Alpha walked.
The Kangaskhan had pointed, and Alpha had walked. That was the deal. Follow the direction, don't get smashed by a mother's fist. Simple survival math.
But the forest was dark, and his friends were gone, and the only company he had was the purple Rotom in his phone and the fading echo of that baby Kangaskhan waving at him like this was all some kind of game.
Stupid cute baby, he thought bitterly. Making me let my guard down.
He'd been walking for what felt like hours. The moon was high, then lower, then hidden behind clouds. His feet ached. His shoulder throbbed where he'd hit that tree. And he had absolutely no idea where he was going.
"You know," he said to his phone, "I really thought being the Battler meant I'd get to punch things. Not wander around in the dark playing follow-the-leader with an angry dinosaur mom."
The purple Rotom inside his phone did a small loop. Text appeared:
KANGASKHAN. NOT DINOSAUR.
Alpha snorted. "You and the purple one in Gamma's phone would get along. She called the other thing a lizard and got corrected too."
ROTOM ARE CONNECTED. WE SHARE INFORMATION.
"Wait, seriously?" Alpha held up the phone, genuinely interested for the first time. "You can talk to the others? The blue one with Beta, the yellow one with Omega, the purple one with Gamma?"
YES. WE ARE ROTOM. WE ARE MANY. WE ARE ONE.
"That's... actually really cool. And also kind of creepy." Alpha grinned. "Can you tell me where they are? Are they okay?"
A pause. The Rotom circled slowly.
BETA IS BY WATER. DRATINI IS WITH HIM. HE IS NOT HURT.
OMEGA FOLLOWS GASTLY. HE IS NOT HURT.
GAMMA IS WITH ABRA. SHE IS...
The text stopped.
"She's what?" Alpha's heart lurched. "Is she okay? Is she hurt?"
GAMMA IS SLEEPING. ABRA IS SLEEPING BESIDE HER. THEY ARE PEACEFUL.
Alpha blinked. Then he laughed—a real laugh, surprised out of him.
"Gamma made friends with a sleeping fox? That's... actually perfect. That's so on brand for her I can't even be mad."
ABRA CHOSE HER. ABRA DO NOT CHOOSE LIGHTLY.
"Yeah?" Alpha smiled softly. "Good for her. Good for both of them."
He walked a few more steps, then stopped.
"Can you tell them I'm okay? If they wake up, I mean. Let them know I'm fine and I'll find them."
ROTOM WILL SHARE.
"Thanks, buddy." Alpha tucked the phone away and kept walking.
The forest began to change. The dense undergrowth thinned. The trees grew taller, older, their trunks massive and their branches creating a canopy so thick the moonlight barely penetrated. It was darker here. Cooler. Quieter.
Alpha's instincts, honed by years of training, started tingling.
Something was watching him.
He stopped walking. Didn't turn. Just stood still, breathing evenly, letting his senses expand.
Footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Coming from behind.
Alpha spun—
The Kangaskhan stood twenty feet away, silhouetted against the faint glow of the distant moon. Her eyes caught what little light there was, reflecting it back at him like twin coals. The baby peered from her pouch, its small face curious.
"You," Alpha breathed. "You followed me."
KANGASKHAN.
The sound was low, rumbling. Not quite a growl. Not quite a word. Just... presence.
Alpha held up his hands slowly, palms out. "Look, I did what you asked. I walked the direction you pointed. I didn't fight. I didn't hurt anyone. I'm just trying to find my friends and get out of your territory. Okay?"
The Kangaskhan took a step forward.
Alpha tensed but didn't move.
Another step.
The baby in her pouch made a soft sound—"Kanga?"—and pointed at Alpha. Its tiny hand waved. Friendly. Recognizing him from before.
The mother's eyes flicked down to her child, then back to Alpha. Something shifted in her expression. Not softening, exactly. But... considering.
"You know," Alpha said carefully, "your kid really likes waving at me. It's cute. You've got a cute kid."
The Kangaskhan's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not saying that to manipulate you," Alpha added quickly. "I'm just saying. It's true. That's a high-quality baby you've got there. Very wave-y. Excellent form."
The baby waved again, as if to demonstrate.
The mother stared at Alpha for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, slowly, she sat down.
Right there. In the middle of the forest. She just... sat.
Alpha waited. Nothing happened. The Kangaskhan sat. The baby watched. The forest was silent.
"Uh," Alpha said. "What now?"
The Kangaskhan gestured with one massive hand toward the ground in front of her.
Alpha looked at the spot. Looked back at her. "You want me to... sit?"
Kang.
It wasn't a word he understood, but the meaning was clear enough. Alpha hesitated. Every combat instinct screamed at him not to sit down in front of a creature that could crush him with one hand. But every survival instinct reminded him that running hadn't worked, fighting would be stupid, and the creature hadn't attacked yet.
He sat.
The forest floor was damp and cool. Alpha crossed his legs, rested his hands on his knees, and tried to look as non-threatening as possible.
The Kangaskhan watched him. The baby watched him. Alpha watched them back.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time moved strangely in the dark.
Finally, Alpha couldn't take the silence anymore.
"So," he said. "Nice night, right?"
