Ahh. Today is nice. The air is warm and languid, a light breeze taking the edge off the heat. Scattered clouds drift across the sky like they've got all the time in the world to get where they're going. The water flows past the posts of the little pier.
Amy lies back flat on the sun-warmed wood, idly swinging her legs back and forth. Her fishing rod's loose in her hand. She's not really expecting anything to bite, but she'd told her mother she was going out fishing and Amy doesn't like lying to her mother, even over small things like this. Besides, it's relaxing to watch the little orange float bobbing up and down over the current.
Her thoughts drift as well. They'll be back at school in a few weeks, minus those of her classmates who've decided to take time off for a journey. It'll be strange looking around the familiar classroom and seeing so many empty seats. But probably a little exciting too, she thinks. Holly and Theo got their first pokemon last month and maybe Fern did as well, Amy's not sure. It'll be good to catch up with them, see what they have and how their pokemon get along with everyone else's.
Amy doesn't have a pokemon yet, but there's still time. She's not really interested in doing a pokemon journey - she's happy enough hearing her friends tell her excited recounts of what they've been up to and seeing their photos of exotic places. So there's no hurry, no rush.
Just then, there's a tug on the line. Amy sits up and reels it in, but it's just a magikarp. She shrugs and tosses it back in, but right as it hits the water, there's a quick flash of orange and a frenzy of splashing. It clears to reveal a lithe buizel, sharp teeth clamped tight around the limp body of the magikarp as it swims back to the riverbank. Amy watches with gentle interest as it eats the magikarp, dropping the bones back in the water, then grooms itself and curls up in the sun.
It's still watching her, though. Every now and then, its head tilts in her direction, dark eyes catching the light. So an hour later when Amy gets another bite and another magikarp, she tosses it back closer to the buizel. It eats this one too.
By the time the sun is sitting low on the horizon and it's time to head back, the buizel's had three more magikarp thanks to Amy. She stands up and starts wandering back towards the house, the buizel following her a few minutes before apparently realizing that it's going in the wrong direction and scampering off. Amy smiles.
"Thanks for keeping me company," she calls. The buizel squeaks in response.
The next day when she returns to the pier, the buizel turns up after half an hour. And then the next day. And the next. After about a week, it's progressed to sitting by her side and diving in to grab the fish as soon as she pulls anything up. Her mother laughs when Amy tells her about it.
"I'd say it likes you," she tells Amy with a smile. "Why not try capturing it? I think my Renny would like having another water-type around, too."
So Amy takes a pokeball along with her fishing rod. The buizel's there as expected, curled up at the end of the pier, eyes glinting up at her. She settles in next to it, stroking a gentle hand along its back before casting out into the river. They sit in companionable silence, listening to the slosh of water.
When she brings up a fish, the buizel eats it as usual. As it licks the blood from its fur, Amy pulls the pokeball from her pocket and holds it out to the buizel. She grins as it tilts its head a little, sniffing at the pokeball before dismissing it and going back to its grooming. This should be pretty easy.
Amy opens the pokeball and the buizel has just enough time to look up in startlement before red light engulfs it. The pokeball rocks in her hand and Amy has a moment of panic - has she misjudged this? Will the buizel be frightened or angry, will it try to run away? Has she broken its short-lived trust in her? There's only one way to find out. Amy clicks the button and lets the buizel out.
It looks around, checks over itself, then turns to face Amy. She holds her breath for a moment as it watches her, then lets out a relieved laugh as the buizel simply continues grooming the spots it had missed earlier.
"Thank you," she whispers, and her buizel nuzzles her fingers.