Point of View: Yua
⸻
There was no fear. No tension. No combat stances.
When Absol stepped forward to examine him, my team remained calm. They were still trying to understand—trying to process—what they'd just seen from my son.
And then it happened.
The moment Absol's horn neared John, his skin began to glow—not with aura, not with psychic light or battle energy—but with a soft, living green.
Not bright.
Not wild.
Just... gentle.
Like morning dew resting on untouched moss. Like the shimmer of the wind through a quiet grove.
The pulse of it echoed outward in slow waves.
Not just visual.
Felt.
The kind of presence that reached into your bones—not with weight, but with warmth.
I drew in a shaky breath.
The others felt it too.
Butterfree, Pidgeot, even Gengar—they didn't tense or prepare to defend. They simply exhaled. Not in shock. Not in fear.
In relief.
As though... they had come home.
I didn't understand it.
No one did.
But for those few moments, we all just stood in the heart of something sacred—something real. I wasn't sure if I was standing in a clearing outside my home anymore or deep in the center of the oldest forest in the world.
The energy pulsed again, syncing with his heartbeat.
Soft. Steady. Peaceful.
"...John?" I whispered.
He turned to me, light still rising from his chest like breath on a cold morning. His red eyes gleamed beneath the glow.
"I don't know what it is," he said quietly.
He looked down at his hands, then stepped forward, toward me.
"But it feels like... when you hug me, Mama."
And without another word, he walked into my arms and wrapped himself around me. His little head rested against my shoulder, and the energy flowed with him—gentle and radiant, like a heartbeat heard through earth and roots and leaves.
I sat down, legs folding beneath me as I cradled him against my chest.
That green glow stayed for a moment longer... then slowly, gently, it faded back into him. Like it had only come out to greet the world briefly—and now it was returning home, into his heart.
The others gathered around us—quietly, respectfully.
Swampert stood tall behind me, arms crossed, gaze soft.
Pidgeot came to my side, wings lightly shielding us from the breeze.
Gyarados coiled just enough to curve around the edge of the clearing like a protective river.
Gengar floated above and behind John, no grin this time—just quiet wonder.
Butterfree landed on my knee, her antennae twitching toward him.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
They all felt it.
They all knew.
And me?
I held him tighter.
Because whatever that energy was—it wasn't aura. It wasn't psychic power. It wasn't anything I'd ever read about in all my training manuals, League documents, or Guardian handbooks.
It was something older.
Something sacred.
And it was in my son.
I rested my cheek against his head, my eyes closed.
I have no idea what that was, I thought, but it was real. And it was beautiful. And it was definitely special.
But it also meant one thing:
We couldn't wait any longer.
We had to go.
I had wanted a few more days. Just a little more time. To enjoy the quiet. To pretend we could live in peace a little longer before returning to the life I'd left behind.
But now?
Now I knew better.
That kind of energy would draw attention—whether we wanted it to or not.
And John?
He needed to be protected.
Properly.
Surrounded by people and resources who could help us understand what he was. What he could become. And what it would take to keep him safe.
Thankfully... we were already halfway there.
My mother had called two weeks ago, pressing—demanding—that I come home. I'd agreed. Said we would return after John's second birthday. She'd insisted on sending the family jet early, just in case. It had been waiting at the private terminal for two days now.
I'd planned to wait.
Now, I wasn't going to.
We'd leave in a few hours.
The estate staff would be notified. The estate security would prepare. The medical wing would be on alert. The old texts would be unlocked. The moment we landed, I would make sure everything was in place.
Mother would be thrilled to meet her grandson—spoiled beyond reason, no doubt.
And me?
...I'd have to brace myself.
Because while I hated the family politics, the posturing, the games—
It was time.
Time to bring him home.
Time to make our family whole again.
Point of View: John
⸻
I didn't expect it to feel like that.
The glow that had come from inside me—the Verdant Spirit—it wasn't loud. It wasn't powerful in the way explosions or lightning strikes are. It didn't roar or sting or scream for attention. It simply... was. Like it belonged.
Like I belonged.
And when I let it pulse out of me—when the green mist wrapped itself around everyone in the clearing—I felt something I hadn't felt in either of my lives.
