TEEN: Different Eyes

[unrepentantAuthor]

Different Eyes


In 1996, the first human-pokémon hybrid was created, named 'Mewtwo'. The project soon met with disaster. In 2020, a new generation of hybrids are created by a Galarian tech company, this time made from living pokémon. Two pokémorphs agree to learn why they were made, but as they dig deeper, they uncover secrets better left buried. A story about identity, freedom and becoming human.

Cover art by @canisaries.​

Author's Note:

Different Eyes is my take on the 'pokémon/human hybrid experiments' trope, as a character-driven story from the perspective of pokémon-turned-morphs. You may like this fic if you're a fan of pokécentric fic, scifi, drama, introspection, angst, slow-burn, and of course, anthros.

It's a long-running project, which started with jumbled notes circa 2010 and eventually became a carefully structured project conscious of its own themes in 2020. It has been the subject of much revision! I expect it to reach about 400,000 words and 80 chapters in length by the time it's finished, and I work on it nearly every day.

Updates are irregular, but at the time of writing I have over 70,000 words of buffer material, so this is definitely happening. My goal is a monthly update schedule.

I appreciate any and all civil feedback, however short or long, however gushing or critical. Please do leave a comment, even if it's only to say that you're a fan. I'll appreciate it enormously. Thank you for reading.

Content warnings for trauma and abuse, dysphoria, fantasy violence, profanity.

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Spoiler: Chapter Changelog

2020/04/17: replaced old expository prelude chapter with a full prologue chapter featuring Dr. Fuji, to better indicate the themes and scale of the story.

2020/08/17: revised the prologue as informed by reader feedback, mostly general improvements to prose and trimmed-down faux-jargon.

Prologue

Conception

The first pokémon-human hybrid was floating in a tank full of life-nourishing fluids, silent and still. Its skin was a muted violet, almost white. Its bulbous, purple tail was easily as long as the creature was tall. Through the amber liquid and dim lighting, it was a dreamlike thing to behold. Perhaps it experienced dreams of its own, asleep in its tiny world.

Dr. Fuji reached out to his creation and placed a hand on the tank glass. He willed it to open its eyes and reach out to him, to speak to him, to justify its existence to him.

A horrible thought; it would owe him nothing if it lived.

If it lived, perhaps it would be the first of many pokémon-human hybrids. Capable of sophisticated cognition — endowed with fantastic elemental powers.

…If it lived.

"No choice," he murmured to himself. He had been given no choice but to give life to this creature, or at least that's what he had believed all this time.

At what point did a threshold in science become inevitable, however terrible it seemed? When someone first conceived of it? When it was no longer theoretical, but a practical possibility? Perhaps only once it became an irreversible reality, already in motion, and impossible to stop.

He knew the truth: this had been inevitable only so long as he'd remained committed to it. He could have turned back at any time, right up until the moment of genesis, but instead he had told himself, over and over, that he'd had no freedom to do otherwise.

If there had been a single moment he could identify and say "Yes, there, that's when it became destiny," it was when he'd first said those words —

"I suppose I have no choice."

∗∗∗​

June 1996

Cinnabar Island, Kantō

A black, dual-rotor heliplane cruised over choppy ocean waves and under a clear sky.

It was bound for an island off the Japanese coast, too far out at sea for the mainland to be visible. This was Izu Ōshima, known as Cinnabar Island to tourists and to trainers on the League Circuit. The presence of human structures was visible in a white-grey mottling against the green of the island's forests. Merely a small town, clinging to the coast. The aircraft passed over it and cruised for a few miles inland, the forests soon giving way to the red-brown tones of the central volcanic mountain. At its foot huddled a building complex, squat and angular. A tower at its corner rose well above the tree-line to support a modest landing pad.

The aircraft drew close and made its descent.

A man stood on the platform, his wild hair swept back and lab coat blown about by the airflow from the heliplane. He clutched his glasses to his face and waited for the whirling rotor blades to come to a standstill. When at last they did, another man in a dark suit stepped down from the heliplane, a feline pokémon at his side, and not a hair out of place on either.

The geneticist bent at the waist and waited for the crime-lord to speak.

He kept silent for a long moment as his financier adjusted his jacket and tie. He knew well that this was a powerful man — someone who could afford to keep others waiting, and would naturally take issue with impatience. It would be unwise to give offence by speaking first.

"Ah, you're the one called Fuji, yes?"

"Doctor Fuji," he replied, straightening up. "Sir," he quickly added.

Giovanni did not bow in return. The pause before he replied made Fuji's breath catch in his chest.

"Of course," he said at last. Giovanni's smile grew wide, but it never reached his eyes. "Thank you for your time, Doctor Fuji."

Fuji's breath returned. Perhaps that 'sir' at the last moment had saved him. He'd like to think it was his own value to Giovanni as a scientist, but that would be flattering himself. Now that the sample had been obtained and the groundwork done, Fuji would become ever more replaceable as an asset.

"Naturally," he said. "You are financing the project, after all. Your man on the radio didn't mention the nature of your visit?"

Giovanni merely raised an eyebrow and walked past him, ignoring the implicit question.

When he moved, he did so with unhurried confidence. This was surely a man accustomed to commanding the patience and attention of anyone in his line of sight. Fuji was no scholar of psychology, but he found himself analysing his sponsor's intimidating persona even while hurrying past the man to open the door for him.

His face held no expression but the tense blankness of a person keeping their thoughts behind a mask. He maintained total control of himself. The pokémon was a persian, judging by the gem set in its forehead — a pedigree, no doubt — and it followed at his heel without a sound or a sideways glance. He must have trained it strictly. Despite the Italian name he used, Giovanni's accent, facial features and mannerisms all suggested a Kantō heritage. It was obviously a pseudonym for a man with secrets worth hiding, but he must have had considerable arrogance to disguise the truth with such an obviously fake identity.

At least, that was Fuji's assessment. Perhaps he thought wrong, and an honourable, philosophical man could be found under all that presence and menace.

Giovanni didn't look at him once as they made their way into the facility.

∗∗∗​

Fuji's benefactor appeared unconcerned with the wider facility. Perhaps he genuinely inspected each room they passed and judged what he saw against his private expectations but if so, he gave no indication of his approval. He made no comments of his own, but prompted Fuji to explain what each team had accomplished.

He lingered longest in the psy-assessment area; his cold eyes took in every detail of the psychic pokémon performing their telekinetic tasks under the observation of Fuji's colleagues, armed with clipboards and brain-shielding headwear. So too did he pass his piercing gaze over the rest of the complex, in all its drab, metallic coldness. Narrow corridors, glass partitions, harsh white strip lighting. Evidently, it all passed muster.

He spoke little, except to prompt Fuji to continue talking about the work, and various tangents. To Fuji's surprise, Giovanni seemed to take a genuine — if terse — interest in the research supporting the project.

"I read your report on the South American expedition," he said, as they passed the cafeteria, cordially enough. No time for a light lunch, it would seem. The man probably only ate gourmet fare in any case.

"I'm glad to hear it, sir."

"This genetic sample of yours," continued Giovanni. "It came from an authentic mew fossil, isn't that so?"

Fuji willed his heart rate to remain steady. This man had no reason to suspect any deception.

Besides, it was a subfossil, and the man would know that had he paid attention to Fuji's report.

"Indeed. I — that is, we — believe it to be the fossilised eyelash of an ancient mew. One worshipped by a now-extinct culture several centuries ago."

"Intriguing. It is peculiar that a preserved genetic sample of such great significance should come from something so insignificant. So easily overlooked. Just think how easily such a fragile thing could have been lost forever."

Giovanni's gaze seemed to tug on the secrets in Fuji's heart, but he returned it evenly.

"I quite agree, sir. Although as I did mention in my report, it's not a fully intact sample. We will have to fill in the gaps with appropriate genes from other species — alakazam, for example, given their natural proficiency with psychic power."

"I am aware of this necessity," came the reply. "It is regarding this matter that I have come here. I intend to ensure that the clone you produce for me is not diminished, but enhanced, by the modifications made to its genes."

"I see."

Naturally, someone like Giovanni would see an incomplete genetic code as an opportunity for improvement, rather than a setback to accept.

Fuji prayed that his deception had not been a mistake. Oh, Mew. Perhaps you made a mistake entrusting me with that eyelash.

∗∗∗​

Giovanni almost looked hungry as he stared at the incubation tanks.

"Your report mentioned you had already produced test subjects. Why are these empty?"

Fuji gestured to the engraved stone tablet depicting the ancient mew.

"Pokémon are strange beings, Mr. Giovanni. Their bodies do not behave as ours do, and so they have long been called magical beasts, fae, dæmons, and yokai. Mew's genetic code is stranger still, unlike that of any pokémon yet studied. It would seem the myths of its ability to transform into other pokémon have some truth to them. Whenever we attempt to reproduce it in a fully intact state, the subject becomes…"

He trailed off. The cultural reluctance to name uncomfortable things was strong, even as a scientist with international colleagues. Fuji walked over to the far end of the cloning bay, towards the anomalous specimens containment unit.

"The partial copy we have available is unstable when cloned, and, well… you can see for yourself what the results are of creating life from unmodified mew DNA."

He flicked the light switch, and the lighting overhead came on strip by strip, in flickering bursts.

The vivaria they illuminated contained the subjects he'd mentioned in his reports. These creatures had no official name, given that their existence remained secret. There ought to be a name for them, he thought. After all, one could not possibly call them 'mew' in all good sense.

Each vivarium was a box with glass panels, housing one or more shapeless, pinkish masses. They looked almost gelatinous, each one's epidermis gleaming a little in the artificial light. They moved slowly, somewhat like that of a mundane snail, or a slugma: they stretched out their amorphous bodies and then pulled their mass forwards using the extended part. Their bodies were almost featureless, except for their odd little faces: beady black eyes and a darker line, like a seam, beneath them.

As they both watched the creatures, one of them transformed into a copy of its own water bowl. Another, into a stone.

Giovanni's face remained stiff and his eyes wide, but Fuji thought he could see a hint of a smile too.

"Have you found a use for them?"

"Not yet, sir. They are poor learners, and do not perform well in many tests. They only manifest psychic abilities when they take the form of psychic pokémon, and they only match the abilities of the copied individual. Temporarily at that. Still, they are intriguing. Some of our western staff have taken to calling them 'metamon', 'omnimorph', and 'ditto' -"

"Ditto? That's a strange word."

"It's Galarish, sir. It means 'that which has been said before.' I confess I quite like that one."

"Hmm. You are right to call them intriguing. Monitor them, but use an intern or some other insignificant person. I want you and your useful colleagues to remain focused on the main project until its completion. No distractions."

"Sir, I must-"

"And you may pursue your personal goal as well. I am a generous enough man to permit that. How is she?"

Giovanni's face displayed the slightest flicker of empathy for a mere half-second.

"Much the same, sir. I remain hopeful."

"And your wife?"

Fuji sighed. Felt a tug at his heart.

"She left her ring with her last letter. That was some weeks ago, now. It's no great surprise; I did miss the funeral after all."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

An automatic response, given with little sincerity.

"Thank you, sir. It only gives me more reason to complete my work to the best of my ability. As such, I have since begun living in this facility full time."

"Well. Good luck. May you meet with success in the due course of time, and have your daughter back once more. Just don't let it interfere with the project. Remember, I'm not in the business of human cloning."

"Of course. On my pride as a scientist, I will strive to succeed."

"Very good."

∗∗∗​

"Enhancements, sir?"

"Anything to make this creation the most powerful pokémon to ever exist," said Giovanni, his eyes fixed on a vision that did not include the scientist in front of him. "The most powerful tool. A uniquely dangerous weapon."

Fuji considered his words carefully while Giovanni's full attention kept focused on the statistics, readings and projections arrayed on the table between them. He'd chosen the material carefully to show the competence and potential of his team, while also promising as little as possible in practical results. So far it seemed to hold up to scrutiny.

