Sprigatito wasted no time. It used Charm on Nova, and in the same breath, turned to fix Growlithe with the coldest stare it could manage.
Nova couldn't help but laugh. The kitten leapt up onto his shoulder, rubbed its face against his cheek, and kneaded at him with its tiny paws — doing everything it could to look sweet and well-behaved. Then it twisted around and hissed sharply at the Growlithe still tucked under Nova's arm.
It's not like I want to be held by this guy, Growlithe's expression seemed to say. I'd much rather be out there wrecking something.
The problem was that Nova could no longer use himself as a barricade. If he put Sprigatito down for even a moment, the kitten looked ready to cry about it.
The moment Growlithe was set free, it lunged straight at Riolu, who had been watching the whole scene from the side with calm, curious eyes. Riolu sidestepped the Tackle with a quick slide and sprang upward, clearly aiming to land on Growlithe's back.
Growlithe was faster than it looked. It planted its front legs and swung its whole body around like a bat, sending Riolu flying sideways — directly into an ornamental vase the landlady had placed by the wall.
The vase hit the floor and shattered.
Growlithe stood over the wreckage looking thoroughly pleased with itself. Six levels above you, and you thought you could ride me? We came from the same place — you should know who's in charge here.
Nova stared at the broken pieces on the floor, feeling about as shattered as the vase.
You two thought that was impressive, did you? he thought. Putting on a whole performance in my living room?
He was still holding Sprigatito, who, for its part, had no interest in Nova's feelings at all. As long as it was being held, it was content — and it proved it by letting out a small, satisfied purr.
If I hold you, I have no hands free to deal with that disaster of a Growlithe, Nova thought. If I put you down, you'll start making a fuss. Why don't I have four arms like a Machamp?
He had, briefly, considered returning Growlithe to its Poké Ball to give himself a break. But Pokémon had simple, honest hearts. Keeping one locked up for too long was a quick way to damage their trust, and the psychological toll of extended confinement was a real concern. It wasn't something to take lightly.
Growlithe didn't distinguish between indoors and outdoors. It could curl up in a patch of tall grass in the middle of nowhere and sleep soundly through the night — then tear the whole nest apart just for fun when it woke up. Letting it roam and play was simply its nature. He couldn't lock it away just because it was inconvenient.
That was something Nova had gradually come to understand since arriving in this world. The bond between a Pokémon and its Trainer was nothing like the relationship between a person and a pet back in his previous life. It was more layered than that — sometimes like a parent and child, sometimes like partners who trusted each other with their lives. You couldn't make decisions for them the way you would for a cat or a dog at home.
Since staying indoors clearly wasn't working, the answer was simple: go outside.
He wasn't about to follow Aresdra's lead and jog five kilometres with two Pokémon pulling at him — that was exhausting just to think about. Running in circles was dull, anyway.
A proper battle training session was far better use of everyone's energy.
It had been a couple of days since Nova had managed to get any real work done. The weekend with Aresdra and Sprigatito's hatching had put everything else on hold. The foul-smelling pond behind Corviknight's perch still hadn't been dealt with, and the Grimer living in it were long overdue for a clear-out. Today, with everyone rested and full of energy, was as good a time as any.
Nova dug a box of Poké Balls out of a living room drawer and dropped them into a shoulder bag. They were standard red-and-white capsules — the most basic kind — but even those ran over a hundred League Coins each at the Pokémon Centre shop. The box had cost him well over two thousand.
Not that it mattered much in the long run. Against the value of catching wild Pokémon, the upfront cost was minor.
Battling a wild Pokémon down before throwing a Poké Ball was still the standard method for a reason. A Pokémon that had been worn down could barely resist capture. One that was still fresh, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.
Without a battle first, the odds of a clean catch dropped sharply. And a failed throw didn't just mean a wasted Ball — wild Pokémon weren't foolish. Most would flee the moment they broke free, and the more aggressive ones wouldn't hesitate to turn on whoever threw the Ball in the first place.
The pond behind the perch was bubbling faintly with a sickly purple haze, as it always was. Beneath the murky surface, several pairs of eyes tracked the group approaching from across the yard, watching with a quiet, patient hunger. Grimer were not a particularly friendly species. Anyone who got too close — or fell in — would make a perfectly acceptable snack.
But then those same eyes found the massive shape moving behind the boy, and one by one they sank silently to the bottom, doing their best impression of harmless sludge.
Whatever that thing was, it was obviously trouble. Even if it had wanted to wade into the pond, not a single Grimer would have said a word about it.
Corviknight was out. It had flown off after lunch and hadn't returned to its perch since. That left Nidoking as the only heavyweight present — though Nova had no intention of having it step in directly. These Grimer were mostly around Level 20, which made them excellent training opponents for Growlithe and Riolu. As for Sprigatito — it had hatched that same morning. Battlefield experience could wait.
Nova looked out at the pond, still as glass and seemingly empty of all life, and called out loud enough to be heard:
"Times up! Come out now, or I'll flush you out myself!"
Nothing moved.
Nova glanced at Nidoking. "Minimum range, lowest intensity — the gentlest Earthquake you can manage. Think you can do it?"
Nidoking's control over its own power was still a work in progress. Unleashing full-force attacks came naturally, but fine adjustments were another matter entirely. That precise control was exactly what Nova had been drilling it on lately.
Nidoking looked uncertain. It couldn't help feeling that Nova was overcomplicating things. One proper Earthquake would end the problem in seconds. Why go through the trouble of holding back?
Nova gave it a flat look. If it let loose a full-power Earthquake and brought the new house down with it, that conversation was going to go very badly for Nidoking.
Nidoking exhaled slowly and tried to rein in the Ground-type energy building inside it. It lowered one massive palm to the earth, light and careful. A faint tremor radiated outward from the point of contact — barely more than a ripple.
The surface of the pond erupted.
Grimer were naturally fearful of Ground-type moves, and even that restrained tremor was more than enough. They came boiling out of the water from every direction, scrambling over each other to get away.
Nova didn't rush. No matter where they scattered, Growlithe's nose would find them. He picked out the nearest Grimer stumbling straight toward him and pointed.
"Growlithe, use Ember!"
Growlithe's tail wagged furiously. It opened its mouth and, with a short pop, launched a bright, spinning ball of flame — almost like a sneeze turned into a fireball.