Orion's Point of View
Being treated like a living plushy is so demoralizing!!!
Seriously. I'm sitting here in my grandmother's lap, wearing a tailored suit, and she's still brushing my hair like I'm a prize Litleo at a grooming competition. I have dignity. I have self-respect. I have—
Scritch.
Grandma's fingers scratched my scalp, right behind my ear, and my entire argument dissolved into a puddle of purring goo.
This is so embarrassing, I thought, even as my eyes fluttered half-closed. But why the hell does it feel so good?!
Mom was talking—something about Charles and his evolution, the details of her team, how she'd trained them through the ranks—but I wasn't really listening. I was too busy fighting a losing battle against my own biology.
Purrrrr.
Grandma chuckled above me, her fingers still moving in slow, lazy circles. "You are absolutely adorable, you know that?"
Mom looked up from the couch across from us, a fond smile spreading across her face. "He really is. He is the most adorable cub in all the regions."
"I am not adorable," I grumbled, the words coming out muffled against Grandma's chest. "I am handsome. There is a difference."
They both laughed at my stubborn defiance.
I sighed in annoyance, sinking deeper into Grandma's lap.
Then—
BAM!
The study doors slammed open so hard I felt the draft.
I jerked upright, my eyes snapping toward the doorway, every instinct on high alert—
And then a Clefairy danced into the room.
She was pink. Round. Bouncy. Her tiny feet pattered against the wooden floor as she twirled past a stunned-looking maid in the hallway, her little wings fluttering with excitement. Her large, dark eyes scanned the room, swept past Mom, past Grandma, and landed—
On me.
Then Her entire face lit up like a sunrise.
"Clefairy! Clef fairy fairy!" (THE HATCHLING! I'VE FOUND THE HATCHLING!)
She launched herself onto the low table in the center of the study—the one with the pink roses—and started dancing. Not a slow dance. Not a graceful dance. An absolute chaos dance, her tiny feet stomping and spinning, her arms waving in the air like she was conducting an invisible orchestra.
Grandma sighed.
"Clefairy," she said, her voice carrying the long-suffering patience of someone who had dealt with this exact situation many, many times, "I told you to wait outside."
The Clefairy did not stop dancing.
"Clefairy! Clefairy clef fairy fairy!" (I COULDN'T WAIT! I'M TOO EXCITED! I WANT TO MEET THE HATCHLING! LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT HIS LITTLE FACE! HIS LITTLE SUIT! HIS LITTLE—)
She spun so fast she nearly fell off the table, she quickly caught herself at the last second, and kept dancing anyway.
I stared at her.
She was... a handful.
But she was also adorable.
I tilted my head, my curiosity overriding my annoyance. This was the first time I had ever seen a Clefairy in person. They were rare and they are hard to find in the wild if the Pokemon games are similar to this world. And here she was, dancing on my grandmother's table like she owned the place.
"Observe," I whispered under my breath.
[Clefairy – Fairy Type]
[Description: A rare and elusive Pokémon rarely found in the wild, more often discovered in mystical mountain areas under specific lunar conditions. Clefairy are known for their playful, curious nature and their tendency to dance under starlight. They are highly social and form strong bonds with those they trust. This particular specimen appears to be... very energetic.]
Very energetic was putting it lightly.
The Clefairy finished her dance with a dramatic pose—one arm up, one foot pointed, her little pink face beaming.
"Clefairy!" (Ta-da!)
I couldn't help it.
I laughed.
"You're soo cute," I said, grinning at her.
Her eyes went wide. Then her cheeks flushed pink—pinker than they already were—and she clasped her tiny hands together.
"Clefairy~" (My, my~ So you think I'm pretty?)
She froze for half a second before dissolving into flustered delight. Her tiny feet squeaked against the tabletop as she spun in place, wings trembling so fast they looked like a blur. Color flooded her round cheeks until they were almost red, and she hid her face behind both paws with a dramatic little gasp.
The act lasted all of three seconds.
Then one bright eye peeked through her fingers.
A mischievous grin followed right after.
"Clef! Clefairy fairy!" (You're cute too! Way too cute! And smooth! Super smooth for such a tiny hatchling!)
She pointed at me accusingly like I'd committed a crime.
I felt my eyebrow twitched instantly.
"I am not cute," I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended. "I am handsome. Why does everyone keep calling me cute? I want to be a strong trainer when I grow up. I don't want to be a cute trainer. There's a difference!"
I puffed out my chest, trying to look as serious and intimidating as a two-year-old in a tailored suit possibly could.
But before I could continue my justified rant—
The Clefairy had frozen mid-sway.
And Grandma had gone completely still.
I looked up at Grandma in confusion.
Her bloody red eyes were locked on me.
Wide.l and Unblinking.
Filled with something I couldn't name.
"Orion," she said slowly, her voice carefully, impossibly calm. "Did you just... understand her?"
My stomach dropped to the floor.
Well....shit.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. And Opened it again.
"Surprise?" I finally offered weakly.
The word hung in the air like a single, fragile soap bubble.
Grandma didn't blink. Heck she didn't even move. Her eyes were locked onto me with an intensity that made me want to crawl under the nearest piece of furniture and never come out.
Behind me, Mom sighed.
It was the sigh of someone who had been carrying a secret for exactly one day and was already exhausted by it.
"Mama," Mom said, stepping forward, "I don't know how it's possible, but he can understand Pokémon." She crossed her arms, leaning against the back of the couch. "He shocked me with that little revelation yesterday. Petal called him cute, and he got all huffy about it."
"I am not huffy," I muttered.
"You were huffy," Mom countered, a smile tugging at her lips. "You crossed your little arms and everything. It was adorable."
"I am not—"
"And then," Mom continued, talking right over me, "in the middle of arguing with my Butterfree, he just... casually understood every word she said. Like it was the most normal thing in the world."