He spoke with some hesitation still in his voice. "If mew is, ah, truly the most powerful psychic pokémon to ever exist, then its genes are— are already the pinnacle of psychic power. If we can find a way to… to stabilise the DNA and produce a viable specimen, then that would be a great enough achievement to begin with. Ah, one might say."

"I will determine what achievements are sufficient for my objectives," replied Giovanni, without looking up.

Fuji's whole body felt exhausted from the tension. How much more of this before Giovanni left him to his work?

"Of course, sir. I didn't mean to presume. What, then, would be sufficient?"

"Psychic power is only one of the many possible assets this being could have," said Giovanni. "I also require intelligence, aggression, loyalty. The ability to use tools. Communication. Independent strategy. An intimidating physical form. Can you alter the temperament of the clone and so on to achieve these things, but without compromising its power?"

"It's possible, although it will require guesswork. Trial and error. Not to mention a solution to the instability concern."

"As it happens, I've received a most interesting proposition from one of your colleagues. Dr. Katsura, I recall? Interesting man. He proposes splicing the sample with human DNA. Are you at all familiar with this idea?"

Katsura. Of course. The accursed fool.

"He ran the idea by me, yes. I understand the broad underpinnings, although gene-splicing is his specialism, not mine."

Giovanni's raised eyebrow told him to go on.

Fuji cleared his throat. "Ah, well… in the metaphorical tree of life, animals — including humans, of course — and pokémon are considered two different 'domains' of life. This is for good reason: we appear to share no common ancestor more recently than the primordial world of billions of years ago. And yet we are both complex multicellular life forms, with DNA. DNA that could theoretically be spliced regardless of our many differences."

A nod told him Giovanni kept up with him so far.

"The principle difficulty in pokémon genetics is the 'instability' associated with their genetic codes. They change, they adapt, they break down with terrible ease. The mechanism of evolution is possible because unlike us, pokémon are somehow able to use the strange energy they rely on for all their powers to alter their very genes. This same process is what results in the 'ditto' you've seen today. Adding eukaryotic DNA from an animal, perhaps a human, would potentially grant the morphology of the donor to the specimen—"

Giovanni's frown warned him against too much jargon. He licked his dry lips.

"Ah, it would force the creature to remain in a fixed form. A hybrid form. It is possible."

"Is it also possible," said Giovanni, "in your professional opinion, that using human DNA for this process would grant the clone abstract thought, creativity, and complex language, while keeping its mastery of psychic power?"

"It is… possible. However unlikely, it is possible. The specimen could have the same mysterious energy that all pokémon do and if so, it could be incredibly powerful."

Giovanni's smile showed teeth. "And what did you say to your colleague when he explained it to you?"

"I told him it broke countless legal, practical, and ethical restrictions on our work and that we had no compelling reason to adopt the method," said Fuji, as evenly as he could manage.

Giovanni sneered at him as if at an impudent salaryman. "Well, how's this for a compelling reason? If making this thing a human half-breed has a chance of producing a viable more-intelligent specimen, then I expect you to do it. Dr. Katsura tells me it does, and I'm inclined to believe him. He is most articulate on the matter."

Fuji set both his hands against the table littered with documents. His carefully-curated reports were nothing more than paper, now. They'd done nothing to curtail Giovanni's ambitions.

"Even if it did work, and the clone reached healthy maturity, there's no way of telling what the long term consequences could be. A psychic that powerful could have interactions with its genetic relatives in ways we cannot predict or understand!"

Giovanni laughed, abruptly, and held out his hand in pacification.

"I can see you have some anxiety about this, Doctor. Allow me to ease your concerns. I am a generous enough man to relieve you of the terrible burden of finding a genetic donor for this project. You may use my genes."

"What?"

"One of my agents will leave a sample with your medical staff. I am prepared to accept the risks you feverishly imagine. Great rewards are earned through the boldness to take great risks."

"I see. As you say, Mr. Giovanni."

That man had such a cruel smile when he exercised his influence over someone else. Eyes narrowed, the left corner of his mouth curved upward, nose slightly flared. Did he smile that way when he commanded a pokémon?

"I acknowledge you have reservations," he said, "but I've made my final decision. I insist you give your word that you intend to do what I ask of you."

This was it. Fuji's final chance to decline. He could turn down Giovanni now, or else commit to the creation of a hybrid life form, and then there would be no telling where the science would go. Twenty years from now, would such things be commonplace? How could that possibly be in the world's best interests?

Think of something clever. Lie convincingly that human DNA would not stabilise the specimen. Refuse on moral grounds. Insist that the scope of the experiments required would be prohibitively expensive even for Giovanni's endless coffers.

He thought of Ai, and the impossibility of completing her revival without Giovanni's patronage. He thought of the savings he had emptied, the favours he had called in. He had even failed to attend the funeral. He'd been so focused on preserving the precious genetic memories held within those cells. His daughter's soul.

He didn't have anything else.

"I suppose I have no choice," said Dr. Fuji. "I'll do as you say."

Damn you.

"I'm pleased to hear that. Very pleased indeed."

Damn you, Fuji, you coward.

∗∗∗​

As Giovanni's helicopter left, Fuji imagined he could feel the future in his heart.

It seemed a cold, and dark, and heavy future if so.

He remembered Mew. If it had been typical of its species then the clone would be a playful, innocent creature. Curious. Gentle. Already the ditto were inquisitive, bashful creatures.

By stark contrast, Giovanni loved to command others and make unscrupulous demands. Giovanni! King of veiled threats and intimidation! Was he so cruel and uncompromising from birth, or had he grown to become that way? Be it nature or nurture that imbued such malice, his violent character would surely taint Fuji's creation.

Once he gave this thing life, what kind of being would it be?

What would it one day become, in the shadow of Giovanni?

It might be a monster, like him. Or worse, a victim to his cruelties. In either case, what devastation could be wrought by a creature in such conditions?

Fuji gripped the railing on the rooftop's edge. It felt good to put his weight on something solid. He spent so much time leaning on an imagined future, one which contained his daughter once again.

To keep Giovanni from possessing a mew clone to mould in his image, Fuji would have to sacrifice that future.

And he couldn't do that.

Coward.

∗∗∗​

"Katsura! Katsura, you blind fool! Haven't you got any discretion? Katsura!"

Fuji hammered on his colleague's office door, releasing all the pent-up energy he'd contained during Giovanni's visit. He couldn't feel his hands.

"Katsura! Damn you!"

A voice came from inside: "What is it, Fuji, you obsessive bastard?"

"Open this door and explain yourself!"

Katsura wrenched the door open, and it thudded into the wall as he did so.

"Explain what, man?" he barked. "I didn't study at Université de Lumiose to be spoken to this way!"

In addition to being a great scientific mind, Auguste Katsura served as Cinnabar's gym leader and Kantō's fire type specialist. As such, he affected an exaggerated, theatrical persona. In his case, he had chosen a 'mad scientist' aesthetic, which he was suited for in both appearance and intellect.

He cultivated a large, white, paint brush moustache, and kept his scalp perfectly bald. He wore his lab coat open, revealing a flame-patterned tie, worn in a loose knot. His glasses of choice were shaded pince-nez. He looked bizarre. Yet, the man's glower burned so hot even through the glasses, Fuji faltered despite himself, stammering as he replied.

"Y-you sent that proposal to Giovanni! Now he wants us to use his DNA in the project! Haven't you any idea how badly that could go wrong?"

Katsura stared for a moment. Then, he removed his glasses and looked Fuji in the eye. Without the shades, he looked entirely serious. Older, too.

"You'd better come inside."

Fuji nodded, and obliged.

With the door closed behind them, and his colleague making him a cup of hot tea, Fuji's anger left him.

Katsura attended to the tea with industrious efficiency in his tiny kitchenette. He didn't speak again until Fuji calmed enough to sit down. Before resuming the conversation he said, pointedly, "You haven't seen my analysis yet, Fuji. I assure you, the science is sound."

Then he shushed Fuji with a finger to his lips, and activated his dishwasher. It made a great deal of noise, as if he'd left something solid inside. Fuji raised an eyebrow. What was he playing at?

Katsura brought the tea, sat with him, and softened his voice. He left his glasses off.

"Fuji… Yosuke, didn't you think I'd have thought this through?"

"Explain it to me, then. Tell me why you told Giovanni we could make this thing part-human."

Katsura's moustache bristled as he skewed his mouth in irritation.

"You don't know Giovanni as well as I do, old friend. He's not just some wealthy gang boss who wants to win some private pokémon battles with an illegally enhanced pokémon."

"I didn't think that—"

Katsura ignored him. "He's got his filthy hands in high level organised crime, the government of half the prefectures in the country, private businesses, the tech industry, you name it. Even the League. Did you know he's posing as gym leader in Hakone?"

"No, I didn't."

"Indeed not."

"So, what, he intends to— to use our creation to commit some great crime? And you'll help him do that?"

Katsura's brow furrowed with displeasure. "What do you take me for, old friend? Don't you know what kind of man I am? I want him to fail. He's a madman, Yosuke. I've heard the drivel he spouts for his sycophants. Listen, listen to this: 'all pokémon exist solely for the use of Team Rocket.' I heard him say that to justify stealing pokémon from children, for goodness' sake. He's got to be a damned yakuza boss. Of course I'm not helping him. Will you hear me out?"

Fuji took a deep, shuddering breath, and quieted his mind to listen.

Katsura nodded. "Thank you. Just think — he believes that if he controls the most powerful pokémon in the world, that he can rule it. Not from the shadows. Openly."

"Then we can't let him have that!"

"He's going to have that, Yosuke. It's too late for your fudged figures and redacted reports. It's happening. The question is not whether we can deprive him of his prize. Short of destroying every trace of our work, he can find some bright mind to continue it from what our colleagues recall. No. The question is whether we can prevent him using the clone. The question… is whether the creature will actually obey him."

Something clicked in Fuji's mind.

"You don't mean to say that we should teach it disobedience, do you?"

"No. Not exactly. If we do as Giovanni asks, and create a mew-human hybrid, then that creature… well, it would have a mind of its own. The capacity to make decisions. Perhaps if we're lucky and clever, the capacity for better judgment."

Fuji's brain fizzed with countless risks and contingencies. "But Auguste, you're gambling on the hope that what we make here will not only be… be a— a thinking being, but a moral one. A person, I suppose, with a heart good and brave enough to turn on its master. Who won't simply learn to be cruel and amoral from him. Doesn't that strike you as vanishingly unlikely?"

"Perhaps. We may have more control than you think. Consider this…" Katsura jabbed a finger at him. "It will not be Giovanni that raises this child-creature, but you and I, Yosuke. This is how we beat him!"

"Will that be enough?"

Katsura shrugged. "It has to be. Ah! We will do our level best. And consider: it will even grow up alongside Ai, if all goes well. How could the sibling of your little Ai be anything but noble and kind, eh?"

Fuji thought of the cluster of cells that rested in his lab, the preserved essence of his daughter. When he solved the puzzle of restoring life, there she would be. A child, standing in this world of metal and light.

Would not a clone of mew be more or less the same kind of being as a clone of Ai? More so, with human blood in its veins?

He sat back and put a quavering hand to his temple.

"Even if it works… It disturbs me. This idea of giving a semblance of humanity to a pokémon. What kind of life will it have? What if it suffers because of our decision?"

Katsura looked grim. "All humans suffer. So do all living things."

"Yes, but will it thank us for this?"

"Perhaps. What pokémon wouldn't want to be like us? To be human?"

Fuji shook his head.

"Even so… it would be a child of Giovanni. It could… take after him."

Katsura put his glasses back on, and grinned ferociously. "Not if we use a different sample."

Oh.

Of course.

∗∗∗​

The thing floating in the tank wasn't human, that much was certain.

Still, could it really be said to be a pokémon?

It hung there, suspended in its near-weightlessness by diodes affixed to its torso, head and limbs. It almost gave Fuji the impression of…

Never mind.

