space itself. Why wouldn't they have public transportation based on teleportation?
We stepped outside onto a circular driveway where a uniformed man stood beside a sleek vehicle that resembled a luxury sedan, though with design elements unfamiliar to me. He bowed slightly as we approached.
"Miss Hirano, Ms. Lynette," he greeted. "Will you be needing transportation today?"
"No thank you, Henrik," Lynette responded. "We'll be using the teleportation network. Please inform Mr. Hirano we're en route to the Silph Company gala."
"Very good, ma'am." The man bowed again before climbing into the vehicle and driving it toward what appeared to be a garage large enough to house a small fleet.
"Does Father own that guy?" I asked as we walked down a stone path.
"Erika!" Lynette hissed. "Henrik is a valued employee with excellent benefits and compensation."
"Right. Sorry," I muttered, not feeling particularly sorry at all.
I took a moment to appreciate the grounds of the estate as we walked down a stone path leading away from the mansion. Immaculate gardens surrounded the property, with fountains, sculptured hedges, and flower beds arranged in patterns too perfect to be maintained by human hands alone. I caught glimpses of small creatures moving among the vegetation - were those Oddish helping tend the gardens?
"At least they get to be outside," I murmured, watching the plant Pokémon work.
Beyond the estate's wrought-iron gates lay what appeared to be an exclusive neighborhood of similar mansions, each set on generous grounds. As we passed through the gates (which opened automatically at our approach), I noticed subtle security measures - cameras disguised as decorative elements and what looked like motion sensors integrated into the landscaping.
"Paranoid much?" I muttered.
"The teleportation hub is just a few blocks from here," Lynette explained as we walked. "Your father insisted on one being built within walking distance when they expanded the network five years ago. One of the perks of being Celadon's largest financial contributor."
"Nothing says 'I love democracy' like buying municipal planning decisions," I remarked.
The information painted a clearer picture of my new "family." Not just wealthy, but influential - the kind of people who could demand infrastructure be built near their home for convenience.
As we left the residential area, the city proper began to unfold around us. Celadon City in reality was both familiar and vastly different from what I remembered from games or anime. The scale was far larger, more like a major metropolitan area than the simplistic representation I recalled.
Wide avenues lined with cherry trees stretched before us, currently in full bloom, their pink petals occasionally drifting down like fragrant snow. People of all ages strolled along immaculate sidewalks, many accompanied by Pokémon. A businessman walked briskly past us, a Growlithe trotting dutifully at his heels. A young couple shared ice cream cones while their Nidoran – male and female – played at their feet. A street performer juggled with the psychokinetic assistance of a Mr. Mime, drawing applause from gathered spectators.
"So this is what a digital world looks like with a proper graphics budget," I murmured.
In the distance, I could make out familiar landmarks - the distinctive pagoda-style roof of the Celadon Gym, the neon lights of the Game Corner despite the daylight, and the sprawling complex that must be the Department Store I remembered from the games.
"It's like I'm in... Chicago?" I said, the name surfacing from my own memories.
"Chicago?" Lynette repeated, giving me a curious look. "I'm not familiar with that district. Is it in Unova?"
"Never mind," I said quickly. "Just something I read about. Big city, corruption, deep dish pizza... you know, the usual."
"I'm not familiar with deep dish pizza either," Lynette said, her brow furrowing. "Perhaps it's a Unovan specialty?"
"Trust me, you're not missing much," I replied, making a mental note to be more careful with my references.
We turned onto a busier street lined with upscale boutiques and cafés. Through the windows, I glimpsed people engaged in what appeared to be Pokémon-related shopping - a woman examining what looked like specialized grooming tools, a trainer having his Pokémon fitted for some kind of competitive gear.
"There it is," Lynette announced, pointing to a sleek, modern building with a distinctive header above its entrance - labeled "Celadon Transport Hub."
"Well, that's remarkably straightforward," I commented.
We entered the building, which was surprisingly understated given its function. The interior resembled an upscale hotel lobby more than a transportation hub, with comfortable seating areas, refreshment stations, and uniformed attendants. The floor was polished marble, and soft, ambient music played from hidden speakers.
Lynette approached a counter where a woman in a crisp uniform smiled in greeting. "Good afternoon. Where are you teleporting to today?"
"Saffron City, Main Silph Co. hub," Lynette replied, producing a sleek black card from her handbag and sliding it across the counter.
The attendant scanned the card and nodded. "Premium service for two to Saffron City, Silph Co. hub. Please proceed to platform three. Hiro and his Slowbro will be your teleporters today."
"Premium service. Because regular molecular disassembly just won't do," I whispered to myself as we were directed to a small, private room off the main lobby.
Inside, a middle-aged man in a uniform similar to the attendant's stood beside a large pink Pokémon with a vacant expression and a cream-colored spiral shell on its tail. The Slowbro blinked lazily at us as we entered.
"Good afternoon, Miss Hirano, Ms. Lynette," the man greeted with a bow. "I'm Hiro, and this is Maro. We'll be facilitating your teleportation today."
"Hi," I said, fascinated by the Slowbro despite myself. "Does it hurt him when he does this?"
Hiro looked surprised at the question. "Not at all, Miss Hirano. Slowbro naturally possess teleportation abilities and are specifically bred and trained for this service."
"Bred," I repeated, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the implications.
