With the last trace of solar heat gone, the cave finally cooled. Ethan hustled Houndour out to test their gains.
Down in the ravine, Houndour cloaked itself in fire and shot forward. A fist-thick pine trunk snapped clean in two. Orange tongues caught, and in a few breaths the blaze had swallowed the whole tree.
"Flame Charge, huh?"
Replaying the motion, Ethan matched the name to the move. A new technique—and a perfect fit. Sure, it was physical, but it slotted right into his arsonist flow. Long term, Houndour would be a Fire/Dark caster with plenty of buffs. But if anyone tried to ambush them up close, Fire Fang, Thunder Fang, and Bite would make it feel more like a Fire/Dark assassin.
Houndour stood beside the burning trunk, half-lidded with contentment. With Flash Fire, flames felt like a mother's hug—warm and soothing.
Ethan watched the fire's behavior. Even from that faint sunlight residue, Houndour's flames had… changed. Before, they'd been ordinary campfire orange—warm, a little flimsy. Now they burned brighter, a sun-tinted orange, like dawn washing over fields. A small step, but first steps matter. Someday, as a Mega Houndoom with Solar Power, maybe it really could play "envoy of the sun."
"Alright, Houndour—Fire Spin, on my mark!"
Houndour's eyes opened, fixing on the blaze. Flash Fire thrummed; the flames leaned toward it like grass to wind. It tried to twist them into a spiral—but the wave buckled, curled into a lazy ring, and fell apart. In the end, the fire unraveled and flowed back into Houndour's body.
"Hou… dour…" The pup drooped. Even with the sunlight boost, it still couldn't hit Ethan's "any flame becomes a Fire Spin" ideal.
Ethan rubbed his temple, then Houndour's ears. "It's fine. You're already ahead—Flame Charge is big. We'll shelve Spin control for now."
He bumped Houndour's forehead. "Half day off. Tomorrow we tinker again. This stuff can't be forced."
Houndour answered weakly, vacuumed up the remaining flames, and followed him home. A fresh bowl of nutrient pellets perked it up.
That afternoon, Ethan took Houndour to the family orchard to hang with the other two "little ones": Poochyena and Cottonee. It didn't help. Houndour ignored them both, leaving Poochyena and Cottonee awkwardly bobbing in place.
Normally Ethan would check that attitude—but Dark-types were Dark-types: willful, proud, a bit lawless. Out in the wild, the standouts either roamed as lone wolves or ruled a ridge by right of strength. They only bowed to power.
Today's funk was pure pride. In Houndour's mind: I absorbed sunlight. I should be able to shape any fire into a vortex. Missing that mark stung.
Thank the cheat, Ethan thought. Another Dark-type might have turned that frustration on its trainer—your plan is wrong, not me. Houndour's trust held.
So he focused on rebuilding confidence. The "omnidirectional Fire Spin" was a high-tier concept anyway. At rookie level, a clean, basic Spin wins plenty. The idea stays; the grind continues when the control's ready.
Night meant the usual run. Houndour now wore the weighted cuffs Ethan ordered; with them, it hit training load without long distances. When Houndour tried to overtrain, Ethan scruffed it and dragged it home, vetoing the "always wear weights" request. Growth plates first, trophies later. He checked the [Dex] readouts nightly—any red flags, and the plan would adjust.
At dawn, Ethan stuffed camping gear and rations into [Backpack]—two or three days in the hills, tops; the written exam on July 1 was non-negotiable. Post-run, he'd barely reached the village gate when a ponytailed girl in pink trainers, jeans, and a white tee stepped into his path.
"Brother Ethan, why didn't you come see me this time?"
Before he could answer, her eyes lit up. She darted to Houndour. "Whoa—Houndour! Dad said you found a real bruiser the other day. Finally!"
Her hand rose toward its head—
"Rrrr—" Houndour slid forward, teeth bared. She snatched her hand back.
"Typical Dark-type—standoffish," she sniffed. "If you don't want scritches, fine."
Ethan winced. "Lily… it just doesn't like strangers crowding it. Didn't scare you, did it?"
This was Lily Li—Mr. Li's daughter. Seventh grade, different junior high. If life were a teen drama, she'd be his childhood friend. Years ago he'd told the clingy, dependent Lily to stand on her own. She'd gone home crying. His parents had chewed him out. And then Lily… changed. No more tailing him; walking home alone; lunch with friends; clean, capable style; steel in her voice. By junior high she had "don't-mess-with-me big-sister" energy—and still top marks. Ethan carried a weird guilt, like he'd killed that bubbly six-year-old with a few blunt words.
"Scared? By a dog?" Lily flipped her hair. "I'm going Dark specialist. Dark-types are my favorites."
Ethan opened his mouth to tease—
"Don't," she said, palm over his lips. "I said Dark-type specialist."
Inch-perfect queen-bee glare. Houndour wedged between them and growled, Begone, demon.
"Boring," Lily said, arms crossed.
"Sis, the whole elementary school was afraid of you," Ethan said, leaving out the "and half your junior high, too."
She stuck out her tongue. "Anyway—July 1. Call me for the entrance exam. I signed up."
She brushed past, turned back just long enough to flash a red-and-white ball, and headed into the village. "Do your best, Brother Ethan. With your current Houndour… you'll lose."
"Hou-ndour!" (Fox, I'm not losing!)
…
"Her presence is wild," Ethan muttered later, jogging through the trees. The image of Lily's back—composed, commanding—felt like a League Champion's silhouette.
"What's with me lately?" he sighed. Fate seemed unfair.
His dad took a stroll and found a Volcarona egg blessed by the sun—then brought home a Cottonee. Zhao Hao had a direct admission and a shiny Duraludon. Now Lily was skipping a grade into the exam with some mystery ace that felt strong.
He looked at the birthmark on his wrist. Good thing I've got a cheat—or I'd be too embarrassed to show up. Even then, his cheat didn't feel so cheaty when everyone else was rolling sixes.
Beside him, Houndour drooped in solidarity.
Lost the egg, can't lock Fire Spin, can't even spook the girl… am I a useless dog? its eyes seemed to say.
Their overlapping storm clouds spread through the understory; Pidgey, Spearow, Rattata, and the rest gave the gloomy duo a wide berth.
Pokémon passing by: Look at those two—total dogs.
Houndour: Meow??
Ethan: …huh?