The next day, immediately after waking up and grabbing a quick breakfast from the simple buffet tables, I headed toward the water. I needed time to think. While the orphanage stood at the far north of the city, the sea lay to the south, serving as its natural protection. It appeared tiered, as if someone had created it artificially: it consisted of a calm surface, a smaller waterfall through which no danger could penetrate, another quiet section, another drop, and finally a smaller sea where water-type Pokémon swam undisturbed.
A park and recreation zone stretched along the coast. I saw a few people there with fishing rods; every once in a while, a fisherman managed to pull out a Magikarp or a Feebas. It was a decent, albeit slow, way to make a living. Fish Pokémon were a staple in every household, and there was constant demand for them from restaurants as well.
However, I focused mainly on myself and the changes taking place within me. While the old Patrik had been completely incompetent regarding Pokémon, he occasionally had interesting know-how in his head, even if most of it was total nonsense. Who had ever heard of a Pokémon evolving through trading? It was utter bullshit—if that were true, everyone would probably have an Alakazam, Machamp, or Gengar right away. I found the claim about evolving Magikarp into Gyarados using a waterfall much more intriguing. Unlike him, I had spent the last ten years in dedicated study.
Where we radically differed, however, was in personality. I was a shy introvert; he was a confident, older extrovert. Where I didn't even know how to throw a punch, he fought in Muay Thai and trained in MMA. Where I was too ashamed to look my childhood crush in the eye, he considered her just another slut, good for nothing more than a one-time distraction.
Furthermore, there were significant biological differences between our worlds. While in his world a large percentage of people were obese, slow, and weak, everyone here was relatively athletic, even if they didn't actively exercise. The vast majority had great physiques. Thanks to a low body fat percentage, people were more attractive, though some hadn't exactly won the genetic lottery in the face department.
We also matured faster—at fifteen, I already looked like a grown, athletic man. I didn't run, I didn't train, and yet I was in incredibly good shape. From his memories, I dug up something about Aura. Did every human in this world possess an Aura that biologically enhanced them? It made sense. People didn't get sick; they didn't know common flus, and diseases like cancer or STDs didn't exist here. At the same time, we were more resilient to the elements. As a species, we likely had to adapt so that Pokémon wouldn't wipe us out.
It was also interesting how advanced his world was in terms of weaponry. Electronics and household appliances were similar, but weapons were missing. We were still living, so to speak, in a medieval era—daggers, swords, spears, and bows. Why? There existed a portable refrigerator that minimized into a pocket at the press of a button and stayed charged for months. So how is it possible that there are no pistols, assault rifles, or nukes here? I immediately began to conspire.
What if the world had once been destroyed by nukes and animals mutated into Pokémon? What if weapon development was forcibly halted to prevent history from repeating itself? What if the top leadership knows about it, but general society does not?
At the same time, there was a difference in the understanding of battles. Here, it was a sport, a honing of power, but also everything else. It wasn't customary for a Pokémon to die in a battle. In the wild? Frequently. In an official match? Rarely. Trainers of a similar level fought like gentlemen; it didn't happen that someone would pull out a Gyarados against a Rattata.
People in my world were also Kinder, more helpful, and smiled more than in his Europe. Life had taught them that if they wanted to survive, they had to stick together. Historically, small groups clustered together until they formed cities, just to withstand the wilderness.
That didn't mean my world was an idyll, though. There was an extreme number of criminals capable of robbing, raping, killing, or selling you into slavery on the black market. In Kanto and Johto, it wasn't common, but that was exactly why export existed. Drugs and prostitution? They were just as common in this world, although they weren't created synthetically. Grass-type Pokémon could create some interesting blends.
Anyone could own a Pokémon, but they had to be able to control it. One mistake with a disobedient Pokémon in the city—if it injured someone or hurt them without cause—and your life could be over. In this, the laws were relentless.
