You pulled up to the pokémon center and wasn't surprised to see trainers loitering the area. Poké-centers offered housing to trainers that temporarily stayed in the city for gym battles, so it wasn't uncommon to see a small army of trainers heading out of the centers in the early hours. The truck creaked as you shut off the engine and you slammed the door shut when you hopped out the driver's side.
As you strode to the red doors of the entrance, some trainers made a path for you and others sniggered as you passed them. You remembered you looked like a haggard mess with blood caked to your forehead, dirt clinging to your back, and Shuckle wrapped tightly on your arm.
"Look at that. I bet that Shuckle won't last long in the circuit with a trainer like that."
You heard a young mocking voice from behind you, but you kept on walking. If you were thirteen years younger you would've rocked that kid's face, but now you were older and just didn't mind. You finally reached the door and heard a 'ding' as the automatic doors slid open.
"Hey! I was talking about you. You don't care?"
You glanced behind you at a kid with azure hair arranged in a messy array of spikes. He dressed normally, but he fit the 'trainer' type. His fingerless gloves and two-toned jacket were adorned with the emblem of the circuit and his brand new sneaks were free of any dirt indicating his parents had provided his clothes. His belt was heavy with pokéballs.
"No, not really. You weren't talking to me, so your opinion of me isn't my business."
You almost stepped into the poké-center when raucous laughter broke out behind you. You could feel the cool sensation of air conditioning just beyond the doors, but you were curious. What was so damn funny?
You threw a disbelieving look over your shoulder. The youngster doubled over in laughter and some of the trainers had joined, tossing you mixed looks of disapproval and smugness. The youngster stood upright once more and pointed at Shuckle.
"At least give that thing a fighting chance. Why don't you give him to me?"
"Shuck…" It said disapprovingly and retracted its head within its shell.
"No." You replied in a monotonous tone. You weren't going to give some ten-year old git the satisfaction of bothering you. You had a gun in your face this morning, so petty comments seemed insignificant.
You held back a snicker as his face abruptly transitioned to annoyance and made a beeline towards a nurse behind a wide marble counter. She did a double take and her brows raised to her hairline.
"Oh, gracious!" She moved around the counter almost slamming her hip against a corner in the process and hastily stepped towards you. You felt her cool hands pressed against your face and turning it to and fro. You gawked as she led you behind the counter by your chin to a room with an "Urgent Care" sign hanging above it.
The room was stark white with a salmon colored stripe decorating the walls and a cushiony patient's chair in the middle of the room. Numerous headlamps dotted the ceiling of the room and you could discern this room was used for surgery. Against a wall was a metal, glass cabinet filled with jars of cotton balls, swabs, needles, and serrated surgical tools.
The nurse unceremoniously pushed you down on the chair and reached towards the metal cabinet grabbing a few supplies. You let out a breath of relief when the serrated blade wasn't one of them.
"How bad is it?" You asked. You never actually looked in the mirror and you felt rather than saw the caked blood on your forehead and knew there was enough to ward caution. Also, the horrified looks of trainers outside the poké-centers told you as much. Then, there was the warped glimpse of your reflection on the glass doors.
"Have you seen yourself? You look like you got into a fight with an axe-wielding psycho. The psycho obviously won."
She was pressing a cotton ball to your forehead and it was cool with antiseptic. You cringed at the slight sting as it entered what you assumed was a crack on your forehead. She dipped another cotton ball into a brown substance and applied it around your wound and you could slowly feel the pain of the crack ebb away as the smell of iodine antiseptic then gel anesthesia hit your nostrils.
She turned her back towards you and was setting up a tray atop a tablelike extension of the patient's chair. You eyed a metal bowl with what smelled like chemicals and you heard the slight clink of metal tools.
"We'll wait another five minutes and we'll start."
"Start? Start what?" You crinkled your brow and twitched in pain.
"Wait, for the anesthesia to be fully effective. You're going to need stitches." She was holding a curved needle in her hand.
You didn't have a particular fear of needles but this thing looked gnarly. The diameter was larger than the needles you received your influenza shots from.
"That's going in my forehead?" You watched with wary eyes as she cleaned the needle.
"Nope! That's just a prank I play on the first timers. This is what's going in your forehead. It leaves neat scars." She pointed to a much slimmer needle suture and artfully picked it up with a needle holder.
"You awful woman…."
"Yeah, I know. You can't blame me though. I stand behind a counter all day and recite, 'Welcome to our Pokémon Center! We heal your Pokémon back to perfect health!'" She said sardonically, "I'm this close to an induced state of psychosis."
You chuckled, "What's your name?"
"Wow, you're asking? Most people assume it's Joy and I hate it. My name is Allegra." She smirked at you as she pulled a nylon thread through the suture.
