Nine

The leaves crunch beneath my feet as I walked from school. Compared to my last life, school doesn’t seem to care about actual curriculum, it’s more about Pokémon, which is a lot easier for me.

The forest path is quiet, with the occasional chirp or breeze through the branches. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular anymore, just wandering. I know my way home, and I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind if I just walk, letting the silence stretch.

Then I heard it.

A sound that didn’t belong.

A small, broken cry. Soft, muffled… like someone trying not to be heard.

I stopped walking.

There it was again—coming from deeper within the trees.

I pushed through the brush, careful with my steps, until the source came into view.

A small pink creature, a Tinkatuff, sitting alone on a moss-covered tree stump. Its tiny arms rested limply in its lap, and its face was scrunched in frustration. It looked incomplete.

Tinkatuff is the evolution form tinkatink. What are the chances of finding a second evolution stage Pokemon in the wild?

Then I noticed it. The problem. The thing about tinkatinks and tinkatuffs, they carry a club. These serve as weapons for self-defense, each Pokémon from this species gets a hammer at birth. However…

“You don’t have a weapon,” I exhaled.

This one just sat there, hands clenched, little pink head drooped like it had lost a piece of itself. Its tears dripping down its steel plates on its waist.

I looked around. After a bit of searching through the underbrush, I found something nearby: gray club, plain but functional, not exactly what a Pokemon would proudly forge, but it’d do.

As I picked it up, turning to head back, something else caught my eye.

Lying half-buried in a patch of dirt was another hammer, this one almost completely rusted. Brown, rough, jagged at the edges. It looked like it had been abandoned for years.

I picked it up slowly, it was significantly heavier than the other one, even I struggled to pick it up

An idea started to form.

Shiny tinkatinks and tinkatuffs, they’re original clubs are a steel gray. However, in the games, there’s a 1 in 4096 chance that one with a brown hammer would appear, a shiny version.

and if shiny Pokémon are just rare alternate forms… then maybe…

If I gave it this club, this rusted brown one instead of the regular silver, would that make it shiny?

I tucked the gray one behind a nearby tree, out of sight, and returned to the stump. 

I CANNOT miss this opportunity. I know that I said I wouldn’t involve my self with Pokémon but—

The Tinkatuff was still crying, soft little sobs, like squeaks in a broken tin can.

“Hey there, little guy,” I said, crouching slowly. My voice dipped into baby-talk without me realizing. “Whatcha cryin’ for, huh? Missin’ your bonkin’ stick?”

It paused. The crying stopped. Its big, watery eyes blinked at me, cautious.

I held out the rusted hammer with both hands, like I was offering a sacred treasure.

It stared at it.

Then—

SLAP.

The club hit the ground the Pokémon slapped it out of my hands. The Tinkatuff turned its head with an angry whine and began crying all over again.

“O-okay. Just say you hate me already,” I muttered, picking the hammer back up. I tried again, holding it higher this time. “Come on, it’s not that ugly. It’s got… character.”

The Pokemon sniffled, crossed its arms, and turned away with a loud, dramatic hmph.

I stood there, awkwardly holding the club like an idiot. 

I will not fail a shiny attempt because this baby Pokémon is throwing a stupid tantrum.

I set the club—or is it a hammer?—on the stump in front of it but didn’t say a word. I turned around, sat down beside the stump, and faced away from it, pretending to lose interest.

A few seconds passed. No movement.

Then I heard it.

A small clink—fingers brushing over the handle.

I peeked sideways.

The Tinkatuff was slowly reaching for it, eyes still suspicious. It looked at me. I didn’t move.

Then it grabbed the handle.

And for just a split second—

A flicker, like static in my vision. The Tinkatink shimmered oddly.

I stared.

The Pokémon began to glitch intensely almost losing its shape as it intensified. I watched as the metal plates on its waist change from a shining silver to a brown, matching its newly acquired hammer.

The Tinkatuff looked down at its new hammer, then its chest where the emblem is, holding it in both hands. It swung it once, awkwardly, then again—stronger.

Then it walked up to me and hugged my leg.

Not like a dramatic anime hug. More like a toddler that didn’t know how else to say “thanks.”

I sat there, stunned.

“…Guess you’re mine now, huh?”

The Pokemon looked up at me, hammer clutched tight.

And for once, I didn’t feel like I had to keep walking.

But it did. 

In fact, it started running, quickly waddling in the opposite direction away from me.

“Hey wait!” But it was too late as it disappeared in the underbrush.

Unbelievable, there’s no way there’s no way there’s no way. 

You’re telling me I actually failed a shiny?