Without the cautious and tense atmosphere of the Rocket research lab, Logan seemed to have returned to his usual peaceful routine.
He climbed out of bed, slipped on a shirt and long pants, and reached for the Poké Ball on his nightstand—a Master Ball, also known as the "Command Ball," secured to a long cord. He hung the cord around his neck, letting the ball rest against his chest.
"Good morning, Mewtwo."
[Good morning, Logan.]
A daily ritual between the two. Logan strolled over to the window and pulled open the curtains. As he pushed open the glass pane, a fresh, invigorating breeze swept into the room. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the untainted air. Here, there was no pollution. The cool, crisp scent seemed to purify the soul. Even the most vicious humans or Pokémon would find themselves softened by the atmosphere of this place.
This was Pallet Town—the purest corner of the Pokémon world. A utopia that Professor Oak had devoted his life to creating.
A sudden fluttering of wings broke the silence. A flock of Pidgey chirped as they soared through the skies. Below the window, across a wide field, Sandshrew and Rattata could be seen nibbling on grass roots and burrowing into the soil. Nidoran—both male and female—moved cautiously through the tall grass, while a few Doduo romped joyfully under the morning sun. In the distance, at a sparkling blue lake, Water-type Pokémon leisurely surfed the surface, the sun's reflection glimmering like a thousand tiny stars.
In a fenced-off patch of lawn below, three Growlithe barked as they herded a flock of sheep. These Growlithe served multiple roles—sheepdogs, guard dogs, search and rescue, even pets. They were the ultimate utility Pokémon.
Despite the dominance of Pokémon in this world, ordinary animals like chickens, ducks, cows, and sheep still existed, primarily as food sources. The oceans were mostly populated by regular, edible fish rather than Pokémon—you wouldn't just throw a fishing line and randomly hook a Gyarados. Compared to Earth's biodiversity, this world's range of non-Pokémon species was relatively sparse.
Perhaps the existence of Pokémon had stunted the development of other lifeforms. Only simple, low-level herbivores could coexist with Pokémon. Carnivores stood no chance—even the weakest Pokémon could make a predator into prey. Fortunately, Pokémon seemed to influence evolution itself. Animals like chickens and cows reproduced faster, more efficiently, more abundantly—enough to feed humanity.
Most of humanity's diet still came from crops and common animals. It wasn't that Pokémon were inedible or that morality stopped people from eating them—rather, their bodies were infused with elemental energy. Eating Pokémon meat would likely lead to severe side effects—like swallowing radioactive waste.
That said, no world was without its freaks. A tiny, disturbing minority did enjoy eating Pokémon, regardless of the risk.
Logan had been living at Professor Oak's lab for a while now, and he had adapted quickly. Other than the existence of Pokémon and the fact that technology was actually more advanced here, life was surprisingly familiar.
He went to the washroom to freshen up, and whatever grogginess he had left vanished. In this world, while toothbrushes existed, most people preferred specialized mouth rinses. These powerful solutions could clean your teeth far more effectively than Earth's mouthwash. They were originally designed for trainers constantly on the move.
Technically, the lab wasn't in Pallet Town. There was some distance between the two. As a research facility, it made sense not to build it inside a residential area—Pokémon experiments could cause a lot of… unintended chaos. Logan had visited the actual Pallet Town several times to shop. Unlike the two houses shown in the games, the real Pallet was a fully functioning village with everything you'd expect.
Professor Oak's lab was massive. As Logan walked to the front entrance and pushed open the door, a Pidgeot swooped down from the sky. A small mail pouch was strapped to its neck. With a graceful flap of its wings, it landed beside Logan, waiting for him to retrieve the newspaper. Thıs content belongs to 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⁂𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾⁂𝔫𝔢𝔱
Just like Earth, even with internet access, many people still liked the feel of a morning paper. Especially someone of Professor Oak's age—old habits die hard.
Logan pulled out a snack from a nearby container and tossed it to the bird. Pidgeot caught it mid-air with perfect precision, swallowed it happily, and with a joyful cry, soared off to deliver to the next household.
Logan placed the newspaper on the table and used a Sandslash-shaped paperweight to keep it flat. He then headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
As a guest, Logan felt it was only right to contribute. Besides, having lived alone before, he'd learned to cook for himself—and cook well.
While the plants and vegetables in this world differed from his memories, he found them more than adequate. The fundamentals of stir-frying remained the same. There weren't traditional spices like salt and soy sauce, but the abundance of unique berries—ground into powder or turned into juice—offered a staggering variety of flavors. Experimenting with combinations had become a new joy for him.
Logan even adapted Japanese cooking techniques here. The result? Professor Oak had become an instant fan. The professor once joked that Logan could become a culinary master in the Pokémon world—a pioneer of a whole new cuisine.
"You're up early as always, Logan."
Professor Oak, freshly washed and dressed, entered the room and sniffed the air appreciatively.
"…I feel guilty letting a guest cook every morning."
He said this with a laugh, though he clearly wasn't complaining. In fact, he often worried that once Logan left on his journey, there'd be no one left to cook such delicious meals.
"If it weren't for you taking me in, I wouldn't even have a place to stay or food to eat. Cooking's the least I can do."
Logan smiled and brought over a simple but hearty breakfast.
"If only my grandson Blue were as polite as you. That boy's always got his nose in the air, never listens to a word I say."
Professor Oak sighed at the mention of his grandson, a troubled look flickering across his face.
"Still no sign of Bulbasaur?"
Logan sat down across from him and began eating.
"Not a word. It's been two days… If only I hadn't been so careless—"
The professor's voice was tinged with regret.
"Maybe it just ran off to play. Give it a few days—it'll probably come back on its own."
Logan offered a reassuring smile.
But even as he said it, he didn't quite believe it himself.
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