Chapter Thirty-Seven: Possibly Becoming a Specimen for Civilized Observation

"Come clean, are you lying in wait here with some mischief planned for me?" Bamboo Years Cold cupped Dragon's face, her gaze unwavering and intense.

"Uuu!"

No, Dragon just simply wanted to carry her trainer!

Yet her shifty eyes betrayed her true intentions—she genuinely wanted Bamboo Years Cold to feel how much she had grown. A more wild approach was certainly direct enough, wasn't it?

If Dragon had only been growing physically during her time at the Kajido Gym, barely undergoing any real training, then these days with Bamboo Years Cold had seen her nutrition rise, and both her body and elemental energy being honed and strengthened. From a fitness perspective, if someone too skinny wants to build muscle, it starts with gaining weight. Of course, some use that as an excuse to indulge recklessly.

Dragon had moved from the stage of simply gaining flesh to truly building muscle, with her training regimen increasing accordingly. Her progress wasn’t quite meteoric, but it was impressive enough to make anyone take notice. Four or five small improvements a day were no problem at all.

And Bamboo Years Cold had the honor of being the first witness—though the only downside was finding herself in the throes of a drenched allure, her white hair plastered tightly against her clothes and skin.

"A speedboat engine running at full power would overheat, so it can't operate at full capacity constantly—but Dragon doesn't have that limitation."

Indeed, this was pure biological energy!

Bamboo Years Cold shook her hair and glanced at the walking grass boldly striding past her feet. Such small details signaled one thing: this area frequently showed signs of human activity, so the wild Pokémon weren’t particularly wary of people.

They were close to Golden City now—or rather, this region could be considered a starter village for trainers venturing out on their journeys.

"Get in the ball. We'll go to Golden City's Pokémon Center to get you back in shape first."

"Uuu."

Dragon obediently entered her ball. Though the wild dash had been exhilarating, she knew her current state wasn't suitable for wandering around with her trainer.

"Golden City... speaking of which, where was that restaurant last time?"

She had to admit, the food there was excellent, but her first priority was to visit the Pokémon Center. On the way, she encountered some peculiar rookie NPCs—new travelers just setting out, looking for any random audience to practice battling.

Bamboo Years Cold explained she had just returned from the wild and her partner wasn’t in good shape. The newcomers didn’t insist on a forced battle; everyone was quite friendly. One big sister kept eyeing Bamboo Years Cold’s face and asked if she needed any healing medicine just in case.

She politely declined.

Arriving at the Pokémon Center, Bamboo Years Cold handed Dragon's Poké Ball to Nurse Joy, who almost mistook it for some strange villainous ball.

"I’ve never seen this kind before—or rather, there aren’t many young people these days who still choose handmade Poké Balls." Nurse Joy smiled gently. "It seems you have a close relationship with your partner."

"Of course."

Bamboo Years Cold nodded. "Thank you, Nurse Joy. By the way, I'd like to use some of the mechanical equipment in the center—I'll pay for everything together later."

"No need, it's free this time."

Nurse Joy’s smile grew warmer. "Junior."

Bamboo Years Cold: ?

"Are you... a teacher?"

"Not exactly," Nurse Joy replied. "But word has gotten around—everyone’s curious about your identity, since Old Man Willow actually spoke up to help you."

She explained, "Normally, aside from students who enter through proper channels, some people have paid hefty sponsorship fees for temporary admission. But among them, you’re one of the few who got in through the back door, and the one who vouched for you was 'Willow of Winter.'"

Well, it’s fine—even if I can’t become Willow of Summer, I suppose becoming Willow of Autumn shouldn’t be impossible.

"Let’s get acquainted. I’m Joy Hua, and from now on, you’re my junior."

Joy Hua shook hands with Bamboo Years Cold. "When you get to the academy, don’t be nervous. There aren’t many boys, and even fewer who enter the way you did. You’ll attract attention, but nobody will do anything strange—just keep calm."

So, basically, civilized monkey-watching.

...

Bamboo Years Cold felt as if she’d walked into a girls’ school. Hopefully, more brothers would show up for a gaming squad, or else this "girls’ school side quest" might prove rather difficult.

She asked, "Sister Hua, will there be any sort of placement test when I enroll? I’m not familiar with your curriculum."

"There will be—and you might be the only candidate," Joy Hua replied. "Since you're a transfer, and your previous education is unclear, a placement test is necessary so the academy can assign you to the right grade and class."

Well, even illiterates have to take exams.

Bamboo Years Cold nodded gratefully. It seemed that even without an official trainer certification from the League, she could use Pokémon Centers free of charge from now on.

The familiar healing chime sounded, signaling treatment was complete. Bamboo Years Cold, along with several other trainers, stood up.

"Lucky~"

Chansey pushed a cart out, neatly stacked with Poké Balls—one stood out with its unusual color, not the most pleasing sight for anyone obsessed with order.

Once the number of Pokémon requiring treatment climbed, they weren’t let out to sit on the cart.

Bamboo Years Cold took her Beiming Ball, inside which Dragon was restlessly shaking, eager to come out.

