Jaxon Ryder Mercer opened his eyes to sunlight. Not the harsh fluorescents of his apartment ceiling. Not the blue hue of his laptop screen after an all-nighter working for a cybersecurity company. They high-key sucked—a lot.
Sunlight.
"...Huh."
The breeze smelled like grass, not the half-eaten pizza from three days ago that he swore he was gonna throw out. Something chirped in the distance. A Pidgey? Nah, couldn't be. That was fiction. Right?
He sat up slowly, half-expecting to feel the cold stiffness of his gaming chair. But instead, dewy grass brushed against his fingers. Trees loomed around him, tall and vibrant. The sky stretched overhead in a clear azure, the kind of perfect aesthetic usually reserved for JRPG intros.
Then the panic hit.
He patted himself down. Black hoodie? Check. Cargo pants? Check. Belt with weird capsules clipped to the side?
"The fuck... Poké Balls?" He blinked.
He looked at his reflection in a small pond nearby and nearly flinched. Red eyes. Crimson red. Not cosplay contacts, not some dumb filter—real. And he wasn't just an average black man anymore.
"Oh. I'm hot now. That's new."
And that's when the pieces started falling into place. The Poké Balls. The chirping birds that did sound like Pidgeys. The unnaturally vibrant sky. The anime-ass shading on everything.
"...You've got to be shitting me."
Jaxon Ryder Mercer—now apparently Jaxon Ryder Mercer the trainer—had been transported into the world of Pokémon.
Was this a dream? Was this an isekai? A mental break? Did his brain just decide to reboot into fanfic mode?
"Okay... stay calm. Think. You've seen enough anime, manga, hentai, and webnovels to know how this goes. Woke up in a new world—check the menu." He held his hand out, half-expecting some floating interface. Nothing.
He checked his belt. Six Poké Balls. One marked with a little glittery star.
"No way..."
With trembling fingers, he pressed the center button. The ball opened with a familiar shhk-tsssh! and a small, glowing light emerged. It formed into a petite, humanoid figure—white body, blue bowl-cut head, and a soft red horn on its chest.
A shiny Ralts.
She blinked up at him. Then tilted her head.
"...Hey there, little miss."
The Ralts tilted her head again. Her eyes sparkled.
Jaxon sat down heavily. "...Of all the possible starters. No Charmander. No Riolu. Not even a Froakie. A Ralts. Shiny. Female. Psychic-Fairy. This is either the start of the best in life or the cruelest challenge run."
It wasn't like he didn't know Pokémon. He grew up on this stuff. Played the games—old school Blue Version all the way to Black 2. He gave up around Sinnoh, mostly because the anime got... weird. Too soft. Too much friendship. Not enough old-school grind.
He'd rewatched some of the newer seasons out of boredom. Gave up right away. He got the point, but for fuck's sake—by all counts, Ash should've lost to the dragon GILF.
Got baited into reading a few of those kinds of fics. Curiosity became interest, and interest became a dark descent. The fan art? Broke him. And he became a fan.
But even with all that, this? This wasn't what he ever imagined when someone said, "You've been summoned to the world of Pokémon."
He stood up, brushing grass from his pants. Ralts followed at his heel, walking like a curious toddler.
"Okay, Jax. Think. What do you do in a new world? Find out where you are, what year it is, and whether or not Mewtwo is rampaging through some lab." He paused. "Also, find clothes. You look like a budget anime MC."
As if on cue, a rustle from the trees drew his attention. Footsteps. Human.
Jaxon narrowed his eyes. "Okay, act cool. If they're hostile, bluff. If they're friendly, flirt. If they're a nurse, definitely flirt."
Out stepped a boy in shorts and a baseball cap, clutching a Bug Net.
"Hey! You new around here?" the kid chirped.
Jaxon blinked. "No, I'm just standing in the middle of a field with bubblegum and a Ralts for cardio. But I'm all out of bubblegum."
The kid didn't seem fazed. "You from Pallet Town? You look kinda weird. Like, foreign weird."
"Thanks, I moisturize."
"I'm Joey. Wanna battle?"
Jaxon stared. "You're not Joey. Joey has a Rattata. A top-percent Rattata."
Joey tilted his head. "...What?"
Jaxon grinned. "Let's dance, then."
It was a quick battle. Ralts—bless her sparkly little soul—knew Confusion. Joey's Wurmple didn't stand a chance. And neither did Jaxon's composure when the victory fanfare played in real life.
"Okay," he muttered, cracking his neck as Joey handed over a few Poké Dollars. "We're doing this. This is happening. I am living in a damn game world."
He looked at Ralts. She smiled shyly.
"Guess you're my partner now. We'll work on nicknames later."
Ralts hummed softly.
"First things first," Jaxon muttered. "Let's see if I've got a Pokédex."
He patted his hoodie pockets. Then his cargo pants. Nothing. No ID, no phone, no Pokédex. Just a small satchel on his hip he hadn't noticed earlier. He popped it open.
Inside? A folded map of Kanto, a shiny Trainer Card with his face on it (weird), a very cyberpunk-looking red Pokédex, and a black-and-blue phone device with a glowing eye symbol.
"Yo... is that a Rotom Phone? Damn. Deluxe package."
He powered it on. The screen flickered, then came to life with a sleek, minimalist interface. A cool, feminine voice chimed in:
"Initializing Rotom Interface. Trainer profile detected. Synchronizing with Pokémon League: Kanto region databases. Welcome, Jaxon Ryder Mercer. Would you like a summary of your current Pokémon?"
Jaxon raised a brow. "Yeah. Hit me."
"Displaying data for primary team member: Ralts."
Pokémon: Ralts (♀) Nature: Timid (+Spd, -Att) Ability: Synchronize Type: Psychic / Fairy Level: 5 Moveset: Confusion, Growl, Mystical Fire, Confuse Ray, Mean Look, Destiny Bond, Disable, Misty Terrain, Telekinesis, Flash, Knock Off
"Note: Subject displays abnormal coloration. Classification: Shiny variant. Genetic stability—normal. Emotional receptivity—high."
"Affectionate already, huh? You just met me. Also the fuck you got so many moves for a little girl?"
Ralts blinked up at him and gave a soft giggle.
"...I'm in trouble."
He slid the phone back in the satchel and reached in again. There was one last thing tucked into the side pocket—an envelope.
It was sealed with a strange, swirling R insignia.
He broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
To Jaxon Ryder Mercer:
You have been selected for a unique opportunity to exist in a world beyond your own. You will live, train, and challenge yourself in the world of Pokémon.
Your task is simple: reach the top of the regional Pokémon League All nine of them. Grow stronger. Form bonds. Survive.
Should you wish to return to your original world, the path forward lies in conquering the League and uncovering the truth behind the Shards of Origin.
Failure to progress... is not advised.
— R.O.B.
Jaxon whistled low. "Guess the easy route's off the table."
He folded the letter and tucked it safely back inside. Then, standing up fully, he adjusted his hoodie and pointed toward the road ahead.
"Alright, shiny girl. We got gyms to crush, truths to find, and apparently some cosmic bullshit to handle. Let's roll."
Ralts beamed.