In the weeks before my third birthday, I made a decision.
If I was going to understand this strange power—this "Statsight"—I'd need to train it, just like any other skill. And luckily, I had a perfect partner.
Mira.
My mother's Chingling and my closest non-human friend. She floated at my side like a chime spirit, always responding to my voice, my moods, and, curiously enough, to music.
We experimented. I hummed lullabies. She'd spin. I tapped rhythms on wooden blocks. She'd echo them. And over time, I started noticing more than just reactions—I felt changes.
One morning, the familiar shimmer appeared in my mind's eye, more vivid than ever.
Chingling – Mira[Yellow – Core] → [Yellow – Deep]Bond deepened. Emotional harmony achieved. Evolution conditions partially aligned.
I gasped.
It wasn't just a flash this time. It was stable. Clear.
My bond with Mira had strengthened her.
I had done that.
But no matter how hard I tried with other Pokémon—Rook, the neighbor's Meowth, even a wild Pidgey I saw in the garden—nothing happened. No colors. No flashes. Just a faint sensation, like my mind tapping on a door that wouldn't open.
Mira was the only one.
Until the forest.
My third birthday came with fanfare and cake—and a promise.
"We're going on an adventure today," my father said, handing me a small backpack with my name stitched into it. "Just you, me, and Rook."
His partner, the towering Arcanine, gave a low bark in acknowledgment.
(I saw nothing over Rook. Just the same vague sense of strength and warmth as always.)
I didn't complain. This was my first time going beyond town with permission.
We followed a path that led to the outer edge of Glimmerwood, a sprawling forest known for its lush terrain and abundance of Pokémon. We wouldn't go deep—Dad made that very clear—but even standing among those ancient trees felt like stepping into a dream.
Wild Pokémon fluttered or scurried in the distance. I heard buzzing, chirps, rustles—sounds I couldn't name but wanted to.
My heart swelled with curiosity.
We stopped at a wide clearing beside a shallow stream. My dad handed me a small set of binoculars.
"Let's see what we find," he said, crouching beside Rook.
I scanned the trees. A Sewaddle chewed lazily on a leaf. A group of Lotad floated on the water. Further back, I saw the distinct bounce of a Buneary darting between bushes.
I squinted. Focused.
But still—no colors.
No insight. No text. Not like Mira.
Disappointment tugged at me, but I didn't say anything.
Then came the growl.
It wasn't loud.
It was low.
A broken, guttural rasp that made Rook immediately rise to his feet. My father held out an arm, instinctively shielding me.
From the thicket opposite the stream, a shadow emerged.
Mightyena.
Thin. Scarred. Limping slightly, but its eyes gleamed with feral hunger.
It looked at me—not at my father, not at Rook—but me.
It growled again.
Then it lunged.
Everything blurred.
My father yelled. Rook roared. Fire burst across the clearing as Arcanine intercepted the Mightyena mid-air, their bodies crashing together like thunderclaps.
I stumbled back. My knees hit the soft ground. Fear rose like bile in my throat.
I saw teeth. Claws. Fire.
And then—
It happened.
The world bent.
The colors came.
Suddenly, it wasn't just Mira. Every Pokémon in the clearing lit up in my mind like constellations across a night sky.
Mightyena – [Red – Deep]Wounded. Aggressive. Evolution arrested by trauma. Highly volatile.
Rook – Arcanine – [Green – Core]Disciplined. Loyal. Power best expressed through command structure.
Lotad – [Yellow – Light]Passive. Slow growth. Needs sunlight and social bonding to thrive.
Buneary – [Orange – Core]Energetic. Needs structured battle training and affection to evolve.
Sewaddle – [Green – Light]Curious. Gains aptitude through crafting behavior and environmental play.
It overwhelmed me.
Not in a painful way—but like opening your eyes for the first time underwater and realizing the world is bigger than you thought.
Rook delivered a final burst of flame, driving the Mightyena away, whimpering and singed. The danger was gone.
But I wasn't the same.
My father rushed to me. "Ray! Are you hurt?"
I shook my head.
"Just… dizzy," I lied.
He examined me from head to toe, then nodded with relief. "Let's get you home. You've had enough excitement for one birthday."
I let him lift me onto Rook's back, but my eyes stayed fixed on the forest behind us.
Everything had changed.
That night, I sat in bed and stared at the ceiling, heart still pounding.
I could see it now—all of it.
Every Pokémon.
Every aptitude.
Every potential.
I knew one thing for sure:
No one else could know.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Because if this was normal, someone would have told me.
And if it wasn't… I wasn't sure I was ready for the consequences.