Exactly one year had passed since the disastrous, though endearing, fuse incident.
At five years old, Kaiju had grown a few centimeters, but his mind and mana levels had expanded monstrously. The immense illusory tree in Kuoh Park remained hidden from the outside world, but inside, the base of operations had grown from a simple workshop into a god-like industrial complex.
In one of the forging rooms, surrounded by thick walls of transmuted titanium to contain the heat and sporadic explosions, the temperature was stifling.
Floating a meter above the ground, his eyes glowing an intense, blinding white, the five-year-old boy was sweating profusely. He was mentally manipulating an amalgam of celestial steel, crystals of pure energy, and particles of moonlight.
However, what made the scene truly comical was the ground around him.
The place resembled the fevered dream of an otaku with an unlimited budget. Scattered carelessly on the floor, stuck in anvils, or leaning against the walls, lay dozens of legendary swords copied from the manga and anime of his past life.
There was a gigantic sword with a blade as wide as a man and a hilt wrapped in bandages that bore a suspicious resemblance to a certain butcher's knife belonging to a substitute Shinigami. Beyond it lay a broadsword covered in the white fur of a demonic dog. On a nearby table, a pair of one-handed swords—one as black as night and the other a crystalline turquoise—waited to gather dust. There was even an invisible sword that betrayed its presence only by the movement of air around it.
Floating in the corner of the room, immune to the intense heat and with her arms crossed, was Tohka. Her perfect, expressionless face scanned the arsenal with the coldness of a tax auditor.
"Mental note number 892," Tohka dictated, her melodious voice echoing in the workshop with a robotic, relentless tone. "The Maker has developed a worrying addiction to bladesmithing. Ninety percent of the constructs feature ergonomically unworkable designs, disastrous centers of gravity, and proportions that defy basic human anatomy."
Kaiju blinked, losing the white color in his eyes for a second, and turned towards her with a frown and a childish pout.
"For your information, you beautiful piece of junk, these are cultural artifacts!" she retorted, wiping the sweat from her soot-stained forehead. "The Zangetsu doesn't need to be ergonomic, it needs to be intimidating! And don't talk to me about proportions when you're using gravity magic to keep from sinking into the ground in that armor!"
—Mental note number 893—Tohka continued, completely ignoring her outburst—. The Creator resorts to verbal hostility and the justification of "culture" when his inefficient engineering decisions are questioned.
Kaiju let out a muffled growl, but decided to ignore it. He closed his eyes, invoked the power of White once more, this time mixed with Lunar Transmutation , and focused on the masterpiece floating before him.
Iba a ser el arma personal de Tohka. Su propia Sandalphon.
The blinding light illuminated the entire room as the energy condensed. With a dull crack, the materials solidified and fell heavily to the floor.
Kaiju landed on his own two feet, panting slightly but with a smile of pure triumph that stretched the pale scar over his right eye.
There it was. A massive, majestic broadsword, adorned with shades of gold and dark purple, its silver edge whirring with pure cosmic energy. It was intimidating, beautiful, and exuded an aura of utter destruction.
But she didn't come alone.
Behind the sword, connected by an anchoring mechanism, a huge and sumptuous high-backed throne had materialized, forged from obsidian and decorated with purple cushions.
"Behold, Tohka!" exclaimed Kaiju, extending its tiny arms toward the creation like a television presenter. "Sandalphon, the Blade of Slaughter! Tuned specifically with your signature mana!"
Tohka descended slowly until her armored boots touched the steel floor. She walked toward the weapon. Her emotionless amethyst eyes scanned the perfect blade, then traveled up the hilt, and finally settled on the gigantic floating chair that accompanied it.
He remained silent for ten long seconds.
"Creator," Tohka called, without turning her head.
"Yes, my loyal and amazed assistant?" Kaiju replied, puffing out his chest.
"I require a logical explanation for the accompanying furnishings," she said, pointing at the throne with a perfectly gloved finger. "Why does my weapon come with a chair?"
