Transformed Into a Lucario [Pokémon]

>You were like a kid again.
>A kid times…
>A hundred?
>Boundless energy didn’t come close to describing this feeling.
>You sped up.
>In minutes, you’d gotten used to dashing as fast as a car.
>You dodged past branches and hopped over divots and cracks faster than thought.
>The t-shirt and shorts you kept on clung to your lean, muscled form.
>The lingering human part of your brain insisted you wear something.
>You wish you hadn’t; you could go even faster.
>The sharp, iron spike on your chest already bore a hole through the fabric.
>Had this happened to others?
>Surely, it had, right?
>You hoped so.
>Others needed to experience this.
>The few people out this early bore no changes.
>No one saw you coming.
>You sprinted silent as a cat and faster than the wind.
>The few who did turn their heads only saw kicked up leaves and grass clippings as you bounded further out of sight.
>Racing down the sidewalk was too easy.
>Turning on a dime, you leapt over hedgerows into a backyard.
>Two steps after landing, you leapt again over their fence.
>Three bounding steps this time, before leaping over another wooden fence.
>A stray cat froze in place as you cleared a swimming pool.
>The scent of chlorine made your nose crinkle, but it passed within a quarter-second.
>Twisting in mid-air, you avoided crashing into a child’s sandbox filled with toys and a castle.
>Looked professional. Budding architect here.
>Seeing the two-story Victorian home on the corner gave you one final, big hurdle.
>And a chance to really test your legs.
>You landed low to the ground and bent your knees.
>You didn’t jump.
>You launched.
>Up you flew towards the roof.
>And past it.
>Panic set in.
>You underestimated your own strength.
>You flailed, barely grabbing the roof’s ridge with an outstretched hand.
>You felt like you had thumbs. Sort of. Gripping was weird.
>Maybe should’ve practiced more at home before doing this.
>It wasn’t enough to stop you.
>You sloppily slid down the roof, bracing your pawpads against the bumpy tiles.
>Your small claws dug white furrows into the roof as you slowed.
>You raised your tail, awkward as it was poking a hole through your shorts, to keep balance.
>Though slowed, momentum took you past the edge.
>But not over.
>You gripped tight.
>With wide, red eyes, you hugged the top of the roof and rested your chin against the gutter.
>Damp, old leaves stuck in there flooded your nose.
>Your legs kicked uselessly, just too far from the house to get any leverage.
>Could you survive a two-story fall?
>Making a big mistake, you looked down.
>Lord have mercy, it looked far.
>Pulling yourself up too fast, you felt the gutter creak and give.
>A bolt popped off, pinging against the side of the house.
>In terror, and without conscious thought, your hands glowed bright blue as you scrambled to regain your grip.
>And exploded.
>Roof tiles blew away, the gutter blew out, wet leaves splattered, and the wooden frame of the house splintered as your aura flared strong and bright for the first time.
>You’d have been prouder had you not been thrown into the flowers below.
>…
>It should have hurt more.
>In fact, the prickly thorns irritated you more than the fall.
>You rested a moment, getting your bearings and checking every part of your body.
>Dogs barked from inside the house.
>Squinting your eyes just right, you the outline of an angered man in a bathrobe storming towards the front door flashed in your vision.
>This was something else…
>It hurt to flee.
>Some deep, instinct told you to make things right.
>To apologize and fix this mess.
>A sense of duty stronger than you ever felt when human.
>You climbed over the fence, hearing a cascade of curses behind you.
>You’d make it up to him later. It wasn’t a good time.
>The world was changing. You could feel it in the air.
>Sense it.
>The glow around your hands flared up again.
>And you had way too much energy to burn.

***

>”I’m telling ya’, Dylan, ain’t seen nothing like it! Right over the farm.”
>”Just a HUGE hawk. Way too big to be from ‘ere, y’know? They get that big in Canada? Fly off from the zoo maybe?”
>”And there you have it, folks. That was our fourth caller today. Called in a few minutes ago, can you believe that?”
>”So, listeners, place your bets, are we getting punked again? Jame, you remember when-“
>You’ve heard enough.
>Nothing on social media or the news.
>But local radio couldn’t stop talking about it.
>Enough to warrant a check.
>You stuck to rooftops and backyards, leaping above power lines and over trees.
>Being midday, you were overly cautious at first.
>But so few people look up, it was almost cheating
>A combination of speed and heights kept you well out of sight.
>Silently, you landed on each roof before scuttling to the far edge and bounding to the next.
>Not as fast as sprinting, but you were fast than the vehicles shackled to the streets below.
>A bystander might assume you’d done this for years.
>It only took four falls from yesterday, but you got the hang of this.
>Reminded of the gouge on your leg, you paused your travel.
>Leaning against a warm, red-brick chimney, you examined your arms, legs, and paws.
>Unbelievable.
>You laughed and checked your body again.
>Not a scratch in sight, much less a scar.
>You’d expected they’d have stuck around for weeks.
>After treating yourself to a long, deep, breath of air, you continued.
>This just got better and better.
>Riding high from the adrenaline, it pained you to pause at the highway.
>Getting across would be no issue, but you’d certainly be seen.
>Train tracks ran across the highway a mile down, you played it safe and took the detour.
>You’re glad you did.
>The tracks ran through a forest and you took full advantage and tore down the path.
>Gravel flew into the air behind you, pinging off the metal rails and clacking into the wooden crossties.

>Nothing but the sound of your paws hitting the ground and the rush of wind.
>In minutes, you covered miles.
>And you felt invigorated.
>It would’ve taken hours to walk here, and you didn’t feel a shred of exhaustion.
>The tracks ran right next to the reported farm.
>Excited from your runner’s high, you looked up to the clouds and…
>…
>Well, what were you expecting?
>You leapt up the highest tree.
>After balancing on the highest, shaky branch, you brought a paw to your forehead to block the sun.
>You’d driven past the old barn there before.
>And there’s the farmhouse
>You recognized the livestock there. A few horses were in that field.
>Chicken coop there.
>Apple tree.
>Hedges.
>Cornrows.
>…
>If there was a new hawk here, you didn’t see it.
>You sighed.
>At least coming out here was good exercise.
>Thoughts of heading back were dashed when you saw an old tree stand.
>You couldn’t be so impatient.
>Your old responsibilities were a thing of the past; you had all day.
>The stand groaned with every movement you made, but it would do. The view was nice.
>A great place to wait.
>And a great place to practice.

***

>You gasped, needing a breather.
>The trip here barely fazed you, but this?
>This was hard!
>Moving your…
>You didn’t know what to call them.
>Dreads? Sensors? Appendages?
>It was exhausting.
>You’d panicked yesterday, flaring your aura.
>But summoning it when you wanted it was a Sisyphean task.
>You were moving muscles you didn’t know existed.
>Your hands would glow for a second at most before sputtering out.
>Rest was cut short.
>A sharp cry startled you.
>From the other side of the farm, you were sure.
>Not human. Not earthly.
>With renewed vigor, you dove from the window and barreled towards the farm.
>Crouch-running down a drainage ditch kept you low and fast.
>Hugging a grain silo, you slunk behind a tractor and…
>Majestic.
>You could hardly believe it.
>A magnificent creature.
>The beast held its head high, lording over its domain.
>The undisputed ruler of these acres of farmland.
>A braviary.
>It ruffled it’s red and dark blue wings, perched atop the chicken coop and stared down at its subjects.
>Cocking its head to the side, it eyed every hen and chick below with cold, avian curiosity.
>The hens scrambled, bumping into one another.
>Those too far from the chicken coop huddled together against the walls of their closure.
>They weren’t clucking, they screeched in terror.
>The breviary readied itself, lazily stretching its wings.
>Taking its time.
>Part of you wanted to let nature play out, but the other wanted to tackle the thing and wrestle it for answers.
>Thinking kept you frozen.
>Was that thing human?
>Ever human?
>You presumed other Pokémon would be sapient like you, but…
>What happened to you was bizarre enough.
>You were lucky, yes, but were you extra lucky?
>Fortunate enough to remain sane?
>Maybe it was a bird before? Some other animal?
>What if it was still someone who simply didn’t care?
>A farmhand loading a shotgun shell brought you back.
>Not for you. His ire was directed toward the raptor threatening his flock.
>Your hand was forced.
>Though you sounded far different, your voice still worked.
”Wait, wait, wait!” You shouted.
>Charging a man with a gun was a foolish idea.
>But you could do it.
>It felt like bullying, in a way.
>Mid-reload, he didn’t have a firm grip.
>The old man approached retirement.
>And looking in your direction put the sun in his eyes.
>He noticed you at the same time he realized you plucked the shotgun from his hands.
“Just gimme a sec, alright?” You asked without asking, tossing the firearm far to the side.
>The poor man backed away in terror, putting his hands up defensively.
>He only lowered them when you stealthily crept away towards the chicken coop.
>He scratched his shaking head, puzzled.
>With the braviary wholly focused on finding the fattest hen, you got frighteningly close.
>It was far bigger up close; the bird came up to your chest.
>And perched on the henhouse, it looked down menacingly.
>You whistled.
>Whipping its head around, wide, brown eyes bore into yours.
>Sizing you up.
>Judging you.
>And stared back.
>On instinct, you were in a fighting stance.
>In a heartbeat, you could launch yourself away or press the attack.
>The stare lasted all of 2 seconds.
>Screeching, the braviary too flight.
>Its huge wings blew dust into your fur.
>You stood still, watching it fly off. Perhaps it flew toward its nest.
>You wouldn’t pursue.
>Animal eyes.
>Animal instinct.
>Animal thoughts.
>”Hey!” The farmhand shouted, walking towards you.
>Armed, but pointed to the ground.
>”The hell’re you?” He asked.
>Still human, you thought, leaping away.
>Part human.

***

>Again.
>Again.
>Again.
>…
>Again.
>Again.
>Again.
>…
>…
>Again.
>And...
>Again…
>Again…
>Again…
>…
>Okay…
>Finish strong.
>Again!
>Rearing your weight back one final time, you punched.
>You rotated your hips and shoulders, putting all your remaining strength in one final blow.
>You followed through.
>The wrist spike gouged the makeshift punching bag, tearing a hole and dragging an old, discolored shirt partly out.
>It wasn’t a strong punch. Not compared to those you were throwing hours ago.
>But that would’ve hurt.
>The duffel bag stuffed with clothes swung back and forth on the branch.
>Huffing, and puffing, you rested a hand against the tree.
>Last week the most exercise you did was a light walk.
>Today, you spent the entire day throwing punches and palm strikes.
>You listened to the birds sing as fatigue left your muscles.
>Nothing out of the ordinary.
>Nothing like that huge braviary.
>As you took the bag down, you winced.
>The pink pads on your finger-paws were raw.
>You’d been so focused you hadn’t noticed.
>As the sun set, you leisurely headed home.
>You tugged the old shirt out of the bag.
>You…
>Lord, you needed a bath.
>That was a lot of sweat.
>And that made you remember how heightened your sense of smell had become.
>The highway fumes to the left, some industrial buildings across town, the taco place a few miles on your right; you smelled everything.
>Especially yourself.
>Didn’t need a supernose to pick that up. Eugh.
>Not horrible. But still gross.
>At least that wasn’t too different from being human.
>If you didn’t think of the scent, you got used to it fast.
>You got used to everything. So fast.
>The change changed your brain.
>By how much remained to be seen.
>You simultaneously were, and weren’t, the same person as before.
>Everything was still there, you were sure.
>But the brain was off.
>Improved, you’d say.
>You were far more observant.
>Without thinking, you planned out escape routes and avenues of attack, planning fights against imaginary, possible assailants.
>Pain tolerance was off the charts.
>And your focus, good Lord, your ability to concentrate was off the charts.
>You could barely read for a whole minute straight last week.
>Saying you were laser-focused today was an understatement.
>You knew how to punch. How to position your paws. How to strike with precision. It shouldn’t come so naturally yet it did.
>…
>Had you lost memories?
>You’d gained instinct.
>Did something have to leave? To make room?
>You made a game of avoiding the fallen leaves. Hopping from paw to paw made you feel like a riolu aga-
>…
>That was weird.
>Weird enough to make you pause, balancing on a single foot.
>Was there more to that thought?
>Like you woke up and the vivid dream from seconds ago blew away as if dust.
>…
>You continued.
>If you’d lost memories, you wouldn’t remember what you’d lost.
>Probably.
>Family and friends.
>Old teachers.
>Embarrassing falls and triumphant victories.
>It felt all there, but it was so… distant?
>Almost alien.
>Moving through the suburbs, you spent time recounting your life.
>It all seemed there.
>From your earliest memories around Kindergarten to now, not a thing felt out of place.
>You still had a life story.
>Maybe you should reexamine your home. See if there’s a story behind everything.
>After a bath.
>Slinking in through the unlocked window, you headed straight to the bathroom.
>On the way, a buzz interrupted you.
>Cringing, you walked over to the vibrating phone.
>Another text and a mountain of notifications.
>The pit in your stomach told you to be responsible.
>You closed your eyes, sighed, and walked to the bathroom.
>People will find out, eventually.
>They don’t need to know yet.
>This was too new and exciting. You weren’t soiling this.
>At least the bills were on autopay. Thank God you set that up.
>The thought of checking social media for new Pokémon sightings melted away the moment you turned the water on.
>No thinking.
>Relaxing time.
>You crawled into the tub and stretched, moaning as the warm water sloshed over your muscles and through your fur.
>You lied back and closed your eyes, loving every moment the water rose higher.
>Opening your eyes ruined it.
>The water was not the right color.
>You were dirtier than you thought.
>Grains of sand and rock pooled at the bottom of the tub.
>Brushing your hands over everything knocked all the more filth loose.
>Without soap, you were far cleaner already.
>You needed a rinse. Maybe two.
>And not soap.
>Shampoo.
>As the water drained, you became aware of how lean you were.
>The fur really added some bulk in places.
>Shaggy manilla chest fur normally hid your toned abdomen beneath, now the wet hair highlighted the muscles.
>Your black haired parts were short enough there wasn’t much of a difference.
>The blue fur was longer in a few places. Really fluffed your thighs out.
>As the tub refilled, you had to check the mirror out.
>You breathed a sigh of relief; looked better than expected.
>No scared, ugly, wet dog.
>It became clear fast shampoo was going to be a problem.
>Manipulated the bottle with your paw-hands was difficult.
>And you needed a lot.
>Sudsing yourself was rewarding, if time consuming.
>You were very off-white and bubbly by the time you began rinsing off.
>The amount of water you used was ludicrous, but you needed it.
>Soap was rubbed in deep.
>Bathing had taken an hour, and you hadn’t even dried yourself yet.
>That made you sigh.
>You found your first big downside of being lucario.
 >Where was that hairdryer?
>This was gonna take a while.

***

>This was poison.
>You slammed the cereal box on the counter.
>Yeah, you could eat it.
>You used to. All the time.
>Last week, you might have said it was your favorite.
>It smelled fake.
>The fake was always there.
>You hadn’t noticed it until now.
>Maybe you could stomach less sugary cereal, but not this.
>Scowling, you slammed it into the trash.
>The opening and closing lid wafted its revolting bouquet up your oversensitive nose.
>Stale energy drink.
>Old brownie.
>Oily, packaged cookies.
>Crusty condiments.
>It viscerally offended you.
>Clamping your paws around your nose barely helped.
>When it gets dark, you’ll empty that can.
>So much food smelled like chemicals.
>Some part of you knew it was all edible.
>You hadn’t had any digestion issues yet.
>You could probably drink literal poison and be fine with it. You were hardy.
>But this was not a life and death situation.
>On your way out of the kitchen, you grabbed the last banana.
>Spotty, brown, yet inoffensive.
>You sat on the couch too far back.
>In your frustration, you forgot a tail was back there.
>Scooching forward, you peeled the fruit and had your breakfast.
>Past its prime, but better than fake food.
>But you needed protein.
>And you’d run out last night.
>Training preoccupied you so much you forgot what a sorry state your pantry was in.
>Your body screamed for meat, eggs, milk, someth-
>Milk!
>Duh, you had a little left.
>No cereal, but it’ll do.
>When was the last time you had a glass of milk?
>Eh, forget the glass.
>Straight from the jug saves clean up time.
>Drinking was awkward. You needed both paw-hands to hold it steady.
>It hit the spot. Like those times you wanted water for hours before finally getting some.
>Now sated, you could think.
>What was the delivery time on fresh food?
>You could probably order something online and have it shipped.
>One of the local stores did that for sure, but you needed to pick it up in person.
>Which was a problem.
>…
>…
>You sipped noisily.
>…
>Could kill a deer.
>It made sense the more you thought about it.
>It’d be easy.
>They come out at dusk and dawn, they’d be resting now.
>Figure out what they smelled like, find one resting… You ran quietly…
>And…
>Oh jeez, the blood would be a nightmare to get out of your fur.
>Eugh.
>And you couldn’t store it all in your little freezer.
>No, that would disrespect the animal.
>Do you even have to tools to properly gut it?
>You’d leave a blood trail right to your home.
>No, no, no... Bad idea. Be reasonable.
>…
>A roadside stand!
>You had cash still, you’d just have to find one of those.
>You’ve driven by some on the county roads nearby.
>Grab a few dozen eggs and veggies, leave the cash and you’re good to go!
>You smiled at the simple genius of it.
>It wasn’t meat, but it would do for now.
>Maybe you could head to a river for fish?
>Yeah, you could do that…
>Stand in the river, strike fast, get something tasty.
>Where was your phone?
>You instinctively reached a paw to the pocket it was usually in.
>Might take you a while to unlearn that behavior, you thought.
>You could even call the farmer, make sure they had what you needed before running out on your errands.
>They couldn’t tell what was up with you by your voice.
>Carefully, you poked your phone with your oversized fingers.
>You’ve been ignoring this.
>That was a lot of email, texts, and a couple voicemails.
>Well, text to speech should work fine.
>Some of these messages were friends and family. They deserved a reply.
>There were others you relished not responding to.
>That was a powerful feeling.
>But first, a farm with one of those roadside stands…
>Three times you had to backspace, fat-fingering the wrong numbers.
>Four…
>No.
>Six dozen eggs oughta do it.

***

>Did that include the ears?
>Distracted by the thought, you paused your research.
>You took a minute and practiced wiggling the tall ears atop your skull.
>You’re still getting used to rotating them to listen better.
>Being on top of your head still throws you for a loop. Your favorite music doesn’t sound the same.
>Still good, but everything’s got a strange quality to it.
>It reminded you of swapping headphones. The bass and tones were all a bit off.
>High pitches were more noticeable.
>Any buzzing insects near you received a swift and merciless swatting.
>You skipped a song before looking through the internet tabs again.
>You forgot how short lucario are.
>You bet it didn’t include the ears.
>Three foot eleven.
>2nd graders would tower over you.
>You were taller at 8.
>Hard to imagine this whole transformation being even more awkward.
>Memories came back of difficulties reaching snacks in high cupboards, getting cups and plates after hopping on the counter, your feet not reaching the ground on chairs, and blindly reaching for clothes in too-high dresser drawers.
>Everything would look so big; glad you didn’t go back to that.
>You felt the same height.
>Ears definitely added some inches.
>That put you solidly in “Alpha” territory, according to this chart.
>A nice confidence booster that made you sit a little straighter.
>The rest of the information was a decent refresher.
>Hard to know how much to trust the game’s pokédex entries.
>Everything about aura seemed like magic, but this last week proved the existence of magic as far as you were concerned.
>Aura lets lucario read emotions, thoughts, and movements.
>Aura emanates off even invisible creatures, letting lucario see them.
>Aura helped packs of lucario hunt prey.
>Lucario can detect people from half a mile away.
>Lucario can crush boulders to dust with aura.
>You needed to practice more with aura, that’s for sure.
>All your physical, superhuman feats barely held a candle to what it could do if you learned how to control aura.
>No.
>When.
>When you learned how to control aura.
>You blew up the corner of a house by accident.
>Imagine how strong you’d be when you learned how to control it.
>Apply it exactly when and where it was needed.
>You had to get back to protecting people.
>…
>You shook your head and the aura on your hands flittered away.
>Start.
>Start protecting people.
>From…
>Uh…
>You’d figure that part out later.
>Whatever you’d end up doing, it’d be something meaningful.
>You were sure of it.
>Something no one else could do.
>Not like your last job…
>You were replaceable.
>No doubt already replaced.
>Hadn’t missed a day. Always on time. Got along with most people.
>But ultimately a cog like any other.
>They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.
>You skimmed through comics that had lucario in them.
>”A most gallant-looking creature.” One line read.
>Again, you sat upright and puffed out your chest.
>The anime had plenty of lucario.
>And a whole movie.
>The high seas let you acquire those for free.
>Had to be careful with money. Only so much to go around right now.
>Sitting still for so long made you restless. Exercising while watching made you feel more productive.
>None could talk like you could. The one in the movie used telepathy, which came close.
>If you could use telepathy, you hadn’t the slightest idea how.
>You talked like Meowth. Maybe these others could’ve learned to talk too if they tried.
>At the end of the movie, that noble lucario was taken before his time.
>The cartoons got the maneuverability and strength down.
>Not much you weren’t aware of already, save for a few moves you’ll have to try yourself.
>Dark pulses, psychic blasts, metal claws…
>Heck if any of that was possible, but your aura was real. You wouldn’t be surprised.
>There were plenty of clips, but watching these shows got you more exhausted than the actual exercise.
>It was dark enough outside.
>Getting to bed now would mean an early wake-up.
>Could train outside with less risk.
>You kneaded the bed with your paws.
>Seeing cats and dogs do it was always funny.
>But you tried going to bed without kneading yesterday and you couldn’t fall asleep.
>Yawning, you slipped under the covers.
>Only then did you remember you needed to plug the phone in.
>Eugh.
>The nightstand and charger were right next to you, but your paw-hands made it cumbersome.
>Plugging your drained phone in, you flicked over to social media.
>Hadn’t looked there yet today.
>Couldn’t check your phone during the movie when you were instead doing sit-ups and bicycle kicks.
>The infinite scrolling loop caught your attention, same as when you were human.
>Funny video. Painful fall though.
>Cool video game. Might not be able to play it with paws.
>Great animation. Give it a like.
>Bodybuilder giving tips. You’d win in a fight.
>Day ending in y, another politician lying or something.
>Cute animal video. Lotta kittens.
>Dog saves a life. Man’s best friend indeed.
>And…
>And a blue-albino squirrel in a park…
>…
>That’s a pachirisu.

***

>No response.
>The video wasn’t viral, but did attract moderate attention.
>Mostly moms and grandmas commenting how beautiful nature was.
>And a few asking if it was AI, or saying it was well edited.
>And no one responding to your question of where the video was shot.
>Flicking through the comments assaulted you with obnoxious, almost painfully bright light.
>You squinted your eyes shut, but couldn’t find the strength to turn the screen down.
>Squinting wasn’t good enough.
>Burying your eyes into the pillow was.
>After a half-minute of groggy inactivity, where you balanced on the precipice of sleep and awake, the phone went black.
>Maybe you’d have found the energy if you’d gotten a reply.
>A loud ‘pop’ interrupted the blissful fall back into dreamland.
>Fight or flight flooded your veins.
>Within a half second, your body sprang up.
>You were on your toes and finger tips, teeth bared.
>Your tail, trying to get upright, was unable to push through the covers still draped over your back.
>Slowly, the killer instinct drained away, replaced with a groan at the foolishness.
>But you had heard something.
>Sometimes you heard bangs or felt like falling just as you went to sleep.
>This was too different.
>Your phone was fine, it hadn’t fallen to the floor.
>Nothing was on the bed, you didn’t kick anything off.
>Shifting a hand, you found the problem.
>It was only a matter of time.
>Your chest spike gouged the bed.
>It tore a hole through the sheets, the mattress protector, and bore into the mattress itself.
>You’d done such a good job of sleeping on your side and back you never considered it happening.
>An experimental poke reminded you how razor sharp it was.
>Merely bumping into someone could cause serious damage.
>Maybe time would blunt it.
>The thought of smoothing it down made you wince.
>Reminded you of those grinders in the dentist’s office.
>There were probably nerves and blood vessels in there, no way you’re taking a belt sander to it.
>With no hope of getting sleep now, you made breakfast while thinking of solutions.
>Put corkboard on it?
>Maybe a tennis ball. Would that stay put?
>A sock might be good enough, if it could stay on.
>But if your t-shirts couldn’t stand up to the spike, could a sock?
>You put that thought on the backburner.
>Then put the frying pan on the burner
>Cracking eggs demanded your full concentration.
>You felt like a rio-
>Kid.
>A kid again.
>You had to relearn how to crack these, and still hadn’t gotten it down.
>Scrambled eggs it was again.
>You lapped the raw egg splatter from your paws, not wanting to waste anything.
>Would it be better to eat the egg raw?
>Felt natural.
>Humans did it. So could you.
>Cooking made it smell like breakfast though.
>That was one heck of a boon.
>Salted egg smelled lovely and tasted homely.
>With a warm belly, you slid out the window.
>The cool air felt refreshing.
>Dew on the grass moistened your paws.
>You indulged yourself, and wiggled your toes in the grass.
>A pleasant way to greet the dawn.
>Good thing you were close to the edge of town.
>You needed privacy to train your aura.

***

>The calmer you became, the more vibrant it appeared.
>You closed your eyes
>Exhaling through your nose.
>Slowly.
>Like learning to ride a bicycle.
>More successful each try.
>No longer did you tumble and fall in seconds, gasping for breath with a fast-beating heart.
>Starting and ending felt easier than ever.
>The cool river gently flowed past your knees.
>Lapping water, wind-blown leaves, and chirping bugs hushed themselves.
>No longer did you feel the warmth of the sun.
>Unreality opened.
>A leaf ravaged by insects, darkened and fading away in your unsight, fluttered to the river.
>Startled by the disturbed water, fish scattered.
>Their green and blue auras, finding safety in numbers, rejoined the school.
>You felt their relief and comfort.
>Downstream they swam, past your statuesque legs and paws.
>Slowly, you inhaled.
>Through your mouth.
>You looked closer.
>Invertebrates of all sizes scuttled at the bottom.
>Hiding from fish and snapping at nymphs and larvae.
>The most aggressive flared red.
>Simple though they were, you felt their anger and hunger.
>Exhale.
>A slow, long exhale.
>Round the river bend you peered.
>Past the thick vegetation on the curved bank, a small herd of deer took refuge.
>Bucks in a bachelor group.
>The one with biggest antlers shone a bright yellow and stood guard.
>Inhale.
>You saw further.
>Sound became nothing and everything. Parts of your body felt blistered by moving water and frozen by the sun.
>You cared not.
>No distractions.
>Two concrete, straight lines; their surface free of aura.
>Whisps of life streaked back and forth along them.
>Cars, free of sensation, only highlighted the life of the occupants.
>Family vans were brighter, their colors vibrant and positive.
>Others were neutral, sullen, and dull.
>The fiercest human emotions shone brightest.
>You gasped, falling backwards.
>No, knocked backwards.
>Your crimson eyes opened, staring up towards the bright, blue sky.
>Your legs kicked from under you.
>Mid breath, you fell back-first underwater.
>Mud and dirt plumed in the water.
>And that water filled your mouth.
>Something pinned you.
>Water dulled your hearing.
>The white noise of the river punctuated by your panicked flailing.
>You lashed out.
>Kicks broke water.
>Punches hit the air.
>Something slapped your stomach hard.
>More water in your lungs.
>But that slap focused you.
>You knew where to swing.
>You brought both knees toward your chest.
>The right knee crunched into something slimy.
>Amphibian.
>The momentum of tucking your legs launched you downstream.
>Away from your attacker for a precious moment.
>You needed to breathe.
>And you couldn’t have it.
>Not yet.
>Your head broke the surface.
>You had to get it out.
>You heaved water, expelling as much as you could in one painful cough.
>You kicked and scrambled away from the site of the attack.
>Still in the middle of the river, far from shore.
>Focus.
>Painfully, you inhaled.
>A good hurt.
>Short breaths minimized the pain.
>Focus.
>Water slowed you down.
>You were still on the defense.
>You planted your feet. Again, you were balanced.
>Focus.
>What was it?
>Where was it?
>Muddied water. Couldn’t see an inch down.
>Ripples and waves were still everywhere.
>Might be more than one.
>You exhaled slowly.
>You focused.
>Closed your eyes.
>And your aura appendages rose.
>It crept beneath the water.
>Submerged in the mud.
>Sluggish and determined, it came.
>Fins furrowed the riverbed.
>The water’s surface did not betray its location.
>But the anger did.
>You felt its annoyance.
>It wanted you gone.
>It wanted you to flee.
>You were a home invader.
>As the beast closed, you adjusted your foot microns at a time.
>The water would slow you.
>This had to be powerful.
>Feeling emboldened by its first successful attack the creature lurched forward.
>Countering with a kick, your left leg sliced through the water.
>It slammed into your attacker with incredible force.
>You followed through.
>Water sprayed 30 feet into the air.
>The blue- orange amphibian wriggled uselessly as it sailed through the air, crashing into the tall grass on the riverbank.
>The water split when you pounded your paws into its surface, sprinting to the landing site.
>It was covered head to toe in mud, utterly filthy.
>Even beneath the grime there was no mistaking those immense fins, orange belly and gills, and blue body.
>A marshtomp.
>It clutched its side, gurgling.
>Seeing you looming above made it no less aggressive.
>Opening its wide mouth, it shot a high-pressure stream of dirty brown water.
>It stung, grazing your shoulder.
>The surprise of seeing another pokémon caught you off guard.
“What was that for!?” You roared, grabbing the overgrown mudskipper under its arms.
>You hoisted it up like a toddler and held tight.
>The sticky, gooey film surrounding its body wasn’t enough to aid its struggles.
>It tried slapping your arms, but you held firm.
>Its little legs couldn’t kick you.
>You sighed, remembering the feelings you felt moments prior.
>Holding firm, you waited for it to tire itself out.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, alright?”
>The marshtomp stopped its flailing, opting to stare blankly ahead.
>You didn’t think it was the words.
>It was probably confused why you hadn’t beaten it to a pulp
“You don’t understand a word I’m saying do you?”
>It blinked its beady orange eyes, first the right, then its left.
>Hopefully you didn’t cause any permanent damage.
>You prayed this pokémon didn’t used to be human.
>You couldn’t imagine being reduced to this.
“Bad. Bad marshtomp. Don’t attack friends.”
>Dogs and cats might understand the tone and meaning.
>This thing… didn’t seem to.
>But it knew enough to recognize who was in charge.
>Placing it in a mud puddle, the marshtomp turned into all fours and barreled into the water.
>In moments, it dug itself into the riverbed.
>You huffed and walked away.
>Lucky for you, that marshtomp didn’t reach your thighs.
>Barely two feet tall, you guessed.
>If that were a swampert, it might’ve suffocated you underwater.
>All the more reason to understand your new body.
>Further downstream, you dipped into the water and cleaned the mud as best you could.
>Another bath tonight.
>At this rate, you’ll run out of shampoo way sooner than you thought.
>At least you were going home a better man.
>Er, pokémon.
>You might have been the first to see a new species. How many could say that?
>Won’t go down in the history books for that, but you’ll know.
>It was only a matter of time until news got out.
>Probably a day or two of “there’s no way this can be real” and “gotta be a hoax”.
>Eventually, someone with a big reach would show it off and it’d sweep across the world.
>Would pokémon appear all over the world, or just here?
>You had a feeling this area was ground zero.
>Might be a lot more here.
>A yellow flash further downstream caught your attention.
>A sharp din echoed over the waters a second later.
>It wasn’t near the highway. Or the train tracks.
>Lightning? Without a cloud in the sky?
>Something else to investigate.
>You thought of using your aura sight, but there was the possibility that aggressive marshtomp was aching for a second round.
>Jogging down instead, you found some clues.
>Something had been here.
>Three dead fish floated on the water, sliding lifelessly into a rock at your paws.
>Their bodies were fresh, and their aura faded moments ago.
>Ozone stank the air.
>But you saw no bent plants or tracks.
>You heard nothing out of the ordinary.
>Whoever “fished” took off fast, you guessed.
>Shameful they’d waste food like this.
>Shameful for them, but lucky for you.
>This would be great dinner.

***

>Under the fin..
>Along the head…
>Follow the ribs, and…
>Well, it looked like an animal ravaged it.
>But that was edible.
>Slicing the scales away was oddly satisfying and thankfully easy.
>You slid the fish fillet off the knife.
>It splashed into a bowl of salt water.
>Using knives was challenging.
>The duller knife didn’t help.
>But your new fingers weren’t as dexterous.
>Flipping the fish over, you restarted the process.
>The intrusive thoughts came again.
>Just eat it.
>Bite its head off.
>Suckle the flesh from the bone.
>Save yourself the time and trouble.
>Another two fillets slid into the salt bath.
>Poison was nothing. Your body was hyper-immune.
>That wasn’t bothering you.
>What bothered you was that you remembered doing it.
>You hadn’t.
>Obviously you hadn’t.
>No where, when, or why.
>You weren’t some crazed, rugged survivalist.
>Or some hapless mook who did it for clicks.
>But you felt it.
>The scales on your tongue.
>Sinking your teeth in, biting hard, crunching bone, twisting, jerking, and yanking…
>You’d call it déjà vu were it not a daily occurrence.
>Once, maybe twice a day since the change.
>Salt and pepper would be fine.
>The long day, and the long bath, worked up your appetite.
>With extreme caution, you slide the tray of fish into your oven.
>It was far too hard to use oven mitts with your paws.
>Darn things wouldn’t slide past your wrist-spikes.
>It wasn’t vivid, but the feeling came again.
>You remembered them being shorter once.
>Nubs.
>The rational brain knew you didn’t.
>Kind of.
>As a boy, you hadn’t had them. No human did.
>Of course you remembered them bare.
>But as a riolu…
>Had you been one, that is.
>It felt like you had.
>Digging in the closet might reveal some truths.
>The transformation might have stolen what you once remembered.
>A box of Senior photos from high school graduation.
>Lots of them.
>You recognized peers.
>Names came to mind you hadn’t thought of since leaving.
>There was your family and friends.
>Sooner or later, they’d hear what happened to you.
>You owed them that much.
>A photo with Dad drew your attention.
>Something rose deep in your gut.
>Father’s praise...
>Mastered techniques.
>Lessons learned.
>A new stage in life.
>The feelings swelling inside you were more than just a handshake at graduation.
>You felt pride over something you never did.
>And you weren’t sure over what.
>Such a strong feeling for something so unremembered.
>Stranger and stranger…
>You sorted through more items, collecting what little sparked the strongest memories.
>A smile crossed your face when you saw it.
>That Lego set you liked.
>You had to break some pieces off to fit it in the box.
>A favorite toy.
>Little bigger than this Lego man.
>You were sure of it.
>A gift loved from someone beloved.
>The rest of the closet was a pleasant trip down memory lane.
>Not everyone was able to keep so many cherished things.
>Your human side felt intact.
>But nothing else brought the intense longing.
>Chances are, something else would trigger it.
>You’d know it when you felt it.
>Maybe the memories were real.
>Another life, perhaps. Maybe reincarnation was real.
>Maybe they were real for someone else.
>Something shared across a void you had no hope of piercing.
>Maybe they were fragmented dreams your brain stitched together.
>Maybe a natural side-effect from whatever caused the change.
>The whys were many.
>Maybe they would help.
>Maybe they would fade away.
>But they were yours now.
>The fish timer buzzed.
>Broiled fish stank the kitchen.
>You sighed, prepping yourself.
>Why were you so worried about this?
>You’d rather almost drown again instead of handling the oven.
>Weird memories you could handle.
>But the blast of heat from opening the oven washed over you, rising into your face, made you freeze up.
>You stepped back from the oven to psyche yourself up.
>Don’t think about it.
>You did this a thousand times.
>Just with bigger fingers now. No big deal.
>Slowly…
>Careful…
>Just a little-
>Your howl startled the neighbors.

