The village paths were swept clean that morning — not because of the ceremony, but because Old Man Byron had tripped over a Weedle again and declared war on all "roadside vermin."
Andre walked past the old coot's house with a wave and a slight limp, thanks to Tepig's morning antics. Smoke had erupted from the barn at sunrise, followed by a flying barrel of spoiled berries and a thunderous "TEEEEE-PIG!!" Another very normal start to the day.
The boy adjusted the strap on his satchel, eyes dropping to his outfit — clean cargo shorts, a dark olive shirt with tan lining, and his sun hat hanging behind his back.
Nothing fancy, but it felt right.
Truth be told, Andre had put more thought into this than he let on.
---
[Flashback – A Week Ago]
Andre had been rummaging through his tiny wardrobe, eyeing what few shirts he hadn't stained with fertilizer. Miriam peeked through the doorway.
"Need help picking something?"
He shrugged. "It's just the ceremony, right? Not like we've got a league rep visiting."
She chuckled. "Still, it's tradition. Everyone remembers what they wore on their start day."
Andre pulled out the olive shirt — soft, breathable, and patched near the hem where Flaaffy had once mistaken it for a wool sock.
"This one," he decided. "Simple. Me."
Miriam raised a brow. "That's your signature look now?"
He smirked. "Every main character needs one. Even if I'm just trying to be a background NPC."
"Villager No. 7 with a cool hat — just like you always say, whatever that means," she teased.
"Exactly."
[End Flashback]
---
Andre chuckled to himself, kicking at a pebble as he walked. All things considered, he'd rather be elbows-deep in compost than standing in front of a crowd. But this was tradition — the village's coming-of-age ceremony. Even if their ceremony didn't involve professors or starter Pokémon in shiny balls.
Instead, the village partnered with breeders and trainers who passed through. The matches weren't about strength or rarity, but destiny. A Pokémon that could live, work, and grow with its partner.
The growing together part I can get into. But destiny? It's just the way they put it. Because you never know what you'll get.
Up ahead, the hilltop clearing came into view, dressed with streamers and a makeshift stage. The scent of baked berries and wildflowers mingled in the wind.
The scent tugged at something — a memory, half-faded but still warm.
---
[MC POV]
The memories of my first years here came back in pieces. Not from trauma, but just... fuzziness. Like watching a movie on an old CRT.
I remember learning to walk again with legs that felt too short. I remember getting startled by Pidove and falling face-first into a berry patch. And I remember her—Nay Miriam. The patience. The warmth. The way she never pushed, just gently guided.
And then there was Tatay Caloy.
a gruff man with calloused hands and a voice like rolling thunder he had the kind of laugh that made you feel safe. The man loved his work — and did some side hustle for a professor at a nearby town's lab. Tepig, that massive fireball of a pig, was always right behind him like a second shadow.
I must've been four when he passed.
I remember sitting in the dirt, watching them move like clockwork. Tepig pulling a plow, Caloy tilling rows with purpose. He treated the pig like a partner, not a pet. The satisfied look in his face while lying next to tree with tepig and me looking at the finish fields.
It was then that it really clicked — I wanted to live like this.
But that same spring, Caloy caught a fever that wouldn't go away. I remember the way Miriam sat by the window each night, silent. And when the summer heat came, he was gone.
She didn't cry in front of others, but I saw it. I sat next to her in the dark kitchen, holding her hand because it was the only thing I could offer.
I didn't understand death, not really.
But I understood the silence afterward.
The way she folded his shawl.
The nights she stayed out on the porch until the stars disappeared.
That's when I really started helping more. Or trying to.
---
[General POV]
A voice jolted Andre from memory.
"Yo, Andre!"
He turned to see Mina jogging toward him, all elbows and wind-blown hair. Her satchel bounced like it carried half the merchant shop — which, knowing her, it probably did.
"Hey," he greeted.
"You nervous?" she asked, half out of breath. "Think you'll get a Grass-type for farm work? Or maybe a Bird-type for scaring Spearow?"
"I'm hoping for a nap-type," Andre deadpanned. "Something quiet. Maybe something that doesn't explode at sunrise."
She snorted. "Come on, you're gonna pull a Champion-level team out of your compost heap someday."
"Perish the thought," he muttered, tapping a nearby tree. An old Filipino habit he'd never shaken — knock on wood.
---
The clearing was modest — just a wooden platform, folding chairs, and a rope-tangled banner half-chewed by a Mareep.
The elder stood waiting, flanked by a breeder couple and a crate of Poké Balls. Other kids waited beside Andre and Mina. Some were bouncing with excitement. Others, like Andre, stood quietly, soaking it in.
Mina nudged him. "Bet your partner's gonna be something ridiculous. Like a baby Garchomp or a shiny Miltank."
"Let's just hope it's not a Magikarp with performance anxiety."
---
The elder's speech? Definitely not brief — long-winded talk about growing with your Pokémon, about community, and legacy, and his own adventures back in the day.
Andre tuned out the elder's speech. He'd heard it last year when Mina got her partner. He remembered the bright look on her face when she met her Budew — a tiny bundle of leaves that now rode in her scarf like a floral neck ornament.
He wondered what his partner would be like.
Something dependable, he hoped.
Something… normal.
"—and with that," the elder was saying, "Andre Ilustre Cruz, please come forward."
He blinked. That was fast.
A murmur went through the crowd. Nothing mocking. Just warm curiosity.
Mina elbowed him. "Showtime, Farmer Boy."
Andre stepped up. The crate clicked open.
A pile of Poké Balls inside. No labels. No hint.
He took a breath, reached to the far left of the pile, and picked the first one.
It felt warm in his hand.
The elder nodded. "Go ahead."
Andre pressed the button.
White light burst forth.
A small, blue-furred Pokémon landed with a soft thud. Wide eyes. Perky ears. Electricity flickered faintly from its tail.
"…Shinx?" Andre said.
The Pokémon chirped, curious.
---
[MC POV]
Not flashy. Not rare. Not a dragon or one of those fairy types I'd only heard.
Just a sparkyball with four paws and a face full of energy.
It looked at me like I was already important.
I crouched. Held out a hand.
It sniffed. Nuzzled.
That was it.
Bond formed.
Somewhere in my chest, something clicked into place.
Hope.
I didn't want adventure. I didn't want glory.
But maybe…
I wanted this.
Just a normal pokemon for a normal farm boy.
---
[General POV]
From the crowd, Miriam dabbed her eye.
Mina leaned over, whispering, "Flaaffy's gonna get jealous."
Andre grinned. "Bring it on."
He lifted Shinx in his arms, and the Pokémon nestled against his chest with a happy hum.
Above them, the sun broke through the clouds.
And far away — beyond the fields, the forest, and fate's horizon — something stirred in response.
Not doom.
Not destiny.
But a ripple.
The first step of a journey, whether he wanted one or not.