Back in the apartment, Naoki watched with quiet pleasure as Zorua ate.
“Slow down.
I haven’t kept much Pokémon food around since I’ve never had one before.”
The snacks were leftovers from what Zorua hadn’t finished the night before.
Zorua made a soft sound but showed no sign of caring about any of that.
It lifted its head from the food and looked at Naoki, a ring of breadcrumbs dusting its small muzzle, gave a short cry, then dropped its head back down and kept eating with obvious contentment.
“How long has it been since you last had a proper meal?” Naoki asked, more to himself than anything.
He studied the Pokémon as it ate.
He was no professional Trainer, but even he could see that this Zorua had not been living well.
Its fur was dry and uneven, nowhere near the smooth coat of a Pokémon raised by a Trainer, and its frame was noticeably smaller than what the Pokédex described as typical.
It had been wandering for a long time.
Given Zorua’s timid nature, it had probably spent every daylight hour crouched in some hidden corner, watching the world from a safe distance, waiting for the streets to empty before slipping out under cover of night to find something to eat.
Poor thing, Naoki thought.
Then Zorua stopped eating.
It looked around the room, then sprang up, clawed at the door handle with its small paws, pushed it open, and bolted out.
“Zorua?”
Naoki blinked and followed.
The two of them came down to the ground floor.
Zorua darted straight to a patch of garden shrubs at the base of the building and came back with something held carefully in its mouth: a small, worn stuffed Substitute doll.
It carried it to Naoki’s feet and looked up at him, eyes wide with something hopeful.
Pale moonlight reflected in Zorua’s eyes like a still pool catching the night sky.
“Is this…
a gift for me?” Naoki crouched down and took the doll gently from its mouth.
Zorua gave a small cry in answer, then turned and ran back into the shrubs.
It returned dragging a stuffed plush toy nearly larger than itself, dirty and torn in several places, the kind of thing that had clearly been thrown away.
It dropped it at Naoki’s feet and looked up again.
“This one too?” Naoki asked.
Zorua nodded repeatedly with its whole body.
Naoki stood and watched it go back and forth.
Within a few minutes a small collection had formed at his feet: a cracked Poké Ball, a smooth glass marble, a bone-shaped chew toy meant for canine Pokémon, and a handful of other odds and ends.
Finally Zorua padded up to him one last time, looked up carefully, and made a quiet sound.
All these years Zorua had lived alone in this city.
During the day it hid in dark corners where no one would find it, venturing out only after the streets went quiet and dark.
Even then it rarely encountered people, but the city’s wild Pokémon were another matter.
Gangs of wild Meowth and Persian claimed the alleyways and the rubbish bins for blocks in every direction.
Any Pokémon that wandered into their territory was chased off or worse.
In all that time, no one had ever treated Zorua the way this person had.
The gratitude it felt had no easy shape.
These things it had gathered over the years were its treasures, the only things it had collected from a life spent in the margins of the city.
Tonight it wanted to give all of them away.
Naoki let out a quiet sigh.
This Pokémon had been alone for so long that a single act of kindness had made it want to hand over everything it owned.
He crouched down and rested a hand gently on top of Zorua’s small, fluffy head.
Zorua flinched instinctively, a small shudder passing through it.
But it did not pull away.
“Zorua,” Naoki said quietly.
“Would you like to be my Pokémon?”
Zorua was fragile in its early stages, but given time and proper raising it could become a genuinely formidable partner.
The Zoroark in the film had been capable of transforming into the likeness of the legendary Pokémon Entei, Raikou, and Suicune, channeling power that stood on equal footing with the real thing.
Zorua tilted its head and fixed its pale blue eyes carefully on Naoki’s face, reading the emotion behind his words with quiet attention.
“Wuu…?”
“Like the Trainers in Mesagoza and the Pokémon beside them,” Naoki said.
Zorua’s eyes lit up.
“Wuu!”
Could it really?
That was all Naoki needed to see.
He stood, gathered up every gift Zorua had brought him into his arms, and said, “Alright.
Let’s go home.”
He had no intention of throwing any of it away.
Zorua had carried each one to him with its own two paws.
Discarding them would have hurt it deeply, and Naoki knew that without needing to think about it.
Back in the apartment, the first thing he did was put the dirty plush toys into the washing machine and set them out on the balcony to dry afterward.
The torn parts he planned to stitch up once they were dry.
Zorua stood on the sofa and watched his every movement.
When everything was done Naoki reached into his bag and produced a Poké Ball he had prepared in advance.
Zorua looked at the ball and understood immediately.
Before Naoki could say a word, it stepped forward, held Naoki’s gaze for a steady moment, then pressed its small head firmly against the ball.
A beam of red light surrounded Zorua and drew it inside.
The ball shook once, twice, and then went still with a soft chime.
Caught.
Naoki noticed that the Pokémon function on his player panel had unlocked its full permissions at the same moment.
His team currently consisted of one Pokémon.
He pulled up the screen.
The layout was exactly like the games he remembered.
The first page displayed Zorua’s attributes, ability, and moves.
Pokémon: Zorua
Gender: Female
Type: Dark
Ability: Illusion
Strength: Beginner
Known Moves: Scratch, Leer, Memento, Extrasensory
The second page showed her profile.
Zorua, a Pokémon who wandered alone through the city.
Somewhat timid in nature.
A fateful encounter in Mesagoza.
Dislikes bitter flavors.
Sensitive to loud sounds.