Orion's Point of View
It been one full year.
Well, technically five hundred and sixty-five days, if you want to be precise about it. I know because today's my birthday—or what passes for one in this world—and I got bored enough to start counting the days as they went by. It turns out that a year here is longer than on Earth. Five hundred and sixty-five days instead of three hundred and sixty-five. The extra two hundred days really drag you down when you're stuck as a human potato.
Speaking of which... can I just say how much I absolutely despised this past year?
Not the being alive part and definitely not the having a mother who actually loves me part. Those parts are great. Amazing, even. No, what I hated—what I really hated—was having absolutely no control over my own body.
You ever think about how humiliating it must be to be a baby? Like, really think about it? Because I've had a front-row seat to the experience, and let me tell you, it's rough.
I have a fully conscious mind in here. Three thousand years of training, meditation, building mental fortresses, mastering weapons I'll probably never get to use—and I can't even control when I pee. Do you understand how embarrassing that is? One minute I'm minding my own business, maybe replaying some old battles in my mind palace to pass the time, and the next minute my body just... goes. Without warning. Without permission. Without any regard for my dignity whatsoever.
The first few times it happened, I retreated so fast into my mind palace that I probably left skid marks in my mind palace. I'd just... disappear inside myself and refuse to come out until I was sure the damage had been cleaned up and the humiliation had passed. My poor mother must've thought she had the weirdest baby on the planet—half the time I was staring at her with this intense focus, and the other half I was completely checked out, eyes glazed over like nobody was home.
Spoiler alert: nobody was home. I was in my training grounds, working through my forms and pretending the outside world didn't exist.
I cannot wait until I can actually control my own body.
---
But enough about my cursed bodily functions. Let's talk about something that actually matters.
I've learned a few things during this past year. But the most infuriating thing I learned was bout my so-called "father" who contributed his genetic material for my existence and then promptly vanished from existence.
His name is Bastien. I have no clue what his last name is but I already hated his guts!!!
Flashback
I was being held by Mom, wrapped in this soft blanket that smelled like lavender and something warmer—milk, maybe, or just her. She was cuddling the heck out of me, and normally that would've made me uncomfortable, the whole physical affection thing being foreign to my previous existence and all. But here? Now? With her?
I loved it.
She held me like I was precious. Like I mattered. Like I was the most important thing in her entire world. I'd never experienced that before and I soaked it up like a desert absorbing the rain that rarely fell from the sky.
This was what I'd asked Eirene for. This was what I have always wanted for three thousand years.
Then the door opened unexpectedly and Mom snapped her head up expectingly.
A woman stepped inside, she was beautiful, with hair the color of a clear summer sky, cut short and practical but somehow still elegant. She moved like someone comfortable in her own skin, confident but not arrogant. Her eyes swept the room, landed on Mom, and softened with something that looked like... concern and sadness?
Mom's face lit up at first not noticing her expression. "Akari!" she started to say, shifting like she wanted to rise and hug her friend.
Then she saw the woman's expression. The light in her eyes dimmed. Her arms tightened around me, almost protectively.
"Akari," she said again, and this time it wasn't a greeting. It was a question. A worried one.
The blue-haired woman—Akari—crossed the room slowly, like she was approaching someone injured. She stopped beside the bed, glanced at me briefly, and something flickered across her face. Sympathy? Sorrow? Maybe both?
"Yua," she said quietly. "I have a message. From Bastien."
Mom's whole body went still. Even her breathing seemed to pause. I felt it, pressed against her chest—the sudden rigidity, the way her heart seemed to stutter for just a moment.
I didn't like this. I didn't like any of this.
Akari continued, her voice heavy with reluctance. "He... he's not ready to be a father. He asked me to tell you that you're to raise the child on your own." She paused, her jaw tightening. "He said that since you brought him into this world, the child is your responsibility."
I froze.
What?
What did she just say?
My mind, sharpened by millennia of isolation and training, processed the words instantly. But processing and accepting are two different things. I replayed the sentence, looking for some other interpretation, some hidden meaning that would make this okay.
