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Chapter Fifty-Nine

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By the morning they were cleared to leave Galar, Dracovish had learned how to open one of the lower storage cabinets in the rehabilitation wing.

Nobody knew how.

Gray discovered this because he arrived for the final travel assessment and found Dracovish standing with its head inside the cabinet while a technician tried unsuccessfully to coax it backward without startling it. Two sealed packages of sterile wraps had already been removed and deposited on the floor. A third was hanging from the side of Dracovish’s mouth.

Gray stopped in the doorway.

“Why?”

The technician looked over. “We were hoping you knew.”

Dracovish turned at the sound of Gray’s voice. The package fell from its mouth.

Gray stared at it.

Dracovish stared back.

Behind him, Lyra made a quiet sound that suspiciously resembled laughter.

“This is not encouraging,” Gray said.

“It figured out a cabinet latch.”

“That is exactly why it is not encouraging.”

Bell appeared from the adjoining examination room carrying a tablet and glanced at the open cabinet. She did not look surprised enough for Gray’s liking.

“It’s healthy.”

Gray pointed toward Dracovish. “That was not the question.”

“It has passed the respiratory assessment, joint imaging looks good, gait is improving, appetite remains excellent, and there were no concerning changes after yesterday’s excursion.”

“It tried to eat medical supplies.”

“It carried medical supplies.”

“It had one in its mouth.”

“That is still not eating.”

Gray looked at Lyra. “This is what you sounded like with the Mudkip.”

Lyra smiled. “It learned from the best.”

Dracovish lowered its head toward another package.

Gray stepped forward and closed the cabinet.

“No.”

Dracovish looked at the door.

Gray pointed toward the examination area. “Come on.”

To his surprise, it followed.

That was becoming another pattern. Dracovish did not consistently obey commands yet, especially when food or an interesting object was involved, but it followed Gray with increasing reliability. If he moved into another room, Dracovish usually noticed. If he disappeared from sight for too long, the Pokémon became restless enough that the institute staff had begun factoring his location into handling plans.

Gray was trying not to think too much about that.

The final travel examination took forty minutes. Tessa would have approved of the pace, Gray thought. Nobody rushed the Pokémon, and nobody treated cooperation as something owed. Dracovish tolerated joint manipulation with only mild impatience, accepted the scanner around its neck, and objected strongly to having one rear foot lifted for longer than a few seconds. By the time the clinician finished, Gray had three pages of discharge instructions he had already read in draft form the night before.

Bell watched him scroll through them again.

“You know the document is the same.”

“I know.”

“Nothing has changed.”

“I know.”

“You’re still checking.”

Gray looked up. “That is how one determines that nothing has changed.”

Bell gave him a long look, then apparently decided not to spend her final morning arguing over methodology.

The transport enclosure had been brought around to the loading area by the time they finished. It was larger than the one Dracovish had used coming back from the Wild Area, with reinforced flooring, integrated water access, temperature controls, and enough room to reposition comfortably during the journey. Gray had already inspected it three times.

He inspected it again.

Lyra leaned against the side of the vehicle while he checked the water circulation readout.

“You know they have transported Dracovish before.”

“Yes.”

“And you personally approved this enclosure yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“And again this morning.”

“Yes.”

She waited.

Gray looked at her. “What?”

“I wanted to see how long you would keep answering.”

He went back to the temperature display. “You have too much free time.”

“I have significantly less free time since I started working for you.”

That was probably true.

Dracovish approached the enclosure with less enthusiasm than Gray would have preferred. It sniffed the ramp, put one foot on it, withdrew, and looked toward Bastiodon.

Bastiodon climbed aboard without hesitation.

Dracovish watched him disappear inside.

Then it looked at Gray.

“You are going too.”

Dracovish did not move.

Gray gestured toward the ramp. “It has water.”

The head tilted.

“More water than the aircraft floor.”

Lyra glanced at him. “Compelling argument.”

Gray ignored her.

Bastiodon rumbled from inside the enclosure.

Dracovish finally climbed the ramp.

It made it almost all the way in before discovering the securing strap mounted along the interior wall. Its mouth opened.

