David looked over at the hamster wheel contraption where Pikachu lay sprawled out like it had just run a marathon...on a treadmill...while carrying groceries. Its little yellow fur was matted with sweat, its cheeks looked deflated, and its eyes stared up at the ceiling as if contemplating its life choices.
"Wow," David chuckled, scratching his head. "You look like you just fought a Machamp with one paw tied behind your back." He leaned over the hamster wheel, watching Pikachu's chest rise and fall like it had just climbed Mount Silver.
"Pikachu, thank you!" David said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He even managed to muster up a look of genuine concern. "Training should be... you know, moderate. If you get hurt, what am I gonna do?"
Pikachu's eyes softened for a moment. It blinked up at David, its little heart swelling with emotion. Maybe… maybe he actually cares… Pikachu thought, its eyes shimmering like it was in the final scene of a sappy movie.
David's expression remained gentle. "Yeah," he continued, patting Pikachu on the head. "If you really hurt yourself... the medical bills are way more expensive than the electricity savings!"
The room went silent. Pikachu's shimmering eyes went dull faster than a light bulb in a blackout.
"Pika... (Are you serious right now?)"
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
The little electric mouse glared at David like he'd just insulted its entire evolutionary line. If eyes could shoot Thunderbolt, David would have been fried toast on the spot.
David, feeling the temperature drop by about twenty degrees, took a step back. He suddenly felt like he was being stared down by a Raichu with unresolved issues. Pikachu's eyes narrowed, unblinking, filled with a simmering rage that only a tired, exploited hamster wheel runner could understand.
David swallowed hard, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Uh... Pikachu? Buddy?" He waved nervously, his hand halfway in the air like he was about to surrender. "You... you wouldn't shock me... right?" He forced a laugh, but it came out sounding more like a desperate wheeze.
Pikachu's glare intensified. It didn't move. It didn't blink. David's mind began to wander, images flashing before his eyes—Ash getting electrocuted in every possible scenario: while eating, while sleeping, while sneezing. It didn't matter what Ash was doing; Pikachu had zapped him for it.
David's hands went clammy. "I mean, look," he stammered, "I was only joking! You know me, just a little...uh...humor to lighten the mood!" He slowly started backing away from the hamster wheel, eyes still locked on Pikachu like he was tiptoeing away from a Growlithe with a grudge.
Pikachu continued to stare, eyes gleaming with unspoken threats. David's nervous grin widened as he backed up into the kitchen. "W-well, uh, I guess I should get you out of there, huh?" His hand hovered over the latch, but the thought of Pikachu's static discharge made him freeze in place.
David hesitated, beads of sweat now fully forming on his forehead. "Okay... okay, safety first," he muttered to himself, darting into the kitchen like a man on a mission. He flung open a drawer, tossing out spatulas and ladles until he found what he was looking for—his old, clunky pair of rubber gloves.
"And just for good measure..." he said, rummaging deeper until he pulled out another pair of wool mittens. He slid those on over the rubber gloves, nodding in satisfaction. His hands now looked like they belonged to a snowman doing electrical work.
David held his hands up, admiring his own ingenuity. "All right! Pikachu shouldn't be able to zap me now!" He pumped his padded fists triumphantly. "I'm basically shockproof!"
He paused, looking at his reflection in the glass of the oven door. He looked like he was about to unclog a drain during a blizzard. "I bet even Ash didn't think of this," he grinned, feeling unusually proud of himself. "Then again, Ash also thinks that leaving home at ten to fight dragons is a normal childhood."
He took a deep breath and marched back towards Pikachu, who hadn't moved from its spot in the hamster wheel. It just sat there, watching him with those same narrowed eyes, as if waiting for him to make the first mistake.
David stopped just short of the cage and gave Pikachu a nervous grin. "Okay, buddy... I'm gonna let you out now. No shocking, alright? We're friends. Pals. Best buds." He forced another laugh.
Pikachu didn't blink.
David hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Right... here we go..."
He reached out, mitten-covered hands trembling slightly as he moved to unlatch the door. Pikachu's eyes followed his hands the whole way. David's heart pounded in his chest. He was pretty sure he could hear boss battle music playing in his head.
David strolled over to the hamster wheel, hands still wrapped up like he was about to juggle live wires, and scooped Pikachu out with all the grace of a bomb disposal technician. His face held that signature grin of his—the kind that made Pikachu instinctively feel like something sketchy was about to go down.
