At the same time, it cursed inwardly, its entire body trembling from the sting: You bastard, that really hurts! Bright, dazzling sparks burst violently from its cheeks, crackling with intensity, and in the next instant, a surge of electricity shot forward, completely enveloping Patty. The current wrapped around him like a living thing, forcing a sharp, pained scream out of his throat.
"Aaagh—what the hell?!" Patty howled, his body convulsing as the electricity coursed through him.
Pikachu stood its ground, cheeks still flickering faintly with residual sparks, its breathing slightly uneven but its expression fierce. "Pika… Pikachu!" it cried sharply, as if declaring its defiance.
When the attack finally subsided, Patty's grip loosened completely. His fingers twitched once before going slack, and his body dropped heavily to the floor with a dull thud. He lay there motionless, his clothes singed and blackened, thin wisps of smoke curling up from his body.
The smell of burnt fabric lingered in the air.
Pikachu let out a small breath and straightened slightly, a smug grin spreading across its face. Its Thunder Shock wasn't something anyone could just brush off. Let's see you act tough now, it thought, its tail flicking with quiet satisfaction.
For a moment, the entire room fell into stunned silence.
No one moved or spoke.
Then, almost all at once—
"What… what just happened…?" someone stammered.
"Did… did Patty just get electrocuted?!"
"What kind of mouse even does that?!"
"Is that thing even a mouse?!"
The chefs and workers stared at Pikachu as if they were looking at something completely alien. Their eyes were wide, their mouths hanging open, some of them even taking cautious steps backward as if expecting it to attack again at any moment.
Pikachu glanced around quickly, its ears twitching as it assessed the situation.
This was bad.
Very bad.
They had moved away from the pier at some point.
There were too many people, too many obstacles—and worst of all, they were surrounded by the endless ocean. Through the small windows, all it could see was water stretching out in every direction.
No land.
No escape.
"Pika…" it muttered under its breath, its earlier confidence fading just a little. Running isn't going to be easy…
Still, it couldn't just stay here.
It needed to get out—fast.
Its eyes darted around the room again, sharper this time, more focused.
Then it saw it.
The stairs were clear.
No one was blocking them.
Its ears perked up immediately, and its body tensed, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
That's my chance.
But just as Pikachu shifted its weight forward—
"What the hell is going on down there?!"
The voice exploded through the air like a cannon blast.
The voice was commanding and suffocating.
Pikachu froze for half a second, startled by the sheer force of it.
And that half-second cost it.
It ran straight forward—
—and slammed headfirst into something solid.
"Pika—?!" it squeaked, stumbling backward slightly as the impact rattled through its skull.
Shaking its head, it blinked a few times to clear its vision before slowly looking up.
And immediately, it shrank back.
A man loomed over it.
He was tall—far taller than anyone else in the room—and his presence alone seemed to dominate the entire space. His eyes were sharp, narrow, and filled with a kind of cold authority that made it hard to even meet his gaze. Long braids hung down from beneath his chin, swaying slightly as he moved.
Pikachu's gaze dropped instinctively.
What it had run into… wasn't a wall.
It was his wooden peg leg.
"Pika…" Pikachu let out a small, uneasy sound, its ears flattening against its head.
The man's gaze bore down on it, heavy and suffocating.
Under that stare, Pikachu felt smaller than it ever had before.
Before it could react, the man reached down, grabbed it firmly by the scruff of its neck, and lifted it clean off the ground.
"Boss, wait!" the chef in sunglasses shouted urgently. "That thing's dangerous!"
"Shut up!" the boss roared, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Pikachu dangled in his grip, its small body tensing.
It wanted to fight back.
Wanted to shock him.
Its cheeks even sparked faintly, instinctively responding to the threat.
But something stopped it.
A feeling.
A warning.
"Pika…" it muttered, its sparks fading.
If it attacked… it would die. Definitely die.
This man was different.
Strong.
Overwhelmingly so.
The pressure radiating from him was unlike anything Pikachu had felt before—it was suffocating, like being pinned under an invisible weight.
"Oh my… what's going on here?"
A new voice drifted in, light and almost bored.
Pikachu turned its head as much as it could in the boss's grip, trying to see who had spoken.
A young man stood nearby, dressed in a black suit.
He had blond hair that fell neatly over one eye, completely covering it, while the other remained visible—calm, observant. A distinctive curly eyebrow gave his face an unusual, almost whimsical detail.
He flicked open a lighter with practiced ease.
Click.
A small flame appeared.
He brought it to his lips, lighting a cigarette, then took a slow drag before exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the air.
Composed and unbothered.
Like none of this chaos meant anything to him.
Man, that guy looks so cool, it thought.
"Did I miss something interesting?" he said casually. "Or did all the customers run off because of your terrible cooking again?"
The chefs immediately shot him annoyed glares.
Pikachu, however, felt the corner of its mouth twitch upward ever so slightly.
"Pika…" it murmured quietly.
Out of the corner of its eye, it noticed movement.
Patty.
He was waking up.
Slowly recovering from the Thunder Shock.
"We've been dealing with a pest, you idiot!" Patty snapped, still clearly irritated, as he pointed at Pikachu. "This thing tried to steal food!"
The blond man turned his head slightly, finally giving Pikachu his full attention.