Gray caught the strap first.

“No.”

Dracovish tried to follow it.

“No.”

Bell, standing behind him, said, “You seem to be using that word more often.”

“I have been given more reasons.”

Once Dracovish was inside and settled beside Bastiodon, Bell handed Gray the institute’s complete medical archive on a secured drive along with the documentation needed for Sinnoh League veterinary transfer. Her expression had become more serious by then, the humor of the morning giving way to the professional concern Gray had come to respect.

“I want long-term follow-up,” she said. “Not just the first month. Growth, gait changes, preferred environments, pain scores, diet, any changes in behavior that might indicate discomfort. If anything appears that you think matters and our forms don’t ask for it, send it anyway.”

“You’ll get everything.”

“I suspected you’d say that.”

“You may regret asking.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Priya arrived a few minutes later with an engineering report Gray had not requested but was pleased to receive. She had included the full reconstruction trace, the deviation log, and comparative output data against other Dracovish restorations performed at the institute.

“If its development diverges substantially from projected morphology, I want to know,” she said.

“You’ll know.”

“If its gait changes.”

“You’ll know.”

“If anything weird happens.”

Gray glanced toward the enclosure where Dracovish was currently trying to lick condensation from the wall while Bastiodon ignored it.

“You may need to define weird.”

Priya followed his gaze.

“Fair.”

The farewells were brief after that. Gray preferred them that way. He respected Bell, trusted her more than he had expected to when he arrived, and suspected they would be exchanging research for years. None of those things required a speech.

Bell shook his hand.

“Take care of it.”

Gray looked toward the enclosure.

“I intend to.”

The journey home was less dramatic than the journey out, which Gray appreciated. Dracovish disagreed.

The first hour involved discovering everything inside the transport compartment that could be touched, nudged, licked, or put partially into its mouth. The drainage cover was interesting. One corner seam was interesting. A recessed handle became extremely interesting until Gray redirected it three times.

Bastiodon, meanwhile, lay down and went to sleep.

Dracovish watched him.

For about thirty seconds, it copied him.

Then it got up again and began licking condensation from the wall.

Gray sat across from them and rubbed one hand over his face.

Lyra looked up from her tablet. “You wanted this.”

“I am aware.”

“You seem happy.”

“I am also aware.”

She smiled and returned to her work.

They landed in Sinnoh late enough that the afternoon light had begun softening across the horizon. Gray had not realized how much he missed the particular shape of home until the first familiar buildings appeared beyond the transport windows. Galar had been interesting. Useful. Professionally dangerous in exactly the way Gray liked.

Sinnoh was where his life was.

The drive from the arrival facility to Sandgem took long enough for Dracovish to fall asleep again. Gray spent most of it reviewing ranch messages and discovering that Marcus had sent him four photographs of the temporary pond modifications, Tessa had left three questions about feeding intervals, Mira had apparently reorganized half the monitoring station while he was gone, and Elias had included a note reading:

For the record, I still believe anything found in Rowan’s storage room should require a waiting period before becoming alive.

Gray had answered:

Too late.

The ranch gate came into view just before sunset.

Dracovish woke.

Gray saw it happen through the partition. The Pokémon lifted its head, blinked slowly, and then became more alert as unfamiliar smells and sounds filtered into the transport compartment.

Bastiodon stood first.

Dracovish immediately did the same.

Gray watched that and filed it away without opening his tablet.

The vehicle stopped near the main house.

The staff were already waiting.

Marcus stood nearest the drive with his hands in the pockets of his field jacket. Tessa was beside him, posture relaxed and attention fixed on the transport enclosure rather than Gray. Mira had apparently come straight from the lab because she still had one glove tucked into the waistband of her trousers. Elias stood slightly behind everyone else holding a clipboard.

Gray climbed out.

Elias looked at him. “You brought it back.”

“Yes.”

“That was not phrased as approval.”

“I know.”

The transport ramp lowered.

Bastiodon came down first.

Then Dracovish appeared behind him.

For several seconds, nobody said anything.

Gray understood.

Photographs were misleading.

Scans were worse.

