The pain hit first—sharp, blinding, and gone in the same heartbeat. One moment I was crossing the street, juggling coffee and my phone, the next, I was looking down at a pair of sneakers lying unnaturally still in the road. Tires screeched. Someone screamed.
Then there was nothing.
⸻
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't on asphalt. I wasn't anywhere I recognized. The sky above me was too blue, too clean, and the air smelled like fresh grass, not exhaust. I sat up, head spinning, and caught sight of my hands.
Small hands. Tiny.
"What the—" My voice cracked, high and childlike. I scrambled to my feet—or rather, to the short legs that now carried me—and ran to the edge of a nearby pond. The reflection that stared back wasn't mine: a twelve-year-old boy with messy black hair, wide brown eyes, and a face that didn't belong to the 26-year-old me.
I pressed my hands to my cheeks. "This isn't real. This can't be real."
A rustle in the grass snapped my attention away. Something moved—something small, orange, and… on fire?
A lizard-like creature stood a few feet away, a flame flickering steadily at the tip of its tail. Its blue eyes blinked curiously at me.
I froze. "…Charmander?"
The creature tilted its head as if it understood.
"No way. No freaking way." My brain struggled to catch up. If that was a Charmander, then I was in…
"Pallet Town!" a voice called in the distance. I turned. Down the hill, a cluster of red-roofed houses gleamed under the sun, and a windmill spun lazily. Children chased each other, some followed by flocks of Pidgey.
My heart pounded. This wasn't a dream—it was the Pokémon world.
⸻
The next hour blurred. I stumbled into town, trying not to look insane while asking questions. People assumed I was just another kid from a nearby village. Everyone was friendly—too friendly. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of a building I knew from every game and anime: Professor Oak's Lab.
I hesitated. Did I really want to start this?
A man in a white lab coat stepped out, clipboard in hand. He looked older than I expected, gray hair and all, but his eyes were sharp.
"Ah, you must be one of the new trainers," he said warmly. "You're here for your starter, aren't you?"
Starter. Trainer. The words hit me like a jolt.
"Y-yeah," I said automatically.
"Come in, come in." He led me inside. Rows of Poké Balls sat neatly on machines, and a giant map of Kanto covered the wall.
Professor Oak handed me a clipboard. "Name?"
My mind blanked. I couldn't use my real Earth name—it felt wrong. "…Kai," I said. "Kai Rivers."
"Kai, eh? Strong name. Well, Kai, you're in luck. We have three starters available today." He gestured to a table where three Poké Balls rested in a triangular formation
"This one," he said, lifting the first, "contains Bulbasaur: Grass and Poison, sturdy and reliable. The second, Squirtle: Water-type, defensive and balanced. And finally, Charmander: Fire-type, quick and fierce."
I didn't even hesitate. "Charmander."
Professor Oak smiled knowingly. "A bold choice. You'll have your hands full."
He placed the Poké Ball in my hand. It felt lighter than I expected—warm, almost alive.
⸻
Outside the lab, I released my new partner. The same orange lizard appeared in a flash of light, blinking at me.
"Char?"
"Hey, buddy," I said softly. My voice still sounded strange to my ears, but Charmander's tail flame reflected in its eyes as it tilted its head.
I knelt down. "I'm Kai. I guess… we're partners now."
Charmander chirped happily. Its flame flared for just a moment, like a handshake.
⸻
That night, I sat under the stars just beyond Pallet Town. My mind spun with questions: Why me? Why this world? Am I supposed to just… live here? What about my old life?
But when Charmander curled up next to me, warm like a living campfire, the fear dulled. For the first time since I woke up, I felt something close to calm.
Then a branch cracked in the dark. My head snapped up. Eyes glowed in the grass—too many to count. Low, birdlike screeches echoed around us.
Spearow.
"Charmander, get ready," I whispered, standing slowly. My heart hammered. I'd seen the anime episode where a Spearow flock nearly killed Ash. Now it was me standing here, untested, with a single Level-5 Pokémon.
A spearow darted forward, claws glinting.
"Charmander, Ember!"
Charmander opened its mouth and spat a small burst of flame. The bird screeched, veering away, but more rushed in. I grabbed a branch from the ground, swinging wildly to keep them off.
"Keep using Ember!" I shouted. Tiny fireballs lit up the night, scattering some of the Spearow. But there were too many.
One dived straight for me. I raised my arm instinctively—pain exploded as talons raked across my skin. I stumbled back, dizzy.
Charmander roared—a fierce, guttural sound that didn't match its small size. Its tail flame flared brighter, almost white-hot, and a larger Ember shot out, hitting the lead Spearow dead-on. The flock hesitated.
I didn't wait. "Run!" I grabbed Charmander and bolted toward town.
By the time we reached the first streetlight, the Spearow had scattered. I collapsed, chest heaving, blood dripping down my arm.
Charmander hovered beside me, eyes wide.
"We… we did it," I panted. "Good job, buddy."
It chirped softly and nudged my hand.
⸻
That night, as I cleaned my wounds in a small inn, one thought kept repeating:
This world isn't a game. It's real. It's dangerous. And I have to be stronger—fast.
Because tomorrow, I'd be leaving Pallet Town, and there was no going back.