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Chapter 80 - The Craze
🕑 Added 2025-09-25 11:28:03 +0000 UTCSince his “three-part promise” with Teacher Kinoshita, Kyosuke seemed transformed.
In class, he no longer fiddled with his electronic pet in secret. Instead, he sat up straight, his gaze sharper and more focused.
Even Japanese class, once a source of restless boredom, felt less dull.
The scratch of his pencil on his notebook became his most comforting sound.
Only in the evening, when the sunset’s glow painted the window frames a warm orange, would he carefully finish his last homework stroke. After his mother’s check, he’d solemnly retrieve his Pikachu from his bag.
On the screen, the yellow electric mouse grew livelier with his care, its black-bean eyes seemingly brighter with each interaction.
Pokémon episode three aired on schedule.
Ash and his Caterpie, after a not-so-intense tussle with the persistent Team Rocket, saw Caterpie suddenly glow with dazzling white light.
As the light faded, the frail Caterpie had become a sturdy, gem-green Metapod.
When the ending theme played, kids with Caterpie electronic pets leaped from their couches.
They rushed to their bags or forgotten corners, unearthing their neglected devices.
Those who’d been disappointed by drawing the “weakest” Caterpie, sidelining it, now saw hope reignited.
They gingerly dusted off their red-and-white Poké Balls, fingers trembling as they pressed the power button.
The screen lit up, the familiar pixelated Caterpie still there, chirping “Gu-gu.”
Disappointment flickered, but keen or dedicated players noticed something different.
Their Caterpie, after enough interaction, mimicked the show, glowing and evolving into Metapod!
This discovery rippled through kids’ circles like a stone in a calm lake.
“My Caterpie turned into Metapod too!”
Joyful shouts echoed in homes across Japan.
Not just Metapod owners.
More kids, including Kyosuke, began noticing a faint black line at the bottom of their electronic pet screens.
It was subtle, like a shadow at the edge.
But closer inspection revealed each line’s length varied.
Kyosuke stared at the faint line under his Pikachu’s screen, his small brow furrowing.
He touched the cool screen, as if to wipe the line away.
What was it?
The next day at school, this discovery dominated recess chatter.
“Did you see it? That thing at the bottom!”
“Yeah, yeah! My Charmander’s got one—it’s a bit longer than yours!”
“My Squirtle’s is the shortest…”
Kids huddled, buzzing with curiosity and confusion.
Kyosuke joined in, showing his Pikachu to Kobayashi.
“Look, Pikachu’s got one too, but it’s not that long.”
Kobayashi rubbed his chin, thoughtful.
“Maybe… battery life?” a girl guessed.
“No way, battery’s got its own icon!” a boy countered.
Speculations swirled, but none unlocked the black line’s mystery.
An undercurrent stirred among Pokémon players.
Until the end of the month.
The latest Animage magazine hit newsstands, its vibrant cover—a Pokémon anime poster—catching every kid’s eye.
Inside, a multi-page feature on the Pokémon electronic pet grabbed attention.
A bold headline thundered: “The Secret at the Screen’s Bottom! Experience Points and Evolution Possibilities!”
The article, with vivid images, revealed the black line’s purpose—it was an experience bar!
It explained that when the bar filled, certain Pokémon would experience the anime’s thrilling moment—evolution!
The key to filling it wasn’t feeding, interacting, or mini-games, as kids guessed.
The answer stunned everyone.
The electronic pet hid a tiny—pedometer!
The article, in the “development team’s” name, subtly conveyed Takuya Nakayama’s “thoughtful intent.”
The feature wasn’t disclosed in the manual to avoid players obsessively “grinding” steps.
Instead, it encouraged them to act like true Pokémon trainers, fostering growth through natural companionship and daily activity.
Pokémon adventures, after all, thrived on unexpected joys.
Takuya Nakayama sat in his office, flipping through Animage.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows in his deep eyes.
Seeing the “team’s intent” in print, a faint smile curved his lips.
Everything was under control.
The magazine was a spark in hot oil.
After initial shock and realization came uncontainable excitement.
Those who’d evolved Caterpie into Metapod became vocal proof.
“I knew it! I walk two kilometers to school every day!” a glasses-wearing boy bragged, his Metapod as evidence.
“My mom won’t let me take the bus—she helped my Caterpie!” a girl realized.
Real-life examples spread like dye in water, clarifying the pedometer-evolution link.
Soon, Japan’s streets transformed.
Mornings, once dominated by vehicles, saw flocks of hurrying kids.
They stopped begging for car rides or complaining about slow buses.
Instead, they glanced at the Poké Balls on their wrists or necks, eyes brimming with anticipation.
Evenings brought livelier parks and school fields.
Not just kids.
Sedentary office workers began strolling during lunch breaks.
They claimed it was for health, but the faintly vibrating Poké Balls in their pockets betrayed their true motive.
An elderly woman leisurely walked her lively Shiba Inu in a park.
Unlike before, a red-and-white Poké Ball hung from the dog’s collar.
As the dog bounded, the ball shook, its screen’s experience bar visibly growing.
The woman smiled, envisioning her Rattata evolving into a proud Raticate.
School track and running teams became the envy of classmates overnight.
Their usual high activity translated to soaring experience bars.
“Look! Takahashi’s Charmander’s bar is almost full!”
“Tanaka’s Squirtle evolved yesterday!”
To see their Pokémon evolve, team members trained harder.
A quirky “experience bar competition” emerged in clubs, fueling an unprecedentedly vibrant training atmosphere.
Kyosuke dove into the “nationwide walking” craze.
After school, he skipped rushing home for cartoons, volunteering to run errands for his mom.
Each step nudged Pikachu’s experience bar forward.
The direct link between effort and reward thrilled him.
His love for Pikachu grew from simple play and possession to a sense of “working together to grow stronger.”
He began anticipating what thrilling change awaited when Pikachu’s bar filled.
Kinoshita stood by her office window, watching students run more eagerly on the field, a smile tugging at her lips.
She glanced at her Meowth-stickered pet in her desk drawer.
“Looks like my Meowth needs to take a walk too.”
