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[WARNING: This is a fairy-tale type of story. If you are one of those people that just don't see the lighter end of things even though it hits you smack in the rear-end, don't read. If you prefer texts that tackle all the complications and woes of life, please don't read this. If you don't like the Japanese language in the text, don't read. If you're snide and want to write stories about people's opinions and prove those OPINIONS wrong, because yours is SOOOOOO right, don't read. If you're all too cool to read a childish style of text, don't read, because I do NOT enjoy getting criticism that are neither constructive nor meaningful. Just plain silly. If you are NOT one of those people, which I know that almost the entirety of FanfictionNET is, that seem to feel smart after they've put someone's work down, please...stay. I already worship you. I admire people that can give constructive reviews without sounding like they enjoyed bringing the author down.

And if this ain't your cup of tea, sorry. We don't serve heavy sarcasm with a slice of jack-ass on the side, so I suggest you keep looking for another cafe that does serve it.]

Disclaimer: Nintendo and all of its branches do not belong to me. All credit goes to Nintendo, except for the story credit.

[BEGIN]


He was a life-form created by a forlorn scientist

Created from something gone.

To say how this was done

was, a Miracle.

But something was missing from the clone.

Something that just cannot be made...

What is that feeling? What is that thought?

Is it a...Kokoro?

...

It had been exactly thirty years since he was created, created from a defective DNA splice from an extinct ancestor and from a human gene. Scientists everywhere had collaborated to create him, the supposed most powerful creature to have ever lived. They grinned and boasted about the amount of wealth, fame, and power he would bring their organization. Yet, none of them ever had a connection with him. In fact, to them, he was merely a proof of intellectual and technological advancement. Scientists, well-known leaders, and trainers frequently came to study him and observe the wonder that the scientists had created, but despite all the activity around him, he was alone. He grew up in a glass capsule, fed and cared for by millions of thin tubes. He floated in the warm life-giving fluid, sleeping dreamlessly.

While he slept in the darkness, he remembered having heard voices. He didn't know what they were saying or even what words were, but the voices felt cold. They felt emotionless. They were all different voices, different pitches and different tones, male, female, somewhere in between, but they were all the same in one aspect: they were all cold, heartless... a striking comparison to his warm, motherly canister. Different from the warmth and the safety he felt within it. So with his young age and naivete, he decided to stay in his warm home forever, away from the harsh cold outside.

He never opened his eyes to them.

Of course this baffled the scientists. He was supposed to have woken up years ago. They checked their tables, graphs and complex mathematical formulas, but to them, the possibility of the young Mewtwo's fear of leaving the safety of the man-made surrogate was not taken into the equation. How could they have thought of such a ridiculous thing? He was a base creature! A powerful, intelligent being, but a creature nonetheless. A creature such as Mewtwo could not possibly have a heart, could it? Every day, they observed him, took recordings of his growth and his intense brain activity which delighted them, for this meant that he was developing into the creature they wanted him to be. However, none of these brilliant minds ever translated the arching graphs and the fluctuating tables to be Mewtwo's heart beating and asking questions.

In the beginning, he tried to reach out to these humans. He sent different telepathic messages to the machines that monitored his health, asking them questions that a 5 year old human would ask.

Why do you sound like that? Why are you doing that? Is it safe to do that?

Would you like to be my friend?

Yet, as analytical as the researchers were, they missed these messages, overlooking them in favor of the hard data the computer was providing. They did not have the capacity to understand these. All they could think of were the data.

Mewtwo stopped trying to reach out, because it seemed to him that not even one of them had a heart.

One day, 4 years into the project, a father decided to bring his tiny, eight-year-old daughter into the lab. Usually, this was forbidden, but since the child had begged her papa, and since he was the head of the project, he had granted his little girl's wish. The father loved his daughter dearly.

The girl had wanted to see the amazing creatures her father had created. He had filled her bedtime stories with legends about these creatures that were once considered extinct. He told her that one day, they would all live again, because he was working to bring them back into existence.

The girl loved hearing the magical stories of these creatures. She loved the story of the Prince of the Sea. She loved the wistfulness of the Wish Maker and the freedom of the Voice of the Forest. But the creature that she loved the most was Mew. That was why she'd begged her father to bring her to the lab. She had wanted to see Mewtwo, who looked like Mew.

