The warm afternoon sun bathed the rolling fields outside Pallet Town in golden light, casting long shadows across the swaying grass. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh soil and blooming flowers, a familiar fragrance that Aaron Ketchum had grown to love. He had always enjoyed the quiet of the outskirts—away from the bustling town square, away from the chatter of people. Here, he could think, explore, and let his imagination run free.
At just seven years old, Aaron wasn't like his twin brother, Ash. While Ash spent most of his days talking about Pokémon battles and dreaming of becoming a Pokémon Master, Aaron preferred the simpler moments—reading about Pokémon, observing them in the wild, and wondering about the ones he had yet to see.
Today was no different. Aaron had finished delivering food for his mother's restaurant, a routine he didn't mind, especially when it meant getting a few extra minutes to wander the outskirts of town. He was making his way back home when a soft, pained sound caught his ear.
A rustling in the tall grass.
Aaron paused, his eyes narrowing. The sound came again—a mix between a chirp and a low whimper. He turned toward the source, carefully pushing aside the blades of grass. That's when he saw it.
A small bird Pokémon lay in the grass, its feathers ruffled and dirty. Its wing bent at an odd angle, a clear sign that it was injured. Aaron had seen plenty of Pidgey and Spearow around Pallet Town before, but this Pokémon was different. It had a white, feathery head and sharp red eyes that locked onto him the moment he stepped closer.
The Pokémon flinched, dragging itself backward with its talons.
"Hey, hey—it's okay," Aaron whispered, raising his hands in a calming gesture. He had no idea if it understood him, but he recognized fear when he saw it.
The bird let out a sharp cry, trying to flap its injured wing. It barely managed to lift itself before falling back into the grass. It was weak, hurt—but still determined to escape.
Aaron felt a pang in his chest. "You can't fly, can you?"
The bird growled—not a true snarl, but a sound filled with stubborn resistance. Even in pain, it wasn't willing to accept help so easily.
Aaron slowly crouched down, keeping his distance. He didn't want to scare it further. "I won't hurt you. I just… I want to help."
The bird didn't move, watching him with cautious, untrusting eyes.
Aaron glanced around. There were no other Pokémon nearby—no sign of where this little one had come from. Was it alone? Had it fallen from a nest? Had it been attacked?
His eyes landed on the Pokémon's talons. Sharp, curved—this wasn't a normal bird Pokémon.
"I've never seen one like you before," he murmured.
The bird shifted slightly, its gaze flicking toward him before turning away.
Aaron sat down fully, pulling his bag of restaurant leftovers into his lap. He had brought home some extra food from his deliveries—mostly small portions of rice and berries. Maybe… maybe the Pokémon was hungry.
Carefully, he reached into the bag and pulled out a small Oran Berry. He rolled it across the grass, letting it stop a foot away from the bird.
"Here," he said softly. "If you're hungry, you can eat."
The Pokémon's eyes flicked to the berry, but it didn't move.
Aaron didn't push. Instead, he leaned back on his hands and waited.
A minute passed. Then another.
Finally, the bird inched forward, dragging itself toward the berry. It sniffed it cautiously before snatching it up in its beak. Aaron pretended not to notice, keeping his gaze on the sky.
The bird swallowed, then slowly turned its eyes back to him. The hostility in its gaze had lessened—but only a little.
Aaron smiled. "See? Not so bad, right?"
The Pokémon didn't answer.
Aaron sighed, glancing at the sky. The sun was lowering now, casting a warm glow over the field. He knew he couldn't stay out too late. If he wasn't home before dark, his mother would scold him for making her worry.
He looked back at the Pokémon. "I have to go," he said. "But I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"
The bird said nothing.
Aaron stood up, dusting off his pants. He turned to leave, but after a few steps, he hesitated. What if something happened to the Pokémon while he was gone? What if a wild Pokémon attacked it?
He glanced over his shoulder. The bird was watching him, still wary, still tense. But it was breathing easier now, no longer forcing itself to move in panic.
Aaron made a decision.
He grabbed another berry from his bag and placed it on the ground before stepping away.
"If you're still here tomorrow," he said, "I'll bring more."
Then, without waiting for a response, he walked away—heading home as the sun dipped below the horizon.
That Night…
Aaron sat at the dining table, pushing his food around his plate absentmindedly. Across from him, his mother, Delia Ketchum, was busy cleaning up after the evening rush at the restaurant.
"You're quiet today," she said, not looking up from the dishes. "Something on your mind?"
Aaron hesitated. He wasn't sure why, but a part of him didn't want to talk about the bird Pokémon. Not yet.
"I saw a Pokémon today," he admitted finally.
Delia turned to him, smiling. "Oh? What kind?"
Aaron frowned. "That I don't know."
Delia wiped her hands on a towel. "Describe it to me."
