With the team dismissed and their new Pokéballs tucked securely in their pockets. I really had to get pokeball belts.
I headed straight to the command tent and found Colonel Rawat hunched over a map, glasses low on his nose, marking defensive lines across the Aarey perimeter.
"Colonel."
He looked up immediately.
"Aakash. Good. You ready?"
"More than ready. Let's go."
He nodded and folded the map.
We left the camp and reached a large temporary building—a converted cold-storage facility now labeled:
POKÉBALL PROTOTYPE PRODUCTION UNIT
Inside, the air smelled like metal dust, oil, and fresh wood.
Around 20 craftsmen stood in a semi-circle.
• Master blacksmiths• Weapon forgers• Metalworkers• Alloy shapers• And two precision engineers
Every single one of them older than me by 20–30 years.
Every single one staring at me with the exact same expression:
"This child better not be wasting my time."
I clapped my hands lightly.
"Good morning."
They blinked.
Some nodded stiffly.
One muttered under his breath, loud enough for everyone:
"Colonel, is this a joke? He looks younger than my apprentice."
Rawat shot him a warning glare.
But I didn't mind.
They would believe soon enough.
"Let's go to the production floor," I said calmly.
We walked deeper inside—toward the cleared workshop, worktables, molds, furnaces, and shaping tools already arranged according to my blueprint from last night.
Some craftsmen eyed the setup in confusion.
No iron bars.
No metal sheets.
No alloy stock.
Just crates of…
Apricorns.
Tumblestones.
And storage bins.
One man whispered, "Are these… fruit?"
Another hissed, "Sir, we forge weapons. Not… jam."
I ignored their commentary and stepped forward.
"Before today, everything I'm about to teach you didn't exist on Earth. This is new. Impossible by our logic. But Pokémon don't follow our logic."
I lifted a firm, crimson apricorn.
"This… is not just a fruit."
Some murmuring.
"This is the shell of a Pokéball."
The room froze.
I continued.
"And this—"
I picked up a rough, glimmering red Tumblestone from the table.
"—is the core material needed to create the capture lattice."
The craftsmen blinked, confused.
One raised a hand.
"Sir… this is just stone. You mean we make balls with… berries and stones?"
"Yes," I answered simply. "But the result is more powerful than any alloy you have ever shaped."
The confusion deepened—but curiosity flickered in their eyes.
Time to begin.
Demonstration — The Birth of a Pokéball
I placed one apricorn and one Tumblestone on the central table.
"Watch carefully. Everything you make from today onward will follow this process."
They leaned forward.
Step 1 — Heating & Forming Apricorn Shells
I sliced the apricorn cleanly, removing the inner pulp.
"First: clear the inside."
A metalworker muttered, "Like cleaning coconut shells…"
I smirked and continued.
"Now—heat."
I placed the apricorn halves into the furnace, adjusting the temperature precisely.
Apricorn wasn't metal—it needed controlled heat.
Too much → burnedToo little → brittle
Once the edges glowed faintly orange, I removed them and shaped them with wooden hammer. heat them again and quench in oil.
The craftsmen's eyes widened.
The apricorn shell hardened instantly as it cooled—
—to a metallic sheen.
Not metal… but something between wood and steel.
"Apricorn shells," I said, "become a Pokéball's exterior once treated properly."
The craftsmen traded stunned glances.
This wasn't normal forging.
This was alchemy.
Step 2 — Smelting Tumblestone
I held up the red Tumblestone.
"Next: melt the Tumblestone."
"This melts?" someone blurted.
"Yes. At high heat."
I placed it in the crucible.
The furnace roared.
Slowly… very slowly…
The Tumblestone softened into a glowing red liquid.
The craftsmen leaned in as if watching magic.
"And now," I whispered, "we form the lattice."
Step 3 — Forming the Capture Lattice
Using fine iron rods prepared by the engineers, I stirred and shaped the molten Tumblestone into thin channels—like glowing threads.
Then I poured it carefully into the apricorn halves.
The molten energy fused instantly, carving intricate ring patterns inside the shell.
The craftsmen had fallen silent.
"This," I said, "is the capture lattice. Without it, nothing can be caught. The Pokémon's energy interacts with this matrix. So your work must be perfect."
They nodded slowly—absorbing every detail.
