Lost in thought, Machop almost didn't notice Hiroshi approach until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "How are you holding up?" Hiroshi asked softly as he knelt beside Machop. His pale blue eyes were full of concern as he examined the Machop's bandaged leg. Machop straightened up and mustered a brave smile, giving a thumbs-up with one three-fingered hand. "Ma-chop!" he insisted, trying to flex his arm confidently. The effect was only slightly undercut by the wince that flashed across his face at the movement. The truth was, he was still sore and healing slowly. Hiroshi frowned sympathetically.
"Easy there, tough guy," he said. "You've nothing to prove." Carefully, Hiroshi placed his palm over a particularly livid bruise peeking out from Machop's shoulder bandages. Machop watched curiously as Hiroshi closed his eyes, as if concentrating deeply. A faint, gentle glow emanated from Hiroshi's hand – a soft green light that made Machop's skin tingle pleasantly beneath it. Warmth spread from that spot, radiating through Machop's tired muscles. The ache in his shoulder ebbed away, replaced by soothing relief. Machop's eyes widened in astonishment. This was no ordinary medical treatment – it felt almost like a Pokémon's healing move, yet it was coming from Hiroshi himself.
Hiroshi seldom used this gift openly – in fact, only one other person alive even knew he possessed it , except all his pokemon , his reincarnation gift – and he intended to keep it that way. The green light faded as Hiroshi removed his hand. Beneath it, the bruise had all but disappeared. Machop rotated his arm experimentally – the pain was gone. Is he an experiment like the kids in the lab? The one who escaped the confinement for him to have the healing power of Pokemon? He must be risking so much just to use it openly. Machop's heart swelled with gratitude and something like reverence. This human who had risked his life to save him was now using a secret, gentle power just to ease his pain. Hiroshi, oblivious to his misunderstanding, continued healing him.
Machop bowed his head respectfully and managed a quiet, earnest "Chop…" as thanks. Hiroshi simply smiled and ruffled the little Pokémon's crest of head spikes. "Anytime," he replied softly. "You're one of us now." Those words meant everything to Machop. He felt a prickling at the corner of his eyes – if he knew how to cry, perhaps a tear of gratitude might have fallen. Instead, the stoic little fighter quickly wiped his face and gave a determined nod.
Hiroshi rose, giving Machop a moment to compose himself. As he stood, he took in the whole room with a deep sense of contentment. This — these quiet moments, the laughter, even the silly arguments — this was what he fought for. For a world where Pokémon could live like this: not as experiments or weapons, but as friends sharing a home, a dream he and his siblings shared. A small smile played on his lips as he watched Wartortle now trying to help polish Milotic's scales with a towel (the turtle nearly tumbled into her tub in his enthusiasm), and Charmeleon sneaking into one of Ivysaur's sun-warmed spots by the window (only to have Ivysaur playfully swat him with a vine in faux outrage). It was a picture of peace that Hiroshi wished could last forever.
But peace, he knew, was always fleeting for people like him. As if on cue, a subtle change rippled through the atmosphere of the room. Daisy suddenly looked up, her red eyes shimmering. The Gardevoir turned her head toward the front door a split second before a polite knock sounded from it. In the same moment, Raichu's ears twitched alertly and he leapt down from the couch, landing in a guarded stance. Dragonair raised her head, tongue flickering as she sensed unfamiliar presences outside. The room fell into a hush. After years on the run and in hiding, every member of Hiroshi's team knew the routine when an unexpected visitor arrived.
Hiroshi's heart rate quickened, but he remained outwardly calm. Only a few people in the world knew about this safehouse. It was unlikely that danger had found them here — but not impossible. He stepped quietly toward the door, gesturing with a hand for his Pokémon to stay back. Instantly, Charmeleon and Ivysaur were in front of Machop, ready to defend the still-recovering newcomer if needed. Alakazam, who had been silent in meditation at the kitchen's corner, hovered up and prepared to protect the group with a thought. Milotic sank low in her tub to hide her bright form, and Swablu fluttered down from the curtain rod to perch atop Lairon's broad back; the little bird fluffed its wings, ready to vanish into Lairon's steel-gray bulk for cover. Kirlia Akemi clung to Hiroshi's leg, peeking around it with wide eyes. Daisy remained closest to Hiroshi, poised and focused; he could feel the gentle probe of her psychic sense extending beyond the door, scanning for hostility.
After a brief moment, Daisy relaxed and shot Hiroshi a quick mental message. It's okay. Familiar voices… Makima and Yoshimura. Hiroshi breathed out, relief washing through him. Of course. He should have expected them; he'd been sending reports since the Shanghai mission, and word of his success would have reached headquarters by now. Still, he hadn't realized they'd come in person.
He gave Daisy a grateful nod. "Stand down, everyone. They're friends," he said quietly. The tension in the room eased at once. Wartortle withdrew his head from inside his shell (where he had instinctively ducked), and Charmeleon's tail flame – which had flared brighter in anticipation of a fight – returned to its steady glow. Machop looked around in confusion – he'd only caught the tail end of Daisy's telepathic warning and didn't recognize the names, but seeing the others relax, he figured there was no threat after all.