Excitement buzzed through Arin's veins as he hurried through the Safari Zone, a stack of handwritten instruction sheets clutched in his hands. Echo fluttered overhead, occasionally swooping down to land on his shoulder before taking off again, her enthusiasm matching his own. Today marked the culmination of weeks of coding, debugging, and server setup—PokeLife was finally ready for testing.
"Remember, be extra cute," Arin whispered to Echo as they approached the staff break room. She chirped in response, landing on his head and arranging herself in what he assumed was her most adorable pose.
Arin took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Inside, several Safari Zone employees were enjoying their morning coffee break. Conversations paused as they noticed him standing there, papers in hand and a Zubat perched on his head.
"Good morning, everyone!" he said, trying to sound both eager and professional. "I've been asked to find beta testers for this new app called PokeLife. The developer is paying me a small commission for each person who signs up and uses it for at least a week."
Kenji, the groundskeeper who had battled Echo the previous week, raised an eyebrow. "Someone's paying you to promote their app?"
Arin nodded enthusiastically. "It's a social platform for Pokémon trainers and enthusiasts! You can share photos, send messages, post updates about your Pokémon, and even organize meetups and events. I thought the Safari Zone staff might be interested."
He distributed the instruction sheets, watching their reactions carefully. Most accepted the papers with polite smiles, but he could see the lack of genuine interest in their eyes. Still, a few seemed to be considering it—perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps out of sympathy for the orphaned boy trying to earn some extra money.
"If you decide to try it, just message customer support with my promoter ID when you sign up," Arin continued, undeterred. "It's ZB-2507. That way they'll know I helped you join, and I'll get my commission." He tapped the number he'd invented, hoping it sounded official enough to reinforce his cover story.
"That's very... thorough of the developer," said Hiroshi, the security guard, looking somewhat uncomfortable with the idea.
Arin widened his eyes, channeling his inner eight-year-old. "Please? I really need the commissions. And it's actually a pretty cool app." He let his lower lip quiver slightly—a move he'd practiced in the mirror and felt slightly ridiculous doing, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Echo, sensing her cue, fluttered down to the table and made a series of adorable chirping sounds, tilting her head at the staff members.
The collective resistance in the room visibly weakened.
"Well, I suppose I could give it a try," said Mira, the tour guide, patting Arin's head. "My nephew is about your age, and he loves these kinds of apps."
"I'll check it out too," added another staff member. "Sounds like it might be useful for coordinating shifts."
One by one, the staff members agreed, some more reluctantly than others. Arin beamed, thanking them profusely and promising to help if they encountered any issues.
As he left the break room, Echo returned to his shoulder, and he whispered, "Phase one complete. Now we just need them to actually use it."
The first few days were frustrating. Despite their promises, most of the staff barely touched PokeLife. Arin would check the server logs each night, noting the minimal activity with growing disappointment. A few had logged in once, clicked around briefly, and then closed the app, never to return.
On the fourth day, he decided more drastic measures were needed.
He found Kenji tending to a patch of Oddish near the eastern pond. "Have you tried PokeLife yet?" Arin asked, trying to sound casual.
Kenji looked up, wiping sweat from his brow. "Ah, sorry kid. Been busy with these Oddish. They've been overwatered, and their roots are getting soggy."
Arin nodded sympathetically, then pulled out his own device, opening the app. "The developer just added a feature where you can post about Pokémon care issues and get advice. Maybe someone would know how to help with soggy Oddish roots?"
Kenji hesitated, then sighed. "Alright, let me see that instruction sheet again. I think I left it in my locker."
"I have an extra!" Arin said quickly, producing another copy from his pocket. Echo chirped encouragingly from his shoulder.
With obvious reluctance, Kenji pulled out his phone and followed the instructions to download PokeLife. Arin watched eagerly as he logged in and navigated to the forum section.
"Just type your question here," Arin guided, pointing at the screen.
Kenji typed slowly: "Oddish overwatered. Roots soggy. Suggestions?"
"Now we wait," Arin said, trying to contain his excitement at having snagged another active user.
To both their surprise, a response came within minutes. Naomi from the botanical section had replied: "Mix equal parts fine sand and peat moss into the soil. The sand improves drainage, and the peat helps with nutrient retention. Worked for my houseplants!"
Kenji raised his eyebrows. "Huh. That's actually helpful."
"You can thank her directly," Arin suggested, showing him the reply button.
By the time Kenji finished typing his thanks, Mira had also chimed in with her own suggestion about using a diluted solution of Revival Herb extract to strengthen the roots. A conversation was forming—the first organic interaction on the platform.
Arin left Kenji engrossed in the discussion, a small smile playing on his lips. One down, several more to go.
