Micah adjusted the egg carrier at his side, feeling the familiar warmth pulse against his ribs. Four days. They'd been walking for less than an hour, and already his shoulders ached from the pack's weight, his feet protested in boots that suddenly felt too stiff, and the reality of "several days of travel" was beginning to sink in with uncomfortable clarity.

  "Route 118," Maxie announced, tracing a line on the map with one finger. " Approximately four days on foot, assuming decent weather and no significant delays."

  Micah stared at him. "Four days!?"

  "Give or take. The terrain is manageable but not trivial. Wild Pokémon activity is moderate. We should make reasonable time." Maxie folded the map with practiced efficiency, tucking it back into his coat's seemingly bottomless pockets. "Any questions before we begin?"

  "Yeah, actually." Micah gestured toward Claydol. "Why are we walking? Can't Claydol just... teleport us? Or we could fly on Swellow. Seems like it would be faster."

  Maxie's expression shifted into what Micah was beginning to recognize as his "teaching mode", a particular focus that suggested a lecture was incoming.

  "Two reasons. First, teleportation with an unhatched Pokémon egg is heavily discouraged. The spatial distortion involved in psychic transportation can disrupt the delicate development processes occurring within the shell. In some cases, it can cause premature hatching. In worse cases..." He paused meaningfully. "Let's just say the results are not ideal."

  Micah's hand moved instinctively to the egg carrier, protective. "Okay. No teleporting. Got it. But what about flying?"

  "Swellow is strong, yes. One of my most reliable partners for aerial reconnaissance and rapid transport." Maxie glanced toward the sky, where presumably his Swellow was currently scouting ahead. "However, he's not large enough to comfortably carry two adult humans for extended periods. He can manage short bursts,emergencies, difficult terrain,but sustained flight with two passengers would exhaust him dangerously. And exhausted Pokémon make mistakes."

  "So we walk."

  "So we walk." Maxie shouldered his pack and started forward. "Consider it part of your education. Field research involves extensive travel on foot. You'll need to build stamina, learn to read terrain, and develop an instinct for pacing yourself. This isn't a sprint, Micah. It's endurance work."

  Micah fell into step beside him, Claydol bringing up the rear like a silent, floating guardian. The road stretched ahead, packed dirt transitioning gradually into harder-packed trail, flanked by tall grass that rustled with the movements of unseen Pokémon.

  "So," Micah ventured after they'd walked in silence for several minutes, "what exactly will I be doing? Like, day to day. Once we get to your lab."

  Maxie didn't slow his pace, but his tone shifted slightly,still formal, but with an undercurrent of something that might have been sympathy.

  "Realistically? The majority of your time will be spent working with my other researchers. Assisting them with sample collection, data entry, equipment maintenance, basic analysis. The foundational work that makes advanced research possible."

  "Oh." Micah tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice and failed.

  "I know that's not what you were hoping to hear." Maxie glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to the path. "You were probably imagining working directly with me, conducting cutting-edge experiments, making groundbreaking discoveries."

  "I mean... maybe a little."

  "It's a natural expectation. Unfortunately, it's also unrealistic, at least initially." Maxie paused to consult a small compass, adjusted their bearing slightly, and continued. "Consider the practical reality. You're twelve years old with no formal scientific training, no advanced education, and no field experience beyond basic agriculture. You're also my apprentice, which means the other researchers,most of whom have years of experience and actual credentials,are going to have... opinions."

  "About me?"

  "About the perceived favoritism of a child being mentored directly by the head researcher while they handle the unglamorous grunt work." Maxie's tone was matter-of-fact, not unkind. "It's office politics, essentially. If I immediately station you at my side, bypassing their seniority and expertise, it breeds resentment. Resentment creates friction. Friction disrupts the work."

  Micah absorbed this, the reality of his situation settling like a weight in his stomach. "So I'm being... what, shuffled off so I don't upset anyone?"

  "You're being integrated properly." Maxie's correction was firm. "You'll work with Tabitha on geological surveys,he's abrasive but brilliant with mineralogy. With Courtney on behavioral observation protocols,she's... intense, but her documentation standards are impeccable. With Phoebe on ecological impact assessments. Each of them will teach you different skills, different methodologies. You'll gain practical experience across multiple disciplines rather than developing tunnel vision in just one area."

