“Help! I need a doctor now! I don’t know how much longer he can hold out...”

I burst through the doors of the Pokémon Center, not even waiting for them to open fully but squeezing between them as they slid apart instead. The circular, immaculately clean foyer of the Pokémon Center was mostly empty, but a few people sat around talking and turned to look at me as I ran in screaming. In particular a pink haired and slender nurse dressed in a white nursing gown stood up from where she had been sitting behind a reception desk, looking at me inquisitively. “Can I help you sir? Who are you talking about?”

“This Cyndaquil, it was...” I hesitated, not wanting to think of what Zelos and Ramirez had so ruthlessly done, “Injured. Badly injured. A knife cut deep into its throat.”

I walked over to the reception desk and showed the nurse the form I cradled in my arms like a baby. The Cyndaquil had steadily been getting worse; the sock I had tied around his throat to help stop the bleeding looked as if it had been dropped into a pool of blood and even more ran out around it, tangling his chest fur into a sticky crimson mess. His breathing was slow and came in short wheezes, his fur was ghastly pale, and his entire body felt as if a fire was raging inside of him even more so then usual. As the nurse saw him she gasped and typed a flurry of words into the computer on the desk. “Chansey! There’s a Cyndaquil here who needs treatment in the ER immediately!”

A pair of swinging doors burst open and out of it a pink, egg shaped Pokémon about as high as my waist waddled out, pushing a small stretcher ahead of it. “Chansey!” It said, looking at me and pointing at the stretcher with one of its stubby arms. Realizing what it wanted I reluctantly lay the Cyndaquil on the stretcher, being careful so as not to move him more then I had to. Out of my arms and lying helplessly on the stretcher he looked even worse then before, and as the Chansey began to pull the stretcher back through the doors I had to restrain myself from chasing after, feeling as if I would never see Cyndaquil again if I let him out of my sight. I knew I couldn’t follow, however, and bit my lower lip as the doors flapped close behind the Chansey and the Cyndaquil bearing stretcher.

“What is your name and trainer ID, sir? Is that Cyndaquil yours? I’ll need a full account on what happened.” The nurse recited after the Chansey and Cyndaquil had left. Turning to her I slumped against the counter, folding my arms and hanging my head; only then realizing that the front of my shirt and my lower arms, bare as I was wearing a t-shirt, were covered in blood. I looked up at the nurse and tried to act stronger then I felt at the moment.

“My name is Shrike Flamestar and I don’t have a trainer ID; I’m a student at The Pokémon Academy, the Rustboro campus, of course. No, the Cyndaquil is not mine, it belongs to the school. I really would rather not talk about what happened.”

“I’m sorry, but we need to know what happened for our records, and we also need some form of identification, such as a school ID card. You said something about a knife cutting its throat? How did that occur?”

Sighing reluctantly I gave in and told her what had happened, meanwhile trying to convince myself that it had all been a dream. When I finally finished I was worn out from being forced to retell the tale and I slumped down farther as I dug my school ID out of my pocket and laid it on the counter. Picking it up the nurse finished typing whatever she had been working on and gave a small nod as she glanced at me and handed my ID back.

“You can go and sit down now; the washrooms are over there if you want to wash off. As soon as we have the Cyndaquil in a stable condition we’ll let you in to see it.”

I staggered over to a chair that gave a good view of the glass wall that made up half of the circular room’s parameter and dropped down into it, setting my backpack onto the floor, not caring for the blood on me. My right arm throbbed from where Zelos’ knife had fallen and cut me, the sock I had tied around it showing hints of blood starting to soak through, however I ignored it and stared blankly out the glass wall. A few minutes later I sighed and snapped out of the trance I had been in as I reached into one of my jeans pockets, pulling out a rectangular metal device about the size and shape of a book. Sliding a stylus pen out of it I flipped open the tablet PC’s cover and tapped at the screen, pulling up a story about a Pokémon trainer that I was working on. I tried to continue writing in it, yet found that I just wasn’t in the mood right now to write anything and instead checked to see if I could get a wireless internet connection in the Pokémon Center, only to be prompted with a screen saying,
 

“Hey, Shrike. How’s the Cyndaquil doing?” Rayne’s voice responded. I suddenly remembered that we had swapped phone numbers when we were first grouped together, but I hadn’t bothered to memorize hers and instead just saved it to my phone’s address book.

