Rusefox GF [Straight, Pokémon]

“Nuh-uh. No goddamn way!”
>Judging by the way she recoiled, that must’ve stung.
>It almost looked like she was going to curl up into a ball after your freaked-out rant.
>God, this is the kind of shit you’d see only in a movie.
>…
>The Zoroark in your bed had flattened her ears as you spoke.
>She only barely looked up at you.
>You weren’t ever a Pokémon trainer, but…
>She looked heartbroken.
>Then it struck you.
>If this was something from a movie, you might as well act like the main character.
“Tell me something only my friend would know!”
>She meekly glanced up at you.
“We played Mario Kart. Double Dash.” The fox mumbled.
>She toyed with the turquoise bauble holding her long, red and black hair together.
>”You always drove.” She continued. “You couldn’t see, but my stubby little paws couldn’t hold the controller.”
>You tried to maintain an unreadable face.
>”We beat every cup.”
>Well, that wasn’t wrong.
>But God, you just didn’t know.
>She could’ve spied on you from the windows or something.
>Maybe shapeshifted or whatever into something in the room to watch your every movement.
>God, you should’ve paid more attention in zoology class.
“Another.” You commanded.
>That lifted her spirits. She looked a little livelier now.
>”That time that lady’s Xatu got spooked by me? Do you remember?”
”Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”
>”He panicked, flapped his wings like crazy, and knocked himself out.”
>She gave a cuckoo sign, twirling a crimson claw in circles near her head.
>”Psychics get jumpy around dark types.”
>Well, you didn’t forget that one.
>And that added a layer of depth to that story.
>Come to think of it, was there ever a time psychic types didn’t give her a wide berth?
>She gave you a toothy smile.
>”I could’ve taken him.” She chuckled.
>You put a palm to your forehead.
>Man, this was a lot to take in.
>But Zoroark didn’t wait for you to respond this time.
>She kept talking.
>”Our first kiss was when we watched Star Wars.” She began. “The day before you left for college.”
>”I’d evolved by then, and, you know, I was worried I might lose you…”
>Oh God…
>”You know, when Leia kisses Luke for luck.”
>Her voice, you finally realized…
>”I called you a dork when you picked the movie.”
>She leaned close to your ear.
>”Dork.”
>It was the exact same.
>The tone, the pitch, the cadence…
 “So…” You trailed off.
>You weren’t even sure where to begin with this.
“Like, was that kiss real? Or just an illusion like… well, most of everything?”
>She pounced, wrapping her arms around your neck and standing on her tip-toes to push her lips against yours.
>…
>It really was her.

***

>You’d never walked here before.
>From your house, Zoroark took you on a byzantine path through town.
>Across yards, hopping fences, and alongside the train tracks past the industrial part of town.
>Her shortcuts were quicker than sticking to the sidewalks.
>Her human disguise was foolproof as far as you were concerned, but it didn’t make you invisible.
>The illusionist assured you no one would see the two of you as you trespassed over and under whatever was in the way.
>She saw little harm in scurrying where she pleased.
>No harm, no foul.
>It didn’t make you feel any less anxious.
>She took this route hundreds of times, back and forth, to get to your house.
>Admittedly, with you, it was taking her much longer.
>From a sad, run-down playground at the edge of town, you and Zoroark ventured into the wildlife preserve.
>She dropped her disguise when you were deep in the forest.
>Using a forearm, you pushed a leafy branch aside.
“How much further?” You asked your travelling partner.
>Zoroark sniffed the air and her ears flitted to different angles.
>”Close.” She said.
>”The stantler following us lost interest.”
>You turned around, glancing side to side.
>All you’d seen and heard on your trip was the usual bug and bird pokémon native to the area.
>”Smell.” Zoroark said, smiling and tapping her nose.
>”Be glad you can’t. Stantler in rut reek.”
>”Protecting his territory.” She surmised.
>Dark red fingers curled around your hand.
>”Now we’re entering mine.”
>She stood on her tip-toes to reach your cheek and give it a quick lick.
>”Hold tight.”
>You lost all sense of direction.
>You walked through seemingly solid objects, brushed past trees you could only make out when you squinted, looked behind you to find plants had moved, and you swore the sun moved to different positions in the sky.
>”Here we are.” She announced, letting go of your hand.
>It didn’t look like much.
>She brushed aside some shrubbery and dead wood to show you a hole in the hillside.
“Your den?”
>”Home sweet home.” She answered, crouching down and scampering inside on all fours with practiced ease into the darkness.
>You examined the hole in the dirt.
>Unable to see much, you took out your phone and turned on the flashlight.
>Two sapphire eyes stared back at you, and the light reflected off her toothy grin.
>She beckoned you in.
>Unsure if you’d fit, you took off your backpack and tossed it in to her.
>Slowly, carefully, you wedged yourself in feet first.
>The den was surprisingly spacious after you awkwardly crawled past the narrow entrance.
>The compact dirt barely rubbed away on your clothes.
>”One of a few I’ve used.” Zoroark said.
>”Kept all my stuff here.”
>You rounded a curve in the entryway to find a roomy area messy with all manner of trinkets.
>Her bed of old, faded blankets had seen extensive use.
>“Used to have one of leaves and straw.” She reminisced.
>She grabbed a blanket with a pattern you recognized.
“I gave you that one for Christmas a few years ago.” You said, smiling.
>”It was a bitter winter too. I needed that.”
>She stuffed the crumpled up quilt at the bottom of the backpack.
>Zoroark showed you a pile of books near her bed.
>”I had to teach myself how to read.” She said.
>Many of them were children’s books and had seen extensive use.
>”Still not that great.”
>You shrugged.
“I’ll teach you.”
>That got a smile out of her.
“Where’d you get these, anyway?” You asked, grabbing a book with cartoon aipom meant to teach kids about numbers.
>Her smile disappeared, replaced with a sheepish expression.
>”You’d be surprised what you can find if you know where to look.”
>You didn’t probe any further.
>Though it did shine a new light on all the gifts she’s gotten you over the years.
>Zoroark continued putting things in the backpack, sifting through piles of knick-knacks to find what was valuable or sentimental and what could remain.
>You sat down near her bed.
“So…”
“Why’d you wait so long? To tell me.”
>She slowed, examining a necklace that glinted in the light of your phone.
>”If I told you when we were young, would you have seen me as anything but a pokémon?”
>”What would your parents have done?”
>She had a point.
>”I was waiting for the perfect time.”
>She placed the necklace in a zipper pocket with other shiny objects.
>”Then I realized there wasn’t going to be one.”
>She shut the backpack with some difficulty.
>You hoped it would fit through the entrance.
>It didn’t.
>Zoroark found she couldn’t shove the bulbous backpack through.
>She apologized and took a moment to furiously dig away at the sides to expand the hole.
>She clambered out, telling you to push the backpack as she yanked on it to pull the heavy backpack into the open.
>She shook herself, flinging dirt out of her crimson mane, as you pulled yourself out.
>You reached into your back pocket, pulling out two smooshed but still wrapped granola bars.
>She clacked her claws together and came close as you opened one for her.
>”At first, I was only playing with you to get scraps of food.”
>She devoured the whole snack in a few bites.
>”Then it was because I realized I liked you.”
>You ruffled her hair and gave her an ear scratching.
“Get lonely out here?”
>You grunted at the weight of the backpack and pulled the straps over your arms.
>Your back would be sore tomorrow.
>”Sometimes.”
>”A few siblings of mine are still around.”
>Zoroark took you by the hand again, leading you out of the disorienting forest.
>It made as much sense to you now as it had when you entered.
>When the visage of your childhood friend reappeared, you knew the edge of the forest was near.
>To your surprise, she didn’t take the same route back and pulled you along the sidewalk.
>A welcome choice; you wouldn’t have the strength to scale any more fences with what you were carrying.
>As you neared home, the fox-woman insisted you take a small detour.
>She tugged at your sleeve, pointing down a street.
>You almost objected, but trusted she had good reason.
>She took you to an innocuous intersection of streets.
>So little traffic came through here there wasn’t even a sidewalk.
>”I was almost caught here.” She began.
>You stayed silent for a moment.
>The thought of Zoroark being caught by a trainer seemed an impossibility.
>She’d fooled you, family, and friends for over a decade. Her skill was incredible.
”How?”
>”A lucario walking with his trainer.”
>”Told his human on the spot. Sensed me through my disguise.”
>”I got lucky.”
>”All his trainer saw was a girl out for a walk.”
>”He came over to apologize for his lucario acting aggressive.”
“What’d you do?”
>”Practically sprinted to your house.”
 “When was all this?”
>”A week ago.” She answered.
>It took you an instant to make the connection.
“It was the day you told me your secret, wasn’t it?”
>She nodded.
>”I realized I might never get to see you again.”
>”Just one mistake and I could get caught and that’d be it.”
>You stepped closer and put your arms around Zoroark.
>”I didn’t want to say goodbye…”
>You shushed your pokémon, kissing the top of her head.
>Her disguise faltered a moment as her emotions got the better of her.
“Let’s go home.”

***

>Schlorp.
>Schlap.
>Schlup.
>Smack.
>You grimaced and shifted in bed, pulling the covers with you.
>The sounds came back.
>As your senses came to you, you realized there was light pressure on your head.
>You swatted at it and attempted to pull the bedsheets further up.
>The offending hand was pinned, and the noises continued.
>Schlurp.
>Schloop.
>Slurp.
>You grogilly awoke.
>Zoroark perched over you.
>It was too dark to see anything except the outline of her body.
“What’re ya’ doing?” You slurred together.
>The pokémon was silent for a moment, leaning close to check your hair.
>”Cleaning you.”
>You needed a moment to process what she said.
“What?”
>”Your hair smells funny. I’m cleaning it.” She answered.
>She continued licking your head.
>Your head got wetter as your sleepy brain finally put the pieces together.
>As gentle as you could, you grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back.
“Woah, woah, woah…”
“Okay…”
>The hand you brought up to pat your head came back soaked in poke-saliva.
“We gotta lay down some ground rules here.”
>You leaned over, turning on your phone’s light.
>The girl grimaced from the light, but you saw she’d shrunk back.
>Her ears were pressed against her skull.
>She looked just like when you yelled at her two days ago.
>Shit, you didn’t mean it like that.
“No, no! I’m not angry.”
>You shuffled forward in bed to hug her, and she timidly returned it.
“I’m… This is just a little confusing, okay?”
“You know I take showers, right?”
>”Yeah, but…”
>She tapped her index fingers together.
>”Mom and dad did this all the time…”
>You smiled at that.
“That’s cute.”
>”It lets others know you’re taken.”
>Oh.
>You opened your mouth to respond, but had no idea what to say.
>Women were confusing enough, but this was something else.
>You erred on the side of caution.
“Thanks.”
>She smiled.
“You can keep doing… whatever it is you need to do.”
>She continued ‘cleaning’ you, this time running her claws through your hair like a comb.
>It actually made for a nice massage.
>But you couldn’t let that earlier comment go.
 “You, uh… You do know what a shower is, right?”
>Zoroark examined your head again.
>She seemed content, and began kneading a spot on the bed next to you where she planning on curling up.
>”I know… of them…”
>It suddenly hit you your best friend had likely never used shampoo in her life.
“Tomorrow I’m giving you a bath.”
>”Oh? Like in the river?”
>She yawned.
“Yeah…” You trailed off, patting her head.
>You yawned and closed your eyes.
“Something like that…”

***

>Zoroark gasped.
>She looked over at you with wide sapphire eyes.
>”It’s warm!”
>You chuckled, watching her bring her hand closer to the showerhead to see if it was warmer higher up.
“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t know.”
“What’d you think I was doing when I went to shower before our dates?”
>”I had no idea.” She said, shifting her focus to the faucet handle. “How’s it work?”
“Oh, jeez…” You said, thinking. “Uh, there’s a few pipes behind the wall.”
>She nodded while rapidly twisting the shower faucet handle.
“One’s for hot water, another’s for cold, and uh…”
>You were interrupted by a high-pitched yip as the temperature quickly switched between cold and scalding.
>The pokémon backed up to you, worried she broke something.
>You readjusted the water temperature to something comfortable.
“Careful.” You warned.
>You grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the counter.
“Ever used shampoo?” You asked, already knowing the answer.
>The fox shook her head.
“A few articles recommended this one.”
>You popped the cap and gave it to her, and she took a tentative sniff.
>”Wild roses.”
“You like it?”
>”A little weird, but…”
>”If you say it’s okay.”
“I use this stuff myself.”
>You didn’t bother mentioning the stuff you used didn’t have a rapidash on the bottle.
>”Wash me.” She said, handing the bottle back to you.
>Given how much she valued grooming you last night, you figured she’d expect you to reciprocate.
“All right, let’s get your hair tie off.”
>Zoroark reached behind herself to cup the ponytail.
>She slid the turquoise bobble off with her free hand.
>You were dumbstruck for a moment.
>Her hair was gorgeous and wild, the thigh-length strands flowed free and spread out to give the appearance of a red and black spotted cape at her back.
>She twirled, flinging her hair in a circle and batting your chest.
>Her human disguise you’d fallen for had long, beautiful hair.
>It paled in comparison to the true thing.
>A claw tickled the underside of your chin, knocking you out of your stupor.
>She smirked.
>”Now you.”
“W-What?”
>”I took my clothes off.” She said, pointing to her azure headpiece on the counter.”
“I uh…”
“Uh…”
“I don’t think that really counts as-“
>Zoroark leaned closer, pressing her fluffy chest to yours.
>”Now.”
>She put a claw under your shirt and slowly pulled up.
>”You.”

***

>”What’s all this?”
“Trainer stuff.”
>You’d spread out everything you bought over the coffee table.
>Zoroark sniffed at the assortment.
>She picked up the red and black pokédex, turned it over, and fiddled with the latches.
>It almost matched the vibrant crimson of her wild hair.
 “You wouldn’t believe how stupid expensive that thing was.” You said, pointing a pencil at the device in her claws.
“Guess they make up for it by price-gouging the adults who never got one for free as a kid.”
>After experimentally pushing every button except the on/off switch she grew disinterested.
>”What’s it do?”
>You reached over and flicked the power on.
>The gray fox oohed as the screen lit up, and now her fidgeting brought up different menus and pictures.
>She sat next to you on the floor, trying her best to read the information presented.
>The complex scientific words and phrases used to describe sandslash anatomy and physiology made her lose any hope of figuring out what the text meant.
>Her interest turned to you.
>”And what are you writing?”
“Paperwork. For a license.”
“Criminal background check…” You pointed at one form.
“Authorization for a drug test…” You pointed at another.
>You dug to the bottom of the pile to show your partner the most annoying one.
“This one’s for league registration! As if we’re gonna travel around for gym badges or something.”
>You shook your head.
“And I’ve got to take a few night classes now. Something about handling each pokémon type, safety, first aid, and all that stuff.”
“I swear, when we were kids none of this stuff was a thing.”
>You signed your name and birthdate for the twelfth time.
“Government wouldn’t want to miss out on another source of income.”
>Zoroark leaned over and plopped her head into your lap, grinning up at you.
>”You’re stressed.” She declared.
>Correct.
>”Pet me.” She ordered.
>You sighed.
>She knew you too well.
>She already tilted her head, angling her ear up toward you for her desired scritches.
>You obliged.
>Zoroark leaned into your hand, cooing at the feeling.
>”All this work to catch pokémon?”
>”It’s silly.”
“Well…”
>Your free hand reached to your side, grabbing a white pokéball with red highlights.
“I’m only looking to catch one.”
“Oh?” Zoroark asked.
>You slid it into her hands.
>The premier ball clacked against her talons as she rolled it from hand to hand.
>”Pretty.”
>She held it at arm’s length, and it glinted in the sun coming from the window.
“Glad you like it.”
>You stopped your petting to get her attention.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
>”I know what I said.”
“It’s not too late for me to return a-“
>She shushed you with a red claw on your lips.
>”It’s too risky, otherwise.”
>”Some kid might capture me and we’d never see each other again.”
>You’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t worried you.
>”Losing a little freedom doesn’t mean anything if I’m with you.”
>You stroked her ear for that one.
>”In a weird way, it’s sorta like a wedding ring.”
“C’mon…” You began, embarrassed and thrown off guard. “Don’t say it like that…”
>Too late.
>You’d just given her free ammunition to tease you with.
>She turned the ball so the button was facing her.
>”I do.”
>She pushed the ball against her breast, and transformed into a hazy red light.

***

“You eat too fast.”
>”You eat too slow.” Your disguised friend said, licking her fingers.
>You’d taken your sandwiches to go and sat down on a bench in a nearby park.
>Though hidden behind the illusion of your longtime, childhood sweetheart, Zoroark made no effort to conceal her inhuman eating speed.
>You took another bite of your sub.
“Gotta learn to enjoy the flavor.” You said through a mouthful.
>”Oh?”
>”And what if a big, bad pokémon came by?
>A sly grin spread over your friends face.
>”Hungry and willing to fight to take what’s yours?”
>She stuck two claws at a slice of ham sticking out of the sandwich.
>With agonizing slowness, she pulled the meat away from the bread.
>You sighed and held your meal still, letting her have her treat.
>”You wouldn’t make it a day in the wild.” She declared, bringing the deli meat above her open maw and dropping it in.
“I know when to pick my fights.” You answered.
“That, and I need to get you a second sandwich next time.”
>For a minute, you ate in silence. Only the sound of the fountain and the occasional car driving past broke the peace.
>You thought Zoroark was eyeing your sandwich again, but you realized she was watching something at the center of the park.
>It got your attention too.
>The yellow and white fur was a stark contrast to the blue gazebo it stood in front of.
>The jolteon sniffed the air before focusing on and trotting towards you.
>”Smart girl.”
>You took another bite.
>”She knows a sucker when she sees one.” Zoroark teased.
>The eeveelution sat down in front of you.
>She didn’t look at the scrap of food you had left.
>She looked right at you.
>”Oh! You’re not the first.”
>”She’s done this before.”
>You sighed, tossing the stray pokémon the last bite.
>You’re pretty sure you didn’t see any “Don’t feed the Pokémon” signs here like at the waterfront.
>The spiky frills that you assumed where its tail wagged as she gobbled down the club sandwich.
>It was mostly crust anyway.
>THWACK!
>Your viewing was cut short when Zoroark staggered off balance, clutching the side of her head.
>The cause landed right into your lap.
>A poké ball.
>Surprised, the friendly jolteon bolted away at nigh incomprehensible speed across the park and out of sight.
>She howled at the jolt of pain, cut short when she turned red and dissipated into the ball.
>You sat there, stunned.
>The red and white poké ball thrashed in your lap.
>You grabbed and held it tight, afraid it falling to the ground might hurt Zoroark in some way.
>With a violent pop the sphere burst open, and your still-disguised Pokémon seized your arm and held you tight.
>She buried her face into your shoulder.
>”Woah!” A voice from your side exclaimed.
>A borderline obese teenager hobbled towards you.
>Your worry turned to anger.
>He saw your scowl.
>”Woah, hey man!”
>He raised his hands up in a submissive gesture.
>”Chill, man, I was only after the jolteon.”
>It had only been five seconds.
>Seeing as he hadn’t apologized yet, you guessed he wasn’t going to give one.
“The hell, man? What were you thinking throwing a ball with us so close?”
>”Uh, I wanted to catch the jolteon?”
>”Were you listening?”
>”Not interested in catching your gee eff.”
>”…”
“…”
>You stared each other down.
>With the silence, you suddenly realized Zoroark was faking sobbing.
>Tears streamed down her human face but didn’t wet your shoulder.
>”Wait…”
>”Balls can’t catch people…”
>He took a step closer.
>Zoroark took that as her cue.
>”G-Get away from us, creep!” Zoroark screamed, hamming up the distressed friend act.
>In an instant, she swiped the poké ball, primed it, and hurled it with all her strength at her attacker.
>At this distance, she couldn’t miss.
>Nailed square in the face with the ball, the top-heavy teen fell backwards.
>But Zoroark didn’t end her show there.
>Sounds of the telltale pop and fizzle of energy accompanied red lights appearing over the stunned man’s eyes.
>Zoroark gave you a sickly grin and clacked her claws together as the fat teen came to.
>He went still once he realized he was “caught” inside a poké ball, and experimentally began probing the area around him.
>His expression was one of terror.
“Don’t be too mean.” You whispered to the dark-type.
>”I won’t.” Zoroark said, grasping your hand and pulling you away.
>You looked back over the park, thankful nobody had seen the altercation.
>The teen began sobbing, calling out to the strangers “outside the ball” to let him out.
>”Mmm, I’ll give him another minute.” Zoroark said nonchalantly .
>You rounded a corner and walked down the street.
“You, uh…” You paused, looking around again to make sure you hadn’t attracted any attention.
>”Are you hurt?”
>She waved your worry aside.
>”Just a little bump. Hair cushioned most of it.”
>You sighed in relief.
“I’ve heard about thugs stealing pokémon, but I never thought it might happen by accident.”
>”Daww… Zoroark breathed, patting your head.
“I was so worried.”
>”Well, are you worried about your pokémon starving?”
“Wha-“ You began.
>Then smiled.
>”Because I could go for another sandwich.”