The morning of the day came. Excitement filled the atmosphere of the tiny, 2 bedroom girl dressed in her finest clothing, fixed her hair up in a bun and hurriedly ate her breakfast of eggs and sausages. She happily told her dad how happy she was that he was taking her to see Mewtwo on her birthday. She told him how much she loved him.

After breakfast, and after the father had gotten ready, the pair got into the small, red car sitting quietly in the parking lot. A soft sputtering of the engine signaled the awakening of the machine. They drove out of the apartment together, happy and excited for the full day ahead of them.

The girl turned on the car radio and was gleeful that it was playing her favorite song. She and her dad sang to the song at the top of their voices, albeit a bit off-key:

"Sekai de ichiban ohime-sama

Sou iu atsukai kokoro ete yo ne ~..."

The girl laughed at her father's terrible fake female voice. The father, who honestly thought he was doing a good job singing it, playfully pretended to have taken offense because she was laughing at him. He then also broke into laughter a few seconds later.

Then, a blur sped past them. An eighteen wheeler, cargo full of petrol, overtook them at the highway at dangerous speeds of possibly 170mph. At the turn, the petrol container, poorly secured, rolled off the father, whose age and old car put him at a grave disadvantage, could not have predicted the turn of events. He tried to swerve out of the way of the rolling container, but instead hit another car passing by in the other lane. Due to the force of the impact, the entire front of the car was crushed. The steel wrapped around the father's arm so painfully, that his whole body felt numb. Something penetrated his chest and induced a gigantic spout of blood. He wanted to scream out in pain, to curse, to cry out, to escape it. He set all of that aside. What of his daughter? Was she alright?

The simple side glance was much more painful than he thought.

Ever since that day, her father feverishly tried to finish Mewtwo, as a memento for his deceased daughter. He wanted Mewtwo to live, to prove that one could recreate life from the DNA of the deceased. The father was holding on to the hope that through this research, his little girl could come back to him, alive. But Mewtwo did not open his eyes. He heard the frustration and the anger in the father's voice, the withering sadness in it, but Mewtwo could not understand the hurt that the father felt. He did not like how this emotion felt. It was too sad. Too heartrending, and too frightening for the young legendary. So he avoided it. He told himself that if the world outside was like that, that it caused such a negative emotion, then he is never going to come out.

Then one day, he heard a beautiful voice. It was the voice of a girl, calling out to him from the darkness. The voice was cheerful, different from the voices he had heard before. She laughed merrily as she began to materialize in front of him. He thought her very beautiful, with curling brown hair and viridian eyes. Her smile brought a warm feeling into his heart, surprising him. He had never felt this kind of warmth. Physically, he had always been warm, thanks to the fluid his body slept in. But in his heart, that place where most of us go to when we're down, he was cold. He was alone. He was sad. So the bright flash of warmth that the little girl brought with her was dearly welcomed. He asked who she was, and she told him her name. He was delighted with the fact that she spoke to him, even if no one else did. They spent time together, in the place where their hearts connected. Mewtwo had never felt so happy before, and for once, he wanted to open his eyes. She told him of the world outside his warm canister. In their hearts, she told him, drew for him, the beautiful cascading waterfalls, the cool summer breeze and the dazzling colours of a sunset. The lush pine forests and beautiful snowy mountains that she had always loved. But what amazed Mewtwo the most was the people outside his home. She told him of the things people do. How people smile and laugh when they are happy and how they cry when they are sad. Such things surprised the young legendary, for the only people he knew of were the cold, selfish scientists. He began to dearly wish to experience the outside, to leave his home and experience the cool breeze and the colours of the world. He now wanted to open his eyes and see the wonders that she told him of.

Little did Mewtwo know that the little girl who had brought him so much happiness, also lived in a canister similar to his, although unlike him, she had not taken shape yet. She was merely a ball of light and bubbles. The truth was that she and he were both clones. She was the clone of the little girl that died in that car accident. He was the clone of the most powerful and elusive Pokemon alive, Mew. Neither of them had ever seen a sunset or the maddening colour pallets of a meadow in spring. That was what beauty looked like from beyond his home.

