Chloe was not having a good day.

  It had started with her stubbing her toe, hard, against the bedframe while getting dressed. Then she’d discovered there was no bread left for breakfast. And, as a final insult, halfway into her walk to town to buy more, she remembered the weather forecast. Rain. Today. No umbrella.

  Now, trudging home, she held the bag of groceries above her head like it might actually shield her from the driving rain. The path home usually made for a peaceful stroll, a nice, even trail that wound alongside a narrow creek. But today, it was miserable, cold, wet, and battered by gusting wind. The creek, normally a soft babble of water, was now a frothing torrent. It wasn’t deep, normally just a few inches, but after all the recent rain, it was swollen and angry, climbing over its usual banks. Chloe didn’t know if it was dangerous yet, but she had no interest in finding out.

  Technically, it was early summer in Kalos. You wouldn’t know it from the weather. At sixteen, Chloe was in that strange, in-between year, the one where teens decided whether to continue school, take up a trade, or start their Pokémon journey. Her mum was gently (read: persistently) nudging her toward school, with hopes of landing a nice, stable government job. Gone were the days when civil servants needed to be seasoned Trainers. These days, half of them didn’t even hold a Trainer permit, let alone badges or battle experience.

  Chloe still had a month before she needed to submit her applications, so there was time. But it weighed on her mind.

  The perfect weather for overthinking, really.

  Her thoughts were cut short by shouting, faint but urgent, and a splash. She blinked away the rain and looked ahead, spotting something struggling in the current. Not someone. Something.

  It was a Pokémon.

  Small. Bipedal. Clinging desperately to a rock jutting from the rapids. Two arms, two legs, and, most notably, a massive jaw attached to the back of its head. Whatever it was, it was clearly not a Water-type.

  “Uhh, hold on! I’ll help you!” Chloe shouted, already scrambling toward the edge of the creek.

  She wasn’t a Trainer. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to let a helpless Pokémon get swept away if she could stop it.

  Frantically, she scanned for anything that could help, a branch, a vine, something to extend her reach, but there was nothing nearby. The Pokémon was slipping. Fast.

  “Okay, okay, think,” she muttered, panicking. “Come on, Chloe, what do you do,”

  No more time. She dropped to her knees at the bank, leaning out over the rushing water.

  “Grab on!” she yelled.

  The little Pokémon turned its head toward her, wide eyes full of panic. It hesitated, then reached out with one trembling hand. Chloe stretched farther, fingertips brushing,

  “Gotcha!” she cried triumphantly.

  And that’s when the bank gave way beneath her.

  With a yelp, Chloe tumbled into the freezing creek, somehow managing to keep hold of the Pokémon as the current yanked them both downstream. Water filled her ears. She coughed, sputtered, and then her head slammed against something hard. Stars burst behind her eyes.

  Still, she clung tight.

  Somehow, the creek began to flatten out. She kicked her feet, braced against the current, and struggled upright. With staggering effort, she dragged herself and the battered little Pokémon to the muddy bank.

  Shivering, soaked, and dazed, she tossed the Pokémon onto dry land, then clawed her way up beside it. For a moment, she just lay there in the grass, rain pelting her face, her head pounding.

  Then she sat up. Dizzy. Wobbling.

  The Pokémon was curled beside her. Bruised. Exhausted.

  But alive.

  “Miss Bellamy?”

  “Mmrghh,” Chloe groaned, blinking open bleary eyes to find Nurse Joy leaning over her, a tired but genuine smile on her face.

  “Huh?” she rasped.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Joy said gently. “I thought you’d want to know, Mawile’s finished treatment. She’s made a full recovery.”

  “Mawile…?” Chloe's brain took a moment to catch up.

  Oh. Right.

  She was in the Pokémon Center. After dragging herself and the strange Pokémon into town, soaking wet, barely conscious, Nurse Joy had taken one look at them, gasped, and hit the emergency call button. The Pokémon, now identified as a Mawile, had been rushed off for treatment, while Chloe was wrapped in blankets and checked over by another nurse.

  Pokémon Centers weren’t just hospitals for Pokémon. They were community hubs, hostels for traveling Trainers, safe havens offering food, shelter, and basic medical care. This one was pretty quiet at the moment,since the League season hadn’t started yet.

