The days after the exam results felt almost unreal to Aaron, as if Hearthome's halls still echoed behind him even while he stood on familiar soil. Theo Town always had its own rhythm, quiet and steady, a pace that seeped into the bones of anyone who grew up there. Coming back after months of lectures, training sessions, late night study groups and a whirlwind of Gible's first months as his partner made the place feel both unchanged and yet slightly smaller, like he had grown just enough that the world around him had shifted in a subtle way.
Gible had been restless from the moment they stepped off the bus. It moved with an energy that didn't quite fit inside its small body, eyes darting everywhere, sniffing the air as though comparing scents between his new home and the campus grounds he had grown used to. It wasn't nervous, far from it. It was alert in a way that suggested it wanted to prove itself here just as much as Aaron wanted to show his family that topping an entire first term meant more than a sheet of good grades.
His father was waiting at the end of the path leading to their house, arms folded, Staraptor perched proudly behind him. The bird Pokémon's feathers rustled in a breeze that hadn't even reached the ground yet, its sharp eyes locked on Gible with the sort of quiet scrutiny only an experienced partner could offer.
Aaron didn't even need to wave. His father saw him from a distance and nodded once, the same way he did whenever Aaron came home from school years ago after a long day. The kind of greeting that said everything without saying much at all. It wasn't warm in the way Elena was warm, but it was steady, reliable, grounding.
"You're back," James said, stepping forward. "Early morning journey?"
"Early enough," Aaron replied, shifting the strap of his bag. "Barely slept."
James raised a brow. "Excitement or nerves?"
"A bit of both."
Gible stepped forward as if announcing itself. James looked down at it, then at Aaron again. "It holds itself like it already knows it's strong."
"It pretends it doesn't care what anyone thinks," Aaron said. "But it listens."
"Good. Keep that balance. A Pokémon like that can grow fast or go wild. Your job is making sure it understands the difference."
Staraptor gave a low sound, almost a greeting, though it came out more like a stern acknowledgment. Gible stared at the taller Pokémon with a mix of defiance and curiosity, claws lightly scraping at the ground before it huffed.
"Don't start a fight you can't finish," Aaron murmured.
Gible clicked its teeth as if refusing to agree outright.
Inside the house, warmth returned in a way Hearthome simply couldn't replicate. Elena looked up from the kitchen counter the moment she heard the door, brushing her hair back with the back of her wrist, Roserade helping her with precision as it chopped herbs with a single elegant motion of its blade-like arm. The smell of spices drifted through the room with a familiar depth that made Aaron's chest tighten. Home carried its own flavour.
"You're skinnier than before," Elena said by way of greeting, immediately wiping her hands on a cloth as she moved to him. "Are you eating properly at that university?"
"I eat," Aaron said.
"Eating is not the same as eating properly."
Roserade gave a soft chiming sound, backing her up.
Before Aaron could defend himself, a blur of movement shot in from the hallway.
"You're back!"
Lila threw herself at him with her usual complete disregard for personal momentum. He had barely set his bag down when she wrapped her arms around his waist, nearly knocking him back. Her Buneary doll dangled from her fingers, slightly more battered than he remembered, which meant she'd probably been carrying it around everywhere lately.
"I told everyone in school that my brother is the smartest in the whole university," she announced proudly.
"Elena," James said from behind them, "your daughter is spreading misinformation again."
Lila stamped her foot. "It's not misinformation if it's true! He got top marks."
"Well," Elena said, folding her arms, "top marks aren't a sign that he knows everything. They're a sign he knows how to study."
"That is true," James added.
Aaron laughed under his breath. "Nice welcome back."
Elena reached up and touched his cheek gently. "We're proud of you. Very proud. But we'll be even more proud if you don't let your head get too big."
"I won't," Aaron promised. "I know it's only the beginning."
"Good," James said. "Because you're not done today. Get changed. You and I are heading out to train with Gible."
"Already?" Aaron blinked.
James shrugged. "If you're top of the class, I need to see it for myself. Don't look so surprised."
Aaron couldn't help smiling. "Fine. Give me five minutes."
He changed quickly into clothes more suited for training, simple and sturdy, then followed his father outside where Gible already stood waiting, shifting its weight from foot to foot in its trademark impatient rhythm. Staraptor circled overhead before landing on a nearby fence post, giving itself a vantage point from which to watch everything.
