One Step at a Time

[Frost41]

Well, I decided to give it a shot and see how it is recieved.

 

[Frost41]

One Step at a Time
Word Count: 1,359
Chapter One: Advent

Kael's eyes snap open.

The first thing he registers is light—blinding, pale gold, cutting through the leaves above like needles. Then the pressure: dirt in his palms, the uneven throb in his skull, the stiffness in his back. He groans and rolls onto his side.

He's in a forest. A real one. Not virtual, not imagined.

His breath fogs in the cool morning air.

"Okay. Oh…kay. Where am I? Think."

The words leave his mouth in a voice that's not quite his own. Higher. Smoother. He freezes. Brings a hand to his throat. Then to his face.

Too sharp. Too slim.

Not his face. Not his body.

Panic claws at his gut. He sits up quickly, heart hammering. And that's when it hits him—not just the forest—the weight of his mind.

There are two sets of memories swirling in his head.

One: his world. The digital age, anime episodes watched too many times, exams, grocery lists, usernames, death.

Two: battle drills, chakra diagrams, tactical breakdowns, a lazy drawl in his voice—Shikamaru.

And they're fused, overlapping like broken glass—too many edges to make sense of, too painful to sort.

"No. No way. This is a dream."

His hand moves on instinct, pressing two fingers together in a familiar way. He exhales—slow and practiced—and a flicker of shadow jumps under a nearby leaf.

Kael stares at it in horror.

"This isn't a dream."

Then he hears a rustle. His head turns, slowly—and locks eyes with a low, cautious form in the brush: an Eevee? Scar on one ear. Light brown fur puffed in warning. But it doesn't run.

"...So this is the Pokémon world?"

He tries to stand. His balance is off—center of gravity changed. Shorter, leaner. He staggers, and steadies himself against a tree.

The Eevee doesn't flee. It watches him, judging.

Kael squints at it.

"You're going at it alone too, huh?"

The Eevee tilts its head.

He takes a slow step forward. It doesn't bolt.

Okay. Deep breath. Tactical breakdown. Prioritize.

Step One: Figure out which rules this world follows—game rules, anime rules, manga rules, or worse—some sick combination.

Hopefully this world isn't auditioning for the grimdark genre.

Step Two: Blend in. Sinnoh orphan. Keep the powers hidden.

Step Three: Survive. Learn. Win.

His hand lowers slightly, open-palmed.

"I won't hurt you," he says slowly. "I don't know what's going on either. But I think we could both use a friend."

The Eevee's ears twitch. It hesitates… then takes one careful step forward.

Kael Wren exhales.

One step at a time.


---

Kael wipes his hands on the legs of his too-loose pants and trudges forward through the undergrowth. The light is rising now—sharpening shadows and painting the world in muted golds. The forest smells alive, damp soil and sun-warmed leaves mingling into something real and comforting.

Behind him, faint padding sounds follow. Not close, not far.

The Eevee's still tailing him.

Kael doesn't turn around. He just talks, voice low and flat.

"Alright. Let's figure out the first priority: water. If I can find a stream or a pond, I can orient by the sun, maybe track where people are."

The Eevee says nothing, naturally.

Kael sighs.

"Not much of a talker, huh? Guess that's fine. I'm used to monologuing to myself anyway. Kind of a coping mechanism."

A light crack of twigs makes him pause—Eevee again. Still cautious, still not running.

He steps over a gnarled root, scanning ahead. The forest slopes slightly downward. A good sign.

"Okay, next: population centers. If this is Kanto, there are several cities and towns set in a decent gridlike pattern. Which means civilization should be that way."

He gestures vaguely eastward, muttering more to himself than anyone.

"Of course, if this is one of those timelines, the forests are full of crazed criminals, wild Pokémon with traumatic backstories, and Professor Oak is secretly a time-traveling warlock. So... y'know. Caution."

A rustle. He looks around, taking in the stillness of the forest. The Eevee trots up beside him this time, ears alert.

Kael glances down.

"Oh, now you want to be social?"

The Eevee doesn't respond, but it doesn't leave either.

"Look, I get it. I'm sketchy. You're sketchy. We're all sketchy. But you've got scars and I've got baggage, so I think that makes us compatible."

A faint twitch of its ear almost seems like a response.

He keeps walking, hands tucked into his jacket sleeves. The words keep spilling out—not frantic, just controlled. Deliberate. Out loud so they stay manageable.

"So let's assume I keep my chakra hidden. I focus on learning the rules of this place first. How people train, what counts as legal, how battles are judged. I play dumb, but not too dumb—people hate prodigies, but they also hate dead weight. I've gotta ride that middle line."

"And if I need to test the physics of this world… you'll help me, right? Maybe tackle a log or something? See if type advantage even means anything here?"

"And we're not catching a Caterpie. Not even once. That's a red flag. That's how Nuzlockes start."

Behind a nearby tree, the faint sound of leaves crunching.

Kael freezes. Eevee's ears flick.

A voice—rough, confused, amused—calls out:

"That's quite the conversation you're having, young man."

Kael turns slowly.

From behind the trees steps an older man in a lab coat, pants dusty from travel, a thick field bag slung over one shoulder. Sharp eyes beneath thick brows. A walking stick in one hand. A half-smile on his face.

Professor Samuel Oak.

"Chakra and warlocks, huh? Either you've read too many comics... or you're a very interesting young man."

Kael's mouth opens. Closes.

"I'm guessing this is Kanto… but yeah. I might be a little lost."

Oak chuckles. "So I gathered."

He steps forward, then glances at Eevee—who had placed himself between Kael and the professor—then back to Kael. There's something sharper in his eyes now—evaluation, maybe even recognition.

"Come on. Let's get you something to eat and drink, and you can tell me where you're really from."

Kael hesitates, looking at Eevee, then nods once.

