Reborn in Pokemon With Dragon System

John's Point of View

The main family dining hall was flooded with gentle morning light that slanted through the towering windows like pale golden ribbons. The floor was polished to such a gleam I could see the ceiling reflected in it—those intricate wooden beams that always made me feel like I was eating in a forest cathedral.

Long, ornate rugs softened the sounds of movement, but they couldn't quite muffle the low murmurs of the staff bustling at the edges, arranging things just so.

And the table... Arceus. It was like the banquet table of some ancient Kalosian court.

I let Lilia guide me in with one hand on my shoulder, her other fingers idly combing through my hair like she owned it.

I kept trying to duck out of reach, hissing, "Stop that," in a tone that was supposed to sound menacing, but she just kept humming.

Smug.

So incredibly smug.

She even had the gall to wink at me in the reflection of the glass cabinet we passed.

And then I saw them.

My mother. My grandmother.

Lady Yua Silver—my mom, the woman who could crack boulders with her bare hands if she got annoyed enough (I was pretty sure). Her hair was that long, glossy black waterfall that spilled down the back of her chair.

Her crimson eyes found me the second I crossed the threshold, going from cool, calculating nobility to molten warmth in the space of a heartbeat.

And next to her was Grandmother Aelira Silver.

The matriarch.

She sat so still it looked like the throne had grown around her. That posture was flawless. Her hair was swept into an elaborate twist that had taken at least three maids to perfect, I was sure.

Those eyes... polished obsidian. Dark and heavy with centuries of family legacy.

But the instant they landed on me?

They both lit up like fireworks.

"There you are," Mom said, with that exhausted affection that made my chest ache and warm at the same time. "Our little star finally arrives."

I snorted. Crossed my arms, ignoring the fact that I was six, barefoot, and had grass stains on my knees like a common hooligan.

"I was relaxing under my tree," I said, trying to inject as much offended dignity as possible.

A hush fell over the room.

Even the staff paused, holding silver platters halfway to the table.

And then—

They both laughed.

Not polite giggles. Real laughter.

Mom covered her mouth, eyes crinkling so hard she actually wiped a tear away.

Grandmother let out this low, resonant, unmistakably delighted laugh that made one poor maid drop a spoon in shock.

Because they knew.

That was my spot.

That old oak outside, roots like a throne. It was my domain.

Mom recovered first, wiping her eye and smirking at me. "Of course you were. Where else would our little star go?"

Grandmother leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief older than I was. "Little Litleo, indeed. Always under that tree, plotting mischief in those bright eyes."

I did my best impression of being scandalized.

Which... failed.

Because even Lilia snorted behind me.

I puffed my cheeks out. "I'm allowed to relax. I'm six."

That just set them off again.

I saw staff members retreating to the edges of the room to hide their smiles.

I almost cracked and smiled myself. Almost.

Before I could come up with another scathing comeback, the big double doors at the end of the hall swung open so forcefully they rattled on their hinges.

In marched the head chef, dressed in his immaculate whites, chest puffed out like a proud Staraptor.

"Good morning, young master!" he bellowed with such ceremony you'd think I was royalty about to be crowned.

Behind him, two assistants were carrying trays with all the focus and care of bomb disposal squads.

I blinked, neck craning to see. "Oh. Is that—?"

The chef clicked his fingers like a magician revealing his final trick.

The assistants swung the trays open with a flourish.

And the aroma hit me like a Thunderbolt to the face.

I actually staggered.

Magikarp filet, grilled so perfectly the skin gleamed like lacquer. The smell was this heavenly blend of char, citrus, and some secret spice I hadn't figured out yet.

Beside it was an avalanche of perfect, snowy white rice, each grain gleaming.

And the sides.

Oh, Arceus.

 • Steamed buns practically drooling dark, rich soy-braised Tauros brisket.

 • Stir-fried greens with that glossy finish only real sesame oil could give.

 • Goldeen rolls, their skin crisped and glazed in a sweet chili that made my nose twitch.

 • A silken egg custard quivering in its little bowl, golden and studded with minced Combusken.

 • Bamboo baskets of dumplings so perfectly pleated I wanted to cry.

My stomach made a noise that was honestly humiliating.

I felt my mouth drop open.

I didn't even bother to hide it.

"By Arceus," I whispered.

There was a collective effect.