They walked out beyond the edge of Theo Town, into the open fields where the grass rose halfway to Aaron's shin and the breeze carried a softness that never quite reached urban skies. This was where James trained every day, sometimes with recruits, sometimes alone. Aaron had come here countless times as a child, but this time felt different. This time, he wasn't the boy tagging along for fun. He was a trainer, one who had something to prove.
"All right," James began. "Show me what you've been working on. Start simple. Gible needs solid footing before you push it."
Gible stepped forward, eager.
Aaron nodded. "Gible, use Sand Attack to spread outward, then brace and follow with a controlled Dragon Breath."
James gave him a quick side glance. "Not bad. Go on."
Gible plunged its claws into the dirt, kicking up a spray of sand that scattered in a wide arc. The motion was cleaner than it had been in the early weeks at Hearthome. Before, Gible used to over-commit, flinging sand mostly behind itself or launching too much in one direction. Now it kept steady, distributing just enough force to create a readable pattern.
The second the sand settled, Gible drew in a breath that made its chest puff up, releasing a streak of violet-blue energy that hissed through the air. The Dragon Breath wasn't strong yet, but it was focused, more controlled than wild. It travelled straight rather than wobbling as it often did months earlier, and it dissipated cleanly rather than exploding into fragments.
James nodded once. Staraptor ruffled its feathers approvingly.
"Your form's improved," James said. "And Gible's responding well. But you're still relying on straight lines. Try to push it into adaptive movement. Dragons aren't meant to be predictable."
Aaron absorbed the criticism without flinching. "Right. Gible, circle me. Keep moving. Use Dragon Breath in bursts, different angles."
Gible took off in a small arc, its feet kicking the ground rhythmically as it began circling Aaron, releasing short, sharp bursts of energy that shot out in different directions. The aim was inconsistent, but the technique itself showed promise.
James watched carefully. "Better. Still raw, but better. You've been putting in the work. That's clear."
Aaron exhaled slowly, relieved.
"But," James added, "don't confuse effort with mastery. You've got a long road ahead."
"I know," Aaron replied simply.
They trained for over an hour, working through basic physical drills, focusing techniques, small bursts of offensive moves and defensive positioning. By the end, Gible was panting but still alert, eyes sharp and determined. It didn't complain, not once. It simply accepted every instruction, pushed itself and huffed proudly whenever it executed something correctly.
"That's enough for today," James said eventually. "Push it any further and you'll burn its stamina before it learns control."
Aaron knelt beside Gible, brushing his hand over its head. "Good job."
Gible leaned into the touch with a soft rumble, almost catlike.
James watched for a moment. "You're bonding well. That's more important than any technique. The moves will come. The trust won't unless you earn it."
"I'm trying."
"You're succeeding. Just don't let Hearthome's praise get to your head. Topping one term doesn't make you the strongest. It just means you're starting well."
Aaron nodded. "Understood."
They walked back toward the house just as the sky began shifting into late afternoon hues. Elena was waiting with a tray of food that smelled rich enough to make Aaron's stomach growl the moment he stepped through the door. Roserade helped set the dishes down neatly on the table. Lila bounced in her chair eagerly.
"Did Gible do cool things?" she asked, practically vibrating.
"He did," Aaron said. "He's getting better."
"Can he breathe fire yet?"
"Not yet. Dragons don't start with fire."
"Why not? Fire is cool."
"Lila," Elena said, "eat your food."
Dinner at home was always loud in a warm but ordinary way. Elena fussed over portion sizes. Lila talked about everything she'd done in school that week. James corrected her every time she exaggerated, which she hated. Gible sat by Aaron, chomping happily on its food bowl, occasionally looking up to make sure Aaron was still nearby.
The days that followed settled into a comfortable pattern. Morning training sessions with James. Afternoons helping Lila with small chores or letting her drag him to the nearby creek where she pretended Buneary dolls had grand adventures. Evenings watching Elena work magic in the kitchen while Roserade acted like a silent sous-chef, its petals glowing faintly in the low light.
Gible grew more comfortable with the town as well, exploring corners of the house, sniffing unfamiliar scents, occasionally startling neighbours when it appeared from behind a fence with an expression somewhere between curious and mischievous. Aaron spent extra time reinforcing commands, making sure that even when excited, Gible didn't accidentally knock things over or frighten people. There were moments when training clicked in unexpected ways. The way Gible had begun adjusting its stance automatically on uneven ground. The way it managed to produce a short but surprisingly intense burst of Dragon Breath when startled by a sudden gust of wind. The way it began responding to hand signals without needing verbal cues.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and cast golden light across the open field behind their house, Aaron stood quietly while Gible tried a new variation of Dragon Breath. It had been struggling with consistency all week, unable to decide whether to focus on power or accuracy. Aaron knelt beside it, speaking softly.