Eevee follows without hesitation this time.

 

[Frost41]

AN: I'm testing out different chapter lengths to see which fits my pacing best. Reviews are always welcomed!

One Step at a Time
Chapter 2: Introductions
Word Count: ~3,000


---

Kael sits crouched on his heels beside a patch of flattened grass just outside the barn, elbows resting on his knees, watching a few Oddish wiggle around the base of a tree. Eevee sits beside him, alert but calm, tail twitching slightly with the breeze.

"Oddish," Kael mutters. "Basic grass type. Decent for status effects. Evolution path splits into Vileplume or Bellossom. Either's viable for support, but their speed and durability is an issue."

Eevee chuffs softly beside him.

Kael half-smirks.

"Right, too squishy for your taste."

He stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back on his palms, eyes scanning the terrain. A distant Doduo races a Tauros across the ridge, both blurs of motion and hooves. Kael watches them, then looks back at Eevee.

"So. We should talk about your eventual evolution."

Eevee's ears perk.

Kael's tone shifts—just a little more serious.

"I'm not gonna force it. That's not how this will work. I want you to choose. But if we're going to move forward—challenge gyms, deal with threats, be partners—I need to know what role you want to fill."

Eevee tilts his head.

Kael taps his temple.

"I've got ideas. Of course I do. But you get final say."

He ticks off on his fingers.

"Flareon would give us power, but it overlaps with too many obvious fire types. We'll need one eventually, but that job's probably going to someone else. Same thing with Leafeon."

"Jolteon's a speed demon—great for scouts and counters—but I don't see you as twitchy or spastic. No offense."

Eevee snorts.

"Vaporeon has bulk and adaptability. You'd be near impossible to take down, and we'd get solid coverage."

A pause.

"There are good arguments to be made for Glaceon or Sylveon. But Umbreon…"

He glances at Eevee again.

"That's the one I think fits. Not just because it's dark type. Not even for the edge factor. Because it's a support specialist with durability, control, and precision. You'd be my wall. My anchor."

Eevee doesn't respond immediately, but his ears lower slightly—thoughtful. He doesn't turn away.

Kael exhales.

"I figured as much. I'll let you mull that over. We're not in any rush."

He leans back against the wall, eyes on the clouds now.

"So here's plan A."

"You. Umbreon. Defensive backbone. Moonlight regen, toxic stall, maybe Curse depending on move availability."

"Second slot's already scouted: Gengar. High mobility, status infliction, immunities, plays in shadows. Ghost/Poison is perfect for disrupting strategies."

"Third—Alakazam. Mental speed. Psy-type coverage. Sets up screens, pivots, shuts down brute force. Also opens up communications for larger-scale battle coordination."

"Then Crobat. The Zubat line gets a bad rap, but their final evolution is a monster—fast, evasive, flexible, poison flier. That's perfect flank control."

Eevee watches him quietly. Listening, learning.

Kael sits forward again, elbows back on knees.

"That's a core of four. Synergistic, flexible, status-heavy. We don't have to hit like a truck—we strangle the map. Zone control, misdirection, punishing overreach. No wasted movement. No wasted power."

He taps the grass beside him.

"Slot five and six are open. Might go with a starter. Bulbasaur fits better long-term than the other two—status, regen, utility typing. Or maybe Ekans. Arbok's got intimidation value and terrain familiarity."

"Either way, the team's built to control tempo. We're not here to fight fair—we're here to make every fight ours. To win."

Eevee stretches lazily, then settles back into a crouch beside him. He doesn't seem bothered. He seems… ready.

Kael gives him a glance.

"You okay with that?"

The fox doesn't answer with a cry or a bark. Just a soft flick of his tail and a calm stare.

Kael grins faintly. "Yeah. Me too."

A breeze rustles the grass around them. In the far distance, someone's voice calls out, approaching the barn. Kael doesn't hear the words—but the voice is light, a little too casual.

Female.

Someone's arrived.

Kael exhales through his nose.

"Guess the fun's about to start. Hopefully she isn't a blonde."

He stands slowly, brushing off his pants.

Eevee jumps lightly onto Kael's back, curling across his shoulders like a living scarf.

---

Kael steps around the side of the barn, brushing loose straw from his pants. Eevee is draped across his shoulders, tail flicking occasionally like a living warning flag.

He hears voices before he sees anyone.

Oak's tone is familiar—calm, amused, patient. The other voice is female. Confident. Not loud, but present, like someone who's used to being listened to. Kael slows.

The moment he rounds the corner, she's already looking at him.

She has her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised. Brown hair under a cap tilted back just enough to flash sharp green eyes. Her jacket's unzipped like she just got off a bike, and there's a faint grass stain on one knee. A belt with two Pokéballs rests at her hip.

Kael freezes. Just for a second.

Not blonde. Small mercies.

Oak turns toward him. "Ah—Kael. Just in time."

The girl crosses the distance in three easy steps, extending a hand.

"Leaf."

Kael stares at the hand like it might bite.

Direct and confident. Oversteps boundaries without hesitation. Possible-probable-control freak. Or worse—an extrovert.

He takes her hand anyway. Brief, firm shake. Let go first.

"Kael."

"Professor says you're new. I guess that means you're my competition."

Kael blinks. "...Your what?"

Leaf grins. "He's only got so many licenses to sponsor. And I got here first. So unless you're really special..."

Kael opens his mouth. Closes it.

Oak chuckles behind her. "Now now. No need to scare him off. Kael's already registered."

Leaf turns to Oak, mock-affronted. "You already signed him?! I haven't even seen his team!"

Oak shrugs. "Didn't need to. He made an impression."

She eyes Kael again. Not hostile. Just measuring.

This one's going to be a problem. I just know it.

Kael sighs. "So… you live here or something?"

"I grew up in Viridian," Leaf replies. "But I train out here a lot. Fewer distractions. Plus, Oak says I'm his favorite."

