It was a typical afternoon, the sun shining down gently on the city of Osakawa. It was 4pm, and it was time for students to go home. The streets filled with children on their way home from school, chattering excitedly about their day to their friends, or just walking along relaxed and relieved that school was over.

Takuya Kojimo was one of these students. He was a 12 year old boy with slightly spiky hair and bangs covering his forehead, rather tall and with a lean build – nowhere near as buff and bulky as a caveman, but not exactly lanky either. He was dressed in school uniform – a brown blazer jacket and brown trousers, and a brown tie hung loosely from his neck. Under his blazer was a plain white shirt. He whistled as he walked and hummed quietly to himself, glad that it was finally time to go home.

I thought I was gonna die in there, he thought, shaking off his drowsiness. He'd nearly dozed off listening to his history teacher drone on and on about Japan's role in the war – he forgot which one, it was too boring to remember.

Soon, he'd broken out of the crowd of noisy kids and began walking along the route that he took everyday to get back home. The suburban area was nice and quiet, which was why he was so glad that he lived here. Each house had its own front yard, and most had large backyards, although some people preferred to use the space for something else. There was also quite a lot of vegetation – some people even had trees in their front yards – and there was also a large park here, which he walked through every day on his way to and from school.

It was in this park that he found something which changed his life forever.

Takuya was walking through the park as usual, passing by the small fountain in the center, when he heard a rustle in the bushes to his left. He turned his head to look, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. But for some odd reason, he was compelled to go and investigate.

Eh, why not, he shrugged, walking carefully up to the bushes. It could be something harmless, but it could also be a rabid dog or something. Takuya wasn't exactly a genius, but he wasn't stupid.

He edged closer and closer, ready to bolt at any time. When he was right in front of the bushes, and nothing jumped out at him, he decided it was safe to check inside. He slowly parted the bushes and looked in.

At first his brain couldn't process what he was seeing. A small creature, sitting and cradling its right arm. Its body was white, and looked as though it was wearing a dress. Green hair that at first glance looked like some sort of helmet, parted in the middle by what looked like a big pinkish-red bow placed with the pointy bits straight, instead of sideways as was usual, and wedged firmly into its head, so that it looked like some sort of horn. Its face was almost completely covered by its dome-like hair.

He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again.

The creature he was looking at was pure fiction, made up by a multinational games corporation. There was no way he was seeing right. But he was.

He was looking at a Pokémon.

A Ralts, to be precise.

Don't be stupid, he thought to himself. This has to be some sort of doll or toy or something. It's just not possible that –

His train of thought was halted as he got a closer look at the creature and saw that it was badly injured. Cuts, scratches and bruises covered its body from head to toe. The worst injury was a gash that ran almost the full length of its right arm.

Takuya blinked.

Nope, it's real alright, he thought. Unless they've started making living robots…

Takuya debated with himself. What should he do? Assuming the thing he was looking at wasn't an illusion, should he really try to help it somehow? He had no idea of what special medicinal needs Pokémon had.

Should he even bother it at all? Takuya suddenly remembered that wild Pokémon in the games were always at full health when you encountered them. And it might not even be injured; for all he knew, the thing was using its powers to create an illusion over itself. He distinctly remembered that Ralts were Psychic types…

Suddenly, the Ralts stirred. A low groan of pain came out of its mouth, breaking Takuya's train of thought and pulling him back into the present. He looked at the Ralts again and made up his mind.

I can't just leave it here, he thought. It's really beaten up. I have to do something…

He reached into the clearing, picked up the Ralts and cradled it in his arms, like a baby.

Okay, it's definitely real.

Takuya then noticed that the Ralts was shaking violently, shivering as though it was cold, and its body was very hot. It had a fever.

Takuya rushed to his house, which was conveniently close to the park, carrying the injured Ralts carefully. Opening the door quickly, he ran to his bedroom and laid the small Pokémon down on his bed. He got a first-aid kit from the cabinet in the bathroom, and examined the Ralts's wounds. It was very badly hurt, and had more cuts than he'd first thought, and some of them were harsher than they'd looked in the bushes. He quickly wiped and cleaned its wounds with water. A Potion would be better, but this was the real world, and he couldn't risk using mentholated spirits, so water would have to do.

He bandaged it up and took its temperature. 40 degrees Celsius. He was pretty sure that was too high, though he'd never taken a Pokémon's temperature before so he wouldn't know. He got a bucket of water and a small cloth, and tried to help the Ralts to cool down by soaking the cloth and laying it on its forehead. He repeated this several times as the cloth got dried.

After a while, the violent shivering stopped, and the Ralts began to breathe normally. Its temperature had gone down, too – now it was 37 degrees. Was that normal for a Pokémon? He hoped so. He soon stopped worrying so much, as the Ralts fell into a peaceful sleep. He let out a relieved sigh.

As he packed away his medical supplies and replaced the first-aid kit, he noticed that it was suddenly a lot darker. He glanced at the clock – 8:30. How long had he been tending to her? It only felt like a few minutes. He walked into the living room and noticed that he'd left the front door open. He hastily closed it, thankful that there was no burglar in his house. The area he lived in was, mercifully, very peaceful, but that was no excuse.

A rumbling sound from his stomach told Takuya that he was hungry. As he went into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge for something to eat, he heard a small noise from his bedroom.

Of course it'd be hungry, it's a living being, idiot, he scolded himself. He looked in the fridge until he found an apple, grapes and berries. Studying them for a moment, he shrugged, and decided that it was okay; after all, it was fruit. He blended it into a paste, poured some into a small bowl and took it to his bedroom.

As he thought, it was the Pokémon that had made the noise. It was hugging its stomach and shifting restlessly. Its face – or what he could see of it – was scrunched up.

"Ra…Rarutusu…" it murmured weakly. Takuya sat down next to the bed and started to feed the Ralts the pureed fruit. He did this by nudging its mouth with a spoonful, coaxing it to open, and tipping it bit by bit into its mouth. He had to raise its head to feed it properly, propping up the pillow to act as a support so that he could hold the bowl in one hand and feed it with the other.

It was by no means a small bowl, but the Ralts managed to finish all of it. It let out a contented sigh and went back to sleep. Takuya tucked it into bed, covering it with a small blanket so that it didn't get cold.

He glanced at the clock again – it was 8:42. He usually went to bed at ten o'clock sharp, but he was feeling pretty knackered. He decided to sleep on the couch in the living room, since he obviously couldn't sleep on his bed.

Walking to the couch, he suddenly realised exactly how tired he was. He yawned, crashed on the couch and promptly drifted off to sleep.