The creature had three digits on each paw, front and back. Its eyes stayed firmly closed. The proportions almost resembled those of a human child of six or seven years. As old as Ai when she passed. However, the ears were situated high on its head and roughly triangular, the upper torso and shoulders were gaunt and angular, and the lower legs had the thick haunches and elongated feet of a feline pokémon. Then, of course, there was the enormous tail…

It could not possibly be human.

Yet… it still gave him the impression of a sleeping infant.

He checked the readings. He checked them twice. Three times.

Healthy vitals, as far as they could tell. High brain activity. But… disconcertingly like a human's.

With each passing week, Fuji thought the tiny creature in the tank grew just a little larger. Its tail had grown to twice the length it had been a month ago. Already they could detect telepathic probing coming from it, reaching out for other life. Opposite it was Ai's tank. Perhaps it was reaching out for her mind. She looked just like it in a way, suspended in a cocktail of life-preserving compounds. His great hope. He imagined he could already recognise her face.

There they were. The human and the pokémon.

Ah, but there lay his conceit. It wasn't a pokémon either, was it? How could it be, with brain readings like that?

He stared through the glass at it, willing it to open its eyes. To speak with him.

"What kind of life will you have? What will you think of me? What will you feel in your heart?" he asked, out loud. Then, aware of himself, he checked over his shoulders for an errant colleague who may have heard.

No, he stood alone with his creations, and the stone tablet bearing the image of mew. The engraving stared back at him from beyond a thousand-year gulf.

He thought of the mew he'd befriended back in Guyana. What would it think of this copy, this distorted mirror image of itself? None of the potential names felt quite right to him. Mew Clone. Second Mew. Mew-Two.

"Mewtwo," he whispered to himself. "Will you be thankful that we made you the way you are?"

What pokémon wouldn't want to be human? That's what Katsura had said.

Fuji doubted the truth of that.

The first pokémon-human hybrid floated in its tank, dreaming silently in the dim light. What did it dream of?

He prayed silently that its dreams were peaceful.

It had been a long time since his last peaceful dream.

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Please note: if you're reading through this thread, the 2018 versions of the early chapters have been left intact. However, the revised chapters have been posted as new replies to the thread, and can be found using the threadmarks. Cheers.

 

[Gama]

Great to see this story make its triumphant return to the Forums after all these years - it was always one of my favourites.

An intriguing prologue! Sets the scene well and I particularly like the reference to the Mewtwo saga.

Very interesting also that there should be animals as well as Pokemon in this world... an unusual editorial decision for Pokemon fan fiction but certainly an engaging one. Looking forward to reading more!

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Thank you Gama, for your kind encouragement! I hope this new edition will impress you as much as the previous one.
The first true chapter follows:

One
A Stray and Her Aspirations​

Before she was a person, Salem was a cat.

As a person, Salem can tell her own story, but the story of Salem the cat must be told for her. Feline pokémon can barely ask for their humans to open doors for them, let alone explain why they want to become human. Salem was a cat who wanted to be human. This is the story that explains why. This story comes first.

Salem didn’t realise the moment she chose to become human until much later, when she was no longer a cat. She chose to become human because of a moment spent cowering and afraid, crouched half-starved under a car at night.

If only she weren’t a cat. If she were a human she would never have had to endure winter rain and winter cold and winter darkness. She’d have a home, or the money to pay for sanctuary and a voice to ask for it. Instead she was a pokémon — a tortoiseshell purrloin, distinguished by the long ears and hooked tail of her species — and she would have to resort to using a pokémon shelter if she wanted to be somewhere safe and warm. There was a problem with that idea, though. Shelters fed you, but they also tried to get you adopted. And Salem didn’t want that. And she never would.

She wanted food, warmth, a roof above her head, and after that she didn’t know. She curled her tail tighter around herself, and glanced anxiously at the various flitting shadows and wind-buffeted leaves that haunted the pavements and the park across the road from her.

Eventually she’d be hungry enough to try hunting in the park again, or rummage through someone’s trash for scraps of meat. But not yet. Not quite.

If Salem were human, she’d be well-fed and warm. If she were human, she’d be with Laura.

This was the moment where she stopped wishing, and simply knew; she would become human, no matter what.

Salem first wished to be human many seasons ago, when Laura refused to let Salem come with her to school. College policy didn’t permit pokémon on the premises, so when Laura left for her first day back at school after their first summer together, Salem stayed home. And waited. And wished. She’d wished every day since, for so long now that she’d begun to think of herself as pre-human, only a pokémon while she waited for the day she evolved. She would become human when she evolved, she knew. It was destined.

For now, she was a small, shivering, dark-furred pokémon, and the most human thing about her was her ability — the privilege of all purrloin — to walk short distances on her hind legs.

Having their front paws free made purrloin excellent thieves, a skill which Salem was happy to employ to obtain food. It was easy to walk into a shop and walk out with a bag of dried jerky, so long as you never tried it a second time.

Otherwise, she was typically feline. She had a dappled tortoiseshell coat, (meticulously maintained, even now), a warbling miaow with a quizzical inflection, and the talent of appearing without a sound at the rustling of food packets. Not so useful without a home and a bed and a human carer.

The memory of such things hurt, and provoked low growls in Salem’s throat. These were things she’d had and then lost. It hurt, not just from her discomfort in their absence, but from the memory of their loss. Salem knew, somewhere deep inside her feline brain, that she was here, now, because of that loss. So she allowed herself to remember it — fuzzy as her memories always were — because if she forgot it, she might let herself go home.

At the time, she remembered only hazy impressions, emotions, desires. Later, of course, her memories came into focus as if adjusted on a camera. Although Salem only clearly recalled these things as a person, they were still buried in her mind as a purrloin.

Salem would never remember what the weather had been like the morning of that day, not because of her purrloin brain, but because she hadn’t looked. It rained later on, but it could have started out sunny or been overcast from the beginning, for all she knew. She would be frustrated forever by this, but it had simply not been part of her routine to sit by a window until after Laura went to school. Cats like routine, and Salem’s had been important to her.

That day began routinely. Her eyes opened at dawn, she stretched luxuriously, and she nudged a reluctant Laura out of bed in hopes of her drowsily squeezing a packet of food into Salem’s bowl. Her previous meal of this kind had been chicken in jelly, a favourite of hers, and she’d spent the day before clinging to the memory of how it had tasted.

She wolfed down her salmon while Laura made herself crumpets. Salem prized her regular meals, but supplemented them with as many stolen or begged treats as possible. She had made the sign for ‘food’ so many times over many seasons that, even now, she did it on reflex when hungry: tilt head, reach paw above head, curl paw, paw to mouth.

Laura usually gave her a treat or two for signing this before she left for school, but on this occasion, she took a new bag out of the drawer, and left it there unopened. Perhaps she had been distracted while Salem signed [FOOD] several times. Still, she cuddled Salem goodbye as normal, and called her a sweet cat. Salem purred boisterously and waited until the front door closed to tear open the unsecured bag of treats with her teeth and gorge herself silly.

Salem spent school days like this waiting for Laura to come home. Laura’s parents were usually out most of the day and generally took their pokémon with them, so she had the house to herself. She used this freedom to laze about uninterrupted. She had plenty of naps, mostly spent sprawled out in that one spot on the kitchen counter, where the updraught from the tumble-dryer kept her warm. From there, she watched taillow in flight and dreamed of pokémon battles and of a future with Laura in which they went on grand adventures.

Sometimes in Salem’s dreams, she was not the pokémon, but the trainer. Human or purrloin, she was always Laura’s partner in her dreams. (Later, curled under vehicles and hedges to sleep, Salem’s dreams never featured such a partnership, and she was always, always human.)

Laura didn’t come home that day until much later than she was supposed to. This was happening more and more often each moon, and she already came home later than she used to. Salem managed to enjoy her time alone by keeping to a routine and sleeping heavily, but by late afternoon she was restless. Restless Salem would pace through the house in endless loops, groom herself and groom herself again, and scratch doors and furniture over and over until her claws hurt.

Of course, nobody was around to see her behave like this, and her claw-marks were indistinguishable from years of previous gashes.

When Laura finally came home, it was early evening. Salem jumped up on the stand by the door, like always, to receive scratches behind her ears, like always.

“Hello, silly cat,” Laura said, like always.

Salem’s habitual reply to this was to turn her left paw pad-upward and curl it inward, approximating a human beckoning gesture, and then brush her own cheek. This was as communicative as she could manage in standard pokésign. She’d signed [WELCOME HOME] as best she could, like always. She was really good at signing that, after years of practice. Other than that and ‘food,’ her signing was stilted, and her vocabulary painfully limited.

Laura went straight to heat up a meal for herself, with Salem sprawled on top of the microwave, soaking up the warmth and purring to match the vibrations. Then Laura forked out half a can of food for Salem, and took it to her room so Salem could eat nearby her as usual. Laura found an episode of ‘Gotta Catch ‘em All’ on her laptop and played it while they ate.

It was Laura’s favourite show, so of course it was Salem’s too. Laura once spent a moon mimicking the voices of the pokémon characters, who would only speak in their species names rather than realistic sounds or with pokésign. Laura said it was too expensive to animate pokésign, and the show was only a marketing tool to sell pokéballs anyway. Salem had no idea what that meant, but certainly the show taught Laura a great many species names despite being unabashedly fantastical. Salem couldn’t have signed [P-I-K-A-C-H-U] if she tried.

Even more fancifully, the show featured a villainous but endearing meowth, who had taught himself to speak English. At least every other episode, he was shown wearing clothes, working a job, or using tools. Salem thought he was practically human. He didn’t have a name, he was just “Meowth,” but he was still their favourite character. Laura used to encourage Salem to copy his example, and was only a little disappointed when Salem could only miaow, purr and chirrup. At least her miaows sounded a little like “meowth.” Salem persisted in private for several moons, until with much frustration, she gave up on ever speaking a word. She never quite forgot her dream of talking to humans in their own tongue.

After the show, Salem expected to curl up by Laura’s side and listen to her read stories, like she always did. Laura tickled Salem’s chin and signed [NO] with her free hand. “Sorry, kitten. I’ve had a long day and I still have homework to do! There was some big news today, too. Let’s just chill, shall we?”

Outrageous!

But Salem’s outrage didn’t stop Laura from moving her laptop to her desk and getting to work. This would not do. Laura tried to do whatever ‘homework’ was so important, but Salem kept butting her head against Laura’s leg, and miaowed raucously, until her human finally relented. Laura clambered into bed, leaning against the headboard, and opened the anthropology magazine that they’d started reading the night before. Salem manoeuvred her way into the crook of Laura’s arm and gazed wide-eyed at the photographs as Laura read the accompanying text.

Salem spent all day every day waiting for this. Each night, without fail, Laura would read to her about countless subjects, from the natural world, to human history, to pokémon battles. With each bedtime reading, Salem would snatch a new truth, each one more precious than the last. There were great forests across the ocean still untouched by humans and their cities. People had once lived in caves and hunted with sharpened sticks, without microwaves and lamps and books to use. Humans could form bonds with their partners that made them more powerful than any wild pokémon.

At night, Salem would churn these ideas over and over in the mill of her mind, trying to grasp the big picture, to form a proper understanding of the world, and always having it slip away from her. She hoped that by learning everything Laura could share with her, that, like Meowth, she could teach herself to be more human. Being human meant never having to be bored and alone again.

Even when Laura became exasperated with her insistence and her questions, like she was now, Salem remained desperate to drink up every word, on any topic. Eventually, of course, Laura tired of reading. It didn’t take so long this time.

“Salem, I’m done. Seriously, I still have way too much to do.”

[WHAT?] signed Salem, cocking her head and chirping uncertainly.

“Mostly uni applications. Plus my normal work. And I got home late, too, so, just, ugh. Basically ugh.”

That meant nothing to her. She cocked her head the other way and chirped again. If she did that, Laura would know to explain in a way she understood.

Laura groaned, and spoke with care. “Okay, so it’s like this. Uni is school that comes after school. And I have to do a lot of work so that I can go to uni. Because if I go to uni, then when I’m done, I can get a better job.”