Mom's fingers flew to her mouth to hide a scandalized giggle.

Grandmother outright howled.

Lilia put her hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling like she was about to pass out from holding in laughter.

"He looks ready to attack the tray," Grandmother said between peals of laughter.

Mom sighed like she was disappointed in the universe, but she was grinning. "Look at you. You're drooling, John."

I wiped my mouth so fast I nearly slapped myself. "Am not."

They all nodded solemnly.

"You are," Lilia said, voice treacherously sweet.

I scowled so hard I thought my face would break.

The chef, delighted beyond words, leaned forward conspiratorially. "Eat it before it cools, young master. The Magikarp was caught from our estate pond this very morning. Just for you."

I cracked.

All the scowling, the dignified posturing? Gone.

I made a noise that was basically a feral growl, climbed onto my absurdly overstuffed chair (which they'd all agreed was my "throne," ugh), and seized my chopsticks like a warrior drawing swords.

"Thank you," I intoned, solemn like I was about to duel Giratina.

Mom and Grandmother exchanged a look over my bowed head.

The look that said he's ours.

They were smiling.

And I?

I dug in.

Because the world could wait.

Breakfast couldn't.

⸻

★

By the time I was done, I didn't feel full.

I felt immense.

I slumped in my chair like a felled Snorlax, arms dangling, belly pressing against my tunic.

I let out a groan so long and dramatic the staff exchanged worried glances.

"Fuuull..." I mumbled, eyes half-shut, drooling for entirely different reasons now.

The chef was beaming so hard I thought he'd combust. He dabbed his brow with a napkin like he'd fought in an actual Pokémon battle.

"There is no greater honor," he declared, "than seeing the young master eat with such passion!"

He actually bowed. His hat fell off and rolled away.

Grandmother purred.

"Look at you," she said, voice dripping honey and razors. "Our little Litleo turned into a stuffed Balloonlitleo."

I made a strangled sound.

She smirked.

"And so fitting, isn't it? A little feline like you, devouring Magikarp with such enthusiasm. Truly... a proper predator."

I slumped so far down I nearly fell out of the chair.

"I don't care," I mumbled at the table. "Too full to care."

That did it.

They all cracked up.

Mom actually had to dab her eyes again.

Even Lilia was shaking from silent laughter, her hand to her mouth like she was trying not to howl.

I let them.

Because they'd earned it.

⸻

When the laughter finally died, I forced myself to sit up, pushing my little palms against the heavy wood of the table.

I was still stuffed.

But my eyes were sharp.

My breath steadied.

The chef noticed the shift first and quietly herded the assistants out with a silent nod.

Even Lilia went quiet behind me.

Mom and Grandmother leaned in slightly, sensing the change.

This was it.

No more play.

I took a slow breath.

"Enough," I said softly, but with the weight of stone behind it.

The air changed.

Grandmother's amusement didn't vanish, but it froze.

That smile hardened like cooling lava.

She straightened until her spine was a line of unyielding authority. Her eyes darkened, polished obsidian that saw everything.

Business mode.

I'd seen it enough to know what it meant.

"Go on," she said coolly. "Why should I allow what you're about to ask?"

Mom didn't say anything.

But she folded her hands, crimson eyes locked on me, patient and expectant.

She wanted to see.

She wanted to judge.

I swallowed once.

Then I lifted my chin.

My voice didn't waver.

"I want to train in the forest."

It wasn't a request.

It wasn't a plea.

It was a declaration.

I let the words hang.

"This time," I continued, voice lowering into something that didn't sound much like a six-year-old at all, "I won't give up. I won't get distracted. I'm not asking to play outside. I'm not asking to wander."

I clenched my fists so tight my knuckles went white.

"I want to train."

The word cracked through the room like a thunderbolt.

Silence fell so hard you could hear the wind sigh against the glass.

I didn't flinch from Grandmother's gaze.

Her aura pressed against me like a Dark-type's killing intent.

I held.

And for the barest second, I saw it.

A glint.

Pride.

It vanished so quickly I would have doubted I'd seen it.

But it was there.

She didn't smile.

She didn't praise me.

She just watched.

Judged.

And waited for me to finish.

So I did.

No begging.

No excuses.

Just my truth.

I wanted to grow stronger.

I needed to.

And I would.

With or without permission.

But...

I'd give them the chance to say yes.