Step 4 — Assembly & Calibration
I snapped the two halves together, inserted the internal spring plate, and placed a tiny sphere of Tumblestone essence in the center.
Click.
A red-and-brown Pokéball rested in my palm.
A real one.
One craftsman inhaled sharply.
Another whispered, "What in God's name…"
I pressed the button.
Beep.
The ball pulsed faintly with red light—the capture matrix activating.
Silence swept the workshop.
I placed it gently on the table.
"That is a functional Pokéball," I said softly.
"Crafted entirely with your hands and Earth's new materials."
They stared at it like it was a holy relic.
The oldest craftsman finally stepped forward.
He touched the ball lightly.
"…Sir," he said slowly, voice trembling with excitement and disbelief, "how many… how many of these do you want us to make?"
I smiled.
"As many as this nation will ever need."
Rawat let out a low whistle.
The first Pokéball factory of India… was officially open.
______________________________________________________
The craftsmen surged forward—not chaotically, but with a fire in their eyes I hadn't seen earlier.
They were no longer skeptical.
They were hungry.
Hungry to learn this new craft.
Hungry to master something no human on Earth had ever made before.
"Alright," I said, stepping back. "Now it's your turn."
The senior-most blacksmith, Master Deshmukh, rolled up his sleeves.
"Boys," he barked, "station yourselves according to expertise!
They moved like a well-oiled machine.
But this was new.
Very new.
The first apricorn cracked in the wrong place.
"Again!"
The second overheated and charred.
"Start over!"
The first Tumblestone batch melted unevenly and hardened instantly when poured.
"Temperature control, idiots! WATCH THE FURNACE!"
But with every mistake…
They learned.
Within half an hour, sweat soaked their shirts and smoke streaked their arms—but their rhythm evolved.
• Apricorn shells—cut cleanly• Inner pulp removed perfectly• Surface heated–not burned• Tumblestone melted in controlled batches• Lattice shaped with steadier hands• Halves joined with precision
Finally—
Click.
The first craftsman-made Pokéball glowed faintly.
They cheered.
Then made another.
And another.
And another.
By the time they finished their fifth Pokéball, the trembling in their hands had been replaced by a craftsman's confidence.
Master Deshmukh looked at me, beard soaked with sweat.
"Sir… think we got the hang of it."
I nodded. "You did."
Most of them smiled with pride.
A few looked like kids who'd unlocked a new toy.
Rawat smirked beside me. "Told you they'd fall in love with it."
"Before we wrap up for today," I said, pulling out a folded sketch from my back pocket, "I want to request one more item."
I placed the drawing on the worktable:
A leather belt with:
• six reinforced circular slots• snap-lock clasps• internal padding• adjustable strap• camouflage pattern option
A proper trainer's belt.
The craftsmen leaned in.
"This is simple," one said.
"We already have leather."
"And rivets."
"And clamps."
Master Deshmukh rolled his shoulders.
"Give us twenty minutes."
He wasn't joking.
Twenty-five minutes later, they handed me a finished belt.
Crafted by master artisans.
Sturdy. Sleek. Balanced perfectly.
Not flimsy like anime belts.
Not plastic like game versions.
This was real equipment.
I clipped six Pokéballs into the slots.
Perfect fit.
"It's good," I said.
Deshmukh smirked. "Good? Boy, this is the kind of thing people will bid hundreds of thousand. It is not made by some factory. It is made by finest craftsmen in India. You won't find such quality elsewhere."
I chuckled.
"Have your apprentices make more belts. Every trainer is going to need one."
He nodded proudly.
Rawat pulled me aside.
"So, kid. What's the price?"
I had thought about it since yesterday.
"It has to be affordable for civilians—but we must cover production costs."
"Agreed," Rawat said. "What number?"
"₹5,000 per Pokéball."
Rawat blinked.
"That low?"
"Yes. We need mass adoption. Not a luxury market."
He rubbed his chin.
"And government?"
"₹3,000 per Pokéball."
Rawat nodded slowly, impressed.
"India will be the largest Pokéball supplier in the world."
I grinned.
"That's the plan."
Behind us, craftsmen were still experimenting—melting, shaping, assembling—like kids handed a new world to play in.
And in a way… they had been.
The birth of India's first Pokéball industry had begun.
And I was going to make sure it never stopped.