Dahlia had indeed prepared enough food to feed a small army. The kitchen table groaned under the weight of it. fresh bread still steaming from the oven, a hearty vegetable stew with actual chunks of meat (a luxury in recent months), berry tarts that must have consumed the last of their good preserves, and even a small wheel of cheese that Micah knew for a fact they'd been saving for emergencies.

  "Mom," Micah said, staring at the spread. "This is too much."

  "Nonsense." Dahlia's voice was firm, but her eyes were suspiciously bright. "When am I going to get another chance to cook for my son properly? You'll be eating trail rations and whatever you can forage soon enough."

  Rhys was already seated, looking uncomfortable in clean clothes,he'd clearly been ordered to wash up and dress properly for the meal. The Swablu perched on the back of his chair, cooing softly as if it too understood the significance of the occasion.

  Maxie, to his credit, didn't comment on the obvious expense and effort the meal represented. He simply thanked Dahlia genuinely and took his seat, Claydol hovering near the door and sat there observing the exchange.

  The meal was consumed mostly in silence, the kind of quiet that comes when everyone has too much to say and no idea how to start. Micah found himself memorizing details. the way his mother's hands moved as she served, precise and caring; the small smile that tugged at his father's mouth when Dahlia insisted he have a second helping; the afternoon light streaming through the window, painting everything in warm gold.

  It was Maxie who finally broke the silence, setting down his spoon with quiet finality.

  "Given the tight schedule I'm working under, I'm afraid we'll need to depart tomorrow morning." He looked at Micah directly. "Early,ideally. We have several days of travel ahead of us, and I'd prefer to make good time while the weather holds."

  Dahlia's hands stilled. Rhys's jaw tightened. Micah felt his stomach clench despite the good food filling it.

  "Tomorrow," Rhys repeated, voice carefully neutral. "That's... soon."

  "I know. And I apologize for the abbreviated timeline." Maxie's tone was genuinely apologetic. "Under normal circumstances I would allow more time for preparation and goodbyes. But I have equipment running time-sensitive experiments in my lab, and colleagues expecting preliminary reports. The research doesn't stop just because I've taken on an apprentice."

  "Of course not." Dahlia's voice was steady, but her rose-colored eyes shimmered. "We understand. Research is important."

  "Mom,"

  "It's fine, Micah." She smiled, and it was only slightly forced. "This is what you wanted. What we wanted for you. We're not going to make it harder by being difficult about timing."

  Rhys reached across the table, his calloused hand covering his wife's smaller one. "What time should he be ready?"

  "I want to be on Route 103 before the sun is fully up." Maxie glanced at Micah. "Pack light but practical. We'll be traveling primarily on foot, with occasional flight via my Skarmory when terrain permits. Whatever you bring, you'll be carrying for extended periods."

  Micah nodded, not trusting his voice.

  The rest of the meal passed in a blur of forced normalcy,talk of weather, of the proper way to pack a traveling bag, of what Pokémon Micah might encounter on the road. Surface conversations that danced around the enormous emotional weight of what was actually happening.

  When the dishes were cleared and Maxie excused himself to prepare his own equipment, Micah found himself standing in the kitchen, suddenly uncertain. His mother was at the sink, hands moving automatically through the washing up, while his father stood by the window, staring out at the fields he'd worked his entire life.

  "Micah." Dahlia's voice was soft. "Come upstairs with us. We should talk."

  Micah's room felt smaller somehow, as if the walls had contracted in anticipation of his absence. His parents sat on the edge of his bed,his mother perched carefully, his father's weight making the old frame creak,while Micah took his desk chair, spinning it to face them.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The Rhyhorn egg sat in its makeshift nest of blankets on Micah's desk, a silent witness to the conversation about to unfold.

  "Your father and I," Dahlia began, then paused, collecting herself. "We wanted to talk to you. About tomorrow. About what comes after."

  "About how to not die in the wilderness," Rhys added with forced lightness that didn't quite land.

