"Fishermen never go home empty-handed. Can't catch big fish? Catch small ones. No small fish? Go for shrimp. No shrimp? Pick wild herbs. No herbs? Just drink some water and call it a day. But you always walk away with something."
— Classic Quote from Fishermen.
His name was Umihara Reiji. A wild fisherman.
In the Pokémon world, by accident of transmigration.
Today marked his second day sea fishing in this new world.
Laugh all you want!
To be honest, he wasn't even hiding it. Cards on the table. No pretense.
He blanked again. Sigh…
That sigh carried the weight of all fishermen's misfortune.
Still, he considered himself lucky. At least he didn't die upon arrival—he landed on an uninhabited island. He was alive, sure, but had gone two full days without food or water, starving and dehydrated.
So why was he still fishing?
Because he was stuck on an uninhabited island in the Pokémon world. What else could he do?
What kind of place was the Pokémon world?
A place where even a Caterpie could be deadly. Wandering around meant certain death.
Since the moment he transmigrated, he had been using a collapsible hand rod to fish—grinding his fishing proficiency up to 9.99%.
The skill proficiency panel came from a janky Pokémon game he played in his previous life. He'd been a veteran player—familiar with most Pokémon except the truly obscure ones.
That game had transmigrated with him, too, though only a barebone panel remained, showing his fishing proficiency.
And when I say barebones, I mean it. The translucent screen in front of him showed:
[Umihara Reiji]
[Pokémon: 0]
[Proficiency: (Fishing / 9.99%)]
Just three pitiful lines. Not even a Poké Ball to his name.
How was he supposed to play like this?
Utter scam. Absolutely ridiculous. So ridiculous it circled back to making sense again.
Even the recharge/microtransaction function was gone. How was he supposed to play?!
The only thing this panel could do now was show proficiency levels—like fishing.
No pay-to-win. Just pure grind. Fitting, actually—he never paid money in his past life anyway.
No matter how he questioned it, the panel never responded. It was like a dead object. Didn't talk.
Thankfully, he was an experienced fisherman. He ground his fishing proficiency up to 9.99% in no time. Just a little more and it would hit double digits. He wondered—would something happen then?
Right now, it was nighttime fishing.
Last time he fished at night… he transmigrated.
If even that freak event could happen to him, what about this time?
Maybe tonight he'd hook a Kyogre?
Damn it, this was supposed to be the Pokémon world—why did it feel like a horror movie? No logic at all.
Suddenly, his fishing rod began to shake violently. The glowing float on the water's surface plunged under.
"It's here!" Reiji's heart surged with excitement. He completely forgot about Kyogre—he just wanted a bite. Nothing could stop a fisherman once the fish hit.
He poured all his remaining strength into his arms, jerking the rod back in the opposite direction of the fleeing fish.
Live or die—this cast would decide it.
He had no bait left. If he didn't catch something now, he'd starve.
After a half-minute of struggle, the fish began to tire. This was his moment.
With a sharp pull, he yanked it straight out of the water.
It was too dark to see clearly—only moonlight lit the beach—but whatever it was, it was alive. That was good enough. If it moved, it could be eaten.
He urgently flung the fish onto the sand, confirming it had landed before finally letting out a breath of relief.
"Finally… something to eat."
But the moment he relaxed, his legs gave out. He collapsed onto a rock, completely spent.
Large beads of sweat trickled from his forehead. His breath came in ragged gasps.
He had given it everything…
Actually, it hadn't even been a full two days.
The first "day" was just a midnight arrival. He didn't have a flashlight and didn't dare wander in the dark, so he'd curled up in a rock crevice until morning.
Once the sun came up and warmed his body, he began to explore the island perimeter, sipping dew along the way.
It wasn't until tonight that he caught his first fish.
He was parched. His lips cracked. Starving. On the brink.
No way should a one-pound fish have been so hard to reel in.
He wasn't weak—he was starving.
Lucky it hadn't been a giant Gyarados. He wouldn't have stood a chance.
By moonlight, he finally saw what kind of fish was still flopping on the sand, trying to jump back to sea.
It was a Wishiwashi—the lowest rung on the Pokémon food chain.
Usually treated as food themselves.
In his past life, players nicknamed them "Little Z-Gods" because when they swarmed together in School Form, they became a monstrous sea creature.
That was the survival law of the weak.
Wishiwashi had a white body with blue fins, gaping mouth, and large round eyes. Mainly light blue in color, about 20 cm long, weighing roughly 300 to 500 grams.
Visually, this one looked bigger than 300g. But still—pulling it up nearly killed him? No way he could admit that to anyone.
After a short rest, he moved to stop the Wishiwashi from flopping back into the sea.
He couldn't let it escape—he'd die of hunger.
Slap! Slap!
Before he could act, he heard a few sharp slaps. The Wishiwashi was flung back onto the sand.
The tail-slapper?
A Poliwag.
That's when he became sure—this was the Pokémon world.
As for where, exactly?
He had no clue. The endless sea stretched in all directions.
He'd already circled the island once—came back to where he started.
There were no buildings, no docks—nothing.
The island was truly deserted. Its center held only a dense, primal forest.
The occasional beast-like roar from within? Yeah, he wasn't going near that.
Don't be fooled by the cute anime designs. That was just animation trying to make Pokémon look appealing.
He wasn't naïve enough to believe Pokémon were all harmless little "buddies."
Get stung by a real Beedrill and you'd die.
So—forest: off-limits.
Ocean: off-limits.
Even a 50-cm Kingler on land could beat him up.
Fishing was all he had left.
At least Magikarp were easy.
…
Flashback to earlier that evening.
He had been grinding fishing proficiency.
Didn't even notice when a Poliwag appeared, crouched beside him.
He panicked—thinking the Poliwag might jump up and slap him silly.
He was scared stiff.
Didn't move a muscle.
But it just sat there quietly, staring at him.
Eventually, he calmed down and looked the Poliwag over.
It was his first time seeing a Poliwag in this world—adorable little thing.
Mostly blue skin, slick and wet. A black spiral on its belly.
No arms, just tiny, weak-looking legs. A feather-shaped tail.
Big eyes. Pink-lipped little mouth.
Looking closely, he realized it looked weak—sluggish, underfed, and unsteady.
Probably starving.
Then he noticed—it wasn't looking at him… it was staring at his bait.
Turns out, the fishing rod and bait had transmigrated with him.
His bait: crushed cornmeal, dried worms, and fish-attracting spices—homemade.
Smelled amazing.
Honestly, if he hadn't known it was bait, his starving self might've eaten it.
Too fragrant.
No wonder the hungry Poliwag came sniffing.
So… bait = Poliwag bait?
Feeling sorry for it, he tossed it a bit of bait.
Sure enough, gluttons are the same everywhere—especially starving gluttons.
Poliwag devoured all his remaining bait in one gulp.
Completely drained him.
If he hadn't yanked his hand back, he might've lost a finger.
The Pokédex says Poliwag is 60 cm tall.
This one was smaller—undernourished.
After finishing the glob of bait, the Poliwag licked its lips, clearly unsatisfied.
"Yo… yo…"
It sniffed, wide-eyed and pitiful, staring at the last of his bait, waiting at his feet.
Now he understood why zoos put up "Do Not Feed" signs.
Feeding comes with risks…
(End of Chapter)
[+50 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]