Houndoom

Houndoom sniffed around; the sharp odor of disinfectant cleaners threatened to overwhelm his nose. Even the humans sitting or pacing around the room smelled overly clean. Although he didn't like it, he knew it was for the best. Hospitals were supposed to be very clean. Over the days, he had learned to ignore it.

Today, there was a scent that tugged at his heart. A boy smell, one of muddy puddles and crushed grass. It belonged to a pair of shoes, which were worn by a preteen boy sitting on one of the chairs in this waiting room. Slumped into a defensive heap, he emitted a scent of being deeply worried and upset, but also being irritated with the others who were waiting with him. There was a sense that he might cry, but not around those around him.

Feeling sympathy for the boy, Houndoom walked over quietly and nosed his hand. The hand jerked away in surprise, but on seeing that it was a Pokemon, the boy half-smiled and scratched Houndoom's head. The canine Pokemon gave him a warm look, suggesting that he knew how he felt and was here to give him some company.

"You oughtn't get too friendly with that one," an old woman sitting next to the boy said. Her voice was cold and strict. "That one is the servant of death."

The boy tensed up; it seemed this woman was the reason he was being defensive. "That's just an old fairy tale, granny," he countered, but without much enthusiasm for argument. "It's just a Pokemon."

"They aren't as innocent as you kids think they are," she went on. "The howl of a Houndoom is a prelude to someone's death. It is proven in the devilish shape of its horns and the bones which grow out of its skin. It shouldn't be in a hospital; shoo, you creature of darkness."

Houndoom whined softly, then looked to the boy. Yes, his bone white horns coiled around to give him a fierce look and he had bone plates growing along his back. But his looks didn't matter. Many people who knew better said that about him.

"Oh, this one's not so bad," a nurse said, pausing to pat Houndoom's back. "He's sweet in nature and very well-behaved. He likes to visit patients and visitors, to cheer them up."

"That doesn't change the fact that he's an evil creature from the start," the old woman responded, not in a mood to hear any reasonable explanation.

Ignoring her, the boy asked, "What's he doing here?"

"It's a sad story," she replied, "but his Trainer got into an accident and died here a few weeks ago. The family released all of his Pokemon, but this one found his way back here and has been hanging around the hospital ever since. We're not sure if he's waiting for his Trainer to return or what, but as he's done no harm, we see no reason to kick him out."

"You'll have more dead patients for it," the old woman grumbled.

"Please don't hurt or tease him," the nurse asked as one last effort to get some respect for the Pokemon. "We have a fair number of Pokemon on staff, and he's become like one of them."

"So he's a good Pokemon," the boy said.

Deciding to pretend he wasn't there, the old woman picked up a magazine from the table and leafed through it. Houndoom let the boy pet him for a little while longer, then curled up by his feet to nap. As much as he wanted to pay attention to the patients and visitors, he knew that he had to keep his strength reserved for the nights.

Shortly before night fell, Houndoom got up. The boy and his family were gone. It was uncertain if their loved one had been moved out of the emergency room or if they were just gone for the night. Hoping for the best for them, Houndoom left the waiting area and went to the staff quarters.

Upon his return to the hospital, one of the Chansey that assisted the nurses showed him where the staff kitchen was. It was as clean as the rest of the building. The few cooks were in charge of patient and Pokemon meals. As he came in the same time every evening, the one he knew best was called Charlotte. Tonight, she was dressed in her scrub top that had various Jolly Roger flags printed all over it, along with skull and crossbones earrings.

She noticed him come in despite how quietly he walked. "Oh, hello dear Houndoom! Are you ready for some food?"

He looked up at her with glad eyes and a wagging tail.

Chuckling, Charlotte patted his head, then turned to get a bowl. "You're such a quiet Pokemon, dear, I wouldn't have guessed. Most people say that the canines are loud with their barks and yips, but you don't ever raise your voice. Here you go." She took the bowl over to an out of the way hall and placed it down for him. "Some stewed beef and gravy tonight. You've got to keep your strength up for fighting off all those creepy-crawlies and ghostie-woasties that might be hidden from human eyes." She patted him, then went back to her work singing.

