For the next two weeks, Ethan’s life settled into a routine.
Wake up.
Eat breakfast.
Go to school.
Come home.
Train Houndour.
Work in the orchard.
Complain about working in the orchard.
Get ignored by Grandpa.
Repeat.
Ethan didn’t mind.
School was getting easier.
People had mostly stopped giving him that look, and his classmates had returned to treating him normally.
He still thought about Mom, usually when he wasn’t expecting it — her favorite cereal at breakfast, one of her old books in his room, Delcatty sleeping in a patch of sunlight.
Sometimes it hurt.
Sometimes it didn’t.
Training Houndour helped.
A lot.
“Stay.”
Houndour sat in the grass.
Ethan backed away.
Five meters.
Ten.
Houndour remained still.
Ethan walked around him.
Still nothing.
Then a Pidgey landed on the fence.
Houndour’s ears immediately turned.
Ethan pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Houndour stared at the Pidgey.
The Pidgey stared back.
Houndour shifted.
“Houndour.”
The Pokémon looked toward Ethan.
“Stay.”
Houndour remained seated.
The Pidgey eventually flew away.
Ethan grinned.
“Good!”
Houndour immediately ran toward him.
Ethan crouched and rubbed his head.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
Arthur watched from beside the fence.
“Congratulations.”
Ethan looked over.
“For what?”
“Your Pokémon didn’t chase a bird.”
“That’s improvement.”
“Never said it wasn’t.”
Ethan stood.
Houndour really had improved — his Ember more consistent, his Bite stronger, his movement commands faster.
More importantly, he listened.
Not perfectly, but the difference between their first morning and now was obvious, and every little improvement made Ethan want the next one.
“Again.”
Arthur checked his watch.
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re done.”
“We’ve only been training for an hour.”
“You’ve been at school all day.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
Ethan looked down.
Houndour was panting.
Not badly.
But enough.
Ethan sighed.
“Fine.”
He took out Houndour’s Poké Ball.
“Return.”
Red light pulled Houndour inside.
Ethan clipped the ball to his belt.
“Happy?”
“Extremely.”
Arthur opened the gate.
“Now you can help move fertilizer.”
Ethan stopped.
“I changed my mind.
Houndour needs more training.”
“No.”
“Training is important.”
“So is fertilizer.”
“I’m trying to become a professional Trainer.”
“Professional Trainers can carry bags.”
“Do Type Kings carry fertilizer?”
Arthur looked back.
“They probably did when they were twelve.”
Ethan couldn’t think of an answer.
He reluctantly followed.
Trainer Foundations had become Ethan’s favorite class.
They’d finally moved beyond simple obedience — Instructor Reyes was teaching them how to properly use moves: where to aim, when to attack, how much energy a move consumed, how accuracy changed with distance, how terrain affected movement.
Far more complicated than Ethan had realized from watching professional battles.
“Again,” Reyes called.
Ethan pointed toward the moving target.
“Ember!”
Houndour fired.
The flames missed.
“Too slow,” Reyes said.
Ethan frowned.
The mechanical target changed direction.
“Houndour, Ember!”
Another burst of fire.
This one clipped the edge.
“Better.”
The target moved again.
Ethan watched.
He almost commanded another Ember.
Then stopped.
Houndour was watching the target too.
“Wait.”
Houndour remained still.
The target moved left.
Then right.
Then left again.
There.
“Now!”
Houndour fired.
Ember struck the center.
Ethan grinned.
“Yes!”
Instructor Reyes made a note on her tablet.
“Better, Crowe.”
Ethan rubbed Houndour’s head.
Marcus was training nearby with a school-owned Purrloin.
Marcus had become convinced the two of them had a special connection.
“Purrloin!
Scratch!”
Purrloin scratched the target.
“Again!”
Purrloin sat down and began licking its paw.
Marcus stared.
“Seriously?”
“Purr.”
“We’re training.”
Purrloin continued cleaning itself.