Salem kept cocking her head. She didn’t know how to ask “but what about our adventure? Why are you doing this and not that?” so she just signed [TRAINER] in desperation, mimicking the overarm throw that humans used to release a pokémon from their ball at range.

“What? Trainer? No, Salem, sweetheart.” Laura brushed her dark hair from her face, which she always did when saying something important, and gently stroked Salem’s cheek fur, which she always did when was about to disappoint her. “I’m not going to be a trainer. You need to start young to do that professionally, and have the right support, and I didn’t, and I don’t.” She signed some of the key ideas as she spoke. [NO TRAINER. I CAN’T.]

[TRAINER!] Salem signed again, harder this time. Her tail thrashed anxiously.

“No, kitten. I can’t just run away and battle with you. I don’t have the money. I don’t have my parents’ permission. I don’t want to, really. It’s one of those things — kids all play at pokémon training, but barely any of them actually run the League circuit when they turn whatever age. It’s like how loads of kids want to be astronauts, but there’s only like, two astronauts from the UK. I think. Pokémon training is… I’m not meant for it. Those playground battles we had with other kids never meant we were going to travel the world doing it seriously. You never even learnt any good moves! And fighting hurts. I’m going to study finance, cause that’s supposed to be good for employability…”

But the words didn’t mean anything to Salem. She didn’t understand ‘money’ even after all Laura’s previous explanations. She didn’t understand ‘permission’ or ‘astronauts’ or ‘meant for it’. She didn’t understand why Laura didn’t care, didn’t want this, didn’t yearn for their shared adventure the way she always had.

She signed helplessly, every piece of communication a continuous struggle. Her paws and body gave her more range of expression than a serperior, or a lanturn, or worse, a voltorb with no extremities at all, but they were still nothing to a human’s hands and face. Her vocabulary was stunted, too; pokésign only accommodated simple ideas. ‘Yes, no, over here, I’m hungry, please stop.’

It was difficult enough to think of what she wanted to say and more difficult still to find a way to say it. Under normal circumstances, she was constantly distracted by the temperature, ambient sounds, loose threads of clothing. Even when focused as she was now, she could never hold more than one, maybe two ideas in her head at once.

When asking about their future adventures went nowhere, she tried to ask something else — [I COME WITH YOU?] — not difficult to sign, but difficult for her to ask with her hopes so recently discarded.

“Salem, pokémon aren’t allowed in halls, honey. I might have roommates that don’t want pokémon around. ‘Roommates,’ that’s like, friends who I live with, I mean. You’ll have to stay home. I’m sorry, kitty.”

Roommates. Friends who Laura lived with, instead of Salem. Laura already spent so much time with friends without Salem, now Salem would always be without Laura.

She tried to ask if she would see Laura — if there would be visits — and miaowed her general distress.

[I SEE YOU? YOU WITH ME?]

“What? Oh, of course I’ll come see you! Everyone comes home from uni for winter holidays.”

[MORE?]

“Every year, yes! Don’t worry, I’ll come back!”

But not every day. Not enough to stop Salem pacing and grooming and scratching for days on days on days.

It was hopeless.

Laura evidently agreed, because after a few minutes of this, her alarm went off and she said “That’s enough. Really. I really have to do my work, so please, please leave me alone.” She took off from the bed and threw herself into her desk chair, headphones on, fingers tapping at the keyboard.

Normally, Salem would have lain down by the laptop’s fan for warmth, or batted at Laura’s fingers, or walked in front of the screen for attention.

But…

‘Leave me alone,’ Laura had said.

She had never said that before.

So Salem left her alone.

She slunk out of the room, went out the flap into the back garden, and left Laura behind. She could never quite explain why, only that she couldn’t stay after that, and that she couldn’t go back even when she was desperate for tinned food and packets of treats.

It had been moons since, but the time between then and now was unimportant. The only important day was today. Today Salem would muster up the nerve to go to the pokémon shelter and ask for help. The time spent cold and afraid — that didn’t matter. What mattered was no longer being cold or afraid, or hungry, or vulnerable, or tired, or lonely.
If only she were human.

Being human meant never being cold and hungry again.

 

[bluering8]

OKAY I'M DOING THIS I GUESS. I'm not sure what I can say that I didn't already comment on during the editing process but What Ever.

Most people believe that only humans are gifted with sophisticated consciousness; abstract thought, creativity and complex language.

Should be a colon here, not a semi-colon. You've made quite a few punctuation choices which I'd rank as questionable throughout, actually.

After all, what pokémon wouldn't jump at the chance to become a person?

Before she was a person, Salem was a cat.

I enjoy both of these lines individually, but I think they lose something when they directly follow each other like that. Once gets the point across, twice belabors it.

It was easy to walk into a shop and walk out with a bag of dried jerky, so long as you never tried it a second time.

I like that even homeless and alone she's still reliant on humans and human culture as a major and probably-primary source of food. I think if you poked at that idea some more something interesting would come out.

(Later, curled under vehicles and hedges to sleep, Salem’s dreams never featured such a partnership, and she was always, always human.)

Still very fond of this line.

 

[Ambyssin]

Don't mind me. Just your prototypical guy flying under the radar popping in. Because I can actually get on this story from the ground level instead of trying to desperately play catch up.

That's not the big reason I chose this, of course. I thought your prelude did a nice job pulling me in. It had that language and tone that I've come to expect from a corporate big-whig addressing a room full of suits. In fact, as I started reading I was wondering "is this some sort of investors meeting I'm hearing?" before seeing the italicized bit at the end that more or less confirmed my suspicions. I liked the Mewtwo reference, along with the Gen I expedition note. And treating it as superstition feels like a bit of a meta reference to the whole urban legend surrounding Mew. But I might be reading too far into it. ^^;

The first part's really great, too. I can't compare this to whatever you originally wrote, so I'm just flying blind here. Even then, Salem's "case study," as it were, serves a lot of purposes. First off, there's a little bit of subtle world-building. This is the kind of place where Pokémon are aplenty, and many are people's partners, but few do the League Challenge thing. And I saw the UK brought up, so I'm guessing that makes this more of a "real world, but with Pokémon," type of scenario, versus the regions masquerading as the parts of the world they're based off of. That's not getting into Salem herself, of course. I like that you do a really good job walking a fine line between Pokémon being purely animalistic and displaying human-like intelligence. I think it sort of comes in equal amounts, like with many of Salem's behaviors (pacing, grooming, brushing against Laura's leg). I'm not a cat owner, so you'll have to forgive me if I got any of that wrong. But, at the same time, she's got this limited signing ability. It reminds me a bit of some of the stuff human researchers have done with primates, if I'm honest.

But what probably makes her lean closer to the human-like intelligence end is this fervent wish and desire to be human. The fact that she has dreams and aspirations surrounding that are interesting. And the fact that she's not really able to understand the reasons why Laura can't do that stuff with her makes Salem feel child-like. Since a hallmark of a younger child's thinking pattern is that it's very self-oriented. I'm guessing Salem's human aspirations are gonna tie into this hybrid project, but what do I know? I had a lot of fun with the start of this. ^^

 

[Gama]

Chapter 1 is a super tragic look into Salem's life. Very interesting and builds such a strong character for her - your ability to get inside the mind of an animal is as impressive and engaging as it is bizarre

As with the original, this is such a fresh and unique take on the Pokemon universe that I am super keen to read more.

Keep it up!

 

[diamondpearl876]

Yo! So, this is certainly different from the original Different Eyes opener, eh? I remember Salem waking up with amnesia, and either being found by other PokéMorphs just like her or running into them shortly into the chapter. It was almost reminiscent of a PMD setting fic, except it defied all my expectations there. Don't know if I'm off base with my memory, but in any case, this version takes the focus away from the PokéMorph aspect (so far) and the worldbuilding exposition in favor of Salem's character. I dig it.

It's interesting that you separate animals and Pokémon entirely. Usually, they're depicted as creatures that evolved from animals, just as humans did from animals, but really, categorizing them among more fantastical beings makes sense in comparison. Your take on Pokémon having special "energy" as opposed to humanlike sentience and consciousness makes sense and separates this fic from others. It also only makes the fact that "a third kind" - presumably PokéMorphs, the combination of humans and Pokémon - more interesting, as it implies two very separate creatures are going to play into it rather than two types of creatures with some past evolutionary history.

If only she weren’t a cat. If she were a human she would never have been crouched half-starved under a car at night, enduring winter rain and winter cold and winter darkness. She’d have a home, or the money to pay for sanctuary and a voice to ask for it. Instead she was a feline pokémon - a purrloin - and she would have to resort to using a pokémon shelter if she wanted to be somewhere safe and warm. There was a problem with that idea, though. Shelters fed you, but they also tried to get you adopted. And Salem didn’t want that. And she never would.

Anyway! Onto Salem herself. I love the choice of Purrloin and all the catlike behaviors she displays. So adorable, learning about the quirks she has and how she interacts with Laura. Laura's got some depth herself already without her even being the focus, so kudos there, too. Oh, I quoted this part in particular because the writing style was stunning. Flowed well and the language is perfect and it hits you hard by the end. This is exactly how I remember your writing style, haha. It's nice to see it again.

Laura once spent a moon mimicking the voices of the pokémon characters, who would only speak in their species names rather than realistic sounds or with pokésign. Laura said it was too expensive to animate pokésign, and the show was only a marketing tool to sell pokéballs anyway. Salem had no idea what that meant, but certainly the show taught Laura a great many species names despite being unabashedly fantastical. Salem couldn’t have signed [P-I-K-A-C-H-U] if she tried.

I wasn't sure what to make of the attempt at explaining Pokémon speaking this way in the anime, but you know what? It works. Tidbits like this are so fun to see in fanfic, haha.

Being human meant never having to be bored and alone again.

And I have a feeling Salem's going to be very, very disappointed at some point in the fic. This isn't true at all.

“No, kitten. I can’t just run away and battle with you. I don’t have the money. I don’t have my parents’ permission. I don’t want to, really. It’s one of those things - kids all play at pokémon training, but barely any of them actually run the League circuit when they turn whatever age. It’s like how loads of kids want to be astronauts, but there’s only like, two astronauts from the UK. I think.

Never really thought of it this way. Still, breaks my heart to see Salem struggling so hard to communicate, then kind of succeeding but also getting shut down hardcore anyway. And she doesn't even understand how badly she's getting shut down, just knows Laura said no and that sadness ensues. Bah.

I... don't really have criticism for you, other than perhaps the prelude sounded a tad lecture-y and stiff in comparison to the actual first chapter, except then I saw it was an excerpt from an official speech given by someone. I'd probably not have been offput by it if that explanation was put right at the beginning rather than the end, but could just be me.

Till next time!

 

[Arkadelphiak]

I actually remember some of this story from waaaay back when. I'm no expert reviewer, but I'll try my best to give you something to work with!

Welcome, all. I trust your journeys were pleasant. Now, I understand that you expect greater transparency from the executive management about our research and development programs. This is perfectly reasonable, and so I would like to take some time to tell you the facts as they really are.

As someone who loves the academic environment (and lives it), the tone is spot-on. I can already hear the dramatic pauses and imagine the posturing of the lecturer, the undulating simplification and complication of each sentence . . . there's a nice academic overtone to the entire excerpt and I approve.

You may have heard rumours that in 1996, a hybrid was created by researchers in the private sector. Using genetic material from an uncatalogued pokémon species retrieved in the Guyanese Amazon, combined with the DNA of humans and other pokémon, a new kind of creature with the intellect of a human and the power of a pokémon was given life, not naturally, but through technology. This being, according to urban legend, soon destroyed its creators, and their research with them, before vanishing forever.

No significant investigation has been made into these allegations, but the idea of human-pokémon hybrids is now loose in the world as a conspiracy theory, a sci-fi trope, the stuff of children’s make-believe. It grips people - the idea of a crossbreed between ourselves and pokémon, the concept of synthetic life, the thought that we might no longer be alone as intelligent beings on our world.

This sounds like a formal reiteration of an event. Good and succinct.

