The greenhouse smelt like wet dirt and piss. Rat piss, specifically.
Kai stood in the doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Glass panels made up the walls and roof—some cracked, most filthy enough that the afternoon sun came through green and dim. The whole space was maybe thirty by forty feet, packed with wooden plant tables, clay pots, bags of soil, and trellises covered in dead vines. Concrete floor, dirt everywhere, seeds scattered around. And rats. Evidence of Rattata everywhere. Chewed bags. Droppings. That sharp, musty smell of rodent nests.
Something rustled behind a stack of pots. Then another sound from the opposite corner. He could see movement in the shadows between the tables.
Kai pulled out the key, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him. The latch clicked.
Locked in.
He got out the Poké Ball, thumb on the button. He'd spent the whole walk here working out a plan. It was simple. It would work.
Get to high ground first, secure a vantage point, get Pidgey in the air to use Sand Attack and disorient them, use noise and light to create panic, herd them toward the door, open it at the last second and let them flood out.
Clean. Efficient.
If Pidgey actually listened to him.
"Okay," Kai muttered, "high ground, control the space, and don't get bitten."
He released Pidgey.
Pidgey appeared in a flash of red light, took one look at the glass walls, the dim light, and the shadows, and immediately tried to fly back toward the door.
"No! Pidgey, wait—"
Pidgey slammed into the closed door with a solid thump, hit the concrete, scrambled up, and started pecking frantically at the wood. Trying to escape. Sharp, desperate chirps that sounded exactly like panic.
Chittering erupted from the darkness. The Rattata had heard.
"Pidgey!" Kai hissed. "Stop! Get in the air!"
The bird ignored him, clawing at the door's base where the weather stripping was torn.
Kai scanned the greenhouse, looking for his high ground. The wooden plant tables were too low, maybe three feet. But against the back wall, there was a metal shelving unit loaded with clay pots. Six-foot-tall, sturdy metal frame. He could climb that.
He started toward it. A Rattata darted across his path.
Small, maybe level three, fast, moving with the jerky confidence of something that owned this place. It stopped eight feet away, rose on its hind legs, and stared at him with flat black eyes and twitching whiskers, sizing him up. Two more came out from under a plant table. Another from behind a soil bag. Four he could see. No, five. A sixth stuck its head out of a clay pot.
They weren't attacking, not yet, just watching, waiting.
Kai's heart was pounding. He'd barely survived three Rattata after catching Pidgey. There were at least six here. Probably more hiding.
"Pidgey. I need you in the air. NOW."
Pidgey stopped pecking, turned, saw the Rattata, and screeched. A cry of pure fear.
The nearest Rattata took three slow steps forward.
"FLY! Get to the ceiling!
Pidgey's wings flared. It tried to take off, struggling with that injured left wing, and got four feet up before one of the Rattata jumped.
The jump was impossible for something that weighed next to nothing. The Rattata's teeth caught Pidgey's tail feathers, dragging the bird down. They both hit concrete with a wet thump.
"NO!"
Kai sprinted forward without thinking. His foot connected with the Rattata, sending it tumbling into a stack of pots. Clay shattered. The Rattata squealed and scrambled away. Pidgey was on the ground, dazed, with one wing bent wrong.
Six Rattata visible now, all staring at Kai, all moving closer in to surround them.
Kai grabbed Pidgey and ran. His injured arm screamed in pain. The bandage tore as he clutched the bird to his chest. He reached the metal shelving, shoved Pidgey onto the second shelf, and started climbing.
The Rattata came at him all at once.
Metal edges bit into his palms. His foot found the first support bar. He pulled himself up to the second shelf; the Rattata reached the base, jumping, teeth snapping inches from his ankle. Third shelf, fourth. He hauled himself onto the top shelf, six feet off the ground, and collapsed, gasping, with Pidgey pressed against his chest.
Below, the Rattata gathered at the base, chittering. They tried climbing the smooth metal legs but just slid back down, frustrated.