But there wasn't one.
Mom's arms trembled around me. When she spoke, her voice was quiet—too quiet, the kind of quiet that comes before a storm. "Why? Akari, why is he doing this? I'm his fiancée we were going to get married after I gave birth!!!!"
Akari's expression crumpled. She looked away for a moment, composing herself, and when she looked back, there were tears in her eyes. "I hate this, Yua. I hate his decision. He practically used you." Her voice cracked with genuine anger. "The truth is... he has to marry someone from a strong clan. For the betterment of his family. That's the real reason."
He wants to marry someone else.
While he told my mother he would marry her.
While she held his newborn child in her arms!!!!
The fury that surged through me was ancient and cold.
Bastien.
I would remember that name.
Akari crossed the remaining distance and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Mom into a hug. Mom resisted for just a moment—pride, maybe, or the need to be strong—but then she crumbled, burying her face in Akari's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Akari whispered, holding her tight. "I'm so sorry he's such a prick."
Mom cried.
I'd never heard or seen my mother cry since I was born three days ago. The sound was soft, muffled against Akari's shoulder, but it cut through me like a two sided blade. She was trying so hard to be quiet. Trying so hard not to wake me, not to disturb me, not to let me hear her pain.
After a long moment, Mom pulled back. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet, but she held herself straight. Strong. The tears kept falling—she couldn't stop those—but her spine didn't bend.
"Is there anything else?" she asked quietly.
Akari hesitated. "The elders of his clan don't know about you or bout you're baby." She leaned forward, urgency in her voice. "If we told them, they would act. They could help you, Yua. They—"
"No."
The word was soft but absolute. Mom shook her head, wiping at her cheeks with the back of one hand while the other kept me cradled safely against her.
"No," she repeated. "It's fine. I have enough money to take care of us." She glanced down at me, and despite everything—despite the tears and the betrayal and the wreckage of her marriage—her expression softened into something so warm it made my chest ache. "We'll be fine."
Akari looked like she wanted to argue. Instead, she sighed and nodded.
Mom looked back up at her friend. "I knew our relationship wasn't what it used to be. But for it to get this bad..." She trailed off, shaking her head. Then she smiled, it was as fragile but genuine. "Just do me a favor, okay?"
"Anything," Akari said instantly. "What are friends for, after all?"
Mom's smile widened slightly. "Follow your dreams, Akari. Do what your heart tells you to do. Don't let anyone—family, tradition, obligation—stop you from being happy."
Akari stared at her for a long moment. Then she nodded, slow and solemn. "I will. I promise."
She turned to me then, her expression shifting to something softer. "Is this him?"
Mom glanced down at me, and I quickly adjusted my expression to something appropriately baby-ish. Not that I needed to—I was already staring at them both with the intense focus that babies apparently have, cataloging every word, every expression, every piece of information.
"This is Orion," Mom said softly. "Orion Silver. Say hi, Orion."
I wanted to make her happy. After everything she'd just been through, after the way she'd held herself together and chosen to be strong for me—I wanted to give her something. Anything.
So I tried.
My body didn't want to cooperate. It never did. But I pushed. I focused all my will, all my centuries of discipline, all my determination into the simple act of moving.
My lips curved upward. Not much. Just a tiny smile.
My hand lifted—barely, just a few inches—and my fingers opened and closed in the general direction of Akari's face.
It wasn't much but it was the best way hat I could do.
Akari's face lit up like sunrise. "Oh," she breathed. "Oh, Yua, he's adorable. Look at him! He's trying to grab me!" She leaned closer, letting my clumsy hand bat uselessly at her cheek. "I think he is the cutest baby I've ever seen."
She straightened herself and her expression quickly, meeting my eyes with a warmth that surprised me. "I'm your auntie, okay? Well, not by blood—but by choice. And that's better, I think." She glanced at Mom, who was watching with watery eyes and a trembling smile. "I have to go now, little one. But I'll be back. I promise."
