Kato Shin was a man who lived in the shadows of code.
Firewalls, encryption layers, backdoors—these were his battlefield. Corporations hired him to patch holes in their networks, to build defenses no intruder could slip through. Hackers whispered his name with respect, sometimes even fear. To most, he was a ghost in the machine, a protector who always stayed ten steps ahead.
But brilliance breeds jealousy.
Some colleagues admired him. Others resented him. And resentment, when nurtured long enough, turns poisonous.
It began with whispers in the breakroom. Then came cold stares during meetings. Eventually, a trap was set. A carefully crafted exploit, planted deep inside a company's system, timed to trigger failure during peak operations. And when the alarms blared, the evidence—digital fingerprints, access logs, even fragments of compiled code—all pointed directly at Kato Shin.
The trial was a blur. Prosecutors waved "irrefutable" logs. The press painted him as a traitor. And the court, eager for a scapegoat, ignored his defense.
"Fabricated. All of it!" Shin shouted in the courtroom. "Check the hashes! Look at the anomalies in the timestamps!"
No one listened. To them, he was just a criminal genius who had finally overstepped.
In a single day, his reputation crumbled. The protector was branded the infiltrator. The man who built walls was accused of tearing them down.
Prison was suffocating. Concrete walls and iron bars couldn't restrain his mind, though. Days became weeks, weeks became years, and while his body wore the prison uniform, his thoughts pieced together the truth. Every anomaly, every forged log, every falsified timestamp—he traced them back to the handful of colleagues who had envied him most.
By the time he was released, he no longer carried hope for justice. What he carried instead was proof. Evidence that showed exactly who had sabotaged him.
He confronted them, expecting silence or fear. Instead, he was met with laughter.
"Still clinging to data?" one sneered. "You really haven't changed."
"Pathetic," another said. "Even with your so-called proof, no one will believe you."
They mocked him. They mocked the years stolen from him. They mocked the ruins of his career.
That laughter snapped something inside him.
But Shin was not reckless. He didn't lash out blindly. He was precise. He built a bomb, designed only for those who had orchestrated his downfall. When the explosion thundered through the night, fire swallowed their arrogance whole.
From that moment, Kato Shin became a fugitive.
For two years, he lived like a shadow. Always on the move, changing safe houses, cycling through fake identities. He encrypted every digital trace, destroyed every trail. He never ate in the same diner twice, never lingered in the same district longer than a week. Paranoia was survival, and he trusted no one.
But even the most careful man can't run forever.
It happened on a rain-slick night. Police cornered him in an alley, sirens wailing, red and blue lights bouncing off wet concrete. His side burned where a bullet had grazed him, blood soaking through his jacket.
Breath ragged, Shin slumped against the wall. He knew his body had reached its limit. His legs refused to move. His vision blurred.
For the first time in years, he allowed himself to stop.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"If there's another life… let me live it stronger. Let me live it free. Let me never be powerless again."
The world dimmed. The sirens faded.
Darkness claimed him.
-
Shin opened his eyes—if "eyes" were even the right word. There was no ground beneath him, no stars above, no sound except his own steady breathing. Just an endless void.
Then came the voice.
"How entertaining. A man betrayed by his peers, consumed by revenge, yet still burning with the desire to rise again. Kato Shin… you are interesting."
The presence behind the voice was overwhelming—immense, ancient, and suffocating.
Shin straightened, instinctively guarded. "Who are you?"
The voice chuckled, low and amused.
"I existed before space stretched wide, before time began to tick, before matter took form. If you need a name, call me a god."
Shin's instincts screamed caution. He remembered betrayal, mockery, and falsified evidence. Trust was a currency he no longer handed out.
"Why me?" he asked coldly. "Out of billions who die every day, why choose me?"
The void rippled as though the entity were smiling.
"Because your soul is rare. It shines bright as the sun… yet it is steeped in darkness. Light and shadow, brilliance and corruption, bound in one vessel. Such contrast is rare… and fascinating."
Shin narrowed his eyes. "Then tell me—what's in it for you? No one gives anything for free. Not even gods."
For a moment, silence filled the void. Then the voice answered, almost lazily:
"Entertainment. I have lived far too long. I can peer into the past, I can glimpse the future. But that makes existence dull, predictable. For my amusement, I choose not to look at your path. I will not peek into what awaits you. In the Pokémon world, your struggles, your choices—they will be a surprise, even to me."
Shin's lips curled into a bitter smile. "So I'm your spectacle."
"Precisely. And a rare one."
The god's laughter boomed across the void.
-
"You don't have to believe me," the god continued. "Whether you doubt or not, I will grant you this: three wishes, and the world of your choosing."
Shin's eyes narrowed. "Generosity always has a price."
"Naturally. The greater your wishes, the harsher the world you'll face. Balance must be kept."
He stayed silent for a long while. Every word, every possibility was weighed carefully. Finally, he spoke:
"My first wish: send me to the Pokémon world. And grant me complete knowledge—breeding, food production, training, Pokéblocks, everything ever recorded about Pokémon."
The void pulsed.
"Knowledge, hm? A vast treasury. Very well. But know this: with such mastery, the world will test you harshly."
Shin nodded once, as if he expected nothing less. Then he continued:
"My second wish: a system. Simple, limited. It should only let me check the aptitude of Pokémon and Pokémon eggs… and identify items along with their quality. Nothing more."
The god chuckled.
"Restrained, yet sharp. Knowledge of creatures, clarity of tools—balanced choices for a cautious man. Granted."
Finally, Shin clenched his fists. "My third wish… I want to be very lucky."
Silence swallowed the void. Then came booming laughter.
"Luck! A dangerous request. Fortune can raise kings or destroy them just as easily. It is fickle, wild, untamed. But if that is what you desire… so be it."
The darkness cracked. Light spilled through, pulling Shin's soul toward something vast, radiant, and unknown.
His last thought before vanishing was sharp, cautious, and determined:
This time, I'll be prepared.
And with that, Kato Shin's new life began.