Pokémon: Roots of Pallet - Episode 03: "Of Scars and Seeds"
That afternoon over Pallet Town felt like a blanket of silence draped over the village. The houses rested under the soft glow of the setting sun, and even the wind seemed to whisper instead of blow. At the top of the hill, Professor Oak's lab still flickered with a spark of restlessness—and hope.
In a small recovery room, Pikachu lay bandaged on cushions that barely masked the trembling of his muscles. His half-closed eyes revealed a storm of emotions: pain, anger, and confusion. Every breath felt heavy, burdened with something more than physical wounds.
A boy named Ash stepped in, cap turned backwards, walking with steady steps. Pikachu saw him and, in a defensive reflex, sprang up and whipped his tail at the trainer's face, landing a direct hit on cheeks already marked with bandages.
"Sorry," Ash murmured, wiping the blood that trickled down. "But… you don't like nuts, huh?"
The next moment was pure emotional chaos: Pikachu leapt, scratched, growled—his body screaming with revolt and despair. Ash stood his ground, feeling as though Pikachu's emotions were his own. There, in that corner lit only by a weak lamp, sound and silence merged into a single message.
Ash felt the Pokémon's anger—but also his fear. And inside that fear, he heard a deep pain, like a silent scream:
"I was left. Again."
Then, Pikachu stopped.
He cried.
And curled into himself, his vulnerability laid bare.
Ash, already bruised, approached carefully.
"I won't hurt you," he said. "I reach out my hand when I meet someone new. Nice to meet you. I'm Ash, and… I want to be your friend."
Pikachu, still tearful, hesitated. His world—once only black and white—now shimmered with something new: the hint of color.
In that decisive moment, Ash smiled. But it was a trembling smile, aware of the Pokémon's distrust. From his pocket, he pulled out a small blue Berry—a rare fruit he kept as a symbol of peace.
"This Berry… it's mine. It's the favorite of a certain Eevee. Do you trust me?"
Pikachu, his fur still bristling, sniffed the air. That fruit was an invitation. A risk. A test.
Ash placed the Berry near Pikachu and took a step back.
Silence returned—and just before Pikachu could decide, the door burst open.
"ASH!" roared Professor Oak. "What are you doing here this late? No permission and covered in scratches! Your mother's going to skin me alive!"
As the old man verbally devoured Ash, Pikachu watched the boy being pulled away. The door slammed shut. The lamp flickered and went dark for a moment.
When the lights came back, Pikachu—still curled in the corner—turned his gaze toward the Berry.
With cautious steps, he approached it. Stopped. Took in its sweet, subtle scent. And, in a simple act, touched the Berry with one paw.
=0=0=0=0=0
The door at home slammed shut with a dry thud.
Delia Ketchum, eyes sharp as a kitchen knife, stared at her son as if trying to slice away his bad behavior.
"You little rascal! How many times have I told you not to disturb Professor Oak's work?!" she huffed, pointing at his scratched face. "Look at yourself! All beat up!"
Ash, cheeks burning with shame and arms marked by Pikachu's claws, muttered:
"I... I'm fine. It was just a scratch... It's Pikachu who's suffering..."
But before he could finish, his mother crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Professor Oak, standing silently in the corner of the room, didn't speak. He looked at Ash with an odd expression—not of disapproval, but curiosity.
"Even so," Delia continued with storm-like firmness, "you trespassed into the lab. Without permission. And got hurt! You're not going back. You're not even leaving the house!"
Ash's eyes widened.
"What?? No, Mom! I have to visit Pikachu tomorrow too! He needs me!"
But Delia was already turning away, resolute. Ash stood there, frozen, fist clenched and chest tight.
=0=0=0=0=0=0=0
Across the street, peeking behind a fence, Green and Gary watched the scene.
"Wow," said Green with a small smirk, "it's rare to see Ash with that look. So... serious."
"Ash?" asked Gary. "Was he always like this?"
Green hesitated. Swallowed hard.
"He only gets like this with Gary..." he thought.
Gary stared at him, confused.
"Huh? What'd you say?"
"Nothing," Green replied quickly, looking away. "Nothing at all. Did she say something?"
Gary was even more puzzled. But didn't push further.
=0=0=0==0=
One day later
Professor Oak walked the halls of the lab. His white coat swayed like a curtain between doors as he carried his clipboard. Entering Pikachu's recovery room, he stopped abruptly.
On the floor, nestled among the cushions, was something unexpected: a Berry pit.
He bent down. Touched the tiny remnant with the tip of his fingers.
"He ate it," he murmured, surprised.
=0=0=0=0==0=0=
In the Ketchum living room
Ash, sulking, was sprawled on the couch, watching an old documentary about Professor Oak. The grainy footage showed an interview with a much younger Oak.
The reporter spoke excitedly:
"Professor Oak, is it true this will be your last battle as a trainer?"
Oak only smiled with his eyes. And at that moment, two Pokémon appeared behind him: a Gyarados and a Tauros. The creatures stared at each other and suddenly butted heads with force.
"What was that?! Is this a battle?!" the reporter asked, startled.
"No," Oak replied calmly. "After training together… that's how they say 'thank you.'"
The reporter hesitated, trying to understand.
"A… 'thank you'?"
"Yes," Oak continued. "I didn't teach them that. They created the ritual. Different species, but with mutual respect. Tauros defends his herd with his horns. Gyarados, on the other hand, never had that habit. But he learned. Imitated. And now… that's how they connect."
Ash sat there, hypnotized.
"Actions," said Oak on the TV. "Actions mirror feelings. That's communication between species. That… is what makes the Pokémon-Human partnership possible. Not words. But intention."
The screen faded to black. Ash turned off the TV. He stared at his reflection on the dark screen for long minutes.
"Communication… feeling… intention…"
He stood up, determined. Ran to his room, opened his computer and began researching. Images, charts, videos—everything about Pikachu's species. He took notes, scribbled, compared data. He made connections he didn't even know were in his mind. Late into the night, the sound of typing filled the quiet house.
Then… he fell asleep. Right there on the keyboard.
Delia, passing by the hallway, saw the bedroom light on. She gently pushed the door open.
"This boy..." she murmured, with a tired smile. She approached, covered him with a blanket, turned off the computer, and carefully placed his notes into a folder.
For a moment, she looked at her sleeping son and thought:
"Maybe… he really is growing up."