She kissed my forehead it felt soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle. Then hugged Mom one more time. They held each other for a long moment, speaking without words, and then Akari straightened, wiped her own eyes, and walked out of the room.
The door closed behind her. And the only sound that could be heard was the beeping of the heart monitor that was attached to my mom.
Mom let out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world. Tears streamed down her face—silent tears, the kind that didn't come with sobs, just... falling. One after another. Dripping onto the blanket, onto my face, onto everything.
I couldn't stand it.
I forced my hand to move again. Reached up. My fingers brushed against hers—clumsy, uncoordinated, barely under my control. But I grabbed. I held on. I looked up at her with all the determination I possessed, all the love I was only beginning to understand, all the promise I could convey without words.
I'm here. You have me. And I'm not going anywhere.
Mom looked down at me. For a moment, her face crumpled with all the pain that was rising to the surface. Then, slowly, she smiled. A real smile. The kind that reached her eyes and warmed her whole face.
She sniffled, wiped her cheeks with her free hand, and squeezed my tiny fingers gently.
"I have you," she whispered. "And that's all that matters."
---
End Flashback
After that day, I saw how strong my mother really was.
She was beautiful in a way that made people feel at ease the moment they looked at her. Long, bright red hair flowed down her back in soft waves, catching the sunlight whenever she moved. Her eyes were a striking shade of purple—bright and warm, like polished amethyst—and they always softened whenever they looked at me. Even when she was tired, there was a gentle glow to her expression, a quiet kindness that seemed to draw people toward her. A small gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant rested against her collarbone, something she absentmindedly touched whenever she held me close.
(Image here)
She took care of me every waking moment, though most of our time consisted entirely of her cuddling me and smothering me in affection. Heck, I never left her side. When she had to clean the house, she did it one-handed while holding me in the other. When she cooked, I had a front-row seat in a baby sling against her chest. When she sat down to read or watch television, I was curled up in her lap like a small, content Purrloin.
I also learned that my mother was genuinely loved by the people of this city. I knew this because of the constant stream of pies, cookies, bread loaves, and other baked goods that found their way to our door. Neighbors dropped by "just to check in" and left with tupperware containers. The elderly woman next door, Grumma Sato, brought over a fresh batch of mochi at least once a week. The young couple across the street—both aspiring trainers, I gathered from overheard conversations—occasionally brought over these incredible berry tarts that made even my limited baby taste buds sing.
Where exactly this city was, I had no clue. All I knew was that we were in the Kanto region. I'd caught glimpses of maps on the television, heard mentions of nearby towns, but my limited vantage point from a baby carrier didn't exactly offer panoramic views of the surroundings.
But none of that mattered much. What mattered was the warmth. The consistency. The way my mother's arms were always there, always ready, always safe.
This was what I'd asked Eirene for. This was everything I'd never had.
So yeah, the lack of bodily autonomy still sucked. The indignity of being a helpless potato still stung. But when Mom smiled down at me with those purple eyes—so bright they practically glowed—and brushed her brilliant red hair out of her face to kiss my forehead?
Worth it.
---
The morning of my first birthday started like any other.
I woke up to the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. Mom was already up, which meant she'd probably been awake for hours. She always woke up early, even when I'd kept her up half the night with the usual baby nonsense. The woman was a living machine. A beautiful, red-haired, purple-eyed machine who deserved the world.
I was currently lying in my crib—a sturdy wooden thing that Mom had painted with little Pokéball patterns—staring at the ceiling and mentally running through my forms. Three thousand years of training had created habits that even infancy couldn't break. I cycled through weapon techniques in my mind, reviewed the layered defenses of my mental fortress, and made sure my mind palace was still in pristine condition.
Everything was in order.
Then I heard footsteps, and a moment later, Mom's face appeared over the edge of my crib. Her smile could have outshone the sun.
"Good morning, my little Orion," she cooed, reaching down to scoop me up. "Happy birthday!"
She cradled me against her chest, and I let myself relax into the embrace. This never got old.