A living Dracovish had a way of forcing the eye to accept several incompatible anatomical facts at once.

Elias looked at the Pokémon, then at Gray.

“That came out of Rowan’s storage room.”

“Parts of it.”

Elias stared at him.

Gray considered the sentence.

“That was not better.”

“No.”

Dracovish approached.

Elias glanced down at his clipboard.

Gray recognized the problem at the same moment Dracovish did.

“Move that.”

Elias lifted it.

Dracovish’s mouth followed.

Elias took one step back. “Does it do this often?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Tessa moved before anyone else did. Rather than approaching Dracovish directly, she crossed partway into the open space and crouched several meters away, lowering herself enough that she no longer loomed over it. She kept her posture loose and one hand visible without extending it into Dracovish’s space.

The Pokémon noticed almost immediately. Its head turned toward her, attention shifting away from the others.

“Hi,” Tessa said.

Dracovish approached with the slow, investigative caution it had begun learning in Galar. It stopped close enough to sniff her fingers, tilted its head as though considering whatever information it had gathered, and then opened its mouth around most of her forearm.

Gray closed his eyes.

Tessa did not panic. She placed her free hand against the side of Dracovish’s jaw, redirected the head gently, and withdrew her arm without any abrupt movement.

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“Okay,” she said, looking over the wet sleeve. “Mouthy.”

“Very.”

Lyra turned away before her expression could give her up completely.

Tessa noticed anyway. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Gray pointed at Lyra. “Do not.”

That was enough to make Tessa suspicious. “What happened?”

“Nothing relevant.”

Lyra lasted perhaps two seconds before losing the battle. “It ate a Mudkip.”

Gray looked at her. “It did not eat a Mudkip.”

Marcus blinked. Mira’s mouth fell open, and Elias slowly lowered the clipboard he had been holding as though the rest of whatever he was documenting could wait.

Tessa stared at Gray. “It what?”

“It mistook a Mudkip for food, realized the mistake immediately, and released it without injury.”

Lyra added, “Spat it out.”

“That is what released means.”

“No, it really spat it out.”

Marcus started laughing.

Gray looked toward him. “You were not there.”

“I don’t need to have been.”

While they argued, Dracovish lost interest in Tessa’s arm and wandered over to investigate the hem of Marcus’s jacket. Gray noticed the direction of its attention before Marcus did.

“Watch the pockets.”

Marcus looked down. “Why?”

Dracovish closed its mouth around the fabric.

Marcus sighed. “Right.”

The first team introduction happened before Gray had intended.

Blissey came out of the house at a brisk pace, having apparently been waiting inside. The moment she saw Gray, her entire attention fixed on him with the unmistakable urgency of a Pokémon who considered prolonged absence an unacceptable medical condition.

Gray barely had time to brace himself before she reached him and began checking him over with brisk, practiced hands.

“I’m fine.”

Blissey made a skeptical sound and continued.

“I ate.”

Lyra said, “Mostly.”

Gray looked at her. “Whose side are you on?”

Blissey had already moved past the question and on to Bastiodon, who accepted the examination with the resigned patience of someone who had endured the same routine many times before.

Then she saw Dracovish.

Her posture changed completely.

Gray recognized the look and immediately disliked where this was going.

“Oh no.”

Blissey approached with calm purpose. Dracovish watched her come, alert but not alarmed, and tolerated the first several seconds of what quickly became a full welfare assessment. Blissey checked the face, neck, chest, limbs, skin, and posture with the focus of someone who had already decided this new Pokémon was now partially her responsibility whether anyone had asked or not.

Dracovish endured Blissey’s examination with confused patience for almost fifteen seconds, which Gray considered impressive given how little tolerance it had shown for most things that morning. Blissey checked its face, neck, chest, limbs, posture, and the condition of its skin with the brisk confidence of someone who had already decided the newcomer’s health was partly her responsibility.

Then Dracovish noticed the egg.

Gray saw the shift in focus immediately. “No.”

Dracovish opened its mouth anyway, and Blissey pulled the egg out of reach with terrifying speed. The movement only made it more interesting. Dracovish followed the egg with its head and tried to lean around her.

