At two in the afternoon, Mr. Fuji's voice carried warmly across the main hall of the Pokémon House.
"Everyone, the weather outside is beautiful today. Let's take the Pokémon to the park for some games."
The volunteers began leading their partners out, the room gradually emptying of laughter and movement. Within minutes, only one Pokémon remained: Charmander.
"Charmander," Fuji said, approaching with the same gentle patience he always tried to show, "would you like to come join the others in the park?"
The little Shiny Pokémon didn't even bother to look at him. He kept his head down and his body curled up, tail flame flickering low.
Fuji sighed. As expected. Quietly, he murmured an apology in his heart, then turned toward the door.
The moment he stepped outside, a familiar rounded figure was waiting—Snorlax, rocking impatiently on his stubby legs, rubbing his short hands together.
"Ka~"
"All right, all right. I just came out," Fuji said with a weary smile.
He couldn't help the small spike of worry in his chest. Snorlax was strong—too strong. If he went overboard, Charmander might end up hurt far worse than intended.
"Remember, be gentle. No real harm," Fuji instructed.
Snorlax thumped his chest in assurance, his wide grin attempting to look trustworthy. Then he jabbed a pudgy finger toward the cafeteria—a door triple-locked precisely because of him.
"Yes, yes," Fuji said with a sigh. "Once you've done what we agreed, you'll get your snack tonight."
The Glutton Pokémon's grin widened. When food was on the table—literally or figuratively—he was always easy to bargain with.
Fifteen minutes later, after Fuji discreetly let Snorlax inside, he made his way quickly to his office. Inside, Ethan Carter and Lena were already seated at his desk, watching the surveillance monitor.
"What's happening? Have they started?" Fuji asked.
"They've 'started,'" Lena said, her tone tinged with sympathy. "But it's all one-sided. Snorlax didn't even give him a chance—he attacked while Charmander was still half-asleep."
Ethan leaned forward, watching the feed intently. Snorlax's massive bulk bore down on the much smaller Pokémon, flattening him with a body press that looked twice his size and weight. Charmander struggled to respond, attempting to use Ember, but Snorlax's fat little hands clamped around his neck, stifling the attack before it could spark. Every now and then, a lazy slap drove the humiliation deeper.
"It's… tragic," Fuji muttered after seven or eight seconds, looking away. He took a step toward the door, clearly intending to intervene.
"Grandpa Fuji," Ethan said sharply, "if you stop it now, everything we've done so far will be for nothing."
Fuji hesitated. Ethan's gaze was firm, his head shaking in deliberate warning. Slowly, reluctantly, the old man stepped back.
And so the "fight" dragged on—five whole minutes of one Pokémon grinding another into the dirt. It only ended when a passing volunteer heard the noise and rushed in.
"Quickly—get him treated," Fuji ordered once Snorlax had been led away. Charmander lay sprawled on the floor, his body covered in small cuts and bruises, breathing shallowly.
Ethan remained calm, almost unnervingly so. "It's not time yet. If I show up immediately, it'll look fake."
Fuji shot him a glare. "You…" Words failed him for a moment. Was the boy ruthless… or simply committed?
Still shaking his head, Fuji went to try speaking to Charmander himself. The camera feed showed him kneeling beside the injured Pokémon, speaking in low, reassuring tones. But Charmander wouldn't even lift his head. When Fuji persisted, he merely flicked an ear in irritation, as if to say, enough.
When Fuji returned to the office, his eyes were grim. "If Charmander can't recover from this… Ethan, maybe you should leave the Pokémon House."
Ethan didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, waiting.
Half an hour later, he finally nodded to Lena. Together, they made their way to Charmander's corner—Ethan still in his wheelchair for the sake of his ongoing "injury."
On the monitor, Fuji now watched in silence as Lena quietly led the other volunteers away, leaving Ethan alone with the small Fire-type.
For nearly a full minute, Ethan said nothing. Then, in a voice just loud enough to carry, he began.
"I heard Snorlax gave you a beating."
The curled-up Charmander shifted slightly at the sound.
"I'd like to return the favor," Ethan continued, his tone low and deliberate. "But the doctor says I have to rest a while after my check-up."
Charmander lifted his head fractionally, just enough to meet Ethan's eyes—before ducking back into his arms again.
"What is it? Don't think you can win? You think you're a failure?"
The Pokémon's claws moved as if to cover his ears.
And then Ethan said the line that froze him mid-motion.
"Believe it or not, you're a genius. Not just any Pokémon—a one-in-a-million Charmander. With the right guidance, you could pin Snorlax to the ground and make him beg for mercy."
Charmander's head snapped up, eyes wide.
"Do you know why I've been going out of my way to keep Snorlax from stealing your food?" Ethan pressed a hand against his chest, voice rising with conviction. "Because I can see it—your potential. You don't deserve this. You shouldn't be letting yourself fade away."
Charmander stared, searching his face for a lie.
"I know what you're thinking," Ethan said. "If you're so talented, why are you here, abandoned? Why can Snorlax walk all over you? The answer's simple—you were never taught how to use what you have. Talent without the right direction is wasted. But once you learn… there won't be many in this world who can match you."
The faintest flicker lit in Charmander's eyes.
"I don't have raw talent like you," Ethan admitted. "But I do have the ability to guide you. If you don't believe me, come outside with me. I'll show you."
There was hesitation… then, slowly, Charmander rose to his feet.
Ethan's lips curved into a subtle smile as he wheeled himself toward the door.
Outside, Lena caught up, pushing the chair from behind.
"My grandpa and I agree," she murmured near his ear, "you don't belong in the Pokémon House. You belong in Pokémon Hollywood. That was some performance back there."
Her voice grew more serious. "But aren't you worried? If Charmander figures out you were bluffing, he'll lose whatever trust he's built in you."
Ethan glanced up at her, confidence undimmed.
"I'm not bluffing," he said. "Because I'll make sure he sees the power of belief for himself."