Chapter 5: A Mask

POV – JAKE

The mist wrapped Jake in a cold, damp embrace. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, the path ahead lost in a blur of white. Each step felt uncertain, as if the ground might vanish beneath him at any moment.

Jake clutched his side, the pain throbbing relentlessly. He’d feared the Scolipede’s claw had torn him open, but as he braved the fog, he was relieved to find it was only a graze. He was not so relieved to feel that the pain was wildly disproportionate, intensifying with each passing moment, far beyond what a minor wound should cause. It must be the venom, he thought, a shiver of fear running through him.

As he stumbled forward, the mist seemed to play tricks on his eyes. Pointed ears appeared and disappeared within the fog, always just out of reach. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, a side effect of the venom. But then he saw them again, clearer this time, yet still elusive. A flicker of hope ignited in him—could it be something, or someone, who could help?

In his weakened state, Jake’s thoughts turned to finding Trixie, but he couldn’t ignore the harsh reality of his situation. His voice was barely more than a weak, raspy whisper, the venom sapping his strength. I need to find Trixie, he thought desperately, but how can I, when I can barely raise my voice? The thought of being unable to reach out to her, to reassure her or even himself, weighed heavily on him.

Driven by need, Jake followed the apparitions of pointed ears. His sense of time was distorted; seconds felt like hours, his movements becoming sluggish, as if he were wading through water. The pain from the wound and the venom coursing through his body made it hard to focus, but he pressed on, steps heavy in the marshy landscape.

Every strained step Jake took seemed to make the fleeting sightings of pointed ears more frequent, playfully eluding his sight amidst the thick fog. His heart raced within him, the throbbing exacerbated by the stabbing pain at his side and a tumultuous mix of hope and apprehension. Might that be Trixie? he wondered, though he knew the ears weren’t quite right. But they’re so familiar. A Pichu, or maybe a Pikachu? Or something else?

The possibility of encountering a Pikachu, however uncertain, spurred him forward, giving purpose to his faltering steps.

The once impenetrable fog began to relent, slowly and almost teasingly. Jake noticed the subtle change, the oppressive white around him gradually dissipating to reveal vague forms of the world beyond. Ghostly outlines of trees emerged, their branches like skeletal hands reaching out. Above, the sky was a muted, diffused light, piercing through the fog's veil with a soft persistence. The world was returning to him, piece by piece.

Jake pressed on. Each movement felt as if he were moving through a thick, invisible syrup. His muscles protested with each step, the venom from the Scolipede's claw making his limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. But the growing clarity of the pointed ears kept him moving. They were more distinct now, tangible even, no longer just fleeting shadows. He was drawing nearer, the distance between him and this mysterious guide shortening.

As the mist continued to recede, a figure started to take form in the clearing fog ahead. Jake's breathing hitched, fear and excitement constricting his chest. The figure was still shrouded in the remnants of the mist, but it was undeniably there, waiting for him. What was this Pokémon that had led him through this labyrinth of fog and confusion? Soon, he would come face to face with the owner of those pointed ears, the entity that had silently guided him through the misty terrain.

“K-Kyuu?” A hesitant sound, a soft murmur, drifted to Jake's ears. It was faint, almost at the edge of hearing, carrying a hint of nervousness, perhaps even fear. The cry bore a resemblance to a rasping Pikachu, yet oddly distorted, as if it were echoing down a long, distant corridor.

Jake squinted, trying to see through the thinning veil of mist. As the fog slowly lifted, his blurred vision rendered everything in washed-out tones – the marsh grasses a faded green, the trees mere shadowy shapes. A gentle breeze caressed his skin. He strained to focus, determined to locate where the unusual sound was coming from. His head felt airy, his thoughts obscured by the venom coursing in his veins. Sounds seemed to echo around him, simultaneously louder and yet distant

Then, he saw them – the pointed ears, they were not quite right. They protruded from a clump of long marsh grass, oddly limp and droopy, unlike the iconic ears of a Pikachu he remembered from. The ears were a faded yellow, the tips stained with the greens and browns of the marsh, blending in the long grass.

“K-Kyu?” Again, that same hesitant, distorted cry.

Jake's heart leapt. 'Could it really be a Pikachu?' he thought, although a part of him doubted it. The sound he'd heard was too warped, laden with a depth of emotion that seemed out of place for a typical Pikachu cry. "Maybe it's injured, just like me," he pondered. "Perhaps we're both having a bit of a rough day." The venom coursing through him was clouding his judgment, causing him to question what he saw and heard.

