Enzo slept like a man who had been unplugged.
No dreams. No thoughts. Just darkness with teeth, the kind of rest that wasn't gentle, only necessary.
When he woke, the first thing he felt was weight. His own body. The mattress. The air in his lungs. The second thing was the dull ache behind his eyes, as if his skull had been used to store information it wasn't built to hold.
He sat up slowly, waited until the room stopped spinning, then stood and walked out into the main space of the suite.
The "middle room" wasn't a room at all. It was an apartment dressed like a hotel. A small kitchen. A living area. Clean surfaces. Expensive silence.
And Pokémon.
They were already there.
Deino had claimed the center of the living room like a small tyrant, circling the furniture with suspicious authority. Froakie was on a counter stool it absolutely wasn't supposed to be on, staring into a cabinet as if it was solving a mystery. The little frog's eyes narrowed in focus, then it tried to pry a door open with both hands.
Enzo cleared his throat
Froakie froze. Looked at him. Then, with a seriousness that belonged to an adult, it slowly pulled its hands back and sat perfectly still. Innocent. Helpful. Like it hadn't been mid-crime two seconds ago.
Deino snorted, as if offended that anyone else thought they could act innocent in his territory.
Enzo walked past them and then stopped.
The living room had changed.
Sometime during the night, while he was unconscious, delivery had arrived.
Incubators lined the wall in neat rows, their soft internal lights pulsing. Nineteen eggs rested inside them, arranged like a nursery. The space smelled faintly of warm plastic and antiseptic. It was the kind of setup that looked almost gentle if you didn't think too hard about where those eggs had come from.
He counted automatically.
Eighteen new incubators. Plus the one he already had. Nineteen eggs. Everything accounted for.
His eyes shifted to the corner of the room.
Hypno was there.
Not pacing. Not hiding. Just standing still, as if the nursery had pinned him in place.
The Pokémon's gaze was locked on the incubators with a strange intensity. Not hunger. Not aggression. Something quieter. Something close to attention. Like a guard watching a door. Like a mind that didn't know what to do with the idea of something fragile.
Enzo approached without rushing.
"Hypno," he said.
Hypno's ears twitched. It didn't turn immediately. It kept looking at the eggs.
Enzo followed its stare, then spoke again, softer.
"You want them?"
The words were simple. Hypno finally turned its head just enough to look at him from the corner of its eye.
Its voice wasn't spoken aloud. It slid into Enzo's mind with the faint pressure of a thought that didn't belong there.
Can I?
The question was small. Almost careful.
Enzo didn't answer right away. He studied Hypno for a second, then nodded once.
"Yes. If you want."
Hypno's eyes widened slightly. Another thought pushed through, faster this time, layered with doubt and old instinct.
Do I have to fight for it?
Enzo exhaled slowly. He understood the question better than he wanted to.
"Listen," he said. "You don't have to fight. Not unless you choose to."
Hypno's posture tightened, like it didn't know how to accept a world where that was true.
"There are things Pokémon can do besides battle," Enzo continued. "You can be useful without bleeding for it."
He gestured to the incubators.
"If you want to take care of the eggs, you can. You'll be doing more for this team than half the trainers who swing Poké Balls just to feel important."
Hypno stared at him.
Then its mind voice came again, quieter, almost… hopeful.
More eggs?
"Yes," Enzo said. "This is not the last time. We're building something. If you like this job, it will stay yours."
Hypno turned back toward the nursery. It stepped closer to the incubators and lifted a hand, stopping just short of touching the warm casing, like it was afraid to damage it.
Then, for the first time since Trial Island, its shoulders lowered.
It looked… relieved.
From the kitchen, another voice crashed into Enzo's mind like a child kicking a door.
Ask. Ask. Ask. Ask.
Enzo didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Weezing's smaller head was practically vibrating with excitement. The bigger head took a second longer, the hesitation visible in the way it angled itself, like it hated that it was about to say something reasonable.
Then the big head pushed the thought forward, awkward and blunt.
Can we take care of them too?
Enzo stared at Weezing for a long moment.
"No," he said.
The smaller head recoiled like it had been slapped.
The big head tried again, offended.
Why not?
"Because you are you," Enzo replied. "And the eggs deserve to hatch."
Froakie made a small sound that could have been a laugh. Deino looked pleased with the rejection, as if it was personally invested in Weezing being told no.
Weezing's small head whispered, betrayed, explode, explode, explode, but it sounded more like a tantrum than a threat.
Enzo pointed at it without looking.
"Don't."
Weezing went quiet.
Hypno, meanwhile, didn't react to the comedy. It stayed near the incubators, eyes fixed, as if the nursery had become its purpose for the day.
Good, Enzo thought.
Then Enzo's expression shifted back into work.
He moved into the kitchen and started preparing food.
Not for himself. Not yet.
He organized it the way he organized everything else. Portions. Protein mix. Water. Simple supplements to pull malnourished bodies back from the edge without shocking them. He worked with the calm precision of someone who had done this in worse places, with less time.
When he finished, he didn't feed them all at once.
That would cause panic.
Instead, he set up a private corner of the suite, away from the nursery and away from the kitchen. A quiet space with no sudden movement. No crowding.
Then he began.
One by one, he released the Pokémon he'd bought.
The first flinched as soon as it materialized, eyes wide, posture low, waiting for pain. The second bared its teeth. The third didn't even lift its head, like it had already learned that resistance was pointless.
They were thin. Too thin. Some had patches where fur should have been cleaner, where skin showed through. Not injured in dramatic ways, just worn down by neglect. Hollowed out by hunger and bad air.
Enzo didn't speak much.
He placed food down. He stepped back. He let them decide.
At first, most didn't eat. They stared at him like he was another trap. Like the kindness was bait.
Enzo waited.
When the first one finally moved, it did so in a quick, desperate rush, like it expected the food to vanish if it didn't claim it fast enough. Another followed. Then another.
Enzo watched their shoulders loosen as they swallowed. The change was subtle, but it was there. The moment their bodies realized the meal wouldn't be ripped away.
A few still looked at him with suspicion even as they ate.
Good, he thought again. Stay suspicious. Suspicion keeps you alive.
When the last one finished, Enzo spoke, calm and direct.
"You're not staying in cages," he said. "Not with me."
They didn't understand every word. But they understood tone. They understood the lack of violence.
"You're going somewhere better," he continued. "Somewhere you'll have air. Food. Space."
One of them took a cautious step back, as if expecting a punch for moving wrong.
Enzo didn't move.
"You'll be free," he said. "And if you're smart, you'll be happy."
That last part was not gentle. It was a reality check. Happiness wasn't given. It was built. But it was more than they'd been offered before.
He finished the process efficiently. He didn't linger and turn it into a ceremony. He returned them to their Poké Balls one by one, careful and controlled. No rough handling. No intimidation.
When it was done, the suite felt quieter. Cleaner. Like the air itself had loosened.
He looked over at the nursery again
Hypno was still there, standing like a sentinel, tracking the incubators with focused calm. It didn't look like a weapon right now.
It looked like a caretaker.
Enzo nodded to himself.
Then he clipped the Poké Balls onto his belt, gathered what he needed, and headed for the door.
Before he stepped out, Froakie hopped off the stool and landed beside him, looking up with bright curiosity, like it was ready to follow. Deino trailed behind, stubborn as always. Weezing floated after them, still sulking.
Enzo paused and looked back at Hypno.
"Keep an eye on them," he said.
Hypno didn't answer aloud.
It didn't need to.
A single thought returned, steady and sincere.
I will.
Enzo opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Time to check on Proton and Ronnie.