Akira Hayashi's voice buzzed with urgency over the line—so much so that Geeta could practically hear the sweat forming on his brow.
He's finally feeling the money crunch, she mused with a small, knowing smile.
"I promise there's no need to panic," she said smoothly, reclining in her office chair, one leg crossed over the other.
"The Naranja Academy doesn't start spring term for another month."
Her voice carried that unshakable calm reserved for people who always had a plan. And for those who were the plan.
"You've got just enough time to finish setting up your little farm in the mountains, yes? One step closer to that rustic utopia you're always mumbling about."
She didn't wait for him to respond, because of course, she was already ten moves ahead.
"As for the Tera Orb, I recall the lighthouse lab Professors Sada and Turo set up down in South Province Area One. It's practically next door to Medali Town. I'll handle the commission fees and logistics. Just swing by in person. Something that rare shouldn't be trusted to a postal Pelipper, wouldn't you agree?"
[Host, I feel like this woman's got another agenda.]
The cheerful grin on Akira's face twitched. He mentally replied to the system with a dry snort.
"You think I'm dumb? I've seen more schemes than you've had hosts. I know Geeta's setting something up."
He paused.
"But fair's fair, this is a trap I'm gladly walking into!"
"Do you even understand the holy grail that is a stable teaching job at Naranja Academy?" he muttered aloud, pacing the floor of his half-built homestead.
"Two classes a week. Decent paycheck. No wild, feral Pokemons . No annoying sponsors. Just lesson plans and liberty."
He tossed an empty carton onto a growing pile and struck a heroic pose with a broom like it was a lance.
"This is every overworked trainer's dream, just short of abandoning civilization and becoming a full-time berry farmer."
...Which, to be fair, was his Plan B.
Akira had never actually taught before, unless of course you counted yelling "Dodge!" during gym battles, but if the job wiped out the threat of overdue utility bills, he wasn't going to question it.
Especially with Geeta footing the bill for a custom Tera Orb.
[Still… you're doing 007 hours here. Covert missions, chaotic professors, mystery artifacts.]
Akira paused, halfway through folding laundry.
"…"
"I… wow. You're not even wrong."
He shook his head and switched into what he jokingly called Responsible Adult Mode™, the version of himself that asked about start dates, salary packages, and whether the Academy offered health insurance for Pokémon trainers.
By the time the call ended, Akira was practically bouncing on his heels.
Score.Fifty thousand Poké Dollars a month as a starter salary.
Not Champion-tier, sure—but it was low-stress, stable income with weekends off. More than enough to keep the lights on, buy a few Poké Balls, and still have enough left over to feed his team something other than camp curry.
Thanks to the League's standardized pricing initiative, the essentials were manageable now.
And the land?
Akira glanced outside the window at his new property, nestled between a sparkling river, dense forest, and the wild mountain trails of Medali Town. It was a fixer-upper, sure, but two million Poké Dollars had bought him something peaceful.
Something his.
If he'd tried this stunt near Lumiose City, he wouldn't have even afforded a parking spot for Dragonite.
Back inside, he weighed the glimmering Tera Shard in his hand, its multifaceted light casting tiny rainbows across the table.
"Hey," he asked the system, "you got any kind of inventory feature? Spatial pocket? Item box?"
[Negative. Apologies.]
Was it possible for a digital interface to sound sheepish? Because somehow, it just had.
Akira sighed and scratched the back of his head. "No biggie. Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way…"
He rummaged through a dusty cardboard box and eventually pulled out a sturdy canvas shoulder bag, thick, durable, probably hand-stitched by the farmhouse's previous owner. Possibly decades ago. Possibly for war.
He slung the bag over his chest, tucked the Tera Shard safely inside, and exhaled.
"Alright. Step one complete. Now we hunt... groceries."
That Night ...
The stars hung low and glittering above the countryside, bathing the hills in silver. A warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and something else—something distinctly herbal and marinated.
Then came the chaos.
"SLOW DOWN, WILL YA?! OUR DINNER'S IN HERE!"
An orange blur screamed across the night sky, trailed by a panicked human voice and what looked suspiciously like a half-crushed tote bag flapping wildly.
Akira stumbled through the creaky front gate, dragging behind him a very overburdened Luxray who had become something of a living shopping cart.
"Luxx...ray."
It grunted with the weariness of a beast who had carried enough blankets, soap, and five-pound bags of rice to last a small apocalypse.
Hovering behind them, wobbling midair, was the unmistakable shape of a plump Dragonite. Its stubby arms flailed. Its whiskers curled in distress. Its face wore the exact expression of a guilty toddler who knew exactly which cookie jar it had knocked over.
Dragonite knew it might've gotten just a bit too excited today.
But come on! It hadn't gone on a grocery run in weeks, the skies were crisp and clear, and most importantly—there was a feast waiting at the end of this errand. With its stomach leading the charge and wings fluttering like overworked propellers, it might've accelerated just a teensy bit beyond safe flying speeds.
Akira pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Bwooo~!" it sounded depressed.
"I'm not mad you flew fast," he said, voice tight.
Dragonite tilted its head, confused.
"I'm mad because if we lost the garlic rub, Ceruledge is going to murder us in our sleep."
Dragonite blinked. Then, in a truly Olympic display of shamelessness, it opened its arms for a hug.
How had it changed so much? Back when it was just a hatchling Dratini, it had been clever and curious—almost annoyingly methodical about coiling its body around things just to "analyze structural integrity."
Now, it was a big soft bean with wings too small for its round belly and an affection quota that needed fulfilling every fifteen minutes.
Akira sighed and gave in. "You're lucky you're cute."
Dragonite let out a contented trill, nuzzling into his shoulder with a wobbling wiggle of joy.
"Alright," Akira said, patting its back. "Enough of the cute act. We've got work to do."
He still couldn't understand how that intelligent and elegant Dragonair evolved into this cute, goof ball.
Back on the porch, Ceruledge was already prepping the grill—tongs in hand, apron tied dramatically around its sturdy form like some culinary gladiator.
"Swoo."(Dinner is ready)Its voice rumbled like an impending feast.
Akira handed off the supplies and bedding to Luxray, skewers to Dragonite and gave them a nod.
"Get settled. We're heading to the lab tomorrow to meet Professors Sada and Turo."
"Lux-ray!"
"Bwooo~!"
With synchronized grace, the team trotted off, ready for their reward.
The smell of sizzling meat, dancing spices, and smoky charcoal filled the air. Glowing embers cast warm light across the porch. Fire-type or not, Ceruledge had standards, and tonight, it was pulling out all the stops.
Akira leaned back against the railing and let out a long, satisfied breath.
His feet were sore, his wallet lighter, but something inside him felt still and whole.
Out here in the wilds of Paldea, among the stars, Pokémon, and the faint pop of a roasting pepper…
Life was good.
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Author's Note:
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
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