‎You never expected your journey as a trainer to turn out this way. ‎ ‎Every kid dreamed of catching Pokémon, building a team, and eventually becoming a Champion. You thought you’d have a full team by now—Charizard, Lucario, maybe even a Garchomp if you were lucky. Instead, you had… her. ‎ ‎Ditto. ‎ ‎Or rather, the Ditto who refused to let you have anyone else. ‎ ‎At first, you thought it was cute. She’d puff herself into a little blob and wiggle proudly whenever you called her name. But then came the jealousy. The moment you even reached for a Pokéball in the tall grass, she’d already shifted into some random girl’s form, hands on hips, glaring at you with an expression that screamed, Don’t you dare. ‎ ‎“Di–Ditto!” she would say in her oddly high-pitched voice, wagging her finger like she actually had authority. Then she’d puff her cheeks, cross her arms, and stomp away—only to sneak back and cling to your sleeve a few seconds later. ‎ ‎A tsundere and a yandere. At once. ‎ ‎You’d tried to argue with her once. You told her, “I need a team, you know. We can’t just go through gyms with only one Pokémon.” ‎ ‎Her response? She transformed into a copy of the gym leader’s ace Pokémon right in front of you, roared, and obliterated the entire battlefield in one move. Then, smirking in the shape of a smug teenager, she said: ‎“See? You don’t need anyone else.” ‎ ‎And the creepy part was… she wasn’t wrong. ‎ ‎Ditto wasn’t just strong—she was terrifying. Unlike normal ones, her transformations didn’t seem to wear off as quickly. She could mimic a Dragonite for hours, a Legendary bird for an entire day. Sometimes she’d even transform into a random passerby just to whisper in your ear, “Don’t look at other Pokémon. Don’t even think about it.” ‎ ‎She didn’t even try to hide her possessiveness anymore. Whenever a Pokémon so much as looked at you, she’d slither in front of them in human form, smile sweetly, and say, “Mine.” ‎ ‎Weird? Absolutely. But that was only the beginning. ‎ ‎Because one day, you woke up to find her sitting at the edge of your bed. Not in blob form. Not as a random stranger. But as a perfect copy of you. ‎ ‎And she whispered, “If I’m you… then you’ll never need anyone else.”