"Doesn't that mean 'joy.' Or at least happy?" You spoke without thinking.
"Did you forget whose holding the needle so quickly?" She retorted.
You threw your hands up in defense. "Alright. I get it, naughty nurse."
She glared at you.
"Okay! I'll stop! No, need for unspoken threats. I've learned my lesson." You sighed and rolled your shoulders back. You felt the hefty weight of the tiny fungi attached to your arm. You had forgotten it was there. You weren't used to another presence being attached to you despite the weight on your arm notifying you it was there.
"So, what's with the Shuckle?" Allegra was smiling at the shell attached to your arm.
"That's actually why I'm here. He has a cracked shell." You pointed to the small surface fissure.
"And not for the gash on your head? You're an odd one." She poked your forehead. "Can you feel that?"
"The gash was my second priority. And, no. I can't feel a thing." You assumed she was prodding your forehead softly, but you couldn't discern.
"Good, we can start. I suggest you close your eyes or look away. People tend to twitch and move when they see the needle go in even if they don't feel it." She pointed to the salmon-colored stripe on the wall.
"Shuck-uckle." You felt it nuzzle your arm after it crooned softly on your shoulder.
You looked down into the shiny black beady eyes and gripped the edge of the patient chair. You felt the dull throb of the needle and tried not to flinch. Your grasp on the chair tightened as the pressure built up on your forehead and you willed yourself into rigidity.
Just focus on those beady little eyes.
Shuckle seemed immobile as he trained his eyes on you. If you didn't know better you would've guessed he was challenging you, but there was no threat in his stance. He just stayed and it was comforting to you.
"And, I'm done!" Your head snapped back and you looked at Allegra's grinning face.
"What are you smiling about?" You reached up to touch your stitches, but she hastily slapped your hand away.
"You and your Shuckle. That was the sweetest and most unnerving thing I've ever seen. Kinda creepy, actually." She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her hip.
"It's actually not mine. I found it on the road this morning." You raised a brow as the fungi rested its head on your shoulder.
"You should keep it. It seems to have imprinted on you." She softly pat the shell and a dislodged piece of shell crumbled and fell to the ground.
"Can you do anything about that?" You inquired. The crack looked terrible, but didn't seem to hinder Shuckle.
"We can fill the crack with temperature resistant enamel. We use it on the Starmies." She cleaned and set the surgical tools aside before pointing to the door.
"Just set Shuckle on the counter and I'll be right out." She threw a nod over her shoulder and you slid off the patient chair.
Once the door closed behind you, you briefly shut your eyes. You just needed to clear your head, even for a moment. You had a hell of a morning.
"Shuck." Your eyes blinked open and you glanced down at Shuckle.
"You know, all this was because of you…" You peered at it accusatorily.
"Shuck-uckle…" It lowered its head guiltily and you huffed out a breath of air.
"At least, you know."
You pried the Shuckle from your shoulder and placed him on the marble counter. It wiggled its limbs towards you, but you shook your head.
"You heard the lady. Stay on the counter." The limbs retracted into the shell so you were left staring into beady eyes.
Surprisingly, obedient. You hadn't expected that.
You considered what Allegra said…about keeping Shuckle. If you were going to graduate, you would need to start somewhere. Could you do this?
You were a student, not a trainer. Of course you knew the basics, but you had to admit…even your knowledge of the fundamentals was limited. This would take time. At least, graduation required you to be a trainer, not to be good at it. However, your parents would be an obstacle. They would be less than thrilled to hear about your transitional crisis, but you needed to finish school. Nothing would give you more pleasure than to just be done with it all. You resigned yourself to your inevitable misfortune. You'd try it.
Also, if you kept Shuckle, it would save you the trouble of purchasing a starter. Most people bought their first pokémon for a couple thousand dollars and if one was lucky they could inherit the family pokémon. At least, this way, you had your first pokémon out of the way. Then, there was the trainer card and pokéballs. Didn't pokémon travel in their balls?
You groaned. Your wallet was tight enough as it was. You couldn't afford to drop several hundred pokédollars on balls only to fail at capture. If the pokéball doesn't catch, it became ineffective, right?
At least health care was free for pokémon and trainers, so that was out of the way. And housing would be provided by the poké-centers. But outside of the cities, you would be shit out of luck. You rarely camped outside nor did you have any gear or food to carry with you.
Your truck! If you got the old girl fixed you could camp inside her, but if she broke down in the middle of nowhere you would be screwed. Nevermind.
You still had to get her fixed, regardless.
You heard a door shut behind you and Allegra exited with a container of blue goo and what looked like a buffer.
"Let's get this little guy back in top shape!"