Chapter Text
I woke up. Well, I say ‘woke up’, but to be far more accurate I had already been half awake for… awhile? I don’t actually know for how long. It was the sort of being awake where you're not actually able to really think of much else than immediately turning over and going back to sleep, or at least something approximating sleep, for another five minutes. Not unless someone actively drags you out of bed or there is something that demands your immediate attention. Some people are wise enough to put their alarms on the other side of their bedrooms, requiring them to actually get up and get their blood flowing to shut it off. I am not that smart; though I suppose it would be more accurate to say I don’t even have such a luxury as an alarm clock. I used too… but not anymore.
Eventually, though, I begrudgingly sat up from my pillows and let my eyes take in the world around me. The window outside displayed a modest grassy field before abruptly hitting the forest treeline beyond. The weather was very bright and sunny, and it hadn’t rained in a few days. Despite that, with the way the grass was a pathetic shade of brown and yellow with the trees being bare save small patches of leaves that haven’t quite fallen, the look of a chilly but bright late autumn midmorning was unmistakable. I looked to the analog clock on the next wall over… It read that it was already after 9:30.
I blinked groggily as I mulled that information over, my brain protesting having to do complex calculations so soon after waking. 9:30… 9:30… I stared at my hands aimlessly for a moment.
…
“Daw, Crap! I work today!” I suddenly realized, mentally punching myself. I overslept again?? Why can’t we ever just be able to wake up and instantly know everything that we need to do on a dime?! That sudden, brutal realization giving me a burst of energy, I hopped out from my covers to the floor, and promptly began rushing to get ready to go. ‘If it’s already like 9:40, the daily job distributions have already closed, so most likely my coworker is already coming back here with a list of tasks to do by now.’ I thought as I grabbed the stool and began pushing it towards the dresser. ‘If I was this unpunctual in any other career, I would have certainly been fired by now. I’m still shocked he has managed to prevent me from getting written up over this most of the time.’ I made a mental note to work on getting up earlier in the morning, same as I did practically every morning, as I climbed up the stool so I could see myself properly in the mirror that sat atop the old dresser.
It’s strange but, even after all this time I still find myself doing a double take at the figure that stared back at me from the world on the other side of the reflection. Despite how I have been this way for eight months now, I'm still often surprised to see a figure staring back that is distinctly not me, only for me to remember, “Right, that IS me now.”
The being in the mirror, of course, wasn't human, even if it was once upon a time. No, the figure was small, barely over a foot tall and was about as heavy as a hardcover book. Honestly, I was more head than I was torso in both size and weight distribution, and yet somehow my ears were collectively bigger than that! I can confidently say that a good 60% of my total mass is exclusively just from my ears and some three or four coats of DENSE fur I wear, and that's with some generous rounding. My eyes were big and brown, my teeth small and sharp while remaining comfortably omnivorous, my hands (If you can call them that) lacked thumbs and a fifth finger, but I would exercise some caution at actually defining them as paws considering they also lacked padding and were somehow ‘alright’ as graspers somehow. They paled in comparison to actual human hands all the same, but relearning how to hold things and write was a lot easier than I had anticipated. The paws I had for feet were big and flat but whose legs, if you can even call them that, were fully hidden within my torso, and my long fluffy tail featured this odd break in it whereupon the couple joints at the end of the tail were permanently paralyzed.
No, I swear that I never broke my tail at any point, I think I would know if I did, it just seems that I showed up here with an inexplicable injury having already occurred. For some reason. The doctors that have looked at it have said that it genuinely looks like the fracture had occurred and healed incorrectly years ago, something we all agree to be… highly improbable considering this Minccino didn’t even exist a few years ago. Is there even an explanation or not? Do I even WANT an explanation? I’m not convinced that it’s necessary, considering that a single arbitrary physical trait being one way or the other makes just as much sense as the fact that I had spontaneously become a Minccino one day anyway…
At the very least, that's the story I tell everyone else, and it seems like they buy it. After all, if the fact that it healed a while ago is any indication, then that can't be...
Am I just standing on my dresser talking about absolutely nothing to absolutely no-one again? I am just standing on my dresser talking about absolutely nothing to absolutely no-one again. Ugh.
