Chapter Text
Reincarnation. To many–to most–it is the realm of belief and speculation. To a few favored (or disfavored) souls it is something far more concrete.
I was born twice. Both times upon a floating marble of blue and green known as Earth. The first time, I was born in a world dominated by humans. I was born in perhaps the most favorable of circumstances, to well-off and caring parents in a country whose wars rarely touched the home front. I was at the heart of abundance and imperial success, yet that did not save me.
History had not ended when I was born. History never ends. A few decades where weeks happen does not foreclose the possibility of weeks where decades happen. As imperial success gave way to imperial stagnation and decay, many turned inward in their hate. The same forces that once crafted a globe-bestriding empire dedicated themselves to tearing it apart.
I died. How does not particularly matter, not any more. For while I was born again on Earth, more had changed than just my name (Jessica). I was not born to a land dominated by humans, but to one shared by humans and creatures of stunning powers.
Creatures known as Pokemon.
It took an embarrassingly long time for me to realize this. I was not a Pokemon fan. I had watched the anime only once, when I was ten and with my cousins. I had played only one game through to completion. I enjoyed it, yes, but was I knowledgeable about it? Absolutely not. Yet in my arrogance I believed myself to be safe. There were dangerous creatures about, but I would learn to handle them in school. I would learn to befriend them. I would grow up in a place of newfound sciences and mystical powers, a place where the greatest danger were the half-baked plans of criminal “Teams.”
I was wrong. So very, very wrong.
The first clues came from simple observation. Though my mind remained fuzzy and uncertain throughout infancy, I could tell that the meals my new mother made were smaller than normal, despite us living on a farm. At first, I considered that a cultural difference: I had, after all, been an American in my previous life. But then there were the haggard faces when she took me shopping in Blackthorn City, barely visible to my still-developing eyes. There were the men with guns and scarred pokemon who stood watch over the town’s entrance.
I must have reacted in some way, as I remember my mother whispering “the dragons will protect us.” It was one of the first concrete memories I have of this place.
Hazy and fuzzy as my brain was in those early years, I did try to get things started young. I struggled to crawl and walk, relearned to force my mouth and tongue to speak words rather than noises. I learned the written and spoken words of Johtonian, though it could just as easily be called Kantonian or Hoennese. I played with the family dog, because thank Arceus the world had more than just pokemon. A few hundred species was drastically insufficient for ecological balance and success.
By the time I was two, my siblings decided I was worth spending time with. Mostly (I assume) because I could finally talk. Even if I did ask too many questions, according to them.
Jonnie, my eldest brother, spent most of his time training. Sometimes he let me follow him, though only on the condition I watch, and not talk. There was something absurd in watching him jump rope over the vine-whips of Grass types and wrestle with a Geodude. I even got to throw food for his Pidgey when they worked on diving, though my chubby toddler arms meant the wheat seeds mostly just scattered around me. Much to my frustration and Jonnie’s amusement.
Adam was my next-eldest sibling. He’d been born under a different name, but Adam suited him much better. If Jonnie was the chad pokemon trainer, Adam was the nerd. He loved mechanics, to the point he was taking college classes in his first year of high school. He wanted to be a rocket scientist, something our parents encouraged, since it would keep him out of the war (or at least the front lines). He was also something of a teacher made miniature, always willing to help me out with reading as I struggled to make the mental shift from an alphabetic writing system to one based on characters. There wasn’t much he could do to help me with maths, but when it came to sciences (and correcting my knowledge from a Pokemon-less world) there was no one better to talk to other than his Kadabra Euclid.
My youngest (but still my elder) sibling was Janine. She was nine years older than me, but only four years younger than Jonnie. Something that told me my birth was likely the result of war rations on latex and rubber.
Janine trained as much as Jonnie and read as much as Adam. She boxed with a Machoke and borrowed stacks of books from the Blackwood Library. She worked herself as much as she could, determined to get into the Blackwood Military Academy Secondary School. With exams coming up in a few months, she was even more tense than normal. Something I tried to help her with, only to get roped into asking exam questions.
Damn myself and my need to read!
“What is the quad-er-atic form-you-la?” I asked, making sure to mispronounce the word.
“Quadratic,” Janine corrected. “X=-b+/-Square Root (b2+4ac) divided by 2a.”
“Correct,” I said, flipping to the next card. “What is the average airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”
“What?” Janine asked, hurrying over to the cards. “I didn’t–you little twerp!” she exclaimed, looking over the card asking what the mohs hardness scale was. “Grrr!” she exclaimed as I giggled. “That–” she huffed. “Get out of here! Didn’t you want to sit with Euclid?”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, and hurried off, deciding to blame my three year-old brain rather than my long history of forgetfulness. “Euclid?” I asked as I hurried into the living room. I bowed low. “I’m sorry I’m late Professor Euclid.”
Euclid huffed, but the title seemed to please him as ever, and he gestured for me to sit down. Carefully, I balanced myself onto the cushions.
“Today we are going to meditate,” Euclid spoke into my mind. It was a little freaky, how powerful psychics were. Defending myself against them was one of the reasons that I asked Euclid to tutor me. That, and remembering there was something about auras. That was all I had remembered, but Euclid was quick to fill me in. Though I was not a pokemon, I too possessed an aura in this world. I had yet to grasp much of an understanding of it, other than its presence.
“Breath in,” Euclid told me as I closed my eyes, mind and soul retreating inwards. “Breath out. Reach in.” I pictured myself diving from the skies, deep into the depths of the water. I saw the beating heart of my mind. “Reach out.”
Hesitantly, tentatively, I approached. The faint ball of pale light gleamed. It hummed as I reached for it. My hand reached, brushing up against it. The pale light seemed to pop, only for my hand to clench and grasp it. Pulling it from my heart, stretching the bubble into my veins and skin.
“Let go,” Euclid told me, and I did. The pale light retreated swiftly.
I returned to the world slowly. My arms were burning. My lungs struggled for breath. My three year-old body wobbled as I clenched my teeth in frustration.
“You are trying to learn as much as Abra, with a body meant for half as much sleep,” Euclid chastised me. “Old soul or new, there are limits to the body and spirit.”
“Yes Professor Euclid,” I mentally sighed.