She carried me to the kitchen, where a small cake sat on the counter—clearly homemade, slightly lopsided, and absolutely perfect. A single candle shaped like a "1" waited to be lit.
"I know you can't eat cake yet," she said, settling into her usual chair with me in her lap. "But Mommy can, and you can watch. That's almost as good, right?"
I made a soft noise that she interpreted as agreement.
She lit the candle and began to sing.
"Happy birthday to you... happy birthday to you... happy birthday, dear Orion... happy birthday to you..."
Her voice was lovely—not professionally trained or anything, but warm and genuine. The kind of voice that made you feel like the words meant something.
As she sang, something shifted inside me.
A presence. Familiar and foreign at the same time. It had been there all along, I realized—dormant, waiting, patient. But now it stirred, rising from the depths of my soul like a leviathan breaking the surface of the ocean.
Then a screen materialized in front of my eyes.
Violet energy coalesced into an elegant interface, bordered by what looked like living shadows that coiled and shifted like smoke caught in slow motion. At the top, a draconic silhouette stretched across the width of the display—not quite any Pokémon I recognized, but unmistakably dragon-like in its majesty. Its eyes glowed with the same violet light as the screen, and as I watched, they seemed to blink, acknowledging my presence.
The design was incredible. Ancient and modern at the same time, like something from a legend rendered in high-resolution holographics. Tiny particles of light drifted across the display like distant stars, and occasionally, one would flare brighter before fading back into the cosmic background.
[System Integration Complete.]
[Welcome, Host.]
[You have been bonded to the Void Dragon System.]
[Status: First and Only Holder.]
I raised an eyebrow—or tried to. On a baby's face, it probably looked more like a confused scrunch. But internally, I was intrigued. Void Dragon System? The name was a bit dramatic, but I couldn't argue with the aesthetic. Whoever designed this thing had excellent taste.
[A small note, Host:]
[As a gift for your first birthday, the system would like to provide useful information.]
[Due to Terra's unique planetary energy, children in this world develop faster—both physically and mentally—than those on your original Earth. A year on Terra is five hundred and sixty-five days, and this extended exposure to ambient energy accelerates growth.]
[You, Host, are now capable of using limited vocabulary to express basic thoughts. Simple words like "mama" or "bird" are within your current capabilities.]
I processed this information quickly. That was... actually good to know. I'd been worried about the timing of my first words. If I spoke too late, Mom might worry that something was wrong with me. If I spoke too early, she might panic for entirely different reasons. Having a baseline for what counted as "normal" in this world was genuinely helpful.
So I could say "mama" now. Perfect. I'd been wanting to call her that properly for months, but my stupid baby vocal cords hadn't cooperated. Now they would.
Mom finished her song, beaming down at me with those purple eyes that I'd come to love so much. She stood up, cradling me against her hip, and turned toward the counter where the cake waited.
"I'm going to have the biggest piece," she announced to me conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone our secret."
She took one step toward the cake.
I took a breath.
"Mmm..."
The sound came out rough, unformed. My vocal cords were still learning, still figuring out how to shape sound into meaning.
"Mmm... ah..."
Mom kept walking, oblivious.
I focused. Pushed. Centuries of discipline channeled into a single syllable.
"Mmm... ma."
She didn't hear me. Her back was still turned.
I tried again, pushing harder.
"Ma... ma."
Her hand touched the knife.
I gathered everything I had, all my will, all my determination, all the love I'd been storing up for months without any way to express it.
"Mama!"
The knife clattered onto the counter.
Mom froze like she'd been hit with a Glare attack. Every muscle in her body went rigid. Slowly—so slowly it was almost painful—she turned around.
Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung slightly open. She stared at me like I'd just evolved into a Charizard right there in her arms.
I tilted my head, confused by her reaction. "Mama?" I said again, my head canting to the side like a confused Psyduck.
Was this not normal? The system said this was the right timing. Simple words on the first birthday. That's what it told me. So why was she looking at me like I'd just rewritten the laws of physics?
Mom's breath came out in a shaky exhale. "Orion... did you just..."