Welcome.
It wasn't just the warmth of the energy itself. It was the way the Pokémon looked at me. Not with confusion. Not even awe.
They relaxed.
Like travelers who had finally found the grove they'd been searching for.
And Mama...
She held me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
She's always hugged me. Since I was born into this second life, she's been there—arms always open, warmth always present. But this was the first time I'd ever been held like this, with Pokémon beside us, surrounding us, resting near us as if the moment were sacred.
Butterfree perched beside my cheek, wings quiet.
Gengar floated near my shoulder, not teasing, not smirking—just present.
Swampert breathed deeply behind us like a living boulder of peace.
It was like... like I was finally in a world where I didn't have to fight for connection.
Where someone cared.
Where Pokémon cared.
I wanted to stay in that moment forever.
Even if I had teased Mama earlier—played the innocent card like any halfway-clever child could—this wasn't a performance. This was real.
This was what I had wanted in my last life but never quite reached: family, warmth, meaning.
But then...
The world gently shifted again.
Mama sighed into my hair and whispered, "As much as I want to keep cuddling you like this forever..."
No.
No no no.
"...we need to go."
I blinked.
Wait—go?
She shifted her weight and stood up gracefully, her arms slipping away as she carefully placed me back on the ground. The grass felt cold where her warmth had been.
I blinked up at her. "We're leaving?"
She smiled gently, brushing my hair back from my forehead. "We have some important people to meet. Ones who matter a lot to both of us."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Important people? Who? Where? Why now?
She hadn't mentioned any of this earlier. Not during breakfast. Not before the Pokémon introductions. It wasn't part of the plan.
But even though I was surprised, I wasn't afraid.
I looked into her eyes, and all I saw was care.
I nodded. "Okay."
She gave me a proud little nod and turned to her team.
"Alright, everyone," she said, lifting her belt. "Time to rest up."
One by one, the Poké Balls flared with red light.
Swampert vanished in a flash.
Pidgeot shimmered out of sight.
Gyarados coiled around once more like a guardian curling into sleep, then dissolved.
Absol gave me one last long look, then nodded to Mama and disappeared.
Only Butterfree and Gengar remained.
Mama clipped the Poké Balls to her hip and adjusted her jacket, the breeze picking up softly as she turned back to me.
"We're going to have to travel a little ways," she said with a wry smile. "So I prepared some people to take us home."
"Home?" I echoed, tilting my head.
That one word—just a little lean, a curious expression.
Butterfree squealed.
"BUTTERFREE!! (He tilted his head! Look at him—he did the thing again! He's so CUTE!)"
Before I could react, she zipped through the air and squished my cheeks. My entire field of view became her massive glowing eyes and fluttering wings.
"You're too adorable, little forest baby!" she chirped, squeezing gently. "Look at those cheeks! That hair! You're going to be spoiled rotten!"
"Mrrmfff—Butterfree..." I tried to mumble.
Gengar's laughter bubbled out like a haunted chuckle. "Gengar~ (Careful, he's gonna start charging rent for those cheeks!)"
Mama covered her mouth, trying to smother a giggle. She failed spectacularly.
I gave her a deeply betrayed look as Butterfree finally let go, twirling above me like a floating ribbon.
"I'm going to have to file a protest with the League of Cheek Rights," I muttered as I adjusted my collar.
Mama bent down and ruffled my hair. "Sorry, love. You'll have to take it up with the regional council of 'Too Cute for His Own Good.'"
I gave her a long, slow blink.
She smiled.
Then she reached out her hand.
I didn't hesitate.
Fingers tiny in hers, I let her lead me out of the clearing.
Butterfree followed behind us, humming cheerfully.
Gengar drifted lazily along, a few feet back.
I looked up at the canopy, at the morning light trickling down between the leaves.
This forest... felt different now.
It wasn't just trees and wind and dirt.
It was something else.
Connected.
I knew what the Verdant Spirit was. I knew it had come from my blessing—my sassy void system's little "gift" after weeks of meditation and soul-crushing humility exercises. I knew this was something unique.
But feeling it?
That was something else.
That green glow... it had felt like home.
And maybe now?
Maybe that's where we were finally going.
Wherever "home" really was.