***

>No, you could still see through the fabric.
>Folding the red scarf over itself, you tried again.
>Tying a knot wasn’t necessary, thank goodness.
>If you folded it right at the back of your head, below your aura appendages…
>There.
>A perfect blindfold.
>The cornfield, forest, and countryside were good as gone.
>You spun around in a circle.
>Again and again and again and-
>It felt ridiculous.
>Hopefully nobody saw.
>Between the lack of a breeze and your inability to see, you hadn’t a clue which direction you faced.
>You could sense aura while standing still.
>Now you had to practice while moving.
>You exhaled.
>Slowly.
>Long and calm.
>Your aura sensors shivered and rose.
>Animals were easy to see.
>Their auras shine bright and beautiful.
>Plants were duller.
>Alive, but different.
>Without emotions to read, grasses blurred together.
>Trees varied wildly.
>Their ages, varieties, and heights all made gave them a unique pulse.
>Cautiously, you stepped forward, your paws outstretched.
>Fear made you lose focus.
>Auras smeared together as if a kaleidoscope.
>You paused.
>Only after refocusing did you take another step.
>The world bled.
>Step.
>The trees burned.
>Two steps this time.
>Your own aura hazed your eyes.
>It shone so bright you squeezed your already shut eyelids tighter.
>You tried taking another step.
>You only got half of one.
>In your haste to keep moving, you almost walked muzzle-first into a large oak tree.
>If you hadn’t had your paws out, you’d be in a world of hurt.
>Using your aura to map a path, you soldiered on.
>Winding and weaving and circling the whole weald.
>It was not pleasant.
>Four times, you tripped.
>Took at least dozen branches to the head.
>Twice, you stubbed a toe.
>But you didn’t slam your face into a trunk.
>And you had navigated through the forest without real-sight.
>Any progress is good progress.
>Lifting the blindfold a crack, you noted of the sun’s position.
>Difficult to see past the gathering gray clouds.
>You wagered you could get another hour of training in.
>Cutting your training short felt criminal.
>But getting caught in the rain meant drying yourself. That took forever.
>You exhaled though your nose and slipped beneath the blindfold.
>You’ve earned an afternoon off.
>You should watch something fun. Play a video game maybe.
>The second walkthrough was easier.
>Having honed your aura sense, you made good time.
>Remembering some of the divots, outstretched roots, and rock locations helped too.
>You neared the end of your second lap.
>Step.
>Should have brought the cell phone.
>Step, step.
>Timing yourself to see your improvements would really boost the ego.
>Step, hop, step.
>As you neared your imaginary finish line, you saw red.
>A scarlet aura appeared fast as you could blink.
>Immediately in front of you it stood. Just beyond your pawtips.
>The contrast of the dull trees made it shine all the brighter.
>You tasted emotion.
>Fiery and energetic.
>It all happened within a second.
>You hopped back, but the crimson blur moved towards you all the faster.
>It lifted your blindfold.
>Wide and curious blue eyes stared into yours.
>Fluffy yellow fur around the head and ears.
>Black, short-haired on its face and muzzle.
>Blue streaks.
>And a wide, toothy grin.
>”Hey, hey, Doggy!” She cried out.
>Taking a step back, the blindfold came undone.
>Her white claw held it as it fell from your eyes.
>The ends of the fabric, charged with static electricity, repelled one another.
>Zeraora.
“Jeez!” You screamed, taking another step back.
>You were a good head taller than she was.
>But you felt the power.
>Hairs across your bode rose.
“Holy…”
“You can talk!?” You exclaimed and asked simultaneously.
>The girl gasped, loud and long, bringing her yellow paws to her cheeks in exaggerated fashion.
>She stopped gasping, and took a deep breath.
>Then gasped again.
>”Yuppers!”
>She twirling the red scarf in her claws, flicking the ends with her free hand as they whipped past.
>If she planned on striking you, she didn’t show it.
>”What’re ya’ doing with this?”
>You were still collecting yourself.
>Twice now you’d been snuck up on.
>You were ashamed you let yourself be so vulnerable.
>The surprise at meeting another pokémon with their wits about them almost didn’t register.
>”Hiding?”
>”Seeking?”
>”Pinning a tail somewhere?”
>Her voice was high and feminine, but crackled with voltage.
>Her eyes widened.
>She looked back at the long, frazzled ponytail drooping to her ankles.
>…
>And she kept staring.
>You tilted your head, trying to see what exactly caught your attention.
>Was something back there?
>Swiftly as her hair attracted the cat’s attention, she lost interest.
>She swung the scarf faster between both hands.
>Bright blue sparks flew between her blue paw pads and the fabric.
>Her eyes beamed when she noticed you had a tail.
>”Wow! Wish I had wunna those!”
>She circled round, staring at your backside.
>It allowed you a closer view.
>The zeraora was far leaner than you thought.
>The black furred forearms didn’t have much muscle.
>She only looked as big as she did because of bushy, static electricity hair.
“I was… practicing.” You answered, flustered by the feline’s intense focus on your tail.
>She clapped when you wagged it.
>And in the blink of an eye, she zipped in front of you again.
>She was faster than you.
>Way faster.
>”With yer eyes closed!? You must be crazy!”
>Maybe a little.
>You shook your head.
>Her antics distracted you.
>You hadn’t introduced yourselves.
>You opted to keep your actual name to yourself.
>Names are for friends.
“Lucario” You said, holding out a paw.
>That turned out to be one of the dumbest mistakes you’ve made.
>”Kat!”
>”With a K!” She cried over the electricity.
>Every muscle in your body seized as your paws clasped.
>It was painful.
>And it was a battle of endurance to move your paw with hers as she kept shaking; enough to make you uncomfortable.
>”Woah!” She said, amazed.
>Once free, you wriggled your fingers and smiled through the discomfort.
>Did she mean to put that much juice into-
>”Y’er like the…”
>Her strained thinking face was cute.
>“Fourth…?”
>She wasn’t sure. She counted on her claws.
>“Guy… to not fall over from a li’l handshake!”
>She grabbed you again with both paws.
>You screamed as an ungodly current coursed through your body.
>With rapidly waning strength, you flicked your sizzling hand to the side with enough force to break the connection.
>The over-friendly feline was impressed you were still standing.
>You prayed she hadn’t greeted people like that.
>”Strong, Doggy!” She remarked.
>She was far too giddy to wield that level of power.
>Clutching your chest, you breathed slow.
>Bringing your heart back to a healthy rhythm.
“So, uh…”
“Kat.” You began.
>Your muscles worked through lingering static.
>Your whole arm felt numb.
“When did you change?”
>The woman’s eyes went from wide and eager to confused instantly.
>”Ehhhhhh?” She arched an eyebrow.
>Blue sparks zipped from her upturned brow and the blue conductor on her forehead.
“It’s been a week for me. When did you, you know, transform?”
>”Wha- whaaa?” Kat asked back.
“It, uh… Happened when I was sleeping.”
>You’d have thought she was pulling your leg.
>She seemed the person to do that.
>But you couldn’t fake those emotions.
>You sensed true confusion.
>”Awwwwrrrrreee, you pranking me?” Kat asked, grinning.
>”It won’t worrr-herrrrrkk!” She proudly sing-songed, thoroughly convinced she ‘busted’ you.
>You stood still with your hands on your hips.
>Pleased with herself, Kat started snapping the electric-charged scarf like a towel in a locker room.
>She struck dynamic poses with each thunderous whipcrack.
“You uh… Were human, right?”
“And changed into a zeraora.”
>”…”
>”A what?”
“A zeraora. The species. That’s you.”
>”Oooooooohhhhhhh...” She nodded in understanding.
>She did not understand.
>”I’ve always looked this way, Doggy!”
>”Why? Hoping to upgrade?” She asked.
>”Tall, blue, and black…” She stated, hopping from foot to foot with her tongue out.
>”Ain’t bad on ya’!”
>She whipped the scarf towards you.
>You grabbed at the scarf but were already too late.
>The cloth snapped into your chest and was gone by the time your paw was even halfway there.
>You seized only air.
>The missing scarf didn’t concern you as much as her comments.
“You were human though, right?” You asked, rubbing the stinging spot on your breast.
>”Doggy, stop bein’ weird.” Kat said, confused yet energetic.
>”Maaaaaayyyyyyyybe I’ll forgive yer weirdness if…
>The zeraora wound the red shawl around her neck, tying it off with the skill of someone who’d worn one before.
>A detail you noticed.
>”You give me this scarf!”
>You nodded.
“Looks good on you.”
>Kat swooned, biting her lower lip.
>The patch of gray clouds drew ever closer.
>A streak of lightning lit the sky, and seconds later thunder rolled over you.
>The zeraora practically melted from glee. She hopped paw to paw with boundless energy and laughed.
>Between the gift and the storm, her day was made.
>Her aura showed pure ecstasy.
>”You’re a good ‘un, Doggy!”
>She literally took off like lightning.
>The sound barrier wasn’t broken, but she came close.
>You immediately clasped your ears from the thunder.
>Bolting directly towards the thunderstorm took her into the cornfield.
>She did not deviate an inch.
>Her eyes were on the sky.
>Hard, dried kernels in the cornfield blackened, fried, burst, and popped as she powered through it.
>It reeked of ozone and a movie theater lobby.
>The heat of her dash lingered well after she vanished.
>She wasn’t lying.
>She hadn’t remembered being human.
>If she ever was one.
>That complicated things.
>She was dangerous.
>Excitable, carefree, and joyful.
>A treacherous combination with that kind of power.
>She showed no care for that farmer’s field.
>Why she sprinted to the thunderstorm, you weren’t sure.
>But she was overjoyed to see lightning.
>Being slaved to desire like that made you uneasy.
>You’d have to keep an eye on her.
>Best to prepare for the worst.

***

>How could you play video games at a time like this?
>Good thing you checked your phone first.
>Your right paw twitched involuntarily.
>That, and you were in no shape to game at full strength.
>You were looking forward to relearning how to play video games.
>With your new hands, it might be harder than using aura.
>Once the twinging stopped, you spread the fingers apart and stretched them back and forth.
>Nice and easy…
>That thunderbolt of a handshake still made you spasm hours later.
>After fluffing the pillow you sprawled out on the couch.
>Tonight was one of those days that only come once.
>The energy had shifted.
>People noticed something big was going down.
>Once in a lifetime big.
>In a stroke of genius, you balanced the smart phone against your chest spike.
>Finally, a good use for it.
>A cursory look at social media told you everything.
>Pokémon was trending.
>It wasn’t at the top.
>But it gained steam each minute.
>No more were the little, peculiar videos seen only by enthusiasts and deep divers.
>No more were the posts and warnings limited to a dozen views.
>’Famous Cartoonist Claims His Cat’s No Longer a Cat’
>A headline like that would be at home in any tabloid.
>This was mainstream news.
>Equally untrustworthy, but you’d wager money on this one.
>”Big Ron” was now green, smelled of a floral shop, and still liked his favorite spot on the windowsill.
>The article might have come out days ago were it not so outrageous.
 >The cartoonist hadn’t been able to get anyone to believe him.
>Even the writer commented they didn’t believe it until seeing Big Ron in person.
>Plenty of people called the video and pictures fake.
>Rightfully so.
>Lots believed it too.
>Maybe not because they truly believed, but because they wanted it to be real.
>”I want to believe.” Posts were everywhere.
>You’d have fallen into that category, you thought.
>Had you not turned into a bipedal canine, you’d have been there with them.
>How could anyone rationalize this without experiencing it?
>You’d want to believe.
>You wanted to believe the braviary and marshtomp used to be animals too.
>You believed they were.
>It wasn’t rational.
>But it was better than some alternatives you’d imagined.
>A blurry cell-phone video of a deer was next.
>A buck with a lot of foliage on its head.
>And a pink flower growing in there too.
>The videographer lamented it wasn’t hunting season as the clip ended.
>The next video was from a woman in a national park.
>The area looked stunning.
>Within a second of the video’s start, a woman pointed her camera up a coniferous tree.
>The angle wasn’t great, but she held it steady.
>Focusing on the oddly large pinecone near the top of the tree, she swore up and down she could see a pair of eyes.
>You didn’t see them.
>Lots of commenters swore they could.
>Next.
>A video of… well, there was nothing but a gamer chair in the frame.
>Just distorted audio of a woman and a slowly shifting chair.
>She said she was there.
>Paper was scrunched to a ball.
>A mouse hovered left and right.
>A glass of water rose up.
>The water was slurped away with a purple glow.
>That was an iffy one.
>Nothing special effects couldn’t achieve but…
>You flicked your finger, moving on.
>An Asian-American woman looked overjoyed in the first picture.
>The following picture was her beautiful flower garden.
>You had to scroll down into the comments to see why so many people reshared it.
>There was a lovely ring of flowers, all connected by blue thread.
>With a small, little green fairy holding them together.
>You’d have missed it had people not zoomed in on it.
>You moved on.
>One with a concerned man caught your attention.
>People weren’t sure if this one was a new horror ARG or something real.
>The man showed pictures of his rural homestead.
>Pictures of work he’d done, pictures when he first bought it.
>He noted where the trees were in each photograph.
>Then, with his camera recording, showed how things weren’t matching.
>He swore up and down trees in his backyard moved.
>Including a tree stump where there was none before.
>You swiped.
>The next one was a sandile.
>Clear as day, it was a sandile nipping at man getting close to the tiny croc.
>You couldn’t tell what language that man spoke.
>But he’d posted videos of it for five straight days. Only now did his latest finally take off.
>Video after video.
>Picture after picture.
>Comment after comment.
>Some convincing beyond a doubt.
>Some dubious, and others people trying to get in on the newest trend.
>This was too weird to be true for most of the public.
>But the thought was planted.
>Sometimes amazing things are in plain sight.
>Until you know what you’re looking for, you might not ever notice.
>Now that thousands of people believed new species might be all over, they were going to see them.
>Reading the comments was sobering.
>Lots of good advice and clever jokes.
>Some schizoid messages too.
>But a hint of panic was unmissable.
>Preppers sprinkled into every comment section.
>”Shoulda stocked up.”
>”Grab what you can.”
>”Expect shortages.”
>And the doomsayers offered takes of all varieties.
>”Pandemic 2?”
>”If that’s the Pokémon I think it is, run.”
>”I had to leave my house.”
>”Police didn’t know what to think.”
>”I couldn’t get a picture.”
>For unaware commentors, or those who weren’t so trustworthy, it must have felt like the whole world was playing a prank.
>Much as you wanted to keep scrolling, you had your limits.
>Rough and strange times were on the horizon.

***

>Now there were even more sirens.
>The sounds dimmed and amplified as the emergency vehicles whizzed past trees, large houses, and other obstructions.
>Sensing no aura ahead, you bobbed and weaved into an alley.
>Just what was going on?
>One or two vehicles was perfectly normal.
>This sounded like every available responder.
>Bounding off a dumpster and up an access ladder, you slowed yourself on a department store’s roof.
>You stopped not for need of rest, but to understand what you were running into.
>This felt bigger than a simple fire.
>Taking a deep breath, you zoned out the noise, entering your ether-sight.
>Looking ahead of the first responders, you saw the vague shape of commotion.
>You couldn’t make out individuals.
>This was far different from practicing in the forest on the odd fish or rabbit.
>Blurred together like soup, you saw the combined life and feelings of a great many people.
>The swirling pool of aura oozed disbelief.
>Colors of amazement peppered a few spots.
>And it was all underlaid with the hue of anxiety.
>What specifically was happening, you couldn’t tell.
>But it gathered a crowd.
>You picked up speed.
>These flat roofs made traversal so much faster than through the suburbs.
>You wouldn’t beat the vehicles there, they had too big a lead.
>But that was no excuse to take your time.
>The row of restaurants was ahead.
>Unique scents hit you after every jump, courtesy of each building’s ventilation.
>Old coffee and warm donuts.
>Stale fish.
>Musty books and cedarwood.
>Grease and beef.
>Cinnamon and vanilla.
>Corn and wheat tortillas.
>The speed and excitement had you grinning like an idiot.
>You couldn’t imagine using a car ever again.
>It was hard to take the situation seriously when navigating this urban jungle gym spiked your endorphins.
>You dove through a big ‘O’ atop a grocery story sign to save a half second of time.
>This was too fun.
>Remembering the large parking lot blocked your path, you leapt to the light poles.
>You couldn’t imagine doing this a week ago.
>You kept your momentum, swinging off the first and bouncing off the next.
>Leaving wobbling posts behind you, you rolled atop a laundry mat.
“Ah, gross! Gross!” You cried out.
>Spider webs and dozens of caught, dead bug husks stuck to your arms and hands.
>You wiped them quickly against the roof’s HVAC system and kept moving.
>Even that barely dented your mood.
>What you saw leaping to the next building did.
>A massive, rough chunk of asphalt bowled through the air.
>You didn’t see it hit the ground.
>You couldn’t from this angle.
>You felt and heard it though.
>A proverbial switch was thrown.
>Now you heard panic.
>Lots of people moved in the opposite direction.
>And more than a few went forward, cell phones raised and recording.
>Police megaphones ordered people back behind lines.
>People in nearby stores hastily exited and moved away.
>Many were unsure what the commotion was even about, only acting cautious because everyone else was on edge.
>Police and paramedics hastily retreated alongside civilians on the road where the rock crashed down.
>You looked over the edge of a warehouse.
>Looked like a few people got hit with debris, but nothing serious.
>The boulder smashed itself apart after bouncing down the road, breaking a cruiser’s lights.
>Law enforcement was just as confused as everyone else.
>Fear welled in the crowd and the police alike.
>Last thing the situation needed was someone with a gun panicking.
>Something capable of hurling literal tons of rock wouldn’t respond well to bullets.
>And said bullets probably wouldn’t work.
>It took a moment to figure out where you were.
>Standing up high was drastically different than driving on ground level.
>There was a car dealership ahead.
>A big one too.
>”Wheeler’s Dealers”
>Save for the real high-end makes, they probably had it.
>They gave you a free oil change coupon.
>Unfortunately, you had to change positions.
>Save for some parked, used cars, you couldn’t see what you were dealing with.
>It pained you to risk getting seen, but the situation demanded it.
>To cross the avenue, you sped behind a crowd with their backs turned.
>A loud, tinny roar from the car lot captured everyone’s attention.
>Something was twisting bare metal apart.
>Past the crowds, privacy bushes, and immaculately cared for trees, you got to the roof of the dealership.
>You didn’t need aura to know where the beast was.
>If the roar didn’t tip you off, the heavy grunts and stomps did.
>Crawling to the edge of the building, you peered over.
>It was enormous; both taller and wider than you.
>Gray, and armored with scuffed, scratched and gleaming silver metal.
>The monster was disemboweling a pickup truck with its claws and teeth.
>And eating it.
>It gnawed on an engine block, chewing through solid, treated iron.
>And at its massive, three-toed feet its young munched on the engine’s exhaust manifold.
>A mother aggron with her two baby aron.

***

>You had never been in a real fight.
>Sure, a few scraps as a kid.
>Insults, pushes, angry glares that felt world-ending back when school was the entire world.
>The fast heartbeat, bristled hairs, and sweaty palms…
>The world narrowing to just you and the mean kid…
>Nothing compared to this.
>You wished you thought about that before jumping.
>You landed gracefully on all fours, unnoticed.
>The trio continued their metallic meal.
>Aggron towered over everything nearby like a steel fortress.
>She ripped and sheared a truck apart with claws that tore metal like paper.
>You did not want to get close.
>You edged forward, paws raised in a non-threatening gesture.
>To draw her attention, and hoping not to startle her, you let your aura pulse gently.
>A soft blue glow enveloped your palms and faded away.
>Three pairs of blue eyes focused on you.
>Two were wide and petrified.
>One was furious.
>Aggron lumbered forward, putting her massive frame between you and her children.
>You did not want this to come to blows.
“Look, hey…”
>Her growl rumbled like thunder, even this far away.
“I don’t want to fight, okay? See?”
>You raised your paws higher.
>Aggron scowled and swiped her heavy arm in a wide arc.
>An oddly human gesture.
>Like shooing a fly away.
>The universal sign for “get out of here.”
>That raised your hopes.
>Maybe she couldn’t talk, but perhaps she wasn’t completely feral.
“You have to move, alright?”
>She roared loud enough to make you wince.
>”No. You move.” Was your interpretation.
>Her little ones shuffled behind the wrecked truck, wobbling on unsteady legs.
>They were so young they hadn’t mastered walking.
>They stumbled multiple times. Their chins clanged into the ground each time they tripped.
>You’d call them hatchlings if your gut wasn’t telling you they were human infants a week ago.
“It’s not safe here.”
>She stamped the ground, cracking the blacktop.
“You’re scaring a lotta people, big girl.”
>She dug her hands into the fractured parking lot.
>”Lotta parents and kids over there.” You added, hoping to appeal to her motherhood.
>“The police won’t stay back forever.”
>She grunted and yanked the ground, hefting a chunk of asphalt above her head.
>Loose dirt and rock speckled and dinged off her head and shoulders.
>”Think of your children, alright?“
>That set her off.
>Her aura flared with anger, righteous fury, and confusion.
>She was thinking of her children.
>And she believed you were far too close to them.
“C’mon...” You moaned, shifting to a defensive stance.
>Hundreds of pounds of rock hurtled where you stood a second ago.
>It slammed into a car door hard enough to dent it, and set off the car alarm.
>The shrieking noise made you grimace, but you kept focus on the giant.
>A car door hurled past you like a frisbee.
>A second door skid across the parking lot like a stone on water.
>Instead of ripples, a shower of sparks blew in all directions when it scrapped the ground.
“Cut it out!” You yelled over her tearing the steering wheel out. “I’m trying to help!”
>Dodging wasn’t hard, given your incredible agility, but it wasn’t safe.
>A tire grazed your fur.
>Far too close for comfort.
>But keeping this far away wasn’t achieving anything.
>Maybe you’d tire her out, but she may have stamina just as exceptional as yours.
>What you wouldn’t give to throw an aura sphere.
>Your palms barely glowed; it was difficult enough to make it appear when training.
>You couldn’t count on it now.
>Options were frightfully limited.
>Close range felt suicidal.
>You had to outthink her.
>Unable to nail you with a projectile, Aggron decided to close the distance.
>She charged down a row of cars toward you.
>The steel goliath effortlessly shoulder-checked a sports car.
>It barely slowed her down.
>The frame buckled, glass shattered, and the entire car bowled aside.
>Each mammoth step shook the earth.
>She spread her arms wide like a linebacker coming in for a tackle.
>Swallowing your fear, you stood your ground, readying yourself.
>Away from her aron, you could be more aggressive.
>You played the next seconds out in your head.
>You didn’t need aura to read her predictable attack.
>But it helped.
>You saw precisely when she’d lunge.
>Tucking your tail tight, you sprung off a minivan.
>Corkscrewing through the air, you soared past Aggron’s stubby arms.
>The hurdle surprised the armored behemoth, who let out a surprised rumble.
>She tried turning her head, but didn’t have the range to keep you in her sights.
>She kept charging, her mass was too great to halt her momentum.
>A perfect opportunity.
>Recovering quickly, you sped towards Aggron’s back and hopped aboard.
>Her notched, battered helmet made a great handhold.
>Realizing she had an unwanted passenger, she shook and bucked her upper torso, desperate to loosen your grip.
>Once you grabbed her horn, you weren’t coming off so easily.
>Steel-clad plates ran down her spine, but they only protected so much of her gray-black hide.
>Holding tight, you struck her right side with an awkward, yet powerful kick.
>She screeched and redoubled her efforts.
>Her arms flailed, but found no purchase.
>You kicked again, this time aiming at her right shoulder.
>Something snapped.
>She liked that even less.
>Unable to grab you, she turned what was left of her charge into a thrashing roll.
>She twisted herself to throw you off or crush you if you held.
>You let go too late.
>You weren’t smeared into paste against the ground.
>But her thick tail thumped into your calves in her flailing rage.
>Gritting your teeth, you instinctively held your leg, allowing Aggron a precious second to recover.
>Adrenaline repressed the pain.
>You’d bruise for sure.
>Letting your rage get the better of you, you scrambled over to the prone giant and threw a hasty punch.
>The first struck true, hitting her exposed side and eliciting a groan.
>The follow-up hit her metal armbrace, which she brought up just in time to block you.
>It was like punching a frying pan.
>You backed away, clutching your fist and grimacing.
>Aggron chuckled deep, pleased at her good fortune.
>Her heavy, labored inhale signified she was far worse off.
>Pushing herself off the ground, she realized you did more damage to her right arm than she felt.
>She slammed back down, falling atop the uncooperative limb.
>You exhaled slowly, letting your fury dim and disappear.
>This was a mother protecting her children, not some predator that failed its hunt.
“Listen.” You said, kneeling down to be more at eye level.
“I hope you can understand me.”
>You stared at her eyes.
>They were clenched tight from the pain.
>You might have done more damage to that arm than you thought.
“It’s not fair what happened. But it did.” You mused. “I’m sorry.”
>She snorted, and rolled her bulk to the side.
>She glared at you but made no effort to restart the fight.
>Her aura radiated submission and a grudging respect.
>You’d established yourself as the alpha.
“You will leave.” You stated matter-of-factly.”
“There’s a junkyard just out of town thataway.” You pointed. “I’ll make sure you and your babies get there.”
“Plenty of iron. Lotta space. You just gotta-“
>Aggron’s eyes narrowed and her fury returned.
>She growled and tried getting up again, only to this time have her injured leg fail her.
>You assumed a defensive posture, but followed her eyes.
>She wasn’t staring at you.
>She was looking behind you.
>Back at the truck.
>Where the aron were.
>And where a nosy photographer snuck in.
>Slackjawed, the man had his smartphone out and recording.
>He crept closer to the shaking aron.
>The two infants huddled together and closed their eyes, terrified of the intruder.
>The prowling man, so wholly focused on the strange new creatures, didn’t notice you until you landed directly in front of him.
>He backed away the instant you ripped the phone out of his hands.
>Glaring, you made a show of snapping the flimsy electronic in half and tossing the two pieces aside.
>He got the message, scampering back with a howl of fright.
>The babies didn’t appreciate you picking them up.
>The first yipped and cried. It struggled to escape your hold.
>The second got aggressive, attempting to gnaw your wrist spike.
>Mom’s fury abated as she saw you walking closer, rather than taking them away.
>If you looked hard enough, you almost saw relief in those monstrous blue eyes of hers.
>The relieved Aggron, grunted and bellowed to calm her children as you neared.
>Staying out of the aggron’s reach, you put the infants on the ground facing their mother.
>The aggressive one turned to headbutt your paw.
>You let him bump your foot before moving away.
>Feeling triumphant, he scuttled towards his mother’s embrace.
>Walking away, you stretched and took stock of your body.
>A couple scrapes, a sore calf, and a sprained wrist.
>Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.
>Now, time for the hardest part.
>You’d rather have to fight Aggron again than do this.
>But you saw no other way to keep those three safe.
>No more secrecy for you.
>You walked towards the police cordon.
>The police had kept it far enough away that people barely witnessed your fight.
>All eyes locked on you.
>Some were amazed, and pushed forward.
>Some were frightened, and backed away.
>Some stood there, aghast.
>One man, with newfound bravery, screamed you were a menace who owed him a phone.
>A few recognized what you were and shouted it out.
>”Lucario.”
>Thankfully, nobody approached and gave you space.
>The swell of emotion was almost overwhelming.
>You hadn’t experienced this much before, and fought to ignore all of it.
>You had to tell the authorities where they’d be living now.
>To clear a road and let them out.
>And to let the junkyard’s owner know.
>He’d have to respect the new tenants.
>Walking past the police line, people kept their distance, forming a wide berth around you.
>Police had their hands on their holsters, but refrained from drawing.
>You walked to a paramedic standing behind the armed officers.
“Hey.” You began, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.
>You rubbed your sore wrist.
“Do you have some bags of ice?”

***

>You knew this would happen.
>You hated crowds.
>The excitement, astonishment, and anxiety made you queasy the longer you stayed.
>You hadn’t anticipated this level of unease.
>A vague feeling of having been in this situation before made it all the worse.
>People took photos every second.
>People were recording.
>Everyone wanted your attention, hollering and clamoring for your briefest glance in their direction.
>Your heart raced.
>You stood confidently, hoping your nervousness wasn’t noticed.
>The noise stung your ears.
>You fought instinct to keep your ears perked upright.
>You had to appear strong.
>Somebody ran in to touch your tail and you seized up.
>Your skittishness put people around you more on edge.
>You considered running back.
>Finally, the paramedic fished out supplies, and directed you to an ambulance.
>The paramedic gave you ice and medical tape, but opted to watch you tie it around your calf.
>He did not want to touch you.
>But he did nervously make small talk.
“Thanks.” Was your only response.
>And a request to talk with whoever was in charge.
>Sitting at the back of an ambulance dulled the crowd’s noise, if only a little.
>As you guessed, authority was already coming.
>The captain, a wizened man approaching his golden years, spent ten seconds staring at you.
>You remained sitting and stared back.
>The police formed a small cordon around you and the ambulance, thankfully pressing the suffocating throng of curious people further away.
>You explained what happened, further astonishing the man by being capable of speech.
>The man had no knowledge of pokémon, nor did you intend to explain what they were.
>Or how they seemed to be appearing.
>But he nodded along as you described how Aggron and her two aron ate iron.
>How she wasn’t a threat, especially if left alone.
>And to your surprise, the man did not push back against the junkyard relocation.
>He was relieved beyond words someone knew what was going on and took charge.
>He radioed instructions to others, and afterwards lamented the worst the city got was drunk drivers and the occasional felon passing through.
>It was torturous sitting still this long.
>The captain went over a vague, but workable plan.
>Blocking a few streets, guiding Aggron out, keeping the sirens off, talking to the owner…
>It was immensely difficult to follow.
>You couldn’t do this again.
>You wouldn’t do this again.
>While the police created a passage out of town, you distanced yourself from everyone.
>Your leap over the crowd garnered gasps and awestruck cries.
>It hurt.
>That leg was tender.
>But the hurt of being surrounded like that was far greater.
>Walking back to the car lot, you relaxed.
>At this distance, people might notice your slight limp, but it hardly mattered anymore.
>Your eyes were pinpricks.
>Looking directly at someone might have given the impression you were mentally unwell.
>Blessed quiet drew nearer with every step.
>Your heart rate slowed.
>In the abandoned dealership, you came closer to the steel-clad trio huddled together.
>Closer, but not close.
>You stayed out of sight.
>Opening a car door, you sat on the plush seat to relax.
>Far comfier than the ambulance.
>As a human, you wouldn’t have minded this model and color.
>The gentle and beautiful aura coming from the beasts you couldn’t see lulled you.
>No…
>You would do that again.
>If you had to, you would.
>Familial love, pink and pure and shining bright, flowed like honey from the family.
>Such beautiful colors...
>You did the right thing.
---
>A train horn sounded to the east, momentarily distracting Aggron.
>She licked her lips.
>Your disapproving glare, and shaking head, reminded her who was in charge.
>She grunted and trudged further into the junkyard.
>The sleeping aron she cradled woke for a moment, smelling iron on the light breeze.
>They couldn’t keep their eyes open for more than a moment, and drifted back to sleep in their mother’s arms.
>No surprise, given how late it was.
>At Aggron’s pace, it had taken the better part of the evening to get here.
>No doubt the police behind you still had questions.
>They’d get no answers from you.
>Under the cover of dark, you slipped out of sight.