  Dahlia shot him a look, then turned back to Micah. "Practical things first. Camping. You've done it before with your father, but never for extended periods."

  "Always test your campsite before full dark," Rhys said, his voice settling into the familiar rhythm of instruction,safer territory than emotion. "Look for signs of wild Pokémon activity, check for unstable ground or dead trees that might fall. Water source nearby is good, but not too close,flooding risk, and you'll attract every thirsty Pokémon in the area."

  "Keep your supplies organized and accessible," Dahlia added. "You should be able to find your first aid kit, your fire-starting equipment, and your Pokémon supplies in complete darkness if necessary. Because sooner or later, you'll need to."

  Micah nodded, committing it to memory.

  "Food preservation in the field is different from at home," Rhys continued. "You can't trust refrigeration, so dried goods, preserved fruits, hard cheeses. Nothing that spoils quickly. And never, ever leave food unsealed in your tent. That's how you wake up with a Mightyena in your face."

  "Speaking from experience?" Micah asked, trying to match his father's forced lightness.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Your father has many stories he's never told you," Dahlia said with a small smile. "Most of them involve poor decisions and dumb luck."

  "Hey now,"

  "It's true and you know it." But she squeezed his hand as she said it, affection softening the teasing.

  They continued like that for nearly an hour, trading advice and warnings and hard-won wisdom. How to read weather patterns. Which berries were safe to eat and which would leave you sick for days. The importance of maintaining your equipment, of keeping your boots dry, of knowing when to push through discomfort and when to rest.

  "Trust your Pokémon," Rhys said, and his voice had gone quieter, more serious. "Rhyhorn,your Rhyhorn, once it hatches,it's going to be your partner in everything. Listen to it. If it's nervous, there's a reason. If it's tired, don't push. The relationship between trainer and Pokémon... it's not about dominance or control. It's about trust."

  "I know, Dad. You've told me that since I was little."

  "I'm telling you again because it matters." Rhys leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Out there, away from home, that Pokémon is going to be the only constant you have. Treat it right. Treat it like family, because that's what it is."

  Micah felt his throat tighten. "I will. I promise."

  Dahlia stood then, moving to her son's desk and picking up the egg with careful reverence. "This little one is going to hatch soon. Maybe in a few days, maybe a few weeks. But when it does..." She turned to face Micah, cradling the egg against her chest. "It's going to imprint on you. You'll be the first thing it sees, the first voice it knows. That's a responsibility, Micah. Not just keeping it safe, but shaping what kind of Pokémon it becomes."

  "No pressure," Micah tried to joke, but it came out shaky.

  "A little pressure is good. Keeps you sharp." She came to him then, pressing the egg into his hands. "But more than that... we want you to know we believe in you. We believe you can do this."

  "We're not worried about you failing," Rhys added, standing as well. "We're worried about you not trying. About you holding yourself back because you're scared or because you think you're not good enough."

  "You are good enough," Dahlia said fiercely. "You're smart, you're capable, you're kind. Everything we could have hoped for in a son. And now you get to show the rest of the world what we've always known."

  Micah looked down at the egg in his hands, its warmth spreading through his fingers, grounding him. When he looked back up, both his parents were crying,not sobbing, just quiet tears that they made no effort to hide or wipe away.

  "I'm scared," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "What if I mess up? What if I'm not cut out for this? What if,"

  "Then you come home," Rhys interrupted. "No shame, no judgment. This isn't a one-way trip, Micah. If research isn't for you, if Maxie isn't a good fit, if you just need a break,you come home. This door is always open."

  "But we don't think you'll need to," Dahlia added quickly. "We think you're going to thrive. We think you're going to discover things about yourself and the world that you never imagined. We think..." She paused, voice breaking slightly. "We think you're going to be great."

  That broke something in Micah. The tears he'd been holding back spilled over, and suddenly he was twelve years old again, small and scared and needing his parents. Dahlia pulled him into a fierce embrace, careful of the egg still clutched in his hands, and Rhys wrapped his arms around both of them, the three of them holding each other as the afternoon light faded into evening.