"You're kinda on the clock here. Stop wasting time!" I said out loud to myself as I bapped my own muzzle to force myself to keep moving. Despite going through the effort to even use this dresser, there was actually little that I really needed. All that can be blamed on the fact that, due to the diverse physiological proportions of this universe, clearly it had never been truly necessary or feasible for complex and intensive production of textiles and clothing. Of course, that was merely just my personal take on it all. More often than not, pokemon did tend to wear at least some kind of attire, but often I think that was primarily a symbol of status, as a necessity from one’s occupation, or even just as a fashion statement. ‘Besides, I do feel that most clothing that is used around here is of a distinctly human origin, as I can’t imagine most species having the need, much less the ability to wear pants.
For example, while I have been able to get my hands, or front paws depending on your persuasion, on a few well fitting shirts complete with pockets; any kind of pants have been proven to be a lost cause considering a Minccino’s physiology lacks any kind of support for such garmates, plus, as already established, this world lacks both the demand and technological feasibility to design a sufficiently marketable solution. I suppose Pokemon simply have little need for complex economic models in their still largely agrarian and sedentary lifestyles.
Ironically, though, there still are those weirdos who choose to live a far more eccentric and bold lifestyle. Take the company I now work for, for example. I suppose “company” is a poor word to describe them, as they much prefer the term “guild”. I know, I'm not the most learned individual and all, I was supposed to be an engineer for pity's sake, but the only guilds I had ever heard of are those medieval cliques that were basically the era’s equivalent of modern day trade unions. I most likely am misremembering my highschool history classes in that respect, I seem to remember them talking about like those four major wars and very little else. Regardless, the rescue team… organization, as I suppose is its most accurate label, does require all its members to wear two explicit articles of clothing while on duty; that being some kind of element that can be worn around the neck, I assume because the majority of species have them, and a badge signifying your affiliation to the guild and your personal rank.
Personally, when I first got my badge, oh, six months ago, I for whatever reason was swiftly drawn to this bright blue scarf that I found to be somehow even fluffier and softer than myself! I won’t lie, this thing has actually become just a bit of a treasure to me, almost like a security blanket if you will, and I cherish it fondly as one of the few major consolations for just about everything I have to deal with on a nigh daily basis. Of course, without any way of being able to properly clean it; and also due to the nature of my job it has a tendency to get dragged through the mud; it has grown a touch itchy, but has impressively retained its overall color and shape remarkably well. It does make me wonder if there are any significant differences between wool sheared from Mareep and cotton grown by Cottonee, compared to that produced by sheep and cotton of the non-sentient variety.
The last thing necessary to complete my ensemble, aside from the pair of leather bags I carried my equipment in that I slung over my shoulder, was of course my rescue badge. I actually had three of them? Well, its more like I had received my rookie rank when I completed my training, before getting the ‘normal rank’ not that long later. Receiving my bronze rank badge was a far more recent development than that, and I ended up receiving it in the same ceremony that she… well, anyway.
Now that I was properly all dressed and set for the day, I spied another glance at my clock. It was only reading to be 9:46, so it had only been about five minutes. Concluding that I surely must have at least a few more minutes before I absolutely HAD to get going, I turned back to the mirror and pulled out a brush to perform at least a basic grooming of my fur. I can vaguely recall some women telling me back in the day that it can take them like a half hour to convert their messy bedhead into “Something basically presentable”, 45 minutes if they wanted to actually wear their hair with confidence that day.
I'm curious how those sorts of girls would respond to the situation I now find myself in, where my fur is sooo thick and fluffy, or to be more precise eternally grungy and oily. Even as a guy who used to never give his hair a second thought back in the day, I now find myself often being super restless for the rest of the day until I am able to give myself even just a quick brushdown. Today, unfortunately, I hadn't the time to give myself a proper grooming, a fact that was already making me feel just the slightest bit tense, BEYOND just being late for work again, but I absolutely could still justify taking just a couple moments to just work out the couple major knots in the coat that had sprung up overnight.
I had barely even finished going over my tail before I saw my colossal ears in the mirror’s reflection suddenly pirk up and swivel towards the direction of my own front door, almost before I had even realized that I had actually heard anything at all.
“HEY! Minccino! We have got to go!” Shouted a voice I knew all too well as they politely knocked on the door, “Don’t make me come and bang on your window again, so wake up, won’t you?” Hmmm… they sounded a bit… uncharacteristically exasperated. They must have gotten chewed out by the guildmaster for my own lack of punctuality again. Yet another reason I need to stop sleeping in so much. I respected the voice’s owner far too much for me to wish to see this sort of thing continue. They stuck their head out for me far longer than I could ever possibly do for them in return, and sometimes my own apathetic responses made me feel like a bad friend. I really should be counting myself lucky to have such earnest and loyal friends as I do.
