I Am Acrab, Mang

You're a Krabby. Your Pokedex entries note your giant pinchers, the burrows you dig in the sand, and your ability to blow bubbles. You're known as the "River Crab" Pokemon. You know what they call Krabby in Japan? Kurabu. Crab. Just crab.
Across every known species of Pokemon, you bare some of the closest resemblance to your Earth animal counterpart. Let's be real here, aside from the typical bells and whistles being a Pokemon affords you, you're just a fucking crab.
You weren't always a Krabby. That's the worst part, because as pathetic as a Krabby's existence is, a Krabby would have no reason to be aware of its inferiority. Why would a Krabby care that their life looks so disappointedly like that of some beast from another dimension? Their job is to fuck, think about eating fish slop, look for fish slop, eat fish slop, and walk sideways. They live their entire lives like a crab without ever considering they basically are one. Not you, though. You're special. You're God's joke and Arceus' bitch.
God damn, this is some Kafkaesque bullshit.. Wait, a Pokemon would not know about that. A Krabby would never compare his modest existence as a magical crab thing to some over-referenced 20th-century fiction. Unless there's some fiction this new world dreamed up about waking up in agony as a Pinsir.. Wait- you wouldn't know. You're a Krabby. You would know nothing of culture or innovation. You eat Shellos remains off the walls of some dank cave and cry that you ended up as a fucking Krabby. Years of wishing you were something else, closing your eyes at night and losing your body into a form free from waging, free from worrying, free from wanting... Well, now you're something else, alright. You're another something with a whole new slew of boring problems, a set of pinchers, served up with the looming existential dread of knowing exactly what you were, and now what you are. You're a Krabby.

You'd stop documenting your days all together if it weren't for something finally changing today. Not change in some monumental way, nothing that would ever possibly justify this new existence. It's change like a stack of rocks on a beach side toppling over: a very subtle return into the way things were.
One day while stuffing your gullet full of Shellos guts you hear someone. That's right: a someone. Not just some soulless something with the intent to either eat you or be eaten by you.. Something with, dare I say, sentience? They call out to you in the dialect of your home world. You don't even fully process what they're saying, or even start picking up clues on who this voice could belong to. You're just too enveloped in the warm welcome of language.. Something oh-so beautifully un-crab.
If this is anything like the world you knew, a response is probably being expected of you now. When you used to fantasize about Isekais, it never occurred to you your social retardation would not magically be blipped away. In fact, this carcinization of a mind-fuck you've been wrapping your head around has probably made matters worse. Well, whatever, here goes:
"Ahaha, SHIT mang what's up, I'm a crab.. by. Krabby. I'm a Krabby."