Chapter 1: Being

But a whisper…

Not but a sound…

A small fraction amidst the din of the forest around, a sprawling mess, a dense, endless mess of chirps, buzzes, rustles, crunches–

Silence.

Not a sound.

Not a whisper.

Nothing at all.

There is not enough willpower to muster the energy to speak.

There is nothing of interest here.

There is nothing of noteworthiness here.

There is, essentially, nothing–

Oh?

A movement.

A shifting of dirt as the figure pushes itself off the ground.

The faintest buzz as its body fades in and out of view. Its face is indiscernible, its arms dangle limply, it floats in place yet it sways side to side, unbalanced, it does not touch the ground yet it might as well, only but a centimeter above the forest floor.

Is it dead?

It moves forward drunkenly. It is a mirage, only but a faintly gray-black sight, its corporeal form intangible. It approaches a bush, but it does not produce but a single crinkle from any of the leaves nor branches as it phases through. It goes straight through a tree, leaving no indication that it had realized it was in its path at all.

It cannot, apparently, interact with the world around it, and the world, apparently, cannot touch it. It is a mere ghost.

A shadow.

A nothing.

Nothing at all.

Something is happening, however. For several minutes, it drifts by, leaving no impact on the world, not so much as an impression. It ignores all, so the world returns in kind.

It does not last. A small green bug finds it in its path, rearing up on its hindlegs to attempt to appear bigger to the phantom. It approaches, and the bug holds steadfast, wincing–

It passes right through. There is not even a chilling feeling as the Caterpie opens its eyes to find the ghost had ignored it entirely.

Its brows furrow. It will not be ignored.

Throwing its head forward, it spits out a stream of silk, which, like a lasso, entangles and ensnares the apparition. It cannot move. It turns around, somehow seeing the Caterpie.

It has been acknowledged by the world. It now has to acknowledge the world back.

With a grumble that would have been a great roar of frustration, it stumbles forwards. Its vague misshapen arms reach for the small Caterpie, but the bug jumps out of the way at the last second, leaving the ghost to trip into a tangle of bushes. It emerges from them without a scratch, growling without a mouth, glaring without eyes.

It haphazardly lunges every which way for the Caterpie, but at every attempt, it would dodge. Neither could do much to the other. A little silk would never be enough to hurt an incorporeal form, but the reverse was also true.

The Yamask had enough.

There is willpower.

It has a name.

Raising one arm sluggishly in the air, it conjures a pitch black ball of energy, its mass swirling and twisting, begging to be unleashed. The Yamask, still unbalanced in the air, lobs it forwards, where the Caterpie, not expecting such a display of force from what it thought would be a relatively weaker opponent, is struck directly in the body. The ghostly energy explodes outwards from the moment of impact, sending the Caterpie flying and blowing away air in a rippling wind effect.

The Yamask breathes. Its chest rises and falls as it calms.

It has eyes.

It opens its eyes.

It has a mouth.

It can speak, truly breathe.

It is not nothing. It is here. And it has a will.

The Yamask blinks, looking around, seeing nothing but the forest around them. As it continues to search for signs of life, its first moments of consciousness notice something.

"Who is talking?" it asks.

Its attempts to find nonexistent company grew more frantic, apprehensive.

"Stop saying what I'm doing!" it yells.

"Like that, stop doing that!"

"STOP!"

The Yamask claws at the sides of its head, as though that is where the sound is coming from. It tosses and turns once again, fearful of what might be.

"I-I'm not scared of you! Show yourself!"

Despite having only had consciousness for such a short period of time, it already had a notion of independence, and bravery.

"O-only… Voice, how long have I been awake now?"

It looks around at the forest, anticipating an answer. It receives none. There is not enough–

"HEY! STOP TALKING!"

It appears to be–

"YOU! I CAN HEAR YOU! I DO NOT APPEAR TO BE ANYTHING YOU SAY!"

"YEAH, I CAN HEAR YOU, STOP REPEATING WHAT I'M SAYING BACK TO ME! IT'S NOT–YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW STOP!"

…

…

It can hear me.

Interesting. It appears that there is hope for this specimen after all.

It has the willpower.

It has responded.

It is changing the world.

Ha.

Hahaha.

Excellent.