Chapter 11
The park clearing smells like damp earth and scorched grass, the kind of smell that clings to your clothes even after you go home. The paths are busy farther out joggers, parents, someone walking a Shinx on a leash but in here it's just us, a stretch of flattened ground between two trees where people know not to wander in.
Axew rolls his shoulders once and plants his feet. He doesn't bounce or fidget anymore. He watches.
Across from us, a man in a worn Ranger-style jacket Derrick, who I've seen here on and off since spring runs a hand down his Growlithe's back to settle it. "Alright," he says, eyes on me, then on Axew. "Same rules as always. Clean hits, no pushing past the call."
"Yeah," I answer, and the word comes out easy. "We're good."
Axew snorts softly, tail flicking as if he's the one agreeing.
Derrick's mouth twitches, almost a smile. "Growlithe."
Growlithe lowers its stance, eager, heat already shimmering faintly around its muzzle.
I don't have to tell Axew to be ready. He already is.
"Go," Derrick says.
Growlithe lunges first, "Move!" I call.
Axew slips sideways, not retreating so much as sliding out of line. The Ember that follows snaps after him, a short burst, bright and sharp, scorching the air where he was and painting the grass with tiny sparks.
Growlithe doesn't stop. Derrick's voice cuts in again, quick and practiced. "Flame Wheel!"
Flame blooms around Growlithe in a rolling shell and it barrels forward, the heat pushing outward in waves. The move isn't pretty up close. It's loud and violent and it eats space, and if Axew meets it wrong he'll get clipped hard.
"Back!" I snap.
Axew hops back once, then pivots off his rear foot and darts to the side, letting the flaming roll pass. The heat brushes his scales and he flinches just a twitch but he stays balanced, claws digging in as he turns to face again.
"Dragon Breath!"
Axew exhales and the breath hits like a narrow ribbon, pale and forceful. It doesn't explode. It cuts. It forces Growlithe to break its line, flames sputtering as it skids and shakes off the hit with a sharp bark.
Derrick leans forward a fraction. "Good," he mutters, then louder, "Ember spread it!"
Growlithe spits embers wide, not a single shot but a fan meant to box Axew in. The clearing fills with drifting sparks. Axew shifts, steps light, weaving between the falling points of heat with just enough distance to keep his scales from catching the worst of it. He's not perfect. One ember kisses his forearm and he jerks, annoyed, but he doesn't lose his footing.
That's the year, right there.
Last spring, a sting like that would have made him jump back too far, then scramble to recover. Now he just looks offended.
"Scary Face!".
Axew steps into the space, posture hardening. It isn't a roar. It's a stare that lands like pressure. Growlithe hesitates mid-step, ears pinning back for a beat as instinct argues with momentum.
"Bite!"
Axew launches. His jaws snap shut on Growlithe's shoulder clean contact then he releases immediately and drops back, claws carving a shallow line in the dirt as he disengages before Growlithe can twist into a counter.
Growlithe yelps and whirls, snapping at empty air. It's not hurt badly, but it's startled, and the bark it throws out is more frustration than pain.
"Don't chase," I say, quiet but firm.
Axew's tail flicks. He doesn't chase.
He holds his ground and makes Growlithe come to him.
Derrick sees it too. His hand lifts slightly, not a stop, just a correction. "Growlithe don't throw yourself at him. Keep him busy. Quick Attack!"
Growlithe blurs forward, body low, aiming to clip Axew and pull back before Axew can answer properly. It's a good call. It's what a lot of trainers do: tag, tag, tag, force a mistake.
Axew turns with it anyway, claws scraping as he pivots faster than he used to. Growlithe's shoulder bumps Axew's side light contact, but enough to shift him then Growlithe tries to bounce away.
"Assurance!"
Axew strikes on the retreat, not on the entry. He snaps forward and hits as Growlithe pulls back, catching it when its weight is wrong. The impact doesn't look dramatic, but Growlithe stumbles, paws skidding, breath hitching.
Derrick's eyebrows lift. "That's new," he says, not angry, just noting it, and his tone makes something warm spark in my chest.
Axew looks over at me for half a second, eyes bright, like he heard it too.
"Focus," I tell him, and I can't keep the grin out of my voice.
Growlithe shakes itself hard and sets its paws again, flame flickering. It's still in this, and Derrick gives it a quick nod. "Alright. One more push. Flame Wheel again clean line!"
Growlithe rolls into flame and charges.
