Five days had passed since that fateful encounter. He had seen the days go by in a literal sense, as she crossed out each numbered box upon a small sheet that hung upon the walls of his new home. Each sunrise led to yet another red-coloured cross upon another box to the right of the box crossed before. Five boxes had been crossed so far, and it seemed apt to conclude some form of correlation with the two events.
It didn't matter that much though, for truth be told, he had not found himself suffering in the slightest, contrary to his fears. In fact, life couldn't get any better. He was now the proud owner of a great new treasure. It was a pink coloured piece of enamelware with a crater shaped hole in the middle with the letters "P-r-e-c-i-o-u-s" scrawled upon its side like a last minute addition upon an otherwise perfect piece of symmetry. "Puh-reh-cious", his new owner had pronounced it, whenever she would call him over fill the bowl with strange looking (but admittedly delicious) brown foods, or whenever she would release him from that strange red and white sphere to introduce him to her friends, smiling as though he was her best friend.
Still, he wasn't too familiar with the alphabets of the Unown Script, his only experience with them from a few lessons held in the forest by a big, orange skinned and white bellied Pokemon that possessed a long stringy tail that ended with a yellow lightning bolt that visited on occasion. Calling herself a "Raichu", she had brought with her a board and chalk, and with those strange tools she had shown them the wonders of the Unown Script, the alphabets of which brought substance and physical form to the sounds he and his fellows made each day. His sister loved those talks and lessons, and by that extension that love rubbed off on him as well, as they took the time to learn to sing the "Song of the Unowns". He didn't have the most musically attuned mandibles nor did she, but they had fun, and perhaps that was the joy of learning, just like how he made it a point to discover something new each daybreak when he scrounged the forest floor for leaves to eat. It was something that gave meaning to life, a reason other than mere sustenance to exist for one day more. Knowledge didn't nourish physically, but it did feel good on a level beyond physical needs.
Intrigued he was about the humans, especially so after meeting one who purportedly lived among them. The Raichu had made no qualms of sharing stories of her home, juxtaposition against the tales of dread held amongst the more senior denizens of the forest. According to her, the humans had bent those alphabets to their will, making it into their way of speaking and correspondence. Through that, she further explained, they went on to greater ambitions, developing the means to build their forests of concrete and steel that were her home, bending the world itself to their will. Not that it was bad thing, she had said reassuringly to him then as though sensing through his quivering carapace his fear of a human-dominated world. They, as Pokémon, had built the world alongside mankind, and held a place as partners and friends of the humans, loved and cherished as equals.
Now, if only he had taken the time to ask that Raichu more about life in the concrete forests, considering that was to be his existence for the foreseeable future. Alas, he was but a simple Wurmple with simpler desires, and thinking for the unexpected future was never part of his priorities. Still, he held out the hope that he would meet that Raichu again. Say hello and all that good stuff. Perhaps then she could tell him more, especially more about her favourite word, "Rocket".
Not that he resented this life in the slightest. Truthfully, no longer having to scrounge for food and worry about the terrors from above was a luxury unlike any other he had ever known. Plus, his new owner, who called herself "Ah-yah-seh" (which he learned later to be Ayase in the Unown Script from a paper she had been writing on), further substantiated based on how she had introduced herself in between an overly enthusiastic hug that radiated both love while simultaneously bringing suffocation, had his every need catered to. From affairs as simple as sustenance to tender cuddles in her arms as well as a nice, comfortable spot on her shoulder as she traversed the forests of steel and concrete, it seemed life had become a paradise. On his part, he did his best not to shed any dust on her, or her things. Especially not the large white slab framed in wood that she lay upon every night. She seemed to really enjoy sleeping on that thing. He understood why, for its softness was indeed unlike any other
That said, his new home was rather small, as compared to the forest floor he once traversed freely at his own peril. Even so, it was still really nice despite the size. He would spend minutes marvelling at massive shelf of wood that held all manner of Ayase's things, the lower row home to books of all unfathomable content while the upper rows held all manner of strange curios and fancy baubles. That or he found wonder in spending the hours beside Ayase, admiring her quietly as she sat by her desk reading and writing all sorts of unknown words based on the Unown Script, on either pieces of paper or forming those words on that strange, foldable machine of metal through a rapid succession of fingers tapping on its buttons that made alphabets turn into words upon its glowing display. Occasionally she would pull something out from the lower shelf, and read it intently. In all those occasions, he tried his best to understand, but the words thrown about were too cryptic and rapid for his mind.
Still, he enjoyed being by her side, as did she, for she would nuzzle his mandibles lovingly with her soft, slender fingers in between bouts of studious work. Supposedly humans were fond of random acts of affection. It was all so perfect that he found his only concern to be that of a case of mistaken identity, for Ayase seemed to think him a girl. That seemed the only plausible explanation for all the pink stuff she had gotten for him. Not that he didn't appreciate the thought and value of his new things, but he knew that he'd very much prefer them to be of some other colour. Red maybe, much like his spiny carapace. There ought to be some way to let her know, he reckoned.
He wondered if all humans were like Ayase. Loud and loving. Perhaps there were more like her, and others unlike her. One thing was for sure from the others of her kind he had seen though- they didn't appear to possess a more or less uniform appearance like how each Lotad by the lake looked more or less the same. Perhaps there were many variations of human, just like that bug Pokémon the Raichu had told him of that had up to twenty variations of wing patterns amongst its kind. Either way, it perplexed him so.
At times, in between watching Ayase go about her day, his thoughts would wander back to his sister. Much to his dismay, his presumption that the black-haired human (whose name was Tasha, according to none other than his sister) were siblings was just that. Well, they were at least neighbours, for the latter lived in another concrete abode of her own, right beside Ayase's. Ironically though, his sister (now named "Beauty", a name she seemed to be extremely proud of) took to her new circumstances surprisingly well. It all seemed to her like a never-ending all-you-can-eat buffet, with joy-rides for days like a never-ending funfair. Even with his concerns to her state of mind, watching her happiness did bring him joy, and with that fear sated, he found himself cherishing his new life. Perhaps there was some merit to her life's philosophy after all.
Just being, being yourself. He would take upon himself his new identity, and new life. Precious. Perhaps someday he would meet that Raichu again, and perhaps someday his life would change once more. It seemed so exciting, an adventure maybe, like some of the illustrations on Ayase's books that depicted humans and Pokémon venturing through the land, meeting new friends and visiting never before seen places.
But for now, all was well. As the fading rays of the setting sun shine through the window, he caught sight of Ayase entering the room, a long, white wrap covering her body, a thing she liked to do in that lavender-scented room where she made it rain on herself on a daily basis. Perhaps she was like the mythical Kyogre, creator of the primordial seas as told by the ancient legends. Mysterious, undoubtedly, but that power seemed limited to that room. Perhaps that room held some kind of mysterious power.
Not that it mattered. For now, he watched with eager anticipation as Ayase reached for a bag stored in a place far beyond his reach, filling that pink enamelware with that brown goodness he had come to love. There would always be time to contemplate and speculate. Not now though, for it was time for dinner.