Arthur did not catch the Caterpie immediately.
Ethan discovered this Friday morning.
“Why not?”
Arthur continued spreading jam over his toast.
“Because you have school.”
“You don’t.”
“No.”
“So you could catch it.”
“I could.”
Ethan waited.
Arthur took a bite.
“And?”
“And I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s your ability that says it’s Blue-Potential.”
Arthur set down his knife.
“Before I spend money based on something nobody else can see, I’d like you there to confirm it.”
“Oh.”
That was reasonable.
Ethan didn’t like reasonable answers.
They were harder to argue with.
Houndour lay beneath the table chewing on one of his toys.
Delcatty occupied the windowsill.
Ethan looked at the clock.
“If we leave right after school—”
“Homework.”
“Grandpa.”
“Homework.”
“It’ll take twenty minutes.”
“Then you’ll finish quickly.”
Ethan sighed.
“Fine.”
Arthur drank his coffee.
“And don’t tell anyone at school we’re catching a Blue-Potential Caterpie from the secret world under the orchard.”
“I know.”
“Just checking.”
“I’m twelve, not stupid.”
Arthur looked at him.
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t.”
Arthur smiled.
By three-thirty, Ethan was staring at the classroom clock.
Three minutes.
Instructor Reyes continued talking.
“…and that’s why capture battles are not the same as sanctioned Trainer battles.”
Ethan’s attention returned immediately.
That was inconveniently relevant.
Reyes stood beside the training field with Machoke behind her.
Several students had their Pokémon out, Houndour sitting beside Ethan.
“Who can tell me the biggest difference?”
Marcus raised his hand.
“The wild Pokémon doesn’t have a Trainer?”
Reyes stared at him.
“Technically correct.”
Marcus smiled.
“But useless.”
His smile disappeared.
Several students laughed.
Chloe raised her hand.
“You don’t know how a wild Pokémon will react.”
“Better.”
Reyes nodded.
“A Trainer battle has rules — both sides agreed to it.”
She raised one finger.
“A wild Pokémon may fight.
Run.
Hide.
Or attack the Trainer.”
Ethan glanced at Houndour.
“That is why Beginner Trainers are strongly advised to perform their first wild captures in approved beginner zones or under supervision.”
A student raised his hand.
“Do you have to battle it?”
“No.”
Reyes shook her head.
“If a Pokémon willingly accepts capture, there’s no requirement to beat it unconscious first.”
A few students laughed.
“But many wild Pokémon won’t leave their territory with a stranger.”
She tapped her belt.
“And remember: catching a Pokémon creates responsibilities.
Food.
Housing.
Veterinary care.
Registration.”
Ethan knew those.
They sounded different today.
He thought about the Caterpie.
They weren’t catching it because Ethan wanted another partner.
They were catching it to sell.
Reyes apparently read the room.
“You’re also legally allowed to sell Pokémon you capture.”
Several students immediately became more interested.
Marcus raised his hand.
“Can I catch twenty Rattata and sell them?”
“No.
Repeatedly capturing Pokémon for resale becomes commercial activity.”
Reyes folded her arms.
“Your standard Trainer license allows occasional personal captures and sales.
It does not make you a dealer.”
Ethan smiled slightly.
Grandpa had explained the same thing.
“What if I catch one really expensive Pokémon?”
“You can sell it.”
Marcus brightened.
“Finding one is the difficult part.”
Ethan looked down at Houndour.
Maybe.
Arthur was waiting outside.
Ethan climbed into the truck.
“Blue Caterpie.”
“Homework.”
“I finished it.”
“At school?”
“Study period.”
“All of it?”
Ethan handed him his tablet.
Arthur stared.
“You brought proof?”
“I’ve adapted.”
Arthur looked through the assignments.
“Well?”
He handed it back.
“Home first.”
Ethan groaned.
“Why?”
“Equipment.”
“Oh.”
That was acceptable.
They entered the Dark Realm shortly after four-thirty.
Ethan had started calling it that openly whenever only he and Arthur were around.
