"Summer turns the stove on
And fun begins to cook
Barefoot walks in Baltimore
With empty pocketbook"
-"Barefoot in Baltimore" from Incense & Peppermints by Strawberry Alarm Clock

Just as the sun breached the horizon, Vince began to rouse from his slumber. Despite staying up late, he already had too much energy to go back to sleep. He rolled onto his back and looked down at his hands, half-heartedly hoping to find his memories of yesterday were a dream all along. They weren't. He had paws. And fur. And a tail. As his eyes drifted to the ceiling, his mind drifted to the orb. That white, featureless, merciless orb. It intrigued him as much as it terrified him. Just being in the same room as it made his skin crawl. That and a rumbling in his stomach gave him more than enough reason to evacuate his room.

As for food, the memory alone of last night's meal brought him enough excitement to bolt over to the slightly ajar door. The hope for another taste of those divine fried apples bringing his scurry to a sprint across the hall to his brother's room. After dashing through his brother's partially opened door, he effortlessly hopped onto his bed, landing inches from Peter's face, excitedly shouting, "Peter!"

A scream and a clumsy tripping over his own blankets left Peter laying on the floor next to his bed, clutching his head, while Vince cradled his ears that had flattened themselves against his head. "Vince! What the hell? Why?" Peter shouted, groggily pushing himself off the ground. Once he saw Vince's watery eyes, however, his anger dulled to pitied frustration.

Loud, hurried footsteps dashed down the hallway, leading to their mom bursting into the room, asking "What happened? Are you okay?" between gasps. Her eyes darted from Vince to Peter, waiting for an answer from one of them. Once she noticed Vince's hurt expression, she immediately knelt down, began patting his head and cooing, "It's okay, I'm here. What happened? Did you hurt something?"

While Vince leaned into his mother's comforting hand, Peter began to explain. "He woke me up by jumping right next to my face and screaming."

After a final scratch, she pulled her hand to her eyes and chuckled. "And you screamed right back." After giving her temples a good rub, she looked down to Vince and asked, "Why'd you scare your brother? For fun?"

"He didn't scare me," Peter grumbled.

"I didn't mean to! I was just hungry and got… excited," Vince tried to explain, his mother's blank expression reminding him he couldn't be understood. After a moment of thought, he pointed at his stomach and repeated "Hungry."

"Hungry?" she asked, Vincent nodded in response. "I can fix that," she said, turning around and walking out of the room. "I'll go see what I can do for breakfast, then."

"I have an idea!" Vince exclaimed, dashing after his mother who didn't even look down to acknowledge him once he was right next to her. Realizing again he'd have to be more direct and obvious with his communications, he went ahead of her to the fridge and stood in front of it, pointing at it once she rounded the corner.

She slanted her brow. "Looks like you already know what you want." She opened the fridge as Vincent gleefully nodded. Soon as he could, he hopped onto it's second shelf, ignoring the cold and grabbing the plastic container that held his tasty treat. Before he could turn around and present it, however, he felt his mother grab him by the scruff and heard her scold, "No, Vince stop! Get out of there!" Panicked, he held the box as tight as he could as his mother dragged him out of the fridge. Once they were eye to eye, she saw what he held. She placed both him and his treat on the counter next to each other. "Apples again? Have you had anything else since yesterday?"

Rolling back onto his feet, he shook his head and tilted it in confusion. Why would that matter?

"Just because you can't eat meat doesn't mean you don't need to have a balanced diet," she explained as Peter rounded the corner. Vince deflated: all the morning's struggles had been for naught. "Don't pout," she laughed, "You can have some apples, but you need to eat something else with it."

"Really?!" he beamed, eyes wide with excitement. She laughed again, walking over to the pantry to find a better main course.

After looking for a moment, she knelt down. "Here, what do you think of this?" Vince hopped off the counter and looked for what she was talking about, Peter following behind to do the same. Before him stood a bright bag with "Pi-Chew!" branded across the top, alongside several happy pichu playing, eating, and sleeping. He could skim a few words like health, tasty, and play, but couldn't read words more complicated than that at a glance. He couldn't help but grimace at the idea of eating food so clearly for pets.

"Seems like a good idea, wanna taste it?" Peter asked.

"Not… really," he replied, scratching the back of his head as bashful sparks bounced off his cheeks.

Reading his body language, his mom offered some comfort. "I'm sure it tastes fine to you, don't worry."

Frustrated that he couldn't tell him his concern wasn't the food's flavor, he shrugged and nodded, hoping Chris could explain for him later. Peter opened the bag, pulled out a piece and placed it in Vince's waiting paws. It looked just like dog or cat food, smelled vaguely of nothing specific, and felt like powdery pumice. Putting his pride aside, he closed his eyes and popped it into his mouth.

