Zane once read a crackpot theory: humans in the Pokémon world are just another species of Pokémon.
Twenty minutes after scarfing the Pecha, he watched the purple fade from his skin and decided the crackpot was onto something.
Maybe that's why some people can use Aura or read minds.
Skwovet twitched its round belly, saw it wasn't dying, and spun to leave.
"Hey, wait!" Zane called. While it stood there, he eyed its info.
Species: Skwovet ♂
Type: Normal
Ability: Gluttony
Stats: 460 (HP 120, Atk 95, Def 95, SpA 55, SpD 75, Spe 20)
Moves: Tail Whip, Tackle, Bite, Stuff Cheeks
Mood: Torn, Happy
Status: Light injury (right leg strain, 1½-day rest needed) Tired
Friendship: 38 (likes people)
"Squeak?"
"Which way to the nearest town?"
"Squeee…" It pondered, then pointed a tiny claw downstream.
"Thanks, little dude." He waved and headed that way, Cramorant wobbling after.
He compared the two Pokémon he'd scanned.
Cramorant's stats and moves were hacked, yet everything else looked normal. Its mood still showed gibberish, while Skwovet's feelings popped up crystal-clear—same for every wild Pokémon he passed: "Nervous," "Wary," "Tense."
Did hacking fry the bird's brain? Was it now a feathered vegetable?
The editor had been his meal ticket back home, but only three icons worked now: Identify, Move Tutor, and Shiny Toggle. The stat- and ability-editing templates were "missing."
Could a cheat sheet just… lose pages? Whatever. He promised himself not to mess with any Pokémon besides scanning until he knew more. These weren't game sprites; they bled.
No bike, no board, it was just him and his feet. Dusk came long before any sign of civilization.
Rain also started—cold, steady, autumn rain. He found a hollow oak, crawled inside, and pulled Cramorant in like a big orange pillow. The bird's body heat beat any blanket.
Outside, the forest quieted under drumming water. Acorn Pokémon huddled in bushes; Venomoth clung to dry bark. Wild, but still sensible enough to hate getting soaked.
He split the Berries he had picked up earlier, half for Cramorant, half for breakfast. it wasn't filling, but better than an empty stomach.
A wet Sentret poked its head in, squeaked in horror, and bolted.
Do I look that scary? He thought, but shrugged off, eyelids drooping. Rain plus exhaustion knocked him out fast.
....
Morning arrived with birdsong and dripping leaves—and no Cramorant.
Zane scrambled out, his heart racing. The bird swooped down and landed, dropping a fat river carp at his feet.
"GAH!"
"For me?" He pointed at the fish.
Cramorant ignored him, preening dry feathers.
Still no words, but hey—breakfast delivery. Raw fish beats starving. He wrapped the carp in big leaves and stuffed it into his jacket with the leftover Berries.
This time, he left Cramorant outside the Ball. When he walked off, the bird flapped onto his shoulder like a feathered backpack.
"Comfy up there?" He sighed. "Just don't poop on me."
Wet air felt like fifty Caterpie crawling over his skin. He hiked on, itching everywhere.
Voices—human voices—cut through the trees.
Zane's pulse spiked. He crept closer, Cramorant on silent glide above.
Two guys in matching black uniforms loomed over a tiny white Pokémon. Two Mightyena circled, growling.
"Finally caught the little bitch," the bigger goon snarled.
His buddy laughed. "We'll sell her for a fortune."
Zane crouched, parted the leaves, and saw the victim.
Species: Ralts ♀
Type: Psychic / Fairy
Ability: Trace
Stats: 198 (HP 28, Atk 25, Def 25, SpA 45, SpD 35, Spe 40)
Moves: Growl, Double Team, Confusion
Mood: Agony
Status: Severe injury (head trauma from Dark-type energy, multiple bruises) exhausted
Friendship: 0 (stranger)
She trembled, barely conscious.
Zane clenched a fist. Stealing and hurting Pokémon—they weree a scumbags.
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