“No.”

Blissey turned and gave Gray a look.

“That is not my fault.”

She gave him exactly the same look again.

Tessa folded her arms. “You brought home a Pokémon that thinks everything is potentially food.”

“It does not think everything is food.”

Dracovish tried for the egg again before Gray had finished the sentence. He caught the side of its jaw with one hand and redirected its head away from Blissey.

“Most things.”

Blissey tucked the egg securely behind herself and stared Dracovish down with the same expression she used whenever Gray tried to refuse medicine. Dracovish stared back. For perhaps the first time all day, it seemed to reconsider a bad decision before making it twice.

Gray found that promising.

Cradily was next, and Gray deliberately chose one of the quieter sections of grass away from the main cluster of staff. Dracovish had already been exposed to enough novelty since arriving home, and Cradily disliked being rushed by unfamiliar Pokémon almost as much as Gray disliked people assuming she would tolerate it.

She emerged slowly from beneath the shaded structure near her preferred garden plot, tendrils moving with lazy curiosity as she noticed the newcomer. Dracovish stopped as soon as it saw her, and Cradily stopped too. For several seconds, neither appeared entirely certain what to make of the other.

Gray stayed nearby and kept his hands to himself.

Cradily moved first, extending one tendril toward Dracovish with the patient caution she brought to most things. Dracovish leaned forward to sniff it, then began opening its mouth.

Gray pointed. “Don’t.”

The jaws paused before making contact.

Instead of withdrawing, Cradily touched the side of Dracovish’s face.

That changed the interaction completely. Dracovish went still, apparently trying to understand the sensation while Cradily explored the shape of its head with slow, deliberate movements. A tendril brushed along the jawline, then over the top of the snout, and after a while Dracovish lowered itself slightly and allowed the contact without trying to bite anything.

Gray smiled despite himself. “There. See? You can meet something without trying to ingest it.”

Dracovish glanced toward him while Cradily’s tendril continued moving gently across its face.

Its mouth stayed closed.

Gray was willing to count that as progress.

Absol handled the introduction exactly as Gray expected: by refusing to participate until he felt like it.

He stood beneath one of the trees near the upper fence, white coat bright against the darker grass, and watched Dracovish with the careful attention he gave anything unfamiliar. Gray called him once. Absol did not move.

Gray did not call again.

Dracovish eventually noticed him and started in his direction. Absol moved several steps farther away. Dracovish followed. Absol moved again, and Dracovish followed again with the determined curiosity of something that had not yet learned that some Pokémon considered persistence rude.

Gray let the pattern repeat twice before stepping in.

“He does not want to meet you yet.”

Dracovish looked toward Absol, then back toward Gray.

“Leave him alone.”

To Gray’s mild surprise, it did.

Absol remained beneath the next tree for another ten minutes before deciding the situation had improved enough to investigate on his own terms. When he finally approached, Dracovish stood unusually still. Absol sniffed along the lower side of its body, moved toward the head, and then stepped back.

Dracovish leaned after him.

Absol gave it a look.

Dracovish stopped.

Gray nodded. “Good choice.”

Aerodactyl was going to be more difficult.

There was no version of that introduction Gray considered entirely sensible. Aerodactyl had spent most of the afternoon in one of the elevated resting areas overlooking the ranch and had already seen the transport arrive. Gray knew that because Aerodactyl had circled overhead twice and screamed once loudly enough to send two smaller Pokémon running for cover.

Gray did not take Dracovish into Aerodactyl’s enclosure.

He brought Aerodactyl out instead.

The fossil Pokémon descended with a heavy rush of wings and landed in the open ground far enough away that Dracovish had room to react. The effect was immediate. Dracovish froze, posture tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the mild caution it had shown toward Wingull in Galar.

This was different.

Aerodactyl was large, powerful, and looking directly at it.

Dracovish shifted closer to Bastiodon.

Gray deliberately stayed off to the side rather than putting himself between them. Stepping into the middle would only risk making either Pokémon feel trapped or challenged, and Aerodactyl in particular had never appreciated humans manufacturing tension on his behalf.