Safe, for now.
Kai set Pidgey down carefully. The bird was shaking, making small distressed sounds, with one wing held awkwardly. Not broken, he could see it move, but hurt. Reinjured maybe, or badly bruised from the fall.
"You're okay," Kai said, voice shaking, "we're okay; we're safe up here."
Pidgey gave him a look that clearly said, 'This is your fault.'
Kail looked back down towards the Rattata below. There were seven now. No, eight.
Kai's mind raced through the next steps. High ground, check. Next was disorientation; Pidgey needed to use Sand Attack on the Rattata below, creating a cloud of dust to blind them and make them panic. But looking at the Rattata down there, organised, something clicked.
In the games, this would be a battle. Defeat or capture each Rattata one by one. That was the only option the game gave you. But this wasn't a game. The goal wasn't "defeat all enemies". It was "clear the greenhouse".
Which meant he didn't need to fight them. He just needed them gone.
The registered trainers Tomás called probably showed up with Fire-types, ready to battle ten Rattata in sequence. Proper six-on-eight Pokémon combat. That's how the anime did it. That's how trainers were taught to think. But Kai had played enough competitive Pokémon to know the difference between game mechanics and actual strategy. The game forced you to battle because that was the game. Reality didn't have that limitation.
"I don't need to beat you," Kai muttered, looking at the Rattata. "I just need you to leave."
He looked at the greenhouse floor. Plenty of spilt soil, potting mix, and torn bags. Perfect for Sand Attack.
"Okay," Kai said, trying to sound calm, "we're safe up here; they can't climb smooth metal. We just need to scare them enough to run for the door."
Pidgey looked at him.
"Sand Attack, like we trained, you kick dirt at them from up here, make them blind, make them want to leave."
Pidgey's head tilted. Then, very deliberately, it turned its back to him.
"Are you—you're refusing?!"
The bird tucked its head under its wing. Done.
"We're going to DIE if you don't—"
One of the Rattata started climbing a wooden plant table. The rough wood gave it grip. It reached the top, about three feet, and eyed the distance to the metal shelf. Not quite close enough to jump. Another Rattata joined it.
"PIDGEY! SAND ATTACK! NOW!"
Nothing. The bird might as well have been a rock.
Kai's hand found the scrap metal in his pocket. Fine. He'd done this with the Ekans. He could do it again.
He pulled out the metal and scraped it hard against the shelf's support beam.
SCREEEEEECH.
The sound was ear-splitting in the enclosed glass space, bouncing off the walls and roof. The Rattata flinched, ears flattening; several backed away from the shelving, chittering in distress.
Good, the sound worked. Kai did it again, creating patterns. The Rattata milled around, panicked; two moved toward the door, away from the noise.
It was working.
Kai adjusted the position of the scrap metal in his hand so the dusty sunlight filtering through the grimy glass caught the metal. He flashed the reflected light into the Rattata's eyes. They squeaked, covering their faces with tiny paws, blinking rapidly.
"That's right! Go to the door! Get out!"
Five Rattata were near the door now, scratching at it. But it opened outward. They couldn't push through. They needed Kai to open it from inside. Which meant he'd have to climb down. Get to the door. Open it while surrounded by Rattata. And somehow not get bitten.
He hadn't planned for that part.
A loud CRACK cut through his thoughts.
Two Rattata had started gnawing on the wooden legs of the plant table they'd been climbing. The wood was old, dry, and already splintering. If they chewed through it, the table would fall toward the shelf, creating a bridge.
"No no no," Kai scraped the metal harder and aimed the light at the chewing Rattata, "Stop! The door! Go to the door!"
They kept chewing; another joined them; A table leg was already gone.
Kai looked at Pidgey, still hiding. Completely useless.
The table leg snapped.
