raspberrydrink

Title: Trading
Setting: Pokemon AU
Characters: shota!Shinji and Aki, and foxy!Gin. Any shipping is horrible and you should be ashamed~
Summary: Shinji learned certain things the hard way
Warnings: Weird AU's inspired by 10 word memes, horrible things happening to cute things, Gin in any form being an evil bastard.

He didn’t know how old the Ninetales was, who his trainer had been, how strong it was… none of that. It was something he doubted he’d ever know at this rate, though he occasionally thought about it, rolled what few facts he knew over in his mind. He had found the ball in the burnt wreckage on Cinnabar on pure luck, and the Pokemon Center nurses said it was also luck that the pokemon was still alive at all. There was no way of telling how long he had been in there, and no way of telling who he belonged to.

Did Shinjiro want to take him then?

At the time it had seemed it a perfect solution. He had needed a fire type, and he was already evolved. Perfect.

Of course, nothing ever went as he planned, and he wondered why he ever bothered.

The moment he opened the ball in battle things went badly. The fox would sleep, or turn away from battle, ignoring him completely. Then, just when he gave up and tried to summon something else it would spew out a stream of flame hot enough to melt glass, or sink it’s teeth into it’s opponate and shake it like it was a piece of meat, blood flying everywhere. It eventually came to the point that any winnings he made would have to go to the other pokemons medical bills.

He called the damn thing Gin, when he called it anything at all.

***

The boy called him Gin. It wasn’t his name of course, but it was as good as any other.

His first thought, when he awoke in the Center was to slip out the back and be gone. Somewhere Aizen-sama was waiting. The disaster at Cinnabar had gone just as planned, and his Master would be quite displeased if he was late.

But he did love his distractions, and the boy provided a nice one. And with his journey he would bump into Gin’s Master sooner rather then later. Then things would get… interesting. There was something about the boy that amused him, and he knew might be more then useful.

So he stayed, though he continued to play his games. The expressions on the boy’s face when he left his little ‘gifts’ at the side of his sleeping bag, or came back after a week of escaping his ball to loom near-by while he ate, only to slink out when least expected were priceless.

And the boy had saved his life. He repaid his debts, one way or another

***

The Gym battle had gone badly.

Shinjiro sat outside the building, his hat pulled over his eyes. Water was always his weakness, and in the end he had been completely decimated.

Gin hadn’t helped one bit, but that was expected.

“…Shinji!” He looked up at the sound of his name, only to see Aki running up, grinning like a fool. Polly, his Pikachu, was perched on his shoulder as always, and the other trainer stopped right in front of him, boxing at the air. “You missed it! Take a look.” He held out his hand, showing off the sparkling badge held there. Of course.

He… kind of hated him right then.

They talked for a while, or more Aki talked and Shinji pondered over what to do next… when Aki made the suggestion.

“Well, why don’t you use Polly in the fight?”

Shinjiro looked up, arching a brow.

“I’m serious. We can trade for a few days. You’ve been having some trouble with that Ninetales, right? You take Polly, and I’ll see if I can do anything to calm him down.”

Shinji had to admit, the idea had merit. No Gin for a few days, and he could finish this damn gym. He glanced off to the side, where said fox was dozing. It was almost impossible to keep him in his ball these days, and he just didn’t bother anymore.

Gin looked up, his slitted eyes giving nothing away.

“Yeah… sure.”

***

The Gym battle went well, considering. Polly was as obedient as Gin was not, and soon he too had a tiny badge to show for it. Heh, maybe he could talk Aki into making this more long term…

He went to sleep that night, Polly’s ball in his pocket, a smile on his face.

….

By morning the ball was at his feet, open, knawed. And a pair of glimmering red eyes (had he ever seen his eyes before that? No, he didn’t think so) and a now matching red muzzle loomed over him. A tiny drip of red hit his chin, followed by a thin tongue to clean it up. Those too sharp teeth shone in the early morning light, and this close he could have sworn they were twisted into a dagger sharp smile.

…

Shinji never tried to trade Gin away again.