***

>You emptied the ice bag again.
>Free from its cool prison, you carefully poked and palpated your injured leg.
>Oof, yeah…
>Still tender.
>Swelling was minimal and the it was far easier to touch now.
>A welcome sign.
>Recovery from anything was always annoying.
>Spending more than a day cooped up in the house sounded like agony.
>Scooping fresh ice into the Ziploc, you popped an cube in your mouth.
>Discovering how easy it was to chew ice was surreal.
>You didn’t feel like your jaw was any stronger since the change.
>Maybe it was the shape of your new molars?
>The ice shattered so fast you ate another two.
>After hobbling back your computer you raised the sore, cold leg up on a second chair.
>As you moved to turn on your computer, you stopped.
>Voices.
>A pair could just be heard outside your front lawn.
>Using your aura to double-check, you saw it was the hired help.
>You sighed and leaned back.
>Given your inhuman condition, the lawn looked worse for wear.
>You needed to hire someone.
>Lucky you, the kid down the street was in need of a job.
>Conrad, was it?
>$20 for a half-hour of work was a lot for his age.
>A quick call saying you were out of state was all it took.
>Sounded like his dad was teaching him how to start and use the mower.
>You turned off the lights in your room and double-checked the blinds were down.
>People will figure out you live here eventually.
>Not today.
>Feelings seeped in through the walls, telling you everything.
>The motor started and Conrad shakily took off.
>He was slow.
>And crazy worried about ramming the house or scratching the mower.
>Good kid.
>Dad watched and offered advice when needed.
>Good man.
>Reminded you of Dad after your first hunt.
>And…
>You closed your eyes tight.
>Memory dichotomy.
>Deer hunting…
>Deerling hunting…
>By this point, you were both used to these oddities yet still baffled each time.
>You weren’t sure whether to bet more on the memories being fake or if you’d inherited them up from an actual Lucario somewhere in the cosmos.
>You watched the outline of Conrad through the window blinds.
>The lawn more got louder and quieter as he neared and passed the room’s windows.
>Yesterday, you were more nervous than he was.
>And it wasn’t from the near-death experience of dancing around a miniature kaiju.
>You weren’t so anxious about crowds as a human, that you were sure of.
>Not to say you like being in crowded spaces.
>Nobody would say that.
>But you nearly had a panic attack.
>Those pokédex entries weren’t kidding, that much unfamiliar aura really can stress a lucario.
>How much of your old brain had been rewired during the transformation?
>Or worse, purged?
>Aggron didn’t seem wholly gone, but she certainly wasn’t all there either.
>Kat was empty-headed but cognizant.
>And different for sure. She said she was always zeraora.
>What was she like before, you wondered.
>Was she some bubbly, happy-go-lucky lady last month, or did her personality drastically change?
>…
>You weren’t you anymore.
>No point in deceiving yourself.
>Parts of old you existed, yeah.
>But combined with the new, you were someone different.
>Not as much as the others you’d seen thus far.
>Thank God.
>The braviary and marshtomp you met were little more than animals.
>By dumb luck, you may have survived this Century-defining event.
>Not survived, but drawn a lucky straw.
>Not feral, and with an amazing body and an intact mind.
>Would you have jumped in to get Aggron and her kids out of there if you had the same human brain as before?
>Well…
>That was an unanswerable hypothetical.
>But you might not have.
“Aw, dang it.”
>You hadn’t turned the computer on.
>That’s what you get for ruminating.
>You opened the half-melted bag of ice on your leg and fished out another ice cube.
>If you can go to bed each day having improved yourself…
>Having left the world just a little bit better…
>You’d say the change was worth all the trouble, messy memory and all.
>Mid-bootup, your phone buzzed.
>A text from an old friend.
>”Bet you’re happy, huh? :)”
>You played dumb in your reply.
>This was going to be a fun, lazy day.
>Using your paws, you carefully typed in your password.
>You only had to use the backspace button three times.
>Already, you missed your old words-per-minute speed.
>Five fingers were a true blessing.
>You’ll have to look around, see if there’s keyboards with the keys spaced out more.
>Bunny hopping your big digits around, and fat-fingering multiple letters, would be the death of you.
>Ah, well.
>At least the mouse worked fine.
>You opened social media.
>”Pokémon Are Real”

***

>Vegging out felt wrong.
>Not in this body.
>Gently, you tested your leg’s movement.
>You bent your knee back and forth.
>Almost normal, though a little stiff…
>Which might’ve also been the case because you’ve sat on your butt all day.
>You needed exercise.
>But this was a special occasion.
>For the first time since becoming lucario, you wanted to use the computer more than going outside.
>Human-you called the shots today.
>You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.
>Definitely not the same person from a month ago.
>You resumed browsing.
>You were on the frontlines of how the world was changing and it still blew you away.
>Seeing the big, mainstream news reporting this felt like a fever dream.
>On CNN, the hosts couldn’t agree if it was ‘poke’, ‘pokey’, ‘pokay’, or ‘pokuh’.
>MSNBC settled on ‘pokey’ but dedicated a good five minutes to ‘mon’ or ‘man’.
>When was the last time you heard ‘pokeyman’ unironically?
>You only saw a few clips, but FOX even brought one of their “Pokémon master” interns on with the big-wigs to explain what the Pokémon were in each clip.
>The guy was a dork in every sense of the word, and he was loving it.
>Everything the big networks showed off was downstream of social media.
>It’s all the streamers talked about.
>You thought you’d seen a ton the evening you met Kat.
>But you had to go out of your way, searching for it.
>Peanuts compared to today.
>And a small part of this frenzy was you!
>And Aggron. You had her to thank for getting yourself on camera.
>Whoever uploaded your fight had the shakiest hands you’ve ever seen.
>They held their phone vertically.
>And being so far away, coupled with you moving so fast, you were a blurry smear jumping above cars.
>Two different users uploaded photos of you in the crowd.
>Thank goodness you kept it together.
>’Poor thing needs a pokécenter’.
>’Ears take him out of manlet-tier’.
>’One hell of a fursuit.’
>’I could take him.’
>A few of colorful, and inappropriate, comments made you smirk.
 >One creative individual colored you shiny, saying it was a five-minute photoshop job.
>It was pretty good.
>You saved that one with a few others.
>Aggron carrying her babies across a blocked county highway was further down in the replies.
>One commenter insisted your fight was an aggron W in an argument with at least fifteen others.
>Never thought you’d do these kinds of numbers.
>You probably wouldn’t have trended as well if you weren’t one of the more popular pokémon.
>Your run-in with Aggron barely stood against the highest trending ones.
>Well-shot videos dominated the top feeds.
>There were so many pokémon, people were making checklists of what species were spotted.
>The more you looked, the more eevee-family saw.
>Seemed to be more common than other pokémon.
>Or maybe it was because the eevee in all the pictures and videos seemed docile and friendly.
>’My cat is an umbreon now.’
>Sure enough, you saw an umbreon stretch, and daintily walk across the living room with its snout upturned and dignified.
>One video featured a sylveon wrapping its tendrils around a camera and pulling it in for a hug.
>The way she breathed so heavily and purred so loud into the microphone…
>You had to watch four times.
>Judging by the view count, others had done the same.
>15 million hits already, good Lord…
>A lot of pets had changed.
>Litten, purloin, snubbull, minum, stoutland…
>One video had an… aggressively happy granbull.
>At least you hoped it was happy, for the owner’s sake.
>Someone in Florida shared footage looking over the side of a boat.
>Pink and white corsola were everywhere.
>A dodrio and doduo running alongside a car in the badlands was cool.
>You guessed the recorder’s accent was Australian.
>One video from Asia showed a frogadier sticking its nostrils above water for a breath.
>A farmer from Wisconsin shared video of his pasture, where a tauros walked alongside dairy cows like nothing changed.
>Pokémon territorial disputes and the a few fights also made the rounds.
>The video of the floatzel fending off a zigzagoon from its pond was entertaining.
>Worst you saw was the torkoal starting a housefire.
>It didn’t care at all the room was turning to cinders around it.
>Someone in Central Park shared a video of ‘a fat pigeon’ milling about.
>At least two dozen comments explained it was a pidove.
>It acted no different than a typical pigeon.
>The biggest clip was someone spreading the news that these Pokémon used to be people.
>You saw the odd comment here and there saying it was the case.
>This viral interview solidified that as fact.
>He was just an average high-schooler.
>The guy had five followers yesterday. Next to no internet presence.
>Bigger channels saw and shared his recording so much it spread like wildfire.
>This young man had not changed.
>His little sister who was different, he told watchers.
>He said it must have happened last night.
>And that his parents were trying, and failing, to get a doctor to come over.
>A brionne slid, rolled, and danced in a few inches of water in a backyard kiddie pool.
>The water-type looked to be having the time of its life.
>What got everyone’s attention was her answering questions with flipper slaps.
>Two for no.
>Three for yes.
>She could still do basic math with flipper slaps too.
>When asked to share how old she was at the end, she slapped the water five times.

***

>Not caring was refreshing.
>Pokémon existing was public knowledge now.
>No longer did you have to take convoluted, extra-long routes to stay hidden.
>Like now.
>”No way, bro!”
>No longer did you play “the floor is lava”, sticking to rooftops.
>You ran past so fast their clothes flapped in the gust.
>A trio of teenagers hooted at you, the biggest had a pair of lungs to rival a stereo.
>“Do a flip!”
>Your pride didn’t let you.
>You weren’t some circus animal for entertainment.
>In four bounds, the avenue was crossed and you were out of sight.
>Although, now that the idea was in your head…
>Spotting a trampoline in the backyard ahead, you front flipped onto it.
>You hadn’t been on one of these in a while.
>The extra oomph from the bounce threw you high enough to land on a two-story house.
>And you thought you jumped high as a kid…
>And that settled it, your leg was back to full strength.
>A day and a half of recovery. Just incredible.
>Were you human that sprain would’ve needed three to six weeks, by your estimate.
>Would it be the same for Aggron?
>You’d find out soon enough.
>Past the highway, down the county road, right at the sign…
>A sign with a squad car behind it.
>Probably some officers keeping watch for speeding.
>And to keep prying eyes away.
>A wooden police barricade blocked the dusty path.
>It didn’t deter a strangely high number of cars from slowing down and checking out the junkyard, hoping to see the new residents.
>In the interest of public safety, the local newspaper published where the three metal monstrosities now called home.
>If they hadn’t, word-of-mouth would’ve spread fast anyway.
>You moved down the road, keeping low.
>You didn’t see any other authorities on your approach.
>Trespassing didn’t bother you, but any patrolling officers might disagree.
>Surely, they’d have a few more keeping watch.
>Exhaling, your aura sensors rose.
>You knelt down, closed your eyes, and dove into the ether.
>Further out, as you suspected, were observers.
>One man with a little extra weight seemed to be making rounds around the junkyard.
>A policewoman further out was sitting in a chair and looking down at something in her hands.
>A phone or book, you guessed.
>Probably a spotter with binoculars.
>Judging by her aura, she was on one of the easiest shifts of her life.
>She was bored.
>Aggron must have been content to limit her territory to the scrap piles.
>She better keep it that way.
>Both officers would be child’s play to avoid.
>What caught your eye more was the inside the fence.
>Three auras were expected.
>Two small, vibrant lights played happily. A love shared only between siblings.
>One was content to watch. A special bond only seen between mother and offspring.
>And below that, you tasted irritation at her sore body.
>Especially at her shoulder.
>That arm was out of commission for a while.
>But you detected a fourth aura opposite the side Aggron and Aron called home.
>And it wasn’t human.
>Worry… Humiliation… Fear…
>Something was really bothering whatever it was.
>Well, you were planning to get a look at the three pokémon anyway.
>Waiting until the patrolling officer was out of sight, you dashed in.
>The smell of rust and stale water was everywhere.
>First, you checked on the steel Pokémon.
>Peering over a stack of crushed jalopies told you everything your aura had.
>Mama had made herself a respectable nest out of the many car remains.
>The aron were small, but a rhythmic clang-CLANG directed you right to them.
>They seemed to have made a game of headbutting objects to find what made the coolest noise.
>An empty oil drum got their attention and they bonked it for two straight minutes.
>Aggron had the patience of a saint.
>They seemed content enough with the rusted metal. Hopefully it didn’t affect their diet.
>Would an older car taste better?
>Perhaps the rust added some flavorful undertones.
>Maybe it was like wine or cheese, you thought, heading towards the other side of the junkyard.
>Whover else was here in the junkyard was at the office.
>Carefully, you picked your way around the scraps and wreckage.
>Boots would’ve been nice here. You were getting paranoid about stepping on something sharp.
>The building looked exactly as cruddy as you expected.
>Far uglier now you saw it in daylight.
>Faded paint clung to the structure in patches.
>Long stripes had peeled and scraped away over the decades.
>Old gas station memorabilia leaned against the foundation.
>Overgrown grass obscured some of the logos.
>The windows looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in years.
>The grime was thick enough to block any vision inside.
>And, to your surprise, the… ‘person’ wasn’t inside.
>It would’ve made an ideal place to hide, yet there they were.
>Sitting at a table beneath a sheet metal awning, fiddling with tools.
>Once again, you tapped into aurasight.
>It wasn’t a person.
>It looked like a person.
>That wasn’t.
>That portly man in overalls, a trucker’s hat, and a greasy, sweat-soaked shirt fit the bill of someone who might work here.
>But the night Aggron arrived, the police explicitly told the owner he couldn’t come back.
>That wasn’t the owner.
>But it was a convincing disguise.
>The man grunted and breathed heavy, laboring over electronics at his table.
>Engrossed as he was, he was perceptive enough to pop his head up not long after you stepped out.
>The thing put on an elaborate show.
>It pretended standing was a struggle.
>Huffing and puffing, using the table as leverage to get up.
>”Ho, there. Ain’t you uh-“
“What are you?” You asked and demanded, shaking your head.
>Authoritative, and just loud enough that any others wouldn’t hear.
>A sickly smile spread on the man’s face.
>He stroked his two chins in thought.
>”Perfect.” He said, flapping his fat jowls with his nodding head.
>The illusion liquefied.
>And when the light stopped bubbling, you saw their true form.
>A gray coat.
>A ruffled, button-up shirt.
>A long, crimson mane.
>Blood-red claws.
>And a mouth full of daggers.
>Zoroark.

***

>The trickster struck out his chest, mimicking your own stance.
>”How was it?” Zoroark asked, staring ahead.
>The vulpine pokémon sounded distinctly masculine.
>”Still getting used to everything.” He added.
>As soon as you looked back at his cerulean eyes, he stared at the ground.
“How was the… disguise? You replied, squinting your eyes.
>Something felt off…
>”Yes!” Zoroark declared, matter-of-factly.
>From behind you.
>Whirling around, you came face to face with a second Zoroark.
>Uncomfortably close.
>It cackled at your confusion.
>You felt not a shred of aura, but that didn’t make the illusion any less impressive.
>It startled you enough you’d almost thrown a punch.
>”Hah, gotcha that time!” The real Zoroark proudly stated.
>This was far from a regular conversation, you felt off guard.
>The fake skirted around you, running to high-five the real one.
>The closer you looked, it wasn’t quite perfect.
>Something about the way it talked was wrong.
>You were sure the illusion’s hand phased into his real one, but it happened so fast you couldn’t be sure.
>”C’mon, how’d we do?” The illusion asked this time.
>The mouth didn’t match what he said.
>Like watching a dubbed movie or anime.
>It was slightly off in parts, incredibly off during some syllables, and occasionally it matched.
>Both for the fake and the real Zoroark.
>Some auditory hallucination, you guessed, to get past the fact he couldn’t talk like he used to.
“I mean…”
>Zoroark still didn’t make eye contact.
>He was looking everywhere but your eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Can’t deny it. You got me.” You admitted, smiling.
>You would have been tricked if you were human. No denying that.
>Then again, a month ago you would’ve laughed if someone told you zoroark were real.
>The zoroark let out a long breath he’d been holding.
>”Fantastic! Just, j-just Fantastic” He said, twirling a lock of his long, red and black-tipped hair.
>He spun it around in circles with his hand.
>The illusion flickered and disappeared as he got his breath back.
>”G-Gimme a sec, okay?” He asked, holding up a claw.
>”Way harder than it looks to...”
>He gestured where the fakes used to be.
>”You know.”
>Zoroark gasped for air like he was midway through a marathon.
“I bet.”
>It wasn’t too different from your own practicing.
>Incorporating aura into punches and kicks exhausted you.
“What are you doing here? Not exactly safe.”
“Aggron are real territorial, you know.”
“And I don’t think to police would-“
>”Waiting. For you.” Zoroark said, handwaving your other concerns away.
>…
“What? Why?” You asked.
>…
>Zoroark’s theatric demeanor tapered away.
>”Ho’kayokayokayokayokay….”
>Still, he chose not to look you in the eyes.
>Whatever it was ate at his pride.
>It was deathly silent, aside from the dull bonking aron heads on the other side of the junkyard.
>”I need you, okay? I need your help.”
>You could hear Zoroark’s heart pounding.
>He sounded on the verge of a mental breakdown.
>The crack in his voice was unmistakable.
>Letting go of his hair, he went to buttoning, and unbuttoning, his dress shirt.
>”Figured you’d swing by here, okay? Keep tabs on ‘em. Saw you fight whatever it was.”
>He gestured toward the other side of the junkyard.
>”That or, you know, I’d get your attention somehow.”
>Briefly smiling, he snapped his claws.
>A small blue firework flew just above his hair.
>The cerulean flares bursting into the head of a lucario and fluttered away.
>A Lucario signal?
>You smirked at the thought.
>Glad you ran into him here.
>”I, uh…”
>He made eye contact with you.
>”My kid’s gone missing, okay?”
>Oh.
“Jeez…”
>”It’s been days and, God, I have searched high and low and…”
“Jeez, I’m sorry, man.” You added, for what little good it did.
>Zoroark rubbed his temples, momentarily stopping the buttoning and unbuttoning.
“Did he change too?”
>He waved his arms for emphasis.
>”It doesn’t make sense.”
>”This isn’t rational, okay!?”
>He paused, muttering to himself while again looking anywhere but at you.
“Us being pokémon? No, it doesn’t make sense.”
>Zoroark went back to his shirt.
>”He’s better’n me. Better at pretending, okay?”
>”H-He looks like me but smaller, and he’s got a li’l tuft of a tail now.”
>”Zorua, you see, you know…”
>”You know?” He asked, unsure if you knew what his son would look like.
“Same colors as you, but on four legs, yeah?” You asked back.
>The kitsune nodded furiously.
>”Aw, thank Christ… Did you play the games?”
>You nodded.
“You?”
>”Never. Simulators was all I touched. Never much of a game guy.”
>”Harry did though…” Zoroark trailed off.
>Zoroark shook his head. His long, red mane slowly followed suit.
“When did it happen to you?”
>”29th. Same day it happened to Harry.”
>”Just… Woke up like this.” Zoroark stated, looking at his claws.
“27th for me. Same deal. Happened while I slept.”
>You really were one of the first.
>Maybe the first.
>You thought a moment, and spoke again.
“Tell the police?”
>Zoroark raised an eyebrow and glared at you.
>”Really?”
>”C’mon, hell was I supposed to tell them?”
“Point taken.” You acquiesced, holding your paws up.
>Zoroark rubbed his frustrated brow.
>”Doesn’t make a lick of sense…”
“I’m with you there.”
>”No, no, it’s...”
>”I’m still me, okay?”
>”I remembered my job, I know my formulas, I can still design blueprints…”
>In the blink of an eye, he was human again.
>He held a toolbox, wore the same button-up shirt plastered with the company’s logo, and had a hard hat atop his head.
>His face was… blurry.
>Without thinking you cringed and backed away involuntarily.
>You weren’t sure if he knew how inhuman the face was.
>”Harry, just… couldn’t talk okay anymore…” Zoroark struggled to say.
>The illusion melted like wax.
>How common was this, you wondered.
>You prayed this wasn’t happening everywhere.
>At least that brionne had her family looking out for her.
>”Just right outta sight. Poof!”
>He sniffed the building mucus back.
>”I read you can see life auras.”
>”That true? Got some magic like me?”
>”C-Can…?”
>”Will you help?” Zoroark asked, on the verge of both tears and begging.
>He clenched his eyes tight and grimaced.
>Zoroark smoothed his dress shirt, flattening the creases and contours made by his fur beneath.
>If that was an act, he would’ve earned an Oscar.
>You put a paw forward.
>Thankfully, you didn’t get electrocuted this time.

***

”Hey, Henry?”
>”Like I said, call me Hal, okay?” The zoroark reminded you. ”Everyone at the plant does.”
“Right, sorry, Hal.” You answered.
“I can see you again.”
>His invisibility wasn’t perfect.
>Looking hard enough, you could see something in the light wasn’t quite right.
>Most people would write it off as a mirage.
>It reminded you of seeing fake water on hot road.
>That was when he wasn’t tired.
>Now you could faintly see the outline of the dark-type.
>Light bent at wrong angles and half-shadows appeared where his invisibility should have erased them.
>He was lucky you were in the alley.
>Hal scurried to the darkest alcove and relaxed his concentration.
>The nearby discolored, well-worn dumpster kept him hidden, but sweetened the air with a pungent foulness.
>You wondered if his sense of smell was heightened like yours.
>In that moment, you could have done without it.
>He was supremely uncomfortable.
>Hal gulped air like a drowning man and played with his shirt buttons again.
>Part of his discomfort was no doubt the extreme effort it took to maintain the cloak.
“Hey, you made it further this time.” You congratulated.
>The fox said nothing, remaining doubled over in exhaustion.
>You kept watch while he recuperated.
>Foot traffic was light on the sidewalks. You didn’t expect anyone to walk through.
>There was an old and scuffed metal door nearby.
>A backdoor to some antiques shop.
>Perhaps that raised his anxiety.
“Hey, nobody’s behind that door.” You assured him, sensing nobody on the other side.
“Cashier’s bored and at the front register. You’re good.”
>Hal gave you a thumbs up.
>Oh, he did have thumbs, you realized.
>Didn’t look like it back at the junkyard.
>Man, that’s convenient.
>You waggled your “thumbs”.
>Wasn’t the best term for them.
>Looked the same as the other two digits on your paw-hand, just with a little extra wiggle-room.
>And that was a godsend.
>Made grabbing most things possible with one paw.
“Much further?” You asked, noticing Hal no longer panted.
 >”Four blocks. Maybe five?” Hal whispered. “We keep going that way, okay?”
>”You ready?” He asked, eager to move.
>You weren’t.
>You wanted to talk more.
>But you would have been blind to not notice how little Hal wanted to speak.
>A stark contrast from the junkyard.
>He would have continued talking your ear off about light refraction and dispersion had you let him.
>You got close to the red-haired kitsune and exhaled.
>Hal hid you both from view.
>His cloak may have worked on your normal vision, but that didn’t mask the aura in every living creature.
>You stayed close, using aura-sight to keep pace and keep track.
>Unlike your escapades these past weeks, Hal kept to the ground.
>He was speedy, but you ran alongside without difficulty.
>Concentrating on keeping you both obscured took focus.
>It was more tiring than the exercise, by far.
>His stamina, like yours, was leagues better than when you were human.
>Even with his newfound athleticism, you’d bet on beating him if you had to race.
>And a fight.
>Those zoroark biceps were skinny.
>Down a hill and beneath the acorn trees you jogged.
>With deft footwork, Hal avoided every fallen nut.
>He ducked beneath any leaves in the way.
>And his paws avoided the chalk hopscotch path marked on the ground.
>Not a thing was out of place as he passed by.
>You wish you could say the same.
>Worst case scenario, people would think an odd breeze brushed all that debris down the sidewalk.
>You entered a high-end residential neighborhood.
>The dens here were much nicer than yours.
>Uh, houses.
>Houses. You corrected your thoughts again.
>”Nice houses…” You murmured.
>Hal’s panic was instantly visible in your unsight.
>It seeped out like a dull, gray ink being smeared across paper.
>He looked back at you for a moment, worried you’d give his position away.
>You never drove here as a human before.
>The view was far nicer from ground level compared to the rooftops.
>If you could afford to live here, you would.
>Yards looked immaculate, paint was all fresh, roofs looked new, and decorations were tasteful.
>Traffic was light too.
>A lovely white sports car was the only vehicle that passed you.
>Suddenly, Zoroark veered hard right, onto a lawn.
>You almost ran past, and quickly corrected yourself.
>Vaulting the wooden fence, you followed Hal into the backyard of a beautiful two-story house.
>All the blinds were drawn.
>A sprinkler moistened the grass.
>As the stream swung around, it noisily splattered the slide and swing of a wooden playset.
>Hal slowed down near the back door, huffing and puffing but maintaining the facade.
>He leaned against the house with one hand, and buried his other deep into his hair.
>Ten seconds of rummaging later, he pulled out a wallet and a keyring.
>With some effort, the Zoroark nudged the key in and opened the door.
>His invisibility spell dropped the second the door slammed shut.
>Wow, even the mudroom looked nice.
>The natural light was dimmed by curtains, but it was a spacious place to hang up coats and take off footwear.
>The rug beneath was coarse, but pleasant on your paw pads.
>Two filthy pairs of boy’s shoes, stained heavily with grass and dirt, rested on a shoe rack.
>Next to them were an adult’s dress shoes and some steel-toed work boots.
>A hardhat with a neon vest was draped beside it.
>Hal plopped on a bench, getting his breath back.
>He twirled his housekeys in a vibrant red claw.
“Can’t believe you carried that stuff in your hair.” You chuckled. “What if it jingles?”
>”Don’t when it’s deep.” Hal puffed between breaths.
>”Gotta keep ‘em someplace.”
“Uh, yeah…”
>Well, you didn’t have a huge mane.
>People stored things in weirder places.
>And you certainly hadn’t heard them make noise.
>Who were you to judge?
>Settling down, Hal looked up and down your lucario body.
>”Huh…” The zoroark thought aloud.
>”Where you keep yours?”
>You scratched the back of an ear.
“I, uh… Leave my window unlocked.”
>Never before had you received such a look of disappointment.

***

>”A-Are you sure?”
>Slowly, you nodded your head.
>”Okay…”
>Hal looked on the verge of tears.
>”C-Check again?”
>You swallowed down a sigh.
>He didn’t know how easy it was to spot aura when you meditated.
>But you had to be patient.
>”Please?” The zoroark clasped his hands together.
>Were the situations reversed, you’d have asked the same.
>You humored the dark-type, closing your eyes and exhaling again.
>Long and slow, precisely the same as a minute ago, you opened your mind to aura.
>You and Hal stood out in the spacious living room.
>Around your crossed-legged, meditating form, Hal circled.
>He examined you from all angles.
>Hal radiated wishful thoughts and curiosity.
>A thin red claw reached out, but stopped short of touching the aura appendages rising from the back of your head.
>Widening your search, you saw the same as before.
>Insects crawled on the shady side of the house.
>The grass, bushes, and flowers gave off the auras you’ve come to expect.
>The sea of plants was broken by a squirrel hopping at random intervals.
>A crow landed on the gutters.
>Two children biked down the sidewalk, shouting to one another.
>Hal crouched low behind the couch as they passed.
>The neighbors’ homes had people… Cats… Dogs… And a pet iguana…
>Peering further was hopeless.
>Was it possible to track down one, singular aura among a city of tens of thousands?
>Every life was unique, but if it was possible to hone your senses to such a degree, that was years of training ahead of you.
>This time you sighed, coming back to reality.
>Hal made eye contact, the first time since talking in the junkyard hours earlier.
>You shook your head side to side.
>He was too hopeful
>And hope is the first step on the road to disappointment.
>”It was a long shot, after all…” Hal mused, rubbing his temples.
>He’d prayed his son had merely hidden himself inside the house all the while.
>Some zorua behavioral instinct, or a game he was playing, he hypothesized.
>Hal mumbled something about never letting his son out of his sight again.
>Much as you wanted to leave and continue searching, Hal needed time to recuperate.
>The trip to and back from the junkyard thoroughly exhausted him.
>You spent the next hour sharing stories since losing your human forms.
>He sat in the armchair, forcing himself more upright and humanlike than his new spine perhaps allowed.
>You sat back against the plush couch.
>Compared to the one at your place, this was heavenly.
>Unfortunately, your tail was just as annoying to sit against.
>But mid-conversation, inspiration struck.
>You moved between couch cushions, and slid your tail into the gap behind you.
>Finally, you could sit comfortably.
>How long had it been since you talked with someone like this?
>It hadn’t bothered you for weeks.
>You went days without talking to people before, but never for this length of time.
>Maybe lucario handled solitude well.
>Only now did you realize how starved you were.
>Your new bodies changed the both of you more than physically.
>And Hal swore it changed his boy the most.
>His normally talkative Harry wouldn’t say a peep after the transformation.
>Strange physiology aside, you were all far more agile and had incredible endurance.
>Hal was no biologist, and couldn’t explain your incredible healing rate.
>He hadn’t injured himself since the change, and had zero desire to test the possibility.
>He’d convinced the plant to let him work from home, saying he needed to watch Harry, and that a sickness hit the household.
>Which wasn’t technically a lie.
>The kitsune happily shared how much the company valued his work.
>He was essential and indispensable.
>You couldn’t say the same.
>But if you had to pick between your old job versus your new body, it wasn’t a contest.
>Mid-webcam meeting a week ago, Hal shared, his disguise started melting.
>He unplugged his router passed it off as a shoddy internet connection.
>Hal noticed the mental shift too.
>Fooling his coworkers made him feel a real sense of accomplishment.
>It was like finishing a great blueprint design, he claimed.
>You could not relate.
>But you got the idea.
>Physical exercise made you feel accomplished now.
>His hair puzzled him greatly.
>The length was obnoxious. It draped to his shins.
>But he was an engineer.
>The last thing you wanted in his line of work was long hair.
>It was an immense safety hazard.
>While he tied it together with a stretched and strained scrunchie, he couldn’t bring himself to cut it.
>He’d held scissors to the locks, but described it as “like trying to bite off your own finger.”
>Couldn’t be done.
>He’d instinctively put things in his hair to hold them know, even over using his shirt pocket.
>Hal’s anxiety also spiked if he wasn’t veiled in an illusion outside.
>The only reason he worked up the courage to reveal himself to you was the extraordinary circumstances.
>Then he shared what was, by his own admission, the weirdest feelings he had.
>His son was missing.
>Gone, without a trace.
>Barely a clue to go off of.
>Unable to contact the police.
>Unable to contact his mother.
>And to make things worse, his son seemed as good, if not better, than he was at conjuring illusions and disguises.
>Anything could have happened.
>And yet…
>Harry snuck out, evaded his father, remained hidden…
>Any good dad would feel like dirt.
>Should feel that way…
>But no.
>Some part of him was…
>Proud.

***

“This’s gonna sound real weird…” You began.
>”Can’t be weirder than anything this past month.” Hal assured you.
>Rather than using the handrails, the zoroark scurried upstairs on all fours.
>You followed, content with skipping every other step.
>But the staircase was spacious enough and the ceiling high enough you considered leaping straight to the top.
>”What is it?”
>At the top, the fox rose to two feet again.
“Does your son smell?”
>You sniffed the air again.
>The house smelled of boiled cabbage, an undertone of motor oil, and human.
>”Used to.” Hal answered, chuckling.
>Used to indeed.
>The smell grew the closer you got to the zorua’s room.
>”I washed the bedsheets after we turned.” Hal said, leading you further into the room. “Didn’t really help.”
>When you changed, you noticed the strong scent of what used to be you.
>It took days to get familiar with it.
>It reminded you of swapping cars.
>The new ‘cario smell was different and mixed with the old you in your house.
>This room, however, was not like yours.
“No, I mean, does he have a new scent?” You clarified.
“Like, a zorua smell.”
>You hadn’t noticed the lack of it since you met Hal.
>Beneath the fresh, alpine shampoo, Hal had no odor.
>And if your hunch was correct…
 >”Nope.” Hal said, shaking his head. “Like a fawn. Scentless.”
>”Hard as heck finding him around the house.”
>”Can you believe I considered getting a cat collar for him?”
>You paused opening the door, raising an eyebrow.
>”He was quiet, okay?”
>”Needed a jingle bell on him!”
>You held off from cracking any jokes.
>Considering he escaped, that bell would’ve been a good idea.
>Harry’s room stank of youth.
>And Hal was right, it was distinctly human.
>There wasn’t a whiff of pokémon scent.
>The bedroom was painted deep blue.
>Harry’s bed had matching plaid bedsheets.
>It seemed the zorua tugged and yanked them into a rounded nest for sleeping.
>Extra gray hairs in the divot confirmed it.
>A few ‘science’ toys were on his small dresser.
>And a Lechonk piggy bank.
>“Glad I didn’t turn into one of those…” Hal mused.
“Thank God.” You agreed, examining the bank. “Kid’s a good painter.”
>The paint was thick and goopy, but for Harry’s age this was a big accomplishment.
>”Yup. An art project for school.”
>”Hey, wait…” Hal said, picking up the ceramic pig.
>He shook the bank, but you heard nothing.
>”No birthday money.”
“Was there anything he wanted to buy? Think he ran off to get something?” You asked, wondering if it might help.
>”Well, if there’s one thing he still liked after the change…”
>It was spread over the other side of the room.
>”Glad he liked Legos. I always did.” Hal revealed, seeing you eye the miniature city Harry built.
“Who doesn’t?”
>It was a lovely little city.
>Wish you had half this many Lego when you were his age.
>The town took up most of the floor on this side of the bed.
>Anything and everything was in there.
>It didn’t matter the set, it was part of the town.
>The majority of it was standard buildings.
>There’s a gas station.
>You swung your paw over a fire station.
>Train tracks rain around and through the town.
>Drag racers drove on city streets alongside sedans and a convertible.
>Part of the police station was blown up.
>Batman villains from Arkham Asylum were frozen mid-assault.
>You couldn’t tell if Santa Claus had joined, or was fighting, Batman’s rogue’s gallery.
“Hey, this one’s your house.” You said, noticing the two-story house at the edge of town.
>Spot on, except for the X-Wing in the backyard.
 >”Yeah… We built that one together.” Hall reminisced, squatting beside you.
>They made a Zelda set?
>While the Great Deku Tree caught your attention, Hal noticed something.
>”His Lego guy isn’t at home.” Hal said. “Mine is, though.”
>He held a figurine with a hardhat and button-down shirt between his claws to show you.
”Well, what’s his look like?”
>”A red ninja. With a katana. And a lightsaber.” Hal replied.
>Ah, a child with taste.
>”His favorite guy.”
>To your surprise, he wasn’t at the action-packed police station.
>You found him in the neighborhood across the train tracks, standing outside an ordinary house with a Lego woman.
>Hal drummed his fingers against the floor.
>He made no effort to hide his irritation.
>”Hmm…”
“What’s up?” You asked.
>”That’s his mother’s house.”

