CrazeeLucky7
Youngster
- Pronouns
- Was/Were
Chapter 1
I woke up floating.
“What the hell—?”
The first clue something had gone wrong was weightlessness.
The second was my hands. Small. Green. Not mine. Wings quivered where my shoulder blades used to be.
“Congratulations,” a voice said, far too cheerful. “You’re the legendary Pokémon Celebi.”
My thorax locked. Static surged through me—the urge to punch something, anything.
I knew the name. Roger had been obsessed with Pokémon when we were kids, explaining every evolution like it was gospel. I’d forgotten most of childhood, but not him. Not the way he laughed until he cried.
I opened my mouth. A thin alien chirp spilled out. Not my voice. Yesterday I was Mason—a guy who could count his good days on one hand. Now I didn’t even know what a hand was.
Roger would have squealed to see me as a fairy. The thought made my stomach flip into grief.
“Legendary.” The word pinned me like a bug under glass.
The black dissolved into green-lit chrome. Tubes pulsed with luminous liquid. The air reeked of ozone and pennies. Shapes floated in tanks—sleeping, peaceful, wrong. Corpses posed for display.
I tried to move. Straps cut into me. Muscles failed. A whimper escaped.
Footsteps echoed—heavy, deliberate. A man in a black trench coat emerged, face half-shadowed. For one stupid second I thought he was another prisoner.
“Help me! We’ve gotta get out of here!” My voice came out wrong, brittle.
His eyes caught mine like sunlight on glass. “Ah. You’re awake. Call me Emperor. You’re here for my collection. Don’t expect an angel. I am your god now.”
Cold realization crushed me.
“You—you’re the voice? The one who told me I was… this?”
“Guilty,” he said, smiling faintly. “Mason, correct?”
My chirp fractured into a gasp.
“I speak many languages,” he continued. “Human. Pokémon. Most importantly—the mind.”
Certainty slid under my skin. His gaze cataloged me like a specimen.
My wings thrashed. I spat. Brown flecks hit his cheek. “I am NOT a Pokémon! I’m human! Change me back!”
He wiped his face. Slowly. Anger sharpened his features.
SMACK.
The backhand stung. Metal filled my mouth. Heat turned to ice in my chest.
“Do that again,” he said softly, “and you’ll learn how much worse this can get.”
I shrank into the straps. Even if I lunged, even if I screamed, I was just a toy.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the restraints went slack. His hand brushed my cheek almost tenderly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “Please… don’t hurt me.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry, too. But you are home now. I gave you new life. New purpose. I saved you from mediocrity.”
His palm pressed to my forehead. Heat pulsed into my skull. Sleep tugged. I fought it, clawing for myself, but the dark pressed harder.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “We have much work ahead.”
The lab fractured into memory. Swings creaked. Sand crunched. Roger and I ran under the old oak. Relief spiked—then soured. My fingers twitched wrong: too many, too green.
Two kids darted past. Roger in overalls. Me in that stupid Pikachu shirt.
“Why’d Mom make me wear this? It sucks!” my younger self snapped.
Roger’s face fell. “Well, I’m sorry for sharing my heart with you!” Tears welled—tears we once traded over scraped knees.
We spoke together. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean—”
“Leave me alone, you big bully!” Roger bolted into the street.
“No! Not again! Look out!” I screamed.
Tires shrieked. A thud. I couldn’t look.
My younger self glared at me. “You deserve this. You’ll never go home again. Bully.” He ran on, eyes forward.
Roger’s body twitched—then lifted like a puppet. His head turned toward me, voice hollow: “Never go home again… you are mine now, Mason.”
“Please,” I choked. “I’m sorry.”
I looked down. Not six human fingers. Just a tiny green paw.
Emperor’s laughter swallowed the scene. It vibrated in my bones—until my own laugh broke free, thin and rust-tasting, not mine.
Something cold scraped the base of my skull. Memory cracked. Roger’s face blinked out like a photograph sinking underwater.
The world narrowed to absence. My straps cut. My claws dug. The laugh inside me answered.