His visible eye studied it carefully, looking up and down.
Then he said, "Hm. Maybe it's just hungry."
Pikachu froze.
"Pika…?" it said softly, caught completely off guard.
It hadn't expected that. Not from any of them.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of the man's lips.
"I'm more surprised it could eat that," he added dryly. "Either it's got guts… or you've finally improved."
He paused briefly.
"Though I wouldn't count on the latter."
"Why you—!" Patty snapped, his face flushing red with anger.
But before he could say anything else—
"Enough."
The boss's voice cut through everything again.
"Don't you have work to do?" he barked. "Clean this mess up. All of you."
The chefs didn't hesitate.
Under his glare, they scattered instantly, moving faster than they had all day.
Then, without warning, the boss turned and tossed Pikachu toward the blond man.
"Sanji. You deal with it."
"Wha—?!" Sanji barely managed to catch Pikachu, clearly not expecting it to be thrown at him.
He looked down at it, blinking once.
"Uh… what exactly am I supposed to do with this thing…?" he muttered, tilting his head slightly.
The boss didn't even look back.
"Cook it. Kill it. Throw it in the sea. I don't care."
Pikachu's entire body stiffened.
Its face went pale.
"Pika… pika?!" it squeaked nervously, swallowing hard as it slowly looked up at Sanji.
Sanji's expression didn't change.
Still calm and unreadable.
Like a gentle man with a poker face.
Maybe… that was a good sign?
"…Tch," he clicked his tongue softly before turning away and starting toward the stairs.
Pikachu tensed immediately.
Wait.
The kitchen was right there!
"Pika! Pikaaa!" it squealed, struggling in his grip as it spotted the doors ahead, panic rising again.
"Be quiet, will you?" Sanji said flatly, not even looking down.
Pikachu stopped.
It looked up at him again.
Still nothing.
Just… a poker face.
As he walked past the kitchen and into a long hallway, Pikachu's resistance slowly faded. Its body relaxed despite itself, going limp as the earlier tension drained away.
"Pika…" it muttered weakly.
Sanji stopped at a door near the end of the hallway and pushed it open.
Inside was a simple bedroom.
Nothing fancy.
He stepped in and gently placed Pikachu on the bed.
The soft mattress dipped slightly under its weight, causing it to bounce just a little.
Pikachu blinked in surprise.
"Pika?"
"Try not to break anything," Sanji said simply before turning and leaving.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence.
Pikachu sat there for a long moment, staring blankly at the door.
"…Pika?" it said again, softer this time.
Was that it?
Was it… safe?
If he really wanted to get rid of it… he would have done it already, right?
"…Pikachu…" it murmured, still unsure.
It slowly looked around the room.
A bookshelf, a wardrobe, and a small bathroom.
Then it noticed a photograph resting on a nearby surface.
Curious, Pikachu hopped down and padded over.
The photo showed Sanji standing next to the scary man from earlier—but he was much younger. Just a child.
Pikachu tilted its head.
"Pika…?"
Father?
No… they didn't look alike.
Still… it should mean something.
Sanji must have been here for a long time.
Its attention shifted again when it spotted a window.
Quickly, it jumped onto the sill and peeked through the curtains.
The sky outside had turned a soft pink, the sun slowly sinking below the horizon.
"Pikaaa…" it whispered.
Had it really been that late already?
Just then—
Click.
The door opened.
Pikachu's ears shot up instantly.
It jumped down to the floor.
Sanji walked in, holding a plate.
Without a word, he walked over and set it down in front of Pikachu.
"Here. Eat."
Pikachu looked down.
And froze.
"Pika…?!"
It was the same food.
The exact same one it had tried to steal earlier.
Still warm and fragrant.
A faint smile formed on its face.
"Since you started it, you might as well finish it," Sanji said, sitting casually on the bed while lighting a cigarette.
Pikachu didn't need to be told twice.
"Pika!" it chirped, immediately digging in.
The taste—
Just as good as before.
Next to the plate was a small bowl of water.
Within minutes, everything was gone.
Not a single crumb left.
"Pikaaa…" Pikachu sighed happily, licking its lips.
At least… if it was going to get thrown off the ship, it got to eat something amazing first.
Looking up, it saw Sanji standing over it again, picking up the empty plate.
Only then did Pikachu really notice how tall he was.
"I'll be back," Sanji said. "And don't break anything."
Then he left again.
Pikachu blinked.
"…Pika."
He really was different.
As darkness settled into the room, Pikachu let out a long yawn.
The day's chaos had finally caught up to it.
Its body felt heavy and drained.
Slowly, it climbed onto the bed again, curling up at the foot.
The blanket was soft.
Warm.
"Pika…" it mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into it.
After waking up on a cold wooden floor… this felt incredible.
Its eyes closed.
And within moments, it was asleep.
Sometime later—maybe an hour or two—it faintly heard the door open again.
Soft footsteps slowly approached it.
Then—
A gentle hand started patting its back, slowly and carefully.
"Pika…" it murmured in its sleep, not waking.
The way he touched it felt extremely familiar, like it had experienced this before. A small teardrop formed in one of its eyes as it faintly remembered something it had lost.
Though the touch lingered only briefly,
Pikachu sank deeper into sleep.
It felt safe here.