The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of a modest house in a quiet Shanghai neighborhood. From the outside, the safehouse was utterly unremarkable – just another weathered brick home on a narrow lane, with laundry hung out front and potted plants by the door. But behind those drawn drapes was a secret sanctuary. Inside, Hiroshi Kobayashi – known in distant battlefields as the elusive "Fox" – finally enjoyed a few days of peace with his Pokémon. These were no ordinary companions; they were rare and powerful creatures, each one a treasured friend he treated as family.
In the living room, the air was warm and still, scented faintly with tea and the remnants of breakfast. Sunlight seeped around the edges of the curtains, casting a gentle glow over a scene of domestic tranquility – albeit an unusual one. Raichu, Hiroshi's faithful Electric-type, sprawled lazily atop the back of the couch, his long tail hanging off one side and twitching occasionally. On the rug below, a sleek Dragonair coiled her sapphire-blue body in a loose spiral, watching the Raichu above with narrowed eyes. It seemed the dragon and the mouse had been competing for Hiroshi's attention all morning. If Raichu hopped up onto Hiroshi's shoulder, Dragonair would subtly slither closer and rest her elegant head in Hiroshi's lap with a contented sigh. Not to be outdone, Raichu would then scamper down and nuzzle Hiroshi's other side, shooting Dragonair a playful glare. Now the two exchanged comically jealous looks across the sofa – Raichu's ears flicking with feigned offense, Dragonair flicking the tip of her tail dismissively – as Hiroshi chuckled at their silent tug-of-war for affection.
Nearby, a Charmeleon and an Ivysaur were engaged in their own playful banter. The crimson-skinned Charmeleon leaned casually against the wall, the flame on his tail-tip casting a soft orange light that danced across the room. "Charrr, char," he snickered, eyes gleaming with mischief as he regarded the Ivysaur by the window. The stout, quadrupedal Ivysaur sat in a sunbeam that managed to slip through a gap in the curtains, greedily soaking up the weak rays on his broad green back. At Charmeleon's sly tone, Ivysaur turned and gave a low grumble of suspicion. The fire lizard grinned wider and teased him again, pointing to the wilted houseplant on the sill – it had drooped from lack of sunlight in their shuttered hiding. Charmeleon puffed a small ember from his mouth and motioned as if to singe the plant's leaf, implying Ivysaur might meet the same fate if he dozed off in that sunbeam. "Ivy-saur!" Ivysaur retorted indignantly, vines curling defensively around the plant as if shielding it (and himself). Clearly he took offense at the idea of becoming Charmeleon's roasted target. Hiroshi caught the exchange and shook his head with an amused smile. "Go easy on him, Charmeleon," he chided gently, running a hand through his own dark hair. "He only got ten minutes of sun today, he's not looking to get barbecued." Charmeleon snorted a tiny puff of smoke in good humor, and Ivysaur gave a smug flick of a vine, grateful for their trainer's intervention.
At the dining table, Milotic – a breathtaking serpentine Pokémon with opalescent scales – had half her long body submerged in a large plastic tub of water that Hiroshi had fetched from the bathroom. She luxuriated in it, sighing blissfully as the water rippled around her. "Miiilo…" she crooned, arching her elegant neck. Her pink and blue scales shimmered even in the dim light, though she clearly longed for a proper spa day under the sun. She glanced over at Hiroshi with pleading ruby eyes. If any Pokémon could give a puppy-dog look, it was Milotic in moments like this. "Milo-tic?" she trilled hopefully. Hiroshi chuckled softly, pausing in the middle of folding a stack of towels. "I know, I know," he said, as if understanding her exact request. "A nice spa treatment, right? Warm water, gentle scrub for those scales… maybe even some scented oils?" With each phrase, Milotic's fan-like tail flapped in the water with delight, sprinkling a few droplets onto the floor. She nodded along eagerly, clearly understanding his tone if not every word. "We'll make it happen," Hiroshi promised, grabbing one of the folded towels. He walked over and draped it around Milotic's upper body where she rested on the floor, patting her scales dry where they emerged from the tub. "We can't exactly visit a spa in public, but we'll do our own right here. How does that sound?" Milotic closed her eyes and leaned into his gentle toweling, a soft purr-like hum vibrating in her throat – it sounded very much like gratitude.
Across the room, perched on the arm of an easy chair, a little Swablu ruffled its cottony wings at the sight of Milotic's impromptu spa. "Swab, swab!" it chirped, as though offering commentary on the whole situation. Perhaps the blue-and-white bird Pokémon found it amusing that the team's most majestic member could be so fussy about her beauty routine. Swablu fluttered up and landed atop one of the curtain rods, balancing easily and tilting its head. Ever vigilant despite the domestic calm, it peeked through a sliver of window not fully covered by the curtain. Outside, the street was quiet – a bicycle cart ambling past with clinking milk bottles, an old man sweeping the pavement – nothing out of the ordinary. Swablu warbled contentedly, satisfied that their hideout remained unnoticed.
Safety was paramount; Hiroshi was acutely aware that the sight of even one of these rare Pokémon could draw unwanted attention. In a world where only the wealthy or powerful ever possessed a single evolved Pokémon, Hiroshi's little family would be an astonishing treasure trove. A Dragonair, a Milotic, an Alakazam, and more – any one of them could fetch a king's ransom on the black market, or serve as a living weapon in the wrong hands. To see so many gathered together, free and happy, was almost unheard of. Thus, the curtains stayed closed and outings were limited to nights or remote areas. Hiroshi didn't mind the precaution; these peaceful moments with them were worth a hundred days in the field.