Blinking as she slowly extracts herself into the cold air, Tanya becomes aware of herself once again. Blearily, disoriented by the sudden jump from the abyss and into existence, she tries to look around for clues to contextualize this impossible state. Because, by any identifiable metric, Tanya Degurechaff should be dead. Gunned down over the ocean by that irritating fanatic in the defense of a Germanian convoy. As the moments tick on the familiar feeling of trying to move an unfamiliar body and the loud voices high overhead draw her to one conclusion. "Damn you, Being X…" She mutters, the normal fiery pillar of rage smothered from exhaustion. At the sound, the voices above her quiet, then some large hands scoop her up and start wiping her off with a towel, peeling something solid off the side of her head as they do. The comforting warmth of the towel is enough for Tanya to temporarily ignore the knowledge that these hands are too large, even for an infant's body. As her eyelids droop and flutter, blurry vision clears enough to see a woman with pink hair holding her up to a wide smile, then showing the tired bundle of towel to… The last thing Tanya sees before sleep claims her is some rotund pink creature reaching out to take the towel from the human. Once more. The career soldier confirms to herself. Just one more try and she'll have it. Taking a few wobbly steps, Tanya once more overbalances her nearly spherical body and falls off her feet. Though 'fall' is a bit of a stretch, roll is more accurate. Shaking her head, Tanya growls as much as she can with her new voice box, rocking back and forth to get up again. She's among the rest of the other 'Happiny' that 'hatched,' (and isn't that a strange thought) in a large playpen in some kind of nursery room. Tended mostly by adults of her new species, called Chansey, and the human nurse that occasionally enters to perform checkups on her and the other infants. The fact that this is better than the orphanage in her old world says a lot about several things. The lie of Being X's love chief of them all. But as humiliating as this is, Being X was suspiciously absent for the majority of it. Even after Tanya lost to one of the false gods faithful, the creature himself didn't make an appearance to gloat. small, so small, enveloped on all sides by the sky itself and chasing away the poisoned pyrite. "Awww, look at you! Good job!" Croons the matron Chansey from across the room, chasing away a half remembered dream. She waddles her egg-like body over and nudges Tanya with her foot, righting her. "T'ank you mat'ion." Tanya stumbles out, her voice working alongside the body to undermine her. The matron squeals and suddenly everything's dark and warm. Tanya sighs as the matron rocks back and forth, the tiny former human wrapped in a firm yet soft hug. "You're so cute! My little battler!" She cheers, voice muffled by blubber. Tanya allows the hug to last for around ten seconds, until deciding it's gone on for long enough and starts to wiggle as much as her stubby limbs allow. The matron lets her down with a smile and headpat before waddling off. Battler, that word again. Pondering her situation, she carefully starts to shuffle forward, getting used to unfamiliar joints and proportions. Unless something strange happened while she was dead this is neither of her old worlds, which means she's back to square one again. Not even with the advantage of a human body. Thankfully, judging from the interactions between the Chansey and the humans, she's neither food nor a pet. Instead some strange sort of near equal. The nurses give complex instructions to the Chansey and respect their input, –despite a lack of common language– Chansey who are, themselves, quite intelligent from observed conversations. For some reason they seem not to be able to speak japanese, despite being able to understand it perfectly. Tanya was quite surprised to hear her mother tongue once more after so long. She'd not heard or spoken Japanese in over a decade and, to her embarrassment, she was more than a little rusty. She hadn't even noticed that they were speaking the language until a few days ago. But it's becoming more and more clear there's something special to her new species. Every time Tanya demonstrates physical or mental acuity, the most common compliment from the caretakers is 'battler.' Implying the highest calling of a Chansey is to become a battler, whatever that means. Shuffled steps become more natural as fellow penmates rock back and forth, still struggling to find their feet. As her young muscles start to burn from exertion, Tanya continues to watch, and learn. Learn about this new world and her place inside it. It's unlikely she'll be able to be a salaryman here, and there's no talk of some great war. But success, to excel, is something she's spent so much of her life seeking that the path to it is almost preternaturally easy to find. But for once, she's not planning on following it. