Three days had passed since Max's departure.
By now, Kashiwagi had successfully trained the Galarian Corsola into a strict routine of "on-time dining." It opened its eyes to look for food with precision that rivaled an alarm clock.
Kashiwagi knew his opportunity had arrived.
And so...
On this day, he deliberately skipped preparing Galarian Corsola's lunch. Acting as if he had simply forgotten, he sat down and began eating his own meal.
The other Pokémon followed suit, burying their heads in their bowls, ears closed to the world, hearts set only on the food before them.
Galarian Corsola looked left, then right. When it couldn't find its bowl after a long while, its already mournful expression grew visibly more despondent.
It tentatively extended its smoky tentacles and gave them a little shake, attempting to catch the attention of Kashiwagi or its teammates. When it realized no one was reacting, its entire face plummeted into a state of "Depression x2."
Galarian Corsola: (′へ`,)
Kashiwagi remained outwardly impassive, but internally, he was eagerly waiting for it to come complain to him—or perhaps directly try to snatch food from the others.
...It felt a bit heartless, but the primary goal was to stimulate the Corsola. He wanted it to take three or four hours out of its twenty-three-hour-and-fifty-minute daily "slacker time" to take its first step toward the activity levels of a normal Pokémon.
Transforming the desire for food into motivation was better than having it curled up in a ball all day. It was a forced move, sure, but limited strictly to the "enticement" phase.
Unfortunately, Galarian Corsola had been a slacker for many years; a single small trick wasn't going to turn it from passive to active overnight.
No food?
Fine. I won't eat then.
Galarian Corsola shut down on the spot. Its eyes closed, its levitation ceased, and with a soft thud, it dropped onto the floor.
Kashiwagi: "..."
Aggron and the other Pokémon, who had been tensed up in anticipation: "..."
Deino: "Die-noo-dei-noo~"
It wasn't a huge problem; this was within expectations. Although Kashiwagi had hoped for more, it was perfectly normal for Galarian Corsola to "mute" itself again.
The real tug-of-war was just beginning!
Kashiwagi finished his meal quickly and placed the Corsola on the nightstand like a decorative ornament, ignoring it. He even skipped his usual routine of polishing its surface. Instead, he gathered the rest of his team, making a show of heading to the Battle Arena.
The moment the door closed...
Galarian Corsola opened its eyes for a split second, then snapped them shut again.
Outside, Kashiwagi sighed with relief as he checked the surveillance feed on his phone. He had actually been a little worried it might slip away. Even with the windows closed, a glass pane was nothing to a Ghost-type. It could leave whenever it wanted.
Now it seemed this one was too lazy to even run away.
-----
Kashiwagi didn't actually go to the Battle Arena. He ordered a coffee in the lounge, watching the monitor while trimming Deino's fur. The morning slipped away like sand.
At noon, he specifically prepared some "glowing" dishes with an incredibly strong aroma, packed them up, and brought them back to the room.
Upon opening the door, he saw Galarian Corsola exactly where he had left it on the nightstand. It clearly sensed his return, yet it gave no reaction.
Kashiwagi didn't mind. He pulled out the lunch boxes and began distributing them to Aggron and the others. Noticing the Corsola's eyes open out of the corner of his eye, he intentionally took out its specific bowl and gave it a shake.
But once the feeding officially began, he quietly hid the bowl away. He even piled Aggron's portion extra high to create the illusion that Aggron had "stolen" the Corsola's share.
Lunch was served.
True to its habit, Galarian Corsola drifted over slowly, like a snail. While Ghost-types can float without the Levitate ability, their speeds vary wildly. Galarian Corsola's speed was firmly in the "slow" category—whether that was innate to the species or a result of its "slacker genes" was upto anyone to guess.
The Pokémon ate.
Galarian Corsola arrived and spun 360 degrees on the spot. It found nothing. It froze, looking like its system had crashed.
Chansey, feeling an instinctive pang of pity, looked at Kashiwagi with pleading eyes. Kashiwagi remained silent and shook his head, holding up a single index finger.
One day, If one day wasn't enough, he'd try something else.
Galarian Corsola didn't notice the exchange between Chansey and Kashiwagi. Its brain, nearly dormant from prolonged sleep, processed the situation for a while.
No food left? Fine. I guess I'm not eating.
Galarian Corsola turned around silently and floated back toward the nightstand.
Seeing this, Kashiwagi wasn't disappointed; in fact, his eyes lit up. Earlier that day, when it saw there was no food, it had just "shut down" on the spot. Now it actually had the initiative to fly back. That was progress!
As a result, he skipped preparing afternoon tea, dinner, and late-night snacks for it. He let it come with expectation and leave in defeat every single time.
"That should just about do it."
Kashiwagi glanced at the Corsola and purposely placed "leftover" food on the table in front of it, covering it with a lid. When he went to bed that night, he discreetly set up a camera pointed at the nightstand.
A Pokémon like Galarian Corsola didn't necessarily need multiple meals a day—one meal every few days was technically enough to survive. However, once you get used to frequent meals, it's usually very hard to endure the hunger.
Would it lash out in anger and drain his life force? Or would it try to steal the food from the table?
Two paths lay before Galarian Corsola, and both required it to take the offensive. As long as he caught it in the act, he could launch a further "verbal offensive."
-----
Kashiwagi slept soundly. To make things easier for the Corsola, he had specifically recalled Deino into its Poké Ball. That little guy was too restless; if the Corsola moved, Deino would definitely wake up and start snooping, which might cause the Corsola to give up.
He had to create a favorable, undisturbed space.
He kept his breathing steady, faking the rhythm of a deep sleep. As the minutes ticked by, there was finally movement on the nightstand.
With his eyes closed, Kashiwagi couldn't tell exactly what it was doing. He just waited. If it were draining his energy, there should be a freezing sensation, possibly accompanied by sleep paralysis.
—It didn't happen.
He waited for ages, and nothing happened. He could still feel his arms under the covers. Is it going for the "leftovers" on the table after all?
At that thought, Kashiwagi opened his eyes in anticipation.
"Holy—!"
A pair of bright red eyes, mere inches from his face, nearly gave him a heart attack. His expression twisted in shock.
Who else could it be but Galarian Corsola?
Kashiwagi shoved it away, annoyed. He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light, but the moment he had been startled, it felt like the Corsola's mournful face had briefly flashed into a grin. Unfortunately, it happened too fast to be sure.
Chansey, sleeping at the foot of the bed, snapped its eyes open. Seeing Kashiwagi sit up and push the Corsola away, it hurried over in concern.
"Lucky?"
"It didn't drain me, it didn't drain me," Kashiwagi waved a hand, looking at the Corsola with exasperation. The thing wasn't using its horns or sleeping; it was just staring at him with those red-light eyes. It was incredibly creepy.
Suddenly...
"Sola..." the Galarian Corsola spoke.
"Lucky?" Chansey blinked, startled.