***

>The door closed.
>Finally, after twenty minutes of senseless bickering, you calmed those two coworkers down.
>You sighed, leaning back in the office chair and stretching your arms.
>You stared at the ceiling.
>Damn near every week with those two.
>And now you’d have to figure out where you left off on that order form.
>You wiggled the mouse, twitching it back and forth to wake the computer.
>”Those two fought like mating weavile.”
>Oh no.
>Your head jolted to your right, and there was Zoroark.
>Leaning against the oaken door with complete indifference.
>She smiled at your panicked expression.
>You were lucky nobody could see inside your office.
“How did you get here!?” You asked.
>Zoroark stared at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Right, right… dumb question?”
>You hurried to the office door, locking it.
>”Ugh!” Zoroark groaned.
>Zoroark flung herself into one of the office chairs and began spinning herself around.
>”So boring!”
“Have you been here all day? Hiding and watching me?”
>”Yeah. It’s easy.”
“Why?”
>”Wanted to see what your job was.”
>You huffed and plopped back into your own chair across the desk from her.
“You could’ve asked.”
>”Where’s the fun in that?”
“Well, you did just tell me you’ve been bored out of your mind.”
>Zoroark scrunched her face and huffed.
>”The fight was entertaining, I guess...”
>”Most exciting thing that’s happened all day.”
>You nodded.
“Yeah… Those two have been at each other’s throats for as long as I’ve been here.”
>A devilish smile crossed Zoroark’s face.
>”Maybe I should disguise myself as that angry guy with the glasses.”
>”Make a nasty comments to his friend.”
>She put air quotes around “friends.”
>”Spice things up around here.”
>You chuckled at the suggestion.
“God knows you could engineer some chaos around here.”
>Zoroark took interest in the random assortment of decorations on your office desk.
>”What are you even doing here?”
“Weren’t you watching me all day?”
>”Yeah, but I can’t exactly read all those words.” She said, pointing at the computer.
>”I don’t know what half of them mean.”
>You nodded your head in understanding.
”Anything and everything.”
”I help maintenance, make sure they’ve got all the tools and cleaning supplies they need.”
“I handle some customer complaints.”
“People like me, so they come to me with their problems.”
“You saw me handle yet another spat between those two jokers.”
“I help IT, I help with hiring, I…”
“I do a lot of things. No workday’s the same, I guess.”
>Zoroark remained silent.
“Probably not what you expected, but I’m part of the human system.”
>You shrugged your shoulders.
“Not always thrilling, but it pays well.”
>And you knew you didn’t need to explain money to her.
>Zoroark spent enough time hidden around humans to understand money could be traded for goods.
>The fox-girl sighed, folded her arms on your desk, and rested her head on them.
>”I dunno how you do it…”
>You pet her head, running your hands through her silky red hair.
“You.”
>That perked her mood up.
“Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve tried so hard if you weren’t around.”
>For a minute you continued rubbing her, stroking her ears and reaching beneath her chin to tickle her throat.
>”Are you done at your usual time?”
“Mmm hmm…”
>You glanced at the clock on your computer.
>Two hours.
>Long time for her to be bored…
“Hey, so listen…”
>The girl’s ears straightened.
“Some electric pokémon’s been screwing with the transformer behind the building. Makes the lights flicker. It’ll be a real doozie if that thing gets fried.”
“Funny, the two who were just in here used to be trainers but there’s a strict “No pokémon” policy for the workers.”
“I’d rather not have to hire one to get rid of whatever’s back there.”
>Zoroark’s face brightened, knowing what you were going to ask.
“You mind watching it ‘till I’m done? See if anything shows up?”
>She stood and stretched.
“I’ll get you when I’m done.”
>”Guard duty’s better’n nothing.” She said, turning invisible before your eyes.
>Despite straining your vision, the only thing you saw of her was the door unlocking and creaking open.

***

>With her mate at work, the scarlet-haired fox was free to explore her new home.
>She was familiar with the general layout.
>Before revealing her true form she’d seen the majority of the house.
>But following human social norms only told her so much.
>She was eager to look about without worrying about keeping appearances.
>There were cupboards, cabinets, and closets to pry into, among other things.
>The pantry was well stocked.
>She sniffed through the items available.
>It’s no surprise there were so many fat humans with all the scrumptious things available.
>No chance of starving anytime soon. There was enough in here to feed an entire pack.
>Dried rice… Hard pasta… Potato flakes…
>She frowned, realizing she had no idea how to make much of anything.
>She searched for anything she might be able to cook.
>Soups were nice, but salty.
>And she’d need a can-opener.
>The jar of tomato sauce she could probably twist open, but that alone wasn’t a meal.
>Ah!
>Her nose caught wind of a snack.
>She looked up, spotting a red box of those delicious buttery crackers.
>And it was open.
>After scarfing down a handful of biscuits she turned her interest to the cupboards.
>Strong chemical scents rankled her nose when she looked beneath the sink.
>She waved her hand in front of her face as she closed the door, wondering how humans could stand the heady detergents.
>Pots and pans were in another; some of them looked quite old and worn.
>Opening another cabinet made her reel back from more strong scents, but they were far more pleasant this time.
>The inquisitive pokémon inspected the racks of powders closer when she recognized the aromas.
>She couldn’t read the labels, but the smells were a cinch to recognize.
>That one was used on pork.
>This one had a picture of a pie on it, and it smelled like autumn.
>She opened up on, and recognized it was what Anon always put on chicken.
>This was making her mouth water again after the crackers dried it out.
>Humans sure knew how to make food taste good.
>Satisfied with her search of the kitchen, she scurried to the bedroom.
>The dresser’s shirts and pants bored her quickly, but the sock drawer caught her attention.
>She thought of trying a long gray pair on as it matched her fur, but through better of it when looking down at her red toe-claws.
>They’d probably poke right through the fabric.
>The thought of stockings reminded her of shoes.
>She vaguely remembered him pulling them out of the closet this morning.
>Sure enough, there were a few pairs on the floor.
>Why humans bothered wearing them was beyond her.
>Maybe it would help during the winter, to keep warm, but they had boots for then.
>She planned on asking sometime.
>The thought crossed her mind how she simultaneously knew much and almost nothing about humans at the same time.
>It’s amazing she was able to fake it over the years, thinking back on it.
>Then again, the guise of a weird, cute female worked wonders on men.
>Dank clothing in the laundry hamper didn’t interest her.
>She looked up to comb through all the shirts and pants he had.
>Why these ones needed to be hanging was a mystery. Maybe they couldn’t all fit in the dresser?
>While brushing them aside, she saw more things to peek at.
>Boxes in the corner.
>All the same shape and size, made of see-through plastic, and stacked upon one another.
>It was hard to see, and she carefully dragged the wobbly stack into the light.
>Zoroark wasn’t sure what she found.
>She peered into the topmost case.
>”Hmm…”
>It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing.
>Lots of pictures messily drawn with crayon or pencil.
>Photos too. Of someone she didn’t recognize at first.
>The school projects all had the same name on it though.
>She couldn’t read well, and this handwriting was especially messy, but she recognized it all the same.
>This was from before she met her love.
>Baby pictures, toddler doodles, and early-age school projects.
>His parents probably saved these.
>Zoroark had a few trinkets her parents gave her as keepsakes.
>She made sure to take them from her forest den when she moved in.
>Humans and pokémon weren’t so different in many ways.
>Intelligent pokémon, anyway.
>She hoisted the box aside to open the next treasure chest of goodies.
>Her face lit up, she remembered a few of these.
>Old Legos, matchbox cars, a few plushies, a beat up old board game.
>She pulled out a small, colorful football.
>She remembered throwing this around with (you) as kids.
>It took a lot of energy faking playing catch, she was still a zorua back then.
>Had to “miss” a lot of passes with her illusion and encourage him to kick the ball around on the ground instead.
>She squeezed it, and frowned upon discovering the once-loud squeak was now a pitiful wheeze.
>What a shame.
>She loved biting it over and over as hard as she could when she was little.
>Something in the box beneath caught her attention.
>She froze.
>G… A… M…
>Her eyes darted across the box’s contents.
>She assumed he’d given it away.
>”GameCube!” She said to no one.
>Sure enough, all the games they played together were in there.
>But she had fond memories of these.
>They were human-made illusions with rules.
>She told him what to do in games and he obeyed her to a T.
>With extreme care, she pulled the boxy console out.
>Surely she could get this working, right?
>It hooked up to the TV somehow.
>The jumbled mass of cords in the corner made her guess she needed them.
>It took a few minutes of untangling, but she separated the one with yellow, white, and red colors from the one with a box and prongs.
>Good thing there was a television right here in the room. It made for easy experimenting.
>The one with prongs plugged into the wall, she knew that much about human technology.
>Things didn’t work unless plugged in.
>And the shape of the other end of the cord fit into a specific spot on the GameCube, so she was sure that was correct.
>The colored plugs confused her for a few minutes.
> The GameCube didn’t look like it had places for them, but she reasoned it had to connect to the TV somehow.
>After carefully moving the TV to an angle on its stand, she found colored ports on the back.
>She assumed the colors had to match, and pushed them into the slots in a neat row.
>Card thingy in the front slot…
>Game in the middle, with the colored side facing up…
>The GameCube lit up when she pushed the power button, she could hear a soft whir.
>She turned the TV on, excited to see her game.
>She didn’t.
>Nothing showed up on screen except a cooking show starring a woman with a strange, creamy looking pokémon with strawberries on its head.
>She watched the pokémon, if it even was a pokémon, measure flour and sugar in a mixing bowl.
>The last hurdle to overcome was figuring out how to make things appear.
>She made it a goal to figure this out before those cookies came out of the oven.
>When she was younger, she remembered (you) fiddling with the buttons on the TV before playing every time.
>But this TV was different. It was wider and flatter.
>It took a few minutes to find there were smaller buttons next to the large on/off switch, and another few to test what each of them did.
>Fingers drummed against her head as she tried to make sense of it all.
>Volume.
>Brightness.
>Tons of useless menus.
>Then she stumbled upon the input button.
>By lucky accident, the girl hit the button twice and the happy Double Dash noises all but deafened her.
>The pride of figuring out out what to do gave her an ego boost.
>She tripped over herself plugging the controller in.
>She took a minute to get a feel for the controller.
>Definitely made for hands.
>Human ones to be precise, but hers fit the mold well now that she was an adult.
>Back then, her short zorua paws could only hit a few buttons at a time and her illusions could only hide so much.
>Should be easy to get back into.
>She picked her favorite characters, the red ones.
>Her favorite kart, the red one.
>And selected the track.
>The intro played.
>She forgot almost everything had a smiling face on it.
>Like a ditto trying to disguise itself, but not quite as good as her.
>The countdown began.
>3…
>2…
>1…
>Go!
>…
>…
>…
>She looked down at the controller.
>Where was the ‘go’ button?

***

”Woah, woah, woah…”
>Out of instinct, you backed away and your nose curled in disgust.
>“What?” Zoroark asked.
>She tried again to lean in to kiss you on the lips, but your hand on her forehead kept her at bay.
>You stared one another in the eyes as the seconds passed.
“What did you eat?”
---
>”How is it YOU can smell it but I can’t?” Zoroark questioned, breathing into her hand and trying to determine what was bothering you.
>You sighed and shook your head.
“Was the leftover turkey bad? Did you not like it?”
>”It’s great, but I spent all day in the forest.”
>”What was I supposed to do? Run all the way home just to eat?”
>You looked at her, dumbfounded.
“Yes.”
“If you’re options are leftovers or…
>You didn’t want to think about it again.
“Yes, absolutely come back.”
>With that settled, you pushed the bathroom door open.
“Can’t you just, I dunno, take a lunchbox with you or something? Put it in your hair, maybe?” You asked.
“I’ve seen you carry stuff in there.”
>Zoroark snickered at the thought.
>”Don’t be silly.”
>”Pokémon could track me that way.”
>With breath like hers, yeah, a pokémon could probably track her, you thought.
>You opened the bathroom drawer and pulled out everything you needed.
>A new, red toothbrush and a half-used toothpaste tube.
“Do you know what these are?”
>”I’ve seen you use them.”
>That didn’t answer your question.
“Yes, but what are they for?”
>That she didn’t know.
>You took out your own brush, the bristles slightly misshapen from overuse.
“You ever have a toothache?”
>”When I was younger, yeah, but they fell out, I think.”
“Acids, bacteria, all kinds of stuff can break down your teeth and damage the nerves.”
>You doubted she understood what most of that was, but hoped she’d follow your advice if it sounded smart.
“If you don’t brush your teeth, they’ll start to hurt.”
>You squeezed a dollop of minty paste on each brush.
“A couple minutes a day is all it takes. Make sure you get all sides of your teeth.”
>Zoroark sniffed at the peppermint dollop and grimaced.
“Don’t swallow either, just spit it when you’re done.”
>You began your demonstration for her, brushing your front teeth.
>She whined, looking at you with wide eyes.
>You put your foot down.
“No brushing, no kiss.” You said through a mouthful of foaming toothpaste.
>That was good enough for her.
>She gave the white goop a tentative lick.
>Her eyes went wide, and she leaned over the sink and practically heaved.
>She scraped her tongue with her claws.
>Tears formed at the corners of her shut eyes.
>Mid-panic attack, she remembered to turn on the water and began lapping at the stream to dilute the foul taste.
>You reached beneath her long red hair and rubbed circles on her back.
>”That’s terrible!”
>”How can you stand that?!”
>You stepped in front of her, spitting into the sink and rinsing the toothbrush.
>You should’ve seen this coming.
”Sorry.”
>Of course a pokémon would hate mint.
>You checked your phone to make sure it was still open.
 “We’re walking to the Pokémart.”
>Begrudgingly, your furry friend followed.
>”For what?”
---
“Don’t swallow it.” You warned again.
“Spit it out.”
>Zoroark smiled into the mirror, looking at your reflection.
>Who would have known there’d be berry toothpaste for pokémon?
>And in all her favorite flavors?
>You had to limit her to three and picked up a similar flavor of mouthwash for good measure.
>When asked what pokémon it was for, you and your “human” girlfriend lied to the cashier and said it was for an angsty charmeleon.
>”And what if I don’t?” She teased.
“No spit, no kiss.”
>She spit.

***

“97…”
>You brought the brush back to the top of Zoroark’s head.
“98…”
>A knot uncurled in her hair, briefly slowing the brush before you gently pulled through.
“99…”
>Zoroark sighed, swinging her legs up into the air and back down against the bed.
>The pokémon lay on her stomach, and alternated kicking the pillows with her left and right feet.
>”100.”
>The final brushstroke glided through her crimson hair like silk.
>Zoroark’s hair flowed across the bedspread behind her.
>Once she took her teal hairpiece out, you fanned her mane out as you worked.
>With hair reaching her ankles, it was no surprise she always opted to keep the strands tied in a ponytail.
>It wouldn’t stay untangled for long, but you were proud of your work.
“Wish I took a before and after picture.” You commented, smoothing out a lump in her red and black speckled hair.
>”My coat is beautiful!” Zoroark confidently chirped.
>”I need no pictures to see that.”
“Darn right it is.”
>You kneeled over, tickling the underside of her chin with an index finger.
>It wasn’t quite purring, but a soft rumbling told you she enjoyed the attention.
“It really catches the light when it’s clean.”
“Try not to get too dirty next time.”
>Zoroark cooed, and went back to pushing the round sapphire hairpiece between her hands.
“Want me to tie it the way you like it?” You asked, pointing toward the sphere.
>”No.”
>“Pamper me more.”
>You smiled, moving your finger to scratch the small bridge of her muzzle.
“Greedy girl.”
>”You spend too much time at that stuffy office.”
>”My time, now.”
>She angled her eyes and titled her head slightly to look up at you, awaiting your decision.
>She already knew how you’d answer.
“Well, what would you like?”
>She thought for a moment.
>She pointed at the remote next to the TV across the bed.
“Oh?” You said, reaching to pick it up and hand it to her.
“Wanna watch something together?”
>“Hmmm…”
>She flipped through channels at breakneck speeds, pausing only for a moment at some of her favorite spots.
>While clicking up to head to the cooking channel, she halted at an infomercial and gasped.
>”This one!” She excitedly declared.
>It was hard keeping a straight face.
>An announcer was speaking of the benefits of healthy blood flow to the legs as an elderly woman climbed into a specially-designed bathtub and activated a whirlpool.
>”I want that!”
“Really?”
>”Yeah, the TV man says it feels really good!”
>You chuckled.
“Of course he does. They all talk nice when trying to sell you something.”
>”Well, it sure looks nice.”
“Yeah, it does look comfy.”
>”Does your bath do that?”
“Our bath.” You corrected her.
“Our.”
>She smiled at that.
“And no. Ours doesn’t do that. You said, shaking your head.
“But, uh…”
“I think the public pool’s got some indoor hot tubs. They’ve got those water jets.”
>”Gah…” Zoroark groaned.
>”The water there smells bad.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s cause of the-
>”Tastes awful too.”
>You nodded.
”Yeah, that too. That’s the chlorine in the water.”
“Keeps pools clean. Not meant for drinking.”
>”Blegh…” Zoroark groaned, sticking her tongue out.
>”Don’t wanna go there…”  She grumbled.
>You thought about what she said for a moment.
“Hey…”
“You were with me a buncha times we went to the pool as kids.”
“You never really did more than dangle your feet in the water.”
“Always figured you were afraid of swimming.”
>”I swim fine.” Zoroark answered. “But that scent sticks to you for days.”
>”Always got worried some pokémon might track my den down that way.”
“Huh, how about that.”
“For what it’s worth, the water there always burned my eyes as a kid.”
“We don’t have to go there for a massage.”
>You crawled over the prone pokémon and rested on your knees.
>Your hands slid beneath Zoroark’s red hair and rubbed her shoulders.
>Your thumbs pushed through the thick, black fur at her neck to knead her trapezius muscles.
>Zoroark sank into the bed’s comforter and moaned.
>”Aaahhh… I’ve trained you well.” She proclaimed.
>Her voice raised and lowered in pitch as you kneaded her neck.
>With a thump, her treasured hairpiece fell to the floor below and rolled across the room.
>If she cared, she didn’t show it.
>At first you weren’t sure if the noise came from her or not.
>It started when you shifted from her upper back to her vulnerable belly.
>A constant, rhythmic “ack-ack-ack.”
>Like a mixture of a laugh and a purr.
“Someone ticklish?” You asked, thrusting fingers deep into her gray coat and tracing circles across her toned muscles.
>Her chittering laughter-purr reached its peak when your fingers reached beneath to tease her abdomen.
>Her body shuddered in confusion.
>Part of her wanted to press herself into your hands for a deeper massage, and the other half wanted her to get away from the tickling.
>When she began batting at your hands through her laughter, you showed her mercy.
>You reminded yourself to look up some shiatsu techniques for that part of her body to relax her next time.
>After brushing the long strands of hair aside, your hands clamped to her legs.
>The girl wriggled beneath you as focused both hands on her right thigh.
>She lifted the leg up and stretched it as far as she could, clenching her toes in delight.
>The muscles here never get stimulated so deep.
>You switched to the other leg.
>Once your fingers dug into the muscle here, the effect was immediate.
>Her leg kicked.
>And you quickly discovered that a little pressure in a certain spot caused the girl’s leg to kick in response.
>You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to play with it.
>She arched her head off the bed and yipped at the strange feeling.
>The pokémon’s tongue lolled out.
>She began panting.
>The temptation to call her a good girl was overwhelming.
>You almost did.
>But then Zoroark looked you in the eyes.
>And without words, she told you precisely what she wanted.
>She raised her haunches off the bed.
>Wordlessly, you obliged.
>She wasn’t a girl.
>She was a woman.

