The bell above the pet shop door jingled softly, a familiar sound that had greeted countless customers over the years.
Hashimoto Satoshi watched as the last one—a young woman with bright eyes and a hesitant smile—cradled the small brown puppy in her arms.
The little dog wriggled happily, its tail thumping against her coat, oblivious to the significance of the moment. Satoshi felt a pang in his chest; this was the end. After two decades of running the place, matching furry companions with lonely hearts, the shelves were bare, the cages empty.
"Thank you so much for adopting him," Satoshi said, his voice warm despite the weariness etched into his features.
He bowed slightly, a habit from his upbringing. "He's a good boy—loyal and full of energy. Take good care of him, alright?"
The woman nodded, her gratitude shining through. "I will. You've made my day... no, my year. Thank you." She turned and stepped out into the cool evening, her footsteps echoing faintly on the quiet street before fading away.
Satoshi stood there for a long moment, staring at the door as if expecting it to chime again. The shop felt unnaturally still without the usual chorus of barks, meows, and chirps. He let out a deep breath, running a hand through his graying hair.
Relief washed over him, mingled with pride, he'd found homes for every last animal.
But beneath it all lurked an emptiness, a question that had been gnawing at him for months: What now? No more early mornings stocking shelves, no more coaxing shy kittens out of hiding, no more joy in seeing a child's face light up with a new pet.
With a soft sigh, he flipped the "Open" sign to "Closed" one final time, the click of the lock resounding like a period at the end of a long sentence.
He pocketed the keys and stepped onto the sidewalk, the night air crisp against his skin. The streetlamps cast a golden glow over the pavement, and in the distance, the hum of traffic blended with the occasional honk of a horn.
He stretched his arms overhead, feeling the tension of the day ease from his muscles, and glanced up at the sky. The stars were faint, veiled by the city's lights, but they twinkled on indifferently, as if the universe couldn't care less about one man's quiet milestone.
He took a step forward, mind already wandering to what tomorrow might bring—maybe a trip to the countryside, or finally picking up that old hobby of cooking.
BEEP! BEEP!
The world exploded in light...
Headlights blinded him, tires screeched like a banshee's wail.
Time slowed to a crawl; Satoshi's heart hammered in his chest, his body frozen in that split-second of horror. Then, impact—darkness swallowed everything.
He awoke not to pain or the sterile beep of hospital machines, but to... nothing.
An endless expanse of white stretched in every direction, the "ground" beneath him soft and yielding, like standing on a vast, featureless cloud. His body felt weightless, unreal, as if he'd shed the burdens of age and gravity.
Satoshi blinked, disoriented, pushing himself up slowly.
"What the hell...?" he muttered, his voice echoing strangely in the void. "Am I dreaming? Or did I—"
"Yooooo! Hashimoto Satoshi!"
The shout boomed from nowhere and everywhere, cheerful and obnoxiously loud.
Satoshi flinched, whipping his head around until he spotted the source...
A floating figure, hazy and shifting like a mirage, grinning down at him with an expression that screamed trouble.
"Who are you?" Satoshi demanded, his frown deepening. "And how do you know my name?"
The figure hovered closer, pointing at itself with a theatrical flourish. "Me? Oh, I know all about you—every boring detail. I'm the author of this little story you're in!"
Satoshi stared, deadpan. "Author? What kind of crap is that? Where am I? This doesn't make any sense."
The author chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "Alright, alright, let's cut to the chase. You're dead, buddy. Well, mostly—your soul's hanging in there, so points for that. This is the in-between, limbo, the void, whatever you wanna call it. And I'm the one deciding your next chapter."
"Dead?" Satoshi echoed, stepping forward with a mix of anger and disbelief. His mind raced back: the shop, the door locking, the street, and lastly the truck...
It hit him like a punch to the gut.
"No... that can't be right. I was just walking home. It was an accident—"
"Bingo!" the author interrupted, grinning wider.
"Classic hit-by-a-truck scenario. Truck-kun strikes again! You got isekai'd, my friend. Straight out of those stories you used to read in secret during slow days at the shop."
Satoshi facepalmed, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or scream.
"Damn it... Of all the ways to go. So, what happens now? Is this heaven, hell, or just some cosmic joke?"
The author clapped their hands together with a sharp smack, the sound reverberating through the void.
"Great question! Look, your life was... let's be real, kinda dull. Pet shop owner? Noble, sure, but zero excitement. No epic quests, no dramatic twists. But hey, I'm in a good mood today. How about a do-over? A fresh start in a whole new world?"
Satoshi narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping in. "A new world? What do you mean?"