Pokémon intelligence aside, the hybrid life-forms, also known as ‘pokémorphs,’ are the third kind of sentient life,

One point to make here-- does "Pokemorphs" really sound like an academic term? I feel like it sounds more juvenile than the lecturer might want. One way I'd remedy this would be as such: give them a fancy scientific/academic name, then mention that they're called "Pokemorphs" in slang (and by non-professionals in your story). I think that would mesh a bit better.

but they also tried to get you adopted. And Salem didn’t want that. And she never would.

O M I N O U S

Otherwise, she was typically feline. She had a dappled tortoiseshell coat, (meticulously maintained, even now), a warbling miaow with a quizzical inflection, and the talent of appearing without a sound at the rustling of food packets.

I know a cat exactly like this. 10/10.

She had made the sign for ‘food’ so many times over many seasons that, even now, she did it on reflex when hungry: tilt head, reach paw above head, curl paw, paw to mouth.

As a cat owner, I'm imaging that precious curling paw motion over and over again. TOO CUTE!!!

while Salem signed [FOOD] several times

Very accurate depiction of a hungry cat.

Salem purred boisterously and waited until the front door closed to tear open the unsecured bag of treats with her teeth and gorge herself silly.

Salem spent school days like this waiting for Laura to come home. Laura’s parents were usually out most of the day and generally took their pokémon with them, so she had the house to herself. She used this freedom to laze about uninterrupted. She had plenty of naps, mostly spent sprawled out in that one spot on the kitchen counter, where the updraught from the tumble-dryer kept her warm.

Honestly, I think I could spend the entire review gushing over cat mannerisms like these. You definitely know your cats!

over and over until her claws hurt

Nitpick: claws don't hurt, right? I know there's nerve endings and whatnot ("the quick"), but the claws themselves are made of keratin. Maybe Pokemon can feel through their claws? I don't know, man, I'm analyzing this more than I intended to. But it's worth consideration. Maybe you could mention that the ligaments in her paws feel sore?

It was Laura’s favourite show, so of course it was Salem’s too. Laura once spent a moon mimicking the voices of the pokémon characters, who would only speak in their species names rather than realistic sounds or with pokésign. Laura said it was too expensive to animate pokésign, and the show was only a marketing tool to sell pokéballs anyway. Salem had no idea what that meant, but certainly the show taught Laura a great many species names despite being unabashedly fantastical. Salem couldn’t have signed [P-I-K-A-C-H-U] if she tried.

This is an interesting meta take. Honestly, as someone who's here for the video games, I find anime references a little meh, but I like the way you've done this. It puts the fic in some weird limbo between the universes.

Laura tickled Salem’s chin and signed [NO] with her free hand.

I like the ambiguity here of just signing a [NO]. I personally imagine this as a swatting motion back and forth, or a dismissive waggle of a finger.

But Salem’s outrage didn’t stop Laura from moving her laptop to her desk and getting to work. This would not do. Laura tried to do whatever ‘homework’ was so important, but Salem kept butting her head against Laura’s leg, and miaowed raucously, until her human finally relented. Laura clambered into bed, leaning against the headboard, and opened the anthropology magazine that they’d started reading the night before. Salem manoeuvred her way into the crook of Laura’s arm and gazed wide-eyed at the photographs as Laura read the accompanying text.

10/10 VERY ACCURATE I'VE LIVED THROUGH THIS

Being human meant never having to be bored and alone again.

As a human, I can confirm this is W R O N G

“Mostly uni applications. Plus my normal work. And I got home late, too, so, just, ugh. Basically ugh.”

That meant nothing to her. She cocked her head the other way and chirped again. If she did that, Laura would know to explain in a way she understood.

Laura groaned, and spoke with care. “Okay, so it’s like this. Uni is school that comes after school. And I have to do a lot of work so that I can go to uni. Because if I go to uni, then when I’m done, I can get a better job.”

Salem kept cocking her head. She didn’t know how to ask “but what about our adventure? Why are you doing this and not that?” so she just signed [TRAINER] in desperation, mimicking the overarm throw that humans used to release a pokémon from their ball at range.

I'm not a big fan of this bit of dialogue. It comes across as a bit vapid and non-descriptive? It paints Laura as a bit of a ditz (although you might want that!), which I'm not a fan of.

‘Yes, no, over here, I’m hungry, please stop.’

I think these should be separated into 'Yes', 'no', 'over here', and so on, because it looks like YesnooverhereI'mhungrypleasestop has been transformed into a run-on sentence.

It was difficult enough to think of what she wanted to say and more difficult still to find a way to say it. Under normal circumstances, she was constantly distracted by the temperature, ambient sounds, loose threads of clothing. Even when focused as she was now, she could never hold more than one, maybe two ideas in her head at once.

Yep, this is a cat's perspective.

Normally, Salem would have lain down by the laptop’s fan for warmth, or batted at Laura’s fingers, or walked in front of the screen for attention.

A C C U R A T E

‘Leave me alone,’ Laura had said.

She had never said that before.

So Salem left her alone.

She slunk out of the room, went out the flap into the back garden, and left Laura behind. She could never quite explain why, only that she couldn’t stay after that, and that she couldn’t go back even when she was desperate for tinned food and packets of treats.

It had been moons since, but the time between then and now was unimportant. The only important day was today. Today Salem would muster up the nerve to go to the pokémon shelter and ask for help. The time spent cold and afraid - that didn’t matter. What mattered was no longer being cold or afraid, or hungry, or vulnerable, or tired, or lonely.

If only she were human.

Being human meant never being cold and hungry again.

AWW. This part actually made me very sad. You went and gave me all those cute cat descriptions and then made the precious baby kitten sad. Unacceptable!

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

@bluering8 Thanks again for your beta-reading, dude. I'll be sure to poke at Salem's anthropocentricism in the future, and yes, I love that one line too~

@Ambyssin It's pretty daunting looking at a well established fic, huh? Glad to get you as a reader out of the gate. Good to hear you liked the prelude, and the mew mythology reference was accidental but entirely appropriate. It looks like you've picked up on all the stuff that was important enough to require the story to start here, and I'm thrilled about that. The inspiration for the signing was actually a gif of a deaf person's pet cat signing, but the comparison to great ape research is apt. Thanks for your praise and interest!

@Gama Cheers mate, that's great to hear. Don't worry, I'll keep on writing!

@diamondpearl876 It certainly is different! I decided that opening the story with Salem already a morph would never be completely satisfactory, and that the whole point is for her to change drastically. So I have to write her as a cat! I can't believe I didn't see this to begin with. I actually have an in-setting reason for the existence of pokémon, but it won't be addressed for a long time yet! Animals have to exist, I feel, to sustain a sensible ecosystem., but they don't need to feature much. I'm glad you love my style! I personally think it's less dry and stilted than it was six years ago, but it's nice that the 'spark' is apparently the same. Salem certainly will be disappointed, don't you worry~ I'm pleased you managed to find something to criticise despite my intensive editing efforts, it makes your glowing praise sound sincere! ;D Cheers, and I truly hope to keep your interest as a regular reader!

@Arkadelphiak No worries about leaving an 'expert' review! Your clear delight at reading realistic feline behaviour induces delight in me. I do love cats, and have cared for several in my life. Your constructive comments are reasonable, and I'll take them into consideration when I eventually feel like polishing the first chapter some more. Cheers!

Thanks to you all! New chapter up in a few minutes. I've had a hell of a time the last few weeks, but rest assured I intend to post two updates by the end of each month.

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Two​

Salem watched the front window of the local pokémon shelter from the scant canopy of leaves she was hiding in - several shrubs clustered in the grassy median beside a small car park. It wasn’t ideal. She had to press herself low to the ground, which was damp, cold, and shared with worms and insects. Her fur was dark and the winter sun was already retiring, so this hiding place would keep her well out of sight. Yet, it hardly felt like safety. The short flights of the winter sun and her ability to hide at its setting were not a nightly reassurance, but a reminder of all the other pokémon that could be stalking her from the same darkness.

The moon came out from behind the clouds, and briefly lit up the terrain. Salem shrunk back further into the greenery and glowered at it. Its illumination may have been a comforting constant from inside a house, but now it made her visible, and therefore vulnerable. It occurred to her that the moon had lived two full lives since she’d last eaten a proper meal. Slept on furniture. Been petted.

The moon withdrew behind cloud cover, and darkness returned. The pokémon shelter was brightly lit from inside, which gave her perfect vision of the interior. There was one human inside. A young man. After studying him for a few days, Salem felt she could read him well. He was a calm person, never moving suddenly or crying out. She liked that. She had begun to wait for a time when she was certain that nobody else but him was about. If she approached the shelter with only him present, she’d be less vulnerable. Or maybe she was only waiting because she still needed to work up the nerve.

The first few nights she’d done this, a silver-tabby glameow tom had come to join her. He’d taken a perch on the wall around the car park, posed like a sphinx, watching her openly from his exposed position without regard to his own concealment, let alone hers. On one of these nights, he seemed to taunt her. A low, strained miaow, certain subtle flicks of his ears and tail. [BAD HUNTER.] An accusation.

She replied with mirrored gestures and a turn of the head. [NOT HUNTING.]

A brief, shrill chirrup, a certain blink: [YES, THAT’S IT.] By this he meant, “exactly, a good hunter would be hunting right now.” Perhaps he was actually trying to be helpful, but even so he only managed to raise her hackles.

Salem focused her attention on the shelter rather than on him, and he seemed to lose interest for a time, only to return not long after with a dead mouse, freshly caught. The glameow offered her the first bite, nudging the morsel towards her with his nose. She looked away. At the time, she hadn’t understood her position. She hadn’t been ready to trade pride for food. He persisted a little while, before finally eating the mouse himself within earshot, punctuating each crunch with small growls of enjoyment that made Salem’s belly growl in kind. As he did this, the shelter lights went out. That was Salem’s cue to leave.

Every time Salem got up off her haunches to turn away from the shelter, her stomach stabbed at her resolve. When she’d spurned the mouse it had been bearable. Now, she’d been doing this for days and it was a constant gnawing in her gut. There were never enough hunting or scavenging opportunities to keep her strength up. She had made no allies. She had found no home. She wished she had not turned down the glameow tom, for perhaps she would have had several more meals, by now. Food, but also a friend. Sooner or later she would walk through that door and face whatever consequence awaited, or she would give up on ever walking in and eventually meet an unambiguously grim fate.

Tonight the human in the shelter was doing his peculiar ritual with the machine at the front desk. Soon he would start turning the lights off. Last chance to go to him tonight. Last chance before another cold and hungry sleep. Somewhere in the street, she was sure the eyes of another local feral pokémon were trained on her. Last chance.

Salem emerged from under the bushes and approached the shelter door, feeling the moon’s light on her fur like teeth. She reached the door and got up on her hind legs to push it open. It shook, but remained closed. She pushed again, and her paws slipped, so she scrabbled at the glass indignantly. The human didn’t notice, so she miaowed; her voice was strained and squeaky in her ears.

Finally, the human spotted her. He watched her for a second, rubbed one eye, and got up to let her inside. The moment the gap was large enough to accommodate her whiskers, she bounded indoors and up onto the front desk, where she crouched defensively with her chin against her paws. The young man scratched his neck as he appraised her from one angle, then another.

“Well, you’re an unhappy looking thing,” he said at last.

Salem made a noise of discomfort and frustration. A tilt of her head and a ‘grabbing’ gesture from above her head down towards her mouth - [FOOD] - communicated her first need in hasty, dramatic pokésign.

“What’s that? Oh, right.”

The human set to work finding her a clean bowl and some food. She considered signing not to bother with the bowl, but it would take too long to make herself understood. Instead, she wailed incessantly until the food was ready. Within several breaths, he’d found her some jellied meat chunks, into which she shoved her head to wolf down before he’d even let go.

“Wow,” he said. “A purrloin, huh? You know, normally when we get new arrivals, they come with a person handing them to us. You’re gonna make my paperwork pretty difficult, friend.”

She ignored him, paying all her attention to the food. When she was done, she looked up at him with broad pupils, intent on getting more, but he shook his head, smiling. Like most humans, he smiled with his eyes too far open. Laura knew to close her eyes properly.