***

>You couldn’t blame Zoroark; you really couldn’t.
>The pokémon spent over a decade disguising her actual appearance from you.
>It was more than a personality quirk, it was something instinctual.
>It took years to build up the courage it took to show you she was a pokémon, not a human.
>But revealing herself to a stranger?
>Downright unthinkable.
>Absurd.
>Foolish.
>You heard everything from her.
>And you sympathized with her.
>You understood keeping her human disguise up in public.
>But not wanting to see a physician at the Pokémon Center?
>You didn’t know what to do.
>She wouldn’t budge, not at first.
>Slowly but surely, her attitude changed over the months with your gentle probing.
>”Only in an emergency” soon became “Only for my favorite foods.”
>Hearing she’d live longer if she got regular checkups was a strong persuader.
>That was good enough for you.
>”Alright... And do you have her pokéball with you?”
“Yes.”
>You showed the receptionist the white premier ball.
>”Perfect. Check here.”
>You checked the box.
>”Sign and date here.”
>You did so.
>”Thank you!”
>”The nurse is with a trainer right now. Please, have a seat. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
>She gestured at the waiting room strewn with all manner of magazines.
>You cupped Zoroark’s pokéball in both hands as you sat down.
>Should’ve invested in a backpack.
>Darn thing was too large to fit in your pants pocket, and you weren’t keen on carrying a purse with you.
>Despite it working when you left the house, you didn’t trust your belt to hang onto the pokéball.
>She so rarely had to get in her ball, it was surreal to transport her like this.
>But she couldn’t exactly waltz in with her human disguise and get checked out, lifelike as her illusions seemed.
>That, and people would know the truth.
>You wondered how the public would react to finding out the chipper girl you’re always with was actually Zoroark.
>The thought was unsettling.
>But the thought of losing the pokéball terrified you more.
>You sat the ball in your lap and examined the nearby magazines.
>You grabbed a handful, thinking how these magazines were likely still around only because of waiting rooms like this.
>Fishing.
>Economics.
>Hunting.
>Big ‘Mon catching.
>Science and Tech.
>You settled for a consumer magazine and passed the time reading about a built-to-order line of pokéballs meant to match a pokémon’s natural colors.
---
>“Not every day you get to examine a Zoroark.” The nurse said, mulling over the chart from the front desk.
>The nurse was quiet a moment as she typed at the examining room’s computer.
>”Last time one was in here was years ago. Tried to pass himself off as a mienshao for a while.”
>“Where’d you catch her?”
“Oh, uh…”
>You sat down in the chair provided for you.
“Found her at a playground as a kid and she… followed me home.”
>The nurse smiled.
>”Now that is adorable.”
>”Funny enough, something similar happened to my brother and his kecleon.”
>More typing.
>”Okay, let’s get a look at her.”
>You pushed the pokéball’s button.
>Zoroark materialized before the examination table.
>The pokémon examined her surroundings.
 >Her movements appeared casual, but you saw through the act.
>She was tense, looking for escape routes and anything that might hurt her.
>She eased up once she saw you smiling at her, but the discomfort of being undisguised in public remained.
>”Hmm… Bit taller than average…” The nurse guessed.
>”Zoroark, please step here.”
>”Stand up straight.”
>The dark type obeyed, and stood against the wall.
>”A bit taller than average.” She noted, jotting the measurements.
>”She stands more upright compared to wild zoroark.” The nurse noted.
“Is that bad?” You asked, worried.
>”Not at all, her posture’s fine and her core muscles seem strong.”
>”Zoroark around humans tend to stand straighter than those living in the wild. Perfectly normal.”
>Your pokémon stood straighter upon hearing that.
>”Now step on the scale.”
>Zoroark did so.
>”Healthy weight, as expected.”
>”Have a seat here, please.”
>The nurse patted the paper atop the cushioned exam table.
>Zoroark hopped up. Paper crinkled as she adjusted herself.
>”Just relax. I’ll be checking your arms here.”
>The nurse took Zoroark’s right arm in her hands, and gently bent it to see the range of motion.
>She repeated the process with the left and documented the results.
>The nurse explained the purpose of measuring blood pressure to the silent fox.
>You guessed she did this to every pokémon that came through her office to keep them calm.
>As the cuff inflated around Zoroark’s right arm, you saw her left hand fingers rap against the exam table.
>Were it not for you in the room, she might have stabbed the bladder with her claws to stop the discomfort.
>She locked eyes with you through the procedure, only snapping to the nurse when she announced “114 over 71.”
>“Perfect for her age.”
>Zoroark sighed in relief as the pressure disappeared.
>The dark-type was visibly confused by the next test though.
>The nurse grabbed a hammer with a triangular head and tapped her knee.
>Zoroark’s eyes widened in surprise as her leg kicked without her willing it.
>She was concerned by that until the doctor explained it was a healthy, normal response.
>The nurse continued the evaluation.
>Leg motion? Normal.
>Eyesight? Sharp.
>Teeth and gums? Regular brushing kept them clean.
>Fur and hair? Beautiful and healthy.
>Aches or pains? Nope.
>Perfect health across the board.
>But there was one final gauntlet for Zoroark.
>”Such a good patient!” The nurse congratulated Zoroark, patting her head.
>Zoroark smiled at that.
>The nurse turned to you.
>”Just talk to my assistant down the hall and he’ll get the blood work done.”
>Zoroark froze.
>Her eyes widened.
>Her hair stood up.
>”You two have a good day! The nurse announced as you left the room, dragging Zoroark with you.
>If the nurse noticed your pokémon’s dread, she said nothing.
>She curled an arm around yours and rapidly looked up and down the halls.
>”Blood!?” Zoroark angrily whispered to you?
>”Are they golbats!?”
>”You said they wouldn’t hurt me!”
>The terror and anger in her voice was understandable.
>But the betrayal in her voice hurt.
>She looked crushed.
>Like you were trading her away or releasing her into the wild.
>She clutched your arm like a child thinking their parents abandoned them on their first day of school.
>You shushed her with a smile.
>If she saw you were happy, she’d be easier to calm down.
“Don’t worry, it’s only to make sure you’re healthy.”
>She was on the brink of crying.
>She sniffled, staring at the floor while walking alongside you.
>Her ears pressed against her head.
>“O-Okay…”
“I’ve had my blood taken before too. You won’t feel a…” You trailed off.
>You had to be honest with her.
>You seem to recall a physician using that line on you as a kid, and you absolutely felt a some pain.
“It’ll feel like a pinch or a mosquito bite.”
“I’m sure you’ve gotten into a few fights before. Maybe you’ve seen some bloody stuff; it’s nothing like that.”
>She looked into your eyes, meek and submissive.
>”Promise?”
>You looked up and down the hall to make sure the coast was clear.
>”Promise.”
>A quick peck on the forehead gave her a smile.
>You went into the new room together.
>Save for the sink and cabinet of medical supplies, the area was small and barren.
>The nurse’s assistant directed the pokémon into a seat, and for you to stay next to her for comfort.
>He tied off Zoroark’s arm and showed her the needle, explaining what he’d be doing.
>Zoroark didn’t care.
>She shut her eyes tight and buried her head into your shoulder.
>The assistant shrugged his shoulders and continued.
>He spread her gray coat aside, searching for a suitable vein.
>After finding one he sanitized the area with an alcohol wipe and poked the needle in.
>Zoroark trembled, but didn’t look.
>Her free hand gripped you as a source of comfort.
>She didn’t look as the syringe filled with blood.
>Zoroark slowly opened her eyes when she felt something sticky pressed on her arm.
>”Leave the bandage on for an hour.”
>Zoroark poked and sniffed the pink-colored bandage.
>”No battling for the rest of the day.”
>”If you get dizzy, lie down.”
>She nodded her head.
>”Keep her out of the pokéball. She’ll recover quicker.”
>”We’ll call if anything shows up on her tests.”
“Is that everything?”
>”Mmm hmm.” The assistant said, opening the door for the two of you.
>”Have a good day.”
>You and Zoroark walked out of the clinic.
>Lucky for her, it was early in the morning and there wasn’t any foot traffic.
>She took you by the arm, led you down an alley, and assumed her usual disguise by the time you came out the other side.
>Her hand slinked into yours.
>Your fingers intertwined with hers.
“You did good.”
>”I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
>”That was embarrassing.”
“That was natural.”
>You squeezed her hand.
“I was scared the first time too. Everyone is.”
>”I’m supposed to be the strong one…” She mumbled.
>You chuckled at that.
>That was the case.
>Not like you had any fancy dark powers or fire-breath.
“Yeah, I guess so.” You said, shrugging your shoulders.
“But you deal with problems by making sure to avoid them in the first place.”
“You’re smart like that.”
>She smiled and rubbed the spot where her Band-Aid was.
>You noticed she included it with her human disguise.
“C’mon.” You said, pulling her towards a convenience store.
“I always got a lollipop or a treat or something after every doctor’s appointment.”
“Gotta keep the tradition going.”
>The pokémon clacked her claws together as you searched the aisles for sweets to share.

***
>You yawned, walking to the dresser.
>Zoroark sat atop it, kicking her feet.
>”Good morning!” She said.
>She shifted her feet when you opened a drawer and began dressing.
>Not this one.
>Being na;ked in front of her would’ve gotten some kind of reaction.
>You changed in front of her, tossing your pajamas atop the zoroark in your laundry hamper.
>She only hops in there when the clothes are warm and fresh out of the dryer.
>You walked out of the bedroom, beneath the zoroark hugging the ceiling fan.
>She’s much lighter than you, but you doubt that old thing could support her weight.
>The sight of the dark-type scuttling spiderlike down the hallway made you jump.
>Her body was arched like a bow and dragged her crimson hair across the floor.
>Her tongue flicked in and out her mouth like an ekans or a serperior.
>You felt your heart race.
>That’s what you get for watching ‘The Exorcist’ with her.
>It lunged at you.
>Instinctively, despite knowing it was mere illusion, you closed your eyes and brought your hands up.
>When you opened them again, the possessed zoroark had vanished.
>You entered the bathroom, locking the door behind you.
>You checked your face in the mirror, wondering if a shave was necessary.
>Three grinning zoroark heads peered past the shower curtain to watch you.
>Two peered out the left and right sides. One glanced over the top.
>Thankfully, they disappeared when you sat on the toilet.
>Good thing too; doing your business in front of Zoroark, illusions or no, felt like crossing a line.
>You took out your phone and browsed through the top news headlines.
>To your surprise, the news stories featured Zoroark.
>The first was her among a crowd of people and pokémon. You wouldn’t have caught it were it not for her bright red hair.
>You kept scrolling, finding her in more pictures.
>Zoroark virologist talking about a new illness.
>Zoroark trainer heading to the state finals with her all zoroark team.
>Zoroark: The Movie announcing the casting choice of the one and only Zoroark.
>Zoroark model winning the Miss Universe title.
>Zoroark politicians discussing bills to fund zoroark schools.
>You’d have to congratulate her later over the phone trickery. That was impressive.
>How she did any of this was beyond you.
>That went for most pokémon abilities, but she was something else.
>You washed up and headed out.
>Zoroarks of all shapes and sizes spread themselves over the living room.
>You took a minute to stop and assess each one.
>They all had something setting them apart from the original.
>One had one too few digits on her hands and fingers.
>She fiddled with your game consoles beneath the TV.
>Another had slimmer hips than the one you knew.
>A giant Zoroark sprawled herself over the couch, taking it up in its entirety and overfilling it.
>Her large paws and head stretched past the armrests on both sides of the sofa.
>The temptation to leap atop her was real.
>You’re pretty sure the one near the fireplace was male.
>One had too small breasts, and another two sizes larger than the real thing.
>One had a bushy red tail, which was wagging back and forth.
>She timidly waved and approached you, began sniffing your clothes.
>The last one at the entrance to the kitchen had rounded ears instead of ones that came to points.
>Her hair was being brushed by your na;ked “human” girlfriend without a care in the world.
>A Zoroark greeted you at the table. This one sat in a chair waving a small “Zoro-Fest” pennant in her hand.
>Two more crimson-haired foxes, one with a chef’s hat and another in an apron, placed a humble breakfast of berries and oatmeal in front of you.
>Zoro-Fest girl also got a bowl.
>You looked at the three of them again.
>She made it “easy” for you: it was always one in the kitchen.
>You needed the handicap; she was too good at this.
>Nothing obvious was off.
>Once again, you took a guess.
>You ate a spoonful of breakfast and pointed towards the one waving the flag at the table.
>Each pokémon clapped, and you heard cheering from the living room.
>The illusory beings, props, and sounds melted away, leaving you with the true zoroark.
>”Lucky guess.”
 “E’yup.”
>You swallowed another goopy glob of tart oatmeal.
>You held back a grimace.
>Healthy, but not the tastiest.
>That being said, her improvement over the months was undeniable.
“Good job with the news stories.” You complimented.
“No idea how you pulled that one off, but that was incredible.”
>”A magician never tells her secrets.” She explained.
>The proud girl puffed her chest at that.
>You nodded your head.
>You wouldn’t understand if she explained.
>Zoroark scooched her chair closer to yours before digging in.
>She opted not to use a spoon.
>Whether it was animal instincts making her eat fast or because she loved what she made, you couldn't tell.
>Maybe both.
>She lifted the bowl and tilted it back, gulping down a mouthful of oats and crushed berries that stained her lips blue.
>She leaned in, leaving a light blue tint where her warm, sticky lips kissed your cheek.


***

>You reached in and flicked the light switch in the dark bathroom.
>Unlike the thousands of other times you’d done this, your heart jumped.
>An unmoving furry blob on the tiled floor blocked your path.
“The hell are you doing?” You asked Zoroark.
>The pokémon lay on her stomach.
>It looked like she was pressing as much of herself against the floor as possible.
>A messy, unfolded towel was her makeshift pillow.
>You got no response aside from a tired groan.
>You knelt down, jostling the pokémon.
“What’s wrong?”
>”Sssh’too hot.” She mumbled.
“Too hot?”
>”Mmm hmm…” The dark-type trailed off.
>Summer was not treating her well.
>Standing next to the open refrigerator.
>Eating ice.
>Cool showers and baths.
>You’d seen her do everything.
>You sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.
>She stretched a little bit as you fingers dug beneath her coat.
“Look.”
“You sure you don’t want a shave?”
“That fur’s not making this easy.”
>”Nooooooo…!” Zoroark stressed.
>”Ugly.”
“No, you’re not.”
>”But I WOULD be ugly.”
>You sat on the floor next to her head.
>You brought out your phone and launched the web browser.
>’short hair zoroark shave’
>And went to images.
>…
>Okay, yeah…
>…
>You scrolled down.
>…
>”Ugly” Zoroark repeated.
>Her point was valid.
>They all looked oddly skinny and… off…
>Like a shaved meowth.
“For the record, I didn’t mean a haircut.”
>At the mention of it, she hugged a bundle of the long crimson strands to her chest.
>She ran her claws through it like a comb.
“It’s just, I dunno…”
“It’s like you’re wearing a winter coat or something.”
>You reached above to the countertop, feeling for Zoroark’s hairbrush.
>You set to work straightening some of her tangled locks.
“What’d you do when it was hot in the forest?”
>”Sleep.” She answered. ”Come out at dusk.”
>”Can’t do that now, though.”
“Why’s that?”
>”S’not like I need to hunt anymore.”
>”And I won’t see you if I sleep all day.”
>A smile crossed your face.
“Tell you what.”
“I’ll crank the AC up.”
>The mention of air conditioning got the groggy girl’s attention.
“Just… promise you won’t lie down in the bathroom anymore, okay?”
>You took her grunt as a yes.
>Half-draped over you, she pulled herself up with a hand on the counter.
>The house cooled unevenly, with the living room tending to get colder than the rest of the rooms.
>Once Zoroark fell in a chaotic heap atop the couch you set the thermostat lower.
>No doubt the house would feel like an ice trainer’s within the hour.
>And would stay there for the next couple months.
>But putting on a long sleeve shirt was worth Zoroark’s comfort.

***

>”But this barely scratches the utility of illusions.”
>”A species doesn’t survive for thousands of years without picking up a few tricks along the way.”
>”This recently evolved male is on the hunt.”
>”Young, and brimming with confidence.”
>”He has ventured far from home in search of a hearty meal.
>”Something for him, and his pack.”
>The camera showed the small zoroark freeze and lift his head, flicking his ears to better hear the sounds of the forest.
>”This man has a nice voice.” Zoroark remarked.
“Mmm hmm.” You agreed.
“He’s from Galar. Guy’s narrated tons of nature documentaries.”
>In the blink of an eye, the zoroark melted away.
>The camera switched to thermal imaging, allowing the viewer to see the otherwise invisible zoroark.
>Without disturbing the foliage around him, the hunter moved forward.
>”He’s close.”
>The next shot focused on a small, unmoving deerling curled in a ball.
>The color of its coat blended in almost perfectly with the brush around it.
>”This deerling, born in the summer, has the ideal camouflage for this environment.”
>”Coupled with the deerling’s lack of scent, predators can walk right past without noticing.”
>”But for this dark-type, seeing through illusions is second-nature.”
>After a tense few seconds of getting into position, the fox pokémon sprung.
>”It’s over in an instant.”
>You grimaced at the brief, one-sided slaughter.
>Zoroark, curled up next to you, smiled and clapped.
>”Good kill.” She commented.
>”But not without a problem.” The narrator continued.
>”Oh?” She asked, no longer clapping.
>”The struggle has attracted the attention of the mother.”
>A sawsbuck bounded into the clearing.
>She halted before drawing near where she left her young, unable to see what she was dealing with.
>”For any other predator, this position would be tenuous.”
>”This sawsbuck is almost twice the zoroark’s size.”
>A hoof pawed at the dirt.
>”And she is ready for a fight.”
>”But for a zoroark, all it takes is a little imagination.”
>You weren’t sure what it was at first, but you heard faint mightyena barking.
>The mother took a step back.
>A pack of a half-dozen fake mightyena burst through the foliage and towards the sawsbuck.
>Frightened, the mother bounded off at impressive speeds.
>And wasting no time, the zoroark took off in the other direction with his prize.
>”Another successful hunt.”

