Chapter One: Arrival
Riku opened his eyes to the soft hum of city life outside the window. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling, confused. This wasn't his room. The bed was too soft. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender. Somewhere nearby, a kettle whistled and someone yawned.
He sat up slowly, heart racing. His body felt lighter than he remembered, younger. His arms—thinner. His legs—shorter.
Before he could process it, the door creaked open.
"There you are," a voice said casually.
A boy with messy black hair peeked inside. He was maybe five or six, still in his pajamas, scratching his head. "Mom said breakfast's ready. Don't be slow or she'll nag."
Riku blinked. The kid looked… familiar.
He followed the boy out of the room, barefoot on cool tile, trying to steady his breathing. The house was small but modern, packed neatly with furniture and gadgets—nothing over the top, but well-maintained. There was a computer desk near the living room, a few Pokémon plushies tucked between books, and posters of famous Pokémon Rangers and Gym Leaders on the walls.
The kitchen was alive with the smell of buttered toast and warm stew. A woman stood at the stove, her long brown hair tied into a messy bun. She turned and smiled.
"Morning, Riku. You feeling okay?"
Next to her was a tall man in a gym uniform, adjusting the strap on his wrist guard. His dark hair was cut short, his expression calm but firm—like someone used to drills and early mornings.
"Come sit," the woman said, patting a chair. "You've got class in an hour."
Riku sat down, still stunned. It wasn't just the house. It was his body, the way the world felt, the strange blend of familiarity and difference. The moment he touched the spoon, something clicked. Memories. Faint and jumbled. Not his, but… his?
This wasn't a dream. He had woken up in another world—and somehow, he was now an eight-year-old kid in a bustling, Pokémon-driven city.
But what hit him hardest was the way everything seemed so real.
Across from him, the boy—his little brother, apparently—was chewing noisily, kicking his feet under the table. The father glanced at the news playing on the kitchen wall screen, where a report was airing about a Wild Zone cleanup. A team of Rangers and their Machokes were clearing debris left by a rogue Steelix.
"This city never sleeps," the father muttered, sipping his tea.
His name, Riku remembered slowly, was Daiken. A gym trainer, working under one of the city's thirty regional gyms. Not a gym leader—those were elite, chosen every ten years—but Daiken held real weight. He'd earned four badges when he was younger, trained for three years, and passed the regional evaluation. Now he handled early-tier battles at the gym, coached newcomers, and maintained the lower-rank training hall.
Riku's mother, Kana, was an assistant breeder. Not full-fledged yet, but five years in, and nearing her final evaluations. She worked long hours at one of the city's central breeding stations, caring for egg batches, feeding routines, and early-stage Pokémon development. It was exhausting, underpaid work—but full of passion. Everyone knew that being a breeder wasn't about petting cute Pokémon—it was about waking up at four in the morning to monitor a restless Snubbull's temperature or learning the exact scent mix that would keep a skittish Eevee calm during incubation.
This was their last year as assistants. If they passed their evaluations, they'd finally become official professionals—Daiken a full Gym Trainer, Kana a certified Pokémon Breeder.
And Riku? He was now their son. With this family. In this world.
After breakfast, Riku walked outside. Their apartment was on the fourth floor of a modest high-rise near the gym district. From the balcony, he could see the gym building—sleek, multi-tiered, buzzing with activity even this early in the morning. Trainers came and went in uniform. Some carried Poké Balls clipped to belts, others pushed crates of supplies, or managed Pokémon warming up on the field.
But what really caught Riku's eye was a banner above the gym gate.
"League Weekly Challenge—Four Badges Minimum to Enter!"
That small line confirmed it: this world wasn't like the games or anime he remembered. It was tougher. Stricter. More grounded. You couldn't just walk out at ten years old and become a Champion. Here, you needed a license. Fifteen was the minimum trainer age, and before that, you had to attend formal training, schooling, and simulation programs. It wasn't a world of convenience—it was a world of competition.
Still, it wasn't cruel. Riku saw smiles. He saw friendships, trainers and Pokémon working side by side. There was joy here—real joy—but it had to be earned.
Back inside, Riku sat with his younger brother—Tama—to catch up on his new life. It didn't take long to figure out the basics.
This was a modern Pokémon society, where professions were deeply tied to both education and performance. If you wanted to be a Ranger, a Breeder, a Tech Creator, or even a Pokémon Soldier, you had to either earn a degree or collect four gym badges. No exceptions.
Once you qualified, you had to spend at least five years as an assistant in your chosen field. No one jumped straight to the top. You worked. You earned merit points through real labor—helping in the field, managing difficult Pokémon, inventing, solving, serving. And only then could you be considered for a full position.
No shortcuts. No handouts.
Even in a world full of magical creatures, success still meant years of sweat and effort.
Riku smiled faintly. It was harsh—but honest.
And then he remembered something else. Something more personal.
The simulation system.
Every month, starting from age eight, a registered citizen could enter a life simulation—a full, alternate reality. You lived a complete life there—forty years, fifty, even a hundred if you were lucky. And depending on how far you made it, and how well you lived, you earned real-world talents when you came back.
It wasn't a game. It was a path to change your fate.
And in this new life, that might be Riku's only chance to climb.
His family wasn't poor—but they weren't rich either. His parents were just on the edge of stability. They had connections inside the gym, inside the breeding station, but none strong enough to open doors on his behalf.
So Riku would have to rely on himself. And the system.
His first simulation would start soon.
But unlike others, Riku had something strange—something even this world didn't expect.
He had memories. Fragments from another life.