Orion stares at the staffing spreadsheet on his tablet. The numbers don't work.
He could ask the superheroes. Valeria, Kamala, Batgirl, the Titans. But heroes operate on their own schedules. One alarm, one crisis, one world-ending event, and they're gone. He needs people who'll show up because they chose to. People who aren't pulled away by duty or destiny.
The thought arrives fully formed, and he sets the tablet down.
Four faces. Four trainers who came to Pokémon Home before the tournament, before the world changed. Before Pokémon were on every screen and in every conversation.
He pulls up the customer database and scrolls through the early entries.
Marcus Bellwether. Lottery winner. Lillipup. Former accountant who quit his job to start a Pokémon walking service in Central Park. The kind of man who kneels to eye level when talking to a Pokémon. Reliable. Patient. The sort of person who shows up every day because that's who he is.
Orion taps the contact icon.
Marcus answers on the second ring. "Hey, Orion. What's up?"
"I have a proposition. A big one."
"I'm listening."
Orion explains the festival. The scale, the need for experienced trainers who can work the ground. Not fighting. Not performing. Just being there, helping people understand what Pokémon are.
Marcus is quiet for a moment. Then: "You need people who won't flake."
"Exactly."
"Count me in. Lillipup and I have been walking the same routes for months. It's time to do something bigger."
Orion feels the first knot in his chest loosen. "Thank you, Marcus."
"Don't thank me yet. Wait until you see how much Lillipup sheds on your merchandise tables."
Orion smiles and ends the call. One down.
The next name on the list is Evelyn Cross. Lottery winner. Abra. Astrophysicist who spent twenty years being told her theories were untestable. She talks to her Pokémon like a research partner and forgets to eat when she's working. Socially oblivious, brilliant, and fiercely loyal to the few beings she connects with.
She answers on the fourth ring, distracted. "Orion? I'm in the middle of calibrating a dimensional resonance scanner, so this better be important."
"It is. I'm organizing a Pokémon festival. Multiple cities. I need trainers who understand Pokémon to help run educational booths and manage crowd interactions."
"The statistical probability of a single individual coordinating a multi-city event with no prior infrastructure is—"
"Evelyn."
"Yes?"
"Can you help?"
A pause. He hears her pen tapping against her teeth. Then Abra teleports onto the desk with a soft pop, and Evelyn's voice softens.
"Abra says yes. Which means I suppose I'm saying yes as well. But I'm bringing my scanner. If there are dimensional anomalies at these events, I want to know about them."
"That's fine. Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Thank Abra. I was going to say no."
Orion can hear the lie in her voice. She was never going to say no. Two down.
The third call goes to Jax Jefferson. Lottery winner. Litten. Retired wrestler who opened a gym in Brooklyn and trains both humans and Pokémon. Loud, proud, and pushes everyone harder than they want to be pushed. But his heart is in the right place, and Litten chose him for a reason.
"Orion! My man! What's happening?"
"Jax, I need help with a festival. Pokémon demonstrations, crowd management, trainer support. It's a big commitment."
"How big?"
"Three cities. Multiple days. You'd be on your feet, working with the public, answering questions."
Jax laughs. "Orion, champ, I spent twenty years in front of crowds. You think a few thousand people with questions about Pokémon is gonna scare me? Litten and I are in. Just tell us when and where."
"You don't want to know the details first?"
"The details are you need help and I got time. That's all I need. Besides, Litten's been itching for a real audience. The gym's getting boring."
Orion shakes his head, grinning. "I'll send you the schedule."
"You do that, champ. And Orion? This is gonna be huge. I can feel it."
Three down. One to go.
The final name is Lena Petrova. Lottery winner. Oddish. Florist who immigrated from Ukraine and found her voice through flowers. Quiet, gentle, and apologizes for things that aren't her fault. She speaks to plants and Pokémon in whispers, and they listen.
She answers softly. "Hello?"
"Lena, it's Orion Oak. From Pokémon Home."
"Oh! Hello. Is everything alright with Oddish?"
"Oddish is fine. I'm calling because I'm organizing a festival. A celebration of Pokémon across three cities. I need trainers who can help people understand what it means to partner with a Pokémon. I thought of you."
Lena is quiet for so long Orion thinks the call dropped. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper: "You thought of me?"
"You have a gift for making people feel calm around Pokémon. That's rare. That's valuable."
"I… I don't know what to say. I'm not very good with crowds."
"You won't be alone. You'll be with other trainers. And Oddish will be with you."
Another pause. He hears her touch something — a leaf, a petal, something living.
"Oddish wants to go," she says quietly. "And I… I think I do too. If that's okay."
"It's more than okay. Thank you, Lena."
"Thank you for asking me. Most people don't… notice people like me."
"I notice."
He ends the call and sets the tablet down. Four trainers. Four volunteers who said yes without hesitation, without contracts, without negotiation. They said yes because they care about Pokémon and they trust him.
Pikachu hops onto the desk. "PIKA PI?"
"Four more. That's a start."
Latias appears in the doorway, still in her human form, holding a cup of tea. "You look less stressed."
"I found my ground staff. The core of it, anyway. We'll still need more, but these four… they're solid."
Latias sets the tea beside him. "You chose well. I can feel it."
Orion picks up the tea and takes a sip. The spreadsheet still has gaps. The permits still need filing. The sponsors still need convincing. But the foundation is there.
Four people who showed up when he needed them. Not because they had to. Because they wanted to.
That's how the world changes. Not all at once. One person at a time.
***
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Advance chapters in P@T0n Najicablitz.