Half a month passed.
It was late at night—11:30 PM—in the villa's underground lab.
**Pichu** stood on the workbench, wearing an orange-yellow headset around his neck. The two earpieces were adorned with red lightning-bolt patterns on the outside.
This was the real-time conversational language translator that Tony had built.
The "headphones" design was actually Pichu's own request—Tony had said he could make it look like almost anything, as long as the internal components fit.
The translator was built mainly from titanium alloy, with additional high-temperature-resistant and non-conductive materials to ensure it could survive Pichu's electrical discharges.
"Well, you look good," Tony said, looking over Pichu wearing the translator. Supporting his right hand with his left and tapping his chin thoughtfully with his right, Tony nodded in satisfaction.
Then he announced,
"All right, let's give it a try. Time to see if number twenty-plus really is the charm."
Pichu nodded, full of anticipation. He raised his left paw and pressed the button on the left side of the translator.
There was a button on each side: the power switch on the left, the charging port on the right.
With the switch on, Pichu took a short breath and said, "Pika (Tony)…"
A second later, a clear, slightly mechanical child's voice translated the words into English.
The real-time conversational language translator was officially a success.
***
Even though Tony and Pichu had expected this based on simulation tests, seeing the real-world device work perfectly—after more than twenty failed iterations—was still exhilarating.
J.A.R.V.I.S. had run hundreds of thousands of calculations for every version, and yet they'd still needed more than twenty tries before a working prototype.
If not for J.A.R.V.I.S., who knew how long it would have taken to develop this device?
"All right, today is a good day. I'm breaking out a bottle of my finest for a little celebration…" Tony grinned, clapping his hands.
But as he reached for the good stuff, Tony glanced at Pichu with a faux-serious look.
"By the way, Pichu, can you even drink? You sound like a kid through the translator. Are you an adult at all? If you're underage, you'd better skip out—or I guess I'll just have to enjoy this alone."
He finished with a mock sigh, as if he were perfectly content with that arrangement.
The idea that Tony might think he was too young—and seeing his self-satisfied grin—pushed Pichu's buttons. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, Pichu shot back:
"Of course I can drink! Why wouldn't I? Be careful or I'll finish off your whole wine cellar!"
But with Pichu's adorable looks and the cutesy "boyish" translator voice, even that threat sounded… just a bit too endearing.
"All right, all right," Tony surrendered, holding up his hands.
He'd seen for himself how disastrous it would be if Pichu got upset and actually drank all his best bottles—some of those were impossible to replace.
He changed the subject quickly.
"Let's go, let's see what we're drinking tonight."
Pichu eagerly followed. Truthfully, he'd been eyeing Tony's wine for a while—now that he finally had a chance, there was no way he'd pass it up.
***
Half an hour later, the two had shared half a bottle of red, then called it a night.
Pichu, as always, slept in the living room.
Or rather, he lay there with his eyes closed.
After evolving to Three-Star, Pichu found that he had so much energy it was hard to fall asleep. Unless he'd gone for weeks without rest, he barely ever felt tired anymore.
***
Time slipped by quietly in the peaceful dark.
Day after day, ever since the translator was finished, Pichu could finally communicate easily with Tony, Pepper, and Hill.
When Nick Fury found out, he even scheduled a video call with Pichu.
But the second Pichu referred to him as "Baldy," Fury's face went black, and he ended the call on the spot.
Pichu just smirked in disdain.
*There's no comparison—look how Tony treats me versus him. Enough said.*
Time flew by.
Before he knew it, another half year had passed.
Now, the year was almost over, with Christmas only a month away.
It had been a peaceful, quiet year.
But Pichu knew—trouble was coming.
He'd considered hinting to Tony that the model of the future city left by Howard Stark held the solution for synthesizing new elements.
Later, he even had a private conversation with Tony and—playing it casual—pointed to the city model. But Tony didn't pay much attention to his nudge.
So Pichu decided to let things unfold naturally.
Anyway, Tony's palladium poisoning wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
In the end, it had been crucial for his personal growth. The outcome was positive—unlike the fallout from the Battle of New York, which had done much more harm than good.
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