Mew

The air in the Indigo Plateau still thrummed with the echoes of your victory. The title of Champion felt like a new skin, still settling, still unbelievable. Your team, battered but beaming, rested in their Poké Balls, each one a testament to the impossible journey you’d undertaken.

It was Professor Oak himself who met you at the entrance, his face a mask of grandfatherly pride. "Incredible, my boy! Simply incredible!" he boomed, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder. "To think, the rookie I handed a Charmander to just a year ago has conquered the Elite Four! As a token of my faith in you, and for the monumental challenges that undoubtedly lie ahead, I want you to have this."

He pressed a single, unique Poké Ball into your palm. It was pristine white with a purple M on the front, heavier than any you'd held. A Master Ball. The infallible capture device, a legend in its own right.

"Use it wisely," Oak said, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "There are Pokémon in this world of such rarity and power that they defy belief. This is for one of them. Don't waste it on a common Pidgey." He winked, the seriousness melting away.

You thanked him profusely, your mind already racing with possibilities. What legendary beast was worthy of such a treasure? The mighty Moltres? The enigmatic Articuno? You decided to take a celebratory stroll through the routes surrounding the Plateau, letting the adrenaline subside and the crisp air clear your head.

You were cutting through a familiar patch of tall grass on Route 22, the sun warm on your back, when a flash of pink shot past your peripheral vision. It was so fast it was almost a trick of the light. You froze, heart hammering. A Jigglypuff? Too fast. A Clefairy? Wrong shade.

Then you saw it. Hovering just above the grass tips about fifty feet away was a creature from a storybook. It was small, feline, and a soft, bubblegum pink. Large, curious blue eyes regarded you with an intelligence that felt ancient. It had a wide, playful snout and a tail that tapered to a delicate tip. This was no ordinary Pokémon. This was the mythical Pokémon. This was Mew.

Your breath hitched. The Master Ball felt like a lead weight in your pocket. This was it. The moment.

The Mew tilted its head, let out a sound like a tiny, tinkling bell—"Mew?"—and then, seeing your hand twitch toward your belt, its eyes sparkled with unmistakable mischief. It giggled, a sound that was pure, unadulterated joy, and then it was gone, zipping away through the grass like a living laser.

"Hey, wait!" you yelled, your professional composure shattered. You broke into a sprint, crashing through the grass after it. The chase was a blur. You’d emerge into clearings only to catch another glimpse of pink before it vanished again, leading you deeper and deeper into a part of the route you’d never explored, a vast, open grassland at the foot of a waterfall.

You burst into the sunlit plain, chest heaving. And there it was. Mew had stopped. It hung in the air, its back to you, apparently studying the waterfall.

This was your chance. You reached for a Poké Ball—not the Master Ball, not yet. You wanted to try, to see the legend in battle. But before your fingers could even brush the capsule, Mew’s head slowly rotated a full 180 degrees on its neck to look directly at you, its wide blue eyes crinkled with amusement.

It giggled again, that same playful chime. Then, in a move so bizarre and audacious you couldn't process it, the mythical progenitor of all Pokémon turned its body to fully face you, stuck out its tongue, and with a playful smack of its three-fingered paw, spanked its own rear. The action emphasized a surprisingly plump, pear-shaped posterior that jiggled with the impact. It was a gesture of such profound, childish taunting that you just stood there, dumbfounded.

It floated backwards, away from you, its voice clear as a bell in your mind. It had learned your language, and it was using it to mock you.

"Mew-Fu-Fu! You will never be able to catch me, dumb trainer!"

It giggled again, a sound like rushing water, and placed its tiny hands on its wide, curvy hips, looking for all the world like a triumphant, thicc little supermodel. Your patience, and your pride, finally snapped.

"Alright, that's enough! Go, Charizard!" you roared, hurling the Poké Ball. Your partner emerged in a flash of red light, roaring a challenge that shook the very leaves on the trees.

Mew’s playful expression didn't change. It didn't even adopt a battle stance. It simply raised one paw, almost lazily. A sphere of incandescent pink energy, crackling with power you could feel from twenty yards away, materialized before it. It wasn't just an attack; it was a statement.

The Hyper Beam hit Charizard like a meteor. There was no battle, no exchange of blows. Your mighty Champion-tier Charizard, who had just days ago weathered the attacks of the Elite Four, was instantly engulfed in a pink torrent of raw force. He crashed to the ground, his eyes swirling.

A cold dread poured down your spine. "Blastoise! Venusaur!" you yelled, sending out your other starters simultaneously. They materialized, ready for a fight.

Mew just giggled again, a happy, carefree sound completely at odds with the cataclysmic power it wielded. It waggled a finger at you as if scolding a naughty child. With its other hand, it gestured vaguely in their direction. A thunderstorm materialized out of a clear sky directly above Blastoise, frying him where he stood. A psychic wave of invisible force lifted Venusaur and slammed him into the cliff face with a sickening crunch. Two moves. Two faints.

You fumbled for another ball, your hand trembling, but Mew was already in front of you. It hadn't even moved; it had simply appeared. It hovered there, peering into your eyes, its head cocked. Running was not an option. It would follow you anywhere.

It reached out with one tiny paw and gently, almost apologetically, booped you on the nose.

"Boop," it said, its voice a cheerful whisper in your mind.

And with that, it vanished. Not in a streak of speed, but into utter nothingness. The grass was still. The waterfall roared. You were alone in the silent, sun-drenched plain with three fainted Pokémon and a soul-crushing sense of your own insignificance.

Slowly, numbly, you returned your fallen partners. Your fingers brushed against the Master Ball in your pocket. Professor Oak’s words echoed in your mind: "Use it wisely."