***

“Oh shit, is it that bad?”
>Your eyes switched between the road and your passenger.
>”D’ooooooohhhhhhhh…” Zoroark lolled when you turned around a bend.
“Should I pull over?”
>Zoroark clutched her stomach tighter.
“We aren’t far from home. Think you can make it?”
>The pokémon was silent for a moment, trying to compose herself.
>Then you took another turn.
>She groaned again and shook her head, flinging her red hair side to side.
“Hoo boy…”
“There’s a park ahead, just keep it together.”
>You slowed down the car far ahead of your destination, not wanting to jerk to a stop.
>Last thing you needed was a messy vehicle.
>Your car coasted into a parking spot.
“Think you can keep a disguise up?” You asked, putting a hand over her shoulder.
>Zoroark’s eyes widened.
>She hadn’t noticed she dropped her human visage once her symptoms flared.
>Light bent and twisted around her.
>In an instant, your girlfriend appeared in her stead.
>Her human form looked as sickly as her real self.
“Look, I know you’re not keen on visiting there again but…”
>You pulled the white premier pokéball from the glove compartment between you.
“Do you want to see the nurse?”
>”No, no, no…”
>”It’s, uh…”
>Her fingers fiddled with the door handle.
>”Nothing serious.”
>She pulled herself out.
>One hand clutched the car door for support while the other held her stomach.
>You jammed the pokéball into your pocket and ran to help.
>In case this was serious, she was getting in the ball whether she liked it or not.
>With an arm behind her back, you guided her into the park.
>Pachirisu scampered up trees and fletchling tweeted while you slowly meandered towards the bathrooms.
>The closer you got, the worse things looked.
>Beautiful as the park was, the brick restrooms hadn’t been maintained for some time.
>Webs were everywhere, full trash cans buzzed with activity, and the stink of organic waste saturated the air.
>The moment of truth came.
>Ahead of Zoroark, you pushed the heavy metal door open.
>You saw the inside for a fraction of a second.
>Zoroark didn’t need to see it to know what to expect; the stench hit you both like a truck.
“Nope.”
>No wonder the wild pokémon weren’t near these things.
>”Could’ve told you that.”
>Zoroark doubled over and growled, but regained her composure just as quick.
>The dark-type pointed towards a red picnic table across the park.
>In the shade and thankfully upwind from this disaster.
>”Just… need to sit.”
>A flock of birds tweeted overhead as you carried her over.
>You couldn’t quite make out the species.
>Leaning on you for support, she swung her legs over the bench and sat down.
>She slumped over, her upper body rested atop the picnic table facing you.
“How’s it feel?”
>”I dunno… I thought I was gonna hurl but now it’s cramps.”
>”Like eating bad berries.”
“Ugh, jeez… I’m sorry.”
>Zoroark shrugged, rubbing her belly.
“Have you felt down the past few days?”
>She shook her head.
>“Started right before we got in the car.”
“Maybe we should see the doctor.”
>Another head shake.
>Hell of a way to start your weekend vacation.
>But you wouldn’t go anywhere with your friend like this.
“You didn’t eat something off the ground again, did you?”
>The dark-type rolled her eyes.
>”Wasting food is unwise.” She said.
“Well… yeah, but I would’ve bought you another cone.”
>Zoroark huffed.
>”It was perfectly fine.”
“But it fell on the floor.”
“It was dirty and sticky.”
>”I’ve eaten food off the dirt all my life, you know.”
>She snickered.
>”When I was a zorua, my mouth was my only hand, if you get what I mean.”
>”Whenever you gave me something back then I drooled all over it.”
>”Put everything down if I had to adjust my bite.”
>To emphasize her point, she opened her mouth wide and swished her long tongue around.
“Eh…” You trailed off, thinking about all the things you did with her back then.
>It made sense.
>The gymnastics she had to pull to fool you when she was a tiny zorua had to have been a sight to see.
“We’re lucky the ice cream guy thought you were doing it to be funny.”
>”Had I known it wasn’t normal, I wouldn’t have done it.” She snapped.
>You sighed.
“I know, I didn’t mean it in a bad way.
“It’s just funny to think about.”
>”Almost getting found out isn’t funny.” Zoroark pouted.
“No, no, of course not.”
“But I’d never seen anything like it before.”
“You just pushed the scoop right back onto the cone like nothing happened.”
>You snickered.
“The look on the guy’s face was priceless.”
>Zoroark put her head on the table and groaned.
>After a minute of quiet she spoke again.
>”So why not?”
“Hmm?”
>”Why is it so bad to eat like that? Something off the ground?”
“Might get sick.” You answered, matter-of-factly.
“Though, I’d guess your immune system’s better than mine.”
>She raised an eyebrow at ‘immune system’, but that was a conversation for another time.
>This was confusing enough for her.
>You kept it simple.
“Might give you a headache, give you a cold, or, you know, a stomach ache. Like now.”
>You almost reached over to rub her belly, but thought better of it.
>Zoroark stared at the tree above for a moment, thinking.
>”It was in a bag.”
“What was?”
>”The food I ate.”
>”It was bagged like most human food.”
“Okay, well, that’s something.
“Think it made you queasy?”
>The pokémon nodded.
“Let’s take a step back here, what was it, exactly?”
>Zoroark looked around the park twice.
>Satisfied nobody would see, she reached into her invisible mane and pulled something out.
>She slapped the almost flat package on the table.
>Beef jerky.
>You’d bought a few bags of this for your road trip.
“Huh…”
“Maybe it was the spices or something.” You guessed, examining the bag.
”So, you tried a piece or two and it’s not sitting well with you?”
>Her stomach gurgled.
>”More like… four...”
>”Bags?” She smiled, hoping to relieve some of the tension.
“Four?” You repeated after a stunned silence.
“Did you eat all the jerky at once?”
>”W-Well, it wasn’t very filling…”
>Her stomach burbled again.
>”And it wasn’t on the floor…”

***

>”What are you doing?”
>You jumped, jostling the mouse and throwing your aim off a moment before you readjusted.
>One would think you’d be used to her doing that after all these months.
>You saw a small smirk on her face out of the corner of your eye.
>Another successful show of stealthiness.
”TF2.” You answered.
>Zoroark furrowed her brow.
>”I don’t know what a tee-eff is.”
“Oh, right.” You said, rounding a corner to fire at a scout.
“Team Fortress 2. It’s fun.”
>Zoroark scratched herself and stood next to you, watching.
>After beating an oblivious sniper to death with your melee weapon she pulled over another chair.
>”What do you do?”
“Uh, it depends.”
“Sometimes, you have to capture something the other team has.”
“Here, my team has to stop the blue guys from pushing a kart.”
>You demonstrated, shooting at the distant payload as three teammates swarmed the attackers pushing it.
“Other maps have you capture points.”
>”Points?”
“Uh…” You needed a moment to think.
>Thankfully, your head was blown off by the sniper with the ugly hat from earlier. He waved in your killcam.
”Territory. They’re fighting over an important spot that you have to stand on to capture.”
>”Hmm…”
>”How do you know who to hunt?” She said, pointing to your weapon.
>You smiled at her odd choice of words.
”You’re either red or blue. You go after the other guys.
>”So you’re red?” She deduced.
>”Good.” She said, running her claws through her crimson hair like a comb.
>”What do you look like?”
>You jumped to a safe spot and taunted.
>”He has a nice hat.”
“Thank you.” You said, smiling.
>Favorite hat on your favorite class.
>Unfortunately, your spot wasn’t as safe as you hoped.
>A spy backstabbed you a few seconds after your death.
>”Oh! What happened!?”
”He killed me. With a knife.”
>You silently scolded yourself for not paying attention to the decloak noise.
>”So… Dying doesn’t really kill you?” Zoroark asked, puzzled at your respawn.
“Kind of? You’re out of the game for a few seconds.”
>”Huh. Weird.”
>“Why isn’t he fighting back?” Zoroark asked, pointing at the screen again.
>This time at a friendly blue heavy.
>He tossed you a sandvich, spamming the “Good Job!” lines.
>Thanks! You answered.
“He’s friendly.”
>”He could kill you if you turn and keep going down the track.”
>”Kill him.”
>Stone cold.
>But you let your pokémon call the shots this time.
>A single, lucky crit obliterated him into a pile of giblets.
>Zoroark clapped, pleased at the violence.
>”Now that one.” She said, pointing at a new opponent. “He’s away from his pack.”
“Good call.” You said, heading towards the lone engineer your friend singled out.
*One successful defense later*
>”Can I try?”
“Of course!” You answered, reaching over and hugging the fox.
>She giggled as you half pulled her into your computer chair.
>You slid off and swung around to sit in her previous seat.
”There’s a map called “Mario Kart. You wanna see it?”
“Good for beginners, I think.”
>She perked up at that, nodding quickly.
“It’s a custom map, so it won’t look like the one I was just on.” You warned.
“But it’ll let you figure out how to move and shoot, so...”
>Zoroark kicked her legs as you brought up a list of servers.
>”That’s a lot of words…” She said, watching the gray browser refresh.
>”I can’t read any of them. It’s too fast.”
“Same.” You agreed.
> You clicked on a near-full server hosting one of the many Mario kart variants.
>The strangeness did not go unnoticed.
>Zoroark looked at you quizzically, confused at how different everything looked.
>But she still wanted to try. She picked heavy as you pointed out everything she could do.
>The first thing she did was mow down a conga line and cackled at her murder spree.

***

“You sure you don’t want the knife?”
>”Nah.” Zoroark answered.
>You should have been paying more attention to your own pumpkin.
>Watching the dark-type work on hers made you saw without thinking, making the left eye a bit bigger than you wanted.
>No matter, the right eye could be widened.
>The pokémon carved hers in… her own way.
>She’d used knives before, when helping you cook.
>She handled one about as well as you expected for someone who never handled sharp objects.
>No wounds or scrapes so long as she cut slow and carefully.
>But she wasn’t handling food anymore.
>She was free to use the weapons she was born with.
>She hugged her pumpkin with her left arm, almost like she had someone in a headlock.
>Her right hand gripped the gourd, and after moving her thumb to the right spot she jammed it in.
>You winced.
>The slasher movie you two watched the other day had the killer do something similar.
>She wriggled her thumb-claw, widening the hole until she had enough space to use the cutting tip to work out the finer details.
>Slower than the knife, you reckoned, but she had a lifetime of experience with them.
>Pumpkin guts stained her claws orange.
>It gummed up where the crimson nail met gray fur.
>Flecks of orange speckled her arm like bloodstains on a victorious predator.
>You started carving the mouth, but you were unsure how you wanted it to look.
>The indecision got to you, and you pulled out your phone.
>”This is so much easier than when we were children.” Zoroark commented.
>You flicked to another page of pictures.
“I remember we did this outside once.”
“Was real cold.”
“My hand went numb from scooping out the innards.”
>You flexed your free hand for emphasis.
>Your attention drifted to Zoroark’s work again.
>”I remember. We both needed help.”
>She adjusted the pumpkin to get a better view.
>Pleased with her work on the eyes, she repeated the process for a nose.
>”I didn’t exactly have hands then.” She said, wagging an orange hand around.
>”Funny.”
>”I remember a weavile there. He used his claws to carve a pumpkin.”
>You nodded.
>As you recall, his looked quite nice.
>You also recall being scared of coming too close to him.
>One of the adults cracked a joke about him cutting open bellies and you took it seriously.
>Specks of pumpkin dotted the table, chair, and floor around Zoroark.
>”You couldn’t tell, but I was just clawing and gnawing at my pumpkin.”
“Wow, really?”
“Couldn’t you have just, you know, used an illusion or something?”
>”Nah, parents were touching all of them to help.”
>”I was scared out of my mind.”
>”I thought for sure someone would find me out. It looked disgusting.”
“What happened?”
>”All the kids’ pumpkins looked terrible. Mine fit right in.”
“Heh.”
“Sounds like hell on your teeth.” You said, holding the side of your mouth without thinking.
>Zoroark shrugged.
>She began scratching away a mouth using both thumb-claws.
>”I’ve eaten tougher stuff.”
>After failing to settle on a design, you decided to wing it.
>It would probably look fine, whatever you did.
“Guess it added some personality to the pumpkin too, you know?”
>The illusionist looked at you, cocking an eyebrow.
>”Personality?”
“Eh…” You mumbled.
“Something unique. Special. Something only you would’ve done.”
>”Hmm…”
“Somehow, I doubt anyone else thought of using their teeth as a tool.”
>Zoroark sat in thought for a minute, turning her pumpkin to view it from different angles.
>Then she opened her jaws wide.
“Uh, I didn’t mea-“
>Chomp.
>Her canines scraped across the skin of the pumpkin.
>Her head bobbed with each ridge.
>She gagged and swallowed loud.
“You okay?”
>”Fhighne”
>You should have expected that.
>Once again, your friend captured your attention.
>After spitting pumpkin rind out, she went back to her starting bite and bit again, dragging her teeth through the pumpkin like plows in a field.
>It was quicker this time.
>You refocused on your own work of art, fixing details around the mouth.
>Once done, she messily wiped her pumpkin free of gunk and gently plopped the top back on.
>She tried using paper towels to wipe away the orange from her fur, but the stain would likely remain until a proper bath.
>You both turned your pumpkins toward each other.
>Zoroark commented how nice and clean yours was.
>It was safe, to say the least.
>A stereotypical jack-o-lantern, though neat and clean. Something you never did as a kid without an adult helping.
>The pokémon’s was wild and feral.
>It had personality, that’s for sure. You liked it.
>A messy scream of fright with a jagged, bloody bite wound scarring the face.
>Great contrast, you noted.
>Zoroark insisted they stay inside for the night.
>Halloween wasn’t for a few days, and you obliged.
>You lit them after you roasted the pumpkin seeds in the oven.
>They made for an atmospheric nightlight when you went to bed that night.

***

>”There it is again.” Zoroark said, tilting her head up.
>You were sitting on the bed with Zoroark at your side.
>The pokémon had curled into a ball, resting her head on your lap.
“You’re sure?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
>Granted, it was hard to hear anything over the slasher movie.
>You turned down the volume before remembering you could just pause the tense scene.
>”Listen…” Zoroark whispered.
>A car drove down the street outside.
>Her sapphire eyes darted across the ceiling as silence droned on.
>You waited an entire minute.
“Probably just the house settling.” You guessed.
>You ran your fingers through Zoroark’s hair, hoping to calm her down.
>Zoroark grumbled as she set her head back down.
>You started the movie again.
>Judging by where Zoroark’s ears pointed, you could tell she was only half paying attention to the film.
>You kept the volume low.
>As the killer reared back for a kill, Zoroark’s eyes widened.
>”Do you smell that?” The dark-type asked.
”What?” You wondered, taking a deep breath through your nose.
>Nothing.
“The popcorn? Is it the butter?”
>”No, no…”
>She narrowed her eyes.
>”I don’t… think there’s a word for it.”
>She rose to all fours.
>”Something’s here.”
>You paused the movie again.
>She wouldn’t take her eyes off the ceiling.
>You looked up too.
>As if on cue, something heavy thumped in the attic above.
>Before you processed the noise, Zoroark leapt off the bed; vanishing from sight before hitting the floor.
>Now alone, ambient noises seemed more noticeable.
>The movie had your imagination running wild.
>The bedroom door creaked.
>Whistling wind passed through the trees outside.
>Even the ambient buzz from your electronics sounded deafening.
>You almost cursed Zoroark for leaving you alone.
>With exaggerated slowness, you swung your legs off the bed.
>Now, you kept your eyes on the ceiling.
>The bang sounded like it came right above the bed.
>As quiet as possible, you tip-toed to the door and slid out.
>You didn’t touch it for fear it might creak again.
>You tried calming yourself down.
>Probably just a zubat in the attic. One flew into the house when you were a kid.
>Someone held the door open too long at dusk and it swooped right in.
>Probably just as frightened of you as you and your family were of it.
>Then you remembered something heavy slammed up there.
>Zubats couldn’t do that.
>Unease took root again.
>Where had Zoroark gone?
>She was moving on instinct.
>And, you’re guessing, with purpose.
>You hoped she was close.
>You slinked towards the garage, looking behind you every few moments.
>Probably just something on the roof, you told yourself.
>Just need to get the ladder. Maybe a branch broke and fell.
>…
>Or maybe Zoroark was right.
>You wished she hadn’t bolted.
>It would be reassuring if she was here.
>You got what you asked for.
>Something was outside.
>For a moment, you gasped in fright passing by a window.
>It took you a moment to register what she was doing.
>Zoroark wasn’t outside. Even if she were, you wouldn’t be able to see much.
>It was bright enough inside that you saw your reflection in the window.
>And you also saw your pokémon’s, standing over your shoulder and pointing.
>Pointing the other way.
>You swallowed and nodded before looking behind you.
>As expected, the dark-type wasn’t there.
>You went back the way you came.
>Going back towards the danger felt wrong.
>It shook the core of your being.
>You’d hoped that seeing Zoroark would relieve you, but knowing she was taking this seriously made you all the more anxious.
>A light pressure on your chest halted you.
>An invisible palm with slender, sharp claws you felt through your shirt.
>It was her.
>You hoped.
>But why here?
>Was there a weapon here?
>Had the intruder moved?
>A family photo hanging on the wall, you noticed, was tilted.
>And altered.
>Everyone in your family was pointing up.
>You looked up.
>…
>Nothing.
>Nothing but a ceiling lamp.
>What was she getting at?
>You almost kept walking, but realized what she meant.
>The nearby closet.
>In your haste, you hadn’t thought about it.
>Hell, you forgot this existed. You never needed to store anything up there.
>The entrance to the attic was here in the closet. Up above.
>Squeezed in with just enough room for a ladder to slide down.
>You reached up and mumbled a small warning, hoping Zoroark would hear.
>Warm breath on your neck reassured you.
>You pulled on the thick string, pulling open the latch.
>The ladder slid down quick, slamming into the ground.
>Oppressive dark swallowed the hallway light.
>Was there even a light up there?
>With practiced ease, you slid the phone from your pocket and turned on the flashlight.
>The outline of Zoroark flickered for a moment from the sudden brightness.
>She shimmered back to invisibility and, judging by the light patter of paws, scuttled up the ladder.
>You waited.
>Five seconds.
>Ten seconds.
>Thirty seconds.
>Was this a good sign?
>She’d have warned you if she saw something.
>Then again, if something was up there, warning you might tip it off.
>After a nervous sigh, you steeled yourself.
>What kind of man lets his pokémon run into danger alone?
>You gripped the ladder and climbed.
>Unlike Zoroark’s silent ascent, the old wood groaned under your weight.
>The ladder shifted as you went up each step.
>With your phone in one hand, going up was all the harder.
>You rose just high enough to peek into the attic.
>Dust and dead insects.
>You rose another step, and then the last.
>It looked empty.
>Yellowed string caught your attention. It hung next to a milky light bulb likely older than you were.
>You tugged the string twice. No light came on.
>You pointed the flashlight towards every corner you could see, ending above your bedroom.
>Nothing.
>You stepped forward, then recoiled.
>Some insect carapace crunched beneath your bare foot.
>Hairs on your neck stood up.
>There was a wrongness to this place you couldn’t explain.
>You wanted to call out to your friend.
>To tell her it was nothing.
>Congratulate her on scaring you.
>A primal part of your brain screamed danger.
>The chill caught you off guard.
>It was a cool fall night outside, but this was still inside the house.
>Shouldn’t some warmth have risen here?
>The temperature neared freezing.
>A hand clasped your shoulder.
>She shushed you with an index finger to her mouth.
>And pointed at your phone.
>She cupped her hands around the light, snuffing it.
>All you could see was her glowing claws and slivers of light escaping her grasp.
>No light shone from the hallway below.
>You flicked the light off.
>Her fuzzy hand clasped yours tight.
>You waited, huddled in the dark.
>…
>…
>…
>From the corner it came.
>Red and white unlight illuminating you and your partner.
>Dim at first.
>Pulsing with sickening power.
>The buttery glow seeped into corners it shouldn’t have.
>You felt it inside.
>A throbbing inside your head, behind your eyes.
>You became aware of your heartbeats. Each pump felt more and more like a chore.
>Like you were choking.
>The malformed skull of a child rose higher, towering above.
>A long, red shadow stretched behind you.
>It growled.
>You opened your mouth.
>You screamed for Zoroark to run.
>She could hide.
>She could escape.
>She growled back.
>The stupor faded.
>Zoroark’s growl grew to a snarl.
>The dark-type brushed past you, tickling you with her fur.
>Her presence snapped the trance.
>The unlight hesitated.
>She crouched low in front of you, taking a wide stance.
>She needed no illusions.
>Illusions were to misguide.
>To prevent fights from ever happening.
>She wasn’t bluffing.
>This was a furious beast defending her sanctuary.
>She bared her teeth, gnashing them together and baying at the intruder.
>Animalistic grunts which made more sense coming from a houndoom or a mightyena than her.
>She stalked towards the unholy beacon.
>The unlight backed to the corner.
>The jittering skull cast shaky shadows through the room.
>It’s orb seemed smaller now.
>Panicked, it bounced between eye sockets.
>Zoroark pounced.
>The standoff ended.
>The ghost broke away, wriggling at the wall; phasing through.
>With a cruel grin, Zoroark slammed her clawtips into the brittle wood next to the escapee.
>She scrapped the creature’s fibrous backside with dark energy, peeling away parts of its dark hood.
>An ethereal screech pierced the night.
>Comforting darkness fell over the attic.
>Tatters of cloth silently fell to the floor as Zoroark yanked her claw shard from the wall.
>You were breathing hard, but had enough sense to fumble with your phone and turn the light on.
>The foxy pokémon kicked puffs of dust with each step.
>”Touch nothing.” She said.
>She hugged you, and lapped your cheek.
>You held her fast.
>Your fuzzy guardian angel.
“What do you mean, touch nothing?” You asked.
>”Look” She answered.
>You knew where to look, and brought up the flashlight.
>An old, beaten blanket, crumpled in the corner.

