The world of Pokémon is much darker than everyone thinks. One only needs to read the Pokédex to realize that.

  In a world recovering from a massive war between three teams Mystic, Valor, and Instinct. Locked in a stalemate for decades with no real winners. With entire poputions both human and Pokemon devastated, the Pokémon league manage to take control and bring order to a world ravaged in chaos.

  This is the world in which you were born.

  Now tell me, are you a Boy or a Girl?

  “Boy… is this really what we are starting this isekai story off with?” A soul asks

  “I’m sorry the st time someone got sent to Pokémon, they basically managed to bring the Pokémon world equivalent of 2 supercomputers with them. A ton of elite and champion teams, which allowed them to make a mockery of the spirit of the challenge.” The rather annoyed likely goddess responded back.

  “How did that happen?” The soul asks

  “They asked to bring all their progress from the video games and their entire bedroom which had the craziest of things from custom electronics, modern survival gear(including guns), and even a damn suit of armor. They had the league hacked in minutes and controlled information across the world in about a week.”

  “So, what do I get?” The soul asks

  “Not that much.”

  “Can I ask for access to just 1 game and its systems and nothing else?” The soul asks

  “Fine but no bag items outside of healing. Everything else goes bye bye. No 99 mega stones type bullshit.”

  “Sure, I don’t pn on using the Pokémon too much either, the fun part would be getting new ones. And learning with them.” The soul answers

  “And you already have a broken choice… fine fine. Just go,”

  ======

  There was a young boy pying with an Eevee outside of a fairly rge house.

  The grass was cool beneath his fingers.

  He giggled as the Eevee darted away, tail flicking like a banner as it circled back, brown fur catching the afternoon light. The yard wasn’t rge—just a patch of green behind the house—but to a five-year-old, it might as well have been a battlefield, a forest, a kingdom.

  “Hey—no fair!” the boy ughed, scrambling to his feet as Eevee pounced pyfully at his shoeces.

  Eevee yipped, ears perked, eyes bright with mischief.

  They tumbled together, child and Pokémon rolling through the grass. Warm sunlight. The smell of dirt. The distant hum of the town beyond the fence. It was peaceful in the way only children ever noticed.

  Then the world lurched.

  The boy froze mid-ugh.

  Something twisted behind his eyes—sharp, sudden, and wrong. The sky blurred, colors smearing together like wet paint. His hands went numb.

  “E–Eevee…?” he tried to say.

  Pain crashed through his skull, and he colpsed, everything hurting too much to move.

  “Eve?” Eevee asked softly.

  The Pokémon nudged his cheek. No response.

  Panic flickered across Eevee’s face.

  “Eevee!” it cried.

  The boy watched, helpless, as Eevee turned and bolted away, paws tearing through the grass. Its voice carried back to him in broken, desperate calls as it ran—each one fainter than the st.

  “Eevee! Ee—vee!”

  One blink, and his vision cleared just enough to see Eevee’s small form racing away.

  A second blink, and a rge house emerged in the distance, standing in the direction Eevee was running—tall, old, and unmistakable even through the blur.

  A third blink, followed by a sharp, pained breath—

  And the world went dark.