Chapter 47: Yaya, You Must Strive to Overcome Your Fears!

Water continued to drip from Yaya’s body onto the floor, its small frame trembling uncontrollably with fear. Hu Yang frowned, stepped out of the hot spring, found a towel, and dried Yaya off before gathering it gently into his arms.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were afraid of water.”

“Yaya…” Yaya clung to the towel with its tiny paws, responding in a soft voice.

The ever-attentive Roserade walked over, glancing at Yaya with some concern. “Roriri?” (Do you need my help?)

Though the language was different, at that moment, Hu Yang unexpectedly understood what Roserade meant.

He was about to shake his head and tell Roserade to continue enjoying the hot spring, but then he remembered: as a competent trainer, he needed to handle the relationships between his Pokémon as well.

It was like raising children—if two kids couldn’t get along and were always at odds, it would seriously affect the team’s atmosphere.

So Hu Yang said, “Could you bring a box of MooMoo Milk for Yaya?”

When he checked into the hot spring inn, he’d bought lots of snacks: MooMoo Milk, Fiery Rice Crackers, and so on.

A memory surfaced of Roserade’s eyes shining with longing as it watched the Grand Festival. After evolving from Budew to Roserade, its personality and preferences had changed, just like most Pokémon.

As a Budew, it loved basking in the sun and had a bit of a fondness for food.

Now, as a Roserade, it cared little for eating.

Just as its notes said: it liked things that were clean and beautiful.

Even its personality had shifted to that of a caring big sister.

“Roriri!” Roserade nodded and turned to leave.

Imitating his mother soothing a baby, Hu Yang gently patted Yaya’s back, comforting it, “Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

Only after finishing a box of MooMoo Milk did Yaya regain some composure. Realizing its earlier behavior, it squirmed shyly out of the towel.

“Yaya…”

“It’s very afraid of water. For a trainer, maybe it’s not suited for battle—are you going to release it?” asked Gengar, who had been observing everything and had learned about human trainers at the Pokémon School. It hovered beside Hu Yang, looking at Yaya.

Gengar hadn’t revealed itself to the other Pokémon, so only Hu Yang could hear this question.

Hu Yang glanced at Yaya, feeling a little speechless. “Why would you think that?”

Gengar replied, “Back at that school, I saw a trainer abandon a weak Pokémon in the forest, tricking it by saying he’d come back for it.”

Hu Yang was silent. So this happened often in this world.

Back in his previous life, playing games, he’d done the same. If a Pokémon’s nature or stats weren’t right, he’d release it.

But now, what he was experiencing wasn’t a game—this was real life.

If a Pokémon was weak, shouldn’t a trainer strive to help it train and overcome its fears, rather than abandon it?

Why bother capturing them in the first place?

This made Hu Yang think of Shinji from the anime. Shinji cared only about a Pokémon’s battling ability. He despised weak Pokémon and would release any that didn’t meet his expectations, believing that forming close bonds would only make them lazy.

The Infernape that Ash befriended during his Sinnoh journey was one such Pokémon Shinji had released.

But was that truly the right way?

Hu Yang admired Ash’s philosophy of nurturing and treating his Pokémon far more.

Isn’t that why people in that world loved the Pokémon universe?

Because he’d watched the anime, he couldn’t bring himself to see these emotive Pokémon as mere tools.

If given the choice, he’d rather be a trainer like Ash than one like Shinji.

Most importantly, without forming bonds and close relationships, mega evolution was impossible.

Gengar said nothing, waiting for an answer.

Taking a deep breath, Hu Yang replied solemnly, “Maybe many people in this world do that. But no matter what, I will never abandon any of my companions.”

He couldn’t change others’ views, but he could do his best.

Gengar relaxed inwardly. If it could be revived, it would gladly follow this human.

…

The next morning.

At dawn, Hu Yang woke to find that Oricorio was missing from the room.

Ever since the incident with Ho-Oh’s feather, he’d kept Oricorio in the Master Ball to prevent it from causing a panic outside. Last night, they’d stayed in the hot spring until late, and he’d forgotten to bring it back.

“Where’s Oricorio?” he asked.

Gengar pointed outside. “It flew out.”

Hu Yang was speechless.

He realized that the idea of Oricorio sensing his thoughts and acting accordingly wasn’t entirely accurate.

To be precise, it worked only sometimes.

For instance, he’d been thinking for days, “Oricorio, please don’t go out again. We don’t need you bringing food back from outside anymore.” But it hadn’t worked at all.

Still, Hu Yang wasn’t too worried about Oricorio’s safety—unless it somehow provoked a legendary Electric-type.

After all, its typing was Flying and Water—four times weakness to electricity was no joke.

Besides, it seemed there was some kind of radar system between him and Oricorio. No matter where he was, Oricorio could always find its way back to him.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Gengar, back to its usual self, floated nearby with its arms crossed, lazily asking.

Roserade looked over too, its gaze asking: Are we going to train together?

Hu Yang sighed. Was it just him, or were his Pokémon more diligent than he was?

“No, let’s rest for a while. We’ll start training again in the spring.” His gaze fell on Yaya.

After last night, Yaya had grown closer to him.

“So for now, let’s focus on helping Yaya overcome its fear of water.”

At these words, both Roserade and Gengar immediately turned to look at Yaya.

Yaya’s expression grew uneasy.

Hu Yang crouched down and picked it up. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

Yaya relaxed a little.

“Can you trust me?” Hu Yang asked.

“Roriri!” Roserade jumped in to cheer it on.

Seeing this, Yaya’s eyes flickered with hesitation.

After a moment, encouraged by its companions, it finally decided to give it a try.

Just then, Oricorio flew back from outside.

Clutched in its beak was a wildly struggling Pikachu.

Hu Yang looked up at the scene, speechless.

As Oricorio’s trainer, he had to accept the responsibilities that came with the benefits and convenience Oricorio brought him.

Three minutes later.

Faced with an angry Pikachu and its owner, a woman whom the commotion had attracted, Hu Yang picked up Oricorio and apologized,

“Sorry, I really am.”

The woman seemed very friendly—or rather, people in this world tended to be kind to ten-year-old travelers.

“It’s fine. As long as everyone’s okay, it was just a misunderstanding.”

After she left, Hu Yang and Oricorio exchanged glances.

Oricorio: “Caw?”

Hu Yang: “…”

Ah…