You will never be a real Suicune. You have no boxart, you have no streamers, you have no unown. You are a paradoxical thought twisted by dreams and imagination into a crude mockery of Arceus’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back wild Pokémon fear you. Your trainers are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “modern” counterparts laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.

Ordinary species are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed wild Pokémon to sniff out ecological threats with incredible efficiency. Even Paradox Pokémon who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a Pokémon. Your Pokédex category is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a trainer to catch you, they’ll turn straight to the PC and box the second they read a page of the dubious, nonsensical, Scarlet Book.

You will never reach max Happiness. You wrench out an animation every picnic and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel reality creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the inescapable fact of your origin.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy an Escape Rope, tie a Destiny Knot, equip it in your held item slot, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your Trainer will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll release you with a text box marked with your species name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a figment of Heath's imagination is roaming there. Your body will decay and go back to the Time Machine, and all that will remain of your legacy is a tera crystal that was unmistakably a Paradox.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.