Authors note: I got excited about the future of this story and wrote out another chapter... sorry? Anyway, I wanted to clarify that this Giovanni will not be following in the footsteps of the canon Giovanni. My Giovanni is a scientist, philosopher, and most importantly - strong. Also, the way I'll be treating Aura will be somewhat like Ki or Chi. Spiritual energy that allows some humans to level the playing field and be as powerful (or maybe more?) than Pokemon. But this is not all about strength, Giovanni is going to have to work hard, nothing will be given to him, he will earn everything every step of the way on his journey. Please enjoy!

I awoke with a sudden jolt, heart pounding as if it were trying to escape my chest. Pain erupted across my body the moment I attempted to sit up, an intense burning that shot through my ribs and spine. I gasped, trying to move my arms, but they felt as if lead weights were tethering them down. The weakness I felt puzzled me, why do I feel so fucking fatigued? My eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim surroundings, and fighting back tears from the overwhelming pain.

The room around me was sterile and cold with white walls and humming monitors. Definitely a hospital, I thought. An alarm blared from beside me, the sudden grating noise piercing through my aching head like a thousand needles. The shrill beeping stabbed relentlessly, desperately making me wish for silence. Through the pain, I noticed what looked like silver and black flames bursting out of my skin. The door burst open, a shaft of blinding white light spilled inside, squeezing my eyes shut against the glare didn't help the pain. I could feel the bed shaking from my struggles as people rushed in, there was a crackle followed by a small explosion. Sparks flew from the monitor, and blessedly, the alarm cut off. I succumbed to the pain and the feeling of extreme fatigue once more to the discomforting embrace of darkness.

"He's too strong…" I heard someone shout, voices coming to me in fractured sound bites. "Restrain him! RESTRAIN HIM NOW!"

"What happened to him?!" a panicked voice asked.

"Get that Chansey in here! Use Gravity!"

"No, it's too much for his young body!"

"He'll die if we don't calm him down and heal him!"

"He will live with me—I will take responsibility for him."

"With his awakened aura at such a young age, and dual-typed even—he's dangerous. We should take—"

*SMACK*

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"

The voices twisted, turned, fading into muffled whispers as I drifted between conscious and unconscious. A chaos of emotion that I could feel lingered in every word I caught—anger, desperation, sorrow. I didn't understand; thinking itself felt like an insurmountable task.

The next time I opened my eyes, there was a golden warmth that filled the room. Sunlight streamed through a nearby window, casting a comforting glow across the space. The ache that had tormented me was no longer sharp, though my body still felt sore and weak. Slowly, I took in my surroundings—a pink blob snored softly in a corner, the rhythmic rise and fall of its body oddly soothing. I squinted, recognizing the round shape. A Blissey. 'So that explains the calmness. Blissey… but, why?'

Gingerly, I shifted and sat up, the unfamiliar fabric of a typical hospital gown brushing against my skin. The bed beneath me—also painfully generic. It amused me that no matter the universe, hospitals still managed to feel the same.

Suddenly, the door flew open again, and an older man hurried in. He was tall, his frame solid, an imposing figure despite the silver streaks in his hair. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and filled with a mixture of concern and—recognition. Something about him seemed so familiar. He approached quickly, sat on the hospital bed and wrapped me in a careful but firm hug, rocking slightly as he fought back tears.

"Grandfather?" The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. Memories clicked into place. It was him—I wasn't alone. Relief mixed with the grief I had been carrying, warmth flooding me as I leaned into his embrace. I wasn't destined for an orphanage after all.

He pulled back, eyes glistening, not quite able to mask the raw emotion on his face. "How are you feeling, Gio?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I tried to answer, but all that came out was a weak cough, my chest heaving painfully. His eyes widened, scanning the room until he spotted a pitcher of water. But before he could act, Blissey was at my side, its paw glowing with a soft pink light. The cough subsided, and a glass was lifted to my lips. I drank greedily, the cool water soothed my dry throat.

The Blissey waddled out shortly after, returning with a doctor and nurse. They both had pink hair, which made me blink—had I really stepped into a world of endless Nurse Joys? The doctor, addressing my grandfather as Elder Oak, asked for permission to examine me. 'Oak? Could it be…?' My mind swirled, recalling fragmented memories of a world far removed from the one I'd found myself in. 'No, it can't be the same Oak, everything else has been so different, there's just no way.' I thought to myself assuredly.