With a defeated sigh, I shoved the brush back into the top drawer of the dresser, inspected my scarf and badge once more briefly, then hopped off the stool back down to the floor and stepped out into the main room of my house.
The place I now called home was not a huge place, just one bedroom, one bath, plus a kitchenette and living room. So, only three rooms in total, but it was still comfortable and roomy enough. It was actually a slightly smaller floor plan then the studio apartment I used to live in, before all this, but thanks to my smaller size and perhaps just some better spatial positioning of the walls and furniture, it felt far more like an upgrade overall. The property was intended only to house a Pokemon of an approximate size, and to be perfectly honest how could they make a perfectly sized house unless it was being paid for and commissioned by a pokemon specifically for themselves? I myself stood at only a little above a foot; I don’t actually know at what specifically as pokemon also have not yet established standardized universal measurements; but it's obvious that the place was built assuming the occupant would be like two feet tall. Not only that, but I'm pretty sure the previous occupant to actually live here must have been fully quadrupedal, given the way some of the furniture was designed. When I first broke in, *Ahem*, moved in, it was decked out with a couple wide windows complete with curtains, plastered walls providing decent insulation, an external furnace and stove but no real fireplace or appliances, public tap water, a couch, bed, blankets, functional bathroom, and some weird device called a psyche-tron which was basically a radio but required these externally crafted batteries storing a combination of pokemon generated electricity and psychic power in order to function. Too bad that the local broadcasters went off air permanently a while before I showed up due to dwindling profits or so I'm told, rendering it a useless novelty for me. Pokemon had a radio culture back in the day and it had already died before my time so I won’t ever be able to experience it for myself no matter how much I cry about it. If I had the time and money, and willingness to get myself there on foot which I don’t, I would vacation to the big city just to check out things like that! That aside, I could picture a Sylveon living pretty comfortably here.
Legally, the house was mine now, but I was only able to get to that right by agreeing to mortgage it from the town itself. When I decided to claim the place, within only a couple weeks the local administration caught me and demanded that I find a way to pay my rent in two weeks time or be forced to find a nice box on the street corner to live in. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, several despaerate circumstances all came to ahead at once and I found myself employed at the rescue guild which… provides enough financial security for reliable food and lodging, but gives little else and fewer benefits. My budget is balanced and is in the green, but man it really doesn't feel like it. People like Numel and Curseola think the way I view money and income is crazy. Pokemon don’t understand the culture I come from. Not one bit.
Not really wanting to keep my friend waiting, and not really needing much else here, I decided that I should just grab some much needed breakfast for the road, and by that I mean, just grab a banana from the bowl of fruit from the counter. That alone should be plenty for something of my size. I took it, lobbed it into my team's bag that I had left lying at the end of the bar, picked up the undoubtably magical and space defying bag that was almost a third my size but could fit five Minccinos inside comfortably, (Probably more!), slung the strap over my shoulder until it was snugly secured around my torso, and letting a small sigh slip out, dropped to four legs for the first time that morning and assuredly not the last, and bounded over towards my front door. Stopping at my door and getting back onto two feet as soon as I could before stretching up onto my tippy toes in order to reach the knob, I opened the door. The person on the other side was nearly the height of the doorway itself and who’s front was shadowed against the harsh sunlight behind them.
“There you are, Minccino! I was about ready to smash your door down!” The Charmeleon said, just a bit annoyed. “Alright, good. You all ready to go?”
“Yep, just about.” I responded. He turned and motioned for me to follow him. I did just that, I knew how he rolled far too well. He most likely planned to explain today’s objectives on the way there. I closed and locked the front door and immediately had to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight for a moment upon leaving the limits of my roof’s overhang. I would just have to let my eyes adjust as I walked.
