Very short fic based on PMD: Seekers of Soul by @teshadraws !!
On a rainy night, Clay hears a knock at the front door.
(What if Nia got sent back home, still as a Riolu?)
When Clay opens the door, he thinks he must be dreaming. After all, how else could he rationalize what he was seeing in the doorway? It’s a dog. Or at least, he thinks it’s a dog. He can’t remember if he’s ever seen a dog standing on two legs. The poor thing’s coat is covered in mud, no doubt because of the rain that’s been pouring away all night, but underneath, its coat is unmistakably, blindingly blue.
The creature looks up at him with wide, teary, ruby red eyes. Something in those eyes is shocked, or maybe mournful. It’s a look that Clay… recognizes, somehow. The dog’s mouth moves like it’s trying to find words, but can’t quite reach them. (As if a dog could talk in the first place.) If it weren’t for the absurdity of the situation, Clay would be mildly irritated. Didn’t the dog knock? Why isn’t it saying anything? What does it want? Why is it… looking at him like that?
“Clay? Who’s at the door?”
Oops. Looks like he took too long standing awkwardly at the doorway, and now Mom is gonna see him hallucinating and probably think he’s on drugs or something but he swears- he swears that dog looks real.
And then Mom rounds the corner, and the dog talks.
“…Mom?”
The words sound thick on the thing’s tongue, but the emotion is unmistakable, and for a split second, Clay thinks he recognizes that voice.
Then, the dog lunges at his mom, and Clay has half a mind to be scared before he sees the tears streaming down the thing’s face. His mom backs up for a split second- out of fear or confusion, he doesn’t know- but the dog grabs her leg and doesn’t let go. She’s… hugging it.
“Mom. Mom.”
Even through the heaving sobs, that voice is all too familiar, coming out of a decidedly unfamiliar body. As Mom looks from him, to the dog, to back to him, he realizes they’re both thinking the same thought. An insane, outlandish, impossible thought. And yet…
The dog is still clutching Mom’s leg like her life depends on it. Clay slowly bends down, as if approaching a wild animal, and wraps his arms around the cold, muddied fur. The dog’s sobs grow louder, and as Mom bends down to do the same, the dog crumples to the ground, burying her face in Clay’s shoulder.
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