Pikachu flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, one paw draped over his forehead like he was in a soap opera. He watched David waddle off to the kitchen, humming some terribly off-key version of Eye of the Tiger, and Pikachu's little heart swelled with pure, unfiltered Grudge.
If David wasn't going to massage him, then fine. Pikachu would handle it himself. He was an independent Pokémon—he didn't need some cheap trainer with suspiciously weak hands.
"Pi...ka," Pikachu muttered to himself, rolling up his imaginary sleeves. He held up his tiny paws and looked at them like he was about to perform surgery. With an exaggerated huff, Pikachu started rubbing his own cheeks, pressing on his electric sacs with the grace of a toddler playing with Play-Doh.
"Pi...ka...chu," he groaned dramatically, shutting his eyes tight. He even whispered to himself, "It's not me...it's David massaging me...yeah, that's it...David's actually doing this...so professional...so thorough..."
Pikachu continued this self-massage for a good five minutes, humming softly as if that would make it feel more realistic. But eventually, he cracked one eye open and peeked at his paws. His fluffy little mitts were already sore, and frankly, his cheeks didn't feel much better. If anything, he'd just tickled himself into frustration.
He sighed, paws dropping to his sides. Ugh. It's not even close, he thought, his little ears drooping so low they nearly brushed the floor. He had to admit it—David's hands, as much as Pikachu hated to give him credit, actually did the job right. It was annoyingly effective, and Pikachu hated that he missed it.
Before Pikachu could spiral into further self-pity, the familiar sound of David's footsteps came trudging back into the living room. Pikachu's ears perked up instantly. He sat upright, eyes wide with hope. David emerged, grinning like he'd just won a cooking show, holding a plate piled high with apple slices drenched in ketchup. The presentation was...questionable. David seemed very proud of it anyway.
"Pikachu! Dinner's served!" David announced, setting the plate down with a flourish like he'd just delivered a gourmet meal. Pikachu blinked twice, mouth already watering.
"Pika!" Pikachu chirped, his earlier gloom melting away in an instant. Like a spring-loaded toy, he bounced off the couch, scuttling over to the table with all the grace of someone who just remembered they hadn't eaten all day. His tiny paws grabbed an apple slice—thickly coated in ketchup, because of course, David didn't know the meaning of moderation—and he nibbled it with careful, almost ceremonial delight.
David leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, watching Pikachu munch with a grin. "Man, I didn't realize you were that easy to cheer up," David laughed. "What, a bit of ketchup and some apple slices and you forget all about your little tantrum, huh?"
Pikachu paused mid-chew, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Pi...ka," he grumbled through a mouthful of apple, dipping it back into the ketchup like he was reloading ammunition. He wasn't about to let David ruin his moment.
David chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess I know your weak spot now. If you're ever mad, just bribe you with a snack and maybe a five-minute massage. You're like...the cheapest employee I've ever had," David said with a grin.
Pikachu's ears twitched, but he ignored him, too busy gnawing on his apple slices. A bit of ketchup smeared on his cheek, and he absentmindedly wiped it off with his paw, only to smear it even more. David snorted, watching Pikachu practically dive into the plate. "Y'know, sometimes I forget how easy you are to manage. Bit of food, some pats on the head, and you're back to running on that hamster wheel like it's the Olympics."
Pikachu paused mid-bite, his cheeks puffing out as he glared daggers at David. David, of course, ignored the death glare entirely, plopping down on the sofa with a satisfied grin.
"Still," David continued, stretching his legs out, "you're getting stronger, I can tell. One day, you're gonna be powering the whole house, maybe the whole block! Heck, I might even open up a little power station. 'David and Pikachu's Electric Emporium!' I can see it now—me, sitting back, collecting money...you, running on the wheel. It's perfect!"
Pikachu swallowed his bite and stared at David like he'd just heard the most diabolical plan in history. His ears twitched, and his eyes practically sparked. David must have sensed the shift in mood because he quickly added, "Of course, I'd...uh...get you extra ketchup. And maybe some bananas? You like bananas, right?"
Pikachu's glare softened, just a little. The thought of unlimited ketchup and maybe even bananas wasn't bad...but still, running a power station? The hamster wheel flashed in his mind, and his paws instinctively clenched. We'll see about that, Pikachu thought, popping another ketchup-drenched apple into his mouth.
