He had already done more than most people ever would.
By twenty-two, he was the youngest PhD holder in Physics and Biology.
By twenty-five, he had crossed fields most people never dared to touch
—biomedical engineering, pharmacy, and applied genetics
—not for prestige, but for results.
He didn't chase fame.
He chased survival.
Diseases that were once death sentences became manageable.
Medicines that were too expensive were redesigned, simplified, distributed.
Millions lived longer lives because someone obsessed over molecules the way others obsessed over money.
And yet, his body betrayed him.
Terminal illness. Congenital. Unfair.
He knew the diagnosis long before the doctors confirmed it. That was the curse of understanding biology too well. His mind could see the solution, but his body couldn't execute it.
So he focused outward.
He donated most of what he earned.
Hospitals. Research funds. Orphanages.
Especially orphanages.
Because he had been one once.
A child without a safety net learns early that kindness isn't guaranteed—and that giving it anyway matters.
When he wasn't working, he escaped.
Anime. Manga. Games.
Pokémon.
People laughed when they saw shelves filled with figures and cartridges next to medical journals. They didn't understand that Pokémon wasn't about battles to him.
It was about coexistence.
Humans and creatures growing together.
Adaptation instead of domination.
Bonds stronger than genetics.
He loved animals because they never lied.
Pokémon felt like a world that had solved something humanity never could.
His last days were quiet.
No dramatic machines. No panic.
Just a window, soft light, and memories.
Children laughing in an orphanage playground funded by his name.
A patient who lived long enough to see their daughter graduate.
A research paper that saved lives without ever mentioning his illness.
He smiled.
Satisfied.
And a little sad.
His breathing grew shallow.
Vision dimmed.
In his final moment, he didn't wish for more time.
He wished for something simpler.
"To see Pokémon… just once.
To live in a world where growth, evolution, and bonds are real."
His heart stopped.
Darkness came.
But it didn't stay.
Warmth replaced emptiness.
Not divine.
Not judgmental.
Balanced.
Like nature acknowledging a completed cycle.
A voice—not spoken, but understood—passed through him.
A life spent saving others does not end in nothing.
A wish born without greed carries weight.
Karma tilted.
Probability bent.
When consciousness returned, it wasn't to machines or pain.
It was to color.
To sound.
To a world where anime ideals, manga depth, and game logic overlapped into one living reality.
A single Pokémon world.
Consistent. Alive. Harsh. Beautiful.
A world where evolution wasn't just a mechanic—
it was a philosophy.
And somewhere within it, a child was born.
Not as a reward.
But as a continuation.