"No, dinner hasn't officially started yet. I already told you, that was just a teaser."
Julian stood his ground, arms crossed, staring down the orange puffball currently occupying his kitchen floor. He tried to maintain a stern face, but it was getting harder by the second. Ever since their heart-to-heart talk the previous day, Growlithe seemed to have undergone a complete personality transplant.
Was this really the same Pokémon? The one who had spent weeks acting like a stoic, brooding lone wolf? The one who looked at Julian as if he were a suspicious salesman trying to peddle subpar Potions?
Julian's guess was right on the money. Previously, Growlithe was convinced Julian was some sort of "fluff-obsessed weirdo" (which wasn't entirely false) and had kept his guard up to maintain his dignity. But after that emotional breakthrough, the dam had burst. Growlithe had realized that Julian was his weirdo, and with that realization came the absolute abandonment of his "tough guy" persona.
Especially when confronted with the aroma of a dish that smelled better than anything he'd ever found in a Solaceon dumpster.
"Woof? (Are you really sure about that?)"
Growlithe looked up, his large, amber eyes suddenly shimmering with an unnatural moisture. He tilted his head exactly fifteen degrees to the left, his ears drooping just enough to look pathetic, and let out a tiny, high-pitched whimper that sounded like a violin being played by a sad angel.
Julian felt his soul leave his body for a moment. This was it—the legendary Baby-Doll Eyes.
"Wait... when the heck did you learn that from Sylveon?!" Julian hissed, clutching his chest. "That is a direct violation of the Bro Code, Growlithe! Where is your cold, majestic demeanor? Where is the fierce guardian of the plains?!"
Growlithe just blinked, a single tear threatening to fall.
"Don't look at me like that. It won't work. I am a professional. I am a veteran of three Ribbons and a Gym battle. I have seen the face of God in a Mismagius's Shadow Ball, and I did not flinch!" Julian pointed a finger at the dog. "Wait for dinner like a civilized member of society!"
Growlithe let out a slightly louder whimper and pawed at Julian's leg with one soft, velvety paw.
"...It's just... I suddenly didn't feel like tasting my own portion," Julian muttered, his voice cracking as he reached for the knife. "And since I already cut this slice, it would be a culinary sin to let it get cold. It has nothing to do with those eyes. Absolutely nothing. You're just lucky I'm a waste-conscious citizen."
Julian practically shoved the extra slice onto a plate, patted the incredibly soft, fluffy head of the now-triumphant Fire-type, and lured him out of the kitchen with the plate like he was leading a legendary beast back into its cave.
Shuala!
The kitchen door slid shut, and Julian leaned his back against it, breathing heavily.
[Tsk... when did this guy become a master manipulator? It's... it's dangerously adorable!]
He wiped a stray droplet of blood from his nose—a classic side effect of over-exposure to extreme cuteness—and tried to steady his hands.
"Phew, no, focus, Julian. Focus on the gravy. Do not think about the puppy eyes. Do not think about the tail wagging." He shook his head violently, trying to clear the image. [What a tragedy... why didn't I have my camera ready? That was a gold-tier photo op! o(╥ ﹏ ╥)o]
Deep in the throes of a complex inner turmoil that was far more taxing than any tactical training session, Julian returned to his stove, agonizing over his missed opportunity to document the "Cuteness of the Century."
Outside the kitchen, Growlithe was having the time of his life.
He finished the extra meat slices in record time, licked the plate until he could see his own reflection in the ceramic, and sat back with a smug expression.
Woof-haha! Sylveon is a genius! he thought, his tail thumping the carpet. I used to think her 'cute acts' were a sign of weakness, but this is pure power. Julian is a total pushover for the fluff. He's easy to fool, he makes food that tastes like a thousand suns, and he gives great ear scratches.
A delicious "woof-life" had officially begun. Growlithe closed his eyes, already daydreaming about the next meal. Maybe if I roll over and show my belly while he's making the dessert, I can get a piece of that sweet bread... (★ ᴗ ★)
He turned around to try his luck again, but the kitchen door was not only closed; the curtain had been drawn. Julian had gone into full lockdown mode.
Growlithe wasn't about to give up that easily. He leaned against the glass and started a rhythmic scratching session.
"Woof woof! (Julian, the void in my stomach has returned!)"
"Woof~ (Wuu, I'm so hungry, I might actually faint from malnutrition right here!)"
"Wuu wuu~ (Julian, look through the curtain! Look into my soul!)"