Then the shock wore off, and something else took its place.
"Oh my Arceus, you spoke! My baby spoke!" She was bouncing now, literally bouncing with excitement, and I bounced along with her because I was still strapped to her chest. "You said mama! You said mama on your first birthday!"
Then, just as quickly as the excitement erupted, it cut off.
She stopped bouncing. Her expression shifted to something almost comically serious. "Wait."
Oh no.
"Is this normal?" She looked around the kitchen as if expecting answers to materialize from the appliances. "I've never heard of a baby talking on their first birthday! Babies don't talk this early, do they? Do they?!"
She spun around, still holding me, and hurried over to a small bookshelf in the corner of the living room. Her fingers danced across the spines until they landed on one particular book.
How to Raise Your Future Pokémon Trainer
She pulled it out and started flipping pages frantically.
I watched with growing confusion. The system said this was normal timing. So why was she—
"Aha!" She stabbed a finger at a page. "Milestone chart for the first year... let's see... sitting up unassisted... crawling... first steps usually between twelve and fifteen months..." Her eyes scanned down. "First words... typically emerge between twelve and eighteen months..."
She looked up at me.
I looked at her.
"It says first words are typical between twelve and eighteen months," she said slowly. "Not... not on the exact first birthday."
I blinked.
Then, internally, I started cursing.
System.
[Yes, Host?]
You told me this was normal timing!
[Ah. About that.]
About that?!
[It seems I may have provided you with slightly incorrect information. The physical and mental development acceleration is accurate. However, the timing of first words for most children on Terra typically falls between ten and fourteen months, with twelve months being the early end of the average.]
Twelve months is the early end. I just spoke at exactly twelve months. On my first birthday. That's—
[Yes, Host. That is technically within the normal range. However, most children do not speak their first word on the exact day of their first birthday. And they certainly do not speak it with the clarity and intentionality you just displayed.]
So you're telling me—
[I am telling you, Host, that I made a small error in my calculation of what constitutes "normal" speech patterns for a one-year-old on this world. The physical capability exists. The social expectation is different.]
A small error.
[Very small.]
A "tehee" level error?
[...I do not understand that reference, Host.]
I was going to murder this system. I was going to find a way to reach into whatever digital space it occupied and strangle it with my bare hands. Three thousand years of training, and my first real test was resisting the urge to commit violence against my own metaphysical benefactor.
Before I could fully formulate my revenge, the violet screen flickered back to life.
[Host.]
[The system acknowledges its error. The information provided regarding speech development was... incomplete.]
"Incomplete," I thought, pouring as much sarcasm into the mental projection as possible. "That's one word for it."
[The system would like to make amends. Proper information regarding Terran maturation rates and growth spurts will now be provided. This information is accurate and verified.]
I mentally raised an eyebrow. "Growth spurts?"
[Yes, Host. On Terra, physical and mental development do not progress linearly as they did on Earth. The unique planetary energy creates distinct growth stages. The system will now outline these stages for your reference.]
The violet screen shifted, new text forming in elegant, draconic script.
---
[TERRAN MATURATION RATES: OFFICIAL DATA]
[From birth to 1.5 years old:]
Physical Development: Babies on Terra mature physically much like babies on Earth. Basic motor functions develop, senses sharpen, and the body grows at a standard pace.
Mental Development: This is where differences emerge. Terran infants develop mentally at an accelerated rate, reaching the equivalent of a 2-3 year-old Earth child by the end of this period.
Note: Speech typically emerges toward the end of this stage, though clarity varies.
[From 1.5 to 2 years old:]
Physical Development: Significant growth spurt. Terran babies rapidly grow and begin to resemble 4-5 year-old children from Earth. Limb coordination improves dramatically. Fine motor skills develop faster than expected.
Mental Development: Mental maturity jumps to match physical appearance, reaching the equivalent of 4-5 Earth years.
Note: This is often when Terran children begin forming complete sentences and complex thoughts.
---
I stared at the projection, watching my little chibi body stretch into something that resembled a kindergarten-ready version of myself in my mind's eye.