Aaron leaned forward. "It was small, but its talons were sharp—like a predator. Its head was covered in white feathers, and its body was mostly blue. It had a tough attitude, too."
Delia's brows furrowed. "That doesn't sound like any Pokémon I know around here…"
Aaron blinked. "Really? Not even a Pidgeotto or Spearow?"
She shook her head. "No, those don't match your description. It sounds… familiar, but I can't remember the name."
Aaron frowned. "Then… how do I figure out what it is?"
Delia smiled and gestured toward a bookshelf near the living room. "Why don't you check the Pokémon books? Professor Oak gave us some a while back."
Aaron's eyes lit up. "Good idea!"
He jumped up from his seat, hurrying over to the bookshelf. His fingers ran over the spines of each book, searching for anything that might help. Finally, he pulled out an old, thick encyclopedia on Pokémon species.
He sat down, flipping through the pages. His eyes scanned each entry carefully.
Pidgey? No. Spearow? No. Doduo? Definitely not.
Then, after several minutes of searching, his eyes landed on a page with a familiar image.
A small bird Pokémon. Sharp talons. A white head. Blue feathers. Fierce personality.
"Rufflet."
Aaron's breath caught in his throat. That was it. That was the Pokémon.
He stared at the page, reading everything he could.
"A Rufflet is known for its fearlessness, charging into battle even when injured. It is often found in remote regions, particularly in Unova. Seeing one in Kanto is extremely rare."
Aaron's sat confused. If Rufflet wasn't from Kanto… how did it get here?
He snapped the book shut. He didn't have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear:
He had to go back tomorrow.
Outside, under the pale light of the moon, a small figure lay curled in the tall grass, its injured wing resting against the cool earth.
For the first time since getting hurt… Rufflet closed its eyes and fell asleep.
The Next Morning…
Aaron was up early. Earlier than usual.Normally, he'd wake up to the sound of Ash snoring like a broken lawnmower across the room, but today, his mind was too occupied. He barely touched his breakfast, too focused on the Pokémon he had found yesterday.
Rufflet.
Even now, the name echoed in his head. He had spent the previous night rereading everything he could find about Rufflet. The books said they were rare in Kanto, usually found in far-off regions like Unova. If that was true, then why was one here?
More importantly, how was it hurt?
Aaron didn't know, but he was determined to find out.
"Off to play already?" Delia called as he grabbed his bag.
"Something like that," Aaron replied, slipping out the door.
He ran toward the outskirts of Pallet Town, his heart pounding with anticipation. Would Rufflet still be there? Would it be okay?
As he reached the same patch of tall grass from yesterday, he slowed down, his chest tightening with worry. He took a deep breath, then carefully stepped forward.And there it was.
Rufflet.
The small bird Pokémon lay curled in the same spot, though it looked a little more alert than before. Its feathers were still ruffled, its wing still bent at an awkward angle, but its red eyes snapped toward Aaron the moment he approached.
Aaron froze.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then, Rufflet let out a low, warning chirp—a clear sign that it still didn't trust him.
Aaron smiled slightly. Stubborn. Just like the book said.
"Morning," he greeted, sitting down a few feet away. He didn't want to push too hard, too fast.
Rufflet's gaze flicked to his hands, as if expecting something.
Aaron chuckled. "Already figured me out, huh?"
He reached into his bag and pulled out a few Oran Berries, setting them down on the grass. Rufflet eyed them suspiciously at first but eventually inched forward. It was still limping, still clearly in pain, but it grabbed the nearest berry and ate without hesitation.
Aaron leaned back on his hands, watching.
"You must be starving," he murmured.
Rufflet ignored him, focusing on its meal.
Aaron took a moment to study the Pokémon more closely. Up close, he could see just how rough the injuries were. There were a few scrapes along its body—nothing too serious, but that wing…
Aaron frowned. Could it heal on its own?
He knew Pokémon were naturally tougher than humans. A wild Pokémon especially would recover faster than someone like him. But if Rufflet couldn't fly, it would be vulnerable.
And something about that didn't sit right with Aaron.
When Rufflet finished eating, it finally turned back to him, tilting its head slightly.
Aaron grinned. "What?"
Rufflet let out a soft chirp—not a warning this time, but something else.
Curiosity?
Aaron took a slow breath. This was progress.
"I'm Aaron," he said. "Since we're probably going to see each other a lot, I figured you should know my name."Rufflet didn't respond.
Aaron smirked. "Not much of a talker, huh?"
Rufflet huffed and looked away.
Aaron laughed. "Got it. You're the quiet, tough type."
He stayed there for a while, just sitting in silence with Rufflet. He didn't force anything, didn't reach out to touch it—just let the Pokémon get used to his presence.
And little by little, Rufflet seemed to relax.
Not fully. Not completely. But enough.
From a distance, standing near the fence of his lab, Professor Samuel Oak watched with interest.