Axew doesn't panic. He doesn't freeze. He waits until the last moment, then cuts out of the path with a tight sidestep, letting the heat wash past his face. As Growlithe passes, Axew's head turns, tracking, timing.
"Dragon Rage!"
Axew exhales and the energy hits like a compact hammer. Not huge, not flashy, but heavy enough that Growlithe's flaming roll breaks apart mid-movement, flame sputtering as it lands hard and skids.
Growlithe tries to stand again. It makes it halfway up, then stops, breathing hard, ears angled back as it looks to Derrick.
Derrick's hand comes up. "That's it."
The moment he calls it, Axew goes still. He doesn't lunge for an extra hit. He doesn't posture. He holds his stance until Growlithe relaxes and the tension drains out of the air.
Then he turns to me, chest rising and falling steady.
I walk over and crouch beside him, hand settling on his shoulder. The muscle under my palm is warm and solid, none of the old thin trembling that used to show up when he pushed himself. He leans into the touch like it's the most normal thing in the world.
"That was good," I say, and the words come out with real heat, real pride. "You waited. You didn't get pulled by the fire. You hit when it mattered."
Axew snorts, pleased, and bumps his forehead lightly against my wrist like he's collecting praise.
Behind us, Derrick kneels beside Growlithe and rubs between its ears. "You did fine," he tells it, voice calm. "You just got impatient."
Growlithe huffs and presses closer anyway, stubborn to the end.
Derrick stands and looks over at me. His gaze goes to Axew first, then back to my face. "He's built different than he was," he says, blunt in a way that feels like a compliment without trying. "Last year he would've chased after the first Bite."
I remember it. Not because it was a failure, but because it was the kind of mistake you make when you're still scared the moment will disappear if you don't grab it.
Now Axew doesn't fight like he's scared of losing me. He fights like he expects to be here tomorrow.
"Yeah," I say, and my voice stays light because it's not a secret and it doesn't have to be heavy. "He grew up a bit."
Axew lifts his head higher as if to agree with that personally.
Derrick's mouth twitches again. "Your calls are cleaner too. Less noise."
I blink, then laugh once, short and honest, because it's true and hearing someone else say it feels weirdly satisfying. "He doesn't need me talking over him anymore."
Axew flicks his tail, almost smug.
Derrick crosses his arms, considering. "That's the part most people mess up," he says. "They either treat their Pokémon like a remote control, or they stop giving direction at all. You're landing somewhere in the middle."
"I'm trying," I say, and my hand rubs once over Axew's shoulder without thinking. "He makes it easy most days."
Axew makes a sound that's half snort, half huff, like he's offended by the implication that he's ever easy.
Derrick looks down at Growlithe, then back up. "Same time next week?" he asks, like he always does when the spar doesn't end in someone getting stupid.
"Yeah," I answer. "We'll be here."
We leave the clearing with Axew at my side, not tucked behind my legs, not glued to my ankle like he used to be when everything outside the house felt too big. People glance over as we pass Axew still draws eyes but it's different now. There's no sense of fragility in it, no carefulness in the way I hold my shoulders.
A year ago, every outing felt like I was carrying something breakable.
Now it feels like walking with a partner.
At home, after dinner, Axew settles beside my bed the way he always does, curling down with his back to the wall and his face toward the door. Not guarding it, not waiting for danger, just choosing a spot where he can see. When I sit down, he lifts his head and watches me with calm attention.
The pressure behind my eyes comes later, when the house is quiet enough that every small sound feels louder. It isn't a dramatic arrival. It never is. It's a weight that settles in like something half-awake remembering it exists.
SYSTEM INTERFACE — STATUS CHECK
Integrity: DAMAGED
Functionality: LIMITED
User: Arin
REGISTERED POKÉMON
Species: Axew
Condition: Stable
Recovery Status: Poisoning resolved
Known Moves (Observed):
Scratch
Bite
Assurance
Dragon Breath
Dragon Rage
Scary Face
System note:
Data incomplete.
Move execution varies with physical and mental state.
Sustained overuse may still result in backlash.
VIRIDIAN-ANALOG ABILITIES
Empathic perception: inconsistent
Natural recovery support: minimal
Spirit Synchronization: LOCKED
Warning:
Overextension may cause severe exhaustion.
The text holds for a beat too long, then fades without ceremony.
Axew's eyes are on me immediately, like he felt the shift even if he can't see it. He doesn't move closer this time. He just watches, steady, trusting.
"Yeah," I tell him quietly, and it comes out almost like a promise. "I know."
He settles his head back down, satisfied, and the room returns to normal.