Oak doesn't confirm or deny. He just pats her shoulder and starts walking toward the main pasture. "Why don't you two take some time to get acquainted? Leaf can show you around the training field."

Kael watches him retreat with a look of subtle betrayal.

Leaf spins back toward him. "Alright, come on, mystery boy. Let's see what you've got."

She turns and walks, clearly expecting him to follow.

Kael glances at Eevee.

Eevee yawns.

"I can already tell this is going to be a lot."

Eevee flicks his tail once, noncommittal.

Kael follows.

---

Leaf doesn't stop talking.

It's not obnoxious. Not exactly. It's just… constant.

"This is the southern field," she says, waving as they pass a row of low shrubs and fence posts. "Usually we let the Tauros roam out here, but one of them broke the gate last week, so Oak's keeping them penned for now. Up that hill's the test corral. We bring in wild Pokémon sometimes—low threat, nothing that'll kill you unless you fall on something sharp."

Kael walks beside her, silent, hands tucked into his pockets. Eevee remains comfortably perched around his neck, tail brushing back and forth across his shoulder like a furry pendulum of judgment.

Leaf doesn't seem to notice the silence.

"Watch your step through here, by the way. That patch there's where Oak keeps his test colony of Sandshrew. Real territorial. Like, bite your ankles and roll off laughing territorial."

Kael steps carefully over the worn dirt path. "Good to know."

"And if you see a sleeping Arcanine, don't pet it. He's friendly, but he drools. A lot."

She hops a low fence like it's nothing, spins midair, and keeps walking backward while talking.

She doesn't even notice she's giving intel. It's not the most useful, but it's something.

Hyperverbal. Distracting. But informative.

They round a bend and step into an open field bordered on one side by a sparse treeline and on the other by the distant silhouette of Oak's lab. The grass is worn in places, patchy with old impact marks and uneven terrain. Clearly a battle field.

Leaf stops in the center and spins on her heel.

"Alright," she says, grinning. "You've been giving me 'brooding loner who's secretly a genius' vibes all morning."

Kael's eyebrow lifts. "That's... specific."

"So let's test it. You, me, one-on-one. Just our starters."

Kael hesitates.

Leaf's smile doesn't falter. "What? Scared?"

Eevee huffs softly against Kael's ear.

She's baiting him. Statistically effective, emotionally lazy.

Kael sighs and unclasps Eevee from his shoulders. The fox drops to the ground, ears twitching as he scans the field.

"Alright," Kael mutters. "We'll play."

Leaf steps back several paces, already unclipping a Pokéball from her belt.

"Let's go, Cyndaquil!"

With a flash of light and a puff of embers, a small, rodent-like Fire-type appears on the field, flames licking up from its back. It lets out a determined chirp and stamps its foot.

Great. Fire. Just what I wanted.

Kael studies Eevee—tense, alert, but waiting for instruction.

I have no idea what moves you know. Best case, you've got Quick Attack and maybe Sand Attack. Worst case, nothing but Tackle and hope. We'll have to play this by ear.

Leaf gestures wildly, pointing dramatically. "Cyndaquil, open with Ember!"

Kael doesn't respond with an attack. Instead:

"Eevee—circle right. Dodge!"

Cyndaquil spits a quick burst of fire toward them. Eevee darts hard to the side, low and fast, the flames barely grazing past.

"Now cut in—feint high, then low!"

Eevee snaps left, jukes right, then lunges. Not a full Tackle—just a jarring bump that throws Cyndaquil off-balance.

Leaf frowns. "Cyndaquil, back off—use Smokescreen!"

Kael's eyes narrow as the battlefield vanishes into a haze of black smoke.

Perfect.

"Eevee—listen for movement. Let him come to you."

The smoke thickens, swirling across the field. Leaf calls out commands, but Kael doesn't. He watches. Waits.

A flicker of shadow. A rustle to the left.

"Pivot. Tail sweep."

A soft thump, then a squeak of surprise as Cyndaquil's legs are knocked out from under him.

Leaf swears under her breath. "Cyndaquil, Quick Attack—now!"

A blur shoots through the smoke.

"Drop low!"

Eevee flattens instantly, the streak of fire zipping overhead.

"Turn and slam his flank!"

A heavy collision. Cyndaquil tumbles backward, claws scrabbling to regain footing. The smoke's clearing now, and both Pokémon are panting.

Leaf squints, biting her lip.

"You're not calling attacks," she says.

Kael shrugs. "I'm calling concepts."

"Yeah, well—cute trick. Cyndaquil! Flame Wheel!"

Kael's eyes widen slightly. "Flank, now!"

Eevee lunges sideways again—but not far enough. The spinning fireball clips his hindquarters, and he yelps, rolling hard across the grass.

Kael winces.

Not fast enough. That's on me.

Eevee pulls himself up, limping slightly, but growling low.

Still willing. Good.

Kael raises his voice—calm, clear. "Pull back. Wait for the next rush. Don't meet him head-on."

Cyndaquil, still glowing from the fire spin, charges again.

Kael watches the rhythm. The footfalls. The pattern.

"Now! Use his momentum—roll and counter!"

Eevee drops into a sideways spin, catching Cyndaquil's front leg and redirecting the charge. The Fire-type stumbles, topples—and Eevee slams into his side with a decisive body blow.

Cyndaquil groans, sparks flickering out. He doesn't rise.

Leaf sighs. "Okay. That was actually kind of impressive."

Kael exhales slowly, then nods once. "Thanks."

Eevee limps back to him, and Kael crouches to meet him.

"You good?"

Eevee huffs.

Kael smirks. "Yeah. Me too. Let's go get you two all healed up."

---

Interlude: Professor Oak

Professor Samuel Oak was not, by nature, a suspicious man.

