Being a baby is the ultimate scam. You're handed this incredible new life—epic wishes, a world of ice and fire, the son of a legend—and what do you get to do? Drool and cry. I was stuck in a fuzzy cocoon of furs, my tiny body refusing to cooperate while the world moved on around me. The hum inside my chest, that strange warmth from the cosmic collision, was still there, like a quiet companion. I didn't know what it was, but it kept me grounded, a reminder that I wasn't just some helpless infant. Not entirely, anyway.
The days—or nights, who could tell?—blurred together. The air was always cold, sharp with the scent of pine and smoke. Voices drifted in and out, mostly my mother's, soft and soothing, though I caught the edge of worry in her tone sometimes. My father's voice was rarer, always clipped, like he was halfway out the door to build something massive. I got it. Brandon the Builder wasn't exactly the stay-at-home type. He was out there, laying the foundations of a world that'd echo through history. Meanwhile, I was mastering the art of gurgling.
But that hum in my chest? It wasn't just sitting there. Sometimes, it pulsed, like it was reacting to something. I'd feel it flare when my mother sang to me, her voice low and rhythmic, or when the wind outside howled like it was alive. Once, I swear it surged when a man—maybe a healer?—leaned over me, muttering about "signs" and "strength." I couldn't see his face, but his hands smelled of herbs and earth, and the hum seemed to like him. Was it my friend, the one I'd asked for? Or was it something else, something tied to those wishes I'd made?
Speaking of wishes, I hadn't forgotten them. Infinite resource dimension, a system to guide me, and those Pokémon eggs—Arceus, Mew, Celebi. Big stuff. World-changing stuff. But lying there, swaddled and useless, I couldn't exactly snap my fingers and summon a mythical creature. The entity in that cosmic office had warned me about restrictions—bouts of sleep, learning my powers the hard way. I figured this was part of it. My body was a cage for now, but my mind? That was free to wander.
I started testing things. Not physically—I mean, come on, I could barely lift my head—but mentally. I focused on the hum, trying to talk to it, like it was a person. Hey, you in there? What's the deal? No answer, of course, but sometimes it'd pulse, like it was listening. Other times, I'd try picturing my wishes, imagining what that infinite resource dimension might look like. A vast, glowing plane filled with mountains of gold, forests of rare woods, oceans of shimmering potions? The hum would flicker then, too, like it was nudging me along. It felt like… potential. Like I was brushing against something massive, just out of reach.
One night—or maybe day, who knows?—something shifted "'Argh!', the pain was intense. My mother's voice was sharper now, urgent, calling for someone. The hum in my chest went wild, buzzing like a swarm of bees. I couldn't see what was happening, but I felt it—a ripple in the air, heavy and strange, like the world itself was holding its breath. My mother's hands tightened around me, and I heard her whisper, "He's strong. He'll live." Live? What was going on? Was I sick? Dying already? No way. I hadn't come all this way to check out before the story even started.
The hum surged again, and for a split second, I saw something. Not with my baby eyes, but in my mind—a flash of green, vibrant and alive, like a forest caught in sunlight. Celebi? Maybe. It was gone as fast as it came, but it left me with a weird sense of calm. Whatever was happening, I wasn't alone. That hum, that presence, it was with me. And maybe, just maybe, it was starting to wake up.
As the voices around me quieted and the air settled, I felt exhaustion pull me under again. Darkness crept in, but this time, it wasn't empty. It was full of promise. I was in Planetos, a world of heroes and monsters, with powers waiting to be unlocked. Sure, I was a baby now, but that wouldn't last forever. I'd grow, I'd learn, and when the time came, I'd be ready. For now, though, I'd let the hum keep watch. Something told me it had my back.