The world shimmered into existence, not in the sterile white of his last moments, nor the familiar glow of his old monitor, but in the vibrant, undeniable green of a new dawn. Sunlight, thick and golden, poured through a window, illuminating dust motes dancing like tiny sprites
. The air itself smelled different – earthy, alive, infused with the subtle scent of budding leaves and distant wildness. He blinked, the ceiling fan above him a blur, and a sudden, sharp clarity pierced through the lingering fog.
Truck-kun. The memory was jarring, swift, and then – nothing. Until now.
He sat up, his body feeling oddly… lighter? Younger? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, noting the unfamiliar Pokémon-themed wallpaper. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed it: he was definitely not in his late twenties anymore. This face, younger, sharper, with an unmistakable spark of curiosity in its eyes, was his new reality. And then the memories flooded in, not just of his past life, but of this life.
His name was Alex. He was fifteen. And he was in Pallet Town.
A grin, wide and uncontrollable, spread across his face. Pallet Town. The starting line. This wasn't some elaborate dream. This was real. The vibrant world he'd only experienced through screens and ink, the world of elemental battles, powerful creatures, and endless adventure, was now his. And he knew things. So much. The intricate dance of abilities, the raw potential hidden in every creature, the nuances of combat that went beyond simple type matchups.
Plus ,he had a terrifyingly good grasp of them, albeit in this world's wonderfully loose, anime-logic sort of way. He could sense things, subtly influence them. It was like his very being hummed with an innate psychic affinity, an intuition that whispered secrets about people and Pokémon alike.
His goal solidified in his mind, sharp and clear: become the strongest trainer. Not just strong, but unrivaled. He'd capture every legendary, master every strategy, and etch his name into the annals of Pokémon history.
And perhaps, along the way, he'd charm a few powerful women who were more than just pixels on a screen. Misty, Sabrina, Cynthia, Bea, Diantha, Caitlin, Lusamine… the thought brought another surge of excitement. The secret of his past life? That was staying under lock and key. Best not to freak people out with tales of Truck-kun and digital dimensions.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Alex! Are you up? Professor Oak's lab is going to be packed!" It was his mom's voice, warm and familiar, even if her face was still a bit new to him.
"Coming!" he shouted, a new sense of purpose thrumming in his veins. Today was the day. The day he got his first Pokémon. He knew exactly who he wanted.
Alex burst out of the house, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement. The air was buzzing with the distant cries of wild Pidgey and Rattata, and the general hubbub of Pallet Town waking up.
He practically floated down the street, his mind already conjuring images of epic battles and legendary captures. He was so giddy, he almost didn't notice a startled Pidgey nearly fly into his face. He deftly sidestepped it, a tiny, subconscious pulse of his nascent psychic abilities giving him an almost precognitive dodge. "Whoops, sorry, feathered friend!" he chirped, earning a confused tweet in return.
He arrived at Professor Oak's lab, a building he'd only ever seen as pixels, but now felt as solid and real as his own youthful bones. The front door was ajar, and a cacophony of youthful voices spilled out.
"No way, Charmander's the best!"
"Are you kidding? Squirtle's way cooler!"
Alex paused, a small smirk playing on his lips. Typical. He glanced inside. The main lab was already bustling. A few familiar faces, now flesh and blood, were clustered around the circular platform where the Poké Balls rested.
"Well, well, if it isn't the sleepyhead," a familiar voice drawled, laced with a hint of smugness. Alex turned, a playful grin on his face. "Gary," he greeted, "always fashionably late, I see." Gary scoffed, adjusting his pristine blue jacket. "I was just letting you have your moment. Wouldn't want to steal your thunder, loser." Alex chuckled. "Don't worry, Gary. There's plenty of thunder to go around."
Suddenly, another voice piped up, a little more timid, a little more awestruck. "Wow, Gary, you got Squirtle! That's so cool!" Alex's gaze shifted to the speaker – a boy with perpetually messy black hair and a wide-eyed enthusiasm. Ash Ketchum, his mind supplied. Huh, he looks even younger in person.
"Of course, it's cool, Ash," Gary retorted, striking a pose. "Only the best for the best." He clearly had chosen the speedy Water-type, meaning the fiery lizard was still available.
Alex, however, wasn't paying much attention to their banter. His eyes were drawn to the remaining Poké Balls. One was empty, another contained a Charmander, and the last, sitting quietly.