His ears perked up and his eyes popped open as its flavor turned out rather pleasant. "You like it?" his mom asked. He embarrassedly nodded, cursing himself as sparks bounced off his cheeks once again. "No need to be ashamed," she consoled, "It's just food." Not quite content, he just shrugged. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to, we can find something else." Any other food sounded more appealing except for one aspect: preparation time. The Pi-Chew came ready to eat, tasted fine enough and would admittedly be the healthiest option. In the interest of eating those apples as soon as he could, he finally pointed to the bag. She pat his head and began examining the bag before pulling out a scoop. "Go get a bowl, Peter."

He mumbled drowsily in compliance, grabbing one from the cabinet and handing it to her. She pulled a scoop out of the bag and used it to pour a nice helping of Pi-Chew into the bowl. Vince sat down in front of it and began scooping handfuls into his mouth. Once there were only a few pieces left, he heard a plate clink down next to him, with a familiar, intoxicating aroma emanating from it. He instantly abandoned what was left in the bowl and gorged himself on the divine desert he so desired.

Despite being cold, the flavor remained just as divine. After he'd finished, he looked up to see both Peter and his mother looking down at him with amusement. Watching him. With his self-awareness returned, he realized he'd caked his paws and mouth in sticky syrup. He tried wiping his hands off on his bandages, but then noticed how dirty they already were.

"I… think you need a bath," his mother noted. Vince nodded his head, sniffing himself to confirm the worst, which prompted a chuckle from his brother. "Peter, give him a bath."

"What? Why?" the two brothers said in unison. "He can bathe himself," Peter said, followed shortly by an affirmative and insulted, "Chu!"

"At least help him get there, I don't want him tracking syrup along the floor." To prove a point, Vince tried taking a step forward on his hind-legs. Befitting of his luck the past two days, he tripped over the bowl, spilling what was left of its contents and leaving two sticky paw-prints on the ground. As much as he wanted to, he no longer had any argument against being carried as he felt Peter lift him by the scruff of his neck. His morale only worsened when his brother put him in the sink instead of the bathtub. At least he'd be bathing himself.

The process was rather simple, hardest part being manipulating the massive (to him) shampoo bottle without making a mess, and then trying to stop the bandages that fell off from clogging the drain. He'd have to ask Peter to re-wrap his wounds.

That weren't there. Every cut had completely healed. Even the deepest gash hadn't left so much as a scar. It looked like he'd never been hurt at all. Double, triple, even quadruple checking showed nothing but unblemished fur covering undamaged skin. He set the cloth to the side of the sink next to the shampoo and began lathering his sudsy form. How could all of that healed in just a day? All of that pain just vanished? After rinsing off the suds, he turned off the faucet of his sink-made-shower, got out and shook of as much water as he could. He'd pocket—well, he didn't have pockets, but—consider the fast healing later. Still dripping, he hopped to the floor and scampered out to the living room.

Seeing the sopping wet Vince and the trail of water behind him, his mom couldn't help but let out an exasperated, "Vince…," as she turned around and went into the kitchen. Towel in hand, she walked over to him, knelt down and began drying her son. "I know there are towels in the bathroom." He just avoided eye contact, glancing back at the trail of water behind him. "At least you smell better now," she said, putting him back down and moving on to the floor behind him.

As she knelt down to start cleaning, four knocks came from the door. Vince dashed over to the door, remembering that Chris said he would come over early in the morning last night. He excitedly pawed at the door until his mother opened it for him. "Chris!" he shouted, running out the moment the door had cracked open just enough.

"Hey, Vince!" Chris already sat on his haunches to greet his friend. After giving Vince's head a few rubs, he looked up. "Hello, Ms. Vandergrift. Mind if I come in?"

"Of course, always!" She left the door ajar and went back to cleaning. "Don't mind Vince's mess."

"Mom!" Vince whined, embarrassed sparks bouncing off his cheeks. Chris simply laughed and stepped inside, closing the door after Vince scuttled inside. "I thought I was dry enough, sorry," he mumbled, still more sparks falling.

"Evidently not," Chris chuckled, walking over to Vince's room. "Come on." Vince followed close behind, cheeks still burning from embarrassment. Once they were inside, Chris closed the door, walked over to the orb, and began to explain. "I have an idea."

"A silence tailored for talking
And a love with so much to say
Barefoot in Baltimore
Heel and toe with you"

Even despite the freezing weather and less than smooth ride of Chris's hood, Vince found himself in a deep sleep. Falling asleep had become quite easy as of late. Staying asleep as well. In fact, he'd become near immune to rousing once he'd curled up into a ball and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, this newfound talent came with the curse of painfully frequent drowsiness. At the very least, he always woke up refreshed.

Speaking of, a voice began to pierce his waning slumber. He couldn't make out the words, just the light tone, pitch, and subdued volume. It was a higher voice, than Chris's at least, much closer to Vince's own, which must have meant it was a girl (luckily, Vince was still too deep in the throes of sleep to take offense to his own deduction).

