Forty-two thousand dollars did not change Ethan’s life.
This was extremely disappointing — he’d expected new training equipment, or at least a new television.
Instead, Monday morning looked exactly the same.
Ethan ate eggs while Arthur drank coffee, Delcatty slept on the windowsill, and Houndour waited beneath the chair for something to fall.
“Grandpa.”
“No.”
Ethan frowned at him across the table.
“I haven’t asked anything.”
“You’ve been staring at me for two minutes.”
“Where’s the money?”
“In the bank.”
“All of it?”
“What’s left after the sale fees.”
“What are we doing with it?”
“Nothing.”
Ethan stared, waiting for the rest of the sentence that never came.
“Nothing?”
Arthur buttered his toast without hurrying.
“We don’t need to spend money simply because we made some.”
“We could improve Houndour’s food.”
“His current diet is appropriate.”
“Training equipment?”
“We have training equipment.”
“Secret Realm equipment?”
Arthur looked at him steadily.
“What kind?”
Ethan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
“Exactly.”
Ethan sighed and slumped back in his chair.
“Forty-two thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not even excited.”
“I own an orchard.
I’ve learned how quickly money like that can disappear.”
That wasn’t nearly as interesting as Ethan wanted it to be.
Arthur pointed at his breakfast.
“Eat.”
Ethan stabbed an egg, and Houndour immediately became interested.
“Don’t.”
Houndour looked deeply innocent.
“You already ate.”
“Hound.”
“That isn’t an argument.”
Arthur’s phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at it, then put it away without comment.
Ethan grinned and grabbed his bag.
“I’m going to school.”
“Excellent idea.”
Ethan knew something was different the moment he walked into Trainer Foundations.
Reyes stood in the middle of the field with Machoke beside her and a scoreboard behind them.
Marcus noticed it too.
“Battle day.”
Ethan looked over.
“You don’t know that.”
Marcus pointed.
“Scoreboard.”
“Could be testing.”
“Battle testing.”
Chloe Mercer walked past with Budew’s Poké Ball in her hand.
“Tryouts.”
Both boys looked at her.
Marcus frowned.
“For what?”
“You seriously don’t know?”
“No.”
“The Junior Battle Team.”
Ethan straightened.
“What?”
“Reyes mentioned it last month,” Chloe said, already losing patience with them.
Ethan thought back, but last month had involved Mom’s accident, the wake, moving to Bennett Orchards, and Houndour.
School announcements hadn’t exactly made the list.
“When?”
“Registration closes Friday.”
Marcus stared.
“Why did nobody tell me?”
“She did.”
“Oh.”
Reyes clapped once for attention.
“Pokémon recalled.
Everyone here.”
Students gathered around her.
Ethan moved closer, and Reyes waited until everyone was quiet.
“Grayhaven Secondary’s Junior Battle Team selection begins this week.
The team represents the school in interschool competitions throughout the district.
Twelve roster positions are available.”
Students murmured.
Ethan quickly counted — there were considerably more than twelve interested students in this class alone.
“Tryouts are open to students with a valid Trainer license and at least one registered Pokémon.”
Marcus raised his hand.
“You need your own Pokémon.”
Marcus lowered his hand, and Ethan tried not to laugh.
Marcus whispered, “Discrimination.”
“You don’t own a Pokémon.”
“Technicality.”
Reyes kept going as if neither of them had spoken.
“Selection is not based solely on winning.
We evaluate command, control, positioning, judgment, adaptability, Pokémon condition and battle performance.”
Her eyes briefly moved toward Ethan.
He noticed.
Control.
Right.
“Students who cannot reliably stop their Pokémon will not be selected regardless of battle record.”
Ethan touched Houndour’s Poké Ball.
They’d worked on that every day — at school, at home, inside the Dark Realm.
Houndour was much better now.
“Preliminary evaluations begin Wednesday.”
Ethan blinked.
Two days.
“Final selection is Friday.”
That was fast.
A boy raised his hand.