There you are, he thought, a wave of warmth washing over him. His psychic intuition, still a faint hum, was picking up on the emotions of the other aspiring trainers – their anticipation, their anxieties, their competitive fire. He could almost sense the latent potential within them, too.
He noted the slight, almost imperceptible twitch in Gary's shoulder, a tell that revealed his own confidence was perhaps a tad performative. This wasn't just about picking a Pokémon; it was about understanding the landscape, sizing up the competition with a wink and a smile. He was talented, yes, but he wasn't about to be arrogant. A little observation, a little charm, that's how you played the long game.
Professor Oak, sensing the lull in the excitement, boomed, "And what about you, young man? Have you made your choice?"
Alex pushed himself off the bookshelf, a confident smile on his face. "Indeed, Professor. I have." He strode towards the platform, his steps deliberate, his gaze fixed on the Bulbasaur's Poké Ball. "I'll take this one, if you please."
Professor Oak beamed. "An excellent choice! Bulbasaur is a fine Pokémon, steady and reliable. A true partner."
As Alex took the Poké Ball, a tiny pulse of his psychic ability brushed against it, giving him a fleeting impression of the Pokémon inside – calm, determined, and… eager. He already felt a connection.
"Alright, Alex," Professor Oak continued,
"Here's your Pokédex and your initial supply of Poké Balls. May they serve you well on your journey." He handed Alex a sleek red device and a set of six white and red spheres.
Without missing a beat, Alex activated the Pokédex, pointing it at the Poké Ball in his hand. The screen flickered to life, displaying Bulbasaur's image and basic information. He released Bulbasaur. The small, quadrupedal Pokémon emerged in a flash of light, its bulb gleaming in the lab's artificial light. It looked up at Alex with intelligent, verdant eyes.
"Hey there, buddy," Alex said softly, extending a hand. Bulbasaur nudged his hand with its head, a low rumble emanating from its throat.
Gary, never one to be outdone, scoffed. "Showoff. Think you're so special just because you picked Bulbasaur?"
Alex raised an eyebrow, a challenge glinting in his eyes. "Care to find out, Gary?"
Gary's competitive spirit flared. "You're on! Let's see what that overgrown weed can do!"
Professor Oak, ever the pragmatist, cleared his throat. "Now, now, Gary. Perhaps a friendly spar is in order."
The lab was quickly cleared to make way for a makeshift battlefield. Ash watched with wide-eyed fascination, while Professor Oak observed with a knowing smile.
"Alright, Squirtle, let's go!" Gary commanded, tossing his Poké Ball. Squirtle landed with a confident stance, its shell gleaming.
"Bulbasaur," Alex said calmly, "Vine Whip!"
Bulbasaur responded instantly, two thick vines extending from its bulb, lashing out with surprising speed and force. Squirtle was caught off guard, taking a direct hit. The impact resonated with a dull thud.
"Squirtle, Water Gun!" Gary yelled, trying to regain the initiative.
"Dodge and use Tackle!" Alex countered, his voice steady. His psychic intuition nudged him, guiding Bulbasaur's evasion.
Bulbasaur, with a surprising agility that belied its size, evaded the Water Gun with a swift leap and slammed into Squirtle, sending the turtle Pokémon skidding across the floor. Gary's face was a mask of frustration. He knew Alex was good, but this was… unexpected.
"One more time, Vine Whip!" Alex commanded, his voice calm and confident.
Bulbasaur's vines lashed out again, this time wrapping around Squirtle, effectively immobilizing it.
"Squirtle, break free!" Gary shouted, but it was too late.
"Bulbasaur, finish it with Tackle!" Alex declared.
Bulbasaur charged, slamming into the trapped Squirtle with full force. Squirtle fainted, its eyes swirling.A stunned silence filled the lab. Even Gary seemed speechless.
Alex recalled Bulbasaur, a proud smile on his face. "Thanks, buddy. You were amazing." He turned to Gary, his smile widening. "Well, Gary? Seems like the 'overgrown weed' isn't so bad after all."
Gary, his pride wounded, could only sputter. "Beginner's luck! You just wait, I'll beat you next time!"
Alex just chuckled, knowing, with a certainty that went beyond mere knowledge, that this was just the beginning. And he was going to enjoy every moment of it.