[POV – ???]
It remembered the cold.
That cruel, soaking rain outside the old barn. The sharp words. The backpack swinging closed. Then silence.
It had waited.
Waited far too long before realizing it had been left behind.
Just a Phantump back then—small, angry, clinging to the scent of its trainer that never returned.
From there, it wandered.
Farms. Trails. Forests.
It grew, fought, survived. And somewhere along the way, it changed.
Branches thickened. A wooden body creaked into shape. The flickering soul inside burned quieter but deeper.
Now it was Trevenant.
Yet even now, it watched.
Still waiting. Still listening. Still trying to understand the people who left.
Tonight, laughter. Smoke. Light.
The usual seasonal rush. Every year around this time, new trainers flooded Floccesy's southern fields. Their Pokémon chirped, sparked, and nipped at each other.
And every year, Trevenant stayed quiet, unmoving among the trees.
But this time, someone new pitched a tarp against its roots.
The boy had a strange walk—like his feet were trained for fields, not roads. He muttered to himself and thanked his Shinx like it was a coworker.
He fed his Oshawott curry from a wooden spoon.
Strange.
But kind.
It waited.
---
[POV – Andre]
That night, after picking up a camp slot from the event organizer, I found a flat patch under a tree near the south fields. Dozens of tents dotted the area, filled with greenhorn trainers laughing, cooking, or trading stories about their first captures.
Oshawott scarfed down his share, now proudly dual-wielding a regular scalchop and a larger, shield-like shell. He clung to both even in sleep, curled tightly like a child hugging its toys.
Shinx flopped next to me, tail tip faintly pulsing with light.
I leaned back on my rolled-up cloak and gazed at the stars.
[MC POV]
If you'd told me two days ago I'd be camping with an electric cat and a dual-wielding samurai otter... I'd have laughed you off the farm.
But here we are.
And honestly?
Not a bad start.
I closed my eyes.
---
A breeze passed.
Then... something shifted.
I opened my eyes again. It was darker now. The campfires were mostly out, just embers left glowing in nearby pits. Only a few murmurs floated through the cool night air.
Shinx stirred.
"...Huh?" I rubbed my face. My back was against bark. I'd leaned too far and—wait.
Did this tree always feel... warm?
I turned my head.
The bark rippled.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
I scrambled to my feet as the "tree" uncoiled itself from the roots—cracking, creaking, and groaning like an old barn door. The trunk split open to reveal a single glowing red eye. Branches curled, forming clawed arms. The shadows around it thickened.
"Shinx! Oshawott!" I hissed.
Both were already on alert. Oshawott rolled forward with both shells ready. Shinx growled, fur bristling, electricity gathering at his paws.
But the thing—Trevenant, I realized too late—didn't attack.
The kind of Pokémon I once saw in a horror clip on old man Byron's battered TV.
It just... looked at us.
And sighed—and I swear, I almost bolted with both my Pokémon.
Like it had seen too many fools to bother scaring us properly.
"Hey, hey, easy..." I raised my hands. "We didn't mean to camp on you."
Trevenant tilted its head, studying me like a farmer eyeing a strange seed.
Oshawott growled again and raised both shells.
"No, no, hold up," I whispered. "Let me try."
I stepped forward—slow, deliberate, like I did when approaching an injured Pokémon on the ranch.
"You've been here a while, huh?" I said quietly. "Watched a lot of trainers come and go. Guess you're not too keen on the noise."
It didn't answer. But it didn't leave, either.
"You're not angry. Lonely, maybe?"
A faint flicker passed through the glowing eye.
"You know... I've felt that too."
Trevenant stared.
I let out a breath. "I was dumped here, in this world. Reborn, really. I don't know why, and I didn't get a choice. But I got lucky. Found people who cared. A home."
Silence.
"I don't know what happened to you, but... maybe you're looking for something too."
The air was still for a beat too long.
Then Trevenant stepped forward.
Oshawott immediately leapt in front of me with both scalchops raised.
The ghost-tree stopped mid-step.
Shinx bared his fangs, body glowing.
But I just smiled. "It's okay."
I stepped between them.
"Look, if you want to battle... we'll do it. But not out of fear. Just to see if we can understand each other."
Trevenant's eye narrowed. Then it raised one long branch and pointed to itself. Then at me.
A challenge.
"Alright," I said. "One-on-one."
---
The "battle," if you could call it that, was more like a test.
Trevenant was strong—but not wild. It didn't lash out recklessly. Every move was measured, like it wanted to see how I commanded my Pokémon, how we worked together.
Oshawott took the field.
He rushed forward, blades in both paws. Razor Shell struck bark like steel on wood. Trevenant retaliated with Phantom Force, vanishing and reappearing like a shadow from a bad dream.
We adapted.
Oshawott began using the larger shell defensively, spinning with the smaller scalchop in tight arcs, shielding himself and striking in tandem.
Each exchange grew sharper. Cleaner. More in sync.
And Trevenant watched all of it with quiet intensity.
Eventually, it stopped mid-attack and dropped its arms.
Oshawott hesitated. Then stood down too.
Trevenant walked over to me.
And gently touched my chest.
My Poké Ball belt clicked.
One ball lit up red.
Trevenant nodded once.
And disappeared into it.
---
[General POV – Early Morning]
By sunrise, Andre sat outside his tent, hair wild, cloak damp with dew, a cold mug of tea in hand. Oshawott snored softly next to him, still clutching his two shells. Shinx had curled up at his feet.
A third ball now sat on Andre's belt—darker than the others. He hadn't even realized which one had activated. It had simply... accepted the Trevenant.
When he asked the organizers that morning if anyone had ever seen it before, one older Ranger rubbed his chin.
"That old tree? Shows up every spring. Never interacts. Guess you were the lucky one."
Andre didn't know if lucky was the right word.
He just felt... honored.
There was something wounded but watchful in Trevenant. Something familiar.
That night, under a tree that turned out to be more than a tree, Andre didn't just gain a new team member.
He'd been seen.
And something old and forgotten had chosen to trust again.