***

>”Dammit…” You mumbled.
>You grabbed at the small button again.
>Who would’ve thought it be this hard to get your costume on?
>You sighed as the button slipped again, refusing to go through the hole.
>The cheaper one may not have looked the part, but you remembered it had a zipper.
>Would’ve been quick and easy.
>But you had to make things difficult.
>You grumbled, wondering how many people out there let a pokémon give them fashion advice.
>Yours wouldn’t settle for anything but the best.
>Something about the choicest males having perfect disguises.
>You don’t recall much except the price tag from that Halloween shop.
>As you pushed the button through at last, you remembered a bridal shop downtown that a gardevoir worked at.
>She might give fashion advice.
>You’ve seen more than a few sporting clothes before.
>You tended to the final details, smoothing out any wrinkles and seeing how well you could move about.
>As you put your boots on you heard the front door open and close.
>Claws clacked on wood and thumped on carpet.
>The steps got louder.
>You looked over, watching Zoroark bound into the bedroom.
“What’s got you worked up?” You asked.
>Her heart rate was up and her breathing was quick.
>She panted and cackled with glee, holding a hefty pillowcase in both claws out to you.
>”Food!” She exclaimed.
“Wait…” You exclaimed, lacing the boots.
“You went trick-or-treating?” You asked.
>”Of course.” She answered. “The moment it started.”
“Well, I mean…” You stuttered.
“Well, first off, that’s candy. Not food.”
>”Food’s food.” She retorted, overturning her colorful haul on the bedsheets.
>The fox pressed her nose in the pile and inhaled.
“Second, that’s… holy crap…”
>Zoroark buried her face in further.
>You needed a moment to take in the sheer size of the mound she collected.
>There was…
>Pounds.
>Dozens of pounds of sugar.
>Enough to push the mattress down.
”Treak-or-treating just started like, twenty minutes ago.” You noted, looking at the digital clock on the nightstand.
 >She came out with a caramel green apple lollipop in her mouth.
>“Yup.” She answered, fiddling with the wrapper.
“How?”
>She leapt from a standing position over the bed, landing in front of you.
>”Family tradition.” She exclaimed, with a notable hint of pride in her voice.
>She prowled around you on all fours, examining your “disguise.”
>”Illusion.  Crowd of costumed kids all moving as a group.”
>She pulled at one part of your sleeve straightening something out.
>”Dozens of treats from each house.”
>”We did this every year.”
“You and your family?”
>”And extended family.” She added.
>You huffed.
“You know how I feel about stealing.”
>Zoroark scoffed.
>”They’re giving it away. It’s not stealing.”
>This…
>This explained a few things from when you were kids.
>She always seemed to have an endless supply of your favorites to trade.
>”Stores well for winter.” She noted.
“You’ve got enough to last over a year.”
>”Well, better safe than sorry.”
>”Three more runs oughta do it.”
>You dug a hand into the woman’s red hair and scratched.
“You know you don’t need to worry about food anymore.”
“Grocery store’s not going anywhere.”
>”And it never hurts to prepare.” She said, booping your nose with a crimson claw.
>”Don’t think I forgot how empty the store was when the pandemic started.”
>You kissed the bridge of her muzzle.
“Fair point.”
“And I guess it is a tradition of yours.”
>Zoroark smiled and glowed white, slipping on a new disguise.
>Your now-human girlfriend donned a simple witch costume, complete with the pointy mismagius hat.
>She grabbed your hand and spread her fingers around yours, pulling you towards the front door.
>You pulled back, stopped her while in the hallway.
“Before we head out…”
>”Hmm?”
“…”
“Wear that costume as… you.”
>It took her a moment.
>Puzzlement turned to smug.
>”Like what you see, eh?” She grinned, shifting back to her true red and black form.
>”Something you want me to save for later?”
“Adorable.” Was your only answer.
>You scritched the underside of her fuzzy gray chin with an index finger.
>”Ooooohhhh…” She cooed, assuming her previous disguise.
>”Y-You too…” She mumbled, before refocusing herself.
>”Come on, now…” She said, tugging you towards the front door.
 >Children in all types of costumes popped up around you, hooting, hollering, and skipping around.
>”If anyone asks,” she said, opening the front door, “they’re all my cousins or something.”

***

>”Ooooohhhhh~”
>Zoroark stood at the kitchen’s entrance, sniffing the air.
>”That’s new.”
“Yeah.”
“Got sick of chicken. Picked up something special for tonight.”
>Claws tapped the floor as the pokémon came behind you.
>”What’re you doing?
>Curious, she gripped your shoulder for support and pushed her head beneath your arm.
>The fox-girl wriggled her head through, popping out the other side.
>Her nose, danger-close to dinner, breathed deep.
“Ah!” You cried.
“Not ready yet.”
>You hugged your pokémon tight, putting her in a faux headlock and pulling her back just far enough that her tongue couldn’t lap at the meal.
>You daubed the brush in the honey barbeque mixture with your free hand, and messily slathered the sweet sauce over the racks of ribs.
>The dark-type smacked her lips.
>”I wanna taste.” She said.
>She stuck her tongue out when you looked down at your captive.
>Powerless against her wide, cerulean eyes, you scraped the side of the bowl with a finger for the extra sauce.
>She gave you a look of disappointment, trying to woo you again with her sad eyes.
>”Meat.”
“When it’s done.”
“But I need you to try this first. See if you like it.”
>Zoroark yielded, and pulled herself out of your gentle hold.
>After a moment of combing her hair back the way she liked it, the woman sniffed the finger.
>She grasped your hand, and tickled your finger with quick, light licks.
>She liked it well enough, and made sure your finger was sparkling clean.
>”That’s good!” She yipped.
“Glad you like it.” You said, putting the ribs back into the oven.
“Think it needs anything?”
>”Meat.”
“Of course.”
>You chuckled.
“I meant spices.” You clarified.
>Zoroark shrugged, but moved to inspect the ingredients on the counter.
>The stronger seasonings turned her nose away, but the other fixings interested her.
>You pretended not to notice her stick a claw into the jar of combee honey.
>She scampered away, satisfied with her small heist.
>After double-checking your phone to make sure you set the timer, you put what you didn’t need away.
>While preparing the sides, you thought of calling your housemate to the kitchen.
>You decided against it. It would be better to keep some of it a surprise.
>In the middle of sautéing the vegetables, your phone sounded the alarm.
>Zoroark knew what that meant.
>Before you set the spatula down, the pokémon bounded into the kitchen and skidded across the floor.
>She sat on her haunches in front of the oven, eager to feast.
“Hate to disappoint” You began, pushing the pokémon away from the oven door.
“But they’re not finished.”
>Zoroark’s mood went from content to despondent in a heartbeat.
>It was like you had slapped her.
>This aroma was affecting her in strange ways.
>Opening the oven door sent the barbeque bouquet throughout the kitchen.
>Your patient, composed partner was no more. She was in the grip of hunger.
>Primal instinct drove her to act in ways you hadn’t seen since you were children.
>She pouted.
>And fell over backwards, sprawling herself out over the kitchen floor.
“Your hair’ll get dirty.” You commented, bringing the ribs to the counter and layering them once more with the tangy sauce.
>”How looooooong?” She asked, drawing out her words.
“Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
>”Ugh…” The fox bemoaned.
>She cursed the human practice of cooking meat.
>You put the ribs back in the heat.
>You smiled, knowing how much she appreciated human cuisine.
>She curled up in front of the oven.
>Whether due to warmth, impatience, or both, you couldn’t tell.
“You’ll like it.” You assured her, stepping over the zoroark loaf at your feet to finish the vegetables.
>The pokémon huffed, tapping a rhythm on the floor with her fingers.
>With a few minutes left, she reached atop the counter and grabbed your phone.
>After some unsuccessful fiddling, she asked you to bring up the timer.
>She wanted to watch it count down.
>You obliged, and she watched the last few minutes count down on the screen with razor-sharp attention.
>The timing was perfect.
>Just as you finished setting the table, your phone vibrated and buzzed.
>Zoroark leapt up and turned the phone around to show you, as if her giddiness wasn’t enough of a tell.
>You again shooed her away from the hot oven and pulled the ribs out.
“The recipe says to let the meat settle.” You pointed out.
>You grabbed a pair of tongs.
“But I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”
>The girl could barely contain herself.
>The moment you placed the steaming ribs on her plate she yipped and scurried off with it to the dining table.
“Wait for me!” You called after her.
>Last thing you needed was her choking on a bone.
>A real possibility, given her current enthusiasm.
 >You were so taken aback when you entered the dining room, you stopped at the entrance.
>Zoroark had a ten second head start on you and nothing was in her mouth.
>She was playing with her food.
>Spearing it.
>Turning it.
>Lifting it.
>Ready and waiting to go.
>Expecting her to wait to say grace, however, was too much.
>The moment you sat down, she tore into the first set of ribs.
>It was a massacre.
>Sauce stained her gray fur, dotted her cheeks, and darkened her lips.
>She licked the edges of her mouth, only to put more of the tasty condiment there with the next chomp.
>The meat fell off the bone.
>Neither of you talked. You had no need to.
>Were company here, she’d be eating like a human.
>Dignified and quiet.
>But not now.
>With no need for disguises, she let her voracious appetite take charge.
>Her noisy swallows and open-mouthed munching were a wordless, hearty thanks to you.
>You took your time eating the meat.
>Zoroark devoured the meat quickly, but kept pace with you by slowing down to gnaw the bones.
>Her tongue snaked across each rib.
>The bones clacked against her teeth as she bit down on each, scraping away the supple nutrients.
>She only stopped suckling on each one because there was more tender flesh ahead.
“Try the mashed potatoes.” You muttered with a mouth full of meat.
“Garlic’s in ‘em.”
>Zoroark wasted no time.
>And she considered grabbing her spoon a waste of time.
>She dipped a clean bone into the potatoes and scooped a mouthful of buttery potatoes into her gullet.
>Flecks of white dotted her mouth, messily licked away between mouthfuls.
>The red spots at either side of her smile blurred into her fur among the mess of sauce and potato.
>She turned her plate, spotting the vegetable side she’d forgotten.
>Unable to scoop them with a bone, she settled for pushing her muzzle to the plate and slurping the pile down in a few titanic bites.
>She paused between each mouthful to take a big breath.
“You’re eating like a snorlax, tonight.” You stated, wiping your mouth with a napkin.
>The pokémon across you growled in delight.
>She lapped each claw clean of barbeque with a grin on her messy face.
”Now you need a bath.”
>”Good.”
>”Sounds comfy.”
>”Nice and warm…” She trailed off.
>The illusion-fox leaned back and nestled into her chair, patting her belly.
>”You done?” She asked, pointing at your half-eaten ribs.
>You weren’t.
>But you tore off a rib for her anyway.

***

>”Well… It smells good.”
“Yeah.” You nodded.
>There weren’t many trees left, but the pine scent lingered.
>This is what you get for coming so late.
>Trees always sold out quick, but the Christmas crunch had you working later than usual.
>Had you known a few days would make all the difference…
“These are all Charlie Brown trees.”
>”Hmm?” The redhead said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, right.”
“We’ll have to watch that together.”
>”Watch what?”
“Some Christmas specials. It’s a classic.”
>Zoroark chattered her teeth and hugged herself tighter.
>The bitterness seeped past her fur.
>You dabbed at your runny nose with an overused, crumpled tissue from your pocket.
>The cold wind picked up strength, shaking the few decrepit trees left in the hardware store’s lot.
>One frail tree tipped over.
“Wanna take a look inside?”
>Your shivering companion quickly nodded.
>She hopped from paw to paw, getting the blood flowing.
>Even through your shoes, you could feel the concrete beneath sapping the heat from your feet.
“Need to get you some boots or something.”
>The disguised pokémon bolted ahead, past the sliding doors and into the welcome warmth.
>She stopped a few feet in, basking in the hot, dry heat coming from the blower above the entryway.
>”It hasn’t been this cold for years.” Zoroark commented when you caught up.
>Your hat almost blew away as you walked through the warm air bombarding the entrance.
>Zoroark’s long, illusory hair blew in the gust.
>The pokémon immersed herself in the sights and sounds as you walked deeper into the warehouse.
>The massive store had anything and everything related to home improvement.
>And, depending on the time of year, special events.
>Every year, a large section of the store converted to Christmas Town.
>You were sure you could pick up a tree there.
>Zoroark diverted you from your target within fifteen seconds; she pulled you every which way that interested her.
>You obliged.
>Her excitement was infectious.
>The pure white and buttery yellow glow of thousands of light fixtures drew you in like mothim.
>Lights for bedrooms, bathrooms, and all parts of the house.
>Zoroark tinged crystalline chandeliers and turned lamps on and off at random.
>You were drawn out just as quickly as you entered.
>The fox-girl crossed aisles when she saw a faded ad for sledgehammers.
>You remembered seeing it as a kid. It’s a miracle they hadn’t updated it.
>”Hit like a Machamp.” The sign read.
>She entertained herself with a level, turning it from side to side and watching the bubbles in the center bob with it.
>You took the liberty to explain the purpose of each tool you came across.
>Truth be told, you didn’t know what some of these were used for.
>Some were so niche only a career handyman might use them more than once.
>Zoroark listened to every word you said, and your answers satisfied her enough to keep a steady pace through the aisle.
>You’d almost made it to your destination when rows of sandpaper down another lane caught her eye.
>She insisted on touching each one to feel the texture.
>Either by instinct or accident, you couldn’t tell, she left claw marks on some of them.
>The clank and clatter of a pallet jack caught her attention, and you followed her to the end of another aisle.
>She watched an employee pull a shipment of rock salt around the corner and toward the back.
>Alongside him, a hariyama effortlessly hauled a snowblower in his burly arms.
>Those workers were appeared to be going to the same area you needed to go.
>When Zoroark followed to investigate, you tagged along.
>With a half hour already spent browsing, you didn’t want the entire afternoon to disappear.
>You’d almost forgot the entire reason for coming inside.
>Without remember when you had done so, during the walk you’d put your hand on her shoulder.
>Your hand slid down her arm, and your fingers wrapped with hers.
>Under the veneer of her illusion, it looked like you’d caressed her winter jacket.
>But beneath the disguise was her silky-smooth coat.
>Despite your time together, the sensation not matching what your eyes told you still threw you off.
>The two of you kept a safe distance from the employees.
>Zoroark kept glancing at the shelving on either side of you, but kept walking with you.
>You heard Christmas Town before seeing it.
>Dull Christmas music played over the building’s intercoms far above, but here speakers at ground level played it at a pleasant volume.
>A sign saying you were on the way to the North Pole stood next to an inflatable snowman and a cartoon, red-nosed sawsbuck.
>As you got closer, Zoroark needed little motivation to keep moving.
>Now she pulled you along to sate her curiosity.
>You smiled.
>It was nice to come here again.
>As you had every year you could.
>The store spared no expense building this each year; despite losing sales to online shopping it was tradition.
>You wondered how many hundreds of man-hours they needed to set all this up.
>Christmas town lived up to its name.
>Gingerbread houses, Christmas trees, presents, snowmen, elves…
>A garish amount of Christmas lawn ornaments and decorations blanketed the area.
>Were they used for their intended purpose, outside and in peoples’ lawns around town, you’d call it gaudy.
>But somehow, it was all okay here.
>The only way it could be improved was if it were under a starry sky.
>Then again, that would mean having to deal with the frigid air.
>Seeing Zoroark transfixed was worth the trip.
>”It’s like a movie!” She exclaimed.
 “Yeah,” you agreed, “it kinda is.”
>Ignoring the fake snow, it could have been a set for a Christmas film.
>Impressing the master of illusions was no small feat.
>Walking beneath the light-draped entryway and past the gingerbread houses brought you to Christmas Town square.
>”What’re they doing?” Zoroark asked, pointing at a line of children.
“They’re visiting Santa.” You answered, nodding toward the center of the town square.
>Santa sat in the middle on an exquisite, and comfortable, chair.
>He was surrounded by presents, snow, and a long line of children waiting with their parents for their turn to sit on his lap.
“You know who Santa is, right?” You asked, but not before double-checking to make sure nobody was near enough to hear.
>”I know of him.”
>A smiling employee in an elf costume waved at you, and you waved back.
>The jynx dressed as an elf saw her trainer wave, and repeated the gesture.
>You waved back again.
>”He’s everywhere in winter.”
>You pulled Zoroark to the Christmas tree forest, deciding to leave a detailed explanation for the Christmas specials.
>She did try to tug you back when you mentioned the presents he handed out, but you held fast.
>A felt walkway marked a curvy path past hundreds of trees on display.
>”These aren’t real, are they?” Zoroark asked, sniffing at a tree before running its bristles through her fingers.
“Nope.”
“All artificial.”
>”Well, they’re pretty.”
“Mmm hmm.”
>The moment you loosened your handhold, you felt the pokémon leave your side.
>Not the illusion; but her physical presence.
>One of the few things she couldn’t replicate.
>Rustling trees and shaking ornaments off the pathway told you she was getting a close look at some of these trees.
>Dim lights above the artificial forest accentuated each tree’s exciting decorations.
>Light flickered off the silver and gold trees.
>You passed by a few covered with fake snow.
>A pink tree caught your attention for a moment.
>But you weren’t looking for anything fancy.
>A classic tree would suffice.
>At the end of the path, the boxed trees available for purchase sat stacked in neat, orderly columns.
>With plenty to pick from, you reached for a large, heavy box.
>You made to pull it off the shelf, then stopped and cursed under your breath.
>”Hmm?”
>”What’s wrong?” The dark-type asked.
>You squinted at the illusion who asked the question.
>You poked her arm, unsure if Zoroark was beneath.
>She was. She grinned.
“This thing’s heavy. I shoulda brought a cart or something.”
>”We could carry it together.” The pokémon suggested.
>You shook your head.
“I’ll get a cart from up front.”
“You fine staying here? Guarding our new tree?” You asked.
>”I wouldn’t mind exploring a bit more.” She said.
>She tilted her head towards an area that said ‘employees only’.
>Well, that wouldn’t stop her.
>She wasn’t at that reading level yet.
>You gave her a kiss on her fuzzy forehead and walked back to Christmas Town.
>…
>You double-checked to make sure the fox-girl hadn’t followed you.
>And almost slapped yourself remembering who you were dealing with.
>She could be right in front of you hiding in plain sight for all you knew.
>You hurried into Toyland.
>If you took too long, she’d get suspicious.
>Aisles upon aisles of toys for all ages peppered the shelves.
>Gaps in the shelves had to be the more popular items, you guessed.
>You should have bought this online.
>Zoroark definitely wouldn’t know what you were getting if you had.
>But it was too close to Christmas now. It might arrive late.
>You found the video games.
>You hoped they still had a copy.
>The Nintendo section seemed well stocked.
>You smiled, seeing a few consoles still on the shelf.
>But you couldn’t do much without a game to go with it…
>Your eyes glossed over the library without finding what you were looking for.
>Once it hit you everything was sorted alphabetically, you knew where to look.
>And there it was.
>One copy left.
>The newest Mario Kart.

