Kenji's normal day lasted exactly forty-three minutes.
He had been keeping track. Forty-three minutes of peaceful, uneventful normalcy. They had walked through the streets of Pewter City, window-shopping at the small stores. They had visited the Pewter Museum of Science, where Blue had gotten unreasonably excited about fossil exhibits. They had stopped at a small cafe for tea and pastries, sitting outside in the pleasant morning sun like regular people having a regular day.
Forty-three minutes.
And then the sky turned green.
"That's not normal," Blue observed, looking up at the rapidly shifting colors above them.
"Nothing about my life is normal," Kenji replied, already reaching for his Pokeballs. "I've accepted this."
Red was on his feet, Pikachu sparking on his shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon. "Something's coming. Something big."
"How big are we talking?"
Red pointed.
Kenji looked.
His brain briefly considered shutting down and refused, because apparently his consciousness was a glutton for punishment.
Rayquaza.
The Sky High Pokemon. The legendary dragon of the ozone layer. The creature that had ended the ancient war between Kyogre and Groudon, that lived in the upper atmosphere where no other being could survive, that was worshipped as a god by civilizations across the world.
It was descending from the clouds like a living aurora, its serpentine body coiling through the air, green scales glinting with an inner light. It had to be at least forty feet long—probably longer—and every inch of it radiated power that made the air itself seem to vibrate.
"THAT'S RAYQUAZA!" Blue screamed, his voice cracking in a way that would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances. "THAT'S THE ACTUAL RAYQUAZA! THE ONE FROM THE LEGENDS! THE SKY DRAGON GOD!"
"I can see that, Blue."
"WHY IS IT HERE?!"
"Take a wild guess."
The citizens of Pewter City were reacting exactly as one might expect when a legendary dragon descended upon their quiet mountain town. Screaming. Running. Fainting. One elderly woman was shaking her fist at the sky and yelling something about "young Pokemon these days having no respect."
Rayquaza paid them no attention.
Its golden eyes—ancient, impossibly ancient, containing the memory of every storm and every sky since the beginning of time—were fixed entirely on Kenji.
"Hi," Kenji said weakly. "Let me guess. You have a Pokeball for me."
Rayquaza roared.
It was a sound that bypassed the ears entirely and went straight to the soul. A declaration of power, of majesty, of absolute dominion over the heavens. Windows shattered. Car alarms went off. Somewhere, a flock of Pidgey collectively decided to relocate to a different region.
And then, delicately, almost daintily, Rayquaza dropped a Pokeball from its mouth.
The ball landed at Kenji's feet with a soft plop.
It was covered in dragon saliva.
"Great," Kenji said. "That's great. Love that."
He reached into his pocket—why did he have empty Pokeballs in his pocket? He never remembered putting them there, and yet they were always present when he needed them, the universe apparently having decided to streamline the inevitable—and grabbed the slobbery ball.
Before he could throw it, though, one of his other Pokeballs burst open on its own.
Darkrai materialized beside him, its shadowy form coalescing from the darkness, its single blue eye fixed on Rayquaza with an expression that Kenji could only describe as exasperated annoyance.
"Krai," Darkrai said flatly.
Rayquaza made a sound that was almost... sheepish?
"Krai krai," Darkrai continued, in a tone that definitely conveyed "oh, it's YOU."
Rayquaza rumbled something in response, and Kenji got the distinct impression that these two knew each other. More than knew each other. Had history.
"Are you two... related?" Kenji asked.
Darkrai made a sound of profound disgust.
Rayquaza looked offended.
"Okay, not related. Just... acquainted?"
Darkrai's eye rolled. Actually rolled. The nightmare god's single visible eye performed a complete rotation of exasperation, a gesture so human and so utterly done that Kenji almost laughed.
"Let me guess," he said, piecing together the context clues. "Rayquaza is that annoying legendary you have to deal with at cosmic family reunions. The one who's always showing off, always making a dramatic entrance, always has to be the center of attention."
Darkrai nodded emphatically.
Rayquaza made an indignant noise.
"And now it's here to join my team, and you're annoyed because you thought you'd escaped it."
Darkrai's silence spoke volumes.
"Krai," it finally said, in a tone that clearly meant "just catch it so it'll shut up."
Kenji threw the Pokeball.