However, it wasn't like everyone had a Pokémon, and certainly not a strong one. Many species were natural predators; to catch them, a human had to defeat them first. Subsequently, if the trainer didn't want it, they could sell it for Poké-dollars. Dragon Pokémon? Millions. Rattata? A few hundred.
Actually, that was why a career as a trainer was extremely lucrative. If you were strong, you could catch whatever you wanted and monetize it. You could get hired as a bodyguard for an influential company, defend cruise ships or roads as a Ranger, or serve in the police. You could protect fields and farms that raised Tauros for meat and Miltank for milk. The entire society stood on the shoulders of powerful trainers. Thanks to them, people in cities lived relatively peacefully. Trainers were respected and admired. Only the mortality rate was unbelievable.
A trainer's family received tax benefits from the League for the first year. The trainer himself received free access to League-owned hospitals and hotels for the same period. Food and lodging for free. However, such a career required iron determination.
Originally, as a timid introvert, I just wanted to prove to everyone that I had what it takes. Now, I know that was a weak goal. It was enough to be myself and people would show respect—it was enough to be unafraid and look everyone proudly in the eye. Now? With this gift, I gained a new goal: Reach the Apex, or die trying.
I was determined.
I pressed the Pokéball twice, and in a flash of red light, Gastly appeared beside me.
"Gastly!" With a wide, chilling smile, he fixed his gaze on me.
"Hey, Gastly. Ready for training?"
"Gastly!"
Pokémon in this world didn't have clearly defined moves. Every strike was essentially just an energy infusion. Tackle? Adding Normal energy to one's body and slamming into the opponent. Flamethrower? Fire energy. Gastly's well-known "Lick"? Ghost energy concentrated on the tongue.
What am I trying to say? That controlling a Pokémon's internal energy is the most important thing. Theoretically, a Pokémon can use energy for any attack—it just has to be able to create, shape, direct, and release it. A Flamethrower can be thin, direct, and extremely hot, or so wide that it engulfs everything within a four-meter radius.
Of course, the energy output varied. Actually, I could call it auric output. Gastly, as a combination of Ghost and Poison types, possessed two auric energies, and given his biology, he could learn to work with others as well.
"Gastly, do you know how to work with your energy?" I asked curiously. Usually, young individuals didn't know how. My Gastly, however, was older than me.
He nodded in agreement.
"Stick out your tongue and concentrate Ghost energy into it."
He obeyed immediately. He stuck out his red tongue, which slowly began to change color to black until the energy started escaping from it like gas. I watched him thoughtfully for a moment, then concluded: "It took you too long. In a battle, that would be fatal. To start with, we need to improve your speed."
"Gastly!" he confirmed determinedly.
"Dissolve the energy and try again," I commanded.
He followed my word instantly. I watched him for a while. Before, it would have felt normal to just stand around and do nothing. Now? I felt like a lazy prick, and I didn't like it. I immediately started warming up my joints. He wasn't going to be the only one working hard.
***
We worked hard until the afternoon hours. Gastly was likely a genius; he had increased the speed of his energy infusion into his tongue by at least half. It was already relatively battle-ready. While he trained, I managed to do shadow boxing and sets of push-ups, squats, and sit-ups based on memories from the other world.
The biology of this world was absolutely insane. Without any problems and without prior training, I was able to do over 300 repetitions of each exercise with only small breaks! Running was a bit worse—my lungs couldn't keep up, as cardio wasn't my strong suit.
I'll have to change that. In the wild, stamina will be key. While a Ghost Pokémon in the normal sense of the word cannot die, I can. In the worst-case scenario, Gastly will have to buy me time while I make a run for it.
I had less than a week left before we set out. I needed to use that time to get physically fit and teach Gastly techniques that would save us trouble. Gastly as a starter isn't exactly the easiest choice. He isn't elemental, so every Normal-type we encounter will be riskier for me. Luckily, at the beginning of the journey from Pallet Town, the Pokémon are weaker. But the risks are still there.
Pidgey, Starly, Spearow, Rattata, and their evolutions. While Pidgey is calm, Spearow is aggressive and attacks in flocks. If I were to encounter a hungry Fearow, it's quite likely I'd end up as lunch.
