Morning came too early and too bright, sunlight streaming through gaps in the curtains with the aggressive cheerfulness of a Pokémon that didn't understand the concept of mercy. Micah woke to find his back stiff but surprisingly painfree whatever his mother had applied had worked its strange magic overnight.

  He sat up carefully, testing his range of motion. The staples pulled slightly, a reminder that he was still injured, but the sharp agony from yesterday had dulled to a manageable ache. The red hoodie lay draped over his desk chair, and he stared at it for a moment, remembering everything that had led to him wearing it.

  The Araquanid. The chase. Maxie's Camerupt falling from the sky like divine intervention.

  Micah dressed slowly, replacing the borrowed hoodie with one of his own shirts that had faded green from years of washing. As he made his way downstairs voices drifted up from the kitchen, low and conversational, accompanied by the familiar sounds of breakfast preparation.

  When he entered the kitchen, he found a scene that felt surreal in its domesticity. His mother sat at the stove, flipping what looked like potato pancakes, while his father sat at the table nursing some coffee across from Maxie, who was reading from a worn notebook. The Swablu perched on the windowsill, preening, while Claydol hovered near the door like a particularly philosophical piece of furniture.

  "Morning," Micah said, his voice still rough with sleep.

  Three heads turned toward him. His mother's expression was soft with concern, his father careful and measured, and Maxie's... analytical, in a way that made Micah feel like he was being assessed.

  "How's your back?" Dahlia asked, already moving toward him.

  "Better. A lot better, actually. Whatever you put on it worked."

  She nodded, satisfied, and guided him to the table. "Sit. Breakfast is almost ready."

  Micah obeyed, taking the seat next to his father. Rhys's hand came to rest briefly on his shoulder, a solid, grounding weight before withdrawing.

  "Sleep well?" Rhys asked.

  "Yeah. Out like a light." Micah glanced at Maxie, who had returned his attention to the notebook. "You stayed?"

  "Your mother can be very persuasive," Maxie said without looking up. "The spare room was comfortable. Thank you."

  Breakfast was served moments later. potato pancakes with a thin spread of Tamato berry jam, scrambled eggs, and more of that dark bread from last night. Simple, filling, and obviously stretched to accommodate an extra mouth.

  They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, the comfortable quiet of people too tired or too thoughtful for morning conversation. It was Dahlia who finally broke it, setting down her fork with deliberate precision.

  "Micah," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Your father and Mr. Maxie spoke last night after you went to bed. About the farm. About you."

  Micah's stomach clenched. He set down his own fork, suddenly not hungry. "I'm sorry for going on my own. I should have gone with you and Swablu."

  Dahlia’s expression softened and with a sigh said “while I am mad that you ran into danger like that. It isn't what we wanted to talk to you about, sweetie.”

  Rhys leaned forward, elbows on the table. "We're selling the riverfront fields to Maxie. The ones that are too damaged to recover. He needs them for his research, and we..." He paused, jaw working. "We need the money. It'll clear our immediate debts and give us breathing room to focus on the fields we can still save."

  Micah nodded slowly. That made sense. Though it still hurt, those fields had been in the family for generations but it was pragmatic. Necessary.

  "Okay," he said. "That's... That's a smart move."

  "There's more," Dahlia said, and her rose-colored eyes were bright with something Micah couldn't quite identify. Pride? Fear? Both?

  Maxie finally looked up from his notebook, removing his glasses to clean them on his black and red coat, a gesture that seemed more about giving himself a moment to think than about actual necessity.

  "Your father proposed an arrangement," Maxie began, his tone formal, almost careful. "As part of the land purchase, he's asked me to take you on as an apprentice. To teach you field research, geology, Pokémon ecology. essentially, to provide you with practical education in the work that I do."

  The kitchen went very quiet. Even the Swablu stopped preening. Claydol's eyes shifted from his trainer to the young boy.

  Micah looked from Maxie to his father to his mother, trying to process what he was hearing. "An apprentice? Like... traveling with you? Learning from you?"

  "Yes, that's the idea." Maxie confirmed. "Though I want to be clear this was your father's idea, not mine. And more importantly, it's contingent on what you want. I won't take an unwilling student."

  "I..." Micah's mind raced. Leave home? Travel with this stranger? Learn actual Pokémon research instead of just tending crops?

  "You don't have to decide right now," Rhys said quickly. "But I want you to really think about it, Micah. Not about what we need, not about the farm, about what you want. What kind of future you see for yourself."

  Micah's throat felt tight. "I stayed because you guys needed me." He gestured vaguely at the kitchen, the farm beyond. "I didn't want to leave you to deal with it alone."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "I know," Rhys said, and his voice was rough with emotion. "And that means everything to us. But son, watching you give up your own future to slowly sink with us... that's not something I can live with."

  "The farm isn't sinking," Micah protested weakly.

  "It is, sweetie." Dahlia said softly. "We all know it is. Even with the money from selling the fields, we're holding on by our fingernails. And you're fourteen, Micah. You should be out there discovering what you want to do with your life, not sacrificing yourself for land that might not even be here in five years."

  The words hit like a physical blow, mostly because they were true.

  Maxie cleared his throat. "For what it's worth, I think you'd make a capable researcher. You have good instincts, you're observant, and yesterday you demonstrated adaptive problem-solving under extreme pressure. Those aren't skills I can teach, they're innate qualities that can be refined." He paused. "But research is also tedious, often uncomfortable, and requires a genuine passion for understanding rather than just experiencing. If you're looking for adventure and excitement, you'd be better served by a traditional Pokémon journey."