“I’ll get you some more food in a minute, Purrloin, but if you eat too much all at once after going hungry, it’ll disagree with you.”

Salem didn’t quite believe the excuse, but she could wait for more food. She twitched an ear, pushed her head towards him: a gesture which meant, more or less, “Who are you?”

“Oh, my name’s Jamie. I’m in charge of this place, more or less. You, uh, know what this is, right? You didn’t just turn up at random?”

A nod, and a paw gesture. [YES.]

“Oh right, good. Okay. Well, I can let you sleep here and I’ll give you food but first I’ll have to give you a check up, register you as best I can, that sort of thing. You got a microchip?”

‘Microchip’? The sounds were familiar. She guessed the answer.

[YES.]

“Huh. Gotcha. That’s a welcome surprise. I guess you don’t have a pokéball?”

She shook her head. An awkward movement for her, but humans always understood it.

Jamie hummed to himself, and fetched some papers from a drawer in his desk. As he sat and wrote on them, he let Salem smell his hand. Jamie smelled of pokémon, mostly. All kinds, but especially feline and canine. Also, food. Soon, Salem had persuaded Jamie to feed her another bowl - fish, this time - and he’d scanned her chip.

“Salem, huh? Good name for a black cat, I guess. Or black-white-and-tan, close enough. A witch’s cat, named for a town of witches.”
Salem didn’t really understand, but those were definitely colour words. He was describing her for some reason. She flicked both ears back and forth as she ate. [OKAY.]

“Looks like you belonged to a Laura Weir. Ring any bells?”

[YES,] she replied. Her tail flicked in dissatisfaction. [UNHAPPY.]

“Yikes, okay. I won’t ask. But I still have to do my job, just so you know. I can skip calling up this Laura if you really don’t want me to, but I still have to do my best to get you adopted. I hope you’re okay with that.”

Her tail kept twitching in protest, but she signed her assent. [OKAY. UNHAPPY.]

Jamie sighed, but he gave her a closed-mouth smile and blinked slowly at her like he was supposed to. She wasn’t ready return that gesture of trust, but it did make her feel a little better, so she stopped eating long enough to bow her head for a breath’s span: [THANK-YOU.]

“Hey, no problem. It’s my job to take care of you, after all.”

When Salem had finished her food, Jamie yawned and put his pen down.

“I’m too tired for this, Salem. Normally I’d be home by now. Let’s get you to sleep.”

Jamie’s idea of a nest for her wasn’t a comfortable spot on a bed, but one of the many padded mats in the shared room behind his desk. Most of the mats already had pokémon occupants, generally small mammals, but also some birds and reptiles. She’d never shared a sleeping space with anyone but Laura. She wasn’t ready to be unconscious around other pokémon yet.

While Salem peeked inside out of simple curiosity, a fluffy white rockruff spotted her, and was immediately wagging their tail and perking their ears. Alert, agitated. A threat display? She backed away, her tail quivering uncertainly.

“It’s okay, Salem. He’s making friends!”

Friends? She wasn’t sure Jamie was right. But she could try. She signed friendly intent, or something like it, blinking slowly and holding her tail up. The rockruff let out a couple of muffled ‘woofs’, not barking so loud as to wake any sleeping pokémon, but loud enough to startle her.

She growled her disapproval, and nimbly darted out of Jamie’s potential reach, hissing sharply when he approached. After a round of ineffective persuasion and cajoling from the human and insistent, defensive pokésign from her, he relented. He sighed, his hands on his hips.

“Look, I’m not taking you home with me, no matter how much fuss you make. So I’m going to let you stay in the storefront with some water and a basket, but only if you promise not to mess with anything until I’m back tomorrow, alright?”

That was too many words. She tilted her head to make Jamie explain.

He did, carefully: “You can stay here. In this room. But you have to promise to behave. Okay?”

She tried to remember the movements she needed. Hesitantly, she tried them out. Paw to her mouth, then down to her chest. [PROMISE.]

Of course, a promise made like that didn’t count for anything.

She was given a spot for her sleeping mat on the front desk. Jamie’s gaze lingered on her when he locked the door, his non-feline expression difficult for her to interpret. She met his stare evenly until he turned away, climbed into his car, and left. She had the night to herself at last, it seemed.

A soft chirruping call from behind her sent her whirling into a fierce stance, hackles raised. Her would-be opponent made no such aggressive overtures. Salem was facing a long, lithe creature with cream and violet fur, alert eyes, prominent whiskers. Long, flowing fur hanging down from the forelegs like over-sized sleeves. Female scent, and the scent of Jamie. Salem backed down. The mienshao waved one of her limp ‘sleeves’ at Salem and briefly rolled on the ground in a show of friendliness, and Salem acknowledged the gesture with a peaceable slow blink.

Mienshao’s pokésign was extraordinary. Dextrous movements with her paws, subtle movements of ears and tail, easy mastery of accent-signs using whips of her fur sleeves. It was stunningly complex, hard to follow, and made Salem deeply envious. As Mienshao signed, she also vocalised in an eager chatter which Salem had almost no understanding of whatsoever.

[I watch this place - I do this at night - at night humans are absent - I must care for pokémon - new pokémon like you who are here.]

Salem could take care of herself from here. She tried signing back, ears flattening in concentration.

[AM OKAY. NO HELP.]

[It is okay! - I will help you!]

[NO.]

[This way - this way!]

Either her articulation was more crude than she’d realised, or Mienshao was just oblivious.

Not for the first time, Salem felt that even if she had a mienshao’s body, it still wouldn’t be enough for her. She did her best with what she had, but the thoughts in her head were more than she knew how to say even with pokésign as fluent as that. She was smart for a feline pokémon, or she thought so, but really she was only smart enough to realise how much was beyond her grasp. She had to strain to understand almost all of what humans said to her, living on best-guesses and uncertain interpretations. She tried all the time. Tried so hard to understand. And this mienshao probably understood so much more than she did without really trying.

While Salem was staring into space, tail twitching in bitter exasperation, Mienshao had carried a small, cushioned basket into the storefront, and now offered it to Salem. It smelled offensively of mienshao musk, but it was still more comfortable than the mat. Salem supposed Mienshao must have a nocturnal routine, not that it mattered. She seized the gift, kneading the cushioning eagerly. Mienshao chirruped her delight and went on to bring her a water bowl and litter tray. She hadn’t used a tray in seasons; Laura’s family had a garden she’d usually gone in. Given the peculiar smell, she could figure out the idea.

A couple of the other pokémon in the shelter tried to get her attention by vocalising or signing things to her through the doorway, but she turned away, curling up tight. They could wait. She didn’t want to talk, only to rest, and let the warmth of the shelter sink into her bones a little. There were some aches in her body she hadn’t even noticed were there until they’d already begun to subside. In Mienshao’s basket, Salem drifted off within a few short breaths.

She had shallow, fitful dreams, interrupted frequently by the sounds of traffic or of other pokémon, and filled with distorted memories, running, and hiding. When she woke from a dream about a fight - not a battle for fun, but for survival - she did not return to sleep. It was the deep night, what Laura had always called the witching hour.

Salem soon found herself sat at the front window, staring out at the moon, thinking that it, at least, was constant and sincere. She felt as if she were not truly experiencing that moment in person, but simply recalling some extraordinarily vivid memory. The moon shone as if to seek out her eyes alone, and her eyes welcomed it. No matter how her life changed, she would always have the moon.

But she only had the moon until dawn, even the late dawn of the winter sun.

 

[Ambyssin]

I tend to like to try writing thoughts down as I read, but this wound up being an instance where I just kept reading until I was suddenly at the end of the chapter... aha ha. Sorry if my thoughts seem scatterbrained as a result. To start with, I like the introductory tidbit where Salem is stalking out the shelter. You do a great job making it feel like a gloomy night somewhere off the main streets of a town. Usually, where there's some exposition covering a chunk of time that's passed, I tend to lose focus on the story, but your constant use of things besides sight (like instinctual reactions and hunger pains) kept me engaged while you outlined Salem's routine watching the shelter.

Part of what makes it work is the emphasis you put on Salem's frustration with all the communicating that's just not quite getting through to her. It actually felt relatable, since there are way too many times where it feels like I'm not actually getting what someone's trying to tell me, either. It also ties back into that human envy Salem displayed in the first chapter. The interaction with Mienshao kind of sells it for me. The way you describe her movements conveys a sense of awe on the part of Salem. Which she then ties back into the confusing conversation with Jamie, coming to the conclusion that a Pokémon just doesn't have the tools Salem thinks she needs to converse properly. Which leads into the hybrid project... that I'm sure she's going to end up involved in.

 

[Gama]

Another interesting and engaging chapter in which you roaringly succeed in the bizarre task of making an animal heavily relatable to human readers and yet at the same time distinctly animal. The insight into how an animal sees the world, e.g. threats, cover, scents, etc. was great. Salem's initial interactions with other pokemon were also very telling: from glameow to rockruff to mienshow, each interaction told us something new both about Salem and the world in which she exists.

One thing that I did find a bit disorientating at first is having a clear idea of what's going on. The nature of fanfiction is that it's more like TV than a novel in that it's published and consumed serially rather than in massive bursts. I think what this means in practical terms is that readers are liable to need more reminders/indicators of what's going on, e.g. what is the protagonist trying to acheive, why are they were they are, etc. I picked it up before long but I had the feeling throughout that I was missing some minor details that may have been of some relevance.

I can't recall much about the original Different Eyes but one thing I certainly recalled was the pacing being a masterstroke, and the care with which you go over the feelings, experiences, and thoughts of your characters through the events that are occurring remains something that makes this story really brilliant. It's extremely common in fanfiction to rush through a series of big events while spending remarkably little time exploring how that makes characters feel and how those feelings might change their actions. That's a flaw Different Eyes (now or before) never comes close to succumbing to. I feel, however, that this reboot is at risk of going slightly too far in the opposite direction. Through tag lines, the introductory sentence to chapter 1, and the prologue we are led to take "pokemorphs" as being the centre of this story and yet we are two chapters in without even a hint that this might be on the cards. I'm not sure when Salem's transformation is planned for but right now I feel like I'm hanging on for it being right around the corner but never quite being there. I fear that if that's dragged on for too long the story might begin to become a bit less engaging. A question to support this, what do you consider the "inciting incident" of this story? Is it Laura leaving for university, is it Salem becoming a morph, or is it something else altogether?

To be absolutely clear, I am still loving this story so please don't take my comments to mean anything else. This remains one of (if not the) most engaging and insightful pokemon fanfics I have ever read and a masterclass into character insight. I am totally hooked and very keen to see what's next for Salem - I am very much rooting for her!

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Sorry for the last-minute update, I've been having a hell of a time. I might have to reduce the update frequency to once a month if things don't improve, but I'll continue to do the best I can. Enjoy, and as always, feedback of any kind, however critical or however brief, is most welcome.

Three​

Salem woke from another dream in which she had been a human, only to find she was still a purrloin, for now.

In this dream, she had been unable to speak, only to sign falteringly as she already did. She distracted herself from the memory of it by searching by scent for the mienshao, who she found curled up on a shelf between pokémon products, napping soundly. She considered curling up there as well, but she didn’t know how well Mienshao was likely to take it.

When Jamie returned in the morning, Salem was waiting on the front desk, grooming herself. Her swishing tail betrayed her restlessness, but it perked up as he approached. He acknowledged her cheerfully, and when he reached out to stroke her head she did not shrink back, hoping for the first gentle scratching around her ears in moons. Instead, he tickled her chin - this was new, it was different, most of all it wasn’t as good! She tensed up around her shoulders as she warily accepted his peculiar affection.

It was still good to be petted again.

“We’ve got some visitors later on,” he told her, “so don’t be surprised by them! People who work here, people dropping off strays like yourself, maybe guests who might want to take you home with them.”

She growled at this.