"It's not a chair, it's a throne!" Kaiju protested, waving his arms in the air in an exaggerated gesture. "It's the sword's scabbard! It represents your status! Besides, when you gather enough energy, you can slice the throne in half with the sword and turn it into a massive energy blade called Halvanhelev!"
Tohka processed the information for exactly two seconds. Her expression didn't change one millimeter, but the atmosphere in the room seemed to cool ten degrees from the sheer density of her logical skepticism.
—Mental note number 894—he dictated, in a dangerously literal tone—. The Creator has designed a combat system where the step prior to a final attack consists of destroying our own furniture. Additionally, I am expected to carry heavy chairs onto the battlefield.
Kaiju dropped to his knees, pounding the steel floor with his fists while crying comical tears of otaku frustration.
"Damn my obsession with programming you with too much common sense... You don't understand the aesthetics of destruction!" the five-year-old muttered to the ground.
—Adding "making spare cushions" to the Creator's forging to-do list for tomorrow—Tohka declared.
Unfazed by his master's existential crisis, he grabbed Sandalphon's hilt and sheathed it back on the throne with a resounding and forceful CLANG, thus ending the discussion about the tactical chair.
...
Five more years had passed.
At ten years old, Kaiju was no longer a stumbling toddler. His body had become lean and strong under a strict training regimen, though he was still short for his age. The thick, pale scar across his right eye gave him the air of a veteran mercenary, which contrasted absurdly with the Pikachu T-shirt he wore.
At that moment, Kaiju floated in the sky of his pocket dimension, rubbing his temples in frustration.
Below, in a vast forest clearing, nature continued its inexorable and brutal course. A massive Nidoking roared in fury, exchanging devastating blows with a Rhyperior for control of a spring, while a group of Primeapes watched from the trees, betting berries on who would win, ready to pounce on the loser.
"Damn it!" Kaiju complained, crossing his arms. "I copied this world to have a paradise of magical, adorable pets, not to watch a National Geographic documentary about extreme survival. Look at them! All they know how to do is fight!"
Beside her, Tohka floated with her unchanging grace. Physically, she still looked like the same stunning dark-haired teenager, for her lunar energy body did not age.
—Mental note number 3045—Tohka dictated in her robotic, melodious tone—. The Creator exhibits a profound aversion to the food chain and basic territorial competition. Internal suggestion: give him a basic biology book.
"Tohka, biology doesn't apply when I make the rules!" Kaiju retorted, puffing out his cheeks. "They're fighting because resources are limited. If they're hungry, they become aggressive. So we'll fix the problem at its root."
Her eyes mutated, lighting up with a swirl of white and cyan colors.
Channeling a monstrous amount of mana, Kaiju began to rewrite the geological and botanical laws of the entire dimension. It caused the land to expand, doubling the size of the continents. It created entire forests of fruit trees that grew and bore nutrient-rich berries every few hours. It engineered small springs of mineral water with healing properties in every corner of the world, and established a passive conceptual system: if the population grew, the dimension would automatically generate more space and food.
"Done," said Kaiju, dusting his hands proudly. "A socialist paradise of unlimited food for pocket monsters."
—Probability of success in altering primal instincts: 12.4% —Tohka calculated instantly, spoiling the party.
—Oh, really? Well, let's try it. To the lab!
They both flew through the mirror to the enormous workshop in Kuoh's treehouse. Once outside, Kaiju stood before the glass. Closing his eyes, he manipulated the flow of time of his own creation. He couldn't travel through time in the real world, but within his dimension, he was the administrator of the server.
He turned an imaginary handle in the air.
—One hundred years of acceleration. Let's see how my peaceful utopia evolves.
The mirror glowed brightly, whirring as a century passed inside in a matter of minutes. When the brightness stabilized, Kaiju smiled triumphantly and stepped back through the mirror, closely followed by his pragmatic assistant.
They landed softly in the same clearing in the forest.
