Welcome to Chapter 2 of "Sanctuary of the Broken"! Reminder that I try and Upload new chapters Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Thank you for joining me on Chase's path. 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon nor do I claim to own Pokémon.
Chapter 2: Ashes and Embers
Darkness.
It had been warm once. Safe, even. Before the yelling. Before the pain. The Vulpix's dreams came in shards—heat, stone, the bark of orders. Her body remembered more than her mind: the sting of backlash, the dull throb of exhaustion, the cold click of a Poké Ball that never felt like home.
"Stupid fox! Ember again? That's all you're good for?"
Burnt fur. Blood. A boot slamming into her ribs.
She had tried. Always tried.
It never mattered.
She woke with a start.
Wooden ceiling. Blanket. A faint scent of herbs and something cooked. Ears flat, fur raised, she pushed upright—and collapsed. Her legs were too weak. The blanket was too soft. This wasn't a trap. But it wasn't familiar either.
So she waited.
A creak. Crickets outside. No shouting. No commands.
Just stillness.
Hours passed.
Chase sat hunched in the kitchen, hood still up, elbows on the table. The dull gold light overhead pooled quietly. The house was asleep. Fireworks long gone. He stirred a half-bowl of soup with a spoon, not looking at anything.
Then he felt it—a shift in air.
He looked up.
The Vulpix stood in the doorway, small and silent, watching him like a wild thing.
He moved slowly. Grabbed a bowl, ladled soup, added water to cool it. Set it gently on the floor. Then backed off and sat down.
"You're still here," he murmured.
She didn't move.
"Not gonna hurt you," he added. "Soup's decent. I think."
She stared. Tail flicked.
Then, cautiously, she stepped forward and began to eat in tiny, nervous laps.
Chase exhaled.
"So, white tail—genetic mutation, or are you just stylish?"
She paused. Shot him a tired glare.
He smirked. "Right. Sassy. Noted."
Silence settled in again.
"Your old trainer was a jerk," he muttered. "Everyone saw it. Nobody did anything."
He rubbed his sleeve.
"I didn't either."
She slowed her eating but didn't run. Her ears twitched. He knew she was listening.
"I should've said something."
He meant it.
Eventually, she circled once and lay down near him. Not touching. Just close enough to feel the warmth. Her nose tucked beneath her tail, legs coiled, ears still alert. Every so often, she trembled—just slightly.
Still scared. Still ready to run.
But she stayed.
Chase leaned back against the cabinet. "No names. No Poké Balls. No pressure. Stay if you want."
She didn't respond. Just breathed.
And for now, that was enough.
Morning sunlight crept across the wooden floor. A breeze stirred the edge of the curtain.
Vulpix stirred first. Her ears twitched at the faint sounds of life: footsteps, clinking dishes, a child's voice drifting in from another room. She got up slowly, paws quiet against the wood.
The room smelled like cinnamon and something sizzling in a pan.
She padded carefully down the hallway, head low, sniffing at corners and pausing at every creak. Her fur bristled at the sound of a loud voice—Elise, calling to someone—and she shrank back.
Then came the blur of footsteps.
"Vulpix!" Elise gasped, spotting her. "Hi!"
Too fast. Too loud.
Vulpix bolted.
"Chase! Your fox thing ran away!"
She didn't go far.
Chase found her crouched behind the shed, tail fluffed out, body pressed low against the earth. He didn't approach right away. Just sat down near the wall, arms resting on his knees.
"Yeah," he said after a long moment. "I don't like mornings either."
She didn't move.
"Sorry about my sister. She's… a lot. But she means well."
Still nothing.
"I'm not gonna drag you back," he added. "But I kinda left the door open. In case."
A breeze passed. Vulpix shifted slightly. Not closer. But not away.
After a while, she stood and crept forward—slow, deliberate, cautious as ever.
Chase didn't speak. He just got up and walked toward the house, knowing she'd follow if she wanted to.
She did.
The house slowly filled with light and low voices.
Chase stirred from a nap on the couch, hoodie half-draped over his face. Vulpix was still nearby, coiled on the rug. She flinched when he moved but didn't bolt.
He sat up with a groan and wandered into the kitchen, opening cabinets until he found cereal that wasn't stale. He poured it into a bowl, added milk, and ate standing up.
Vulpix watched from the threshold, unmoving. When Elise offered her a slice of apple, she backed into the hallway without a sound.
"She doesn't like me," Elise pouted.
"She doesn't like anyone," Chase said. "Give it time."
"She growled at me."
"Maybe you needed it."
Mom stepped in, catching the tension. "Chase, I need you to pick up that parcel from Kurt's."
Chase raised a brow. "Can't it wait?"
"Nope. He says it's time-sensitive. You'll live."
He sighed and grabbed his jacket. Vulpix, surprisingly, didn't retreat when he passed her by the door.
"You coming?" he asked, not expecting anything.
She hesitated. Ears twitching. Then slowly, she followed.
The town wasn't as loud today, but it still moved. Vendors pulled down banners. Kids with sticky hands chased each other under fading streamers. Chase walked with his hood up, eyes down. Vulpix trailed behind him—closer now, but still a few steps back. Her white-tipped tail flicked low, brushing over dust and gravel.
People noticed.
"That's the Vulpix from the square, right?"
"Didn't the League say it was abandoned?"
"Maybe he just took it."
He heard them. He didn't flinch.
A man stepped into his path—broad, red-faced, apron dusted with flour. A baker, probably. He didn't smile.
"Hey, kid. That Vulpix yours?"
Chase stopped. "Yeah."
"She doesn't have tags."
"She followed me."
"Looks rough. Probably still chipped to the League. Could be stolen."
Vulpix froze behind him. Her back rose, breath shallow. Chase didn't look back—he could feel the heat rising off her.
The man took a step forward. "Look, I don't want trouble. Just let me scan her real quick—make sure everything's legit."
A spark snapped against the cobblestone between his boots.
The man jumped. "Hey!"
Chase turned his head slightly. His voice stayed calm. "Back off."
The man frowned. "What's your problem? That thing just attacked me."
"She warned you."
"She's not licensed."
"She's not yours."
More people had stopped now. Watching. Whispering. One of them took out their phone.
The man tried again. "I could call Officer Jenny. Have her checked."
Chase stepped forward, slow and steady, until the space between them vanished.
"You can try," he said, voice low enough only the man could hear, "but you touch her again, and you'll be the one getting checked for burn wounds."
Vulpix growled behind him, low and cold. Her paws scorched tiny black marks into the dust.
The man hesitated.
Then stepped back.
Chase didn't gloat. Didn't smirk. He turned, hands still deep in his pockets, and kept walking.
Vulpix followed close this time—so close her tail brushed his ankle with every step.
She didn't look back.
Neither did he.