Sprigatito was already alert, grooming herself with methodical precision. Ralts dozed near Jason's pillow, her small form rising and falling with peaceful breaths. And curled between them, still wearing the slightly bewildered expression of a creature who couldn't quite believe his circumstances, was Pikachu.
Jason watched them from his chair by the window, coffee cooling in his hands.
Three, he thought. I have three Pokémon now.
It still felt unreal. Not just Pikachu's presence, but all of it—the journey from confused stranger in a forest to trainer with a growing team, badges on the horizon, and friends who depended on him.
Pikachu stirred, his ears twitching as consciousness returned. For a moment, he tensed—the ingrained response of a creature that had spent months sleeping with one eye open—before his gaze found Jason and his body relaxed.
"Hey," Jason said softly. "Sleep okay?"
Pikachu made a sound that might have been agreement. He stretched, yawned widely enough to show his small teeth, and sat up, looking around the room with fresh eyes.
In the morning light, Jason could see just how rough his condition really was. The fur was matted in patches, dull where it should have gleamed. Several old scars marked his body—evidence of fights with other Pokémon or close calls with predators. He was thin, too, the natural roundness of a healthy Pikachu reduced by months of inadequate nutrition.
We'll fix that, he thought. All of it. But first things first.
"We need to get you checked out properly," he said. "Registered, examined, the whole thing. Make sure you're healthy and find out what moves you know." He paused. "If that's okay with you?"
Pikachu studied him for a moment, then made a small sound of assent. He hopped off the bed and padded to Jason's side, pressing against his leg in what was becoming a familiar gesture of trust.
"Good. Let's get you some breakfast first, then we'll head to the front desk."
The Pokémon Center's cafeteria was quieter than usual—many trainers had already departed now that the Contest weekend was over. Jason found a corner table and set out food for all three of his Pokémon, watching their dynamics with interest.
Sprigatito ate with her usual dignified efficiency, pausing occasionally to watch the newcomer with calculating eyes. She hadn't challenged Pikachu's presence, but she hadn't exactly welcomed it either. The adjustment would take time.
Ralts, typically, was more openly curious. She kept glancing at Pikachu with wide eyes, occasionally sending gentle empathic pulses in his direction. Jason caught fragments of her emotional communication through their bond—welcome, curiosity, a tentative offer of friendship.
Pikachu ate quickly, the habits of a scavenger still ingrained. But between bites, he watched the other two Pokémon with an expression that suggested he was trying to understand the dynamic he had joined.
"Take your time," Jason told him. "Nobody's going to take your food."
Pikachu's ears twitched. He slowed slightly, though the wariness didn't entirely fade.
When breakfast was finished, Jason gathered his team and headed for the main counter.
Nurse Joy looked up with her characteristic warm smile as Jason approached. "Good morning! How can I help you today?"
"I have a new Pokémon that needs to be registered to my trainer ID," Jason said, gesturing to Pikachu at his feet. "And I'd like a full health examination if possible. He's been living wild for a while and... well, he's been through a lot."
Nurse Joy's expression shifted to professional concern as she studied Pikachu. "I can see that. Poor thing." She pulled out a registration tablet. "Let's start with the basics. This will just take a moment."
The registration process was similar to what Jason remembered from Ralts—scanning his trainer ID, then using a specialized device to read Pikachu's biological signature and create an official record. The tablet hummed softly as it processed the information.
"There we go," Nurse Joy said, reviewing the results. "Registration complete. This Pikachu is now officially part of your team." She paused, studying the screen. "Interesting. The bio-scan shows this Pikachu is male, originated from Kanto—probably born in Viridian Forest, based on the genetic markers. He's been in Hoenn for approximately four to six months."
"That matches what I suspected," Jason said. "He stowed away on a cargo ship."
