What was he?
At first, it had seemed so simple, so clear. Created by humans, betrayed by humans...at first it had seemed he must surely be humanity's long-overdue judgment. How could he not be? Would that not have been justice, for their experiment, their thing, their triumph to also be their doom?
And how easy it had been, to bring their world to the edge of destruction.
How easy it would have been, to become just like them.
He did not shudder at the thought; his impassive face showed no expression, save a slight narrowing of his eyes as the first rays of golden light spilled over the horizon.
Not like them. Like what he hated most about them.
Like him.
The scientists...he felt no guilt over their deaths. They had been blinded by their scientific curiosity, their scientific greed, but that did not absolve them of their guilt. They had created life, and seen only a successful experiment, uncaring of the crime they committed against their creation.
They had died still ignorant of why he hated them.
He, on the other hand...he knew what he had done. He had set the scientists on their path, then taken their experiment and used him to his own ends. He was fully aware of what he had done, had willfully created, betrayed, and enslaved, without a moment of regret.
He still lived.
"Giovanni."
The golden sunrise became too bright to watch as the sun rose fully over the horizon, and Mewtwo turned away.
"I am not humanity's judgment...but surely, surely I am Giovanni's?" he pleaded.
"Mew."
Mewtwo's stomach roiled with the pain of his creation; he spent a moment wishing he had indeed been born the thing the scientists wanted. Then, perhaps, these questions would not plague him...the pain would not fight to once again become the blind hatred, with its illusion of clarity, which had led him to become...
Just like Giovanni: creating life, manipulating it, using it.
He bowed his head, eyes squeezing shut. Did his creations hate him, as he hated his creators?
A tiny paw patted his shoulder as Mew hovered beside him. Mew was perhaps the one being he could be certain did not hate him; Mew held no grudges, unlike the being which had been created from his DNA. Indeed, nothing seemed to affect the ancient Pokémon, and Mewtwo often envied the other's ability to dismiss what had been, what might be, and enjoy now. Perhaps, when he had lived centuries as Mew had, and not mere months, he would learn that skill.
Or would these questions always plague him? Would he always wonder what he was?
Would he always wonder if he, the most powerful Pokémon in the world...he, who had tried to wipe humanity off the face of the planet...truly had the heart of a human?
He was no closer to answers, just as he had been no closer during other sunrises, other sunsets, and he slowly turned his back on the sun.
Perhaps there would be answers tomorrow.
There was always tomorrow.
