...
A Weedle's Species Strength might be low, a real bottom-tier initial Pokémon.
But no matter how pathetic a starting point, it's gotta have something. And speed, well, speed is his forte. When you're trying to kick ass in a Pokémon battle, speed is one thing you can never ignore.
Plus, running builds overall physical fitness, which is crucial for not dying in this godforsaken world.
Twenty round trips, about 50 meters each way. That's a grand total of 1000 meters of training.
When Natsu yelled "Run!", the Weedle instinctively bolted, full of youthful vigor.
But the Weedle, initially overflowing with cocky confidence, started regretting his life choices after just five rounds. By ten rounds, he was noticeably slowing down, his tiny legs wobbling.
And it wasn't just him; Natsu was also bright red, sweat dripping from his forehead and the tip of his nose like a leaky faucet.
Natsu's body was already a frail piece of shit. Before he even landed in this world, its previous owner was practically a corpse. Considering he only had half a piece of bread yesterday, the fact that he could even run at all was a goddamn miracle. He had to admit, though, the humans in this world seemed to be affected by the dense energy of the Pokémon world; their bodies were much tougher than Natsu had expected.
After all, you had some crazy bastards who, with long-term professional training, could become Ninja or even physically as tough as a Pokémon made of hard steel.
The Weedle saw that even Natsu was busting his ass, so he gritted his tiny teeth and kept pushing.
Fifteen rounds in, one human, one Pokémon, both were practically at their breaking point.
Don't let the "thousand meters" fool you; for a newly hatched Pokémon and a human so thin the wind could snap him, this was a goddamn marathon. This was just the start of the first training session. If they couldn't hack it now, the whole damn thing was going to collapse before it even began.
"Persevere, you pathetic lump of muscle! Persevere, and you'll be reborn after breaking the cocoon!" Natsu wheezed, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum solo. Even though he was so tired he thought he might suffocate, as a Trainer, he had to set an example for his Weedle, who was clearly a rookie at this whole "training" thing.
"Woo!" the Weedle cried out, as if cheering himself and Natsu on. Probably just trying to convince himself he wasn't dying.
Finally. Twenty rounds. Done.
The Weedle collapsed to the ground, utterly spent. Natsu's chest heaved like a broken bellows, sweat pouring off him in rivers.
Looking at the collapsed Weedle, he gasped intermittently, "Stand up! After running, take a walk, or you won't be able to stand up tomorrow, you lazy!"
Hearing this, the Weedle gave him the most aggrieved look he could muster. "Woooo." He was genuinely exhausted. If it wasn't for seeing Natsu insist like a maniac, he would've given up ages ago.
"Get up! Go!" Natsu's voice turned serious, unmistakable. Indulging the Weedle now would be irresponsible. It would be like letting a kid eat candy for breakfast.
The Weedle shrank, then, facing Natsu's sternness, he stood up, gritting his teeth. Trembling, he staggered behind Natsu, forcing his tiny legs to move.
Ten minutes later, Natsu and the Weedle's breathing gradually returned to normal. Their bodies felt warm, as if a fire was burning inside them. Or maybe that was just the lactic acid.
"Next, it's your move training. First up, String Shot accuracy. I'll throw a stone into the sky, and your task is to wrap it up with String Shot." At his feet lay a neat pile of stones.
After the brutal basic training of running, the Weedle already understood that this wasn't some game.
This was hard work, tiring as hell, and he didn't need any further explanation.
He just felt it. He wanted to try protesting, but every time the thought popped into his little bug brain, it was immediately extinguished.
Why? Because Natsu was training right alongside him. And as a human, a frail, almost-dead human at that, he was clearly more exhausted than the Weedle.
Natsu kept insisting, so what reason did the Weedle have to quit? Besides, training ultimately benefits his growth, so it's not like he was doing it for Natsu's entertainment.
"Ready." Natsu picked up a stone, made sure the Weedle was prepared, then hurled it into the sky.
At first, the throws were infrequent and slow, and the Weedle had a high hit rate, like a damn sharpshooter. But gradually, as Natsu got faster and faster, and the stones rained down in succession, the Weedle's hit rate plummeted. He started to get flustered, a little bit in a hurry, like he was playing whack-a-mole with rocks.
"Calm down, goddammit! Calm down, don't mess up! See the trajectory of the stone before you shoot. Sometimes you can choose to give up on some. You can't hit 'em all, kid." Natsu's arms bulged, his left hand moving, his right hand continuously throwing stones. It took a ridiculous amount of physical and arm strength for a guy who looked like he'd just escaped a POW camp.
