Darkness.
That was the first thing I felt. Not pain. Not fear. Just... nothing. Like I'd been unplugged.
One second, I was yelling at a kid to move out of the way of a construction vehicle. The next? Bam. Me, human pancake. Crushed under a runaway excavator that decided to go rogue right as I pushed a grandmother and her grandson out of its path.
Not exactly the heroic death I had in mind, but hey, at least someone lived.
Then—light.
I opened my eyes, or at least, I thought I did. All around me was an infinite void, white as bleach and just as sterile.
"Processing soul 00892-SEA-T-23," a robotic voice echoed around me. "Analyzing karmic deviation. Evaluating redemption metrics... Final result: Positive. Award granted: Reincarnation token x1."
"What the hell?" I muttered, or at least tried to. I had no mouth, no body, yet somehow... I existed.
A floating screen appeared before me. Like something ripped straight from a bad RPG.
🌌 RANDOMIZED OMNIVERSAL BUREAUCRACY SYSTEM (R.O.B.)
Soul: Ray Takeda (Earth-2134)
Cause of Death: Accidental Heroism – Excavator Splat
Karma Level: +87 (Above Average)
Qualified for: Reincarnation Program (Special Roll)
Rolling for World...
🎲 [Pokémon – Variant Universe 037B]
Rolling for Perk...
🎲 [Unique Ability: Statsight]
"Perk Assigned: You can perceive the hidden potential (Color Aptitudes) of all Pokémon. Bonus: You receive instinctive insight into how to improve their growth."
"Wait, hold on," I said to nobody. "I don't even know that much about Pokémon! I played the old Game Boy games as a kid and watched, like, two seasons of the anime."
A new voice chimed in. This one... smug.
"Not my problem, kid," it said, and out of the light emerged a figure made entirely of shifting cubes and data streams. He wore a bowtie. Why? No idea.
"I'm R.O.B.—Randomized Omniversal Bureaucrat. Congratulations on your reincarnation. Please enjoy your new life. And try not to die as embarrassingly next time."
"Wait, wait, wait—!"
Too late.
A flash of light engulfed me, and the next thing I knew...
I was screaming.
My first memory was noise.
Not voices. Not words.
Noise.
Loud, muffled, chaotic, like someone crumpling a paper bag beside my ear for hours. I couldn't see. Everything was too bright, too close. Or maybe too far. My eyes were useless. Just vague blurs of light, shapes moving like shadows behind fogged glass.
I tried to scream, but it came out as a weak, shrill wail.
Where am I? What is this?
The warmth around me shifted. I felt wrapped in something—soft, heavy. Hands held me, gentle yet trembling. A chorus of voices surrounded me, but I couldn't understand a word. It was like trying to decode gibberish underwater.
Days passed. Maybe weeks.
Time had no meaning. I ate, slept, cried. That was the rhythm.
And then… the fog began to lift.
By the end of the first month, I could make out shapes.
Blurry silhouettes hovered above me—sometimes smiling, sometimes exhausted, sometimes whispering words I couldn't comprehend. My eyes ached when I tried to focus, but little by little, the blur became form.
My mother.
She had long, wavy chestnut hair and pale amber eyes that always looked like they were smiling, even when she was too tired to lift her lips. Her voice was soft, melodic, and her skin smelled faintly of berries and something earthy.
My father was tall, lean, and rugged in a comforting way. His jaw was always dotted with stubble, and he had strong arms that held me with surprising gentleness. His hair was dark, nearly black, and his eyes were sharp like storm clouds. When he spoke, it was deep but warm—like a fire on a cold night.
They called me "Ray."
It wasn't just familiar. It was my name.
Coincidence? Fate?
I didn't know. But it grounded me.
Around three months in, I noticed something else.
The language.
It wasn't English. Nor Spanish. Nor Japanese. None of the tongues from Earth.
But it had rhythm. Structure. Repetition.
I began to identify certain sounds. Tones that always followed actions. When I cried, my mother said a word that sounded like "shahla." She'd bounce me, and it meant comfort. When my father changed me, he'd mutter something that resembled "pakka."
And always, "Mama." "Papa." Clear. Constant.
By the sixth month, I could babble. Not well. But enough to mimic.
"Mama," I said one morning, tugging on her sleeve. Her eyes widened. She nearly dropped the spoon in her hand.
After that, I became the world's smallest celebrity.
By my first birthday, I could crawl like a demon and speak with toddler simplicity. Food, bathroom, up, more, no, yes, and Ray want. I was basically a pint-sized negotiator.
But more importantly… I began to understand.
The world around me wasn't just a blur of light and noise anymore. It had shape. Structure. Culture.
We lived in a modest two-story home in a town called Glendale, nestled between forested hills and a winding river. Wooden houses dotted the streets, and everything smelled like fresh grass and warm bread. People wore practical clothes—sometimes with Pokéballs clipped to their belts, other times with nothing but farmer's tools.
And there were Pokémon.
Real Pokémon.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating. But no—one neighbor had a Miltank. Another had a Furret that lounged on his shoulders like a living scarf. I saw a Hoppip float through the garden, and once, a Pidgeotto perched on our roof, its wings ruffling in the morning sun.
Names. Creatures. Elements from the games I once played.
But not exactly the same.
The world was… deeper. More alive. Not just about battles or badges.
There were academies, guilds, research camps, and trainer courts where disputes were settled through tactical duels.
I was still too young to grasp the full structure, but I learned this much: children couldn't become official trainers until the age of fifteen. Until then, they studied. Trained. Watched. Prepared.
And me?
I had Statsight. A perk I didn't yet understand.
But something told me… when it awakened, it would change everything.
For now, I was just a small child in a warm home with loving parents, in a world that felt both wondrous and terrifying.
And I had time.
Time to grow.
Time to learn.
Time… to become strong.