As Jake continued his cautious approach through the marsh grass, each step deliberate despite the throbbing pain at his side, he was keenly aware of the fragile balance he was maintaining. His eyes were fixed on the mysterious figure ahead, mindful of not making any sudden movements that could startle it.

He had closed the distance to about five feet when a clearer, yet still distorted cry rang out, “K-Kyuu... Kyuuu!” The voice, stronger than before, seemed to carry a warning - a plea for distance. The voice was stronger this time. Almost as if it had tried to convince itself to be more confident, and failed.

Jake paused and glanced to the side, catching a glimpse of something through the fading mist. There, partially concealed by the fog, was a cluster of bushes adorned with bright pink fruits, reminiscent of strawberries. Pecha berries! he thought, a flicker of hope lighting up his face. This mysterious guide, whatever it was, must have understood his plight and led him here.

With a surge of gratitude, Jake carefully approached the bushes. He was slow, his arms weakened by the venom’s effects. Trembling slightly, he reached out and plucked one of the berries, its vibrant pink hue glowing softly in the dim light. Without a second thought, he popped it into his mouth, not pausing to savour its sweetness, but hoping desperately for the relief it might bring.

Chomping down on the berry, Jake was greeted by a sweet and tangy burst of flavour. A wave of relief washed over him, soothing the relentless ache he'd been enduring. He glanced at his wound, and what he saw was alarming—a seemingly minor cut, yet the surrounding area was an angry red and alarmingly swollen, almost like the buboes he'd seen in history books about the Black Death. But as the berry's juice worked its magic, he watched in amazement as the inflammation began to subside. The furious redness started to fade, and the swelling visibly shrank before his eyes.

Spurred on by this rapid improvement, Jake devoured another berry, then another in quick succession. With each fruit, the changes became more noticeable: the pain receded to a dull ache, the redness dimmed further, and the swelling reduced even more. The venom, which had been wreaking havoc in his body, was losing its grip.

After downing a few more berries, Jake felt almost reborn. The mental fog that had clouded his thoughts lifted, his limbs felt lighter, and the once-persistent pain was now just a faint echo. The small wound was still there, a well-earned trophy from the Scolipede, but the poison's threat had all but vanished.

He sank down in relief, leaning against a tree as the grim thought that he might not have made it began to drift away. As he sat there, the sweet taste of Pecha berries still lingering on his tongue, Jake's mind began to wander.

The ordeal had brought a stark realisation to Jake: returning home wouldn’t be easy. Moreover, his latest experience drove home a truth he had not wanted to contemplate—he would be in this world for a long time.

He was in a world unlike his own, a world where dangers lurked in unexpected places. His own vulnerability was now clear. I was lucky this time, meeting this Pikachu, he thought, chastising himself. I can't be so careless again. Even the games subtly emphasised that survival in a Pokémon world wasn’t just about wandering and exploring; it was about being prepared, being strong.

Jake's thoughts turned to Trixie, his loyal but currently absent partner. I've got to find her. We need to become stronger, together, he resolved. He knew that the world they were navigating could throw similar or even greater dangers their way again. Being prepared was essential, not just for his own wellbeing but also for Trixie’s and any other Pokémon who might become part of their journey. He understood, with a sense of sobering clarity, that his quest would not be brief; it could stretch over years, outcome uncertain.

Stolen novel; please report.

Jake closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to centre himself. His mother’s advice, which he had sometimes dismissed as corny in the real world, was proving invaluable in this one.

As he reflected, a new resolve forming within him, he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Leave it to me to learn the hard way,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Next time, I’ll be the one doing the rescuing... or at least, that’s the plan.”

A whisper of movement. No footsteps. Directionless. A faint rustle against the grass.

Jake, now more alert, turned back to the spot where he had last glimpsed the Pikachu.

It was no longer there.

A raspy “K-kyuu?” echoed from behind him.

Unsure of the sound he had just heard, Jake whirled around, rising to his hands and knees. His gaze was drawn to a figure emerging from the dissipating mist. It wasn’t the Pikachu he had imagined while under the venom’s influence. Instead, he saw a creature shyly peeking from behind a tree. Its fur appeared tattered, blending eerily with the marsh’s shadowy tones. The ears hung lifelessly on its head, unaffected by the gentle breeze. The expected yellow of its fur had faded to a dull, light brownish hue.

Could it be sick? Jake wondered, concern lacing his thoughts. With cautious curiosity, he called out, “Hey there, I’m Jake,” his voice light and friendly, masking his growing apprehension. “Are you okay, Pikachu?”

Upon hearing Jake’s call, the creature cautiously emerged from behind the tree, gradually revealing more of itself. Its movements were unsettlingly fluid, unnaturally smooth, especially given the marshy terrain it was navigating.