A girl? He perked an ear up to hear better, but only managed to determine he didn't recognize the voice at all. Great. Chris had made a friend. How fun. Vince decided he'd rather try going back to sleep. "Awww, his little ear went up."

Cursing his luck, he immediately flopped it back down, hoping they would just leave him be. "Yeah, he's been rustling around back there for a while, he must be waking up." Vince decided Chris desperately wanted a shock; that seemed the only logical conclusion. Feeling the hood shift, he opened his eyes too late to dodge the incoming hand that drug him out of safety. Still half-drowsy, he didn't quite manage the attack he wanted, but he shot enough sparks to get the point across. Chris's scolding face and finger proof enough of such. "No! Bad Vince! No shocking!"

The tone, simple sentences, patronizing, had his barely half-open eyes squint even more in anger. Vince clenched his teeth. "Well, you should've let me sleep." Yet, Chris's face and grip remained firm, leaving Vince no choice but to acquiesce. "Fine." That he spat the word while rolling his eyes made it clearly far from heartfelt, yet Chris didn't seem to mind.

Chris's face softened into a smile. "Good." He faced the girl apologetically. "He's grumpy when he wakes up." Shifting back to Vince, his eyes grew sickeningly sweet, as did his voice. "I've got a new friend I'd like you to meet!" As Chris knelt, Vince's expression went from angry to pleading, but Chris placed him on the floor facing her regardless. "Her name is Amber!"

A quick head swivel and Vince realized they were in a store. The toy section, it seemed. He decided not to speculate on the why of that. Amber had dropped to one knee, beaming a smile and waving. "Hey, buddy!"

Despite her nauseatingly friendliness—as if Vince were some kind of infant—a familiar nervousness burnt in his gut and he scrambled behind Chris's leg. His cover didn't last. The leg moved and even him forward, "Come on, she's nice! I promise." Vince turned his head to glare back at Chris only to see his friend wasn't even looking at him. "He's a little shy."

"That's all right." He reluctantly looked back at her to see that same exaggeration of a smile. "Don't worry little guy," she cautiously reached a hand forward to pet him, but he dodged back, eyes flaring with rage. Little guy? He wasn't—well, okay, he was, but that was besides the point entirely. Her hand flew back, and its twin followed up in surrender.

"Vince! Be nice!" That same scolding tone. Vince had already had far more than enough of it. He wasn't a child! A deft hand scratching the base of his neck, however, made quick work of his frustration. "He doesn't like being called little."

Amber chuckled while her eyes gleamed with understanding. She looked back down at Vince with that same bemused expression, a gentle hand approaching in a quest for chin scritches. Already suffering an attack from behind, the boy had nowhere to escape, forced to bask in the euphoria. "I'm sorry. You're not little. You're a big boy!"

Hardly in a position to respond, Vince could only lean into her hand more, managing only to coo, "Yeeeeah, I'm a big boy." Chris's hand disappeared and Vince turned to see it had retreated to suppress a chuckle. "What?" Vince pushed up onto his hindpaws, crossing his arms and pursing his lips in a mighty pout. "I am a big boy!"

Unable to stifle it any longer, Chris burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" Amber asked, looking somewhere between amused and worried for her life.

Chris froze. Vince was just about ready to blast him, but the blatant fear on his friend's face had him intrigued. "It's just, uh, seeing him try and be all serious like that, it always makes me laugh." Always? When had he ever done this? "C-Come on. Chin up, Vince." Looking down to pet him, Chris's eyes were pleading. "Sorry, I must have looked insane, just randomly laughing like that."

Then it clicked. It should've made sense sooner, but only now did Vince put all the pieces together. Amber couldn't know Chris was psychic, or that he could understand Vince. Chris just wanted him to act like a normal pichu and was treating him as such. Vince sighed. So much for being treated like a human. "Fine, but you owe me," he grumbled, turning back to Amber.

A quick pat to the head was the start of Chris's response. "Would a present cheer you up?" The deal was simply too good to refuse, Vince couldn't deny that.

Purely to play the part, Vince leapt at Chris's knee spouting gibberish that nearly approximated, "Yes, please." His ears flared up while his eyes rivaled his own head in size, tail wagging excitedly. For Chris's sake, of course. It was all part of the act. Vince was sure of that.

So sure, he hardly noticed Chris's hand once more stifling a laugh. "Okay!" Chris matched his performance in enthusiasm. Vince would've felt patronized if he hadn't his own assurance it was all part of an act. "Close your eyes, okay?" Chris reached a hand back towards a backpack Vince hadn't seen before. Vince nodded aggressively and threw his paws over his eyes (in pseudo enthusiasm, of course). His ears strained to hear the rustling of Chris taking the item out of the bag and the clicking as he placed it on the floor. "Okay, you can open them."

Vince didn't even need to, already dashing towards the item before he could see it. He only did once he was on top of it. A cacophony of dissonant tones blared when he fell over the tiny keyboard. Pushing himself up brought it down to a mere four notes before it became none when he finally stood up.

