Pokemon Rebirth: Rise of Punit[Not Continued]
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I jolted awake, my heart hammering like I’d just outrun a Gyarados. The wooden beams above me were etched with carvings of Pokémon, details so crisp it felt wrong, unfamiliar. Panic clawed its way up my throat as my hands gripped a soft, clean bedspread—completely different from the scratchy, cheap sheets I remembered. Where was I? The room was filled with signs of a life that wasn’t mine—Charmander, Squirtle, and Bulbasaur posters lining the walls, shelves cluttered with memorabilia. A photo on the dresser stopped me cold—a boy and his parents, all smiles. But the faces...they tugged at something deep inside me, a connection I couldn’t place. When I stumbled to the mirror, it hit me like a freight train. The boy staring back wasn’t me—not the me I remembered. The reflection was younger, smaller, but the sharp intelligence in those midnight-black eyes? That was still mine. I wasn’t just waking up in some random room. I had become someone else, someone living in the Pokémon world. And with the powers I felt coursing through me—unlimited money, instant move learning, rapid evolution—this wasn’t just a new life. It was a chance to rewrite everything. A world to conquer, trainers to defeat. Ash, Gary, Blaze—they didn’t know what was coming. This world was mine now. And no one—no one—was going to stop me.
I jolted awake, my heart hammering like I'd just run a marathon. The ceiling above me, rough and wooden, had faint carvings of Pokémon etched into the beams. It wasn't familiar, not by a long shot. My fingers gripped the soft fabric of the bedspread, which was far different from the cheap sheets I remembered. Panic crawled up my throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the situation.
"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice cracking. I hadn't expected an answer, but it felt wrong not to ask.
As I pushed myself to sit up, dizziness hit me like a freight train. My breath quickened, eyes scanning the room with the sharpness of a predator assessing its territory. Posters of Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle covered the walls, the colors too vibrant, too out of place with the confusion gnawing at me. A dresser nearby was cluttered with Pokémon memorabilia—a Pokéball lamp, a stack of trading cards, and a picture in a simple frame.
I squinted at it. A couple, beaming with joy, their arms wrapped around a young boy. The faces tugged at something deep inside, but the connection didn't stick. This wasn't my room. These weren't my memories.
I swung my legs off the bed, testing the floor beneath me. Solid. Stable. But the moment I stood up, another wave of dizziness rushed in, and I staggered towards a mirror in the corner of the room. My reflection stopped me cold.
The boy staring back at me wasn't me. Or… at least, not the me I remembered.
Black hair, a bit tousled but with an undeniable charm. A face younger than it should've been, yet still holding onto an intensity I recognized. My eyes, though—black as midnight and sharp with intelligence—those hadn't changed. That calculating glint was still there, the one that had carried me through so much back in my old life.
Old life. The words churned in my brain, unraveling any sense of stability I had left.
"No… this can't be…" I muttered, but the truth was staring right back at me, mocking my disbelief. My hands flew to my arms, my chest, feeling the lean, wiry frame of a ten-year-old. This was real. This body wasn't mine, but somehow, it was.
Then it hit. Like a sledgehammer to the skull, a searing pain shot through my head, forcing me to drop to the floor. I gripped my temples, trying to hold my mind together as memories—memories that weren't mine—rushed in like a flood.
I saw a childhood of solitude, of loneliness. An orphaned boy, growing up without the warmth of family. I felt the bittersweet moments of fleeting joy, the desperate grasping at dreams that felt too far away. I saw Pokémon battles in the park, laughter with kids who had parents to pick them up after dark. And then the crushing reality of being alone, again.
But these weren't 𝘮𝘺 memories. They belonged to the boy whose body I now inhabited.
"I'm Punit… but not the Punit I knew…" I murmured, my voice shaking as I pieced together the impossible. I wasn't just some kid waking up in a strange room. I'd been… transmigrated. Into the Pokémon world, no less.
The realization should've terrified me, but instead, a thrill crawled up my spine. A world where I could start fresh. A world filled with Pokémon.
I rubbed my temples as the pain began to ebb, and I took a deep, steadying breath. The world swam back into focus, clearer now. My eyes swept over the room again, this time with purpose. Posters, toys, books—signs of a typical ten-year-old's life. It was almost laughable, the simplicity of it. But this wasn't a game.
I moved to the window, pulling the curtains aside. Sunlight bathed a quiet, quaint town that sprawled out below me. Peaceful, too peaceful. But there it was—Pallet Town. The name slid out from my lips, familiar, almost comforting. "This is where it all begins."
With a deep exhale, I plopped back onto the bed and closed my eyes. There was something I needed to test. My fingers twitched, and before me, a holographic interface flickered to life. It displayed my abilities, and I almost couldn't contain the grin spreading across my face.
"Unlimited money… instant move learning… rapid evolution…" I whispered, each word wrapping around me like a warm blanket. These weren't just cheats—they were game-changers.
This was no longer just about surviving in this new world. No, I had the tools to become the best—the strongest. My hands trembled with excitement as I closed the interface, my mind racing. Power. I could feel it coursing through me, the potential so immense it was intoxicating.
But I knew better than to let it consume me. Power corrupts—if you let it. I couldn't afford to lose myself in the thrill of it.
I sifted through the memories I'd absorbed, sorting what belonged to me and what belonged to the boy whose life I'd taken over. There was something deeply familiar in his struggles, his isolation. He'd been an orphan too. His parents—Pokémon Trainers—never came back. And now… well, we weren't so different after all.
"I'll live for both of us," I muttered, glancing at the photo of the boy's parents on the dresser. Their smiles were frozen in time, but there was something comforting in their expressions. "I won't waste this chance."
A fire ignited in my chest. This wasn't just about getting by. I was going to thrive.
I stood, my body crackling with energy, stretching the limbs of this new form. I had a plan now. First, I needed a Pokémon. A partner. Charmander, Bulbasaur, Squirtle—I'd seen their posters, their names rolled easily off my tongue.
One of them would be mine.
With renewed purpose, I made for the Bathroom door, my mind sharp with the possibilities laid out before me.
"This world is mine for the taking," I whispered, the promise hanging heavy in the air. "And I'll make sure to leave my mark."
With one last look at the room—the past life of a boy I barely knew—I opened the door to get ready and stepped into my new life.
A life where 𝘐 called the shots.
