A terrible headache assaults me when I wake up, a penetrating pain that increases when I open my eyes, forcing me to shut them down again.

It takes several minutes for the headache to subside, leaving my mind full of a strange sense of discomfort. Memories of a life that I didn't live are spread in my mind, aggravating the sense of loss that I have, having lost the ones of the life that I know I have lived before this.

I remember the conversation with the god, and snippets of knowledge, about Pokémon and this universe, or at least a similar version, knowing the simply my presence, and the coincidences that surround my existence have already impacted the world.

Rising from the bed I move in front of a mirror, ready to examine my new body.

In front of myself, I find a strange view, finding the body of a boy that is partially familiar to me, as I received its memories, but still rings wrong to my soul.

Vivid blue eyes, slightly almond-shaped, are reflected from the mirror, appearing on an ephebic face contoured by long pink hairs. This face, where a bit of baby fat is still present, and where not even a shadow of a stubble appears, lean on a young but firm body, that already shows the muscles of an athlete.

As I study my new body, information on my new life starts resurfacing.

My name is Sigfrid Tajiri Moon, or as I preferred to be called, Sig; I am an American kid with French and Japanese ancestry, the only child of two game designers, that owned a medium-sized studio. I was born in Queens, New York on July 10, 2001.

My parents were busy working most of the time so I spent most of my time playing with kids my age, becoming friends with several of them, even if most of them started losing interest with time, distancing themselves from the nerdy boy with the strange hair.

In the end, only a couple of the nerdier kids remained friends of mine till today, the 8 of December 2015.

Fully regaining my bearings I decide to maintain the routine that is ingrained in my body. Putting on a pair of slippers I leave my bedroom, moving toward the kitchen, ready to greet my parents that, as they do every Sunday morning, were making pancakes.

"Good morning," I say, entering the kitchen and moving to the table.

"Good morning sleepyhead" answer my father, putting a plate of steaming pancakes in front of me."... morning" repeat my mother while reading a newspaper.

While I start eating my breakfast memories of the people in front of me start resurfacing. My father, a red-haired french man named Charles Moon, is what some will call the angel of the house, always tending to the house and the people in it, taking his time to do most of the chores before or after going to work. He is the reason this family can survive for more than five minutes.

On the other hand, there is my mother. Sakura Tajiri, a petite half-Japanese woman with candid hair. She is the embodiment of both the concept of a tomboy and of a workaholic.
She can live on coffee and work for days, without the need for side things like food or sleep. You could usually see the importance of the project she is working on by the thickness of the bag under her eyes, ranging from small to panda-like. Today they were panda ones.

While I was watching them going on their usual routine, my headache started increasing once again, and a strange sensation begins to appear in my head. Strange Whispers, static noises, and extreme smells hit me altogether. The unexpected sensation caused me to gag, forcing me to run to the bathroom to throw up.

It takes me a couple of minutes to calm down and return to a more stable state, while my parents watch me with preoccupied eyes.

"Are you ok?" My father asks, "Not really, I still feel a bit sick, and I have a terrible headache..." I groan, still feeling like someone has pounded my head with a hammer.

"You don't have a fever, I will give you a painkiller, and you should try to sleep a bit, it should help, and if tomorrow you are still sick, we will call a doctor," he says after touching my forehead.

"Ok dad," I say, still confused, both by the situation and the headache.

"Go to your room, I will bring you a glass of water and the medicines" he disappeared while speaking, moving to the kitchen to prepare what I need. "Ok" I repeat before slowly moving to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.

A couple of minutes later my father arrives with a glass full of Sparkling water that smells like a chemical, putting it on the bedside table.

"Try to sleep, silence and darkness usually help with a headache..." He says while exiting, closing the door behind himself.

After I take the drug, I calm down.

Pondering on what could have caused the reaction I had, I started rolling around in bed, until I notice a piece of paper under the pillow. Taking it out I start reading it, not noticing that I had no problems in doing so inside a dark room.

- You may have a terrible headache right now, this is due to the increased senses that derive from your new form; Do not worry, you will become used to them, and sooner or later you will adapt to them. If you go around people the headache will probably worsen as you don't know how to stop your mind from reading other people's minds. To be sure that you don't destroy most of the world in your first week I decided to seal the powers of the Legendary Pokémon, as I don't want you to mess with concepts like time and space while you can't even control your senses. You will regain them when you have enough control. This is likely the last time you will hear from me, so goodbye and have fun.
P.S. Blood tests, CAT, or the like will not have any strange results, you will thank me later, trust me.
Tet, God of games-

After reading the letter it burns itself, leaving no trace of existence other than my bewildered face and a laugh that I recognize as that of the only God I ever meet.

caracco

I will put some images of Sig on the glossary, for the more lazy ones here they are

Spoiler

A portrait of Sig

[collapse]

this may be considered a bit nsfw

Spoiler

and a Sig braiding his hair

[collapse]