My real name is Evan. However, most people just call me ‘Minccino’. It was a byname that took a bit of getting used to, but now I see both names as fully interchangeable. I met Charmeleon, oh, about seven months ago now. It was his rescue team that I had been assigned to after my identity was first discovered. To be honest, despite my various misgivings about this and that, and the fact that I had been bullied into becoming a rescuer in the first place, I do wholeheartedly believe that the organization had ultimately made the correct decision when they had hand picked me a team. Charmeleon, although often we all just called him ‘The Knight’, (I always forget to ask about the story behind a nickname like that), was a very talented and go-getting rescuer. Given what I know now, the fact that they decided to entrust an independently operating GOLD RANK with a nobody like me really is a high honor. Granted, by the time I was experienced enough to really get what that even meant, I had known him long enough to understand who he really was. He was energetic, young, and just a bit of a jokester. I would say he had all the makings of a natural born leader and planner, traits I personally could never have myself even if I tried. He also was quite impulsive and my gosh, I have never met anyone with as consistently bad luck as he had.
It was crazy to think about sometimes that despite the fact he towered at over twice my height and had gotten his gold rank all by himself years ago, whereas I still occasionally underestimated the weight of my own ears and tail and had only recently acquired my bronze rank, (a title some say is a rank just about anyone can reach without too much difficulty,) he was barely 17 years old whereas I was a 36 year old office drone! Its strange the things that crossing the very fabric of reality can do.
Eight months ago, I would have told you that Pokemon was a franchise that I knew basically nothing about and cared just as much for. So imagine what it was like to wake up one morning to find out this odd cartoon about a yellow rat was not only real, but I had been turned into one! Well, not the yellow rat anyway. As already established, I’m a Minccino, not a Pikachew. While I have never met one, comparing myself to one of them, heck, comparing myself to other townspeople and my own partners; annoyingly, I honestly looked rather plain and normal. Most have biologies that I would have once labeled as fantastical …or more likely just some furry trash… and yet of course I had to become a species that I could honestly believe existed where I come from, but yet I can’t think of a close substitute for the point of comparison despite how I look. That is something that annoys me on such an irrational level! Again, it's so strange the things that crossing the border between one reality and the next can do.
“Hey, you listening to me?” Oh, right, he was talking to me about today's jobs.
“I…. no. What did you say?”
“At least you're honest about it. Good thing to be. Many people wouldn’t pay attention, then claim they did. Zoning out happens to the best of us.”
‘Oh Charmeleon,’ I thought about him, ‘You're so innocent and forgiving. Always seeing the best in people, so willing to put others needs before his own. That's one of the main reasons he was such a great rescuer.’
“Ok, today we have six jobs to do at Fallow caves. Gotta rescue a Houndoom on floor 5, need to escort a Psyduck to the Flygon on the eighth floor, gotta deliver a parcel to someone on level 18, that one had a particularly high reward for the service~, and then at the back of the cave we have a three for one! Apparently, There was some treasure found back there, two people claimed it for themselves, got to it about the same time, and one of them got kidnapped! All evidence is suggesting the other person who got to this treasure is using the first guy as a bargaining chip in order to keep whatever this treasure is for themselves. So at minimum we’re going to need to negotiate their release, and most likely arrest the kidnapper and bring this treasure back to base with us if we need to as well.”
“So we’re unlikely to get much of, if any, of this treasure in the long run as usual?” I asked him, aware that we both knew how this was likely going to play out. He laughed a bit shamefully in agreement. ‘Seems like a pretty standard selection of jobs to me.’ I further added in the back of my mind. ‘Today shouldn’t be all too difficult, if that's all it is. Its been awhile since we last went to Fallow Caves, but it tended to be pretty middling in depth and challenge if I remember correctly. Then again, if there are reports that a treasure has appeared within, that might have attracted more than just two people. Actually…’
I repeated my thoughts to him openly, further asking, “You thought about that too, that this would have attracted a lot of gold diggers, both those with malicious intent and people not prepared to deal with the wild pokemon that already live in there, didn't you?”
“Yes, of course!” He said, proudly at that, “Yesterday, when I was looking over the job board and I realized that those three separate jobs were all related to each other, I came to that exact same conclusion! So I took all three, plus anything else that was for the dungeon, because obviously, and…” He stopped himself before talking a bit more slowly. “I’m rambling again aren't I?”
“Maybe? I think you were about to explain to me the whole entire process of submitting job listings to the guild master.” I teased him.
He had to facepalm so hard that he full on stopped marching for a moment there. “Yep, you’re right about that, I think. (Man, I cannot shut up sometimes.) Anyway,” he rolled his eyes and continued walking, “You really didn't miss anything from the official briefing this morning beyond everything we have both already figured out, so I think I can just skip that. Oh, and I couldn’t find a third team member that was around that was willing to work today, unfortunately.”
