“Stanley,” Miss Potts called, “I am afraid you will need to leave your pokemon with me for the rest of the day. You may come by during lunch to feed them, and to pick them up at the end of the school day.” The pair, having nearly left the classroom, made an abrupt about-face. “I was the only teacher who gave permission after all. But I’ll speak with your other teachers and see what we can arrange,” she offered.

As the boy left, the charmander took a seat next to Miss Potts’ desk, an expression of determination on his face while gently rubbing his heard. After a moment, the teacher strode over to her desk and began withdrawing specific papers, each appearing to be a math quiz. “We have maybe a minute before it jumps forward again, probably to the end of the school day or later,” she explained, arranging the papers into a neat little packet and tucking it within a tan envelope. Withdrawing a crumpled paper note from her pocket, she glances over it again before writing on the back side and tucking it in the envelope, and then writing “To Eric” on the cover before sealing it. “You need to make sure you bring this home with you, and not to open it until then. If you have a pokeball, it might be easier to transport-”

With a shake of his head, Charmander seemed to awaken from a fugue state and take stock of his surroundings. With a grimace he followed the boy into the house, and upon seeing the boy drop his backpack, began digging through it to find only textbooks and papers. “Shit, the envelope…” tearing a small corner off a scrap piece of paper, and utilizing Stanley’s black and red pens, the lizard drew a small pokeball and quickly looked for both the boy and Eric.

<”Welcome home, son” Eric said, a smile on his face as he finished his day’s work before turning away from the family computer. “How did your day go?” he asked. Stanley was befuddled, for he indeed had a good time in math class, but lamented at how his other classes had gone. With a shrug, Stanley decided to start on his homework for the day, rationalizing that the better he did in school the more permissions he could garner.>

With a glance, Eric eyed the small pokemon, waiting. The lizard nodded, and handed over his rough sketch of a pokeball. After only a short moment of gazing at the iconography, Eric had an epiphany and hastily drafted a message to the study organizers asking if they would be able to supply a pokeball. It took easily ten times longer than drafting the email, to regain his composure when it bounced back with an invalid recipient message. “Honey,” he started, as Diane poked her head from the kitchen, “did you still need to run to the market to get the onions for dinner tonight?” She was ready to respond when she caught his gaze, her face shifting in recognition.

“Why yes, I can’t believe I forgot! Silly me, I’ll go buy them while it’s still early,” she responded, tucking a bag of white and brown vegetables into a cupboard on the wall. “Stanley, since your pokemon probably didn’t get much exercise at school with you today, would you like for them to accompany me on a walk while you finish your homework?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Diane and the charmander had walked out the front door after she grabbed her purse, the two walking in silence until they were a few houses away, before she asked “So what are we actually buying?” The pokemon handed his sketch over, before raising a single finger, and then pointing at himself a moment later. “I guess he wasn’t exaggerating. But ever since ‘it’ arrived, I guess nothing has really been normal.” The two continued on, stopping at a general store just opposite the ‘FOOD!’ Grocery from before, with a cheerful blue roof. Inside were a few aisles of goods, the majority of them seemingly oriented towards pokemon training. Behind the cashier, a teenager was watching some sort of video stream on their phone before noticing the customer. The sound was turned down, but it clearly contained explosions, loud roars, and a commentator shouting a mile a minute.

“Ah, hello there! Can I help you with anything?” the girl asked, muting the device and hiding it behind the counter. Diane placed the boxed pokeball on the counter, the packaging had a clear window on the front, a bar code on the back, and a list of instructions covering the bottom and sides. “OK, and if that’ll be all I also need your trainer ID please,” the teen requested, as Diane withdrew a plastic card from her purse and passed it over. The teen scanned a code on the back of the ID before returning it, then proceeded to scan a complicated image on the pokeball box. “That will be 200 Pokedollars, Adrienne,” the exchange continued, meanwhile the flame lizard explored what else was for sale. At the mention of the odd name, he returned to the counter as Diane finished paying and was walking towards the door. “Thanks and have a nice day,” the teen called, quickly returning to whatever they were watching on their device.

The pair, having accomplished their main objective, continued across to the grocery to obtain the onions they had set out for. “You know, at first we thought we could fight it,” she began, selecting from the pile of near-perfect looking onions and placing them in a small net for a bag. “But even before you came along, we’ve been living with it for over a year,” she continued, twisting the bag and forming a small knot with the opening, “a whole year of trying to escape. But every time, it just reset us back to the most recent day that we had played along. Sometimes that was a single day, other times it could go back to the very first day,” she explained, glancing around to ensure nobody else was in earshot. Absent-mindedly, she grabbed a small bag of candies while passing by, “but only a few of us seem to notice it.” She began to scan the handful of items we had selected, “most of the town has no idea what’s going on, or even that time keeps reverting. But I-” she paused, tapping through the touch screen and inserting a plastic card into the device. “Emeric and I need your help to get the child to his journey, to leave us alone,” she pleaded. It was at this point she turned and crouched down to be closer to the pokemon. “Please, we just want our lives back,” she begged, as light tears began to bead from the corners of her eyes and drip onto her dress.

With a resolute nod, the charmander offered a hug which was swiftly accepted and reciprocated. Her wails echoed throughout the empty store, accompanied only by the soft upbeat tune played over the speaker system.

Charmander stumbled forward a step, off-balance when the door closed behind him as Diane headed for the kitchen with the groceries from their trip. He stood still for a moment before making his way towards the kitchen. After washing her hands to pick up where she left off, Diane glanced down, asking “Did you want to help me today?” With a nod, the charmander began to push a tall stool towards the nearby counter before climbing up to sit before the workspace. “In that case, why don’t you help peel the garlic for me,” Diane asked, passing the lizard a handful of cloves. With a nod, and some assistance washing his claws, the little pokemon got to work at removing the white shells, and gently crushing the cloves. He was unable to help with bigger tasks, but the two worked in tandem to the best of his capabilities before she dismissed him so she could focus on the steps requiring a full-sized human body.

From the living room, the boy watched unmoving, his eyes fixed on the pokemon without blinking, its face completely devoid of emotion or expression. A careful observer would note the absolute statuesque rigidity and lack of breathing by the subject. A smart observer would never call attention to any of this in the first place. But you, dear reader, are not a participant in this story, so what is your opinion?