High above the forest canopy, long after the meteor shower tore across the sky and one fragment slipped past Rayquaza's fury, a signal beacon crackled to life.
Deep within the regional outpost, a screen flashed red.
Meteor Impact Confirmed.Unidentified Energy Signature Detected.Local Pokémon Behavior: Agitated.
A woman in a forest-green uniform adjusted the brim of her cap.
"Alright," she said calmly. "We're moving out."
Two figures stood behind her, both wearing the emblem of the Pokémon Rangers stitched onto their shoulders. At their waists rested sleek, disk-like devices — the standard-issue Capture Styler, glowing faintly with standby light.
"Central wants observation only," one Ranger reported. "No direct interference unless civilians are involved."
The leader nodded. "Meteor debris can cause environmental distortion. If something unusual came down with it, we document and report."
They didn't say the word "Ultra Beast."
They didn't say "legendary fragment."
They definitely didn't say "interdimensional anomaly."
But everyone was thinking it.
—
The crash site lay in a scorched clearing at the forest's edge. Trees had been snapped or splintered outward in a circular blast pattern. The ground was torn open, earth melted and glassed where the meteor had struck.
Steam still curled from the impact crater.
The Rangers approached carefully.
One activated his Capture Styler. The device hummed, projecting faint scanning rings across the ground.
"Radiation levels stable," he reported. "But there's residual energy… not typical stellar composition."
Another Ranger knelt, brushing gloved fingers near the fractured stone. "Pokémon tracks all around the perimeter. Looks like several species approached and then retreated."
"Retreated?"
"Yeah. Like something spooked them."
The leader frowned.
A sudden chirp from the Styler interrupted them.
The display flickered.
ANOMALOUS ENERGY TRAIL DETECTED.Direction: Northwest Forest Region.
"That's not from the meteor itself," the second Ranger muttered. "It's moving."
They exchanged looks.
Something had come down.
And something had left the crater.
—
They followed the trail deeper into the forest.
The Capture Stylers emitted low pulses, thin blue rings expanding outward and mapping fluctuations in ambient energy.
Bird Pokémon took off from branches as the Rangers passed.
A wild Taillow let out a sharp cry before fleeing.
One Ranger checked his scanner again. "Local Pokémon heart rates elevated. Predator presence?"
"No," the leader replied slowly. "It's different. It's like… uncertainty."
They moved quietly now.
Professional.
Measured.
Branches parted ahead.
They stopped at the edge of a cliff.
The ground here was disturbed — claw marks gouged into soil.
"Pack activity," one Ranger observed. "Likely Mightyena."
The scanner chirped again.
Energy spike.
Right below them.
All three Rangers stepped carefully to the edge and looked down.
At the base of the cliff, there was no visible movement.
No obvious threat.
Just trees.
Rocks.
Shadows.
The Styler pulsed again.
The reading intensified briefly — then flickered.
"Did you see that?" one Ranger asked.
"Yeah."
The leader narrowed her eyes. "It's phasing. Whatever it is, it's not fully… interacting with the environment."
They did not know that far below, weaving quietly through the lower forest in an experimental side-to-side glide, a pale, featureless figure was continuing its awkward ghostly journey.
They did not know that the "anomaly" had just finished falling off a cliff while aggressively wiggling.
They did not know that it was currently practicing controlled undulation to avoid tripping over roots.
The scanner buzzed one more time.
Then stabilized.
"Signal's weakening," the second Ranger said.
"It's moving away from us," the first added.
The leader straightened.
"Alright. We log this as a Class-Unknown Forest Disturbance. Possible meteor-associated entity. We'll establish a monitoring perimeter and alert headquarters."
She looked once more at the trees below.
"Whatever it is… it's intelligent. It's choosing a direction."
None of them realized how close they were.
None of them realized the anomaly was less than a mile away, trying to figure out whether wiggling counted as cardio.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The forest slowly begins to change.
It's subtle at first.
The golden light filtering through the trees fades into something cooler… bluer. Shadows stretch longer across the ground. The air grows quieter, heavier, as day Pokémon retreat and the nocturnal ones begin to stir.
I don't notice any of that consciously.
I'm too busy trying to perfect "controlled wiggling."
Left.
Right.
Left.
Smoother now.
Less panicked flailing.
More eerie glide.
Somewhere far behind me, faint blue pulses from Pokémon Rangers scanning equipment flicker between trees — but I never turn around at the right moment to see them.
I simply keep drifting forward.
Unaware that I've unknowingly slipped outside their detection radius.
Unaware that the anomaly signal on their Capture Styler screens has begun to fade.
I just feel… tired.
Which is weird.
Do ghosts get tired?
My movements slow.
The swaying becomes smaller.
More controlled.
The terrain starts to incline again — rocky this time, roots giving way to exposed stone. The trees thin slightly, replaced by jagged outcroppings.
And then I see it.
A dark opening in the side of a hill.
A cave.
Not massive.
Not dramatic.
Just a quiet hollow carved into rock, partially hidden by hanging vines and creeping moss.
I stop at the entrance.
The inside is shadowed, but not pitch black. Faint ambient light reflects off mineral veins in the stone walls.
It looks… safe.
Or at least safer than "open forest where wolf Pokémon organize group meetings about me."
I tilt my head.
No immediate movement inside.
No growling.
No territorial shriek.
Just cool air drifting out.
I take one careful step forward.
My foot makes almost no sound against the stone floor.
The cave swallows me in cool darkness.
—
Inside, the temperature drops noticeably. The walls curve inward, narrowing slightly before widening into a small chamber. The ceiling isn't too high — maybe ten feet up — lined with rough stone and thin stalactites.
There are old scratch marks near one wall.
Probably once home to something.
But it doesn't smell occupied now.
Not that I can really smell.
I glide further in and turn slowly, scanning the space.
The entrance frames the fading sky outside.
Orange.
Then purple.
Then deepening blue.
Night is coming.
The forest begins to change tone.
Distant cries echo — the hoot of a Hoothoot waking for its shift.
A faint shimmer passes near the cave mouth as a Zubat flits past, uninterested.
No one follows me in.
No Mightyena growls.
I have, completely unknowingly, drifted far enough off course — and descended low enough after the cliff fall — that the Rangers' scanning path never intersects with mine again.
Their devices stabilize.
Their reports begin.
Their perimeter expands in the wrong direction.
And I?
I simply settle.
I lower myself near the back wall of the cave.
Sitting is still awkward — my legs fold a little too smoothly, like fabric draping rather than joints bending.
But I manage.
I look down at my pale, featureless hands resting loosely on my knees.
The cave is quiet.
Safe.
For now.
Outside, the last sliver of sunlight disappears beyond the trees.
Darkness spreads across the forest.
And for the first time since crashing into this world, I am not running.
Not wiggling.
Not falling off something.
Just… existing.
Alone in a cave.
As night fully claims the forest, faint moonlight spills through the entrance and casts my shadow long against the stone wall.
It doesn't look entirely solid.
It flickers slightly at the edges.
Like it isn't fully anchored to this world.
I stare at it.
"…Okay," I think quietly.
"New objective."
"find out if a nobody can sleep."
And somewhere far away, a Ranger closes a field report labeled:
Anomalous Signal — Lost.