Chapter Sixty-Four: Hello, Little Fairy Milk

Zhusuïhan had no idea what Du was up to, and returned to his dormitory deep in thought.

Du’s advancement path was the typical one: from the Four Heavenly Kings all the way to Champion. When it came to the Galar arc, he was even brought out just to fill out the numbers among the Masters Eight.

This character could truly be considered an old hand, especially in the Special series. Compared to that, his screen time in the anime was pitifully scarce.

As for his psychic abilities, the timeline was so convoluted that Zhusuïhan wasn’t entirely sure what Du’s deal was anymore.

The early canon was rife with contradictions, retcons, and outright overwriting. In recent years, they’d simply opted to tear everything down and start over.

“If I’m not mistaken, Du is also a bearer of the Viridian Power...”

But later on, there emerged a theory about “the Power of the Dragon Master,” much like Iris’s unique mental quality—the “Heart of the Dragon.”

If there’s any distinction, it’s that the Dragon Master’s Power is more specialized, while the Viridian Power is versatile.

Yet, if you go by the local legend of Viridian City, every ten years there’s only one chosen one who inherits the forest’s power, which blurs the line between the two even more.

Zhusuïhan’s preliminary judgment was that the chosen one had little to do with the passage of time, but rather was linked to personality and inner character.

Sakaki was once a passionate bug-catching boy, and Yellow was practically the incarnation of a bodhisattva.

Du was acknowledged by the Viridian Forest because, in his version of the timeline, he was a radical who’d go so far as to destroy humanity for the sake of Pokémon.

One might not approve of his methods, but his love for Pokémon was undeniably sincere.

Du had witnessed firsthand the pollution caused by humans, holding a Dratini in his arms as its life ebbed away in the toxic waters.

As for the ten-year interval in Viridian’s legend, it’s more that people with such “qualities” are exceedingly rare—at least, that’s what the timeline suggests.

It’s like trying to find a universally acknowledged good person in real life—the degree of difficulty is immense.

Otherwise, why would so many envy Elder Tang and the Brother Disciple for their ten lifetimes of virtue?

Zhusuïhan’s thoughts circled back to Du’s Dragon Master’s Power.

To use a TCG analogy, Du would be a card with an extremely high cost, but stats that don’t really justify the expense.

But his effect is monstrous!

[Dragon Champion: Du]

[Effect: The Majesty of the Dragon Legion]

[While this card is on the field, all Dragon-type Pokémon gain +10 to all stats.]

If your opponent doesn’t have a hard counter in hand, those jaws will shatter anything.

“Suppose Du’s ability is to enhance Dragon-type Pokémon—could the extraordinary power within him be considered a form of Dragon-type energy?”

Zhusuïhan ran his right hand over the glass of the incubator.

If that’s the case, then when Milcery produces its cream, what if Fairy-type energy could be blended in, coexisting with the cream—a new hybrid version?

Would Du be affected by this?

In other words, poisoned.

Zhusuïhan resolved: “Once we get to know each other, I’ll treat him to a cream puff.”

No other reason—just a simple meal among friends.

If that turned Du into a Splatoon warrior, that would be a success!

“Lapras!”

Lapras eyed Zhusuïhan askance, feeling that her trainer had been acting odd ever since that outsider showed up at the academy.

Thinking back to when they’d found the Crown Shell, that had all started with Zhusuïhan looking for fun.

As the team’s big sister, Lapras felt it necessary to remind Zhusuïhan not to get himself in trouble.

The underlings you took down before were villains, but anyone who can walk the halls of the academy openly is definitely not a pushover!

“I’m not stupid—I just saw a promising young man.”

Zhusuïhan explained, “That young man possesses a mysterious power. Most basically, he can quickly bond with any Dragon-type Pokémon.”

“Lapras?”

Is that how it is for you too?

“No, you’re Water-Ice dual-type. The only dragon connection you have is maybe through moves, or possibly some hereditary trait.”

He wasn’t sure if Professor Rowan had ever developed the Egg Group academic theory; Zhusuïhan honestly couldn’t remember—it was convoluted to the point of nausea.

Scarlet and Violet made things even simpler—you just bring a Ditto, make a sandwich, and wait for your Pokémon to lay an egg.

Strictly speaking, the “sandwich-making” process is akin to magic.

“Lapras.”

Lapras’s expression shifted to indifference. She’d wanted a chance to experience what extraordinary power really felt like.

Her trainer’s constitution was indeed impressive, but it wasn’t anything special at first glance.

In short: no special effects.

Zhusuïhan shrugged. “If you want flashy effects, you should look into psychic power or Aura. Those two are a lot more visually striking.”

A skilled Aura user can literally fire Aura Spheres by hand—visually, they’re like miniature Spirit Bombs.

As for psychic powers, bending spoons is just the beginning; Sabrina could even turn people into dolls live on stage.

Aura Force didn’t seem to have much in the way of special effects either; entering a psychic space was a private affair, not something you could stream with spectators.