***

>”This one!” Zoroark exclaimed.
>She held the book in both hands, showing you the cover.
“Oh jeez,” you said without thinking. “That’ll put us to sleep.”
>You pulled the pajama shirt over your head.
>“Isn’t that the point?”
“Kind of, but...” You replied.
>A yawn interrupted the rest of your sentence.
“It’s not exactly bedtime material.”
>That, and she wouldn’t understand half the words in the book.
>”Is it bad?” Zoroark asked, flipping open the book. “There’s lots of pictures…”
>Setting the book down on the bed, she showed you the well-drawn art.
>A short, busty bard and a Mr. Mime dancing atop a table in a rowdy tavern.
>An aged, mienshao monk with only a bō staff standing defiant before countless brigands.
>A knight atop a rapidash trotting past crumbling ruins overtaken by the forest.
“No, not at all.” You assured her.
“You picked out a rulebook.”
>The pokémon furrowed her brow.
>”Rules for what?”
>”A game.” You answered, smiling.
>A game that may as well have been built for her, you thought.
>”Oh…” She cooed.
>You climbed into the bed, sitting against the headboard.
>”Like for the TV?” She asked, looking at the one facing the mattress. “Or your computer?”
>You shook your head, and answered no.
>The dark fox crawled onto the bed, sliding the book with her.
>She slunk next to you, nestling into her sleeping spot.
”You play Dungeons and Dragons at a table. With dice and paper and pens.”
>“Pens?”
“Yeah, but, it’s like…”
“How do I explain this…”
>You paused a moment to think.
“Everyone tells a story together.”
“One guy describes something happening, and the players say what their characters do and say.”
>”And, uh… You try to talk in character. Players act like their characters would.”
>If her widening smile was anything to go by, that caught her interest.
>You kept going, realizing this might be good for her.
>She needed work on her basic math skills.
>Dice rolls and adding ability scores seemed easy enough.
>And with the temptation to exercise her creative muscle as a reward, it might be the push she needed to learn.
”Sometimes you roll a die and something bad happens, so you have to pretend your character got really hurt, or wasn’t able to climb up a wall or something.”
”And if you roll well, it means they landed a good sword swing or were able to persuade a guard to take a bribe or something. And you have to act that out too.”
>”Let’s play now!” Zoroark exclaimed.
>She sat upright, rousing herself from her usual sleeping position.
>”Mum and Dad made us practice in the den when I was a zorua.”
>”This sounds just like that.”
“Glad you’re interested.” You said, running a hand underneath the excited fox’s chin.
“But a dungeon master needs prep time.”
>And she needed to know the basic rules.
>You could wing the non-essential ones.
>”What’s a dun-jun?”
>Expanding her vocabulary. Another bonus.
“I’ll explain later.”
>You swung an arm around her midriff, tugging her close.
“Let’s get some ideas for what class you’d like to play.”

***

>Pure chance.
>You wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.
>A breeze ran over your arm and blew loose notes from the table.
>Unexplainable, save for one possibility.
>She must have walked past the open doorway a smidge too quick.
>Had you had the window open or a fan running, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it.
>You shoved yourself away from the pile of character sheets, maps, and rulebooks overrunning the table.
>Addicting as setting up the tabletop adventure was, your legs wanted a stretch.
>You grabbed your empty water glass and headed for the kitchen.
>It might not have been Zoroark, you reminded yourself.
>Did you knock it over?
>You might’ve left it too close to the edge.
>Wouldn’t explain the breeze you felt though.
>Or, at least, you’re pretty sure you felt.
>Maybe another ghost pokémon infestation.
>That could explain both things.
>You couldn’t rule anything out.
>Zoroark warped your perception of reality.
>Couldn’t be sure of anything when your beloved was a walking hallucination machine.
>A creaky cupboard told you Zoroark was probably back from her afternoon exercise.
>And now probably scrounging for her afternoon snack.
“Where’d you go today?” You asked.
>The fox jumped.
>You laughed.
“Don’t think I’ve ever surprised you like that before.” You noted, walking to the kitchen sink.
>”I thought you were still preparing the game.”
“Yeah. Takes time though.”
“Needed a break.”
>Zoroark stepped aside, letting you use the sink.
”How was your walk?”
>It felt silly calling her escapades a walk.
>She told you what she did and where she went.
>Backyards, rooftops, up trees… Nowhere was off limits.
”Where’d you go today, Zoro?”
>”I watched a battle at the park.”
>You nodded.
“Which park?”
>”Lakeside.”
“Oh, kinda far today.” You responded, sipping the water.
“Who was fighting?”
>”An orange fire-bird and a living rock.”
“Huh…”
“Might’ve been a talonflame. Have you seen them before? In the wild around here?”
>She nodded, and ran claws through her hair.
“Yeah, they’re around here in the spring.”
“But, uh…”
“As for the rock… That kinda describes most of those types, doesn’t it?”
>Zoroark nodded again.
>“Mom and dad didn’t have names for them.”
>“Just moving rock.”
>The pokémon again adjusted her hair.
“Huh…”
>Wasn’t often she brought up her family.
>You always wondered if they talked in English or had their own special way of communicating through illusions.
“Well, I’ll get back to work.” You declared.
>As you turned, something hit the ground.
>A blur in the corner of your eye.
“What was that?”
>Zoroark stood straight, unmoving.
“Uh…”
>Something was off.
>You tilted your head, looking around Zoroark.
>Nothing.
“You heard that, right? Something fell.”
>It didn’t look like anything was on the floor, but…
>The pokédex entry and for Zoroark, you remembered, mentioned their young would ride in their parents’ flowing manes.
“Did… Did something fall out of your hair?” You asked.
>”No.” She stated.
>The quickness and firmness in how she spoke told you otherwise.
>You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn’t quite know how to phrase it.
>Zoroark had been nothing but open with you since she revealed herself.
>This close, the height you had on her was apparent.
>You stood up and looked down into her eyes.
>As best you could, that is.
>You weren’t a pokémon expert, but you knew submissive body language when you saw it.
>She didn’t want to look you in the eyes.
>Her ears had flattened.
>She’d shrunk down further.
“Did something happen on your walk?”
>She still wouldn’t look at you.
>Putting your hands on her shoulders, you again asked what was wrong.
>Then something else fell from her hair.
>A box of crackers.
>You stared for a moment, unsure what to make of it.
>Then you noticed the wrapped summer sausage.
>And from her hair, an uncomfortable Zoroark pulled more food.
>Broccoli.
>Beans.
>Candies and half-melted chocolates.
>All gingerly placed atop the counter without a sound.
“You…” You gestured at the food, as if she didn’t know what was bothering you.
“Went to the grocery store, I take it?”
>She nodded and clasped her hands together.
>Her fingers fidgeted.
>You hoped she’d explain on her own, but she remained passive.
“I’m guessing you didn’t pay for these, did you?”
>After some hesitation, she bobbed her head again.
“Well, let’s, uh…”
“Let’s sit down, huh?”
>She obeyed, and sat at the dinner table as you did.
>You knew she’d stolen before.
>She had to have.
>To keep up appearances at birthdays and Christmas.
>Food for cookouts and gatherings.
>Probably to survive.
>But this was different.
>She was living with you now.
”Well… Please, I’d, uh… Like you to tell me why.”
>The pokémon acted like when she revealed her true form.
>She bounced her teal hairpiece between hands, and brought her hair around her in an unconscious, defensive gesture.
>You kept staring. You weren’t going anywhere.
>It took a minute to collect her thoughts.
>”It’s something we’ve… always done.”
“We?” You asked.
>”Family.”
>”We’ve always done it.”
>She shrugged at the thought.
>”Humans always…”
>She finally looked up at you.
>”Always,” She stated again, “have more than enough.”
>”We take from farms and groceries and houses.”
>”Save for a big lock, nothing stops us.” She huffed. “Even then, we’re patient.”
>”Not hard to wait and see where the keys get placed.”
“Or what buttons need to be pressed to get where we want.”
“Just enough to feed you, the young, and the sick, mom always said.”
“O-Okay…” You responded.
>Zoroark didn’t talk much about her time in the forest.
>Or her family.
>Misdirection and secrets were the way of her species, you assumed.
>But you caught her deflection here.
>Intentional or not, she dodged the question.
“That didn’t answer ‘why’, though.” You responded. “We talked about this.”
“I… We,” You emphasized, wanting her to know your resources were hers, “we have more than enough money to pay for food.”
“We’ve been grocery shopping together. You’ve seen me use my card and, you know, paper money.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
“I mean, you know that, and, uh…”
>You scratched the back of your head, wondering where to go with this.
“I don’t… God damn, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
>”I’ve never been caught.” She reassured you. “None of my family have.”
“Well…”
>Technically, you caught her.
>Not exactly what she meant, though.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
>”I won’t-“
>You cut her off, speaking over her.
>You weren’t finished.
“Remember the documentary? On Zoroark?”
>”Yes, and?”
“They had special cameras. They could see through illusions, remember?”
>”Stores don’t.”
“I don’t… think you know that. The point is, they exist.”
>She shrugged.
>”Even if they did, they couldn’t catch me.”
“Maybe not, but, I-“
>You cut yourself off, remembering what she told you after visiting her den.
“You told me a lucario spotted you.” You said in a huff.
“Just, right down the block. Saw right through you. Pure accident, but he knew.”
“What about a pokémon with a good sense of smell?”
“Or if you trip over a fairy-type?”
>She chuckled at that one.
>”It wouldn’t know what it bumped into.”
“That’s not the point!”
>You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you did.
>This was a more serious situation that she cared to admit.
“All it takes is one.”
“Just… Someone to put the puzzle together.”
“Have enough pieces to know it was a zoroark.”
“And where do you think they’ll come?”
>”They?” She questioned. “Who’s they?”
“Police.”
>”And why would they come here?”
“Because they know one lives here!” You stated, loud and firm.
“You’re in the database.”
>Zoroark squinted her eyes, unsure what to make of that.
>”A what now?”
“A… uh… How do I describe this? A list. In a computer.”
“Trainers are registered, and so are their pokémon.”
>”Meaning… What…” Zoroark probed.
>The gears were turning in her head.
>She figured it out. But she needed you to spell it out and confirm it.
“If a pokémon gets loose and causes… problems…”
>You let the word linger.
“The police will know exactly who was irresponsible enough to let the thing out.”
“They will know if the trainer, or the pokémon, has a history of doing this.
“They will know their address.”
“They will visit that address.”
“And they will do what they have to, to keep the peace.”
“Be it through a high fine… or something more…”
>Zoroark brought a hand to her chin, rubbing her claws through her cheek fur in contemplation.
“You and I both have IDs.”
“And, correct me if I’m wrong here, maybe your siblings were caught, but last I checked there wasn’t a single other person in this city living with a zoroark.”
“It would be a cinch.”
>You snapped your fingers for emphasis.
“They catch you doing something and they might… take you…”
“And, uh…”
>Without realizing it, your emotions bubbled up.
>It was hard to keep a straight face.
“That…” You said, your voice cracking.
“I don’t want to think about that.”
>Zoroark shook her head up and down.
“Now…” You sniffled, getting your feelings back under control.
>You didn’t give her a chance to answer the original question.
“Why?”
>Zoroark, her confidence back, stood up and hugged you.
>”You won’t be mad?” She asked.
>You pat her back, and rubbed it in circles through her crimson hair.
“Wha- No. Nono, of course not.” You answered.
>”Mum and dad need food.”
>You drew in a long breath.
>”They can’t move or…”
>”Do anything like they used to…”
>”It’s my job. Me and my siblings.”
>You nodded and kissed your girl on the forehead.
>God knows you’d be in that position with your own parents sooner than you’d like.
>You almost scolded her for not telling you, but you’re sure she had her reasons.
>Zoroark would be zoroark.
“We’ll buy more food.” You assured her.
“And, uh…”
“I know you were pretty hesitant about going to the doctor’s, but…”
“If you think they need treatment at the Center, let me know.”
“You can convince them, I’m sure. Let them know it’s okay.” You nodded.
“Family’s important.” You said, finally breaking the hug.
>Zoroark let out a long sigh.
>”Should I… give it back?”
>She bobbed her head towards the food.
“Uh… No...”
“I’m sure they’d have to throw most of that out anyway.” You answered.
>And that didn’t even touch how you’d broach the subject.
>’Hey, my pokémon stole a shit-ton from you. Please don’t call the authorities.’
“Just… Were you planning on taking it to them tonight?”
>The dark-type nodded.
>”There’s enough light.”
“Why don’t you go do that?” You suggested.
>She made to put things back in her hair before you stopped her, chuckling.
“Use a bag, too.”
“Don’t want it falling out.”
>Zoroark agreed and, within a minute, gave you a good-bye kiss before scampering out the door.
>You sat back down to continue working.
>But it was difficult to focus.
>You read and reread the same passages. Nothing stuck.
>Maybe…
>You took out your phone and began dialing.
>Maybe it was time to give your own parents a call.

***

>Couldn’t say it surprised you.
>She was sluggish and tired all day yesterday.
>When she moved from the couch to the bedroom last night, it took herculean effort.
>She wasn’t getting out of bed today.
“Say ‘ah.’” You ordered, pointing a wooden tongue depressor at Zoroark.
>She blinked stupidly, struggling to process your instruction.
>”Agh…” She grunted.
>She didn’t open her mouth.
>You weren’t sure if that was the bug was clouding her mind or she didn’t understand the expression.
“C’mon, girl, open your mouth.” You repeated, rephrasing the instruction.
>You helped in what little way you could, cupping her jaw and coaxing it down.
>A sad, pitiful wheeze passed through her lips.
>And a foul smell, reeking of sickness.
>Some primal part of your brain urged you to keep away.
>Grimacing, you tilted her mouth toward the light and pressed her tongue down.
>As you guessed, she had one hell of a sore throat.
>Raw, spotted, and discolored.
>You’d encourage her to gargle her fruity mouthwash later.
>Maybe something stronger, now that you think of it.
>Much as she hated mint, her throat could use the stronger alcohol in what you use.
>’If it burns, it’s working’, you remembered grandpa told you.
>After throwing the contaminated tool in the garbage bin you grabbed a thermometer.
>Holding an alcohol wipe, you made to swab the tool clean when something appeared at the edge of your vision.
>This was new.
>Not entirely unexpected, given who you were nursing.
>Smears of color bled into existence.
>Here and there, light bent wrong.
>Like looking at clouds, if you looked hard enough, you could spot shapes and figures in the muddy hues.
>Your patient groaned, and she struggled under the covers.
>She sniffed and snorted.
>Mucus ran from her nose.
>Her sapphire eyes watered.
>As you touched Zoroark’s forehead she cried.
>She clutched her throat, massaging it with her crimson claws.
>The tears flowed, wetting the short, red hairs surrounding her eye.
>”H-Hurts…” She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Don’t speak.” You whispered.
>Her eyes were hazed over.
>Colored spots moved over the walls.
>They pulsed with her groaning.
>You shushed her, and kissed her forehead.
>To be thorough you took her temperature.
>You slid the thermometer beneath her tongue.
>You weren’t surprised by the result.
>She messily spit the thermometer out.
>A string of contaminated drool momentarily connected it to her mouth when you pulled it away.
>”Mmm…” She sputtered.
“Shhh, shhh… You don’t have to-“
>“Mankeypox?” She asked through the pain.
>You snorted and smiled.
“No. Definitely not mankeypox.”
“Just a bit of the flu.”
>A nasty case of the flu, you thought. But you refrained from sharing that tidbit.
“Be right back.” You said, leaving her bedside.
>You picked up her premier pokéball in the living room.
>You huffed.
>You knew what her answer would be.
>On your way back, you took a glass of water too.
>You clacked it down on the nightstand’s coaster.
>She moved her head to look.
>You knelt down, holding her pokéball at eye level for her to see.
“Doctor?” You asked.
>Zoroark shut her eyes and shook her head, grunting her disapproval.
“Alright, alright…” You accepted, setting her ball next to the water.
>Despite her fur and blankets, her shivering quickened.
>You hadn’t paid enough attention before, and opened the closet to fetch another blanket.
>She gripped the bedsheets hard, pulling them tight around to cocoon herself.
>Tucking her in, you began talking.
“I’ll call work and let them know I can’t come in, okay?”
>A solitary grunt was her acknowledgment.
“And if you don’t improve in a day or so, I’m taking you to the pokécenter whether you like it or not.” You declared, and leaned down to rub her shoulder beneath the blanket. “Okay?”
>Another grunt, though a little quieter.
>You left her to rest.
>Hopefully you could find mom’s chicken soup recipe.

***

>The door creaked as it slowly opened.
>You only opened it as far as you needed to.
>Enough to poke your head in the bedroom.
>Currently a sick room.
>The TV played at a respectable volume.
>Looks like she settled on Twilight Zone reruns.
>Some man was going hysterical, saying a sableye was on the wing of a flying airplane.
>A wave of heat washed over you.
>The warmth radiating from your sick partner was palpable. The sweet breeze from the open windows only helped so much.
>Was she asleep?
>The squeaking door might have woken her.
>Standing still, you watched for movement.
>You couldn’t see if her eyes were closed.
>A mass of red and black hair blocked your view.
>A far cry from how well-groomed she normally kept it.
>Whatever she was sick with zapped her energy.
>You made to close the door, but the creaking again filled the room.
>This time, she moved.
>Beneath the mass of blankets and mane her blue eyes pierced through.
“Sorry…” You muttered, opening the noisy door.
>The door, you realized, didn’t squeak when opened quickly.
>So much for being slow and silent.
>It took a moment for Zoroark to clear her confusion.
>How long had she been sleeping, you wondered.
>She probably woke up often. God knows you did last time you caught something like this.
>Tissues overfilling the waste basket near the bed seemed to confirm that.
>She shifted position, groaning while turning to face you.
>”B-Back…” She stated, forcing a smile.
“Mmm hmm…” You answered back, brushing the hair and fur away from her eyes.
>Dried snot caked her fur. Sweat, salt, and grunge clumped hair together.
>You kissed her anyway.
>She closed her eyes and smiled, rumbling in pained delight.
>Nuzzling your cheek, you could feel how off she was.
>Even her sense of balance was off.
>Hopefully this would help.
“Brought something.” You said, fishing through the plastic bag at your side.
>Zoroark stared at the bottle in your hands, waiting for you to explain.
”Medicine.” You said, sloshing the liquid.
>The pokémon grunted again, pawing at the covers to wrap herself deeper in them.
“Sit up if you can.” You said.
>She rested her eyes a moment, trying her best to scooch back on the soiled bedsheets.
>Her head jerked side-to-side as it rode up the pillow and slid against the headboard.
>At least she had enough strength to rise, you thought.
>A claw gingerly pulled the wayward red hairs blocking her eyes.
>She had a soft spot for the show playing across the room.
>But her attention wholly focused on you.
>You twisted the cap, breaking the seal.
>Pouring the syrup entranced her.
>She’d explored the medicine bottles in the cabinet some time ago.
>They hadn’t kept her interest for long.
>She couldn’t open the bottles. The safety cap bested her.
>Being kept out of something only made her want it more.
>After taking them to you, you explained their specific purpose.
>And not to take them otherwise.
>She listened, and probed no more.
>Seeing you pour her medicine into the plastic measuring cup made her choke up.
>”Am I dying?” She questioned.
>The bluntness staggered you a moment; you almost overfilled the cup.
>”No.” You firmly answered. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re healing.”
>You set the bottle on the nightstand, and reached beneath the covers to grasp her hand.
“Everyone gets sick. This will help with the pain.”
>Being reminded of the hurt made her rub her throat.
>She clenched your hand tighter.
“Just swallow this, okay?”
“It…”
>For a moment you debated telling her to brace herself or not.
“This won’t taste good.” You decided.
“Can you hold it?”
>She nodded, and used both hands to cradle the liquid before her.
>She brought it beneath her nose and tried to inhale.
>”Can’t smell…” She lamented, and brought the cup to her mouth.
>Her tongue slid out, and retreated back inside the moment the tip touched the “cherri-berry” drug.
>She winced, and closed her eyes with such force that tears squeezed out.
>You grabbed a tissue to dry her eyes.
“I know, Sweetie, I know…” You reassured her, and brought her the glass of water from the nightstand.
>After cleansing her palette, and handing the half-full glass back, she looked at you.
>You knew the look.
>The “Do I have to?” face.
“Try not to taste it.” You advised. “Pour it right down your throat.”
>She closed her eyes.
>Tilting her head back, she swallowed the foulness down.
>Unfortunately, she again made the mistake of tasting it.
>She gagged, and only succeeded in smearing more of her tongue with the horrendous flavor.
>To your surprise, instinct took over.
>The stress of the situation pushed her to the defensive, if only for a moment.
>You’d fallen for her pranks and illusions more times than you could count.
>But you’d never been on the receiving end of an attack.
>Her mind lashed out.
>Like a caged, cornered rattata tired of the poking needles.
>She responded in the only way her species could.
>A ghastly maw of sinew, bone, and razors burst forth.
>Snapping, slavering, and biting at the air.
>Your own instincts kicked in.
>You jerked back and shut your eyes, moving your hands to shield yourself.
>Water dampened your shirt and splashed your terrified face.
>The water had the added benefit of shocking you awake.
>Eyes wide open, you looked around you.
>The glass was intact, but water pooled on the floor.
>You shook your head and cursed yourself.
>How long had you been with her now?
>You should’ve been prepared.
>With the adrenaline leaving your system, you realized you hit the floor harder than you thought.
>Dull pain ached at your tailbone, and you rubbed it as Zoroark peered over the edge of the bed.
>Her eyes were wet again.
>”Sorry…” She cried.
>It sounded like pleading.
>She hid her face in the bedspread, shuffling back to the center of the bed.
>Groaning, you stood up.
“It looked good.” You said, hoping to cheer her up. “It got me.”
>It did look good.
>Considering she couldn’t control her illusions the other day, this was a good sign.
>She sniffled and shivered under the covers.
>You pulled your shirt off, using the already damp fabric to dry your face.
“C’mere.” You murmured, lifting the covers.
>The Pokémon trembled at the rush of cool air, but settled down as the covers reestablished her warmth.
>Failing to find the strength to flip to face you, she settled for scooting into your embrace.
>The TV’s volume was muffled and lost beneath the shifting bedsheets.
>She curled into a ball, and you wrapped around her.
>The heat, intolerable.
>Her hair, pressed against your nose, greasy and sickening.
>Her labored gasps, groans, and sniffles were nails on a chalkboard.
>But you held her close.
>Her shaky, weak hands held yours.
>And you’d do it again.
>A thousand times for her.
>Your little, Zoroark spoon.