Rayquaza, despite being a forty-foot dragon god, somehow managed to look smug as it dissolved into red light.
The ball clicked shut without even a wobble.
Eleven Pokemon.
The sky returned to its normal blue color.
The citizens of Pewter City slowly emerged from their hiding spots, blinking in confusion at the sudden return to normalcy.
Darkrai made one final sound of disgust and retreated back into its ball.
"Well," Kenji said, looking at the Pokeball containing an actual sky god, "that happened."
Blue was sitting on the ground, apparently having lost the ability to stand at some point during the encounter. "I give up. I give up trying to understand. You're some kind of legendary Pokemon magnet and I'm just going to accept that."
"Welcome to my world."
Red helped Blue to his feet, his expression thoughtful. "That's eleven now. Eleven legendary or near-legendary Pokemon in less than a week."
"I'm aware."
"At this rate, you'll have caught every legendary in existence by the end of the month."
"Please don't say that. Please don't tempt fate. Fate doesn't need any encouragement."
They retreated to a quiet area outside the city—a small training ground that local trainers used for practice battles—to regroup and process what had just happened.
Kenji released several of his Pokemon to let them stretch, keeping Rayquaza in its ball because releasing a forty-foot sky dragon in a training ground seemed like a bad idea. The Charizard curled up in a patch of sunlight. Lucario stood at attention beside him. Celebi zipped around exploring. Darkrai lurked in the shadows, still apparently sulking about Rayquaza's arrival.
"You know," Blue said, watching Celebi chase a butterfly, "if someone had told me a week ago that I'd be traveling with a guy who casually collects legendary Pokemon like baseball cards, I would have called them crazy."
"To be fair, I would have called them crazy too."
"How are you so calm about this?"
Kenji considered the question. "I'm not calm. I'm operating on a level of stress so high that it's looped back around to appearing calm. It's like how if you go fast enough, you start moving backward through time. I'm so stressed that I've achieved stress enlightenment."
"That doesn't sound healthy."
"It's not. But it's what I've got."
Red was studying Lucario with interest. "Your Lucario is unusual," he observed. "Its aura is different from any Lucario I've seen before."
"Different how?"
"Stronger. More complex. Like it's accessing power from multiple sources instead of just one."
Kenji looked at his shiny Lucario—yellow fur gleaming in the sunlight, crimson eyes alert and watchful. It had been the most normal of his recent acquisitions, relatively speaking. A powerful Pokemon, yes, but not a legendary. Not a reality-warper. Just a very impressive Lucario that had brought its own Ultra Ball and recruited itself to his team.
"Hey, Lucario," Kenji said. "Can you show me what moves you know?"
Lucario nodded sharply and stepped forward into the training ground's central arena.
It began with the basics. Aura Sphere—a glowing ball of fighting energy that it launched at a target dummy with pinpoint accuracy. Metal Claw—claws gleaming with steel-type energy as it slashed through the air. Close Combat—a flurry of punches and kicks that reduced another dummy to splinters.
Standard Lucario moves. Powerful, but expected.
Then things got weird.
Lucario's fur seemed to darken, shadows crawling across its body. Its eyes gleamed with an inner fire that had nothing to do with its normal aura. It raised one paw, dark energy gathering around it, and—
"DARKEST LARIAT!"
The attack exploded outward, a spinning vortex of dark-type energy that carved a crater into the training ground's floor. The move was unmistakable—the signature technique of Incineroar, the fire-type wrestling cat Pokemon, a move that no Lucario should be able to learn under any circumstances.
Kenji's jaw dropped.
Blue fell over.
Red's eyes widened—the most extreme reaction Kenji had ever seen from him.
"HOW?!" Kenji shouted. "That's—you're not—that move is INCINEROAR'S! It's literally Incineroar's signature move! You're a LUCARIO! You're not even the same TYPE!"
Lucario looked at him with an expression that somehow conveyed smugness despite being a Pokemon face.
"Luca," it said, which roughly translated to "and?"
"And you shouldn't be able to DO that!"
"Rio," Lucario replied, with a slight shrug. "Lucario."
"That's not an explanation!"
Lucario held up its paws in a gesture that was unmistakably "what do you want me to say?"
