During this stretch, Houndour and Alolan Persian finished off their rations—but the two-month supply of Nutrition Pills Lincoln had promised arrived, saving Lana a nice chunk of money.
Ethan didn't pocket the savings. First, he ordered a big batch of basic pills for the six Sentrets. They weren't as high-grade as what he bought for Houndour at the Spirit Hall, but with six mouths to feed, the bill still hurt: twenty days of Sentret food ran him ¥20,000. Thankfully, Lincoln's¥1,000,000 "Z-Crystal compensation" meant he could afford to splurge.
To help Houndour and Alolan Persian grasp Steel-type energy faster for Iron Tail, Ethan also bought two bottles of metal-film diluent (a common maintenance tonic Steel types use to tune their bodies and feel Steel energy more clearly). Since they were only coating their tails, the dosage per use was tiny—two bottles would last through this training block. Whether they actually mastered Iron Tail still came down to talent and feel.
Because Protect and Substitute are closely related, Ethan tweaked the plan. Mornings stayed as solo work. From afternoon until lights-out—aside from the night run—Furret ran the program.
Afternoons: Furret lectured on the essence of Protect and coached all seven trainees.
Post run: Furret gave Houndour a one-on-one Iron Tail clinic while Ethan and Lana supervised the five Sentrets, who spam-practiced Protect.
Two hours before bed: full-contact sparring with one rule—only Protect and Iron Tail allowed. No sandbagging.
At first it looked like two newbies slapping each other with pool noodles. Houndour's tail swished without bite; Persian's barriers fizzled and it ate tail-to-face. Then they applied the diluent. Bit by bit, both tails took on a silver sheen, and their swipes started to sting.
Protect didn't come as fast. Whoever failed to raise a shield… got smacked. The Sentrets' side was rougher: every one of them already excelled at Iron Tail, so eating clean hits added up fast. Ethan's medicine stash melted away.
Since there were five Sentrets, one unluckiest guy always drew Furret. The others traded blows; that one got demolished and barely got to swing back. But it progressed the fastest—only pain teaches survival. On day six, it finally popped a true Protect: the barrier held an instant, then cracked on its own, but it counted. With the sensation locked in, future reps would stick.
That night, Ethan watched a usually cocky "fat rabbit" cry tears of joy—first time he'd seen one of them bawl. In the past, Boss never pushed them this hard. Strolling the woods, picking fights, and stealing fruit… that used to be the life.
Now, whenever Furret glanced over, the other four straightened up—no more lazy exchanges. Between a partner's Iron Tail or Boss's? They feared Boss's far more.
With the Sentrets grinding, Furret turned to Houndour and Persian—both had basic Iron Tail form now; time to learn Protect the hard way. Just like that first Sentret, you only grasp real defense when you're staring down a blow that will put you on the floor.
And so, every night under Furret's "care," dog and cat got… educated.
"Houndour, Iron Tail!"
Houndour twisted, tail flashing silver as it swept at Persian's face.
Lana grinned. "Time to show our homework—Persian, Protect!"
Ethan smirked. "Come on, Lana, I know Persian's progress—"
His smile froze. A translucent barrier snapped into place in front of Persian. Houndour's tail clanged off it—and the shield shattered after doing its job.
Compared to the Sentrets' early bubbles, Persian's Protect was live-combat ready. Houndour blinked. We were supposed to be bad at this together. You took extra classes without me?Old Cat looked smug, shot Houndour and Ethan a synchronized eye-roll, and preened. Brother? Please. I'm a little fairy.
The hit stung Houndour's pride. Two days ago, the other four Sentrets had all learned Protect. Now Persian had too. Houndour was the only one left who hadn't cracked it. It tried to smile at Ethan; it looked worse than crying.
"Houndour?" Ethan called.
"Lubi…" came the small reply.
Furret hopped over and patted Houndour's head, soothing it. The five Sentrets followed—this time they stood on their feet instead of their tails, waddling up with short arms full of fruit they'd stashed. They piled the offerings in front of Houndour with solemn little faces.