Neither of them knew the pleasures of being alive. The girl 'knew' of them, because her creator had transferred the memory of his deceased daughter into the clone. Mewtwo knew that just knowing the thrill of flying through a grassy field, or the cold shiver of spring water is not enough to fully live. He wants to experience life. He want to live one, and he was willing to leave the safety of his canister and face the uncertain world out there in order to taste it. But he was still afraid. He needed someone to come with him, so that if it does end up being bad, he won't be alone, and that already would have made it better. So, he asked the girl to wake up together with him, so that together, they could experience the world and its beauty together. The girl smiled up at him and said yes.

Mewtwo was happy. It was the best feeling in the world for him. This friendship with the girl had brought him the love and strength every being wants. But everything in this universe occurs in opposing pairs. Now that Mewtwo had experienced happiness, he had to experience sadness. It is just how our universe works: one can never be too happy or too sad. Something always comes to destroy it. The very next day, as the morning began, Mewtwo eagerly woke, and met her in the place where they always meet, the place where their hearts connect. The moment he got there, however, he found her lying on the floor, unconscious. He eagerly tried to wake her up, since at first, he thought that she was merely sleeping. However, as minutes ticked by without her moving, he was slowly... well, what was he feeling? Mewtwo had no description for what he felt. A tired green eye slowly opened half-way, not like the bright-eyes the girl he had been with for the last month or so, had.

What is happening?

"Mewtwo... seems like my time here is nearly done," She said, as her glazed-over eye started to focus.

What? Time? What do you mean? What's that? Mewtwo asked, for within his heart, there was no such thing as time.

"Time is the minutes and hours we spend here on Earth. Once we die, our time stops. Forever, She explained, her voice no louder than a whisper.

What is die? Does it hurt?

"You die when your body stops working, and the doctors can't fix it, or at least that's what Dad told me about my mom. You disappear from the world."

But you can't die! I feel so happy with you! Please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone! Mewtwo whimpered, as tears started to roll from his soft lavender eyes.

What are these? Why is there water leaking out of my eyes?

"They're tears. You are crying," she replied as her feet slowly started to fade.

"My daddy always used to tell me a bedtime story. He told me that when Pokemon are sad, and they cry, their tears are filled with life."

Sad. That word. Mewtwo had never heard it before, yet somehow, that word was what he needed to describe what he was feeling.

I feel so... sad, Mewtwo whispered.

"I have to go," the little girl said, as most of her had already disappeared, dissolving into millions of particles of light.

But why?

"I don't know," she answered, "...but it's alright. Thank you for caring about me. And don't cry, Mewtwo. You should be happy! You're alive, and life is wonderful."

And with that, she was gone.

Mewtwo was torn. The light she brought with her had now disappeared. His heart became dark without her. It became cold and lonely again. Mewtwo felt...sad without her. She had made him feel so happy...!

What good are these tears? They only bring more hurt to me!He cried, furiously wiping the assaulting liquid stinging his eyes. Unwilling to believe her really gone, he called out to her, calling her by her name. He shouted pleas, clawing furiously at the walls of his mind, begging for her to come back, but she never did. Emotions rushed from his heart into his mind, driving the Psychic Pokemon into insanity with all the sadness and hurt he felt. The intensity and the crushing pain were almost too much; it almost seemed as if he himself would also die.

Everything is so deep and painful...

The scientists outside saw the tremendous psychic energy that Mewtwo was generating in his emotional state. He was getting too upset! If this were to continue, he also would be captured by the darkness, just like the little girl was. So the scientists decided to make him forget about her and the moments they shared. Yes, that was a good solution for the moment, but by forgetting how to be sad, he would also forget how to be happy.

The sporadic behavior of the usually calm clone drew the attention of the girl's father. What was it that drove Mewtwo out of his wits? Is it what the scientists had not predicted? Could it be that this man-made creature, a Pokemon, had a heart?

The scientist look over the past data gathered from Mewtwo. He looked over them with the same body, same mind-set: analytical and curious. However unlike in his previous analysis of the data, the father opened his heart. Easily, he was able to connect the events to the raw data and was amazed at all the data they did not see before. The data that the electroencephalograph, the tool used to measure brain waves, printed out was dappled with emotions, ranging from happiness, to curiosity, and more recently, anguish and pain. He compared Mewtwo and Ai-two's data and was surprised at the significant similarity of the output within the last few days. He began to interpret the data as a connection between Mewtwo and Ai-two, the clone he made of his daughter When Mewtwo's graph rose, so did Ai-two's. When it dipped below the x-axis, so did hers. The scientist now understood how sad and lonely Mewtwo had been and how his daughter had given him happiness and love. He tried to explain this to the other scientists, but they either laughed at him for his stupid theory, or looked at him with pity, deducing him to be a mad, depressed father who was never able to come to terms with his daughter's death. But the father understood the impact his daughter had on Mewtwo. He was able to see Ai-two through Mewtwo's eyes through the graphs and data. He saw her, and her brown hair and green eyes, and that was all he could have asked for.

