Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, nor do I claim to own Pokémon.

Writing this chapter hit hard, Chase's emotions are based on real life experiences. Things are starting to heat up. ;D

Chapter 4: Thin Ice

Chase hadn't slept.

He sat hunched on the edge of his bed, notebook open on his lap. The page was chaos—scribbles of cities, League contact names, train times, legal jargon, crossed-out phrases, rewritten panic. His handwriting looked like it was unraveling.

"They're watching," he muttered. "They want me to mess up. They're waiting."

He stood suddenly. Pacing. Fast. Sharp.

"If I register her, I give them a trail. But if I don't, they'll use that too. 'Unclaimed.' 'Illegally held.' Doesn't matter. They've already decided."

He stopped. Laughed—just once, bitter and too loud. "This is insane. I'm fifteen. What the hell am I supposed to do? Hire a lawyer?"

His fists clenched. "No. No, screw that. I didn't do anything wrong. She picked me. I gave her food, warmth—I gave a damn. That's more than her last trainer ever did."

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. "Okay. Rational. Think rational. Kurt might know something. Transfers, unregistered companions. Loopholes. I could go ask—no. Too obvious. Alden's probably watching his place too."

He sat again, hard, grabbing the notebook and flipping to a blank page. "Maybe if I file a rescue claim first? Or—no, too late. Looks reactionary. Defensive. I should've done it yesterday. Why didn't I—"

He slammed the notebook shut and launched it across the room.

It hit the wall. Pages fluttered.

"I should've hit that bastard at the festival," he snapped suddenly. "Right there in front of everyone. He kicked her. He kicked her, and they just—watched."

His voice cracked. He sat again, burying his face in his hands. "God, I'm such a coward."

A small, warm weight pressed against his leg.

Vulpix.

She had crossed the room without a sound, and now she was there. Staring up at him. Still.

He laughed again—this time broken. "You're not even supposed to trust me. I don't know what I'm doing. I can't protect you. I can't even protect myself."

He wiped at his eyes, breath shallow. "But I'll try. I'll do something. Run. Lie. Fight. I don't care."

She didn't blink. Just stayed.

Chase dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. Too tightly. She didn't pull away.

"I'm not losing you," he whispered. "I'm not."

He didn't know if it was a promise or a prayer.
But he said it anyway.

There was a knock—soft, hesitant.

Chase didn't answer. He didn't move.

The door creaked open anyway.

His mom stepped in, quiet as Vulpix had been. She didn't say anything at first. Just took in the notebook on the floor, the boy on his knees, arms wrapped around a fox who didn't belong to him—except she did.

She sat beside them. Not close enough to crowd, not far enough to feel absent. Just there.

"I figured you hadn't eaten," she said eventually. "Didn't hear you come out all morning."

Chase didn't look at her.

She rested her hands in her lap. "So. League trouble?"

That got a flicker from him. His shoulders twitched.

"They're saying I stole her," he said, voice flat. "They're watching. Waiting for me to mess up."

Mom nodded slowly. "Sounds about right."

He blinked, surprised.

"They do it with people, too," she added. "Call it protocol. Investigation. Sometimes it's just a leash with paperwork."

Vulpix shifted against his side.

"I didn't take her," Chase said. "She came to me."

"I know."

"They won't believe that."

"No. But I do."

That cracked something small in his voice. "That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," she said gently. "And I think it matters to her."

Vulpix gave the smallest hum of sound. A low, almost inaudible chuff.

Mom smiled faintly. "You've always been stubborn. You're scared right now, and you're angry, and you think that means you have to fix everything yourself."

He didn't answer.

"You don't."

He looked at her finally—tired, raw, lost in a hundred thoughts.

"I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to know today," she said. "But when you do… we'll help you."

Chase stared at her a second longer. Then he nodded.

Just once.

And for now, that was enough.

They ran into him by accident.

It was midafternoon. Chase had gone out just to walk—to get air, to stretch his legs, to think. The sun peeked through broken clouds. Vulpix walked beside him, tail low, fur catching the breeze.

They were halfway down Market Street when he heard the voice.

"Hey! There she is."

Chase turned, and everything in his body went cold.

The trainer strolled up like he owned the road. Same smug tilt to his head. Same cocky half-grin. His jacket was new—flashy, League-standard. His shoes were clean now. But Chase remembered him.

And more importantly—Vulpix remembered him too.

She froze beside Chase. Her body locked up. Her ears flattened. She didn't growl. Didn't move.

The man whistled low. "Didn't expect to find you walking around town like a pet. You look better. Guess the rehab period's over, huh?"

Chase stepped in front of her. "Back off."

The trainer raised his hands, mock-innocent. "Easy, kid. Just checking on my Pokémon."

"She's not yours."

The grin sharpened. "You think that matters? She's chipped. Registered. League still recognizes me as her official trainer. You're the one breaking the rules here."

Chase didn't flinch. "You abandoned her."

"I released her," he said flatly. "Difference."

"You kicked her."

"Prove it."

Behind them, footsteps approached. A familiar coat. Inspector Alden. Calm. Smiling.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," Alden said, voice light. "Everything alright?"

The trainer turned smoothly. "Perfect timing, actually. Just found the Vulpix I reported. Looks like someone's been holding onto her without clearance."

Chase's fists clenched.

Alden looked at Chase. Then at the Vulpix, trembling behind him.

Then back at the trainer.

"We'll need to confirm registration data," he said, tone carefully neutral. "And examine behavior markers. Standard process."

Vulpix whimpered. A small, broken sound.

Chase didn't move. His voice came low.

"She's not going with him."

Alden raised a brow. "That's not your call to make."

Chase stepped forward, barely a breath between them now.

"She isn't going with him."

The trainer smirked. "Sounds like you're making this harder than it needs to be, kid."

Chase didn't blink. "Good."

Alden found him later.

The confrontation had ended without a fight, but Chase still felt like his blood was buzzing. The trainer walked off smug, phone already to his ear. Vulpix stayed glued to Chase's side.

Alden waited by the old bridge near the Slowpoke Well, hands resting casually on the railing. His smile was polite. Measured.

"Walk with me?"

Chase didn't answer—but he followed.

They walked a few steps in silence, gravel crunching underfoot.

"Thought we'd talk away from the theatrics," Alden said. "Just you and me."

Chase stared ahead. "You're going to take her back, aren't you."

"I don't make that call. But the paperwork says she's not yours."

"She's not a thing."

"She's registered. That makes her League property—until that changes, emotion doesn't matter."

Chase stopped. "He abused her."

"Can you prove it?"

"I saw it."

"Did anyone else?"

Silence.

Alden gave a slow nod. "That's the problem. The system listens to records, not trauma."

Chase's fists clenched. "So you're just gonna pretend she wasn't terrified of him?"

Alden's tone didn't shift. "I don't want to see either of you hurt, Chase. But if you push this, the League won't just take her. They'll come for you too."

Chase looked at him, sharp. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've seen this story. Kids with good intentions, trying to bend a crooked system. The system doesn't bend. It erases."

More silence.

Alden adjusted his coat. "You've got options. Companion Transfer Request. Ownership appeal. Do it quietly."

Chase shook his head. "The system's broken."

Alden didn't argue. Just shrugged. "It's the only one we've got."

He turned.

"Think carefully, Chase. You're already being watched."