Written for this year's Thousand Roads' Aeons and Avatars contest.
It took so much longer than it should have to place each gilded ball in the nest of wood. Even assembling the simple pile of kindling had been a trial all of its own. The trembling of his hands worsened with each motion, and by the time he was trying to set the final container, with his growlithe within, it slipped from his weakened grip and rolled off five times before he finally succeeded in placing it.
How much had been taken from him. His mind could still run flawless laps, but he could not be a fighter when his failing hands would struggle to even untwist the latch.
But the fruits of his life amounted to a grand offering, one that surely would be enough. The pokemon may have been useless to him in his current state, but they were monuments to what he'd accomplished, and a promise of how much more he could do with the gift of a new form. All his knowledge and skill, no longer having to be crudely filtered through balking flesh.
Some people might hesitate to lose the evidence of their accomplishments, to see what they'd worked so hard at all turned to ash, but he was not such a coward. If Ho-Oh found him wanting, then he did not deserve to be remembered. And if not... After this he would aim for deeds so grand that it would outshine and eclipse all he'd done in his first life enough that such lesser things would fall from memory as well.
He lit the kindling and, once he saw the flames rise, turned his back and made his way to his bed. He lay down and closed his eyes, let the smoke billow up around him and seep into his lungs. He wasn't afraid. If anyone was worthy, it was him.
When his eyes opened again, they looked up upon the stars. The sky above him was edged by the burnt remains of timber supports, all that was left of the walls. The smell and taste of smoke was all around him, but it no longer choked him, the stabs and aches he'd grown accustomed to had all vanished, and he felt even lighter than he remembered being in his prime. Getting to his feet was truly as easy as thinking it. His new body moved as easily as the air itself.
It was hard to see the details of the transformation. Everywhere he looked seemed to be illuminated faintly despite the night's blackness, but it only showed him the general shape and shade of things. He seemed to be dark in color, but he might just be coated in soot. His new form remained humanoid.
He reached out to grasp a piece of burnt wood next to him and marveled as his new fingers obeyed him. He tightened his grip and broke it into powdery chunks as easily as just thinking of it.
"Ha. Ha," he chuckled to himself. "Hahahaha!"
He started to walk, then trot, then truly run, moving across the ground at impossible speed, as effortlessly as smoke itself. He jumped, going from the ground into a tree above with a single flex of his legs.
The mind of a human, reborn with the power of a pokemon. He'd...
"There! What's that?"
A flash lit up the night. It was Rowan, with her mareep glowing at her side. One of his neighbors, she'd likely seen the flames. She seemed bigger, and he realized the body he was in now must be short. Not unexpected. Most pokemon were shorter than people.
"I've never seen anything like that," she said. "Do you think it's what caused the fire?"
He opened his mouth to say that yes, actually, he was the one who'd done so. "Mardowsha." What? "Marsh."
Oh. He hadn't thought about that. Maybe he'd be able to learn to talk like a person again with time, or maybe he'd have to figure out another way to communicate. But he'd never been all that talkative, so it was a small loss.
"Get ready, Sparky! We should try to catch it, it might be something special. And we can't risk it running around if it was involved." Its tail started to flash as it began to slowly charge up.
He knew mareep. They were mid-tier at best, and Rowan was neither the best nor driven to raising only the best. Her pokemon had a particular fear of open flame. One fire punch would send it running, and winning his first battle in his new life with that felt like a fine tribute to Ho-Oh. He could picture it exactly, his flame-wreathed fist striking out to hit right...
The mareep seemed bigger than he remembered. It wasn't some little pokemon standing down there on the ground but one facing him, looking him dead in the eyes, static crackling so bright and loud. Behind it, Rowan towered, starting to unscrew the cap on a white apricorn ball she had because problem pokemon tended to...
He ran.
It lurks in the shadows of others, copying their movements and powers. This pokemon is craven and cowering.