  Chloe was in the small clinic attached to the Center for human patients. Some Centers doubled as hospitals in rural or hazardous areas, but here, it was mostly just first aid.

  “Mawile’s okay?” she asked again, sluggishly.

  “She’s resting. She’ll be ready to go in an hour or two,” Joy reassured her. “And how about you? Is your head any worse?”

  Chloe paused. “I… don’t think so?”

  “Well, if it gets worse, go straight to a hospital,” Joy said sternly. “Concussions are no joke.”

  “I will,” Chloe promised, dragging herself upright. The room swayed around her. “So… what happens now?”

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  “Some paperwork,” Joy replied smoothly, clearly anticipating the panic on Chloe’s face. “No, we’re not charging you,” she added with a smirk. “But we do need to file a report. Mawile was badly injured, and we’re required to log all treatments. It helps us track patterns, and spot possible abuse.”

  “Oh,” Chloe said. “Does it actually help?”

  Joy’s smile dimmed slightly. “Sometimes. Mostly it just discourages abusive Trainers from seeking help. But things are getting better. Gym Leaders are being trained to spot signs of mistreatment.”

  Chloe dressed, found her shoes, and followed Joy back to the front counter. She gave a full rundown of the rescue, details she hadn’t been able to provide the night before.

  “I don’t know how she ended up in the river,” Chloe finished. “But I couldn’t just leave her.”

  “That was very brave,” Joy said warmly. “Not everyone would’ve done what you did. That said, maybe try to avoid plunging into flooded rivers next time.”

  Chloe chuckled weakly. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

  “Do you have any idea how she got hurt?” she asked after a beat.

  Joy’s expression darkened slightly. “My guess? She was cast out. She’s young. Small. And unfortunately, wild Mawile groups can be brutal.”

  “Oh.” Chloe felt a pang of sympathy. “So what happens to her now?”

  “Well,” said Joy, “she can be adopted, or relocated to a sanctuary.”

  Chloe pictured the tiny Mawile again. Cast out by her family, nearly drowned, and now, alone.

  “Could I adopt her?” she asked quietly. “I mean, if that’s allowed?”

  Joy didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. In fact, I’d recommend it. She’s probably already bonded with you.”

  “What would I have to do?”

  “You’d need to register as a Trainer. Mawile are rare, so ownership must be documented. Other than that, it’s just paperwork. And, of course, Mawile’s consent.”

  Chloe nodded. She’d expected as much.

  “Is this something you’re prepared to commit to?” Joy asked gently.

  Chloe thought about it. She hadn’t planned to become a Trainer. But this, this felt right.

  “Yes.”

  Mawile didn’t need convincing.

  The moment she saw Chloe again, the little Pokémon launched herself into her arms, clinging tightly. Chloe’s heart nearly melted. Even if she hadn’t already decided, there was no way she was saying no to that face.

  While Joy ran final checks, Chloe filled out forms, listening as Joy rattled off a list of beginner care tips.

  “She’ll need lots of exercise. Good food, nothing fancy, just Trainer-grade supplies from the Poké Mart. Berries are fine, but don’t overdo it. And keep her active.”

  Chloe nodded, head still pounding, and hoped she’d remember at least half of it. Thankfully, Joy had already written it all down.

  “Battling is also important,” Joy added.

  Chloe blinked. “Battling? Isn’t that, kinda cruel?”

  “A little,” Joy admitted. “But Pokémon grow through battling. It’s how they learn, physically and emotionally. Light battles, with proper rest, are healthy. Natural, even.”

  “I thought it was just a Trainer thing,” Chloe confessed.

  Joy shook her head. “You don’t have to do it yourself. You can use the Daycare, they offer supervised sparring. Or bring her to the local training grounds. Trainers there are usually happy to help.”

  Chloe made a mental note to check that out. Daycare sounded expensive.

  “Can I come back if I have more questions?” she asked as Joy handed her a bag of supplies, vitamins, food, a pair of potions.

  “Please do. I’ll be happy to help.”

  Convincing her mum turned out to be easier than expected.

  There had, of course, been a fuss, Mum gasped when Chloe walked through the door, soaked coat clinging to her, hair plastered to her face, and a Poké Ball clutched tightly in one hand.

  “You’re drenched!” Mum exclaimed, grabbing a towel from the hallway hook and tossing it over Chloe’s head. “What on earth happened to you?”