He had seen Aaron many times before. The boy often delivered food to his lab—a polite, quiet kid, very different from his excitable twin.
But today… Oak saw something peculiar. Aaron wasn't just playing with a wild Pokémon. He was earning its trust. And not just any Pokémon—a Rufflet.
Oak's eyes narrowed slightly. Rufflet were not native to Kanto. The species was rare even in Johto, let alone this far from Unova. Seeing one here, injured and alone, was unusual.
He stroked his chin, considering.
How had it gotten here? And more importantly…
Why was it letting Aaron get close?
Oak smiled slightly. He didn't approach. Not yet.
He wanted to see what would happen next.
Back at the field, Aaron stretched his arms behind his head. "You know," he said casually, "if you let me, I might be able to help with your wing."
Rufflet tensed slightly.
Aaron quickly raised his hands. "Not right now! Just… something to think about."
Rufflet stared at him.
Aaron sighed. "You don't trust me yet, do you?"
Rufflet let out a small, unimpressed chirp.
Aaron chuckled. "Fair."
He knew this would take time. Pokémon—especially wild ones—didn't trust humans easily. And Rufflet wasn't just any Pokémon.
It was a fighter. A warrior by instinct. Aaron knew he had to prove himself first.
With a determined smile, he reached into his bag and pulled out something different—a small roll of clean bandages. Rufflet's feathers ruffled slightly in suspicion.
"I know, I know," Aaron said. "But look—I won't force you. I'll leave them here, okay?"
He placed the roll near the berries. "If you ever want my help, I'll be around."
Rufflet glanced at the bandages, then back at Aaron.
Then, slowly… it relaxed just a little.
Not a lot. Not fully.
But enough to give Aaron hope.
The next few days followed a similar pattern.
Every morning, Aaron would rush through breakfast, grab his bag, and head straight for the outskirts of Pallet Town, where Rufflet waited.
At first, the Pokémon was still hesitant—watching him carefully, never letting him too close.
But each day, the distance between them grew smaller.
Aaron never pushed, never forced interaction. He simply sat nearby, talked to Rufflet, and offered food and water. And Rufflet, little by little, began to accept it.
It had been nearly a week since Aaron first met Rufflet.
The morning sun was warm against his skin as he settled onto the grass, placing a few Oran Berries in front of him.
Rufflet didn't hesitate this time, stepping forward and grabbing a berry right in front of him.
Aaron grinned. "You're getting bolder."
Rufflet gave him a sideways glance, then continued eating.
Aaron stretched his arms. "You know… You can let me help with your wing anytime."
Rufflet stiffened slightly.
Aaron held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. You don't like the idea. But I've been watching you all week." His voice softened. "You still can't fly, can you?"
Rufflet froze.
Aaron didn't need an answer.
He had seen it every day—the way Rufflet limped, the way its feathers twitched in frustration when it tried to move its wing.
"You don't have to do this alone," Aaron murmured.
For a long time, Rufflet didn't move.
Then, slowly, it looked at him. Aaron' smile calm This was it.
Without a word, Rufflet stepped forward… and sat beside him.Not across from him. Not at a distance. Beside him. Aaron's heart pounded. It was trusting him.
He carefully reached into his bag and pulled out the roll of bandages he had left earlier.
"You ready?" he asked softly.
Rufflet hesitated for a moment… then nodded.
Aaron worked gently, carefully, wrapping Rufflet's injured wing as best as he could.
He wasn't a Pokémon doctor. He wasn't even a proper trainer.
But he cared. And that mattered.
Rufflet flinched at first but didn't pull away.
"Almost done," Aaron murmured, making sure the bandage was snug but not too tight.
When he finished, he leaned back. "There."
Rufflet tested its wing, flexing it slightly. It still wasn't fully healed, but… It looked relieved.
Aaron smiled. "Told you I wouldn't hurt you."
Rufflet gave him a long, considering look. Then, to his surprise, it nudged its head against his arm. Aaron's eyes widened.
"You're welcome," he whispered.
High up on the hill near his lab, Professor Oak had seen everything.
He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"This is quite interesting…"
He had been watching Aaron and Rufflet for the past week, observing how the boy interacted with the wild Pokémon.
And now…
Now, he saw something special. Aaron wasn't just feeding Rufflet. He wasn't just treating its wounds.
He was forming a bond.
Professor Oak smiled to himself. He would keep watching.
Because something told him that Aaron's journey—his true journey—was just beginning.
That night, Aaron sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Ash was already asleep, snoring as usual.But Aaron was wide awake, thinking about everything that had happened.
Rufflet had trusted him today. Really trusted him.
And in that moment, Aaron knew—
Rufflet wasn't just some random injured Pokémon.
He was something more.
Something important.
Something that felt like destiny.
With a small smile, Aaron closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he'd see Rufflet again.
And this time…
He wouldn't just be a stranger.
He'd be a friend.