The room still smelled faintly of fresh wood and polish.

  Ethan’s new bedroom was bigger than his old one back home—wide windows, clean lines, a bed that actually looked like it belonged to someone important… Well, technically, he was. His mom was the sister to the champion and his great-grandmother was a professor.

  Eevee was sprawled on the bed, belly up, paws twitching slightly as it slept.

  The battle exhaustion had finally caught up with it, the little hyperactive squirrel spamming Extreme speed all day definitely tired it out.

  Ethan leaned against the edge of the bed, watching Eevee’s tiny chest rise and fall. Its fur was ruffled from the day’s battles, and every twitch of a paw reminded him just how much energy the little Pokémon had burned.

  He pulled the TM from his pocket. It gleamed softly in the afternoon light streaming through the windows, a small but promising disc of potential.

  “Alright, Vee,” he murmured, holding it up. “Ready for round two?”

  Eevee’s ears perked up, and it rolled over onto its belly, eyes brightening at the sight. Its tail flicked once, twice—an unmistakable signal of curiosity and eagerness.

  Careful not to startle it, Ethan extended his hand. “This one’s different from Extreme Speed. You’ll need to focus, alright? No rushing.”

  Eevee leaned forward, sniffing the TM, then pressed a tiny paw against it. The object fred briefly, a soft hum vibrating through the air.

  “Good. That’s it,” Ethan encouraged. “Just feel it. Don’t fight it—let it work with you.”

  The glow from the TM wrapped around Eevee like a gentle current. Its body stiffened slightly, then rexed as if learning the rhythm of something it had always known but never used.

  Ethan’s jaw practically unhinged. Giga Impact? The TM’s glow faded, leaving Eevee blinking up at him, tail wagging, ears twitching, as if it hadn’t just channeled the raw, devastating power of a move usually reserved for fully grown Pokémon.

  “…Vee… you just learned Giga Impact?” His voice was a mixture of awe and disbelief.

  Eevee let out a small, proud chirp and bounced on the bed, trying to act casual but failing spectacurly. Its tiny paws filed in excitement, and it even attempted a little hop, sending a pillow tumbling to the floor.

  Ethan ughed despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re… insane. You know how much power that is, right? You’re barely bigger than my backpack!”

  Eevee responded with a tilt of its head and a soft vee! that seemed to say, Yeah. I know.

  Ethan ughed to himself before grabbing Eevee and snuggling his companion as they went to sleep.

  =========

  Cynthia had been awake for hours.

  Old habit. Even in someone else’s house, even without an immediate threat or schedule, her body refused to sleep in. She sat at the dining table with a mug of coffee gone lukewarm, posture rexed but attention sharp, listening to the house breathe.

  Footsteps finally touched the stairs.

  Light. Careful. Familiar.

  Cynthia looked up as Ethan appeared in the doorway, Eevee perched on his shoulder like it belonged there. The Pokémon looked rumpled but bright-eyed, tail flicking with quiet energy rather than yesterday’s frantic motion.

  Rested, Cynthia noted immediately. Both of them.

  “Good morning,” she said, watching their reactions more than their faces.

  “Morning,” Ethan replied, instinctively straightening. Not fear. Respect.

  Eevee leaned forward slightly, ears pricked, meeting her gaze without flinching.

  Interesting.

  Cynthia took a slow sip of coffee. The Eevee wasn’t avoiding her. Little gal had a lot of guts must’ve been why she was so strong.

  “You look rested,” Cynthia said aloud. Her eyes flicked back to Ethan, then returned to Eevee. “…That’s good.”

  Eevee puffed up at the attention. “Vee.”

  Cynthia’s lips curved despite herself. Fond memories of when she started her journey, that little one reminds her a lot of gibble.

  “I’m gd I stayed another day,” Cynthia said, setting the mug down. The decision had been made hours ago, but she let it sound casual. “I want to see something.”

  Ethan paused. The smallest hitch in his breathing. Alert now, the poor kid was wary and distrustful… had he even been told about his mom yet?

  “…See what?”

  Cynthia met his eyes fully this time. “How you train,” she said. “Not in a battle. Not when something’s at stake. Just you and Eevee.”

  There was a beat.

  Then Ethan nodded, simple and unguarded. “Sure. I talked Eevee through performing a new move st night, and we need to practice it today anyways.”