Blue had recovered enough to crawl over to where Kenji was standing. "Did your Lucario just use Darkest Lariat? The Incineroar move? The one that only Incineroar can learn?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know!"
"Can it use other moves it shouldn't know?"
Kenji turned back to Lucario. "Can you? Use other moves you shouldn't know?"
Lucario's expression shifted to something almost mischievous. It raised both paws, energy swirling between them, and—
"ORIGIN PULSE!"
A wave of primal water energy erupted across the training ground, drenching everything in its path. Origin Pulse—Kyogre's signature move. The attack of the sea basin Pokemon that could flood continents. Coming from a Lucario.
Kenji stood there, soaking wet, water dripping from his hair and clothes.
"What," he said flatly.
Lucario was definitely smug now.
"PRECIPICE BLADES!"
Spires of rock erupted from the ground—Groudon's signature move, the attack that could reshape landscapes. Kenji had to jump backward to avoid being impaled.
"SPACIAL REND!"
A tear in reality itself, pink energy distorting the air—Palkia's signature move, an attack that warped the fabric of space.
"ROAR OF TIME!"
The world seemed to slow, then speed up, then normalize—Dialga's signature move, an attack that bent time itself.
Lucario stood in the center of the devastated training ground, surrounded by the aftermath of four legendary signature moves, looking extremely pleased with itself.
"LUCA!" it declared triumphantly.
Kenji was silent for a very long time.
"So," he finally said, his voice completely devoid of emotion, "my Lucario can use the signature moves of legendary Pokemon. Any legendary Pokemon. Apparently."
"That's impossible," Red said quietly. "That's actually impossible. Moves are supposed to be limited by biology, by type, by—"
"By what reality says is allowed?" Kenji laughed hollowly. "Reality doesn't apply to my Pokemon. I thought we established that."
Lucario walked over to him and patted his leg reassuringly.
"LUCA RIO," it said, which Kenji somehow understood as "don't worry, I'll only use these powers for good."
"That's... actually not what I'm worried about."
"Rio?"
"I'm worried about what else my Pokemon can do that I don't know about yet."
Lucario considered this.
Then it shrugged, as if to say "fair point."
They spent the next hour testing Lucario's abilities.
It could, apparently, use ANY move. Not just legendary signature moves—any move from any Pokemon. Flamethrower, Thunderbolt, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Hydro Pump, Solar Beam, the list went on. Whatever move Kenji asked for, Lucario could perform it.
"This is broken," Blue said, watching Lucario casually execute a perfect Draco Meteor—Draco Meteor, the ultimate dragon-type move, from a fighting-steel type Pokemon. "This is completely and utterly broken."
"I'm aware."
"Your Lucario could probably solo the Elite Four."
"I'm aware."
"It could probably solo MULTIPLE Elite Fours."
"Blue. I'm aware."
Red was pacing, his usual calm disrupted by what they had witnessed. "It doesn't make sense. Pokemon moves are determined by genetic capability, by type energy, by physical structure. A Lucario shouldn't be able to use fire-type moves at full power, let alone the signature moves of other legendary Pokemon."
"Should I test the others?" Kenji asked wearily. "See if all my Pokemon can do impossible things?"
"Do you want to?"
"No. But I have a horrible feeling I need to."
He released Kartana.
The tiny origami Pokemon floated before him, paper-thin body catching the light, waiting for instructions.
"Kartana, can you use... I don't know... Thunderbolt?"
Kartana tilted in the air—its version of a nod—and then crackled with electricity that should have been impossible for a grass-steel type Ultra Beast.
The bolt of lightning that struck the ground was powerful enough to leave the earth smoking.
"Great," Kenji said. "Great great great. So Kartana can also use any move."
Celebi popped out of its ball without being asked, giggling as it demonstrated its own impossible versatility—Ice Beam, Earthquake, Dragon Claw, moves that had no business coming from a psychic-grass type fairy.
"BI BI BI!" it chirped happily, apparently delighted by the chaos.
"Of course you're enjoying this."
Kenji was about to continue testing when the sky changed again.
This time, it wasn't green.
It was... rippling. Like the surface of water when something massive swam just beneath.
"Oh no," Kenji whispered.
"Oh no," Blue agreed.
"Not again," Red added, which was practically a speech by his standards.