“How many battles?”
“However many I decide are necessary.”
“Who do we battle?”
“Whoever I assign.”
Another student asked, “Can we use more than one Pokémon?”
“If you own more than one registered Pokémon, yes.
But most preliminary matches will be one-on-one.”
Ethan didn’t care.
He only had Houndour, and one was enough.
“Anyone who intends to participate, register before leaving today.”
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
Marcus was walking beside him after class.
“You have to do it.”
“I know.”
“You have Houndour.”
“I know.”
“You already beat Chloe.”
Chloe, walking several steps ahead, turned around.
“I can hear you.”
Marcus smiled.
“Good.”
Chloe stopped, Budew already back inside her ball.
“You entering?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
“You want another fight?”
“Obviously.”
Marcus looked between them.
“Rivalry.”
“Shut up,” both said at once.
Chloe ignored him.
“Houndour’s better now?”
“Yeah.”
“Budew too.”
Ethan smiled.
“Then maybe next time Machoke won’t have to save you.”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed.
“Budew was already down.”
“Still counts.”
“It doesn’t.”
Marcus stepped between them before it could go any further.
“Please save the violence for Wednesday.”
Chloe walked away, and Ethan laughed.
Then Marcus turned serious.
“You think you’ll make it?”
Ethan’s first instinct was to say yes, of course.
Then he remembered the numbers — twelve positions, some students who’d owned their Pokémon far longer than Ethan had owned Houndour.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not very superstar professional Trainer.”
Marcus knew he wanted to become a professional Trainer someday — not run a Secret Realm, just the actual dream.
“I’ll make it.”
“Better.”
Arthur’s reaction was considerably less enthusiastic.
“Good.”
“That’s it?”
“What would you like?”
“I don’t know.
Excitement?”
Arthur turned onto the road toward Bennett Orchards.
“Tryouts haven’t happened.”
“I’m entering.”
“Good.”
“You said that already.”
“It’s still good.”
Ethan sighed.
“What are they evaluating?”
He repeated Reyes’s list — command, control, positioning, judgment, adaptability, condition, battle performance.
Arthur nodded.
“Good instructor.”
“You’re using that word too much.
What’s Houndour’s biggest weakness?”
“Experience.”
“Control?”
“Better.”
“Stamina?”
“Better in the Realm.”
“And yours?”
“Mine?”
“You’re the Trainer.”
Ethan looked out the window, not liking where this was going.
“Experience.
I get excited.
I sometimes push too much.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Several things.”
Ethan looked at him, and Arthur smiled.
“Helpful.”
“You asked.”
They reached the orchard, and once they were well onto private property, Ethan released Houndour.
“Houndour!”
The Dark-type ran straight to Ethan.
“Hey.
Tryouts Wednesday.”
“Hound?”
“Battle.”
Houndour’s ears rose and his tail started moving.
“No Realm today,” Arthur said, climbing out of the truck.
“What?”
“We train here.”
“But he’s better inside.”
“Exactly.”
They trained in the orchard field — not endurance, but control.
Arthur placed Houndour at one end and Ethan stood at the other.
“Come!”
Houndour ran.
“Stop!”
He stopped, too slowly.
“Again.”
They repeated it until Arthur made it harder, releasing Delcatty into the field to test focus.
She looked deeply offended to be involved.
“Come!”
Houndour ran.
Delcatty moved.
Houndour looked.
“Stop!”
He stopped.
Ethan smiled.
“Good!”
Houndour ran toward him without being called, and Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t tell him to come.”
Ethan’s smile disappeared.
Right.
“Houndour.
We’re doing that again.”
“Hound…”
“Don’t complain.
This is your fault.”
Arthur laughed.
They trained until Houndour was tired, then stopped.
Arthur made Ethan feed him and let him rest.
Ethan sat beneath one of the orchard trees, Houndour lying beside him.
“You think we’re ready?”
“Hound.”
“Very convincing.”
Arthur handed him a bottle of water and sat down.