“One weird one too,” he continued unabashed. “There’s this woman who booked a slot for later today who says she’s interested in taking on as many pokémon as volunteer for her project, whatever it is. Something about pokémon research, I didn’t understand it. I’d rather get you back home, or else find you a new home, but maybe you’ll be interested in her, huh?”

Salem couldn’t answer. How could she know if she’d be interested? She hadn’t met this human yet.

Jamie went on, rubbing her flank in a way that was only slightly preferable to the chin-tickling thing. “Actually, lemme think. It was research, yeah. For sure. She’s trying to improve communication with pokémon, maybe even to find better ways for pokémon to live with humans. Working together outside of battling, I mean. That’s about the size of it anyway.”

A pulse of anticipation shook her body. Had he said what she’d thought he said? She decided at once to pay careful attention once this person arrived. She couldn’t stay here, she knew that already. Staying here meant being pressured to let someone adopt her. That meant being left at home all day, obviously. This - she didn’t know what it sounded like, but it sounded better.

Much better.

At this point, she was still perfectly ignorant of the choice she was soon to make.

The sun was still young when Salem finished her morning meal. Its lives were shorter each day. This winter dawn was feeble, not quite able to illuminate the trees and buildings visible from her spot on the reception desk. Clouds overhead threatened to stifle it further. To Salem, it was a sun struggling to be born. Struggling to change.

Jamie soon released the other pokémon into a spacious yard behind the shelter to do as they pleased, but Salem stayed in the front room, as if by refusing to enter any other space in the shelter she could avoid committing herself being adopted, while still receiving the food and warmth which Jamie provided. At least until the person Jamie had mentioned arrived. Instead, she tailed him around the store and watched him work. He did a little to open the shelter’s storefront, but mostly he sat at his computer typing. Salem wished that she could read. It was a familiar wish, which flowed readily over the grooves in her brain where it had run before. Every time she wished to read, she wished harder. The grooves deepened. But she did not become literate.

Jamie mistook her spying for friendliness at first, but realised she was wasn’t looking for attention when she batted his hand away with her paw so she could keep her eyes on his work as his fingers clattered away at the keys. She reached out and pressed a paw to the keyboard just to see what it felt like. Clack! Interesting. He smiled at her and shook his head.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?”

She made no sound, no sign. The shelter wasn’t quite real yet, but every word she heard from Jamie made it more so. Whenever he spoke, it was more familiar, more comforting. She didn’t know where she wanted to end up, but it wasn’t in another domestic home. It wasn’t here.

“You know, I’m sure your owner would love to see you again.”

She hissed at Jamie, baring her teeth for long enough to send a message.

“Right, right. Fair enough.” Thus chided, Jamie went back to his work.

More humans arrived sooner than Salem was ready for. She liked Jamie! Jamie was becoming familiar. These ones were all new and crowded around in the same space! When she lived with Laura she had avoided being around more than two humans at once - it was too many for her. She couldn’t do that now, so, she waited behind Jamie’s desk until they separated. Soon, the first was sent by Jamie to tend to the pokémon in the shared room, and the other to unpack and distribute new supplies and merchandise for the shelter.

Salem followed the second human around as she stacked shelves, watching her work and studying her behaviour. She was more like Laura’s mother than like Laura, taller and stronger and more deliberate in her movements. She spotted Salem after a few minutes, and cooed her adoration, stopping to pet her. And this time - an ear scratching! Yes! Perfect! Salem leaned into it, purring like a motor.

“Aw, Jamie, who’s this? What are they, a glameow?” called the human girl.

“She’s a purrloin, Kelly! You can tell by the tail, she’s got that hook at the tip. Glameow have spiral tails.”

“Ah, gotcha! Who’s a sweet little purrloin? Huh? You’re so pretty!”

So, this human female was going to talk to her like that. That wasn’t ideal at all. Salem signed her objection: [STOP - LISTEN!]

The girl turned to Jamie, frowning. “Hey, she’s signing now. What’s she signing?”

Oh. This one couldn’t understand sign.

“Can’t see from here! Don’t get distracted, Kelly.”

“Oh, okay!”

Never mind then. Wait, what was-

The girl scooped Salem up without so much as a warning, and lifted the cat onto her shoulder. Unacceptable! Salem gave a shrill growl and leapt down, pushing off hard from her arm. She cried out in surprise, but did not pursue. Salem left her at a pace, already fretting that the other human might do something similarly startling.

The boy who’d gone to tend to the other pokémon was coming back into the storefront now, apparently in search of Jamie. He looked much older to Salem - greying hair was a sign of ageing in humans, she knew that much - and when she sniffed at his feet she detected wet soil, and the pungent smell of garden fertiliser. She miaowed for his attention, and he looked down at her with his eyes narrowed.

“James, one of the pokémon is in here. Is that allowed?” he asked, the deepness of his voice surprising Salem.

“Sure! You can say hello if you like.”

He stooped to hold out a hand for her to sniff, which was the proper way to do things. He stroked her head, not too hard. Good. This one was okay. She liked this one already.

“Alright, pussycat, I’d best be on my way,” he said. And then he stood back up and headed off to the back yard.

That was it?

Okay.

Okay…

She could handle positive relations with Jamie, she decided. He was the reasonable one. The leader, rightly so. The others, his coworkers? Less familiar, unpredictable, likely to do something objectionable. All the more reason to keep to Jamie’s side. To this end, she allowed him to pet her chin occasionally, and did not bite him when it tickled. Sadly, he didn’t get the hint when she tried head-butting his fingers.

More staff came to filter in past Jamie into the rest of the shelter. She signed to the ones with reassuring body language, and a white-coated vet even signed back for a minute, and signed well! But she was busy, and couldn’t stay. Jamie narrated some of what he and his colleagues did to Salem, as if he were compelled by the power of her curiosity alone to think aloud in her presence.

“You know, we’ve got a lot of larger pokémon in the sheds out back. Biggest one is the mudsdale. We call him Clayton. He’s a big boy, he needs plenty of room. We don’t like to keep you guys in balls too much if we can help it. It’s not healthy, you know.”

‘You know,’ he kept saying. She did not know. She knew very little, in fact.

“Salem, you really should stop pestering people with jobs to do. Go outside, there’s lots of friends to make out there!”

No, she wasn’t ready for that. Humans were hard enough. Pokémon besides other cats would be even harder. But Jamie kept encouraging her to go out back and socialise, and she kept refusing. Eventually, he went that way himself, hoping she would follow him. She resolved not to. She washed herself. She glared suspiciously at the girl stacking shelves. She quickly became bored. And finally, she relented.

There were a few pokémon still in the indoor commons, some sleeping, some watching from high perches, the rockruff chewing privately on his favourite toy. He looked up from his treat and whined plaintively at Salem, tail wagging. She wondered whether he actually knew any pokésign. Perhaps he was only a pup and hadn’t learnt any yet. He was very small after all. The thought that he might not know any sign was still somehow upsetting - how could she make herself understood to him? How would humans manage to interpret his needs?

[FRIENDLY,] she signed.

The rockruff just cocked his head, clueless. The other pokémon here were uninterested in interaction, it seemed. They didn’t respond to her miaows or signs, as a rule. A large, beige-scaled lizard - a helioptile, maybe? - signed a crude [SLEEP] at her before closing their eyes and drifting off again beneath a heat lamp. Maybe all the sociable pokémon went outside during the day.

Salem gave up on them and walked past the rockruff pup to the yard. There, she saw a multitude of pokémon running, playing, grooming each other. A furret was chasing an aipom around the circumference of the grass, apparently for the sheer joy of it. She realised at once that she hadn’t the faintest idea how to approach any of them. She knew how humans worked, she knew how battles worked, she even vaguely knew how territory disputes worked, more or less. But this was completely unfamiliar to her.

She began by approaching another dog pokémon as he finished lapping water from a bowl just outside (she wasn’t sure of the species) and signing her friendly intent. He wagged his tail fervently and hunched up with his head against the ground, signing for playtime with his ears. Salem boxed his head lightly, experimenting, and he responded with mock-snaps near her head.

They continued like this for a minute, their styles of play-fighting not quite matching up, before the dog - a herdier, that was the species! - gave up and rolled over, presumably in submission.
Salem licked his head in peaceable fashion, but she knew she wouldn’t get any proper conversation out of him. What she really wanted was someone who would talk to her and even groom together (since getting a human to read something to her seemed impossible right now). But she didn’t see any other cats that were otherwise unoccupied. This could be a frustrating day, she realised.

She checked for Jamie - he was grooming a piloswine with a fine comb. He’d be there a while, then. Good. Salem scanned the yard in hopes of finding another pokémon like mienshao. One who was more human-like in form and behaviour and therefore likely to know plenty of pokésign. She found one in the shelter of a barn at the far end of the yard, signing stories to a small audience of attentive pokémon huddled together against the massive flank of Clayton the mudsdale.

The storyteller was a throh: a squat, stout, brick-red humanoid clothed in a white martial arts gi, something throh supposedly hand-crafted themselves. On his shoulder perched a chatot, a small and colourful bird, who alternately whistled accompanying tunes and voiced the narration in human words. The pronunciation was terrible, but Salem was awed. The throh grunted expressively as he signed, sometimes laughed at the reactions of his audience, and scratched illustrations in the dirt with his stubby fingers, his prodigious black brow furrowing with concentration. A couple of times he managed short human words, or approximations of them, but the chatot did most of the spoken work.

Salem joined the crowd a little way off, and listened. She was hearing the tail-end of a story about how humans learnt how to make ‘strong stone’ from a tribe of conkeldurr many, many years ago. They must have meant concrete! The throh’s signing was not as elegant as Mienshao’s, but it was more careful, more articulate: [Afterwards, humans began to use strong stone to build a city, and then there were many cities, and then there were many humans to live there, now because of this the forest became smaller, and the pokémon did not thrive the way humans thrived.]

The chatot chirped their rough translation, adding their own spin as the story continued. “What’s that? What’s that? Conkeldurr don’t like it, gonna tell ‘em off, naughty people, naughty people! People wanna have a cake and eat! Say, no no no! Don’t tell me what to do! Conkeldurr boss, he says, please be nice now! Gave you strong stone! People say, you conkeldurr boss, not the boss of me! Forgetting strong stone gift!”

Just then, another shelter volunteer called to Jamie from the building - there was a particular visitor at the front door. He walked back inside and Salem ran back to follow him, unwilling to be left alone with the other pokémon just yet and eager to see this visitor, surely the one Jamie had told her about earlier.

The visitor was indeed much different to the others. She carried herself differently, dressed differently - although Salem could not at the time quite pick up on exactly how. Alisha was young, female, and smelled mostly - almost entirely in fact - of pokémon, but also of things that Salem couldn’t place. She dressed very differently to humans Salem was used to, although at the time she didn’t consider that useful information. She had much, much longer hair and darker skin than the humans Salem was familiar with, too. There was something else, something not quite perceptible, in her eyes and her movement that Salem was sure was unique to her among humans. When she entered the shelter, she slow-blinked at Salem before talking to Jamie. Feeling immediately reassured, Salem returned the gesture. There could have been no better introduction for her.

Salem couldn’t follow the human conversation perfectly. Jamie spoke clearly and simply enough for her to catch the gist, but Alisha talked fast and used words Salem had never heard before. She could make a stab at some of them, if she tried hard. She concentrated, and gleaned knowledge scrap by scrap: Alisha wanted pokémon who were different. Ones who should be somewhere other than here, who couldn’t be domestic pets or journey with a trainer. ‘Re-homing’ wasn’t quite ‘home’ and Salem only knew ‘work’ as Laura’s school books, but she knew ‘misfits’.

Misfits was her.

Jamie showed Alisha the pokémon outside, talking all the while, and Salem watched from the door as this unfamiliar human went forward to meet them. Alisha went from one, then to another, examining and speaking carefully to each of them in turn. She spent longer with the ones who signed back, and longest with the throh and chatot pair. Salem wanted to run over and be the next to sign to her - but she waited her turn to communicate with this human who took the time to use sign with pokémon.