"You don't need to force it. Just feel it. You know how it builds. Don't fight the energy. Shape it."
Gible listened, head tilting slightly. Then it released another breath, and for the first time, the beam formed with steady clarity for more than a second before fading. Not powerful, not fast, but controlled.
Aaron grinned. "That's it."
James watched from a short distance, arms crossed, an expression somewhere between approval and caution. "Good. But don't rush the next step. Foundation first."
"I know," Aaron replied, not even slightly defensive.
"You're improving," James said. "And not just because the university is teaching you. You're improving because you're learning to observe. That'll take you a long way."
A few days later, rain rolled in, soft at first then steady enough to keep everyone inside. The house felt tighter than usual, filled with the sound of Lila colouring loudly in the living room, Elena humming as she tried a new recipe she insisted would be "simple" but required nearly every bowl they owned, and Roserade's leaves rustling as it cleaned up after her. Gible curled up near Aaron's feet, pretending not to nap while dozing off every few minutes.
"You're going back in two days," Elena said at dinner, her voice stripped of theatrics. "Do you feel ready?"
"I think so," Aaron answered honestly. "I miss the work. I'm excited to continue. And I want to see how far I can push things this term."
James gave him a long look. "Excited is good. Overexcited is not."
"I know."
"You've done well," James said. "But remember, other students are improving at the same rate. Don't assume you'll stay ahead just because you started ahead."
Aaron nodded. "I don't plan to. I just want to keep going."
Lila piped up, cheeks full. "You'll stay the best anyway. Gible too. Right, Gible?"
Gible puffed its chest proudly, making a noise that sounded like a defiant yes.
James pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is why we don't let Lila handle confidence matters."
That night, Aaron lay awake for a while, listening to the rain tapping softly on the roof. The house felt familiar in a way his dorm room never could, warm and lived-in and safe. But Hearthome had begun carving its own place in him too, shaping the edges of who he was becoming. The upcoming term would push him harder, he knew that without needing a lecture to remind him. New modules, new practicals, new expectations. And he felt ready. Not because he had topped the exams, but because the months at home had reminded him why he was doing all of this in the first place.
He glanced down at Gible curled beside his bed, snoring softly. The little dragon twitched occasionally, dreaming of battles or food or possibly both. Aaron reached down and gently ruffled its scales.
"Ready to go back soon?" he whispered.
Gible huffed in its sleep.
Aaron smiled. "Good. We'll need that fire."
The next day, the last full day before he returned to the university, passed quietly. No extended training, no dramatic family speeches, no sudden revelations. Just the steady rhythm of Theo Town life wrapping around him one more time before he stepped back into Hearthome's demanding world.
When evening settled, the house glowed softly with lamplight. Elena prepared a simple meal, intentionally less elaborate than usual, as if acknowledging that comfort sometimes came from plainness. James polished Staraptor's feathers while it stood proudly, enjoying the attention. Lila sat beside Aaron on the sofa, Buneary doll tucked against her chest, her head leaning against his arm.
"You'll call every day?" she asked.
"Every few days," he corrected gently.
"Every day," she insisted, eyes narrowing.
Aaron laughed quietly. "Fine. Every day."
Elena glanced over them, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "He'll be fine, Lila."
"I know," she mumbled. "I just miss him."
Aaron wrapped an arm around her. "I'll miss you too. But I'll be back before you know it."
The night faded slowly, and when Aaron finally lay down, the house hummed with the familiar sounds he had grown up with. He didn't want the moment to pass too quickly, but he also felt the pull of the road ahead, the sense that Hearthome was waiting for him, ready to challenge him again.
He closed his eyes, letting the quiet settle. Tomorrow, he would pack. Tomorrow, he would make the journey back. Tomorrow, he would step forward again, this time with Gible by his side, stronger and more focused than when he first walked into Hearthome's Grand Convergence Hall.
But for now, he simply breathed in the comfort of home, the warmth of family, and the soft, steady presence of the partner who would walk the next steps with him.
And in that calm, the path ahead felt clearer than ever.