The ripple in reality expanded, tearing open into another Ultra Wormhole—the second one Kenji had seen, after the one that had produced Guzzlord. Dark energy swirled around its edges, and something was coming through.
Something very, very muscular.
Buzzwole emerged from the Ultra Wormhole like a bodybuilder making their grand entrance at a competition.
Which made sense, because Buzzwole was essentially a bodybuilder. A giant, mosquito-like Ultra Beast with muscles that defied all logic, probability, and insect anatomy. It was easily seven feet tall, with a proboscis that could probably drain a Snorlax dry, and biceps that would make professional weightlifters weep with envy.
It struck a pose.
Then another pose.
Then a third pose, flexing its massive arms and making sounds that could only be described as "self-congratulatory grunting."
"BZZZZ!" Buzzwole declared, apparently announcing its own magnificence to the world.
Guzzlord's ball opened on its own—which was becoming a concerning pattern with Kenji's Pokemon—and the massive Ultra Beast materialized beside him, making rumbling sounds that conveyed recognition and what might have been enthusiasm.
"You two know each other?" Kenji asked.
Guzzlord rumbled affirmatively.
Buzzwole flexed at Guzzlord.
Guzzlord rumbled what sounded like appreciation.
"Are you... friends?"
More affirmative rumbling.
"Of course you are. Of course the two Ultra Beasts I've collected know each other and are apparently workout buddies or whatever the Ultra Beast equivalent is."
Buzzwole turned its attention to Kenji, its tiny eyes examining him with an intensity that was uncomfortable. It walked closer—each step making the ground shake—and loomed over him, muscles twitching, proboscis extending slightly.
Then it reached behind itself and produced a Pokeball.
"Where are you all KEEPING these?!" Kenji demanded.
Buzzwole just flexed again, offering the ball with a pose that highlighted its shoulder muscles.
Kenji took the ball.
He threw it.
Buzzwole dissolved into red light, still flexing as it was absorbed.
Click.
Twelve Pokemon.
Guzzlord made a sound of satisfaction before returning to its own ball.
Kenji stood in the increasingly destroyed training ground, surrounded by craters and scorch marks and evidence of impossible moves, holding his twelfth Pokeball.
"I need to sit down," he said.
He sat down.
Blue sat down next to him.
Red sat down on his other side.
Pikachu sat down on Red's head.
"So," Blue said, after a long moment of silence. "Twelve legendary or near-legendary Pokemon. A Lucario that can use any move in existence. Two Ultra Beasts who are apparently friends. And a Rayquaza that Darkrai finds annoying."
"Yes."
"This is your life now."
"Yes."
"How do you feel about that?"
Kenji thought about it.
Really thought about it.
How did he feel? A week ago, he had been terrified. Overwhelmed. Desperate to escape a situation he hadn't asked for and didn't understand. He had wanted to be normal, to be invisible, to live a quiet life far away from legendary Pokemon and cosmic destiny and all the insanity that seemed to follow him everywhere.
But now?
Now he had accepted it. Embraced it, even. These weren't just powerful Pokemon—they were his partners. His friends. Creatures that had chosen him, for reasons he was only beginning to understand, and had committed themselves to his journey.
Was it overwhelming? Absolutely.
Was it terrifying? Often.
But was it also, in its own insane way, exactly what he had always dreamed about?
Yeah. It kind of was.
"I feel like I'm living in a fever dream," Kenji said slowly, "but it's actually a pretty good fever dream. Like, the kind where you're riding a dragon and everything's on fire but you're weirdly okay with it."
"That's... a strange metaphor."
"It's accurate, though."
Red was studying the Pokeballs on Kenji's belt—twelve of them now, an absurd number, more than any trainer should have, more than most trainers accumulated in their entire careers.
"What are you going to do with them all?" Red asked. "When you have this much power... there are responsibilities that come with it."
"I know. I've been thinking about that." Kenji looked up at the sky—normal now, blue and clear and utterly unremarkable. "I'm not going to use them to take over the world or anything. That's not who I am. But I'm also not going to hide them away and pretend they don't exist."
"Then what?"
"I'm going to keep going. Keep challenging Gyms. Keep exploring. Keep having adventures." Kenji smiled slightly. "I died once, doing nothing, being nothing, wasting my entire existence in a gray little life. I'm not going to do that again. Whatever this is—this power, this destiny, this insane collection of impossible Pokemon—I'm going to use it to actually LIVE."
