Pika? Pika?

I am an animal rights activist.

I fight and advocate for the rights of animals, proclaiming that they should be treated the same as humans.

More often than not, I find myself taking the side of animals rather than humans. This has led people to spurn me, thinking I am an anti-humanist.

Guess what, I am actually an anti-humanist. But how did I end up this way?

Well, let's see...I was abandoned in the wild at the age of five by parents who would often abuse me. Fortunately, a lone mother wolf found me and was kind enough to raise me alongside her other wolf pups.

Since then, I spent five years growing up among wolves, learning their ways of hunting and communication. But one day, humans arrived.

I was away on a hunt to gather food for my wolf family when I heard gunshots. Panicked, I ran toward the source of the sound because that's where my wolf family lived.

Gasping for breath as I ran, my mind blanked out when I arrive to see bloods and the corpses of wolves scattered on the ground, while hunters proudly displayed their trophies.

Blinded by rage, I fiercely bit and scratched at the hunters. I managed to injure several before I was knocked out.

After being rendered unconscious, I was forced to undergo various forms of education and therapy. Over time, I slowly had to let go of my hatred toward the hunters who killed my wolf family, as it would get me nowhere if I wanted to live.

After receiving education and therapy for five years, I was dumped into an orphanage and had to attend public school.

I often had the lowest grades in class, and people would always try to bully me. I would growl and intimidate them, which usually worked, but they started calling me a rabid dog or a wild boy.

So I went through high school without any friends whatsoever. Not surprisingly, I ended up working as a cashier in a gas station.

But I am not alone. In my third year of high school, I came across a box containing five abandoned puppies. Feeling pity and remembering my past wolf family, I decided to adopt them.

I named them Scout, Asher, Lily, Bandit, and Titan.

Taking care of them was initially challenging, but over time, it became easier, and they also grew close to me.

In my darkest and happiest moments, they were always with me, and I am truly grateful for their companionship, as I might not have had the will to live otherwise.

But one day, when I returned home from work as a cashier, I found the front door open. Feeling a sense of foreboding, I immediately ran inside and saw it: the lifeless bodies of my five dogs lying on the ground, their stomachs gutted and various organs strewn about.

And there he stood, the man responsible, with a perverted smile on his face, as if he were relishing my expression.

After that, everything went blank.

I don't remember what happened, but I do recall waking up in a bloody room, stained with blood, and my body covered in it.

But it wasn't my blood; it was the blood of that perverted man. I also saw a pile of bloody meat on the ground. Vaguely, I could see the shadow of that perverted man.

Realizing this, I fell to my knees, retching at the sight. Soon, the police arrived, and I was arrested for the crime of manslaughter.

I was sentenced to ten years in prison.

I don't remember much of what happened in prison. It was nothing but a monotonous routine of eating bland food, reading books, doing voluntary work, and enduring the wretched smell the prison there.

After ten long years of serving my sentence, I was finally freed. Since then, I have struggled to find a job. I have had to rent a poorly maintained apartment and eat tasteless bread while I continue to search for decent employment.

Sometimes, I work as an animal rights activist, fighting against the unfair treatment of animals. I become so passionate about it that even other animal activists tend to avoid me.

Continuing my sad life, I wander aimlessly down the streets until I notice a speeding truck heading toward an injured small dog and an angry man who is clearly abusing the dog.

Without much thought, I sprint to save them—not the man, but the injured dog. I swiftly leap forward, scoop up the small injured dog, and toss it to the nearby people standing there.

The angry man, who initially seemed overjoyed, has a twisted expression when he realizes I saved the dog instead of him.

"Are you f***ing stupid?! You should have saved me, not the stupid dog!" he exclaims.

"That's why I'm saving the dog, you sh**head!" I shout back, smiling evilly. In the corner of my eye, I notice the nearby people catching the injured dog in their arms.

Feeling relieved and smiling, I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable end. I may not have accomplished much or been able to save my wolf family and adopted dogs, but at least I helped an injured dog from that sh**head before my life ends.

I await the impact.

"....?"

Huh, where's the impact?

Confused, I slowly open my eyes.

I see nothing but a lush forest with towering, healthy trees and abundant tall grass.

But something seems a bit off. Aren't the grass and trees a bit too big? I instinctively speak in doubt, but another voice comes out of my mouth.

"Pika? Pika?"

What? Did I just...speak like a Pikachu? My eyes widen in horror, and I try to speak again.

"Pika? Pika!"

Sure enough, the Pikachu voice sounds again. I am really speaking as a Pikachu!

...Wait a minute. If I'm speaking as a Pikachu, does that mean...

Slowly raising my hand, fearing what I am about to confirm, I do not see my familiar human hand, but the furry paw of a Pikachu.

"..."

It seems I have somehow became a Pikachu...