Time rewinds to earlier.
Little Eevee had slipped out on its own, padding back to the spot where Auron Vale had just fed it.
(I'm Eevee—proud to a fault. How could revenge wait until morning?)
It happened to catch Auron getting ready to sleep, so it had to tuck itself away first and lie low.
Gengar noticed the small silhouette at once—keen as ever—but didn't think much of it. They all lived in the same place, after all.
And just like that, little Eevee got its chance for payback.
Only when Auron and the others were fast asleep did Eevee tiptoe out. But once it crept up beside Auron, it hit a snag: how exactly was it supposed to get even?
It suddenly remembered how one of its friends had taken a tumble into the mud while playing and ended up with a big, blotchy, muck-smeared face. Because of that "big painted face," its friend got teased for ages.
Eevee's eyes lit up—then dimmed again. It tapped the dry grass with a forepaw.
It hadn't rained. Where was it supposed to find mud?
Eevee scrunched its not-very-big brain for a while but couldn't think of a solution.
It did know one thing, though: when it had a problem, it could go to the room over there—the man inside would help.
Thinking that, the little thing bounced away toward Ashen Vale's lab, hop by hop. At the door, it gave a very polite little knock with its forepaw.
"Tap, tap, tap."
Ashen soon came over and opened up. Seeing an Eevee on the threshold, he was taken aback.
He recognized this Eevee. Last time, this one and another Eevee—its face plastered with mud—had come seeking his help to get the muck off.
Ashen crouched down and asked, "Eevee? What's the matter?"
Eevee pointed to the space beside itself with a forepaw, then pointed at its own face.
Ashen thought a moment. "You mean the friend you brought last time—the one whose face was all smeared with mud?"
Eevee nodded, then pointed at its own face again.
Now Ashen was puzzled. He understood what Eevee was getting at, but also… didn't.
"You're saying… you want your face smeared with mud too?"
Eevee nodded—then shook its head—then pointed at the floor.
Ashen got it this time. Eevee just wanted mud.
"You want mud? But I can't exactly whip any up right now."
After that rain the other day, Ashen's wife had discovered some unplanted open plots in their breeding yard. That instantly triggered the Dragon Nation's racial talent for agriculture.
Over the next few days, every bare patch ended up either planted with Berry trees or turned into lawn. So at the moment, there really wasn't any soil left that you could knead into mud.
When Eevee heard the first part, its eyes shone. Hearing the rest, its little hope crumbled. It lowered its head and let out a quiet sigh.
Ashen couldn't stand to see it crestfallen. He rubbed the little head and asked,
"What is it? What do you need the mud for? Tell me. Maybe there's another way."
Eevee thought that sounded reasonable. It copied what its friend had done before and jabbed all over its own face with its paw in an exaggerated pantomime.
Ashen's comprehension was nothing to sneeze at. The idea was a bit… unusual, but he still ventured,
"You're saying… you want your face painted into a big blotchy 'clown' face?"
Eevee's eyes sparkled. It nodded fast.
Ashen couldn't help a laugh. "Sure, that's easy."
He led Eevee back into the lab, produced an oil-based marker, and asked,
"Want me to help you do it?"
Eevee took one look. Ashen meant to draw on its face. It hurriedly shook its head and backed up two steps.
"Hm? Not drawing on you?"
Eevee bobbed its head.
A mischievous glint crept into Ashen's eye. He smiled.
"Want me to teach you how to draw it, then?"
Eevee nodded so fast its ears wobbled.
(Yes! I need this so badly!)
Delighted, Ashen grabbed two blank A4 sheets and handed Eevee a pen.
"Come on, follow me. This is a little pig."
With a few quick strokes, Ashen sketched a simple piglet. Then he guided Eevee's paw around the pen, teaching it hand-over-paw.
Eevee got into it and learned fast.
So the pair settled into a rhythm: one teaching, one learning.
Before long, Eevee could draw a piglet and a little turtle.
Lesson done, Eevee clamped the permanent marker in its mouth and scampered out, tail high.
Ashen's curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see what Eevee would do, so he slipped out after it on the quiet.
Eevee, eager for revenge, never noticed the person shadowing it.
One human and one Pokémon, one ahead and one behind, made their way to where Auron was sleeping.
At Auron's side, Eevee's mouth curled into a sly grin.
Just like it had practiced, it began to draw lightly across Auron's face.
A piglet on the forehead, a little turtle on the cheek—
Ashen watched Eevee "painting" on his son's face and not only watched, but watched with relish.
"Mhm. Eevee's a quick study. That's actually pretty good."
Reassured, Eevee kept right on drawing, oblivious to Ashen observing from behind.
Soon Auron's face was covered. But Eevee eyed the remaining tiny blank patches and was very dissatisfied.
Those scattered gaps really weren't big enough for another piglet or turtle.
So Eevee drew little circles in each blank space. Not satisfied with just circles, it added a few extra strokes inside them.
When Auron's face was finally completely filled in, Eevee gazed at its masterpiece and smiled in satisfaction.
It was just about to leave the "scene of the crime" when it turned its head—and saw Ashen standing behind it. It nearly jumped out of its fur, soul flying halfway out of its body.
(What do I do?! The prank got caught red-handed!)
While Eevee stared up at him, tense and ready to plead for mercy with every cute trick it knew, Ashen patted the little head—careful not to wake Auron—and bent down to whisper in Eevee's ear:
"Not bad at all."
Hearing that Ashen wasn't scolding, Eevee finally relaxed. It rubbed its head against his hand in a cutesy nuzzle, set the marker down at his feet, and bounced away into the night.
Ashen picked up the pen, looked at it, then looked at his son's painted face. He couldn't help a happy chuckle.
Then he raised the pen again and added a few small whiskers to Auron's chin. Only then, satisfied, did he head back to his lab.
…
Auron stared at Ashen, aggrieved.
"It wasn't you… was it?"
Ashen was startled. He had drawn a little—but he wasn't the mastermind. That, he absolutely could not admit.
"How could you think that of your dad? Do I seem like that kind of person?"
Auron eyed Ashen's serious expression and nodded.
"True… Something this lowbrow doesn't really sound like you."
Ashen nodded along at once. "Exactly, exactly."
Head pounding, Auron slumped onto the sofa and clutched his head.
"Ughhh! Who was it? If you're gonna draw, fine—but with a marker that's this hard to wash off? Don't they know I have class tomorrow? Too much!"
Listening to his son's tirade, Ashen cast a guilty glance at the pen holder.
"Son, keep it down, will you? I've got writing to do."
As he spoke, he moved over to the pen cup, positioned his body to block Auron's sightline, and quietly slid the very "tool of the crime" into the gap in the desk.
(End of this chapter)
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