Arthur still refused.
“Dark Realm.”
“Secret Realm.”
“Dark Realm.”
“Unclassified Secret Realm.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It’s accurate.”
“It’s boring.”
Arthur crossed through the portal.
Ethan looked at Houndour.
“Dark Realm.”
“Hound!”
“Two votes.”
Arthur’s voice came through the portal.
“I can hear you.”
Ethan grinned and crossed.
As usual, Houndour immediately became more energetic — tail lifting, nose to the air, steps lighter.
Arthur noticed too.
Neither commented.
They had another objective today.
Caterpie.
They followed the original route, Stoutland walking ahead — Arthur had left Machoke at home — and reached the tree within twenty minutes.
Nothing.
Ethan’s smile disappeared.
“Where is it?”
“It’s a wild Pokémon.”
“It was here.”
“Several days ago.”
Another Caterpie appeared.
He focused.
Species: Caterpie Type: Bug Grade: Beginner Potential: Green Ability: Shield Dust
Not it.
Another.
White.
“No.”
They searched.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Ethan was beginning to realize the flaw in their plan.
“We should’ve caught it the first day.”
Arthur didn’t answer.
“Grandpa.”
“I heard you.”
“You said we were mapping.”
“We were.”
“And now it’s gone.”
“Possibly.”
Ethan sighed.
Then Houndour barked, staring toward another tree.
Ethan followed his gaze.
A Caterpie crawled along a low branch.
Ethan focused.
Species: Caterpie Type: Bug Grade: Beginner Potential: Blue Ability: Shield Dust Moves: Tackle, String Shot, Bug Bite
“Found it.”
Arthur approached.
“Certain?”
“Blue.
Shield Dust.
Same moves.”
“Good.”
Arthur looked at Stoutland, then at Caterpie.
“This hardly seems fair.”
Ethan laughed.
Caterpie continued eating, apparently unaware that an Elite-grade Pokémon was considering its capture.
“Are you using Stoutland?”
“No need.”
Arthur reached for a Poké Ball.
“You’re just throwing it?”
“I’m going to try.”
Arthur tossed.
The ball struck Caterpie.
Red light pulled it inside.
The Poké Ball fell onto the grass.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Click.
“That’s it?”
Arthur picked up the ball.
“Apparently.”
“I expected a battle.”
“It’s a Caterpie.”
“Blue-Potential Caterpie.”
“Potential doesn’t make it an Elite Pokémon.”
Arthur held up the ball.
“Beginner Grade.”
Right.
Ethan sometimes forgot that.
Potential was what a Pokémon might become.
Not what it was now.
“That was anticlimactic.”
Arthur put the ball away.
“Would you prefer I release it and let Stoutland attack?”
“No.”
“Good.”
They headed back.
The official appraisal center was on the other side of Grayhaven, and they didn’t go until Saturday — which annoyed Ethan.
Arthur refused to rush.
Again.
The facility was part veterinary clinic, part laboratory, part registration office.
Trainers moved through the waiting area — a woman with a Growlithe, a teenager arguing with his father about his Spearow.
Houndour stayed in his Poké Ball.
Public building.
Rules.
“How long?”
“Until they call us.”
“You said that ten minutes ago.”
“It remains true.”
A screen changed.
BENNETT — ROOM 4.
Ethan stood immediately.
Arthur smiled.
“Very patient.”
“Let’s go.”
The technician was a woman in her thirties named Marissa Cole.
She checked Arthur’s Trainer ID first, then the capture registration.
“Wild-caught Caterpie?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Arthur answered without hesitation.
“Private woodland.”
Ethan kept his face neutral.
That wasn’t entirely false.
The woodland was private.
It just happened to be in another dimension.
Marissa typed.
“Reason for appraisal?”
“Potential sale.
No known health concerns.”
She looked at Ethan.
“Your grandson?”
“Yes.”
“His catch?”
“Mine.”
Good.
Arthur had captured it.
Everything legally sat under his Trainer license.