“Your mother hated tryouts.”
Ethan looked up.
“Mom?”
“Any kind.”
“She was a Trainer?”
“She had Delcatty.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“She battled when she was younger.”
“Seriously?”
“Nothing professional.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She probably did.”
“I’d remember.”
Arthur shrugged.
“Maybe she decided you’d heard enough stories about her.”
“What was she like?”
“Competitive.”
“Really?”
“Very.
Decent,” he added, before Ethan could ask.
“That’s Grandpa language for she was good.”
Arthur smiled slightly.
“She could’ve been better if she’d cared enough to continue.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No.
Different things mattered to her at different ages.
That’s normal.”
Ethan looked down at Houndour.
His own goal felt simple — compete, win, become strong.
Maybe that changed someday, but right now it was enough.
Arthur stood.
“Rest him.”
“Realm tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
That usually meant yes.
Tuesday’s Realm session was short — forty minutes of movement and control.
Houndour recovered faster there, but Arthur wouldn’t let Ethan depend on it.
“You won’t battle inside the Realm Wednesday.
So don’t build a routine that only works here.”
They finished with stopping drills, a berry sitting on the ground between Houndour and Stoutland.
“You did that on purpose.”
Arthur looked innocent.
“Come!”
Houndour ran, eyes finding the berry.
“Stop!”
He stopped, before it.
“Leave it.”
Houndour whined.
“Leave it.”
Houndour walked past.
Ethan crouched.
“Come.”
Houndour ran to him, and Ethan hugged him.
“Good boy.”
“Better,” Arthur said.
“Much better.”
That was practically applause.
Wednesday morning arrived too quickly.
Ethan woke before his alarm, Houndour already awake beside the bed.
“Today’s the day.”
“Hound?”
“Tryouts.”
Houndour’s tail moved.
Downstairs, Ethan ate more quietly than usual.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“That’s it?”
“Would you like me to tell you not to be nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Then we agree.”
Before leaving, Ethan crouched beside Houndour.
“Ball.”
Houndour didn’t resist.
Public rules still applied, even on battle day.
The school training complex looked different that morning.
Temporary barriers divided the field, and referee Pokémon stood beside each one — Machoke with Reyes, a Golduck with another instructor, a Graveler at the third.
Nothing like their usual class spar.
Marcus was waiting near the entrance.
“You look terrified.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“I don’t.”
“Maybe that’s me.”
Ethan laughed.
“You aren’t even trying out.”
“I’m nervous for you.
If you lose, I have to listen to Chloe talk about it.”
“Good point.”
Chloe was warming up Budew nearby, its movements sharper than before.
She noticed Ethan watching, smiled, then turned away.
His competitive instinct woke up immediately.
But first—
“Ethan Crowe.”
Reyes, tablet in hand.
“Field three.”
His stomach tightened.
“Opponent?”
“Go find out.”
Marcus followed him to the spectator boundary.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t embarrass me.”
“How would I embarrass you?”
“We’re friends.”
“That’s your fault.”
Marcus grinned as Ethan stepped onto the field.
The opposing Trainer was already there — older, maybe thirteen, vaguely familiar from another Trainer Foundations class.
“Ethan, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Ryan Cole.”
They shook hands as Reyes entered behind them, Machoke taking position beside the field.
One Poké Ball hung on Ryan’s belt.
“First tryout?”
“Yeah.”
“Mine too.”
That helped, a little.
“One Pokémon each.
Standard rules — unable to continue, surrender, field exit, or instructor stoppage ends the match.” Reyes looked at both Trainers.
“When I call stop, you stop.”
Her eyes lingered on Ethan.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Release.”
Ryan threw first.
“Go, Lillipup!”
White light flashed, and a small brown Pokémon appeared.
“Lillipup!”
Ethan focused, and Appraisal answered.
Species: Lillipup Type: Normal Grade: Beginner Potential: Green Ability: Vital Spirit Moves: Leer, Tackle, Odor Sleuth, Bite
Bite.
