The days had stretched into weeks, and before Aaron knew it, a month had passed since he had first met Rufflet.
Every morning, he would wake up early—sometimes even before the sun had fully risen—and hurry to the clearing where Rufflet always waited. At first, the small bird had barely moved, its injured wing keeping it grounded, but little by little, it had started to improve.
Aaron had made it his mission to help Rufflet recover, and that meant carefully checking on him every day.
"Alright, let's see how you're doing today," Aaron said softly, kneeling beside Rufflet with practiced ease. He had learned by now to move slowly, respecting Rufflet's space.
The small bird gave him a wary glance, but it no longer flinched like before.
Aaron smiled. "That's an improvement already."
Carefully, he reached out, fingers brushing over the feathers along Rufflet's injured wing. He had done this so many times that it felt almost natural now. He checked the movement, gently flexing the joint, making sure there was no stiffness or pain.
Rufflet huffed, puffing up slightly, but let Aaron continue.
"Looks like the swelling's completely gone," Aaron noted, more to himself than anything. "That means we can start getting serious about flying again."
Rufflet chirped, tilting its head as if considering his words.
Aaron chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Easier said than done, huh?"
He sat back, watching as Rufflet stretched its wings cautiously, testing the movement.
There was still some hesitation in its motions.
Aaron could tell that even though the injury had healed, Rufflet wasn't fully confident yet. It was afraid to push itself too hard.
That was the real challenge now.
Aaron knew that diving straight into flight training would be a mistake. Instead, he started small.
First, he encouraged Rufflet to hop between small rocks, something that seemed easy but actually helped strengthen its legs and improve balance.
At first, Rufflet had been frustrated. It wanted to fly, not hop around like a baby bird.
But Aaron had been patient.
"Come on, just a little jump," he urged. "You've got this."
Rufflet had glared at him (as if Aaron was the reason for its problems) but begrudgingly complied.
At first, it wobbled on the landings, wings flaring out to keep itself from toppling over. But after a few tries?
It was hopping with ease. That was the first real victory.
The next step was short jumps, where Rufflet would try to launch itself into the air—not to fly, just to get used to spreading its wings.
This part was… rough.
The first time Rufflet tried, it only flapped once before landing hard on the ground.
Aaron winced. "Okay, maybe that was too soon."
Rufflet, clearly annoyed, ruffled its feathers aggressively.
Aaron sighed. "Look, I know it's frustrating, but this takes time." Rufflet didn't look convinced.
Aaron reached into his bag and pulled out an Oran Berry.
"How about this—one berry for every five jumps?"
Rufflet eyed the fruit suspiciously… then took the deal. From then on, progress was slow but steady.
Rufflet's jumps became higher, its wings started beating faster, and after a week of daily practice, Aaron finally saw it—
Rufflet's first real lift off the ground. It was only for a split second.
But it was a start. And that was all they needed.
By the third week, Aaron had shifted all focus to flying practice.
Now, Rufflet's wing was moving almost naturally, and Aaron could tell that it was eager to try again.
They started with short glides, using small hills in the clearing to let Rufflet get a feel for the air again.
The first time Rufflet tried?
It crashed.
Hard.
Aaron rushed over, heart pounding.
"Are you okay?"
Rufflet shook itself off, looking more angry than hurt.
Aaron sighed in relief. "Alright, let's try again. But this time, don't panic mid-air."
Rufflet squawked in protest, as if saying, I did not panic!
Aaron smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Just focus."
The next attempt was a little better.
Rufflet managed to stay in the air for almost three whole seconds before landing.
Then five seconds. Then ten. By the end of the month?
Rufflet was soaring through the clearing.
Aaron stood back, arms crossed, watching with pure satisfaction as Rufflet dipped and turned in the air, its movements getting sharper with each pass.
The wind ruffled Aaron's hair as Rufflet swooped low, circling him playfully before landing on a rock nearby.
Aaron grinned. "You're back to full strength."
Rufflet puffed out its chest, as if to say, Of course I am.
Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess that means we'll have to start real training now, huh?"
Rufflet chirped in agreement.
Aaron didn't know it yet, but this was only the beginning. Their journey together was just getting started.
Professor Samuel Oak had seen countless Pokémon trainers over the years—young hopefuls dreaming of becoming champions, researchers seeking knowledge, and breeders perfecting their craft.
But what had caught his attention this past month was something he had never expected.
Every morning, from the comfort of his lab, he had noticed the same scene—a boy, no older than seven, walking to a clearing near the woods.
At first, Oak hadn't paid it much attention. Children played in those fields all the time. But as the days passed, he began to notice a pattern.
The boy wasn't just playing. He was training something. And when Oak finally took out his binoculars one morning to get a better look…
He nearly dropped them in shock. That boy was Aaron Ketchum.
And the Pokémon?
A Rufflet. A Pokémon Out of Place
Rufflet was a Pokémon native to Unova, Alola. There was no logical reason for one to be in Pallet Town. And yet, there it was, perched on a rock, its wings half-extended as if preparing for flight.
Professor Oak watched as Aaron knelt down, speaking softly to the small bird. He couldn't hear what was being said, but the bond between them was clear as day.
Oak rubbed his chin. How did a Pokémon like that end up here?
Had someone imported it? Was it lost? Or had it been here all along, unnoticed?
More importantly…
Why hadn't Aaron told anyone?
Most children would have rushed to show off their new Pokémon, eager for guidance. But Aaron?
Aaron had kept quiet.
And that intrigued Professor Oak even more.
The next morning, Oak stood at his lab window, his eyes once again drawn to the clearing.
Aaron had arrived right on time.This time, something was different.