"Hey, Pikachu! Thanks for all your hard work today!" David beamed, flashing what he assumed was a charming, heartfelt smile. To anyone else, it looked like the grin of a used car salesman offering you a 'great deal.'
"Pika?" Pikachu squinted suspiciously, eyeing David's smile like it had just seen a Magikarp claim it could fly. Something was off—David's grin was practically dripping with cheapness. Pikachu's cheeks sparked slightly, the familiar crackle of electricity snapping in the air. Its eyes narrowed with the precision of a sharpshooter.
David's grin didn't falter. In fact, it seemed to widen. "What? What's with that look?" he chuckled nervously, his hands still covered in enough layers to survive a thunderstorm. Pikachu's cheeks continued to spark, little zaps of static jumping between its fur. "Hey now," David added, raising one insulated mitt like he was surrendering, "let's not do anything rash, alright? I got gloves on this time!"
Pikachu, however, had its own thoughts. It didn't want to knock David out cold, no... just a little jolt. A quick reminder of who's boss. It gathered what little electricity it had left, cheeks buzzing with faint sparks. It wasn't Thunder... more like Thunder Lite. Enough to get the point across, not enough to send David to the emergency room.
"Pika...CHU!"
The tiny jolt zapped right through David's gloves... or at least it tried to. David blinked, looking around. "Was that it?" He raised one hand, clapping it against the other. "Hey, I didn't feel a thing! These gloves are top-notch!" He patted Pikachu's head smugly. "Looks like I finally outsmarted you, huh?"
Pikachu blinked twice, stunned—both literally and emotionally. That was it? All that buildup for nothing? It looked down at its cheeks in disbelief. Had it really run out of juice? It tried again, cheeks sparking weakly, sending out little crackles like the world's saddest bug zapper.
Nothing.
David burst out laughing, practically doubling over. "Oh man! That's rich!" he wheezed, slapping his knee. "All that dramatic buildup and—poof!—nothing! I didn't feel so much as a tickle! Oh, Pikachu, I gotta hand it to you. You really know how to give a guy false hope."
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
Pikachu's eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits. If looks could discharge, David would be a smoldering pile of ash right now. Unfortunately, Pikachu was out of juice, and all it managed was a pathetic little spark that made more noise than actual damage.
David, still chuckling, leaned in closer, poking Pikachu's cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Hey, is it just me, or are you looking kinda pale? What happened to all that fight from before? You look like you just saw a Ghost-type." He squinted, mockingly inspecting Pikachu's fur. "Did your fur always look this... fried?"
Pikachu stared blankly, cheeks puffing in and out with tiny crackles of static. It was exhausted, overworked, and now completely humiliated. David's face beamed with innocence—an innocence so forced Pikachu could practically smell the sarcasm.
"Pika…" Pikachu wheezed, eyes drooping. It could feel the last bits of energy fizzling out, sparks fading like the last moments of a dying firework. Its vision blurred slightly, David's smug grin morphing into a wavy blur.
"Uh... Pikachu?" David leaned in, tapping it gently on the head. "Hey, you good? What's with the whole... collapsing thing?" He squinted, faking concern but clearly still riding high off his victorious moment of shockproof glory.
Pikachu blinked slowly, its little eyes fluttering shut as if it had just tried to marathon sprint up a mountain. Its legs wobbled, and then... thud. Pikachu collapsed right in David's hands, little legs sprawled out, tongue slightly poking from its mouth.
David's eyes widened. "Uh... hey! Pikachu? You alive?" He shook the little electric mouse gently. Pikachu's only response was a faint wheeze and a bit of static that fizzled out almost instantly.
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
David glanced nervously at his hands, still padded with rubber gloves. He sighed with relief. "Well, at least I didn't get shocked... but... I might've overdone it this time." He poked Pikachu's cheek again—nothing. "Uh... I guess I should find you some apples or something... and maybe... not make you run in a giant hamster wheel for hours on end next time?"
Pikachu lay there, motionless but alive, as if it had just completed the world's most demanding marathon for a few slices of apple.
David scratched his head awkwardly. "Eh... maybe next time, I should make it a treadmill with a slower setting." He paused, looking at Pikachu's tiny, fried body. "Or, you know... maybe I just get a lamp like a normal person."
***
When Pikachu finally came to senses, everything felt...lighter. Like someone had swapped out his batteries for fresh ones. His little electric sacs weren't throbbing, and his muscles felt less like jelly. Blinking a few times, he realized he was sprawled across David's lap, getting what could only be described as the world's most unlicensed massage.