A keyboard! His eyes scanned it with a clinical gaze. Not large in range at all, only two and a half octaves, but that didn't matter. He likely couldn't have made use of much more, given his size. Gently, he pressed a note down, its tone tinny, soft, and artificial. Pressing it harder made the note louder, and Vince nearly jumped in surprise. Weighted keys? For a children's toy? How much did Chris pay for this?

He pressed a few other keys, experimenting with the range at his disposal. The higher he went, the tinnier the tone; the lower, the darker. The very lowest notes sounded more like some horn than a piano, but they were in tune at least. Amber and Chris were talking to each other, but that wasn't important. What could he play? Moonlight Sonata? No, with only his two paws, he couldn't even do the opening melody.

His paw rubbed his chin. It'd have to be simple, then, and no pedals, so he could only sustain a note by holding it down. Out of habit, his left paw went to C. The Black Keys could be fun, but sticking in C would be easier, at least to start.

After holding C, he let the notes fall in a simple rhythm before returning to the original C. Repeating this was pleasant, sure, but boring. This was the lower register, so he needed it to bounce at least a little. Not really low enough to be a bassline, but it'd have to do. Keeping the same rhythm, he alternated between skipping down, up, down, up, falling one note short of C, descending one more until finally returning to the start.

He repeated this a few times until it was solid enough in his memory that he could even play around with the rhythm a bit. A shorter note here, a pickup there, just keeping it fresh. For fun, he played it with his eyes closed without any trouble.

Once that was no trouble at all, he started with his right paw. Again, he started simple with just a scale up and then down, but with the rhythm as it was, it took two cycles of the bassline to complete even that. Boring. The very highest note on the board was a G, he could use that. Instead of starting on the higher C, he started at the highest G. It was tinny, sure, but he couldn't fix that.

He dropped down the octave and climbed to the tonic just in time to fall one note down, waiting for the bassline to return to tonic so he could return to the dominant. Again, he cycled through the pattern of his own making until he could play it with his eyes closed. Experimented with rhythm. Even slid up and down the scale instead of jumping over intervals here and there, but the keyboard didn't make that easy.

This was fun! He could do it for days! Even the tiniest alteration in the melody revived his interest. Although, there was only so much he could think of on the fly. He stopped playing, letting his right hand rest on his left arm to hold up his chin. Applause from behind had his cheeks sputtering sparks in surprise and embarrassment. He'd completely forgotten they were there.

"That was incredible!" Amber had completely lost that stevia sweetness, replaced by pure cane bewilderment. Vince turned around, scratching the back of his neck embarrassedly to see she wasn't even talking to him. "You knew he could do that? How? Did you teach him?"

Chris's face matched her own surprise, with a splash of intrigue, eyes lingering on Vince even when he faced Amber. "I'm just as surprised as you are. I just got that on a whim, didn't think he'd just go off with it like that." His voice was just as baffled as hers. Why? He knew Vince could play the piano, and Vince didn't think what he'd played was that complex. Any child probably could've done the same.

Amber was right in front of him now. "That was so cool!" She was patting his head before he could fight back (not that he would have). "I didn't think a pokémon could play like that! Good job! You're a really talented litt-er-pichu!" Right, the pokémon thing. He would've blushed if he wasn't busy leaning into her pets. They were just so nice. Her hands were soft, warm—reminding him how cold the store was—he could hardly conceive of any sensation being better. He loved it.

"Thank you," he purred. Unfortunately, the pets didn't last forever, and her hand disappeared. He almost frowned at the loss, but he was too happy at the moment to let it get him down. How else could he play with the melody? A key change? No, that'd probably be more trouble than it was worth. Oh, but alternating to the relative minor would be no trouble. He could even keep the bassline the same to add to the feel, maybe play with a secondary dominant.

Chris was rubbing his head. This felt nice, but it was distracting. Vince reluctantly pushed the hand away, looking up with a bright smile. Chris's left hand retreated, revealing his right was behind his back. "Still cold?" Vince tilted his head but nodded. He could at least bear the store's temperature, but he much preferred Chris's hood. "Well, the keyboard isn't all I got for you."

Before Vince could even ask what it was, Chris held out a hoodie. Vince yanked it out of his hand, "Thank you!" and tried to put it on. He got the base over his head, poked his hands into the sleeves, but couldn't get more than his ears through the neck. After some struggling, an extra tug to the front pulled it over his head and toppled him forward into the hand that helped. "Er, thanks."

He pushed himself back up, the hand helping him a touch, scratching him beneath the chin and then retreating. "Sorry about that," Amber said. Vince just tilted his head down to acknowledge her, looking the hoodie over. Despite the neck being a struggle, it fit him near perfectly. The arms were only a little too long, a flap of extra material covering his paws. "You two are so cute! It's blue like yours. You match."

