Chapter Text
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction written by someone who enjoys Pokémon and creature features. Pokémon is owned by Nintendo, Game Freak, The Pokémon Company, Creatures Inc. and Satoshi Tajiri. Please support the official release.
Listening to as I check my moon chart: The Howling End Title music
Lycan Mystery Dungeon: The Vagrant
Like any other rural community, Pallet Town had its own local hangout and Delia was proud to say that place was her diner. The creation of the diner dated back to when Delia was a child. While most of her peers ventured out into the outside world to capture and battle Pokémon, Delia traversed in search of a different prize: culinary skills from across the globe.
Okay, maybe not across the globe. Delia didn’t have that kind of money. But she did have a collection of old recipes that had been passed down from her family, some of which did travel the globe. At first, cooking was just a hobby Delia partook in while she tried her hand at different careers. While her success in these occupations varied, Delia would always receive high praises whenever she brought in food to share.
Eventually, Delia decided to focus her energies on turning her delightful hobby into her calling. Delia stepped away from the shops and the lab and began apprenticing at different restaurants across Kanto to refine her skills so that she may bring her recipe collection to the next level.
The result of Delia’s labors was a humble restaurant with a busy kitchen. Such as today. Delia really shouldn’t have been in work today, but as luck would have it there was a meteor shower later that evening and Pallet Town was chosen as the prime spot for stargazing. One thing lead to another and soon enough a small festival was set up between Pallet Town and Viridian City.
As the local favorite, Delia’s diner was going to show up as one of the caterer’s with one of the larger food stands. This would be good for business, but it would also need a ton of preparation. So much so that Delia would have to step away from her maternity leave to help her staff.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Ketchum,” one of the diner’s workers managed to say between heavy breaths. He along with Delia and several other staff members just finished loading equipment into the back of a truck for the festival.
Delia wiped one of the strands of her long, brown hair away from her face. Sweat glistened from her petit body as a result of the hard work combined with the hot summer day. Nevertheless, her bright hazel eyes beamed with cheer. “Don’t mention it, Bran,” Delia replied.
After waving the truck driver off, Delia went back into the kitchen. Since she was here, might as well check on her crew. Predictably her employees were hard at work either cooking up meals for the lunch rush or cleaning up their stations. Normally the restaurant wouldn’t be this bustling considering the small population of Pallet Town. It was thanks to the influx of tourists waiting to watch the meteor shower that her staff were getting an extra workout.
Smiling with pride at her employees, Delia made her way to the dining area. Just like the kitchen, the dining area was busier than normal. Almost all of the tables were occupied with both locals and travelers. The diner’s waiters and waitresses were practically jogging around the room in a real life game of dine and dash. Since she was already on site, Delia considered throwing on a uniform and given her staff a helping hand. But first she had to attend to someone very important.
“Oh, Mrs. Ketchum,” one of waitresses came up to greet Delia with a smile.
Delia returned the waitress’s smile. “Oh, Ginger. How’s Ash?”
The waitress led Delia over to a table. On top of the table was a baby carrier filled with various baby toys resembling a variety of Pokémon. Sound asleep and curled up in a blanket that was covered in cutesy Pokémon cartoons was Delia’s son. Normally Ash was an energetic baby, but now he looked calm and peaceful. He didn’t even stir when Delia reached over to stroke the black hair growing on his head.
“It took forever to get him to sleep,” Ginger sighed.
“Thank you for looking after him,” Delia said. “Do you mind if I ask you to watch him for a little while longer? I’m going to lend a hand in the kitchen.”
“I don’t mind at all, ma’am,” Ginger chirped. “Take your time.”
Delia was about the thank Ginger again before another employee called her over. “Excuse me, Mrs. Ketchum? We’ve got a little situation.”
After giving Ash one last look over, Delia went over to see what the “little situation” was. Apparently the situation was a man. An unwell man judging by the way he was toppled over next to the dumpster. Approaching to get a better look, Delia could see that the man was passed out. Judging by the smell of his breath the cause was probably intoxication.
The man was a mess. His clothes were torn and dirtied save for his shoes which were completely absent. Most of the man’s face was hidden by a shaggy, white beard which was peppered with various stains. The man’s fingernails were dirty and chipped with mud caked underneath. Clothing wise, he was dressed in a thick coat and beat-up pants. His shoes were absent showing off his callused feet. When Delia reached out to grab his shoulders she was surprised to find that his body temperature was very warm.
“Excuse me. Sir?” Delia said gently as she shook the man’s shoulder.
“Do you think this guy’s here for the festival? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before,” observed the waiter.
“I think you might be right,” Delia observed. She gave the man’s shoulder a harder shake. “Sir?”
