The excitement of his legendaries' acceptance had faded by the time evening settled over Mt. Silver, replaced by something far more sobering: reality.
He sat in his living quarters, the fire pit crackling with flames that Charizard had kindled before being recalled to its ball. The partner Pikachu was curled in his lap, dozing peacefully, its small body rising and falling with each breath. Around him, the cave was quiet save for the distant howl of wind against stone.
And in that quiet, the questions came.
They started small—practical concerns that any reasonable person would consider before attempting something unprecedented. But they quickly multiplied, breeding like Rattata until his mind was overrun with doubts and uncertainties that he couldn't silence.
How do I actually do this?
That was the fundamental question, the one that everything else hinged upon. He had seen fusion in his previous life—in Dragon Ball, in Steven Universe, in countless anime and video games that explored the concept. But those were fiction, governed by rules that their creators had invented for narrative convenience.
This was reality. Or at least, this world's version of reality.
Did fusion require an object? Mega Evolution needed the Key Stone and Mega Stones. Z-Moves required Z-Crystals and specific poses. Dynamaxing was tied to Power Spots and special bands. Every major power enhancement in the Pokémon world seemed to require some kind of physical catalyst.
The Mega Ring on his wrist gleamed in the firelight, its Key Stone pulsing with subtle energy. Arceus—or whatever force had placed it in his bag—had provided the tools for Mega Evolution. Would it provide tools for fusion as well? Or was he expected to figure this out on his own?
He thought about the dream again, trying to remember every detail. The three birds circling, their forms blurring, their essences merging. There had been no objects involved, no crystals or stones or magical artifacts. Just the birds themselves, and the fire that surrounded them all.
The fire. Was that significant? Was fusion tied to some kind of energy source that he needed to provide? Or had the fire simply been symbolic—the transformative force of change, the crucible that would forge something new from separate parts?
He didn't know. He had no way of knowing.
Do they need to dance?
The thought was absurd enough to make him almost laugh, but he couldn't dismiss it entirely. In Dragon Ball, the Fusion Dance required precise movements performed in perfect synchronization. If fusion in this world worked on similar principles, asking three legendary birds to learn choreography might be the least of his problems.
But Pokémon didn't dance. Not in the way humans did, anyway. They had their own forms of movement and expression, but expecting Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres to perform synchronized steps seemed... unlikely.
Unless the "dance" was metaphorical. Unless it referred to something else—a synchronization of minds rather than bodies, a harmony of intent that would allow their essences to merge.
That seemed more plausible. But how would he achieve it? How would he guide three ancient, powerful beings toward the kind of mental unity that fusion would require?
Will they unfuse?
This question carried more weight than the others. If fusion was permanent—if the three birds merged and could never separate—what would that mean for them? For him?
He thought about the individuals he had come to know through their bonding sessions. Articuno's cool serenity, born of millennia spent in frozen solitude. Zapdos's crackling energy, the barely contained storm that defined its existence. Moltres's warm protectiveness, the sacred fire that burned for the sake of others.
If they fused, would those individual identities be lost? Would the resulting entity remember what it had been, or would it be something entirely new—a being with no memory of the bonds they had formed, the trust they had built?
The thought was terrifying. He had worked so hard to connect with each of them, to understand their unique perspectives and address their individual needs. The idea of erasing all of that, of creating something that might not even recognize him...
Would it be painful?
Another question that demanded consideration. Mega Evolution was described as intense but not harmful—a temporary transformation that pushed Pokémon beyond their normal limits without causing lasting damage. But fusion was something else entirely. Two or more beings becoming one, their very essences merging into a new form.
How could that not be painful?
He imagined the process from the birds' perspective. Their bodies dissolving, reforming, combining with others in ways that nature had never intended. Their minds touching, merging, potentially losing themselves in the consciousness of their siblings.
It sounded agonizing. It sounded like the kind of experience that could traumatize beings even as ancient and powerful as legendary Pokémon.