Vince glanced between their hoodies, a little perplexed. Chris responded, but he didn't hear. Chris's hoodie was much darker, how were they the same—right, color. Vince shrugged, chuckling despite himself. That he'd nearly so quickly forgotten what colors were was definitely alarming, but he didn't feel particularly worried.

Playing the piano, he'd felt more like himself than he had in days. Even a bit better, admittedly. Losing himself in music, it felt so far from being an animal that a lapse in memory barely bothered him. Plus, he had clothes now! No more shameful nudity (even though he hadn't been ashamed of it much at all after the initial shock). The hoodie felt like a symbol of his humanity, a reminder he wasn't just some feral. He was still human. He was still himself.

His hood found its way over his head, pulled up and down over his eyes while a hand at his chest held him up. He didn't need to look to know it was Chris, about to toss a playful shock his way when the hands retreated just in time. He tossed his head back, trying to get the hood off to no avail. He pulled at it, but it only tugged back at his ears. They'd found their way into earholes, it seemed.

"That should help keep you warm," Chris explained. "There's still some stuff she needs to pick up, so we're heading out."

"We're leaving?" Vince looked mournfully back at the keyboard Chris was already picking up.

Chris pet at his head. "Don't worry, you can play more when we get home." Without any real choice, it'd have to be good enough, so Vince nodded. He looked around to find the exit, but Chris hoisted him up. "You can't walk out of the store. It's too dangerous. You'll have to ride, okay?" He laid Vince on his head and pulled his own hoodie just over him.

Again, Vince had no real choice, so he just went with it. At least it was warm. The dangerous comment, though, had him curious. The very beginning of his question was answered within a few steps by a car smashed halfway through the storefront window.

His breath hitched. Was the driver okay? What happened? He at least didn't see anyone in it. Chris scratched at his fur. "Don't worry, it's okay." Vince nodded, but shrunk into Chris's hood a bit.

Amber had already crawled over the hood of the car and watched them. "He all right? What's wrong?"

One hand holding Vince in place, Chris followed after her. "He's really empathetic." Vince couldn't take his eyes off the scene. As much as he wanted to curl into Chris's hood and shut out the world, he couldn't. Several other buildings had cars embedded in them, the smaller stores crumpling on top of them. It took Chris's steady hand for Vince to realize he was shaking. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

Amber had gone ahead to pull a struggling geodude out of a pile of rubble. To express its thanks, it darted away from her the second it was free. She hardly seemed bothered. Despite the destroyed landscape around them, quite a few pokémon were strolling about the town. An oddish poked at a broken-down car's tires, an aipom looked aghast at a towering building: nearby wildlife taking a peek at the deserted city.

They all watched Chris and Amber carefully, the smaller fleeing on sight. Vince sighed in relief they all avoided them. Many were harmless, but a hungry looking meowstic made him more than a bit nervous. Luckily, the two humans deterred it from going for the easy meal.

Vince didn't like thinking of himself like that.

Despite the wreckage, the scene was peaceful. The lightly overcast sky brought a subtle grey to the various pokémon meandering around the city, making them all seem cohesive despite their drastically different shapes, color, and sizes. The muted tones made the immense carnage placid, each pokémon's unique chirp, chip, and bark bringing a relaxing soundscape.

A storm of rocks blasted against a store's stone wall. Vince had to clutch onto Chris as he spun around to watch a bloodied and bruised lizard with a violently burning tail fleeing and wincing at all the rocks pelting him in the back of the head. Close on the charmander's heels flew an aerodactyl several times its size. It spewed rocks to the charmander's left and right, the threat of another attack landing forcing him up against a wall.

The aerodactyl swooped down, trapping him with its wings. His tail's flame had shrunk down to barely an ember. He stared up in horror at the beast and shivered. The aerodactyl didn't even react to his pitiful excuse of sputtering out a flame. He whimpered and cowered away as the aerodactyl's jaws bore down.

A rock smacked against its face and its gaze shot to Amber. Vince and Chris both stared at her wide eyed while she stood firm. "Leave him alone!" She held up a ball Vince immediately recognized as a pokéball. "Unless you were looking for a fight!" It snarled at her, but the pokéball held its gaze. It eyed her, and she matched his gaze. Not faltering for a second. Even the wind had grown silent as they stared each other down.

Finally, it spat a rock towards her before turning away and flying off, being sure to toss the charmander to the ground in its take off. "What is wrong with you?" Vince and Chris shouted in unison.

She just sighed in relief. "I can't believe it fell for that bluff." Vince screamed his disbelief that she'd risked their lives on a bluff, but she was already walking over to the wounded charmander. Vince was perfectly content staying as far away from that reptile as possible, but Chris decided to follow Amber.

The charmander tried to stand but putting weight on its right leg had it toppling over. Even still, the moment it saw Chris and Amber's approach, it started frantically clawing away. They both stopped, Chris sudden enough that Vince shifted forward a bit. Good, Vince wouldn't have to get an inch closer to that predator.

