Satoshi sat across from Bonnie at the small wooden table near the front window. Sunlight came through the glass in steady patches, warming the surface between them and catching faint dust motes that drifted slowly in the air.
Bonnie had already pushed the menu aside after deciding on her parfait and was now swinging her legs under the chair again, humming a little tune to herself while she looked around the room at the other customers.
Inside Satoshi's head, thoughts kept circling. Geez, is he ever going to stop?
'Thanks to Officer Jenny, we were able to arrive at Santalune City earlier than expected after waking up.' he thought.
The rest of the morning replayed in pieces—Officer Jenny's squad car pulling up at the camp edge just after sunrise, her offering them a ride into the city so they wouldn't have to walk the whole route on tired legs, Bonnie falling asleep against his shoulder again in the back seat while the car rolled along the quiet road.
Random details kept floating up next: the way the early light hit the restored grass patches outside the camp, the faint smell of wet soil still hanging in the air, how Bonnie's small snores had sounded against his hoodie.
His mind wandered from one thing to the next without settling, like it was still catching up to everything that had happened since the wildfire.
"Hello, are you in there?" Bonnie said, her voice a little louder than before.
She leaned forward across the table and waved one small hand right in front of his face, fingers splayed wide.
Satoshi blinked once, hard.
The restaurant snapped back into focus around him—the dark tile floor, the chalkboard menu on the wall, the soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
He realized the young owner—Lila, according to the small name tag pinned to her apron—was standing patiently beside their table. She held a small notepad in one hand and a pen in the other, tip already touching the paper, waiting without any sign of impatience.
"Ah! Yes, sorry about that," Satoshi said quickly. He straightened in his chair and cleared his throat once.
"We would like to have two veggie stir-fries and one Pecha Berry parfait, please."
Lila's face lit up with a warm smile. She nodded once and started writing the order down right away, pen moving in quick, neat strokes across the notepad.
"My, my. No worries at all," she said, her tone light and kind. She finished jotting the last word, then looked up at them again.
"Healthy food is important, especially after a long morning, judging by the expression on your face. So is there anything else you want? Maybe some fresh bread on the side, or a glass of chilled Lum Berry juice to go with it?"
Satoshi opened his mouth to answer.
"Hmm… No, that'll be it—"
A loud noise cut him off.
Vroom! vroom! vroom!
It came from outside—multiple engines revving hard, then dropping to idle with a low, throaty rumble.
Tires rolled to a stop on the brick street right in front of the restaurant, gravel crunching under the weight. The sound carried clearly through the front windows, loud enough that every head in the small dining room turned toward the glass at the same time.
A group of bikers had pulled up. Five motorcycles in total, all black and chrome with low handlebars and wide tires.
The riders wore matching dark leather jackets, helmets still on as they killed their engines one by one. Exhaust pipes ticked as they cooled.
Inside the restaurant, conversation paused. Forks rested against plates. A few customers leaned slightly to get a better view through the window.
In the kitchen doorway, Combusken paused mid-motion. Its claws stayed wrapped around the handle of the pan it had been stirring, but its head turned toward the front.
The pokémon's sharp eyes flicked over the group outside through the open doorway, feathers ruffling once along its neck. Then it calmly turned back to the stove, lowered the flame under the pan with a quick twist of its claw, and continued cooking as if nothing unusual had happened.
The first to dismount was the group leader.
He swung his leg over the seat of the lead motorcycle in one smooth motion, boots hitting the brick with a solid thud.
He reached up with both gloved hands and pulled his helmet off slowly, shaking out a head of short, dark hair that stuck slightly from the ride.
He tucked the helmet under his left arm, then turned his head toward the restaurant door. His eyes scanned the windows for a long second before he took a single step forward.
The four guys trailed right behind their leader as he pushed the glass door open. The bell above the frame gave its usual clear ding-ding, but this time it sounded almost surprised.
The leader stepped inside first, boots thumping once on the dark tile floor, then held the door wide so his crew could file in after him.
They moved in a loose line—big shoulders, leather jackets creaking, helmets tucked under arms—scanning the small restaurant with quick left-to-right glances like they were checking for exits or maybe just looking for the best table.
Their eyes landed on Lila behind the counter. She had one hand on her hip, the other still holding the notepad from Satoshi and Bonnie's order.
Her smile stayed exactly where it was—warm, polite—but something in her eyes sharpened just a fraction.
"Honey!" the leader called out, voice booming with enthusiasm that filled the whole room. He spread both arms wide like he was about to hug the entire restaurant.
"Sorry for being late—got stuck at a traffic light. I brought my subordinates to help with serving!"
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the four guys behind him. They all gave awkward little waves or nods, trying to look helpful. One even flexed his arm slightly as if to prove he could carry plates.
Lila's head tilted slowly to one side. Her smile didn't drop, but her voice came out sweet—syrup-sweet, the kind that makes your teeth ache right before you realize it's laced with something else.
