"You mean to tell me," Mr. Fuji said slowly, brows knitting together, "that you deliberately put yourself between Snorlax and Charmander's food—just to make Charmander think you were ready to fight for him?"
Ethan Carter sat across from the elderly man in the warm, wood-paneled office of the Pokémon House. His answer came without hesitation.
"That's exactly it. And I'd like you to cooperate with me moving forward. I want to take Charmander with me on my journey. I want him to become my partner—not just in battle, but in life." His tone was earnest, his gaze steady.
Mr. Fuji regarded him in silence for several long moments. His deep-set eyes studied Ethan's face as though trying to see through to the core of his intentions.
Finally, he nodded. "All right. I'll help you. I don't agree with reckless behavior for its own sake—but in this case, I can see your actions were for Charmander's good. He can't continue wasting away like this. If you can truly help him out of his shadow… I'll support you."
Ethan's shoulders eased in relief. "Thank you, Grandpa Fuji. That means a lot." He rose and bowed lightly, a gesture of genuine respect.
Fuji's lined face softened into a smile. "Don't thank me yet. I've always hoped Charmander would find a trainer worthy of him. Now—what exactly do you need me to do?"
An hour later, the plan was in motion.
The door to the main hall of the Pokémon House swung open. Volunteers turned at the sound of wheels squeaking on polished floorboards. Ethan entered—dressed in a hospital gown and sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by Lena, the cheerful young woman with twin ponytails who often helped her grandfather.
The sight drew stares immediately, especially from the volunteers who had hauled him outside during the Snorlax incident. Eyes widened.
"Ethan," one of them blurted, "what… what happened?"
Ethan heaved a dramatic sigh. "I went to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor says Snorlax's hit caused internal injuries. They told me to stay as still as possible for the next few days."
A murmur of concern rippled through the group—but before anyone could question him further, one of the volunteers asked the obvious: "Then why did you come back here?"
"To take care of Charmander, of course," Ethan replied, his voice filled with self-righteous conviction. "He didn't even eat lunch earlier. How could I leave him alone? If I have to use a wheelchair to keep looking after him, then so be it."
The room went quiet. A few volunteers exchanged glances, clearly unsure whether to call this dedication… or lunacy.
"Fortunately," Ethan continued, "Grandpa Fuji understood my feelings and assigned Miss Lena here to help me." He coughed, a pained sound, and dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief.
Lena nodded, though her eyes flicked upward in exasperation. She knew the truth—Fuji had already explained Ethan's little performance and asked her to play along. Still, she had to admit: the guy could lie without the slightest flicker of hesitation.
"All right, everyone," Ethan said, wheeling past the group. "I've got to get to Charmander."
In the far corner, the little Shiny Pokémon had lifted his head at the commotion. His eyes followed Ethan as Lena pushed the wheelchair closer.
"Charmander," Ethan said softly, "you must be hungry. I brought you some food."
From the pouch slung over the wheelchair's back, he produced a carefully prepared portion of Pokémon feed. He set it down in front of the small Fire-type, glancing around the room.
"Snorlax isn't inside, is he?"
"No," Lena replied. "He usually sleeps in the park outside around this time."
"That's good." Ethan smiled faintly and gestured toward the food. "Go ahead, Charmander. Eat."
Charmander didn't move. He only stared at Ethan, his gaze lingering in a way that made the young trainer glance at the translucent system display hovering in his vision.
Intimacy: –22 (↑ 1)
Four seconds later, Ethan spoke again, gently but with a thread of urgency. "You have to eat, Charmander. If you keep skipping meals, your body will give out."
A sudden coughing fit wracked him. He covered his mouth with the handkerchief again.
This time, when he lowered it, a bright smear of red stained the fabric.
Both Charmander and Lena froze.
Intimacy: –20 (↑ 2)
Perfect, Ethan thought.
Lena, watching from behind, was floored. Unbelievable. He's faking an injury so convincingly it could win an award. If there were a Pokémon Hollywood, this guy would be a star.
And then, something even more surprising happened—Charmander picked up the food with his small claws and began to eat.
Lena's eyes widened. Most volunteers had tried countless times to get Charmander to eat willingly, and all had failed. Yet here, on Ethan's second day, the Pokémon was eating right in front of them.
Ten minutes later, the food was gone. Charmander padded back to his corner and lay down again, his expression closing off as before.
Ethan didn't mind. He'd seen what he needed: Charmander had accepted him, if only a fraction. Next time, it would be easier.
Now came the harder part—restoring his will to fight.
Ethan's gaze drifted toward the window. Outside, beneath the shade of a tree, Snorlax slept soundly, his round belly rising and falling with each snore.
Slowly, a plan began to take shape.
Three days later
It was Ethan's fifth day as a volunteer. Charmander had grown accustomed to his presence, even occasionally responding to his voice. The intimacy score had climbed from –20 to –15—a slow but steady improvement.
It was time.
"Charmander," Ethan said after lunch, "I've got to go to the hospital for a check-up this afternoon. I won't be able to stay with you."
"Rua~" came the lazy reply. It was as if the little Pokémon was saying, Do what you want, just don't bother me.
Ethan chuckled. That mild acknowledgment was progress enough.
A minute later, Lena was pushing him toward the entrance, where Mr. Fuji was waiting.
"Everything set?" Ethan asked.
"I've told Snorlax that if he bullies Charmander, I'll give him a snack tonight," Fuji said, though his expression was tinged with doubt. "But… are you sure about this? That little one's been through so much already."
Ethan almost rolled his eyes. You've already agreed, Fuji. Don't start getting cold feet now.
"Grandpa Fuji," he said aloud, "trust me. This is the only way to bring back his fighting spirit. Otherwise, he'll waste away here forever. If anything happens, you can tell Officer Jenny it was all my idea."
"That's an exaggeration," Fuji muttered, but Ethan's unwavering confidence seemed to steady him.
Recalling that within two days of Ethan's arrival, Charmander had already begun eating again, the old man finally nodded. "All right. I trust you."
Ethan's lips curled into a determined smile. "Then let's begin."