I went through my shopping list in my head. In addition to the classic survival kit, I need a dagger or a sword. Preferably both. Plus food, antidotes, and a raincoat. Since I was out of money, I'd only buy the basics and I'd have to hunt for the rest—so I immediately added a fishing rod to the list. Then it occurred to me: according to Oak's words, I come from a powerful house. Don't I have some resources from them? I'll have to ask about that.
We rested for a moment. Gastly didn't consume normal food, so he didn't need anything for now, but me? My stomach was growling loudly, and I had completely missed lunch at the home. I decided to buy fried Magikarp fingers with fries. It was my favorite treat, even if a bit unhealthy—though according to his memories, this food was significantly healthier and more nutritious than what they usually ate. It wasn't even expensive; one portion cost me 5 Poké-dollars. Thanks to part-time jobs and the orphan's allowance, I had a little over $5,000 in my account, but that would definitely go toward quality gear and other necessities. I also needed better clothes. I'd be miserable in the wilderness in ordinary sweatpants and a hoodie.
While I ate, Gastly rested in the sun with me. He levitated a meter away from me with a satisfied smile. If I didn't know he was a Pokémon specifically from my family, I'd doubt if it wasn't some kind of trick. No Pokémon, not even a Grass-type, would obey like this on the first day or be so devoted.
Ghosts were usually malicious, stubborn, and mischievous; murder was no problem for them. Every now and then, there was a story where a Ghost kidnapped a person and fed on them using hypnosis until the poor soul died. My Gastly, however, behaved like a little angel.
"Gastly?" I began.
He immediately nodded to show he was listening.
"Have you been waiting for me since I was born?"
"Gastly!" he blurted out in agreement.
"Did my family order you to?"
The Pokémon simply nodded again.
"Who are you loyal to — me or my family?" I asked, deciding to clarify. "If it's me, nod. If it's the family, shake your head."
He nodded immediately.
"Do you have a goal in life?"
I knew that every Pokémon was different. Some wanted to be the strongest, others desired to travel, and still others just wanted to eat in comfort. Some lived only for battle. Everyone had their own motives—even a Dragonite could, in the end, be extremely lazy and relatively weak.
Gastly nodded and put on a wide, chilling smile. I had to ask step by step.
"Do you want to be the strongest?" A nod.
It didn't look like that was all, so I continued: "Do you want to eat a lot?" An enthusiastic nod and an even wider smile followed.
"Do you want to fight?" A nod.
"Do you want to travel?" No reaction. Neither disagreement nor a nod. Apparently, he didn't care as long as the other conditions were met.
"Did I forget something?" I asked at the end.
Gastly nodded again.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, shame he can't talk," I thought bitterly. He was definitely more intelligent than other Pokémon—if I don't count Psychic types. Still, he could only answer me with a simple yes or no.
Experienced trainers said that over time they began to understand their Pokémon as naturally as they did humans. So I hoped that in our case, it would come sooner. Otherwise, I'll seriously have to get some letter boards and teach him how to write and read.
I decided to guess.
"Do you want a Lady Gastly? Do you want to haunt people and Pokémon? Do you want to protect me? Do you want to evolve into Gengar? Do you want to be recognized?"
In order followed: a shake of the head, an enthusiastic nod, another nod, another nod, and no reaction to the last question. Recognition was clearly irrelevant to him as long as he could scare someone to death and become a Gengar in the process. I hoped that was all for now and decided to continue training.
"Great, Gastly! We have plenty to do in the future. You'll be the strongest Gengar in the world. Continue with the tongue infusion training."
The truth was, however, that evolving into Gengar would be a problem. There were truly few Gengars in the world. Haunters? There were relatively many of those, but even if someone managed to evolve a Haunter, every trainer kept the secret of that evolution strictly to themselves. It wasn't publicly known at all, and one thing was certain—the transformation definitely didn't happen by simply reaching a certain level, and certainly not through some nonsensical trade. There had to be something more to it. Something more complex... and maybe more dangerous.