But his reminders worked. The Weedle gradually regained his composure, his small eyes fixed on each stone. Although his hit rate still wasn't great, it had significantly improved. At least he wasn't flailing around like a headless chicken anymore.
"Whether it's String Shot or Poison Sting, hit rate is crucial. If you feel like you don't have much thread stored in your body, you can use Poison Sting instead. Don't be a stubborn idiot."
"Wow!" The Weedle nodded heavily.
Abandoning String Shot, a purple halo appeared on the sharp corners of his head, and Poison Stings flew out one by one, a volley of deadly needles. He slowly entered a real training state, focusing entirely on the task. As a Weedle with only two moves at present, his margin for error in battle was incredibly low. If his attacks couldn't hit the enemy, he was basically screwed.
After a while, all the stones at Natsu's feet were gone, and this stage of training was finally over.
"Very good. Remember that feeling, that focus. I need you to maintain that concentration every single time we train in the future, you hear me?"
"Woo," the Weedle, utterly exhausted, answered feebly.
"Ten minutes of rest."
As if he'd just heard the sound of a thousand angels singing, the Weedle collapsed to the ground. Natsu, leaning against the tree trunk with his knees pulled to his chest, also took the time to train his own goddamn patience.
Soon, ten minutes had vanished.
"Alright, back to it. Still twenty back and forth. No need for speed this time, just finish it, you bastards."
"Wow!!" The Weedle looked utterly desperate. He probably wanted to curl up and die right there.
But he still insisted. He had no reason or excuse to give up, because no matter what miserable thing Natsu asked him to do, Natsu was doing it right alongside him, often looking even more tired, but always setting a good example. The sheer stubbornness of the human was contagious.
After the run, another ten-minute rest, as usual.
"Next is the third stage. The content is very simple: use your mouth to bite that tree." Natsu pointed to a small tree not far away, its trunk about the thickness of two normal human arms.
"Woo?!" The Weedle looked shocked. He pointed to the small tree, then gestured with his own tiny mouth.
"Are you serious?" Me? Bite that? That's a bit too much, isn't it?
But Natsu was unmoved. Once in training mode, he became an unselfish Trainer who wouldn't give his Pokémon the slightest bit of indulgence, nor would he slack off on himself. He was a tyrant, but an even-handed one.
"You only have two moves, String Shot and Poison Sting, but that doesn't mean you can only know two moves. Bug Bite is a more powerful and practical move in the early stages for Bug-type Pokémon. To learn it, you must first have a certain understanding of your biting ability." After explaining a little, he continued, "For the first time, I won't give you a time limit. You bite it until it's completely bitten through. But next time, I'm afraid I'll give you a set time. So get the feel for it now, you hear me?"
The Weedle pursed his lips and, though reluctant, did as Natsu asked. He obviously wasn't thrilled, but he also seemed to know there was no arguing with this madman.
"I won't stop while you're exercising. When you bite, I'll stop my training." Looking at the Weedle, who was a little weak and pathetic, Natsu finished, then leaned down and started doing push-ups.
"Wow?!" The Weedle turned his head in surprise.
"He was training with his body? What the hell?
The Weedle shook his head immediately, a clear sign of disbelief, then rushed to the tree and bit down hard. Natsu used his actions to silently force the Weedle to speed up. The tacit understanding between the Trainer and Pokémon was growing with every grueling minute of training.
The sun set in the west, and the full moon hung high, a silent witness to their torment.
All three stages of training they'd just endured made up one round.
Natsu and the Weedle completed two full rounds today. It was a huge physical and psychological torture for both of them, like being put through a meat grinder.
After it was all over, they collapsed to the ground, not even a trace of strength left to twitch a finger. Looking up at the bright stars in the night sky, Natsu murmured, "The moon's still the same damn circle as in my hometown."
"Woo?"
"Are you hungry, you little glutton? Let's go back to eat!"
"Wow!!" The Weedle cheered, as if all his strength had magically returned. Pokémon's ability to recover was faster than a human's. Natsu couldn't even stand up, but the Weedle was suddenly alive and well, practically bouncing.
"It seems you're still pretty tough, you little shit. I underestimated you. The training volume will be heavier tomorrow: four rounds!"
"Wow!!!" The Weedle whimpered, looking utterly desperate, as if Natsu had just sentenced him to death.
"Come on, let's go back." Natsu shakily stood up, gathering the Weedle into his arms and heading towards their small, shabby house. As he walked, his fingers gently kneaded the Weedle's body, trying to relieve his physical fatigue.
Natsu had little experience with Pokémon massage, but he paid close attention to the Weedle's expressions and reactions, learning where to press to make him more comfortable.
"Woo~~" The Weedle groaned, experiencing a delightful mix of pain and joy.
...
(End of this chapter)