Pokémon: Escape

Song Ling called him 037. In the collector's underground vault, this name, along with the musty air, cold iron bars, and the ever-buzzing energy suppression device, constitute his entire world. All a Zoroark is worth is being locked behind glass, a number on a numbered list. For thirteen years he had not thought of escaping. It wasn't that he didn't want to, it was that he didn't know where to run - he only had a glimpse of what the sky and the river looked like on the day he was transferred. Later he found out. The river water is cool, the soil is soft, and the sun will heat your hair. The taste of freedom is like a freshly picked fruit, sour but edible. Then humans came. Trainer. Poke ball. Heiluga followed the scent and came after him. The man who once squatted by the stream to beg him for food was now standing at the front of the crowd, pointing his finger at his hiding place. "It's worth a lot of money," he said. Zoroark squatted in the reeds, soaked to the skin and with his hair standing on end. He doesn't run anymore. No more running, no more hiding, no more hiding. Why do they have the final say? Six Pokémon, a group that has never been tamed. From this day on, they will get their names back.