Good to know.
“Let’s go!”
Houndour appeared, posture changing the instant he saw the battlefield — excited, ready.
This was what they wanted.
Competition.
“Ready?”
Ethan nodded.
Ryan did the same.
“Begin!”
“Lillipup, Tackle!”
“Move!”
Houndour jumped aside as Lillipup rushed past.
“Ember!”
Flames shot across the field.
“Lillipup, dodge!”
Lillipup turned too slow.
Ember struck its side.
“Lilli!”
The Pokémon stumbled, and Ethan’s excitement surged.
“Again!”
Houndour inhaled, then Ethan stopped himself.
No.
Don’t spam.
“Bite!”
Lillipup charged.
“Houndour, back!”
Houndour retreated, Lillipup close behind.
Wait.
“Left!”
Houndour changed direction, and Lillipup missed.
“Ember!”
Flames struck from close range.
Lillipup cried out, and Ryan clenched his fist.
“Keep going!
Tackle!”
Ethan almost ordered Ember again.
Instead—
“Bite!”
Houndour met it head-on, teeth snapping as the two Pokémon collided and rolled together.
“Break away!”
Houndour released and backed off.
Good.
He’d listened.
Ryan saw the opening.
“Tackle!”
“Move!”
Too late.
Lillipup slammed into Houndour, who rolled with the impact.
“Houndour!”
He stood, shook himself, and growled.
Good.
Still good.
“Again!”
Lillipup charged in a straight line, again, and Ethan suddenly remembered Arthur’s drills.
Distractions.
Movement.
Control.
Don’t just attack because you can.
“Wait.”
Houndour stayed still as Lillipup closed the distance.
“Hit him!”
Three meters.
“Now!
Side!”
Houndour jumped, and Lillipup rushed past.
“Ember!”
The flames struck Lillipup’s back, and it fell.
Ryan shouted, “Get up!”
Lillipup tried once, legs shaking, then again.
Machoke took a step closer.
It stood, barely.
Ethan’s first instinct was immediate — finish it.
“B—”
He stopped himself.
Reyes hadn’t called the match yet.
“Bite!”
Lillipup moved slowly.
Ethan understood.
“Ember.”
Houndour fired.
Lillipup fell and this time didn’t rise.
“Stop!”
“Houndour, stop!”
Houndour froze instantly — no extra attack, no hesitation.
Ethan felt something stronger than winning.
Relief.
“Match.” Reyes pointed at Ethan.
“Ethan Crowe and Houndour.”
“Houndour!
Come!”
Houndour ran to him, and Ethan crouched and hugged him.
“You did it!”
“Hound!”
Ryan recalled Lillipup, disappointed.
“Good battle.”
“You too.”
They shook hands, and Reyes approached.
Ethan waited for praise.
“Your spacing is poor.”
His smile disappeared, and Ryan tried not to laugh.
“You allowed Houndour into a Bite exchange he didn’t need.
You also nearly reverted to repeated Ember attacks after the first hit.”
“I stopped.”
“You did.” Reyes looked at Houndour.
“And he stopped immediately when the match ended.
Much better.”
Two words.
That was enough.
“Am I on the team?”
“No.
That was one evaluation.”
“Oh.”
“Cool him down.
Water.
You’re scheduled again this afternoon.”
“Against who?”
“You’ll find out.”
He recalled Houndour and walked toward Marcus.
“One and zero!”
“One and zero.”
“Professional career officially saved.”
“It was never in danger.”
“You looked terrified.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were.”
Ethan laughed.
Across the complex, Chloe had just entered another field, Budew appearing beside her.
“Want to watch?”
“Yeah.”
They moved toward the spectator boundary together.
Ethan’s first battle was over, and he’d won — but the thing he felt best about was the moment Reyes called stop, and Houndour had listened immediately.
All those boring drills had worked.
Ethan watched Chloe begin her match, his smile slowly returning.
Now he wanted to see whether it was enough to get him onto the team.