"Don’t even think about it. Stay inside and rest."

Bamboo Years Cold clipped the ball to her waist and glanced at the other trainers nearby.

It felt like a five-village skirmish with headbands, reminiscent of Alder, the champion from Unova, who wore his Poké Balls around his neck like Sandy Monk; everyone else had their own unique methods.

Clipping balls to the waist was mainly influenced by Red back in the day—before Pokémon transfer machines were introduced, Red’s waist bristling with Poké Balls left a lasting impression.

Badges, too—Ash liked pinning them to his clothes’ inner lining, much like those well-dressed folks who always had a pen inside their jackets.

Normally, badges and ribbons from the Grand Festival could be stored in special boxes.

The only issue with this practice was that a single badge was fine, but eight would surely feel heavy.

Bamboo Years Cold could already imagine Ash’s response:

"This is proof of our growth, right, Pikachu?"

"Never mind, time to idle for a bit."

She headed to the rest area, opened her laptop, and began reviewing, all the while observing the Pokémon Center’s operations.

Simply put, for ordinary injuries or exhaustion, Nurse Joy wouldn’t intervene—medical equipment alone sufficed. Pokémon Center medical technology deserved praise; minor injuries and ailments could be treated autonomously.

For more serious cases, Nurse Joy would leave the counter to personally treat the Pokémon.

Given that trainers travel from region to region, Joys needed extensive knowledge of Pokémon from all over. In big cities, you could see Pokémon from many regions in the centers—Kanto’s Nurse Joy could encounter Pokémon from Galar.

For example, if Eiscue’s frozen head was shattered in battle, and the local environment was under a high-temperature warning, it would be tough—the face of Eiscue is particularly sensitive to heat.

Conventional medical methods wouldn’t work.

What then? Of course, you’d put it in the fridge (scratched out)—the correct procedure would be to use the center’s artificial equipment to cool it down, then reconstruct its frozen head.

For emergencies in the wild, it’s not impossible for Eiscue to replenish its elemental energy and summon hail, or simply cast an icy wind on itself.

Checking the time, it seemed that Champion Leon, the scissor-handed cape-wearing oddball, should have started his journey by now.

Eternatus—though in Bamboo Years Cold’s opinion, it looked rather cool.

A bit like a necromancer summoning a "bone dragon."

Big city life was indeed hectic—feet barely touching the ground.

Golden City surely had more than one Pokémon Center; otherwise, Joy Hua’s legs would break from the workload, and it still wouldn’t meet the trainers’ needs.

After idling for a while and reviewing her recent studies, Bamboo Years Cold realized her planned learning schedule had been disrupted by Dragon’s wild sprint, and she needed to reorganize.

As mealtime passed, more trainers appeared, spanning a greater age range. Some older brothers in uniforms brought their partners for treatment—those working delivery or errands with Pidgey and other flying Pokémon.

Most were construction workers with Geodude, Machop, and other "worksite kings." Bamboo Years Cold saw one Machop whose hand was swollen, causing his trainer much distress.

"Hey, junior, come help out!"

?

Is your guild recruiting healers and paladins off the street?

Bamboo Years Cold walked over. "Sister Hua, what’s up?"

Joy said, "Help hold down this Machop—he’s inexperienced on his first day, so he moves around when it hurts, making treatment difficult."

Oh, got it. So, when the pain kicks in, he tends to thrash and that complicates things.

Bamboo Years Cold nodded. "Leave it to me."

Being called "junior" worked wonders—none of the construction workers questioned her identity. When she took a pellet from her pocket and placed it on Machop’s forehead, no one said a word.

"Chansey, assist me."

Bamboo Years Cold instructed, "Use Sing."

"Lucky~~"

Beautiful notes surrounded Machop. The little fellow, initially frightened by the sticky pellet, calmed down after hearing his trainer’s reassurance and the effects of Sing, soon drifting off to sleep.

"Done. It was simple."

Bamboo Years Cold examined Machop’s injury and put away the sticky pellet.

"He’s asleep. Uncle, stay by his side during the treatment—best to hold Machop’s other hand."

"Alright, alright."

The uncle shook Bamboo Years Cold’s hand repeatedly. "Thank you, thank you."

"Thank Sister Hua—she’s the doctor."

Joy and Chansey wheeled this batch of patients into the treatment room. The uncle glanced at Bamboo Years Cold, not embarrassed, but curious about the item just used.

"Young lady, what was that you placed on Machop’s head?"

"Oh, that."

Bamboo Years Cold kept a straight face. "That’s a soul-calming stone. It helps Pokémon focus and ignore pain."

Fear is a kind of focus, right? Like when a blade is pressed close, the instinct is to fixate on the tip and concentrate.

If Machop’s mood was still dictated by his injury, it’d be like a hyperactive child yelling before bedtime—he’d never fall asleep.

With the sticky pellet in place, it was like an elder’s stern "Are you going to sleep or not?"—it helped him settle down.

At that moment, Chansey’s Sing could maximize its effect.