Chapter Text
Drip. Drip. Drip. The soft, rhythmic sound of water droplets falling into an endless, tranquil river echoed through the stillness. The water was an impossibly deep blue, crystal clear and stretching forever without disturbance. Its peaceful rhythm could lull any soul into calmness. A starry sky filled with bright, colorful hues encompassed the space.
But suddenly, a figure crashed into the water with a loud splash, sending ripples in every direction. Bubbles surrounded him as his body descended into the river. His form had no distinct features except a faintly masculine shape, glowing softly with a cyan hue, nearly transparent.
"Ugh," he groaned weakly, his voice trembling. He looked down at his hands—or what should have been his hands. His eyes widened in horror. His body was barely there, almost entirely see-through. "W-What's happened to me?"
"Human."
The voice that answered was powerful and regal, shaking the river and sky as it spoke. He froze, terror gripping him as he frantically searched for the source of the sound. His body trembled under the weight of the presence that surrounded him.
The trembling subsided, though fear still lingered in his chest. "W-Where am I? What is this place? Who are you?"
"You are in a place that exists between worlds—a reflection of your being, shaped by your past and future," the voice explained, its tone calm yet filled with authority. The water rippled once more, and a figure materialized before him in a bright flash. A majestic, deer-like creature with golden antlers shimmering in rainbow hues stood before him. Even in his disoriented state, he recognized the figure: the legendary Pokémon representing Life, Xerneas.
"I am Xerneas."
The figure's eyes widened further. "X-Xerneas? But… you're from a game! I may not know much, but I know Pokémon aren't real!"
Xerneas gazed at him with warmth and understanding. "I understand your confusion, but I am genuine. However, we don't have time for formalities. You are not who you once were. Your name, your memories... they have been taken from you."
"Taken?" he whispered, staring at his translucent form. Panic clawed at his chest. "I can't remember... I don't even know my name."
His mind raced as he tried to grasp at the threads of his past. He racked his brain, desperate to recall fragments of his identity, but each thought slipped through his fingers like water. Faces, places, moments—they were there one moment and gone the next, leaving only a void behind.
"Who am I?" he murmured, the words barely audible as a wave of despair washed over him. A chill spread through his being, amplifying the emptiness inside. He closed his eyes, willing memories to return, but all he found was darkness. Images flickered like the dying embers of a fire, but whenever he reached for them, they faded away, leaving him grasping at nothing.
His heart raced as he struggled to remember even the simplest things—his favorite color, a beloved food, the sound of his own laughter. Nothing came. "There has to be something," he pleaded into the void, his voice breaking. "Anything!"
The sensation of loss was suffocating, a weight pressing down on him, amplifying the panic swirling in his chest. The world around him felt foreign and disorienting. Was he supposed to have a family? Friends? A life he could call his own? The questions tumbled over one another, amplifying his fear.
"You stand at the beginning of a journey," Xerneas continued, her voice steady yet urgent. "A journey to reclaim what has been lost. I can offer you only one small clue—your name begins with 'S.' But dark forces are near, and I fear they will come for me soon."
"S...?" he echoed, his mind blank. His body trembled again. "How am I supposed to figure this out?"
Before Xerneas could respond, the river began to tremble violently. The calm surface shattered as waves surged, the once-still water becoming wild and chaotic. The sky above, once peaceful, turned blood-red and ominous.
"The space we are in is becoming unstable. They are coming," Xerneas warned, her voice sharp with urgency. "Time is running out. You must hurry."
He stumbled, struggling to steady himself as the ground beneath him quaked. "W-What's happening?!"
"You must go now," Xerneas declared. Her antlers glowed with brilliant, multicolored energy, the entire river responding to her power. "Remember, human… For you to survive, you must become more than you ever were."
"How am I supposed to do that if I don't even know who I am?!" he yelled incredulously.
Xerneas smiled gently. "You must have faith. Many have gone through ordeals much more challenging than this one, but unlike those who were simply sent without any direction in mind, I will help you. And as a bonus, take this."
From the Life Pokemon’s golden antlers, a ball of pure light formed, about the size of a basketball. It immediately took flight, glowing into an arc of light that entered the human's ethereal form. Flashes of words and various texts filled his vision, almost overwhelming him with their volume, but as soon as it began, it stopped.
"W-What was all of that?" the human asked, bewildered.
"Something that will surely aid you in your quest. What I have given you is a gift from me, the Pokémon representing life," Xerneas answered.
The space jolted again, sending the waters into a tremendous surge.
"Now you must go. We are short on time."
