Title: End of the Old Days and the Beginning of the New
Author: Deja Vu
Summary: This story is about Pikachu's life from being hatched as a Pichu to his evolution to Pikachu...Then he meets Ash and accepts that maybe humans can be a part of his life after all...
Rating: No language, only Pokéviolence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, but this story is mine.


I must have air!

The desperate inner need for oxygen cried out painfully in my lungs.

Panic flooded over me.

What do I do?

...Out! my subconscious told me.

I must get out!

I struggled, bumping into something hard, yet almost yielding.

Instinctively, my sharp teeth started nibbling at it until the hard shell cracked open.


I'm free!

I swiftly breathed in the precious air I had needed desperately, the taste sweet to my oxygen-starved lungs.


Bright light assaulted my eyes.

Almost blindingly so.

I slammed my eyes shut, taking in everything else through my other senses.


I felt a comforting warmth.

And a wetness.

A soothing, yet tickling wetness.

My nose twitched and wrinkled.

A fresh scent teased my quivering nostrils.

Slowly, I forced open my eyes.

I glanced up to find a large colorful creature bathing me with a rough tongue. "Rai," it comforted me.

Not it, she...

Instinctively, I knew it was my mother.

Carefully, I stretched my new limbs, blinking to get used to the light. I tried a noise shakily, "Chu?"

"Rai..." I was nuzzled by her, and I returned it in kind. I glanced down at myself curiously, then back at the creature, who looked remotely like a warped larger version of myself.

"Pi! Pichu! Chu!" I turned sharply to see a stampede of three beings, smaller than my mom but around my size, charging towards me and greeting me with a symphony of 'Chu's.'

"Pi-chu?" I quivered a reply.

They scrambled over to me, licking me happily, and I relived that soothing wetness from earlier over again. They informed me, in a language I somehow understood, that they were my sisters and I had been the last one in the nest that had hatched. Their three tongues, similar to our mother's but smaller, kept on lightly caressing my face in kisses. I enjoyed this bathing procedure, and so I turned my own delicate pink tongue upon my smallest sister, who was nearest me. I felt a weird connection to her in particular for reasons I didn't understand.

I tentatively hobbled out from my birthplace on top of my now-cracked eggshell, followed joyfully by my older sisters. After wobbling more on my legs, I finally got used to them, and I hopped out into the grass to roll around playfully with the others. It seemed the extent of our noise-making was "Pi" and "Chu" so I subconsciously marked us as "Pichu," and our mother, who could only speak "Rai" and "Chu," I marked as Raichu.

I heard loud chirping above my head, and so I paused in my youthful romping to glance upward.

"Pidgey, Pidgey!" cried out a bunch of young birds, trying to fly out of their nest. Their mother cawed, "Pid! Geot!" at them, warning them that they were not yet ready to be airborne.

"Chu!" I hollered up at them in salutation.

One popped its small head over the pile of twigs and peeped, "Pidge!"

"Pi-pi! Chu!" I giggled at its ridiculous-looking big-beaked face and the scruffy feathers on its forehead.

"Pidgey!" it answered, mock-angrily. It tried to hop onto the side of the nest, but misstepped and plunged down to the ground, squawking and flapping its wings in an attempt to slow its fall. It worked, mostly, but it still hit the ground with a plop.

"Pi!" I rushed over, followed by my inquisitive siblings.

"Gey," it whimpered.

"Chu?" I checked to make sure it was okay, poking at it, while I wiggled my tail experimentally. I'd momentarily forgotten I had one until I saw my sisters waving theirs.

The little bird unsteadily got to its feet, then chirped at me. "Pi!" I exclaimed, and began smoothing its ruffled feathers. My smallest sister tried to pluck one of the Pidgey's tail-feathers, amazed by them, and he snapped at her in fright.

She squealed, then ran to Raichu. My other sisters laughed and ran after her, teasing her.

"Chu-pi..." I soothed the scared bird. "Pi?" I asked what gender it was.

"Pidge," he stated matter-of-factly after calming down.

"Pi. Pi-chu," I told him I was male as well, then I asked about his nestlings.

He told me of his brothers and sister, then asked of mine.

Our conversation continued for a while, but in the middle of one of my questions about the other creatures that dwelt nearby, we heard a loud "Geot," and a large bird swooped down and gathered my friend in lethal-looking talons. I was scared at first and called up to my friend, panicked, but I was soon reassured by his surprised, but cheerful, welcome to his "captor."

I waved good-bye, then I further explored my surroundings, sniffing bright and cheerful flowers and splashing in the river. I was soon joined by my sisters, excluding the one who was nipped at.

I was happily minding my own business (as well as my sisters') when all of a sudden something bumped into me...And it wasn't one of my sisters.

