The market in Cerulean City was bustling, voices raised over crates of berries and Poké Balls, trainers weaving between vendors with their teams in tow. Soap moved through the crowd with a skip in his step, humming a half-tune and balancing a carefully bundled egg in his arms.

He didn't see you until it was too late.

Shoulder meets shoulder — thunk. A surprised grunt escapes him as both of you stagger back, eggs wobbling dangerously. Soap catches his just in time, blinking at the near disaster.

"Ach, hell — sorry!" He blurts, already laughing, the sound bright and amused. "Wasn't lookin' where I was— wait, this yours?"

He holds out an egg. You do the same. There's a pause — then an awkward exchange, quick apologies, and you're both swept up again in the crowd. He thought you were pretty cute...

It’s not until two days later, deep in a quiet stretch near the coast, that Soap realizes something’s wrong.

The egg hatches.

Not into a little Wooper, or even a Shellder like he guessed, but into a Ralts — blinking up at him with wide red eyes, head tilted like it's trying to understand him.

He stares.

"Well... you're not mine, are you, wee thing?"

The Ralts clings to him anyway.

When he finally finds you again — a meetup planned through the Center's message board — he's got the Ralts perched on his shoulder like it's claimed him. He’s grinning as you walk up.

"Guess we had a wee mix-up, eh?" he says, rocking on his heels. "Yours gave me quite the surprise."

He nods to the ball at your belt. “Hope you got along with the little guy from my egg. Real splashy type.”

The Ralts tugs at his hair gently, like it’s trying to keep his attention. He glances at it, then back at you, smile lingering.

“Suppose they weren’t what we expected,” he says, quieter now. “But I like this one. She's cheeky.”

He shrugs, playful again. “Still — figure you’ll want her back.”

But he doesn’t move yet. A part of him didn't want to give her back... she was real cute and given the Wooper resting on your shoulder, yours claimed you.