Zen sat behind the orphanage, the mysterious old book resting on his lap.
Weedle perched beside him, its small eyes blinking curiously.
"Alright, let's see what this thing is about," Zen muttered, flipping open the first page.
The words were faded, written in an old-fashioned style.
'To poison others, you must first poison yourself.'
Zen blinked.
Then he blinked again.
"…Huh?"
He stared at the sentence, trying to make sense of it.
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever read," he mumbled.
Poison himself? Why would anyone do that?!
He sighed and turned to the next page.
Even More Confusing
The second page contained another strange phrase:
'The harder you are, the harder enemy fall`
Zen furrowed his brows.
"…What does that even mean?"
He knocked on his own arm. "I mean, I'm not exactly a rock."
He glanced at Weedle, who tilted its head.
"You're kinda hard, I guess?" Zen said.
Weedle wiggled its round body, its outer shell looking a little sturdier than before.
"…Is this about defense?" Zen muttered.
With a sigh, he turned to the third page.
'Sharp but not that sharp, fast but not that fast, strong but not that strong. It is what it is.'
Zen just stared.
"…What the heck is this book even saying?!"
Zen snapped the book shut, groaning loudly.
"This is useless! I should've never taken this from that old man!"
Weedle chirped in agreement, or maybe it was just confused too.
Either way, Zen had had enough.
He stood up and threw the book away, watching as it landed with a soft thud on the grass.
"Forget it. Let's do something fun instead."
Weedle wiggled excitedly.
Zen grinned. "C'mon, let's run around for a bit!"
Zen and Weedle ran around the orphanage yard, laughing (well, Zen was laughing—Weedle just chirped).
They dodged trees, leaped over small rocks, and even chased some wild Pidgeys away.
At first, it was just a game.
But as time passed, Zen noticed something different.
His legs felt lighter. His steps became quicker.
Weedle, too, was moving faster, its body reacting smoother than before.
It wasn't just playing.
It was training.
The other orphanage kids watched, some whispering, but Zen didn't care.
For the first time, he felt like he was actually getting stronger.
By the time evening rolled in, Zen was exhausted.
He sat in the dining hall, shoveling food into his mouth, while Weedle rested beside him.
His body ached, but in a good way.
Weedle looked tougher, its movements more precise.
Zen smiled. "We might not need that dumb book after all."
Weedle chirped in agreement.
That night, as Zen lay in bed, he felt a sense of peace he hadn't in a long time.
Maybe… just running and playing was enough for now.
And with that thought, he drifted into a deep, restful sleep.
Weedle drifted into sleep, his small body curled up beside Zen. In the quiet of the night, his dreams took him far beyond the limits of his tiny form.
He dreamed…
He could fly, soaring through the skies like a great Beedrill, his wings buzzing with power. He flew high above the trees, watching over Zen from the sky, ready to strike down any opponent that dared challenge them.
He dreamed…
He was harder than stone, his soft body turned to steel, shrugging off attacks as if they were mere breezes. No move could harm him, no force could break him. He was unshakable.
He dreamed…
He was fast, dashing through the battlefield like a blur, dodging attacks with ease. No one could catch him, no one could match his speed.
He dreamed…
He was strong, his tiny stinger breaking through the toughest defenses. Even the mightiest Pokémon fell before his power, unable to stand against his unyielding strength.
He dreamed…
He was powerful, his venom more potent than any toxin, his mere presence enough to make enemies tremble. He was not just a simple Weedle. He Zen's strongest pokemon.
Together, they won battles. Together, they became unstoppable.
But then…
The dream shifted.
Weedle saw himself as he was, a small, simple bug. No wings, no steel body, no overwhelming strength. Just a Weedle. Nothing special, nothing great.
Doubt crept into his dream. Was he really enough? Could he truly help Zen?
Then, he saw it.
A mushroom.
It was unlike any he had seen before—white red mushroom glowing softly in the darkness. Something about it called to him, whispering promises of strength, of power, of change.
Weedle hesitated… then took a bite.
A strange warmth spread through his body. Strength surged through his tiny form. The dream returned, he was fast, he was strong, he was unstoppable once more!
Zen would win more battles. Zen would be happy.
Zen happy, Weedle happy.
And then… he woke up.
The dream faded, but the feeling remained. He glanced at Zen, still sleeping peacefully beside him.
One thought lingered in his mind.
Chirp? Chirp?