Skylar Adams was an ordinary man by every measurable standard. Twenty-seven years old, brown-haired, bespectacled, and only slightly out of shape from years of sitting in an office cubicle. He worked as a junior analyst at a multinational logistics firm based in New York. His days were filled with spreadsheets, performance metrics, and endless status update meetings. But when the clock hit six, Skylar's world changed completely. The corporate grind melted away and the true version of himself emerged—an unapologetic lover of anime, JRPGs, and the Pokémon universe.
His apartment was modest, but a reflection of his passions. Posters of Ash and Pikachu, Dragon Ball figurines, stacks of manga volumes, and multiple gaming consoles filled his space. If asked, he would jokingly admit he knew more about type advantages than he did about balancing his budget. But despite his passion, his life was largely uneventful—until the day everything changed.
It started with a routine system check.
Skylar was reviewing encrypted files from a client branch in Eastern Europe. His job required him to run anomaly scans across inventory and transaction logs. Normally, any irregularities were mundane—duplicate invoices, misfiled IDs, minor smuggling. But that day, the screen displayed something different. A transaction chain flagged in red—a trail that traced through shell companies, offshore accounts, and back to several known extremist organizations.
He blinked twice. Ran the scan again. Same result.
Skylar felt the chill run down his spine.
He wasn't a hacker or an investigator, but he wasn't a fool either. The code was clean, the signatures matched—his company, or at least some part of it, was funding terrorists.
The next hour passed in a blur. He copied the evidence to a USB drive, encrypted the files, and rushed out. Paranoia clawed at the edges of his mind. He bypassed the company VPN and dialed a number he never thought he'd use: the FBI tip line.
"FBI National Security Division, what's your report?"
Skylar took a deep breath. "I have something urgent. My company is laundering money to terrorist groups. I have proof. I'm sending—"
A knock on his apartment door. Then another. Harder. Louder.
His stomach dropped. It wasn't a neighbor.
He turned to run, but the door exploded open. Men in dark suits entered, guns raised. His phone clattered to the floor.
One of them raised a silencer. The last thing Skylar saw was the barrel and the glint of a company badge.
Everything went black.
There was no pain. No sound. Only darkness, like floating in a deep ocean of nothingness. Time had no meaning. Skylar didn't know how long he drifted—seconds, days, or centuries. Eventually, a shimmer appeared in the void. A warmth. A presence.
A radiant light enveloped him, and with it came a voice, calm and resonant, like wind rustling through sacred trees.
"You were taken before your time, Skylar Adams."
Skylar tried to speak, but he had no body—only a presence.
"Your karma is vast. You died revealing the truth. Millions of lives were saved. In accordance with the laws of balance, I offer you a chance. To live again."
"W-what? Am I… dead?" Skylar's thoughts echoed in the void.
"Yes. But you need not remain so."
The light pulsed.
"You may choose the world in which you will be reborn. And a single gift, tied to your soul's essence."
Skylar didn't hesitate.
"Pokémon. Please… let me live in the world of Pokémon."
There was a moment of silence, then a sound like gentle laughter.
"Very well. You shall be reborn there. You will retain your memories. And as your karmic reward, you may carry one blessing. Choose wisely."
Skylar's thoughts raced. Power? A legendary Pokémon? Knowledge?
"No… I want something more versatile. I want the potential to bond with any Pokémon, regardless of type, nature, or rarity. I want to understand them… to truly connect, beyond what Trainers do."
The light pulsed again.
"Accepted. You shall be born with a heart that resonates with all Pokémon. They will sense your presence and respond to your will… should your soul remain pure. Go now, and begin your journey anew."
The light expanded—warm, blinding. And then… pain.
His first sensation was overwhelming brightness. His tiny body twitched. Air filled his lungs in a painful gasp.
"WaaaAAAAHHH!" His cry echoed in the sterile room.
A woman's soft sob broke through the chaos.
"He's beautiful…"
He forced his blurred vision forward. A face leaned in, teary-eyed and glowing.
His mother.
She was stunning—long wavy hair, pale skin, and emerald eyes that shimmered with joy. Her touch was warm, divine. His tiny hand instinctively gripped her finger.
"Hello, my little Skylar," she whispered.
He froze. Skylar. They named him Skylar again?
A deep voice entered the room. Strong. Commanding.
"He has his mother's eyes… but my hair, it seems."
A tall man stepped forward, his striking red hair and crimson eyes intimidating, but his smile softened his face. He leaned down to kiss Skylar's forehead.
"Welcome to the world, son."
The nameplate on his father's uniform read: Flint.
Skylar's thoughts reeled. Flint? As in Elite Four Flint? One of Sinnoh's top Trainers?
Was he… was he born into a family of Trainers?
His body felt heavy. Sleep clawed at him. But before darkness claimed him, a nurse's voice rang in the background:
"He's perfectly healthy. And strong. He'll be a force to be reckoned with one day."