"Oh my, what took you so long~?" she said, drawing the words out nice and slow.
She set the notepad down on the counter with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than it should have.
"You know... because of you, Combusken was forced to cook in your place. Care to explain yourself...?"
The leader—a big guy with broad shoulders and a face that probably scared people on a normal day—flinched like someone had just poked him with a live wire. His arms dropped to his sides. Sweat appeared on his forehead in an instant, beads rolling down his temples one after another.
He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.
"U-uh, uhm... I mean... S-sorry?" The word came out small and cracked.
The intimidating biker boss was now sweating so hard his jacket looked like it might start dripping. He rubbed the back of his neck with one gloved hand, eyes darting left and right for any possible escape route that didn't exist.
The entire restaurant froze.
Every single person stopped what they were doing at the exact same moment.
One guy at a corner table had been lifting a steaming mug of coffee to his lips. His hand jerked—the hot liquid sloshed right up to the rim, almost pouring straight onto his lap. He yanked the mug back at the last second, coffee splashing onto the table instead. He stared wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, like he'd just witnessed a crime.
Another customer choked mid-sip on his soup. He thumped his own chest hard with a fist—once, twice—trying to cough it back up while his eyes watered and his face turned red. The spoon clattered against the bowl.
In the back corner, a girl who had been typing on her phone froze with both thumbs hovering over the screen. The message she had been writing now read "aaaaaaaaaaaa" in a long unbroken line. She didn't even notice.
A man near the window stood up so fast his chair tipped backward. It hit the tile with a loud clatter that echoed through the sudden silence. Nobody moved to pick it up. He just stood there, napkin still tucked into his collar, staring.
One poor soul in the middle of the room let out a single, strangled "HUH!?" that seemed to come from everyone else's brain at the same time.
The whole place unified in one collective thought: the scary biker boss just called the sweet restaurant owner "Honey," got scolded like a kid late for curfew, and apologized like his life depended on it.
Everyone—with the sole exception of Bonnie.
She sat at the table with Satoshi, menu still open in front of her, completely oblivious. She blinked once, looked around at all the frozen faces, then turned back to Satoshi with a bright smile.
"Why is everyone so quiet?" She asked, curiously. "Did something funny happen?"
After changing out of their biker gear into work uniforms, the four guys—simple black pants, gray shirts with the restaurant logo stitched on the chest pocket, and short aprons tied around their waists—split up the moment they stepped fully inside.
Two headed straight for the kitchen doorway without a word, shoulders hunched slightly like they already knew they were in trouble.
The other two moved toward the counter, one grabbing a tray of clean plates from the shelf while the other started wiping down an empty table near the window, trying to look busy right away.
In the kitchen, the man who was actually the chef—the same leader who had just called Lila "Honey"—stood at the stove now.
He had taken off his leather jacket and hung it on a hook by the back door, sleeves rolled up to show forearms covered in faint burn scars from years of cooking.
A massive, fresh bump swelled on the top of his head, red and shiny, shaped exactly like an ball.
He rubbed it gingerly with one hand while using the other to flip vegetables in a sizzling wok. Steam rose around him in clouds, and he kept his head down, muttering apologies under his breath every time Lila glanced his way.
Combusken had stepped away from the main stove the moment the chef took over.
The Pokémon now moved back to its usual job—serving. It picked up a large wooden tray from the pass-through window with both claws, balancing it carefully so nothing shifted.
The tray held two steaming plates of veggie stir-fry—bright green broccoli, orange carrots, red bell peppers, and mushrooms all glossy with light sauce—and a tall glass parfait layered with fresh Pecha Berries, whipped cream, and crunchy granola on top.
Combusken walked straight to Satoshi and Bonnie's table first. Its steps were steady and measured, claws clicking softly against the dark tile floor.
When it reached the table, it leaned forward slightly, set the tray down in the center with a gentle thud, then straightened up again.
"Combusken. (Here's your order.)" it said in a calm, even tone.
"Thanks," he said simply, giving a small nod.
Bonnie's eyes lit up the moment the parfait came into view. She clapped both hands together once, bouncing a little in her seat.
"Yay, I'm so hungry!" she said excitedly, already reaching for the tall glass with both hands like she couldn't wait another second.
Combusken gave a short nod—almost a bow—then turned and walked back toward the kitchen, claws clicking again on the tile as it went to pick up the next tray.
Behind the counter, Lila watched the whole exchange with a small, satisfied smile, then turned to the two guys helping with serving and pointed toward another table that had just raised their hands for the check.
The restaurant slowly started moving again—forks clinking, quiet conversations picking back up, chairs scraping as people shifted—but every so often someone would glance toward the kitchen, where the chef was still rubbing his bump and avoiding eye contact with his wife.
*
To be continued...
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