**Waves of Change**
The salty breeze hit him first, sharp and crisp as he blinked back into consciousness. The sun hung low over the harbor, boats swaying gently on the water. Confusion washed over him. He wasn't supposed to be here—not in this world, not in a place he only knew from childhood games.
He stood slowly, taking in the scene. **Vermilion City**—if he remembered correctly. His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic at his waist. He looked down and found a single Poké Ball, gleaming under the sunlight. His heart raced.
*This can't be real.*
With shaky hands, Kai pressed the button. Light burst forth, and before him materialized a small blue seahorse-like Pokémon. **Horsea**. It blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, its gills fluttering lightly as it floated in the air, bubbles lazily drifting around it.
It wasn't cute in the way he'd once imagined. In fact, now that he was here, everything felt more grounded, more dangerous. This world, despite how colorful it appeared, wasn't a game. Pokémon weren't just pets—they were powerful creatures that could easily overwhelm a human. Just looking at Horsea, with its natural ability to control water pressure, it hit him: a misstep could have severe consequences.
But he wasn't just any trainer dropped into a fantasy world. There was something else—something that pulsed in his chest. The bond he felt with Horsea wasn't ordinary; it was primal, connected. He kneeled down, placing his hand on Horsea's cool, damp skin, and felt a warmth travel from his palm into the Pokémon. The tiredness that lingered in its small frame melted away, and Horsea seemed to grow more alert.
As the warmth faded from Kai's hand, a wave of dizziness hit him. He stumbled back, feeling suddenly drained. His breath came out in short gasps, and his muscles trembled with exhaustion.
The gift. He had it, yes, but using it had a cost. Each time he healed his Pokémon, it sapped his own strength, leaving him vulnerable. The simple act of easing Horsea's fatigue had taken more out of him than he expected. He realized then that this wasn't something he could use freely. If he pushed too hard, he'd collapse long before his Pokémon did.
He sat down on the cobblestone street, trying to catch his breath. *I'm going to need more stamina,* he thought. If he wanted to survive in this world, if he wanted to be a trainer worth following, he'd need to train his body just as much as his Pokémon. This gift could be an advantage, but only if he built up the strength to control it.
Healing Horsea's small fatigue had taken him to the edge of his limits, and this was just the beginning. In a real battle, when the stakes were higher and the damage more severe, he'd need endurance—real, hard-earned endurance—to support his Pokémon without breaking himself.
He wasn't just going to have to train Horsea. He'd have to train himself, too.
This wasn't a cheat. It was a responsibility. And that responsibility had a cost.
He stood and looked at Horsea again. Small, delicate, but with untapped potential. In a place like this, brute strength wasn't enough. Trainers who rushed in without caution often ended up hurt—or worse. The Gym Leaders weren't just NPCs with predetermined teams; they were battle-hardened veterans who had seen real action with their Pokémon. Lt. Surge, for instance, wasn't known for his gentle approach. His Raichu had been through wars, real wars, and its power reflected that.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the weight of the journey ahead sank in. Kai had a lot to figure out. Unlike in the game, there would be no convenient items or moves to rely on. He'd have to earn Horsea's trust and strength through effort and careful training. If he wanted to succeed, it would take long hours of practice, study, and bonding.
He glanced toward the Gym's looming silhouette in the distance. Lt. Surge wasn't someone he could face just yet. Horsea, with its natural affinity for water, could be strong against Surge's Electric-types, but a single mistake could cost him dearly. Pokémon battles in this world were real. One misjudgment and Horsea could get seriously hurt—or worse.
"Well, Horsea," he murmured, turning his gaze back to his Pokémon. "Looks like we've got a lot of work ahead of us."
Horsea chirped softly, bubbles rising around it, but there was an edge of determination in its gaze. It knew, instinctively, that this world wasn't forgiving. They'd have to grow together, understand each other at a level most trainers in his world had never bothered to reach. There was no easy way out here—no leveling up by fighting a bunch of wild Pokémon. Every battle would count, and every victory would be earned.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his new reality. This world, for all its wonder, was dangerous. And if he wanted to survive and thrive here, he'd need to train harder, think smarter, and build an unbreakable bond with Horsea.
"Let's go," he said, starting toward the edge of the city. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the harbor. "We've got a long road ahead of us."