---
The ancient trees of Viridian Forest rose like cathedral pillars around them, their thick trunks disappearing into a verdant canopy that filtered the afternoon sun into dancing patches of gold and emerald. The air hung thick with humidity and the earthy scent of decomposing leaves, while somewhere in the distance, the haunting call of a Hoothoot echoed through the twilight depths.
Ash breathed deeply, feeling oddly at peace despite the forest's reputation for being a maze that trapped unwary trainers for days. His past life had taught him to appreciate nature's raw beauty, even when it came wrapped in danger. Pikachu perched alertly on his shoulder, ears twitching at every rustle and buzz.
Misty, however, was having an entirely different experience.
"Oh, Arceus help me," she muttered, her voice rising in pitch as a particularly large Beedrill droned past overhead. She instinctively ducked, her orange hair catching on a low-hanging branch. "This place is an absolute nightmare! Look at them all—buzzing, crawling, skittering everywhere!"
As if summoned by her words, a small Weedle emerged from behind a nearby fern, its yellow body gleaming in the dappled light. Misty let out a strangled yelp and stumbled backward, nearly colliding with Ash in her haste to escape.
"Easy there," Ash said gently, steadying her with one hand while the other reached into his backpack. His Aura unconsciously extended outward, picking up the genuine terror radiating from Misty—this wasn't just dislike or squeamishness, but a deep-rooted phobia that made her heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of her fear stirred something protective in him, a warmth that settled in his chest.
"Here," he said, producing a small but professional-looking spray bottle with a label that read 'Ultra-Strength Bug Deterrent.' "This should help keep them at bay."
Misty eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Where did you even get this? Most ten-year-olds don't travel with industrial bug spray."
Ash shrugged, not mentioning how his past life's memories had taught him the value of thorough preparation. "My mom insisted I pack it. You know how mothers worry."
Grateful but still skeptical, Misty took the bottle and sprayed herself liberally, the sharp, medicinal scent creating a protective cloud around her. Almost immediately, the ambient buzzing seemed to lessen in her vicinity, and her shoulders began to relax.
"Better?" Ash asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made something flutter in Misty's stomach that had nothing to do with Bug-types.
"Much," she admitted grudgingly. "Thanks, Ash. I... I know it's stupid to be afraid of something so small, but—"
"It's not stupid," he interrupted firmly. "Everyone has things that scare them. The brave ones are just better at facing those fears when it matters."
---
They had been walking for nearly an hour, following what Ash hoped was one of the forest's main trails, when the attack happened.
Misty had begun to relax, the bug spray working its magic and her conversation with Ash helping to distract her from the forest's more disturbing inhabitants. She was mid-sentence, telling him about some of the Water-types at her gym, when the undergrowth exploded.
What emerged was every arachnophobe's worst nightmare made manifest.
The creature was enormous—easily six feet tall—with the basic shape of a Caterpie but magnified to monstrous proportions. Its segmented body was a sickly yellow-green that seemed to pulse and writhe, covered in coarse, bristling hairs that caught the light like tiny needles. Multiple legs, far too many for any normal Caterpie, scuttled and clicked against the forest floor with a sound like chattering teeth. Its head was the worst part: bulbous compound eyes that seemed to track movement independently, and antennae that writhed like snakes, dripping with some unknown substance.
But it was the sound that truly drove home the horror—a deep, resonant "CATER-PIIIIIIIIEEE!" that seemed to come from somewhere deep in its bloated body, echoing through the forest like a dying whale's song.
Misty's scream could have shattered glass.
She launched herself at Ash with such force that she nearly knocked him over, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his back. Her entire body trembled against him, and he could feel her fingernails digging through his jacket.
"GET IT AWAY!" she shrieked, her voice muffled but still carrying clearly through the forest. "IT'S GOING TO EAT ME! OH ARCEUS, IT'S GOING TO DISSOLVE ME WITH ITS ACID AND—"
But Ash wasn't listening to her panic. Instead, he was extending his Aura, probing the creature's emotional signature. What he found made him blink in surprise.
The monster Caterpie wasn't aggressive, hungry, or territorial. Instead, its aura practically sparkled with mischievous glee, like a child who had just pulled off the perfect prank. There was intelligence there too—not the simple cunning of a Bug-type, but something more complex, more playful. And underneath it all, a strange fragmented quality to its life force, as if it wasn't quite... real.
"Alright, show's over," Ash said with growing amusement, gently prying Misty's death grip from his waist. "I know what you really are."
The "Caterpie" seemed to freeze mid-horrifying-writhe, its compound eyes focusing on Ash with almost comical surprise. Then, to Misty's bewilderment, it began to giggle—a sound no Caterpie had ever made or ever should make.
