Location: São Paulo, Brazil
Timeline: One Week After Jigglypuff's Arrival
Bruce Banner woke up human.
This shouldn't have been remarkable. But for the first time in three years, he woke up in the same place he'd gone to sleep, in the same body, with no new destruction haunting his dreams.
The sun filtered through the broken blinds of the abandoned apartment he'd been squatting in. And there, curled up on his chest like a small pink cat, was Jigglypuff.
She was humming. Not singing—that would have put him to sleep—but humming. A soft, barely audible sound that vibrated through his chest and seemed to resonate with his heartbeat.
Calm.
Bruce hadn't felt genuinely calm in... he couldn't remember how long.
"Jiggly," she murmured, sensing he was awake. Her large blue eyes opened, and she looked up at him with that expression she always had—gentle, knowing, patient.
"Morning," Bruce said quietly. "Did I...?"
She shook her head, and Bruce understood: no transformations. He'd slept through the night.
Bruce closed his eyes, feeling something tight in his chest loosen. A full night's sleep. When was the last time he'd managed that?
"Thank you," he whispered.
Jigglypuff nuzzled against his shoulder, then hopped down to the floor. She waddled over to the small camping stove Bruce had set up and pointed at it expectantly.
Bruce couldn't help but smile. "Bossy this morning, huh? Want breakfast?"
"Jiggly*!*"
He got up carefully—his body still aching from the near-transformation a week ago—and started making breakfast. Instant oatmeal for him, berries for Jigglypuff that he'd bought from a street market. She'd developed a particular fondness for strawberries.
As they ate in companionable silence, Bruce found himself studying her. One week. That's all it had been since she'd appeared from that cracked egg-stone and saved him from transforming in that alley. One week, and she'd already become the most important thing in his life.
"I don't understand you," he said quietly. "Where you came from. Why you chose to help me. What you even are."
Jigglypuff tilted her head, strawberry juice on her face.
"But I'm grateful," Bruce continued. "More than I can say."
She bounced over to him and patted his hand with one small paw, her expression gentle and reassuring.
They couldn't really communicate-not with words-but somehow Bruce always knew what she was trying to say.
Later That Day
Bruce had established a routine in the past week. Stay hidden during the day. Only go out for supplies after dark. Avoid crowds. Avoid stress. Avoid anything that might trigger—
"JIGGLY!"
Bruce's head snapped up from the biochemistry textbook he'd been reading (stolen from a university library, he'd return it eventually). Jigglypuff was at the window, bouncing urgently.
"What is it?"
She pointed down at the street. Bruce moved to look, staying in the shadows.
Three men. One woman. The woman was backing away, hands up, clearly frightened. The men were advancing. Bruce didn't need to hear the conversation to know what was happening.
"No," he said immediately. "Jigglypuff, we can't. If I go down there, if something happens, if I get angry—"
"Jigglypuff!" She looked at him with those large eyes, determined and confident.
The meaning was clear: she would keep him calm. She would make sure he didn't transform.
Bruce's jaw clenched. The Hulk stirred, just slightly, responding to his frustration. But Jigglypuff immediately started humming, and the green giant retreated.
"You're really not going to let this go, are you?"
"Jigglypuff*.*"
Nope. Definitely not.
Bruce moved quickly down the stairs, Jigglypuff bouncing along beside him. His heart was already racing—this was a terrible idea, this was going to end badly, this was—
Jigglypuff's humming intensified. His heart rate slowed. Still elevated, still ready, but controlled.
He could feel her support, her confidence. She had him.
They emerged into the alley. The situation had escalated. One of the men had grabbed the woman's purse. Another had her by the arm.
"Hey," Bruce said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Let her go."
The men turned. The leader—a big guy with scars and the kind of face that said he'd done this before—laughed.
"Walk away, gringo. This doesn't concern you."
"I can't do that," Bruce said. The Hulk was right there, just beneath the surface, wanting to smash, wanting to destroy—
Jigglypuff's hum became a soft melody. Not her Sing attack, just... music. The Hulk retreated again, grumbling.
Bruce felt sweat on his brow. This was the most dangerous thing he'd done in years. Being in a confrontation, willingly, with the Hulk so close.
But Jigglypuff was here. And somehow, that made it possible.
"Last chance," the leader said, pulling out a knife.
Bruce raised his hands. "Please. You don't want to do this."
"Actually, I think I—"
Jigglypuff sang.
Not the full Sing—that would have put Bruce to sleep too. But a targeted burst, a single perfect note aimed directly at the three men.
They swayed. Blinked. The knife clattered to the ground.
And they collapsed, all three of them, sleeping peacefully in the dirty alley.
The woman stared at Jigglypuff, then at Bruce, then at the sleeping men.
"Run," Bruce said gently. "Before they wake up."
She grabbed her purse and bolted.
Bruce looked down at Jigglypuff, who looked incredibly pleased with herself.
"That was..."
"Jiggly-puff!" She looked incredibly proud of herself.
"Dangerous," Bruce finished. "But also... thank you."
He picked her up, cradling her against his chest as his heart rate finally began to normalize. She was still humming, keeping him calm, keeping the Hulk at bay.
"We should go," Bruce said. "Before they wake up."
As they walked back to their temporary home, Bruce realized something profound: for three years, he'd been running. From Ross, from the military, from himself. He'd avoided people, avoided situations, avoided life because he was terrified of what he might become.
But with Jigglypuff here, maybe—just maybe—he didn't have to run anymore.
Maybe he could start living again.
"Jiggly," she said softly, as if reading his thoughts.
Bruce nodded.
"Yeah," he whispered. "One day at a time."