A/N: Here it is, the fic I've been dreading to put up and have been hemming and hawing over. I've adopted a different style because of the nature of the fic, and the fact that it is centralised around Mewtwo, and a character as deep as him is good for first person styles.

Anyways, as a warning, this is a PokemonxHuman fic, albeit a mild one. If a story of Mewtwo finally getting a bit of appreciation and love isn't your cup of tea, please don't read. Otherwise, enjoy!





o-o-P E A C H-o-o

He is a perfect cross between beautiful and ugly. Sat there on the floor, fidgeting like a lost child, he is deformed in every way. His hands look like they can barely function, with little gripping power and only three digits to one. Head too big for his neck, it has to be supported by a tube protruding from his head into his back. The long, powerful tail - almost reptilian in its movement - only serves as a nuisance. With it, he cannot sit properly.

Yet he is beautiful. I can see it. His eyes are huge and a vibrant purple; no matter how tired he is, his head is kept high. A chestplate adorns his front. Bony, yes, but sculpted in such a way that he looks very nearly human. And while he isn't a human, his elegant way of communicating and exceptional intelligence can quite easily rival ours. When he speaks, he does so telepathically; it sounds like he is right next to you, even when he is across from the room.

It's a deep and throaty voice. It resounds over the cosy office that is the Master Hand's before echoing close to my ear. His story is dark and disturbing. Something I cannot comprehend to.

I am the Director of the Smash Board: Princess Peach Toadstool. Here with Toadsworth, the Board's advisor, and Mansion owner Master Hand, I am attending the last of applications for Smash Mansion.

Mewtwo was a last minute applicant. He signed up just when we were about to end recruitment. In our meeting today, he had brought in with him no written details of his background. Instead, he tells us he wants to explain everything himself.

I listen, and so does Toadsworth and the Master Hand. Before Mewtwo can even finish though, I accidentally let my emotions get the better of me and I cry. Quietly. Toadsworth looks a little embarrassed, and Mewtwo gives me a curious glance. The Master Hand doesn't even notice.

"We have a rule for Pokemon," says the Master Hand. He has drawn himself up to his full height and is apparently unaffected by Mewtwo's background. "All Pokemon Smashers must be owned. You fit all other requirements, but without a master, I cannot let you in. Wild Pokemon are out of the question."

I try to concentrate, but my mind is reeling with a cycle of words.

Experiment. Scientists. Created. Monster.

How can I not cry?

"Do you not understand?" Mewtwo replies to the Master Hand.

The Master Hand doesn't understand, but I do. I know that Mewtwo is not the sort of Pokemon who wants a master. It would be an insult to him. Having suffered enough at the hands of humans, he comes here for refuge. Forcing him to be owned is an insult. It's wrong.

I want to say this out loud, but I am silenced by the promise I made to Toadsworth. Before I became a Director, he warned me. He had told me that in this Mansion, it was necessary to think with my head and not my heart. If I couldn't do this, I should not take up the position.

And I promised him I would.

My head tells me Mewtwo needs a master. Someone to take responsibility for him and ensure he doesn't leave or do things of his own accord. Pokemon work well with humans. A master can teach Mewtwo that.

But my heart is beginning to rip itself. I cannot let something so cruel happen; his perception of humans would worsen. If I were to let him live life like a prisoner, I am no better than the monsters who hurt him.

"Think of it this way, Mewtwo." The Master Hand's voice is always patronising. He uses that voice on me too; by now, I'm used to it. "You are running from the prospect of being taken in by..."

A pause as he eyes his notes. "...Giovanni Sakaki. You come here to compete as a Smasher. If you are willing to have a master, I can let you in. Let me remind you, Mewtwo, that if you have a master, Giovanni cannot own you or take you as his property. You will be under full protection in this Mansion. Surely that's what you want?"

I do not like the Master Hand's words. He's too manipulative; there are better ways to go about convincing someone to change.

For a few seconds, the light of the fire catches my attention. There are no flames, just the orange glow of the coal. Perhaps I am staring at it for too long. My eyes begin to water again and I feel a pulling sensation in my stomach. Toadsworth notices my discomfort; I think it's only him who does.

I don't want to see this Pokemon get hurt again.

But I must think with my head.

"This is a Master Ball," says the Master Hand. "It's not named after me though!"

He laughs a little at this joke, but only Toadsworth cracks a forced smile. I don't find the situation humorous at all. I know what a Master Ball does. If Mewtwo is aware of that Ball, he should be making his exit now. He sits there, still as ever. I almost want to push him out of the way. Shall I?

"We reserve it for wild Pokemon who apply." The Master Hand is still patronising in his tone. "It's a no-fail capture ball. We will give it to your new master. Then you can compete. You want to compete, don't you?"


"You meet all other requirements? Health, fitness, fighting skills..."


"Then you could do with a master to meet the criteria?"


My head jerks up, and I blink away those meaningless tears. On the brink of despair and desperation, he agrees to what he truly doesn't want. I am near certain the Pokemon is wary of humans. Now he is at a point where he is so broken, he has lost all hope to even fight.

