Chapter Text
The rain falls heavily, endlessly, as it has since the afternoon before. It is almost daybreak - or it would be, if the sun could properly pierce through the heavy shield of clouds. In its absence, the poor light comes from what street lamps remain lit in the dead of the night, and the occasional bright sparkle in the sky when a lightning comes forward, followed by the sudden beat of thunder. The low storm clouds tinge the whole skyline grey, metallic skyscrapers dulled into shadows outlined by the occasional flash, streets underlined in black like dark, sinking rivers. The water flows through them like so, pooling in plazas and running freely towards the docks, to the sea, the very same path nature carved on this land eons before humans had ever built what is now called Castellia City.
Yet humans there live, and humans there stay - comfortably tucked into their beds for a night of rest, casually watching the rainfall from the safety of their workplaces, gazing out into the night from their foggy windows. Some are not as lucky - instead, they find unstable cover where it is possible, hidden amongst the shadows of nearby buildings, forgotten by the inhabitants of the world above them. Some still struggle under the raindrops, their steps splashing on the dark pools below as they look for a place to stop for the night.
The boy is one of them, his head lowered to prevent water from falling over his eyes, defined, long, wet eyelashes clinging to his skin and dripping over cracked lips. It felt good at first, a quick rain to wash the dirt from his face and hair, make him feel truly clean for the first time in weeks - but it did not end in a quick rain; now he is soaked to the bones, thin arms shaking in an attempt to keep bodily heat. Those cold, rainy nights warn of the upcoming winter, and the thoughts of where to go and how to keep warm plagued the kid’s mind for the entire week. The food supply gets better as the soup shops open, and the Christmas spirit brings uncharacteristic kindness to the adults of the world above; but they both badly need shelter ever since the last one was destroyed in a gang struggle.
It is difficult to find shelter for two as his companion keeps growing; even hiding him becomes steadily more difficult for Kai. An eerie glow can be seen beneath the boy’s old, frayed t-shirt, the wet fabric barely able to cover the figure he attempts to protect. Only the shiny eyes of the small Litwick peak once in a while from over the edge of the cloth, to spy on the world around them. The strength of the ghostly flame is enough to warm them for the time being, but they are aware it will not be for long if the rain keeps coming this strong on the following days, and the snow follows suit.
Kai is used to this. It feels as if he is guided by the young Mimic’s light for as long as he remembers, threading alone through the city’s busy streets with his Ghostly companion nested on his shoulder. Surely, it could have not been always like this - he had to have a family, though he had no recollection of one. His oldest memory was of his Chandelure, and, so far, that had been more than enough. They have been raised into this, to the comings and goings of a life on the street. Many others are, whether by ill luck, ill choices or ill quirks.
Another strike of lightning crosses the sky above, making the boy brace himself for the following thunder - arms pressed tightly around Mimic as the terrible sound cuts the air, eyes closed just a desperately as he waits uncomfortably for it to end. It seems to vibrate through him, make his whole body shake as if an approaching predator is hiding close, looking for an opening. It takes him a while to open those golden eyes again, a precious time to calm his unsteady heart, and it is the time it takes for him to notice the easily forgotten house hidden in between colorful store signs. A paper is glued to the front door, stuck in place by bright yellow tape, but Kai is too young to read it and too desperate to care at this point. The tape closing off the entrance means no one is there, and, to him, that is enough.
His hands shake as he tries to pull on the doorknob, to no avail. He tries it again and again, the increased force only making his fingers hurt as the slightly rusty metal bites into them. Setting the doorknob aside, Kai attempts to force the door, first with a kick and then with the edge of his shoulder. The best this achieves him is to slip on the wet sidewalk and fall down, a half-groan of pain and frustration escaping his throat.
“I’m fine.” He tells in a muffled voice as the light under his jacket flickers, two big, round eyes looking worriedly up to him, followed by a tiny sound of worry. “I really am...” He pushes back to his feet awkwardly, balance difficult with the rain and the effort to keep his friend shielded from it. It doesn’t matter to him if he gets sick, as water would be much worse on Mimic than it could ever be on Kai.
There is only one way in, the young boy knows, and with hesitance he places a hand flat against the wooden door itself, the old surface rough and splintered under his palm. His lips press tightly in a fine line, a visible frown of his forehead as his eyes shut. In one moment he can feel the rough wood on his hand, in the other just cold air and the rainy wind. He opens up his eyes to peek at the door crumbled into splinters, the metal lock falling with a loud clunk. A sigh escapes from him, the held up worry and the following relief that it is only the door destroyed this time. It is with a comforting push from Mimic that he finally swallows down the all-too-familiar fears of his quirk and walks out of the rain, into the abandoned building.