"I'm going to look like a preschooler in half a year?"
[Yup. You'll even get a little boost in your coordination, speech, and perception too. Congrats! You're evolving.]
Despite myself, I felt a flicker of genuine excitement. No more being a helpless potato. No more limited mobility. No more relying entirely on Mom for every tiny movement.
"That's... actually something to look forward to."
The screen continued scrolling.
---
[From 2 to 7.5 years old:]
Physical Appearance: Terran children remain looking like 4-5 year-olds throughout this entire period. Height increases slightly, but the overall appearance stabilizes.
Mental Development: Internally, significant maturation occurs. By the end of this stage, Terran children reach the mental equivalent of 12-13 year-old Earth kids.
Note: This is 5.5 years of slow, internal growth packed into a tiny body. Critical learning and personality formation happen here.
[From 7.5 to 8 years old:]
Physical Development: Another growth spurt. Terran children physically jump to looking like 10-11 year-olds.
Mental Development: Mental maturity reaches approximately 13-14 Earth years.
[From 8 to 13.5 years old:]
Physical Appearance: Terran children look 10-11 throughout this entire period.
Mental Development: Significant internal growth continues. By the end, they reach the equivalent of 20-21 Earth years—effectively young adults in terms of cognition and emotional processing.
Note: Despite looking like children, Terran kids at this stage are mentally capable of adult-level reasoning.
[From 13.5 to 14 years old:]
Physical Development: Terran teens rapidly grow again to look 16-17.
Mental Development: Mental age caps at approximately 21 Earth years.
[From 14 to 17.5 years old:]
Physical Appearance: They stay looking like teens throughout this period.
Mental Development: Internal maturation continues, reaching the equivalent of 25-26 year-old humans by the end.
[From 17.5 to 18 years old:]
Physical Development: Final growth spurt. Terran adults now look 20-21.
Mental Development: Mental maturity reaches approximately 27-28 Earth years.
[From 18 to 40:]
Physical Appearance: Terran adults continue looking like they're in their early twenties throughout this entire period. Aging is dramatically slowed.
Mental Development: From this point forward, mental growth depends entirely on life experience, not age. Wisdom must be earned, not granted.
---
I read through the information twice, letting it sink in.
"Huh." I mentally leaned back, processing. "So that's why Ash never aged. Ten years old for twenty-plus years, looking exactly the same while supposedly traveling through multiple regions."
It made a disturbing amount of sense now. The anime's weird timeline, the eternal ten-year-old protagonist, the way characters seemed to exist in a perpetual state of childhood while gaining experiences that should have matured them significantly. Terra's unique planetary energy explained it perfectly.
"The growth spurts here are really interesting," I mused. "Five and a half years of internal development while looking like a preschooler? That's going to be... weird. Looking like a kid but thinking like a teenager. Looking like a preteen but having adult cognition."
[Correct, Host. This is why Terran society places such emphasis on journey experiences during the teenage years. Mentally, they are prepared for independence long before their bodies reflect that readiness.]
Before I could ponder this further, warmth enveloped me.
Mom's arms.
She'd finished whatever kitchen task had occupied her and had returned to scoop me up, clearly unable to go more than a few minutes without physical contact with her baby. Not that I complained.
"My little genius!" she exclaimed, spinning me gently in a small circle. "I still can't believe it! You said mama! On your first birthday! Do you know how special that makes you?"
I blinked up at her, already knowing what was coming.
"Say it again," she pleaded, her purple eyes shining. "Please, baby? Say mama again."
How could I deny her?
"Mama."
The word came out clear and intentional, and Mom's face absolutely lit up. She let out a squeal of happiness that probably registered on some seismic scale somewhere, then pulled me into a crushing hug.
"My baby! My smart, wonderful, perfect baby!" She was bouncing again, and I bounced with her, resigning myself to my fate. "Do you know how proud I am? Do you? The smartest baby in all of Kanto! Probably all of Johto too! And Hoenn! And Sinnoh! All the regions!"
