The golden light of the setting sun bathed the fields of Kanto in a warm glow as Ishmaart Shankar stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn. The air smelled of fresh earth and wild berries, a scent so pure it made the polluted alleys of Karol Bagh feel like a distant nightmare. Bullu, his newly caught Tauros, grazed contentedly nearby, occasionally flicking its tail to swat away a curious Pidgey. Rubina stood beside him, her silver hair catching the last rays of sunlight, her blindfolded face turned toward the horizon as if listening to the very pulse of this strange new world. The wind carried the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of a Pokémon, a sound so alien yet oddly comforting to Ishmaart's ears.
"Chalo, Rubina," Ishmaart declared, rubbing his hands together with his usual restless energy. "Aaj hum nayi duniya ke nayi cheezon ko explore karte hain. Maybe aur Pokémon milenge—business partners!" His voice brimmed with excitement, the kind that had carried him through countless alleys and marketplaces back home. Here, in this world of endless possibilities, that excitement burned brighter than ever.
Rubina didn't respond immediately, her sensors whirring softly as they processed the environment. The way she stood—motionless yet alert—reminded Ishmaart of the street dogs back home, always watching, always ready. But where those dogs were wary, Rubina was calculating. He knew she was analyzing every rustle in the grass, every shift in the wind, her YoRHa systems working overtime to understand this world that defied all her programming.
They walked along a dirt path that wound through the tall grass, the occasional wildflower brushing against Ishmaart's legs. He plucked one—a vibrant blue bloom that seemed to shimmer in the light—and twirled it between his fingers. "Dekh, Rubina," he said, holding it up to the fading light. "Yeh phool kitne range hain! Lagta hai yeh gold se bane hain!" He laughed at his own joke, but Rubina remained silent, her attention focused on something beyond the flowers.
The path led them toward Diglett's Tunnel, a place Ash had mentioned in passing the night before. The entrance yawned before them like a dark mouth in the earth, surrounded by patches of trampled grass where Diglett and Dugtrio had burrowed. Ishmaart was about to suggest they explore the tunnel when a sound stopped him in his tracks.
A weak, pitiful whinny cut through the evening air, so quiet it was almost swallowed by the rustling leaves. Ishmaart froze, his head snapping toward the sound. Without a word, he pushed through the bushes, his heart already racing with that familiar mix of curiosity and compassion that had gotten him into more trouble than he could count.
What he found made his chest tighten.
Curled up in the dirt, half-hidden by the undergrowth, was a Ponyta. Its once-vibrant mane was matted with dirt, its ribs visible beneath its patchy coat. The creature's flame flickered weakly, barely more than a spark, and its eyes—once bright and fiery—were dull with exhaustion and pain. Beside it lay a tarnished trainer badge, the metal scratched and bent, as if it had been thrown away in anger.
"Arre..." Ishmaart crouched beside the Pokémon, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out slowly, giving the Ponyta time to react, but the creature barely had the strength to lift its head. When it did, its eyes met his, and Ishmaart felt something twist in his gut. There was no fight left in those eyes, no defiance—just resignation.
"Kya hua tera, bhai?" he murmured, his fingers gently brushing the Ponyta's neck. The creature's skin was hot to the touch, its breath shallow and uneven. Ishmaart looked up at Rubina, who had followed him silently. "Rubina, dekh—yeh baccha mar raha hai. Hum isko bacha sakte hain."
Rubina knelt beside him, her hands hovering over the Ponyta as her sensors scanned its condition. "It is malnourished," she stated, her voice clinical but not unkind. "Internal injuries detected. Survival probability: 37% without intervention." She reached into the bag she carried—one of the few things they'd brought from their own world—and pulled out a small pouch. Inside were the Oran Berries they'd collected earlier, their bright orange color a stark contrast to the Ponyta's dull coat.
Ishmaart took the berries and began feeding them to the Ponyta one by one, his movements gentle, his voice soft. "Arre, khana kha le," he murmured, stroking the creature's mane as it ate. "Tu Agni hai—fire. And fire doesn't quit." The words felt right as he said them, like a promise he intended to keep. The Ponyta nuzzled his hand weakly, its flame flickering slightly brighter with each berry it consumed.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Ishmaart didn't move. He stayed there, feeding the Ponyta, brushing its mane with his fingers, talking to it in a low, soothing voice. He told it about Delhi, about the chaos of Karol Bagh, about the jalebis that had sent him on this wild journey. He talked about Bullu, about how they were going to build something great together. And as he talked, the Ponyta's flame grew steadier, its breathing less labored.