Jake slowly raised himself, remaining on his knees; alarm growing at the slow reveal. He began to recognise the true nature of the creature before him. This was most certainly not a Pikachu; Rough circles, seemingly scribbled on haphazardly with a black marker pen stared back at him emptily. Iconic red cheek pouches, dulled. A mouth, a jagged line of stitched mockery. A crude caricature of Pikachu's typically joyful features.

"M-Mimi, k-kyu," the creature uttered softly, a poor impression of the Pokémon it was trying to imitate. A trembling whisper that unveiled its true identity: Mimikyu.

Jake's eyes were fixed on only the head of its disguise; the Mimikyu remained hidden, too shy or cunning to reveal its full form. Knowing what it was, the partial glimpse, in all honesty, was rather unsettling. A tremor of apprehension trailed down his spine at the first encounter with a ghost Pokémon.

“Nice to meet you, Mim...” Jake's voice trailed off, an icy chill filling the air. The atmosphere constricted around him, heavy with unspoken threat. The Mimikyu halted, eerie stillness more terrifying than any movement. A wave of malevolence washed over Jake, an oppressive sense of danger emanating from the creature, thick as fog and sharp as knives.

Internally berating himself, Jake recognised his folly. The cardinal rule – never shatter the illusion, the masquerade.

“Uh, I mean P-Pikachu, y-yeah, of course, nice to meet you, Pikachu,” Jake stammered, his words tumbling out in a hurried, clumsy attempt to correct his near-fatal slip. The air around them was still charged, suspicion emanating from the Mimikyu, its gaze piercing through its costume like an unspoken accusation.

The hostility seemed to fade, albeit slowly, as did the dissipating mist under the morning sun. Yet, the tension lingered, a thin thread stretched to its breaking point, the Mimikyu unmoving.

“A-as I thought, you actually were a P-Pikachu. Yeah... it was so obvious, how silly of me,” Jake continued, his voice quivering slightly with the strain of maintaining the facade. He forced a weak smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. The smile was a tightrope walker, balancing precariously between relief and dread, each word a step back from the edge of a perilous cliff.

“So, you must have seen me injured, right? Brought me to these berries?” Jake ventured, gesturing toward the bushes with forced nonchalance.

“Mimi-Kyu, Kyu.” Affirmation. Another terrible Pikachu impression. The Mimikyu’s voice rasped, as if it had rarely been used.

“Thanks, uh, Pikachu, for your help,” Jake said, quickly catching himself. “I might not have made it without you.”

At Jake’s expression of gratitude, the Mimikyu seemed momentarily perplexed, pausing as if unsure how to process the thanks. Its ragged ears gave an awkward twitch, mirroring the slight, jerky movements of its hidden form beneath the cloak. For a moment, it seemed to withdraw, the frayed edges of its disguise trembling slightly.

Then, as if recalling its Pikachu guise, Mimikyu attempted a few tentative hops, though with visible hesitancy. It followed up with a stiff, almost robotic nod, its entire form moving in a kind of forced manner, as though struggling to maintain the charade.

Mimikyu took another cautious step forward, its movements somewhat rigid. “Kyu, kyu!” it responded, striving for an upbeat tone, but failing to achieve it.

Jake forced another smile. "Ah, yes! Very... Pikachu-like," he remarked, with a feigned enthusiasm he hoped sounded believable. "You certainly have the energy of a true Pikachu."

As the Mimikyu emerged from the thick marsh grass, Jake found himself irresistibly drawn to the two cutouts in its disguise, offering a glimpse of its true self. Gazing into those openings, he was engulfed by a wave of intense malevolence, a deluge of emotions nearly overwhelming him. Through those darkened gaps, he sensed deep insecurity, acute envy, and an undercurrent of fear. Yet, there was more—a profound, almost tangible obsession that sent chills down his spine. Beneath these tempestuous feelings lay longing, sadness, and, to Jake's astonishment, a flicker of hope.

He averted his gaze, and the maelstrom subsided.

Mimikyu tilted its head, more disconcerting than endearing. “Mimi, Mimi?” it chirped, the tone strained, lacking the cheer it sought to convey.

"Absolutely!" Jake responded, nodding with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Who wouldn't recognise a Pikachu, right?" His laugh was nervous, and he silently prayed it didn’t sound as disingenuous to Mimikyu as it did to him.

As he surveyed their now clear surroundings, Jake realised they were in a dense, haunted forest. The spiky, leafless trees exuded a musky scent of marshland, their gnarled branches twisting like skeletal fingers. The soft, marshy ground yielded slightly under his knees. He speculated whether this untouched, unwelcoming area might be Mimikyu's home, noting the lack of any visible signs of habitation.

