Chapter Text
The kitchen smelled faintly of burnt toast and coffee grounds. Morning sunlight cut through the curtains, painting the table where Thomas leaned forward, elbows planted firmly on the wood. His feet kicked restlessly under the chair.
“Dad”
Behind the spread of the Cerulean Daily, Robert, Thomas's father, gave a distracted grunt. “…mm?”
Thomas puffed out his cheeks. “Dad, I’m serious.”
Without lowering the paper, Robert drawled, “Hi serious! I’m Dad!”
From the stove, Arianna, Thomas's mother, smothered a laugh behind her hand as she stirred the pan of eggs.
Thomas slapped the table hard enough to rattle the salt shaker. “Daaad, I mean it!”
Finally, Robert lowered the newspaper enough to see his son’s wide-eyed glare. “Alright, then. What’s the emergency today?”
Thomas shoved a wrinkled notebook across the table, pages crammed with messy handwriting and stick-figure Pokémon sketches. “This! You promised I could have a Pokémon partner at ten, right? That’s only a year away. We need to start looking now.”
Robert raised a brow, glancing at the page. “...Reasons Machop is the Best Starter?”
“Exactly!” Thomas jabbed the paper with his finger. “Strong Attack, learns elemental punches by tutor, good bulk...”
Robert frowned. “You keep talking like you’re building a tool, not raising a friend.”
“It’s both!” Thomas shot back. “If we get a Machop from a breeder, I can start training early, bond with him, and when I turn thirteen, boom Gym challenge! no catching up to do”
Robert leaned back, arms folded. “Most kids just wait for the Professor’s starters”
“Charmander, Bulbasaur, Squirtle. Boring” Thomas wrinkled his nose. “Everybody picks them. But I’ll have a Machamp one day. And Machamp is top tier”
That got a real laugh out of Arianna. “Top tier, huh? You sound like you’re reviewing soup”
Thomas folded his arms, scowling. “You’ll see.”
Robert studied his son for a long moment — the stubborn set of his jaw, the spark of determination in his eyes — and finally sighed. He folded the paper shut.
“Fine. I’ll ask around the breeder’s circuit. But listen, Thomas — if we do this, he’s your responsibility. Feeding, training, the works. No handing him off when it gets hard.”
Thomas lit up like a firework. “Yes! Yes, I promise! I’ll take care of him every single day!”
“Even the poop duty?” Arianna added, one brow arched.
Thomas groaned, but the grin on his face didn’t falter.
Then, almost timid, he leaned forward again. “There’s um… one more thing.”
Robert narrowed his eyes. “Here it comes.”
“The Machop,” Thomas said quickly. “He needs to know Bullet Punch. Right from the start.”
Robert blinked. “…Come again?”
“Bullet Punch!” Thomas’s hands flailed in excitement. “It’s a Steel-type move, supposed to come out fast. Near unstoppable in early battles. No one will see it coming. If Machop knows Bullet Punch from the get-go, he’ll be amazing!”
Arianna pressed her lips together, clearly fighting laughter. “He’s not even asking for a Pokémon anymore, Rob. He’s ordering it with special moves.”
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about impossible children. “Son, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a breeder who can pass down something that specific?”
Thomas nodded furiously. “Hard, but not impossible. You can do it.”
Robert groaned. “I should’ve stopped at the first ‘Dad.’”
_____________________________________________________________
The small Persimmon town Pokémon Center only had one working videophone. The screen crackled, colors washed out, but Robert used it every other week like clockwork.
“Bullet Punch on a Machop?” The breeder on the other end barked a laugh. “That’s not even in their pool. Waste of time. Next.” Click.
A woman in a sunhat frowned from her end of the screen. “I breed for competitive battlers, sir. But you’re chasing fairy tales. Machop with Bullet Punch? Impossible. I won’t waste time on that.”
Another breeder, older, rubbing his temples. “Look, I’ve got commissions lined up through the League season. Kids want Growlithe, Tyrogue, Elekid. Nobody wants… whatever you’re asking. Sorry.”
Each time the same. Disbelief, laughter, polite refusals, or blunt hang-ups.
By the seventh try, Robin didn’t even expect much. He muttered into the handset while rubbing his forehead, “Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds crazy. Just asking.” Click.
By the ninth, the woman cut the call so fast the line still hummed in his ear after she was gone.
“Even if it was possible, do you know how many generations I’d need to try? Months of my life, for nothing. Forget it.”
Robin sat slumped at the videophone booth after that one, staring at the black screen. For a moment he thought about giving up, about going home and telling Thomas the truth: “Some things just aren’t possible.” But he pictured his boy’s face, the stubborn spark in his eyes, the notebook filled with scribbles and plans, and sighed. He dialed again...
_____________________________________________________________
On the eleventh call, the screen buzzed to life. A man looked back. Weather-beaten, steady-eyed, a coat roughened by years of wear. The field behind him held a scatter of Pokémon, their movements casual but practiced, even in rest betraying the rhythm of training.
When Robert explained, the man didn’t laugh. He didn’t hang up. He just narrowed his eyes.
“Bullet Punch on a Machop, huh? Haven’t heard that one in a long time.”
“You’ve heard of it?” Robert asked, leaning forward.
The breeder scratched his jaw. “Saw a Machamp use it once. At the Indigo conference, must’ve been ten, maybe twelve years back. Crowd went wild, no one expected it. Thought I was imagining things at the time.”
Robert’s chest loosened for the first time in months. “So, it’s possible?”
The breeder gave a slow shrug. “Possible and easy ain’t the same thing, I hope you realize. I’d have to track lineage, pair the right lines, hope luck favors me. Could take months, maybe more. And there’s no guarantee.”
“I don’t care,” Robert said firmly. “My son’s dead set. If you’ll try, I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
The man’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. “Name’s Kenji. I like a challenge. Bring me the paperwork, and we’ll see if the kid’s dream is worth chasing.”
For the first time in half a year, Robert walked out of the Pokémon Center with his shoulders a little lighter.