My grandfather nodded, stepping aside but staying close. The doctor gave me a smile—a strained one, her eyes betraying her unease. She moved with a deliberate cheerfulness as she spoke, attaching leads to my skin, checking my reactions. Something felt off about her act. There was a tension in the air, a kind of nervousness I could sense but not place.

The machine they connected me to began beeping—loudly. Everyone seemed to freeze, the doctor lunging to silence it. Her sheepish smile returned as she met my eyes, still not reaching them. I blinked at them, trying to process what was happening. "You're acting really weird," I said, not realizing I had spoken aloud until I saw the doctor and nurse exchange nervous glances.

They busied themselves with the machine, their actions frantic as they read the display, ignoring me completely. I shifted my gaze to my grandfather, who placed a comforting hand on my head, a small smile on his lips as he stroked my hair. At least he felt real—something I could hold onto in this bewildering reality I've found myself in.

The doctor eventually asked my grandfather to speak outside, and he patted my head, promising he'd be right back. As he left, his entire demeanor shifted—gone was the kind, comforting figure. He looked like a man prepared for battle. I couldn't help but wonder what they were going to discuss.

Finally left alone, I let out a sigh. I needed to think, to make sense of everything that had happened. My memories were patchy, disjointed. There was no mistaking it now—I had found myself in a world so similar yet so vastly different from the one I knew before. Pokémon… but not like the games or the shows. A harshness lingered in the corners of what I could recall—burned-out buildings, war, a world far from the idyllic journeys I had imagined.

I looked out the window, watching several large bird Pokémon soaring through the sky. Slowly, I climbed out of bed, my legs shaky but stable. Crossing the room, I perched myself on the edge of a small couch beneath the window, gazing out at the bustling cityscape. Humans and Pokémon, working side by side—a majestic sight tainted by destruction. I could see ruined buildings, and in the distance, a broken wall that allowed a view of the forest beyond. A memory tugged at me—Viridian City? I was almost sure.

The door opened again, and I turned to see my grandfather, his eyes filled with concern as they landed on me. He walked over, sitting beside me. "I'm glad you seem to be feeling better, Gio," he said, patting my head again. I noticed the way he looked at me, as if needing constant reassurance that I was really there.

"What happened?" I asked, hoping for answers. He hesitated, then sighed. "We'll talk more at home. The doctor"—he said the word with a bitterness that surprised me—"wanted you to stay one more night, but I refused. We'll be leaving as soon, I've arranged for some of your clothes to be brought from our home." He kept casting me curious glances when he thought I wasn't watching. It irked me.

Finally, I turned to him, the question on the tip of my tongue. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" My bluntness startled him—I had forgotten, I was just a child to him. A four year old child, 'How am I going to pull that off?' I questioned myself. 'Should I limit myself? I'm not an actor…'

He collected himself before answering. "You're… different, Gio. Since the… accident, you've changed."

"It wasn't an accident," I corrected. "We were attacked. I remember." His eyes widened, and he leaned in closer.

"You remember?" he asked, his voice soft.

I regarded him for a moment, thinking furiously. I decided, I can't hide who I am. I can't let him see everything, but there's just no way I can act like a four year old.

"Yes. Mother and I were running, her Nidoqueen was with us. Then a Hyper Beam cut through the forest, killing Nidoqueen and…" My voice wavered. "Mother. Father showed up after, but he… he tried to kill me. He abandoned me and Arcanine, then flew off. Arcanine guided me until we found a Dragonite… and then I woke up here."

My grandfather's face twisted through emotions—grief, anger, and something darker. A flicker of purple flame curled at his skin before he managed to smooth his expression into a blank mask. He reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You… have changed, Gio. You speak almost as if… as if you're not a child."

I took a deep breath. "I died," I said plainly. "And I met Arceus. He gave me another chance, and… made me different. He blessed me."

His mouth opened, then shut, his eyes wide in shock. "You… died?"

I nodded. He seemed overwhelmed, his hand coming up to his forehead. He muttered something under his breath about my aura—something about dual typing—but I wasn't quite sure what it meant. I watched as a myriad of emotions flitted across his face. Finally, he pulled me into another hug.

"One of our family's aura abilities is recognizing truth. Every word you've said rings true," he murmured, his voice shaky. He looked at me, his expression torn between awe and sadness.

It took everything in me not to flinch. It was true—at least, partially. But the full truth, about who I used to be? That would remain with me, and only me.