Over half a decade had passed since Afi’s escapades with Orphys and her bringing in a flock of new Goomy into the world, and she had kept her promise to herself. The oldest of the critters, a pugnacious male Goomy, had been given to Jo as her first pokemon.

Jo had grown from an early teen to a young woman just shy of her nineteenth birthday, and she had followed in her mother’s footsteps and embarked on a pokemon journey as soon as she came of age. Afi and Orphys had both stood by the gate to their cottage, waving goodbye, as Jo walked resolutely along, backpack with supplies slung over her shoulders and her pokemon—a Sliggoo, now, named Pearly—squelching along at her side.

Though she had some vague notion of challenging gyms, earning badges, and maybe partaking in a big fancy League tournament somewhere far away, the truth of the matter was that Jo had no real pressing desire to run and gun things. She was perfectly fine taking her time, meandering through forests and fields, making a killing off random trainers who thought a newbie easy prey for cash winnings only to find themselves stomped into the dirt by a half-grown Dragon-type.

It was the evening after one of these matches, a match which Pearly should have won with ease only to barely squeak by, that it happened. The sky was turning orange with twilight, and Jo was resting in a small tent she had set up at the edge of a rock-strewn meadow. As she was trying to motivate herself to get out and start setting up for dinner, a sound touched her ears.

Pearly was whining.

Immediately worried, Jo strode out of her tent, barely mindful that she had basically been lounging in her underwear. (There was, after all, almost nobody around for miles.)