Ethan laughed.
Marcus looked over.
“Enjoy it while you can.”
“I am.”
“Once I get my own Pokémon, you’re finished.”
“You don’t even know what you’re getting.”
“I’ve narrowed it down.”
“To?”
“Something strong.”
Ethan stared at him.
“Excellent plan.”
“I know.”
A whistle sounded.
“Pokémon back!”
Everyone stopped.
Instructor Reyes walked to the center of the field, students gathering around her.
Houndour sat beside Ethan.
“Your command exercises have improved,” Reyes said.
A few students smiled.
“Which means we’re moving on.”
Marcus immediately raised his hand.
“Battles?”
Reyes looked at him.
Marcus slowly lowered his hand.
“Sorry.”
“Yes.”
The entire class erupted.
“Battles.”
Students immediately started talking.
Reyes blew her whistle.
“Quiet!”
The conversations died.
“You are not ready for full battles.”
Several students groaned.
“Thank you for immediately proving my point.”
Ethan smiled.
“For now, you’ll participate in controlled one-on-one sparring.
Beginner-grade Pokémon only.
I decide when a battle ends.
You follow every instruction from me or my assistants immediately.”
Her expression became serious.
“If someone calls stop, you stop.”
No one spoke.
“If your Pokémon cannot reliably obey you, it does not battle.” She looked across the class.
“Pokémon battles are a sport.
That does not make Pokémon attacks harmless.”
Everyone knew that.
Even a Beginner-grade Pokémon could seriously injure another Pokémon — or a person — under the wrong circumstances.
“Which brings us to one more rule.”
Reyes reached toward her belt and removed a Poké Ball.
“Come out, Machoke.”
Light flashed across the field.
A muscular gray Pokémon appeared beside her.
“Machoke!”
Several students immediately started whispering.
Ethan straightened.
He’d seen Machoke around the city before, but this one stood calmly beside Instructor Reyes, arms relaxed, eyes moving between the students and their Pokémon.
“Machoke is my designated referee Pokémon,” Reyes explained.
“He’s Advanced Grade.”
Marcus leaned toward Ethan.
“That’s strong.”
Ethan nodded.
Compared with their Beginner Pokémon, it was extremely strong.
“Every beginner spar conducted at this school requires a qualified referee Pokémon on the field,” Reyes continued.
Machoke crossed his arms.
“His job is simple.
He watches both Pokémon.” Reyes pointed toward the battle fields.
“If I or another referee ends a match and one of your Pokémon doesn’t stop, Machoke will.”
A boy raised his hand.
“How?”
Reyes looked at him.
“However he needs to.”
The boy lowered his hand.
Several students laughed.
Reyes didn’t.
“That’s not a joke.”
The laughter stopped.
“You’re learning to control living creatures capable of using supernatural attacks.
Safety comes before winning.”
She rested a hand on Machoke’s shoulder.
“Hopefully, none of you will give him a reason to intervene.”
Machoke looked across the class.
Ethan suddenly felt considerably less eager to test that rule.
“Now,” Reyes said, checking her tablet, “I’ll assign pairs.”
Ethan felt his heartbeat increase.
His first battle — not television, not a target.
A real Pokémon would be attacking back.
“Marcus Hale.”
Marcus straightened.
“Yes!”
“You’re observing today.”
His shoulders collapsed.
“What?”
“Students currently using school partners will observe the first round.”
Marcus looked devastated.
Ethan smiled.
“Don’t.”
Ethan immediately stopped smiling.
Reyes continued reading.
“Ethan Crowe.”
Ethan’s attention snapped back to her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Field Three.”
He stood.
“Houndour.”
“Hound!”
They headed toward the field.
“Your opponent is Chloe Mercer.”
A girl stepped forward.
Ethan recognized her as one of the students who already owned a Pokémon, and he knew which one.
Chloe reached for the Poké Ball at her waist.