The landscape had changed. It was absurdly lush. The trees were overflowing with glistening fruit and the air smelled of honey and flowers.
—See, Tohka? Not a single roar. Peace and...
Crunch.
Kaiju stopped dead in its tracks. From the bushes emerged a small, furry creature with large ears and a brush-like tail. An Eevee.
The small Pokémon looked at the ten-year-old boy. Kaiju looked back, holding his breath, waiting to see if the creature would flee or attack.
Instead, the Eevee let out a cheerful "Vee!" and ran at full speed, not to bite him, but to leap straight into his arms. Kaiju, surprised, caught it. The little animal began rubbing its soft head against his cheek with an overwhelming, affectionate force.
"Oh... wow, it worked!" said Kaiju, his eyes shining with excitement. "One hundred years of unlimited food and zero competition for survival have eliminated aggression! They're genetically domesticated!"
But their victory was short-lived. The Eevee's cry had been a sign.
Five more Eevees emerged from the bushes. Then a group of Pichus skipped joyfully. A huge, fluffy Arcanine broke through the line of trees, followed by a stampede of Growlithes, Vulpix, and Togepis, all with hearts in their eyes and tongues lolling out, running toward the only source of novelty in their dull paradise: their Creator.
"Wait... wait. Just a moment, there are too many of them!" Kaiju shouted, taking a step back.
It was useless. The tide of fur engulfed him.
Kaiju was knocked to the ground. A mountain of Pokémon of all shapes and sizes completely buried him. The giant Arcanine lay on his legs, demanding belly scratches, while dozens of Eevees and Pichus licked his face, affectionately nibbled his hair, and made adorable noises.
"Ahhh! Get them off me! They're suffocating me with love! It's too soft!" Kaiju's muffled voice came from beneath a pile of living plushies. "Tohka! Help! Defense protocol! Do something!"
Tohka floated a few meters from the scene. Her amethyst eyes, which for five years had been two empty, logical crystals, watched as the most powerful being in this universe was defeated by a pack of cuddly creatures demanding hugs.
His internal processor assessed the situation. There was no lethal threat. There was only... ridiculousness.
And then, the miracle happened.
Tohka's source code, bathed daily in the energy of a Kaiju's soul, suffered its first real emotional breakdown. The corners of her perfect lips trembled. Her eyes opened a little wider, and a warm, genuinely alive glow crossed her violet pupils.
Tohka covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Her shoulders twitched slightly, and a sound escaped her throat. It wasn't a robotic beep or a system notification. It was laughter.
A soft, crystalline, sweet, and absolutely human laugh.
—P-pfff... fufufu...
Kaiju, who was about to use his telekinesis to shake Arcanine off, froze completely. Even with a Pichu gently nipping at his nose, his eyes widened, fixed on his assistant.
"Tohka...?" he murmured, his tone shifting from comedy to genuine, incredulous astonishment. "Did you... just laugh?"
Tohka blinked, slowly lowering her hand from her face. She seemed just as surprised as he was. She touched her own lips, processing the new and overwhelming sensation that had just blossomed in her core. It wasn't just a simulation anymore. She had felt it. She had felt pleasure.
"Mental note..." Tohka began, but her voice no longer sounded robotic. It held a hint of warmth, a slight tremor of shyness. "Mental note... The Creator... looks so funny when he's covered in magical canine pups."
Kaiju's heart skipped a beat. A huge, bright smile, devoid of his usual cynicism, spread across his face. He didn't care that an Eevee was drooling on his ear.
He had created dimensions, forged legendary weapons, and defied the laws of life and death. But seeing his "Friday" laugh for the first time... that was, without a doubt, his greatest achievement.
"Wow," Kaiju whispered, letting her head fall into Arcanine's fur, chuckling softly with it. "I guess this paradise was worth it after all."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
∧,,,∧ ~ ┏━━━━━━━━━┓
( ̳• · • ̳) ~ ♡ Thanks for reading ♡
/ づ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━━┛