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Willy was still staring thoughtfully at Ron's fishing silhouette when Lewis burst in with a shout—startling him badly.
Willy took a sharp puff from his pipe before registering what had happened.
"A batch of sardines?" Willy asked. "How many?"
"Same as before," Lewis said.
"Got it. I'll set sail tonight," Willy nodded, turning immediately to gather his nets.
Once Lewis was out of sight, Ron turned to Willy. "Did Kalos used to order fish like this before?"
"Yeah," Willy said, nodding. "They have a huge demand for meat over there. I figure—if it's a world overrun by Pokémon, maybe regular fish went extinct long ago. Maybe fish are a rare delicacy for them."
After all, Willy could never imagine eating Krabby—but he'd happily devour crab cakes made from other crabs, even if he affectionately called them "sweetheart."
Ron's eyes lit up at this.
Willy didn't understand Kalos—or the broader Pokémon world—but Ron did.
Though he wasn't sure which era this Kalos belonged to, Willy's description made it clear: this was a fully established Pokémon world—one with no ordinary animals at all.
"No wonder there were notes on raising and shipping livestock…" Ron murmured, giving his line a tug—and reeling in another sardine.
"Oh! Sardines!" Willy said, suddenly remembering. "If you're willing, I'll buy them from you—at 1.5 times market price." He left Ron a bucket, then hurried off, hoisting his nets onto his boat.
"Krabby!"
Hearing its name, Krabby—who'd been playing in the sand—dashed onto the dock and leapt aboard Willy's little vessel.
Ron watched the boat sail away, then returned to his quiet fishing.
—
The next day…
Ron woke early, split bread and fried sardines with Froakie, and sat down to review his earnings.
Gunther had paid 600G for the recorded footage.
Willy, impressed by Ron's late-night fishing marathon, paid 700G.
Still short of the two Poké Balls needed to unlock the system—but enough to eat comfortably for now.
So Ron shifted his focus to the other goal: the three Poké Balls promised by Gunther.
With Krabby, Remoraid, and the three Pokémon on his farm—Froakie, Geodude, and Orthworm—he now had exactly five recorded entries. That was enough.
—
Meanwhile, in Lumiose City, Kalos Region…
Auguste, CEO of Lumiose's largest food conglomerate, wiped tears of joy as he stared at the fresh shipment of sardines from Pelican Town—the long-lost supplier finally back online.
Ever since the Pokémon Protection Act banned 90% of Pokémon from the food market, his company had slashed entire product lines, surviving only on berries.
Then came Pelican Town—an obscure settlement offering non-Pokémon animal products.
Until eight years ago… when all contact vanished.
Now, it was back.
"Transfer payment immediately!" Auguste ordered his finance team. After a pause, he added, "And when will bacon, eggs, and ham resume supply?"
His assistant hesitated. "They said… after Gabriel's passing, his farm was inherited by his grandson. They won't manage those contracts anymore—but as soon as the farm is fully operational, they'll reach out."
Gabriel. The legendary Trainer. Auguste only knew him as Pelican Town's champion farmer and Kalos League Champion eight years prior—nothing more.
"A grandson?" Auguste frowned. "Was he that old?" Then: "At least—can they guarantee fish supply?"
The assistant shook his head. "The connection is weak. We don't know the details. But as soon as communication stabilizes, I'll send new orders."
Auguste rubbed his temples. This was giving him a headache.
—
Back in Pelican Town…
Completely unaware he'd just become Kalos's sole hope for meat, Ron was busy filming short clips of his Pokémon—striving for three cheap Poké Balls.
Once he confirmed Gunther's requirements were met, he tossed a chunk of iron ore onto Orthworm's dirt mound as "payment," then hurried to the library to deliver the footage.
Seeing Ron's urgency, Gunther verified all five Pokémon were properly recorded—and handed over the Poké Balls on the spot.
"I'll transfer the monetary payment tomorrow," he promised.
Ron nodded and returned to the farm.
After a morning of watering, he fed Froakie and used the meal break to strategize: How to maximize the value of these two precious Poké Balls?
First, battle was essential.
Everyone knew weakened Pokémon were easier to catch—especially when you were too poor to waste even one ball.
So the real question was: Which one to catch first?
Orthworm's level was uncertain—but definitely higher than Geodude's.
Ron suspected Orthworm had only fainted because it mistook the falling Geodude for a Fighting-type move.
His eyes drifted to Geodude, sprawled on a boulder, happily munching stone.
Though it had only been at the farm for two days, Geodude had already accepted its fate.
It had tried to escape—multiple times—but the invisible barrier around the property made it impossible.
It had even tried digging underground with Orthworm—but hit the same magical boundary.
So… what now?
As it chewed, Geodude mentally chatted with Orthworm below.
They were both descendants of escaped Pokémon—but they knew the proper way humans caught Pokémon: with Poké Balls.
Yet this Trainer hadn't thrown one. Why?
Not that it minded. Being owned wasn't the worst thing—especially since escape was impossible.
Below, Orthworm snorted dismissively.
Geodude didn't argue. It just grabbed another fistful of rocks and crunched down.
Then—it heard the Trainer's voice.
"Water Gun—!"
Before Geodude could react, a powerful jet slammed into it.
A second blast followed instantly.
Darkness.
Thwack!
A Poké Ball struck its forehead.
Ron watched the ball emit a soft click—success! Geodude was caught.
Emboldened, he turned to Orthworm—ready to throw the second ball.
But before he could give Froakie another command, a head burst from the earth—and deliberately headbutted the release button on the Poké Ball in Ron's hand.
A red flash.
The ball didn't even wobble.
Another soft click confirmed the capture.
Orthworm had voluntarily entered the Poké Ball.
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