Dusk had settled over the city, softening the edges of the slums and casting long shadows down every alley. Arin walked slowly, supporting Mrs. Varma's weight as they made their way toward the Pokémon Center. Her steps were uneven, and every so often she winced, but she pushed forward, her Hitmontop limping along at her side, never once letting its guard down.
The streets were quieter now, the day's bustle replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a Pokémon. Arin's arms ached from holding Mrs. Varma steady, but he didn't complain. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, wary of any trouble that might still be lurking in the twilight.
He glanced sideways at Mrs. Varma, noting the stubborn set of her jaw and the way she clutched her side. She looked like someone who'd fought more than her fair share of battles. He wondered how she'd ended up here, fighting thieves in alleys, and if she'd always been this tough.
After a while, she broke the silence. "You're not local, are you?"
Arin hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "No, not really," he said, which was true in more ways than she could ever guess.
She let out a low grunt, neither approving nor dismissive, and they continued in silence. As they neared the Pokémon Center, the city's lights grew brighter, painting the cracked sidewalks in neon and gold. The building itself looked worn but sturdy, its doors opening automatically as they approached.
Inside, the familiar scent of disinfectant and the soft hum of machines greeted them. Nurse Joy, her face lined with concern, hurried over. She quickly took in the injuries, calling for an assistant to help with Hitmontop, who was soon whisked away for treatment.
Mrs. Varma lowered herself into a chair with a sigh, and Arin hovered nearby, unsure if he should stay or slip away. Before he could decide, she gestured for him to sit beside her.
She fixed him with a sharp look. "Why'd you help me, kid? You saw what I did to that thief. Most people would've run the other way."
Arin met her gaze, feeling the weight of her question. He didn't want to lie, but the truth felt too raw. "Honestly? I was hoping for a little kindness in return. Or maybe just a chance to survive another day."
She watched him for a long moment, then let out a tired chuckle. "Not many honest answers in this city. You've got guts, at least."
Arin shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I know what it's like to need help, even if you don't expect to get it."
Her expression softened just a bit. "You didn't run when things got rough. That counts for something."
Nurse Joy returned, updating them on Hitmontop's condition. "He'll be alright. He needs a couple of days to recover, but he's tough." She handed Mrs. Varma a small bag with medicine and a voucher for a hot meal.
While Mrs. Varma filled out paperwork, Arin sat quietly, watching the comings and goings of other trainers. Some looked exhausted, others anxious, all clutching Poké Balls or comforting their Pokémon. He noticed a little girl hugging her Oddish, tears on her cheeks as a nurse spoke gently to her. The sight tugged at something deep inside him-a longing for connection, for someone or something to care for.
He thought about his old life, where he'd relied on his own skills and kept people at a distance. Here, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange ability to see Pokémon stats. It wasn't much, but maybe it was a start.
Mrs. Varma finished her forms and turned to him. "You got somewhere to go tonight?"
Arin shook his head. "Not really. I've just been finding places to sleep where I can."
She was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "You helped me when you didn't have to. That's rare around here. I've got a spare room above my shop. It's not fancy, but it's better than the street."
Arin's eyes widened. For the first time since waking in this world, hope flickered in his chest. "Really?"
She nodded, standing with the help of a cane Nurse Joy provided. "Really. But it's not charity. You'll work for your keep. The place needs repairs, and I could use someone who's not afraid to get their hands dirty."
Relief and gratitude washed over Arin. "Deal," he said, a small smile breaking through.
They left the Pokémon Center together, the night air cool and sharp. For the first time, Arin felt like he might have a place in this world-not just as a survivor, but as someone who could belong.
As they walked, Mrs. Varma glanced at him. "So, what's your name?"
"Arin," he replied, feeling the weight of his new beginning settle on his shoulders.
She nodded. "Welcome to Fuchsia, Arin. Let's see if you can keep up."
They walked in companionable silence, the city's lights flickering above. Arin's mind buzzed with questions. What kind of shop did she run? Would he be able to fix anything? Would she trust him with her secrets, or would he always be an outsider?
He watched Mrs. Varma, noticing the way she moved with purpose despite her injuries. She was tough, and he suspected she'd seen more hardship than most. Yet she'd chosen to help him, just as he'd chosen to help her.
As they turned down a quieter street, Mrs. Varma slowed, wincing as she shifted her weight. Arin instinctively reached out to steady her. She shot him a look, but didn't pull away.
"You know," she said quietly, "this city chews up the weak. But sometimes, the ones who make it are the ones who know how to look out for someone else."
Arin nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle in his chest. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time, he felt like he had a real chance.
They reached a modest building with a faded sign and a battered door. Mrs. Varma unlocked it, letting them inside. The shop was cluttered but cozy, the air tinged with the scent of old wood and herbs. Upstairs, she showed him a small room with a narrow bed and a window overlooking the alley.
"It's yours, as long as you earn it," she said, her voice gruff but not unkind.
Arin nodded, gratitude swelling inside him. "Thank you."
She grunted, already turning to leave. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's a new day, and I expect you up early."
As Arin lay on the narrow bed, exhaustion finally catching up, he stared out the window at the city lights. He thought of the day's failures and the small, hard-won victory of finding a place to belong. Maybe it wasn't much, but it was a start.
He closed his eyes, the pendant warm against his chest, and for the first time since arriving, he let himself hope.
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