"Pika Pi!"
Pikachu's eyes sparkled—literally and emotionally—as he felt the raw power now crackling through his little body. He flexed a paw dramatically like he was in a superhero movie, then slowly turned his head toward David with an expression that practically screamed: So… got any more of those bad boys?
It was like all his earlier complaints had never happened. The sulking, the "I'm not eating weird glowing crystals," the dramatic sighing—gone. All forgotten. Pikachu was now one hundred percent addicted to the good stuff.
David, of course, noticed the look right away. Pikachu wasn't even trying to be subtle. His ears perked up, tail twitching, and eyes glued to David like a kid staring at a vending machine.
David held up both hands and gave him a helpless shrug.
"Hey, don't look at me like that. I want another one too!"
He reached into his pockets for dramatic effect—empty. Then patted himself down—still empty. Then stared at the table like maybe a secret stash would magically appear. Nothing.
He looked back at Pikachu and sighed.
"Those super-charged crystal snack things aren't exactly lying around like candy, alright?"
Pikachu narrowed his eyes. David could already see the betrayal forming.
"Seriously! I'm telling you the truth! That thing was a top-tier secret treasure! Do you know how rare those are? Drawing another one feels like it'd cost me ten years of my life—or my kidneys!"
Pikachu stared for a moment, then slowly turned his head away in disappointment, like a tiny yellow mafia boss who just realized his supplier was out of product.
David scratched his head, still staring at Pikachu like he couldn't believe what just happened.
"Unbelievable. Thirty minutes ago you were whining about not wanting to eat it. Now look at you. Addicted to the power. Pokémon or not, no one escapes the Law of Snacks."
And to be fair, Pikachu's transformation was downright terrifying—in the good kind of way.
From level 11 to level 38 in one go?! That kind of jump was the stuff of legends. Most trainers would be lucky to gain a few levels after grinding in the wild for hours. Meanwhile, his Pikachu just scarfed down one lightning-flavored Tic Tac and nearly evolved into Zeus.
David sat back, still reeling from what just happened.
"No wonder they call it a top-tier treasure," he muttered. "That Electric Seed wasn't just powerful—it was cracked."
Of course, part of the miracle was also due to Pikachu's low starting level. Leveling up from 11 didn't take much effort—kind of like pushing a shopping cart downhill. But now that he'd hit 38? The curve was about to get real steep.
David thought for a second.
If Pikachu had eaten that at level 40 instead? It might've only bumped him to, like, 41. Not nearly as dramatic. But right now?
Level 38. High-level Professional Tier.
David let that number sink in. He blinked a few times, then let out a low whistle.
"Man... some people don't even get their starter that far after four years of university. And here we are—casually skipping all the homework."
And that's when it hit him.
If he could just train two more Pokémon to the same professional level, he could apply for official certification. That's right—he could finally stop being just some random rookie trainer with a sarcastic Pikachu and actually become a certified, card-carrying Professional Trainer in the Pokémon League.
That meant benefits.
That meant perks.
That meant a monthly salary from the Alliance! Discounts at facilities! Access to advanced battle fields!
David's eyes lit up like he'd just seen a Black Friday sale on Ultra Balls.
Just as Pikachu was still buzzing like an overcharged toaster, Ralts popped into the scene with a gentle poof, using Teleport like it was her personal Uber. She floated over and landed softly next to Pikachu, eyes wide with curiosity—and a tiny pinch of envy.
She looked him up and down.
Pikachu's fur was practically glowing, sparks danced around his cheeks like he'd just walked out of an action movie, and there was a new air of smugness radiating off him.
Ralts squinted suspiciously.
What… exactly… had he eaten?
It had clearly worked miracles. In less than a minute, Pikachu went from "adorable sidekick" to "tiny thunder god." Ralts tilted her head, looked over at David, and then made her move.
"Lalu! Lalu!" she chirped, bouncing slightly and pointing to her mouth like a kid at a candy store. She even mimed chewing for extra effect.
David stared at her blankly.
She added a few bonus gestures—pointing at Pikachu, doing a dramatic pretend chew again, then turning her hands up like, Where's mine?
And then came the real attack.
Charm Mode: Activated.
She walked right up to David with those big, watery anime eyes and started rubbing her head gently against his hand, like some sort of magical cat trying to seduce her owner into giving her a treat. She even threw in a few sparkles, probably on purpose.
David, watching this tiny psychic fairy butter him up, felt a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Wow," he muttered. "Jealousy turns you into a con artist, huh?"
He looked down at her with a sigh, both amused and helpless. She was trying so hard to be cute, and honestly? It was working.
He crouched down and patted her gently on the head.
"Ralts, listen… I don't have any more of those electric seed things. They're rarer than a Snorlax on a treadmill."
Ralts gave him the sad eyes. Full power. Guilt-beam, level 100.
David tried not to crack.
"If I draw another one that works for you, I swear I'll give it to you! But you've gotta behave, okay? That means no exploding the kitchen, no psychic meltdowns over toast, and—"
He glanced over at the disaster zone that used to be his kitchen. The aftermath of Ralts' last "helpful cooking session" looked like a tornado had made a pit stop. Pots were upside down, a pan was lodged in the ceiling, and for some reason the microwave was full of uncooked spaghetti.
David cleared his throat.