Field Three wasn’t large — a white boundary marking the battle area, Ethan at one end, Chloe at the other, Reyes outside the line.
Machoke walked onto the field and stopped halfway between them, attention entirely on the Pokémon rather than either Trainer.
Ethan suddenly understood why the school required one: if something went wrong, Reyes didn’t have to physically run between two attacking Pokémon.
Machoke was already there.
“You ready?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah.”
She smiled nervously.
“Me too.”
Chloe raised her Poké Ball.
“Come out, Budew!”
Light flashed.
The small green Pokémon appeared.
“Budew!”
Ethan looked down.
Houndour was already outside because they’d been training.
Fire against Grass.
He had the advantage.
Chloe obviously knew it too.
She sighed.
“Of course I get Houndour.”
Ethan smiled.
“Want to switch?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Reyes raised one hand.
“Controlled spar.
Beginner Grade.
Remain within the marked field.
No deliberately targeting Trainers.
I call the match.” Her eyes moved between them.
“If I say stop, commands end immediately.”
Machoke lowered his stance slightly.
“Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan and Chloe answered.
Ethan looked at Houndour.
His mouth suddenly felt dry.
Two weeks of training.
Movement.
Ember.
Bite.
Basic commands.
Nothing complicated.
Just use what they knew.
Reyes lowered her hand.
“Begin!”
“Budew, Absorb!”
Chloe attacked immediately.
Ethan almost froze.
Almost.
“Move!”
Houndour jumped sideways.
Green energy passed beside him.
“Ember!”
Houndour fired.
“Budew, dodge!”
Budew moved.
Too slowly.
Flames struck its side.
“Bud!”
“Good!” Ethan shouted.
Chloe clenched her fists.
“Absorb again!”
Ethan watched Budew.
“Left!”
Houndour moved.
The attack missed.
Ethan’s heart was beating faster now.
This was nothing like training — targets didn’t attack back, didn’t dodge, didn’t force him to make decisions.
He liked it.
“Ember!”
Budew moved aside.
The flames missed.
“Again!”
Houndour started preparing another attack.
“Crowe!”
Reyes’s voice cut through his excitement.
Ethan stopped.
He remembered Grandpa.
Moves aren’t free.
Right.
He was getting excited.
Think.
Budew was slower.
Houndour had better mobility.
And he had the type advantage.
There was no reason to waste energy.
“Budew, Growth!”
A faint glow surrounded Budew.
Ethan watched.
He didn’t know exactly how much difference Growth would make in such a short battle.
He didn’t want to find out.
“Houndour, close in!”
Houndour charged.
Chloe’s eyes widened.
“Absorb!”
“Keep moving!”
Houndour changed direction.
But not quickly enough.
Green energy struck him.
“Hound!”
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
Houndour stumbled.
For a moment, Ethan wanted to call him back.
Then Houndour regained his footing.
He was okay.
Still moving.
“Bite!”
Dark energy gathered around Houndour’s teeth.
He lunged.
His jaws struck Budew.
The small Pokémon rolled across the grass.
“Budew!”
Chloe stepped forward.
Machoke moved one step closer.
Not attacking.
Just ready.
Budew struggled upright.
Reyes watched carefully.
“Continue.”
Chloe reacted immediately.
“Absorb!”
The distance was too short.
Ethan knew Houndour couldn’t dodge cleanly.
“Ember!”
Both attacked.
Green energy struck Houndour.
At almost the same moment, Houndour’s flames hit Budew.
The Grass-type fell backward.
Ethan saw the opening.
“Houndour, Bite!”
Houndour charged.
“Stop!”
Reyes’s command rang across the field.
Ethan froze.
Houndour didn’t.
He kept running.
“Houndour, stop!”
But Machoke was already moving.
Ethan barely saw him cross the distance.
One moment, Houndour was charging toward Budew.
The next, Machoke stood between them.
Houndour skidded to a stop, his glowing jaws inches from Machoke’s leg.