Rufflet wasn't just hopping from rock to rock—it was flying.
Oak's grip tightened on his binoculars as he watched the young bird take to the air, wings catching the breeze perfectly.
It wasn't just luck. It was trained skill. Aaron had helped that Pokémon heal, had nurtured it back to strength.
And he had done it without the guidance of a professor, a Pokédex, or even his own mother.
That was rare. That was special.
So Oak decided to do something he won't have ever done.
"Professor Oak?" The elderly man turned to see Delia Ketchum, standing at his doorstep with a warm smile.
"I brought your usual order," she said, holding a neatly packed lunchbox.
"Ah, Delia! Thank you, thank you." Oak accepted the package and glanced at her. "By the way, your son Aaron… he seems to be spending a lot of time near the woods."
Delia chuckled. "Oh, you've noticed? Yes, he's been sneaking off there every morning."
Oak's eyes twinkled. "I take it you know why?"
Delia's expression softened. "Yes, he found an injured Pokémon about a month ago. He's been taking care of it ever since."
Oak's curiosity grew. "Does he know what kind of Pokémon it is?"
Delia sighed. "Not at first. When he asked me, I couldn't remember the name, so I told him to look it up in my old books. That's how he found out it was a Rufflet."
Oak nodded. "And he's kept it a secret otherwise?"
Delia smiled. "Aaron's not the type to brag. He's independent, much like his father."
That was true. Unlike his twin, Ash, who was loud and full of energy, Aaron was quieter, more observant.
Oak had assumed he would follow a scholarly path, perhaps becoming a researcher one day.
But now, watching him train a Pokémon without any help…
The boy had the heart of a trainer.
Over the next few days, Oak continued his quiet observations.Rufflet's movements became sharper, its flying more refined.
Aaron gave instructions with patience, encouraging the bird every time it hesitated.
Oak saw something remarkable—Aaron wasn't just training Rufflet.
He was teaching it. And the bond between them was growing stronger.
Oak stroked his chin.
He had met many children who were passionate about Pokémon. But Aaron?
Aaron had something different.
He had the instincts of a natural trainer. Perhaps… he should keep an eye on this boy.
Ash Ketchum was many things—energetic, curious, and always eager to play. But above all, he was stubborn.
And for the past few weeks, something had been bothering him.
His twin brother, Aaron, was hiding something.
Every morning, before the sun had fully risen, Aaron would leave the house, walking off toward the woods near Pallet Town.
At first, Ash hadn't thought much of it—Aaron liked his alone time, and Ash was usually too busy playing with the other kids in town.
But then Ash had overheard his mother talking to Professor Oak.
"He found an injured Pokémon," she had said.
"And he's been taking care of it ever since."
Ash's eyes had widened. Aaron has a Pokémon?
His twin had never mentioned that! And if there was one thing Ash hated… It was being left out.
So that morning, Ash made a plan. He would follow Aaron. And he would find out the truth.
Ash had to be careful. If he was too loud, Aaron would notice as he always did.
So Ash waited.
He stayed a few steps behind, ducking behind fences, trees, and even a fruit stand when Aaron turned his head.
After about ten minutes, Aaron reached the clearing.
Ash crouched behind a thick bush, peeking through the leaves.
And then he saw it. A small Rufflet stood on a rock, fluffing its feathers, wings spread wide.
Ash's jaw nearly dropped. That's a real Pokémon!
His excitement bubbled up, but he clenched his fists, trying to stay quiet.
Aaron was talking to Rufflet, his voice low and calm.
"Alright, buddy. Just like yesterday. Small jumps first, then we'll go higher."
Rufflet let out a determined chirp. It hopped into the air, wings flapping hard.
For a moment, it hovered, staying steady.
Aaron smiled. "That's it, keep it—"
But then, Rufflet wobbled mid-air. It panicked, flailing as it started to fall.
Aaron stepped forward, ready to catch it—And that's when Ash forgot to be quiet.
"Whoa, that's so cool!"
Aaron froze.
Rufflet, startled, flapped its wings erratically— And crashed into a tree.
Aaron's heart skipped a beat.
"Rufflet!" He ran forward, his stomach twisting in fear.
The small bird tumbled to the ground, dazed but not unconscious.
Aaron sighed in relief. That could've been bad…
Then, he turned.And glared at Ash.
"You idiot!" Aaron snapped. "You scared him!"
Ash shrank back slightly. "I-I didn't mean to—"
Aaron turned back to Rufflet, carefully checking its wings. He ran his fingers along the feathers, making sure there were no new injuries.
Rufflet let out a soft chirp, shaking its head.
Aaron exhaled. He's okay. But his anger hadn't faded.
"What are you even doing here?" Aaron demanded, his voice still sharp.
Ash hesitated. "I… I wanted to see what you were doing."
Aaron clenched his fists. "And you didn't think to ask me first?!"
Ash frowned. "You never told me about Rufflet! You kept it a secret!"
Aaron stood up, still tense. "Because I was helping him recover! Not showing off!"
Ash's shoulders slumped. "I wasn't trying to ruin anything…"
Aaron sighed. His anger was still there, but…
Ash was just curious.Just like always.
Rufflet let out a soft chirp, hopping onto Aaron's shoulder.
Aaron turned back to his brother. "You almost hurt him." Ash rubbed his arm. "I know… I'm sorry."
Aaron stared at him for a long moment. Then, he sighed again.
"Just… be quieter next time." Ash perked up. "Wait… does that mean I can come back?"
Aaron smirked slightly. "Maybe. If you don't mess up again."
Ash grinned. "I won't!"
Aaron shook his head. He doubted that. But maybe… just maybe…It wouldn't be so bad to let Ash tag along.