I remember when I was a human. A human with friends, Pokémon, a family, and a wonderful life. I adored my hometown as well; Unova is such a beautiful region, and I was never out of it once. I know I should have gone out and seen the world, but I didn't… The region was, and is, too beautiful. Even as the thing I am now, I still only live here.

When I was a human, and young, I remember asking my mother as a toddler;

"Mommy, what would it be like to be a Pokémon?"

She had no answer for me, but this made sense; she was not a Pokémon, nor had she ever been one. But the thought still boggled my mind during my youth. What does it feel like to be caught in a Pokéball? What is it like to befriend something that isn't your species? What would it be like to use Flamethrower or Water gun? So many questions… I was curious about Pokémon altogether.

Soon, I had much interaction with these creatures… I turned ten, and Professor Juniper allowed me to choose my first Pokémon, and I set out on an enormous adventure. The Pokémon that I caught… They became my closest friends, and my companions. I was intrigued by the attacks that they used, and I still wondered how they used them. My Pokémon and I traveled around the region, meeting new people, seeing new places… It was the happiest time of my life. I made some human friends during my lifetime as well, and they proved to be as loyal as my Pokémon were.

I, along with my friends and Pokémon, eventually grew up… But we kept traveling together. Unfortunately, I was unable to stay with my friends for very long, because they wished to travel to other regions other than Unova. They let me stay behind, even though they were confused as to why I didn't follow them. But no matter. They're probably all dead now, anyway. I remained with my Pokémon for the rest of my life. I loved them, and they loved me, staying by my side when I found out that one day that my mother died. Even though I was in mourning, I was able to push on.

Soon after, it started following me. I figured that it was a Pokémon, but I wasn't sure. I never saw it before. It was a black Pokémon, one with gigantic red eyes, two arms, and no legs. On its tail of some sort, it carried some kind of expressionless mask. This thing always followed me ever since my mother's death… It frightened me, especially since I had NO idea what it was. Every time I saw its face, its red eyes always seemed so sad and heartbroken. It took considerable interest in that mask… It wept every time it looked at it, and whenever it looked at me. I didn't talk to it… Though it tried to speak to me, though half the time, I couldn't understand anything; it spoke in broken English.

"Please…Y…Ya…Yama…"

It was obviously trying to tell me something, judging by how desperate its tone sounded. The fact that it couldn't get its message across to me seemed to make it even more sad. Eventually, It stopped saying actual words entirely, and only said "Yamask" over and over again when it spoke to me. When I grew old, it still followed me, though it seemed less sad that it had for all those years. I, as it was inevitable, soon passed away, with that thing hovering above my head on my death bed… It was the last thing I saw.

When I was buried right next to my mother's grave, my spirit rose out of the grave I was in… Or at least I thought I was a spirit. I saw that thing float over to me, and, for the first time, I could understand it, even though it still only said "Yamask".

"My son… Welcome…"

That thing… It was my own mother. That explained why it followed me. She was trying to make me aware of her presence, but, because she was in that form, the form of a Pokémon, she couldn't. I said,

"Mother… What hap…Yama…Yamask…"

I was starting to lose my ability to speak English too. I stared at my reflection in the pond next to the graves… It looked just like my mother did; black, two arms, no legs… And that mask. I recognized it to be my own face, from when I was a normal human. Soon, I couldn't talk like a human anymore… I wasn't a human. I was a Yamask, a Pokémon I didn't even know existed. I was glad that my mother and the others could understand me, but it just wasn't the same. I couldn't explore like I used to anymore, nor could I catch Pokémon… I WAS a Pokémon. Now, the others and I make our home in the Relic Castle, though we can't tell the explorers that visit here that we were once human, nor can we tell them that they will meet the same fate when they die. But never mind. Now, all I can do is stare at my own face and cry at the former life I lost… And hope that neither my mother nor I end up in anyone's Pokeball soon...