Quirks. The word still makes him shudder, as much as he strives to think it is only the cold and the dark environment. The child remembers being told in the past - he doesn’t quite remember who; the face is hazy in his memory - that the world had drastically changed at some point. People were not always born with abilities, and originally there were no Pokémon, only common animals like cows and fish and many others that had been extinct during that time. Something changed through the centuries, with quirks growing more common and powerful, with species changing shape and strength, until it had become the norm for humans and Pokemon to be as diverse amongst themselves as they were from each other.
Yet, that history lesson had come with a warning. The growing power passed between generations soon proved to be dangerous; bigger, more dangerous species of pokemon were born and developed in the wild; the endless possibilities for one’s quirk meant that abilities that were a danger to the user or others would bloom in children too young to properly control them. Cursed children that would live in fear of what they could do, and in guilt of what they had done.
Children like Kai, who knew his lack of a family and the power flowing from his touch told a single, grim conclusion.
The broken door pieces are too small and damp to be used in a fire, and he would rather not leave a clear opening for the rain to enter during the night or for someone to catch him off-guard. After putting it back together, he proceeds to pull at the opening of his jacket, allowing his Litwick friend to slip out and into freedom. Mimic’s ghostly flame partially illuminates the suddenly dark room, at least enough for the child’s eyes to pick on the contours of objects and doorways. The room they find themselves in is a tiny living room, old-fashioned furniture covered by thin blankets and a thicker layer of dust, thrown into the air by his feet as he walks further into the ambient. Kai lets out a high-pitched sneeze at that, pushing his old scarf against his nose to better protect himself from the particles unwanted. Allergies are the least of his concerns when finding a place to spend the rest of the night on
The place may be filthy, but at least it’s dry and not falling apart on his head, unlike the last one. There are no visible holes on the ceiling or tell-tale pools of water on the floor, no large cracks to the walls and floor, no sign of footsteps, be they human or pokemon. He glances briefly into the adjacent rooms, little more than golden eyes peeking through the open doorways, to find a similarly tiny kitchen, a single person’s room and a cubicle that used to be a bathroom. Overall, this place would make a great hiding spot for the rain, or maybe a new permanent one to replace the one he lost.
It takes Mimic’s help and a few more sneezes to push away the old carpet and clear out the center of the room, and then to gather enough usable wood for a small fire. The Litwick is especially savy in finding a forgotten, large enough pot to prevent the embers from accidentally spreading. Kai sets up the fuel as best as possible before a ball of ghostly fire ignites it, pale blue turning into a light orange as the wood burns nicely. Despite how small it is, the increasing warmth is a relief. They both settle down next to the improvised campfire, the human boy with his knees to his chin, the candle-like pokemon resting against his shoulder to take reprieve from the cold.
His peace is disturbed by a sudden noise, a creak of old wood that startles him immediately. Kai is ready on his feet, one hand on the dusty wooden floor, the other ready to defend himself with a deadly touch. Mimic calls up to him, body turned towards the door to the one-person room, flames brighter in a warning for the person at the doorstep to not come closer.
“Don’t move.” Kai hisses at them, knees flexed and eyes wary for sudden movements. From what the firelight reveals, they’re a kid just a little taller than he is, with longer hair in weird pointy ends, wearing an oversized sweatshirt. Their hands are raised above their head, visibly empty, and they seem to be alone.
“Are you from a gang?” They sound like a boy, with the light lisp of someone without a front tooth. They make no attempt to move or approach, which Kai deems a safe enough attitude to earn a truthful answer.
“I’m not.”
He would generally avoid the gangs of villains that roamed the poorer districts of Castellia, beyond the heroes’ patrol areas. The older, less valuable neighborhoods on the outskirt of the metropolis were mostly left alone by either police or heroic agencies, meaning the safety of the streets relied on the rule of gangs and criminal organizations. The most powerful of them kept control of their own territories, occasionally invading those of others in bloody conflicts. Everywhere else was at the mercy of lesser criminals, petty pokemon thieves and smaller villains who would sometimes cross paths with street children like them.
Some of those had chased him before, speaking of rumors about his quirk - the one kid that can destroy and fix things with a touch, the one that is worth a lot. Worth what, Kai had no clue, but to overhear so had been enough to prompt him to leave as fast as he could. He had been on the run since them, from hiding spot to hiding spot, trying to stay off the radar. People in other neighborhoods were even less welcome to his presence.
“Good! I ain’t either.” The other boy lets out a loud, relieved sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing. He mentions to lower his hands, stopping halfway as Mimic interjects loudly in distrust. “Hang on, I don’t wanna fight, you know? I just came here to hide from the rain. Can we share the fire? Both me and my friend are cold.”