The Mimikyu seemed to relax somewhat, its movements softening from their previous mechanical stiffness. “Mimi-kyu, Mimi-kyu!” it announced, though the forced attempt at imitation was still glaringly obvious.

Jake cast another glance around, the forest’s oppressive silence weighing heavily on him. "So, uh, this place is quite... secluded, isn’t it? Do you... do you live here all by yourself?"

Mimikyu gave a slow, almost sad nod, followed by a soft “Kyu.”

Jake felt a twinge in his heart at the gesture. "It must be pretty quiet, living out here alone," he ventured, sympathetic yet awkward.

The Mimikyu seemed to perk up slightly, gaining a bit more buoyancy. “Mimi, kyu!” it chirped, eager, though it remained shy.

"Ah, right, of course... This whole forest is your playground, isn’t it? Kinda cool being a lone ranger," Jake said, trying to keep the conversation light and easy. He was keenly aware of Mimikyu's increasing effort to embody the Pikachu persona, though still failing horribly. He continued to play along. "Must be pretty awesome, having all this space to yourself, huh?"

Mimikyu hopped a little closer, becoming less restrained. “Kyu, Mimi-kyu!” it attempted, striving for a Pikachu's cheer.

Jake nodded, his smile genuine. "Yeah, it's nice to have a place where you can just be yourself, isn't it?" He glanced around at the thick foliage. "Do you, um, find interesting things in the forest? Like berries or... hidden treasures?"

The head of Mimikyu’s disguise tilted as if considering the question, then nodded eagerly. “Kyu, kyu!” it responded.

"That's really cool," Jake replied, his curiosity piqued. "I've always liked exploring. You never know what you might find, right?" His eyes followed Mimikyu as it moved a bit closer, its body exhibiting a faint tremor. Jake wondered if it was excitement or something else.

The conversation continued, with Jake asking about the different seasons in the forest and what it was like during rain or sunshine. Mimikyu responded with increasingly eager, if not entirely coherent, “Mimi” and “Kyu” sounds, each time inching closer.

Not being able to restrain his curiosity, Jake's gaze unintentionally shifted towards where Mimikyu’s 'legs' were supposed to be. Once again, he was met with an intense wave of hostility radiating from the creature, tinged with layers of pain and sadness. Quickly, he redirected his eyes, subtly shifting his focus to avoid highlighting his observation.

He took a small step back, starting to awkwardly back away. "You know, I really should be heading back soon. It's getting late, and, well, I have a long journey ahead of me."

The Mimikyu trailed him, its behaviour subtly changing, displaying a hint of uncertainty in its movements. “Mimi... Kyu?” it asked, its raspy voice almost pleading.

"Uh, sorry, Pikachu. I’ve really got to find my way back home, you know? And I can't do that if I stay here in the forest," Jake replied softly.

“Kyu, kyu,” Mimikyu responded, as if to say, "No need to leave, you can stay here."

Jake tried to maintain a friendly tone. "It's really nice here, don’t get me wrong. But, you know, I have people waiting for me. They’ll be worried if I don’t show up."

Mimikyu tilted its head, a soft “Kyu?” escaping it, "Is that important?"

"Yeah, and I have things I need to do, you know? Responsibilities and all that," Jake continued, still gentle, but with a hint of urgency creeping in. "It’s like you with this forest, right? You’ve got your own stuff to take care of here."

Mimikyu seemed to hesitate, its movements slowing as it processed his words. “Mimi... kyu,” it murmured, sounding slightly dejected but still not fully convinced.

Jake’s patience started to wear thin, though he tried to keep his frustration in check. "Plus, I’ve got my own journey, Pikachu. There’s a lot I still need to do. Can’t do that if I’m staying in one place, can I?"

Mimikyu looked at him, its body language conveying a sense of reluctance. Jake took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

"And, well, I need to find Trixie," Jake finally said.

Silence descended.

Menace swelled.

Malice palpable.

The moment Jake uttered Trixie's name, the atmosphere shifted. A chilling coldness spread.

Mimikyu's character shifted, shy and sorrow shedding, the Pikachu facade fading, revealing something more akin to its authentic nature.

Mimikyu’s movements grew deliberate, body language not clumsy but sinister.

Its head turned slowly, ominously towards Jake, the openings in its costume revealing nothing but shadow.

In that instant, Jake understood the true peril he was in—standing before a creature whose sadness had twisted into animosity, whose loneliness had morphed into malice.

Jake sighed; he would not be going anywhere.