Wood crashed toward the shelf. Kai threw himself flat as the table's corner slammed into the metal frame. Pots shattered. Soil exploded everywhere. The whole shelving unit shook. And now there was a ramp; the collapsed table made a forty-five-degree slope from floor to shelf. Shortening the distance enough to reach them.
The Rattata saw it immediately.
Four of them charged up.
"PIDGEY! TACKLE! HIT THEM!"
Nothing. The bird didn't even look.
Kai grabbed a clay pot, somehow still intact, and hurled it. It shattered against the lead Rattata's face. The thing tumbled backward, squealing, but the other three kept coming. He swung the scrap metal, not trying to hit, just trying to scare. The metal whistled through air. The second Rattata flinched, lost its footing on the angled surface, and slid back down.
The third kept coming, almost at the shelf edge.
Kai made a decision born of pure desperation.
He grabbed Pidgey.
The bird squawked as Kai lifted it, held it out toward the charging Rattata, and shouted, "If you help me right now, I'll give you my food! Everything! Every berry I have! All of it!"
Pidgey's head came out from under its wing, one eye visible, staring at Kai. It squawked again, then glanced at Rattata with what seemed like a sceptical expression.
"I MEAN IT! Help me drive them out and you eat! I don't! DEAL?!"
Pidgey made a choice.
It dived.
Not gracefully, not like a trained Pokémon, just desperate momentum, wings spread, body spinning. Pidgey slammed into the Rattata mid-charge. Both went over the side of the table-ramp and crashed to the concrete in a tangle of feathers and fur and squealing. The fourth Rattata hesitated on the ramp.
Kai didn't give it time to think. He grabbed a bag of potting soil, torn and half-empty, and swung it like a club. The bag exploded. Soil burst into a massive cloud. The Rattata vanished into the brown fog, coughing, stumbling backward.
Pidgey pulled free from the Rattata it had tackled and half-flew, half-scrambled back up to the shelf, landing next to Kai. The bird was panting, covered in dirt, but its eyes were sharp now, focused.
The Rattata on the floor was disoriented, shaking its head, blinking soil out of its eyes.
Kai pointed at the shelf edge where the dust was settling. "Sand Attack! Kick more dirt!"
Pidgey looked at the settling dust, looked at Kai, then planted its feet and kicked backward with both legs. Loose soil on the shelf edge, spilt from the broken pot, flew over the side. Not much. Not aimed. But it hit the Rattata below, adding to their confusion.
"YES! Again! Sand Attack!"
Pidgey kicked again, picking up more soil. Each kick sent potting mix raining down on the Rattat.
Kai started scraping the metal again, creating that ear-splitting sound. He flashed the reflected light, combining it with the falling soil. The greenhouse filled with noise, light flashes, and dust haze.
The Rattata were panicking now; eight of them, Kai could count them all, running in confused patterns, pawing at their eyes, ears flat. They wanted out; the sensory overload was too much. They converged on the door, scratching and biting the wood, desperate.
"Keep it up!" Kai told Pidgey. "Sand Attack!"
The bird kept kicking. Soil. Dust. Anything loose rained down like a storm.
Kai climbed down the shelf, his bleeding arm leaving red smears on the metal. He hit concrete, stumbled, and caught himself. The Rattata were all at the door, focused on escape, barely noticing him. He reached the door. Key in hand. The Rattata noticed now, turned, and chittered. He jammed the key in the lock, turned it, grabbed the handle, and yanked the door open.
Sunlight flooded in – fresh air, freedom.
Eight Rattata surged through the door in a brown furry wave, trampling each other, squealing, and fleeing into the afternoon sun. They scattered into the grass and disappeared in seconds.
Gone.
Kai slammed the door shut, locked it, and stood there breathing hard, back pressed against the wood.
Silence.
The greenhouse was a disaster: broken pots, spilt soil, the collapsed table, and dust hanging in the air. But no Rattata, no movement except Pidgey on the top shelf, looking down at the destruction with what might've been satisfaction.
