She woke up to Professor Elm talking loudly to Mary, with children cooing at a Totodile in his arms.

What. Oh fuck, please don't let this be what I think it is. Please don't let this be divine intervention to become a trainer. Please tell me he is being a reasonable person and not giving me a happy, chompy pokémon.

"Ethan, you are awake!" Mary said brightly, shooing the children out as she whirled around to grab food for her and more medicine. Claire had no idea what, honestly.

"My name is Professor Elm! Mary said your name was Ethan, right little guy?" Oh, fuck this.

Claire didn't, well, Claire was a rather optimistic person despite her recent pessimism. She had no faith in herself, as she keeps dryly reiterating, but she really did believe this Totodile would make a wonderful pokémon to a wonderful trainer. That was not her.

"I can't take him." Claire said briskly, wishing her voice didn't sound so wet and shaken.

The professor stared down at her distinctly. She thought he was being foolish, offering a random kid a pokémon based on how "nice" they seemed, but she felt like someone was pulling the threads beyond where she could see. The man didn't even try to deny that he was giving it to her. The little Totodile in his arms chirps happily when he finally realizes she was there. Shit. Please don't let this be happening.

"Why not, yaknow, normal kids would lose their minds over getting a pokémon" The old man stared at her pleasantly, and patiently. Fuck, why were all the adults in this life so nice and patient with her? It made her feel worse. She was the opposite of a normal child.

"I can't feed him. I'm an orphan. I couldn't afford it." The professor smiled at her softly, seeming relieved that was her worry. In fact, she could tell he was pleased at this admittance. He simply handed Totodile to her and the pokémon nuzzled her chest and decided it was time to go asleep. Right after nipping her arm a little.

"I was going to ask you to come by my lab so I could help you take care of him. While this little totodile," He gestured to the pokémon, "Is very tame and passive, baby totodiles have to be taught to not... Ah bite." The world was crashing around her. She got the sick feeling this professor truly wanted her to have this pokémon no matter what she said. In the games he seemed to prize someone who had genuine bonds and care for pokémon. He thought she had jumped into a raging river for the little guy. Fuck, he thought she was trying to get rid of him so the pokémon could be better taken care of.

Maybe this wasn't divine intervention but just some insane bad luck on her part.

"I have another year before I can go on a pokémon journey." The professor looked confused by her statement. His face turned empathetic. "I am too young."

"Why would that matter? Many trainers don't go on gym circuits at all. You don't have to go on a journey if you don't want to." The gentle tone had tears spring into her eyes. The weak, young, and hormonal body betrayed her as it finally caved under all the recent stress in her rather pitiful life. She started hysterically sobbing as she thought about how she was still alive, and she was too frustrated to get her point across to the professor that she couldn't have a pokémon.

She couldn't take care of a pokémon; she couldn't even have the drive to take care of herself. Fuck, this pokémon deserves better. A trainer that will go through the whole circuit and championship and competitive world with it. Someone besides her, who wouldn't hold it back.

"Professor, please," She felt like a character mumbling the words, "Please. This totodile is very brave and strong and-" Claire had no idea what words to say, the professor looked a bit stricken.

"Ah, kid-"

"He deserves a better trainer. Someone who wants to go on a pokémon journey, not someone like me!" She said loudly, brashly wiping the tears out of her eyes with difficulty. Her body was shaking from the force of her previous cries, and she rather felt foolish all over again for it. The sobs wouldn't stop.

Warm arms wrapped around her, and a strong hand patted her head. Briefly, she wondered how long it has been since she had been truly embraced. She didn't relax in the Professor's arms as he hummed calmly at her. The Totodile yipped some more when the motion woke him up. A small three brushed against her face despite it not being tangible.

"Ethan, I'm certain Mary said your name was Ethan. I think that someone like you is someone any pokémon would be happy to be with, even if you never battle in your life. That totodile would throw a fit if I gave it to anyone else!" Claire tried to stop crying, and the professor just softly, and calmly, talked to her as she calmed down. The Totodile was nudging her chin in a very insistent manner, probably trying to calm her down.