David just sat back with his hands behind his head, oblivious to the tiny storm brewing in Pikachu's eyes.
David leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on the system panel like he'd just hit the jackpot. Two thousand negative emotion points—all courtesy of one very salty Pikachu. He grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. If he could, he would've grabbed Pikachu right then and there and smothered him with kisses. "My little grumpy golden battery," David chuckled to himself. "You're my personal ATM!"
Meanwhile, Pikachu sat across the room, happily munching on an apple slice dipped in ketchup. Life was good—or so he thought. Mid-bite, a sudden chill crept up his spine, making his ears twitch. He paused, ketchup dripping from his chin, and glanced over at David. The grin plastered on David's face wasn't just big—it was borderline villainous. Pikachu squinted. Why does he look like he just got away with robbing a bank?
"Pika?" Pikachu murmured, his little nose twitching with suspicion. David's smile didn't falter; in fact, it grew wider, more unsettling. Pikachu's fur stood on end. It was that same instinct that told him to run when a Thunderbolt was coming his way—or when David was about to try cooking. Without a second thought, Pikachu dropped the half-eaten apple like it was cursed and bolted.
David blinked. "Wait, what? Hey!"
But Pikachu wasn't listening. He zipped across the room in a yellow blur, scurried up the side of the bedframe like it was nothing, and dove headfirst into the soft, warm folds of David's bed. He wriggled his way under the covers, only his lightning-bolt tail poking out, twitching slightly.
David's eyes went wide. "Hey! Pikachu! Not the bed! Don't you dare rub ketchup all over my quilt!" He rushed over, grabbing at the edges of the blanket, but Pikachu had already cocooned himself like a burrito.
David groaned, yanking at the covers. "You little furball! That's Egyptian cotton, not your personal napkin!"
From within the folds of the quilt, Pikachu let out a muffled "Pika-pi!" that sounded way too smug for David's liking.
David sighed, slumping back in defeat. He looked at the ketchup stain now smeared across his once-pristine blanket and shook his head. "I'm gonna start charging you rent," he muttered.
Pikachu only snuggled deeper, perfectly content
***
The first rays of sunlight peeked through the dusty blinds of David's cluttered room. Pikachu was still curled up in a ball on the bed, snoring softly with one paw clutching the corner of the blanket like it was made of gold. His little yellow ears twitched occasionally, probably dreaming of ketchup waterfalls and apple orchards.
That peaceful scene lasted precisely three more seconds before David, with all the grace of a hyperactive toddler, yanked the covers off Pikachu like he was performing an exorcism. "Wake up, sleepyhead! Come on, come on! We've got things to do!"
Pikachu flailed for a moment, paws flapping in the air as he struggled to regain his sense of reality. "Pika…chu?" he murmured, his eyes barely open, squinting up at David as if he'd just been dragged from the depths of the best nap of his life.
David flashed him an enthusiastic grin. "I'm buying you food today!"
Pikachu blinked. Then blinked again. He rubbed his eyes, squinting like David had just promised him the moon. "Pika?" he squeaked in disbelief.
David chuckled, already rummaging through piles of questionable laundry for something moderately clean to wear. "Yeah, yeah, I know you love apples and ketchup, but I've been thinking," he said, pulling a sock from under the bed and sniffing it. He immediately threw it back. "You can't just live off that stuff forever, buddy. You need, like… actual Pokémon food. Vitamins. Minerals. Stuff that doesn't grow from a tree and squirt out of a bottle."
Pikachu tilted his head, processing this information with all the speed of a Windows 98 PC. Actual Pokémon food? He scratched his head. He liked apples. He loved ketchup. Why mess with perfection?
David watched Pikachu's confused expression and gave him a pat on the head. "Come on, don't give me that look. You can't be out here living like a stray with better fashion sense. You need proper nutrition, or you'll end up like those wild Pikachus with that scraggly fur and no sense of hygiene. And look, I'm not exactly a model citizen, but even I'm not gonna let my own electric generator—I mean, my partner—go malnourished."
Pikachu squinted suspiciously, tiny sparks crackling from his cheeks. "Pika...?"