"We did it," Kai said, his voice sounding distant. "We actually did it."
Pidgey chirped, demanding.
"Oh right, the deal."
*
Tomás opened the door to find Kai sitting on the floor in the wreckage, back against a plant table, Pidgey perched on his knee, both covered head to toe in dirt. Kai's arm was bleeding with his bandage torn and filthy. He looked like he'd been through a war.
"They're gone," Kai said.
Tomás walked the perimeter, checking every corner, every shadow. No Rattata. No nests. No movement. Just destruction.
"How did you—" He gestured at the broken table, the shattered pots, and the soil everywhere.
"Noise, light, and Sand Attack overwhelmed their senses; they ran when I opened the door."
"You destroyed half my equipment."
"The Rattata destroyed it. I didn't touch your equipment; I just used what they'd already broken."
Tomás stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. He pulled out a leather coin pouch and counted carefully, "₽500 as agreed." He paused. "You'll need to take some of this anyway; I can't use it." He pointed at three torn bags and a crate of cracked pots. "Load what you can carry."
Kai took the money with shaking hands, ₽500, real money, more than he'd ever held in this world.
"You're completely insane, kid." Tomás muttered,
"Yeah."
"But effective." Tomás shook his head. "If you want to take more jobs, come find me. I know other people with problems."
He walked out, leaving the greenhouse door open.
Kai sat there, staring at the coins in his palm. Five hundred Pokédollars. Proof that his knowledge, his strategies, and his willingness to do desperate things could translate into survival.
Pidgey chirped insistently, pecking at his knee.
Kai dragged himself over to one of the torn soil bags. The label read "Pokémon-Safe Potting Mix with Added Nutrients".
'Some kind of compost,' Kai guessed. He scooped out a handful. It smelt earthy and rich, with visible seeds mixed throughout.
He poured a pile on the concrete.
"Eat."
Pidgey dived at it immediately, pecking desperately at the seeds, the grain, and whatever edible bits were in there. The bird ate like it might never eat again. Kai watched, then pulled out his Berries saved from yesterday, bruised and soft now.
He placed them next to the potting mix. "For helping. For diving at that Rattata."
Pidgey paused, looked at the Berries, then at Kai. The bird's eyes weren't hostile anymore. Not friendly either. But something had shifted. Recognition. The beginning of something transactional that might eventually look like trust.
"We have money now," Kai said quietly. Pidgey couldn't understand words, but talking helped him process. "₽500. We can buy food and Potions if you get hurt."
Pidgey chirped softly between bites.
"You didn't want to help," Kai continued. "I don't blame you. I captured you. Took you from your flock. Got you hurt. Then brought you here to fight eight Rattata with basically no training."
The bird stopped eating and looked at him with those sharp black eyes.
"But you did it anyway. When it mattered—you chose to help." Kai's voice cracked slightly. "So... thank you."
Pidgey made a sound. Not quite a chirp. Acknowledgement, maybe. Then went back to eating.
They sat in the destroyed greenhouse as dusty sunlight filtered through grimy glass. Two creatures at the bottom of their respective hierarchies. Both injured. Both starving. Both forgotten by the systems meant to protect them.
But alive.
And now with ₽500 to prove survival was possible.
Kai looked at Pidgey, this small, injured bird that had every reason to hate him but had fought anyway. Not for friendship. Not for bonds. For food, for survival, for the mutual understanding that they needed each other.
It wasn't the relationship the anime showed. It wasn't the power-of-friendship thing. It was something rawer. More honest. Partnership through necessity. Trust through repeated desperate gambles that somehow worked out.
"Come on," Kai said eventually, standing on shaky legs. He recalled Pidgey; the bird went into the ball without resistance this time and grabbed what he could from the greenhouse. A torn soil bag. Some cracked pots he could use for water. Seeds Pidgey could eat.
He limped out of the greenhouse, arms full of garbage that was treasure to him.