The author's grin turned mischievous as they snapped their fingers. The white void rippled like water, colors bleeding in.
lush green fields rolling under a bright blue sky, quaint towns dotted with colorful buildings, dense forests teeming with strange, vibrant creatures. Pokémon—Pikachu scampering through grass, Pidgey soaring overhead, a distant Charizard breathing flames.
It was the world from Satoshi's childhood fantasies, the one he'd escaped into through games and anime when real life felt too mundane.
"No way," Satoshi breathed, his eyes widening in awe. "The Pokémon world? You're serious?"
"Dead serious!" the author quipped, laughing at their own pun. "But before I toss you in, you've got three wishes. Make 'em good. no god-mode stuff, no infinite riches and no cheat skill. Keep it fair, or I'll veto."
Satoshi crossed his arms, his mind whirling. This was insane, but if it was real... he had to think smart. Drawing from his old life, he considered what would help in a world full of wild creatures and adventures.
"Alright, first off, I want something practical. An infinite tool backpack—one where I can just reach in, think of what I need, and pull out any small tool. Nothing fancy, just handy stuff for survival or fixing things."
The author tilted their head, eyebrow raised. "Hmm, not bad. Convenient without breaking the game. Granted! But let's add some ground rules: small tools only. No weapons, no Pokémon-catching cheats like Master Balls or Rare Candies. I see that glint in your eye—nice try, but no shortcuts to legendaries."
Satoshi huffed but nodded. "Fine, that works." A subtle glow enveloped him, warm and fleeting, like sunlight on his skin.
"Hit me with the next one," the author prompted, leaning in eagerly.
Satoshi didn't hesitate, building on the idea. "Okay, second: I want to be able to see a Pokémon's details at a glance. Like a built-in Pokédex, but better—stats, abilities, moves, all the useful info. Maybe like some kind of status window that pops up in front of me."
The author whistled appreciatively. "Sharp thinking! Knowledge is power, right? Granted. But to keep it fun, no spoilers on future moves or hidden stuff that hasn't unlocked yet. You'll see what's there now, not what might be."
"Deal," Satoshi said, feeling another glow settle over him. It was starting to feel real, this power humming just beneath the surface.
The author rubbed their hands together. "Last wish~ make it count!"
Satoshi paused, reflecting on his years in the pet shop. The frustration of never truly knowing what the animals needed, the joy when he guessed right. In a world of Pokémon, that barrier would be unbearable.
"For the last one... I want to understand Pokémon. Talk to them, hear what they're really saying. I've spent my life caring for animals; I don't want to guess anymore. I want to connect."
The author's grin softened, just a touch. "That's... actually kinda touching. Wholesome as hell. Granted! No catches on this one—you'll chat with 'em like old friends."
The final glow washed over him, and Satoshi flexed his fingers, a quiet certainty blooming inside. He didn't feel different, but he knew he was.
"Alright, you're all powered up!" the author declared, stretching their arms as if warming up for a big send-off. "Time to drop you into the action. No turning back now."
"Wait," Satoshi said quickly, a flicker of anxiety rising. "Where exactly am I starting? Some town? A lab?"
The author wiggled their fingers playfully, a sly sparkle in their eyes. "Oh, that's the fun part—a surprise! Buckle up, Hashimoto Satoshi. Your epic adventure kicks off..."
"Right NOW!"
Before Satoshi could protest, a brilliant light erupted around him, blinding and all-consuming.
"Oh, and one more thing," the author's voice echoed faintly. "You're 18 again—youth is wasted on the young, but not this time! Cya~!"
The light faded, replaced by a ferocious roar of wind tearing at his ears, whipping his hair into a frenzy. His stomach lurched violently as the truth slammed home.
He wasn't on solid ground. He was in freefall, plummeting through the open sky like a stone dropped from the heavens.
"A-AHHHHH!" Satoshi's scream shredded the air, his arms and legs flailing in a desperate, futile bid for control.
The wind stung his eyes, tears streaming back across his cheeks.
Below him stretched an immense forest, a sea of emerald treetops rushing up at terrifying speed.
Birds scattered in alarm, and in the distance, he glimpsed flashes of color—Pokémon darting through the branches.
Panic clawed at his chest, but amid the terror, a wild thrill sparked. This was it—his new life, raw and unpredictable.
"YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT DROPPING ME FROM THE DAMN SKY, YOU INSANE AUTHOR!" he bellowed, his words lost to the gale.
The canopy loomed closer, branches like jagged teeth ready to snap him up.
The adventure had begun, whether he was ready or not.
*
Continue...
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Will he survive this sudden drop, or will his journey end before it even begins? HAHAHA!