Aerodactyl approached first, slowly enough that Dracovish had every opportunity to retreat.

It held its ground.

For one tense moment, their heads were close enough that Gray could see both sets of teeth. Aerodactyl sniffed first. Dracovish answered in kind.

Then Aerodactyl opened his mouth.

Gray felt his shoulders tighten despite himself.

Instead of lunging, Aerodactyl produced a low clicking sound from the back of his throat.

Dracovish answered with something equally strange.

Whatever had been building between them seemed to dissolve almost immediately. Aerodactyl stepped away, apparently satisfied, and Dracovish did not follow.

Gray exhaled.

Marcus glanced toward him. “You were worried.”

“No.”

Marcus just looked at him.

Gray sighed. “Yes.”

Chatot arrived without permission.

He dropped from the roof onto the top of the fence while Gray was still watching Aerodactyl move away, leaned forward to inspect the newcomer, and announced his opinion at full volume.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?”

Gray closed his eyes.

Lyra laughed at once.

Chatot stared down at Dracovish.

Dracovish stared back.

Gray opened his eyes just in time to see the rear legs compress.

“No.”

Dracovish jumped.

Chatot launched himself into the air with an indignant screech, clearing the snapping jaws by less distance than Gray found comfortable.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

Gray pointed upward. “That is exactly why you should not antagonize new Pokémon.”

Chatot circled once over the yard, apparently having learned absolutely nothing.

“BIG UGLY BASTARD!”

Dracovish jumped again.

Gray caught the side of its head before it could launch properly and redirected it toward the ground.

“No. He is not food.”

Chatot landed on the roofline.

“BITCH.”

Dracovish stared up at him.

Gray looked toward Lyra. “This is going to become unbearable.”

“It already was.”

Aggron heard them before he saw them.

Aggron emerged from one of the rear habitat paths with slow, heavy steps, lifting his head the moment he spotted Gray among the group. Gray barely had time to say his name before the massive Steel-type closed the distance and shoved his face into Gray’s shoulder hard enough to force him to adjust his footing.

“Hi.”

Aggron answered by licking the side of Gray’s head.

Gray closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

Mira covered her mouth with one hand, which was not enough to hide the expression.

Gray wiped at his face with his sleeve. “Nobody say anything.”

Only then did Aggron seem to notice Dracovish.

The difference in size made Dracovish hesitate in a way almost nothing else had since Aerodactyl. Aggron approached with the same enormous confidence he brought to nearly everything, lowering his head as he came close enough to investigate properly. Dracovish sniffed at him, cautious for once, then stepped forward and pressed the side of its face against the metal plating on Aggron’s chest.

Aggron gave a low, pleased rumble.

Dracovish stayed there, apparently satisfied with the contact.

Then Aggron leaned down and dragged his tongue over the top of Dracovish’s head.

The reaction was immediate. Dracovish recoiled so violently that its rear feet slipped on the grass, and Gray laughed before he could stop himself. The Pokémon recovered its balance and stared up at Aggron with an expression of such complete betrayal that Aggron only looked more delighted.

“That is what happens,” Gray said. “Now you understand.”

Lyra glanced toward him. “Understand what?”

Gray wiped the last of the saliva out of his hair. “Nothing.”

By the time the introductions were finished, Dracovish had met every member of Gray’s core team and had attempted to put several of them, or something directly associated with them, into its mouth. Gray considered the result less catastrophic than it could have been.

That was probably the most optimism the day deserved.

The pond came next.

Marcus had done exactly what Gray asked and slightly more than that. The southern pond now had a gentler temporary access slope, reinforced resting shelves, extra temperature monitoring, and an adjustable circulation system along the western edge. It was not meant to be Dracovish’s permanent habitat, and everyone understood that. A proper redesign would require excavation, permits, structural work, and several inevitable arguments about drainage.

For now, it was enough.

Dracovish saw the water and immediately tried to run.

Gray caught it by the shoulder before it could launch itself down the slope. “Walk.”

Dracovish pulled forward anyway, all enthusiasm and terrible judgment.

“Walk.”

The Pokémon looked at him, then toward the pond, then back at him as though trying to determine whether this was really a necessary obstacle between itself and the water.

