With Bewear leading the way, the two of them crept to the front door. One Pokémon eased its head out, looked left and right, and only after confirming that none of the familiar humans were around did—
—Bewear finally usher Snorlax out from behind the door.
(Whatever we do, we must proceed with utmost caution.)
Bewear turned back, delivered this solemn instruction to Snorlax, then swung around and swaggered straight down the street.
Snorlax: ???
Snorlax blinked in slow confusion. I'm only a four-month-old baby. How am I supposed to understand the connection between what you say and what you do?
Even so, he quickened his steps and followed after Bewear.
And so it was that two large, imposing Pokémon, under the amazed stares of passersby, arrived at a beautifully decorated cake shop.
At the door, Bewear bent down and held up two fingers to the kindly uncle inside.
The way Bewear showed "two" was uniquely his.
He extended his right paw first, then covered the right paw's pink pads with his left, shifting just enough to reveal two small pads. That meant two.
The friendly shopkeeper was clearly an old acquaintance of Bewear's and immediately understood.
"Taking two today?"
Bewear nodded—correct—then shifted aside to expose Snorlax behind him.
"Oh, you brought a friend."
Seeing Snorlax likewise bent over and peeking in with just his head, the shopkeeper nodded in dawning realization. He handed over a tray with two small cakes.
Bewear took one cake in each paw, then passed the right-hand cake to Snorlax.
(It's very tasty.)
With that, Bewear could no longer wait and dug in.
Snorlax, eyes bright, took a small, careful bite of his own cake.
(Mmm—so good! Almost as good as the ones Xiaoze makes.)
He spoke to Bewear in excitement. The flavor of the little cake nearly matched the taste of the treasured energy cubes Auron had once made and Snorlax had long cherished.
Bewear paused. (Xiaoze? He makes things that good?)
Snorlax nodded. (Of course. Try them and you'll see.)
A few chomps later, the two Pokémon had polished off the cakes.
Snorlax then imitated Bewear, dropping the little serving trays into the big trash can by the shop's door.
They both waved to the shopkeeper, and turned to leave.
Watching the two happy Pokémon grow smaller down the street, the shopkeeper smiled in contentment and squinted his eyes, then jotted the charges in his ledger.
"Bewear, one small cake. Brought friend Snorlax—one small cake."
After all, while it filled him with satisfaction that Pokémon loved his cakes, satisfaction alone didn't pay the bills. Accounts still had to be kept.
And Bewear's fondness for these small cakes was something Ashford Vale knew about. He had told the shopkeeper specifically: if Bewear came to eat, put it on the tab—he'd come by once a month to settle up.
Cakes finished, the two Pokémon continued on their way.
Snorlax had no idea where Bewear's destination was, but he still followed, one step at a time.
Before long, Bewear, moving with practiced ease, pushed open the door of a certain shop and went in.
This door was interesting—it was very tall, perhaps four or five meters high.
Snorlax gazed in frank envy. Things were better now; the doorways at the home in the capital were nice and high. Back in Vantora, though, whenever he went into Auron's room, he always had to return to his Poké Ball first and be released again inside.
Snorlax trundled in after Bewear.
Only then did he discover that the inside was an entirely different world.
There were ring after ring of fighting platforms, and atop them were all kinds of Pokémon—not using moves at all, but purely trading blows with their bodies.
Snorlax's eyes lit up—his limbs itched to move—but Bewear tugged him further in.
(Come on, come on. With bodies like ours, if we get on these rings by the door, our opponents won't even be able to get up.)
Exaggeration, maybe, but the platforms by the entrance were mostly for humans and ordinary small Pokémon to spar upon. With their size, Snorlax and Bewear might not literally keep opponents from climbing up, but they would definitely cramp the ring.
Following Bewear, Snorlax pushed through another door.
The moment they entered, he saw on a large central platform a Conkeldurr and a Pangoro trading heavy blows.
"Yo, Bewear, you're a bit late today."
A shirtless, muscle-bound man by the ring saw Bewear and raised a hand in greeting.
Bewear nodded and pointed at Snorlax.
"This your friend? Bringing him to learn a thing or two?"
The muscled man looked up at Snorlax—taller than a typical Snorlax—and asked Bewear in surprise.
Bewear nodded again: that was the idea.
The man nodded back, then motioned for Snorlax to follow.
Snorlax glanced at Bewear.
Bewear patted him on the back, eyes full of encouragement, and nodded.
Snorlax drew a deep breath and followed the man farther in.
"Here we are, Snorlax. This will be your instructor."
He pointed up at the Pokémon on the ring as he introduced them.
Snorlax looked at the Machoke and nodded.
Machoke nodded back, then held out a hand, beckoning Snorlax up.
"All right, Snorlax, start by training with Machoke. We'll try that for a while."
Snorlax nodded again. When the man left, he stepped up onto the platform.
(Attack me.)
Battle spirit blazing, Machoke dropped into a ready stance and addressed Snorlax.
Snorlax, by instinct, kindled flame around his right fist, ready to drive it forward.
Machoke startled and waved both hands hurriedly.
(No, no, no—no moves allowed in these rings.)
(Oh—like that. Sorry.)
Snorlax canceled Fire Punch, scratched his head sheepishly, and apologized.
(It's fine. Come on.)
Machoke resumed his earlier stance and signaled for Snorlax to make his move.
Snorlax said nothing. He clenched his fist, took a heavy step in, and drove a punch toward Machoke.
Boom!
Snorlax's fist crashed into Machoke's crossed-arm guard and sent him flying.
Machoke hadn't expected Snorlax to be that strong. The blow hurled him back into the ring ropes.
(Whoa—wait, wait!)
Still catching his breath, Machoke lay prone for a moment and waved frantically at Snorlax.
Snorlax stared at him, at a loss. He couldn't quite make sense of it.
After a beat on the canvas, Machoke pushed himself up.
He'd been careless. He'd thought Snorlax was merely flabby like a typical Snorlax—he hadn't expected this Snorlax to be so powerful.
Had he known, he wouldn't have tried to take that punch head-on while his footwork was loose.
(Again!)
(End of this chapter)