Mimikyu Novels & Stories

Yuko explained. "He copied my appearance a while ago because he knows that you'll trust me eventually. He has the power of mimicry. He can copy everyone and anyone." "That's why he can copy you..." Alexis whispered then stood up. She went towards her bag then grabbed something there. After getting something on the bag, she went back to Yuko's place then grabbed his hand. She puts a bracelet with a symbol of a cat. "For me to know if it's really you. I know that it looks girly but, when I saw that a while ago in a store on my way back, I immediately thought of you." Alexis said.

It was a blessing in disguise though, because the little show of pain made it possible to see the owner of the voice. It was a woman. Dark skin, with a fading scar running from the right side of her upper lips down to her jaw. Her eyes were coppery, contrasting the brown dreadlock that was tied into a ponytail. She was no fresher with the spear and held it masterfully as if she was one with it. “One funny move" the woman glared, "and you are a dead meat.". Dead meat? Ejima shivered. Despite the threat, she felt sweat and fear covering her body. Her eyes strolled down to the woman’s feet and the notion in her stomach elevated when she saw the missing toe…

"This specific six inches of gym floor belongs to you?" "For the next twenty minutes, yes." "Bold claim." "Accurate claim." One of his teammates, a tall guy named Derek who Ava vaguely recognized from the team roster, laughed, and Mason's expression shifted slightly in the way it did when he had an audience, something settling into place, the performance switching on with the smoothness of a habit so practiced it no longer registered as effort.

Being a Sinclair takes a special kind of special, like Aunt Jessica says, because I’m not allowed to call her grandma. My name is Kai and I’m somewhere in between. I’m the first born son of Kiran and Adara Sinclair. My father is the Alpha of our pack and that makes me the future Alpha. I am half wolf and half witch and I can see glimpses into the future, usually a future that involves me. My father speaks to Death and I speak to the dead.

I shout, I am certain my eyes and hair are red. “Look!” someone else shouts, their facade melted away revealing the true form of a mimic black, with hollowed eyes, no nose or ears and a mouth like an Angler Fish. I keep my hold onto them but retract my flames “who put you up to this?” “we know nothing” they answer in unison, “if you do not answer me I will destroy your core and disintegrate them” “you know not where our cores are located so your threat means nothing”

Learning. It's the methodical patience that unnerves me most. These aren't mindless predators rushing to attack. They're calculating, strategic. Gathering information with each interaction, each encounter. "Central team reporting visual anomaly at two o'clock position," Finley's voice comes through the channel, tension evident beneath her controlled tone. "Appears to be a mimicry attempt, but imperfect. Maintaining distance." "Details?" I request immediately, Storm surging with protective urgency. "Humanoid figure, wearing what appears to be Forest Trails colors," she describes. "But proportions are wrong—limbs too long, movements mechanical. Silver test protocols in effect."

This was my first time attempting a backflip, and I seriously doubted its importance in a fight. "Just trust the process, Coraline. It's about fluidity and control," he replied. “Fluidity and control? We’re not doing gymnastics here, Zayn!” I shot back. “We need to learn how to take down opponents, not do tricks!” He chuckled, clearly amused by my annoyance. “You’d be surprised how useful it can be. The ability to move unpredictably can give you an advantage in a fight.” “Unpredictable? Sure, if I don’t break my neck first!” I exclaimed, shaking my head. “What’s next? A cartwheel? Should I bring a tutu while we’re at it?”

Maybe I should just go back home. "Do you wanna go for a ride?" I stare at the guy still holding my arm and wonder who he is. There is something about him that I can't put a finger on. He seems awfully familiar. Where did I see him? "Have we met before?" I scrunch my eyebrows in thought. Where did I meet him before? The guy smiles, and his cute dimples appear. His blue eyes sparkle, and no matter how angry I am, I find myself smiling. A genuine smile.

He pushed the folder to her, which made Mariko grin. Mariko opened the folder and frowned. Project X. Mariko saw a picture of a 4-year-old kid wearing an overall pink jumpsuit with long white sleeves underneath while holding a white bunny plush toy. She's like a living doll, with her hair tied up into two buns. Her chubby cheeks were pinkish, and her skin was as white as snow. She was smiling, which made her eyes twinkle. But in her profile, there was nothing written, only her name and her age.

Visitors to the Sydney Aquarium leisurely flow around them, busy contemplating marine predators. - Not at all! Let's ask that Japanese with a camera over there, if you don't believe me. Mister, hello… tell me, is the girl beautiful? The Japanese smiles, nods, listens attentively: - Canesna, kasavita! Both are tart! And he takes a picture - Louis and Keith hugging against the background of a blue glass tunnel and fish floating in the water column. “Foul play,” Kitsune snorts. He is from Japan and I have big eyes and red hair. Of course, for him it is already beautiful. Wow! Look, look over there, what a fish!