Cautious? Certainly. Seasoned by time and experience? Of course. But not suspicious. He preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt—to observe, to study, to understand. That was, after all, the scientific method.

Still, Kael Wren had caught his attention the moment they met.

He'd stepped out of the woods near Route 1 looking like a boy half-pushed through a paper wall between worlds. Clothes slightly off—secondhand, but not worn in the usual ways. Posture too aware. Alert in a way no child of the local routes ever was.

Then there was the way he spoke: guarded, deliberate, like he was choosing his words two layers deep. He was polite, yes, and clever. But Oak had spent a lifetime listening to people explain things they didn't want to admit.

Kael's story had all the right parts—Sinnoh orphan, traveling alone, memory fuzzy from a fall. Tragic, sympathetic, believable.

Too believable.

Oak hadn't said anything at the time. He'd simply offered food, a place to rest, and company. Then he watched.

Kael's behavior didn't scream liar. He didn't try too hard. He didn't fish for pity. But the boy watched everything. Catalogued it. From how Oak powered on the terminal to how the utensils were sorted in the drying rack.

"He doesn't act like someone on the run. More like someone who doesn't trust the world to make sense unless he double-checks it."

Then there was the Eevee.

Skittish at first, but already attached. It mirrored Kael's caution. But more than that—it followed him with a soldier's loyalty. Oak knew that wild Pokémon, especially wounded ones, didn't give that kind of trust overnight.

Something had passed between them. Something more than just kindness.

"He didn't catch that Eevee. Still hasn't caught that Eevee. I'll make sure to get him a Pokéball."

The first real break came the morning after.

Kael had been out early—exploring the ranch perimeter, talking to himself and to Eevee in low, thoughtful tones. Oak had watched the playback. The questions Kael asked weren't childish. They weren't even normal.

They were precise.

"If battles follow the anime's soft rules, then moves are half-improvised and attacks can clash midair. I think they call it the 'Rule of Cool'.

"Do trainers have aura? Or is that just a movie thing?

"If you evolve, would your stats reset? Would I lose early move access?"

And then, later—barely caught on the edge of the mic—Kael had stood by the edge of the lower pond, skipping stones and murmuring to Eevee with a strange tension in his voice:

"I could tell him. About Team Rocket. About what they do… what they'll try to do.

"But what if they aren't that bad here yet? What if saying too much makes it worse?

"We wait. Watch and research. No sense in waving a flag if no one's hunting us."

Oak had frozen on that clip. Replayed it. Then filed it away in his private notes, under a simple heading:
Risk Management: Voluntary Misinformation?

"So he knows of Rocket. And others. But he's choosing not to say anything. Not out of malice… but caution."

That should've set off alarm bells.

But Oak wasn't alarmed.

He was fascinated.

And now—he sat in the quiet hum of the lab, watching the field through his cameras. The boy and the Eevee moved in tandem. No wasted effort. No panicked shouts. Just clipped instructions and adjustments.

Kael didn't call out moves. Didn't even test them before the match.

"That's still tactically unsound… unless you're deliberately hiding information."

Or—and this was the more likely truth—Kael didn't know what moves his Eevee had.

Oak chuckled aloud.

"Walks into a match with no move list and still holds his ground," he murmured. "That's either foolish… or brilliant."

The way Kael gave orders—"circle left," "wait for the opening," "counter off his back leg"—it wasn't a trainer's script. It was a soldier's cadence. Focused not on elemental typing or energy readings, but on weight, timing, stance.

It reminded Oak of drills from a long time ago. Back when battles weren't all contained within tidy white chalk circles. Back when he wore a different kind of uniform and command meant life or death.

"Someone trained this boy to fight humans."

But it wasn't just training. It was restraint.

Kael hadn't panicked. Hadn't struck wildly. He'd been gentle with Eevee, precise in the way he adjusted his distance from Leaf. Even in uncertainty, he'd anchored himself in observation and trust.

Oak leaned back, folding his arms as Leaf barked another command and Cyndaquil rolled forward in a burst of flame.

Eevee darted wide, pivoted off a rock, and used the momentum to slam a tackle into Cyndaquil's flank.

Oak smiled.

"You don't need to know the name of the move if you know what you want it to do."

This wasn't raw instinct. This was applied theory. Lived experience. A mind trained for conflict, choosing not to escalate. A stranger who didn't ask for power, but did everything possible to understand the rules of the world he woke up in.

"He's not here to conquer it. He's here to make sense of it."

Oak stood slowly, taking his mug with him to the window. Outside, the match continued under a lazy sun. Two kids and their Pokémon, learning each other, testing boundaries. The kind of thing he lived for.

"Not from Sinnoh," he murmured. "Not by blood. But maybe by spirit."

"And wherever he is from… he's choosing to be kind."

Oak nodded to himself and turned back toward the monitors. His mind already spinning with what Kael might need: records, tools, reading material. Not just for safety.

For understanding.

 

[Frost41]

AN: nothing of note this time

One Step at a Time
Word count: ~1250
Chapter 3: Preparations

The walk back to the lab is semi quiet—mostly because Leaf is doing enough talking for both of them.

"You don't battle like anyone I've met," she says, arms folded behind her head, cap tilted to shield her eyes from the sun. "No flashy calls, no type-matching, no dramatic finish. You don't even know your own Eevee's moves and still managed to beat me. Either you're reckless... or a genius."

Kael sighs but doesn't respond.

Leaf glances sidelong. "I'm gonna figure out which."

Eevee trots ahead of them, tail bobbing, limping slightly less with each step.

Leaf skips forward, spinning to walk backward in front of Kael again. "So. What's your plan? You heading for the League? Gym run? Treasure hunting? Contests? Or—ooh—are you one of those rogue mystics who wanders the land righting wrongs with quiet wisdom and a tragic past?"

