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Imagine this: you are a human child, and you don’t know what you’re doing wrong. Your mom tells you people can’t talk to Pokémon and stop pretending and people will think you’re crazy. The other human children prove her last point right, and their parents only hammer it in, but you still don’t understand why. Why can’t they hear it? Why does your mom want you to lie? You find solace sobbing into the fur of a Herdier, who licks the tears off your face and says they’re wrong.
Imagine this: you are a human child, and you know there’s something different about you. It comes out in subtle ways, like how your mom always tells you to make eye contact, and less subtle ones, like the way you speak too fast and stumble over the words at the same time. When you’re mad you growl and bare your teeth, which your mom tells you isn’t appropriate behavior. You tell her that’s what Scruffy does, and she sighs. Humans don’t growl and humans don’t talk to Pokémon. You do both. What does that make you?
Imagine this: you are a child, and you prefer to play with Pokémon over your peers. It’s easier and more fun to play fetch with Scruffy or talk with Mareep than to try and play with human children. You get the sense that they don’t like you, so you don’t like them either, and that’s fine. Despite how your mom insists you need actual—human—friends, you are perfectly content with the way things are.
Imagine this: you are a child, and your mom is gone. Her friend says dead, which means gone forever and she can’t come back. You have to move in with your mom’s friend, and she’s nice enough for a human, but her daughter always looks at you weird. Your new caretaker keeps trying to make you two get along, but neither you nor her daughter really want to be friends, so you both just play nice and stay apart where possible. When your mom’s friend finds you talking with Scruffy while the Herdier guards the Mareep, she sighs and mutters what am I going to do with you. You don’t know.
Imagine this: you are a child, and you’re alone in the woods. Your mom’s friend said to stay here, so you’re trying, but you’re bored. She never said when she’d return, or why you’re here and need to stay to begin with. Nightfall creeps closer, and you worry. The adults normally say to stay out of the woods ‘cause there are dangerous Pokémon there. When will she be back?
Imagine this: you are a child, and there are a couple of wild Pokémon talking with you. The larger is a Darmanitan who’s asking why you’re in the woods alone, and the smaller is a type of Pokémon you hadn’t met before. You explain that you’re waiting for your mom’s friend to come back. The new Pokémon, Zorua, asks if they can keep you, and Darmanitan huffs and says you should probably stay with them. Hesitantly, you agree.
Imagine this: you are a kit, and you like it in the woods. You don’t have to deal with other humans, and Zorua is fun to play with. Darmanitan, his father, says he’s happy to take care of you, and… that’s strange, but nice. Sometimes you worry he won’t want you around anymore, like your mom’s friend, but he says that’s wrong. Something warm and fuzzy bubbles in your chest. You think you believe him.
Imagine this: you are a kit, and you need a nickname. Human feels strange in the way your hands sometimes do, like a shirt that doesn’t quite fit, so other Pokémon need something to call you instead. You can’t use the name your mother gave you since it’s too hard to pronounce and doesn’t translate into anything in Pokémon. Darmanitan said you could pick whatever—what you are, what you want to be, or even just a word you like, so you feel Natural out. It sounds nice, and you want to feel that way—like you’re a natural at living, not struggling to be something you’re not. Out here, it comes easier.
Imagine this: you are a kit, and you know what you are. It hits you in subtle ways, like the way your heart trills when your father jokes about you being just like Zorua, and less subtle ones, like the way you always turn your head when he calls for your brother. Regardless of your body’s shape, Zorua rings truer than human ever has.
Imagine this: you are a Zorua kit, and you live in the forest with Darmanitan, Woobat, and another Zorua. It feels like home.