***

>“Didn’t pick up.”
>“Again.”
>Hal punctuated ‘again’ with the unmistakable hint of bitterness.
>The flash of resentment was enough to blacken his aura.
>”Not like she ever did. God forbid an emergency happens."
>He pushed the red hang-up button with more force than necessary.
>His ebony heart flecked away as worry bubbled up again.
>You weren’t in any position to judge.
>Not like you met her.
>Whatever happened between them was messier than you could imagine.
>He shoved the phone back into his hair before you moved again.
>You followed the same pattern as you moved across town.
>Pausing at water sources, restaurants, and behind grocery stores, you searched using aura.
>Hal combed the areas too.
>He knew full well his eyes weren’t as keen as what you were doing.
>But what father could stand around useless?
>Instead of thoroughly searching one area, your ethereal vision let you quickly move forward.
>Each time you sensed something on four legs, Hal bolted to check it out.
>Beneath his disguise, he sometimes hurried on all fours to move faster.
>Block after block, you moved forward.
>If Hal grew tired, he didn’t show it.
>He was focused.
>A far cry from the meeting in the junkyard.
>He had a chance.
>You felt the same.
>In fact, you felt fantastic.
>When had you last felt such purpose?
>Certainly not at work.
>How could one feel valued when you ultimately weren’t needed?
>Your little place in the company got on just fine without you.
>How many days had you woken up and thought about taking the day off for that very reason?
>You could do this forever.
>You were sure of it.
>Helping Hal amplified your already boundless energy.
>Knowing no one else could help like this fueled you.
>To think, you’d planned on training your aura today alone.
>There was a time and place for that, certainly.
>But here you were, honing your skills while being useful.
>That was worth more than any amount of money.
>There was a real possibility the lost zorua might move into a neighborhood you cleared.
>Maybe he was on the other side of town.
>Perhaps outside the city.
>The thoughts did little to dampen your spirits.
>You’d do this again if you must.
>You wished you had time to slow down.
>During this cross-town scavenger hunt, you’d seen plenty more than humans.
>But you didn’t have the freedom to observe their aura for long.
>Your Pokémon knowledge wasn’t perfect.
>Some stood out.
>A rattata at the trash cans.
>A skuntank skittering across the road.
>A venipede in the bushes.
>A vaporeon paddling in a backyard pool.
>Others didn’t.
>A spiky pokémon was hugging an industrial freezer door in that restaurant.
>That one near the pond looked like a giant grasshopper.
>Some huge monitor-lizard was cooking in a kitchen.
>Part of you wanted to gawk.
>There was no shortage of people out and about.
>You didn’t need aura to see how eager people were to catch a glimpse of a real Pokémon.
>Young people were especially looking hard.
>All the more reason to find Harry as soon as you could.
>A Machamp unloading a grocery store semi-truck gathered quite the crowd.
>The big guy definitely enjoyed the attention.
>Between his incredible feats of strength, he struck weight-lifting poses.
>You didn’t know there were stances for something with four arms.
>Alas, the search here also bore no fruit.
>The next stop was the house.
>It would be easy to get lost in this area.
>The small, one-story ranch home was one of many.
>It was like someone took cookie-cutters and got dozens of the same house.
>And frosted them the same three colors.
>You led Hal through backyards, weaving through bushes and over fences.
>The path with the least risk of being spotted was not easy, but it put you both at ease.
>You sensed nobody at the neighbor’s house, and hunched down behind a fence to open your mind.
>To your disappointment, you sensed nothing.
>The house was empty.
>As you told Hal, he directed your attention to the front yard.
>”Check it out.”
>Hal pointed at the car parked in the street, next to the mailbox.
>A nice four-door car. Simple and relatively new.
>And covered in tickets.
“Weird…”
>Hal confirmed there were days of fines adding up.
>And another probably on the way today.
“She normally do that?”
>Hal shrugged.
>”Took a trip, maybe?” He guessed.
>”But man… My car deserves better than that.”
>’My’ had that hint of venom from earlier.
>”Look there. Front tire’s low on pressure too.”
>”Bet those brake pads need replacing too.” The fox mused as you hoped the fence.
“Harry like his mother?” You asked, searching the front yard.
>Shaking his head, Hal looked around with you.
>”Course he does.”
>Garage closed…
>“He’s a kid…”
>Front door looked fine…
>”Wishes we were together all the time.”
>A few lights left on in the house…
>The backyard was a different story.
>Hal’s cantankerousness vanished in a heartbeat
>”That sure as hell wasn’t there the other day.” Hal declared.
>The sliding glass door was shattered.
>”You sure no one’s here?” Hal asked again.
>He was crouched low, hairs rose on his back and arms.
“Positive.” You answered, crouching down beyond the furthest shards.
>Broken glass spread all over the concrete, and around the patio furniture.
>”Someone broke out, not in.” Hal noted, exercising an extreme amount of care not to step on anything.
“Yeah.” You agreed, checking out the windows.
>Maneuvering around the glass was slow progress.
>You stepped carefully.
>Good reason to commission a pair of shoes…
>Nothing outside looked unlocked or amiss.
“Think maybe she-“
>”Don’t care.” Hal cut you off. “Only my boy matters.”
>Maybe it was a robbery.
>Maybe it was a vandal.
>But maybe, just maybe…
>What if the whole family transformed?
>Ex-family, anyway.
>Could’ve been a pet, possibly.
>But if those tickets on the car meant anything…
>Was it pure coincidence?
>A thankfully high number of families seemed intact.
>Maybe there was a genetic component?
>Plenty of doomsayers proclaimed it was a contagion, virus, or plague.
>Was it dumb luck?
>Maybe the location you happened to be sleeping in?
>You shook the thoughts from your head.
>People would probably debate the cause for generations.
>No use speculating when a missing child was at stake.
>”Oh my God, look!” Hal cried.
>A tiny trail of blood led into the kitchen.
>And an itty-bitty, bloody pawprint dried on the wooden floor.
>It could have been an animal.
>A small dog or cat might have left a print that size.
>But far be it from you to dash a man’s hopes.
“Harry!” The dark-type called, leaping above the line of glass and into the kitchen.
>You followed.
>A few leaves had blown into the house.
“Must’ve been broken for a day. Maybe two.” You guessed.
>The temperature in the house was the exact same as outside.
>It smelled of fresh air, despite the other windows being closed.
>The kitchen table and its matching chairs were knocked over and bashed aside.
>Napkins and the tablecloth were ripped apart.
>The silverware drawer was pulled out, and the shiny utensils were everywhere.
>It looked like a break-in gone wrong, except nothing seemed missing and the glass was on the wrong side.
>Hal searched the kitchen, ripping open cabinets near the floor.
>The Lazy Susan in the corner raised his hopes.
>A sack of granulated sugar had tiny bite marks.
>”That’s the right size!” Hal happily said.
>”Kid always did this thing, licking his finger and sticking it in the sugar.”
>He stuck his muzzle deeper into the cabinets at ground level, hoping he’d fine his boy curled up.
>You moved further into the house.
>The hallway was bad.
>Worse than the kitchen.
>Pictures with broken frames were knocked off the walls.
>One wall was profusely scratched, and you saw drywall beneath.
>The damage got worse the further you moved in.
>The master bedroom opened with a long, drawn-out creak.
>Saying there was a bed would have been a lie.
>The mattress and blankets atop were in tatters.
>An armoire was tipped over.
>Clothes were everywhere.
>The stink of perfume assaulted your nostrils.
>At least a dozen different scents from at least a dozen broken bottles hit you simultaneously.
>The walls here all suffered some kind of damage.
>Were you the landlord, this would have been nothing short of a nightmare.
>You double-checked your aura, making sure it was just the two of you here.
>This woman’s mind did not agree with whatever she turned into.
>Or worse, she wasn’t even aware of it.
>She might be some mindless beast loping about.
>Amidst the chaos, a light reflected off a phone screen.
>Cracked, but functional.
>Single-digit battery life.
>And a wallpaper of her hugging, presumedly, Harry.
>You sighed and left it where you found it.
>A grim sight, but nothing that pointed out a little Zorua had been here.
>Down the hallway’s other path, there was noticeably less carnage.
>Kneeling closer to the ground, Hal spotted an intermittent trail.
>A barely perceptible line of grime dyed the gray carpet an off shade.
>If you squinted your eyes right, it came from the broken back door.
>And it led to a child’s room.
>A messy one.
>But this room was messy as it ought to be.
>Whatever pandemonium trashed the rest of the house did not find its way here.
>As with his room back home, Harry had Lego strewn on the floor.
>Hal noticed there were no little figures.
>A few broken structures, and none of the Lego people were left.
>”He was here.”
>You agreed.
>The whole house was a mystery you had to leave unsolved.
>Neither of you needed to say anything.
>Hal picked a direction, and you followed.
>The boy was close.
>A determined zoroark led the way, reckless over being spotted now.
>Stopping near a family’s backyard barbeque celebration, Hal told you to do it.
>Maybe he stopped for food here.
>You obliged.
>The family’s aura was sunny and strong, but none were zorua in disguise.
>Cursing, the red and black blur took off in another direction.
>You followed a block further before sensing aura again.
>And this time, you felt it.
>A minute, child-like presence dreaming of adventure.
>The slight grin you made while meditating was enough to make Hal ecstatic.
>His hope burned like a furnace.
“The playground.” You told him.
>He didn’t bother waiting.
>Soon as you pointed, he shot off like a hunting dog.
>Curled inside a covered slide, the little zorua snoozed.
>Beside him, a dirty fanny pack held his Lego, some money, and food he took with him.
>What a trooper.
>Broad daylight meant nothing to Hal.
>He curled around his son and placed a firm, gentle hand above him.
>”Thank you…” He whispered, hearing you approach on the woodchips.
“Don’t mention it.” You assured Hal.
>Harry was little bigger than a cat.
>His fuzzy back rose up and down as he dozed.
>He leaned further into his father’s hair, smelling the alpine shampoo.
>You basked in the moment.
>A reward for a job well done.
>Bizarre as the world was getting, it shone a little brighter today.
“See you around, Hal. Harry.”
>You waved goodbye to the tiny Pokémon, who smacked his lips and shut his eyes tighter.”
>Hal wearily waved good-bye and thanked you again.
>The day caught up with him.
>No doubt he’d hold Harry tight the whole way home.
>As much as you wanted to head home, you had one final thing to do.
>Back at the devastated house, you more thoroughly investigated the damage.
>Laundry room… Untouched.
>Office… Trashed. Computer monitor crushed.
>Pantry… Partially raided. Boxes torn apart. Cans dented and bent but sealed.
>Living room… Furniture wrecked, some far beyond repair.
>A rodent scurried out when you moved through.
>Thankfully, nothing dead.
>Dead and dying auras were intensely cold and unpleasant.
>Back in the master bedroom, you knelt down and tapped the broken phone.
>Good. No password.
>9…
>1…
>0…
>Dang it…
>9…
>1…
>1…
>There we go.
>An operator picked up quickly, asking you what the emergency was.
“Hello, yeah, I’d like to report a missing person.”
>You heard the sigh across the line.
>It was muted.
>But the lady must have leaned over to talk to someone near her.
>”Another one…”

***

>If there was a trail, it went cold days ago.
>That was a big if.
>Because you weren’t seeing anything.
>The trail started and ended here at the house.
>Despite the horror movie interior, the outdoors looked fine.
>The tall, wooden fences likely hid the broken backdoor.
>Jumping to the rooftop, you hoped a new perspective might help.
>It didn’t.
>The shattered glass on the patio twinkled in the evening light.
>Aside from that…
>The outdoor furniture might have been knocked around a bit…
>Or it could have been left that way for months.
>Crawling to the edge of the roof, you braced against the gutters and looked down.
>A couple trampled flowers at the edge of the house stood out.
>But with woodchips surrounding the plants, making out a footprint was out of the question.
>What other signs do hunters look for, you wondered.
>Nothing else seemed amiss.
>Birds flew away from the maple tree, chirping in warning as you approached.
>You ran a paw-hand across the bumpy texture, circling the trunk.
>It looked untouched and intact.
>Fences stood fine.
>The little vegetation with bite marks was probably rabbits.
>The bedroom smelled unique.
>Something inhuman certainly had a hand trashing it.
>It didn’t mean much out here; all you smelled was fresh air.
>If it was a lady who transformed, she didn’t seem keen on marking her territory.
>She got out. Probably fast.
>Neighboring yards bore no obvious tracks.
>Whether it was by luck, or intentional, you couldn’t tell.
>She could be anywhere.
>She could have gone in any direction.
>And, you had no idea what she even was.
>You sighed.
>Even if you knew what she was, you probably couldn’t track her.
>This was a days old trail and you were no bloodhound.
>Halfway home, you had an unsettling revelation.
>You gave yourself ample time after the 911 call, but the police never arrived.
>Unfortunately, you imagined they had their hands full.
>Night fell by the time you climbed through your bedroom window.
>Aura helped you navigate, but it wasn’t built-in night vision.
>That’s what you get for checking out that grocery store again.
>You were really hoping to see that Machamp.
>They seemed to have their wits about them.
>Maybe you’d see them on social media.
>Opening the refrigerator, you grabbed an apple and…
>Well, what else?
>Eggs.
>You still had plenty.
>And unfortunately, no butter.
>Part of you was relieved.
>Growing used to working with a hot stove did not mean you fully trusted yourself.
>Admitting it felt childish, but those bright-orange, burning coils scared you on a deep level.
>Well, it was time to test your body’s digestion system.
>Carefully, you tapped the first egg against the counter.
>The shell cracked, but the membrane held.
>You tapped a little harder and splashed egg white over it.
>Not your best egg crack.
>Using both hands, you pulled the halves apart and dumped the egg into the bowl.
>Lucky you, there were fewer shell bits than usual.
>Sloshing the bowl around, you stuck a paw-finger in and slid the few hard bits out.
>Satisfied it was free of shell, you stared down at it.
>You hadn’t done this before.
>It had to be safe.
>Grandpa did it with milk.
>Shaking some salt and pepper in there seemed right.
>Now seasoned, you pressed the bowl to your lips and tipped it up.
>…
>The white was bland and slimy.
>It was like salt and peppered mucus.
>The yolk was also slimy, but actually bore flavor.
>The silky texture broke apart in your mouth quickly.
>It reminded you of a cream-filled chocolate egg.
>The yolk tasted rich compared to the white.
>A bit buttery, funny enough.
>You swallowed everything in one gulp.
>Pleasantly inoffensive.
>After cracking the rest of the eggs, you sat down with the apple and checked your phone.
>You’d been gone all day, and there was plenty to sift through.
>And a lot of messages asking how you were.
>A flood of “I’m still human.” posts clogged your feed.
>Not wanting to sift through the posts, you handed the texts first.
“Yeah, good here.”
Send.
“Saw a weird fox one today.”
Send.
“Is that magnemite stuck to your grill?”
Send.
>Choking on your apple you reread the message again.
>Your coughing fit only got worse.
>You pounded your chest with a fist, careful to avoid hitting your spike.
>”Honey, your dad and I will be driving through tomorrow!”
>”See you in the morning!”
>”: )”

***

>Squinting your eyes, you reached for the nightstand.
>Hadn’t slept this bad since you were human.
>This was misery.
>There was the edge…
>Sliding your hand up, you touched something round and cool.
>Too far, that was the lamp.
>It had to be closer.
>And it was.
>Wrapping your fingers around it was difficult with one hand, but you managed.
>You balanced the phone’s edge against the table, too groggy to lift it.
>This would hurt.
>The screen hit your eyes like a flashbang.
>It happened so fast you couldn’t see the time.
>The glow behind your eyelids slowly grew tolerable.
>Finding the strength to open then, you peeked at the phone.
>2:17 AM.
>Great.
>Two straight hours of tossing and turning in bed.
>Ever on the edge of sleep and unable to fall into it.
>This wasn’t working.
>Staying in bed.
>Your mind screamed stay.
>Your body screamed no.
>Sitting up, you looked at your phone again.
>Mom didn’t fall for the “I’m sick” play.
>Just a quick hello. Won’t be more than ten minutes.
>Good to know they weren’t in the “It’s a contagion” crowd.
>You flicked through social media.
>If you weren’t falling asleep, you might as well learn.
>People were duking it out on social media, already tribal about the situation.
>The few days of everyone feeling united were woefully short.
>For some, this was a new pandemic.
>Masks were back.
>Some city health departments recommended them, some outright ordered them.
>Some people listened, and others gave a threw a middle finger right back.
>Grocery store aisles were picked clean.
>Conversations about supply lines fired up again.
>Nobody could agree which Pokémon were safe to approach and which to steer clear from.
>And mixed in were the real crazies.
>Some crackpot lady opened Pokémon card packs, saying the holographic ones divined what was in her area.
>Conspiracy nuts were divided on whether it was Game Freak, Nintendo, or the Pokémon Company brought this about, and what they were trying to cover up by doing so.
>Some Japanese guy performed a bizarre ritual in hopes of making a bizarre anime reality, and nobody was sure if it was an elaborate joke or schizophrenia.
>Chris Chan fans swore this was the dimensional merge he talked about, and people legitimately wondered if he was on to something.
>A few holdouts still insisted this was a well-orchestrated prank being on them.
>Feeling sleep tug at your consciousness, you set an alarm earlier than you wanted.
>Now, while your mind was clear, might be your only chance for shuteye.
>Just don’t think.
>Just.
>Don’t…

***

>”No.”
>You opened your mouth to protest but thought better.
>Hal noticed your ears droop.
>They said more than words could have in that moment.
>”Understand, this is not coming from a place of annoyance.”
>He was 100% annoyed you showed up this early.
>The sun was barely up.
>The morning air cooled your muscles in your sprint here.
>You were still huffing and puffing when you asked him.
>”I most certainly owe you a great deal from yesterday.”
>”But I say no because I literally am not capable of what you are suggesting.” The zoroark assured you.
>You huffed, pinching the bridge between your eyes.
>Lack of sleep made you irrational.
>This was a dumb idea.
“Yeah, yeah, I remember your disguises… Not working all the time.”
>”And that’s when it’s just me.”
>”Making you look like your old self…”
>Hal pointed at you.
>”Mimic your mouth…”
>Hal made his hand ‘talk’ like a duck.
>”Follow you around…”
>Hal made his two of his fingers ‘walk’ on his palm.
>”No way I’m doing that without breaking concentration.”
>Nodding your head, you accepted the explanation.
“Thanks anyway.”
>The zoroark understood the desire to remain hidden.
>There was the slightest hint of pity in his voice.
>”Need breakfast?”
“Nah, I’m good. They’ll be here in the morning, so…”
>”Mmm…” Hal grunted.
>”Look, saying the obvious here, okay…”
>Hal mulled his thoughts a moment.
>”Rip the band-aid off.”

***

>Your trip back was as basic as it could be.
>To any onlooker, it would have still looked spectacular.
>For you, this was slow and safe.
>Your leaps were laid-back and your speed was comfortable.
>You needed to focus.
>Why was this visit stressing you out, exactly?
>Was it some deep desire to play-pretend superhero?
>Like you had a secret identity?
>Maybe you should have made yourself a costume before jumping around in public.
>You weren’t some shape-shifter.
>You couldn’t disguise yourself like Hal.
>You’d already shown yourself to a crowd, uncomfortable as it was.
>It was only a matter of time until people found out.
>No, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
>But it would be inevitable.
>Lucario was one of the most popular Pokémon.
>There were probably dozens of people trying to narrow down where you lived.
>Some in law enforcement, and some nerds on the internet.
>There was a real chance some people in town already had an idea where because they happened to look up at the right time.
>Neighbors might wonder what all the inconsistent banging on their roofs were too.
>You landed on a grocery store.
>Smells of fresh donuts and warm pastries flooded the rooftop.
>Were you a good host, you might buy some for your parents.
>But you didn’t bring money.
>More importantly, the thought of walking among humans petrified you.
>…
>You spent a minute sitting and smelling the bakery below.
>People learning who you were and where you lived was unavoidable, but it didn’t make it tolerable.
>This didn’t feel right.
>it wasn’t quite you.
>The old you.
>You knew there were changes. You weren’t the same, but…
>The dissonance was unbearable.
>You wanted to see Mom and Dad.
>You should feel that way and it was there, on some level, somewhere.
>Buried beneath emotions that weren’t entirely yours.
>Like having a thought you didn’t feel was your own.
>Oh…
>Where did these come from?
>You sniffed back mucus and wiped your eyes.
>You could stay here a bit.
>You know you had time.
>You were breathing so heavy.
>You could take a few minutes.
>It was there and gone again.
>Some unobtainable memory forever beyond your grasp.
>Ghosts of lost passions and emotions snaked by, and you felt the ends of their tails.
>You…
>You wanted to see your pack again…

***

>Punching would feel good right about now.
>Heck, getting punched wouldn’t feel too bad.
>Shame that machamp wasn’t working below.
>Might be able to knock some sense into you.
>Heading towards home, your mind buzzed with family that never was.
>No faces.
>No names.
>No memories.
>Only a fondness and tenderness that you yearned for.
>The knot in your stomach compromised your movement.
>Leaping over a wooden fence, your toes caught on the pickets.
>Tumbling, your eyes went wide and your limbs flailed.
>Cursing, you brought up your hands in the nick of time.
>You grabbed the edge of the birdbath right before smashing your muzzle into the sculpted granite.
>It didn’t stop your momentum.
>The birdbath came down with you, spilling the liquid across the grass you skid across.
“Aw… jeez…”
>Dumb.
>That’s what you get for sleeping at the wheel.
>You had to be more responsible.
>The manilla, creamy fur on your back didn’t feel muddy.
>It was undoubtedly stained like a white shirt after a soccer practice though.
>Your butt got the worst of it.
>That was a lot of mud and dirt.
>And that meant a bath.
>You sloughed off as much as you could from your mucky backside.
>After wiping your paws in the grass to clean them, you set the hefty birdbath aright.
>You hadn’t lifted weights to train, but your leg muscles made getting it back into place tolerable.
>You sent up a silent prayer, thankful the residents were still asleep.
>Humiliating.
>But you got what you wanted.
>Deserved it too.
>What kind of man let his emotions have such a stranglehold like this?
>The last twelve hours of your life were ruled by petty fear.
>If you wanted to play superhero, you had to act like it.
>With the power this body wielded, you had obligations.
>Your aura blew off the roof of a house when you panicked.
>Lord knows how powerful an aura sphere would be, once you mastered it.
>You could cause serious damage if you fell to baser instinct.
>Social media was abuzz with pokémon doing exactly that.
>You are not some beast.
>You are human in mind and spirit.
>Start acting like it.
>You slammed the bedroom window open.
>A trail of paw prints followed you to the bathtub.

***

>A lukewarm shower eased your thoughts.
>Much as you wanted to soak, time was not on your side this morning.
>Now that you thought about it, this was the first time commitment you had since turning pokémon.
>Water rinsed most of the grass and mud away.
>Unfortunately, you lost time thanks to how deep it was in the fur.
>You checked your back twice in the mirror before you were satisfied.
>Drying yourself was messy.
>You’re sure you knotted up your fur even more with the towel, but you had to move fast.
>A few minutes with the hair dryer were all you could afford.
>Though still a little damp, you had chores to do.
>If there was one good thing about guests, it forced you to clean up at least a little.
>Vacuuming was first on the list.
>Easy enough to set up, though plugging it into the wall was a novel and cumbersome task for your larger fingers.
>You should have expected the noise.
>No wonder dogs hated this so much.
>Your sensitive ears did not like the surprise.
>That stung.
>Ridiculous as it looked, you wrapped an old shirt around your head to dull the roaring machine.
>You went over everything.
>The carpet was especially bad.
>Had it really been that long since you vacuumed?
>Near your window entrance and exit, the pitter-patter of dirt into the machine’s innards grew loud.
>You cringed, thinking about what exactly you tracked into bed with your paws.
>Might have to wash those sheets soon.
>The place looked better already.
>Making the bed, you made sure to cover the parts gouged by your chest spike.
>Nobody needed to see that.
>You snickered as you fluffed the pillow.
>Stabbing the bed was, in a weird way, like wetting the bed. Worse depending how you looked at it.
>Any cups, dishes, and plates were rinsed and put in the dishwasher.
>You weren’t sure if frying pans were supposed to go in there, but it kept the mess out of sight.
>The garbage was…
>Smelly.
>Hopefully not strong enough for a human nose to pick it up.
>No way you’re taking the trash out in broad daylight.
>Using some cleaning spray, you were met with an unexpected foe.
>It smelled chemically.
>The citrus only did so much to prevent it from rankling your nose.
>You powered through, opening the windows to ensure it didn’t linger.
>The greasy oven-top and mineral spotted sink needed a good wiping.
>As did the bathroom.
>Plucking blue, yellow, and short black hair from the bathroom sink was a good reminder how careful you had to be when with the drains.
>Would you fluff up during the winter? Would you get a winter coat?
>You’d need to a brush.
>Satisfied with your work, you checked your phone.
>Half an hour.
>Decent timing.
>Amazing how easy it was for you to focus in this body.
>Perhaps you should meditate?
>Lucario did that in the show.
>Maybe it was normal.
>But sitting still and ruminating wasn’t something in the cards.
>This body was made for doing.
>You compromised.
>While planning for the difficult conversation ahead, you stretched and lightly exercised.
>Between push-ups you thought of how to greet your parents.
>During sit-ups you wondered what questions they might ask, and thought up responses.
>While doing handstands, you figured you should probably wear a shirt to appear more casual and human.
>One of them gave you a t-shirt last Christmas.
>You couldn’t remember whose gift it was, but wearing that might let them know you were still in there.
>Your voice was different.
>Answering questions only “the real you” would know might help a lot.
>Stretching your hamstrings, you wondered if they’d want to touch you.
>…
>You hoped so.
>Hugs sounded nice.
>They were family after all.
>They were your… pack?
>That thought came back again.
>Quad, butterfly, and calf stretches made you forget it.
>Your phone buzzed.
>It was time.

***

>The car leisurely pulled into your driveway, halting with a light squeak from the brakes.
>As the engine died, you reached out with aura.
>Against the inorganic car and driveway, Mom and Dad were brilliant suns.
>They planned this vacation last year.
>The intoxicating cheerfulness bled into your own mood.
>Reading happier auras consistently made you pleasant.
>Like stepping foot into a warm bath versus one scalding or ice-cold.
>Foul, bitter, or depressing auras couldn’t compare.
>But there was more.
>These were familiar.
>If only they could remain still for longer.
>You wanted to examine it like fine art in a museum.
>Beneath the feelings, looking at the essence of life itself, there was something undeniably familial.
>Words barely did justice to the magnificence of aura.
>It was like…
>Some characteristic look plucked from the parent and placed on a child.
>”Oh, you have your mother’s eyes.”
>”You’ll be big just like your old man.”
>“I could tell you’re their son by your face.”
>With your own kin so close, you saw traits only you could see.
>Only in the last month did you first perceive aura.
>It was there with Hal and his son.
>It linked Conrad and his father
>And here it was again.
>You could tell.
>You had their spirit.
>Two souls that became one flesh to make you.
>Joy leapt in your heart.
>Some part of you considered crashing through the door to tackle-hug them on their approach.
>They were family.
>They were herd.
>They were pack.
>The word did not matter.
>You were still human.
>You were their son.
>And it was a staunch reminder on how to handle yourself.
>Their emotions would mirror yours.
>If you came off depressed, it would depress them.
>If you came off like another person, they would treat you as such.
>If you showed acceptance, they would too.
>You smoothed your shirt and stood straighter.
>The doorbell rang.
>The fisheye lens of the peephole made them wide and distended
>Dad had his arm around Mom’s waist.
>Their faces didn’t show how great of a mood they were in.
>Hopefully this wouldn’t be too much a shock.
“Hi Mom, hi Dad.” You called through the door.
>Letting them understand you still recognized them would ease the news.
>They expected you to open the door after the loud ‘clack’ of the deadbolt was unlocked.
>It didn’t.
>You called to them again.
“Come on in, okay?”
>You backed out the entryway and stepped into the living room.
>Weird as it was, a freakout in the front yard might attract attention.
>Shaking your head, you waited.
>You should have told them this over text.
>”Hey, invite yourself in.” Was a lot less dramatic.
>”Hey, I look a little different now.” Would’ve lessened the blow.
>Too late now.
>You sowed.
>Now you reap.
>Maybe if you hadn’t spent the morning running across town you might have thought it sooner.
>Your parents looked at one another confused.
>After a moment of hesitation, Dad opened the door.
>”Hey… Everything alright?” He near-shouted into your tiny home.
>”We’re he-errrre!” Mom called, as if you hadn’t known already.
>The door creaked, shoes scuffed the floor, and unfamiliar walls were bumped and scraped.
“Yeah, good to have you over.”
“Uh, listen…” You said, trying to warn them.
>”You catch a cold, Bud?” Dad interrupted, walking toward you. “Sound stuffy.”
“Yeeeeaaaahhhh...” You dragged out.
>Your parents turned the corner.
>Dad came first.
>You stood with your hands on your hips, wanting to appear confident and nonthreatening.
>Mom, startled why Dad stopped in his tracks, peeked over his shoulder.
>Dad put out his hand, blocking Mom at the waist.
>Or, more precisely, putting himself between you and her.
>A small, defensive gesture.
>You hoped your smile looked welcoming.
>You practiced in the mirror.
>Just enough teeth.
>Not enough to show how sharp your canines were.
>Wide enough to be welcoming.
>Not enough to appear fake.
>You hoped they saw it as genuine.
>Because it was.
”Yeah, I caught a bug.”

***

>Mom gasped.
>She too froze in place, and her eyes widened.
>”Oh my God…” She whispered, her lips barely moving.
>Her face grew paler.
>Her eyes stared into your larger red ones.
>You looked to Dad.
>The second of silence was one you wouldn’t forget.
>It forever burned into your memory.
>Rarely have you seen it happen so fast.
>The buildup.
>Unlike Mom, his face flushed pink, then red.
>His eyes were wide and alert, then focused and narrowed.
>Eyebrows furrowed with his intense gaze.
>You’d gotten the look in times past.
>Long ago.
>The concentrated stare of a furious working man.
>Sometimes, it was irrational.
>A result of a bad day at work bestowing a short temper.
>Sometimes, you fully deserved it.
>The growing knot in your stomach screamed you put yourself in harm’s way.
>The dam burst.
>A ferocious deluge spewed forth.
>”The hell’s wrong with you?” He said.
>It was in that distinct tone.
>You hated it.
>Yelling at a normal volume.
>The moment before Dad shouted, he always spoke like that.
>You weren’t wagging your tail anymore.
>Smiling stopped.
>Standing like a dope, you smiled without smiling.
>Your brain forgot to tell your mouth ‘relax’.
>Because your whole body tensed.
>The shock keeping Dad in place broke fast.
>”Hell’s the matter with you!?” Dad bellowed.
>His voice cracked from the volume.
>Despite now being the same size, an entire childhood of conditioning told you to fear this wrath.
>Your ears flattened against your head like a scolded dog.
>”This some kinda sick joke?!”
”W… Wh…” You stuttered like a fool.
>You’d so wholly expected, and wanted, positivity.
>So much so, it stifled any rational thinking.
>Why hadn’t you paid more attention?
>The transformation was almost month-old news for you.
>It was new for everyone else.
>Barely two days since the news broke.
>He gnashed his teeth, pushing your nervous mom backwards toward the door they entered seconds ago.
>His nostrils flared.
>You took a step forward, hoping to calm the situation.
>An accusatory stare and finger pointing locked you in place.
>”Jesus, what’re ya’ doing!?” He asked again, backing a little faster. “Stay! Back!”
>In a weak, defensive gesture you pathetically brought your arms up.
>”Stay back!” He commanded again.
>Mom shook.
>Dad was shaking too.
>Your heart beat faster.
>Mom gripped the door handle with a sleeve, fumbling madly at the door.
>Oh…
>Infectious.
>Contagious.
>Pathologic.
>The door shut with extra force behind it.
>Oh no…
>Why didn’t you tell them?
>Why…?
>Aura-sight flickered in and out.
>Unchecked, raw emotions flared your powers.
>The back of your head tingled, your sensors abuzz and electrified by the rush of sentiment.
>Both yours and your parents.
>Uncomfortable feelings of confusion, fury, distress, and betrayal polluted the air like a fog.
>You didn’t watch them pull out to the street.
>You couldn’t.
>Physically, you couldn’t.
>Your palms blazed with unchecked aura.
>it started with warmth.
>Then it started to hurt.
>It burned.
>You cursed yourself, being so unwieldy with aura made you feel like a child.
>Irresponsible in your training and lax in your communication.
>Oh, what were you thinking?!
>Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.
>You ran to the bathroom, grabbing the door frame for balance and singeing it with the unearthly power pouring from your paws.
>You fell to your knees in the bathroom, brought down through urgency and blistering hands.
>It was like you stuck them in boiling water.
>The shower curtain bore scorch marks as you threw it aside.
>Crying out, you turned the faucet on, letting cold water cascade down.
>You weren’t sure if it really helped.
>But it made you feel something.
>Water sputtered like oil on a hot frying pan, winding through your fingers.
>No matter which way you turned them, some other part stung
>There was noise.
>Music.
>Through the pain and frustration, you jerked your head up.
>Not music, a ringtone.
>It was them.
>It had to be them.
>You cursed, torn between what to do.
>Groaning, the red-hot ache almost won out.
>Actual fire might have been better.
>It would have killed your nerves by now.
>With tremendous effort and an angry cry, you whipped your wet paws out and buried them into your armpits, hoping to smother the purple-blue flame.
>It helped.
>The pain distributed itself.
>There was seconds before it went to voicemail.
>You tore towards the phone, singeing the screen as you swiped the green button.
>Mom.
>In the background, Dad swore up a storm.
>Mom stayed silent, neither greeting nor hanging up.
“Y-Yeah…?” You stammered between chattering teeth.
>Mom said nothing.
>Waiting.
“M-Muh, muh, Mom!?” You asked and pleaded.
>Try as you might, you couldn’t hold your voice together.
>You’d run through the haze of lingering feelings in the air.
>The aura burned hotter here.
>”When you said you were sick yesterday…” Mom began.
>This was intolerable.
>You had to get out of here, with the phone.
>With your fiery hands, you might scramble something inside.
>You couldn’t risk breaking it.
>So you didn’t think.
>You bit.
>”Oh, Honey…” Mom sighed.
>You weren’t sure if that exasperation was toward you or Dad.
>Maybe both.
>Saliva drooled over the phone.
>Knowing your luck, you might have acidic spittle now.
>But with the device between your teeth, you staggered back to the bathroom.
>”There’s being sick and then there’s this!” Mom exclaimed, almost hysterical.
>Her voice vibrated through your teeth and up your skull.
>And she heard you wheezing and panting like an animal.
>”Honey, can you understand what I’m saying? I don’t-“
“Yes!” You screamed after spitting the phone out on the bathroom floor.
“Yes, I am human!” You yelled again, followed up by a whine of pain you hope the microphone didn’t pick up.
>You slid your hands beneath the water again.
>”Sweetie, when did… How long have you been this way? When did you catch it?” Mom repeatedly asked.
>Lie.
>For God’s sake, lie.
>A white lie wouldn’t hurt.
>Say you changed last night.
>They avoided social media.
>They might not have seen the footage of you.
>”Are you there?” Mom chimed in, interrupting your corrupt thoughts.
>Something beneath told you it would worsen the uncontrolled aura.
>You had to reel yourself in.
>Ground yourself.
>Gritting your teeth, you began.
“Last month, I…”
>”A whole month?!” Mom cried.
>Behind her, Dad’s rage filled the car again.
“No, no!” You half-shouted back, desperately trying to control your rising gorge.
>How dare she interrupt you.
>How dare she immediately twist what you said.
”Almost a month!” You resaid, immediately recognizing the difference of a few days changed nothing.
>Mom exhaled through her nose.
>You could picture her right now.
>Rubbing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
>Oh, what you wouldn’t give to-
>Calm down.
>Just…
>Imagine training again.
>Breathe in.
>Slowly…
>”Honey. You were infected.” Mom annunciated.
>You bit your tongue.
>Breathe out…
>Slowly…
>”You obviously caught something.”
>She waited, hoping this time you’d respond.
>With no comeback but running water, she spoke a third time.
>”You know that, right?”
“Yes.” You loudly stated. “Obviously, yes.”
“Does that make you feel better?” You spat.
>”No…?”
>”No. It does not. No, it does not make this better.”
>Her anger rose, but she was just as confused as here in the house.
>”I- We’re worried! About you!”
>”Oh God, he probably can’t think straight.” She hypothesized to Dad.
>A small argument broke out between your parents.
>Good.
>It gave you a moment of respite.
>In…
>Out…
>In…
>The water no longer steamed away.
>It almost felt like washing your hands now.
>The dulled, purple flame around your hands still remained.
>”What if it’s like a fever?”
>”Maybe he’s delirious…”
>You appreciated your mother trying her best to come up with some manner of excuse.
>Whether she realized it or not, she was defending you.
>Dad wasn’t having much of it, by the sound of things.
>Part of you considered playing dumb.
>It would be so easy.
>Iron out so many issues right now…
>…
>And it would be pathetic.
>No, you couldn’t stomach that.
>You were not some simpleton.
“I’m me! I’m not some dumb animal, I think just fine!”
“My brain works.”
>”Works?!”
>”Boy, have you watched the news at all?!” Dad wailed over the phone.
>He was not near the smartphone.
>He screamed it across the car.
>Dad began ranting.
>Mom tried reframing what followed with less cursing.
>”They asked people to shelter in place.”
>Oh come on…
>”People who changed or, like, lived with someone who changed.”
>Is that so?
>”Honey, you know that, right?”
>You knew better than to say it.
>You did anyway.
“If you’re so worried, why’d you drive here?” You snapped.
>The venom lacing the question was unmissable.
“Gonna cower at home?!”
>Excuses and anger poured forth from your parents.
>”We planned this last year!”
>”The hotel said we could come!”
>”We need a vacation!”
>”The resort begged us not to cancel!”
>Oh, was it sweet.
>They just kept going.
>That delicious rage.
>The aura shift was enough to make your hands flicker again.
>Your eyes went half-lidded.
>Chuckling while burning was something you never thought you’d experience.
>Noise reached a blurry, fevered tone.
>B-Breathing, right…
>Maintain the breathing.
>In…
>Out…
>In…
>Out…
>Sounded like you only escalated their hysterics.
>Again, the aura was manageable.
“It’s not a virus.” You interjected.
>You weren’t sure what you interrupted.
>But you repeated it enough times to break the stalemate.
“It’s not bacteria, or viral, or whatever.”
“It doesn’t spread like-“
>”How do you know?” Mom asked back, interrupting you this time.
“Because I’ve been close to people, there’s no wa-“
>”Okay, but do you know?!” Mom repeated.
>”Nobody knows!”
>”Don’t pretend like you know.”
“I didn’t say I know, God!” You swore.
“It just happens.”
“I just woke up like this.”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
>”But you don’t know that.” Mom said back yet again.
>You’d be talking in circles if you pressed the point.
>And she was right.
>You didn’t know for sure how or why you transformed.
>You’re sure the news was filled to the brim with people offering everything from alternate dimensions to Japanese super-bioweapon.
>If it was contagious, you might have infected a lot of people in that crowd.
>If that old police captain woke up with feathers or scales covering him, you might agree it was transmissible.
>You let Mom have the victory.
>She continued talking about what the news said.
>And, to give her credit, it wasn’t something you were wholly familiar with.
>You weren’t online as much as you used to be.
>Mom explained the CDC cautioned everyone to steer clear of pokémon for worries of contagion.
>And safety.
>Some places already had problems with fire-belching monstrosities, inexplicable hauntings, and clashes with local fauna.
>International flights being shut down for all but essential travel.
>The stock market was nothing but down.
>Communities pointing fingers at one another.
>And a somber reminder of families being torn apart.
>She brought up a few stories so viral even mainstream news reported them.
>Changed pets devastating houses and injuring owners…
>An entire missing family…
>The brionne girl…
>It managed to calm down even Dad, who you were sure drove with a white-knuckled grip.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
“I’m sorry if I hurt y-“
>”If!?” Mom corrected you.
>Bad word choice.
>Hard to be entirely sorry.
>It wasn’t that big a deal for you.
>What was a big deal was the lack of support, and care, and...
>She should be apologizing to you…
“For not telling you.” You continued, remembering your place.
“I didn’t know it’d scare you so much, alright?”
>Mom sighed and sniffled.
>”Honey, I…”
>”One, our vacation is…”
>Dad said something incomprehensible behind her.
>”We can’t go on vacation. Not after this.”
>”I won’t be responsible for getting someone sick…”
>The desire to lash out was strong.
>You let her get her thoughts out.
>In a conversation with Mom, she liked doing the speaking and for others to do the listening.
>She had difficulty keeping the tears in.
>Dad decided they couldn’t go, and Mom agreed.
>It was their civil duty not to, they told you.
>And likely said it to make themselves feel better.
>As the conversation neared its depressing end, you were rocked from your pedestal.
>”We might die, you know.” Mom declared.
>She could no longer keep it together.
>You heard the tears.
“D-Don’t say that. Don’t…” You stuttered, taken aback by the dark turn.
>”What if I wake up a turtle?”
“Oh, c’mon, c’mon…”
>”Or Dad becomes a… I dunno, a kangaroo?”
“That’s not…”
“That’s not going to happen.”
>It was ridiculous.
>Most people in town were remained human.
>By a huge majority.
>…
>But there was the possibility.
>”And you…”
>Mom choked up merely thinking about it.
>”If you made it happen…”
>A soft bawling came from the phone.
>Then it abruptly ended.
>Staring at the phone, you watched the screen dim and sleep.
>The black screen reflected your own red eyes.
>More red than normal.
>Bloodshot and sore.
>Sprawling on the cool bathroom floor was unsanitary.
>It was gross.
>Animals did this.
>But you felt the appeal.
>You slid down, letting the running water break the silence.
>Cool tiles felt good against your fur, and especially pleasant on your smoldering hands.
>It felt like they should have been nothing but burnt nubs and blackened bone.
>…
>This was nightmarish.
>For those who changed especially.
>You can say, without exaggeration, it improved your life.
>Faster. Stronger. Powers you’d have called supernatural a month ago.
>How many others could say the same?
>If they even had the ability to speak, who among them would agree?
>How many people were gone?
>Either physically or mentally?
>…
>Blessed?
>Chosen?
>Lucky?
>Maybe you were all those.
>You had been force-fed crow and a slice of humble pie.
>Whatever led to this, you must never forget that.
>You were fortunate.
>You could still reason, speak, and feel.
>You flipped on your side, cooling the other half of your body on the ceramic.
>The cold floor stung your hands.
>You deserved it.