"That would explain the stress indicators in his system." Nurse Joy's brow furrowed. "I'm seeing signs of prolonged malnutrition, several healed injuries, and elevated cortisol levels consistent with extended survival conditions. Nothing immediately dangerous, but he will need proper care and nutrition to fully recover."
She tapped a few more buttons. "Now, let me check his move set..."
The tablet displayed a list that made Jason's eyebrows rise.
Known Moves:
- Thundershock
- Quick Attack
- Growl
- Tail Whip
- Thunder Wave
- Electro Ball
"That's a solid move set for a wild Pikachu," Nurse Joy observed. "Electro Ball especially—that's usually learned at a higher level. This one must have had to fight for survival quite a bit."
"He has," Jason confirmed quietly.
"The good news is, there's nothing here that rest, proper food, and TLC won't fix." Nurse Joy smiled reassuringly. "I'd recommend a full healing cycle in our machines just to address any lingering issues, and I'll prepare a nutritional supplement regimen you can follow. Give him a few weeks of proper care, and you won't recognize this Pikachu."
"Thank you. That would be great."
Pikachu was lifted gently onto a healing tray, and Nurse Joy's Chansey wheeled him toward the back rooms. The Electric-type looked nervous but didn't resist, apparently trusting that Jason wouldn't have brought him somewhere dangerous.
"He should be ready in about an hour," Nurse Joy said. "The healing cycle will address the physical issues. The emotional recovery... that's up to you."
"I understand." Jason watched the doors swing closed behind his newest team member. "We'll take good care of him."
Hana found him in the waiting area, a cup of coffee in each hand.
"Saw you at the counter," she said, offering one of the cups. "New registration?"
"Yeah." Jason accepted the coffee gratefully. "The Pikachu I mentioned I saw on the beach? He... found me last night. Climbed up to my window and asked to come in."
Hana's eyebrows rose sharply. "Third floor."
"I know."
"That's quite a climb for a Pikachu."
"Apparently determination counts for a lot." Jason took a sip of his coffee. "He's been living wild in Slateport for months. Stowaway from Kanto, according to the bio-scan. Nurse Joy's running him through a healing cycle now."
Hana was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she nodded slowly. "That explains why you were so interested in the ones on the beach yesterday. You noticed something was off about this one."
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"He was alone. Scavenging. The others had a trainer—this one was just surviving." Jason stared at the doors where Pikachu had disappeared. "When those people tried to mob him, tried to catch him without any regard for how scared he was... I couldn't just stand there."
"So you protected him. And he decided to trust you."
"Something like that."
Hana sat down beside him, cradling her own coffee. "You have a gift for this, you know. Finding the lost ones. Earning their trust."
"I don't know about that."
"Sprigatito was injured and abandoned. Ralts was shy and afraid. Now this Pikachu." She gave him a measured look. "Three for three isn't a coincidence. You see something in them that others miss."
Jason didn't know how to respond to that. He just watched the doors and waited for his newest partner to return.
Marcus arrived about twenty minutes later, looking well-rested and curious.
"There you are!" He dropped into a chair across from them. "I went by your room and you weren't there. What's going on?"
"Jason has news," Hana said, a slight smile playing at her lips.
"News?" Marcus looked between them. "Good news? Bad news? Did something happen at the Contest yesterday?"
"Good news. I think." Jason took a breath. "I caught a Pikachu. Or rather, a Pikachu caught me."
Marcus's eyes went wide. "What? When? How?"
Jason explained the story for the second time—the beach encounter, the mob, the patient waiting, the window visit. Marcus listened with growing amazement, occasionally interjecting with questions or exclamations.
"He climbed up to your window?" he repeated when Jason finished. "On the third floor?"
"That's what everyone keeps focusing on."
"Because it's insane!" But Marcus was grinning. "Only you, man. Only you could go for a walk on the beach and come back with a new team member." He shook his head in wonder. "Where is he now?"
"Healing cycle. Should be done soon."
