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"Froakie?"
Froakie tilted its head.
Ron didn't explain further. He pulled the roasted potatoes from the embers, scraped off the charred skin, and handed one to Froakie.
Then he patted its head and left the cabin.
---
Today was Spring 14.
The day Ditto hatched.
Ron tucked Fletchling's and Combee's Poké Balls into his pocket and strode into the Nursery.
The moment he opened the door, he saw Ditto curled inside the incubator, tapping impatiently against the glass.
Spotting Ron, Ditto froze—its tiny eyes locked onto him—then immediately began morphing toward his shape.
Before it could turn into a grotesque half-human mess, Ron swiftly pulled out a prepared Poké Ball and recalled it.
He grabbed the Breeding Manual, studying its instructions as he placed both Fletchling's and Ditto's Poké Balls into the breeding chamber.
While reading, he opened his Pokédex and checked Fletchling's stats.
Yesterday's farm work had earned it a small amount of Potential Points.
Since eggs inherited these values, the manual stressed using them before breeding.
After a moment's thought, Ron allocated the point to Speed.
This Fletchling was a random forest catch—its base stats were low. To meet Cyllage City's standards, it would need at least six more Potential Points.
Ron pressed the breeding chamber's activation button.
---
Meanwhile, in Cyllage City – Pokémon Research Center…
After days of anxious waiting, assistant Laurent finally received a reply from Pelican Town.
He clicked open the email—and let out a sharp gasp.
"What is it?"
Grant, fresh from today's Gym battles, pulled up a chair and leaned over the screen.
"He's offering Fletchling," Grant mused, pulling up the official starter recommendation map. "Perfect! The first Gym in Santalune is Bug-type—Flying counters it well. By the time Trainers reach the next Grass-type Gym, Fletchling should've evolved into Fletchinder. After those two Gyms, they'll have better options—keep it or send it back to us."
Laurent knew the logic was sound. Without standard starters like Fennekin, Froakie, or Chespin, Fletchling was a solid choice.
"But Fletchling are everywhere in Santalune Forest," Laurent said slowly. "For 10,000G, I could catch thirty tomorrow."
Their budget for this batch was 30,000G.
Fletchling were also relatively friendly—many could be caught by simply throwing Poké Balls, no battling required.
But wild-caught Pokémon usually had poor potential. If a Trainer caught one themselves, it was fine—but if the Research Institute supplied subpar stock? That'd be embarrassing.
Grant shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "When they arrive, just check. If it's some random forest Fletchling, send it back."
"What about the new Trainers?" Laurent asked, running a hand through his hair.
"They can come with me to the nearby mine," Grant said, staring at the ceiling. "Heard they dug up some fossils lately. I've been meaning to check it out."
Laurent fell silent, eyes darting between the computer and Grant. After a long sigh, he slumped back in his chair.
---
Back in Pelican Town, Ron sneezed. He closed the Breeding Manual and stood up.
After double-checking the breeding chamber and the mysterious egg's status, he left the hut.
Doing the math: by the first strawberry harvest, he'd likely have around six Fletchlings.
He'd keep the best for further breeding; the rest would gather resources in the wild to grind Potential Points.
Rain poured as Ron hurried back to his cabin.
Inside, he found a halved potato on the table—Cheri Berry spread on top, clumsily sprinkled with salt.
His eyes swept the room—and landed on Froakie, feigning sleep on the pillow while secretly watching him.
"Thank you," Ron said.
A faint "Froakie…" drifted from the bed.
Ron smiled, took a bite of the potato, and finished it in a few quick bites.
He grabbed a raincoat from the cabinet, pulled it on, and headed for the door.
In a flash of blue light, Froakie appeared at his feet.
"Coming with me?" Ron asked.
Froakie didn't answer—just sat quietly by his boots.
Ron crouched, lifted the edge of his raincoat, and held out his hand.
Froakie climbed onto his shoulder.
Under the raincoat, Ron couldn't see Froakie's face—only a determined-looking lump facing forward.
He stepped outside. Rain hammered the coat, creating a steady whoosh-whoosh rhythm.
Ron glanced at the newly sprouted strawberries, then left the farm.
With no watering needed, he had free time. He'd visit the library and deliver the Kalos footage to Gunther for a small payout.
Not much—but enough for occasional meals at the saloon.
It was early weekend morning; the town was still asleep. Only the sound of Ron's boots splashing through puddles broke the silence.
The library sat in Pelican Town's southeast corner, beside a small river. Penny's RV was parked right across the bridge.
As Ron reached the bridge, he heard a door open—followed by an umbrella snapping open and quick footsteps.
"M-morning!" Penny called, hurrying to catch up.
Clefable wore a custom raincoat, complete with a pink melon patch stitched onto the hood.
"Morning," Ron greeted.
From under his raincoat came a crisp, cheerful "Froakie!"
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