“Don’t know. He was in really bad shape when I got here, but I haven’t heard anything farther yet. I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything.”

“Okay... Wait, hold on, Mr. Neil wants to talk to you.”

“Huh? You mean Neil, the assistant principal? What’s he want?”

“Ask him yourself, here...” And then in a different voice that I didn’t recognize all that well, “Hello? Shrike Flamestar, is it? I trust that this isn’t some kind of prank?”

“Yes, I am Shrike, sir. And no, this isn’t a prank; why would anyone joke about this?”

“Well, we have plenty of eyewitnesses so there’s not much doubt to that matter, instead I wanted to talk with you in regards to the Cyndaquil that is currently being treated by the Pokémon Center between our campus and Rustboro City proper, that’s the one, right?”

“Um, I suppose so. All I know is that this is the Pokémon Center that is right next to the school and which we were told is where we should go if a Pokémon in our possession is injured severely and beyond the care of the school’s infirmary. Since the cut Cyndaquil received was so deep and directly on his throat, as I’m sure Rayne has already told you, I thought it best to bring him here.”

“Good thing you did, from the sounds of it this matter is far out of the hands of our doctors. The real problem we have on our hands right now, however, is that of your current possession of the Cyndaquil itself. See, by law a Pokémon Center can only return a Pokémon to the person who brought it in in the first place, hence why they take your name and trainer ID if you have one. You do not have to stay at the Center for the entire time, of course, although I have seen fit to arrange to have you excused from classes for the rest of the day, as per Professor Jura’s request; however some of the board members are concerned that this period of time may leave an imprint of sorts on you.”

“An imprint, sir?” I was puzzled, both over what Mr. Neil meant and why Professor Jura requested that I be excused from classes for the day; I had never heard of him being considerate to anyone besides himself before.

“A psychological one, yes. Quite frankly some people are worried that you will grow attached to the Cyndaquil and believe that it is your own Pokémon even though that is most certainly not the case, especially with such a specimen as this one; I am under the impression that it is of an abnormal coloring.”

“Somewhat, his chest fur has some extra chemicals in them that give his chest a sort of red shine; the shine is only on his chest, however. If it was over his full body he’d be outright rare, but being half-and-half like this is merely uncommon nowadays.”

“Professor Jura taught you this?”

“Yes, sir.”

For a moment there was only the sound of papers being shuffled through, followed by silence. Shortly Mr. Neil spoke up again, “That’s it for now. As I have already said, you have been excused from classes for the day, but I fully expect you to be back tomorrow with this incident out of your mind.”

“I understand, sir.”

With a click the phone call ended and I closed my cell phone, clutching it tightly in my hand as I thought on what Mr. Neil had said. It was clear they wanted to press in the point that Cyndaquil belonged to them and not me, yet my mind kept on slipping around the thought, not bearing to think about it. I didn’t want to admit it but the mindset the school feared I would slip into I already had. Anxious for something else to take my mind away from those thoughts I stood up and reattached my cell phone to its clip as I walked over to the reception desk. “How’s Cyndaquil doing? Can I see him yet?”

“We’re sorry, sir. He is still in the emergency room, but should be ready to be moved to intensive care any minute now. As soon as his condition is stable we’ll be sure to notify you. If you want to leave the building you can give me your phone number and we will call you if necessary.” The nurse said, not looking away from her work.

“No, that’s not needed. Not now, anyways. I can wait here.”

The next few hours passed uneventfully, most of the time being spent working on some homework I had built up. Eventually I changed my shirt with a spare one from my backpack and washed off the blood caked on my arms, replacing the sock wrapped around my cut with a cloth bandage a nurse gave me; I could tell that everyone else in the Pokémon Center was glad I had done so since I looked like I had killed someone before. Boringness finally got the better of me and I asked the nurse why I had to have a trainer’s license to access the internet, only to find out that I could also use my school ID to get on and that they hadn’t found the time to change the notice yet. Aggravated that they had been so lazy as to not change one little sentence around I finally made my way online and logged into a chat room that me and some of my online friends hung out on.
 

Blinking I looked up from my conversation, finding that a new nurse, this one with black hair tied back in a bun yet otherwise looking similar to the receptionist, was standing over me. “Yes. Is this about Cyndaquil? How is he?”

“He is fine; he will have to remain in intensive care for a while longer, we’re guessing a couple days at least, but his condition has stabilized enough to allow you to see him.”