She spent the rest of the day in a state of barely contained euphoria. Every few hours, she'd look at me with wonder in her eyes and whisper "You said mama" like she still couldn't believe it. She called Akari to share the news. She called Grumma Sato. She called every neighbor who'd ever shown interest in me, and probably a few who hadn't.
By evening, I was exhausted from the emotional whirlwind.
But there was one more surprise waiting.
Mom emerged from her bedroom carrying a small package wrapped in simple brown paper. She sat down across from me—I was propped up on the couch with pillows, my usual spot—and held it out with a mysterious smile.
"Happy birthday, my love."
Mom held the small brown package out toward me with a bright, almost nervous smile, like she was more excited about the gift than I could possibly be. The paper crinkled softly as she placed it in my lap—well, technically on the blanket draped over my lap since my tiny baby hands weren't exactly built for gift-opening yet.
"Go on," she encouraged gently. "Let's see if you like it."
I poked at the paper with my fingers. It made a satisfying crinkle noise. Unfortunately, my motor skills were still operating at the level of a Magikarp flopping on land.
Mom laughed softly. "Alright, alright, Mommy will help."
She carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing the what's inside.
It was a onesie.
But not just any onesie.
It was a shiny Gyarados onesie.
The deep crimson fabric shimmered slightly in the kitchen light, designed to resemble the legendary red evolution of a shiny Magikarp. Along the back ran a soft, plush ridge shaped like Gyarados's iconic fins, and the hood had two small yellow horn-like crests stitched onto it. Even the little sleeves had tiny scale patterns embroidered along the sides.
For a moment, I just stared.
Then my mouth curled into a small smile.
Honestly?
I loved it.
Not only was Gyarados one of the most iconic evolutions in Pokémon history, but shiny Gyarados specifically was famous in Johto thanks to the Red Gyarados at the Lake of Rage. Seeing it turned into a cozy baby outfit was... actually pretty awesome.
Mom gasped softly when she saw my expression.
"You like it!" she said excitedly. "I knew you would!"
Before I could protest—or do literally anything—she scooped me up and quickly dressed me in the onesie. The fabric was warm and soft, and the little fin on the back wobbled slightly when she settled me back into her arms.
She leaned back and admired her work.
"Oh my goodness," she whispered dramatically. "You are the cutest Gyarados in all of Kanto."
I blinked.
Well....Fair enough I'm man enough to admit that I look cute in this thing.
⸻
Not long after that, we moved to the living room. Mom had curled up on the couch with me tucked comfortably against her chest while the television flickered to life.
The title of the movie appeared on the screen.
"Lucario and the Mystery of Mew."
Huh.
Not a bad choice.
The movie played while Mom occasionally pointed things out to me like I wasn't mentally capable of following the plot.
"That's Lucario," she explained softly at one point. "He's very loyal. A lot of trainers dream of having one."
I already knew that, obviously. But hearing her talk about it so warmly made the whole experience feel different somehow.
The movie actually wasn't half bad and the plot was pretty good.
Halfway through the movie, Mom spoke up.
"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you something darling."
I glanced up at her.
"I ordered a new crib for your new room," she said with a proud little smile. "It should arrive tomorrow. I think you're really going to love it."
She leaned closer conspiratorially.
"It's shaped like a Mother Arbok. The coils make the sides of the crib and the head sits right at the top like it's guarding you."
I blinked.
That actually sounded like a pretty cool design for a crib.
"And it's extra safe," she added proudly. "Arbok are very protective Pokémon so no mean Spearow can hurt you in your sleep."
Well.
This is my life now.
A shiny Gyarados onesie, Pokémon movies, and sleeping inside the coils of a giant snake crib.
Honestly?
After three thousand years in a void...
I wasn't complaining.
The movie continued playing quietly as Mom gently rocked me without realizing it. The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the soft sound of the television slowly pulled at my consciousness.
My eyelids grew heavier.
This life isn't so bad.
My head settled against her chest.
And before I even realized it, I fell asleep in my mother's arms.