Chapter 66:
"Popplio ?" (Where is this?)
"Torchic…" (So many berries, I won't be hungry anymore…)
"Popplio !" (Over there—humans!)
The three small figures that had just arrived each had their own thoughts, and their cries sounded like the scattered notes of a shy chorus. For a few breaths they hesitated, then their eyes locked on Hayashi Kaede standing a short distance away.
"Torchic?" (Human?)
"Popplio!"
At the sight of Kaede, all three Pokémon tensed at once, their wariness snapping into bright hostility. For a heartbeat it seemed they would turn and flee together.
Then Gardevoir moved.
A soft, stern thought-cry—"Gardevoir! Gardevoir!"—pushed through the air with the kind of authority a guardian used when her wards were at risk. The message was simple and final: from now on, follow him. The energy cubes you've been given recently all came from him.
"Torchic?"
"Popplio !"
The sea lion and the little fire chick exchanged glances, each painting a picture of mistrust. The Torchic's tiny chest puffed up; embers flared in its eyes as if to match the anger in its heart. It was obvious who bore the most resistance.
"Popplio ?" (Trainer? No, no — I don't want a trainer!) the Torchic thought angrily. It rubbed against Gardevoir reflexively, as if testing whether the grass itself might shift beneath its feet. The Brionne— was hesitant — pressed close to Gardevoir too, clearly unhappy at the idea of another human deciding its fate.
Kaede crouched a little to look them over, then flicked open the panel in his head with a casual motion. The screens were never flattering, but they told the truth.
[Pokémon: Torchic]
[Gender: Male]
[Characteristic: Rash]
[Aptitude: Red]
[Individual Stats: HP 18 / Attack 31 / Sp. Atk 31 / Defense 12 / Sp. Def 13 / Speed 31]
[Level: 11–15]
[Moves: Peck, Quick Attack, Flame Charge, Return, Sucker Punch]
[Friendship: -15 (mistrustful of humans)]
[Happiness: -20 (refuses to follow humans — "they're liars")]
[Notes: This trait amplifies its combat performance two- to threefold, but consumes far more stamina and increases daily food needs.]
Kaede scanned the Torchic's sheet and the numbers flickered through his mind. The bird had excellent individual values and a nasty streak that made it a handful — the kind of talent a seasoned trainer could polish, but the kind of appetite that would bankrupt an ordinary one.
Gardevoir's tone hardened. "Gardevoir!" (How will you survive in the wild without a trainer?) she thought, a thread of disappointment woven through the question.
"Gardevoir?" (Do you expect me to raise you all my life?)
It has a bit of a feeling of being disappointed in someone. He remembered his own rough beginnings in the wilderness — the thin ration of luck and danger that had raised him. He knew how quickly things could go wrong for young Pokémon with no survival know-how.
The thought of Bounsweet being plucked by larger predators made him frown; the Popplio's panel had already hinted at congenital weakness that would make life in the wild brutal.
[Pokémon: Popplio ]
[Gender: Female]
[Characteristic: Torrent]
[Aptitude: White]
[Individual Stats: HP 8 / Attack 4 / Sp. Atk 14 / Defense 17 / Sp. Def 19 / Speed 2]
[Level: 7–8]
[Moves: Pound, Growl, Water Gun]
[Friendship: -5 (uneasy with humans)]
[Happiness: -5 (confused)]
[Notes: Mother suffered a serious injury during pregnancy, leading to premature birth and reduced aptitude due to malnutrition.]
The Popplio's sheet made the situation clear: premature birth and nutritional deficits left it weaker than most. Left alone, it would struggle to find enough food and would be an easy target.
Torchic's gaze flicked to the fence that ringed the plantation. Fruit trees arched along the perimeter; their ripe Oran Berries hung looking juicy and fragrant in the heat, sending a scent that drifted on the hollow air straight into the little bird's beak. The Torchic's resolve wavered. Pride warred with a hunger so honest and ancient it felt like a tide.
It took a step toward the fence, then another — then turned its head with one last hard look at the open world. For a moment it seemed prepared to leap for freedom.
A delicate perfume threaded through the air, subtle and warm: the scent of freshly made energy cubes tinted with Kaede's small touches — a trace of milk fragrance, a pinkish sweetness he'd learned to fold into the mix to make them more tempting for picky mouths. The aroma curled through the Torchic's nostrils and unclenched its muscles. Its tiny stomach growled so loud the sound seemed to echo in its own head.
Kaede noticed the change and smiled, as if to a child about to accept a bribe. "If you're set on leaving, why not eat first?" he asked, voice light. "No respectable place would let a guest go hungry."
He held out a cube — small, warm, infused with the cider-like scent he favored — and the Torchic's eyes widened with greedy relief. It hopped forward with a cautious peck, then another, then faster as curiosity became craving.
"Torchic!" it chirped, a squeaky, delighted cry as the flavor rolled across its tongue.
Cube after cube was offered, and the little bird ate with the abandon of the sincerely hungry. Kaede watched, amused and a little astonished as one greedy peck became two, then three; a soft burp later and the Torchic reclined on its haunches, belly round and satisfied, blinking in slow, grateful rapture.
"Delicious!" it seemed to say with a bright, feathery nod. "Torchic!"
Then, as if memory of its plan returned in a small, guilty flash, the bird's expression flickered between shame and contentment. The open road promised freedom — but the thought of nights of hunger and cold pressed on it like a shadow.
Kaede crouched lower, the tone of his voice gentle. "If you like it here," he told the small company, "you should stay. Don't worry about eating — I can afford to feed you, whatever you take." He said the last part with the quiet confidence of someone who'd learned how to make a little stretch into enough.
The Torchic cocked its head, pecking at the air as if tasting the promise. "Torchic?" (Hmm...) it thought, softer now, curiosity eclipsing anger.
Bounsweet, clinging to Gardevoir's side, sniffed the air and let out a tiny, hopeful squeak: "Bounsweet!" Its initial timidity softened into a tentative interest; its small round body trembled less.
Popplio bobbed forward with a cautious splash of excitement, letting out a bright, watery call: "Popplio!" Popplio nosed the grass and responded with a quiet, spluttering sound that might have passed for agreement.
Kaede offered a hand, palm open, to each of them in turn. There was no grand speech, no forced cheer — just a plain offering: shelter, consistent meals, and people who would try not to be liars.
"Come on," he said. "There's room in the plantation for three more. We'll get you checked, fed properly, and helped to grow. If any of you want to move on later, I won't stop you — but give it a week. See if the place fits."
Gardevoir's reply was a soft, approving mental note: "Gardevoir!" (Thank you — they'll be safe.) Relief shimmered through her tone, and the three small Pokémon looked at one another with the unsteady curiosity of those who had just been offered a better future.
Kaede glanced once toward the rows of orchards and the wide plains beyond, imagining where each of them might fit: Torchic teaching fiery work around the drying racks, Popplio gamboling near the reservoir, and Bounsweet tucked among the berry bushes, producing small, sweet yields that might one day keep the household in preserves and juice.
He straightened and tucked the empty cube wrapper into his pocket as if tucking away a promise, and then led the new trio through the plantation gate — the beginning of small, patient work that never felt heroic but always mattered.