"Trainers can naturally communicate with their Pokémon," Xiu explained casually, enjoying Xiaoyuan's surprised expression. "How else could they issue commands in battle?" As if on cue, he released Abra, the small psychic Pokémon materializing silently beside him in the convenience store's bright fluorescent light.
Seeing Abra appear seemingly from nowhere only deepened Xiaoyuan's curiosity. It was like a curtain was being pulled back, revealing a world she'd only glimpsed through television screens and rumors.
"Alright, Abra," Xiu instructed. "Help me establish a telepathic link with Pichu again, please."
Xiaoyuan watched, fascinated, as Xiu fell silent, his expression shifting subtly as he seemingly concentrated, occasionally frowning or looking surprised. Pichu, sitting comfortably on Xiu's lap now, chattered away excitedly, though to Xiaoyuan, it still just sounded like variations of "Pichu! Pichu!" She knew something extraordinary was happening, even if she couldn't understand the mechanics, and wisely kept quiet, observing intently.
After several minutes of this silent 'conversation,' Xiu's expression finally cleared, replaced by one of sudden understanding, mingled with sympathy. He looked up, noticing Xiaoyuan's patient curiosity. He hesitated for a moment, organizing the flood of information he'd just received, then began to relay Pichu's story.
"It originally lived," Xiu began softly, "in the forests just outside Light Red City…"
According to the memories Pichu had shared through Abra, it hadn't always been a city scavenger. It was born wild, part of a thriving colony of Pichu and Pikachu living relatively peacefully in the nearby woodlands. Life wasn't luxurious, but food was available, and it had companionship.
Until the day the humans came. Not trainers, but trappers. They set snares, used nets, captured dozens of the small electric mice. Pichu, young and playful, was easily caught along with many of its kin. They were crammed into cages, endured a bumpy, frightening journey, and ended up in a commercial 'breeding house' – essentially a pet store – on the outskirts of the city, waiting to be sold.
Pichu's inherent cuteness made it popular, especially with children. And unlike many Pokémon, its relatively small appetite made it an affordable pet even for families without significant means. Soon enough, a young boy spotted Pichu and convinced his parents to buy it.
For a while, things were good. Pichu, being naturally adaptable and not inherently aggressive, quickly adjusted to life in the human household. Its cute antics made it a beloved family pet. The small bell, a cheap trinket given away by the breeding house with every purchase, was tied around its neck – a symbol of its domesticated status.
But the breeding house, focused solely on profit, had neglected (or deliberately omitted) crucial information: Pichu's difficulty controlling its electrical discharges, especially when young or emotional. As Pichu grew slightly older, accidental shocks became more frequent. It zapped the boy during play, sparked when overly excited or scared. Though unintentional, the shocks were unpleasant, sometimes startling. The family, lacking the knowledge or patience to deal with this 'defect,' grew frustrated. Eventually, unable or unwilling to manage the situation, they simply… abandoned it. Drove it out to the edge of the city and left it to fend for itself. The bell, a symbol of belonging, became a remnant of betrayal.
That was how Pichu ended up alone, scavenging in the park, learning to survive on the streets, eventually losing its bell during the violent storm that nearly claimed its life. Its guilt over shocking Xiu stemmed directly from the trauma of being rejected for that very reason.
As Xiu finished relaying the story, translating Pichu's jumbled memories and emotions into coherent narrative, Xiaoyuan's initial sympathy hardened into anger.
"How could they?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling slightly. "Just abandon it like that! Those people… it's cruel!"
"It's partly a market problem too," Xiu countered gently, trying to see the bigger picture. "They likely didn't know about Pichu's discharge issues when they bought it. The real blame lies heavily with the breeding house." He felt a surge of cold anger himself. Anyone running a facility like that had to know about Pichu's species-specific challenges. "But mentioning the 'defect' would hurt sales, wouldn't it? So, for profit, they stay silent, and Pokémon like Pichu end up suffering." He was certain Pichu wasn't the only abandoned pet Pokémon struggling to survive in this city. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. But… what could he do? He felt powerless against such systemic issues.
Xiaoyuan seemed to understand his point. Her initial outburst faded, replaced by a quiet, somber silence. She knew she couldn't change the past either.