***

>Eating a whole lemon would make you grimace less.
>Staring into the mirror, you sighed.
>You didn’t need to open your mouth to smell it.
>Sure, your diet was healthy.
>But you hadn’t taken your dental hygiene seriously since changing.
>Breathe in…
>Breathe out…
>You did it again, this time only using your mouth.
>Eugh…
>Yeah.
>Didn’t matter if this was a serious problem or just your better sense of smell going haywire.
>This was a problem.
>Hopefully, lucario had strong enamel.
>You pulled a cheek wide with a finger, looking further into your mouth.
>Your mouth smelled like a warzone.
>Bad enough to take your mind off your recent argument.
>Which was nice.
>Not so nice when it was all you thought about on your run was halitosis.
>Cats and dogs always seemed to have stronger teeth.
>And were unbothered.
>How much of that was them being unable say they had a terrible toothache?
>Time to start again.
>It took three tries to grab the brush.
>Your paw-hands weren’t ideal for this.
>Your “thumb” only bent so far inward.
>Not as opposable as it used to be.
>This was too small to grip that way.
>Sliding it between two digits kept it somewhat steady.
>But it was too loose.
>The brush slid through your fingers after an experimental tap on the counter.
>Maybe if you taped this to something sturdy, like a doorframe…
>Just rub your teeth over it, only moving your head…
>No, no, no…
>The thought was dehumanizing.
>Annoying as it was, you wrapped both paws around it.
>One on each side.
>This body made a lot of simple tasks awkward.
>This took the cake.
>It really made you feel like an uncoordinated child.
>Like holding a pencil in an ape-grip instead of the proper way you learned in kindergarten.
>C’mon, this had to work…
>Flossing was already out the window.
>Nudging the faucet on, you wet the bristles.
>No toothpaste yet.
>A test run first…
>Who knows, maybe you could clear away all that plaque.
>Parting your lips, you started at the front.
>Back and forth.
>Back and forth.
>Slow and steady, you went.
>The motion was supremely strange.
>This otherwise simple task was monumentally difficult and tired your arms.
>Smacking your lips, you brought your face closer to the mirror and inspected your pearly whites.
>It paid off, there was notably less gunk and they seemed a little cleaner.
>The next step disquieted you more than the act of grabbing the toothbrush.
>A lot of flavors disgusted you now.
>And this mint.
>This was a strong peppermint.
>Your sinuses cleared the instant the cap came off.
>Not unpleasant.
>But incredibly strong.
>Patting the tube, you gently squeezed a dollop out.
>It landed on the edge of the brush, then gravity pulled it to the counter.
>Sighing, you leaned down.
>After a moment of hesitation, you gave the toothpaste a lick.
>You nearly hurled.
>Coldness spread down your tongue, and the roof of your mouth felt like you’d bitten a snowball.
>Your eyes watered.
>Gripping the edge of the sink, you spit the gunk out.
>A cup of water would take too long.
>You stuck your mouth below the running water, lapping at the cool liquid and letting it rinse away what remained.
>You’d need a weaker mint.
>Or better yet, something else.
>They had berry toothpaste, right?
>Children toothpaste had flavors adult toothpaste didn’t have.
>This would, unfortunately, also mean going into a store where people were.
>And unchecked, rampant emotions filled the ether...
>The mint must do.
>A second attempt also missed the brush.
>You didn’t try a third.
>Gripping the toothbrush, you swiped it over the counter to scoop up the missed paste.
>Hardly sanitary, but this had already taken enough of your time.
>All you had to do was…
>Not think about it.
>You started brushing.
>The incisors at the front were already scrubbed.
>And the mint was kept away from your tongue, which you held back.
>Your longer canines and pre-molars were easier than you thought.
>Your cheek helped keep the brush from straying too far off course.
>Back and forth.
>Back and forth.
>But as you got to the molars, the mint bled to the insides.
>Your own saliva betrayed you.
>Tears welled up.
>It was barely a pea-sized amount, but the menthol was a mighty opponent.
>Breathing in through your nose got progressively more labored.
>It reminded you of a horror movie.
>Louder and more frantic as the torture continued.
>Opening wide, you brushed the tops and bottoms of your teeth.
>Thankfully, the pointed ones didn’t need much.
>Were you in public, you’d be put down for fear of rabies.
>By this point, white foam leaked from your mouth.
>Flecks of toothpaste and pokémon spit splattered onto the mirror.
>You tried brushing your tongue, but cried uncle.
>It was a good fight.
>A good training session.
>You’d get further tomorrow.
>At long last, you could spit and rinse.
>What a relief it was.
>Like getting that last rep or finishing the mile in gym class.
>Only now could you challenge a worthy opponent.
>…
>You held the mouthwash in for nearly three seconds.

***

>You had it.
>You took a deep breath, drawing in the mossy and decaying scent.
>A soft wind blew through the forest.
>It hummed and whistled.
>Trees bobbed and grasses waved in congratulations.
>Finally, the ‘aha’ moment.
>Your eureka.
>Knees dug into the soft earth further.
>Bracing your left arm on the ground, you bent lower.
>What did this look like?
>What would others see?
>With your right paw above a tiny sapling, you did it again.
>Weeks of practice bore fruit.
>You found the muscle.
>The invisible, wraithlike force you controlled consciously and unconsciously.
>It twitched.
>You made it do so.
>And asked it to do so.
>Without thinking, it did so.
>Lavender glowed beneath your paw, drawing up energies only the faithful believed in.
>The sapling went crooked.
>Slowly, its leaves were too great to bear.
>The healthy green faded to browns and yellows.
>You felt it flow like a liquid through a straw.
>From the tips of its roots, life flowed to your paw-hand.
>It danced and mixed with your own vibrant aura.
>To anyone else, they would see the incredible pulses of eldritch energy.
>The lavender inferno of life.
>But more happened beneath.
>And only you were privy to see it.
>Strings of the sapling’s creation weaved through your fingers.
>It was not there willingly, but it bore no grudge.
>A higher being willed it so.
>What place did it have demanding favors of you?
>But the desire to return was strong.
>The sapling was surviving beneath the canopy.
>It was a hard fight.
>Scraps of light were fought for.
>Its parents above dominated the skyline, taking nearly all sustenance.
>This was a feisty spirit.
>It wanted to win.
>To live.
>Relaxing, the aura flowed back to its source.
>As all aura desired.
>You let it go.
>A small shockwave rolled down the sapling, and over the grasses nearby.
>Balance was restored.
>The little aura you released came back to rest with its master.
>The sapling was restored.
>The healthy green was back, and it once again stood tall and defiant.
>It was one among many other small shrubs and saplings.
>But this one had a chance.
>It was lucky.
>Chosen, like you were.
>Blessed by the luck of fate.
>You gathered rich soil nearby, scooping it around the base of the sapling.
>A thank you for being such a wonderful teacher.
>For letting you understand yourself.
>It would survive the coming winter, you were sure.
>Gasping, you looked down at your arm.
>Something…
>You wouldn’t have noticed it had you not been lucario.
>It leapt on you.
>Brown, it camouflaged itself among the dirt.
>Pouncing on the unaware.
>Truly dishonorable.
>A disgusting, vile parasite.
>It stood out on your blue arm.
>It clung to the top of a hair.
>A tick.
>The instinct to flick it away was strong.
>But this was a time of learning.
>Bringing your paw over it, you flexed the invisible muscle.
>This was simple creature too.
>But one was destined to a life of destruction.
>Its motives were survival, like any other being.
>Its methods were abhorrent.
>And it was too simple to understand why.
>It thought you were food.
>Nothing more.
>The more energy you drew, the slower the arachnid got.
>Soon, it held its grip no more, and it fell from your arm.
>It bounced on the ground, completely devoid of movement.
>In the swirling miasma of your palm, the soul of the tick spasmed and lashed out.
>For minutes you stared, enraptured by the theatrical display.
>Where the sapling showed acceptance, this demanded freedom.
>You did not grant it.
>Perhaps a stronger aura could break free.
>There was never a chance here.
>It did not comprehend, nor did it care to.
>It knew to feed and mate.
>Not this season, you decided.
>Never again.
>Without its soul, the body withered.
>Squatting, you saw the body kick its last.
>Not because of any life, but because it was the throes of death.
>Chemical reactions and dying cells already set in.
>Curling its legs together as it lay on its back.
>The aura stopped.
>It knew.
>With no home left, the spirit lost all will to fight.
>It fell from your fingers.
>Ash upon the wind.
>It scattered.
>Never again would such a combination of life come together.
>Into the earth it seeped.
>And from the dust, it would come back in a thousand different ways.
>After checking for more ticks, you set for home.
>Aura was a powerful tool.
>You felt honored to be trusted with it.

***

”Kid, you are in a world of trouble!” You yelled down.
>Idiot.
>What an utter idiot.
>Swinging a leg up, you better balanced yourself on the thick tree branch.
>He had to be in high school.
>Set to graduate either this year or the one coming.
>He absolutely knew better.
>Judging a book by its cover, he did not strike you as the bookish type.
>His blonde hair was spiked with gel.
>The style of someone who put far too much time and thought into their appearance each morning.
>He wore a shirt so crass it deserved a dress code even off school grounds.
>He slammed the door of his navy pickup closed.
>The well-used vehicle had seen a decade of hard use.
>Despite its decrepit state, it blared an obnoxious, incomprehensible song you didn’t recognize.
>And of course, he had a Houndoom with him.
>Like poetry.
>A drain on society with a dark-type.
>The only thing you took solace in was the mutt’s name.
>The brat congratulated it as he left his truck.
>Dare.
>Dare was not a human name.
>Could be for a boy or girl.
>But that was a pet name.
>It made you feel a little better about the way this situation was probably going.
>Staring at a dog’s eyes was a show of dominance.
>You hoped it would back down.
>It was a challenge.
>And it riled the beast further.
>You couldn’t believe this was real.
>This man sicced his dog on you.
>The thing must have the nose of a bloodhound.
>Perhaps it picked up an earlier trail.
>You’ve been using the ground a lot more than the rooftops lately.
>You looked down the street it followed you on.
>The houndoom torched a fence to glowing cinders in its single-minded pursuit.
>Tearing through the neighborhood, the canine unleased an eerie howl plucked from a horror movie.
>Letting its irresponsible master know a hunt was on.
>Announcing you were pursued.
>You’re ashamed to admit, you froze hearing it.
>Had the cry come during a moonlight night, you’d have booked it.
>But this was the middle of the day.
>In the middle of the suburbs.
>Your hearing was good enough to figure out the direction it came from.
>The tree provided good cover, but it couldn’t mask your trail.
>Dare scratched, tore, and charred the tree trunk below.
>Seeing its master, the houndoom let loose another yowl.
>A neighbor who watched from the front door slammed it shut, retreating inside.
>A lot of attention was directed your way.
>And all their auras told you they were safe inside their homes.
>Good.
>”Scared?” The punk taunted.
>”Dare dun like you.”
>He shielded his eyes from the sun to look up.
>He momentarily stopped to call Dare a good boy.
>Truth be told, yes, you were frightened.
>Thirty seconds ago.
>That howl sounded like a wendigo.
>The terrorizing cry may have petrified you as a pu-
>Kid…
>But not anymore.
>Now you knew what you were dealing with, it was far less worrying.
>They challenged your honor.
>And they brought this nonsense to a peaceful neighborhood.
>The desire to bring back order was…
>Oddly strong.
>Strong enough to overcome your worry about the flames licking the hound’s claws and mouth.
>Would you be so eager to leap down if the human side was in control?
>You could stay here all night if you had to.
“Put that thing on a leash. Now.” You ordered.
>To your surprise, he pulled a collar and leash out the passenger seat.
>…
>He wasn’t collaring his pokémon.
>The boy pulled his sagging pants and looked to you instead.
>Twirling the chain, he grinned and shouted over his dog.
>”Nuh uh, we’re gon’ catch you!”
>So taken aback, you blinked in confusion.
“What!?” You screamed.
>The man held the leash higher, jingling it, as if you hadn’t noticed.
>”Yer already caught, man, c’mon ‘ere.”
>He whipped the chain and collar up at you.
>Just long enough to crack against the branch.
>”Git you some doggy treats.”
>He did it again, and you leapt up, avoiding a better aimed whipcrack.
>Kid had to be on something.
>You couldn’t tell if he was serious or taunting you.
>He babbled some nonsense about how you’d be put down if you didn’t listen to him.
>Either by animal control or by Dare.
>Your blood was already running hot.
>Now it boiled.
“Last chance!” You declared.
>It was hard to be taken seriously when you were dancing from branch to branch, dodging lashes.
>This cretin let his houndroom run rampant…
>Damaging property…
>Scaring people…
>Hurting this wizened tree…
>Now he thought you’d simply curl up and submit.
>On his last whip, you caught the collar.
>He wasn’t smiling when you growled back.
>Yanking the collar threw him off balance.
>The punk stumbled forward, eyes widened by the sudden escalation.
>Bumping into his houndroom surprised the canine.
>The endless barking stopped.
>Confused, the hellhound turned to see why his master tripped over him.
>The split second was all you needed.
>Kicking off the tree trunk sent you rocketing towards the tangled duo.
>’Always go easy on a human.’
>Before the collision, you distinctly remembered someone shared that advice.
>Someone who cared.
>You took it to heart.
>This wouldn’t hurt much.
>You just needed the leash.
>Bowling into the kid knocked the wind out of him, sending him stepping backwards.
>With reflexes no human could match, you twisted his torso to keep him from slamming his head into the pavement.
>The speedy strike startled the houndoom enough to make it jump from the sudden violence.
>If it had any sense, it would stay back.
>Away from the alpha.
>More cussing and an ineffective slap were all the boy mustered.
>Lucky for him, he let go.
>Off-balance, he had no leverage to hold the leash.
>You ripped the chain-link leash away.
>His hands were confused whether they should punch you or steady himself.
>By the time his brain registered he’d been knocked over, you already squared off against the houndoom.
>All within three seconds.
>It furiously resumed barking.
>The houndoom poised itself for action, locking its eyes onto yours.
>It pounced forward an inch every few barks.
>Like it was testing you.
>Hoping you’d flinch.
>Letting you know it could, and would, truly spring upon you at any moment.
>It was poised to strike, legs coiled and head low.
>Behind it, their spaded tail coiled like a scorpion stinger.
>Cracking the leash an inch from the houndoom’s nose made it think twice about coming closer.
>But this was seconds away from coming to blows.
>Flames drooled from its mouth and sizzled on the ground.
>Punching a dog, even if it looked like it came from hell, did not sit entirely well with you.
>It wasn’t some insect, it had an aura of sapience and intelligence.
>It can be calmed down.
>It could be…
>It could be ended now.
>If you pressed forward.
>Strike while it thought you cowered.
>The lucario saw it as the beast it was.
>The lucario wanted to strangle it.
>Wise as it may have been, you compromised.
>A chance to end this peacefully was there.
>Slim, but there.
“Calm. It. Down.” You demanded.
>The wannabe-thug, rubbing his shoulder, cussed you out.
>Irrational and angry, his voice rose louder.
>Houndoom mirrored his master.
>It had enough.
>With flames licking the corners of its mouth, it pounced.
>It leapt just as you cracked the leash, giving you little time to respond.
>Smart.
>Or dumb luck.
>You couldn’t assume the latter.
>On instinct, you moved closer rather than leaping away.
>You brought your arm beneath its jaw, pressing against the neck.
>There was just enough leverage to keep the huge dog’s jaws at bay.
>Ebony claws swiped at your chest, batting your iron spike.
>It stung, but the manilla-colored chest fur kept any damage to a minimum.
>With the houndoom balancing on its too hind legs, you pushed forward, hoping to knock it on its back.
>Tying the chain around it would end this quickly.
>The houndoom was already a step ahead.
>The canine leapt forward, coughing smog and liquid bile into your face.
>Decay and sulfur struck your oversensitive nose and burned your eyes.
>Shoving the animal aside, you stumbled away from the haze.
>Opening your bloodshot eyes fiercely stung.
>Good thing you didn’t need them.
>With your eyes closed, the pokémon thought you were blinded.
>Dare circled you, yapping and barking at the while.
>You didn’t need aura to tell where it was.
>Winding the chain up, wrapping it around your paw, you prepared.
>The hound hunched back in preparation.
>Preparing for another pounce, you adjusted your stance by millimeters.
>Widening your paws.
>Lowering your center of gravity.
>It was a complete mistake.
>A noise like a howl and a belch preceded a roaring fireball erupting from the hellhound’s mouth.
>Your stance was off enough to delay your escape.
>Chemical flame, foul smelling and hot enough to blacken pavement, caught a foot.
>Whirling through the air was enough to cool the burn, but the damage was done.
>It was like stepping into a hot, bubbling oil fryer.
>You shrieked.
>The pads of your paws, singed and raw, pulsed with pain.
>By the time you refocused, the hellhound hacked another glob of fiery spit.
>It wasn’t as potent as the first.
>Success emboldened the dark-type.
>That was a feeling you could exploit.
>It went wide, landing close enough to the teenager to make him scurry behind his truck.
>The boy and his dog were hopeful.
>They were confident.
>Smug.
>Dashing that confidence was a delicious confidence boost.
>It drove you through the pain.
>Rearing back to hack another fireball, you thrashed the leash.
>Closing the distance gave you all the bigger target.
>The metal chain lashed the side of its orange sound.
>The fireball building in its throat died the instant it struck true.
>The houndoom shrilled, coughing toxic smoke in the air.
>Dare pawed at his snout, and it came away bloody.
>The attack could not have gone better.
>The canine hadn’t realized the chain wound itself around an aged, ivory-gray horn.
>Gleefully, you yanked the chain toward you with excessive force.
>Your plan to end the fight with a will-placed palm strike was not to be.
>The houndoom, fast on its feet, turned an ungainly stumble into a dead sprint.
>Using the momentum you gifted it.
>Dropping the whip, and using both hands, you again barely kept the infernal, flaming jaws away from your neck.
>Letting the dark pokémon crash into you had its benefits.
>The dog wasn’t expecting you to fall over, and you managed to turn its bite into a headlock.
>It wasn’t as strong as you wanted it to be.
>It wasn’t a perfect grip
>But it was enough to work with.
>You fell backward, pulling the surprised Houndoom with you.
>Your fall was controlled.
>Dare had no such luxury.
>The quadruped, flailing about, managed to nip a hand as you drove his head to the pavement.
>Without leverage, it didn’t break any skin or bone.
>But the grinding crunch burned hot.
 >Irritating toxins and the embers flickering in its throat charred your fur and skin.
>Your hope to again end the fight was short-lived.
>The demonic horns atop the houndoom couldn’t completely protect it.
>But they served their purpose.
>The otherwise concussive blow to the head became a nasty, weatherable, hit.
>The horns ground into the concrete, sounding like stone on stone.
>Its muzzle followed.
>Growls turned to a painful yip.
>Houndoom biology could handle corrosive acids and searing flames.
>It couldn’t handle this level of friction burn.
>Fur and flesh chafed against the porous asphalt.
>Dare kicked his legs, shakily trying to scratch you.
>He trashed his head, hoping to escape.
>His whined and barked, pleading for help.
>Adjusting your grip around its gray, bony neck-rib ensured you wouldn’t get bit again.
>It’s claws pawed at you.
>Dark energy trailed Dare’s nails, but it did little more than ruffle your fur.
>You squeezed tight.
>Slowly, the kicking weakened…
>The canine gasps drew longer…
>You felt its breath slow…
>And then you were stabbed.
>Lancing pain seared through your left arm.
>Your widened eyes couldn’t make out what it was.
>Just beneath your clavicle.
>It was so close.
>In the gray-black fur of your shoulder.
>A dark dagger.
>It pulled away, pulling a thin trail of blood with it that seemed to hover mid-air.
>Your grip weakened.
>Your left arm didn’t want to hold anything right then.
>The dark stiletto pulled back, and only then did you realize the source.
>The tail.
>The sharpened dirk it swirled around to keep balance.
>Your tail was far different.
>Full and bushy.
>For balance and betraying your emotions.
>This one was a knife-edge atop a thin, near furless stalk.
>A labored breath let you know Dare wasn’t out.
>You barely pushed yourself away in time.
>The bayoneted tail thrust where your eye was a moment ago.
>Rolling away, you pushed your thumb against the leaky wound.
>Blood wasn’t gushing.
>Raising your left arm, however, left you raw and shaky.
>The hellhound was worse.
>It panted for much-needed oxygen.
>It’s muzzle and nose were chafed and red.
>The discolored horns were stained a different gray where they crashed against the road.
>It righted itself to face you and let out a hoarse, gritty bark.
>You groaned.
>This thing would probably die before surrendering to you.
>The frustration almost blinded you.
>In the heat of combat, you’d barely noticed the change.
>Its aura was bruised.
>Like a cracked eggshell.
>Splintering ice barely containing what lurked beneath.
>The colors wobbled and ebbed, but it was there.
>It just needed a little push.
>Submission.
>Painful as it was, you opened your eyes.
>You weren’t sure if they were reddened and bloodshot.
>You hoped they were.
>The houndoom didn’t take kindly to your stare-down earlier.
>Now it faltered.
>For a moment, it broke eye contact.
>The fury in your eyes was unmistakable.
>For a second, it crouched a little lower.
>With the lull in the fight, you channeled your aura more reliably.
>The ethereal energy swirled around you, most of it invisible.
>What coalesced around your paws wasn’t.
>Painful as it was, you stalked forward.
>Faltering would throw off the act.
>Your burned foot hurt.
>The paw pads were tender.
>A hand was sore.
>Your left arm was a noodle.
>All that faded away.
>What didn’t matter deserved no attention.
>You were focused.
>Its tail lowered, falling between its legs.
>Slowly, the spade-tip rested on the ground.
>Fire gave it some advantages.
>But its belly held only cinders now.
>The dark, aggressive confidence it once had now made it terrified.
>On some level, it knew.
>What tricks it had left could not best you.
>The pleas and cries from its childish master drove it no further.
>To your relief, its head bowed.
>Grabbing the leash on the ground, you moved with purpose to Dare.
>The whimpering dog avoided all eye contact, but that didn’t stop you from taking precautions.
>You pinned its tail and rested your body weight on its barrel before you got to work.
>Tightening the leash around its snout made for a makeshift muzzle.
>Dare didn’t like it.
>It put up a token resistance, relenting when you held its head to the ground.
>Reminding the hellhound just how much damage you could do if it roused your ire.
>Wrapping the chain around its legs felt unnecessary, but you did it anyway.
>Just enough to impede movement if it tried making a break for it.
>You opened the backseat and tossed the heavy dog onto the scratched, scorched upholstery.
>Dare’s coconspirator was on the other side of the truck.
>Still cursing and hollering.
>Reading his aura, he was torn between abandoning his truck and dog or making a break for it.
>Indecision rooted him.
>Good.
>You got uncomfortably close.
“Here’s the deal.” You began, putting on the tough act again.
>Not that you needed to.
>Even in the state you were in, out-fighting a human was hardly a challenge.
>The purple-blue aura flared around your hands.
“I need a ride to the police station…”

***

>Did this count as carjacking?
>In a way, it was.
>The kid cooperated as much as you expected.
>Babbling.
>Swearing.
>Threatening.
>Even tried making you flinch with a fake punch.
>Raging hormones, inexperience, and a two-digit IQ.
>A bad combination.
>But it was all an act.
>Were you human, you might have bought the tough guy show.
>Big talk and big swagger.
>His aura told you everything.
>He was a chameleon.
>False, shimmering colors.
>A terrified undercurrent.
>An animal hissing and baring its nubby fangs, vainly hoping to scare the looming predator off.
>Speaking was never your strength.
>Given the circumstances, it wasn’t hard to convince the youth.
>Persuasion came easy when you had bloodshot, crimson eyes and a scowl that would worry a bear.
>Voluntary surrender, you told him, looked better than public arrest.
>He bought it.
>Knowing he couldn’t outrun or outfight helped too.
>You kept the houndoom bound and pinned as he drove.
>Its few struggles and groans were silenced with a firmer hold.
>Not once did the boy’s talking cease.
>He’d moved from anger to bargaining.
>Mom and Stepdad and the dog and the cops and anything and everything.
>A nervous talker.
>If he had any sense, he’d keep quiet until he got an attorney.
>No chance that’d happen.
>You kept quiet
>At no point did you let your guard down.
>The cab smelled of tobacco and sun-dried upholstery.
>Everything spilled in this vehicle in its lifespan contributed to the staleness.
>Focusing hard enough, you sniffed old dog.
>Wholly different from the one drooling caustic saliva by your side.
>Supposedly the same, if the kid’s rambling wasn’t a lie.
>Your old scent was wholly alien to you now.
>Did this houndoom feel the same?
>Was it confused by what it used to be?
>Did it even register?
>It fought like an animal wholly familiar with its body.
>The kid was lucky it didn’t rip him apart.
>If Dare listened and followed him, there had to have been something from before.
>The Zeraora, if she was telling the truth, had no memory of being human.
>Could’ve easily happened here.
>Rounding a corner, you saw the police station was a hive of activity.
>The sight was not a welcome one.
>You’d driven past plenty of times over the years.
>Never have you seen it even half as busy.
>Tents marked with the local hospital’s logo were set up in the parking lot.
>Field hospitals.
>Containment and triage.
>Filled with uneasy men and women of science.
>Hazmat suits and respirator-wearing workers operated behind the white lab coats.
>With so much of the parking lot occupied by health care workers, cars crammed together in the few remaining spaces.
>The parking lot overflowed into some local businesses’ parking.
“There.” You said, pointing at a lane designated with orange cones.
>It went past the tents, likely meant for emergency vehicles.
>For ‘infected’.
>You fit the bill.
>More moaning and demands you reconsider turning him in were silenced with a low growl.
>Either of these groups had to have a kennel to hold this thing.
>Maybe the police could train it.
>Maybe these science types could study it.
>So long as Dare was far away from this kid, you’d be satisfied.
>You wiggled each limb, both eager and dreading to leave the truck.
>Weak arm, sore paws, a burnt foot…
>Reeking fur and in desperate need of a shower…
>And worse…
>That feeling was back.
>The anxiety.
>The further he drove into the lot, the more it spiked.
>Aura was everywhere.
>Concern, happiness, frustration, joy, apathy, disappointment, surprise, pride…
>You didn’t want to notice.
>Yet you couldn’t look away.
>You should have called the police.
>Asked a neighbor to do it.
>Tied them up and ran off.
>An overweight man waving his arms brought you back to reality.
>The portly man seemed to be some kind of authority figure.
>Furious at the boy driving where only official vehicles were allowed.
>His tune changed when you dragged Dare out.
>If anyone noticed you wincing, they didn’t care.
>Much as you despised the man-contraption, the car took most pressure off your injuries.
>Your initial call for a kennel was met with uncertainty.
>The bystander effect kept both police and lab coats rooted.
>A cop sprung into action first.
>Lucky them, looks liked they’d get your catch.
>Dare struggled little.
>In fact, he was thrilled.
>New people and strange sights kept his interest.
>His simple mind got excited.
>Loosening the grip on his horns slightly, let him see the others.
>Anything to keep him from getting aggressive.
>Hopefully the police had a big kennel in the station.
>Pretty sure they had a police dog or two.
>The police who came wore notably less PPE than the others.
>Gloves and one mask were the extent of what you say, much to the mortification of the bleating researchers.
>A small shouting match even started.
>The powers-that-be weren’t in agreement.
>Your aching body did not care.
>After enough police arrived to control Dare, you hurried away from the growing crowd.
>The argument got heated.
>The anger was clouded by a strange mix of respect and scorn coming from all sides.
>With a proper muzzle on the houndoom, the canine was taken inside and out of sight.
>A few of the scientists followed the pokémon inside, eager to be among the first to study the new species.
>You were exposed again.
>Out in the open.
>People followed you.
>Police and lab coats.
>Asking and demanding and suggesting.
>So loud.
>You hated this.
>You heard everything and everything they couldn’t.
“K-Kid sicced it on me.” You stammered.
>You were ending this quickly.
>This was excruciating.
“Fought somewhere…”
>You didn’t remember the street.
>At least one officer listened.
“That way. Somewhere that way, I…” You waved your paw in the direction you came from.
>Even if you were calm, you wouldn’t have remembered the street.
>You sounded so pathetic.
>Any bravado from your fight was gone.
>You felt weak.
>A man in a full hazmat suit asked you to come with them.
>The policeman asked you to give a full statement inside.
>Staying would hurt more than what came next.
>You tore off.
>It hurt.
>In the blink of an eye you already crossed the street.
>You wanted to do things right.
>Your ears flattened.
>You really did.
>Your tail was low.
>The pulse on your brain lessened with every pained step.
>Physical pain elsewhere took its place.
>It felt exponentially more manageable.
>This, you could deal with.
>This was…
>Gonna hurt.
>You weren’t leaping right.
>You didn’t land right.
>You skid across the roof tiles.
>You bad arm didn’t have the strength to balance you.
>Falling hard, your injured paw dragged across the old shingles.
>The burn was enough to make you curse.
>You bit down on a wrist spike to stop the scream.
>The journey home was brutal.