Grandma's gaze shifted to Mom. Her expression hadn't changed—still wide-eyed, still frozen—but something behind her eyes was spinning, processing, trying to catch up to this piece of information.
Mom chuckled softly. "He thought it was normal, you know. Because of the movies and TV shows we watched. The ones where the Pokémon talk in Terran." She shook her head, her red hair swaying. "Sometimes I forget how much of a sponge he can be. I mean, seriously—he absorbs everything into that cute little head of his."
Grandma blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she threw her head back and laughed.
It wasn't a polite laugh. It wasn't a queenly laugh. It was a genuine, full-bellied laugh that echoed off the study walls and made the fire in the hearth flicker.
"Unbelievable," she said, shaking her head. "My grandson, who just turned two years old, without a single day of training in aura or psychic powers, can already understand Pokémon." She looked down at me, her red eyes glistening. "Your potential is truly something else, my cub."
I felt my face heat up. A blush crawled up my neck, spread across my cheeks, and settled somewhere around my ears.
"It's not that big a deal," I mumbled, looking away.
Before anyone could respond, a pink blur launched itself at me.
"Clefairy!"
Then I was airborne.
One moment I was sitting in Grandma's lap. The next, I was wrapped in a pair of tiny pink arms, hoisted into the air, and pressed against a round, warm, very enthusiastic Clefairy.
"Eep!"
The sound escaped before I could stop it—small, high-pitched, and absolutely, utterly humiliating. My face ignited instantly, burning so hot I was certain steam was about to rise from my ears. The blush spread across my cheeks like wildfire, creeping up to the tips of my ears and down my neck until I was probably the same shade as Mom's hair.
The Clefairy froze mid-squeeze.
Her large, dark eyes went wide. Her tiny mouth formed a perfect circle. And then—
"Clefairy! Clef clef fairy!" (Oh my Arceus! That was so adorable! Do it again! Do it again!)
She bounced me in her arms, her little legs kicking with excitement, her whole round body trembling with barely contained glee.
I groaned—a low, long, suffering sound that came from somewhere deep in my chest. Turning my head, I fixed Mom and Grandma with the most serious, most dignified look I could manage while being cradled like a baby doll by an overenthusiastic pink Pokémon.
"This never happened," I announced, my voice flat and firm. "I will deny this ever happened until the day I die. Are we clear?"
Mom and Grandma exchanged a glance.
Then they both burst out laughing.
"Of course, my little Litleo," Mom managed between giggles, pressing a hand to her chest. "We didn't hear a single thing."
"Not a peep," Grandma agreed, her red eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or should I say... not an eep?"
I groaned again, louder this time, and let my head fall back against the Clefairy's round shoulder.
But despite my embarrassment—despite the burning in my cheeks and the way I wanted to sink into the floor and never resurface—I felt a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Just a tiny one. Barely there.
I sighed, then chuckled softly, shaking my head.
I promised myself I was never, ever making that sound again.
The Clefairy, apparently deciding that she had won this round, hugged me tighter and hummed a happy little tune against my ear.
Grandma rose from the couch in one smooth motion, her red dress swirling around her ankles. She reached down and plucked me from the Clefairy's grasp with the ease of someone who had spent decades handling creatures far more troublesome than an enthusiastic fairy-type.
"That," she said, settling me on her hip, "was one heck of a shock to my system." She pressed a kiss to my forehead, her red eyes warm and bright. "You really are a little blessing, aren you, my cub?"
My blush, which had just begun to fade, returned with a vengeance.
Grandma turned toward the door without another word. "Yua," she called over her shoulder, "follow us. We're going to the main hall."
Mom looked confused for a moment, her brow furrowing. Then realization hit her like a wave, and she smiled as she shook her head. "Of course," she murmured to herself.
I had no idea what was happening, but I also had no choice in the matter. Grandma carried me through hallway after hallway, the Clefairy bouncing along beside us with a satisfied grin on her little pink face. Paintings of stern-looking ancestors watched us pass, their purple eyes seeming to follow my every move.
Finally, we reached a set of massive double doors. They were tall and grand, carved with the Silver family insignia, and they loomed above me like silent guardians.
Grandma stopped and looked down at me, her red eyes sparkling with excitement. "We haven't celebrated your birthday just yet," she said.
Before I could respond, the butler stepped forward and pushed the doors open.
And my breath caught in my throat.
The hall beyond was filled with people—dozens of them, all dressed in fine clothes, all smiling in my direction. Pyroar and Dragonite decorations covered every surface, from the banners hanging on the walls to the plush Pokémon sitting on chairs and window ledges. The entire room had been transformed into a celebration of dragons and lions, and it was all for me.
But the thing that stole my attention was the cake.
It rose from the center of the hall like a monument to deliciousness—six towering layers of frosting and flames and tiny sugar Litleos climbing up the sides. It was absurd. It was excessive. It was absolutely beautiful.
I stared at the scene before me, my mouth hanging open slightly.
"Grandma?" I managed to say, my voice small.
Behind me, Mom let out a soft laugh. "I forgot how overkill my family can be," she said, shaking her head fondly.
"This," I said slowly, still staring at the cake and the crowd and the decorations, "is definitely overkill."
Mom and Grandma both burst out laughing at my honesty, their joy echoing through the grand hall.
Grandma shifted me on her hip and raised her voice so everyone could hear. "Happy birthday, my little cub!" she announced.
And then, as one, every single person in the hall raised their voices together.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
The sound washed over me like a warm wave, and I felt a huge grin spread across my face. I was happy—really, truly, deeply happy—in a way I hadn't expected.
Grandma watched my expression shift from shock to joy, and her smile grew soft and proud.
"Welcome home, my little prince,"