It had been a week since Alex had gotten his starter Pokémon. The first few days were playful, almost deceptively light. Alex treated Charmander like a tiny general, teaching him human basics: when to strike, where to strike, and how to think ahead. Charmander learned quickly, and Alex's patience hid a methodical cruelty; nothing was left to chance. Every move, every reflex, every instinct had to be understood, catalogued, and sharpened.
The first days of Charmander's life would prove pivotal for its understanding of the world and mindset. Charmander's views began to reflect Alex's more and more as they spent time together. His views on training and control bled into Charmander's far faster than they had with Caterpie
The Charmander itself was healthy, large for its age, and biological male. Its body was a raw vessel, naive but eager. Alex noticed the little nuances: the way Charmander rubbed under his chin when it wanted approval, the way it climbed into bed to sleep beside him. Alex let it, smiling faintly, because he understood instinct and psychology better than most adults. Charmander's strength was now as much mental as physical, and Alex understood that forging it required both.
Training was disguised as games, but it was far from fun. Quick Attack became bursts of controlled speed, Scratch became precision and territory control, Leer became a test of timing and pressure to disrupt Alex at the most crucial moments. Alex corrected mistakes immediately, coldly, but without anger. The little Charmander learned to focus, to think, and to listen.
Food was a part of this Training. Alex hunted wild Pokémon for their nutrients, selecting each corpse with an almost surgical precision. No impurities, no toxins, nothing to slow the growth of muscle, reflex, or spirit. Industrial Pokémon food was an insult to his philosophy: it dulled potential and made Pokémon more weak willed just so mediocre trainers could control them. He would not allow that for a creature he intended to mold into a predator. Even the small Charmander's jaw and digestive system would be strengthened, tempered by the raw truth of the wild. It was barbaric in the eyes of most, but to Alex it was survival.
Higher quality food can also improve Pokémon's strength but it doesn't create power out of thin air, that food simply brings out the surface level potential without the need to train at all but to Alex, who was going to train his Pokémon to their absolute limits, this food was an unnecessary waste.
Five days in, and results were already visible. Charmander hadn't grown much in size, but its strikes were faster, more tactical. It had started to manipulate terrain: scratching the ground to unbalance Alex, aiming for weak points he had left exposed. Its energy however was still raw and chaotic
"Charmander," Alex said, voice calm, measured. Not loud, not commanding. just unavoidable.
"Char… Char." The Pokémon's tone shifted; it mirrored Alex's intensity but still had layers of immaturity
"What's your goal?" Alex asked. "What do you want to be?"
What he was about to teach couldn't be dressed up as a game or something he could externally motivate Charmander to do.
Charmander roared, short but fierce. Alex understood immediately: I want to be the strongest.
"Good." Alex's lips barely moved, but every movement had weight. "Then follow me."
He led Charmander to a small pond near Pallet Town. He filled a mug with water and tossed it, the droplets scattering. "This is your strike. All your effort, all your energy, must reach its mark. Anything wasted is failure. Understand?"
"Char char?" Charmander titles its head with a questioning look on its face, unable to grasp what Alex was saying
Alex sighed, Charmander needed more time to develop a deeper thought process capable of abstraction but he would keep accelerating this growth as much as possible
He moved to a thin tree nearby and punched it casually. A few leaves fluttered; the trunk barely moved.
"See? That is weak. Wasted energy. You will not be like this."
He stepped back, coiled his muscles, twisted his hips, planted his feet, and punched again. Splinters flew. Every ounce of strength funneled into a single strike. Nothing wasted. "This is how I will make you hit. Precise. One strike, all-in. Power and control together."
Charmander's gaze sharpened, not in fear, but recognition. Power. Focus. Hunger. Alex's quiet intensity mirrored the fire in its eyes, and it clenched its little fists, a small spark of feral readiness igniting. Alex smiled
"Can you make a fist?" Alex asked. Nods. "Can you make a claw?" Nods. "Move each finger?" Nods. "Your toes?" The little lizard hesitated. Alex didn't scold. "Good. You know now where to grow. Every part of your body is a tool. A weapon. You will learn control before power. Control first, always."
Charmander understood, not just intellectually, but instinctively. Every strike, every jump, every movement-Alex's vision had bled through to Charmander. And Alex, calm and unshakable, watched it like a craftsman observing the weapon he had forged by hand.
He smiled faintly, the only outward sign of his satisfaction. From the outside, it looked like a quiet boy training a Pokémon. But every motion was being picked apart and refined. Charmander wasn't just growing, it was becoming attuned to Alex, a weapon perfectly in sync with the mind that would wield it.