Kael gives her a flat look. "...You've put a lot of thought into this."

"Hey, you're the one out here brooding and mysterious."

They reach the lab fence. Kael opens the gate. "I haven't decided yet."

Leaf leans in, grinning. "Then I'll decide for you. You're traveling with me."

Kael actually stops walking. "What?"

Leaf shrugs, like it's obvious. "You're interesting. I want to know how you think. Plus, Oak already signed off on my license, so I've got a head start. You'll need someone to stop you from getting lost in your own thoughts and walking into a Muk pit."

"...I'll take my chances."

"Too late. I've decided."

Kael sighs, but doesn't argue further. Not out loud. Troublesome.

They step inside the lab. Oak is already waiting by the table with two steaming cups of tea and a mild, knowing smile.

"You two made quite the pair out there," he says, eyes glancing toward Kael before returning to his mug. "Creative teamwork. Good instincts."

Leaf grins. "Told you he was interesting."

Kael raises an eyebrow. "You said I was 'probably a genius or reckless.'"

"They're not mutually exclusive!"

Oak chuckles. "Well, reckless or not, I'm glad to see you both back in one piece."

He takes a slow sip of tea, gaze lingering just a moment longer on Kael. "Especially lately. There's been… incidents. Wild Pokémon acting agitated. Equipment being tampered with. And rumors out of Cerulean about some strange activity near the caves."

Kael stiffens slightly. Oak notices.

"I'd feel better if you watched each other's backs out there," Oak continues. "It's dangerous for young Trainers to travel alone, even in peaceful times."

He glances to Kael again, tone mild but carrying a deeper weight.

Especially now.

Kael doesn't speak, but Oak catches the flicker of thought behind his eyes—the way his jaw shifts slightly, like he's grinding down a dozen responses into one quiet nod.

Oak nods back. Subtle. Measured. He doesn't press. Not yet.

Leaf flops into the nearest chair. "So, what now? You gonna give us maps, gear, a Pokédex?"

Oak chuckles. "Most of that, yes. I'll finish your registration and travel packs this evening. In the meantime, enjoy a quiet dinner and some rest. You've got a long road ahead."

Leaf cheers. Kael simply nods again, eyes drifting toward the window.

Outside, the sun is beginning to dip low, casting long shadows across the grass.

Oak watches him a moment longer.

A boy out of place in time. Not just in how he speaks, but in how he listens.

And if he really does know what's coming… then the least I can do is help him prepare.

--

The guest room Oak offered them is cozy in that old-ranch way—wooden beams, clean sheets, a faint scent of hay and warm dust hanging in the air. Two beds sit opposite each other beneath a small window that lets in the gold-amber spill of a setting sun.

Leaf flops back on her bed with a groan, arms stretched wide. "You'd think all I did was talk all day."

Kael sits cross-legged on his own bed, methodically sorting through the items in his travel pack. "You did."

"Yeah, but I carried the talking. That's a lot of effort."

He doesn't respond. Just checks the seal on a potion bottle before slotting it back into its pouch.

Leaf watches him a moment.

"You're weird, you know."

Kael shrugs without looking up. "You've said."

"No, I mean... most kids our age get their license and immediately freak out. It's all 'Oh my gosh, I'm gonna be Champion!' or 'Time to catch everything I see!' You? You strategized every step like you were already in the League Finals."

Kael zips the pouch closed. "Better than getting eaten by a Beedrill on Day Two."

Leaf snorts. "Fair."

A beat passes. The fading light turns orange, then red.

"You ever had a friend before?" she asks casually.

Kael blinks, then looks up at her. "That's a weird question."

"Not really. You act like someone who hasn't."

He doesn't answer right away. Then: "I had... people. Acquaintances. Partners."

"But not friends."

Kael exhales slowly. "Not ones that stuck around."

Leaf turns her face toward the ceiling. "Well… I'm sticking. Deal with it."

Kael studies her—genuine, exasperating, persistent.

He shakes his head once. "Sure."

Leaf smiles. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep like a Snorlax after buffet day. Don't stay up brooding."

"Not brooding."

"Uh-huh. Tell that to your eyebrows."

She rolls over and is snoring within minutes.

---

Later, long after Leaf's breathing has evened out and the moon has risen high, Kael slips out of bed and into the hallway.

The house is quiet, save for the hum of some old appliance down the hall and the occasional creak of settling wood. He moves through it like a shadow, silent and sure, until he reaches the back porch.

Eevee is already there, curled on the railing, gazing at the stars.

Kael leans beside him, arms resting on the wood. The sky is vast and unfamiliar.

"I've seen different skies before," he says softly. "But not like this."

Eevee's ears twitch.

"You did good today. Even with me fumbling half the match."

Eevee chuffs softly, like it's no big deal.

Kael pulls out the empty Pokéball Oak had slipped into his gear earlier.

He turns it over in his palm, then holds it up.

"No collar, no leash. You walk with me because you choose to. But if we're going to make this official…"

Eevee hops down from the railing and taps the ball with his nose before Kael finishes the sentence.

The ball snaps open with a soft ping, swallows Eevee in a flash of red light, then clicks shut.

A beat later, it re-opens, and Eevee reappears, sitting in front of Kael.

Kael stares at him, then exhales a quiet chuckle. "Figures."

Eevee tilts his head.

Kael crouches, resting one hand behind Eevee's ear.

"You need a name."

The fox watches him, waiting.

Kael looks up at the stars. "You're fast. Quiet. Clever. You move like a shadow, but you're sharp when it matters."

A pause.

"Let's go with Spectre."

Eevee blinks once.

Then nods.

Kael sits beside him, back to the porch post. "Alright, Spectre. Tomorrow we head out."

The night stretches on, quiet and cool.

Neither of them moved for a long time.