The Kangaskhan's expression didn't change.
"Great forest you've got here. Very... trees. Lots of... nature."
Nothing.
"Your baby really is adorable, by the way. Those little eyes. That little wave. Ten out of ten, would wave back."
The baby, as if on cue, waved again.
Alpha waved back.
The mother's eyes tracked the movement. Then, slowly, she looked down at her child. The baby was smiling—actually smiling—pointing at Alpha and making happy little sounds.
"Kanga! Kanga kanga!"
Alpha felt something loosen in his chest. "They're really something, aren't they? Kids. I mean, I don't know much about them. Never really been around them. But yours seems... good. Happy. You're doing a good job."
The Kangaskhan's eyes snapped back to him. Sharp. Questioning.
Alpha held up his hands again. "I mean it! I'm not—I don't have an angle here. I'm just saying what I see. You're protecting your kid. That's what mothers do. That's... that's good."
He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with his own sincerity.
"My mom died when I was young," he said quietly. "I don't really remember her. Just... feelings. Warmth. Safety. The way she'd hold me when I was scared."
The forest was very still.
"I think about her sometimes. Wonder if she'd be proud of me. Wonder if I'm the kind of person she'd want me to be." He laughed, but it had no humor in it. "I'm eighteen and I'm in another dimension with a ghost in my phone and a dinosaur mom staring at me. So... probably not what she imagined."
KANGASKHAN. NOT—
"Yeah, yeah, not a dinosaur. I know." Alpha waved at his phone. "But you get what I mean."
The Kangaskhan made a sound. Low. Rumbling. Not hostile—something else. Something Alpha couldn't name.
He looked up.
The mother was watching him with an expression he couldn't read. Her massive hand had moved, and was now resting on the edge of her pouch, fingers curled protectively around her baby. But her eyes... her eyes were softer. Not friendly, exactly. But... understanding.
"You know what it's like," Alpha realized. "Losing someone. Being alone. Protecting the only thing you have left."
The Kangaskhan blinked slowly.
And in that moment, Alpha understood something he hadn't before. This creature wasn't angry. She was terrified. Terrified of strangers, of threats, of anything that might hurt her baby. Every aggressive move, every thunderous roar, every chase through the forest—it wasn't malice. It was fear.
Fear of loss.
Fear of being alone.
Fear that if she let her guard down for even a second, everything she loved would be taken away.
Alpha knew that fear. He'd lived with it his whole life.
"I get it," he whispered. "I really do."
The baby made a small sound, and the Kangaskhan's hand tightened protectively. But she didn't move. Didn't attack. Didn't run.
She just... sat. With him.
They stayed like that for a long time. Alpha sitting on the cold ground. The Kangaskhan watching him from twenty feet away. The baby occasionally waving, occasionally dozing, occasionally pointing at things in the forest that Alpha couldn't see.
At some point, the Rotom in his phone buzzed gently. Alpha pulled it out.
GAMMA IS AWAKE. SHE ASKS IF YOU ARE OKAY.
Alpha smiled. "Tell her I'm fine. Tell her I'm making friends with a very intense mother and her very cute baby."
MESSAGE SENT.
"Can you tell me where she is? Where any of them are?"
GAMMA IS WEST. BETA IS SOUTH. OMEGA IS EAST.
Alpha looked around at the dark, directionless forest. "And where am I?"
NORTH.
"Of course." He sighed. "So we're scattered in all four directions. Perfect."
THE POKEMON WILL GUIDE YOU. THEY CHOSE YOU FOR A REASON.
Alpha looked at the Kangaskhan. She was watching him again, her expression unreadable.
"You chose me?" he asked. "Why?"
The Kangaskhan didn't answer. But the baby did—a happy little sound, a wave of its tiny hand, a smile that could brighten the darkest forest.
And Alpha understood.
She hadn't chosen him. The baby had.
The mother was just... going along with it. Protecting her child's choice, even if she didn't understand it. Even if she didn't trust it. Even if every instinct screamed at her to crush the stranger and run.
Because that's what mothers do.
They protect. They endure. They sit in the dark with potential threats because their child waved at someone, and that someone waved back, and maybe—just maybe—that means something worth trusting.
Alpha felt his eyes sting.
"Thank you," he said hoarsely. "For not killing me. For letting me sit here. For—" He stopped, swallowed. "For being a good mom."
The Kangaskhan's eyes softened. Just slightly. Just for a moment.
Then she stood.
Alpha tensed, but she didn't approach. She just stood there, massive and powerful, looking down at him with that unreadable expression. Then she turned and began walking—slowly, deliberately—glancing back once to make sure he was following.
"You want me to come with you?"
Kang.
Alpha scrambled to his feet. His legs were stiff from sitting so long, but he forced them to move, following the massive creature through the dark forest.
"Where are we going?"
No answer. Just the steady thump of Kangaskhan's footsteps and the occasional happy sound from the baby.
The Rotom buzzed. Alpha checked his phone.
SHE IS TAKING YOU TO WATER. THEN TO OTHERS.
Alpha stared at the text. Then at the Kangaskhan's broad back.
"You planned this? The whole time?"