***

>”It would be funny, and you…” Zoroark began, poking your chest with a finger. “Know it.”
>A claw, technically.
>But to those around you, a finger.
“No.” You repeated, raising your volume.
>Maybe she hadn’t heard you over the surprisingly packed mallgoers around you.
>Grainy, compressed audio played from an ancient speaker directly above you both.
>Spooky ambience occasionally punctuated by the cry of a ghastly, creaking floorboards, and distant screams of terror.
>”The greatest prank of all!” Your “human” girlfriend continued.
>She too, raised her voice.
>And her smug face told you she knew she was going to milk the situation.
>”Just think about it!”
“I did.” You answered, shaking your head.
>”No, really! Think about it!”
>She tapped the sides of her head, circling around you like a predator.
>”How do you keep a secret from the world, hmm?”
>You kept staring through the store’s window at the hideous costume.
>”What’s the best place to hide?” She asked, giddy as a schoolgirl.
>After a pause, you shrugged your shoulders.
“I, jeez, I dunno, what are you getting at?”
>”Look at what I do all day!” Zoroark exclaimed, almost insulted you missed the point.
>”Amateurs hide in the dark.”
>”It’s predictable. No excitement, no surprise, and worst of all, no fun.”
>Things began to click.
>”The best way,” she began, before looking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, “is the Zoroark way.” She whispered into your ear.
>She was so quiet, it tickled. You flinched out of reflex, shaken out of your stoic posture.
>”Hide in plain sight. Right under everyone’s nose.”
>Driving the fact home, she bopped the tip of your nose.
>”Almost twenty. Whole. Years.” She bragged.
>You nodded, trying to think of what to say.
>Couldn’t fault her logic. Or her skill.
>She’d fooled your whole family.
>But you could fault this ridiculous idea.
”The costume’s still trash.” You said, pointing towards the garish outfit.
>Half the costume store was the typical scary, ghoulish outfits Halloween was known for.
>The other half was pokémon.
>Not costumes for pokémon. Human pokémon costumes.
>You couldn’t blame the trend. Who hadn’t dressed up like their favorite at some point?
>In high school, spirit week had the whole school dressing up as electric types.
>But those outfits were stylish. Or at least presentable in public.
>Some pikachu ears on a yellow hoodie or some buterfree wings you could stomach.
>Not this.
>This was a furry costume.
>A bloated, wide suit that resembled a Zoroark in the same way a clown resembled a human.
>Gaudy, bright-colored fur.
>A ridiculous smile.
>And a frightening price-tag, to boot.
>You’d probably suffocate wearing that. Or suffer heat-stroke.
>You shook your head, wondering why the thought of wearing it crossed your mind in the first place.
>”Just think. Me as your trainer, with all those fancy badges pinned to my shirt.”
>She flicked her imaginary jacket, where she’d presumedly put her imaginary badges.
>Sheer cringe wouldn’t allow you.
>But you did have to get a costume for the party.
>God knows Zoroark wouldn’t settle for anything but a quality costume.
“Point taken.” You said, grabbing your love’s hand and walking towards the entrance with her. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”
>She skipped a few steps, delighted at getting her way.
>Probably all she wanted in the first place.
>Go figure, the master of disguise was the master of persuasion.
>Maybe you’ll find something a little more tasteful.

***

>”Well, what’d you think?”
>”Did you like it?” Zoroark asked as you stood by the church doors.
>Zoroark “wore” her Sunday best, and insisted you dress appropriately as well.
“Well, I definitely didn’t expect to do this today…” You trailed off, pausing a moment to button your coat.
>Zoroark did as well. A real one you gifted her.
>The bizarreness of putting a real coat on top of her illusion seemed risky, but she was the expert.
>If anything gave away her true, beastly nature, you didn’t spot it.
>Exiting churchgoers let the cold in, which swirled about the both of you and settled at your feet.
>The contrast from the warm, welcoming church to the outdoors was hard to ignore.
>The cold was mild and absent any sting from the wind, at least.
>”I don’t think that was an answer.” Zoroark teased, holding the door open for you.
>Her sharp-toothed grin told you she wouldn’t let you change the subject either.
”Uh…” You stalled a moment to think as snow crunched beneath your feet.
>Evening set in quick. It was far darker than when you entered church an hour prior.
>You and Zoroark maneuvered around mingling folks until you walked side-by-side on the sidewalk.
>To your surprise, Zoroark wanted to attend the nearby church’s children service.
”They must have practiced a lot.” You commented.
>Zoroark nodded.
>”They always do.”
>”Not just for their verses or songs, either.” She added.
>”They had to learn when to stand, sit, turn around…”
>”Volume.” Zoroark also added. “Lots of control there.”
“Yeah, yeah…” You agreed.
>The kids did a decent job narrating and singing.
>You and your pokémon paused to look at the blinking lights of a well-decorated house.
“So, why’d you want to visit church?”
“That one, in particular.”
>Zoroark shifted from paw to paw as she happily explained.
>”Tradition!”
>”Mama and Papa always took us there.”
>”For the Christmas songs.”
>”Pokémon don’t really get to hear live music.”
>”Hiding in a den all winter gets…”
>You nodded when she looked at you.
>She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
>”It was a nice gift.”
>”We hid in Mama and Papa’s hair and just… listened.”
>”If we kept up our disguises we could stay. I think it was to practice blending in, too.”
>Without saying it aloud, you both continued walking.
>”Happy memories.”
“That’s lovely.” You agreed.
>”It’s family tradition, and you’re family.” She declared.
>She pecked you on the cheek.
>The wetness formed a cold, but welcome, spot on your cheek.
>You grabbed your mate’s hand in turn, wrapping your mittened hands around hers.
>A peaceful minute went by, with only crunching snow breaking the silence.
>And then, a giggle.
>Snickering behind you caught your attention.
>A small family had, somehow, snuck on the both of you without you noticing.
>You knew you had been alone.
>The bizarreness of the situation almost frightened you, but the family seemed nice enough.
“Merry Christmas.” You said with a smile.
>”Merry Christmas!” The group responded, almost in unison.
>The boy, however, added a little something.
>”Merry Christmas, Uncle!” He declared, with a wide beaming face.
>That got your attention.
>You chuckled at the young lad’s mistake.
>Zoroark chuckled too.
>”You should know…” She said, walking backwards in front of you, staring at both you and the family.
>”You had a niece and a nephew singing in that service.”
>”Remember to compliment them over dinner tonight.”
>Snickering came from all sides as your pace slowed, processing what was just said.
“Oh…”
>Foxy, dark-type tittering.

***

>Another gray-red blur, huffing and puffing in excitement, sped past your feet.
>You steadied yourself for the third time halting to regain your footing.
>Glass plates clinked against the juice.
>Silverware almost spilled off the edge, and you nudged it back into place with your thumb.
>How many are there?
>Three. Three at least.
>Probably.
>Hard enough balancing the breakfast tray on its own.
>You’d overfilled it with food in the hope of only making one trip.
>And it was doubly hard thanks to your…
>It’s still surreal thinking the words: your ‘nieces and nephews’ dashing underfoot.
>Could tripping you be their plan?
>You have the sneaking suspicion they were working to steal your breakfast.
>The ones brave enough to leave their mother’s mane and explore beyond the guest bedroom spied on you preparing it, with varying degrees of success.
>With most of your focus on the eggs and pancakes, you never laid eyes on one for long.
>Most elected to peek from around corners and legs of kitchen chairs.
>The skilled ones probably blended in without you ever noticing.
>You looked around you’re the floor, again seeing none of the little gremlins dashing throughout.
“Careful!” You scolded no one in particular. “Careful.”
>Another two scampered to your right, snickering and yipping in their sibling tongue.
>How many of them understood English, you wondered.
>At least one, you figured.
>Perhaps the eldest, you weren’t sure.
>The one who called you uncle.
>Given how integrated these Pokémon were in human society, you assumed they were taught from a young age.
>The bedroom door, thankfully, was ajar.
>You hadn’t thought how you’d enter without spare hands.
>Muffled noise from the television became clear after you nudged the door open with a foot.
>On your bed was…
>Well, you weren’t sure who it was this time.
>Short, blonde hair, sharp blue suit, square jawline…
>Yeah, you couldn’t name this one.
“A man, this time?” You asked, needing no answer.
>She nodded her head.
>A quick glance at the TV showed the exact same man who was on your bed.
>A local newsman, from the station a town over, reporting on the new Luvdisc aquarium exhibit.
>Zoroark’s illusion subtly changed as she stared at the screen.
>It was hard to determine exactly how, but you noticed she sat up straighter as you sat the tray on the mattress.
>”How does it look?” She asked.
>Her pitch and cadence perfectly matched the man’s professionalism.
>You only caught a second-long glance of the reporter before they moved to a different topic, however.
>Zoroark snarled in a decidedly inhuman tone at the inconvenience.
“I sure can’t tell.” You answered.
>”You barely saw…” Zoroark griped, dispelling the illusion with a theatric snap of her crimson claws.
“Well, it sure sounded professional.” You answered. “Would’ve fooled anyone who wasn’t a close friend.”
>That brought her spirits up, as did the scents of breakfast.
>”Now just what did you bring in?” She asked, bringing herself eye-to-eye with you by squatting on the bed.
“Uh, well, it’s everything you like.” You said, a bit off-balance by the obvious question.
>It wasn’t like she couldn’t see it.
>You paused.
>She wasn’t talking about the feast in your hands.
>Zoroark grinned at your realization.
>She nodded at the still open bedroom door.
>”Shhhh…” She whispered.
>Zoroark’s blue eyes darted around the bedroom.
>To the open closet.
>Over the TV.
>At the nightstand.
>And the laundry basket.
>”Breakfast is good!” Zoroark chirped, leaping off the bed in a red and black blur to close the bedroom door with an unnecessary slam.
>”I smell pancakes…” She noted, walking to the open closet doors.
>She sniffed the air near the closet for a moment before closing the doors.
>”Oh, and hashbrowns! You make excellent hashbrowns.” Zoroark praised, sauntering to the TV.
>You nodded at the compliment. Your potatoes always did turn out well.
>The secret was the sweet onion with it.
>The dark fox pawed around the TV, brushing away old dust before examining the cabinet beneath.
>Her brief inspection lasted only a moment, before moseying back to you.
>”You know what I could really go for?” She asked, spearing a breakfast sausage link with an index claw and bringing it to her mouth.
>She chewed noisily, and after slurping her lips a thin layer of grease speckled the fur around her mouth.
“I don’t know, what?” You asked, curious what she was getting at.
>”Meat.”
>The dark-type turned to stare daggers at the laundry basket.
>”Fresh meat!” She yelled, crouching to all fours and darting to the hamper in a flash.
>A piercing, high-pitched shriek filled the room.
>”Mama!” Came a noise from past Zoroark.
>Socks and shirts were kicked and knocked aside as the basket’s occupant squealed and struggled.
>It was a good hiding place.
>But not good enough to fool the master.
>”Auntie’s gonna grab you! Auntie’s gonna get you!” Zoroark teased in a motherly, if frightening, tone.
>The larger pokémon couldn’t contain her excitement; her wild grin got larger as she finally dug her prey from your jeans.
>”MAMA!” The little zorua screeched, but it was too late.
>Using her teeth, Zoroark grabbed the flailing young one by the scruff of his neck.
>Zoroark growled in victory, and showed you her catch.
>”Oh, let’s cook up this one!” Zoroark mumbled though her teeth.
>She traced her sharp digits across the vulnerable, fuzzy belly of your nephew.
>”Uncle, nohohoooo! Ha ha haaaaa!” The small pokémon cackled.
>It was surprising to hear him speak, but you guessed he was the eldest of his siblings.
>You reached in to rub his stomach. The tiny quadruped scratched and batted at your fingers with his paws all while nipping with his mouth.
>You sighed and smiled.
>It was obvious what he wanted.
“Mama and papa are still asleep.” You said.
>Might have been a lie. You hadn’t checked.
>That, and you could never tell with a pack of zoroark.
“You hungry?” You asked.
>His blue eyes darted to the tray filled with warm food on the bed, but he said nothing.
>”C’mon…” Zoroark encouraged. She spat the smaller pokémon out to hold him with both hands. “The human’s offering you food. What do we say?”
>She gently bobbed him up and down to get him to speak.
>The zorua, confused, did not know what to say. He only stared at the food with hopeful eyes.
>Zoroark tutted and shook her head.
>”We’ll work on that later.”
>She opened the bedroom door, and bent over to put her nephew on the ground.
>”Go get your brothers and sisters.”
>His little legs kicked and scampered before she released him.
>Zoroark called out in her native tongue, clicking and barking in a distinctly inhuman manner.
>Wherever the zorua hid, they rushed from cover and toward the bedroom.
>A small stampede of paws echoed down the hallway as they skittered past your mate and leapt, one by one, onto the bed.
>You held the tray steady, afraid they might knock something over.
>Five gray-black balls of fur wrestled on your bed for a moment before crowding around breakfast.
>Despite their wild natures, none of them dared touch the food without the alpha’s permission.
>Zoroark smiled down at them, and held her hands up.
>Only after she clapped twice did the mischievous foxes dig into their meal.
>”No messes!” Zoroark commanded, as she tore two pancakes from the pile.
>They ate quietly, despite pushing one another aside to get at foods they hadn’t yet tasted.
>”Turn some cartoons on. Like when we were kids.” Zoroark whispers, plucking and pieces of her pancake and eating them.
>You sit back on the bed and oblige her, flipping through the channels until you find some appropriate, classic animation.
>None of that modern trash; the old ones that still air are masterpieces for a reason.
>It definitely catches their attention.
>The pack of zorua settle down; the cartoon cinderace outsmarting the poacher with anvils and dynamite is too good to look away from.
>Little chirps and cackling follow each gag.
>You and Zoroark settle against the headboard.
>Zoroark shares her second, sticky pancake with you.
>You nod and take it in your hand, your fingers immediately gummy with maple syrup.
“Was hoping we’d have some alone time.” You whisper to the dark-type.
“How much longer will they, uh…” You point at the furry pile of Zorua, swishing their little tails in content.
>”It’s too cold out, yet.” Zoroark murmers. “And they…” She says, pointing towards the red-tipped foxes. “Need some practice around humans.”
>”That’s the big reason.”
“Huh… Did your family do the same thing?”
>Zoroark nodded, and licked the sugary syrup off her fingertips.
>”And uh…”
>”Think of this as practice.”
>Zoroark snuggles close to you and whispers in your ear.
>”We won’t be alone forever.”

***

“Now, add these two numbers.”
>Zoroark stared at her character sheet.
>”…”
>”Can you help?”
“Yes.”
>Your pokémon stared at you, wondering if you would.
>Then huffed when she saw you smirking.
“C’mon, you’re getting better.”
>Zoroark grunted, trying her best to focus on the digits.
>You stopped the game over a dozen times this past hour for this same reason.
>She liked the “play pretend” part of the tabletop game.
>Math, not so much.
“Use your fingers.”
>The pokémon didn’t have five digits per hand like you.
>But she made do.
>She counted slow, audibly saying the number each time she curled a finger.
>Hard to believe she made it this far knowing so little basic math.
>Once finished, she stopped staring at her hands to look you in the eyes.
>”17?”
“Was that a question or a statement?” You responded, smiling.
>”17.” She answered again, more confident.
“Correct.” You congratulated.
>”Did I hit him?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“You’re getting the hang of it.” You complimented, before jotting her enemy’s now lower HP down.
>Might be the perfect way to teach math to a zoroark.
“Your sword plunges into the duke’s side.” You begin.
>Zoroark, pleased with her correct answer as well as the game’s turn of events, absorbs everything with a smile.
“His chainmail prevents any blood loss. But the force knocked the wind out of him.”
“Members of the court are shocked!” You exclaim. “Some of them gasp in amazement. They can’t believe you bested Nobleman Falck so quickly.”
>Zoroark didn’t play like you remembered your old group playing.
>You all played Dungeons and Dragons like it was a video game.
>Combat encounters were puzzles to solve, every move made to maximize damage.
>Most problems were “fixed” through violence.
>Every room you entered needed a perception check.
>Finding gold and loot was the ultimate goal of every player.
>But not for Zoroark.
>She played a character.
>Sometimes to that character’s own detriment.
>”Fine form, Lord Falck!” Zoroark taunted, leaping from her chair.
>She struck a heroic pose.
>Roguish clothing fluttered from thin air around her.
>A gaudy tricorne with a pristine white feather popped atop her head.
>The rapier in her hand pointed towards her defeated sparring partner on the floor.
>Said partner resembled a certain fat trainer you had the displeasure of meeting at the park last spring.
>”I’ll be taking the ring now.”
>Unlike you, Zoroark was completely unphased by acting.
>She worried not about embarrassing herself or taking it too seriously.
>Her imagination further came to life.
>”I swipe the ring off his finger.” The girl triumphantly declared.
>She looks to you for confirmation.
>Nodding your head, you let her do that.
“Yeah, he’s catching his breath on the ground. You don’t need to roll a check for that.”
“Nobleman Falck resists after you grab his hand. He squirms and wriggles, but you’ve knocked his sword aside and the stocky man is at your mercy. His portly fingers, however, make pulling the ring off a near-impossibility.”
“Alright, Sweetie, roll a… Let’s say a sleight of hand check.”
>She had a good score for that.
“So, make a roll and add this number.” You say, tapping the figure to add.
>Grabbing her red D20, the pokémon makes an elaborate show of shaking it in her cupped hands before tossing it before you.
“Ooooh…” You murmur without thinking.
>”Oh, no way I got it.” Zoroark said, shifting the die to see the low number.
“Well, let’s add it up first.”
>The pokémon complied, and after taking a moment to count on her claws she gave you the low answer of nine.
>Her correct answer rewarded her with more story.
“You tug, pull, and twist as hard as you can. Combined with the fat man’s writhing, you can’t jerk his enchanted ring free. The crowd around you, shocked to silence a moment ago from your bout, begins to regain their composure. You hear the boots of guards stamping against the carpet down the hall, coming closer. What do you do?”
>The dark-type’s scene came back to life as she continued her show.
>”Take it off or I’ll slice it off!” The dark-type bellowed.
>Twirling a dagger between her claws, she grabbed Falck’s hand tight and slid the knife between his fingers.
>Grinning, she pulled the blade’s edge down with agonizing slowness.
>The baron received no worse than a papercut, but his face went white as a ghost.
“Roll intimidation.” You said. “And I’ll say with advantage, so you can roll two and take the higher one.”
>Her illusion paused as Zoroark gleefully scampered over, rolling two of the dice like you said she could.
>She made no show of rolling this time, wanting to get back to roleplaying as quick as possible.
>Two high numbers meant she passed, even without her modifiers.
>No need to tell her that, though.
>Not with math to work on.
>And this time, she struggled.
>After a wrong answer, she fell back to tally marks on her paper to ensure she got it right.
>A correct reply of twenty-five kept the game moving, and Zoroark dashed back into position.
“The sweaty, nervous mess that is Baron Falck curses you. He whimpers, wrenching the ring from his finger and placing it in your outstretched hand. The guards burst into the room, but the other party-goers have crowded around the door and block the soldiers’ paths. Screaming above the crowd, the sergeant orders you to halt as he slowly shoves his way through. With him comes his faithful houndoom, who barks rabidly and gnashes his teeth.”
>You look to Zoroark, having a good idea which contingency she’ll make use of.
>”I sprint to the balcony!”
>Your couch transforms into an ornate stone parapet, and Zoroark made a show of looking over it.
>”Is the shopkeeper still below?”
“Yup. He set up his stand right where you suggested. You’re on the second floor, remember.”
>”Safe enough to jump to?” Zoroark further questions.
“Not the safest way down.” You warn her. “But it is the quickest.”
“You’ll have to roll-“
>”I leap off the balcony!” Zoroark interrupts, clamping a hand over her pretend hat as she pitches over the edge.
>Bouncing off the couch cushions, she rushes to the table and tosses her d20.
“Make sure to add your DEX score.”
>Rolling a natural twenty, Zoroark celebrates both her roll and the simple math problem.
“You land directly atop the shopkeep’s stall. With your fall cushioned by the tented fabric, you roll with your momentum. With grace that would make an elf blush, you land standing. Shoppers are stunned as you land in their midst.”
>”Butting my way in line, I purchase one of the commoner hats the peddler has in his stall.”
>”I’ll take this hat that everyone is wearing nowadays. It’s all the rage.”
>Zoroark sashays her way towards you and “pays” you with gold.
>”Do I blend in? I would move with the crowd.”
“You do.” You rule. “With your new, oversized hat, you melt away among the hundreds in the market square. From their vantage point, the guards can’t spot you.”
>Now at the end of the chapter, you collect your notes and shuffle them together with a few taps on the table.
“Congrats!” You called out to the crowd of peasantry in front of you.
“You passed today’s math test.”
>The mass of humanity faded away as Zoroark pecked you on the cheek.
>”Part Zoroark.”
“Hmm?” You asked, straightening out the pens and books on the table. “What was that?”
>”You. Part Zoroark for sure.”
“Well, thank you for the compliment.” You said before scratching the sensitive spot behind her ear.
>”We should do this again.”
>”With family…”
>Pausing, you looked at Zoroark.
>Lost in thought, staring at nothing, she rubbed her gray-furred belly.
”Oh… yeah, your nieces and nephews would love it.” You said.
>Zoroark stared back at you.
>Her smile widened.
“O-Our.” You corrected, thrown off base by Zoroark’s strange grin.
“Our nieces, and, uh…”
>Looking down at her abdomen, Zoroark closed her eyes and smiled.
>Toe-claws clicked against the floor as your mate sauntered away with the slightest extra sway to her hips.
>Once out of the room, you sat down to collect yourself.
>Impossible…
>Snorting a brief laugh, you ran your hand over your mouth.
>What a…
>Composing yourself, you shook your head.
>Such a ridiculous idea.

