Chapter 51: Meeting Erin Oak

The smell of sweat and chalk clung to the walls of the Pokémon Technical Institute as we stepped inside. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the pristine floors. Ash, Pikachu, Misty, Brock, and Joe crowded around me, their chatter blending into the constant hum of the building.

"Where can I find Erin Oak?" I asked Joe, my voice low but cutting, pushing through the noise.

Joe hesitated, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Misty, ever the firecracker, jumped in before he could respond. "Erin, Erin, Erin… is she as beautiful as Giselle?" Her voice was dripping with mockery, but there was an undercurrent of something else—jealousy, maybe.

Joe gulped, his eyes darting toward Misty before he finally answered, "A hundred times more."

I didn't even blink. "Where can I find her?" I asked again, sharper this time. I didn't have time for their insecurities. "I've got a deal with Oak."

Brock, always the curious one, raised an eyebrow. "We didn't ask before… how did you even get here?"

"I flew in on Pidgeot," I replied, my tone as casual as if I were commenting on the weather.

Ash's eyes widened. "Wait... you have Pidgeot now?"

Misty leaned in, smug as ever. "He had a Pidgey that evolved into Pidgeot. Don't you remember his Pidgey back in Viridian City?"

Ash's face flushed, the memory hitting him like a slap. Before he could respond, Joe, sensing the rising tension, quickly cleared his throat. "She's probably on the terrace. That's where she spends most of her time."

I gave a quick nod, not even waiting for the rest of them to catch up.

The terrace was a world apart from the chaos inside the institute. The wind whipped past me as I pushed open the heavy door. The city stretched out far below, distant, unimportant. Up here, it was just the sky, the hum of distant traffic, and the girl.

Erin Oak sat perched on the edge, her legs dangling off the side like she didn't care about the sheer drop below. Her oversized green hoodie swallowed her small frame, the sleeves rolled up messily to keep them from dragging. She was holding a small notebook loosely in her hands, but she wasn't writing or drawing. Just sitting. Just… existing.

She didn't even turn when I walked up. It was like I didn't exist to her either. For a moment, I watched her—watched the way her fingers tapped against the notebook, the way her eyes stared blankly at the skyline. 

There was something… off about her. She wasn't scared, exactly, but there was a tension in her, something deep and unresolved. It wasn't hard to guess what.

"So this is the kid I have to take care of," I muttered under my breath. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭.

I sat down beside her, my posture mirroring hers. She turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of those hazel eyes. They were distant, lost in thought, and when they finally settled on me, there was no flicker of recognition. No curiosity. Just calm detachment.

"I'm Punit Setia," I said, cutting straight to the point. "Your grandfather sent me to pick you up. You'll be traveling with me now. Let's see if we can fix that fear of yours."

Her response was flat, as if I'd just commented on the weather. "Erin."

I blinked, caught off guard by how little she gave me to work with. "Do you always talk this much?"

"Sometimes," she said, the same quiet, almost monotone voice.

I stared at her, half in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

She tilted her head slightly, like she didn't quite understand the question. "Serious?"

I ran a hand through my hair. 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘗𝘰𝘬é𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵.

I glanced at her outfit—an absolute mess. "Why are you wearing these ridiculous clothes?" I asked, more curious than judgmental.

She didn't miss a beat. "Grabbed whatever I found."

I muttered a curse under my breath, shaking my head. "Do you have a Pokégear?"

"In my room," she replied.

I nodded, standing up and adjusting my sling bag. "Pack your things. I'll message you when we're leaving."

Without a word, Erin stood and headed toward the stairs, her steps slow, deliberate, like she was walking through a dream. I watched her go, a knot forming in my gut. This wasn't going to be as simple as I thought.

With a sigh, I turned and followed her, the distant buzz of the institute growing louder as we descended. My mind raced, already trying to figure out how to break through that calm exterior of hers. She was going to need more than strategies and theory. She needed to face her fear. And I was the one who'd have to push her into it.

But there was something else, too—a feeling I couldn't shake. Like this journey was going to be more than just about fixing her.