Inside, Julian was sweating. He could hear the soul-piercing scratching. He knew that if he turned around, he'd see a face that would make him give up his entire bank account. But he knew the rules: if he gave in now, dinner would never happen. He hardened his heart, ignored the "clink-clink" of claws on glass, and focused on whisking the sauce until it was the perfect consistency of a spicy, savory glaze.
The Chaos of Dinner
Thirty minutes later, the "Great Kitchen Siege" finally came to an end.
Shuala~~~
As the door slid open, a plume of aromatic steam billowed out into the living room. Growlithe was on his feet in a heartbeat, ready to pounce on the table.
But he was outclassed by a veteran.
Floette, who had been quietly floating near the ceiling, didn't even wait for Julian to set the table. Her eyes glowed with a faint blue light, and her Psychic energy snatched her specialized nectar salad right out of Julian's hand. Before Julian could even say "bon appétit," Floette was a blur of dark green, landing at her spot and burying her face in the bowl with the intensity of a starving Pokémon.
Growlithe stared, a bead of sweat rolling down his snout. Note to self: Never try to take the Big Sister's food. She has 'Hunger Haste'.
"Alright, alright," Julian laughed, placing the heavy ceramic platter in front of Growlithe. "Here is your mountain of grilled meat. Eat slowly, buddy. If you choke, Nurse Joy is going to give me a lecture on 'Responsible Portions,' and I don't need that stress."
"Woof woof! (Understood! No promises!)" (✧ ◡ ✧)
Growlithe didn't just eat; he attacked.
He lunged at the sliced pork roast with the ferocity of a wild Arcanine. Sauce—red, spicy, and fragrant—splattered everywhere. Within seconds, his pristine, orange-yellow fur was stained with droplets of gravy. He looked less like a noble Pokémon and more like a crime scene in a barbecue joint.
Julian watched the carnage, sighing as he looked at the mess. But then, a thought struck him. If he's this messy... I'll have to give him a full, deep-cleaning bath tonight. Which means... I get to scrub all that fur.
Julian's eyes lit up with a predatory spark of his own. He felt a sudden surge of energy. Maybe he should make this dish every night.
He skewered a small piece for himself and took a bite.
The world around him seemed to explode. In his mind, he wasn't in a hotel room in Hearthome City; he was running through a field of fiery peppers under a blistering summer sun. The heat of the spices hit the back of his throat, balanced perfectly by the creamy sweetness of the potatoes and the savory richness of the pork. It was invigorating. It was life-affirming.
"Emm... should I be wearing a chef's hat and shouting about the 'Essence of the Land' right now?" Julian wondered aloud, dabbing his forehead with a napkin. "Seriously, if this keeps up, I'm going to accidentally trigger a crossover with a Food Wars anime. I hope no one's clothes explode."
He looked around the table. Floette was still a whirlwind of salad consumption. Togetic was delicately picking at some vitamin-rich seeds, looking curiously at Growlithe's undignified eating habits.
Sylveon, meanwhile, sat with her back straight, elegantly nibbling on a sweet berry. She glanced at Growlithe, then at the spicy red sauce splattered on the floor, and gave a tiny, ladylike "Hmph."
"Fly... (Spicy food is so... barbaric. Though I suppose it has a certain 'rustic' charm.)" She looked at Julian, her ribbons twitching. "Fly-fly! (You haven't forgotten the cake you promised, right? Because I am currently maintaining a very high level of patience.)"
"I know, I know," Julian said, reaching over to pat her head. "I'll make a special berry-cream cake for you tomorrow. Something that will make this roast look like dog food."
Growlithe paused his eating, a piece of meat hanging from his mouth. "Woof? (Hey!)"
"Metaphorically speaking!" Julian corrected quickly.
[I suddenly feel like I've opened a Pandora's Box of culinary expectations,] Julian thought as he looked at his four partners.
Up until now, the "Original Three" (Sylveon, Floette, and Togetic) had been perfectly happy with high-quality berries and the occasional processed snack. But seeing Growlithe receive a custom-tailored, gourmet meal had clearly shifted the dynamic. He could see it in their eyes—they were realizing exactly how much Julian had been "slacking" in the kitchen.
[I hope they don't start a riot later because they feel like they've missed out on the 'Good Stuff' for the last six months.]
Julian looked at his team, a strange, nervous expression on his face. He had spent so much time worrying about training directions and Aura connections, but he realized that the real challenge of being a Top Coordinator might actually be surviving the demands of four very hungry, very opinionated food critics.
"Well," Julian whispered, picking up his fork. "At least I know what to use as a bribe for the next Gym battle."