It was pointless, it was all so pointless, and yet here this kind man was showing her kindness. That Totodile had been so brave to try and save her. They deserved to spend more energy on someone who had genuine worth and while.

If anything, she thought, I can work with that. I can find Totodile a strong trainer that the professor approves of and beg them to take the pokémon. Then I can do away with myself before causing more grief. It was a stupid train of thought and goal, yet she could feel herself stabilizing with it.

"Come on, let me get you back to Mary. You have had such a busy day today! Let's go tell her the good news!"

...

Professor Elm was rather new to New Bark Town, and he was starting to severely doubt his decision to let the small child keep the Totodile he had been holding on to for the new waves of trainers who were going to be sponsored as researchers under him on this gym circuit. He wasn't foolish, he had given the pokémon to that child for reasons he didn't regret, but still with more consideration he might've overestimated his judgment.

The totodile was the tamest he had ever seen, even if it had a habit of nipping when fed or outright happy. That fact was why he had allowed young Ethan to keep the baby pokémon at all, since totodile's in the wild were encouraged to bite everything and anything by their parents to sharpen their teeth. Even ones kept in labs like his or bred had to be carefully taught to not bite, as it was their main instinct. It couldn't be curbed completely, so they had to redirect it to things that could be chewed on and nipped to pieces.

But this totodile? He didn't need to be taught; he just didn't bite as much as his littermates.

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He wished he could name the totodile, but well, he gave it away and gave his right to name it away as well even if it wasn't going to be his pokémon anyway. Just an oran for thought.

Totodile were fascinating to study, which was his guilty pleasure when he wasn't focused on evolution and his general study of "special abilities". All the starters he had at his lab were a careful study of his. Totodile's unihemispheric sleep patterns and chikorita's ability to sense the weather with their leaves were utterly distracting to think about.

And Professor Elm could tell with very little observation that Ethan was a very lonely child. He was relieved to get news that his missing Totodile had been found. One of the workers had let the little guy loose and Elm had had a heart attack about it.

The pokémon had just hatched, and it was truly heartbreaking to think about him facing the wilds. He had already chastised his assistants for their immense error, and he had been eventually shocked when he made the short trek to Cherrygrove with his Corsola to see that his Pokémon had basically claimed a boy orphan in anything but pokéball.

Wasn't that a sight? To see a fainted totodile being held securely in a child's arms. He had an inclination that the totodile had found himself a trainer despite what Elm intended for him at all. And when the child had woken up, dead eyes looking in his, the totodile was nothing short of devoted.

And he had known that Corsola was his when he first met her, even though he never gave her a nickname her name itself had such love and trust lined in it that he couldn't imagine his life without her. How could he deny a pokémon that connection when it was rare for a Pokémon to choose a trainer? Some pokémon were good at reading humans, no matter what their age, and that Totodile saw something in that little boy that he was willing to give himself up to him.

And again, who was Professor Elm, as a pokémon scientist, to deny that? And he could study their connection and training without having to worry about hurried, muffled Pokénav calls!

…

Claire became the hottest shit in all of Cherrygrove to every child and teenager that lived there. Even the adults would hang around the orphanage or do a small 'favor' for Matron Mary to take a look. Mrs. Coweth, the shrewd lady who had a house by the beach, even baked the orphan's cherry pies so she could look over to Claire and her totodile. Mrs. Coweth stared down at her with her staryu and let out a 'humph', and Claire had no idea what she thought looking down at them.

It was as if a dam had been opened inside Claire, her sudden awareness of the bustling life around her. Before her unlucky save in the river, she had ignored and faithfully denied herself to watch the people live their lives around her.

Now she could take in so clearly the Skitty Mother Matron let laze around her office. How some of the orphans had soft, loyal pokémon from their parents despite the lack of them entirely, and how all the people around her were so woven together with pokémon. Even the doctor had a loyal Chansey follow him around his clinic who hated the outdoors.

They all had little cries, and they were living animals, living beings and Totodile adored the little growlithe puppy that wandered the village. They yipped at each other nonstop, and it was driving Claire a little crazy. But, well, little things like that distracted the kids from hero-worshiping her and to adore her pokémon's actions instead.