As if on cue, the doors to the treatment area swung open and Chansey wheeled out the tray bearing Pikachu. The Electric-type looked noticeably better already—his fur slightly fluffier, his posture more relaxed, the tension around his eyes eased.
"All done!" Nurse Joy announced, following behind. "The healing cycle addressed the immediate physical issues. Here's the nutritional supplement schedule I mentioned—follow it for the next three weeks and you should see significant improvement."
She handed Jason a printed sheet, which he tucked into his pack. Then he crouched down to meet Pikachu's eyes as he hopped off the tray.
"How do you feel?"
Pikachu made a sound that was definitely more energetic than before. He bounced once, experimentally, then looked up at Jason with something like amazement.
He says he hasn't felt this good in a long time, Ralts translated, having emerged from her ball to greet the returning team member. The aches are gone. The tiredness is less. He feels... lighter.
"Good. That's what we want." Jason offered his hand, and Pikachu pressed his head against his palm. "Ready to meet everyone properly?"
Marcus and Hana had approached, keeping a respectful distance to avoid overwhelming the still-nervous Pokémon. Jason made introductions—explaining who each person was, what their role in the group had been.
"Marcus is heading home today," he added. "He's been traveling with us since Dewford, but Slateport is where he belongs."
Pikachu studied Marcus with curious eyes, then made a small sound of acknowledgment.
"Nice to meet you too, little guy," Marcus said, grinning. "Welcome to the team. You picked a good trainer—he'll take care of you."
They spent the rest of the morning preparing for departure.
Slateport's market was just as busy as it had been on their first day, but Jason navigated it with more confidence now. He had a list of supplies to acquire, and the market had everything he needed.
First stop: the Pokémart section for trainer essentials. More Potions and Antidotes, a few Paralyze Heals that would be useful against Electric-types in Mauville. Pokéballs—regular and a couple of Great Balls, just in case. Revives, because he never wanted to be caught without one again.
"You're stocking up heavily," Hana observed as he loaded items into his pack.
"Wattson's gym is Electric-type. I want to be prepared for status conditions." He added another Paralyze Heal to the pile. "Plus, we've got three Pokémon to take care of now. Supply needs went up."
Second stop: the food vendors. Jason bought high-quality Pokémon food—enough for the journey to Mauville and beyond—along with the specific supplements Nurse Joy had recommended for Pikachu. He also picked up some treats: Oran Berries that Sprigatito loved, the mild flavors that Ralts preferred, and some Electric-type energy supplements that would help Pikachu rebuild his strength.
"You spoil them," Marcus teased.
"They deserve it."
Third stop: trainer gear. Jason's brush was getting worn, so he bought a new one—higher quality, better for working through matted fur. He also picked up a small first aid kit designed for Pokémon field care, some weatherproof containers for food storage, and a compact sleeping roll that would make camping more comfortable.
Pikachu watched all of this with wide eyes, apparently amazed at the amount of care being put into preparation. He kept looking at Jason, then at the supplies, then back at Jason, as if trying to reconcile this reality with his previous experiences of humans.
He's overwhelmed, Ralts reported quietly. He doesn't understand why you're doing all this. Why you're spending money on... him.
"Because you're part of the team," Jason told Pikachu directly. "And team members get taken care of. That's how this works."
Pikachu's ears drooped, then slowly rose again. Something in his expression shifted—a crack in the armor of wariness he had built over months of survival.
Finally: the specialty shops. Jason found a stall selling grooming supplies and picked up products specifically designed for Electric-types—fur conditioners that worked with the natural charge of their coats, supplements that supported healthy electrical production. The vendor, an older woman with a Plusle on her shoulder, gave him tips on caring for a Pikachu that had been neglected.
"They're resilient little things," she said, scratching her Plusle's ears. "But they need regular care to really thrive. Daily brushing, proper nutrition, and lots of positive interaction. Talk to him, play with him, make him feel valued. The physical stuff will follow the emotional stuff."
