In this world, Pokémon were an inextricable part of the human fabric. "Harmony between humans and Pokémon" wasn't just a political slogan; it was the bedrock of reality. Since his arrival, Cliff had grown accustomed to the sight of Meowth grooming themselves on street corners, girls cradling Eevee in the park, and flocks of Pidgey weaving through the skyscrapers.
However, over the past week, Cliff had barely stepped outside. His rent was due, and his survival depended on the flickering light of his monitor. He hadn't shared a meaningful moment with a single living Pokémon.
Until now.
He stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs, but as the initial shock faded, his producer's eye took over. Candle-shaped. Deep navy flame. Pale, waxy body.
"A Litwick," he breathed. "And it's... it's a Shiny."
His pulse quickened with a different kind of tension. Ghost-types were rare in urban centers; they were usually found in desolate ruins, feeding on the life force of the unwary. Litwick were notorious for their deceptive charm, guiding travelers through the dark only to slowly siphon their souls until their flames burned bright and the traveler was a hollow shell.
The room was deathly silent. Man and Pokémon stared at each other, green eyes meeting brown.
Cliff took a tentative step back, then another. The Litwick didn't move. Despite the proximity, he didn't feel the sudden onset of lethargy or the "chill of the grave" associated with soul-draining.
He's not eating me, Cliff realized.
He looked closer. The flame atop the Litwick's head was a mere spark, sputtering as if the slightest draft would snuff it out. If it had spent the night draining him, it should be roaring with power. Instead, it looked like it was on its last legs.
"Uh... hello?" Cliff waved a hand, his voice cracking slightly.
"Mobb, " the Litwick chirped, a soft, melodic sound.
Cliff frowned. "What are you trying to say?"
"Mobb! Mobb-mobb!" The Litwick's movements grew frantic. It tilted its head, the flame swaying like a directional arrow pointing toward its own rounded midsection.
Its stomach? Cliff guessed. "Are you... hungry?"
The Litwick nodded vigorously.
"Stay right there. Don't move. I'll get you something."
Cliff bolted from the room. Left alone, the Litwick tilted its head, watching the door with wide, emerald eyes. The human left? But he said food... I hope it's food. I'm so hungry. But I can't eat the human. It makes them feel bad. I don't like it when they feel bad.
The Pokémon industry was a behemoth. Even in a remote corner of Viridian City, a 24-hour PokéMart sat just a block away.
Cliff withdrew a portion of his earnings, two thousand PokéDollars, and marched into the shop. He ignored the standard kibble and headed straight for the "Occult Selection." He purchased the most expensive Ghost-type supplement available, a specialized blend designed to mimic the energy of a soul without actually harming anyone.
It was a temporary fix, a high-calorie "energy drink" for spirits, but it would stop the hunger. He hurried back and set the tin in front of the Litwick.
"Here. Eat up."
The Litwick sniffed the dark, shimmering paste. Its eyes lit up like lanterns. "Mobb! Mobb!" It dove in, face-first. The food vanished at a rate that stunned Cliff. How many days has it been since this little guy last ate?
Halfway through the tin, the Litwick finally slowed. The flame on its head began to burn with a steady, healthy navy glow.
"Mobb, " It let out a satisfied sigh, its eyes crinkling with warmth as it looked at Cliff.
"Glad you liked it," Cliff said, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. Two thousand dollars was a lot, but seeing the little guy recover was worth every cent.
However, the communication barrier was still a problem. He could guess the meaning from context, but he needed precision.
[System: Detection of Host requirement: Pokémon Linguistics!][Recommended Module: Pokémon Language Translator (Basic)][Effect: Grants the ability to understand any Pokémon. Synchronizes in-game cries with real-world vocalizations for maximum immersion.][Cost: 100 Emotional Points.]
Sold, Cliff thought. He had over 600 points; this was an essential investment for both his life and his career.
[Purchase Successful. Current Balance: 562 pts.]
Cliff turned back to the Litwick. "Feel better?"
"Mobb! Mobb!" (I'm full! Thank you, human!)
Cliff froze. The voice in his head was clear, though it retained a childish, bubbly lilt. "How long were you in here?"
"Mobb, mobb-mobb." (A long time! You were busy playing with the big metal box. I waited for you to sleep... so I could eat you.)
Cliff felt a cold shiver. Straight to the point, huh? "Then why didn't you?"
The Litwick paused, its little waxy body swaying. "Mobb, mobb." (Because... that makes people feel bad. I don't want you to feel bad.)
Cliff stared at it. It was like finding a stray kitten that refused to hunt because it didn't want the birds to be sad. He didn't hesitate. He knelt down and extended a hand.
"In that case, do you want to stay with me? I'll handle the food. You'll never be hungry again, and you'll never have to make anyone feel bad by taking their soul."
The Litwick's eyes went wide. It began to bounce around Cliff's feet in a joyous blur. "Mobb! Human is good! Thank you, human!"
Cliff laughed, picking the little candle up. "Then let's look after each other, Litwick."
The Ghost-type felt like soft, bouncy jelly in his hands. It wasn't cold; it was surprisingly warm.
Wait. Warm?Actually, it's getting hot.
Cliff looked down. "Oh, my shirt's on fire."
Wait.ON FIRE?!
"FIRE! AGH! COLD WATER! PANIC!"
Five minutes later, Cliff dumped a pile of charred fabric into the trash. He was now wearing an old, patched-up undershirt, sighing as he looked at the soot on the floor. He'd forgotten: Litwick was a Fire-type, too. That flame wasn't just for show.
He glanced at the corner. Litwick had already curled up against the wall, fast asleep. The flame on its head had dimmed to a tiny, peaceful ember.
Cliff sat back at his computer. The sales for Pokémon: Emerald had hit 2,125. The rapid surge from Cynthia's stream had leveled off, but the points were still trickling in from players experiencing the game's brutal difficulty.
With over 450,000 PokéDollars in his digital wallet, he was no longer a starving artist. But money wasn't the goal anymore.
He looked at the System's vast library of modules: Card Game Modules, Roguelike Engines, 4K Graphics... His cursor hovered over [Intelligence Module (Basic) - 500 pts].
It was expensive, but it was the key to his vision. He wanted to build more than a game; he wanted to build a world.
In his previous life, he'd always regretted that his Pokémon partners were just data, unable to truly share his joy or sorrow. And in this world, he saw the same tragedy. Not everyone could be a Trainer. Most were crushed by the weight of reality, by the cost of travel and the demands of survival. They lived in gray cities, their childhood dreams of adventure slowly eroding under the pressure of a 9-to-5.
Cliff wanted his games to be a second chance for everyone. A chance to climb to the top. A chance to find a friend in a lonely world. A chance to see the wonders of the horizon from a cramped rental room.
These games were embers. And one day, Cliff intended to set the whole world on fire.