Yeah, that sounds about right. He started doing his rundown of the equipment we brought in the toolbox to ensure that we were not missing anything crucial. I quietly tuned him out. I knew him. Either the thing we suddenly found that we needed and lacked was something that we usually didn't pack anyway, or he brought too much of it, to the extent we often wouldn’t have enough space to carry interesting things we would find scattered about. Simply put, I trust his judgment infinitely more than my own. The couple times when we ran out of food or one of us got seriously injured honestly were outliers.
As the two of us walked across town, I couldn’t help but appreciate how nice a day it was. For a chilly fall mid-morning, the streets hadn’t been livelier since the end of summer. Practically every vendor and artisan on the main roads had their shop fronts open and had displays set up, there were more Pokemon wandering, conversing, and milling about than normal, and the cold air bristled with excitement and anticipation. If this was how it was at only a little past 10 in the morning, I can only imagine how busy it would be in a couple hours. And seeing multiple tables and tents halfway erected down the center of the town’s normally wide Parisian boulevards, I'm sure this is the kind of local entertainment us commoners would hate to miss. However as we both knew already, miss it we would. We had some jobs to do, a dungeon to crawl, and that hardly ever was not an all day affair. Paying attention just enough for me to realize that the Knight had moved on from talking about the jobs he had taken for today, or something, I opted to tune back in.
“... so of course when Oliver then suddenly bursts into the lobby just as Swoobat was approving all the requests, Swoobat for once just stamped all the documentation and just let me make myself scarce. I didn’t want to hang around in his presence either so I noped out of there before he started trying to talk to me.” Charmeleon rambled, “So I left to come and get you. By the way, Swoobat says that this is the last exception they will make, you need to be present at the base right at eight.”
‘Not like they insist that every time…’ I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. Wait… “Oliver showed up? But- why?” Oliver’s a pokemon I actually don’t know well, or really have even met for that matter. Honestly, I know his name better than his species which is… unusual i’m coming to learn. My partners knew him though, perhaps a little too well, and their perceptions of him have absolutely been rubbing off onto me. I’ve heard some… less than pleasant things about him so I hope to never have to engage him directly if I can avoid it. One of the few things I know for sure is that he is an explorer and not a rescuer like we are; a distinction that I still don’t understand the significance of despite having it explained to me numerous times.
“Heck if I know.” Charmeleon snorted, doing an even poorer job of hiding his distaste for the man than I do, “As said, I got out of there the moment he showed his smug face! Jokes aside, I think he was the first from the ongoing expedition to show up.”
“There’s an expedition?” I asked.
His normally ever-cheery attitude cooled a touch. “You know, the expedition? The one the explorers guild have been intending to send through here for weeks now?”
“N-no…?” I admitted.
“ … Ah, right. You never come to base in the mornings.” He said under his breath. “I’ll just give you the sparknotes version because it hardly matters anyway. The explorers guild had been planning an expedition to senic where-the-heckinstin and one of their planned stops was right here in our town. So our guildmaster has been adamant that we be on our best behavior to ‘Impress our sister organizations’ or something along those lines. ‘Can’t have the explorers see our proud rescue organization as some hokey, unprofessional volunteer program, now can we?’ he said. It’s like, don’t they think EXACTLY THAT about us anyway? All I knew was that was just not our problem, because we were scheduled for today like two months ago.”
“Ah, yeah. That would explain somethings. Like all the shops. I think some people are hoping this is an ample opportunity to make some cash off those rich kids.” I teased.
“Man, you KNOW it. Would you expect anything less?” he asserted. “Arceus knows what the extorters actually do with all that cash they intake; cus it sure as aint going to their actual dungeoneers, that’s for sure.”
“Everything all right Char?” he was coming off unusually hostile.
“Oh, it’s nothing! I maybe would have liked to go browse the flea market myself for twenty minutes but SOMEBODY wouldn't get out of bed so I had to cover for them, AGAIN.”
“Jeez… I’m sorry, I-” he interrupted me.
“*Sigh*, don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” He said, relaxing a bit. In my head I was screaming, ‘Is it though?!?’ “Let’s just get on with the mission.”
“Yeah, alright…” I said, feeling just a little defeated. Having worked with him this closely for several months now, it's still rather disheartening to see him acting like this. I would have thought someone like him was too empathetic and good-humored to respond this way, and while he was absolutely taking the whole thing better than I was, it did suck to see the tell-tale signs of stress begin to chip away at his personality. He’s been in this line of work for years now, and I for one know all too well what it's like to work passionately on a project for weeks at a time, only for it to be rejected with nary a glance from your superior. Still, it’s not like it's the job itself that's been getting him down. It’s something I've been struggling to come to terms with myself. Nobody could blame him for that.