***

>You sighed.
“This’s so dumb…” You muttered, turning the ignition off.
>Your passenger, raising her eyebrows, glared back.
>”You promised.” She tutted, watching you rub your eyes.
“I dunno, it’s just…”
>Trailing off, you raised your hands off the steering wheel and, unthinking, dropped them down again.
>No way around it; you were acting immature.
>No excuses this year.
>The neighborhood Labor Day party was on your day off.
>And, unlike last year, you now had a Zoroark all too eager to attend.
>You looked to your significant other, frowning.
>She snickered and grinned, rhythmically tapping her disguised fingers against the plastic-wrapped fruit platter in her lap.
>”Does my wittle humie need to go back to his den?” Zoroark cackled.
>Part of you wanted to fight her on that.
>Fire up the car and turn right back home.
>A little, spiteful thought to show her who was in charge.
“I won’t know any of these people.” You spat out.
>”Pfft, so!?” Zoroark blurted, her ‘human’ illusion perfectly imitating human disbelief.
>”This is how I,” she paused “We. Blend in.”
>The red-head pulled down the sun visor above and admiring her disguise in the mirror.
>”You know, if Mama and Papa didn’t do this, we never would have met.” She added.
“Yeah, yeah…”
>A moot point, but why argue?
“Sure you’ll be cool enough?” You asked, looking up and down her as if you could see her luxurious coat.
>She still looked as fluffy as last winter.
>”Shade exists. I’ll be fine.” She answered, flipping the visor back up.
>”Redheads always avoid the sun.”
>She conjured a ballpark hat beneath her seat to wear, and made a show of putting it on.
>”Those water bottles are a bit hard to open, by the way. Open one for me if I hand it to you, alright?”
>You nodded and took a deep breath to compose yourself.
>She’d talked about attending a party for months together.
>You were doing this for her.
>”Ready?” Zoroark asked, fidgeting to open the door without upsetting the fruit platter.
“Yeah, yeah, hold on.” You said, hopping out of the air-conditioned vehicle into the suffering heat. “Lemme get that door for you.”
>Signs directed you towards the backyard.
>Zoroark led, eager to see the festivities.
>Patriotic decorations, bleached from a summer of sunlight, dotted the way to the gathering.
>A well-kept flower garden lined the side of the house.
>The colors and scents attracted tiny combee, which Zoroark steered well clear of.
>As guessed from the dozen parked cars up and down the street, plenty of others already made it.
>A twinge of envy hit you, seeing the spacious yard behind the house.
>Wide, lush, and led into a small forested area past the property line.
>The children caught your attention before anything else.
>Seeing them all in one space made you appreciate how many lived in the neighborhood.
>One group set up a dodgeball game. Or maybe ball tag, it was hard to say.
>A second gathered around a sprinkler, wearing swimsuits and jumping through streams of water.
>The happiest looking ludicolo danced with them, moving along to the beat of the patio loudspeaker’s music.
>One final group seemed to hole up inside, only dashing out for snacks.
>A few quick hellos came your way, before the gremlins rushed back in.
>Ten or eleven years old, you wagered.
>Hard to tell, not being a kid anymore.
>Zoroark paused to watch the little ones a moment, smiling and waving back.
>You barely caught the glance she gave you, in the corner of her eye.
“What?”
>The redhead only smiled.
>A small, almost invisible smile.
>”Didn’t say a thing.” Zoroark answered, as you moved into the throng of adults clustered near the house’s patio.
>Placing the fruit platter next to the rest of the buffet’s offerings freed you up to thank your hosts for the invitation.
>Adults all seemed to cluster here, at the patio.
>…
>And you had no idea who owned this house.
“Uh…” You unthinkingly uttered.
>Whose house was this?
>Your eyes glazed over the other partygoers, returning waves where given and saying hello when greeted.
>Damned if you knew who owned the place though.
“Zor-“
>You caught yourself.
“Sweetie, who owns the house?” You whispered to your companion, who brought two water bottles over.
>Zoroark handed you the bottles to open, only sharing her knowledge after a long sip.
>”The Davis family.” Zoroark began.
>”Husband, wife, three children.”
>”Matt and Helen. Tallest ones on your right. Both in blue.”
>As she said, there they were, talking with an older couple.
>”Trey, Adrian, and Mason are the kits.”
>You smiled at her misuse of the term, but said nothing.
“Jeez, you sound like a spy.”
>”It’s my job to know.”
>…
>Thinking it over, she actually might have spied on them.
>”And…” Zoroark shifted in front of you, fiddling with your shirt collar.
>Your mate glared at something behind you.
>Whatever it was, she laser-focused on it.
>”That.”
>A sylveon brushed against your leg, making your jump at the surprise.
>Looking down, you realized one of it’s fleshy feelers hugged your leg.
>The little eeveelution sniffed and looked at your feet, searching for scraps.
>Finding none, a tendril moved towards Zoroark’s leg, which she shooed away.
>Sylveon’s expression remained, despite the rudeness.
>But it couldn’t make heads or tails of Zoroark’s scent.
>No blue jean denim smell…
>No rubbery shoe odor…
>Zoroark remained motionless, but you could tell she was on edge.
>Excitement from the buffet area caught his attention.
>Cantaloupe pieces tumbled from a tipped plate to the wooden deck.
>With a silent sigh of relief, Sylveon trotted over to snag a bite.
>The hostess, noticed your arrival too.
>”Oh, don’t mind Jasper!” She called, weaving her way towards you through the crowd of guests.
>”Gets a little feely when saying hello.” She said, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.
>Zoroark giggled, and wiggled back.
>”D’oh, he’s just adorable!” Zoroark feigned.
>”He yours?”
>”Reminds me of a certain umbreon you grew up with, eh?” Zoroark added, leaning into you.
>Free of distractions, Zoroark slipped into her role.
>And you did yours, wrapping an arm around the dark-type’s shoulder.
>Though you had to act far less than she did.
>Zoroark avoided sharing much herself, opting instead to nod, show interest, and ask questions to keep the hostess talking.
>What little Zoroark did share, you backed up.
>When she felt you hadn’t chimed in enough, she roped you in to support the ruse.
>Before you knew it, you sat at a table with the two women.
>The hostess all but spilled her life story thanks to Zoroark’s rapt attention.
>Zoroark’s remarkably effective technique lasted almost fifteen minutes, during which you were able to properly thank both your hosts for the party.
>Emboldened, you added a few minor details to Zoroark’s white lies.
>A challenge she seemed to relish, adding her own twists to keep you on your toes.
>Under Zoroark’s guidance, you might have kept up the show for the entire party with this couple alone. >However, her husband needed to start the grill.
>The hostess excused herself to welcome more friends to her home.
>Quick as the conversation began, it ended.
>Zoroark squeezed your hand in approval.
>A small reward for your performance.
>You both watched those congregating around the grill.
>The host’s inner social circle, you guessed.
>Beer-drinking, sunglasses wearing men all at least twenty years your senior.
>What they talked about you could only guess at, but their hearty laughter and cheerful attitude was contagious.
>Zoroark was content to sit and silently watch, now that she’d infiltrated the gathering.
>It was hard to tell if Zoroark was studying the men or instead eyeing the heaps of meat about to be lunch.
>A groan of frustration rose when the lighter wouldn’t spark.
>”Woah, party’s over. Everybody, git!” One of the men bellowed, hardly containing his smile.
>Simple as the joke was, Zoroark and some others rewarded him with a chuckle.
>The grill master called one of his boys running through the backyard.
>His son sprinted in, and leapt up the patio steps with practiced ease.
>You couldn’t make their conversation over the din of the party, but the boy ran inside.
>Glancing at Zoroark, you noticed her gasping for air, mouth open.
>For a moment, a pit developed in your stomach.
>For a second, you believed she was in severe pain.
>Then her tongue drooped out.
>It hit you.
>Putting an arm around her shoulder, you pressed your head to hers and whispered.
“You’re panting.”
“Careful.”
>Realizing her lapse in concentration, she nodded.
>She did sweat; but that meant little with this heat and her mountain of fur.
>Reorienting herself, she grabbed a paper plate and fanned herself.
>You grabbed a water bottle from the bottom of an icy cooler to help.
“Wanna head inside?” You asked, opening the bottle. “Cooler.”
>”No, no…” She assured you.
>”Last summer was hotter.”
>Your hand felt odd, and you examined it.
>A few stray, gray and black hairs stuck to your sweaty palm.
“Eh, still…” You began, shaking the fur free behind Zoroark’s back.
>The child rushing back interrupted your worrying.
>This time he held a little torchic at his chest.
>Somebody to your right mentioned the chick was his starter.
>The orange and yellow bird burrowed its head into the boy’s chest, unsettled by the many strangers.
>It took a full minute of coaxing from both father and son before the pokémon dared open its eyes.
>And another minute for it to understand the coals needed lighting.
>Trey held the torchic level with the charcoal grill.
>Coughing and sputtering, a third minute past before the hatchling belched a gout of fire onto the ready coals.
>Cheers filled the air as the meat slid over the coals, sizzling instantly.
>To your surprise, the hosts spared no expense.
>Hotdogs and hamburgers aplenty for the kids, with adults waiting for quality cuts of marinated beef tenderloin.
>Zoroark licked her lips.
>You couldn’t exactly place the scent.
>Wasn’t anything you’d made before.
>Honey Mustard? Dijon?
>And maple syrup, maybe?
>Your mouths watered all the same.
>With much of the party congregating around the grill, you felt exposed.
>Most guests moved to the action, leaving you alone with Zoroark.
>For a moment.
>Zoroark made to join the gathering, but rethought her decision when the sylveon joined the crowd.
>The harmless fairy reared on its hindlegs, battering peoples’ thighs with paw and ribbon.
>Donning a smirk, you leaned in and whispered, “I’ll protect you.”
>A sharp claw jabbing into your flank shut you up.
>Your friend about-faced and made for the buffet table, seeing its watermelon unguarded by the eerily happy eevee.
>You pulled out your phone, but the moment you unlocked the screen Zoroark struck up a conversation.
>With a pair of older folks, if the voices were any indication.
>Sighing, you put your crutch back in your pocket.
>Far be it from you to break a promise.
>No awkwardly sitting alone. Blend in. Fake it ‘till you make it.
>Putting on a smile, you sauntered to Zoroark and stood beside her.
>You didn’t realize you left your hands in your pockets until you greeted the elderly couple.
>An old man and woman, sampling the fine sausage and cheese tray.
>You put an arm around Zoroark’s shoulder, striking a pose you hoped looked natural and loving.
>Unfortunately, you were so focused on appearing natural, you forgot their names three seconds after hearing them.
>They definitely lived in the neighborhood. You’ve seen them before…
>But you couldn’t picture it in your mind when they told you their address.
>Shuffling back to the table at a glacial pace, you pulled out their chairs to make things easy.
>”Oh,” she tutted, smacking her lips, “such a nice young man you’ve found here.”
>Zoroark nodded, popping fruit in her mouth so often you ended up speaking more than she did.
>Like earlier, this couple was eager to talk about themselves.
>All you had to do was sit back and ask the right questions, and it burned entire minutes away.
>The information they shared was staggering.
>With all you learned about their children and grandkids, you’d be able to get away with some serious fraud.
>Growing tired of talking, the conversation switched to you.
>”Goodness, are you two married?” The white-haired, kindly old woman asked. “You must be!”
>The moment caught you off guard.
>You hadn’t discussed how to answer this.
>There was never a ceremony, but for all intents and purposes, you-
>”Yesh!” Zoroark blurted out, spitting chewed, orange cantaloupe down her chin.
>You smiled and nodded.
>Yeah, you were.
>”See, I told you.” The old man said with a sarcastic ‘told-you-so’ tone.
>Filled with testosterone and newfound confidence, you patted your wife on the shoulder.
>Zoroark nuzzled your hand a moment before heading off to taste those fancy crackers and sausage.
>“Don’t fill up on fruit, dear, that meat smells delicious.” The old woman said.
>”Yeah, it’ll be done any sec.” Her husband added, leaning back to see if he could spot the grill through the dense crowd.
>Zoroark waved her hand, dismissing any concern.
>”Don’t worry, I’m eating for two.” Your mate stated, noisily eating a cracker.
>Wait, wait…
>Your eyes widened.
>”Oh, ARE you?!” The grandma said, beaming at you.
>Your stomach fell.
>”You’re expecting?” She asked for confirmation.
>Zoroark smiled wider, nodding once.
>Your eyes went back and forth.
>”Well, congratulations!” The grandpa added, laughing.
>There was no way…
>”Well, how long’ll it be?” The old woman asked, excited.
>You swallowed. Your throat went dry.
>”Oh, a while yet.” Zoroark answered, licking a venison stick.
>”Just happened, ya’ know.”
>Grandpa gave you a proud thumbs up, amused at your discomfort.
>”Who knows…” The red-head began, looking up at you.
>Those eyes…
>”Might even be two… or three…”
>Her voice…
>Beneath the table, Zoroark squeezed your hand.
>She wasn’t acting.

***

>”Oh, we’ve never been here before!”
“Mmm hmm…” You mumbled, pulling into an open parking spot.
>Only a few other cars in the café parking lot.
>Not too many.
>But there were other people.
>Perfect for the conversation to come.
>Steeling yourself physically, you pulled your winter gear tighter.
>Steeling yourself mentally, you tried swallowing.
>As if you’d forgotten, your body didn’t obey.
>How did this work again?
>On the fourth try, you successfully gulped down the nothing in your mouth.
>Your passenger made a show of putting on a knitted Christmas hat.
>Something to fool passersby outside, should they be spying.
>All part of her act.
>Your act, the loving part of your brain reminds you.
>But the bleak, rational part sinks its claws in tighter.
>”You feeling alright, Hun?”
>Snapped to reality, you were caught staring.
“No, no… Think I caught something.” You lie, clearing your throat.
>”Something warm should help, then!” Zoroark answers, trusting you.
>Vile wind whips the two of you, and you hustle across the damp parking lot together.
>Invisible hair lashes your coat, blowing into you from the companion pressed against you.
>To others, it looked like Zoroark held her arms tight in her coat pockets.
>In reality, you’re sure she hugged her long mane, keeping it somewhat neat.
>Flinging the café door open jingled the bells, and they rang all the harder once the bitter wind blew past.
>The pleasant, homely atmosphere warmed you both.
>Pleasant smells of fresh coffee and baked treats were enough to put anyone at ease.
>Dim lighting filled the eatery, broken by patches of vibrant white Christmas lights.
>Soothing, familiar Christmas melodies softly filled the air, coming from some unseen speaker above.
>”Lovely…” Zoroark said, entranced.
>You agreed.
>A lucky pick, on your part.
>The dark-type examined a painting on the wall.
>A smiling acrylic family, with mom and dad making cups of cocoa for children in the background.
>Standing at her side, you barely noticed the edge of her smile.
>And definitely saw her rubbing her belly.
>Your insides seized again.
>The welcoming barista only signaled the oncoming discomfort.
>With no one else around, you got your piping hot, festive drinks within a minute.
>But what a long minute it was.
>The fox moved from painting to painting, pulling you along to see each scenic, winter landscape.
>Each Santa and his workshop.
>And each loving family.
>She lingered on those only a second or two longer, but you noticed.
>Every one enthralled the pokémon.
>Beverages in hand, you sat in the quietest part of the café.
>You had the whole place to yourselves.
>Using both hands, Zoroark carefully lifted the cup to her lips.
>She took a micro-sip, slurping the tiniest fraction of a mouthful.
>”Hot.” She warned.
>Nodding, you wondered how best to bring up what you needed to.
>Thankfully, you didn’t have to think hard.
>”Something’s bothering you.” Zoroark stated.
>She knew.
>Faking it was in her blood, of course she noticed.
>You let out a long sigh, and put your face in your hands.
>You’d given this thought for months.
>Now the time had come, you found your tongue tied.
>She waited an entire minute as you pieced things together.
>She never took her eyes off you.
>Between your fingers, you saw Zoroark shifting back and forth, worried and trying to figure out what bothered you.
>She could only wait so long.
>”Something at work?”
>”Family? Are Mom and Dad okay?”
>”Is someone sick?”
>All said with the love and care you’d come to expect from her.
>Which only made it harder to say.
>To ask.
>To accuse.
>You opened your mouth to begin, but no words came out.
>Choking up, you needed another moment to steel yourself.
“There’s… There’s no way I-“
>Nothing more would come out.
>Zoroark concerned, yet puzzled, narrowed her eyes in confusion.
>”What?”
>Tearing up, you swallowed hard, and tried again.
“We can’t have kids.”
>Zoroark tilted her head.
>”What?”
>Her eyes widened.
>”But we are…” Zoroark trailed off, looking down and hugging her expectant tummy.
>”I can feel them.”
“They’re not mine.” You blurted.
>Zoroark’s disguise flickered.
>Never before had you seen her illusions falter.
>She rippled and fuzzed.
>Composing herself, she stared directly at you.
“There’s no way. I… You had to have-“
>Leaving a dark streak in its wake, Zoroark cut you short with a sharp slap.
>Zoroark’s hand glowed a moment longer before she again regained control.
>She huffed and puffed, blubbering and unable to keep her breathing steady.
>Sniffling, a tear trailed down her cheek.
>Rubbing your cheek, you felt you deserved it.
>But it was the only way things made sense.
>You couldn’t possibly be the father…