My feet are led by my heart, and I am suddenly at his side. Toadsworth utters, "Your Highness, please!" as though he thinks I am risking myself. Maybe I am, but it's my turn to ask the questions now.

"...How old are you, Mewtwo?"

It catches him by surprise. I can tell because his eyes do not look so hardened anymore.


He is a bit hesitant in his reply; I think it's because he cannot work out why I am asking. It's very simple though. I acted on my heart and sought to try and make him comfortable. If he can converse, why are we not having a pleasant talk with him?

The Master Hand is not best pleased with me. Losing the business-like approach isn't what he wants.

"Do you agree to be caught then, Mewtwo?" asks the Master Hand, resuming the interview. I cut across him.

"My name is Peach. I'm the Director of this place. Are you looking forward to joining the tourna--"

"Do you agree to a master?" demands the Master Hand, raising his voice so that it is heard over mine. Now that I am next to Mewtwo, the desperation is as clear as ever. His shoulders are slightly hunched over, and his breathing is laboured. The tail is unmoving; rigid, even.

He's three. He doesn't look it, but he's three. Of course he's lost and confused.

"Do you, Mewtwo?"

If the Master Hand could smile, I know he'd be doing it now. There's a cruel side to him that he often reveals by accident. After all, only someone cruel and ruthless in his ambitions could design and create a Mansion not only dedicated to fighting, but fuelling intergalactic spats.

I'm just the Director. I keep the sponsors happy and make sure all the Smashers are doing okay. The Master Hand runs this place; he owns everyone here.

"Does he need one?" The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"...Peach." Toadsworth addresses me tentatively, and I know he's serious because my title's missing. "Please respect the Master Hand's decision..."

I know that the Master Hand is going to use this opportunity to play tricks and torment for his own pleasure. Young Link, I recall, wanted Pichu as his own. But that Pokemon already had her own master; what if the Master Hand gave Young Link Mewtwo instead?

If I could find someone who would not abuse this position of power or damage him further. If I could find someone like that, then I would have acted on my head but dealt with it with my heart. Someone. I need someone...

"I'll do it."

It makes sense to me, but Toadsworth's flabbergasted look is enough to confirm that I stand alone here.

"Y-Your Highness! He's a dangerous creature, you've seen all our notes on him. If your father finds out I've let you--"

"Toadsworth is right, Peach. Danger is in his nature." The Master Hand speaks casually, as if he isn't concerned at all.

But the Master Ball is in my hand now, and no one is trying to take it from me. Mewtwo doesn't protest - he is stone still, however his eyes have locked onto mine. I hold out the Ball loosely, deliberately having it within his reach, so that if he does object, he can knock it away.

He doesn't. I claim him before I realise I've done so.

"Your property then," says the Master Hand matter-of-factly. I wonder if he was expecting me to claim him and was deliberately acting like that to spur me on. In all honesty, he is a hard one to figure out.

The Master Ball is secure in both my hands, and I feel a strange surge of triumph against the Master Hand, even if it will be a short lived one. The Ball doesn't feel any heavier with Mewtwo in it. It's all a bit strange.

"We will include Mewtwo in this week's Smash matches then," says the Master Hand. "Peach, it is your duty as his Pokemon trainer to keep a sharp eye on him. Any misbehaviour will result in his removal from tourna--"

He can compete. I'm allowed to be his master. That's all I need to know.

Toadsworth follows me out of the office and he engages me in his usual sleep-inducing lecture.

"Your Highness, what do you suppose I tell your father? That you've claimed a psychotic, crazed Pokemon who could potentially kill you? I understand you're a compassionate lady, but Peach dear...this is a bit too much. For 25 years I have looked after you and you have never been so reckless..."

I only half-listen. The embossed 'M' on my new Master Ball is captivating. It shines in the dimly lit corridor as I hold it. Toadsworth gives it a reproving and disappointed look, but I have the feeling it's directed more at me.

It wouldn't be the first time I've let my family down after all.

My father still hasn't forgiven me.





A/N: This is very different from my other fics...I also get depressed writing about it :( but I like to think this is my contribution to the Mewtwo fanbase. The poor guy takes loads of beatings because he was useless in Melee, but to me and hopefully many others, he's still the greatest Pokemon antagonist. No one - especially from 4th generation - can replace that.

Anyhoo, some notes on this chapter. I decided on Mewtwo's age from when he escaped his tank as opposed to when he was created. Being chucked in a tank isn't really living, so I don't think it should add to his age. Secondly, Peach is Director. She always will be in my fics. She's not stupid or brainless; she has far more depth than that.

And thirdly, you'll notice this chapter is narrated by Peach. Next chapter is Mewtwo's turn to narrate. Also, the Master Hand is the antagonist, just like he is in Perfect. A giant hand who picks on trophies/Smashers, tries to crush or poke them to death and has a psychotic laugh doesn't come across as nice to me.

Please please review if you have any thoughts on this fic - I would really appreciate your thoughts!! Thanks for reading!