He employed similar tactics with the other staff members. For Hiroshi, he highlighted the security alert feature that could help coordinate responses to poaching attempts. For Mira, he showcased the tour scheduling tool that could help visitors book her popular Safari walks. For the cafeteria staff, he demonstrated how they could post daily specials and receive pre-orders to reduce waste.
Each targeted approach yielded results, and by the end of the fifth day, every staff member had logged in at least once, with most having made at least one post or comment.
But it was on the sixth day that something unexpected happened—PokeLife began to take on a life of its own.
Arin was checking the server logs when he noticed a surge in activity. Curious, he opened the app to find that Mira had posted a photo of a baby Nidoran that had fallen asleep in her hat. The image had prompted a cascade of responses, with other staff members sharing their own cute Pokémon encounters.
Kenji had posted a video of an Oddish doing what appeared to be a happy dance after its soil had been fixed. Naomi shared a picture of the Meowth that visited the greenhouse each morning. Even Hiroshi, the stern security guard, had contributed a stoic selfie with his Growlithe, captioned simply: "On patrol."
The comment sections were lively, filled with emoji reactions and follow-up questions. A genuine community was forming, completely unprompted by Arin.
Over the next few days, usage continued to grow. Staff members began using the messaging feature to coordinate shift changes and break coverage. The event board filled with announcements about maintenance schedules and visitor group arrivals. Someone even started a daily "Pokémon Fact" thread that became surprisingly popular.
Arin watched it all with a mixture of pride and amazement. PokeLife was working—not just technically, but socially. People were connecting, sharing, and engaging in exactly the ways he had hoped.
There were bugs, of course. The image upload feature sometimes cropped photos oddly. The notification system occasionally sent duplicate alerts. The search function was temperamental at best. But each issue was reported, either directly to Arin or through the app's feedback form, and he diligently fixed them, one by one.
By the eighth day, he was spending more time on bug fixes and feature requests than on promoting usage. PokeLife had gained its own momentum, and he found himself rushing to keep up with its growth.
"Arin! There you are!"
He looked up from his coding to see Director Tanaka approaching, a stern expression on his face. Echo, who had been dozing on his shoulder, perked up at the interruption.
"The Bellsprout enclosure was scheduled for cleaning two hours ago," Director Tanaka said, arms crossed. "The poor things are covered in pollen, and their feeding stations need refilling."
Arin's eyes widened in genuine dismay. He'd been so absorbed in fixing a messaging bug that he'd completely forgotten his actual duties. "I'm so sorry, Director! I lost track of time. I'll go right now."
He softened slightly at Arin's sincere apology. "I understand you're excited about promoting this app, Arin. But your responsibilities here come first."
"It won't happen again," he promised, quickly saving his work and standing up.
"See that it doesn't," the director replied, though there was a hint of understanding in his tone. "And when you're done with the Bellsprout, come find me. I have some thoughts about that event calendar feature you showed me."
Arin hurried to the Bellsprout enclosure, Echo flying ahead to scout the situation. The Bellsprout were indeed covered in a fine yellow pollen, their slender bodies drooping with discomfort. Their feeding stations—shallow dishes filled with nutrient-rich water—were nearly empty.
"I'm really sorry," Arin said to them as he began filling a bucket with fresh water. To his surprise, he felt a faint response—not words exactly, but a general sense of discomfort and mild irritation.
His Viridian power had been evolving over the past week. During battles, he'd finally gained some control over the healing glow, managing to suppress it when others were watching. But more intriguingly, his empathic connection with Pokémon had deepened, especially with those he interacted with regularly.
The Bellsprout's feelings came through as vague impressions rather than coherent thoughts, but it was communication nonetheless. Arin focused, trying to project reassurance as he carefully cleaned each Bellsprout with a soft brush, removing the irritating pollen.
"There you go," he murmured, gently stroking a particularly small Bellsprout. "Much better now, right?"
The plant Pokémon swayed slightly, and Arin felt a wave of relief and contentment in response. He smiled, filling the feeding stations with fresh nutrient solution and making sure each Bellsprout had access.
As he worked, he reflected on how much his power had grown. The ability to suppress the healing glow had come gradually, through focused practice during his battles with the staff. He'd learned to recognize the tingling sensation that preceded the glow and to consciously redirect that energy, keeping it contained within rather than allowing it to manifest visibly.
He couldn't yet summon the healing at will—it still appeared primarily in response to Echo's injuries or distress—but preventing its appearance was progress nonetheless. Similarly, his ability to sense Pokémon emotions seemed strongest with those he'd built relationships with: Echo, the Oddish he fed regularly, and now these Bellsprout.
"One step at a time," he reminded himself, echoing the mantra that had guided his training with Echo.
That evening, after his shift ended, Arin made his way to Mrs. Varma's shop. The bell above the door jingled as he entered, Echo perched comfortably on his shoulder.