Honestly though, if one’s power is strong enough, it’s possible—like those mythical and legendary Pokémon, who do group telepathy for fun.

“Never mind, it’s not that interesting anyway. I’d better think about tomorrow's breakfast.”

They’d just come back from the cafeteria, but that didn’t stop Zhusuïhan and Lapras from watching TV while making Pokéblocks.

The TV was just background noise anyway; there probably wasn’t any program he’d find interesting.

The most popular shows were likely live Pokémon battles, but Zhusuïhan wasn’t all that interested.

The kind of battles in the anime—back and forth, move for move—were the most unrealistic form of turn-based combat.

But the anime had to cater to viewers; they couldn’t keep the camera fixed on one shot, or people would think it was some first-person film.

Switching camera angles gives the illusion that battles are turn-based.

And then there was the “four-move limit”—Zhusuïhan had always thought that was just to save on production costs.

The more moves, the higher the cost per episode.

In real life, you could switch perspectives on different channels, and those who didn’t understand the battles had to rely on commentary, which depended entirely on the commentator’s skill.

Aside from major matches, the commentary wasn’t always top-notch.

“There are still some Ten-Year Berries Pokéblocks left, so I won’t make more until we’ve finished those.”

Lapras nodded. Now, Ten-Year Berries had become her bedtime snack—a bite and she’d flop in the pool, drifting off to sleep in no time.

Her routine was surprisingly similar to that of the white-furred monkey.

As the aroma drifted out, Zhusuïhan checked the final shaping process. Satisfied, he picked up his water glass for a sip—only to almost drop it in shock.

The incubator was glowing!

Zhusuïhan and Lapras: ?!

“Wait, shouldn’t the scheduled time not be up yet?”

Zhusuïhan quickly glanced at the incubator’s digital screen, saw that the predicted incubation value was skyrocketing, and the life signature graph was spiking in tandem.

It was what stock traders called the “euphoria line”—a relentless upward surge!

“Is this the quality of Macrolomon Group’s products?”

Zhusuïhan swiftly set the incense burner aside, swept the clutter off the table with one hand, and Lapras handled the heavy lifting, shoving the sofa against the wall with her body.

“Lapras?”

“Don’t move the table—the incubator’s on it! This isn’t about steady hands.”

Zhusuïhan nervously rubbed his hands together, then turned on his phone’s video recording and placed it on Lapras’s shell.

Truth be told, both he and Lapras were first-timers at this—utterly inexperienced.

Oh, right—nutrient solution.

He grabbed two bottles, then after a moment’s thought, placed one on Lapras’s head.

With a treat in hand, both gluttons visibly returned to normal. Indeed, having something tangible to hold onto was comforting—the only danger was accidentally crushing the bottle.

They’d calmed down.

A gentle hiss sounded; the life signature had reached the target line. The incubator opened automatically, like some futuristic solo stasis pod.

The Pokémon egg shone with dazzling white light. Zhusuïhan narrowed his eyes, watching intently for any change.

There was no cracking of the eggshell—rather, the entire egg itself was transforming, as if undergoing evolution.

Then, the egg’s form shrank, and a delicate fragrance, now suffusing the entire living room, enveloped both Zhusuïhan and Lapras in its embrace.

Give it a little longer, and it felt as if they’d be marinated in it.

Zhusuïhan muttered, “Is this the legendary rich aroma?”

“Milcery!”

A clear, ringing voice sounded. A tiny figure darted atop Lapras’s head, snatched up the nutrient bottle, and zipped over to Zhusuïhan, trying to grab the other bottle as well.

The little figure pulled with all its might; Zhusuïhan silently countered.

You want to wrestle with me?

“Milcery?”

Because of this pause, Zhusuïhan and Lapras got a good look at the newcomer.

A little blob of cream—a dollop with eyes and a mouth.

Its color was... silvery white!

Zhusuïhan: ?!

A shiny Milcery?

“Milcery, Milcery!”

The little Milcery laughed, planted a kiss on Zhusuïhan’s cheek, then flew over to kiss Lapras as well.

Since her performance had failed, it was time to dig in!

Milcery promptly unscrewed the nutrient bottle, wrapped her tiny arms around it, and began to chug energetically, as if downing a bottle of liquor with gusto.

“Lapras?”

Lapras was puzzled, nudging Zhusuïhan with her head.

Honestly, she’d never seen Zhusuïhan so out of sorts—it was a rare sight.

“This is wonderful, Lapras! We’re truly blessed by Arceus. Looks like we should offer more prayers to the Ten-Year Berry project in the future.”

Lapras immediately perked up—now that, she could get behind!

Zhusuïhan broke into a grin, and together they gazed at the still-guzzling Milcery with the fondness of doting elders.

One bottle was a bit much for the little Milcery, no matter how valiantly she wolfed it down.

“From now on, you’ll really be the big sister.”

“Lapras!”

Milcery’s safety would be guarded by Lapras herself!

It was as if she’d crossed time and space, arriving from a world away.

Hello, Milcery.