The Kangaskhan didn't look back. But the baby did. And waved.
Alpha laughed—a real laugh, warm and surprised.
"You're something else, you know that? Both of you. Something else."
He tucked his phone away and followed, feeling lighter than he had all night.
The forest didn't seem so dark anymore.
---
They walked until the trees began to thin and the sound of running water reached Alpha's ears. A stream—small, but loud enough to hear from a distance. Moonlight reflected off its surface, creating a silver ribbon through the darkness.
The Kangaskhan stopped at the bank and gestured with her head toward the water.
"Drink?" Alpha asked. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."
He knelt and cupped water into his hands, drinking deeply. It was cold and clean and tasted like nothing he'd ever had before—crisper, somehow. Fresher. Like the water itself was more alive here.
When he straightened, the Kangaskhan was watching him. The baby had fallen asleep in her pouch, tiny face peaceful.
"Thank you," Alpha said quietly. "For everything. For not hurting me. For bringing me here. For—" He gestured vaguely. "All of it."
The Kangaskhan made a soft sound. Not a word. Just... acknowledgment.
Then she turned and began walking again—not back the way they'd come, but along the stream, heading west.
Alpha's heart jumped.
"West? That's where Gamma is, right?"
YES. SHE FOLLOWS STREAM. SHE WILL MEET YOU.
Alpha grinned and hurried after the Kangaskhan.
The night was ending. He could feel it—the subtle shift in the air, the faint lightening of the eastern sky. Morning was coming.
And somewhere ahead, his friends were waiting.
The Kangaskhan walked beside him now, not leading, just... accompanying. The baby slept peacefully in her pouch. The stream gurgled softly to their left. The forest began to wake around them, birds singing unfamiliar songs.
Alpha looked at the massive creature beside him—the one who'd chased him, cornered him, terrified him. The one who'd sat with him in the dark and listened to him talk about his mother. The one who was now walking beside him like... like a friend.
"I never asked your name," he said. "Or your baby's name. Do you have names?"
The Kangaskhan glanced at him. Then, slowly, she looked down at her sleeping child and made a soft sound—almost a hum, almost a word.
Kanga.
"That's her name? Kanga?"
Kangaskhan.
"No, I mean—" Alpha stopped. "Wait. Is her name actually Kanga? Like, that's what you call her?"
The Kangaskhan blinked slowly. It might have been affirmation. It might have been amusement. Alpha couldn't tell.
"Okay," he laughed. "Okay, Kanga it is. And what about you? What do I call you?"
The Kangaskhan walked in silence for a moment. Then, without looking at him, she made a sound—deeper, older, something that resonated in Alpha's chest.
Khan.
"Khan," Alpha repeated. "Kanga and Khan. Mother and child."
Yes.
It wasn't a word she spoke. It was just... understanding. Passing between them in the quiet of the dawn.
Alpha smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Khan. Thanks for not killing me."
Khan's massive hand reached out—slowly, carefully—and rested on his shoulder for just a moment. A touch. A connection.
Then she removed it and kept walking, expression unchanged, baby sleeping peacefully in her pouch.
Alpha stood frozen for a second, heart pounding. Then he grinned and hurried to catch up.
The sun was rising over the trees now, painting the forest in gold and amber. The stream sparkled. The birds sang. And somewhere ahead, his friends were waiting.
Life in this new world was strange and terrifying and beautiful.
And Alpha wouldn't have traded it for anything.
---
They found Gamma an hour later, sitting on a rock by the stream with a yellow fox curled in her lap. She was talking—of course she was talking—but softly, gently, in a way Alpha had never heard from her before.
"Gamma!" he called, waving.
She looked up. Her face broke into the biggest smile he'd ever seen.
"ALPHA!"
She tried to jump up, forgot about the Abra in her lap, stumbled, caught herself, and ended up in a very undignified heap on the ground with the Abra now sitting on her head looking profoundly unbothered by the whole situation.
Alpha laughed so hard he cried.
"I hate you," Gamma said, but she was laughing too. "I hate you so much."
Khan stood at the edge of the trees, watching the reunion. Kanga woke up and waved at the Abra. The Abra opened one eye, looked at the baby, and closed it again.
"Did you just get judged by a sleeping fox?" Alpha asked.
"Every day of my life now," Gamma sighed. "Every single day."
Alpha helped her up, and they stood together by the stream—two friends from another world, reunited in the dawn light, with strange creatures beside them and stranger days ahead.
"Where are the others?" Gamma asked.
"Beta's south with a Dratini. Omega's east with a Gastly. Khan's going to help us find them."
Gamma looked at the massive Kangaskhan, then at the baby waving at her, then at Alpha.
"You named them?"
"Kanga and Khan. Mother and daughter."
Gamma's eyes softened. "That's actually really sweet."
"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation."
"Your reputation is being a lovable idiot."
"That's the one. Protect it with your life."
Gamma laughed and shoved him. He shoved her back. The Abra teleported from her head to a nearby rock without opening its eyes. Kanga waved at everyone. Khan watched it all with patient, protective eyes.
The sun rose higher.
And somewhere in the forest, two more friends were waiting to be found.