  "And you?"

  "I'll supervise your progress, review your work, and provide direct instruction during scheduled sessions. Think of it as... structured apprenticeship rather than constant mentorship." Maxie adjusted his glasses, a gesture Micah was learning meant he was choosing his words carefully. "This approach has several advantages. You learn diverse skills, you earn the respect of the team through demonstrated competence rather than perceived nepotism, and frankly, it gives you space to fail without the pressure of disappointing your primary mentor."

  "That's... reasonable."

  "I try to be." There might have been dry humor in that statement. "The goal is to train you properly, Micah. Not to coddle you or set you up for failure. Real research requires real skills, developed through real work. Unglamorous, tedious, often frustrating work."

  They walked on, the morning sun climbing higher, the temperature rising with it. Around them, Route 118 came alive,Poochyena yipping in the distance, Zigzagoon rustling through underbrush, the occasional Taillow darting overhead in a flash of blue and white.

  "Will they resent me?" Micah asked after a while. "Your other researchers?"

  Maxie was quiet for several steps, clearly considering his answer.

  "Some will. Initially. Tabitha particularly has strong opinions about proper hierarchies and earned positions. He'll view you as an unqualified child taking up resources." Maxie glanced at Micah again. "But Tabitha also respects competence and hard work. Prove you can handle the assignments he gives you, demonstrate you're willing to learn, and he'll come around. Eventually."

  "And the others?"

  "Courtney is... difficult to predict. She's extraordinarily focused, sometimes to the exclusion of social awareness. She may not care about your age or experience at all, only about whether you can follow her protocols precisely." Maxie's expression shifted, something that might have been amusement. "She's been known to reduce grown men to tears with her exacting standards. Don't take it personally."

  "Great… No pressure."

  "Shelly is probably the most approachable. She's newer to the team herself, less invested in hierarchies, more interested in collaborative work. You will start under her and work on her assignments ,build confidence before tackling Tabitha or Courtney's projects."

  Micah nodded, committing this to memory. Office politics in a research lab. It seemed absurd and yet completely reasonable. People were people, regardless of their intelligence or education. They had egos, insecurities, instincts.

  "What about you?" The question came out before Micah could stop it. "Do you resent taking me on?"

  Maxie stopped walking. Actually stopped, turning to face Micah directly with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable.

  "No." The word was flat, certain. "I made an agreement with your father fully aware of what it entailed. I don't make commitments lightly, Micah. If I'd had reservations about your potential or my capacity to train you properly, I would have declined regardless of the land purchase." He paused. "I see something in you. Initiative. Curiosity. The ability to think adaptively under pressure. Those qualities can't be taught,they're innate. Everything else? Skills, knowledge, methodology? Those can be taught to anyone with sufficient intelligence and work ethic. And you have both."

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Micah felt heat rise to his face. "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me yet. Thank me when you've survived Tabitha's field assessments and Courtney's documentation reviews." Maxie resumed walking. "Now come on. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and standing still doesn't get us any closer to Mauville."

  By midday, Micah's romantic notions about journey and adventure had been thoroughly dismantled by the brutal reality of simply walking for hours on end. His feet hurt. His shoulders burned. The egg carrier, which had seemed perfectly comfortable that morning, now felt like it was digging into his side with malicious intent. And the sun,the blessed Hoenn sun that nurtured crops and warmed the land,felt less like a benevolent presence and more like a vindictive hammer attempting to pound him into the dirt.

  "Break," Maxie announced, veering off the path toward a cluster of large rocks that provided blessed shade. "Fifteen minutes. Hydrate, rest, eat something if you need to."

  Micah collapsed onto a rock with absolutely no grace, letting his pack slide off his shoulders and hit the ground with a thump that probably wasn't good for whatever equipment his mother had carefully packed. He didn't care. Everything hurt.