Marissa released Caterpie inside a glass-walled examination area.
It looked around.
Ethan felt slightly guilty.
Then it found the food tray.
Guilt apparently wasn’t mutual.
Marissa began the examination — weight, length, health, blood sample, several tests Ethan didn’t understand.
Then Caterpie disappeared with another technician for more specialized evaluation.
Ethan waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally—
“How long does Potential testing take?”
Marissa looked at him.
“Longer if you ask every five minutes.”
Arthur laughed.
Ethan stared at Grandpa.
“Betrayal.”
Almost two hours later, Marissa returned.
Her expression had changed.
Ethan noticed immediately.
She sat across from Arthur.
“Mr.
Bennett.”
Arthur nodded.
“Your Caterpie tested Blue.”
Ethan already knew.
Hearing it officially still felt different.
Arthur’s expression barely changed.
“You’re certain?”
“We repeated the test.”
Marissa turned the tablet.
Species: Caterpie Current Grade: Beginner Potential Assessment: Blue Health: Excellent
Blue.
Exactly what Appraisal said.
His heart beat faster — not because of Caterpie, but because of what it meant.
Appraisal was accurate.
Arthur looked at Ethan briefly.
Only briefly.
But Ethan understood.
They had confirmation.
“Blue Potential in Caterpie isn’t common.”
“How uncommon?”
“Enough that I’d recommend an auction or specialist buyer rather than a general dealer.”
Arthur nodded.
“Expected range?”
Marissa hesitated.
“For a healthy, young Blue-Potential Caterpie with proper documentation?”
She gave him a range.
Ethan almost choked.
“$28,000 to $45,000?”
Marissa smiled.
“Possibly more with competing buyers.
Possibly less if you want a quick sale.”
Ethan stared through the glass.
Caterpie was eating.
Twenty-eight thousand dollars.
Minimum estimate.
For that.
Arthur remained calm.
“Why so much?”
“Breeding value, mostly.
Caterpie isn’t rare, but a verified Blue-Potential individual is useful to serious Bug breeders.
Butterfree also has a market among Trainers.”
Ethan looked at Arthur.
“What would a Green one sell for?”
“Same age and condition?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a few thousand.
Often less.”
Ethan understood immediately.
The difference wasn’t Caterpie.
It was the color.
Blue.
“If you’re interested, we have several registered buyers who allow referrals.”
Arthur nodded.
“I’ll consider it.”
ARTHUR
Arthur didn’t like the way Ethan was smiling.
Not because the boy had done anything wrong.
Because Arthur knew exactly what Ethan was thinking.
They walked through the parking structure.
Twenty-eight thousand.
Forty-five thousand.
To Ethan, that sounded like infinite money.
Arthur knew better — taxes, fees, care, maintenance, equipment.
And most importantly, attention.
Arthur unlocked the truck.
Ethan climbed inside.
“Grandpa.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“How many Blue Pokémon have we seen?”
Ethan became quiet.
“Was that the question?”
“…maybe.”
Arthur sighed.
Caterpie was one thing — a lucky catch, nobody cared.
But then came another.
A Blue Poochyena.
A Blue Arbok.
People weren’t stupid, and organizations were worse — breeders, auction houses, the Federation all kept records.
Money left trails.
Arthur glanced at Ethan, staring through the window.
Laura had made that same face whenever she’d discovered something she wanted.
Arthur tightened his grip on the steering wheel slightly.
Laura.
He pushed the thought aside.
Ethan had something she never had — Appraisal.
That ability alone was worth—
Arthur stopped himself.
He didn’t want to know.
Some things became more dangerous the moment someone assigned them a price.
“Grandpa?”
Arthur looked over.
“What?”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Thinking and looking angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You look angry.”
“I’m driving.”
“That doesn’t normally make you angry.”
Arthur sighed.
Ethan smiled.
There was Laura again.
“Listen.”
Ethan became quiet.
“We sell Caterpie.
Legally.
We pay the fees.”
“Okay.”