By the time the first stars appeared in the sky, the Ponyta was standing. It leaned against Ishmaart as he brushed its mane, its flame now burning with a steady, golden light. Ishmaart smiled, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn't expected. "Ab tu mere ho," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Agni—because tu aag ki tarah hai. Jyada spirit, zyada life."
He didn't reach for a Poké Ball. He didn't need to. Agni nuzzled his shoulder, and in that moment, Ishmaart knew this wasn't just a Pokémon. This was a partner, a kindred spirit in a world that was as foreign to the Ponyta as it was to him.
The walk back to the Pokémon Center was slower than usual, Agni trotting beside them with newfound strength. Bullu walked ahead, its massive form a comforting presence, while Rubina brought up the rear, her sensors still monitoring Agni's condition. The path was quiet, the only sounds the crunch of their footsteps and the occasional snort from Bullu.
They hadn't gone far when a familiar voice cut through the peaceful evening.
"Tch. Ketchum's not the only one who can catch Pokémon!"
Ishmaart turned just in time to see Jessie, James, and Meowth emerging from the bushes, their eyes locked on Agni. Jessie's smirk was as sharp as ever, her hand already reaching for a Poké Ball. "That Ponyta's ours now!" she declared, tossing the ball into the air. "Go, Arbok!"
The snake Pokémon lunged, its fangs bared, its body coiling like a spring. Ishmaart didn't flinch. He didn't even have time to think. His instincts took over, honed by years of street fights and quick thinking.
"Bullu," he commanded, pointing at Arbok.
Bullu charged.
The Tauros hit Arbok like a freight train, sending the snake Pokémon flying into a nearby tree. Jessie screamed in frustration, James tripped over his own feet in surprise, and Meowth yowled in panic as the three of them scrambled to regain their footing.
"You—you cheater!" Jessie shrieked, her face red with fury.
Ishmaart grinned, crossing his arms. "Nahi, behenji. Businessman hoon. Mere Pokémon mere liye ladte hain."
Team Rocket didn't stick around after that. With a final glare and a promise of revenge, they vanished into the night, leaving Ishmaart and his Pokémon in peace.
Back at the Pokémon Center, Ash was waiting for them, his arms crossed and his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. "You're not a Pokémon trainer," he said, stating the obvious as he watched Agni nuzzle Ishmaart's hand.
Ishmaart shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Arre, businessman hoon. Pokémon are my investments."
Ash blinked, clearly not understanding, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he watched as Ishmaart settled Agni into a comfortable spot near Bullu, the two Pokémon already seeming to bond.
As they prepared for the night, a traveling merchant stopped by the Pokémon Center, his cart laden with goods and his voice full of stories. He spoke of a lonely Pikachu in the next town, one that refused to be caught, one that danced to its own rhythm. Ishmaart's eyes lit up at the mention of the Pikachu, his mind already racing with possibilities.
"Rubina," he said, leaning in conspiratorially, "agle din Pikachu dhoondte hain. Business ka nayi chapter shuru hoga."
Rubina tilted her head, her blindfold hiding whatever thoughts might have been in her eyes. "You are obsessed with collecting Pokémon."
Ishmaart laughed, clapping his hands together. "Nahi, mohotarma. Obsessed with opportunities."
That night, as Ishmaart lay on the floor of the Pokémon Center, Agni curled up beside him, its flame casting flickering shadows on the walls. He reached out, scratching behind the Ponyta's ear, and smiled to himself. "Aaj achha din raha," he murmured. "Kal aur achha hoga."
Agni nuzzled his hand, and Ishmaart closed his eyes, content. Tomorrow, they would find that Pikachu. And then? The real fun would begin. He could feel it in his bones, in the way his heart raced with excitement. This world was full of possibilities, and he intended to grab every single one of them.
As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was of the Pikachu waiting in the next town, of the adventures yet to come, and of the bond he had formed with Agni—a bond that felt as strong and unbreakable as fire itself.