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Willy took a slow drag from his pipe, exhaling a hazy ring of smoke that blurred his vision.
"All of them?" Ron's fishing rod twitched. He lifted it sharply, scanned the sardine he'd just caught with his Pokédex to check its price, then tucked it into his backpack.
"All of them," Willy confirmed with a nod. "I like them—they're fascinating—but they're wreaking havoc on the local fish. If you can keep them on your farm or send them back to Kalos, I'll honor the deal I made with your grandfather: half-price small fish as Pokémon feed."
Ron nodded.
Of course, this wouldn't happen overnight. If he wasn't mistaken, Water-type Pokémon caught while fishing still required a battle to capture—unless he resorted to brute-force "Poké Ball spam."
And that, of course, assumed he could afford enough Poké Balls.
Thinking of Poké Balls reminded him of the berries Lewis had mentioned earlier. The library held his grandfather's notes on cultivating them—including specific instructions for growing the type of berry used to make Poké Balls.
The only missing piece? Where to find the seeds.
Maybe Pierre's shop sold them—or perhaps there was another way to obtain berry plants.
If he could grow them himself, he wouldn't have to pay 5,000G apiece at the general store.
As Ron weighed this possibility, his rod jerked again. He yanked it back—
—but just as the sardine broke the surface, a blur shot up from the water and snatched it mid-air.
"…"
Willy chuckled beside him.
Ron took a deep breath and turned to Willy. "I'll clear them out as soon as I can."
"Appreciate it," Willy said with a grin. "Krabby—Bubble Beam!"
Instantly, Krabby unleashed a stream of shimmering bubbles into the water.
Ripples spread—and the thief surfaced, sardine still in its mouth.
Ron quickly scanned it with his Pokédex.
[Remoraid]
[Jet Pokémon]
[Incredibly accurate aim. Its water jets always hit prey moving within 100 meters ahead.]
Ron stared at the pale-blue fish and silently cursed himself for not bringing Froakie.
"Krabby—Vice Grip!" Willy called, taking the fishing rod.
Krabby dove into the water—and in the next instant, its massive claw clamped down hard on Remoraid's tail.
Clearly well-trained—and likely seasoned from years of sailing and battling with Willy—Krabby moved with seamless coordination.
Suddenly, a flash of light erupted from Remoraid.
Ron snapped into action, pulling out Gunther's camera.
[Psybeam — The target is attacked with a peculiar ray. This may also leave the target confused.]
The Pokédex announced the move just as the beam struck Krabby, who flinched in pain and released its grip.
"Metal Claw!" Willy shouted.
Ron kept recording as Krabby lunged forward, claws glinting, and struck Remoraid twice in rapid succession.
The Pokémon yelped, dropped the sardine, and vanished into the depths without a backward glance.
Krabby retrieved the sardine and brought it back.
If Pokémon could be traded, Ron would've gladly swapped ten sardines for that Remoraid.
But it wasn't his to claim—no Poké Ball, no command authority. He had no say.
So he focused on filming the Pokédex entry for Remoraid, accepted the sardine Krabby offered, and thanked it sincerely.
Krabby's eyes crinkled into a smile.
"It's shy," Willy translated.
Embarrassed, Krabby scrubbed its claw against its head and scuttled rapidly toward the beach on all fours.
"Alright, time to get back to work," Willy said, standing. He popped a slice of raw fish into his mouth and offered another to Ron.
Ron stared at the sashimi. He almost asked for the recipe—before realizing, with a jolt, that this was reality. His farmhouse didn't even have a kitchen.
And honestly? He wasn't big on raw food.
"Can I borrow your kitchen?" he asked instead.
"Kitchen? Sure, go right ahead," Willy said, opening the door to the Fish Shop and pointing to a ladder. "Upstairs. It's tiny, though—not much I can cook up there anyway. Feel free to use it anytime."
Willy waved him off and settled back behind the counter.
Ron thanked him and resumed fishing.
By the time his mental clock struck the hour, he'd caught over a dozen sardines.
Thanks to Krabby's silent guard, none had been stolen—and as a token of gratitude, Ron gave Krabby one sardine as "protection fee" before heading into the shop.
After greeting Willy, he climbed the rope ladder to the second floor.
Because the shop sat right on the shore—and the ground floor was stacked with Willy's daily catch—the upstairs was damp, with a faint, ever-present fishy scent.
In the corner stood a stove, connected to a chimney. It was clear Willy rarely cooked: dust coated the gas valves, and only a few basics sat nearby—a bottle of oil, some seasonings, and a small piece of freshly cut wild wasabi.
Ron borrowed a pinch of salt, cleaned his sardines, and began frying them in a pan.
A bit of ginger would've elevated the flavor—but beggars couldn't be choosers.
He fried them all until golden and crisp.
Downstairs, Willy was dozing at the counter when the rich aroma wafted down.
Moments later, Ron appeared with a plate—and offered him a perfectly fried sardine.
"Thanks," Willy said, accepting it without hesitation. He even broke off a piece for Krabby, who'd crept back inside.
Perhaps it was the hint of foraged herbs Ron had added—but the flavor was unexpectedly delicious.
Watching Ron's retreating back, Willy gently patted Krabby's shell.
"He really is just like him," he murmured.
Krabby chewed vigorously—and nodded in wholehearted agreement.
Meanwhile, Ron stopped by the saloon on his way home and bought four loaves of bread.
He'd originally planned to sell the sardines to afford bread—but eating only bread would get old fast. And at 40G apiece, twelve sardines would net him just 480G—not enough to stretch far.
But paired with bread? That would comfortably cover two days of meals.
With this plan in mind, he returned to the farm.
The moment he stepped inside, he found Froakie staring longingly at Geodude, who was happily crunching through another boulder.
Poor Froakie—biologically incapable of digesting stone, no matter how jealous it felt.
"…Dinner time, Froakie," Ron called.
In a flash of blue, Froakie zipped to his side and snatched the food from his hand.
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