Charmander hesitated, his small claws flexing slightly as he studied Ethan Carter's face.
If what the boy before him said was true—if he really was a genius, a super genius among Pokémon, one in a million even for a Charmander—then all he lacked was the right guidance.
And for the first time in a long while, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he'd found it.
Ethan's smile warmed under the afternoon sun. Turning his back so the golden light crowned him in a halo, he extended his fist.
"Now," he said softly but firmly, "are you willing to train with me? A special training that will unleash your talent—and help you defeat Snorlax."
Charmander blinked. The warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the warmth that washed over him in that moment. It had been so long since he'd felt this—since before betrayal and abandonment had carved cold hollows in his heart.
The smile in front of him seemed to merge with the sunlight, blurring into one warm, radiant glow.
Before he could think too hard, Charmander stepped forward and bumped his small fist against Ethan's.
[Charmander's Intimacy increases][Intimacy: –15 → 0]
The moment their fists touched, Ethan's system display flickered, the bar resetting to a perfect zero. Fifteen points in one instant—Charmander was no longer in the negatives.
"Rua~" Charmander chirped, looking up at him expectantly, as if to ask: So… how do we start?
Ethan's grin shifted into something more focused. "I've already got an idea," he said. "The first thing we're going to do is train your skills. Specifically—Dragon Breath. It's the one you're ready to learn right now."
He leaned in slightly. "And because you're a genius, it'll only take you three hundred and twenty-one attempts to master it."
Charmander froze, pointing at himself, then toward the Pidgeot that had just finished its own special training session. His expression said it plainly: If I can do it in 321 tries… does that mean I'm really a genius?
"Exactly," Ethan said without missing a beat. "Normal Pokémon need thousands of repetitions. Pidgeot managed it in eighty-nine because its trainer had already prepared it for a long time. But you? You'll do it in three hundred and twenty-one—because you have raw talent."
He tapped his chest for emphasis. "If I say you're a genius, you're a genius. Don't question my judgment—and don't underestimate yourself. You have to believe in your potential."
Something shifted in Charmander's eyes. The doubt wavered, thinned… and then, like smoke in the wind, it vanished, replaced by a spark of determination.
"Rua!" His voice rang with new confidence as he padded into the open space, ready for his first attempt.
Ethan's heart lifted. Like a proud father watching his child take a first step, he thought, It wasn't easy… but we're finally moving forward.
That pride lasted all of seven seconds before Charmander stopped in place and glanced back awkwardly.
"…You don't actually know how to train Dragon Breath, do you?" Ethan asked carefully.
Charmander scratched the smooth top of his head and muttered a sheepish "Rua~."
Suppressing a laugh, Ethan cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey! Anyone here have a Pokémon that can use Dragon Breath? I'll help check their training progress in return!"
Trainers glanced at each other, until finally, a boy in a black cap stepped forward. "My Swablu can use it."
With a flash of light, the blue Cotton Bird Pokémon appeared, its fluffy wings like clouds against the afternoon sky.
"Let it show Charmander how it's done," Ethan instructed.
"Swablu—Dragon Breath!" the boy commanded.
The bird tilted its head, a greenish-blue glow forming in its beak before erupting into a searing black energy stream. When it struck the sandy pit, the ground erupted, leaving a one-meter-deep crater.
"Now you know?" Ethan asked.
Charmander nodded, planting his feet. He mimicked the motion—slight head tilt, mouth opening, focus building—and then snapped forward.
A faint puff of warm breath escaped.
He looked up at Ethan uncertainly.
Ethan grinned and gave a big thumbs up. "That's one down. Only three hundred and twenty left. Perfect form for a first try."
Charmander's chest swelled at the praise.
From that moment on, Ethan kept the encouragement flowing.
"Great shot!"
"You're definitely my chosen genius. Two hundred and eighty left!"
Every word was like water to a thirsty plant. Charmander threw himself into the practice, each attempt sharper than the last, already dreaming of the day he'd mastered the move and earned Ethan's proudest smile.
Time blurred. The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the park before Ethan finally called out, "That's enough for today. Back to the Pokémon House—we've got one hundred and sixty-five left for tomorrow."
Charmander shook his head. "Rua~!" He wanted to keep going.
Ethan leaned forward in his wheelchair. "You're iron, food is steel. Skip a meal, and you weaken. Weaken, and tomorrow's practice suffers. Waste your talent? No way, right?"
Charmander paused. The word waste seemed to hit harder than any attack. After a long moment, he padded over to the wheelchair.
"That's my genius," Ethan said warmly. "Rest, eat, and keep your body ready for the next challenge."
That night, Lena recounted the day's events to Mr. Fuji.
"Grandpa, I swear—it's real. He can tell exactly how many tries it'll take for a Pokémon to master a move. The trainers in the park are lining up to pay him in League Coins for advice."
Fuji frowned. "Impossible… but you've never lied to me before."
After a long pause, his eyes grew distant. "Your words remind me of an old friend… a Bug Catcher who left Viridian Forest decades ago. He had something called the Power of Viridian—able to communicate with Pokémon, heal them, even boost their strength temporarily."
"If what you say is true," Fuji continued, "Ethan might have a similar gift, though a different kind. But that power… it can lead to great ambitions."
Lena tilted her head. "What happened to your friend?"
Fuji's gaze dropped to the corner of the room, as if staring into memory. "He's now chasing a Pokémon powerful enough to overturn the world."
A long silence.
"But," Fuji said at last, "I hope he never succeeds."