When the scientists had decided, out of a majority vote, to wipe out his memories, the father knew that it was going to be a big mistake. To wipe someone's memory is a big mistake. A person's memory is where they keep the moments that they want to treasure forever, replaying over and over. It is where we remember what we like, what we don't like, what we feel, what happened, what we are and what we don't want to lose. To lose that, is to lose yourself.

"But the good thing about this is that he makes new memories," the other scientists argued. "New memories of nothing but the fame and comfort that he will experience! Isn't that what every one wants? Good memories to look back on? Let us erase his memories, take away the bad ones so he can live happily!"

The scientist was dumbfounded at the sheer emotionlessness of his colleagues. Sure, they think with their brains, but what's wrong with also thinking with your heart?

Even though it was illegal to go behind his colleagues's back, the scientist created a program that contained Mewtwo's memories with his daughter. He wanted to thank Mewtwo for letting him 'see' his daughter once again. He called the program Project Kokoro and kept it securely hidden in the system computer. On his deathbed, he left a note in his will, that in a hundred years time, well after his death, a message was to be sent to Mewtwo, informing him of everything that had happened in his childhood, and an offer to reclaim his memories of it. He was to know, if he does not already, the happiness and pleasure that life really brings. And as the father lay dying, he wished, from the bottom of his big heart, that Mewtwo accepts them.

...

...

...

It had been a hundred years ever since that moment. The program withstood the tests of time. Mewtwo had recieved the message in the form of the Smash Brothers tournament. For the first time in a century, there was a smile on his face. He had friendship, hope, happiness and love. He could feel the beat of Kokoro, his heart in his body. With it, he was able to truly see the world just like Amber, the girl from his memories, had. He watched the comings and goings of the seasons: the pink of the spring, the joyous green of summer, the sunset colours of fall, and the purity of winter. He felt the cool of the water and the crisp freshness of the water. He was able to smile every day, appeciating how wonderful life is. He lived his life to the fullest, forming friendships strong enough to last eternity. He even fell in love.However, like everyone, the heart was too much for the body. His body shut down due to the heavy burden of having a heart.

However, as he breathed his last, his comrades claimed to see the biggest smile on his face.

He looked like an angel.

[End]


Hi! SugarBullet, now known as Layla Kagamine, is back writing!

As you guys can already see, I accepted Modacelimazing42's contest challenge with an entry featuring the forgotten first legend, Mewtwo. I went through this huge Leaf Green Fire Red re-re-re-re-replay stage. At first I was unfazed by Mewtwo in the Cerulean Cave. But as I went through Ultra balls, Great balls, to Nest balls, Timer ball, Luxury balls...I started to realize how many legendaries the Pokemon world has..and how the very first one, Mewtwo..was completely forgotten by fans nowadays. We have Arceus, Giratina, Darkrai...but what ever happened to the first one? This is a tribute to Mewtwo, the most powerful Pokemon ever created.

I have a thing for chorizos.

Inspiration: Kokoro Kiseki By Rin and Len Kagamine

Edited by: Squiggypie
Proofread by: PK-Gaming

Beta-read by the wonderful Magdalagarza.

NOW, before you go all [OH, MAH LAWD, LAYLA! DIS IS SOOO OoC of MEW2! OH MAH GAAAD!YOU IS SOOO DAMMB!] I'll have you know that this is the young Mewtwo were talking about here, and according to intense research [andamovieshortfromPokemon] young Mewtwo is innocent and emotional like a child, and he would have been had those jerks in the Cinnabar labs cared enough for him. I know. Unbelievable. But, please, believe in my honesty with my artistic license and sanity at stake. Wait, the latter's gone already. UHM... THEY PROMISED ME COOKIES BUT THEY NEVER GAVE 'EM TO ME..! AHHHHHH! *jumps out window*

I actually edited it. My beta-reader was graceful and nice enough to help me. I thank her from the bottom of my heart.

And I thank you for reading it. I really appreciate it. Wish me luck!