An odd one, but a good cook. Houndoom ate his meal, then thanked her by offering a paw for a shake. His Trainer had taught him how to do that. Although she cheerfully did so (after taking off her kitchen gloves), Charlotte had no idea how right she was.

Strange things came out at night that most humans didn't notice. The obvious ones were the Ghost and Dark Pokemon, which used the darkness of night to play mischief. Beyond them, there were some creatures that could do a lot of harm. True ghosts, which sought to pull the living into their realm, were just one threat. There were spirits out there that were attracted to the pain and sorrow that every hospital had; these ones would seek to make things worse to satisfy their evil desires.

While the other Pokemon might notice these things, Houndoom knew that he would notice them first. His affinity with darkness allowed him to know such things, like the difference between a prankster Gastly and a truly menacing spirit. Every night, he went through the halls of the hospital, carefully looking for hidden signs before the spirits could grow into terrible problems. And there was one sign that he was expecting to see.

As he thought, that sign came.

It was past midnight and Houndoom was examining the emergency care area. At one moment, everything seemed fine. In the next moment, he caught the scent of death. It was a smell that crushed one's heart and made one feel like everything, not just one soul, was lost. And it wasn't something most beings, Pokemon or not, could sense. Despite how queasy and upset it made him feel, Houndoom followed the scent to a portal.

It was something even he could barely see, a swirling mass right up against the wall. The first time he had seen it had been when his Trainer had been here, on the brink of death. Ever since, he found it from time to time. Houndoom glanced around the hall. There was a Chansey waiting by a doorway. Once she went inside the room, Houndoom went inside the portal.

After several trips inside, the transfer didn't bother him anymore. On the other side, there was a hallway similar to the hospital's hallway. It had white floors, white walls, and clean hospital equipment. But there was also a dark violet mist that, while being fine enough to see through clearly, dimmed the lights into something eerie and unsettling. There was also a background noise of moans and cries, as if the patients' pain were being amplified. And in that strange hallway, he met with Death.

It was a strange creature. Almost human, but no human could possibly live as it was. Standing over six feet tall, its true appearance was hidden by a shabby black cloak. It had no feet and its face was hidden in shadows, but a bony chin showed, as well as skeletal hands that came out of its sleeves. And by Death's side, there was another Houndoom: same short black fur, same lean muscular form, same curling horns, same bony plates. Houndoom and his peer at Death's side could have been brothers.

Death's partner growled, recalling past battles the two Houndooms had fought. The living Pokemon braced himself, expecting another tough battle. Before it could start, the Death creature held up his hand to stop both of them. It turned partly to the left and beckoned something to come forward. A white light came out, then turned into one of the ghosts that Houndoom had been keeping away.

But this one was a young teenaged boy. He had ebony black hair and oak brown eyes. Wearing worn travel clothes, he looked like any other young traveling Trainer. But seeing him made Houndoom raise his ears and wag his tail. It was his Trainer; he even had that scent of dirt and grass that always clung to him even after spending days in a city.

"Houndoom," he called out, in a mix of joy and sadness. "You can't beat Death. You just can't."

Houndoom whined in worry. He should have been able to save his Trainer from anything. But that couldn't happen. Since then, he had been trying to save someone from the thing that took his Trainer away. He hadn't saved any of them. He came up to the ghost of his Trainer; the boy dropped down on his knees and hugged him.

"Can you still protect that hospital?" he asked as he let go, trying to hide his tears. "That's good of you. Can you do that for me?"

The one he wanted to protect was this one, his Trainer. But that couldn't be. The hospital, though… Houndoom brought his paw up for a shake, showing his agreement.

"Good." The ghost boy held onto the paw in one hand and patted it with his other. "You're a good Pokemon."

...

D/P Houndoom entry: Long ago, people imagined its eerie howls to be the call of the grim reaper.

Written for Halloween. It won an award in Serebii's fanfiction area, Most Heartwarming Fic. I love it when I can make my readers feel the things I imagine.