It was raining in Castelia city, and the sound of hurried footsteps would have been drowned out if not for the accompanying splash each made. A small figure wearing a ragged jacket with the hood up, was running as fast as he could, a stuffed messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His were not the only set of footsteps, though as a man in a green apron chased after him, and the small figure could clearly hear these footsteps nearly slipping on the wet ground and falling a bit further behind every time they turned a sudden corner to follow him.
Just a bit more, thought the smaller figure as he suddenly wheeled down a narrow alleyway, listening intently. He smiled to himself as he heard the large splash followed by cursing, the unmistakable sound of his pursuer losing his footing on the last turn. The small figure gave a burst of speed and turned another corner, and by the time his pursuer had regained his footing and followed after, the small figure was nowhere to be seen. The man cursed and stamped his foot, nearly slipping and falling again in the process.
The boy, meanwhile, was finally slowing down as he reached a somewhat secluded dead end alley. He saw a cloud of vapor rising from the ground and moved over to source; a covered manhole. He looked around and gave three quiet, staccato whistles. It took less than a minute for four Rattata to emerge from a dumpster at the end of the alley.
"Hey," he said, fishing some food from his bag and offering it to the pokemon, "mind helping me open this, and, you know, closing it behind me?"
After gathering up the food, the Rattata moved to the manhole cover with the boy, and together they managed to heave the cover out of the way. With a parting thanks, the boy descended down the ladder and the Rattata slid the cover back into place behind him. The boy breathed a slight sigh of relief as he began to traverse the walkway that ran along the side of the sewer channel, the air down here was damp, but surprisingly fresh, and the water in the channel was practically clear.
While most might be surprised by this, the boy expected it. He knew that, due to the painstaking measures Castelia went through in regards to waste management, the sewer did not serve the purpose many would expect. Instead, the Castelia Sewer system was more of a way to access the city's extensive network of pipes without need for digging or such, the channel down the middle mostly serving to send water from rain and snow back to the sea without risk of the roads becoming rivers. The greatest pollutant was the Grimer that lived in the network of tunnels, consuming what waste and trash they could find, and even they were more a help than anything, simply smelling unpleasant.
The boy knew all this for the same reason he knew the paths and tunnels well enough that he could navigate them without much effort. That reason being that he lived down in Castelia City's sewers, he had spent most of his life in the maze beneath the city. He knew the various pokemon that lived or came to seek shelter there when weather was unpleasant, strays like himself that he had grown up alongside.
As such, many pokemon came up to him as he walked, and he gladly shared food from his bag with them as he went. Sharing with them all was even the reason he had taken so much food to begin with, he knew many stray pokemon found it difficult to survive in the busy city, and without him they'd be fighting for thrown out scraps. He saw it as his job to help them, even if he couldn't do over much.
Before long, once his bag was nearly empty and the various pokemon had gone on their way the boy came across a single door, tucked away in a small secluded part of the tunnel maze. The boy fished the key out of his pocket and opened the door to the small room that was his home. Inside a small, three tiered shelf on one side with a sink tucked into the corner next to it, the other side of the room had several boxes aligned neatly.
The room had likely been one of several "utility closets" tucked around the sewer, containing supplies for maintenance workers, with the sink for their convenience, or perhaps a way of testing repairs or some such, the boy didn't know. Regardless, the time as a supply closet was before the boy had taken the key after it had been left in the door one day. Now, the shelves held things for living, some extra food, some soap, duct tape, a few rolls of gauze bandage,and other such meager provisions. The boxes were covered by a few layers of newspaper and a tattered blanket, and a makeshift pillow made of more newspaper taped together.
To many, a sort of nightmare, but to the boy it was home, and here he felt safe. He pulled some bread and such from his bag, setting it on the shelf then a battered water bottle and filled it at the sink, taking a sip before sitting down on the makeshift bed. He grinned wide as he fished from his bag the prize of his haul, several fresh, juicy berries. The taking of which had been what had got him noticed, leading to the chase from earlier. As he began to eat them he decided, though, that it had been worth it.