  Maxie, by contrast, looked completely unruffled. He drank from a canteen with measured sips, consulted some kind of handheld device that beeped intermittently, and made notes in a small waterproof notebook. Claydol hovered nearby, rotating slowly, apparently immune to concepts like fatigue or discomfort.

  "You're doing well," Maxie said without looking up from his notes.

  "I'm dying."

  "You're adjusting. There's a difference." He finally glanced over. "First day is always hardest. Your body isn't accustomed to sustained exertion. By tomorrow, you'll have adapted somewhat. By day three, you'll have found your rhythm."

  "And by day four?"

  "By day four, you'll be thoroughly sick of walking and deeply grateful to reach Mauville." Maxie capped his pen. "But you'll also have proven you can handle extended field travel, which is a prerequisite for this work. Consider it your first practical examination."

  Micah groaned but forced himself to drink from his own canteen. His mother had been right about the water,he'd already gone through half of what he'd packed, and they weren't even a full day in. The sun was merciless, the air thick with humidity that made every breath feel like work.

  "How often do you do this?" he asked. "Travel on foot like this."

  "Depends on the project. Some research sites are accessible via pokemon, vehicle or require minimal hiking. Others..." Maxie gestured vaguely at the wilderness surrounding them. "Require days or weeks of travel through terrain that larger pokemon can't manage. You develop the stamina for it or you find different work."

  "And you've developed it?"

  "I didn't have much choice. The sites I needed to access didn't care about my preferences." Maxie's tone was wry. "I spent my first field season barely able to walk by the end of each day, nursing blisters, questioning every life decision that had led me there. But I adapted. Humans are remarkably good at adapting when the alternative is failure."

  Micah looked down at the egg carrier, checking on his future partner. Still warm, still unchanged. But soon. He could feel it somehow,a sense that the Rhyhorn within was getting restless, preparing for emergence. Days, maybe. A week at most.

  "When it hatches," he said quietly, "will it be able to travel? Or will we need to... I don't know, stay somewhere until it's strong enough?"

  "Rhyhorn are remarkably robust immediately post-hatching. One of the advantages of Rock-type Pokémon,they're essentially born ready for survival." Maxie packed away his notebook. "That said, we'll need to be cautious for the first few days. Frequent rest stops, careful monitoring, appropriate nutrition. But it shouldn't significantly delay our travel unless complications arise."

  "What kind of complications?"

  "The kind we won't worry about unless they happen." Maxie stood, brushing dust from his coat with practiced efficiency. " Break is over. We've got several more hours before we can make camp."

  Micah wanted to protest, to argue for five more minutes, ten, anything. But he forced himself up, shouldered his pack, and fell back into line behind Maxie. The road stretched ahead, seemingly endless, and there was nothing to do but walk it.

  One foot in front of the other. Again and again and again.

  Welcome to field research.

  The afternoon brought their first real encounter with trainer battles,or more accurately, their first opportunity to observe them from a safe distance.

  They'd been walking for perhaps two hours post-lunch when voices drifted from somewhere ahead, raised in challenge and excitement. Maxie held up one hand, signaling Micah to stop, then moved forward more cautiously. Micah followed, trying to be quiet, until they reached a position where they could observe without being directly in the line of fire.

  Two young trainers, probably thirteen or fourteen, faced each other across a cleared section of path. One had a Taillow circling overhead, its distinctive cry piercing the air. The other had released an Electrike, the Electric-type crackling with barely contained energy, its green and yellow fur standing on end.

  "This is good," Maxie murmured, settling onto a convenient rock outcropping that provided perfect sightlines. "Watch carefully. I'll explain what you're seeing."

  The Taillow's trainer,a girl with her hair tied back in a practical ponytail,called out her first command. "Taillow, Quick Attack!"

  The bird dove, a blue-white blur of speed and aggression. But the Electrike's trainer was ready.

  "Thunder Wave!"

  The Electric-type released a pulse of crackling energy that spread like a net. The Taillow couldn't adjust its trajectory in time,the Quick Attack's momentum carried it directly into the Thunder Wavet. Electricity arced through the small body, and it tumbled from the air, wings seizing, movements suddenly jerky and uncoordinated.

