Pain.
That was the first thing Kato Shin became aware of.
Every nerve screamed. Every bone ached as though his body had been wrung dry. His chest was hollow, his limbs fragile. When he tried to move, sharp agony tore through him. He glanced at his hands—thin, skeletal, trembling. The hands of someone who hadn't eaten enough in months.
This body was starving. Malnourished. Broken.
And then his mind cracked apart.
A tidal wave of memories slammed into him, relentless and merciless. Childhood laughter. Parents who worked themselves ragged. Warm meals. Fleeting happiness. Then—fire. Screams. Silence. Emptiness. Loneliness so vast it hollowed him out.
The flood lasted twenty minutes before subsiding, leaving him shivering and drenched in sweat. But there was no reprieve. A second torrent struck—knowledge. Endless knowledge. Every fragment of data about Pokémon, every theory, every discovery. Breeding mechanics, battle strategies, evolutionary quirks—it all seared into his mind. The weight of it nearly broke him. For half an hour he endured, gasping, until at last the storm faded.
When he could think again, the truth crystallized. Two lives, two sets of memories—his own, and those of this frail boy.
And he remembered how this body came to be lying broken in a nameless street.
Robbery. A handful of Pokédollars snatched away by street punks. He had tried to resist, pride forcing his fists up—until one of them revealed a Pokéball.
That changed everything.
If it had been knives, he might have fought. Cuts and bruises were survivable. But a Pokémon? Even the weakest Caterpie or Weedle could maim, poison, or kill. The difference between a man with a blade and a man with a Pokémon was the difference between earth and sky. Between predator and prey.
So he surrendered the money. Swallowed his pride. And they laughed at him. Beat him bloody anyway, simply because they could.
That was the reality.
Shin's fists clenched, his thin frame shaking. This wasn't the colorful fantasy of games or anime. Here, Pokémon were not companions. They were weapons. Power. Authority.
And power was everything.
Aptitude divided the world—Bronze, Iron, Silver, Gold, Diamond, Platinum. The higher the aptitude, the faster a Pokémon grew, the stronger it became. The wealthy monopolized the best. The poor starved, trampled before they could even begin.
"So this is the world…" Shin whispered, forcing himself upright. Every breath was a trial, every step a war against his own body. Still, he pushed on.
Then—
A crash. A roar.
Instinct screamed danger, but curiosity drove him forward. Old habits—the same curiosity that once cracked encrypted vaults—refused to let him turn away.
Five agonizing minutes later, he saw it.
A battlefield.
And at its center stood a man whose name was legend: Professor Samuel Oak. White-haired, sharp-eyed, his very presence commanded the air around him. Beside him loomed a giant—Dragonite. Its scales shimmered in the moonlight, its wings stretched wide, and raw power radiated from its massive frame.
The ground was littered with bodies. Men in black uniforms, a bold red R across their chests. Team Rocket. Defeated, scattered like discarded dolls. The stench of battle lingered—burnt fabric, scorched pavement, blood in the air.
Shin's breath caught. Dragonite did this… alone.
Then its head turned.
Eyes like molten gold locked onto him.
The growl that followed shook the street, and when the dragon roared, it was not just sound but killing intent given form. Shin's knees buckled. His lungs froze. Death pressed down on him like a mountain.
And he knew—if Dragonite struck, he would vanish.
"Stop, Dragonite."
The calm voice cut through the storm.
The beast halted, though its gaze never wavered.
Professor Oak stepped forward, his tone steady but sharp. "That boy… are you with Team Rocket?"
Shin shook his head instantly, pain stabbing his ribs. "No… I'm not."
"Words are cheap," Oak replied coldly. "Do you carry registration? A trainer ID?"
Shin lowered his head. "…No."
The silence that followed was suffocating. His instincts screamed that he had walked into something far above his level. If Oak judged him an enemy, Dragonite would erase him in an instant.
"Your name," Oak demanded.
"Kato Shin."
Oak's eyes flickered with thought. Then, to Shin's shock, the professor said flatly, "Lead me to the Team Rocket base entrance."
"…What? Why me? You could—"
"Lead me," Oak repeated. His tone allowed no refusal.
And so Shin obeyed. Each step was agony until, midway, Oak silently released a Chansey. Gentle light washed over Shin's battered body, dulling the pain, knitting wounds just enough to move.
Shin hesitated before asking, "…Why are you going to their base?"
Oak's reply was calm, absolute. "To destroy it. This one is in Pewter City."
Shin froze. "…You've done this before?"
"Four times," Oak said simply.
The chill that ran through Shin's spine was sharper than any blade. This man had torn down four Rocket strongholds already? To follow him was to walk hand-in-hand with death itself.
Unless…
"Professor Oak," Shin began carefully, "what if I acted as a spy inside Team Rocket—"
The air changed.
In an instant, the kindly scholar vanished. Killing intent burst from Oak like a tidal wave. Dragonite tensed, claws ready.
"You want to join Team Rocket?" Oak's voice was a blade's edge.
Shin's lungs seized, every instinct shrieking to stay silent. But he forced the words out. "Yes… but hear me out."
"Give me one reason I shouldn't end you here and now."
Shin met that suffocating gaze with shaking resolve. "Because destroying this base won't end them. They'll rise again. If I infiltrate, I can strike at the roots, not just the branches."
Oak's eyes narrowed. The pressure remained crushing.
"I don't care about money," Shin pressed on. "I don't care about League registration. What I want… is to live on my own terms. To choose how I live or die—not let others decide it for me."
"And why," Oak asked coldly, "should I trust you not to betray me?"
Shin's body trembled, sweat dripping down his face. But he answered anyway: "Record this conversation. Keep it. If I betray you, it proves everything. My life would already be forfeit."
The silence stretched endlessly. Dragonite's claws gleamed, ready to move.
Then—
"…What do you want, boy?"
Shin exhaled, forcing calm into his voice. "Resources. That's all. Give me the tools. I'll handle the rest."
Oak studied him for a long, piercing moment. Then, at last, the killing aura receded.
"…Very well," he said. His voice softened, though steel still lurked beneath. "I will trust you, Kato Shin. Do not make me regret it."
The crushing weight lifted. Shin nearly collapsed from the release of pressure, his heart pounding like a drum of survival.
And Oak, once again the legendary scholar, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Remember, boy. One step out of line… and even luck won't save you."