Aoki reappeared at the foot of the hill, his boots crunching against the loose gravel as he surveyed the area. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant pine trees. This time, he didn't bother searching for caves—instead, he simply commanded his Drapion to dig one out.
As a powerful Pokémon with massive pincers, excavating a habitable cave was trivial for Drapion. With a few swift strikes of its claws, the ground gave way, forming a rough but serviceable shelter. Aoki led his team inside, their shadows stretching long against the uneven walls as the last light of dusk faded outside.
Food was distributed efficiently—Pokeblocks for the team, each portion carefully measured. Given the late hour, Aoki decided against rigorous training. Instead, he ran through their usual pre-sleep routines: status checks, light stretches, and mental cooldowns. Once satisfied, he allowed them to rest.
Yet sleep eluded him.
Three Unown letters now marked his wrist, their dark shapes stark against his skin. They had appeared inexplicably, refusing to stay confined in their Pokéballs. Instead, they clung to him like living tattoos, unresponsive to touch yet undeniably present.
Frowning, Aoki prodded at them with his fingers. The texture was seamless, as though the symbols had always been part of his flesh. Frustrated, he resorted to his last option—Telepathy.
His psychic powers unfurled, tendrils of energy brushing against the symbols. But unlike communicating with his Pokémon, there was no answering presence—just silence. He expanded his focus, enveloping his entire wrist in psychic energy.
Then, the letters twisted.
Aoki's vision whited out. When it cleared, he found himself adrift in a swirling void, surrounded by countless Unown of varying shapes. He realized with a start that he was no longer himself—he was an Unown, the letter "A," drifting among its kin.
Time blurred. The existence of the Unown was monotonous, an endless cycle of floating and waiting. Occasionally, they ventured into the real world to play tricks on unsuspecting Pokémon or humans—explaining the rare sightings of these enigmatic creatures. But mostly, they searched.
For what?
Aoki couldn't be sure. Perhaps for the missing "?" Unown, the one that had vanished from their ranks.
The vision accelerated, years passing in moments. Then, a shift—three Unown, restless and bored, broke away from the collective. They wandered, eventually crossing paths with Aoki. He had been the only one to notice them, the only one to capture them.
The memory dissolved.
Aoki gasped, back in the cave, his wrist throbbing faintly. New knowledge pulsed in his mind—alien script, the language of the Unown. He couldn't read it, yet he understood it, as though their thoughts had imprinted upon his own.
The message was clear:
Tired of the void. Wish to stay. Will obey, but will not fight.
Aoki exhaled. Fighting wasn't his intention. Unown were scholars, not warriors. Their true value lay in their mysterious power—especially in numbers. Two or more could wield Secret Power, and the greater their numbers, the stronger the effect.
As if responding, the symbols on his wrist glowed. Space warped before him, a shimmering portal forming. Tentatively, Aoki reached inside. The air within was cool, the space vast—a pocket dimension.
A mobile campsite.
Not the most thrilling ability, but undeniably useful. No more tents. No more night watches—nothing in this pocket dimension could threaten them.
With a wave, the portal vanished.
Aoki smirked. Convenient.
But what if he had more Unown? What then?
The symbols pulsed faintly as he lay back, exhaustion finally claiming him. Unnoticed, his stagnant psychic powers stirred, as though the Unown's presence had cracked something open.
Outside, the stars wheeled silently over the hills.