He let out a sigh of relief, idly watching Amber digging through her bag. Her eyes lit up and she held a spray bottle up to him. "Here, go give this to him. Tell him we're safe."

"What? No!" He pulled back into Chris's hood, only to find his cover disappear. Before he could even ask why, Chris lowered him to the ground. The bottle was already in front of him. He turned to face both of their expectant gazes. "It'll eat me!" He looked up to Chris, hoping for an ounce of sympathy but got nothing.

"You'll be fine," Amber cooed, scratching beneath his chin. It felt nice. Too nice. He had to resist, couldn't give in. His life was on the line! "He's so hurt. We can't just leave him like that." Vince wanted to argue that they very much could do exactly that but found himself unable to give any input besides cooing at the scritches.

"Put yourself in his shoes." Oh great, now Chris was in on it, too. "Show some humanity." If it weren't for Amber's relaxing hold, he would have sneered at Chris. Of course he'd go there. Sure, a human probably wouldn't be afraid of the charmander, but a human wasn't at serious risk of being eaten by it.

Amber's touch finally left him, replaced by her pleading face. "Please? I promise if he tries to hurt you, we'll scare him off, all right?" This was stupid. He'd just met her against his own will, and now here she was asking him to go talk to a fire-breathing lizard that was probably desperate for a bite to eat.

The charmander was crying. Vince watched as he huddled against a wall, wincing sporadically at whichever wound decided to burst in pain. He knew it was a predator. He'd even been chased by one before, at least in a dream. Yet, the potion made its way into his paws.

His heart raced. One step forward and he'd just run a marathon. Every little shuffle forward horrified him. The charmander looked at him. He was so desperate, hurt, and hopeless, but Vince could only imagine those teeth tearing into his throat. Don't think about it. Forward. Forward. His breath was a mix of gasps and wheezes. So close to a fire type, it probably affected the oxygen levels. He just had to not pay attention to the fact that he was close enough at this point that the charmander didn't need its legs to grab him.

The charmander let out a few low, comforting churs. Vince could almost make out their meanings, but just barely. It almost sounded like, "Safe," but it was both a statement and a question. No, he'd said it twice? Vince noticed he was staring at the bottle.

"Y-yes." Vince nodded his head putting the bottle down to point at it. "It's safe. It will heal you." The charmander tilted his head, letting out several churs that were some semblance of confusion and disbelief. Mostly guessing, he held up the bottle. "Here, can I show you?" After some deliberation, he nodded.

Talking like this, even though he could barely understand the charmander, put Vince a little bit at ease. The image of it tearing him limb from limb for easy consumption felt that much further away.

Now, Vince just had to figure out how to manipulate this bottle the size of his torso properly. He put it on the ground facing the charmander's leg and wrapped his arms around it, squeezing what he could out. The spray sputtered out and a moment later, the charmander sighed in relief.

His scaly paw rubbed Vince's head, making him squeak in surprise, and he pulled the bottle out of Vince's grip. Briefly reminded of his threatened mortality, it took Vince a moment to realize that a wild pokémon had just pet him. He could feel Chris laughing at him, even if he couldn't hear it.

The charmander turned the bottle over in his paws a few times before finding the right grip (one paw holding it, the other on the trigger) and spraying it all over himself. All but the worst wounds and bruises closed up, fading completely. He stood up cautiously, carefully putting weight on his paw to make sure it could hold him. Once it could, he smiled at Vince with a happy chur. "Thanks!"

Vince was about to respond before he sprayed him in the face with the very last bit of the bottle. Falling back in surprise, Vince tried to rub the substance away on instinct while the charmander chortled in amusement. It said something in its laughter that Vince could very easily make out, as much as he didn't want to. A compliment. "Cute." And, of course, it came with a rub to his head.

"Th-thanks." Vince stood up, trying to shake off the paw so he could turn towards Chris and Amber. He pointed at them. "They're not gonna hurt you. She gave me the-erm-that to help you. Okay?" The charmander nodded, keeping his smile and waving at them.

Amber quickly came over, enough to make Vince nervous, but the charmander stood his ground, unphased. She had a bag in her hand and pulled a strip of meat out of it. Vince grimaced, but the charmander tittered eagerly and took a few steps towards her. By the time she'd knelt down, he'd already hopped up to grab it with his claws, gnawing on it contentedly. "Like jerky, little guy?"

He paused his gnawing for a moment, mouth twisting down and snarling, "Not little." Nevertheless, he continued chewing on the dried meat.

"Looks like he and Vince share a sore spot," Chris chuckled. Vince didn't spare a moment before scurrying up his friend. Sure, the charmander was nice, and he knew he wasn't at risk of becoming food, but he was even less at risk of that on Chris's shoulder.

"The 'little' thing again?" Amber mumbled with one hand scratching beneath the charmander's chin. "You really have a knack for understanding pokémon." She looked up at Chris. "What's that about?"