The man snorted and jolted awake. He looked up at Delia with bloodshot eyes that made it look like he’d just gotten through a long crying session. “Huh? Wha?” inquired the man.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Delia said quietly yet firmly. “But this isn’t a place to take a nap.”
Looking around, the man let out a small “Oh” before rising to his feet. The man’s movements were shaky and unsteady causing Delia and the waiter to rush to his side to help him. The man waved the two off and stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall of the diner.
Unperturbed, Delia continued to speak to the man in a patient tone. “Are you staying somewhere nearby?”
The man paused to think. “Yeah,” he responded in a gruff voice. “I’m camping off the main road near town. I’ll be out of your hair-”
Before the man could finish his sentence he lost his footing and began to fall forward. Delia rushed into to catch him. “Sir, would you like a ride back?” she offered.
“Mrs. Ketchum,” the waiter began to speak nervously.
“No, no,” grunted the man. “I’m fine.”
The man then took several more steps forward and fell face first on the ground.
Frowning at the man’s state, Delia turned towards the waiter. “Herb, please bring my truck around back.”
A few minutes of hauling later and the man was loaded into the back seats of Delia’s truck. Delia accompanied by Herb, who didn’t want her going anywhere alone with the unstable-looking man, were driving along the road that led out of Pallet Town. They kept their eyes peeled for a campsite, but it wasn’t until the man snapped out of his stupor that they were able to find it.
“Here,” croaked the man without sitting up.
Apparently “Here” was a tent hidden away in the bushes. Just like the man, the campsite was a mess. There was a small collection of sticks and rocks that were probably made to build a fire, but it looked like someone collapsed on top of them. The tent was just as miserable being half set up and spotted with patchwork that was probably used to cover up some holes. Next to the tent was a cooler which looked like it was ripped apart by a large Pokémon. Accompanying the bitten open cooler were an assortment of Pokémon tracks scattered around the site, the most prominent being canine.
As Delia helped the man out of her car, she blinked. Was it just her, or was the man looking bigger? His baggy clothes did look like they were fitting him better. No, that couldn’t be right. Humans can’t grow within an hour.
“Thanks,” mumbled the man.
“You’re welcome,” Delia said politely. She and Herb then helped guide the man over to his tent. “Are you a Pokémon trainer?”
Pokémon trainers were usually kids who ventured around the region challenging other trainers and participating in events such as contests or the Pokémon league. By the time trainers reached adulthood they usually settled down into another career, though Delia had seen her fair share of trainers who continued their adventures once they grew up.
“I had some Pokémon,” responded the man. His eyes then clenched together in a vain attempt to hold back tears. “They were my best friends. And now they’re gone. Everyone’s gone. And I can’t join them because I’m a coward. I’m too afraid to do what I should have done a long time ago!”
The tears finally broke through and the man began sobbing. He gripped into Delia’s shoulder earning a wince of pain from the woman. Not only was his grip strong but for a moment it felt like his fingers were tipped with claws.
Keeping a sympathetic smile on her face Delia spoke again. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I don’t think your Pokémon would want you to do anything drastic.”
The man just continued to sob. He released his grip on Delia and made his way over to the ruined campfire and sat down on a rock. Delia probably could have just left him there, but that didn’t feel right. So, she continued to talk to the man. “You know, if you need help there is a shelter in Viridian City that-”
“NO!” exclaimed the man. “I can’t be around people! They’ll be dead! I won’t be able to hold back! I can’t!”
The man continued to ramble which just cemented Delia’s belief that this former trainer desperately needed help. “I don’t think any person is meant to be alone. Tell you what, there’s a festival tomorrow night. It’s going to be held between Viridian City and Pallet Town. If you come to my stand I’ll make sure to fix you up a nice warm meal while you watch the shooting stars. Would that be okay?”
Ignoring the unsure look on Herb’s face, Delia continued to watch the sobbing man. The man had gone still at Delia’s offer. After a minute of quiet, he spoke up again. This time his voice carried an air of finality. “Maybe I should go.”
The man stood up and lumbered to his tent as he continued to mutter. “Tired of being alone. Tired of being afraid. I’ll just get it over with.”
With that the man hunched down into his tent. When Delia heard snoring, she and Herb climbed back into her truck and headed back to the diner. As the drove, Herb looked at his boss. “Are you sure that was the wise thing to do?”
“Hard to say,” Delia replied. “I’m not sure how much I can do to help him, but if a little festival and a good meal are what he needs, I won’t turn him down.”
“I guess,” Herb relented, though the worried look didn’t leave his eyes. “But if it’s all the same, I don’t think you should be alone around that guy. He doesn’t seem well.”
Delia didn’t respond. She just continued to think of the man and the tired look in his eyes.
AN: Would now be a bad time to mention that Delia named her diner “The Slaughtered Mareep?”