***
Toward evening, after the hard training, we headed back to the orphanage, exhausted. Gastly was released from his Pokéball and slowly floated behind my back. Every now and then, he peeked out curiously to see what was happening in front of us.
I was just a short distance from the home when a girl ran out of a nearby house in front of me. Lindsay.
"Patrik!" she shouted, waving at me and running in my direction.
She was a short, attractive blonde with blue eyes and her hair in a bun. The old Patrik would have labeled her the "girl next door." Exactly the type of woman who would interest him for a serious relationship—pleasant, kind, loving, and polite. Until recently, I thought she was just being friendly, but after merging memories, it was immediately clear to me that she liked me.
"Hey, Lindsay. How are you?" I greeted her with a smile as soon as she stepped closer.
"Great, Patrik, and..." in the middle of the sentence, she cried out in fear and turned pale.
From behind my shoulder, Gastly had flown out at her with a chilling smirk and his tongue sticking out. Lindsay immediately started screaming and backing away.
"Gastly!" I called out after a moment with a smirk, finally stopping my laughter.
"Gastly! Gastly!" the satisfied Pokémon chimed in. I felt like he was practically bragging to me about how much he had scared her.
"Are you okay, Lindsay? I probably should have warned you. Sorry," I told her. The girl stood three meters away with her hand on her heart and death in her eyes.
"I-I am," she stammered, but immediately continued more boldly: "You jerk! You really should have warned me, I almost had a heart attack!" After a moment, she calmed down a bit and added: "Where did you get a Gastly? I thought your starter was going to be Charmander. You talked about it for so long!"
Lindsay was probably the only one I could talk to normally. Around others, I used to be far too shy, which made me a weirdo, but with her, I always discussed everything. Lindsay knew very well that I was in love with Lily, whom she honestly detested—whether for her questionable morals or out of jealousy.
While Lindsay was pleasant and fiery, Lily represented cold beauty. Morally, they were like two completely different worlds. The question remained: how was it possible that Lindsay was in love with me? According to my new memories, my previous behavior could be described as that of a total pussy.
"Professor Oak gave me Gastly yesterday, and I think it was a great choice. Gastly is amazing," I replied with a smile. Even though a piece of disappointment still gnawed at me that I didn't have Charmander, Gastly was truly determined and listened to my every word. I felt that I could rely on him one hundred percent.
"Gastly!" the Pokémon cried out with a pleased expression.
Lindsay watched us both in silence for a while, then nodded with a supportive smile.
"He looks strong!"
"Gastly!" the Pokémon confirmed her words and nodded importantly.
I saw her thinking for a moment until she finally spoke up with quiet hope: "Would you like to go for a walk with me?"
With an apology in my eyes, I had to refuse.
"Sorry, Lindsay. We've been training since morning, and now I need a shower and a real meal. I also need to get some sleep; the next few days before my journey will be really demanding."
She lowered her gaze in disappointment and whispered almost inaudibly: "Will you at least say goodbye to me before you leave?"
I stepped toward her and did something I would never have had the courage to do before. I gently lifted her chin with my fingers, leaned in, and pressed a short kiss onto her cheek.
"Before I leave, we'll definitely go for a walk, Lindsay," I promised.
She stood there completely stunned. I didn't wait for her reaction; I turned and headed home. Gastly, with a satisfied, almost appreciative smile, followed me into the shadows of the street.
***
Author's note:
We are diving deeper into the story of my Pokémon world. As you've seen, Pokémon energy can be manipulated in various ways—it all comes down to skill and mastery.
Based on these opening chapters, you can expect plenty of combat, tension, and high-stakes action. But life in this world isn't just about training; there will also be romance and explicit adult content. Furthermore, Team Rocket certainly won't be portrayed as innocent or bumbling villains—expect them to be a real, dangerous threat.
Are you curious to find out what Patrik's second Pokémon will be? Stay tuned!