Blue was quiet for a moment.
Then he grinned. "That's surprisingly inspirational for a guy who got killed by a vending machine."
"Thanks. I've been working on my inspirational speeches."
"It shows."
They sat there for a while longer, three trainers at the beginning of their journeys, surrounded by evidence of impossible things.
Eventually, Kenji stood up.
"Come on," he said. "We should probably get moving before something else falls out of the sky."
"Good idea," Red agreed.
They gathered their things and headed back toward the city, leaving the destroyed training ground behind.
They made it approximately fifteen steps before Kenji's Lucario started growling.
"What is it?" Kenji asked, hand going to his Pokeballs.
Lucario's crimson eyes were fixed on something in the distance—a group of figures approaching from the direction of Route 3. They were walking with purpose, moving in formation, wearing matching uniforms of black with a large red 'R' emblazoned on the front.
Team Rocket.
"Oh," Kenji said. "Them."
He had known this was coming. Team Rocket was a major part of the Kanto story—the criminal organization that plagued the region, stealing Pokemon and causing chaos under Giovanni's leadership. They were supposed to be formidable antagonists, threatening obstacles that trainers had to overcome.
The group of Rockets stopped a short distance away. There were five of them—four grunts and what looked like an Executive, a woman with purple hair and a cold expression.
"Well, well," the Executive said, her voice dripping with condescension. "What do we have here? Three little trainers, all alone, outside the city. How convenient."
Blue stepped forward, Squirtle's ball in hand. "Team Rocket! I've heard about you guys! You're the criminals who steal Pokemon!"
"Such harsh words." The Executive smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. "We prefer to think of ourselves as... collectors. And we've received reports of some very interesting Pokemon in this area. Very interesting indeed."
Her eyes fixed on Kenji.
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about a Rayquaza descending on Pewter City, would you? Or an Ultra Beast appearing shortly after?"
Kenji's hand tightened on his Pokeballs. "Maybe."
"Maybe isn't good enough." The Executive gestured, and the four grunts stepped forward, releasing their Pokemon—a collection of Zubat, Rattata, and one Koffing. "We're going to need you to hand over whatever rare Pokemon you have. Peacefully would be preferable, but we're happy to do this the hard way."
Lucario's growl intensified.
Darkrai's ball was trembling.
Even Celebi's ball seemed to be vibrating with barely contained energy.
Red and Blue moved into defensive positions, ready to battle, ready to protect their friend.
Kenji looked at the Team Rocket members.
He thought about his Pokemon—twelve of them, legendary and Ultra Beast and impossible, each one capable of destroying this small group without breaking a sweat.
He thought about what Red had said. About responsibility. About power and what it meant.
He thought about the kind of trainer he wanted to be.
"Okay," he said. "You want to see my Pokemon? I'll show you ONE of my Pokemon. And then you're going to leave. You're going to walk away, you're going to report to your boss, and you're going to tell him that whatever he's planning, it's not worth it."
The Executive laughed. "Big words from a little boy. Show us, then. Show us what you've got."
Kenji released Lucario.
The shiny Pokemon materialized in front of him, yellow fur gleaming, crimson eyes fixed on the Rockets with barely contained fury. Its aura flared, visible even to those without the ability to sense it—waves of power rolling off its body like heat from a fire.
"That's a Lucario," the Executive said, sounding unimpressed. "Rare, certainly, but hardly—"
"Lucario," Kenji interrupted. "Use Darkest Lariat."
The Executive's eyes widened. "What—"
Lucario moved.
The resulting attack wasn't aimed at the Rockets themselves—Kenji wasn't trying to hurt them, just make a point. Instead, the spinning vortex of dark energy carved through the ground in front of them, creating a trench deep enough to bury a car.
The Rockets stumbled backward, their Pokemon cowering.
"That was a warning," Kenji said calmly. "Now. I could have my Lucario use Origin Pulse next—that's Kyogre's signature move, in case you were wondering. Or Precipice Blades. Or Spacial Rend. Or Roar of Time."