  Cynthia felt it then—that faint, quiet jolt.

  Not because of the words themselves.

  Because of how he said them.

  No boasting. No nerves. Just a statement of fact, delivered with a level of crity and confidence that didn’t match the small frame standing in front of her.

  Way too intelligent for his age, she thought, filing it away.

  “Very well,” she said aloud. “But eat first, you are a growing boy afterall.”

  ====

  Outside, the morning air was crisp and clean, the kind that carried sound far. Cynthia stood back near the edge of the yard, arms loosely crossed, deliberately giving them space.

  Ethan didn’t waste time.

  “Alright, Vee,” he said, setting his pack down. “Same rules as always. Control first. Power ter.”

  Eevee chirped sharply and bounded ahead.

  Instead of charging at some imaginary opponent, it stopped in front of a nearby tree—thick trunk, solid bark. Eevee lowered its stance, eyes narrowing.

  “Cut,” Ethan said calmly.

  Eevee sshed forward.

  The strike was clean and precise, cws glowing briefly as they carved straight through the tree.

  …Okay. That wasn’t just good form. That wasn’t even excellent for an unevolved Pokémon. That was raw output paired with control—enough force to cleave solid wood without shattering it, without losing bance, without overcommitting.

  That little Eevee is stupid strong, she thought ftly.

  Her mind did the math automatically. Power, recovery time, accuracy, responsiveness to commands—

  Elite-level, at least in bursts.

  And honestly that hyperbeam spam would put it at a solid champion level but, that girl just isn’t there yet.

  Cynthia was roused from her analysis as Ethan stepped forward, bent at the knees, and lifted a sizable chunk of the log as if it weighed nothing more than an inconvenience. He carried it away from the tree line and set it upright in the open yard, wedging it carefully between two stones until it stood firm.

  “Alright,” Ethan said calmly, his voice carrying across the yard. “This is the target. Remember what we talked about st night.”

  He didn’t look back. Didn’t seek approval. He trusted that Eevee was listening.

  A beat of silence.

  Then—

  “VEEE!”

  The cry was triumphant, fierce, and utterly unrestrained.

  The ground shook.

  Energy detonated outward as Eevee unched forward, its small body wreathed in violent force that bent the air around it. The world seemed to compress for a split second—then released.

  Giga Impact nded.

  The log didn’t just break.

  It ceased to be.

  Wood exploded outward in a shockwave of splinters and dust, fragments tearing through the grass and embedding themselves several yards away. The stones anchoring it were flung aside like pebbles. The impact sent a visible tremor through the soil beneath Cynthia’s boots.

  Eevee skidded to a halt beyond the bst zone, cws carving furrows into the dirt as it fought momentum. The aura around it flickered wildly—then colpsed.

  The little Pokémon dropped to one knee.

  Chest heaving. Muscles trembling.

  Silence followed, broken only by the settling debris.

  What the fuck is my nephew…

  Before she could step in, Ethan was already moving.

  He crossed the bsted patch of ground quickly, boots crunching over splinters, and dropped to his knees beside Eevee. No hesitation. No shouting. Just presence.

  “Hey—hey, you did great,” Ethan said immediately, voice warm and sure as he gently scooped Eevee up. He cradled the trembling Pokémon against his chest, one hand supporting its back, the other rubbing slow circles between its ears. “That was huge, Vee. Absolutely huge.”

  Eevee let out a weak but unmistakably pleased sound, leaning into him despite the shaking. Its tail gave a tiny, exhausted flick.

  “You—we can work on stamina ter,” Ethan continued softly. “We’re both still young. You picked that up so well. I mean, yeah, we practiced maniputing the energy st night, but that was our first try.”

  Eevee’s ears twitched at the praise, and it managed a quiet, proud little “Vee,” even as its breathing stayed rough.

  Cynthia stared.

  First try.

  Her eyes flicked from the shattered ground to the Eevee in Ethan’s arms—then back to the boy himself. There was no exaggeration in his voice. No bravado. Just an honest assessment, delivered like he was talking about footwork or timing instead of a move that had just annihited a solid target.

  “I didn’t know Eevee could even learn Giga Impact,” she muttered, disbelief slipping past her composure before she could stop it.

  “Why not it’s a normal type move?” Ethan asks as loud