Mouse in a Box
Thunder rumbled overhead, and several people began to either run for cover or pull out umbrellas. David scowled. Should have left earlier, he thought, shifting his weight to better support the brown bag in his hand. He had made his weekly trip to Vermillion City today, necessary because his own home of Canary Town had no grocery store; in fact, it didn't even have a Pokémon center. Six or seven houses, a convenience store, and an abandoned warehouse that had been turned into a makeshift town hall were the only things Canary town could boast. That was usually why Pokémon trainers didn't stop by.
Small as it was, David had been born there, and that was his home. He had inherited his home—a small, one-floor house with a small backyard and five rooms—when his parents had passed two years ago. So, at twenty-one, he was still living in his childhood home. Lucky him.
His sister, born two years after him, was a full-time Pokémon trainer. David only saw her once or twice every few months, and that was only because they spoke over the phone at Vermillion City's Pokémon center. She was in Sinnoh right now, working on getting all her gym badges. That was all fine with David; as long as she was happy, he was happy.
Pokémon training had never been his thing. When most of his friends—all two of them—turned ten, they hurried to Professor Oak's to get their first pocket monster. Not him. No, at ten he was just fine staying in his house, drawing away. That wasn't to say he dislike Pokémon, per se. He just…preferred not to have one. Simple as that.
He was a full-time artist now, and while that wasn't the most well-paying profession, it was one he loved. His meager sales and some of his parents' inheritance was enough to keep him financially stable for now.
"Dang it," David muttered under his breath as the rain began to pour down on him. He pushed the once-spikey black hair out of his eyes and onto his forehead. There was still a thirty-minute walk home, and the rain didn't look like it would let out any time soon. Sure enough, a loud thunder-crash shook the ground as a bolt of lightning lit the sky.
"Wonderful."
As he passed two buildings, he heard a soft sound—almost like a sneeze or hiccup.
Poking his head into the small alleyway, he called out, "Hello?"
When nobody responded, he turned and began to walk away…
…until he heard it again—a soft whimper, almost a cry. He shifted his weight again and walked down the short alleyway. It opened to a small area in between four close-together buildings where a green dumpster stood half-open.
And a small cardboard box.
As he crept closer, he saw a small, plump rodent curled inside the box, shaking. It had black-edged diamond-shaped ears that were tucked against its head. The area around its neck was black, almost like a collar, and its lightning bolt-shaped tail was all black too.
It's just some Pokémon, David thought. Leave it alone. But the small yellow thing had already noticed him and had opened one of its tiny black eyes. As it untangled itself, David noticed that there were small scratches and bruises along its body, like something had clawed at it.
"Um. Hello."
The Pokemon—a Pichu, if he was correct; it was too small to be a Pikachu, and didn't have the right coloring to be a Raichu, not to mention the size difference—stood up and looked at him with teary eyes. "Pi?"
David swallowed. He had never been good with small children, so a Pokémon was completely beyond his realm of expertise. "Shoo," he said. "Go find someplace else to stay. It's wet out here."
The Pichu just stared at him silently, a small frown on its lips.
"There's a Pokémon center a few blocks away; they'll probably let you stay until the storm lets up."
Still, the Pichu was silent.
Just go, some part of him said. It doesn't understand. Still, he couldn't just walk away. Something about the little thing's eyes made him feel bad for letting it stay in the cold.
"You can't come with me. So…it's either the Pokémon center or that box. Choose." When a sniffle escaped, something twisted inside David's chest. Just for one day, he thought, sighing. Just till the storm lets up.
He bent down slowly, reaching for the Pichu's neck. "Fine, you can come home with me. But only for one night."
The little thing flinched when his fingers got too close, and David held back for a second. Then, slowly, he offered his hand, palm out. The Pichu sniffed at it, then relaxed. David grasped the scruff of the tiny mouse's neck gently, then lifted it out of the box and stored it inside his coat pocket.
"Stay in there for now," he told it, and it seemed like it understood, because he felt it get comfortable a few seconds later and go still.
David hurried home, eager to both get out of the rain and to get the Pichu into something warm. When he shoved his door open after fitting the key into the lock one-handed, he shook his shoes off, put the grocery bag on the living room coffee table, and pulled the Pichu out of his pocket. It was shivering, body shaking all over. Both of them were soaked, so David stripped down to his underwear and put some logs into the fireplace. A few minutes later a fire was lit and the wet clothes had been hung from the mantle.
Then he went into the bathroom and got a face-towel out of the cabinet beneath the sink. The Pichu protested when it ran the towel over it, but calmed down when it understood what he was doing. Then, he got a spare blanket out of the guest bedroom—his sister's former room—and placed the Pichu on it. After that, he placed it in front of the fire, making sure not to put it too close. The Pichu purred and opened its eyes.
When it saw him, it smiled and said, "Chu!," which he took to be some show of gratitude.
"Don't get too comfortable," David said, "we're going to the Pokémon center tomorrow and printing out some missing posters." If there was a trainer who had lost his Pokémon, then he wanted to return it before it got used to him. If not, the Pokémon center would likely still take it in. "Not to mention you need to be fixed up." The Pichu paid him no mind, instead choosing to let out a yawn and go to sleep.
David rolled his eyes and brought the groceries to the small kitchen-dining room, where he put them all in their allotted shelves. After that he made himself a quick bowl of noodles, ate, rinsed the dishes, and brushed his teeth. Then he showered and changed into a pair of sleep shorts and crawled into bed.
Tomorrow that Pokémon'll be off my hands, he told himself, snuggling into the warm blankets. And all this will be behind me.
A/N: So, this was a little fic idea I came up with after seeing a rather depressing picture of a Pichu abandoned in a box. Don't know if this'll be a full story or not, but if it's something you want to see, let me know. Reviews, follows, and favorites would all be greatly appreciated.
Bye!