The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of machines and the rhythmic scribbling of notes. Sunlight poured through the high windows, casting a gentle golden glow over scattered papers, opened textbooks, and half-eaten pastries on the corner desk. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and old parchment.

A sudden plop followed by a gentle “Oof...” broke the silence.

From behind a stack of cookbooks, a soft, round figure popped into view.

“U-um… I sorted the ingredient samples like you asked… b-but… I might’ve dropped the cinnamon in the cocoa bin…” came a sweet, nervous voice.

Professor Pikachu waddled toward me, cheeks puffed out in an apologetic pout. Her short, chubby legs made soft pattering sounds on the tile floor, and her round belly jiggled with each step beneath her snug green sweater. The sleeves of her white lab coat were slightly wrinkled, stretched around her plump arms, one pocket sagging under the weight of a chocolate bar and a notepad.

As she reached me, she paused to push her glasses up with a pudgy paw, only to drop her clipboard with a tiny squeak. Flustered, she bent over to grab it—but the motion caused her professor’s cap to slip forward and flop over one eye.

“M-maybe I’m not cut out for carrying things...” she muttered, voice as soft as a warm cookie fresh from the oven.