Chapter 7 — Stabilized
The waiting didn't last long.
That was the first thing that surprised me.
The doors hadn't even been closed for ten minutes before Nurse Joy came back out, her expression already calmer than it had been when we arrived.
"It's stable," she said. "For now."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
My father nodded once, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to be noticeable. "The poison?"
"Neutralized," she replied. "Not fully purged, but it's no longer spreading. Whatever hit it was strong but whoever treated it first slowed it down enough to matter."
Her eyes flicked to me.
"You did the right thing bringing it in immediately."
I nodded, unsure what to say.
She stepped aside. "You can see it. Briefly."
The room was quiet, filled with the soft hum of machines. The Axew lay on a raised bed, wrapped carefully, its chest rising and falling in shallow but steady breaths.
Seeing it like that still, small, no longer fighting hit differently than it had in the forest.
I stepped closer. One eye opened halfway. Not sharp. Not defensive. Just aware.
"That's good," Nurse Joy said softly. "It's conscious. Just exhausted."
I kept my hands where it could see them. "Hey," I said. "You made it."
The Axew let out a faint, rough sound. Not a cry. Not a threat. Just… presence. Its gaze stayed on me, tracking me the same way it had before.
It remembered.
Nurse Joy left us alone after that.
My father stood beside me, arms crossed, watching carefully not just the Pokémon, but me.
"It shouldn't be here," he said quietly.
"I know," I replied.
"Axew don't end up in Sinnoh by accident," he continued. "Someone moved it."
"Poachers," I said.
He nodded. "Most likely."
He didn't say anything else for a moment.
"It's alive because you didn't hesitate," he said finally. "But what happens next isn't simple."
I looked at the Axew again. At how small it looked now that it wasn't fighting to stay conscious.
"It should decide," I said.
My father studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. "Agreed."
The Axew shifted slightly, letting out another tired sound, and I felt something settle in my chest. Not relief. Something steadier.
"This isn't over," my father said. "But tonight, it rests."
I stayed there a little longer, watching its breathing even out, listening to the machines hum softly around us.
Whatever came next League, questions, consequences didn't matter yet. For now, Axew was safe. And that was enough.
Axew had to stay in the Pokémon Center.
That was the final word from Nurse Joy, delivered gently but without room for argument. Three days at the very least, maybe longer if its body didn't recover as quickly as she hoped. The poison was no longer spreading, but it had drained more out of Axew than the wound itself.
"It needs rest," she said. "Real rest."
Axew clearly disagreed.
The first time I came back, it tried to sit up the moment it noticed me. Not in a dramatic way just a stubborn push against the mattress, claws scraping faintly as if it expected its body to obey out of habit. It didn't. The effort ended in a sharp, irritated sound and a frustrated drop back onto the bed.
"Yeah," I said, stopping a few steps away. "I figured you'd try that."
Axew glared at me like this was somehow my fault.
I didn't move closer. Instead, I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. "You're winning exactly zero fights today," I added. "Including this one."
It huffed, a rough little noise that might have been a growl if it had more energy. Then it turned its head away, clearly offended.
I smiled despite myself.
The second day was different.
Axew didn't try to get up when I arrived. It lifted its head instead, eyes sharper than before, more aware. When I pulled a chair closer and sat down, it didn't tense. It just watched me, jaw resting against the pillow like it was daring me to say something stupid.
"So," I said, stretching my legs out. "Good news. You're still alive. Bad news. You're stuck here."
That earned me a low, unimpressed sound.
"Yeah, that's fair," I admitted.
Nurse Joy came in once to adjust the IV and check the monitors. Axew stiffened when she touched the equipment, but it didn't lash out. Its attention flicked to me instead, eyes narrowing slightly, as if measuring whether I was going to intervene.
I didn't.
After a moment, it relaxed again.
Nurse Joy paused, glanced between us, then continued her work without comment.
When she left, I stayed.
I talked not because I thought Axew needed to hear it, but because silence felt wrong in a room that was no longer dangerous. I complained about my father grounding me from the forest. About how the Pokémon Center smelled clean but never felt quiet. About how unfair it was that I'd found something important and immediately had to leave it behind.
Axew listened in its own way. Not hanging on every word, not responding much, but never turning away either.
On the third day, it got bored.
That became obvious the moment I walked in and saw the sheets bunched up, claw marks faintly visible where Axew had clearly been testing its limits again. When it noticed me, it let out a short, annoyed sound that carried more strength than before.
"Oh, you're feeling better now?" I said. "That's convenient."
It snapped its jaw once not at me, just at the air then settled back with a stubborn glare.
I dragged my chair closer and sat on the floor instead, back against the side of the bed. "Don't get ideas," I said. "You're not leaving yet."
Axew shifted, clearly unhappy about that, then stopped. Its breathing slowed. The tension in its shoulders eased just enough to be noticeable.
We stayed like that for a while.
No talking. No instructions. Just sharing space.
When I stood up to leave, Axew moved again this time deliberately. It pushed forward, claws digging in, body shaking with effort. It didn't make it far, but it didn't stop immediately either.
"Hey," I said, turning back. "That's enough."
It hesitated.
Then, with a frustrated huff, it let itself fall back onto the bed.
I exhaled slowly. "Good call."
Axew didn't look at me, but it didn't try again.
That night, when my father picked me up, he glanced at me instead of asking questions. "How is it?"
"Stubborn," I replied. "Getting stronger."
He nodded. "You handled it well."
I shrugged. "It doesn't like being told what to do."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "You don't say."
By the time the third day ended, Axew no longer felt like a fragile thing I'd dragged out of the forest. It wasn't healed not even close but there was weight behind its movements again. Presence. Awareness.
When I said goodbye that evening, it didn't turn away.
It didn't reach out either.
But it stayed where it was, watching me leave, eyes steady and sharp.
That was enough.
Whatever Axew decided later where it went, who it stayed with it wouldn't be because it had been cornered or forced.
It would be because it chose to.
And I had a feeling that choice was getting closer.