The transformation was like watching reality hiccup. The monstrous features began to blur and flow like melting wax, segments merging and reshaping, colors shifting from sickly yellow to a healthy pink. In moments, where the nightmare bug had been, a perfectly ordinary Ditto sat on the forest floor, wobbling slightly with what could only be described as self-satisfied laughter.
The silence that followed was broken only by the normal sounds of the forest and Misty's ragged breathing.
"You..." Misty stepped away from Ash, her face cycling rapidly through embarrassment, anger, and lingering terror. "You little pink blob! Do you have any idea how terrifying that was? I thought I was going to die! My heart nearly stopped!"
The Ditto's response was to briefly shift into a crude approximation of Misty clinging to Ash's back, complete with exaggerated screaming motions, before dissolving back into giggles. If anything, it seemed even more pleased with itself.
"Oh, that's it!" Misty started forward, probably intending to punt the Transform Pokémon into the next route, but Ash stepped between them.
"Wait," he said, studying the Ditto more carefully. Through his Aura, he could sense more than just mischief now. There was loneliness there, deep and aching—the kind that came from being ignored or dismissed. The pranks weren't malicious; they were desperate attempts to get attention, to be noticed, to matter to someone.
It reminded him, uncomfortably, of another prankster he'd once known. One who'd painted his face on a mountain and called it art, who'd transformed into beautiful women for attention, who'd hidden his pain behind jokes and chaos because it was easier than admitting he was alone.(A.N: Time for the protagonist to employ the ultimate technique: Talk-no-jutsu).
"You like to play, don't you?" Ash said softly, crouching down to the Ditto's level. The Pokémon stopped giggling, its beady black eyes focusing on him with sudden intensity. "But you're not really happy, are you? All this fun, but no one to share it with. No one who understands that you just want friends."
The Ditto's wobbling stilled completely.
Ash reached out slowly, letting his Aura flow with warmth and understanding. "I get it. Sometimes the only way to get people to notice you is to do something big, something shocking. But what if I told you there was a better way? What if you could have real adventures, real friends, without having to scare people?"
"Ditto?" The Pokémon's voice was smaller now, uncertain.
"Travel with me," Ash offered, pulling out an empty Poké Ball. "I promise you'll never be bored, and you'll never be alone. We'll see amazing places, meet incredible Pokémon, and yes—we'll have fun. Real fun, not just pranks."
The Ditto studied him for a long moment, and Ash could feel it probing at his Aura, testing his sincerity. Whatever it found there must have satisfied it, because it suddenly beamed—an expression that shouldn't have been possible on its simple face—and bounced forward to tap the Poké Ball with one stubby appendage.
The Ball opened, the Ditto disappeared in a flash of red light, and after three gentle shakes, it clicked shut.
Ash's first official capture.
Misty stared at him in amazement. "How did you... you didn't even battle it. You just talked to it and it wanted to come with you. How do you do that?"
Ash stood up, clipping the Poké Ball to his belt with the same care he'd shown Pikachu's. "Everyone wants to be understood, Misty. Even Pokémon. Sometimes you just have to listen."
---
The next few hours were among the most entertaining Ash could remember from either of his lives.
He'd released Ditto almost immediately after catching it, and the Transform Pokémon had practically vibrated with excitement at being included rather than dismissed. What followed was an impromptu showcase of abilities that left even Pikachu impressed.
"Alright, let's see what you can do," Ash had said, settling against a large oak tree while Misty claimed a fallen log nearby, still eyeing Ditto warily despite her growing curiosity.
What Ditto could do, it turned out, was remarkable.
It transformed into a perfect miniature Pikachu, complete with functional cheek pouches that actually sparked. Then a tiny Psyduck that quacked in Misty's direction, earning a reluctant smile. A Pidgey that could actually fly short distances, a Rattata that scurried around their impromptu camp with realistic squeaking, even a perfectly proportioned Squirtle that produced actual water from its mouth.
"This is incredible," Misty breathed, watching as Ditto-Squirtle created a small rainbow with its Water Gun in the afternoon sunlight. "I've never seen a Ditto with this level of detail before. Usually they can barely hold shape, let alone replicate abilities."
Ash had noticed that too, and it wasn't the only unusual thing about his new partner. Through his Aura, he could sense that Ditto's transformations weren't quite natural—they were too perfect, too precise. Normal Ditto struggled with faces especially, often leaving them as blank voids or crude approximations. This one got every detail right, down to the individual markings on Pikachu's ears.
There was something else, too. During particularly complex transformations, Ditto's Aura would flicker and fragment in ways that made Ash's skin crawl with inexplicable unease. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it reminded him of something he couldn't quite place—like a half-remembered nightmare scratching at the edges of his consciousness. The fragmentation felt artificial, as if Ditto's very existence was somehow... engineered.