 

[Frost41]

One Step at a Time
Word count~2800
Chapter 4: Foundation


The sky was a dull slate gray when Kael stirred, roused not by alarm or instinct, but by the clatter of movement through the wood walls of the ranch house and the whistle of a kettle on the stove. The distant rattle of ceramic and metal—cups, maybe plates—echoed faintly down the hall. It was far too early for most people to be up.

Kael blinked at the ceiling for a long moment, willing his body to stay still. His mind, however sluggishly, was already planning. Preparing. Calculating.

A low groan sounded from the other cot across the room.

"I swear," Leaf mumbled, voice slurred by sleep and smothered under a blanket. "Oak said dawn. Not the witching hour."

Kael said nothing. He pulled the blanket aside and sat up with a quiet groan of disgust, rolling his shoulders. His back popped in three places. He ignored the stiffness. This wasn't a day for comfort. "We leave at first light," he muttered, more to motivate himself than Leaf.

She groaned louder and threw a pillow over her head. "Why are you like this?"

He didn't answer. Just reached down to rub Spectre, who looked about as enthused as Kael felt.

"Come on, we need to get ready."

"You're not seriously getting up," Leaf grumbled.

Kael reached down to the floor, found his boots by touch, and began lacing them. "We leave at first light. " He repeated.

"It's barely light."

"Then we had better hurry."

"Ugh. You're one of those."

That earned a slight twitch of a smirk, but Kael didn't indulge it. He pulled on his jacket, did a quick inventory of the Pokéball at his hip, then stood and made his way to the sink to splash cold water on his face. The chill shocked his nerves into full alertness.

---

By the time they made it to the back porch, twenty or so minutes later, the sun had only just begun bleeding over the horizon. The sky glowed with a thin amber edge, casting long shadows over the mist-draped grass. A few Spearow chirped in the distance. The morning smelled of dew and woodsmoke.

Professor Oak was already there, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a satchel slung over his shoulder. His lab coat fluttered slightly in the breeze, and he looked far too awake for someone who'd probably pulled an all-nighter sorting data again.

"Good morning!" he called cheerfully, stepping forward as they approached. "You're right on time."

Leaf groaned dramatically. "I've been awake for like thirty minutes, and I already want to die."

Kael didn't respond, his eyes immediately drawn to the setup on the table beside Oak—two full-sized trainer backpacks, sleek and clearly upgraded beyond the standard issue models Kael had seen in books. There were also two paper bags emanating a mouthwatering scent, off to the side.

Oak gestured to them. "These are yours. Expanded-utility trainer packs. Reinforced stitching, balanced weight distribution, and modular compartments. They'll grow with your journey."

Leaf perked up, rubbing her eyes. "We get gear? Actual League gear?"

"You get the basics," Oak said, handing her a checklist. "Twelve Pokéballs, four standard Potions, two Antidotes, a Burn Heal, a length of coil rope, a flint striker, folding cook pan, two ration bars, a compact two-person tent, and two filtered water canteens. I added a trainer's medkit, map compass, PokéNav chip, and a starting stipend—five thousand credits apiece. Enough to get you through your first town or two without begging for scraps."

Kael grabbed his pack and began checking it with clinical precision. Checking the seams of his bag, testing the buckles, the tension on the zippers, the balance. He activated one of the side compartments and examined the fire-starting kit that digitized with a precise, professional calm that made Oak's brows twitch upward.

"I see someone's already comfortable with field gear," Oak said.

Kael nodded once. "Used to carrying my life on my back."

Leaf gave him a sidelong glance but said nothing.

Oak reached into his satchel and pulled out two small, black-backed cards with silver inlay. "League IDs. Don't lose these. You'll need them for access to Gyms, Pokémon Centers, transport hubs, and most official shops."

Kael accepted his and slipped it into an inner pocket without hesitation. Leaf examined hers like it was a golden ticket.

"Man, this makes it real," she said. "Like... we're actually registered."

Oak smiled faintly. "It is real. You're officially field trainers now."

Then came the PokéDex—sleek, red, smooth-edged. Oak handed them each one like a sacred artifact.

"This syncs with your ID and your Pokémon. It'll log all your captures, encounters, injuries, battle data, and evolution records. Let's test it out."

Kael crouched beside Spectre, who was busy nosing at a tent stake like it might be edible. He flicked open the PokéDex and held it out.

A soft tone chimed as the device scanned.

Eevee – Normal Type. Known for its genetic instability and multiple potential evolutions.
This Eevee appears healthy and alert.
Nature: Sassy
Known Moves: Tackle, Bite, Baby-Doll Eyes, Quick Attack, Helping Hand, Swift, Double Team, Curse.

Kael's eyebrow rose. "Sassy?"

Spectre slowly turned to look at the device, narrowed his eyes, and scoffed—loudly and pointedly—before turning his back on it.

Leaf burst out laughing. "He's gonna be a handful."

Oak chuckled. "He's got personality. That's good. Bonds between trainer and Pokémon grow fastest when there's a spark."

Kael shut the PokéDex with a soft click. "We're working on it."

Wonder if I could find a Rotom somewhere. Or should I just get a cyberduck?

"Good," Oak said, then turned back to the table and hefted another satchel. A messenger bag.

"And this," Oak said, handing it to Kael, "is yours."

Kael opened it with a press of his thumb. A soft shimmer of digital light activated a miniature interface inside the cover. He scanned through the provided list—each item indexed and categorized.

"League regulations, Gym structures by region, historical match breakdowns, treatises from Professors Rowan, Birch, Elm and Juniper. I've also included maps, notes, and a few observations of my own. Consider it… supplemental reading."

Leaf leaned in and whistled. "Wow. Yours came with homework."

Oak chuckled. "He asked for it."

Kael nodded, almost reverently. "I did. Thank you."

Oak nodded. "Use it. Your strength will come from more than your team."