Wrong. All wrong.
I woke up floating.
“What the hell—?”
The first clue something had gone wrong was weightlessness.
The second was my hands. Small. Green. Not mine. Wings quivered where my shoulder blades used to be.
“Congratulations,” a voice said, far too cheerful. “You’re the legendary Pokémon Celebi.”
My thorax locked. Static surged through me—the urge to punch something, anything.
I knew the name. Roger had been obsessed with Pokémon when we were kids, explaining every evolution like it was gospel. I’d forgotten most of childhood, but not him. Not the way he laughed until he cried.
I opened my mouth. A thin alien chirp spilled out. Not my voice. Yesterday I was Mason—a guy who could count his good days on one hand. Now I didn’t even know what a hand was.
Roger would have squealed to see me as a fairy. The thought made my stomach flip into grief.
“Legendary.” The word pinned me like a bug under glass.
The black dissolved into green-lit chrome. Tubes pulsed with luminous liquid. The air reeked of ozone and pennies. Shapes floated in tanks—sleeping, peaceful, wrong. Corpses posed for display.
I tried to move. Straps cut into me. Muscles failed. A whimper escaped.
Footsteps echoed—heavy, deliberate. A man in a black trench coat emerged, face half-shadowed. For one stupid second I thought he was another prisoner.
“Help me! We’ve gotta get out of here!” My voice came out wrong, brittle.
His eyes caught mine like sunlight on glass. “Ah. You’re awake. Call me Emperor. You’re here for my collection. Don’t expect an angel. I am your god now.”
Cold realization crushed me.
“You—you’re the voice? The one who told me I was… this?”
“Guilty,” he said, smiling faintly. “Mason, correct?”
My chirp fractured into a gasp.
“I speak many languages,” he continued. “Human. Pokémon. Most importantly—the mind.”
Certainty slid under my skin. His gaze cataloged me like a specimen.
My wings thrashed. I spat. Brown flecks hit his cheek. “I am NOT a Pokémon! I’m human! Change me back!”
He wiped his face. Slowly. Anger sharpened his features.
SMACK.
The backhand stung. Metal filled my mouth. Heat turned to ice in my chest.
“Do that again,” he said softly, “and you’ll learn how much worse this can get.”
I shrank into the straps. Even if I lunged, even if I screamed, I was just a toy.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the restraints went slack. His hand brushed my cheek almost tenderly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “Please… don’t hurt me.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry, too. But you are home now. I gave you new life. New purpose. I saved you from mediocrity.”
His palm pressed to my forehead. Heat pulsed into my skull. Sleep tugged. I fought it, clawing for myself, but the dark pressed harder.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “We have much work ahead.”
The lab fractured into memory. Swings creaked. Sand crunched. Roger and I ran under the old oak. Relief spiked—then soured. My fingers twitched wrong: too many, too green.
Two kids darted past. Roger in overalls. Me in that stupid Pikachu shirt.
“Why’d Mom make me wear this? It sucks!” my younger self snapped.
Roger’s face fell. “Well, I’m sorry for sharing my heart with you!” Tears welled—tears we once traded over scraped knees.
We spoke together. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean—”
“Leave me alone, you big bully!” Roger bolted into the street.
“No! Not again! Look out!” I screamed.
Tires shrieked. A thud. I couldn’t look.
My younger self glared at me. “You deserve this. You’ll never go home again. Bully.” He ran on, eyes forward.
Roger’s body twitched—then lifted like a puppet. His head turned toward me, voice hollow: “Never go home again… you are mine now, Mason.”
“Please,” I choked. “I’m sorry.”
I looked down. Not six human fingers. Just a tiny green paw.
Emperor’s laughter swallowed the scene. It vibrated in my bones—until my own laugh broke free, thin and rust-tasting, not mine.
Something cold scraped the base of my skull. Memory cracked. Roger’s face blinked out like a photograph sinking underwater.
The world narrowed to absence. My straps cut. My claws dug. The laugh inside me answered.
Wrong. All wrong.
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