But of course, thinking about that just made me think about how I ended up with this freaking job in the first place, because there really was just no other way to describe it other than I got bullied into the position. So, from what I hear, pokemon here have this legend, phenomenon, thing that just happens sometimes, where humans from another universe are forcibly dragged into this one and turned into a pokemon against their will. From there, they also forget their previous life and start a new team with the first person that wakes them, an individual that also really, really, REALLY wants to be a famous rescuer, or equivalent, themselves. From there, they save the whole planet from some existential crisis and get the option to return to their previous world, or stay put. Usually, they stay in this world. Apparently, that decrepit Typhlosion that lives an hours walk from the village is one of those humans, but A, I barely know the guy, B, he retired years and years ago, being very old and frankly a bit senile, and C, how does anybody just believe a story like that? Sure, he very well could have saved the world back in his day, I won’t dispute facts, but where’s the proof he was ever human? And yes, I do in fact know full well how ironic it is for me to even suggest such a thing.
Regardless of any of that, it took nearly four weeks for anyone to even notice that, “Oh, hey, that weird and reclusive Minccino that quietly moved into town and took up residence in the abandoned house on 4th street? You think they might be implying more than we think when they say, ‘they’re not from around here?’ And why exactly do they seem to not understand basic things about their own species’s diet and basic type matchups? Wonder why that keeps happening?” Yeesh. Sentient species have proven to always be consistent, it doesn't matter how wise and intelligent all the people individually are, as a whole they can be dumb as hell.
After I was discovered, everyone kept touteing me as some hero of legend, a few even went so far as to claim to be my fated lifelong partner, (Ugh, glad I DON’T have to deal with any of that noise anymore). Because I had proven that I had not been woken up by any of these people, and by ‘proven’ I of course mean that I kept insisting that I wanted nothing to do with them and kept begging them to leave me alone, thank you very much, I begrudgingly signed into the organization.
What was supposed to happen was that I was to fill out the form to start a new team and accept one of those pretenders to be my first partner, (heck I could have technically accepted all of them and instantly had a full-size team, complete with at least one reserve member at that,) what I did instead was swap it for one of the other ones when nobody was looking. In doing so what I had effectively just done was seize a moment of power and apply instead on the general interest form to just be slotted into either an independent position or placed in any random team that wanted me. I also wrote that I would specifically NOT like to be in a team with any of those weirdos.
Of course, I was caught pretty quick, but surprisingly, they actually accepted it at face value; after pointing out that “I took the wrong form” no less. Then the guildmaster, (Without consulting either of them I might add), decided to take two independents that already had quite a bit of experience together, that being the Knight and a slightly older woman named Sarah, and forcibly reclassed the both of them into a proper team and threw me into the mix. The Knight and Sarah actually didn’t care all too much, they had already come to see each other as a very reliable partner and were already a bit of a known duo. If anything, this just made it official.
Basically everyone in the whole guild has come to agree that I and the Guildmaster both couldn’t have made better judgment calls if we had actually tried. Simply put, if it wasn't for these two, I would have never been seen as a competent rescuer in any sense of the word, and I would have absolutely quit the guild after my first outing with zero regrets. I don’t think there would have been any two other people in the universe more qualified to actually prepare me for life as a pokemon, and making getting into fights twice a week actually something I could put up with. When I was down, they got me back up. When they needed my backup, I could support them knowing full well that they wouldn’t give me crap for helping them. When I didn't know what I was doing, which was often, they would always know exactly what to teach me. Seriously, how do you tell somebody that they need to relearn how to walk from literally the very beginning, so that my natural gait is actually taking into account the fact that I don’t have legs and is compensating for the mass of my tail and ears, all while not being demeaning throughout the entire training process? How was I supposed to know Minccino WEREN'T known for tripping all the time?
Seriously though, The guild normally gave fresh, zero-experience recruits two weeks minimum of training before they could get their first jobs, but I needed four weeks. Basically the first four days were just the two of them teaching me how to walk, as if I was some kind of toddler. I mean, to be fair, it was more complicated than simply learning how to actually move in this body, but knowing things like how I can use my tail as a fifth limb, (It has a fully unique ruleset from both legs and arms), figuring out precisely how flexible I am, and even determining precisely the times and ways I am to swap to being on all fours. That last part Is particularly impressive considering that neither of them are even morphologically able to move like how my species can!