Machoke looked down.
Houndour immediately backed away.
The dark energy around his teeth disappeared.
Silence filled Field Three.
Ethan’s excitement vanished.
Reyes walked onto the field.
“Crowe.”
Ethan swallowed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What was the command?”
“Stop.”
“And did your Pokémon stop?”
“Not when you said it.”
“No.” Reyes pointed toward Machoke.
“That’s why he’s here.”
Machoke remained between Houndour and Budew.
“Today, Machoke stopped your Pokémon.” She looked directly at Ethan.
“In a school spar, you have that protection.”
Ethan nodded.
“In a real battle, you might not.”
That landed harder.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.
Learn from it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Reyes crouched beside Budew — conscious but exhausted.
She checked Houndour next: breathing heavily, no serious injuries.
“Battle over.”
Chloe hurried toward Budew.
Ethan went to Houndour.
He crouched.
“You okay?”
“Hound.”
Ethan rubbed his head.
“You did good.” Then he looked Houndour directly in the eyes.
“But when I say stop, you stop.”
Houndour’s ears lowered slightly.
Ethan wasn’t sure how much he understood.
They would work on it.
Reyes stood.
“Winner: Ethan Crowe and Houndour.”
Ethan smiled.
Winner.
His first battle, his first victory.
Only a school spar — no crowd, no trophy, no cameras.
But he’d won.
And even after the mistake at the end, he wanted to do it again.
“You got lucky.”
Marcus was waiting when Ethan left the field.
Ethan stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Type advantage.”
“I still won.”
“Houndour versus Budew.”
“I didn’t choose the matchup.”
“Still lucky.”
“You didn’t even battle.”
Marcus placed a hand over his heart.
“That was unnecessary.”
Ethan laughed.
Houndour walked beside him within the authorized training grounds.
Machoke had already moved toward the next battle field, and Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly he’d moved — Advanced Grade, and Houndour hadn’t stood a chance.
Not even remotely.
Ethan had always known the Grades represented huge differences in strength.
Seeing it was different.
Instructor Reyes caught up with him.
“Crowe.
Good first battle — you recognized your type advantage, and your movement commands were better than most first-timers’.” She paused.
“But you got excited.”
Ethan nodded.
Fair.
“Don’t worry too much about it,” she added.
“Beginner Pokémon get excited.
Beginner Trainers do too.
That’s why we train.”
Then she left.
Marcus waited until she was gone.
“So basically you’re dangerous.”
“Shut up.”
That evening, Ethan sat on the porch with Houndour.
Delcatty slept nearby.
Grandpa was repairing something beside one of the storage sheds.
Ethan had already told him about the battle.
Arthur’s response had been: Good.
Then Ethan told him about Houndour failing to stop.
That got a longer answer: Train it.
Grandpa was apparently a philosopher.
Ethan replayed the battle in his head, the mistakes as much as the win.
He’d wasted energy.
He’d gotten excited.
He hadn’t anticipated Budew’s Growth.
Houndour hadn’t stopped quickly enough.
But they’d won.
Ethan looked down.
Houndour was asleep against his leg.
Two weeks ago, Ethan had never commanded a Pokémon.
Today he’d won his first battle.
It wasn’t much in the grand scheme — one win against a Budew — but he could already imagine the next one, and the one after that.
Ethan scratched Houndour behind the ear.
“One win.”
Houndour’s ear twitched.
“Only need a few thousand more.”
“Hound…”
Ethan smiled.
A shout came from the orchard.
“Ethan!”
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
“I need help!”
“You have Machoke!”
Arthur’s voice came back.
“Machoke’s busy!”
Ethan looked at Delcatty.
“This family exploits children.”
Delcatty opened one eye.
“Del.”
“Exactly.”
Ethan carefully moved Houndour’s head off his leg and stood.
Today, apparently, he was carrying berry crates.
“Ethan!”
“I’m coming!”
He ran toward the orchard.