I stood in my small living room, staring at the trainer identification card in my hands. Freshly printed, official stamp, my face on it—Ashborn, age 10, licensed Pokémon Trainer. In this world, ten was the legal age, not eighteen like in my past life. No Professor Oak sponsorship for me either. No free starter, no free Pokédex, no free advice. Just me and whatever I could manage on my own.
"Well," I muttered, tucking the card into my pocket, "at least I graduated."
PokeSchool. That's where they taught us the basics—type advantages, how to throw a Pokéball without breaking it, how to run from angry wild Pokémon, and the absolute golden rule: Do not carry Pokéballs until you're registered. Kids caught with them faced strict penalties. That's why, for the last five years, my best friend had to stay here with me instead of safely inside a ball.
I looked over at the small figure curled up on my worn couch.
A Pikachu.
My Pikachu.
Fate had a weird sense of humor.
I found him five years ago, wandering out of the Kangaskhan Cave, hungry and alone. Tiny thing, barely able to spark. I brought him home, fed him, gave him shelter. He never left. And I never asked him to.
"Hey, buddy." I walked over and sat beside him. "Big day today."
"Pii." He opened one eye, unimpressed.
"I'm serious. I'm a real trainer now. Registered and everything." I pulled out my ID card again. "See? Ashborn. That's me."
Pikachu sat up, sniffed the card, then looked at me with those big black eyes. "Cha?"
"Yeah, I know. Took long enough." I scratched behind his ear. "But here's the thing—I still don't have a Pokéball for you. I need to buy one. And I need money for that. And supplies. And—"
"Pika." He cut me off, hopping down and walking toward the door. He looked back at me expectantly.
I laughed. "Okay, okay. First things first. Let's go get you a ball."
---
An hour later, I was back home, holding a standard red-and-white Pokéball in my trembling hand. It cost me more than I wanted to spend, but this was necessary. Pikachu sat on the floor in front of me, tail twitching.
"You ready?" I asked.
"Pika."
I pressed the button, enlarged the ball, and gently tapped it against his forehead.
Click.
He disappeared inside in a flash of red light. The ball wiggled once. Twice. Three times.
Click.
Caught.
And then everything changed.
---
[SYSTEM UPDATE DETECTED]
[HOST: ASHBORN]
[NEW DATA REGISTERED]
[INITIALIZING POKÉMON STORAGE SYSTEM...]
[LOADING INTERFACE...]
My vision flickered. The familiar blue screen I'd ignored for ten years suddenly exploded with light, text scrolling faster than I could read. I stumbled back, dropping the Pokéball—which promptly opened, releasing a very confused Pikachu.
"Pika?" He looked at me, then at the air where I was staring.
"Give me a second, buddy," I whispered.
The screen stabilized. And for the first time in a decade, it wasn't empty.
---
[POKÉMON STORAGE SYSTEM - FIRE RED VERSION]
[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]
[WELCOME, TRAINER ASHBORN]
My jaw dropped.
I knew this interface. I'd spent hundreds of hours in my past life staring at this exact layout. The menu, the PC box system, the item storage—it was all here. But cleaner. Smoother. And somehow... alive.
Wait.
"Fire Red?" I said out loud. "I played Fire Red on my phone. Before I died. Does that mean—"
[DETECTED: LEGACY DATA FROM PREVIOUS LIFE]
[INTEGRATING... COMPLETE]
[SYSTEM NOW OPERATIONAL]
My phone. My old phone with all my games, all my save files, all my apps—had it merged with my soul? Followed me into this world? And been waiting for ten years to activate?
I pulled up the main menu. There it was. Pokédex (empty). Bag (empty). Trainer Info (my face, my name). Save (grayed out). And a new tab I'd never seen before: Potential Analysis.
I clicked it.
A single entry appeared.
---
[PIKACHU]
───────────────
[TYPE: ELECTRIC]
[GENDER: MALE]
───────────────
[POTENTIAL: 80.09%]
[LEVEL: 25.01]
───────────────
[ABILITY]
• Static: 15.04% (Current)
────────────
[KNOWN MOVES]
• Thundershock: 5.09%
• Quick Attack: 18.04%
• Thunder Wave: 23.08%
• Agility: 30.89%
• Electro Ball: 23.09%
───────────────
[TM MOVES: NONE]
───────────────
I stared.
Percentages. Actual percentages for potential, ability activation, move mastery. This wasn't just a Pokédex. This was a complete analysis tool. A way to track growth, optimize training, unlock hidden potential.
"Pikachu," I breathed. "Do you know what this means?"
"Cha?" He tilted his head.
I scrolled further. More menus. A DexNav function—I could track Pokémon I'd encountered. A Town Map with my current location marked. And then...
[INVENTORY SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
[POCKET DIMENSION CREATED: LINKED TO USER'S SHADOW]
[STORAGE CAPACITY: 10 SLOTS (EXPANDABLE)]
I looked down at my shadow. It rippled slightly, like water disturbed by a stone.
"No way," I whispered.
I reached into it—and my hand disappeared. I felt nothing, just empty space. When I pulled back, my hand was empty, but I knew I could put things in there. Items. Supplies. Anything.
"Pika-pi?" Pikachu backed away, eyes wide.
"Don't worry." I laughed, actually laughed for the first time in years. "It's mine. It's part of me. And this—" I gestured at the blue screen only I could see, "—this is why my System was empty for ten years."
It wasn't broken.
It was waiting.
Waiting for me to catch my first Pokémon. Waiting for me to become a real trainer. Waiting for the moment I was ready.
I looked at Pikachu, then back at the screen, then at my shadow.
"Ash Ketchum is dead," I said quietly. "Has been for a long time. But Ashborn?" I smiled. "Ashborn is just getting started."
End of Chapter 1