***

>It was one of those little joys in life.
>You didn’t know you needed this.
>Aloe vera squelched and oozed between your hands.
>Already it felt hydrating.
>Like drinking through your fingers.
>Even the black-furred parts of your hands felt refreshed.
>The build-up to the main event was almost holy.
>Though all the toil and pain navigating through town with a bad foot, you knew this was your reward.
>Your oasis in the desert.
>Finally, relief.
>Slathering it over your burned, bruised foot-paw was enough to short-circuit your brain.
>If your skin could taste, it was peppermint.
>It was a religious experience.
>The smooth gel cooled your singed pawpads.
>Blessed relief clouded your mind.
>It made you dumb and you loved it.
>It numbed the pain and it numbed your brain.
>Finally, your nerves focused on something other than the pulsing burn.
>Only after injury could one fully appreciate how often you relied on a part of your body.
>You would forever take care of your paws after this.
>Taking a blow to the head might have been less painful.
>The aloe vera started evaporating.
>Clammy, sticky reside spread from your hands.
>Soon, your foot was next.
>People drank aloe vera juice right?
>Aloe vera in water?
>Hopefully cold water wouldn’t wash too much of it away.
>The tub’s crisp, chilly water pooled around your toes, again bringing you a taste of heaven.
>You’ve never taken an ice bath before.
>Some of those real high-end athletic centers and sports teams had those.
>Helped with soreness and inflammation after a good workout.
>Would be a good way to cool off after battling a fire-type too.
>Closing your eyes, you let your creativity run wild.
>With pokémon appearing now, maybe ice-types would be a common site in locker rooms.
>Glaceon or those icy vulpix…
>Maybe they’d curl up on top of a football player or something.
>An endothermic blanket.
>…
>What other ice types were there?
>Froslass?
>If you remember right, those things were supposed to be dangerous.
>Sneasel and weavile were half ice.
>Wouldn’t want those claws near you though.
>Cold water rose up your ankles.
>Hopefully things would be nicer.
>Society had strange growing pains right now.
>How long would it take for things to calm down?
>You sank deeper into the water.
>Being so sensitive to emotions made you appreciate the power of positive thinking.
>After today, it’s what you needed right now.
>Things’ll work out.

***

>It was too easy.
>You didn’t like it.
>As you watched the stopwatch tick higher, the surer you were you’d done it wrong.
>Surely, you’d messed up.
>You always messed up.
>You didn’t follow your instincts.
>Got hurt.
>Should have struck fast and hard.
>Couldn’t handle a few humans.
>All you had to do was call…
>Should’ve called.
>Should’ve called Mom and Dad.
>Should’ve called the police.
>Should’ve given a statement.
>Could’ve tied up the kid.
>Would’ve knocked out the houndoom.
>Could’ve done a whole lot worse than that…
>Would’ve been the wise thing to do.
>Should’ve. Could’ve. Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve.
>Should go open a window…
>No!
>The exercise was nightmarish until the burn finally crept in.
>Stronger than the heat and humidity combined.
>It was your enemy.
>Something to focus on and beat.
>That, and the lawn was being mowed.
>Good on the kid for keeping schedule.
>For the first ten minutes, you weren’t sure if your form was right.
>Only now, finally did this plank finally feel like exercise.
>Something other than the heat.
>Something other than your roiling mind.
>You intensely concentrated on your form.
>Toes curled, firmly planted on the carpet.
>Your hands, spaced shoulder length apart, held your arms straight.
>So long had you done this, you could feel the carpet making indents on your pink paw pads.
>You squeezed your glutes and drew in your abs.
>This was another form of meditating.
>The tingle crept up your arms and radiated through your core.
>The telltale sign of progress.
>Your hips did not sag.
>Your head did not relax.
>Your knees never bent.
>Straight as an arrow.
>Your stamina was unmatched.
>Ten whole minutes before a little burn.
>You’d have celebrated were you not aiming for a high score now.
>No way you could have done this before.
>Two or three minutes tops.
>That was great for someone in shape.
>For a fit human.
>You needed this.
>Your abs vibrated.
>A confidence booster.
>Your arms shook.
>A distraction.
>Your tail twitched and your thighs trembled.
>Had to be careful how you fell.
>The wicked daggers on your wrists would gouge whatever toppled onto them.
>You thought every second was the last, and somehow held yourself for another.
>Imaging you were doing something heroic kept you going.
>Just another few seconds to save the day.
>A bead of sweat dribbled down the top of your snout, pooling at your nose.
>Stop the explosion.
>Beat the bad guy.
>Save the girl.
>Every strained muscle cried in unison.
>Not even the strength to catch yourself remained.
>You kept your hands clear, falling to the carpet.
>The landing wasn’t pleasant.
>You forgot about your chest spike.
>The rest of your torso wanted to fall another couple inches.
>Your chest did not.
>An undignified wheeze forced itself out your throat.
>And your spike claimed more victims.
>Not only did it puncture the carpet, the ivory spire gouged the wood beneath.
>The sound and sensation echoed through your thorax.
“Ugh…” You mumbled.
>Rolling over would take herculean strength.
>With useless jelly arms at your sides, you relied instead on your hips.
>Polyester and nylon fibers ripped and snapped, fighting a losing battle against the spike.
“Great…”
>Thought it would just pop out.
>You’d closed your eyes, letting the lactic acid paralyzing your core disappear.
>Halfway asleep, you realized something.
>Or, the absence of something.
>The dull whirr of the lawnmower…
>You kept your eyes shut.
>You didn’t move.
>With aura, you saw without sight.
>Just outside the window.
>The boy.
>Conrad.
>Peering through a crack in the blinds.
>In confusion and wonder and amazement.

***

>You’ve never run faster.
>At this speed, a collision would kill whoever you ran into.
>Not that you would.
>Your reflexes were far beyond human.
>But if you did smash into someone, you wouldn’t stop.
>Couldn’t stop.
>Gray skies signaled the gravity of the situation.
>The tracks ran through an avenue.
>The dinging, donging bell tolls of the railroad crossing sang their warning.
>They sounded ominous and drawn out in your dead sprint.
>Distorted and unnatural.
>Red lights flashed back and forth, reflecting softly off pooled rain in the road.
>Striped beams descended, blocking the slowing and stopped traffic.
>It made your job easier.
>In less than a second, you bounded through the crossroad.
>Drivers saw kicked-up puddle mist longer than they saw you.
>If at all.
>A train horn blared, the sound barely muffled by the vegetation and industry around the tracks.
>You couldn’t see it.
>You would in moments.
>Huffing, you kept sprinting.
>Couldn’t let up the pace.
>You’d pushed yourself as hard as you could.
>Your dry throat and leaking nostrils screamed with your legs to take a rest.
>Your diaphragm, working overtime to supply your body with oxygen, stung like a rapier through your gut.
>What speed did trains go here?
>Hopefully the bend ahead was enough to make it slow down a little.
>Cutting through a hedgerow to save every precious second, you dashed through the vegetation rather than leaping around it.
>Closing your eyes and protecting your face, you powered on.
>Bushes stood no chance against your speed, barely slowing you.
>Branches and leaves exploded when you burst through.
>The engineer blew the horn in rhythmic pattern, barreling down the railway.
>In the dim light, you doubted the engineer saw you.
>Beside the tracks, you had to respect the beast.
>The massive freight train wasn’t fast, but the power behind the engine was undeniable.
>Looking down the tracks, this engine must have had a hundred cars behind it.
>That needed a long time to stop.
>The bright headlight came closer, reflecting on the light rain coming down in front of it.
>You needed a second.
>Running through your head how to do this.
>It wasn’t too different from jumping house to house.
>It couldn’t be.
>But things were wet and slippery.
>Leaping onto a moving train wasn’t something you just did.
>This thing wasn’t stopping for anyone.
>The machine chugged past, quaking the ground as if a giant took a step.
>Okay…
>Match its speed…
>You could outrun the train no problem.
>Mud slowed you, but it wasn’t enough to stop you.
>The behemoth barreled past, and you quickly caught up to the first two cars.
>Both of them seemed to be engines, bright red and weathered with age.
>Gathering your courage, the loud klaxon roared again, letting all ahead know the train had right-of-way.
>You clasped your hands over your ears on instinct.
>Oh, did that hurt.
>Still ringing, you knew you had a few seconds before it sounded again.
>As much as you wanted to plug your fingers in your ears, you needed them just in case.
>There was a real chance you’d find no purchase on the wet metal.
 >Ahead, the train’s prow smashed an errant branch aside on the tracks.
>Thoughts of getting crushed beneath poisoned your brain.
>Leaping didn’t clear them away.
>But it helped.
>It was bizarre, moving alongside such a big object.
>Relative to the train, it was a lazy jump to the side.
>Your worries, thankfully, amounted to nothing.
>Landing on the walkway between the railing and the engine, you moved forward.
>You kept an iron grip on the railing, your knuckles were white beneath the short, black fur.
>You’d run three times as fast as this thing, but riding it was oddly frightening.
>A deafening warning again issued from the top of the train, telling all before it to step aside.
>Neither the conductor nor the engineer in the front engine noticed you’d leapt aboard.
>In your haste, you shattered something opening the door.
>You didn’t knock.
>You’d forced it open without thinking.
>The cabin was cleaner than you expected.
>A tan roof, nice floors, comfy chairs, screens displaying all manner of information, and an untold number of switches.
>It smelled of leather and sweat.
>Both men were shocked by the slamming door.
>The bizarre creature interrupting their work shocked them more.
>The engineer’s gaze switched between the path ahead and the possible threat you posed.
>The conductor’s words were something like “It’s one of them pokémon.”
>There may have been a curse word or three in there.
>Hard to tell.
>Your ears still stung.
>Hearing wasn’t back to normal.
>You tracked mud in and balanced yourself with a hand against the wall.
>The exertion of getting here finally caught up.
>Even swallowing came hard.
>Saliva was thick and gooey.
>After a few awkward seconds, you finally had the strength to say it clearly.
“Stop the train!”

***

>Hissing, you paused your walk.
>Moving your hurting paw to the cold, wet steel of the railroad track helped.
>Taking it easy wasn’t a choice when you figured out what happened.
>The pulsing ache spread up through your calves, and finally disappeared.
>It reappeared in your toes.
>Balancing on one foot, you checked the damage.
>Wiping the mud away, you groaned.
>Great.
>Sprinting miles across asphalt, rock, and mud was not kind to the recovering sole.
>Blisters were ravaged, and the flesh was tender.
>Accelerated healing still required down time.
>The raw, red foot needed resting.
>Again.
>Hopefully the mud didn’t infect any of the cuts.
>With no one around, you let yourself limp ahead.
>Undignified as it was, the pain was excruciating.
>Once you approached the problem, you’d stand tall and proud.
>Was it your body’s natural weakness to flame?
>Some toxin in the houndoom’s spittle?
>Something chemical in there? An allergic reaction perhaps?
>Maybe a bit of everything.
>It hardly mattered.
>The blow gave you days of pain and inactivity.
>No one to blame but yourself for not striking first and hard.
>Your blood boiled.
>Any madder and the drizzle might steam off your damp fur.
>The thoughts came back.
>Overpowering any positivity in an angry tide.
>A maelstrom of foul scarlet and diseased black swirled through your ether-sight.
>Some deep instinct warned you against harboring such emotions.
>Others in the pack might see your lack of control.
>Your thoughts were potent.
>Controlling them was wise.
>Letting them boil felt better.
>You indulged yourself.
>Nobody else could see.
>Temptation won.
>This week was awful.
>Shamed by your parents.
>Injured like a fool.
>Spotted in your own den.
>This day was awful.
>You would have been home by now.
>You would have been dry.
>You would have been clean.
>You would be healing.
>And it still wasn’t over.
>Your patience was short.
>At least the train-men understood words.
>This thing didn’t.
>She didn’t.
>Didn’t or couldn’t.
>Huffing, you moved faster.
>It didn’t matter.
>Only another mile.
>Every other step was fire.
>Sodden wood between the tracks brought little relief.
>Disciplined, regular breathing quickly became labored.
>It turned to wheezing by the time she came into view.
>She wasn’t supposed to be here.
>Her, and her two children.
>Aggron and her aron.
>The mother twisted and wrung more track in her iron grip.
>Her jaws, possessing strength untold and teeth like diamond, rent the steel to bite-sized chunks.
>She spat a gnawed, golf-ball sized hunk down to her young.
>The more dominant aron moved in first, nibbling at the saliva-covered mass.
>The other little one watched its mother, content to wait their turn.
“I…!” You wheezed.
>Rain pinged off metal hides.
>Hollow echoes reverberated through their bodies with every drop.
>Aggron acknowledged your presence with a glance, but kept chewing.
>She kept that mouthful for herself.
>You had to catch your breath.
“I told you.” You began.
“Go.”
“Back!” You finished, unable to control your temper.
>Aggron rumbled.
>A dismissal.
>She might have shrugged her shoulders too.
>But it just as easily may have been adjusting her grip.
>You did not want this.
>She shouldn’t either.
“T-There…”
>”The junkyard is…”
“You…
>At a loss for words, you stammered nonsense before again appealing she leave.
>It made you madder.
“Idiot!” You shouted.
>Loud enough the more skittish Aron’s eyes widened.
>The aggressive one growled with a mouthful of metal.
>Yelling didn’t help.
>But it felt good.
“A train was coming!”
>You gripped your head in frustration.
>How much human was left in this fool?!
>Every day, trains ran past.
>This wasn’t some unused railway.
“Do you have any idea?!”
“It could have hurt you! Or your kids!”
>She kept chewing.
>Loudly.
>It sounded like metal in a compacter.
>Twisting.
>Clattering.
>Shrieking.
 “You could have killed people!”
>And who knows how much money it would cost.
>The manpower needed to fix it.
>The damage to everything around.
>Her response was to tear a piece off for the other aron.
>It was torn between paying you attention and eating dinner.
>A long, drawn-out breath left your lungs.
>You calmed your voice.
>But you weren’t calm beneath.
“Last.”
“Chance.”
>The threat was clear.
>As was her disinterest.
>As was her aura.
>The crystal hue of indifference.
>This was her territory now.
>Her claim.
>Hunger outweighed mere human inconvenience.
>Her children mattered above all.
>They deserved pristine alloys, not rusted leftovers.
>She had grown stronger since your clash at the car lot.
>Confident a rematch would go her way.
>And worst of all.
>What sent you over the edge.
>She recognized you as no alpha.
>No authority.
>No might.
>She didn’t notice.
>Bracing your good foot against the wooden railway tie.
>Dropping your tail.
>Lowering your ears.
>Narrowing your eyes.
>Flexing and unflexing your fingers.
>Baring your clenched teeth.
>Spittle flecking from your mouth.
>She didn’t react.
>You erupted forward.
>Faster than thought.
>Wispy, violet fire roiled behind your palms.
>On pure instinct you bounded across the track.
>A needle charging at blinding speed.
>Who was quicker was never in question.
>You’d well proved that before.
>But she didn’t know.
>Didn’t know you were stronger.
>Unacceptable.
>Mid-bite, she finally noticed.
>Too late.
>Far too late.
>Blindingly fast, her eyes couldn’t focus on you.
>From a respectable, unthreatening distance to already laying a paw on her.
>You weren’t human
>You weren’t asking.
>Begging.
>Negotiating with her to turn back.
>Your left hand gripped the gray, hardy outcrop of her shoulder.
>You wanted the leverage.
>You wanted this to hurt.
>Aura flowed through your right palm on the upswing.
>Now snout-to-snout with your victim, it pulled in more.
>Her aura flowed out.
>Fueling the fire at your fist.
>And it wanted back.
>As all life desired.
>The palm strike struck the soft, fleshy-gray underside of Aggron’s chin.
>And exploded.
>You followed through.
>Forcing her life violently back into the container it was drawn from.
>The shockwave of your quick movement was nothing compared to the fiery tempest your strike delivered.
>It was enough force to knock the girl off her wide, heavy feet.
>Knock her backwards.
>Her aron, were startled and confused by the whirlwind quickness.
>One panicked and ran in circles.
>The other shivered in place.
>No need to guard.
>Offense was the best defense.
>Even as the living mountain toppled, you stayed close.
>Lightning-fast strikes, jabs, elbow-strikes, and knees pounded her hide.
>Her armor clanged off a rail.
>Mud splattered her leathery skin as she awkwardly slid into the mud.
>Unbalanced, she could barely raise her arms against you.
>Flailing wildly was her only defense.
>Her upper limbs were uncooperative, jerky, and incredibly sore.
>Every feeble, desperate swipe was easily battered aside.
>Instinct drove each ferocious blow home.
>Wild animals showed more restraint.
>You stopped when you felt it.
>Slackened muscles, a long, sorry cry, and a desperate attempt to shield her face.
>Submission.
>You leaned close, positioning yourself for further violence if need be.
“Go. Back.” You enunciated, pointing towards the distant junkyard she ventured out of.
>A tinny, reluctant rumble came from the braver aron.
>Along the tracks it charged, fast as its beady, little legs allowed.
>Which wasn’t fast.
>No quicker than a toddler.
>You respected its bravery.
>But not the recklessness.
>The children must learn too.
>Whatever animal intelligence drove it needed to know.
>There was order to things.
>There was hierarchy.
>Grabbing it by the scruff of the neck was child’s play.
>The metal shell on its back was a perfect handhold.
>You let it scramble, kick, and nip.
>Letting it tire itself.
>This one needed correction most.
>An attitude like would not do.
>It could cause serious damage were it the size of its mother.
>The haughty, confident attitude changed to confusion, then distress.
>It looked up, wondering why you were toying with it.
>You glowered back, firm and unpleased.
>It ran straight into the hands of a predator.
>The other aron, was still frozen and shivering.
>It closed its blue eyes and buried its head in gravel, hoping not seeing you would somehow ward you off.
>You picked up the limp aron as easy as its sibling.
“Don’t do this.” You warned.
“Ever.”
>You pointed the little ones at the trashed railway.
>You prayed they’d understand.
>This was a harsh lesson.
>It would take hours of hard labor from railroad workers to fix.
>They’re lucky it wasn’t worse.
>Were these three of sound mind, you’d have made them assist the rebuilding.
>Mama aggron was terrified.
>On her back, unable to raise her half-ton bulk, and seeing her babies in the grasp of a brutish hunter.
>It might have been from the beating.
>Or maybe it was just the light rain.
>You weren’t sure if aggron could cry.
>Looking hard enough, she was.
>You released the babies on her upturned belly.
>Immediately, they scrambled to her head, nuzzling and licking her chin.
>She winced where they stepped over her bruises.
“I’ll be watching.” Was you final warning.
>And you did.
>Unlike the poor policeman tasked with monitoring this lumbering leviathan, you could actually do something about her.
>It was a long walk back.
>Out of sight, you watched.
>Her aura was fearful.
>And thankfully, remorseful.
>Perhaps there was intelligence beneath that metal dome.
>But you had to make sure.
>Twice, you let her see you.
>A reminder.
>Not one step back.
>Or else.
>It took hours.
>Past crops, trees, ditches, and creeks.
>She retraced her muddy steps.
>She reentered the hole she tore through the chain-link fence.
>Pure luck averted this disaster.
>Hungry, filthy, and tired, you limped home.
>Aggron was lucky.
>A thrashing was the worst she got.
>At least she wasn’t starving.
>Death.
>The wind carried it.
>Atop a house, you froze.
>Perched beside a creaky window vane.
>It was light, but there.
>Masked with jasmine perfume and rose scented oils.
>Something compelled you to pause and look.
>Dead animals weren’t uncommon in any environment.
>Roadkill.
>Predation.
>Disease.
>All distinctively death in their different ways, as your nose now knew.
>But this was so unique, you had to pause.
>You looked past the gutters.
>Wet with old leaves and silt.
>Normally, rain had a way of masking odors.
>Not this one…
>Something in the overflowing garbage can below, perhaps?
>Could be a combination of unholy foods and old rot.
>Maybe the rain moved something through the sewers?
>The storm drains weren’t far from the garbage can.
>New fertilizer on the little garden ahead?
>You leapt forward, unbothered by the two-story drop into an unoccupied backyard.
>Paws found little traction on the damp grass.
>Fully expecting it, you kept balance and slid forward like on a slip-and-slide.
>The relief on your burn was heavenly.
>Leaping a fence and going through another yard, you realized it lingered.
>The smell shouldn’t be over the whole neighborhood.
>That feeling in your gut grew.
>Unmemorable memories teased the edge of your brain.
>Fast as a squirrel, you scampered up a maple tree.
>The leaves, reddened by the coming fall, were thick enough to shield you from sight.
>Opening your mind, you searched downwind.
>Everyone sheltering from rain gave off their expected auras.
>Plenty of young and old in beds already.
>Pets settling in, content with their after-dinner routines.
>A frustrated man working from home, and late into the evening.
>You nearly missed it.
>It wasn’t aura.
>It was the absence.
>Once noticed, you couldn’t unsee it.
>The void.
>A gap where there ought to be life.
>For a moment, you wondered if someone needed help.
>This was not someone having a heart-attack or a stroke.
>Their aura would be aflutter with the tones of distress.
>There was no color here.
>As if watered down paint swirled into a dark, drain.
>And your stalker stood at the center of it.
>An indecipherable, bubbling mass of wind-whipped tentacles.
>Parts of it formed and reformed, wisping away and reformed again.
>A pokémon.
>And after you.
>In better health, you’d turn the tables.
>Loop around. Get a clear view.
>You were not in good health.
>The toll of your injured paw and the day’s exertion noticeably slowed you.
>Hopping down, you took off in a slightly different direction.
>Leading whatever it was homeward was out of the question.
>Hopefully the believable deviation wouldn’t tip them off.
>Moving through the next neighborhood confirmed your suspicions.
>Something was, indeed following you.
>Perhaps it was chance, but you weren’t keen on rolling the dice yourself.
>You sprinted across a quiet street.
>Only light rain and your paws on wet concrete broke the silence.
>How was it following you?
>Maybe it had a far better nose.
>It’s how the houndoom operated.
>The rain wasn’t heavy enough to cover everything.
>You were jumping across rooftops like usual.
>Not unbelievable if anyone saw you.
>Surely some pokémon were incredibly observant.
>Did it have aura like you?
>Some other super-sight?
>Plenty of pokémon you weren’t familiar with out there.
>Grunting, you grabbed your hurt foot.
>You’d aggravated the burn sores again.
>Stepped on a thistle.
>You groaned, but powered through.
>Cutting through a line of trees, you looked back with aura.
>Still there.
>Distant, but too close for comfort.
>Were you refreshed, you could probably outrun this thing no problem.
>Not with this paw.
>Past this neighborhood was a series of apartment complexes.
>Each three stories tall.
>Visually separated by tall trees and red, wooden fences.
>Though criminal, this idea might pay off.
>An underground garage opened as you neared one of the buildings.
>With any luck, the car coming out would buy some extra time.
>Assuming your pursuer wanted to stay low like you did, anyway.
>These apartments all had balconies.
>The first-floor ones led into a small concrete porch, but those higher ones interested you more.
>You might be trapping yourself doing this…
>Mid-jump, you opened yourself to the aura of everyone inside.
>The one you leapt to was occupied.
>You landed on the elevated deck, rattling the potted plants with a dull thud.
>By the time the grandma inside turned her head, you were already at the next one.
>An empty one.
>C’mon, God, make it easy…
>You pulled the slick handle, but it caught hard.
>Locked.
>The third story one above had a dog in it.
>No good.
>You threw yourself to the next in line, using your legs to kick off the metal guardrail.
>The rusted surface gave you a good grip.
>And unfortunately, this too was inaccessible.
>Barred with a wooden beam in the track to physically stop the sliding door.
>Smart.
>Paranoid for upper-floor living, but you couldn’t deny it stopped you.
>The third floor above, however…
>Cat inside.
>And only the feline.
>You could deal with that.
>Your pursuer drew closer.
>They’d be able to see you any second now.
>You shimmied up and yanked the handle.
“Hoh, thank God…” You muttered, stepping out of the rain and into the dark, unoccupied apartment.
>You touched nothing.
>You were absolutely breaking and entering.
>Breaking and entering in self-defense was still breaking and entering.
>Your wet paws tracked a little water on the gray carpet, which luckily masked any tracks.
>You quietly slid the door closed, locking it.
>The apartment was sparsely decorated.
>Small couch, a tiny dining table with two chairs, and a well-used game console and large TV to the side.
>Smelled like fast food and cat litter.
>If you had to guess, a bachelor lived here.
>You crept to the side of the door and hid.
>The cat, sleeping in another room, perked its head up.
>Hopefully, it stayed that way.
>Outside though, the void crept closer.
>Nimble and lithe, it crept up the building.
>You stayed perfectly still, out of the light and out of sight.
>Through the wall, you heard it.
>With aura, you saw it.
>As much as you could.
>A formless form.
>A biped.
>A changing, shifting, ethereal torso.
>Hands like knives.
>…
>Inexperienced.
>It wasn’t sure of its movements.
>It faltered on the final climb.
>A fear of heights, maybe?
>Recently turned?
>Daggers scraped the old metal railing and wooden balcony outside.
>You exhaled, and held your breath.
>It was watching.
>Peering in.
>A long shadow crept through the living room.
>Your muscles tensed.
>Talons raked the handle and gently tugged.
>Once.
>Twice.
>A third time.
>All stopped by the lock.
>Should it come to violence, you could tackle it.
>Send it crashing to the ground three floors below.
>A jingling down the hall startled you.
>You’d almost forgotten.
>The cat came to investigate.
>And it did not like what it saw.
>You didn’t either.
>The cat didn’t notice you in the dark.
>But it did see the dark silhouette of the intruder.
>Less than a foot from your head, it reached.
>A pallid, shaky hand scorned with wicked-sharp fingers and crimson buboes silently phased through the window.
>Poking at the lock.
>You readied yourself more.
>Once.
>Adrenaline coursed through you.
>Twice.
>One more second, and you’d snap it’s wrist like a twig.
>The second didn’t come.
>The cat arched its back, and cried, dashing away to hide in the bedroom.
>Enough to give the hunter cold feet.
>Panicking, the dirk-claws clattered against glass and metal, screeching as the ghostly arm withdrew.
>With more boldness, the thing left.
>To the second floor.
>To the ground floor, with a heavy thud.
>And off it ran.
>You inhaled deep.
>You’re with the cat on this one.
>You’ll wait a bit before leaving.

***

>The crumpled, rough paper rattled in the breeze.
>Ripped from a spiral-bound notebook.
>Crumpled and off-white from sweaty palms, smudged graphite, and erased words.
>Good on Conrad for correct spelling.
>Took a few tries.
>His parents didn’t help.
>Too messy. Unprofessional.
>They would’ve had him rewrite it.
>Practice first, finalize on a fresh sheet.
>Good folks, from the few times you talked with them.
>Kid always needed extra help.
>Wasn’t like his sisters.
>Parents knew they had to be a bit more hands-on with him.
>’Please come to the playground.’
>Listed a time and place too.
>Draping yourself over a sturdy branch of a long-lived oak helped pass the time.
>Blue fur wasn’t great camouflage, but height and dense leaves helped.
>It was sturdy enough you could fall asleep on.
>Maybe when the ‘Pokémon Hunting’ craze died down, you would.
>Despite your boundless energy, some part of you felt at peace.
>Lazing here felt like living.
>Despite being Saturday morning, there wasn’t another soul.
>The little-league game across the block soaked up all the attention.
>A bat cracking a ball, followed by cheers, occasionally broke the pleasant din of bird calls.
>Only one mother robin braved getting close.
>She had little choice.
>You were too close for comfort, but her chicks demanded breakfast.
>You nearly dozed off by the time Conrad shuffled near.
>Late.
>Judging by his aura, it worried him sick.
>He walked with that peculiar gait only he could produce.
>Long right step.
>Shorter left.
>Slowly curving one way and readjusting to approximate a straight line.
>The uneven lines on your mowed lawn made much more sense.
>Like a wobbly pencil dragged across paper.
>Grasping his left thumb in his right hand, he paced the perimeter.
>He checked and rechecked bushes.
>He looked in the public bathrooms, staring at the woman’s door for a minute, debating whether to open it or not.
>He looked, and closed the door fast as possible when backing out.
>Three times, he checked the jungle gym.
>Mostly to use the slide again and again.
>He was a good kid.
>And alone.
>Not another soul here.
>Not another soul coming.
>Hopefully he told his parents where he went.
>And not a desire to meet his possible neighbor-turned-pokémon.
>Sensing his growing frustration and discouragement, you called out.
“Nobody ever looks up.”
>Finally, he did.
>An embarrassed gasp caught in his throat.
>To have been watched this whole time and to have missed the obvious blue in the trees was doubly discomforting.
>The tree nap called, begging you stay.
>A shame you couldn’t.
“Don’t feel too bad.” You said, stretching.
>Swinging to a lower branch and kicking off it gave you safe passage down to Conrad.
>So quick and so slick, you startled the boy.
>A landing which might have broken a person was nothing to you.
“Got your message.”
>Wagging the disheveled note briefly took his dumbstruck attention off you.
>Too amazed to take the paper back.
>Another ruffle reminded him to grab it.
>The boy hadn’t a clue how to react.
>For so long, he relied on scripts in his head for everyday situations.
>Something so strange and new wrung his words and thoughts.
>A spiral of babbled greetings and incoherent mutterings was all he could say.
“What’d you need, Conrad?”
>”Ah, eugh…”
“That was…”
“…”
>He closed his eyes, grimacing with effort.
“I didn’t know you’d talk good…”
>You couldn’t help it.
>You laughed.
>Your light chuckle made the boy more uneasy.
“Really?”
>The sheen of shame covered him.
>Right, had to be easy with him.
“Wait… If you thought I couldn’t speak, why’d you think I could read?”
>You raised an eyebrow.
>Excessive exaggeration and a toothy smile let him know.
“And hey, meowth could talk in the show.”
“Is it reeeeeaaaaaaly that weird if I can?” You asked.
>Nothing to be afraid of.
>Keep smiling.
>Friendlies here.
>He needed that.
>”Oooohhhh… Yeah.” He agreed, nodding and smiling back.
>”That was, that was, uh… really silly, huh.”
“S’okay, Conrad.”
>You wanted to reach out and brush his hair to reassure him.
>Kid was at that age though.
>Might not appreciate it.
>And… You weren’t sure how this Pokémon thing spread.
>Better be safe than sorry.
>”Sss’just, that is, you’re the first, uh…”
>He looked at you, hoping you’d understand what he was saying.
>You nodded and finished his sentence.
“So, what’d you need?” You repeated.
>Conrad twisted his thumb again.
>He breathed heavy and restarted his speech three times.
>A puffed out chest and more commanding voice suggested continuous rehearsal.
>”Ever since I was-“
>”When I was young…”
>Still was.
>You held your chuckle back that time.
>”That was, a couple years ago.” He added.
>You nodded, smiling.
>”That was, I knew I wanted to be a pokémon trainer.”
>”That was, you know, if pokémon were real.”
>”When, uh…”
>He grabbed the opposing thumb, giving the other reddened digit a break.
>”When I was young.”
“Of course.”
>”And, n-now, they are, and, uh…
>”And I want you to be...”
>Inhaling deep, he added extra gusto to sell his offer.
>”That, you uh… be the first on the team!”
>Keeping a straight face wasn’t easy.
>The child was pure.
>Conrad wasn’t misguided.
>Or even out of line to ask.
>Awkward as the boy was known to be, he mirrored online sentiment.
>Talks about organizing battles flooded the internet.
>Social media already overflowed with videos and pictures of pokémon clashing.
>No humans were behind the scenes giving orders, as far as you’ve seen.
>But why would that matter?
>The impossible happened.
>Lord knows how many people commenting had even seen a pokémon in person.
>Hearing some of these new, fantastical creatures were people a month ago couldn’t stem the tide.
>Talk of pokémon contests and beauty pageants were drowned by comparison.
>Bolder ones already speculated professional pokémon fighting or wrestling leagues.
>Online discourse was flooded with thoughts like his.
>Conrad was just brave enough to ask in person.
>Had to admire his courage.
>If you were blunt, it would be cruel.
>A gentle hand was the perfect tool.
”Well…” You thought aloud.
>Rubbing your chin helped sell the act.
”Guess you gotta catch me first, right?”
>”G-Guess…? Uh…”
>”Well I, I don’t have, uh…”
>”The pokéball, yet.”
>”They don’t exist.” He finally stated.
>”Yet.”
>If he saw your lips curl into a smile, he didn’t say anything.
>Leisurely, you walked around the sand-filled playground.
>The boy followed.
“Doesn’t feel quite right.” You mused.
>”W-Well, uh-, it’s like, pokéballs had to be in-, invented in the games.”
>”That was, something they had to deal with.” Conrad added with more gusto.
>He’d thought about this.
>”They’d ask pokémon to be on their teams.”
“You think so?” You asked, curious what else he thought up.
>”Yeah. That-, then they’d travel.”
>You let him talk.
>Build up trust.
>It took five, unhurried circles for Conrad to share all the pokémon lore he knew.
>Feigning ignorance kept him going.
>It was too charming to stop.
>He probably didn’t get to nerd out much about pokémon.
>Chances are, he was the expert in the house when the change started.
>Doubtless knew more than the talking heads on TV.
>Let him show off his knowledge.
>He talked of starters, gyms, the regions, the music, his favorite pokémon, evolutions, types and advantages and disadvantages…
>He even showed you videos of the girl-turned-brionne on his phone.
>Seemed the now-viral brionne had an espurr friend.
>The feline seemed nonplussed by any and all stimuli.
>Despite the blank expression, it kept kicking a ball into a pool for brionne to fetch.
>If expurr wasn’t having fun, the brionne sure was.
>Had you let him, he could have talked until sunset.
>Your non-stop questions guided the conversation, without him realizing it.
>He didn’t think twice about where you’d take the talk.
>When the time felt right, you hit him with the big one.
“Can pokémon talk?”
“You were surprised I could talk.”
>You took a hard turn, walking across the sand this time.
>Conrad followed.
>”Yes, that was, uh… Was shown off in the mewtwo movies.” He answered.
>You hadn’t thought about it before, but you prayed there wasn’t a mewtwo somewhere in the world.
>If their power level was anything like the movies…
>You wouldn’t trust anyone less than a saint with that much strength.
“But most can’t talk, right?”
>The boy shared a few other examples, but agreed most couldn’t.
>Sitting down at a bench, you motioned Conrad to sit on the other side.
>He did, and idly stuck his fingers in and out the bench’s many holes.
“Think it might be a little weird capturing something that talks like you?”
“Making it fight?”
>You fudged his request to make the point.
>He’d only asked you to join a team.
>Not enslave you.
>The point still had to be made.
>”Uh, well…”
“Know they might’ve been human not that long ago?”
“You know that’s happening…”
“Did to me…”
“Some of ‘em can’t talk anymore.”
>He didn’t want to say it at first.
>You’re proud he did.
>“A little, maybe.” He acquiesced.
“Yeah…” You nodded.
>You let the silence linger.
“Didja know I’ve been in a few fights?”
>Conrad nodded his head.
“Saw some videos?”
>”Y-Yeah.”
>”I did lucario research.”
>You wondered how those videos did compared to the cuter ones.
>Maybe you’d check later.
>Conrad felt what your answer was going to be.
>But he needed to hear it to truly know.
>He liked it when people were direct.
>You didn’t need to read emotions to know he was getting misty-eyed.
>”Lemme tell you…”
>You looked him in the eyes.
>”Getting hit by a flamethrower… Sucks!” You emphasized, mimicking flailing around on fire.
>You weren’t exaggerating.
>Only now was your paw finally healing.
>You’d rather not imagine what a direct hit could’ve done.
>Thankfully, it put a smile on Conrad’s face.
“Fighting isn’t exactly…”
>You almost said fun.
>That would’ve been a lie.
>Shameful as it was, you absolutely got a thrill out of it.
>A far cry from the human you used to be…
“Safe.” You finished.
“Burned my leg pretty bad against a houndoom.”
>There wasn’t much scarring, but Conrad nodded his head when he saw it.
“So… No, I can’t be on your team.”
>Conrad wasn’t as dejected as you thought.
>But that frown was unmistakable.
>His lip quivered.
“But hey, here’s the deal.”
“You know, eventually people’ll figure out who I am.”
“That’s okay.”
“But if you keep it secret…”
>’Secret’ caught his attention anew.
“If you ever got a pokémon problem, call me.”
>You made the ‘call me’ gesture as best you could with your stubby paw-hand.
“Seriously. You have my number. Call me or run on over.”
“I’ll help.”
>This time, it was Conrad’s turn to think.
>He wouldn’t win an Oscar with his acting.
>Really hammed up his ‘thinking about it’ stance.
>”O-Only if, that is, only if we shake on it.”
>Eh…
>You’d hoped not to actually touch him.
>Ah, well.
>You were this close anyway.
>If he was worried, he wouldn’t have offered.
>You wrapped your paw around his hand and gave a firm handshake.
>He didn’t quite understand the concept of a firm grip, and his hand flew away on the first shake.
>Might have been your newfound strength.
>More likely, the alien paw-hand was so odd he wasn’t sure how to grasp it.
>You let him experimentally plink his fingers against the wrist spike afterwards.
>No harm in that.
>”O-One, one more thing.”
“Sure, kid.”
>”I forgot to ask.”
>His smile got real big.
>”Can you do an aura s-sphere?”
>Aw, crap.

