Chapter 14: Ominous News
After a few volleys, the wooden chair was riddled with needles, looking like a giant pincushion. Giovanni noted, however, that as Weedle tired, the speed of its attacks slowed, and its accuracy suffered. The current rate of fire was enough to handle a surprise attack from a human, but against another Pokémon in a real battle, a faster opponent would easily dodge the predictable barrage. There was no such thing as a 100% accurate move in the real world.
He was now identifying the problems so he could solve them.
Seeing Giovanni frown in concentration, Weedle's own enthusiasm seemed to dim. It thought it hadn't done well enough and tried to push itself harder, its tiny body trembling with the effort.
Thanks to the power of Viridian, Giovanni could sense his partner's emotions, even if he couldn't read its mind. He knew that for a young Pokémon, emotional stability was crucial.
Besides, Weedle had done an excellent job—its speed and accuracy were already far beyond that of an ordinary specimen. It was a genius— but Giovanni's standards were higher.
He knelt and generously praised his partner. "You did a great job, Weedle. You're a natural. A true genius." He gently stroked its back, and the little Pokémon's mood immediately lifted. It flew into a happy frenzy, rubbing against his palm.
Next, Giovanni brought out a second, undamaged chair. "Ready to work on your String Shot?"
"Wee!" Weedle nodded vigorously, its energy restored.
"Alright," Giovanni commanded, pointing at the chair. "Let's begin! Tie it down!"
Weedle opened its mouth and spat a stream of white silk. Though there was a slight deviation at first, the sticky thread quickly found its mark, wrapping tightly around the chair. After a few moments, however, the stream of silk began to thin, and the speed slowed. Weedle strained, trying to produce more, but Giovanni stopped it.
"Okay, that's enough for now."
He walked over to the chair and pulled on the silk thread. It snapped easily.
The toughness isn't there yet.
He quickly diagnosed the problem. Weedle wasn't consuming enough fibrous material. The solution was simple. First, he would train it to spin smaller, denser strands, targeting an opponent's limbs for maximum effect. This would require much finer control.
Second, it simply had to eat more of the special leaves Hera had provided. He needed to flush its system, forcing it to produce new, tougher silk every day.
He was incredibly grateful for Hera's advice. She had likely foreseen all of this. For a woman in charge of Team Rocket's resources, she had to have the talents of a Pokémon Breeder, even if the profession didn't formally exist yet.
Seeing the silk snap so easily, Weedle's mood began to drop again. It had a strong, proud personality. It wanted to be the best.
Giovanni turned and comforted it. "This isn't your fault. It's my job to get you the right food. You just need to eat more of the leaves, and your silk will get tougher. I promise."
Understanding its master's meaning, Weedle nodded vigorously. Next time, I'll eat even more!
With that, the first day of training was complete. Rest, eat, plan, and use the power of Viridian to recover and grow stronger. It was the start of a new routine, the first step on his long journey to the top.
The next morning, the familiar doorbell woke him from his nightmares. He and Weedle had another delicious meal, and then the training began again.
Mornings were for physical conditioning and recovery. Afternoons were for targeted move training. For Poison Sting, he gradually shrank the size of the target, forcing Weedle to improve its accuracy. For String Shot, the focus was on control and concentration.
— — —
Ten days passed in this blur of intense, repetitive training.
Only four days remained until the end of the second stage. Within the base, more eggs had begun to hatch. Some children, like him, had passed the assessment.
Others were not so lucky. A few had been attacked by their newly hatched Pokémon—some creatures were simply born with cruel, aggressive natures.
Most, however, were still waiting. The ticking clock was a form of torture. The pressure forced them to carry their incubators everywhere, their fragile emotions stretched to the breaking point. For them, a failure to hatch meant death.
But for Giovanni, a different, more personal piece of news arrived. It was bad news.
He learned that Musashi's egg had hatched. It was a Charmander, one of the three prized Kanto starters. Not only that, but Musashi himself was proving to be a formidable leader.
Word on the floor was that he had already consolidated his power, forming a gang of several other children who had hatched their Pokémon. His group was now the largest and most powerful faction among the recruits.
And their primary target, Giovanni knew, would be him. Musashi's threat was no longer a distant problem. It was an immediate and growing danger.