The Executive had gone very pale. "That's—that's impossible—"
"I have twelve Pokemon. Each one of them is more powerful than your entire organization combined. And I'm not in the mood to be robbed today." Kenji's voice was still calm, but there was steel underneath it. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave. You're going to tell Giovanni—yes, I know who your boss is—that Kenji says hello. And you're going to strongly recommend that he reconsider any plans he might have involving me or my Pokemon."
The Executive stared at him.
Her grunts were already edging backward, their Pokemon recalled, their bravado completely evaporated.
"Who... who ARE you?" she whispered.
Kenji smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"I'm just a guy," he said. "A guy who got killed by a vending machine and woke up in a world of Pokemon. And I've decided that I'm done being scared."
He recalled Lucario.
"Now run."
They ran.
Later that day, in a secret underground base somewhere in Kanto, an Executive named Ariana delivered her report to Giovanni.
She was still shaking.
Giovanni listened without expression, his Persian purring in his lap, as she described the encounter. The Lucario that could use any move. The trainer who knew his name. The power that had radiated from that single Pokemon, power that suggested what the rest of the trainer's team might be capable of.
When she finished, Giovanni was silent for a long moment.
Then he reached for his phone.
"Cancel all operations in the Pewter City area," he said, his voice flat. "Indefinitely. And put out a general order to all Team Rocket personnel: if any of our people encounter a trainer matching this description, they are to retreat immediately. No exceptions."
Ariana blinked. "Sir? But our plans—"
"Our plans mean nothing if we're all dead." Giovanni's hand was trembling slightly—the first time any of his subordinates had ever seen him show fear. "This trainer... whatever he is, wherever he came from, he's beyond us. Beyond me. And I didn't get to where I am by fighting battles I can't win."
He hung up the phone.
In the quiet of his office, Giovanni—the leader of Team Rocket, the secret Gym Leader of Viridian City, one of the most powerful criminal masterminds in the world—poured himself a drink.
His hand was still shaking.
Kenji, completely unaware of the panic he had caused in the criminal underworld, was eating dinner with Red and Blue at a small restaurant in Pewter City.
"That was AMAZING!" Blue was saying, for approximately the fifteenth time. "Did you see their faces?! When your Lucario used Darkest Lariat?! They looked like they were going to pee themselves!"
"It was effective," Red agreed, with what might have been a smile.
"I didn't want to hurt them," Kenji said, poking at his rice. "I just wanted to make a point."
"You definitely made a point. Several points. Very pointy points."
Kenji smiled despite himself.
It had felt good, actually. Not the intimidation part—he wasn't interested in being a bully—but the standing up for himself part. The refusing to be a victim part. The using his power to protect his friends part.
Maybe this was what the cosmic voice had meant. About becoming something more. About embracing what he was.
He wasn't just a guy who collected legendary Pokemon anymore.
He was a trainer. A real trainer. With real power and real responsibility and real friends to protect.
And he was only getting started.
That night, Kenji released all twelve of his Pokemon in the field behind the Pokemon Center.
It was a sight to behold.
The alpha shiny Charizard, massive and magnificent. Ho-Oh, radiant with rainbow light. Kartana, floating like a deadly origami. The legendary bird trio, elemental forces personified. Guzzlord, vast and hungry but loyal. Celebi, ancient and mischievous. Lucario, impossibly versatile. Darkrai, shadow and nightmare given form. Rayquaza, coiled in the air like a living storm. And Buzzwole, flexing eternally, muscles gleaming in the starlight.
Twelve Pokemon. Twelve partners. Twelve impossibilities that had chosen him.
"I know I keep saying this," Kenji told them, "but I'm grateful. All of you chose me for reasons I don't fully understand. But I promise I'll try to be worthy of it. I'll try to be the trainer you deserve."
The Charizard rumbled.
Ho-Oh trilled.
Celebi giggled.
Darkrai's eye glinted.
Rayquaza roared—softly, for once, a sound of affirmation rather than dominance.
Lucario placed a paw over its heart.
Even Buzzwole paused its flexing long enough to nod.
They were with him. All of them. Whatever came next, they would face it together.
Kenji smiled up at the stars.
Tomorrow, they would continue toward Mount Moon. Then Cerulean City. Then wherever the road took them.
The adventure continued.
And for the first time in either of his lives, Kenji was exactly where he wanted to be.
End of Chapter 5