"Hey, Pikachu! You're awake!" David exclaimed, looking down with a grin that Pikachu couldn't decide was genuine or just relief that he didn't have to explain fried Pokémon to a vet.
David actually looked...concerned? He let out a huge sigh of relief, like he'd just avoided failing an exam he didn't study for. Pikachu couldn't help but blink up at him, stunned by the rare display of actual compassion.
If it weren't for David's "reminder system" popping up in his head and blaring Pikachu's just exhausted, not dead, you idiot, David was apparently ready to sprint to the Pokémon Hospital like a madman. Pikachu almost felt bad for worrying him. Almost.
"Pika...chu?" Pikachu squeaked, eyes wide with surprise.
"Aww, you're feeling better, huh?" David chuckled, his hands still working Pikachu's electric sacs with surprising gentleness. His thumbs pressed in little circles, and Pikachu's whole body went limp like a Purrloin in a sunbeam.
All the tension from that marathon hamster wheel session melted away, and Pikachu just sort of...oozed further into David's lap.
David continued his work, his fingers working like he actually knew what he was doing. "You really went all out today, huh? Little guy like you, powering the whole house. You're basically my own little power station."
He snorted, clearly impressed with himself. Pikachu ignored the shameless comment—he was too busy trying not to fall asleep from sheer relaxation.
"How's that feel, buddy? Good?" David asked, his voice almost sincere.
"Pi...ka..." Pikachu replied, eyes half-lidded with bliss. For a moment, Pikachu completely forgot who had put him through that hamster wheel boot camp in the first place. He just sank into David's lap, enjoying the surprising warmth and comfort of the massage. It was almost...nice.
Almost.
Pikachu's electric sacs felt so much better; it was like someone had finally turned off the static. When he thought about it, David did seem to know where the knots were. Pikachu just let out a soft "Pikaaaa..." and closed his eyes, forgetting, just for a second, that his trainer was a cheap, electricity-hoarding menace.
This went on for a good half hour, Pikachu in absolute bliss, practically melting with each knead and press. Pikachu didn't want it to end. But of course, good things never last. David abruptly pulled his hands back, stretching his arms out like he'd just finished building a house. Pikachu's eyes snapped open in disbelief.
"Alright, that's enough. Half an hour is plenty," David announced, shaking out his hands like he'd just carried ten shopping bags up a hill.
Pikachu blinked, mouth agape. Plenty? His cheeks sparked with indignation. He had been in the zone! He had practically achieved enlightenment! And now David was cutting him off?
David clearly didn't notice Pikachu's outrage, because he just shrugged and added, "Too much massaging isn't good for you, anyway. I read that somewhere...probably." He wandered off toward the kitchen, leaving Pikachu sitting there, still stunned.
"Alright, let's get you fed," David called from the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge door and pulled out an apple that looked like it had seen better days...or maybe it had just been neglected for weeks in the principal's garden before David swiped it. He grabbed a knife and started cutting it up with all the grace of a toddler learning to use scissors.
As he chopped away, he couldn't help but grumble, "Man, my hands are killing me! I swear, that was the longest half-hour of my life. My fingers are sore! I'm not even sure if the electricity you generated is worth that massage fee."
Pikachu's ears perked up immediately. Did this guy just say...massage fee? Pikachu's eyes flared with electricity, but his sacs just sputtered weakly, running on fumes.
"Pikapi!" Pikachu squeaked angrily, waving his tiny arms in protest. David didn't even turn around. He just kept cutting up the apple, muttering to himself about "labor costs" and "ungrateful little fuzzballs."
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
[You've received +10 Negative Emotion Points from Pikachu...]
Pikachu sat there fuming, cheeks puffed up like he was storing electric rage for winter. He couldn't believe it. Three hours of grueling wheel-spinning for David's entire electrical bill, and the guy had the nerve to complain about his hands being sore?
Pikachu folded his tiny arms, glaring daggers at David's back as he continued butchering that apple. His cheeks sparked pathetically, sending off tiny zaps that couldn't have powered a light bulb. But the thought was there. Oh, it was definitelythere.
David turned around with a plate of apple slices, beaming like he'd just done the most generous act in history. "Here you go, buddy! A well-earned snack!"
Pikachu stared blankly at the plate. Half an apple. Not even peeled. David practically glowed with pride.
Pikachu just sighed, took a slice, and started chewing miserably. If he was going to be exploited, at least the food could've been better.
Pikachu can be sure now , "This master has a bit of conscience, but definitely not much!"