  "Paralysis," Maxie narrated quietly. "See how the Taillow's movements are compromised? That's Thunder Wave's primary function,it doesn't deal significant damage, but it dramatically reduces speed and has a chance to completely prevent movement. For a Flying-type that relies on agility, it's devastating."

  The Taillow struggled to take flight again, managing only to glide with short uneven bursts that left it vulnerable. Its trainer's face showed concern but also determination.

  "Taillow, Wing Attack! You can do it!"

  The bird rallied, pushing through the paralysis for one strong flap that generated a blade of compressed air. But the execution was sloppy, the aim off. The Wing Attack carved a gouge in the dirt several feet from its intended target.

  "Spark!" the Electrike's trainer commanded, seizing the opportunity.

  The Electric-type charged, body wreathed in crackling electricity. It collided with the struggling Taillow in a burst of light and energy. The Flying-type hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and didn't get back up.

  "Taillow is unable to battle!" someone called,probably a friend serving as impromptu referee. "Electrike wins!"

  The Taillow's trainer recalled her Pokémon with obvious disappointment, checking the Pokéball anxiously before moving to shake her opponent's hand. Good sportsmanship despite the loss.

  "Okay," Micah said as the trainers began chatting, apparently friends despite the competitive battle. "What did I just watch? Besides the obvious."

  "Type advantage in action," Maxie replied, standing and gesturing for them to continue walking, giving the trainers their privacy. "Electric moves are super effective against Flying-types. The Thunder Wave guaranteed the Taillow couldn't leverage its natural speed advantage. Once paralyzed, it became a much easier target for direct attacks."

  "So the Electrike's trainer won because of the type matchup?"

  "Partially. But notice the strategy,Thunder Wave first, damage second. The paralysis was a setup move, creating conditions where the follow-up attack would be more effective." Maxie's tone had shifted into full lecture mode. "That's the difference between novice and intermediate battling. Novices often lead with their strongest attack, hoping for a quick knockout. More experienced trainers understand that battlefield control,status effects, stat modifications, terrain advantage,often matters more than raw power."

  Micah absorbed this, replaying the battle in his mind. "The Taillow's trainer tried to use Quick Attack for speed. But Quick Attack's strength is its guaranteed first strike, right? So why did the Thunder Wave hit first?"

  "Excellent question." Maxie looked genuinely pleased. "Thunder Wave is faster than Quick Attack despite the name. Moves like Quick Attack are called Priority moves and have different tiers. Thunder Wave, while not technically a priority move, is fast enough to often act before standard attacks. Additionally, the Electrike was likely faster than the Taillow even without considering move speed."

  They walked on, Micah's fatigue temporarily forgotten as his mind worked through the tactical implications. Type advantages he'd understood abstractly,Fire beats Grass, Water beats Fire, basic stuff. But the layered complexity of move priority, status effects, strategic setup...

  "Is that what you'll teach me? Battle strategy?"

  "Eventually, yes. Though your education will be much broader than just battling." Maxie pulled out his water canteen, took a measured sip. "Research often requires battle capability,defending yourself in the field, subduing wild Pokémon for study, occasionally dealing with hostile trainers or poachers. But it's a tool, not the primary focus. You'll need to be competent, not necessarily excellent."

  "What's the difference?"

  "Competent would mean you can hold your own against wild Pokémon and inexperienced trainers. You understand type matchups, basic strategy, and how to keep your partners healthy and effective." Maxie paused. "Excellent would mean you could challenge the Pokémon League with well above average odds of success. That requires dedicated training, specialized breeding, move optimization, team composition theory... an entirely different level of commitment."

  "Which are you?"

  Maxie was quiet for several steps. "I was competent, trending toward excellent. I earned six badges before deciding the Gym Circuit wasn't for me,too much performance, not enough substance. My Pokémon are powerful and well-trained, but they're trained largely for field utility, not competitive battling. The sole exception being Camerupt."

  Micah thought about his Rhyhorn egg, still warm against his side. What kind of trainer would he become? What would his Rhyhorn need from him?

  One step at a time, he reminded himself. First, the egg needed to hatch. Everything else came after.