The scene made Lana a bit jealous. For all their bullying and swagger, the Sentret family clearly loved Ethan—and at key moments, they were gentler to Houndour than anyone. One Sentret even kept sneaking murderous looks at Persian, as if itching to "avenge" Houndour's dignity.
After a quiet exchange with Houndour, Furret chittered a few words to the Sentrets, then bounded toward the river.
Going back across to the deep forest?
The Sentrets stayed put, still comforting Houndour. Then Houndour turned, barked to Ethan, and sprinted after Furret. Before Ethan could shout, dog and weasel were already hopping stepping-stones through the rapids, vanishing into the trees on the far bank.
The five Sentrets thumped their big tails against Ethan's pant leg. We'll guard you while the pup's away.
Ethan ruffled each round head. "Then I'll be counting on you."
He smiled, but there was worry behind it. What was Furret planning? Special training? The deep woods were dangerous… would Houndour be okay?
Lana brought Persian over, embarrassed—after all, Persian had just hammered Houndour into self-doubt. She hesitated, then asked what had been on her mind.
"Ethan… do you actually get Dark-type Pokémon?"
With his starter suddenly gone, Ethan wasn't exactly chipper, and that question didn't sound comforting. "What do you mean? Did I mess something up in the plan?"
He immediately turned it inward anyway—if there was a flaw, it was his to fix. No pain, no gain—but he wasn't trying to break the pup, either.
"It's not you—it's Houndour," Lana said. "Same question: do you really understand Dark-types?"
Asked twice, his patience frayed, but he held it down. "Go on. I'm listening."
"When Persian and I met, it had already left its former owner for about six months," Lana began, stroking Persian's head. "In that time it fought for every meal and every alley, against vicious strays. Lose, and you starve. As a little Meowth, it was undersized and alone. New wounds layered on old ones. But every time, it'd slip back into the shadows and bare its fangs again.
"Over and over, it changed. It learned what 'Dark' really is.
"'Dark' isn't pointless anger; it's carving out an inch of survival in a world that wants you gone. You can lose, but you must not die. You endure humiliation to keep breathing.
"You live in the gutter without becoming the gutter. You know the difference between dragon and loach. You hide your claws and wait. Given time, you repay every slight with a fatal strike.
"True 'Dark' is stubborn will—a decision to live when death is close. Freedom to repay kindness and grudges. Surpassing oneself, fighting to the end, looking down on everything. That's the ultimate Dark."
Bathed in the orange river-light, Lana was incandescent. Ethan… was confused. What was he supposed to do with that speech? It sounded like: Houndour needs more beatings.
…Was that what Furret thought too?
Kids fixate on setbacks. Maybe Houndour hadn't been hit hard enough yet. With Furret watching, it should come back alive… right?
Lana finished and found Ethan rubbing his chin, wearing his "concerned schemer" face. She stormed up and roared in his ear.
"Ethan! Were you even listening?!"
He flinched, hopped back, and picked his ear with his pinky. "I got it, I got it. Scared me half to death."
He rolled his eyes at her. She spluttered.
"Then say what I meant, in your words."
"You mean Houndour's been asking for a beating, right?"
Ethan rolled his eyes again.
"Stop copying me! Big boys rolling their eyes is childish."
"Isn't yours childish?"
"I'm cute," Lana shot back.
"Pfft—tell that to the boys you've beaten to tears."
Lana rolled her eyes yet again; he almost started enjoying it.
"Think carefully," she said, voice ice-sweet. "Your Houndour isn't here. I'll let you try that again."
"Yo, who are you trying to scare? I don't do threats. Sentrets—time to avenge Houndour!"
"Taaail!" ×5
Ever-composed Persian smacked Lana's back with its tail, revealing its own "Dark." Master, sometimes it's okay to be cowardly. One day, when I'm rich, I'll crush these fat rabbits myself.