***

”This is the lamest team-up I have ever seen.”
>Electabuzz made sense.
>This substation was the bigger one.
>Reasonable to see here.
>Hair on your arms stood straighter after the insult.
>The sabertoothed pokémon got madder.
>Seemed he was used to getting his way.
>Both before, and after, the transformation you guessed.
>Every word crackled and popped.
>”Gggaaaahhhhiiii said get lost!”
>”’asn’t stormed in weeks!”
>His partner in crime chimed in, barely hearable over the increasingly incoherent cat-thing.
>They had no right being here.
>A poliwhirl.
>Friends?
>Coworkers?
>Siblings?
>Randoms that stuck together after changing?
>It hardly mattered.
>Poliwhirl’s large eyes, resentful and cross, made its feelings toward you abundantly clear.
>You had no hope of understanding the garbled nonsense gurgling from the poliwhirl’s mouth.
>Gargling mouthwash while speaking would have been easier to understand.
>They both yelled together, heightening the other’s anger.
>”Jus’ needed a good meal, yeah?!” Electabuzz roared.
>The swirly toad nodded his whole body in agreement, never stopping its frog-speak.
“Listen, last chance.” You declared.
>Both were half your size.
>Whatever powers they got made them confident.
>Too confident.
>”No, no, no, don’ you listen me!” The electric-type shot back.
>”’ere’s ‘ow this’ll go.”
>”She’s gonna soak you, ‘ead ta foot.”
>Oh, it was a she.
>Never would’ve guessed.
>The angry toad nodded its whole body again, violently.
>”An’ ZAP!”
>Electabuzz punched the air, unleashing a thunderclap and jolt of electricity
>”The current of uh ‘undred thundah-storms!”
>”Coursin’ right through yer body!”
>You sighed.
>You didn’t break your combat stance.
>But you couldn’t help it.
>It made him madder.
>”Like every taser in the state, all firin’ on you!”
>Poliwhirl secreted something oily and watery, preparing for a fight.
>You grimaced.
>It looked like being able to sweat on command, and it sweat a lot.
“Oh, for the love of…”
>”’Nuff, juice ta’ stop a rhino!”
“Haven’t you heard?!” You yelled, shouting over the glowing, fired-up electabuzz.
>”Wuzzat?” He asked, electricity arcing between his open palms.
>The poliwhirl’s surprise lasted a fraction of a second.
>You’d moved so fast, it barely registered.
>Mid-fall she wondered why you hadn’t grappled her.
>Punched her.
>A headbutt.
>Unleashed a flurry of kicks.
>Why had you pushed her?
>The thought only lasted a fraction of a second.
>The round amphibian bowled hard into the equally surprised sabretooth.
>You didn’t have to say it.
>Electricity and water never mix.
>Yips, howls, and cries barely rose over the explosive discharge.
>Panicking, they both tried crawling over one another to escape.
>He had no control over his electricity.
>She had no control over her water.
>Fortunately, they collapsed unconscious.
>No longer touching, smoking and simmering.
>Lucky for you too.
>You weren’t keen on prying apart an OSHA hazard.
>Static electricity tickled your paw, but it was safe enough.
>Dragging the two apart, and to the curb, was the last you wanted to do with these jokers.
>Brownouts never happened.
>Not in this city.
>Not without a weather event knocking the grid for a loop.
>Lights still dimmed and flickered down the road.
>Hopefully the important stuff would be okay.
>Stoplights going out or a hospital without electricity would be a PR nightmare if pokémon were involved.
>If there was any damage to the equipment inside, that was well beyond your expertise.
>But you felt it.
>There was still life inside those cold, concrete-slabbed grounds.
>And it wasn’t the tall row of trees surrounding the substation.
>They blocked the wicked barbed-wire fencing from public view.
>At the service entrance, the chain-link fencing was slag.
>Melted through.
>Cooled now, molten metal had dribbled to the ground, leaving dots of melted steel.
>The hole was about the size of a person.
>Squinting, you looked beyond the fence at the equipment inside.
>Transformers and circuit breakers.
>Capacitors and arrestors.
>And, in the frequent flashes of electricity, movement.
>A lot of movement.
>Every hair on your body felt it.
>From the peach-fuzz strands on your hands and legs to the thick manilla coat on your torso.
>Substations were unoccupied for a reason.
>The low hum told you everything.
>Was it your new ears? Your better hearing?
>Maybe that noise always was, and you never noticed.
>Maybe it was the pokémon further in.
>Careful not to catch your fur on anything, you shimmied past the fence.
>Past the ‘Do Not Enter’ signs.
>Shouldn’t be here.
>Didn’t need to be an electrician to know this was dangerous.
>The human and the lucario agreed.
>Reason and instinct.
>Yet they both pressed you forward.
>A deep desire to right this problem.
>The cold concrete on your paws clashed with the flashes of warmth across your fur.
>Electricity arced from line to line above.
>Walking beneath the curving, white-hot energy felt like being feet from an industrial strength bug zapper.
>If you leapt at the wrong spot, you might not be conscious on the way down.
>Dielectric boots, insulating gloves, a flame-resistant shirt…
>Heck, you’d take a hardhat.
>Wouldn’t help, but it’d make you feel a little safer.
>The field office was good a place as any to begin.
>Both for safety equipment and to scare whatever was in there off.
>You sensed it before seeing it.
>Aura inside.
>The electronic lock was blackened beyond repair.
>Doubtful the door could close anymore.
>Nearby paint peeled from the heat.
>Peering in, the dim ceiling light flickered and sputtered.
>It didn’t light the room as much as you’d hoped.
>Good thing you didn’t need it.
>Quick shots of electricity did the job.
>Over and over, rodents of all imaginary shapes and sizes fried the cupboard’s contents.
>Sweet, dried fruits and smoked nuts filled your nostrils.
>Gnawed boxes, torn bags, and half eaten bits of everything lined the floor.
>You knew the pikachu line.
>Everyone did.
>But there were plenty others.
>One was a flying squirrel…
>A few fat not-pikachu…
>One half-black, half-brown…
>You couldn’t name them all.
>First, you considered shutting the door.
>Trapping them in here might be doable.
>But then again, they’d fried the lock.
>Could’ve gnawed their way in here.
>Might be a vent near the floor they crawled in.
>No, trapping them could make them defensive and jumpy.
>But they had to go.
>You crept to the opposite side of the field office, slinking quietly below the window.
>The thin walls of the building would make this easy.
>And if this didn’t work, well…
>Before you thought of the many bad things that could happen, you slammed your palm against the exterior.
>Again and again.
>The ferocious noise would’ve given anyone a startle.
>And these were mice.
>Squeaks and frightened cries filled the cramped quarters.
>Once the raichu bolted, the rest followed.
>A few stuffed cashews and dates in their maws before scurrying out the door.
>Most had the good sense to leave the open space, hurrying out the front gate.
>Some ran further into the station, hiding among the industrial equipment.
>Hopefully they found other exits.
>You weren’t keen on chasing them out by force.
>Inside, the smell of electrical fire and lukewarm fruit oddly mixed.
>Walls of wires, dials, gauges, and breakers behind army green, metal panels filled a back room.
>Some circuit breakers were flipped.
>The desire to flip them at random was childish, but strong.
>You’d surely cause more problems than you fixed.
>There wasn’t a clear indication on what should, and shouldn’t be flipped.
>If any.
>Someone with experience was needed, and that wasn’t you.
>Damage seemed minimal.
>The rats were more interested in the trail mix than the instruments.
>Stale, old PPE was shoved in a broom closet.
>It should have been obvious earlier, however.
>The rubber, insulated gloves had fingers for people, and your wrist spike would gouge the material.
>Your ears didn’t like the hardhat.
>The yellow, dielectric boots were wearable, but it was like wearing a shoe three sizes too big.
>And without human feet, one step and you’d walk right out of it.
>No way those would stay on.
>All useless.
>Whatever was still here, you’d face without protection.
>You exhaled.
>Slowly.
>Long and calm.
>The hum was lower here.
>Let you focus.
>Your aura sensors trembled and lifted.
>Webs of life beneath the stone and concrete came alive.
>Between and underneath the slabs, the dull background of invertebrates and simple plants speckled their aura.
>Past the dim glow below, cold machinery and electric blasts barely registered.
>Only the crimson mound.
>A bright and beautiful aura, deeper within.
>Nestled against the most dangerous equipment without a care.
>And the small, hungry lights coming near it.
>Pleading and…
>Frightened.
>Scared.
>Every creature has an aura.
>To each their own.
>Wholly unique.
>Once the scarlet stood…
>An audible, exaggerated gasp punctuated with electricity rolled over the substation.
>You knew.
>You looked out the window, towards the equipment.
>You’d seen this aura.
>One of your first.
>”Bully!?” A high-pitched, feminine voice yelled.
>In a flash, she stood.
>White with lightning and atop a transformer.
>The sky crackled.
>Arcs of energy pulled to static poles, barely containing the waterfall of electric current.
>”Where’s the bully!?” She demanded.
>The zeraora.
>Kat.
>Lithe.
>Graceful.
>Quick.
>An elegant hazard on two legs.
>Kat’s powerful muscles launched her.
>A cheetah would have been slower.
>Bounding towards you, the zeraora seemed to fly.
>She swung from glowing busbars.
>She weaved past the coils of overworked lightning arresters.
>She pounced from a transformer.
>Head on.
>Claws out.
>Electricity trailing stunningly behind her.
>Directly towards you.
>A man would have flinched.
>Buckled and fled.
>You stood still.
>Over a month of inhuman acrobatics gave you enough experience to see.
>She would stop short.
>From her jump, to her aura, to the gleam in her eyes.
>And then her cry.
>The protector left.
>The carefree appeared.
>She recognized you.
>”Daaaawwwww!” She yelled midair, increasing in volume the closer she flew.
>Landing on all fours, her ivory claws clacked the concrete and she deeply inhaled.
>”Geeeeeeeeeeeey!” She finished, drawn out in a second-long bout of excitement.
>You had abundant options.
>Hold her at arm’s length.
>Dodge.
>Step back.
>Quick as she was, there was a good chance of avoiding what came next.
>You let it happen.
>Her aura screamed for it.
>She practically needed it.
>You grit your teeth and braced.
>She hugged you.
>Deeply.
>The grasp of a girl bubbly and destructive.
>Your fur puffed up as much as hers.
>Feline instinct held you tight.
>Claws dug into your back, roughly dragging circles through the hair.
>Building static electricity.
>Deep back muscles spasmed.
>Fibers no longer worked in tandem, instead working alone and against one another.
>She nuzzled your cheek like a pleased housecat.
>Electrified whiskers, dragging themselves dangerously close to your eyes, made your cheek twitch.
>You returned the friendly hug.
>As best you could.
>A gentle pat on her back was all you managed.
>An uncoordinated toddler with a hammer wasn’t much gentler.
>Kat didn’t mind.
>Fast as she hugged you, she stopped.
>…
>Standing was a workout.
>Groaning, you opened your eyes.
>Even they had trouble.
>Flittering and reclosing and lifting again.
>Nothing escaped the shock.
>Any deep, lingering thoughts of fighting were fried and gone.
>If that was a friendly, juiced-up zap…
>You didn’t fancy the odds of taking a truly angry thunderbolt.
>Had to focus on something other than the numb.
>Focus on her.
>She started enthusiastically speaking sometime mid-hug.
>Only now could you make it out.
>”Haven’t seen you in ages!” Was the final, and only sentence you gleamed.
>Round her neck was the red scarf.
>An impromptu, but much appreciated gift from your meeting last month.
>Frayed at the edges, fried in places, and torn in parts.
>Bundled with inexpert care around the short fur of her neck.
>The gift, by some miracle, hadn’t burned to ash.
>You rolled a dull grunt into conversation.
”Ggggguuuhhhaaaaiii’m glad… Uh, too…” You stuttered, working hard to piece a sentence together.
“To see you.”
>A sudden tic in your adrenal area made you grimace.
“Too.”
>Another low, grumble flipped Kat’s beaming, smile upside down.
>”Oh no…” Kat said, folding her ears.
>“You’re sick…?” She asked, reaching out to help.
>Frightened, you shooed the hand away.
“Not…”
“Not exactly.” You began, unsure how to continue.
>Uncontrolled.
>Natural talent and no discipline.
>Made worse by, you guessed, bonding with other electric types.
>That sense of responsibility flared up again.
>Who else but you had the power to help?
“So, let me-“
>Kat gasped, remembering her mission.
>Her reason for waking.
>”Lucario, careful!” She stated, adopting a serious tone.
>She scanned the area and crouched low.
>”There’s a bad, bad bully ‘round!”
>She circled you in an unmistakably protective gesture.
>Every step crackled with energy.
>Her low purr became a dull growl.
>Her paws glowed furiously.
>White-hot and sizzling the air with heat waves.
>Glancing where Kat came from, you saw a furious rodent.
>The albino flying-squirrel.
>One of the many pokémon you scared off from its trail-mix feast.
>One who came squealing to Kat.
>Stamping, squeaking, and screeching ineffectively, it vied for their protector’s attention.
>The colors of disappointment dribbled off it like water.
>It wanted Kat to teach you a lesson.
>Nice try, rat.
>Nice try.
”Bully, huh?” You uttered, rolling your shoulders.
>You tested each major limb, working feeling back.
>”Yuppers!” Kat confirmed, looking in the field office.
>She gasped.
>”Clues!”
>Her steps on the tiled floor left blackened imprints.
>Turning down her voltage barely helped.
>Dust and dirt beneath singed to ash, leaving little pawprint outlines.
>Even her long ponytail electrified the ground behind her.
>It dangled and draped itself dangerously over a wire, melting the rubber exterior.
>So focused on investigating, she didn’t smell the smoke.
>You kicked her hair aside, earning yourself a jolted toe.
>A police officer she was not.
>‘Evidence’ she scrutinized browned in her presence.
>Torn wrappers and scraps of food curled and smoldered.
>She seemed more interested in what wasn’t touched.
>”I knew it!”
>Reaching in a heavy, metal drawer hardly touched by the smaller pokémon, she yanked out untouched granola bars.
>”I think…” She mused, fiddling with the snacks.
>Her shark claws pierced the foil covering, melting and tearing it simultaneously.
>She tossed you the other.
>”The bully was here.” She confidently stated.
>She wasn’t wrong.
“Mmm hmm…” You agreed, examining the chocolate chip granola treat.
>Kat only had it in her paw for seconds, and it was pleasantly warm.
>Something gnawed on it.
>The little bite marks made you grimace.
>Tore it open, but didn’t have time to eat.
>Kat, chewing with her mouth open, continued examining the floor.
>You let her.
>You’d have thrown the contaminated bar aside had you not sensed it.
>The flying rat approached.
>Hesitantly, it peeked in, hoping to tell Kat who the real bad guy was.
>It almost fled at your red-eyed gaze.
>It would have been wise.
>Instead, the frightened creature locked up.
>Gripping the doorframe it peered around tight, its eyes shrank to pinpricks.
>It chose shivering over scampering.
>Lucky choice.
>Kneeling down, you held the granola bar out.
>A little bribe.
>No strings attached.
>Its eyes flickered between you and the treat.
>Hopping forward like a squirrel, it sniffed and grabbed the granola bar from your outstretched hand.
>The critter held the food like a man with a surfboard.
>It wrenched off a honey-covered oat, stuffing it in its mouth..
>A chocolate chip and another oat cluster followed.
>The food would last it a while.
“Go. Get.” You whispered, shooing it away.
>The emolga lazily hopped away, slowed by the massive bar.
>Occasionally stopping to fill its cheeks.
>In the back of the office, Kat tapped gauges and poked buttons.
>She entertained herself with a needle that wildly spun behind glass.
>Every time her finger came close to the metallic slot below, the pointer whirled with maddening speed.
>Whatever it was, you hoped it wasn’t important.
>”Doggy, look!”
>”Goes fast when I push this.” She excitedly demonstrated.
>She held her finger against the slot again and again, watching the change.
>”Why’sit do that?” She wondered, poking and unpoking.
>Lucky for the rest of the equipment, she was easily entertained.
>Did these catlike mannerisms come with the change?
>Or was she always so effortlessly fascinated?
“Kat…” You began.
>Her neck whipped to the side, staring right at you with her full attention.
>She kept her finger against the node.
>Whatever was inside whirled and clanked with concerning swiftness.
>You had to redirect her.
>Keep her from breaking things.
>Stop her from hurting others.
“Got a confession.”
>”A whuzzit?”
“Uh, something to say.” You explained.
>Whoever she was before…
>There wasn’t much left, you guessed.
“I, um…”
>You rubbed the back of your head, hoping to sell the bit.
”Got bullied on my way in.”
>Not technically a lie.
>The duo you ‘fought’ past the fence fit the definition to a T.
>”Oh no…”
>Kat’s yellow ears and blue whiskers drooped.
>Cartoonishly low.
>Any lower and you’d swear she was putting on an act.
>”That’s why you’re here…” She reasoned. “You need my help too!”
>You declined her offer for another hug.
>You’d already need the night to recover.
“Well, no, not… No.” You clarified.
“I came here to stop the bullies.”
>Not technically a lie either.
>”Oh!” Kat half-shouted.
>In an instant, her features sprang upright again.
“And I did.”
>The zeraora slapped her forehead.
>The impact sent out a wave of sparks and bolts.
>”You’re a tough ‘un, Doggy!”
>”Course you took care of ‘em.”
>Her eyes widened, now curious.
>”Who was it?”
>You thumbed behind you.
>In a literal flash, she brushed past you.
>Without fur, you’d have gotten flash burn.
>Blinking the after-images away, you followed.
>That speed was unbelievable.
>Pokémon did ridiculous things.
>Superhuman things.
>A hellhound spitting fiery acid or aggron eating car parts seemed tame in comparison.
>This felt otherworldly.
>As amazing as manipulating aura.
>The veil separating fantasy and reality breaking.
>A grim reminder to respect the opponent.
>Dad always said that.
>…
>You felt he did…
>Right…?
>In the sparring circle…
>Yeah…
>No.
>Shaking your head refocused you.
>Electabuzz’ unconscious body still steamed in the evening air.
>Condensation evaporating, you guessed.
>The poliwhirl stank in that amphibian way, mingling with the ozone.
>Kat shook her head, experimentally batting the other electric-type with a paw.
>”Bet it was Swirly.”
>”Real meanie, that one.”
“They both were.”
“I came here to talk some sense into them.”
>That was a lie.
“And to do one more thing...” You added, eyeing Kat.
>You had the zeraora’s attention.
>”Do what, Doggy?”
>Squatting alongside the feline, you brought your head to her level.
>She regarded you as an equal.
>Her aura and demeanor said as much.
>But you had to be careful.
>You didn’t want to talk down to her.
>Good correction came from a place of kindness.
“I thought the bullies broke the lights.” You answered.
>Kat’s eyebrow raised.
>A human gesture for someone who didn’t remember being one.
>She glanced at a working street light, then back at you.
>”What’dya mean?”
>Showing always made more an impact than telling.
“Up there.” You pointed to a modest, nearby workplace.
>Three stories tall.
>Hardly a challenge.
“Follow me.”
>It was high enough you couldn’t make it in a single jump.
>Two would do.
>The light pole above was a perfect springboard.
>Swirling insects scattered when you hopped up and off the lamp.
>Bugs returning too quickly fried as an energized Kat followed.
>The gap to the rooftop was nothing for either of you.
>The flat expanse, covered in black tarp, still held warmth from earlier sunlight.
>It was pleasant on your paws.
>Kat felt the same.
>The distractable zeraora might have curled up in a ball then and there for another nap.
>She allowed herself a moment to roll over the warm coverings.
>”Think I’ll sleep here tonight.” She mused, cartwheeling to your side.
“Huh…”
>Did she have a home?
>More than likely, she did.
>As a human.
>Long forgotten, never to be used again.
>For the briefest of moments, you considered inviting her to yours.
>The negatives outweighed the good deed so hard it wasn’t a choice.
>Revealing your den?
>To someone you met only once?
>To someone so strong?
>To someone who would likely blow it up?
>No.
>Walking to the edge gave you a wide view of the city.
>You could see half of it.
>”See what’s wrong, Kat?”
>Things looked better.
>Not back to normal.
>To your left, the ordinary and expected.
>On your right, an electrical grid on its knees.
>Commercial signs flickered and dimmed, as did lights in hundreds of homes.
>Working lights struggled; a dull, sickly yellow compared to the vibrant, healthy ones to the left.
>A traffic light blinked green over and over.
>Distant honks of the jammed intersection flowed above the rooftops.
>Further beyond, night swallowed the furthest reaches of the suburbs.
>You looked at the feline, who took great interest in the difference.
>She couldn’t not notice.
>”What’s goin’ on there?” Kat asked, pointing to the darkened side.
>You answered her question with a question.
“What, exactly, were you, uh… Doing back there?” You asked, nodding back at the substation.
“You mess with anything there?”
>”Uh, yeah.” Kat answered matter-of-factly.
>“Was hungry.”
>Oh boy…
>”Haven’t had a good thunderstorm in aaaaaaaa--ges!” She added, electricity crackling in her sing-song voice.
>Wasn’t only her, being fair.
>All those electric pokémon likely got a boost.
>You worked your jaw, mulling your next move.
>She really didn’t understand.
>None of them could think straight, you guessed.
>Guided by and slaved to instinct.
“Okay…” You huffed, thinking on the fleet.
“That’s the problem.” You continued.
>Please, God, let this work.
“They’re hungry for electricity too… You guys took it all.”
>”Uhhhhh… No?” Zeraora declared, breaking into a fit of giggling and snorting.
>”Plenty for everyone there!”
>Despite expecting as much, you were still dumbstruck.
>She has no clue.
“No, no, Kat…” You said, waving your hands back and forth. “Not…”
“I didn’t mean that literally.”
>Another poor choice of words.
>“Oooooooohhhhhhh... Literalally.” She nodded, feigning understanding.
>”Now, I get it.”
>Staring directly at her broke her concentration.
>Another laughing fit, in contrast to your stony gaze.
“It’s okay if you don’t get it.” You assured her.
“We don’t have to pretend.”
>For a moment, it seemed she’d take this seriously.
>Then her smile widened.
”But it’s fu-hun!” Zeraora sang.
>She took a few seconds to stand more like you, a little taller and wider.
“You didn’t mean to hurt anyone, right?”
>”Never did!” She said, horribly mimicking your voice.
>She overcorrected, somehow making your tone worse.
>”Helped uh’lotta critters today!”
“Well, helping those pokémon hurt a lot of people.”
>Zeraora dropped the act, now concerned why you’d said such a thing.
>”I didn’t hurt nobody.” The feline insisted. “Why’rya sayin’ that?”
>”We were hungry and we ate! That’s it.”
“I know, Kat.”
“You got a good heart.” You said, patting your own beside your chest spike.
>She mimicked the gesture, her hand electrifying her fluffy chest.
“Look…” You added, pointing to a pickup below.
>Sometime during your conversation, maintenance workers arrived.
>They’d found the unconscious electabuzz and poliwhirl, and the melted fence.
>Lucky for Kat and the rodents, they’d likely get off scot-free.
“Those men have to fix the station.”
“They’ll need a lot of help. Probably’ll replace some expensive stuff.”
>”Fix what? It works fine.”
“That, Kat!” You waved your paw towards the affected part of town.
“People don’t use electricity like you do.”
>Kat gnawed on a knuckle, but focused on what you said.”
“It’s, uh…”
>She seemed fixated on people coming here to get electricity.
>Like they were rechargeable batteries, good for a week.
“They can’t use electricity like you can.”
“It turns lights on, and heats up food, and, uh… keeps them comfy.”
>”It does make me comfy.” Kat agreed.
“But it comes through the buildings. Through houses.”
>”You sure?” She asked, incredulously.
>”They’ve got volts in ‘em.”
“What?” You asked, now finding yourself on the ‘student’ end.
>”Humans got a charge.”
>”Not much, but they use it.” Zeraora stated, stepping closer.
>She looked you up and down.
>Her sapphire eyes, coursing with power behind the glowing iris, brightened and dimmed.
>”Yeah, see, you got some too!”
“No.”
>”Yes.” The zeraora corrected you without missing a beat.
>”E’rryone does”
>”Maybe that’s why yer so skinny!” She added, lightly dragging her static claws up an arm.
>She was thinner than you…
“No, I don’t get it.” You repeated.
>You didn’t see it.
>You saw things too.
>Beautiful things nobody else had the gift to witness.
>On that, you empathized.
>Special sight would skew anyone’s thoughts.
“Kat, people need machines to do what you can do. You know that, right?”
>”Oh, yeahyeahyeah!”
>The zeraora nodded violently.
>Far different from faking knowledge earlier.
“Cars. They can’t run like we can.” You began with an example.
>”They got no claws.” She added, wiggling her own.
“Right, yeah. They need tools instead.”
>Unwilling to explain just how effective some of those tools were, you moved to your point.
“And that’s how they use electricity.”
>In a stroke of perfect timing, the men below pulled toolboxes from their truck.
“They need tools to make light and warmth.”
>”Mmm…”
>Kat mulled over your words, bobbing her head.
>You let her think.
>Watching the workers head in provided the right amount of distraction.
“Can’t have you going there again, Kat.”
“Might hurt others… Or get yourself in trouble.”
>”Whuduz that mean?” Kat wondered.
>Silence answered the question.
>Kat stretched and kneaded the tarp on the roof.
>True to her feline nature, she pawed, kicked, and pushed against the surface to smooth it out.
>With only brickwork beneath, you wondered how comfortable an entire minute of kneading affected things, but said nothing.
>”Mmmkay, Doggy… Think I geddit.” She dragged out, seemingly turning her body off like a flipped switch.
>Perhaps she literally could.
>Turning around three times, she yawned loud and opened her mouth wide.
>Her spittle, glowling with power, gently sputtered.
>She curled into a ball on the warm tarp.
>Squatting, you said your final piece.
>Now or never.
>She was going to snooze and the rest of the world didn’t much matter.
”I train in the forest.”
”Same place you met me.”
>The yellow cat nodded, slowing her breathing.
“We should train together.”
>Kat grumbled something between a purr and a question.
>You leaned closer, hoping for actual confirmation.
>Lightning quick, Kat struck.
>Her rough tongue licked your nose, wetting and giving it a static shock.
>You fell back, wiggling your nose and holding it beneath a paw.
>The feline stuck her tongue out.
>”Train you tomorrow, Doggy.” She said, dozing off.
“See you tomorrow, Kat.”

***

“I’m fine, Mom.”
“…”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“…”
“I get it, uh, yeah, I get it.”
“Tell them I said hi, okay?”
“No. No, please.”
“Keep it secret.”
“…”
“You too. Bye.”
>You weren’t fine.
>The man would have cared.
>Try as you might…
>Nothing.
>Not truly indifference.
>No, some part of you cared.
>Recognized the wrongness.
>You tossed the bills on the table.
>The top ones slid across the lowest, fanning out.
>You should feel more.
>Threading your tail through the back of the chair came easy now.
>Swishing gooey, raw egg in your mouth provided another blessed, free moment.
>Enough money for another month.
>Maybe two, if you begged your folks.
>Anything to avoid man’s definition of productivity.
>You were so irresponsible.
>Work.
>Build a nest egg.
>Save for retirement.
>Thoughts of becoming an elder in this body made you shudder.
>Would you be bedridden?
>The notion terrified you more than the electabuzz threatening to fry you alive.
>How long would you even live?
>Would you live no longer than a canine?
>You felt healthy as could be, but there was no fighting biology.
>Except, perhaps, with money.
>If you had a shred of business sense, you’d…
>What would you do?
>Monetize it?
>Could you make money off fighting other pokémon?
>Pest control with your fists?
>It felt so dishonorable.
>Shameful.
>Selling your services like some mercenary?
>You massaged your eyes, rubbing circles in them.
>You’d manage.
>No matter what, you’d survive.
>Whether you still had a place of your own…
>Whether vigilante or sanctioned…
>Anyone’s guess at this point.
>The box holding the world was violently shaken.
>Given the news today, things could go in any direction.
>In the week since reaching mainstream consciousness, pokémon caused thousands of problems.
>Some small.
>”Dragons Delay Denver International Flight”
>”Waillord Blocks Cruise Ship”
>”Farmer Loses Acre of Corn to Hungry Torterra”
>Some big.
>Fires.
>Hauntings.
>Damaged bridges.
>The shock of how many pokémon used to be people hit the public with the grace of a freight train.
>Not everyone was as docile and well-mannered as the brionne and her espurr playmate.
>You avoided the worst.
>Nasty stuff was all over today.
>Talk of relief packages, stimulus checks, and government ongoings was completely drowned out.
>Couldn’t be everywhere.
>At least you’d make here worth living in.
>Hopefully, others shared your dumb altruism.
>Someone had to be a model pokémon.
>Set a good example.
>Bring order to chaos.

***

>The vehicle rocked.
>You were sure you had her there.
>You winced, your paws sizzled on the scorching van’s metal hood.
>The minivan, driven untold miles for untold hours in the blazing sun, was hot as a griddle.
>Inside, the wide-eyed family barely started their yelps before you leapt off.
>Again, the vehicle shuddered.
>You’d apologize if you weren’t attending to someone.
>Kat attracted too much attention.
>Surprise, joy, amazement, fright, and a little anger popped and blossomed all around.
>Emotions impossible to blot out.
>Bleeding through your brain like an oversoaked towel.
>The best you could manage was outfocusing the feeling.
>Focus on the pursuit.
>A moment of attention on the unmissable emotions would overwhelm your senses.
>Unlike you, the zeraora had no reservations of coming near people.
>Intentional or not, she brought you out your element.
>Weaving past trees and across rooftops was your style.
>Kat zipped into the rest stop without a care.
>The only reason you stayed hot on her heels was the girl’s erratic path.
>Everything caught her attention.
>After peeking at the vacationing family, she bolted into the convenience store.
>And through the aisles.
>The storefront lit like a Christmas display.
>Chasing her in would cause more damage.
“Out! Now!” You screamed, waving at the high-energy nuisance to stop poking the rolling hot dogs.
>She whipped past a startled customer, back out the same door she entered.
>And past you.
>Nearing the gas station pumps nearly gave you a heart attack.
>You pushed yourself further, hoping to end this before disaster struck.
>She decelerated to a jog, pausing momentarily at a gruff woman fueling her sedan.
>Her curiosity disappeared at your rapid approach.
>You thought about calling out to her again, for all the good it would do.
>It hadn’t stopped her the first dozen tries.
>It wouldn’t now.
>She ran backwards for a few steps.
>Grinning like the Cheshire cat, she encouraged you like a workout trainer at a gym.
>She was serious about ‘training you’ yesterday.
>She needed boundaries.
>”Keep goin’, Doggy!”
>”Good hustle!”
>Showing off brought you within arm’s reach.
>Desperate to grab her, you swung your arms forward.
>Kat saw it coming, twisting herself mid-step to a normal run again.
>Near a row of parked semis, she scampered on all fours.
>Her long ponytail whipped behind her, following the electric feline beneath the titanic trailers.
>Not trusting your odds on the ground, you jumped to the trailers.
>Empty containers echoed with each pawstep.
>Those heavy with goods hardly made a noise.
>It threw off the pokémon.
>Kat, beneath an Amazon trailer, hesitated.
>She thought you’d given up.
>Her ears perked, whipping side-to-side wondering where you’d gone.
>You landed quietly as you could behind her.
>Kat’s hearing was as sensitive as yours.
>She yelped like a frightened cat, screaming and meowing.
>And panic-hopping into the underside of the trailer with a dull thud.
>She grimaced, but quickly burst out in laughter.
>Happy she had a playmate who could earn a win against her.
>But you still hadn’t caught her.
>Pebbles slowed you both.
>A face of gravel was your reward for diving at the quicker pokémon.
>Your chest-spike scraped the blacktop.
>Kat pawed furiously at the ground, not finding the traction she anticipated.
>Keeping her withing grasp.
>You finally had the distance.
>And Kat finally made a mistake.
>One big enough for you to use.
>She climbed a trailer, barely kicking herself up in time to avoid another grab.
>With you so close, she didn’t register where she leapt.
>The next trailer truck, worn blue and draped with an old brown tarp, couldn’t support her.
>Kat yipped, her giddy attitude shifting the instant the covering gave way.
>She fell in, letting out a burst of electricity on instinct.
>You followed the off-balance woman.
>Kat landed on her side.
>Unable to twist herself in time, she hit the pile of potatoes belly-up.
>Only then, did you catch the runaway cat.
>Pinning her beneath was easy.
>You outweighed and outmuscled her.
>Dust puffed in the light, making your nose wrinkle.
>”You did it!” Kat congratulated you.
“Tag.” You deadpanned.
>You held your grip.
>You kept staring.
>You shook your head.
>Kat happily stared back.
>Her smile turned blank.
>She poked you back, assuming you wanted to be the chaser.
>You confused her.
>”Yer mad, again?”
>”Was I too fast?” She questioned.
>Her face and aura showed genuine confusion.
“What did I say?” You began, waving towards the brown, starchy vegetables around you.
“We can’t cause damage like this.”
>”What? They’re still good!” Kat assured you.
>She demonstrated, holding one up.
>The scent of French fries filled the gloomy, dirty interior.
>The potato baked in her grip.

