Maylene

The sun hits the grime on the gym windows as Maylene catches her breath. She’s shaking, her lean chest heaving under that tight blue and black bodysuit. Next to her, Riolu is panting just as hard, his blue fur all matted with sweat and dirt from their morning workout.

We trained hard this morning, she thinks, looking at her partner with those pink eyes. Riolu is getting so strong.

The clock is ticking toward opening time, and Maylene’s stomach gives a sharp, hollow twist. It’s a constant ache she’s used to. Beside her, Riolu lets out a pathetic little whimper, his own stomach growling loud enough to echo in the empty gym. He looks up at her, his red eyes projecting pure hunger.

Maylene reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a small pet bowl. It’s got a handful of dry brown Pokémon kibble in it. That’s it. No real human food, no fruit, nothing. Her dad already blew the gym's monthly budget at the pachinko parlor across the street, and he’ll probably be home drunk and looking for a fight later.

She drops to the floor, sitting with her legs spread wide like a Pokémon. Her bare feet are filthy from the floor, toes curling as she settles in. She hates shoes. Pokémon don't wear them, so why should she?

If I eat what Riolu eats, I'll be just as strong, she tells herself.

She grabs a piece of the hard kibble and pops it in. It tastes like musky cardboard, but she swallows it without complaining. Riolu nudges her, happily munching from the same bowl.

“It’s okay, Riolu,” she whispers. “We’re the same. We can grow strong together.”

She clings to him, rubbing her cheek against his fur. She doesn't care that she's a ten-year-old girl eating Pokémon food on a dirty floor. She doesn't care that she's scrawny enough for a social worker to have a heart attack if they walked in.

To Maylene, this is just how it works. She still loves her dad, and she has Riolu.

As long as I have my best friend, she thinks, this is fine.

The gym was drafty, and the cupboard was empty. Maylene sat on a training mat, struggling with her old gym shoes; they were far too small, her toes aching within the cramped, restrictive fabric. Beside her, Riolu let out a soft whine, his red eyes sensing the frustration and the growing, hollow ache in her stomach.

It’s okay, Riolu. We’ll be fine, she thought, trying to project calm, even as her own stomach responded with a loud, demanding gurgle.

Looking at Riolu’s bare, agile paws and remembering the grounded, disciplined movements of the gym's barefoot black belts, she made her choice. She kicked the shoes off, discarding them. The sensation of the cool air on her bare feet felt liberating.

“Let's go, Riolu! We need to get that kibble,” she said, her voice small but determined.

The walk to the Poké Mart was a sensory rush. The grit of the Veilstone City streets was sharp and textured against her soles, a stark contrast to the soft mats of the gym, but she welcomed the connection to the ground. With Riolu trotting close at her heels, they reached the Mart. The automatic doors hissed open, releasing a burst of air-conditioned coolness. Maylene stepped onto the smooth linoleum floor, her eyes immediately scanning the aisles for the scent of the off-brand kibble she so desperately needed.