"Try transforming into me," Ash suggested, pushing aside his concerns for the moment.
Ditto bobbed enthusiastically and began to shift. The process was mesmerizing—its pink form stretching and molding like clay in the hands of a master sculptor. Hair sprouted from its scalp, features refined themselves, and within moments a perfect duplicate of Ash sat across from them, complete with identical clothing.
"Ditto!" it said in Ash's exact voice, grinning with Ash's face.
"That's... actually really unsettling," Misty said with a shudder. "It's like talking to your twin. Can it copy personalities too?"
"Not personalities," Ash replied, studying his double with fascination. "But it can definitely mimic mannerisms. Watch—Ditto, can you copy how Pikachu acts?"
The Ditto-Ash nodded and began to shift again, this time becoming Pikachu. But this wasn't the same perfect-but-neutral copy from before. This Pikachu tilted its head the exact way the real Pikachu did when curious, twitched its tail in the same rhythm, even made the same little chirping sound the real Pikachu made when content.
The real Pikachu was so startled by seeing its own mannerisms reflected back that it fell off Ash's shoulder.
"Pika?" it squeaked, circling the copy in amazement.
"That's impossible," Misty said flatly. "Ditto can copy appearance and basic moves, but behavioral mimicry? That would require understanding the original's thought patterns, accessing their memories..." She trailed off, a frown creasing her brow. "This isn't normal Ditto behavior. The cellular complexity alone should be beyond their capabilities."
It was a troubling observation, and one that connected to the strange readings his Aura picked up. Wild Ditto were rare and typically demonstrated only basic transformation abilities. The level of precision and behavioral mimicry he was witnessing suggested something far beyond natural capability—almost as if this Ditto had been deliberately enhanced or modified somehow.
But looking at the innocent creature bouncing happily between him and Pikachu, radiating pure joy at being accepted, Ash found it hard to believe something so gentle could be the product of experimentation. Still, the nagging unease persisted, like a whisper at the edge of his consciousness warning him that not everything was as simple as it appeared.
"Well, wherever you came from, you're part of the team now," he said warmly, reaching out to pat Ditto's smooth surface. The Transform Pokémon practically purred under the affection—another behavior that should have been impossible for its species.
Misty watched the interaction with growing fascination. There was something about the way Ash connected with Pokémon that she'd never seen before. It went beyond simple training or even friendship—it was like he could actually understand them on some deeper level. The thought both intrigued and unsettled her.
"You're not human, are you?" Misty said quietly.
"What? Of course I am!" Ash protested, then immediately turned to Pikachu. "Right, buddy? Tell her I'm human!"
"Pika... pi..." Pikachu said slowly, looking between them with obvious concern.
"See? He said 'Yes, Ash is very human!'" Ash declared triumphantly.
"That sounded more like 'Why is my trainer having a breakdown?'" Misty replied dryly.
---
Three hundred miles away, on Cinnabar Island, Dr. Fuji stood before a wall of monitors in a sterile laboratory that hummed with barely contained power. His assistant, Dr. Yeng, typed quietly at a workstation nearby.
"Sector 7-G sweep complete," Dr. Yeng reported. "All genetic markers from the preliminary D-series have been confirmed eliminated."
Dr. Fuji nodded, watching surveillance feeds from across Kanto—forests, caves, abandoned sites where failed prototypes might have fled during the containment breach months ago.
The main monitor flickered, and Giovanni's face appeared.
"Dr. Fuji. Report."
"Director Giovanni." Dr. Fuji straightened. "All D-series prototypes have been located and terminated. The security breach has been contained."
"And you're certain? These enhanced specimens showed considerable... promise before their disposal."
"Absolutely certain, sir. I personally oversaw the final terminations. We used targeted genetic viruses—there were no survivors."
But as he spoke, Dr. Fuji's eyes briefly flicked to a sealed file on his screen—one labeled simply 'D-148: MISSING.' A single prototype that had vanished during the chaos, presumed destroyed but never actually found.
"Acceptable," Giovanni said after a pause. "However, if even one specimen survived and is discovered, it could compromise our primary project. Continue monitoring all sites."
The screen went dark.
Dr. Fuji stared at his reflection, then opened the sealed file. D-148's profile was sparse—just basic data about enhanced transformation capabilities and unusual stability markers. His daughter Ai had worked on this one in secret before her death, solving problems that had plagued earlier iterations.
"Sir?" Dr. Yeng asked. "Additional surveillance protocols?"
Dr. Fuji closed the file and glanced toward a sealed chamber visible through reinforced glass, where something important slumbered in amber fluid.
"Yes," he said quietly. "If we find anything that matches D-series markers... we handle it personally. Some mistakes are too dangerous for others to clean up."
---