The young girl, or well boy, was uncomfortable with the attention. She was trying to avoid her pokémon as much as she could without feeling like an asshole. Her new Totodile was having the time of his life being adored by dozens of children. There really wasn't a time a whining kid wasn't pestering her to hold the little guy or try and kidnap him. That was terrifying, having to tackle a boy a couple of years younger than here trying to run off with Totodile. While losing ownership of her new little guy was her goal, it was not to some slobbering kids.

Professor Elm laughed at her, which was embarrassing, and told her that he had a tracker anyway and to not worry too much if someone got down the road with him.

And there was also a heady guilt at owning a pokémon consuming her. pokémon were obviously loyal to their partners, but they were also sentient. What exactly was she doing by owning anything? Pokémon left their owners, but it was still rare. What was the psychology behind this? Were pokémon being captured by trainers just a grudging respect, an alignment of goals, or some weird version of Stockholm syndrome?

Professor Elm gave her a rather large book about pokémon rearing, and then one for pokémon that were inclined to violence, intentional or not. Totodile barely nipped anything, so Claire was a little worried. Professor Elm just told her that he had a habit of chewing his food more than necessary and didn't have an inclination to chew anything else.

She was also, distantly, fascinated by how little the people around her questioned the relationship between pokémon and their trainers. There were some schools of thought to the conception of ownership and partnership with pokémon, but Professor Elm himself looked at her like she was crazy when she asked if pokémon had a say in any of the stuff they did, or what protocol there was when pokémon didn't want to battle.

"Pokémon with similar goals to trainers tend to find each other, or it ends up working out. You don't have to worry about that right now, yaknow? I don't think Toto cares what you do besides letting him nibble on you when you feed him."

Totodile was happy to be with her even though she barely played with him. She assumed it was because he was a baby and he had everyone and their mom giving him attention. However, he would look to her when he was stressed and when he wanted food. It took all her willpower to not just swoop him up whenever he gave her crocodile tears.

She couldn't get attached, more importantly she couldn't let the totodile get attached.

The books Professor Elm had given her were addicting to read about. If she was obsessed about pokémon in her last life, having the depth and realness to all the little pokémon facts she already knew, and the countless things she did not know, made it very easy to get lost in the information she was consuming. There was so much she didn't know about pokémon and so much that just made sense when the realization this world was literally pokémon came into play.

Such as the culture around almost everything being about or tied to pokémon. Claire knew very little about games past fourth gen, which was eventually going to bite her in the ass, but there was such a nuance to realizing that these people were living and pushing themselves to thrive. There were pokémon she didn't know, references she didn't understand despite living in this world, and so many historical figures and legends she was hopelessly lost on.

There were so many legendary trainers. Claire knew there would have to be but to read about trainers who shaped terrains with their loyal pokémon or people who made advancements into science with their mind-warping deeds was quickly consuming her days. She would get lost in these tales like she had been lost in books of her last life– stories and truth mixing together into fantastical tales.

It was easy to romanticize, easy to want to be the closest thing to supernatural when she was from a world where that kind of power wasn't accessible at all.

So, the following weeks were like that: Claire avoiding a cute, toddling pokémon who waddled after her while intaking information at a drastic rate. She was lost in the pages and legends, in the indulgence of letting Totodile nip her while she fed him kibble by hand, and being forced to listen to all the trainer advice the adults around her were giving her with annoyance. The pattern of eating, learning and living that was vastly different from the sludge she was living before.

She didn't even stop to consider that she was looking forward to waking up. That she was thinking of taking her own life less every day. She was itching to do, to work for something, even if that was to read all the books in front of her and eventually get rid of the pokémon, she was growing to slowly adore.

The cycle ended with the appearance of a young girl, smiling and looking up at her from where she was hiding on the top of a shelf. The girl's Marill chirped at her, both looking so despairingly happy.

"Hello, ah, you look annoyed! My name is Lyra! It is so nice to meet you. Professor Elm told me about how you saved that totodile and like, that is the coolest thing I've ever heard some non-trainer do before!"