Gray kept hold until it stopped fighting the pace. “Good.”

He released it.

Dracovish managed three obedient steps before abandoning the entire concept and breaking into the closest thing it currently had to a run.

Gray swore.

It hit the water badly, splashing half the bank and nearly colliding with one of the floating temperature sensors before correcting itself. The moment buoyancy took over, though, the awkwardness eased. Dracovish moved through the pond with growing confidence, circling the shallows before pushing farther toward the deeper center.

Marcus watched the monitoring display while Gray tracked the Pokémon itself.

“Temperature is holding,” Marcus said.

“Circulation?”

“Good.”

“Load on the western shelf?”

“Within what you asked for.”

Gray nodded, already looking from the shelf to the far bank and mentally rearranging half the pond.

Tessa stood beside him. “You’re going to redesign the whole thing.”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know.”

A ripple moved across the far end of the pond.

One of the Gyarados surfaced.

Dracovish stopped almost immediately.

Gray noticed the change in posture before he looked toward the other Pokémon. The Gyarados was one of the older, friendlier six, broad-headed and calm, long accustomed to smaller Pokémon sharing the water. It did not approach. It simply remained there, partially surfaced, watching the newcomer from a comfortable distance.

Dracovish stared back.

The size difference seemed to impress it in a way even Aggron had not. For once, there was no immediate attempt to rush forward, bite something, or put an unfamiliar object in its mouth. It remained still for nearly a minute before beginning to swim closer.

Slowly.

Gray watched with growing approval.

Careful. Good.

Dracovish reached the Gyarados’s side, lifted its head toward one of the long whiskers, and opened its mouth.

Gray pointed immediately. “No.”

Dracovish stopped.

The Gyarados looked down at it.

Dracovish looked back.

Gray rubbed at his forehead. “You do not need to taste everyone you meet.”

Tessa glanced toward him. “That may be the first useful general rule you’ve established.”

The Gyarados drifted away with the patience of a Pokémon that had apparently decided the newcomer was harmless but irritating. Dracovish followed for several meters before something else in the pond distracted it.

Unfortunately, that something was the Magikarp.

Gray saw three near the reeds at first, then four. A fifth shape came tearing through the shallows with enough speed and aggression that he knew exactly which one it was before he got a clear look.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Marcus followed his gaze. “Seventeen?”

“Of course it’s Seventeen.”

Magikarp #17 launched itself from the water.

Dracovish turned toward the movement.

Its mouth opened.

And #17 flew directly into it.

For one horrible instant, Gray experienced the entire Mudkip incident all over again.

“SPIT THAT OUT.”

Dracovish froze with the Magikarp in its mouth, then obediently opened its jaws and dropped #17 back into the pond. The fish hit the water with a splash and disappeared beneath the surface.

Gray exhaled.

The relief lasted less than two seconds.

#17 launched itself again.

Dracovish caught it again.

Gray stared. “STOP CATCHING IT.”

Dracovish spat the Magikarp back out.

#17 struck the water, thrashed once, turned around, and immediately began preparing for what was very obviously going to be a third attempt.

Marcus was already moving toward the net storage.

Gray pointed after him. “Get that asshole out of here before one of them learns something permanent.”

Tessa was laughing now, which Gray considered an inappropriate response to a developing behavioral disaster.

“This is not funny.”

“It caught the same Magikarp twice.”

“The Magikarp attacked it twice.”

“That makes it funnier.”

Marcus intercepted #17 before the third launch and transferred it into a temporary side enclosure. The Magikarp immediately began striking the mesh with furious determination, apparently taking containment as a personal insult rather than a safety measure.

Dracovish watched from the pond.

Gray pointed toward #17. “Especially not that one.”

Dracovish looked at him, then at the Magikarp.

Gray narrowed his eyes. “I mean it.”

Roark arrived just before dinner.

Gray heard the vehicle on the drive and knew who it was before anyone said anything. Roark climbed out looking as though he had finished his Gym obligations and then immediately tested several personal definitions of reasonable travel speed on the way over.

“Where is it?”

