Pokémon Returned

Bells jingled as Napoleon walked into the Poke Mart, his newly-met Chimchar trailing behind.

He could feel the stares of the cashiers and other customers as he walked in circles and examined random shelves. Normally, the task of buying something at a store would have been trivially easy. But with the voices in control, nothing was easy. Perhaps nothing ever would be again.

Poke Balls, that's what they wanted, was it? Yes, they kept shouting about wanting to catch things, feuding over which Pokemon would be best for the team. An innocent enough request, it would seem.

After a few minutes of wandering, Napoleon finally managed to get to the counter of the Poke Mart and talk to the cashier.

"What do you want to buy, sir?" The man kept asking.

"Poke Balls." His voice was wavering, and he wondered if the cashier noticed the fear in his eyes, or the jerks and twitches that permeated his every movement.

The cashier didn't comment on Napoleon's… condition, not directly, but he avoided making eye contact with the boy and there was a clear moment of hesitation before he added, "How many?"

The voices quarreled. They wanted one- no, two- no, twelve… The only thing they could agree on was that they needed more teammates, that the Chimchar which Napoleon had just received couldn't be his sole companion on this strange and perilous journey.

Finally, Napoleon grabbed his wallet out of his backpack and dumped its contents onto the counter. Coins went flying everywhere. Some coins fell behind the counter. One of the smaller coins hit his Chimchar square on the head, causing it to cry out and run into the corner. Napoleon tried to say something to his newfound companion to reassure him, or at least to apologize, but the words refused to leave his mouth. Perhaps it was for the best; he wasn't sure if he could pretend that things were going to be okay long enough to console his Pokemon before the reality of the situation came crashing down.

The words he muttered were directed not towards the injured Chimchar, but to the cashier: "As many as that'll buy."

He mechanically grabbed the coin that had fallen- was that blood or dirt that now stained it?- and threw it onto the counter, where the merchant lined up piles of coins, sneaking glances towards Napoleon whenever he thought the kid wasn't looking. It was clear now; he had noticed, and he was just trying to be polite, or maybe pitying him, by pretending to ignore the issue.

The cashier grabbed a bundle of Poke Balls and set them gently on the counter top. "Are you sure?"

He gave a weak nod. The cashier filed away the money, and Napoleon dumped the pile of Poke Balls into his backpack. Those Poke Balls were heavy, and he dreaded the thought of carrying around so many in his backpack for… well, he wasn't sure how long. Hours? Days? Even longer?

"Anything else for you, sir?"

The voices all said no. They had spent all his money, using it to find new allies rather than healing their current one. They didn't see any purpose in hanging around in the Poke Mart. The pointed stares were certainly starting to get old, and a change of scenery might get him at least a brief reprieve from his awkward antics making him the center of attention. And yet… there was one more thing that the boy had to do.

Napoleon nodded and set his backpack on the counter. It was a little grimy from being set on the ground during battles, and the cashier sighed softly when it hit the top and dislodged a clump of dirt. "I'd like to sell something."

"Oh? What are you selling, sir?"

He ruffled through the many pockets and zippered sections of his backpack, checking each and every one of them several times, though he knew most of them were empty. The voices insisted that he check them over and over again regardless, just to be sure something hadn't appeared when he wasn't looking. Nothing ever did.

Napoleon's hand hovered over his newly-bought Poke Balls. Maybe that's what he needed to do, take those Poke Balls that they kept screaming about and get rid of them all, just to teach them a lesson. Maybe then he could buy some actual healing items, look after his first Pokemon as best as he could. But the instant his fingers grazed the surface of one of the Poke Balls, he felt what seemed like a jolt of static electricity and his hand involuntarily jerked away. No selling the Poke Balls, then.

"Sir?" The cashier was drumming his fingers against the counter top now. Napoleon couldn't blame the man for his evident impatience. He didn't enjoy spending these agonizingly long minutes staring at the inside of his backpack any more than the cashier did.

Not much was left in the backpack besides the Poke Balls, yet he couldn't bring himself to close up the bag just yet. Finally his hand settled on a silver disc, dislodging it from its bearings within the backpack and holding it up.

"This. I'd like to sell this."

The man drew close to the disc, then nodded. "The Technical Machine for Return, is it? I can pay you 500 Poke for that, if you want to sell it."

The TM for Return… it was new to him, like so much else. He never would have guessed that his life could change so much in the course of an hour. Dawn had explained how the move Return worked when he had been given the TM for it only a few short minutes ago. It was an attack based on friendship, one that grew stronger the more a Pokemon liked its Trainer.

Napoleon looked over to the corner of the Poke Mart where his Chimchar still stood, huddled against the shelves, trying to squeeze into place among the merchandise. Even from a distance, he could see a welt developing on the Pokemon's head from where the coin had hit. As he turned his head, the Chimchar shuddered and renewed its efforts to blend in with the scenery.

And the voices… they kept talking about how all they wanted was to catch more Pokemon, catch Bidoofs and Shinx and so much more, catch anything and everything that they could get. And there were ever-present chants calling to release the Chimchar, the one Pokemon companion that he had found so far on his adventure, just because they would have preferred to get a Piplup like Pearl had. The voices had been in so much of a rush to catch something else that they hadn't even bothered to give the Chimchar a proper name. That's all it was to them, a nameless Pokemon, just one of a horde to be caught, unwanted, unloved.

Napoleon ran his fingers against the smooth edges of the Return TM as his thoughts and the voices simultaneously reached a conclusion.

"Yes, I'd like to sell the TM. I… don't think I'll be needing it."


End file.

Pokémon