"Actually… forget the dishes. Just… maybe stick to cooking. And maybe supervised cooking."
He gave her a hopeful smile.
"Deal?"
Ralts tilted her head again, then beamed, clearly satisfied with this compromise. She had no idea what an Electric Seed was, but if it turned you into Pikachu 2.0, then she wanted ten.
David sighed again, still looking at the kitchen in horror.
"Why did I even think letting a psychic baby near a stovetop was a good idea…"
***
Pikachu, upon hearing David's little motivational speech to Ralts, immediately puffed out his chest like he was the CEO of electricity. His cheeks sparked slightly—probably out of ego more than voltage.
"Pi-ka!"
Look at me, he seemed to say. The hardworking, thunder-pumping MVP.
He'd completely forgotten that the only reason he got that shiny Electric Seed was because David put his bill—plus interest—on Pikachu's tab, right next to the insane cost of the Ultimate Light Ball. Pikachu owed more money than most people's student loans.
But right now? Nah. In Pikachu's head, this was a reward for excellence in spark-making.
Meanwhile, Ralts stood quietly to the side, looking at her shoes like they were suddenly the most fascinating things in the world. She gently fidgeted with the hem of her little dress, eyes downcast.
After all, Pikachu had been here first. It was fair he got the power-up first… right?
Still, the tiny twitch in her brow said she was already plotting to win the next prize. Cook better. Charm harder. Accidentally burn less stuff. Maybe.
David noticed the change in her demeanor and said nothing. On the outside, he wore a thoughtful, teacher-like expression.
On the inside?
Victory.
If he played this right, he could have both Pikachu and Ralts doing all the chores while he laid back like a beach chair. This was it. Peak trainer strategy.
His eyes drifted back to the table—and the one thing that didn't fit the plan.
The Enhancement Pill.
A.k.a. the Absolute Unit of Supplements.
David stared at the pill like it had just insulted his entire bloodline. It was enormous. Bigger than his own head. It didn't look like a supplement, it looked like a medieval cannonball with dreams of being swallowed.
He side-eyed Pikachu, suddenly feeling a strange kinship with the mouse.
"So this is how you felt staring down the Light Ball, huh?"
He sighed dramatically.
Because let's be honest—he wasn't Pikachu. No way was he popping this monstrosity into his mouth like a vitamin gummy.
And more importantly, unlike Pikachu, he didn't have a trainer standing behind him, ready to force-feed him like some deranged health coach.
David looked back at the pill. Then at Pikachu. Then back again.
Pikachu narrowed his eyes, cheeks sparking in judgment.
"Pi-ka...!"
Translation: I may be a Pokémon, but you… you're the real beast here.
David shrugged, pointing at the pill helplessly.
"Look, unless you plan on mashing that thing up and sneaking it into applesauce, it's not happening."
David stared at the massive Enhancement Pill like it had personally wronged him in a past life.
"Alright, you oversized jawbreaker," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves. "Time to bring you down to chewable size."
He marched into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest knife he had—something between a cleaver and a machete—and went to work like he was about to film an infomercial titled "Chop Your Way to Fitness."
THWACK!
With some effort, he managed to slice the pill into four… moderately terrifying chunks. Sure, each one was still about the size of a tennis ball, but hey—it was technically bite-sized now.
"Perfect," David lied to himself confidently. "Totally manageable. Probably."
Sure, cutting it might've shaved off a little of its mysterious medicine-y power, but as long as he didn't immediately die, it should be fine.
He picked up one of the chunks, gave it a suspicious sniff, and—just as he was about to toss it in his mouth—
chills.
You know that creeping sensation when you just know someone's watching you?
David slowly turned his head and—yep.
There was Pikachu.
Standing on the table.
Arms crossed.
Eyes glowing with judgment.
Staring into his soul.
David froze, guilty as sin.
"Uhh… hey, buddy," he said with a nervous smile. "I, uh… didn't want to cut your Light Ball in half earlier because I thought it might mess up the effect, you know? Totally wasn't trying to be mean."
Pikachu's glare did not soften. At all.
"Pika… chu."
Translation: Oh. Really?
Without another word, Pikachu grabbed one of the remaining horse-pill-sized chunks, leapt up, and shoved it into David's open mouth like a wrestler force-feeding his opponent a protein shake.
"MMPH—?!"
David tried to protest, but it was too late. Pikachu was relentless.
"One for each excuse," Pikachu's face seemed to say, as he forcefully helped David finish all four pieces like he was playing some twisted game of Eat or Be Zapped.
David gagged down the last chunk, looking like a man who just ate a brick.
"Urghh… I think I saw the afterlife for a second…"
He slumped into a chair, completely defeated. Pikachu hopped down beside him, casually crackling with static like a smug electric warlord.
There was no fighting back. Pikachu had evolved not just in strength—but in sass.
And David? He'd created his own monster.
Note to self: Stop giving Pikachu performance-enhancing drugs.
He glanced at the smug yellow rat now stretched out on the sofa like a little emperor. Pikachu had even thrown one stubby leg over the other and was flipping channels like he paid rent.
"Man of the house? That's me now," Pikachu's expression said proudly.
David could only watch in silence as his authority slowly crumbled under the weight of one very empowered mouse.
Pikachu: (^_^) ［Happy jpg］