"Arin! And little Echo too," Mrs. Varma greeted them warmly from behind the counter. "How was work today?"
"It was good," Arin replied, approaching the counter. "Actually, I wanted to show you something. There's this new app that's getting popular at the Safari Zone."
Mrs. Varma looked intrigued. "An app? What does it do?"
Arin pulled out his device. "It's called PokeLife. It lets people share photos and stories about Pokémon, coordinate events, chat with each other—all sorts of things. I'm helping promote it, and the developer gives me a small commission for each new user."
He didn't mention that he was the developer, or that the "commission" was simply the satisfaction of seeing his creation succeed. The lie felt uncomfortable, but necessary. The fewer people who knew he'd created PokeLife, the safer his identity would be.
"That sounds lovely," Mrs. Varma said. "But I'm not very good with these new technologies."
"I can help you set it up," Arin offered eagerly. "It's really easy to use, and you could connect with other shop owners in town. Maybe even coordinate with suppliers or advertise special sales."
Mrs. Varma hesitated, then smiled. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it couldn't hurt to try. My old phone is in the back room. Let me get it."
As she disappeared into the storage area, Arin felt a twinge of guilt. Mrs. Varma had been nothing but kind to him, and here he was, not telling her the whole truth. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that PokeLife would genuinely be useful to her, and that keeping his involvement secret was for everyone's protection.
When she returned with her phone, Arin patiently walked her through downloading the app and setting up her account. He showed her how to post photos, join groups, and send messages. Mrs. Varma proved to be a quick learner, her eyes lighting up when she successfully posted her first picture—a shot of the shop's front display.
"This is quite marvelous," she admitted. "And you say people at the Safari Zone are using it too?"
Arin nodded. "Almost everyone there has it now. It's becoming really popular."
"Well, I'll be sure to tell my customers about it," Mrs. Varma promised. "You should be proud, helping to promote something so useful."
Arin smiled, the irony of her words not lost on him. "Thanks, Mrs. Varma. I hope you enjoy using it."
By the tenth day, PokeLife had become an integral part of Safari Zone operations. Staff members checked it first thing in the morning for updates and announcements. The photo feed was constantly refreshed with new Pokémon sightings and visitor interactions. The messaging system had largely replaced the old bulletin board for shift coordination.
Arin sat in the staff computer room, reviewing the final logs and making notes on remaining issues to fix. Echo dozed contentedly on the desk beside him, occasionally opening one eye to check on his progress.
"I think we're ready," he said softly, more to himself than to Echo. "The core features are stable, the server connection is solid, and people are actually using it."
He scrolled through the activity feed one more time, noting with satisfaction the organic interactions taking place. No more prodding or pleading was needed—PokeLife had found its purpose and its audience.
A notification popped up: Director Tanaka had posted an announcement thanking the "developer of PokeLife" for creating such a useful tool for the Safari Zone staff. Several other staff members had commented, adding their own appreciation. Arin felt a warm glow of pride that had nothing to do with his Viridian power.
He closed the logs and stood up, stretching after hours of sitting. Echo stirred, fluttering up to land on his shoulder.
"Come on," he said, scratching her gently under the chin. "Let's go feed the Oddish before we forget again."
Outside, the evening air was cool and fragrant with the scent of flowers. The Oddish were gathered in their usual spot, leaves twitching in anticipation as they sensed Arin's approach. He knelt down, scattering their food in gentle arcs across the ground.
As they ate, Arin felt the now-familiar brush of their simple emotions against his mind—contentment, hunger, the simple joy of existence. He focused, trying to project a clear thought their way: Good evening, friends.
To his delight, he sensed a collective response—not words, but a wave of recognition and welcome that was unmistakable. It wasn't quite conversation, but it was communication, and it filled him with hope for what might be possible as his abilities continued to develop.
Echo chirped softly, as if encouraging his efforts. Arin smiled, reaching up to stroke her wing. Their bond had deepened through battles and training, and he wondered if that connection was somehow amplifying his Viridian power, helping it grow and evolve.
As the Oddish finished their meal and began to settle in for the night, Arin stood up, brushing dirt from his knees. The past ten days had been transformative—for PokeLife, for his abilities, and for his sense of belonging in this world.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. PokeLife would need ongoing maintenance and updates. His Viridian power required further practice and control. Echo's training would continue, with more battles and new techniques to master.
But for now, in this quiet moment with his partner and the drowsy Oddish, Arin felt a profound sense of accomplishment and peace. He had created something useful, something that connected people. He was learning to harness his mysterious power. He was building a life here, step by careful step.
"Ready to head back?" he asked Echo, who chirped affirmatively.
As they walked toward the staff quarters, the first stars appearing overhead, Arin allowed himself a moment of optimism. The future was uncertain, but for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt genuinely prepared to face it.
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