  "We love you," Dahlia whispered into his hair. "So much. More than the land, more than anything. And we are so, so proud of you."

  "I love you too," Micah managed, the words muffled against his mother's shoulder. "Both of you. Thank you. For everything. For letting me go."

  "For pushing you to go," Rhys corrected gruffly. "You would have stayed and drowned with us out of loyalty. We're the ones who should be thanking you,for being the kind of son worth making sacrifices for."

  They stood like that for a long time, the three of them and the egg, while the sun set outside and the world prepared itself for tomorrow's changes. Eventually, they separated, wiping eyes and attempting smiles, the emotional storm passed but not forgotten.

  "Get some rest," Dahlia said, her voice rough but steady. "Tomorrow comes early, and you'll need your strength."

  "We'll see you off in the morning," Rhys added. "Proper goodbye. No sneaking away before we're awake."

  "I wouldn't dream of it."

  They lingered at the door, clearly reluctant to leave, to let this moment end. But finally, with one last exchange of "I love yous" and tight hugs, they slipped out, closing the door softly behind them.

  Micah stood alone in his room, the egg warm in his hands, and listened to his parents' footsteps fade down the hallway. He could hear low voices from their room,his mother crying properly now, the sound muffled but unmistakable, his father's deeper tones offering comfort.

  Moving carefully, Micah settled onto his bed, arranging pillows around the egg to keep it secure and warm. He lay down beside it, one hand resting gently on the smooth surface, feeling the subtle warmth that pulsed from within,a heartbeat, slow and steady, the promise of life waiting to emerge.

  "Hey there," he said softly, feeling foolish but needing to talk anyway. "I know you can't hear me yet. Or maybe you can? I don't really know how that works. But just in case..."

  He took a breath, organizing his thoughts.

  "Tomorrow we're leaving. Going somewhere new. Starting this whole research apprenticeship thing." He traced the egg's surface with one finger, following the subtle patterns in the shell. "I'm terrified, honestly. What if I'm not smart enough? What if I can't keep up with Maxie's teaching? What if I freeze up in a dangerous situation and get us both hurt?"

  The egg offered no response, just that steady, reassuring warmth.

  "But I'm also excited. Really excited. I'm going to learn things I never could have learned here. See places I've only read about in books. Understand how the world actually works instead of just... existing in one tiny corner of it." He smiled despite his anxiety. "And I'm going to have you. A partner. Someone to share it all with."

  Outside, a Hoothoot called, marking the transition from day to night. Micah's room was growing dark, shadows gathering in the corners, but he didn't reach for the lamp. The darkness felt appropriate somehow, comforting rather than threatening.

  "I hope you're strong," he continued. "Not just physically, though that would be nice. But strong in the ways that matter. Loyal. Brave. Patient with me when I mess up, because I'm definitely going to mess up." He paused, considering. "Dad says Rhyhorn are naturally all of those things. That they choose their trainers and then stick with them no matter what. I hope you choose to stay with me. I hope when you hatch and open your eyes, you decide I'm worth following."

  His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

  "I promise I'll take care of you. I promise I'll never ask you to do something I wouldn't do myself. I promise that I'll earn that trust every single day." He pressed his hand flat against the egg, as if making a pledge. "We're going to be good together, you and me. We're going to make my parents proud. We're going to figure out this whole wide world and find our place in it."

  The egg pulsed with warmth,probably just his imagination, probably just coincidence, but Micah chose to interpret it as agreement. As the beginning of a bond that would define the rest of his life.

  "Get your rest," he murmured, echoing his mother's earlier words. "Tomorrow's a big day. For both of us."

  He lay there in the darkness, hand on the egg, mind racing with possibilities and fears in equal measure. At some point, exhaustion finally claimed him, pulling him down into dreams of rocky plains and distant mountains, of journeys not yet taken and futures waiting to be discovered.

  The egg remained warm throughout the night, a constant presence, a promise of partnership yet to be fulfilled.