Lynette nudged me discreetly but nodded in acknowledgment to Hiro. "Can we please teleport directly to the entrance hub closest to the main Silph Co. building?" she requested.
"Of course," Hiro confirmed. "Please step onto the platform and remain still during the teleportation process."
"Wiggling during molecular deconstruction would be bad, I'm guessing," I muttered as we moved to stand on a circular platform marked with intricate symbols.
The Slowbro waddled forward, positioning itself at the edge of the circle. Hiro placed a hand on its head, and the Pokémon's eyes began to glow with a soft blue light.
"Teleporting to Saffron City, Silph Co. hub, in three... two... one..."
The sensation was nothing like I might have expected. There was no nausea, no disorientation, no physical feeling at all. One instant we were standing in the teleportation room in Celadon City, and the next we were in an identical room, but with subtle differences in the décor.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," I said, almost disappointed by the lack of special effects.
"Welcome to Saffron City," greeted another uniformed attendant. "Please exit through the main doors and proceed to the right for the Silph Company main entrance."
We stepped out of the teleportation hub into Saffron City, and I had to catch my breath at the sight. If Celadon was impressive, Saffron was overwhelming - a forest of skyscrapers stretching toward the clouds, their glass surfaces reflecting the late afternoon sun in a dazzling display. The architectural style was more uniformly modern than Celadon's eclectic mix, with clean lines and futuristic elements that gave the impression of a city from tomorrow.
"Damn," I whispered. "They really went all out with the corporate headquarters aesthetic, didn't they?"
The most imposing structure by far was directly ahead of us - the Silph Co. headquarters, a massive tower of glass and steel that must have been at least a hundred stories tall. The company logo, a stylized "S," was prominently displayed at its crown, illuminated even in daylight.
"Compensating much?" I muttered, earning another sharp look from Lynette.
"Come along," Lynette urged, guiding me toward the building's entrance. "We're already cutting it close on time."
As we approached, I noticed how people's gazes lingered on us - or more specifically, on me. My casual attire stood out dramatically among the sea of formal wear and business attire. Lynette, I now realized, was dressed quite formally herself in a tailored navy dress with subtle embellishments that marked it as high fashion.
"What are they staring at? Never seen a kid in comfortable clothing before?" I muttered, meeting the gaze of one particularly judgmental-looking woman who quickly averted her eyes.
The lobby of the Silph Co. building was a marvel of design - soaring ceilings, water features that seemed to defy gravity, and displays showcasing what must be the company's latest technological innovations. A holographic directory hovered in the center, rotating slowly to display information in multiple languages.
Lynette led me past security, who nodded respectfully without asking for identification. Clearly, we - or at least, Erika Hirano - were known quantities here.
We entered an express elevator that whisked us upward at a speed that made my stomach lurch. When the doors opened, we stepped into what appeared to be a massive event space occupying an entire floor of the building. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered spectacular views of Saffron City stretching to the horizon. Chandeliers that made the ones in "my" home look modest hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the gathering.
The room was filled with people in formal attire - men in suits or traditional Japanese formal wear, women in elegant dresses or kimonos. Many were accompanied by Pokémon, though these seemed selected for their aesthetic appeal rather than battling prowess - an Eevee with perfectly groomed coat, a Roselia whose flowers matched its trainer's dress perfectly. I surprised myself with how easily I recognized each species, names and details surfacing with clarity despite my confusion about everything else.
"Great, living fashion accessories," I muttered. "Because regular purse dogs weren't pretentious enough."
The murmurs and stares began almost immediately as we entered. I caught fragments of whispered conversations:
"—President Hirano's daughter—"
"—what is she wearing?—"
"—never seen her without a kimono—"
"—her father must be furious—"
"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" I called out to no one in particular, causing several nearby conversations to abruptly halt.
Lynette's posture stiffened considerably beside me. "Erika," she said through gritted teeth, "please try to remember that your behavior reflects on your family."
"Heaven forbid I tarnish the precious family name by wearing pants," I replied.
She sighed deeply but maintained her composure, guiding me through the crowd toward a seating area where several other children around my apparent age were gathered.
As we approached, one little girl in particular caught my attention. She sat alone, her posture perfect, wearing a simple but clearly expensive dark purple dress. Her hair was a striking shade of blue-black, flowing straight down to the middle of her back, with long bangs cut just above her eyebrows. Her face was set in an expression of practiced indifference. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, triggering the same recognition I'd felt with the Pidgeotto.
Lynette leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I need to speak with your father when he arrives. Please wait here with the other children. And try not to..." She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at my outfit.
"Start a revolution?" I suggested sweetly.
"Just... behave," she sighed, before walking away.
"No promises," I called after her, then moved toward an empty seat near the blue-haired girl.
As I approached, her eyes – a startling shade of purple – flicked up to meet mine. In that instant, her expression transformed from bored indifference to sharp suspicion. Her eyes narrowed, and I felt a distinct pressure in my head, like the beginnings of a headache but more localized, more... invasive.
"Well, that's not creepy at all," I muttered, trying to shake off the sensation.
The knowledge from my previous life assembled into recognition with frightening speed.
This was Sabrina. Future Gym Leader of Saffron City. Psychic extraordinaire. Telepath.
"Oh, shit," I whispered.
And from the way she was looking at me – through me – my chances of maintaining my secret, of passing as the real Erika, had just plummeted to zero.