"Wait!" he yelled desperately. "What about you? What's going to happen to you?"
Xerneas chuckled. "You don't know your own name, yet you worry for me? You truly are the right person for this. Don't fear human. I've survived Yveltal before; I can hold my own. We’ll meet again, but you must go now. Darkness is rising, and you’re the only one who can stop it. I won't let you go in alone—I’m going to make sure you have help. Lots of it."
The words struck deep, but before he could react, a beam of light shot from Xerneas's antlers, enveloping him in its blinding embrace. With a final burst of energy, his form dissolved into the light, and the river faded into oblivion.
….
….
….
The cold was the first thing to register—a deep, bone-chilling ache that seeped into his marrow as consciousness returned. Then came the wetness. It was thick, suffocating, and heavy. Panic began to claw at his chest as a crushing claustrophobia set in.
He reached out blindly. His hands—if they were still hands—fumbled against the surrounding walls. They felt soft and yielding, like the interior of a fleshy cocoon. The liquid sloshed around him, thick and clinging, filling his mouth and lungs with a heavy pulse.
Fear surged through him, primal and overwhelming. He began to thrash, kicking and flailing against his prison until he slammed his head against the barrier. Pain exploded in his skull—a sharp, searing sensation as if his very bones were splitting open.
But the impact worked. A crack formed.
Light, faint but unmistakable, bled through the fissure. Desperation fueled a final, frantic burst of strength. He threw his weight against the breach, pushing with everything he had left until, with a wet thud, he tumbled out.
He lay there for a long moment, lungs heaving as they fought for air. The air felt like needles in his chest as he coughed, hacking up the strange fluid that had filled him. His limbs felt numb, and his head throbbed in time with his racing heart. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open, squinting against the harsh light.
The first thing he noticed was the color—orange.
Confused, he reached up to push away whatever was obstructing his vision. His fingers—now soft and stubby—brushed against fuzzy strands instead of the hair he expected. He parted the strands and looked around. He was in a small, damp stone room, the walls dripping with condensation and bathed in an eerie, sourceless light.
Then he saw them.
Small, squat creatures lounged around the room. Some had shells clamped over their heads; others wore them like armor on their arms. Their eyes were half-lidded, their expressions dazed and content. Their bodies were smooth and purple, marked with strange patterns.
He froze, heart pounding. He tried to scramble backward, but his legs felt wrong—too short, too round. Glancing down, his heart lurched in fresh horror. His skin was a strange, creamy orange with soft caramel patches.
And then he felt it—a heavy, muscular weight dragging behind him. He twisted his neck, his vision swimming, and saw it: a thick, tapering limb twitching in the damp air. He had a tail. He actually had a tail.
His body was gone. He had changed.
Terror seized him as he stared at his strange new form. He wasn't himself anymore; he had become one of them. The memories of who he had been—of his life before—were slipping away like water through his stubby fingers. He had been human... hadn't he? The details were hazy; he didn't know anything about himself besides once being human.
Desperate and frustrated, he tried to scream for help. But the sound that escaped his throat wasn't human. It was slow, drawn-out, and alien. A sluggish, heavy groan passed his lips:
"Slooooow…"
The sound made his heart race even faster. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps as the reality of his situation hit him. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t remember anything about the life he once had. And worst of all, he didn’t know if anyone cared. Was anyone out there looking for him? Did he have family or friends?
The thought sent him spiraling further into panic. Tears blurred his vision as he fought to hold back the sobs that threatened to overtake him. He tried again to scream, to call out for help, but all that came was another helpless, sluggish groan. His body trembled uncontrollably, the fear and confusion too much to bear.
The world felt like it was closing in on him, suffocating him with the weight of his own fear. He squeezed his eyes shut, the panic consuming him as his chest tightened and his breathing became erratic.
But then, something changed.
A warmth enveloped him—soft, gentle, and reassuring. It wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, and though his body still trembled with fear, the edge of his panic dulled.
He felt himself being lifted, cradled in something soothing. There was a soft, rhythmic swaying, as though he were being rocked back and forth, like a child in a parent’s arms.
A quiet hum filled the space around him, melodic and calming. The sound was faintly familiar, though he couldn’t place where he had heard it before. But it didn’t matter. The tune wrapped around him, slowing the rapid beat of his heart.
His tears still wet his cheeks, but the sobs subsided, replaced by quiet sniffles. The warmth seeped into his body, loosening the tension in his limbs. For a moment, he let himself sink into it, clinging to the comfort of the embrace.