"Pichu!"
Sensing the heavy mood between the two humans, Pichu suddenly hopped down from Xiu's lap. It stood between them, puffed out its chest, and struck a series of comically brave poses, chattering brightly, trying to cheer them up. It seemed remarkably optimistic, resilient, seemingly having processed the trauma of its past.
Xiu watched it, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow again. 'Its intelligence…' Pichu's ability to read the room, its complex emotional responses, its apparent understanding of the situation… it seemed far beyond what he'd expect from a Pokémon typically considered on par with Rattata. Was his previous understanding flawed? Or was this Pichu somehow… different?
His thoughts were interrupted by Xiaoyuan's sudden laughter. Pichu, continuing its attempts to lighten the mood, was now making silly faces and exaggerated gestures, successfully drawing a genuine smile from the tired clerk. Xiu watched them, shaking his head slightly. 'No point dwelling on it now.'
The rainstorm raged throughout the night. It wasn't until well after four in the morning that the intensity finally began to lessen, and by five, the rain had stopped completely, leaving behind dripping eaves and glistening streets.
Xiu closed the notebook he'd been studying intermittently through the night. He glanced over at the counter. Xiaoyuan had fallen asleep slumped over it, her shift likely ending soon. Curled up peacefully beside her, head resting on her arm, was Pichu.
He stood up quietly, stretching his stiff limbs. Outside, the first hint of dawn painted the eastern sky with pale, hazy light. A new day.
"Welcome!"
The mechanical chime of the door opening startled Xiaoyuan awake. She sat up abruptly, blinking sleepily, and saw Xiu standing by the entrance, backpack slung over his shoulder.
He offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."
"Wha-what time is it?" Xiaoyuan mumbled, rubbing her eyes and looking dazedly at the wall clock. Seeing it was past five, she jolted fully awake. "Oh! It's okay! Thank goodness you woke me up, actually. My relief shift starts soon. If I'd overslept…" She shuddered slightly. "My boss would kill me."
Seeing her sudden anxiety, Xiu's faint smile faded. "Is… everything alright?" he asked hesitantly.
Xiaoyuan shook her head quickly, forcing a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, fine! Nothing~" She immediately started tidying the counter, straightening displays, clearly avoiding the topic.
Pichu, also woken by the noise, initially looked around nervously, instinctively wanting to hide, but relaxed upon seeing Xiaoyuan. It yawned widely, a very human-like gesture, and sat obediently on the counter.
Xiu watched Xiaoyuan's hurried movements, her forced cheerfulness. His earlier intuition nudged him again. "If… if you're in some kind of trouble," He offered quietly, "maybe I can help? Or at least listen?"
"It's nothing, really," Xiaoyuan insisted, still not meeting his eye. "Just… stuff at home." She stopped tidying, looked up at him, and managed another strained smile. "Thanks for the offer, though."
Xiu knew better than to push. He nodded towards her. "Alright then. I should get going. Goodbye, Xiaoyuan. And thanks for the shelter."
As Xiu turned and walked out the door, Xiaoyuan's forced smile immediately crumpled. She resumed her tidying with frantic energy.
Pichu watched Xiu leave, then looked back at Xiaoyuan, letting out a soft, questioning whine. "Pichu?"
Xiaoyuan paused, patting Pichu's head distractedly. "I'm fine, little guy," she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction. "Don't worry about me." She reached into her pocket, pulled out two small coins, and dropped them into the cash register – presumably paying for something. Then she grabbed a pre-packaged loaf of plain bread from a nearby shelf, tore it in half, and stuffed one half into Pichu's paws. She took a bite from the other half herself, mumbling something about needing to hurry as she walked towards the door.
Pichu chirped again, then hopped off the counter, clutching the piece of bread – nearly as large as itself – and scurried after her.
Once outside, Xiaoyuan quickly locked the convenience store door behind her and started walking briskly down the street, Pichu trotting faithfully at her heels.
Neither of them noticed a figure detach itself from the shadows of a nearby alleyway and begin following them at a discreet distance. Xiu. Something about Xiaoyuan's forced smile, her palpable anxiety, hadn't sat right with him. He had a bad feeling.