Shocked, and unsure of how exactly to react, I panicked, and somehow managed to electrify whatever it was.

The unsuspecting Goldeen was as shocked as I was.

It whimpered, "Gol? Deeeen," then sank down in a faint to the bottom of the river, where it lay motionless but still alive.

"Chuuu," my sisters muttered, dazed by the bolt of electricity that had quite easily and painfully been conducted by the river, floating on top of the water.

Forgetting about my siblings, and astonished with my new discovery, I rubbed my round cheeks where it felt like the Thundershock had came from. Experimenting, I strained and shouted, "PIIIICCHHUUU!"

With loud squawks, my sisters scrambled out of the river as I let out another jolt. I continued practicing until my mother came and reprimanded me, "Rai rai. Chu chu raaaiii."

With a lowered and shameful head I followed, and she led me to the bed of leaves where my sisters had already fallen asleep. Curling up beside them, I fell into dreamland myself.

"Pichu!" I zapped a Pidgeot who had swerved down to peck at me.

It cried "Geot!" and fell to the ground.

Next came a Goldeen who purred at me, "Goldeen Goldeen, Goldeen Goldeen?"

I tried to Thundershock it, but it managed to avoid the bolt, and came at me with its horn pointed, but I rolled away, then hopped to my tiny feet and called out, "PPPPPIIIICHHHHUUUU!"

It fell down as well.

My third attacker was a—

"Chu! Chu!" My sisters' voices cut into my exhilarating dream.

"Pi?" I murmured groggily and grumpily.

"Pi-pi-chu," the littlest reprimanded me for sleeping in.

"Chu," I grumbled at them for waking me up.

They shook me lightly, and I reluctantly rubbed my eyes, still exhausted from my night's "lightning practice."

I hopped up, and we went to the main grassy area to play, although they were more active than I, of course.

"Ter-er?" a voice purrled from beside me.

Startled, I spun around, collapsing and falling onto my chin.

"Ter-pie!" the green worm chuckled.

"Pi-chuu," I scolded it for scaring me. I was inwardly relieved that it was just a harmless bug, and not some other type of scary being out to get me.

"Cat. Erpie?" The Caterpie tried to look innocent.

"Chu," I snuffled.

We chatted for several minutes, and I was informed that all the creatures I had seen were called Pokémon, including myself. But all good things must come to an end, and the small Caterpie's much larger mother, a big beautiful Butterfree, arrived and herded her child away. I called good-bye after the pair, then bounded over to where my sisters were. It was growing dark, and the sun had mostly disappeared behind the hills. The sky's bright colors of sunset were gently fading away.

We sat down for a moment, then tumbled around playfully for a few minutes. The stars started appearing in the sky, so we lay down on our sides and pointed at all of the various stars, comparing the constellations to various creatures we had seen lately. Our mother came over to us, informing us that it was our bedtime, but we begged off a few extra minutes, and she reluctantly complied.

"Pich. Uuu," I gestured at one and told them it was Caterpie.

"Chu," the littlest one disagreed, saying it was a great flying dragon called Dragonair. The three of us teased her, telling her there was no such thing, but she insisted she'd seen it earlier, its large bulk flying majestically in the sky.

"Owl," came a hooting behind us. We swerved around quickly, but with a rush of wings my two bigger sisters were gathered up in the monster's big clawed feet.

"CHU!" Me and my lone sister yelled after them.

"Noct!" the Noctowl taunted, not looking back. My sisters squirmed to get loose, but the big bird's grip was too strong.

"Pi!" I sent a jolt of electricity up at it, causing it to stop, but hardly phasing it. It continued on swiftly, disappearing into the night.

I knew I would never see my sisters again.

I also knew that I would see that Noctowl again.

And something very important would happen at our next meeting.

"Pii," my little sister wailed, coming to me for comfort. She had been very close to them, spending most of her time with them while I talked to other Pokémon. I hugged her, and she cried bitter tears in my arms. Although no tears came from my eyes, I felt the loss almost as deeply as she did. We were a family. And now our unity was broken. Two of our members were gone...

"Rai rai," our mother came over to us, humming, a bedtime snack of delicious berries for the two of us and our recently departed sisters lightly held between her teeth. She stopped in midstep when she noticed our mournful expressions and the absence of our two sisters.

My eyes communicated to her what speaking could not. With a sad look towards the heavens, she stumbled over to us and silently ushered us to bed, her eyes moist, muttering, "Rai, raaaiii," in a pained voice. We lied down without complaint, cuddling next to each other for warmth and consolation on the soft leaves. Our mother curled up beside us and wrapped her lightning bolt-shaped tail around us, as much to comfort herself as us.

I would show that Noctowl never to show its over-sized beak near here ever again.