Chapter 3: "You Really Believe That?"
The morning after their brush with the wild Starly, Ren walked a little taller.
Not because he had beaten a strong opponent—not even close. The whole scuffle lasted less than ten seconds. But because for the first time, Bidoof had shown something more than his usual blank stare and nap-first attitude.
Instinct. Reflex. Strength.
There was something hiding beneath that fluffy furball exterior. And Ren had felt it.
He tried not to let it go to his head. Okay, he completely let it go to his head. He narrated the whole thing back to Bidoof at least twice on the road, complete with reenactments.
"—and then boom! You jumped, like midair and just—bam!—slammed into that Starly like a cannonball with buck teeth! That was insane!"
Bidoof munched on a berry as they walked, only mildly acknowledging the retelling.
"Right, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But only a little. You were awesome."
Bidoof let out a sleepy grunt. Ren chuckled.
The road continued, winding gently along the forest edge, with late morning sun spilling through the trees. Wild Pokémon rustled in the tall grass. He saw a few Wurmple inching across the path, and one Trainer in the distance—maybe for another day.
They walked in silence for a while, until the sun began to dip low again.
---
That night, they camped beside a small creek, the soft bubbling of the water mixing with the crackle of their tiny campfire.
Ren was sprawled out beside the flames, arms behind his head, watching the stars. His backpack served as a pillow, and Bidoof lay curled nearby, tail twitching faintly in his sleep.
Ren sighed contentedly. "This is the life. Peaceful, full of promise... and just the right amount of adventure."
Bidoof's ear twitched.
"I've been thinking," Ren said, shifting to sit up. "Back home, I always talked about being the first Normal-type Elite Four member. People used to laugh. Even the teachers at Trainer Prep told me to 'be realistic.' But it never mattered to me."
Bidoof opened one eye, unimpressed.
"I get it," Ren said, shrugging. "There's no fancy elemental typing. No shock value. No drama. Normal-types don't explode or breathe fire."
He glanced down at his partner. "But they endure. They adapt. You can teach them almost anything. That's what I love about them—they're underestimated, but full of potential."
Bidoof rolled over lazily, letting out a grunt that clearly said "Yeah, yeah."
"…You don't believe me, do you?" Ren asked softly.
Bidoof paused.
Then—he shook his head.
A clear, slow no.
Ren didn't look away. "You really think it's impossible?"
Bidoof gave a short, dismissive grunt. It wasn't mean. It was just… honest. He didn't believe in the dream.
Not yet.
Ren stared into the campfire for a long moment, watching the flames curl around the blackened wood. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"That's fine," he said. "You don't have to believe it. Not yet."
He picked up a stick and tossed it into the fire.
"But I do. I have since I was nine. And I'll keep believing in it—even if no one else does."
He turned to Bidoof again. "You'll see. One day, we'll be standing in a League stadium, under the lights. People will cheer for us—not because we're flashy, but because we earned it. Normal-types, at the top of the world."
Bidoof blinked. He didn't scoff this time.
He just looked at Ren.
Really looked at him.
And then—without a word—he scooted a little closer to the fire. Just a few inches.
Ren grinned.
---
The next day, they trained again—this time with more effort from both sides.
Tackle practice. Obstacle dodging. Wild Wurmple evasion (still harder than it looked). Bidoof was still slow to get motivated, but when he moved, he moved. There was strength under that fluff, no doubt about it.
In the late afternoon, they met a young Trainer headed the other way on the road. He had a Chimchar and a lot of attitude.
"Bidoof, huh?" the kid said. "Guess we know who's gonna lose."
Ren just smiled. "You'd be surprised."