And yet they had agreed to try. All three of them, without hesitation.
Did they understand what they were agreeing to? Did they comprehend the risks involved, the potential for suffering? Or had they simply trusted him so completely that they hadn't even considered the possibility of harm?
The thought made his stomach clench with guilt. He was asking them to risk themselves for an experiment that might not even be possible. What kind of trainer did that make him?
Would the fusion remember me?
This was the question that kept circling back, the fear that refused to be silenced no matter how many times he addressed it.
He had built bonds with each of his legendary Pokémon. Not just the birds, but Lugia and Ho-Oh, Mewtwo and all the others. Those bonds were the foundation of everything he was trying to achieve—the reason he believed fusion might be possible in the first place.
But what if fusion severed those bonds?
What if the merged entity had no memory of Red, no connection to the trainer who had brought its component parts together? What if it emerged from the fusion confused, disoriented, potentially hostile?
He imagined facing a creature born from three legendary birds—a being of ice and lightning and fire, possessed of power that exceeded any individual Pokémon. And he imagined that creature looking at him with eyes that held no recognition, no trust, no love.
The image was terrifying. Not because of the physical danger—his other Pokémon could probably protect him from an attack—but because of what it would mean. All his work, all his effort to connect and understand, erased in an instant by the very process he had advocated for.
The questions multiplied further, each one spawning new concerns.
What if only some of them could fuse? What if Articuno and Zapdos merged successfully, but Moltres was left out? Would that create jealousy, resentment, fractures in the unity he had worked so hard to build?
What if the fusion was unstable? What if the merged entity could only maintain its form for seconds before splitting apart violently, the separation causing harm to all three birds?
What if the fusion worked too well? What if the merged entity was so powerful, so fundamentally different from its component parts, that it lost all connection to the world it had been born into? What if it became something alien, something that no longer fit within the natural order?
What if fusion required sacrifice? What if one of the birds had to give up something essential—its memories, its personality, its very soul—to make the merger possible?
He couldn't answer any of these questions. He was operating blind, reaching for something that might be impossible, that might be dangerous, that might destroy everything he had built.
The partner Pikachu stirred in his lap, its ears twitching as if sensing his distress. It looked up at him with those bright, intelligent eyes, concern evident in every line of its small face.
"Pika pi?" it asked softly.
He reached down to stroke its fur, taking comfort in the simple warmth of its presence. The Pikachu pressed closer, offering support without understanding the specifics of his turmoil.
I can't do this alone, he realized. I can't figure this out by myself. I need help.
The thought was both humbling and obvious. He had been treating fusion as a problem to be solved through solitary contemplation, but that was wrong. This wasn't just about him and his ideas—it was about his Pokémon, their perspectives, their insights.
They had lived for millennia. They had experienced things that no human could comprehend. If anyone might have ideas about how fusion could work, how it could be achieved safely, how the risks could be mitigated...
It was them.
He stood abruptly, dislodging the partner Pikachu, which scrambled to maintain its balance on his shoulder. Decision crystallized in his mind, pushing back against the doubts that had been consuming him.
He wouldn't guess. He wouldn't speculate. He would ask.
The night was cold and clear as he emerged onto the training plateau, the stars overhead burning with a brilliance that never failed to take his breath away. The moon hung low on the horizon, casting silver light across the snow-covered landscape.
He released his Pokémon one by one, filling the plateau with beings of immense power. Not just the legendaries—all of them. Charizard and Venusaur and Blastoise. Alakazam and Gengar. Dragonite and Tyranitar. Espeon and Umbreon and all their evolved siblings.
And, of course, the legendaries. Articuno and Zapdos and Moltres. Lugia and Ho-Oh. Mewtwo, floating at the edge of the gathering with its typical air of cool detachment.
They all looked at him with varying degrees of curiosity and concern. It was unusual for him to call a gathering like this, especially at night. Something important must be happening.
He took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent. How did you explain existential uncertainty to beings who had existed before language was invented?