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. She could make up excuses, claim that as long as she's under the thumb of Being X there's no chance of getting high enough to take advantage of her work, but that's not the real reason. The truth is quite simple, Tanya just got off the front lines of one of the most bloody and pointless wars to have ever been fought. Pushed to risk her life over and over against increasingly impossible odds. It doesn't take a genius to intuit that a battler would mean throwing herself back into what took death to escape. One foot trips another and her new body makes a squeak as she falls over, again. But this time the matron's giggling turns into squealing cheers as Tanya manages to rise to her feet herself. Unfortunately that success is undermined by another Chansey picking her up from behind and giving a twirling hug. "You're just too much you little cutie!" Cheers the Chansey in a purple nurses hat as she squeezes Tanya. "Such a strong little Happiny deserves a treat." At this she finds herself carried over the wall of the pen and towards a fold out table on the far side of the room. With her new height she notes that on the table there's a plate covered in some form of pink pastry. Seeing proof that this newest indignity has a reward at the end, her faint struggles fade. Plus it's nearly naptime. Grabbing the offered pastry, she takes a bite and gives an involuntary chirping warble. Nibbling on a pastry nearly the size of her head with a sleepy blink, Tanya Degurechaff watches, she plans. Rocking the sleepy hatchling as she nods off, Chansey has to avoid waking her by cooing at the most adorable sight of her charge's messy face struggling to stay awake and keep eating her pokepuff. Though another, even cuter reason for Chansey's silence is how indignant this little Happiny gets whenever anyone calls attention to how adorable she is. Quite the sweet tooth as well, despite the puff being almost half her size she'd managed to make quite the dent. Which of course only makes her even more cute. Chansey's self control shatters as the Happiny's face contorts into a scowl just before she fails fighting back a big yawn, releasing a soft squeal which has little eyes lock onto hers with disapproval. It's pretty rare to see a Happiny with such a big personality so early. Though it really shouldn't surprise her that this hatchling is the first to be walking around. With opinions that loud there's no way this little girl would let something as simple as her body's limits stop her. She looks towards the rest of the sleeping hatchlings with a smile. It's rare that a 'mon of her evolution line has that… fire. The fire to push their body's limits against an impossible challenge and, win or lose, grow stronger by the experience. Not just the willingness, not just the desire, but the need to fight. Arceus knows she doesn't have it. But one doesn't spend as much time around hatchlings as Chansey has and not get a feel for the telltale signs. Reaching over to take the leftovers of the pokepuff, sleepy eyes snap from the edge of dreams to bleary alertness, grabbing onto her treat with indignation. Unfortunately for this little fighter naptime started ten minutes ago, and Chansey's been assigned to the nursery far too long for a stubborn hatchling to be trouble. Drawing on wisps of power from the wellspring within, a simple humming melody is imbued with the barest suggestion of sleep. Just enough to tip her charge over the edge she's been teetering on. A delicate trick, at this age it's not good to mess with their auras too much. The human nurses say hatchlings shouldn't even be allowed to watch high level battles for the first few years while their auras stabilize. Personally, Chansey doesn't see the harm in it, when she was a Happiny the nursery was in the same building as the local gym. But humans –even her fellow nurses– have always been… silly. As little eyes droop, the Happiny's hands tighten on the puff and her frown becomes more severe somehow. But soon enough, both their face and grip slackens, allowing Chansey to take the treat and place it on the table. She'll give it back after she wakes up. Stepping over the playpen walls, she places the Happiny among her batchmates. Moving towards the door. Chansey spares one last glance before heading off to the innumerable other duties in the Joy compound. She remembers the last time a 'mon of her line had that fire… Hyper Beam cracking the ground as it crosses the distance, the air sizzling with nothing but proximity, hits braced pink flesh It's always a shame whenever the Happiny evolve and have to leave for their postings in far flung Pokecenters, meeting perhaps once or twice more years later at some reunion of similar function. But if her hunch is right? Chansey opens the door with the special lower handles and leaves the nursery. To see how that one's doing, she'll just have to turn on the TV.