“And we don’t immediately catch another Blue Pokémon.”
“Why?”
“We discussed this.”
“I know, but how long?”
Arthur considered it.
“There doesn’t need to be a fixed schedule.”
“So next week?”
“No.”
“Two weeks?”
“Ethan.”
“Month?”
Arthur shook his head.
“This isn’t about tricking a computer.”
He tapped the steering wheel.
“It’s about looking normal.”
Ethan became thoughtful.
“Normal Trainers occasionally get lucky.
Normal orchard owners occasionally find valuable berries.”
He paused.
“Normal people do not repeatedly walk into the woods and come back with exactly the best Pokémon living there.”
Ethan nodded.
“Appraisal makes us too good.”
Arthur glanced at him.
“Exactly.”
That was the problem.
Not that Ethan’s ability didn’t work.
That it worked too well.
Ethan thought about that all the way home.
Appraisal made finding valuable Pokémon easy, but selling them was difficult.
Still — he looked at the certificate on Arthur’s tablet.
BLUE POTENTIAL.
Grandpa had believed him before.
Now they knew: Appraisal wasn’t guessing.
It matched professional testing exactly.
They reached Bennett Orchards around noon.
Once they were well inside the property, Ethan released Houndour.
“Houndour!”
Houndour appeared, stretched, then immediately started sniffing around.
Ethan crouched.
“You know that Caterpie?
It’s worth more than you.”
Houndour stared at him.
Arthur stopped walking.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell him that.”
“He doesn’t understand money.”
“You don’t know that.”
Houndour barked.
Ethan laughed and rubbed his head.
“Don’t worry.
I’m not selling you.”
Houndour licked his face.
“Ugh.”
Arthur continued toward the house.
Ethan wiped his cheek, then looked at Houndour.
Yellow Potential — the Caterpie was Blue, a higher ceiling on paper.
But Ethan didn’t feel even slightly tempted to trade.
Houndour wasn’t an investment.
He was Houndour.
That evening, Arthur received the first offer.
Thirty-one thousand.
He rejected it.
The second came Sunday morning.
Thirty-four.
Rejected.
Then thirty-eight.
Ethan stared at Arthur’s phone.
“Take it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“We’re waiting.”
“For what?”
“A better offer.”
“You’ve been telling me not to be greedy.”
“Negotiating isn’t greed.”
“That sounds made up.”
Arthur drank his coffee.
By Sunday afternoon, the offer reached forty-two thousand.
Arthur accepted.
Ethan stared at the confirmation.
$42,000 — and the Caterpie hadn’t even been in their possession for three days.
“Forty-two thousand.”
“Before fees and taxes.”
“Still.”
“Yes.”
“From a Caterpie.”
“From a Blue-Potential Caterpie.”
Ethan smiled.
Arthur pointed at him.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking again.”
“How do you know?”
“Your face.”
Ethan laughed.
Arthur put the phone away.
“The next Pokémon we catch is because we need it, because there’s a specific buyer, or because there’s a good reason.”
“What if we find a Purple?”
Arthur paused.
Ethan noticed.
“What?”
Arthur considered it.
“Then we talk.”
Ethan grinned.
“And Red?”
Arthur stared at him.
“If you find a Red Pokémon, you don’t touch it until you tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because depending on the species, selling it might be the stupidest thing we could possibly do.”
That wiped the grin from Ethan’s face.
“That valuable?”
“Potentially.”
Arthur stood.
“Some opportunities are worth more than money.”
Ethan watched him leave, then looked down at Houndour.
Yellow.
He thought about Blue, Purple, Red — and somewhere beneath their orchard was a whole Realm of Pokémon he could evaluate just by looking.
Forty-two thousand dollars had seemed enormous yesterday.
Now it felt more like the first coin he’d picked up outside a bank vault, with the rest of the building still standing there, unlocked, mostly empty of anyone who knew it existed.
He grinned at Houndour.
“We’re rich.”
Houndour looked unimpressed.
“Relatively.”