Chris just shrugged, making Vince decide to move to his head. "Honestly, I'm just guessing."

Amber raised a brow but turned her attention back to petting the charmander. He'd just swallowed the last bit of jerky and started eyeing the bag. Vince glanced at it, too, trying to read what he could. "Spicy," something, something else, "tamato flavored jerky." He blinked at it a few times, trying to figure out which was more likely: that they'd misspelled tomato or products from the pokémon world had made their way over as well.

She pulled out another two strips and handed them over to his eagerly awaiting paws. He seemed slower this time, as if savoring the flavor. Vince looked away to keep from gagging. "Good boy," Amber cooed, offering him more pets as he ate. Once he finished those off, she stood up and glanced around the town. "Thanks for the help, but didn't you say someone was waiting for you?" She smiled down at the charmander. "I think I'll be safe enough with Owen here to protect me. Isn't that right, big guy?" The charmander nodded, baring his chest proudly.

Chris chuckled a bit. "If you're sure, but 'Owen'? Seems like a weird name for a charmander."

Amber raised her brow amusedly, glancing up at Vince a few times in a wordless retort, and shrugged. "It's what I named my charmander since it was my first pokémon." Seeing Chris's confused expression, she blushed. "One, oh-one, Owen. C'mon, I was a kid and I thought it was clever."

"Owen" proudly bellowed in her defense. Chris smirked, but left it at that. "If you're sure, yeah. We've been out a bit longer than we promised." He brought his hood back over Vince. "That sound all right, buddy?" Vince nodded a bit too eagerly. Owen might be nice, but a predator was a predator, and it made his fur stand on end.

Seeing this, Owen deflated a bit, but waved at Vince with a smile. Great. Now, Vince felt guilty and terrified. Forcing himself to smile, he reciprocated the wave. "Nice meeting you!" It wasn't entirely a lie. Before all this, he probably would've given his life to meet a charmander.

"You, too!" Owen churred, walking off with Amber.

Chris turned around, heading presumably back home. Once they'd walked a good distance, he glanced back. "Man, what a looker, right?" Vince tilted his head, looking down to do his best to look at Chris's face from atop his head. Chris looked up at him, equally confused apparently. "Amber." Vince's eyes stayed blank. "Vince," he shook his head in disbelief, "she was hot, right?"

For a moment, Vince wondered if he'd confused Amber with Owen (the latter much more likely to be considered hot) before it hit him, and his cheeks erupted in embarrassment. "I, uh," surprisingly, he didn't feel any pain from the shocks, and Chris didn't react either. "I didn't notice." He thought back to how she looked, what she was wearing, but really, she just looked like a human. Tall, imposing, at least she was nice?

"Right, right, of course," Chris chuckled, "I'm sure you'd prefer her a bit more yellow."

His cheeks spewed sparks again, and he tried to bury them in his paws. Again, somehow, he didn't shock himself or Chris at all, but he was much too engrossed in his own embarrassment to notice. If the transformation had changed what he liked to eat, what else had it changed? On one paw, he would certainly like another chu to run around and play with. On the other…

He really didn't want to think about it.

Thankfully, Chris obliged. "So, you could understand Owen?"

Vince sighed in relief. "Sort of. I could get the, er, I mostly knew what he meant, but it was vague." He thought back, remembering the various chars, churs, and manders. "It got easier towards the end, but still not that great."

Chris hummed thoughtfully. "He seemed to understand you, though. And us, with how he reacted to Amber."

"Maybe pokémon can just do that?" Vince was curious himself. "I guess I'm just not used to it, though." He twisted his mouth into a bit of a frown. Stuck as a pokémon and he barely gets to understand them.

"I have a bit of a theory." Chris poked a finger into Vince's hood to scratch at the nape of his neck. "Remember when you were playing the keyboard?" Being less than a few minutes ago, of course he did, so rather than nod, Vince just stared down in confusion. "Well, before that," Chris dropped his hand to scratch his own neck, "your thoughts were a bit different."

That didn't sound good. "I couldn't quite place how or why when I first picked you up, or even on the walk over. They were a bit faster, more energetic, but they still sounded like you. After you fell asleep and woke up, though," Chris hesitated, worrying Vince enough to shrink back into his hood. "Some of it wasn't even English."

The words hit like bricks. Barely a day and he'd already degraded that much? How long until he was just— "Hey," Chris squeezed his hand, "let me finish before you go assuming the worst." Vince whined, but didn't have it in him to argue further. "Once you started playing," Chris snapped, "you sounded more like yourself than when I woke up yesterday."

Vince took a minute to process the news. When it came to bad news, he could take it and run, but good? That took some effort to itemize. "And now?"

"About the same." Chris tousled Vince's headfur. "That's what I wanted to say about understanding Owen. It might've been so hard because your thoughts are just too human."