David waved his hands quickly. "Okay, okay! Relax! I'm joking... mostly." He coughed awkwardly, brushing off Pikachu's glare.
Pikachu hopped off the bed, still half-asleep but slowly getting into the spirit. David quickly splashed some water on his face, threw on a jacket that only had one mustard stain, and grabbed his keys. "Alright, let's roll!"
He bent down and picked up Pikachu, who gave him a curious look. David held up a Poké Ball, the cheap plastic sheen reflecting the morning light. "You wanna... y'know, get in here for the ride?"
Pikachu's eyes darted to the Poké Ball, then back to David. He crossed his tiny arms defiantly and shook his head. "Pika!"
David raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You'd rather walk?"
Pikachu didn't respond. Instead, he sprang up with a surprising amount of energy for someone who had just been dead to the world moments ago and landed squarely on David's shoulder. He wriggled around a bit, testing his perch, then curled his tail neatly around David's neck like he owned the place.
David froze, eyes wide. "Uh… okay. I guess that works. You wanna get me a hat while you're up there, Ash?"
Pikachu ignored him, settling in comfortably. If he was going to be carried around like royalty, he wasn't about to complain.
David sighed and trudged out the door, Pikachu clinging on like a yellow backpack with anger issues. The streets were busier than usual—it was the weekend, after all. Crowds of people milled about, couples strolling hand in hand, kids chasing each other around with plastic Poké Balls. David navigated through the crowd like an uncoordinated Machoke, muttering apologies as Pikachu held on for dear life.
They finally turned a corner and David paused in front of a rather rundown-looking Breeder shop squeezed between a laundromat and a sketchy pawn shop. The sign above was missing a few letters, so it read something like "P—d R—der Shop," but David didn't seem to mind.
Pikachu peered around David's head, staring at the dilapidated store with clear skepticism. "Pika...?"
David just patted Pikachu on the head. "I know it looks like it's held together with duct tape and hope, but it's got one thing going for it…" He reached into his pocket and fished out a crumpled wad of coupons, practically bursting at the seams. He waved them in front of Pikachu's face with a grin. "Discounts, baby! Buy one, get one free! We're gonna eat like kings... or, well, you are. I'm still stuck with instant noodles."
Pikachu stared at the coupons, then back at David. If he wasn't mistaken, this was the same guy who once stole apples off the principal's tree because, in his words, "It's basically community service."
David just chuckled and pushed open the door, a little bell jingling pathetically above their heads. "Welcome to paradise," he announced, stepping inside like he was about to buy the place.
Pikachu sighed, patting David's head like he was the one who needed comfort. If this was paradise, he'd hate to see David's idea of heaven.
Inside the Breeder's house, the middle-aged shopkeeper sat slumped at the cash register, his face twisted with worry. He sighed deeply, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the counter as if trying to summon customers with sheer desperation. "I sent out so many coupons...so many flyers...but where are the customers?" he muttered to himself, staring at the empty aisles as if they had personally betrayed him.
It turned out this place was a brand-new shop.
To celebrate its grand opening, the shopkeeper had launched a huge discount campaign—15% off everything, plus the student he hired gave away stacks of coupons like confetti at a parade. On paper, it sounded like the perfect plan to flood the store with eager trainers and their hungry Pokémon.
Reality, however, was less kind. The grand rush he imagined? Nowhere to be seen. Not even a slow trickle. Just silence, punctuated by his own sighs and the flicker of fluorescent lights. The gap between expectations and reality was about eighty thousand customers wide.
Just when the shopkeeper was ready to give up hope and start flipping the "Open" sign to "Closed," David strolled into the shop with Pikachu perched lazily on his shoulder.
The little bell above the door chimed, snapping the shopkeeper back to life. "Welcome! Look around, take your time!" the owner called out, his hands rubbing together eagerly like he'd just hit the jackpot. His eyes locked onto David's face, and for a moment, he squinted as if trying to place him. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
David froze for a split second, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He chuckled nervously, waving his hand dismissively. "Oh, I'm just here to take a look," he replied, turning his head sharply to avoid the shopkeeper's gaze.
"Pika?" Pikachu tilted its head, sensing the tension. It looked from David to the shopkeeper and back again, its tiny nose twitching as if sniffing out the awkwardness in the air.