  "I don't want a traditional journey," Micah said, the words coming out before he could stop them. "I never did. The idea of just... collecting badges and fighting in tournaments... it always felt empty. Like, what's the point? What are you actually doing besides proving you're strong?"

  "Some people find meaning in the challenge itself," Maxie observed.

  "Maybe. But I like understanding things. How things grow, what makes Pokémon choose certain habitats..." Micah looked down at his hands calloused from farmwork, stained with dirt that never quite washed out completely. "I thought I'd do that here, from home. But..."

  The sentence hung unfinished in the air.

  Dahlia reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. "Whatever you choose, we'll support it. If you want to stay, we'll figure something out. If you want to go with Mr. Maxie, we'll miss you terribly but we'll be proud. And if you want to do something else entirely become a Pokémon Ranger, or a coordinator, or anything else that's fine too."

  "How long would I be gone?" Micah asked, looking at Maxie.

  "That depends on multiple factors. My current research project in this area could take anywhere from six months to a year, possibly longer if I find something significant. After that..." Maxie shrugged slightly. "I move to where the research takes me. Sometimes that's nearby, sometimes it's other regions entirely."

  "Would I come back? To visit?"

  "Of course. I'm not abducting you." There might have been the ghost of humor in Maxie's tone. "We'd establish a regular schedule for communication and visits home. Probably monthly, circumstances permitting."

  Micah absorbed this, turning it over in his mind. A future that wasn't just surviving, but actually learning, growing, doing something...

  "I want to do it," he said quietly. Then, louder, with more conviction. "I want to be your apprentice. If you'll have me."

  Something flickered across Maxie's face, surprise, maybe, or satisfaction. "Then we have an arrangement. We'll spend today going over basics, discussing expectations, and getting you properly equipped. Tomorrow we'll begin actual fieldwork on the riverfront property."

  Rhys let out a breath he'd clearly been holding. Dahlia's eyes shimmered with tears she refused to let fall, and she squeezed Micah's hand once more before releasing it.

  "Alright then," she said, voice only slightly unsteady. "Let me pack you some supplies. You'll need "

  "Mom, we're not leaving today "

  "I know. But I also know you can barely organize your room, let alone a travelling pack."

  There was no arguing with that tone.

  After breakfast, while Dahlia disappeared into what Micah privately thought of as "organizational overdrive," Rhys led Maxie and Micah out to the barn. The morning sun was already warm, promising another hot day, and the ever-present sound of water from the river seemed louder somehow, more insistent.

  Rhyhorn was awake and alert, having apparently recovered from yesterday's ordeal. The massive Pokémon rumbled a greeting when it saw them, its small eyes focusing on Micah with what might have been concern.

  "Hey, Rhy," Micah said softly, running a hand along the Pokémon's rocky hide. "I'm okay. Thanks to you."

  Rhyhorn huffed, hot air rising from its nostrils, and gently bumped its head against Micah's chest carefully, aware of his injury.

  "He's been my partner for almost twenty years," Rhys said, leaning against the barn door. "Since before you were born. We raced together, trained together, and when I decided to settle down and focus on the farm, he adapted without complaint."

  Micah had heard versions of this story before, but something about his father's tone suggested this telling was different. More significant.

  "Rhyhorn are loyal to a fault," Rhys continued. "Once they bond with someone, that's it. They'd charge through a mountain if their trainer asked them to." He paused, his weathered face thoughtful. "the work you'll be doing with Maxie... you'll need a partner. Someone who knows you, who you can trust absolutely."

  "You're giving me Rhyhorn?"

  "What?" after a little bit of a chuckle Rhys corrected. "No, this is arguably better."

  Stepping behind the beast and shifting some of the straw bedding. Rhys unveiled something Micah never could have expected. Under the straw tucked in the corner of the barn was an egg.

  “Rhyhorn are not native to Hoenn, so when a rich nepo baby approached us about a potential… Let's say, collaboration between two Rhyhorn. We had no reason to refuse.”

  Carefully picking up the egg he said “This one was the last of the lot, but it ought to be a good partner considering who its daddy is”

  They both looked at the massive Rock-type, who gazed back with those small, intelligent eyes. Then, deliberately, Rhyhorn moved away from Rhys and positioned itself next to Micah, lowering its head in a clear gesture of acceptance.

  Rhys's eyes grew suspiciously bright, and he cleared his throat roughly. "Well. That's settled then."

  Maxie, who had been observing this exchange quietly, stepped forward. "A Rhyhorn is an excellent foundation for field research. Ground and Rock typing gives you utility in multiple environments, and their natural strength makes them valuable for both traversal and protection." He got closer to the egg slowly, assessing. "This one is quite large. Where did you stop on your journey Rhys?"

  "We stopped battling seriously after the Fortree Gym, but I kept him in training. Didn't feel right to let him get soft just because I wasn't competing anymore."

  "Smart. Pokémon need purpose." Maxie completed his circuit and nodded approvingly. "With proper training and a diet this little one could become quite formidable. Though that's down the line, and would require it to hatch first."

  Micah felt overwhelmed. Yesterday he'd been a farmer's son with no Pokémon of his own. Now his father had given him a partner, a researcher as a mentor, and a future that looked nothing like what he'd imagined even a week ago.

  "I don't know what to say," he managed.

  Rhys pulled him into a rough hug, careful of his back, and Micah felt his father's hand on his head the same gesture from when he was small, when the world was simpler and problems could be solved with patience and hard work.

  "Say you'll make us proud," Rhys murmured. "Say you'll be careful. And say you'll do your absolute best."

  "I will. All of it. I promise."

  They stood like that for a long moment, father and son, while Rhyhorn rumbled contentedly and Maxie politely pretended to be very interested in the barn's structural integrity.