  “It’s fine,” Chloe mumbled through. “Long story.”

  She hesitated, then held out the Poké Ball like it might explain everything.

  Mum stared at it. “...Is that a Pokémon?”

  “Yeah,” Chloe said quietly. “She was in trouble. I helped her. And… I registered as her Trainer.”

  Mum blinked. “You did what?”

  Chloe exhaled, bracing herself. “I didn’t plan to. But it felt right. She needed someone, and—”

  “You pulled a ‘stray Pokémon rescue’ move on me, didn’t you?” Mum cut in, eyes narrowing. “Like that time you brought home a Skitty with a limp.”

  “That was one time,” Chloe protested. “And this is different. She nearly drowned, Mum.”

  There was a pause. Chloe could feel her mother looking her over, still pale, still shivering, and obviously holding something back. Mum’s expression softened.

  “I suppose,” she said slowly, “it would be wrong to send her back out now.”

  Chloe blinked. “Really? You’re not mad?”

  “I’m definitely mad,” Mum replied, rubbing Chloe’s hair dry with more force than necessary. “But you already registered her, didn’t you?”

  Chloe nodded. “All the paperwork’s done. Nurse Joy made sure of it.”

  Mum sighed the kind of sigh only parents can, the resigned, indulgent kind that usually precedes accepting something they absolutely didn’t sign up for.

  “Well then,” she said, finally letting go of the towel, “we’d better make sure she feels at home.”

  Chloe smiled. “Want to meet her?”

  Mum raised an eyebrow. “She’s not going to eat the couch, is she?”

  “No promises,” Chloe said, and released the Poké Ball.

  With a shimmer of red light, Mawile appeared on the living room rug. The little Mawile blinked, looked around, then spotted Chloe and trotted over, taking cover behind her leg. She leaned out and peered at Chloe’s Mum

  Mum crouched, examining her closely.

  “She’s small,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Chloe agreed, “Nurse Joy said she’s young.”

  Mawile made a soft warble, leaning slightly against Chloe’s shin. Her eyes were still wary, but there was a quiet trust there now, too.

  “Well,” Mum said, glancing between the two of them, “you’d better tell me everything. Start with the part about almost drowning.”

  Mawile warmed up to Chloe’s mother quicker than Chloe had expected.

  At first, she barely left Chloe’s side, following her from room to room, her big steel jaws occasionally knocking into furniture or catching on door frames. But by the end of the second day, she was trailing after Mum too, watching curiously as she chopped vegetables, washed dishes, or folded laundry.

  She also turned out to be a little chatter box, babbling away while she watched. And she had opinions. Big ones. She had a very specific arrangement of throw pillows she liked on the sofa and would huff dramatically if they were moved. She’d taken to dragging Chloe’s slippers under the table for reasons unknown, and she had declared war on the vacuum cleaner.

  She was still nervous around loud noises and sudden movements. Sometimes, during storms, she would hide under Chloe’s bed and not come out until the rain stopped. But slowly, she was growing more confident.

  Her energy was endless. She had an explorer’s spirit and a toddler’s sense of boundaries. Anything new had to be sniffed, poked, and occasionally chewed. Her favorite discovery so far was the spice rack.

  “She’s going to be a handful,” Mum remarked one morning as Mimi attempted to climb into the fridge. “You’ll need to start training her properly.”

  “I know,” Chloe said, prying Mimi gently out of the salad drawer.

  Still, the house had never felt so alive.

  They sat at dinner one evening, Mimi curled up at Chloe’s feet chewing thoughtfully on a table leg.

  “We should give her a name,” Mum said, stirring her soup. “Something fitting.”

  Chloe nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that too. She needs something cute.”

  “Or something elegant. She has a sort of... refined presence,” Mum offered.

  They tossed around names for a while. Chloe leaned toward names like “Lulu” and “Pip.” Mum suggested more stately ones like “Matilda” and “Seraphine.”

  Eventually, they both paused when Chloe said, “What about Mimi?”

  Mum tilted her head. “Simple. Sweet.”

  “And it suits her,” Chloe added, glancing down.

  Mimi looked up at the sound of the name, tilting her head curiously.

  “See?” Chloe laughed. “She likes it.”

  Mum smiled and nodded. “Mimi it is.”