"Also! Here, these will keep for a few days, if you don't finish them today!" He handed each of them one of the paper bags.

Leaf hurriedly opened hers, cheering as she pulled out a thick, foil-wrapped object. "Score! It almost makes me forgive you for waking up this early."

Oak chuckled and clapped a hand on each of their shoulders. "Before you go—some advice. Pewter Gym is run by Brock, a young but solid Rock-type trainer. He's not just about brute force; he uses terrain like a weapon. Gravel pits, cover stones, uneven footing—you'll need speed and precision. Raw power alone won't get you far unless you've got the typing to match."

Leaf tilted her head. "So avoid a head-on charge. Got it."

"Also," Oak added, "trainers have been reporting unusual tremors near the ridge fork past Route One. Some think it's a rogue Diglett nest, but there were rumors of a Larvitar sighting, too. Probably just campfire talk… but keep your eyes open. And if you cut off the trail near the tallgrass banks, you might catch sight of a Mankey pack. Be cautious—they're bold this season."

Kael logged the info mentally, already drawing route estimates in his head.

Oak stepped back and gestured toward the open trail, his expression softening. "Go make your mark, kids. And come back with good stories."

Leaf saluted. "Count on it! We'll bring back souvenirs."

Kael offered only a nod before hoisting the pack onto his shoulders.

They stepped off the porch, onto the dirt path that wound east into the morning light.

The gate creaked open ahead of them. The path ahead twisted west, dappled in gold and shadow.

And without another word, they stepped off Oak's property and into the world.


---

Four hours into the journey, the road had turned to gravel and then to packed dirt. Trees lined both sides of the trail now, thickening into the edges of forest. Birdsong echoed from the branches. Every now and then, a rustle in the grass hinted at a passing Rattata or an unseen Sentret.

Kael walked in silence, head on a swivel, eyes taking in every rustling branch, every odd cluster of tracks, every smell of turned earth or damp moss. He memorized tree formations. Logged sound patterns. Identified Pokémon calls without looking.

Spectre matched his pace perfectly, alert but relaxed.

Leaf, meanwhile, had taken to walking backward again.

"So, we start at Pewter, right? That's the first gym on the traditional route— unless we do a rogue circuit. But Professor Oak said the guy there's this huge Rock-type specialist—no way Spectre's going to brute-force through that. We'll need coverage. Maybe a Grass-type. Or Water. Cerulean's after that. Their arena is brutal if you aren't prepared."

Kael tuned her out. Not out of rudeness. He'd already mapped the Indigo Circuit, and five alternate paths besides. His mind had moved on to contingencies—what they'd do if a Gym Leader went rogue. If the League cracked down on travelers. If they showed up early.

And beneath it all… the pulse.

A warmth just under his skin, low and deep like coals under ash. He didn't feed it, didn't reach for it. But it was there. Always.

Chakra.

Not gone. Just sleeping.

Still part of him.

---

They made camp near a shallow stream at the edge of a ridge, where smooth stones lined the bank and firewood was plentiful. The area was quiet, unclaimed, ideal for a first night in the field.

Leaf handled the tents, unpacking the coils and snapping the segments together like someone who'd actually practiced. Kael circled around the perimeter with Spectre at his side, collecting firewood, marking strategic positions, watching for dens, checking the treeline. Then he got to work making a firepit, piling the dirt over to the side, to fill back in later.

When the fire finally crackled to life and the first shadows of night crawled over the trees, Kael stood in the clearing and called, "Spectre. Time to test out your moveset. Let's get a feel for how you perform each move."

The Eevee bounded over without hesitation.

Kael gave the first command. "Swift."

Spectre's body tensed. A volley of glowing stars shot from his tail, striking a distant log and sending chips of bark into the air.

"Double Team."

Seventeen more Spectres shimmered into view, moving in perfect tandem. They weaved through each other in rapid motion, impossible to track with normal eyes.

"Quick Attack. Arc wide. Come in from the right."

Spectre vanished in a blur, reappearing mid-spin as he drove into the target from the side, catching it clean on the flank.

Kael nodded once. Then said, quieter, "Curse."

Spectre planted his feet. Darkness licked up over his fur, and his muscles tensed under the weight of it. He breathed slowly, carefully, riding the wave of pressure.

Eventually, Kael stepped forward. "Stop. That's enough."

Spectre relaxed.

Leaf watched from her seat near the fire. "You're already drilling."

"We're behind."

"Behind who, exactly?"

He didn't answer. Just kept watching Spectre's stance.

Leaf shook her head and looked away.

Kael stepped forward and crouched beside him, putting each limb through its full range of motion, checking for strain or pains.

"You can use your moves effectively," Kael said. "Good."

Spectre flicked his ear in silent acknowledgement. Still steadying his breath, but alert. Focused.

Kael stood again and turned his gaze to the dying fire. Sparks drifted up in quiet spirals, vanishing into the dark canopy above.

They were alone now. Leaf had retreated to the tent already, muttering about how crazy he was for running drills so soon.

But Kael wasn't done.

"Let's sit," he said.

Spectre dropped to a seated position, tail curling loosely around his legs.

Kael pulled a log over to lean his back against, folded his arms and leaned back, eyes distant, mind drifting into formation patterns and elemental matchups.

"You're fast. Adaptable. We'll sharpen that. But speed alone won't hold against every threat. We need to win 1v1 matches, but more than that, not every fight will be league refulations. We need teamwork. Trust."

Spectre tilted his head, ears twitching.

"We'll need a heavy. Something with raw presence. Tyranitar fits, if the rumors from Oak are true. Hardy, devastating coverage, sandstorm generation. Weak to Fighting and Fairy, but that's manageable. Could anchor the team. If not that, then we need to scout more outside the region. I'll need to confirm exactly what metaknowledge I have is accurate. There are a few safer places we can test that out at."

Spectre made a low sound—noncommittal, but listening.