Whoever or whatever was holding him, it felt safe. It felt like he was protected. The panic ebbed away, leaving only a soft, quiet calm in its wake. He didn’t know what had happened to him or why, but for now, he was okay.
And for now, that was enough.
He woke again, though how much time had passed he could not say. His surroundings were different now, and he blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. He found himself in a room deeper within the cave, but unlike the rough, stony exterior of the cave he’d seen before, this place was far more refined. The walls were still carved from ancient rock, but the space had been carefully shaped, giving it a more lived-in feel. Warmth radiated from somewhere unseen—perhaps a fire or some hidden natural heat source—filling the air with a gentle, steady warmth.
The furniture scattered around the room was simple but clearly crafted with care. A tall bookshelf stood against one wall, its shelves crammed with an assortment of scrolls and books, their spines worn and aged. There was a desk with a few unlit candles placed neatly in holders and some parchment, though he couldn’t yet discern their purpose. A bed dominated one side of the room, made of straw yet looking surprisingly comfortable, piled high with soft pillows and thick, colorful blankets. A woven rug, seemingly made of grass and patterned with abstract designs, covered the stone floor, adding a layer of warmth to the otherwise cool stone.
He groaned softly, pushing himself up, but his body felt strange. His legs—if they were still legs—trembled beneath him. He felt sluggish and clumsy, struggling to find his balance on what he could only assume were paws now. Or legs? He wasn’t sure.
Taking a shaky breath, he muttered, “Okay, I just need to figure this out.”
Before he could even attempt to make sense of his situation, a shadow fell over him, cast by the low light of the cave. Startled, his heart lurched as he whipped his head toward the entrance of the room. A figure stood there, massive and imposing, its form blocking much of the faint light from the outside.
His pulse quickened. Whoever it was, they were much larger than him—far larger. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the figure clearly for the first time. Their cold, calculating gaze bore into him with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. A shell crowned their head, twisted and jagged, giving them a regal yet fearsome appearance. The air around them crackled with an authority that was impossible to ignore.
But beside this imposing figure stood someone smaller, their presence less intimidating but no less important. Her eyes were softer, filled with an odd warmth that contrasted sharply with the coldness of the larger figure. She cradled something in her arms—an egg, round and smooth, with soft hues of yellow and pink, speckled with tiny stars that shimmered in the dim light of the cave.
The larger figure spoke, their voice low and deep, resonating through the cave. “You’ve finally hatched.”
The word caught him off guard, confusion knitting his brow. Hatched? He blinked, his mind struggling to catch up.
The smaller figure—her expression kind and gentle—stepped closer. “Welcome to the world, little one,” she said with a smile, her voice soothing and warm.
He stared up at them, heart pounding. His confusion only deepened, their words swirling in his mind. Hatched? Welcome to the world? Why were they speaking to him like he was their child?
The larger figure took a step forward, his presence even more overwhelming up close. “You are our son,” he stated with a quiet finality, his gaze unwavering. “I am Hisashi, your father. This is Inko, your mother.”
Inko’s eyes gleamed with affection as she gently gestured toward the egg nestled in her arms. “And soon,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “this will be your little sibling.”
His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief. Son? Sibling? The words echoed through his mind, clashing against the fragile sense of reality he had just begun to grasp. He had been reborn as a Pokémon—he was sure of that now—but to hear these two strangers call themselves his parents and to realize there was an egg soon to hatch... It was too much.
He stumbled backward slightly, his body still unsteady as the weight of their words pressed down on him. His legs—or paws—threatened to give out beneath him, his thoughts racing too fast to process. He felt lightheaded, the world spinning as the warmth of the room suddenly felt too stifling, too close.
Inko must have sensed his growing exhaustion and his confusion, because she moved closer and gently placed the egg beside him in the nest of blankets and straw. Its warmth seeped into his side, a strange but comforting sensation that helped to ground him amidst the chaos swirling in his mind.
“Your name is Nabu,” Inko whispered softly, her voice barely audible but filled with kindness. She tucked a blanket around him, her touch gentle and reassuring.
"Nabu,” he repeated faintly. The word was foreign on his tongue, but somehow it stuck. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, the warmth of the egg and the blanket lulling him into a sense of security he hadn’t realized he needed.
With one last glance at his new parents, his mind still whirling but his body too tired to keep up, he let out a quiet sigh. He curled up closer to the egg, its warmth anchoring him to this strange new reality. For now, that was enough.
As sleep overtook him, he clung to the name. Despite the madness of his circumstances, having a name—any name—made the world feel a little less hollow. Nabu. He wasn’t alone anymore. With that comforting thought, he drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.