“Friend? Where’s your friend?”
An insectoid head manifests from inside the boy's hood, bright yellow with large dot-like eyes - if he were not mistaken, that would be a Sewaddle. The kid pets his companion’s head gently, the larvae-like pokemon buzzing happily in contentment. “His name is Holly! We’ve been travelling together for awhile now.” There is affection in his voice, a gentleness so different from his forward, casual boldness so far. When he looks up to Kai and Mimic again, he sounds almost apologizing. “Look, I can give you food in exchange. I have some extra.”
Kai’s anxiety spikes considerably as the other kid’s right hand comes down slowly, into their front pocket. Depending on what the boy’s quirk is or what he has in there, this may be the moment an actual fight starts; part of him is worried for his Litwick friend, who very consciently moved to stand between the two children. After tense seconds, the arrow boy pulls a small chocolate bar from his pocket, the hand who holds it brought forward in a mute offer of peace.
The sight makes his belly growl, his mouth full of water as his brain wonders how that would taste like. The only food he currently has on him are some old nutbars he exchanged for fixing another wanderer’s bike, and those are almost done as well. He hoped to get some soup as winter rolled along, but chocolate? It could well have been a year since he had any.
“....You sit on the other side.” Kai tells at last, too embarrassed by his own weakness to face his guest openly.
He soon learns the other kid is called Hari, as he is quick to introduce himself. There is definitely something weird about his hair, as the little arrows - and they are arrows, Kai is able to ascertain when the kid sits by the campfire - swing along with his mood, rising thoughtfully when he is pensative, waving wildly when he is excited. And excited he is, going easily between surprising self-confidence and childhood curiosity during the first hour they spend chatting and sharing chocolate under the firelight. His little pokemon is just as cheerful, as it buzzes to Mimic in friendly banter, the opposite of the Litwick’s composed, serious replies.
“How did you get in here?” It is Kai’s turn to ask, and he has been wondering that ever since Hari magically showed up on that doorway. “The door was stuck.”
“Through a hole between the roof tiles.” His new companion smirks cockily; one of his arrows points upwards in helpful explanation, as his hands are currently busy with another chocolate bar. “I’m a great climber. But ceilings don’t offer much protection, so we came down here. It was so cold, I tried to gather dry wood to make a fire, but then I heard steps and got worried it was some gang meeting up or a wild pokemon den. So I hid until I was sure you wouldn’t just pounce on me. It helps that you’re someone about my age, too!”
“You shouldn’t be so naive. I could always be planning something.” Kai point out rather grumpily, the sweetness of the chocolate on his tongue far from reflecting in his tone. He isn’t plotting at all, but for the other kid to assume that so openly, it is almost as if Hari is underestimating him.
“You’re in an abandoned house with a single pokemon, and you looked ready to fight or run when you saw me. You’re definitely hiding.” That is a point he had not properly considered, and It takes him effort not to pout at that answer. Hari may be emotional and cocky, but he is not silly, if he could be this observant. As little contact Kai had with other street children, he had not met yet one quite like this.
“Are you always this grumpy?”
“I’m what?”
“I told you a bunch of stuff, about me and Holly, and you just nod and make this weird judging face. We’re friends, right? You can talk to me too.”
“We’re not friends.”
“You helped me and I helped you. Isn’t that what friends do?” Hari is clearly upset, a noticeable pout on his frowning face, a hurting note on his so-far carefree voice. “I know you’re afraid to trust me. I am too. But even if I have Holly with me, I’d like to have someone else to count with once in a while, and you’re the nicest person I met so far. Don’t you feel the same?”
Kai honestly wants to say no. It feels safer to say no, to say he doesn’t need someone to hold him back or sell him up, but the truth remains that he isn’t as sure of this choice as he would like to be. He has long grown used to be mostly alone, with only Mimic for company - long enough to think he didn’t need someone else beside him, human or pokemon alike. Despite that, the naive part of him - the part of him that is, after everything, still a child - always wondered how would it be like to have an actual human friend to chat with, to play with, much like it always wondered how it would be like to have human parents to watch over him and protect him.
Would it even be worth it? Could he - no, was he ever willing to trust this kid? Kai had no idea. It felt too hazy, too much of a risk.
It is as the silence settles down between them that he notices the constant sound of rain finally stopped. Light peeks between the boards nailed on the windows, the golden tone of dawn brighter than the last embers of his campfire. He was usually so more aware of when the day turned.
“You really do need more friends, if you think I’m actually nice.”