I need your help, he projected, broadcasting his thoughts to all of them simultaneously. I've been thinking about fusion—about how to achieve it, how to do it safely. But I have more questions than answers. I was hoping... you might have ideas.
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Curiosity, willingness, the desire to help—it flooded through his bonds with each Pokémon, a chorus of support that made his chest tight with gratitude.
Mewtwo's voice cut through the emotional noise, its mental tone as precise as ever. Specify your questions. I cannot offer solutions to problems I do not understand.
Fair enough. He began to list them, projecting each concern as clearly as he could.
First: How do we actually initiate fusion? Is there an object required, like with Mega Evolution? Or is it purely a matter of will and bond?
Second: Will the fusion be permanent, or can the merged entity separate back into its component parts?
Third: Will the process be painful? I don't want to hurt any of you.
Fourth: Will the fused entity remember me? Remember the bonds we've built? Or will it be something entirely new, with no connection to what came before?
Fifth: Are there risks I haven't considered? Things that could go wrong that I'm not even aware of?
He paused, letting the questions settle. The Pokémon were silent, processing, considering the concerns he had raised.
Alakazam was the first to respond, its vast psychic intellect already working through the implications.
The question of initiation is fundamentally one of resonance, the psychic-type projected, its mental voice carrying the weight of centuries of accumulated knowledge. Mega Evolution requires resonance between Key Stone and Mega Stone, mediated by the bond between trainer and Pokémon. Z-Moves require resonance between trainer intent, Pokémon power, and crystallized energy. Fusion, if it follows similar principles, would require resonance between multiple Pokémon simultaneously.
The challenge is achieving that resonance without an external catalyst. It may be that the bond with the trainer serves as the catalyst—the common element that allows disparate beings to synchronize.
Articuno stirred, its crystalline wings catching the moonlight. Through their bond, he felt it gathering its thoughts—a process that, for an ancient being of few words, took time.
We three have always been connected, Articuno projected eventually, its mental voice cool and measured. Not fused, but... linked. We feel each other across distances. We know when one of us suffers, when one of us triumphs. Perhaps that connection is the foundation upon which fusion could be built.
Zapdos crackled with agreement. I have sensed it too. In storms that sweep across oceans, I feel echoes of Moltres's fire and Articuno's ice. We are separate, but we are also... part of something larger. Something that has never been fully realized.
Moltres's flames burned brighter as it added its perspective. The connection has always been there, waiting. Like a fire that has been banked but never extinguished. Perhaps fusion is simply... letting that fire blaze fully for the first time.
He absorbed their words, feeling hope kindle in his chest. The birds weren't just willing to try—they had already sensed that fusion might be possible. Their ancient connection was the foundation he had been looking for.
But the other questions remained.
What about pain? he asked. What about the risks?
Lugia's voice entered the discussion, its ancient wisdom lending weight to its words. All transformation carries risk. Evolution itself can be painful—the body changing, growing, becoming something new. But pain is not the same as harm. Pain can be the price of growth, the cost of becoming more than you were.
I have observed many evolutions across my existence, Lugia continued. The Pokémon who fear the pain, who resist the change—they often suffer more than those who embrace it. Perhaps fusion would follow the same pattern. If the birds approach it with fear, with resistance, the process may be agonizing. If they approach it with acceptance, with unity of purpose... it may be something else entirely.
Ho-Oh added its perspective, its mental voice carrying the warmth of sacred fire. Pain is temporary. Growth is eternal. If fusion offers the chance to become something greater—to protect this world more effectively, to serve our trainer more completely—then pain is a small price to pay.
Besides, Ho-Oh continued with something approaching amusement, we are legendary Pokémon. We have endured worse than transformation. We have been hunted, captured, used as tools by those unworthy of our power. If fusion causes pain, we will bear it as we have borne everything else—with dignity and determination.
Zapdos crackled its agreement, electricity arcing from its feathers. Pain means nothing! Bring on the fusion! I want to feel what it's like to be one with my siblings!