Once Alisha had spoken with all the pokémon that caught her interest she selected a few, calling to each of them to follow her. Salem sat with her tail at attention, quivering with anticipation as this strange human approached.

“What about that one? The tortie purrloin,” Alisha asked.

“Oh, that’s Salem,” replied Jamie. “She turned up last night all on her own. Nobody with her.”

“Salem, huh? I’ve got a good feeling about her. How about it?”

“I don’t know, I can’t really let you have her so soon, I haven’t given her a proper checkup or finished registering her or anything yet.”

“We’ve got veterinary staff, so we’re fine for checkups.”

“Still. Procedure. Actually, I’ve already emailed her previous owner earlier today and I’m waiting for a reply. Almost everyone wants their missing pokémon back, naturally, but I guess if I haven’t heard back in a week, it’d be okay to write them off and you could take her then.”

“Can I at least ask, uh, Salem if she wants to come?”

“I could be in trouble if her owner finds I’ve let her pokémon walk out the door, sorry. She stays. All the best to you, though!”

“Same to you.”

Salem felt as if she’d swallowed a gallbladder whole, bitter bile and all. Jamie had already contacted Laura. He wouldn’t let Alisha make her an offer. He wouldn’t let her go. Her lip pulled back to snarl at Jamie, but she stopped herself. It wouldn’t help her to scold him. She had a better idea. The idea was this: Alisha was surely soon to leave, and Salem could go with her, with or without Jamie’s permission. To ‘re-homing’ and ‘work’ and ‘misfits’. It wouldn’t be easy, though.

The problem was this: Jamie wanted to keep her here for Laura to find. If she tried to follow Alisha out through the door, Jamie would certainly try to stop her. And Alisha might even help him, even while meaning well, because humans were just like that. They always, always chose what other humans wanted instead of what pokémon wanted. But if Salem could escape Jamie’s notice, maybe Alisha would take her with her. Salem needed another route to whatever life Alisha was offering, one that avoided Jamie entirely, and she had one. She’d studied the shelter carefully, and Jamie too. She knew how humans moved and perceived. She could do this. She began to make a plan.

As she did so, Jamie fetched paper for Alisha to write on, and collected her chosen few in their balls and gave them to her along with a bag of supplies and more paper. Once Alisha was done writing, she said something quietly to the pokéballs, and blew on each of them lightly. The pokémon inside wouldn’t know she’d done that, but maybe the gesture was for her own benefit rather than for theirs. Then the humans kept talking, making light conversation in the way that humans did when they made their extended farewells. Salem had her plan now, fixed in her mind.

The plan was this: The fence around the outdoor commons was high, but she had more determination than the fence had height. She could run silently through the indoor commons and out into the back yard, then vault the fence into the car park while Alisha was still loading her things into her car.

Salem did all this without feeling Jamie’s attention on her, scarcely even being noticed by the other pokémon, and landing softly on the tarmac out front without a graze. She looked at the car, almost expecting to see it leaving the parking lot. Her breath caught. Alisha had left a window open. She leapt for the gap, paws clutching the rim of the car door, anxious with every second taken to pull herself up that Jamie might rush out and retrieve her.

Jamie raised his voice. Did he see-?

Salem tumbled into the car, ducked down out of sight. Winded. Alert. Her ears pricked for his approach.

Nothing. Just laughter and human conversation.

Minutes later, when Alisha drove away from the shelter, Salem was pressed flat against the floor of the car with her claws gripping the surface and her jaw tightly shut. Beneath her growing nausea, continuing stress, and the noise of the road, Salem thought about how Alisha had wanted to ask her to come. Ask, not demand. Someone like that would talk to her. Listen to her. Even treat her like a person. Whatever Alisha’s ‘work’ turned out to be, it would be worth toughing out the car ride just for that.

She didn’t know it yet, but very soon, Salem would indeed be a person.

 

[Ambyssin]

In the process of cross-posting your story between here and Serebii, the Bulba version wound up with permanent black text, making it unreadable on dark forum backgrounds unless you highlight. I've found the fix for this is to cross-post using BBCode, not Rich Text.

The little quirks with Salem reacting to not being petted the way she wants are a nice bit of characterization coupled with the reminder of the animalistic side of Pokémon that sometimes gets forgotten about. There's also this certain charm to seeing Salem so thoroughly invested in Jamie's extremely mundane work. I say that because my dog has watched me type at a keyboard and not looked the slightest bit interested. I guess in some sense it's also sad because she's so desperate to have these boring things that the average human dismisses as just a natural part of them. You also show a flaw on Salem's part: she's developing a bit of a one tract mind, here. Rejecting anything that doesn't have to do with meeting this mysterious human. To the point of hissing at Jamie's suggestions, to boot! She also develops very quick opinions of Kelly and the older guy. By the way, was Salem always going with boy and girl regardless of age? Seems a bit odd, to me, even with her limited knowledge.

I'm also amazed at how backward Salem's logic seems. Pokémon are harder to befriend than humans? That seems like a really warped view of reality for a 'mon to have. And then it extends into wanting someone to converse with. That sounds... staunchly anti-cat. Though I guess that makes here a perfect candidate for this morphing thing then. A Purrloin with body dysphoria... or something.

I was a bit thrown off with Alisha's description paragraph. Not because of the content. But because the narration seemed to suddenly take this retroactive approach instead of the "in the moment, in Salem's head" pattern it had followed the whole story. For starters, we're straight up told Alisha's name, instead of learning it organically. And then there's the "at the time" bit. Maybe it's a writing technique I don't know about. *shrug*

Lastly, some interesting philosophical takes here. Salem becomes infatuated with Alisha's work thanks in part to her desire to "ask Salem to come," rather than ordering it. And is distraught by human procedures and laws that would keep her from leaving. Speaks to her disconnect as a Pokémon that she can't understand the trouble Jamie would get in if he let her go with Alisha. Also speaks a bit to the human-Pokémon relationship. There's an ownership element to it, that may get explored in the future.

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

@Ambyssin thanks once again for your super speedy reviews. They are becoming a major motivation to get content out!

I have fixed the text colour, I'm pretty sure. Should show up fine now, and the mistake is unlikely to be repeated.

I'm pleased about how Salem's coming across - note that she objects so strongly to the idea of adoption by humans because of how let down she was by her original carer. Realistically, no domestic arrangement is likely to satisfy her needs, and besides that there are long term effects to departing her home in the way she did. The flash-impressions she got of Jamie's colleagues are a deliberate character flaw, as is the unsuitable use of 'boy' and 'girl' for adult humans. (Although if it jars, I might have to edit that.)

It's interesting that you're perplexed at Salem's hesitance to approach other pokémon. It's quite common in real domestic animals raised alone to only be comfortable around humans, and many of the pokémon in the shelter are not other felines. Note how she misinterprets the dogs' body language, having never interacted with a canine socially before. I'm also trying to show that Salem has been raised for years in an environment with mental stimulation and plenty of pokésign, and now she's interacting with pokémon and humans who don't know how to sign. It's rather like moving to a foreign country for her. Could I put this across better in-story?

I have actually mixed over the shoulder narration with retrospective narration, and I'm no longer confident that this was the best move. I have used 'looking back' moments a few times already, but clearly the Alisha introduction jarred too much. I'll make an edit in the meantime to have her name learnt organically, and I'll give due consideration to the question of narrator closeness for the future.

As a pokémon, Salem does have certain rights in this setting, but despite being developmentally mature and legally protected, she doesn't have full agency and autonomy, since human society does not accommodate participation by pokémon. Her experience is rather like that of an adult being treated like a child. I'm not interested in writing about pokémon-as-slaves or as property, that's been done. Rather, I want to contend with the idea that while humans and pokémon have generally positive relationships, not enough consideration is given to their needs beyond physical wellbeing and affection. I hope enough of that is coming through in the prose!

Thanks again Amby for a useful and encouraging review. Hopefully future updates continue to hold your interest!

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

@Gama, Sorry to not respond to your review sooner! I expect I mistakenly thought I already had. In any case, thank you so much for such slowing praise! I'm damned tempted to quote you in my signature to make myself look better. ;P

I spent a lot of time and effort on the feline experience in chapter two, so I'm thrilled that it's had such a positive impression on you!

Regarding your feeling of disorientation, I was actually wondering earlier today whether the first two chapters could have been a single, longer issue. Do you have any thoughts on that notion?

I barely remember writing the original DE but I do remember it was important to me at the time to cover the little details about the hybrid experience. In this new version, I've done my best to show how Salem's previous life is fundamental to her choice to become part-human. I've been looking forward to getting to that stuff in this edition; I posted Chapter Three just the other night and it should be clear from the content of that chapter that Salem's transformation is soon approaching. As for the inciting incident, there is no single such thing. Salem's life as a purrloin is a series of formative experiences and choices - first she's raised on intensive human interaction and then neglected, so she chooses to leave, she struggles on the streets so she chooses to rely on humans for food and shelter, but she can't interact meaningfully with either humans or pokémon there so she chooses to take a vague opportunity to be something else. After the point of her transformation, it's no longer entirely her story.

Your praise and encouragement are wonderful, Gama, and they are a great motivation for me to keep putting content out here. I hope that you will continue to enjoy this story, and to keep rooting for our peculiar cat protagonist!

 

[Gama]

Have just read your reply and also Chapter 3.

I think you're probably right about Chapters 1 and 2 becoming one together: although the beginning and end of each of them is quite neatly and nicely done I feel the story would benefit from being taken a bit further forward at that stage. On a similar note, your answer to the "inciting incident" question is interesting. The reason I asked it is that one of the better pieces of writing advice I've read was that all stories have an inciting incident, whether the author realises it or not: a key part of telling a great story (especially a longer one) is identifying what your inciting incident is and bringing it to the front (somewhere in Chapter 1 at least). If your inciting incident ends up buried a bit further in the narrative than it should be it can give the feeling that I described in my previous review. The reason I asked is that I suspected the inciting incident of this story might actually be Salem's transformation. Now, don't get me wrong, that's not to say that everything up to this point hasn't been fantastic and well worth writing and including but I do wonder if contracted versions of what's come so far could have been brought as past-looking reflections by a Salem who has already been transformed or is currently being transformed? Don't read too much into the specifics of that comment - I don't know the story anywhere near as well as you do, so it can't mean too much - but do think about the overall principle: what's the inciting incident and is it possible to bring it forward in some way or another? Is it possible to tell the fantastic background you've provided in a manner that allows the inciting incident to strike early on?

As for Chapter 3, it is more delivery of the excellence I've already commented on in Chapter 2. The insight into the way Salem sees the world as a cat is extremely engaging to read. A new thing that this chapter brings that is very interesting is her perceptions of "humans" as a collective - how they are likely to interact with each other, how she distinguishes between them, etc. It is such a detailed and insightful look into how the world appears through her eyes. What's really new in this chapter, though, is a broader look at other pokemon and the world more generally. The throh & chatot telling stories as well as Salem's interaction with rockruff and herdier do a phenomenal job of painting every step of the way between literal dogs as we know them in the real world and the almost human pokemon whose communicative abilities Salem is so envious of.

As you've predicted, I'm desperately looking forward to Chapter 4 to see what is actually going to happen to Salem now that she is finally on her way to becoming a morph!

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Thanks for another useful and encouraging review, @Gama!

I will consider revising the opening chapters in the future and bear your feedback in mind, but for now I'm going to push on. I'm concerned that I might get trapped perfecting the opening chapters when it's in my best interests to leave that until I have the story well under way. When I do get round to editing the early chapters, I might add more content in the first chapter to suggest that the earliest chapters are prologue to Salem's morphing, which they are indeed. I suppose I could edit the first chapter handily to include a couple paragraphs about what's to come! I'll give that specific thing a go in the nearer future.

I'm pleased that the specific thing Chapter Three is supposed to be doing - giving a good look at Salem's interaction with humans and a range of pokémon - is being done, and apparently really well at that! You use such superlative praise, it motivates me to drop what I'm doing and pump out Chapter Four!

Cheers again, Gama! I'll try not to keep you waiting!