Quickly I stood up, hastily typing the letters “BRB” on the onscreen keyboard of my PC before sliding it into my pocket, following the nurse through the same doors Cyndaquil had left through and down a white walled hallway, past several doors branching off the main path and carts piled high with medical equipment. We passed a couple more nurses and doctors as well as a Chansey or two before finally turning through a door labeled “Intensive Care. Authorized personnel and escorted visitors ONLY!”

“He is in here, please try to be quiet.” The nurse said, inserting a keycard into a slot besides a door with a plaque that read ‘FT-S1.’ The door slid aside smoothly and I nervously stepped into the pitch black room. I couldn’t make out a thing and fumbled around for a light switch before suddenly a single, small lamp next to a bed turned on as the nurse pressed a button on the panel outside the room. The lamp didn’t reveal much about the room other then the small bed with a bundle of blankets on top a couple of yards from the door, the rest of the room being hid in darkness. I nearly cried out in joy as I ran over to stand next to the bed, stifling the urge to reach out and take the sleeping form of Cyndaquil away with me now.

He looked haggard and worn, however he had been thoroughly washed and not a drop of blood could be seen anymore throughout his fur. The cut on his neck which had been bleeding so profusely before had been stitched close; his head and neck held tightly in a metal clamp attached to the bed so that the stitch wouldn’t tear open in case he moved in his sleep. A couple of IVs ran from his side and there were flattened places in his fur where various sensors had been before but were now removed.

“I must admit, this was one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen. Injuries of this magnitude are more common in the center of the city, not its outskirts. Still, the doctors believe he should be almost back to normal within a month; however he can leave here before then as long as whoever cares for him makes sure he gets plenty of rest.” The nurse said, walking over to me as I dropped to my knees next to the bed.

“‘Almost’. What does that mean?” I asked as I watched Cyndaquil’s stomach rise and fall. Just as it had when I put him in his cage, before Zelos and Ramirez kidnapped him and started this whole mess.

“Well, while his trachea and carotid arteries were fortunately uninjured, the sacs of methane gas that Cyndaquils and their evolutions use to produce fire out of their mouths were badly damaged. It is not known rather they will heal on their own, although it is suspected unlikely. While the methane gas sacs are damaged like this he will not be able to produce any fire out of his mouth, although he will still be able to on his back since those use a different ignition method.” The nurse said. I looked grimly at the stitch on Cyndaquil’s neck and sighed.

“So, in other words, he won’t be able to use attacks such as Ember, Flamethrower, and the like.” Cautiously I reached out and smoothed a patch of Cyndaquil’s fur that was sticking straight up. “Don’t know why I care, though. It’s not like he’s mine, and it’s not as if the school will just hand him over to me like they would a textbook.”

“Yet you look as though you care for him a great deal.”

“I do. Before this happened I was assigned to keep watch and record data on him for a school project. During that time I grew to like him, and was disappointed that it was unlikely I’d ever be able to see him again after we finished due to the school’s policy against letting students visit the school’s Pokémon. Despite my disappointment I was still able to cope with losing him to the school at that point, however. But then, when Zelos and Ramirez came and were about to kill him, I snapped; I suddenly realized that he is the Pokémon I want to partner with, to journey out into the world side by side with. Except, I’m only a sophomore, I still have two more years until I’m released from school. I could always drop out, seeing as there’s no law forbidding dropouts from getting their training licenses, yet even then there’s still the matter that he’s the school’s property and if I were to take him I’d be no better then Zelos and Ramirez. Without the killing, of course. I doubt my dad would be very happy if I dropped out either, he’s the one who sent me to this school to begin with, after all.”

“Perhaps you should try talking to the school board.” A harsh voice said from the doorway.

Startled I swung around to face the intruder and stifled a gasp of surprise as I found myself looking at a familiar, tall and elderly man; his head topped with wiry gray hair and his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at me sternly. “Professor Jura?! What are you doing here; I thought you had a class now?”

“I do. I figured the students in that class are so lackluster when it comes to Pokémon, however, that my presence there wouldn’t make any difference whatsoever. So I left them to themselves; locking all the doors and windows, of course.” Professor Jura said as he walked over to where the nurse and I were huddled around Cyndaquil’s bed. “Move out of the way. I want to see the Cyndaquil. It is my Pokémon, of course.”