Does... does any of that even matter at this point? I... can't say. It has been six whole months since then, and i'm 99% sure everyone else is sick of me complaining about it. I mean, I certainly am, and maybe you are too. But, the problem is that, despite how long we have known each other and how close we undeniably are, I still can barely hold a proper conversation with the kid, even with how gregarious and jolly he... well, normally is anyway. I just... never know how to talk to somebody barely half my age, not my species, has radically different interests then me, and knows actively nothing about the things that do interest me. like, can you blame me? I was already the guy who was utterly incapable of partying back in high school and college, shied away from talking about sports and politics around the water cooler, and spent most days in my tiny third-floor studio apartment located in a random building in an empty section of the city... alone. I guess what I am trying to say is that I have never really had a friend like Charmeleon or... *Sigh*.
As I took yet another step trying in a fairly vain attempt to keep up with him without having to drop to all fours despite my stubby legs(?) really not being designed to handle two legged movement beyond a slow-ish walk, I abruptly snapped back to reality the hard way as a jolt of pain went through my right paw- foot, leading me to stumble backwards with a yelp! I instinctively went to go for the old, 'quick, grab your hurt foot with both hands and start jumping, because that will help, clearly' maneuver, and failed at that too, because despite my relative flexibility, all my paws are WAY too stubby and short to do any of the things a human could do that involve long arms and legs, which includes the aforementioned maneuver. the result of this was of course me falling right over backwards, though, thankfully my training did kick-in quickly enough to prevent me from landing right on my tail and risk crushing it further. Charmeleon turned around in surprise, preparing to ask me if I was alright most likely, but all I saw was him taking a weird step and blindly kick the same sharp rock in the road I had stepped on on, to which it added to it's victim roster as I saw one of the claws on his foot bend upward at an angle it seldom does, at which he visibly winced and responded in nearly the exact same way I did.
He backed off, and we both just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, before slowly cringing at ourselves and each other. I noticed a random orb had fallen out of the bag, so I stood up, still wincing at the milder-than-it-was-but-still-unpleasant pain point in my foot and retrieved it, remarking, "So, even three foot tall, fire breathing land-dragons with claws for toes can still stub their toes on random furniture?"
He looked at me like I had just said something asinine before responding, "How many times do I need to remind you? I'm not Dragon type?"
To that, I joked back, "Oh, i'm sorry, I forgot you even had a type!" he started laughing hysterically at that line, and for a second I wondered why he found the fact that he has literally never gone on a date (as far as i'm aware) so funny, before it dawned on me what I had *actually* just told him! I had little choice but to laugh sadly with him at myself, because that sentiment in itself isin't entirely untrue, either. I'm still not used to thinking of people in terms of 'types', anyway, much less am I close to even comprehending the way they all interact. He kept laughing for another moment before calming down and urging me to keep moving. He offered me his hand to help me up, to which I accepted. We started moving immediately, and he didn't let go, and I couldn't bring myself to pull free of his grasp. Humiliating as it is to admit, it makes me feel... you know, safer; less like a waste of space and effort when he lets me walk so closely to him. Maybe I just like the way he radiates heat? I have never had the strength to ask him why he does it, either. Does he truly want me so close? Or does he just want to ensure that I don't get left behind? Either way, the fact he does it earnestly without a single thought is a stark reminder of just how much I don't deserve his friendship.
We kept walking the rest of the way to the dungeon in silence. As I walked off that rock I stepped on, all I could do to keep my mind off things was lament the fact I can't find or buy actual shoes intended for Minccino. Sandals do exist, but they do nothing to keep dirt off my paws. I would rather walk barefoot like I am now than use those. I want real shoes! The closest I can find to my paw size and shape are intended for other species and are far too expensive. Plus, that's without addressing the real dealbreaker for how they are utterly incompatible with running on all fours and do nothing for my front paws when doing so! I mean, i'm sure I could ask Charmeleon, and he would be able to get me a high quality pair able to solve all those problems easy... but... no, he already does so much for me already. I can't.
We walked along the quiet, chilly, sunny, peaceful autumn morning with nary a word of conversation between us. Charmeleon kept marching ahead, looking out at the path before him. I trudged along, just going wherever he pulled me, staring down at the ground.