The sun hadn't even peaked over the jagged horizons of the Sinnoh mountains when I felt the first signs of my impending doom. It wasn't a Team Galactic ambush or a rampaging Gyarados. It was a weight—a heavy, warm, rhythmic pressure right on my sternum that made every breath feel like I was trying to inhale through a straw.
"Ugh... Snorlax... no... get off the sandwich..." I mumbled, my subconscious translating the pressure into a dream where I was being crushed by a hungry glutton.
I bolted upright with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Gah! I'm alive!"
I blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. I wasn't being crushed by a Snorlax. Instead, a very content, very fluffy Sylveon was sprawled directly across my chest and stomach. She hadn't even budged when I shouted; her ribbons were draped over my shoulders like silken handcuffs, and she was snoring softly, a tiny bubble of spit forming at the corner of her mouth.
I stared down at the pink-and-white culprit with a face full of black lines. Seriously? She's barely eighty pounds, but on a sleeping human, she feels like a ton of bricks. I looked around the dim hotel room. Togepi was a round ball of happy dreams tucked against my pillow, and Floette was curled up on top of the Kalos Egg case, her tiny hands clutching the handle as if guarding a treasure.
Then, I saw a pair of glowing eyes in the corner.
Growlithe was standing perfectly still on his orange cushion. The second I had cried out, his police instincts had flipped him into high-alert mode. He was scanning the room for intruders, his fur bristling and a low, silent rumble vibrating in his throat.
"Sorry, Growlithe," I whispered, trying to keep my voice down so I wouldn't wake the "crush-squad." I waved my free hand awkwardly. "Just a nightmare. I'm okay. Go back to sleep."
Growlithe relaxed his stance, but he didn't stop staring. He let out a soft "Woof," which I'm fairly certain translated to: 'A likely story. You probably dreamed that Officer Jenny found your secret stash of illegal hairbrushes. I'm watching you.'
"It's still early," I said, looking at the clock. It was 5:30 AM. "I'm stuck here until the weight-lifter wakes up anyway."
Growlithe huffed, turned in three circles, and collapsed back onto his bed. I spent the next forty-five minutes staring at the ceiling, mentally petting Growlithe's ears to pass the time.
[Internal Voice: So fluffy. So orange. Today is training day. Today, I find the secret to the behind-the-ear scritch.]
Eventually, the sunlight hit the bed. Sylveon let out a long, dramatic yawn, stretching her legs out—which meant her paws dug directly into my ribs.
"Oof! Sylveon... please... have mercy," I wheezed.
"Fly-ah! (Oh! Julian! You're awake!)" She chirped, startled, and immediately hopped off me, landing on the floor with a graceful thud.
I sat up, rubbing my sore chest. "I don't mind the snuggling, Sylveon, but maybe try sleeping next to me? I felt like I was being flattened by a Golem all night."
Sylveon sat back, her ribbons scratching her head sheepishly. She then performed her secret weapon: the Attract-boosted puppy-dog eyes. She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with faux-tears. "Sylveon-speech-sound... (But you smelled like home, and the bed was so big... you aren't mad, are you?)"
I sighed, defeated. "Fine, fine. Just... try a pillow next time. I'm going to make breakfast. Everyone, get up! Big day!"
The Morning Drill
The breakfast menu was a specialized affair. While Floette dived into her nectar and Togepi played with a piece of toast, I presented Growlithe with his prize: Oran Berry Sausages and a Spicy Bell Pepper Omelet.
Growlithe licked his chops, his tail giving a single, involuntary wag before he suppressed it. The deviant cooks well, he reminded himself. Eat the food. Gain the strength. Complete the mission.
After the meal, we headed to the hotel's private training field—a small, fenced-in grassy patch perfect for running drills.
"Alright, Growlithe," I said, standing at the center of the field while the other three sat on a bench, munching on leftover Berry snacks like they were watching a movie. "Show me what you've got. Don't hold back. I want to see your full K-9 Academy repertoire."
Growlithe didn't need to be told twice. He stepped into the clearing, his entire demeanor changing from 'skeptical pup' to 'elite soldier.'
First came the Bite. His jaws snapped shut with the force of a bear trap, the air whistling as he lunged at a training dummy. Then, a Roar that echoed off the stone walls of the nearby buildings, designed to send weaker opponents running in terror.
He followed up with a burst of Ember, the flames bright and concentrated. He even attempted a Flame Burst, though the secondary explosion was a bit shaky. Finally, he demonstrated a move that made me sit up straight: Iron Tail. His tail glowed with a dull, metallic sheen, slamming into the dummy with a heavy thwack.
"Impressive," I muttered, rubbing my chin. "You've got a lot of inherited power. That Iron Tail isn't something a standard Growlithe picks up on their own."
Growlithe puffed out his chest, looking proud.
"However," I continued, "your special attacks are a bit raw. I think I have just the thing." I rummaged through my pack and pulled out a Technical Machine (TM) I'd been saving. "How do you feel about learning Flamethrower? If we can stabilize your Ember into a sustained stream, your battle pressure will triple."
Growlithe's eyes lit up. This was high-level stuff. He nodded eagerly. "Woof!"
We spent the rest of the afternoon working on breath control and energy channeling. I used my Aura to help him find the 'spark' in his chest, guiding him to release the heat in a steady flow rather than a sudden burst. By sunset, he was breathing out long, controlled ribbons of fire that scorched the grass.
The Diary Entry
That night, after the team had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep, I sat at the small desk by the window. I had the photo we took last night in one hand and a pen in the other. I flipped the photo over and began to write.
Julian and the Sinnoh Squad
I still can't believe it—two new partners in a single day. Is this fate, or is Arceus just trying to see how much fur I can vacuum out of my sleeping bag?
Growlithe is everything I wanted. He's sharp, disciplined, and surprisingly powerful. Once he trusts me enough to let me actually pet him without retreating like a ninja, we'll be unstoppable. I'm already imagining riding an Arcanine through the tall grass of the Sinnoh plains. I bet an Arcanine's back is the most comfortable place on earth to take a nap.
PS: The Egg. Cynthia said it was from a friend in Kalos. If it's who I think it is, this 'child' is going to be something special. Suitable for me? A Fairy-type specialist? Could it be a Flabébé variant? Or maybe a Swirlix? No... the aura feels different. More... elegant.
I guess I've officially become a full-time babysitter/chef. But honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.
May 28th, Year 243 – Celestic Town
I tucked the photo into my journal and looked over at the orange cushion. Growlithe was fast asleep, his paws twitching as he dreamed of catching criminals (or maybe just more sausages).
"Tomorrow, the ruins," I whispered, turning off the light. "Let's hope the past has some answers for us."