Gray folded his arms. “Hello to you too.”

“Hi. Where is it?”

“Pond.”

Roark was already moving before Gray finished answering.

Gray followed him down toward the water, where Dracovish had climbed partly onto the reinforced shelf and was resting with its lower body still submerged. It lifted its head when Roark approached.

Roark stopped.

The excitement fell away almost at once.

For several seconds, he simply looked.

Gray had seen that reaction enough times by now to recognize it. Roark knew fossils. He knew restored Pokémon. He knew what reconstruction machines could do and had spent most of his life around the evidence they produced.

Dracovish still made him quiet.

“You actually did it,” he said at last.

“Yes.”

Roark moved closer, slower now. “How old?”

“Yesterday.”

He looked over sharply. “Yesterday?”

Gray sighed. “Do not make me tell the Mudkip story again.”

Roark frowned. “The what?”

Lyra appeared behind them at exactly the wrong moment.

Gray pointed at her immediately. “No.”

She smiled. “It ate a Mudkip.”

Roark stared.

Gray closed his eyes briefly. “Mistakenly.”

Roark looked toward Dracovish, then back to Gray. “It ate a Mudkip?”

“It did not bite down.”

That was apparently enough.

Roark bent over laughing.

Gray waited with the patience of a man who had already been through this several times.

Eventually Roark straightened enough to breathe. “I leave you alone in Galar for one week.”

“It was fine.”

“The Mudkip?”

“Yes.”

“The Dracovish?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone involved?”

“Yes.”

Roark started laughing again.

Dracovish had noticed him by then and came out of the water to investigate. Roark crouched as it approached, and some of the amusement left his expression again.

“Hey.”

Dracovish sniffed his hands first, then the front of his coat. Roark stayed still and let it investigate until the Pokémon discovered one of his gloves tucked into a pocket.

It took the glove and walked away.

Roark stared after it.

Gray looked at him. “Do not encourage that.”

“That’s my glove.”

“Correct.”

A broad smile spread across Roark’s face. “It likes me.”

“It stole from you.”

“Same general category.”

Gray closed his eyes.

Lyra laughed.

That evening, Gray made the mistake of allowing Dracovish inside the house.

He had always intended to do it eventually. If Dracovish was going to be part of his team rather than a permanent outdoor research project, it needed to be comfortable around the house, the lab, the staff, and the ordinary rhythm of life on the ranch. Gray had simply underestimated how quickly that ordinary rhythm could be dismantled by one curious fossil Pokémon with poor impulse control and an apparently limitless desire to put things in its mouth.

Dracovish entered the living room, looked around for perhaps three seconds, and immediately tried to bite one of the sofa cushions. Gray took it away before the teeth closed properly, only for Dracovish to notice the rug beneath its feet. Whatever offense the rug had committed was impossible to determine. Dracovish grabbed one corner and began dragging it across the floor with grim determination until Gray caught the fabric and pulled it free.

“No,” he said, pointing toward the open floor. “You are allowed to stand on things without putting them in your mouth.”

Dracovish stared at him for a moment, then turned toward the coffee table.

“No.”

It changed direction.

Gray decided to count that as progress.

The optimism lasted less than ten seconds. Dracovish turned too quickly, swept its tail into a chair, and sent it tipping sideways. Gray caught the chair before it hit the floor, which caused Dracovish to turn toward the sound and strike the edge of the coffee table with its head.

Lyra, seated comfortably on the sofa throughout all of this, watched with the detached interest of someone observing an experiment she had no intention of interrupting.

Gray looked at her. “You could help.”

“I am learning.”

“You are enjoying this.”

“Yes.”

Before Gray could tell her what he thought of that, Blissey emerged from the kitchen carrying food. Dracovish forgot the furniture immediately and followed her with enough focus that Gray almost respected it. He moved after them before the Pokémon could reach the kitchen.

“No.”

Blissey set the food down while Dracovish tried to go around Gray’s left side. Gray moved with it. Dracovish switched directions, and Gray blocked that route too.

“You have dinner outside.”

Dracovish stared past him at the food.

Gray widened his stance. “This worked better with the picnic people.”