“Sir, you can’t be back here, this is a restricted area. Only staff and visitors under escort are allowed in here.” The nurse stammered, surprised by the abruptness of Professor Jura.

“Ah, Shrike’s my escort. Besides, just try and stop me.” Professor Jura growled as he pushed his way past the nurse and next to where I stood, towering over my kneeling form as he stared down at me. “What are you doing on the ground, boy? Praying?”

Wondering what was the best way to escape from Professor Jura’s gaze yet still remain with the Cyndaquil I quickly stood up. “Watching him sleep. You can’t see his neck when you kneel, so he looks almost the same as before it all; as I wish it could be. I know he’s not my Pokémon, yet I’ve found that I care for him all the same now.”

For what had to be the first time these past two years I’ve had with him, Professor Jura actually briefly smiled and nodded at me. “Good. You care for something other then yourself, a trait I’ve found rare among my students these days. Yet, you need to come to terms with what is and not your vision of a perfect reality, so I forbid you from kneeling for now.”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded submissively, looking down at the stitched cut which I had indirectly caused out of my negligence.

“Excuse me, sir, but you really need to—” The nurse began, but Professor Jura cut her off.

“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready, and I most certainly am not now. Do I look like I am disturbing anything; I am but an old man after all. And will you all please stop calling me ‘sir,’ it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“Professor Jura? Pardon my asking, but what are you doing here? I doubt you left your class just so you could checkup on Cyndaquil, something which you could have easily called and done.” Remembering something else he had said I quickly added, “Also, you mentioned something about him being yours? Are you referring to how he’s used in your class?”

“You make a good point on my being here, and indeed I am not here merely to check up on the Cyndaquil. I am here to check up on you. The school board is going all willy-nilly over the Cyndaquil’s condition, yet everyone seems to be forgetting the human factor involved.”

“But, you could have called me just the same.”

“Some things you need to do in person, and my task here today is one of them.”

Utterly confused now I tried changing the subject again, “About you calling Cyndaquil yours, even though he’s the school’s...”

“Tell me, Shrike. What do you plan to do now?” Professor Jura asked, once again ignoring the new subject I proposed.

“What do I plan to do now? I don’t know, I suppose I can try and arrange with the school board to be allowed to see him every once in a while, as you suggested.”

“I suggested nothing of the sort. I said you should try speaking with the school board and that was all, I never said about what.”

“Then, what do you suggest I do?”

“You must decide that for yourself. I am your General Pokémon Studies teacher, not your guidance counselor after all.”

By now I was starting to get frustrated and didn’t know what to say, so remained silent instead. Trying to stay calm I gently petted Cyndaquil, being sure to keep my fingers away from the stitch on his neck and the IVs that emerged out of his side.

“More caring. Compassion and tenderness too. You remind me of, well, that is not important right now. I believe I have seen what I need to and thus I will be making my leave now; hopefully those scamps haven’t torn apart the classroom in my absence.” Professor Jura said, turning around and pushing his way past the nurse who had been standing by the door silently after it became apparent that Jura wasn’t listening to her. Stopping in the doorway he turned back around to me, giving me another of his stern stares. “Tomorrow after class, which you will attend, no excuses, I wish to talk with you farther. Until then, think about what you want to do, what you need to do, and what you will do.” With that Professor Jura was gone, quickly shuffling off down the hallway. I stared at the empty door a moment longer before turning back to Cyndaquil. What am I going to do? I thought to myself.

“Pardon me, sir, but you must leave now. The doctors want to checkup on the Cyndaquil’s progress.” The nurse said to me as another person in a white lab coat who must have come into the room while I hadn’t been paying attention walked back out the door and away.

Nodding I stroked Cyndaquil’s chest one last time and turned away from him, walking briskly down the hall as I remembered from when the nurse had led me to Cyndaquil’s room. Coming back out into the reception area I looked out the glass wall at the clear evening sky. It was nearly nine now, yet it seemed like mere minutes ago that it had all started. My exhaustion hitting me like a hammer I quickly scribbled my cell phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to the pink haired nurse at the reception desk, reminding her of my name and telling her that I wanted to be called if absolutely anything of importance happened to Cyndaquil.

Gathering up my stuff from where I had left it by my chair I walked out through the Pokémon Center’s door, my mind filled with troubled thoughts yet not wanting anything more then to know that everything would turn out all right in regards to Cyndaquil and my newfound bond with him.
 

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