"Alright, enough drama. Get out here, you two!"
Julian didn't even wait for the Poké Balls to settle in the tray before he was tossing them upward. He had been a nervous wreck for twenty-four hours, and his heart was currently doing a drum solo against his ribs.
Bang! Bang!
The twin flashes of white light hadn't even fully cleared before a heavy, furry weight slamd into his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
"Woof! (Hey! Do you have any idea how boring it is in that lab? Don't ever do that again, you paranoid human!)" Growlithe was all over him, his massive paws pinning Julian to the lobby floor as he proceeded to wash Julian's face with a tongue that felt like a wet sandpaper sponge.
"Ack—Growlithe! Down! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!" Julian wheezed, laughing even as he tried to shield his face.
"Florges-sound! (Stupid Julian! Idiot Julian!)" Floette was hovering inches from his nose, her dual-colored flower spinning like a tiny propeller. She wasn't just happy to see him; she was indignant. She reached down and gave his ssy hair a sharp, psychic-assisted tug. "Florges! (You send away without even a 'goodbye' or a 'see you later'? I should let Growlithe eat your favorite hat!)"
"I know, I know! It was my fault!" Julian surrendered, his hands up in a defensive gesture. "I panicked, alright? I thought I'd broken you! But the Professor says you're actually... well, you're basically a legend in the making. Can we call it even if I make that triple-cream stew tonight?"
Floette stopped pulling his hair instantly. She hovered mid-air, her tiny arms crossing over her chest as she weighed the options. "Lealeon? (With the honey-glaze biscuits?)"
"The big ones," Julian promised.
Growlithe gave Julian's cheek one last, firm lick—almost like he was branding him—before finally stepping off his chest. Julian sat up, rubbing his sore ribs and looking at the faint, damp "mark" Growlithe had left on his face. The dog looked remarkably proud of himself.
"You're becoming a real bully, you know that?" Julian muttered, though his eyes were bright with relief. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he touched Floette's petals. "But seriously... no weird vibes? No spatial headaches? You really feel okay?"
"Floe~! (Julian, if I felt any better, I'd be flying to the moon! Just stop worrying and let's go find so real food. The stuff at the lab tasted like cardboard!)"
Julian let out a long, shaky breath. "Fine. No more science talk today. We're going back, we're cooking, and we're going to pretend the last twenty-four hours were just a bad dream."
He tucked Floette into the hood of his sweatshirt and scooped Growlithe up into his arms, ignoring the looks from the other trainers in the Pokémon Center. He didn't care. His team was whole again.
Back in Sandgem Town, the atmosphere in Professor Rowan's lab was a bit more clinical, but no less intense. Rowan was staring at the final sequence of Growlithe's muscle-density scans, a cup of lukewarm coffee forgotten in his hand.
"Absolutely fascinating," Rowan muttered to the empty room.
He pulled up a side-by-side comparison of Growlithe's energy signatures from six months ago versus the ones taken this morning. There was a faint, almost invisible pulse in the dog's core—a rhythmic heat that didn't match standard Fire-type biology. It was sothing deeper. Sothing tactical.
"Does Julian even realize what he's doing?" Rowan wondered aloud. "He's not just training them for power; he's subconsciously teaching them to bypass their own biological limits. If this Growlithe learns to ignite that internal spark without a Fire Stone... the Officer Jenny families are going to have a lot of questions about his 'cultivation' thods."
He glanced at the empty transfer tray where Floette had been monts ago. "And that little flower... housing the power of a god just to keep her stomach full. It's absurd. It's dangerous. And yet, in Julian's hands, it just looks like a hungry Pokémon."
He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. "I didn't tell him everything. Better he finds out on his own. At the rate he's going, he'll be the one writing the papers I'm reading next year."
"Dinner is officially served! And no, I didn't swap the salt for anything this ti!"
The hotel suite was filled with the heavy, intoxicating scent of seared at and sweet cream. Julian erged from the kitchen, his face flushed from the heat of the stove, carrying a tray that looked heavy enough to break a table.
"Lealeon! (Out of the way! The Queen is hungry!)" Floette didn't even wait for a plate. She used a flash of her psychic power to lift a slice of fruitcake right off the tray before Julian could even set it down.
"Hey! Manners!" Julian laughed, shaking his head as he watched her hover near the ceiling, happily stuffing her face.
Growlithe was already in his 'throne'—the high chair near the corner—tail thumping against the wood like a drum. "Woof! (at! Give the charred bits!)"
Julian slid a massive plate of slow-roasted steak in front of the dog. "Easy, big guy. There's enough for three of you. I made sure to use the extra-spicy rub you like."
The rest of the team gathered around, the tension of the previous night completely evaporated. Togetic was face-deep in a bowl of pudding, his wings fluttering with every bite. "Jia-gei! (Oh man, this is the good stuff! Julian's back in the zone!)"
Sylveon nibbled on her cake, her sky-blue eyes watching Julian closely. "Sly... (He's smiling for real now. See? I told you he just needed them back.)"
"Mishi-mishi! (Carbink is very satisfied!)" The little rock-type was practically vibrating with joy, crumbs sticking to its crystalline 'beard.'
Julian sat down at the head of the table, finally taking a bite of his own food. The warmth of the room, the sound of his partners eating, and the sheer relief of the day were starting to settle over him.
"So, Floette," Julian said, pausing to wipe a bit of sauce from his lip. "The Professor thinks your 'black hole' stomach is actually a side effect of the Palkia energy. Your body is burning calories just to keep that spatial power stable. I'm going to start working on so 'High-Octane' Pokéblocks tomorrow. Less chewing, more energy."
Floette made a muffled, happy sound that was mostly sugar and cream.
"I'll take that as an 'about ti,'" Julian joked. He looked around at his five Pokémon—his family. "Tomorrow we start prep for the seventh badge. We've got a long road to the League, and after seeing what you guys did in Snowpoint... I think we're actually going to do it. We're going to—"
Julian's sentence cut off abruptly.
His fork clattered against the ceramic plate. His vision, which had been perfectly clear a second ago, suddenly swam in a dizzying blur of colors. He felt a cold, numbing sensation wash over his limbs, as if the Snowpoint blizzard had finally caught up to his heart.
Thud.
Julian slid sideways off his chair, hitting the carpeted floor with a heavy, limp sound. His face was pale, his breathing shallow and ragged.
"Floe?!"
"Sly?!"
"Woof?!"
"Jia-gei?!"
"Mishi?!"
The silence of the room was shattered by five panicked cries. Floette dropped her cake, Growlithe leapt from his chair, and the entire team sward around their fallen trainer. The 'peaceful ti' was over. The toll of the last few days—the cold, the stress, the injury, and the sheer ntal exhaustion—had finally broken the man who thought he could carry it all.
Julian lay still, a faint, feverish sweat breaking out on his forehead, while his Pokémon desperately tried to wake the only person who knew how to fix everything.
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