***

>”She’s pretty.”
>”Isn’t she pretty?” Kat asked.
>The zeraora put a rock on the loose corner of the newspaper.
>The thin papers whipped and rattled in the wind, eager to fly with the breeze.
>Her yellowed claw pointed the sprawled-out paper, tapping the big story’s subject.
>Front page of the local newspaper, dead center.
>It was impossible to miss.
>And you agreed.
>Congress arguing about pokémon relief funding was shoved to page two.
>What hope did complicated stories have?
>’This person transformed’ is far easier to understand than bureaucracy.
>Right now, nothing competed against pokémon.
>Pokémon quickly became local celebrities.
>You included.
>Local news around the world had to be running similar stories.
>Unlike the torterra from yesterday’s issue, this one could be interviewed.
>’Voice of an Angel’.
>Apt title, given the subject.
>A gardevoir.
>Someone with a talent for singing.
>Over a half-century of experience, if the sub-title was to be believed.
“Yeah, she is.” You agreed.
>No picnic blanket, but this setup would do.
>The rooftop of the gas station was smooth, and well-worn from the elements.
>Pleasantly warmed from hours of modest sun, and likely some mystery ductwork below.
>You handed Kat her fish.
>A humble catch from the banks of the nearby river.
>Bigger fish in deeper water tempted you, but it would take ages to dry in this cloudy weather.
>You’d nearly torn the head off your dinner when you saw steam rising from Kat’s paws.
>She flipped the trout, sizzling the opposing side against her glowing, electrified pads.
“Clever.” You remarked.
>You slammed a wrist-spike on the still flopping head of your meal.
>It stopped.
>You tossed it to Kat, who fried it alongside the other cooked fish.
“Best to kill it first.” You advised.
>Kat shrugged.
>”D’they even feel anything?” She wondered.
>She adjusted her grip.
>It boiled the eyeballs of the now dead, intact, fish you first handed her.
“Given what’s happened to us…” You ruminated.
>”To you, Doggy.” Kat corrected.
>”Yer the oddball!” She added, rolling her hands.
>She still didn’t remember.
>Probably never would.
“If it’s living, you have to respect it.”
“No suffering. Make it quick.”
>”Yeah… They’re cute in an icky sorta way.”
>”I bet other fish think they’re cute.” Kat mused.
>You didn’t share the dread, woeful aura emanating from the fish.
>Mercifully gone now, but it was there.
>On some basic level, it felt and understood doom.
>You shuddered.
>Reading the article between you was good distraction from the unsettling observation.
>A bright, profile shot taken beside a gleaming stain-glass window.
>The gardevoir’s beaming white smile was nearly the same white shade as her fair skin.
>She wore a sun dress right out of fifties.
>It probably was.
>With a smile, Kat slid a warm fish into your cupped paws.
>The larger one, you noted.
>The one you handed her.
“This one was for you.” You objected.
>Kat would hear no more.
>”Yer bigger, Doggy.” Was all the explanation you got before Kat dug in.
>She said something with her mouth full of mushed scale and flesh, but you couldn’t make it out.
>You ate.
>Somehow, the experience made the taste all the sweeter.
>The lack of salt and spices hardly compared to the uniqueness of a rooftop picnic.
>Kat picked bones from her mouth, flicking them aside.
>You were more careful to eat around them.
>”Says ‘er name’s Melody.” Kat added, running a greasy finger through the article.
“Oh?”
“You can read?” You foolishly intoned without thinking.
>Stunned by your crassness, you stopped chewing.
>Kat stared back.
>Unsure if you insulted her, and likewise unsure if you genuinely didn’t know.
“Eh, sorry, that was-“
>”Can you?” She asked, donning a wide, smug smile.
>”Doggy need me to wead foh ‘im?” She asked again, smushing her cheeks together in further mockery.
“Uh, yeah…”
“Guess I deserved that.” You muttered.
>It did little to stop another minute of teasing.
>After which, Kat read the article aloud.
>She slurred words together, and added her own storytelling flair, but shared the key information.
>A regular churchgoer.
>Senior choir member.
>Piano lessons.
>Music teacher.
>Faith.
>Thoughts on the world-changing event.
>Waking up different, same as the rest.
>Mid a back-and-forth about renewed career options, you had an unfortunate thought.
“Kat, did you steal this?”
>You nodded down at the paper.
>Kat’s wider eyes and clamped-shut mouth, gave you the answer.
>You shook your head as Kat defended herself.
>”What? You wanted a stinky garbage paper?”
>”All soaked and sticky?”
>She wasn’t wrong.
>But it was the principle.
>Lucky for her, a rumble rolled over the land.
>One Kat knew all too well.
>Later than the newspaper predicted, but the thunderstorm came just the same.
>Saved by the bell.
>She earned herself a stern lecture on theft.
>Didn’t matter of it was $2 or $200, it was against the law.
>Some deep, old part of you warned against the pettiness of bringing it up.
>But it didn’t matter.
>Wrong was wrong.
>You both had images to maintain.
>Today’s goodbye was fast.
>And noticeably less destructive than prior goodbyes.
>Seemed she wanted to stay on your good side.
>After a rough, static-charged pat on the head that made your hair stand, she was off.
>Giggling and bounding over a hill.
>You watched her trail of sparks until they disappeared behind the tree line.
>Cleaning up was easy, if a bit gross.
>The newspaper was ruffled and greasy, but put back where it belonged.
>Dropped in the bin the second a trucker turned his head.
>Sold out, no longer.
>Given the strangeness of everything, you considered buying it yourself.
>Might be a minor collector’s item someday.
>At least a piece of history.
>Hopefully someone grabbed it before the rain hit.
>With Kat off to recharge, your evening was free.
>Just as well.
>You wanted to see the angel.

***

>The cathedral had an air of regality.
>Built a century ago, and built to last.
>Standing while its neighbors were bulldozed and updated.
>A pillar of the community, chiming the hours dutifully without end.
>When you were young, a school was added.
>You vaguely remembered the construction.
>Even then, you noticed the harsh clash in architecture.
>The modern, blocky school-building looked gaudy next to the dignified air of the church.
>Beauty and grandeur, cast aside for the good of purchasing a basketball court.
>A byproduct of crunched budgets and hasty timetables.
>Wide and rectangular, as all school gymnasiums were.
>Atop the school gymnasium’s roof, you closed your eyes and searched below.
>Hundreds mingled beneath.
>The belltower above signaled a quarter past.
>This was hardly a detour on your path home, but it was a long shot.
>The article said she attended this church.
>A regular attendee since before you were born.
>The more your searched, the dimmer your hope turned.
>’Spaghetti social tonight’.
>That’s what the sign out front said.
>Maybe it was a school thing, not the whole congregation…
>Explained the aura.
>Aura always grew brighter after a pleasant meal.
>A quirk shared by every being you’ve seen thus far.
>Delicious carbs, friends, and family made people cheerful.
>Garlic and Italian seasonings wafted from windows beneath.
>Easily detected by your canid nose.
>You’d long run out of pasta at home.
>Strange how connected scents and memory seemed to be.
>Garlic bread and pasta was such a simple meal.
>And a simple memory of eating out with others popped up.
>Oddly human and oddly real.
>A far cry from the recent unmemories your brain resurfaced.
>Content.
>Satisfied.
>Pleased.
>You kept searching.
>Nothing but people.
>The odd, annoyed teen wanting to be anywhere but there stood out all the more.
>Someone near the serving area was sketching something, oozing wisps of creativity into the air.
>Desire and anticipation rose from most of the children.
>You almost left then and there.
>A storm approached fast, graying the skies.
>But this was good practice for reading aura.
>Further focus revealed it wasn’t because of hunger.
>Or for the desserts coming after.
>They wanted to see someone.
>Something.
>The same someone and something.
>You slapped a paw on your forehead when you realized it.
>So blinded by the gathering aura below, you didn’t look to the church.
>A golden aura in the balcony.
>A rumble in the distance reminded you how short time was.
>Much as you disliked wet fur, something instinctual drove you on.
>How often did one get to see an angel?
>The belfry, to your disappointment, was locked.
>So few people bothered locking anything high up.
>You slid down the weathered stone, gliding past a worn statue of an apostle.
>A side door, painted red and red again over untold years of maintenance, caught your attention.
>Better than the front.
>And without risk of exposing yourself to traffic.
>The creaking door allowed easy passage.
>In the haste to join the gathering, perhaps an usher hadn’t locked it.
>Lingering scents of hundreds of attendees swirled with the fans above.
>A service recently ended, and the air conditioning hadn’t cycled the natural human aroma out.
>Old, worn carpet below your paws was ground almost to the floor beneath.
>The interior seemed built with the sun in mind.
>Stain-glass portraits of saints shone dimly on the West side.
>Were it not for the incoming rain, the entire room would be bright and colorful.
>Dust shimmered mid-flight before settling on the wooden pews.
>The serene, peaceful setting entranced you.
>So much so, you barely heard it.
>A soft, gentle hum.
>Up the stairs, to the balcony above.
>Carpeted steps made for a quiet ascent.
>The meek siren song pulled you closer.
>Noiselessly, you rose.
>Her hymn commanded respect.
>The beautiful notes wanted a listener.
>Seeing her enraptured you.
>This was a performance.
>Every movement of the green-haired beauty exuded grace.
>Her dress flowed with unearthly grandeur.
>Beneath the organ pipes, she hummed.
>Between the pews, she danced.
>Silently, you watched.
>Melody, the gardevoir.

***

>”Breaking into a church?”
>You blinked, unsure if you hallucinated the question.
>”Surely that breaks a commandment...”
>Had it happened only once, you would have forgotten the impossible sensation.
>Written off the indescribable.
>A gentle knocking on the door to your mind.
>Wind blowing across a meadow of understanding.
>Words from within.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Melody asked, her knowing eyes meeting yours a moment.
>You came mid-performance.
>Gardevoir continued her dance.
>Like aura, putting this experience to words was inconceivable.
>The beauty of it could only be experienced.
>Short of breath, you ran a paw over your chest, rubbing the manilla fur and brushing the spike.
“Wow…”
>Sensitive to the rapturous thought-talk, your aura sensors swayed on an ethereal breeze.
>”Quite the gift, is it not?”
“Yeah, yeah…” You drifted off.
>You had to focus to think.
>She didn’t control your brain, but she was influencing it.
>You were still at the wheel, but someone suddenly talking in the passenger seat was new.
>Subtly guiding your consciousness, regardless of you realizing or desiring it.
>A slow exhale, and Melody remaining silent, strengthened your mental resolve.
>Her old, yellow sundress flapped against your fur as she spun by.
>If she possessed the natural white dress gardevoir had in the games, you couldn’t tell.
>She was well in control of her faculties, and renewed with unexpected youth.
>”You handled it well, young man.” The voice from within continued. ”Not everyone stays standing.”
“I can imagine.” You answered, walking further onto the wide balcony.
>The organ, tall and venerable, took up most space.
>Between, around, and over, the half-dozen rows of pews, the gardevoir weaved an endless ballet.
“Can you speak?” You asked, standing far enough back to give the woman move to bob past.
>”Are we not speaking?” The gardevoir asked, humming aloud.
“No, no, I meant with words. Your voice.” You clarified.
>The fae-woman hummed louder, testing her vocal cords.
>”No, dear, I cannot.”
>”My voice seems forever lost.”
>Her cocked head and knowing eyes told you she’d gotten the same question a hundred times.
>”A small price to pay for the many blessings.” Melody glowed, speaking again when she sensed you were ready.
>She moved in time with her telepathy and hummed hymn, effortlessly merging both.
>A beatific blend of worship and conversation.
>Speaking felt infantile, in comparison.
>Tantamount to shouting mid-opera.
>In regular conversation, one party could choose not to listen.
>Not this time.
>The invasive mind-speak communicated with perfect clarity.
>If she desired someone hear her, they would.
“Not everyone would say this was a blessing.” You stated.
>You hadn’t meant it as an insult, nor did she take it as one.
>Merely a statement of fact.
>”Yes, my grandson said as much.”
>Her already brilliant aura brightened when she mentioned him.
>”Such a helpful boy.” She added, pirouetting in joy.
>She spun like a figurine skater, the floor below offering no friction to stop her.
>”I know not why God does as He does.”
>The mental tune lulled you to silence.
>”Questioning God leads only to resentment.”
>Interrupting felt impossible.
>”Why not my husband too?”
>Was it respect for one’s elders or her mental trickery?
>”He thought I was an angel.”
>She did look like one.
>”He thought he had died!”
>A reasonable thought.
>”I believed I’d be taken to our heavenly home first, given what I had.”
>The paper said as much.
>”I pray every hour he is blessed too.”
>You believed it.
>”But if it’s God’s will...”
>The imaginary chorus in your head rose.
>”If He has plans for me…”
>The finale of an unreal orchestra.
>”I give thanks in all circumstances.”
>It repeated itself in your thoughts, like the refrain of a hymn.
>Loud, joyous, and stately.
>With the authority of someone beyond your years.
>Within the span of a blink, the spell shattered.
>Still standing in the same place.
>You barely registered getting there mere moments ago.
>It’s a good thing she had her head on straight.
>You shook away lingering trance-shock and crossed your arms.
“Don’t do that again.” You cautioned the smiling gardevoir.
>Her amused curtsy would have made a lesser man forget the daze she had you in.
>”Good listeners always get hit the hardest.”
>You kept up the stink eye, ignoring the compliment.
>”So, thank you.” Melody added, finally coming to a standstill.
>Your throat grumbled.
>You stood tall, but your pride was wounded.
>Walking into a trap, even if the trapmaker wasn’t malicious, stung you.
>”Fret not, beastly knight.” Melody began, coyly smiling. “I’ve my wits about me.”
“Beast knight?” You asked.
>Even without the psychic powers, you’d bet this woman had a way of getting people’s attention.
>”You’ve already quite the reputation, I hope you know.”
>You didn’t.
>And you wished you hadn’t.
>You’d rather stay low.
>”Our little town hero, I daresay.”
“Just, you know…”
>You rubbed the back of your head, tickling the aura sensors.
“Doing what comes natural.”
>The shorter woman clasped her hands together, pressing them against her dandelion-yellow dress.
>”Good.” Melody answered, pleased with the simplicity.
>”The children need a man like you.”
>The gardevoir punctuated it by wrapping it back into her sing-song responses.
>This time, the compliment worked.
“So, why the dancing?” You asked, again seeing the gardevoir step to a waltz.
>Again, you felt like a child joining an experienced choir singing.
>Off key, mispronounced words, wrong timing.
>The gardevoir showed no offense at your imagined slight.
>She worked with and around it.
>A master working with poor material yet producing the finest product.
>Toned down as her telepathy was, the beauty of it still felt humbling.
>”Oh, sometimes I get so happy, and I just have to!” Melody declared, swaying to and fro.
>Her feet tapped a rhythm beneath her dress.
>You didn’t need aura to see she almost launched into another tango.
>”My grandson told me all about it.” She added again, brightening.
>”Well, does this sate your concern, knight?”
“Sate what?” You blathered, unsure what tune the gardevoir had switched to.
>It was playful, but oddly accusatory.
>”That I’m no threat to your territory?”
“I, uh...”
>You hadn’t thought about why you came.
>Was it more than mere diversion?
>”I’ve no interest in whatever alpha-male dominance… thing you boys do.” Melody said, waving her hand in the air.
>Perhaps it was instinctual.
>Melody certainly pined it as such.
>And she could, seemingly, read your mind as easily as you could read her emotions.
>You grunted.
>It was all you could think to do.
>The gardevoir took that as a ‘yes’.
>”Glad that’s settled.”
>”Come now.” Melody said, moving closer and reaching out
>A simple, aged ring adorned the middle of her three fingers.
>”They’re serving spaghetti tonight, and it’s my old sauce recipe.”
>You waved your hands.
“Oh, no, no no, I’ve already eaten.” You began.
>You did not get to finish your excuse.
>”Of barely cooked fish with your girlfriend?” Melody asked, this time giving you the side eye.
>“I know you’re still hungry.”
“I, no!” You stammered, waving your hands faster.
“I told you not to do that.” You sighed.
>Melody shrugged.
>”Can’t help it.”
>The gardevoir touched your shoulder.
>”Your breath smells too.”
“And she’s not my-“
>The world turned silvery white.
>Your abs tightened.
>Wet noodle smell.
>Your back hunched.
>Garlic tang.
>Your tail raised.
>Clinking silverware and dim, dying chatter.
>Surrounded by a sea of aura.
>”Hello, everyone!” Melody sang out.
>She did not share your social unease.
>There was no way out.
>If anyone missed the burst of light in the center of the room, they didn’t miss the gardevoir’s telepathic call.
>”Look who decided to join us for dinner.”
>Hundreds turned to you.
>You forced a smile.
>Someone clapped, for whatever reason.
>Others followed suit.
>Two children screamed at the tops of their lungs in excitement behind you.
>Your ears flattened.
>You waved a limp paw back, and looking ghoulish in your bent, defensive posture.
>The free food, you prayed, would be worth it.

***

>”No! Absolutely not!” The zoroark yelled.
>Catching himself, the engineer lowered his tone.
>”Okay, I, I-“
>You sat opposite him at the picnic table.
>“How did you even find me!?” Hal angrily whispered.
>He picked up his sandwich wrap again.
>It survived the startling.
>Battered and squashed from the plunge, but held intact.
>He looked over his shoulders.
>His manic, insane expression would have been right at home in a horror movie.
“C’mon.” You answered.
>Tilting your head, you tapped the aura sensors dangling to your collarbones.
>He knew what lucario were capable of.
>He sought you out for it.
>He also had no idea how much a zoroark’s unique aura stood out.
>Disguises didn’t help.
>You also knew his son hid in his mane, but you kept that to yourself.
>”I’m.”
>”Working.” Hal stated, as if you couldn’t tell.
“You’re on lunch break.” You retorted.
“And relax, no one’s coming. I can tell.
>Your reassurance meant little.
>Hyper-alert eyes darted back and forth.
>Without bothering to explain, he rechecked the area.
>You tapped and scratched the faded picnic table until he was comfortable enough to sit back down.
>Hal considered scampering back to his truck.
>It wouldn’t help him get away.
>You knew where he lived, after all.
“We’re alone.” You assured him again.
>Everything he’d done was correct.
>He’d parked out of sight and gotten a secluded, hidden table.
>The only randomness he couldn’t account for was you.
>It didn’t put him at ease.
>In the blink of an eye, you changed.
>Startled, you examined the alien illusion.
“Woah…”
>It was bizarre being “human” again.
>Wrong skin tone, but you saw fingers instead of paws.
>Seemed you were now a young, generic contractor.
>The neon safety vest even moved when you patted your chest.
“Nice work…” You complimented, toying with the illusion.
>The highly strung engineer gingerly sat back down.
>”Don’t move much. Still not great at it.” Hal reminded you.
>Might as well get the hard part out of the way.
>Letting out a long sigh, you looked directly at Hal.
“Sorry.” You blurted, eager to smooth things over.
“Didn’t know it’d make you all, uh… twitchy.” You added.
>”Which is precisely why…” Hal chastised, pausing to bite his wrap.
>Ham and turkey.
>Swiss cheese.
>Dijon mustard.
>Your nose was as good as your aura reading.
>”We should share numbers.”
>The pit in your gut was instant.
>”Use code words.”
>You watched a distant squirrel climb higher, until impossible to see.
“I really…”
>Hal kept going.
>”Keep things discrete.”
“Still no.”
>Hal took another bite and shook his head.
>”Mmmkay… Thought I was the paranoid one.”
“I don’t wanna be tracked or, you know, whatever.”
>”Okay, please, spare me.” Hal rolled his illusory eyes. “We gave up privacy years ago.”
>”If you cared about laying low you wouldn’t do what you’re doing.”
>You huffed.
>Hal chewed.
>”This is the second time you wanted to see me, and you just popped up.”
>”C’mon, okay? You know a phone’d be better.”
“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled, deep and annoyed.
>You’d already given him so much leverage.
>He was too intelligent not to know it.
>”Surprise me again and I’m not helping with-“
>”Papa!” A tiny voice interrupted.
>Hal’s eyes widened.
>You chuckled.
>Saved you from getting chewed out.
>”Papa.” The voice repeated.
>A tuft of red-gray hair broke Hal’s illusion, popping out atop his head.
>A tiny head, speckled with crimson dots and teal eyes, wiggled out.
>”Food.” The little zorua impatiently commanded.
“Heya, Harry.” You said, waving to the grade-schooler.
>Seafoam eyes stared back.
>Wide and unblinking
>Slowly, you stopped waving.
>The spark wasn’t quite there.
>The zorua’s focus darted wildly between your slowing paw, to the tips of your ears, and your chest.
“Uh… kid?”
>A lump grew in your throat.
>Hal slowly shook his head.
>Harry batted the air, reaching for lunch in dad’s grasp.
>His father digging a turkey slice from the wrap completely held the kit’s interest.
>A disappointed Hal lifted the poultry between two pinched claws to his son.
>Harry grabbed the flappy deli meat like a cat, cupping a paw around to pull it closer.
>Once held between his teeth, he pulled back into his father’s mane.
>The illusion healed.
“I’m sorry.” You half-whispered.
>You’ve said that a lot lately.
>Hal took a moment to run fingers through his hair.
>Muffled, but sloppy chewing came from his forehead.
>”You didn’t know.” Hal said matter-of-factly.
>The zoroark sighed, long and heavy, slumping his shoulders.
“How bad is it?” You dared to ask.
>If Hal took offense, he didn’t show it.
>The disguised dark-type rested his heavy head on a hand.
>”Kid’s not the same.” He began.
>”Different.”
>”It’s only, like...” Hal said, taking a solemn, smaller bite.
>Hal rubbed his eyebrows.
>”Okay, like, part-him?”
>The illusion twinkled wrong.
>You heard the uncertainty.
>”He knows I’m dad, and…”
>”Where Mom is….
>”Was.”
>You nodded.
>”But God, just… Years of schooling…”
“Poof!” Hal half-shrieked, waving his hands for emphasis.
>Hal checked his phone, noisily huffing through his nose.
>”Okay, so-“
>He interrupted himself with a large bite.
>Most of his remaining lunch disappeared.
“He hasn’t gone to school, has he?”
>”Hellgh nough.” Hal answered, mouth full.
>A tiny red-gray paw reached down, batting for the remaining wrap.
>Hal gently pushed his son’s paw back into the hair.
>”Had to dig those old board books for babies out.”
>”Half the time he gnaws ‘em up mid-lesson.” The dark-type added, fixing his disguised hair.
>Not knowing what to say, you kept silent.
>“Lego.”
>“Hide-and-seek.”
>”Lego.”
>”Lego with hide-and-seek.”
>He aura roiled with colored frustration, exhaustion, worry, and fatherly love.
>”Keep finding pieces in my hair.”
>The briefest of smiles betrayed his dour speech for an instant.
>”Plenty of parents keeping kids outta school now, with all the…” Hal wildly gestured. “You know, going on.”
>”But…”
>”I mean, I feel normal, so maybe as he grows...”
“Yeah, yeah…” You chimed in.
>He didn’t need to finish.
>He was done opening up.
>His aura wanted more.
>The man did not.
>”Okay, what did you want? Make it quick.”
>Shoveling the rest of his turkey-wrap down signaled your turn to talk.
>You’d wholly forgotten why you tracked the engineer down.
“Got any electrical stuff? Something to teach beginners?”
>The ‘human’ across you nodded, licking mustard off a finger.
>”What for?”
“There’s another pokémon like us, and she-“
>”Oh, the cat-thing.” Hal interrupted, with no shortage of disgust.
>”You’re really helping that, uh… it. It out?” Hal surmised, picking his teeth.
“She talks. She’s not an animal.”
>”Didn’t say animal…”
>”Even if we are.” Hal matter-of-factly stated, breaking the illusion for a brief second.
>Calculating, tired blue eyes with years more experience gazed into you.
“She’s as human as you and me.” You said, waving your hands and hoping to avoid any argument.
“Little weird, but she’s not some animal.”
>”Wrecking a substation with a buncha little rats comes close, I’ll tell you that much.”
>”Saw some security footage. And the aftermath.”
“Well, you offering to help?” You shot back. “You’d be a better teacher.”
>”Ugh.” Hal gurgled, looking up at the sky.
>”It was totally you who cleared out the station, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
>”Not playing superhero with you. I have a kid and a job, okay?”
“I know, I know. I didn’t expect you to do that, alright? I just need some stuff.”
>Hal crumpled his garbage into a ball, tossing it back and forth.
>”Wait here. Lemme see what’s in the truck.”
>”I’ll put it on the ground or something, okay?”
“Thanks.”
>Walking away, the dark-type slowed down and called back to you.
>”You know, those electric monsters were zpped with kilojoules.”
>”Be careful, okay?”
“Promise.” You called back, watching Hal go.
>Your ‘humanity’ flickered and faded.
>Five minutes later, he pulled away.
>You found a few tools in an old, black milk crate.
>A well-used book. Looked complex.
>Some tools – cutters and strippers.
>Bits and strips of wire.
>An old circuit board.
>And a box.
>Unopened.
>’Happy 6th birthday’ written on the top in permanent marker.
>A potato clock.

***

>Sucking air between your teeth helped.
>Your eye muscles shut tight as possible.
>Hair on your back rose, rippling as if you’d taken a blow.
>Supernatural embers drifted between your fingers, ready to ignite the moment you fed them fuel.
>All something to keep your mind off the scalding worming up your legs.
>Slamming a palm on the kitchen counter kept your balance.
>Each heartbeat drew it further up, as if it corrupted your blood.
>Had others heard your guttural rumbling, they’d be unsure if you were in pain or about to take someone’s head off.
>Even you weren’t sure.
>Part of you wanted to curl up.
>The other wanted to punch through the microwave.
>Claw tips dug into the counter’s varnish.
>The throaty growl relaxed as agony turned to ache.
>You cursed.
>Slowly, you flexed your toes.
>Carefully testing each digit.
>Too fast a motion might it up again.
>You gently put weight on your paw again.
>The hypersensitive, irritated skin stepped on a crumb.
>You jerked your foot up, wincing.
>The old, stale food felt sharp as glass.
>Again, you slowly eased your weight onto two paws.
>Just ridiculous.
>You’ve been electrocuted.
>Kicked.
>Bit.
>Clawed.
>Headbutted.
>Burned.
>And somehow, this topped most of it.
>Only the houndoom’s fiery breath was worse.
>This hurt your pride as much as your actual body.
>The hidden danger on every street and parking lot.
>Salt.
>Of all things.
>Road salt.
>Deicer.
>Sidewalk salt.
>Something-or-other chloride.
>Snow salt.
>Whatever it was, you cursed it.
>The ground was, until winter’s end, lava.
>Did all animals have to deal with this?
>At a safe pace, you shuffled to your computer.
>You’ll be using it a lot these next few days.
>Entombed in your den… house…
>Human house.
>Stuck here again.
>No walking this off.
>Detouring to the bathroom, you sifted through the creams and balms.
>You could smell the fake coconuts and lemons and berries.
>Mom made you something whenever things got bad.
>Everyone used her poultices.
>Grinding willow bark and herbs down with her spikes in that, uh…
>Rocky bowl?
>And mixing it with honey into that gooey paste…
>That…
>You opened your eyes, not realizing you’d closed them.
>You shook your head, refocusing.
>Mom gave. Not made. Gave you them.
>Christmas gifts. Birthday gifts. Something from the store.
>Opened these tubs once or twice at most.
>You grabbed something that smelled lavender.
>It was at least five years old.
>Stepping on the carpet felt less stressful.
>So long as you didn’t drag and rugburn your delicate paw pads, you’d be fine.
>You’ll have to thank your actual, real human mom later.
>Smooth your relationship back to normalcy.
>As was possible in this strange new world.
>You sat at the edge of your computer chair, only scooching back when your tail was in a comfortable position.
>The cap of the moisturizer was greasy from the only other time you’d opened it.
>It took a minute of slippery turning before you made progress opening it.
>The pale cream was nice on the two fingers you dug in.
>Scooping out far more than needed felt wasteful.
>You did so anyway, pleased with the way it slipped between your large paw-fingers.
>You had so many jars you wouldn’t need to ration it.
>Your lucario-physique healed fast, save for burns.
>Hopefully this wouldn’t be as bad.
>The cool cream on your foot was liquid bliss.
>It seeped into the cracked skin and clumped around the short black fur on your paws.
>Pungent lavender and vanilla didn’t stop the pain welling back again.
>But it was a welcome distraction.
>You worked through it, slathering lotion over your other foot.
>The backside of your heels, less irritated by the salt, also received a messy slathering.
>You wiped the excess on your leg fur, leaving white streaks on the short, gray-black hairs.
>You hit the computer’s power button with a wrist-spike.
>This next part, you expected, would be worse.
>You gathered your courage.
>Computer fans and hard-drives whirred to life.
>When did you last check?
>You rubbed your chest, hoping to wipe the last moisturizer away.
>Sighing, you gripped the mouse with an oily paw.
>You’d put off looking at it for so long.
>You opened the web browser.
>Curiosity outweighed accountability.
>Had to psyche yourself up.
>Needed to know how bad this would hit you.
>How bad you’d hurt your future these past months.
>You saw dogs wear boots.
>Someone in town had a Saint Bernard.
>That was a big breed.
>Were their paws your size?
>You hoped so.
>You winced seeing the prices.
>Protecting your paws was worth looking this dorky.
>Never expected to be wearing Velcro shoes again past kindergarten.
>Getting your size ticked total up.
>Getting the bottoms with good traction made the cost higher.
>Changing the color to match your fur, somehow, didn’t change the price. Thank God.
>With shipping and handling, you groaned one final time.
>Looking on the bright side, it was a set of four.
>Two pairs for you.
>Or one for you, and a gift for Kat.
>With a heavy sigh, you opened a second tab.
>Salt-pain was preferable entering your credentials.
>Your fingers slowly hopped from one letter to the next, leaving a greasy smear on each key.
>You expected hurt.
>And you were.
>Getting punched was preferable to this money stress.
>But somehow…
>Finally seeing the low number wasn’t as bad as you thought.
>Relieving, in a way.
>You inhaled through your nose.
>And exhaled through your mouth.
>You’d have your boots.
>Anything after that, well…
>Somehow, you’d find a way.
>You always did.
>’Buy Now’.

***

>”Running ‘round was more funnnnnn...” The zerora dragged out.
>You rolled your shoulders.
>Stood tall.
>Proud.
>Kept your guard up.
>After that demonstration, you couldn’t afford to loosen up.
“Mmm hmm…” You mumbled, watching Kat smack her lips with a dumb smile. “Thanks for doing that.”
>Shutting your eyes didn’t completely block the light.
>Afterimages still remained when you blinked.
>Ozone filled the air, and you hoisted a creaky, dust-covered window to let in a breeze.
>Her yellow and black fur still stood on end, coursing with electricity.
>Comically fluffy, and incredibly dangerous.
>Moments ago, she looked downright feral.
>She became a sleepy dope within seconds.
>So spent, she crawled on all fours to a sunlit corner of the dingy garage.
>Near the electrical outlet, Kat kneaded cold concrete.
>”Aren’tcha tired, Doggy…?” Kat slurred.
>Tired eyes stole glances at you.
>Worn newspaper was her bed, and her frayed, bundled red scarf a makeshift pillow.
>She knocked old wire, worn-down tools, and an old gas can out of the way with quick, catlike bats.
“I’ll keep watch.” You answered as a pair of metal pliers tumbled across the floor.
>She continued her naptime preparation, too worn-out to respond.
>The feline-woman crouched, rose, and repositioned herself several times before settling.
>At last, her electricity warmed the ground enough for her tastes.
>Within seconds, her heavy eyes shut.
>After she slipped into dreamland, you walked to the test site.
>You made sure your nails didn’t scrape the ground.
>Only her quiet snoring remained.
>The cool concrete warmed the nearer you stepped.
>Shade dimmed this side of the building, yet it was still warmer than the sundrenched areas behind you.
>It would stay warm for a while yet.
>Ground zero was charcoal dark.
>Dust, fried and burnt black, kicked up from your steps.
>Scorch marks stained the concrete in chaotic patterns.
>And at the center of all, the voltmeter.
>What remained of it.
>The offensive stink of molten plastic couldn’t be waved away.
>Squatting, you picked at the carcass.
>The wires couldn’t handle the current.
>Red and black insulation melted to the floor.
>Still lukewarm.
>Picking at it with a nail, parts peeled away from concrete with light claps.
>The voltmeter fared worse.
>The LCD screen burst and cracked.
>The dial fused with parts beneath.
>The batteries within popped and burst.
>The numbers and letters smeared and unreadable.
>If Hal hadn’t told you what this was, you’d haven’t a clue.
>You didn’t need to see its readout to know that was a deadly blast.
>The afterimages were finally fading.
>God only knows how much voltage she let loose.
>Hardy as this body was, you doubted your chances of surviving anything like it.
>She’s jolted humans. She said as much.
>Unintentionally or by accident, a fraction of what she demonstrated would put a person six feet under.
>Powerful and uncontrolled.
>A combination primed for disaster.
>Grunting, you walked back.
>You promised to keep watch.
>You found a pleasant spot, bathed in sunlight and perfect for meditation.
>The ozone here was far more tolerable than the chemical stink in the other room.
>It was also a safe distance from Kat.
>You stared at the feline loaf across the room.
>Her catlike traits went beyond appearance.
>Even sleeping, electricity still cracked and arced off her at chance intervals.
>She slept twice as much as you.
>Sometimes more.
>Laziness, you thought at first.
>Hardly the case.
>Unleashing a thunderstorm came with a cost.
>Sprinting fast as a sports car demanded a price.
>The biochemical processes responsible for all those incredible feats needed recharging.
>No wonder she slept against the electrical socket.
>You assumed her body wasn’t too different from yours.
>How wrong you were.
>She handedly outsprinted you.
>But could she beat you in a marathon?
>A test of endurance?
>Doubtful.
>She could knock out an elephant with that much electricity.
>But could she follow it up if needed?
>If today was any indication, no.
>She hit hard and fast.
>Incapacitate someone before they every fight back.
>Her retractable claws, laced with current, would take a toll on anyone.
>But could she take a blow herself?
>Her body, conserving electricity in her slumber, let her fur settle.
>Static electricity hid a deceptively tiny frame.
>One bad hit could fracture a bone.
>…
>Power demanded respect.
>She had yours.
>And yet…
>That deep pull.
>Stronger than when you were human.
>By some definitions, you weren’t the stronger one.
>The aggravating thought made you wince.
>But you felt it.
>That masculine drive…
>To grow.
>To impress.
>To protect.