"Thank you. I appreciate the advice."
"You seem like a good trainer." She smiled. "Too many people forget that Pokémon aren't just battle tools—they're partners. It's refreshing to see someone who understands that."
"I thought that was... normal?" Jason said, slightly confused.
"It should be. Most trainers do care about their Pokémon properly." The woman's expression turned slightly sour. "But there are always those who see them as means to an end. Collectors who want rare species without bothering to bond with them. Battlers who push too hard without considering their partners' limits." She shook her head. "The League does what it can—regulations, inspections, that sort of thing—but you can't legislate compassion."
"I've seen a few of those," Jason admitted, thinking of the mob on the beach.
"Then you understand why it matters." She scratched her Plusle's ears. "That Pikachu's lucky he found someone who'll treat him right. Not everyone would have taken the time you did."
Before leaving the market district, they passed through the trainer plaza—a wide open area where trainers gathered to battle, trade, and socialize. Jason paused, watching a pair of young trainers locked in combat, their Pokémon trading attacks with enthusiastic inexperience.
"We should do more of this," he said, half to himself. "Trainer battles, I mean. Not just gym challenges."
"It's good practice," Hana agreed. "Gyms are important, but they're controlled environments. Real experience comes from fighting trainers with different styles, different strategies. You never know what someone's going to throw at you."
Jason nodded, making a mental note. He'd won a few trainer battles along the way—the match against Kenji in Petalburg, a couple of impromptu challenges on the routes—but he could do more. His Pokémon needed the experience, and honestly, so did he.
"Once we're on Route 110," he decided, "I'm accepting every challenge that comes our way."
"That's the spirit." Hana's expression was approving. "Just don't wear yourself out before Mauville."
By early afternoon, they were ready to depart.
Their packs were full, their supplies organized, their Pokémon fed and healthy. All that remained was the farewell that had been hanging over the morning.
Marcus walked with them to the northern edge of the city, where Route 110 stretched toward Mauville in the distance. The Cycling Road was visible overhead, its concrete span catching the afternoon light.
"This is where I leave you," Marcus said, stopping at the boundary marker. "Route 110 north, and I go back to the harbor."
Jason set down his pack and turned to face his friend. "It's been good traveling with you. Dewford, the cave, everything—I wouldn't trade it."
"Same here." Marcus's usual grin was softer now, tinged with genuine emotion. "You've got something special going, Jason. The way you connect with Pokémon, the way you handle yourself... you're going to go far. I really believe that."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Marcus shrugged, but there was peace in his expression. "I'm going to work the docks for a while. Save money. Maybe take some marine biology courses—Captain Stern's always looking for research assistants, and I know these waters better than most." He grinned. "Who knows? Maybe I'll be running my own research vessel someday."
"That sounds perfect for you."
"Yeah." His grin faded to something softer. "It does, doesn't it?"
They clasped hands firmly, then pulled each other into a brief hug.
"Take care of yourself," Marcus said. "And take care of them."
"You too. And hey—when I'm a famous Champion someday, I'll need someone to sail me around."
"Deal." Marcus stepped back, his grin returning full force. "Now get going before I get all emotional. I've got a reputation to maintain."
Hana said her own goodbye—briefer, more formal, but genuine. Then Marcus turned and walked back toward the city, raising one hand in a final wave before disappearing around a corner.
Jason watched until he was gone, something bittersweet settling in his chest.
"Ready?" Hana asked.
He looked at his Pokémon—Sprigatito alert and eager, Ralts curious about the road ahead, Pikachu uncertain but present, committed to wherever this journey led.
"Almost," he said. "Tomorrow. Tonight, let's find a good spot to camp just outside the city. Give everyone a chance to settle before we really start moving."
Hana nodded. "There's a traveler's rest area about a kilometer up the road. Good facilities, safe for camping."
"Perfect."
They set out together, the city of Slateport fading behind them and the unknown road stretching ahead.