(A short story about Ralts in Almia. Interested readers can subscribe; it does not affect the main plot.)
"Today?"
Rumi rubbed the corners of her eyes and closed them to rest.
Everything around her was quiet, save for the constant rustling of papers.
She gently pushed her chair back, stood up, then carefully returned it to its original position.
"Yep, everything's here."
Rumi checked her shoulder bag, then nodded in satisfaction.
She said goodbye to the staff member beside her, then headed toward the laboratory that made custom Poké Balls.
Although the Poké Balls on the market would do, really,
for a girl,
pink was still best.
In the end, Rumi looked at the Pink Poké Ball in her hand with a peculiar smile.
That little one would probably like it. She just wondered what the little one's Trainer would think.
If he became famous someday, would people call him the Pink Pokémon Ranger or something?
"...Haha."
She couldn't help laughing at the thought.
"Mimi, strange, happy?"
A soft little voice sounded directly in her mind.
Rumi wasn't surprised. According to the researcher, this was Telepathy, a special ability this Ralts possessed.
"I just thought of something funny."
She turned back with a smile and looked at the tiny figure sitting obediently at the dining table.
Still, this was her first time interacting with a Pokémon at such close quarters.
Although she lived in Almia and had seen plenty of Pokémon since childhood, she had never raised one. No, calling it "raising" was a little disrespectful to these living beings.
She should say she had never lived with one.
As for the reason, it was rather unremarkable.
It wasn't because she disliked them,
nor was it because she was afraid,
but simply because she had grown up in an orphanage.