The afternoon sun bathed Lavender Town in golden light as Lena pushed Ethan's wheelchair out of the Pokémon House, Charmander trailing behind at a slow, hesitant pace. Their destination: the park, a broad stretch of grass and training grounds where trainers and their Pokémon gathered for play and practice.
The air was alive with activity. Near one corner, a Machop was sparring with a determined boy, their movements sharp and rhythmic. Off to the side, a group of children tossed balls for a trio of Growlithe. And in the center of a training circle, a young man was guiding his Poliwag—known locally as the Mosquito Coil Tadpole Pokémon—through repetitions of a special move.
Ethan's eyes locked onto them.
"Charmander," he said suddenly, leaning forward, "see that Poliwag? I'd bet it only needs fifty-six more tries before it successfully uses Bubble Beam."
Charmander turned his head sharply, giving him a long, skeptical look. His bright blue eyes narrowed in disbelief.
Beside them, Lena let out an incredulous laugh. "Ethan, come on. Fifty-six tries? That's oddly specific. Are you seriously claiming you can tell that just by looking?"
"Rua~" Charmander chirped, tail flicking, as if to agree—Yeah, sure you can.
Ethan didn't miss a beat. "Let's make it interesting," he said, flashing a sly grin. "If Poliwag really pulls it off after exactly fifty-six attempts, you buy ice cream for me and Charmander. If I'm wrong, you can ask me for anything you want. I'll do it, no questions asked."
"You're on," Lena replied without hesitation.
She leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Poliwag as she began counting aloud. "Once… twice… three times…"
Charmander's head bobbed slightly as he followed her eyes.
By the time they reached the forty-first repetition, the trainer working with Poliwag looked frustrated. With a heavy sigh, he signaled the end of training.
Lena's face split into a victorious grin. She patted the armrest of Ethan's wheelchair. "Hah! That's it. You lose. He's taking Poliwag home after forty-one tries."
"Rua~!" Charmander echoed, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
Ethan didn't flinch. "Who said I lost? The session ending early doesn't mean my prediction was wrong."
Before Lena could protest, he called out, "Hey! Trainer!"
The young man turned, puzzled.
"Don't leave just yet. Your Poliwag will master Bubble Beam after fifteen more tries," Ethan said, his voice calm but confident.
The trainer frowned, unsure whether to take him seriously.
"If I'm wrong, I'll give you two thousand Pokédollars," Ethan added, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
That got the trainer's attention. "You mean it?"
"Of course."
With that, the trainer's skepticism melted into curiosity. "All right. Let's see."
As they resumed training, Lena leaned in close to Ethan, whispering sharply, "Are you crazy? Where are you even going to get that money if you lose? You told us you were broke when you came to the Pokémon House."
Ethan just smirked. "Relax. Just watch."
Lena scowled but returned her attention to the Poliwag. "Forty-two… forty-three… forty-four…"
Charmander, still pretending not to care, flicked his tail but kept glancing back at the training.
When the count reached fifty-six, nothing happened. But on the very next attempt, Poliwag suddenly straightened, a glint of determination in its eyes. Opening its small, pink mouth, it fired a stream of fist-sized crystal bubbles like bullets, peppering the ground with small craters.
Lena's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my Arceus… you were right."
Ethan leaned back with a satisfied smile. "Genius intuition." His gaze slid to Charmander. "Super genius, in fact. Among trainers."
The little Fire-type shifted uncomfortably, recalling the time Ethan had called him a genius.
The Poliwag's trainer came over, grinning ear to ear. "Brother, you nailed it! Exactly fifteen more tries! How did you know?"
"Trade secret," Ethan replied smoothly.
The man's grin widened. "I've got a Pidgeot that's been stuck trying to learn Tornado for weeks. If you can help, I'll pay you two thousand upfront."
Ethan's eyebrows rose slightly. "Let's take a look."
After receiving the payment, the trainer released his Pidgeot in a burst of red light. The bird Pokémon spread its broad wings, letting out a clear, piercing cry.
"How long has it been training?" Ethan asked.
"Half a month. No progress," the trainer admitted.
Ethan studied it for a moment, his system quietly displaying its skill list in his vision. Tornado wasn't there. That meant only one thing: Pidgeot wasn't yet at the minimum level required to learn it.
"Stop the Tornado training for now," Ethan advised. "It can't learn the move yet. You're wasting your time."
The trainer frowned. "So I just wasted half a month?"
"Not necessarily. You've got two options. Raise its level through battles, or focus on a different skill it can learn right now."
The trainer folded his arms. "Like what?"
"Steel Wing."
The man blinked. "Steel Wing? Funny… about a month ago, Pidgeot's wings glowed silver for a second when it fought a Skarmory, but I thought I imagined it. I tried training it afterward but never saw it again, so I quit."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Try eighty-nine more reps. See what happens."
The trainer's eyes lit up. "Let's do it." He turned back to Pidgeot, calling commands with renewed energy.
As the repetitions wore on, Ethan glanced at Lena. "Remember our bet? Time to buy me and Charmander that ice cream."
Lena groaned but went off toward the vendor. When she returned, cones in hand, her eyes widened—Pidgeot's wings were briefly shining silver.
It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
More than an hour later, on the eighty-ninth try, Pidgeot's Steel Wing fully manifested. With a sweeping strike, it cleaved clean through a piece of park exercise equipment. The trainer whooped in triumph—right up until park staff informed him he'd have to pay for the damage.
Still grinning, he returned to Ethan, transferring another two thousand Pokédollars and exchanging contact information for future training tips.
By now, other trainers had taken notice. One by one, they approached, eager to know if Ethan could do the same for their Pokémon—predicting exactly when a move would be mastered, or whether it could be learned at all.
Ethan, however, waved them off. "Tomorrow," he said firmly.
Today wasn't about making money—it was about showing Charmander something undeniable. Something that would make his earlier words about talent ring true.
When the crowd had dispersed, Ethan turned to the little Shiny Fire-type. His voice softened.
"Now… you believe me, don't you?"