Chapter Seventy-Six: The True Pokémon

"Scallion said he's very confident and can definitely make the dish you mentioned," Zoroa swallowed the meat skewer in her mouth, then licked her lips and offered an explanation.

Heath looked at the burning feathers on Farfetch'd's feet and felt a laugh bubbling up. Perhaps thanks to the magical protection, Farfetch'd wasn't hurt at all, so it seemed completely oblivious to the fact that it was on fire.

"Scallion says his culinary skills are bound to set the world alight, just like you, Trainer," Zoroa's nose twitched. For some reason, she seemed to smell something burnt.

"Mm, I believe you. Farfetch'd, you're definitely on fire," Heath couldn't hold back any longer. The feathers on Farfetch'd's feet were singed short, exposing a patch of charred skin.

Charmander seemed to realize it had targeted the wrong thing and was frantically waving its hands to extinguish the flames, but it wasn't very effective.

Seeing Heath laugh so delightedly, Farfetch'd lowered its head in confusion. Then it discovered the source of its earlier excitement. Watching Farfetch'd rush to the pond to put out the fire in a panic, Heath wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Hmph, Trainer, you really are something. You noticed but didn't say a word," Zoroa looked at Heath with an expression of disdain.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice either," Heath rubbed his face. Well, seeing his Pokémon 'catch fire' should make him happy.

"Hmph, well, I wouldn't laugh at Scallion," Zoroa grabbed another meat skewer and hopped back. On the other side, Farfetch'd had finished putting out the fire and returned.

Perhaps because the fire wasn't too big and Farfetch'd had plenty of feathers, it wasn't harmed. After extinguishing the flames, a layer of black covered its legs, which from a distance looked rather like black stockings.

Farfetch'd walked over wearing a look of resentment and a pair of 'black stockings'. Heath laughed even harder.

Unable to hold back any longer, Zoroa finally burst out laughing, clutching her belly and rolling around on the chair, nearly falling off.

"Scallion!" Farfetch'd angrily waved its leek—the nerve of these people, still laughing!

Thus, a noisy, boisterous night passed. Back in his bedroom, Heath comforted Farfetch'd with its 'black stockings', told Charmander to find a spot to sleep, and then climbed into bed, yawning.

Now that his life had become more regular, Heath found himself getting sleepy naturally at bedtime, drifting off with ease.

It was a stark contrast to how he used to be, his mind bouncing like a disco every night.

"Char..." Just as Heath was drifting off, he felt his sleeve being tugged. Turning, he saw Charmander's large eyes.

"Ah... what's the matter, Charmander?" Heath yawned widely, but still rubbed his eyes and asked.

"Char... Char, char," Charmander called softly. Heath glanced at Zoroa, who was already asleep.

That was only natural; Zoroa and Farfetch'd had just spent the evening chasing and play-fighting around the dormitory field. Fatigue made sleep come easily.

Judging by Charmander's gestures, Heath guessed its meaning.

"You mean, you want to lift that dumbbell?" he asked.

Charmander nodded vigorously, gesturing repeatedly. Heath pondered.

He recalled telling Zoroa about Mr. Vine Mountain that day. Apparently, Charmander had been in the car and overheard their conversation, sparking an interest in muscle training.

But Heath found this quite normal. Charmander's final evolution, Charizard, could specialize in both physical and special attacks. In the games, the route depended on personality stats, but here, it was different.

"Nurse Joy said you have to wait for your skin to heal before you train. Once you're better, I'll teach you the secrets of muscle training..." Heath rubbed Charmander's head and drifted into sleep.

Under the dark night, Charmander's eyes shone brightly.

...

The next morning, Heath bounced out of bed, scooped up the still sleeping Zoroa, and looked around.

Farfetch'd wasn't awake yet, hugging its leek and drooling. Who knew what it was dreaming about—maybe roasting duck?

Under the sunlight, those 'black stockings' remained conspicuous. But now, they looked less like stockings and more like singed feathers.

Heath didn't see Charmander, which puzzled him. Stepping out, he found Charmander in the living room, lifting a mop with all its might.

"Turns out you're not just a glutton," Heath chuckled at the sight of Charmander's diligent training.

Living with Pokémon made Heath realize that they weren't just data—they were living beings. Some liked to be lazy, some had unique hobbies, some were hardworking and greedy, and some had quirky little flaws.

Each one, a real life, appeared before Heath.

"Charmander, that's not the right way to train. Come, wash up. I'll teach you some muscle training methods on the ride," Heath called out, leading Charmander outside.

It looked like he'd need to buy more toothbrushes, toothpaste, and towels, now that another Pokémon was joining the daily wash routine.

"Trainer, you know about muscle training?" Zoroa asked Heath, surprised.

"Of course. I once signed up for a gym membership—even if I only went for a few months out of the whole year," Heath shrugged. That was a bit of a dark history: bought the card on a whim, never stuck to it, wasted money.

"Tch~" Zoroa flicked her tail, uninterested in muscles.

Charmander, on the other hand, was excited, sprinting to the dining car. Heath couldn't help but laugh—so eager!

Charmander stood at the door of the dining car, waving happily at Heath. The spring sun rose, warm rays shining on Charmander's body, illuminating the bandages still wrapped around it.