Too human. It should've been a relief to hear, but he just couldn't believe it. It was too convenient. It didn't make any sense. Playing music flipping the human switch in his head? The human-turned-pichu via rock connected to a wall outlet deemed that simply impossible.

He shook his head and took a deep breath, doing his best to process the information. With the breath came… a scent. Ever since his transformation, he'd been barraged by scents, too many to even begin to process, but this one he recognized immediately. He had no idea what it was but knew what it was in an instant.

His fur bristled, and his nose sniffed at the air, shrugging off Chris's hood. A few more sniffs and he determined the direction. Chris shouted something after him as he scurried off, but he didn't care.

Excitement not his own shot his paws across the pavement. The scent grew stronger with a gust of wind, and he ran even faster. Then, he heard a voice as unrecognizable and familiar as the scent. Pavement gave way to grass and the sight of a pikachu gave his unconscious emotions a voice. "Daddy!" His father was—he leapt into the pikachu's arms, "Daddy! I missed you!"

"Short Circuit! I found you!" In all these years, he'd barely managed a synonym of father. Broaching even the topic put him on edge. He couldn't talk about it. And now, his voice was shouting it at some pikachu.

Said pikachu broke the embrace, putting Vince behind him. "Stay back." Vince peeked around to see Chris running towards them. Static filled the air with a low, growling, "Piii," to stop Chris in his tracks.

Vince needed to tell the pikachu Chris was safe, that they were friends, but he couldn't move. A burning coal weighed down his gut. He couldn't speak. He could only shiver.

Chris held up his arms, speaking softly to try and calm down the pikachu. It almost worked, but the moment he took a step forward, a resounding, "Ka-chu!" preceded a blast of electricity between them. Chris didn't flinch but stood absolutely still.

He only had one hand forward. His left. He kept his right behind him. An ear-ringing silence filled air thick enough a knife could cut it. The Earth itself seemed to stand still. Chris took one step back, bringing the slightest relief to the tension.

The pikachu eyed him for an eternity, judging even the slightest tremor. Turning halfway around, he looked at Vince. "Are you oka—" a ball bounced off the back of his head before a beam of light ripped him away.

"Dad!" Vince heard himself scream. He ran to the ball, catching it before it even hit the ground. It wobbled once. Twice. Three times, and it clicked with a jingle. He could only stare at the two vertical lines connected by one horizontal on top of the sphere.

For just a few moments, he'd felt the embrace of his—it wasn't his dad. But that hug was the closest he'd come in years. Now, its warmth was a burning coal in his stomach. He cradled the ball softly, as if the slightest touch could shatter it. He felt a hand on his back. "Vince, what's wrong?"

The question barely registered. He couldn't think. "My dad," tears welled up in his vacant eyes. "Where's my dad?" Sobs wracked his body as he held the ball tight, shaking violently with each new torrent of tears. Years of grief locked away burst forth and he could only curl up and let the waves drown him.

He had no idea how long he'd cried. Every agonizing second melded into the next, searing loss burning just as hot no matter how many tears he drenched it in. He didn't even notice Chris had begun to cradle him until his eyes ran out of tears and he was left shaking with empty weeps. It hurt. It hurt more than any wound ever could. It hurt more than he could bear, and there was nothing he could do.

At some point, his vision returned, and he could see Chris looking down on him with a comforting, worried gaze. Chris spoke, but it took Vince a while to hear him. "What's wrong?" Vince just stared back down at the ball. Even in greyscale, he could recognize the ultraball. "You said that was your dad?"

A knife in his heart. He shook his head. "Not, I," he clenched his teeth at another slurry of sobs. Chris held him tighter as the wave washed over him. Vince sobbed until his eyes were a vacant stare. "Not mine." The storm of emotions and memories raged, but he could gradually decipher them. "Did I ever tell you about Short Circuit?" His voice was a whisper.

Chris gave another comforting squeeze. "I don't think you did. Who's that?"

Vince's breath shook. Every inhale, exhale, he struggled to keep steady. "He's a pichu. Sometimes when I sleep, I can hear him. He talks like my instincts."

Chris pulled back Vince's hood, the cloth tugging at his ears ever so slightly, and ran a hand along the boy's head. "What d'you mean by that? Talks like your instincts?"

Vince leaned into the touch. He didn't have energy to resist the petting. "Well, I have impulses, feelings, wants and stuff that aren't," he curled up a bit, squeezing the words out of himself, "aren't human thoughts. One time, when I was sleeping, he talked about those like he was saying them." His eyes fell on the ultraball. "He called me Short Circuit. I—when I was," light sobs speckled his speech again, "I couldn't control myself. I wasn't me, I—"

"Vince," Chris said, lightly shaking him. "You're still you." Vince blinked, a light gasp before silence as the words sunk in. It felt too easy to accept. Yet, while his friend lightly rocked him, while he felt the ball in his paws, the thought comforted him too much to deny. Despite everything else, he was still human.