"For the last time, Shin, you are not getting a Pokémon!" the woman boomed vexingly at her son.

The boy in front of her pouted. "Why not?!"

"I told you, you're too young! You won't know how to take care of it nor will you know how to train it!" She hastily put the plate she was washing into the dishwasher.

"But everyone in school has a Pokémon!" Shin argued, his eyes on the brink of tears. "Why can't we get one?"

"Because those Pokémon belong to their families," she responded.

"But then—"

"Because Mommy has to work all day! And I can't manage work and a Pokémon at the same time." The woman sighed stressfully, taking off her rubber gloves to massage her forehead. "You have to feed them, and talk to them, and love them. I can't do all that, you know? I already have you to worry about!"

"I can take care of myself!" Shin defied confidently, clenching his fists. "And I can take care of them! I have no one to play with anyway!"

"Honey, we've talked about this so many times already. You're eight." As she raised her voice, she slammed the dishwasher door shut which sent chills up Shin's spine. He could've sworn something broke in there. "If you want your own Pokémon, just wait until you're ten and Professor Kukui will give you—"

"What about Dad?" Shin demanded. He watched his mother flinch slightly, her eyes widening as her body went still. His mind pressed on, blinded by anger. "When he gets home from work he can take care of it! That's his job, isn't it?"

The woman let her ebony black hair drift over her face in an attempt to cover her already conflicted eyes. "Shin, honey," she began, her mouth not wanting to move. "Your father... is a very busy man. He's out making the money we really need! He's never even home, to begin with."

Shin's face perplexed. "But you said he comes home every night," he argued.

"That's different," she replied lowly. "Ever since he got his 'job', he comes home very late. Most of the time he doesn't even come at all." Her eyes began to dart around hastily. "Your father never calls us or talks to us. He doesn't even come to see you! And as soon as I notice him walk through that front door, that bas...!"

The woman stopped herself before she could finish her sentence, leaving the poor boy's mind confused. Although he somewhat comprehended what his mother was trying to tell him, he yearned to know what she was about to say. However, something about her attitude scared him into silence. It was only when she turned away to dry her hands that he attempted to speak again.

"When will Dad quit his job, then?" Shin's voice piped in ever so quietly. "I want to play with him again."

The tired mother let out an exhausted exhale, saying nothing back to her distraught son. She simply slugged away, letting her fingers comb through her damp hair. She only paused once to open the door to her room and tilted her head slightly to Shin. "...He'll never quit," he watched her mouth utter silently before she shut the door behind her.

Without even knowing why, warmth began to well in his raven-colored eyes. He fought hard to bite back the childish crying, yet still, they still leaked over his flushed and angered cheeks. The small child bolted to the front door. He felt scared, clueless to what haunted him so. He was angry, despite knowing it wasn't his mother's fault; distraught from her vague words about his father. And as his feet padded down the concrete streets of his town, tears of desolation trailed behind him, leaving wet brown marks on the pavement.

_______________________________

Shin later found himself a seat by the stump of a palm tree, his head resting on his palms glumly. While his mother didn't allow him his own Pokemon, she did let the boy go out and play on his own, despite him only being eight. It was quite literally the only thing she allowed him to do, for usually it gave her time to work and time for Shin to entertain himself the best he could. This case, the child just wanted to be alone to think for a while. Just to run away from it all.

It had been almost two years since his father started his odd routine. He used to come home with an optimistic smile, arms open for Shin to run into. They would sit by the TV, watching silly cartoons for hours as his mother amiably cooked dinner in the kitchen. On some occasional days, they would go out and play tag with the neighborhood Pokémon. How Shin loved every moment. The Pokémon would give him rides on their back with the help of his father, who always laughed along with them.

Those were the days...

That was until his mother had called him and sat him down on the chair, her eyes dull and tired. Shin had noticed his father didn't return home the night before... and the night before that, and the night before that one. It had started to worry him so.

"Honey, your father has some important work to do. He won't come home for a while," he remembered his mother telling him quietly.

"How long?" he had asked her, but she only placed his dinner on the table and turned away.

Shin never understood her actions. Her words. They were always so unclear. At least unclear enough for an eight-year-old such as himself. Her attitude since then changed so drastically; he missed his old mother. The way she always had time to play with him, the devotion to her husband, her kindness, her exuberance...

...her smile.

She never seemed to smile anymore. No, not after that fateful day. Now she only wore a plastic expression, only looking seemingly happy when she wanted Shin to calm down. Dark bags circled the bottom of her eyes from all of the overexertion. His father used to share the work in the house, but since he left, his mother was the only one capable of tending to their home's needs. Shin tried to offer help a few times but was always turned down by her dismissive excuses.

"No, Mommy can do it. You go play."

"This is too dangerous for a little boy to do. Why don't you go do something else?"

"Mommy's fine. Isn't there some other thing you can do right now?"

Never did he argue back: He didn't want to upset her more than she already seemed. He almost always obeyed her orders, but there was only one problem that occurred to him: Who did he have to play with anymore?

All the child ever wanted was someone to play with. A friend. Yet none of his peers ever wanted to be friends with such a sad, miserable boy. They had their Pokémon, which was much better than hanging out with someone as simple as him. Unlike the other kids, Shin would usually wander the neighborhood alone, watching the Pokémon have fun with his classmates. He didn't want to interact with them-- ever since that day, he would always feel so depressed when playing with any other Pokémon. The poor boy would just sit, isolated, as the minutes slipped past him ever so slowly.

It was the daily life of Shin, and he was so used to it that he became numb. There was no one to talk to, no one to play with. The only thing there was to do was to mingle with the memories he never wanted to remember. What else was there? Nothing. His only friends were his nightmares, and he feared it would stay that way.

The boy only shut his eyes tightly and tried to fight back the tears that were inching their way out for the millionth time. At least no one would be there to see him sulking for such a stupid reason. He prepared for the memories to start tormenting him once more...

...That was when he felt a presence that interrupted his thoughts.

His head bolted up, trying to find the source of whatever alerted him. In the distance, a small figure was staggering weakly across the dirt path. Shin had to squint in order to make out its features: A quadruped with stones protruding from its neck, mud-matted fur from which under hid a pale brown coat of hair. Its gray tail hung exhaustedly and was practically dragging across the earth.

The boy noticed its wobbly legs about to collapse, running forward in hopes of catching it. "Hey! Are you okay?" he asked worriedly as the creature fell into his grasp, gasping heavily. It took him a moment to realize it was a Pokémon, but before long, his heart began to race with anxiety.

What should he do? What would his father do?

He hesitated for a second before did his best to lift the tired Pokémon onto his back, securing its paws around his neck. If he took it to the Pokémon center, Nurse Joy would be questioning him for sure. She'd probably call his mother and earn a scolding from her for walking so far into town— it was against the law to be unaccompanied with a trainer. His house was definitely closer, not to mention that his father's office was still in his basement. He could use some of his equipment, hopefully, he wouldn't mind. It was an emergency. He just had to keep the Pokémon out of sight. That would be easy.

The boy began to trail back to his home with the injured creature. "Hang in there," he assured it. "You'll be alright soon."