From the living room, Lyra called, “Until the Mudkip.”

Gray ignored her.

Blissey eventually solved the standoff by preparing a proper portion for Dracovish and feeding it before Gray’s kitchen became another international incident. That reduced the immediate threat to the food but did absolutely nothing about the rest of the house.

Chatot arrived next.

He landed on top of a cabinet, looked down at Dracovish, and immediately shouted, “UGLY BASTARD.”

Dracovish looked up.

Gray pointed at both of them. “No.”

Chatot tilted his head.

Dracovish crouched.

Gray’s voice sharpened. “No.”

Chatot spread his wings. “FUCKER.”

Dracovish jumped.

Chatot launched himself into the air just before Dracovish’s jaws snapped shut beneath him. Gray caught Dracovish’s head with both hands and redirected it before the Pokémon could make a second attempt.

“This is my life now.”

Lyra looked up from the sofa. “You sound surprised.”

Later, Gray made the equally poor decision to try working.

He sat at the desk with the remaining travel documents, Dracovish’s discharge summary, and Priya’s reconstruction report spread around him. He had managed almost half a page before Dracovish approached and rested its head directly on the desk.

Gray moved it aside.

The head came back.

He moved it again.

Dracovish opened its mouth over the papers.

Gray pulled the entire stack away. “This is not sustainable.”

Lyra passed through the room with a mug of tea and glanced at the scene. “It has been home for four hours.”

“That is why I’m concerned.”

She smiled and continued toward the guest room.

Dracovish put its head back on the desk.

Gray stared at it for a few seconds, then sighed and left it there.

By ten, the ranch had finally gone quiet. Roark had gone home with his glove recovered but badly slobbered on, Marcus and the others had left for the night, Lyra had disappeared into the guest room, and Chatot was asleep somewhere far enough away that Gray could not hear him. Dracovish had returned to the pond after one final feeding and collapsed almost immediately from the accumulated strain of discovering an entire household in a single evening.

Gray went outside with a flashlight and his tablet. The night air was cool enough to raise goosebumps along his forearms, and most of the ranch had settled into the familiar rhythm of sleeping Pokémon, distant movement, and the quiet hum of monitoring equipment.

He checked the pond temperature first. Stable. Circulation was holding where Marcus had set it, and the overnight monitor was active. Dracovish slept in the shallows with its head partly resting on the reinforced shelf while Bastiodon lay nearby on the bank.

Once he was satisfied nothing required intervention, Gray opened the day’s notes.

They had begun professionally.

They had not remained that way.

The first entry he found read: Attempted to eat Tessa’s forearm.

Gray frowned at it.

Technically inaccurate.

He amended the note to: Placed Tessa’s forearm in mouth. No pressure applied.

Better.

The next entries were not much more dignified. Attempted to take Blissey’s egg. Attempted to bite Gyarados whisker. Caught Magikarp #17 twice. Gray paused over that one and added, Magikarp initiated both incidents. Context mattered.

Below that came the rest of the day’s increasingly questionable behavioral record: Stole Roark’s glove. Moved living-room rug. Knocked over chair. Attempted to chew cushion. Repeated inappropriate oral investigation of household objects.

Gray stared at the list for a long moment.

It was beginning to look less like scientific documentation and more like evidence collected for a future prosecution.

He added one final entry beneath the others: No injuries. Ate full meals. Normal respiration and gait. Settled comfortably in ranch pond.

That looked better.

Gray lowered the tablet and looked toward the water. Dracovish was still asleep, sprawled inelegantly in the shallows with Bastiodon keeping quiet watch nearby. It had been home for less than a day and had already disrupted the house, harassed half the team, stolen from Roark, fought with a rug, and forced Gray to reconsider the structural integrity of several pieces of furniture.

It was also healthy, comfortable, and exactly where it was supposed to be.

Gray turned toward the house.

A splash sounded behind him.

He stopped.

Another splash followed.

Gray slowly turned around.

Dracovish was awake now, standing in the shallows with one of Marcus’s water-quality sensors held firmly in its mouth.

Gray closed his eyes. “Put that back.”