Despite the tension of the moment, he felt a smile tug at his lips. Zapdos's enthusiasm was infectious, even when discussing something as serious as potential suffering.
But the question of memory remained—the fear that haunted him most deeply.
What about the fused entity's consciousness? he asked. What if it doesn't remember me? What if it's... someone else entirely?
The silence that followed was heavy with contemplation. This was clearly a question that none of them had fully considered.
Mewtwo broke the silence, its mental voice carrying an edge that might have been frustration or might have been concern.
Consciousness is not well understood, even by beings of my intellect. The question of whether a fused entity would retain the memories and bonds of its component parts is... unanswerable without empirical data.
However, Mewtwo continued, and its tone shifted to something almost gentle, I can offer a hypothesis. The bonds you share with each legendary Pokémon are not merely emotional constructs. They are real connections, forged through shared experience and mutual understanding. Those bonds exist independently of individual consciousness—they are woven into the fabric of your relationship with each being.
If fusion occurs, those bonds would not disappear. They would become part of the fused entity, just as the memories and personalities of its component parts would become part of its consciousness. The entity might be different—a new being with a new perspective—but it would carry within it the echoes of everything that came before.
Including the love it feels for you.
He stared at Mewtwo, surprised by the depth of insight the psychic-type had offered. For a being created in a laboratory, designed to be a weapon, Mewtwo had developed a remarkable understanding of emotional bonds.
You speak from experience, he realized, projecting the thought before he could stop himself.
Mewtwo's barriers flickered—a rare display of vulnerability. I was created from Mew. I am not Mew, but Mew is part of me. The memories of my origin, the genetic heritage I carry—they have shaped who I am, even as I have become something distinct from my source.
If the birds fuse, they will become something new. But they will also carry within them everything they were. The love, the trust, the loyalty—none of it will be lost. It will simply be... transformed.
The words settled over the gathering like a warm blanket, easing fears that had been gnawing at him for hours.
Articuno stirred again, its cool voice cutting through the night air. There is another possibility to consider. What if the fused entity retains the ability to separate? What if fusion is not permanent, but a state that can be entered and exited as needed?
Like Mega Evolution, Zapdos added, electricity crackling with excitement. You Mega Evolve for battle, then return to normal afterward. Maybe fusion works the same way!
It would make sense, Moltres agreed. Permanent fusion would eliminate the individuals who merged. But if the process can be reversed, then we lose nothing—we simply gain the ability to become something more when the situation requires it.
Hope flared brighter in his chest. The possibility of reversible fusion changed everything. If the birds could merge for battle and separate afterward, the risks were dramatically reduced. Individual identities would be preserved. The bonds he had built would remain intact.
But was it possible? Was reversible fusion something that could actually be achieved, or was it just wishful thinking?
I do not know, Mewtwo admitted, sensing his unspoken question. But I believe it is worth attempting. The potential benefits outweigh the risks, particularly if the alternative is facing future threats with insufficient power.
And there is another factor to consider, Mewtwo added. The bond you share with these Pokémon is not static. It grows stronger with each passing day, with each challenge you face together. If that bond is the key to fusion—if it serves as the resonance that allows disparate beings to synchronize—then perhaps it can also serve as the anchor that allows them to separate.
Your connection to each of them individually might be strong enough to call them back from the merged state. To remind them of who they were before, and give them the path to return.
He turned the idea over in his mind. The bond as both catalyst and anchor. The connection he had built serving not just to enable fusion, but to ensure that it could be reversed.
It was elegant. It was hopeful. It was exactly the kind of answer he had been looking for.
But there was still so much uncertainty. Still so many things that could go wrong.
I think, he projected slowly, that we need to start small. Not attempt full fusion immediately, but take steps toward it. Build the resonance gradually, test the limits, make sure we understand the process before we commit to something irreversible.
The gathered Pokémon radiated agreement. The partner Pikachu on his shoulder chirped its approval, its small voice somehow audible over the mental chorus.
