The fifth morning dawned clear and still over Lavender Town, the lake's surface reflecting the pale blush of sunrise.
At the water's edge, Charmander stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the rippling mirror before him. He inhaled slowly, the tip of his tail flame flaring brighter, then opened his mouth.
A jet-black column of energy, thick as two clenched fists, erupted forth with a hiss.
Ssshhh!
The moment it struck the lake, the water churned violently. Boiling bubbles roared upward, steam rolling out in heavy clouds until it brushed against Ethan Carter's face from where he stood nearby. The heat would have made most people flinch, but Ethan only smiled, his chest swelling with pride.
"Perfect," he said, voice warm with satisfaction. "Dragon Breath—maxed out at last."
The past few days had been a storm of relentless training—morning to night, with only brief pauses for rest and meals. Under Ethan's direction, Charmander's mastery over his five core techniques—Scratch, Growl, Ember, Smokescreen, and Dragon Breath—had each climbed to their peak proficiency of thirty percent. Every repetition had honed precision, every spar had sharpened instinct.
When the attack tapered off, Charmander turned, running toward Ethan with a bright, almost childlike grin. He leapt straight into Ethan's arms.
"Rua~!"
The sound was pure joy—the joy of accomplishment and the eager expectation of praise.
Ethan bent his head, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Charmander's head. His words came in a soft cascade. "You've been incredible. Absolutely incredible."
He knew better than most that Pokémon were not so different from pets back in his old world—creatures with simple, earnest hearts. So often, they poured every ounce of effort into their trainer's commands, not for reward or strategy, but for one honest word of praise.
Too many never received it in their lifetime.
The thought made Ethan's chest ache. But fate had brought him here, and he would make a vow—every Pokémon under his care would be drenched in the love they deserved. He would heal those battered spirits, one by one.
"Charmander," he said at last, his tone shifting to something brisker, "you've worked hard these past few days. Let's head to the Pokémon Center—have Nurse Joy patch you up. Then we'll stop at the Pokémon House for breakfast… and after that, we face Team Rocket to get your Poké Ball back. Think you're ready?"
Charmander's tail flame flared high. "Rua~!"
Ethan chuckled. That wasn't just readiness—that was burning determination. After these days together, Charmander had not only accepted Ethan as his trainer, but was eager to prove himself worthy.
Ethan reached down to ruffle his head. "That's my super genius."
By nine o'clock, they were back at the Pokémon House.
Breakfast was winding down. Across the yard, a familiar heavy thump echoed—the sound of Snorlax's door unlocking. The hulking Pokémon waddled out with the rolling gait of one who had only a single goal in mind: the food bucket.
But before Snorlax could reach it, Charmander darted past Ethan, planting himself directly in Snorlax's path, his eyes locked in open challenge.
Gasps broke out among the volunteers. Mr. Fuji's eyes widened. Everyone knew the unspoken rule—never interfere with Snorlax's mealtime.
"Charmander! Get out of the way!" one volunteer called in alarm.
"Ethan, call him back before he gets hurt!" another urged.
Ethan didn't move. Neither did Charmander. One stood like an unyielding wall, the other observed in calm silence.
Fuji strode over quickly. "Ethan, what is Charmander doing?"
Ethan's lips quirked. He kept his voice low. "Remember what I told you—how to snap him out of his slump? This is it. Please, don't stop us."
Fuji froze. Of course—Ethan's plan to use Snorlax as the final spark to reignite Charmander's fighting spirit.
He hesitated. "But… does he really—?"
"Trust me," Ethan cut in smoothly. "He has the strength now. Without it, how could he hope to bring Lena back from Team Rocket?"
Fuji said nothing more, turning his gaze to the looming confrontation.
Snorlax's heavy brow furrowed. Ka~! — Out of my way, or I'll crush you.
Charmander's voice was level, even amused. Rua~! — Let's see who's left standing.
The low growl in Snorlax's chest sharpened into fury. Ka~! — You're courting death, runt!
With surprising speed for his size, Snorlax lunged, his massive belly swinging forward in a devastating Body Slam.
Charmander didn't flinch. Claws flashing, he launched into a perfectly timed Scratch, meeting the charge head-on.
The yard held its breath. Volunteers tensed, ready to catch Charmander when he inevitably went flying.
Instead, Snorlax let out a pained bellow. The force of the counter had ripped a jagged gash across his belly and shoved him back several meters.
Fuji's eyes widened in disbelief. "That… was Charmander?"
But the display wasn't over. Without missing a beat, Charmander inhaled deeply, unleashing not one but two jet-black streams of Dragon Breath. The blast slammed into Snorlax, knocking the stunned giant clear out of the Pokémon House yard.
"Charmander, stop! You've won!" Fuji called.
Charmander didn't hear him—or chose not to.
"Enough, buddy," Ethan's voice cut through at last. "You've proved your strength."
The effect was instant. Charmander lowered his head, cutting off the attack. He turned toward the gathered volunteers, chin lifted high, eyes bright with pride. See? This is who I am now.
Mouths hung open. In just a week, the listless Pokémon they'd known had transformed into a fierce fighter who could toss the House's strongest troublemaker in two moves.
They looked from Charmander to Ethan, a single thought forming: How?
Only days ago, they'd thought the young man was out of his mind—risking Snorlax's wrath just to save a meal. Now, they weren't so sure.
One volunteer muttered, half-jealous, "If I'd known a beating could win his trust, maybe I'd have let Snorlax run me over too."
Ethan only smiled faintly, laying a hand on Charmander's head. The way Charmander gazed up at him made it clear—this was no longer just training. This was a bond.