Perhaps, Alakazam suggested, the first step is simply to have the birds synchronize their energies. Not merge, but harmonize. Learn to move as one without becoming one.
Like a practice dance, Zapdos said, and there was humor in its mental voice. Before the real performance.
Exactly. Alakazam's spoons glinted in the moonlight. Fusion, if it is possible, likely requires precise coordination. The more aligned the birds become before the attempt, the greater the chance of success—and the lower the risk of harm.
It made sense. Perfect sense. Start with synchronization, with harmony, with unity of movement and intent. Build toward fusion gradually, step by step, until the final merger was simply the natural conclusion of a process already well underway.
He looked at the three legendary birds, each watching him with ancient eyes full of trust and determination.
Are you willing to try this? he asked. To practice synchronization, to build toward fusion over time?
The answer came as a unified surge of agreement—three separate beings speaking with one voice.
Yes.
We are willing.
For you, we will try anything.
The other Pokémon added their support, a chorus of determination that filled the night air with warmth despite the cold.
Charizard roared its enthusiasm, flames erupting from its mouth. Blastoise let out a rumbling sound of approval. Venusaur's flower released a sweet fragrance that somehow conveyed encouragement.
Lugia and Ho-Oh radiated their blessing, the guardians of sea and sky united in their support. Mewtwo's psychic presence wrapped around the gathering like a protective barrier, its power adding strength to their collective resolve.
The partner Pikachu joined in as well, its cheeks sparking in bursts of electricity, adding its small but significant voice to the chorus of support.
He stood at the center of them all, surrounded by beings of incredible power, and felt something he hadn't felt since waking in this world:
Certainty.
Not certainty that fusion would work—that was still uncertain, still fraught with risks and unknowns. But certainty that he wasn't alone. Certainty that his Pokémon trusted him, believed in him, would follow him wherever he led.
Certainty that, together, they could achieve the impossible.
Thank you, he projected, letting his gratitude flow through every bond he possessed. All of you. I couldn't do this without you.
The response was overwhelming—love and loyalty and determination flooding back through the connections that linked them all. He was their trainer, their partner, their family.
And they would face the future together.
The moon had risen high by the time the gathering dispersed, each Pokémon returning to its ball or finding a spot on the mountain to rest. Only the partner Pikachu remained outside, curled against his chest as he walked back to the cave.
Tomorrow, they would begin. Tomorrow, the three legendary birds would start practicing synchronization, building toward the fusion that might just change everything.
But tonight, he would rest. He would let the warmth of his Pokémon's support wash over him, chasing away the doubts that had threatened to consume him.
He wasn't alone. He had never been alone.
And that made all the difference.
Deep in the Hall of Origin, Arceus observed the gathering on Mt. Silver with something approaching pride.
He asked for help, the Alpha Pokémon noted. He recognized his limitations and sought the wisdom of others. That is rarer than it should be, even among my chosen ones.
Dialga's temporal awareness caught echoes of futures branching and converging. The timeline has stabilized somewhat. His decision to proceed gradually, to build toward fusion rather than rushing, has eliminated several catastrophic possibilities.
He learns quickly, Palkia observed. Most mortals would have charged ahead, drunk on the excitement of potential power. He stopped to consider consequences.
That is why I chose him, Arceus replied. Not just for his passion, but for his wisdom. Not just for his determination, but for his humility. He knows he does not have all the answers. And that knowledge makes him capable of finding them.
The viewing pool shimmered, showing the trainer walking back to his cave, the partner Pikachu nestled against his chest. He looked tired but content, the weight of his questions lifted by the support of his team.
He will succeed, Arceus said, and the words carried the weight of prophecy. Perhaps not immediately. Perhaps not without setbacks and failures. But he will achieve fusion. And when he does...
The Alpha Pokémon's golden light pulsed with anticipation.
When he does, he will be ready for what comes next.
The Creation Pokémon said nothing. They simply watched, as they always did.
And waited for the future to unfold.