Kael continued. "Ariados is utility. Web traps. Poison. Night battles. He'd complement you well—play misdirection. Weavile for pressure tactics. Glass cannon, but fast enough to intercept or chase."

He glanced up at the stars, his Pokédex restong in one hand.

"Rotom brings disruption. Can phase through walls. Switch forms. Throw off scanners. If we can sync the alternate appliance modes, he's perfect for infiltration. We'll need that when we start seeing real opposition."

Spectre's eyes glinted in the firelight. Kael could tell he was listening, alert. Speaking it aloud helped him map it.

"Absol…" Kael frowned slightly. "Loner. Bad omen to most, but their predictive instincts would cover our blind side. And the blade is built for counters."

He looked back down at Spectre.

"Greninja gives us water coverage, battlefield mobility, and smoke control. Shadow clones. A natural scout. Incineroar brings brute power and intimidation. He can frontline if Tyranitar isn't in the picture."

Spectre snorted at that.

Kael glanced over. "Yes. You'd still lead."

Another thoughtful pause.

"Luxray. High voltage, good with obscured sightlines. Can pierce cover with thermal vision. Excellent for dense terrain or night engagements. And if we get into urban sectors…"

He trailed off.

And then his voice dropped slightly.

"We'll need ghosts."

He leaned back again, eyes reflecting the glow.

"Shedinja is niche, but the ability—Wonder Guard—forces precision. Every enemy would have to fight clean. No room for recklessness."

He tapped his temple lightly. "But he's a gamble. No second chances."

A longer silence.

"Mismagius could work. Trick Room, illusions, psychic counters. Froslass gives us Ice typing and battlefield misdirection. She's fast. Surgical. Dhelmise has area denial potential—binds terrain, controls movement. Would need weather backup, though."

The name that lingered in his thoughts didn't leave his lips right away.

"Dragapult," he murmured at last. "Rare. Dangerous. Ghost-Dragon hybrid. Speed rivaling Weavile, firepower like a missile strike. Stealth. Authority. If we ever cross one…"

He let the sentence fade.

Spectre let out a soft growl—not hostile, more like a question.

Kael turned to look at him.

"This team—if it comes together—won't be for contests or glory," he said softly. "It's a statement."

Spectre's gaze held his in the flickering half-light of the fire.

Then the wind shifted, and the tension passed.

Kael exhaled, sat back, and leaned against a log, pulling his pack closer.

"We might head to Mt. Moon and pick up a zubat before facing Brock. Gets us some more battle experience against rock types in the area, and a new teammate."

The fire was low now. Quiet. Crickets called from the grass. Far off, a single Hoothoot hooted once and went silent again.

Spectre curled beside him, resting his head lightly against Kael's knee.

Kael didn't move.

The team he envisioned was still pieces of a puzzle. Some of them too rare to be hopeful for. Others… attainable. Dangerous. Fitting.

Each had a role.

Each had a purpose.

And if he played it right, they wouldn't just survive the League.

They'd break it open.

I still need to figure out how to handle Giovanni. And Mewtwo. Just how many of the movie events are even going to happen?

Kael sat up, shifting until he was cross-legged by the dying coals. A leaf was held between two fingers of his right hand. He let the flickering heat wash over his left palm and closed his eyes.

Reaching inward. He brought the leaf to his forehead.

There it was. Quiet. Coiled. That flicker of chakra, like a breeze brushing from his stomach, up past his lungs. Not strong. But there.

He tracked it, slowly— feeling it.

His hand drew away, but the leaf stayed, stuck in place.

A hum behind his eyes. A tingle in his fingertips.

Soon.

 

[Frost41]

AN: Still attempting to get my pacing under control, but here's a bigger chapter. Really gotta go over these that I'm pasting in from my notepad, as the punctuation and italics/bold mechanics are slightly different.

One Step at a Time
Word count: ~4900
Chapter 5: Calibrating

The sun had long risen, warm and clear, filtering through a lazy ceiling of clouds as Kael and Leaf pressed northeast, past the well-worn dirt trail and into thinner grass and harder ground. The last of the soft morning mist had burned away, leaving nothing but the dry scent of dust, wind-blown wildflowers, and the occasional distant chirp of a Pidgeotto overhead.

Spectre moved at a relaxed trot beside Kael, ears twitching with every shift in the wind. His gait was steady, practiced. Attentive. Not quite at ease, but close enough.

Leaf lagged behind a few meters, still gnawing through the last of the breakfast sandwiches Oak had packed them, occasionally humming off-key.

They had passed Route 1's designated markers hours ago and now moved along the edge of a low ridgeline flanked by sparse, dry-barked trees and loose stone underfoot. To their right, the land sloped downward into what looked like a gravel basin—barren, sunbaked, and silent.

Kael halted at the edge of the ridge, frowning.

The basin wasn't just a sink. It had layers, a visible strata.

Exposed rock veins cut across the pit in jagged lines. Chipped slate fanned out in unnatural directions. The ground had been torn—not by water or erosion—but pressure.

Spectre stopped, nose in the air. He growled low, then looked up at Kael with a cautious, questioning glint.

Kael crouched slowly and placed his hand against the dirt.

Warm.

And then. Faint vibrations.

Only slightly—but it was there. A deep, slow pulse under the surface. Not an active tremor. A recent one.

"Kael?" Leaf called from behind, chewing. "You die or something?"

"Get off the ridge," Kael said, quietly but firmly. "Now."

Leaf's footsteps paused. "Why?"

"Because something came through here," Kael said, voice tight, "and I think it's still nearby."

Spectre turned, body tense now, fur puffed at the neck. His nose twitched once more—then he barked sharply and leapt back just as the ground beneath Kael's boots burst open.

A spray of rock and dust exploded upward in a violent cascade. The ledge cracked—split—then gave way.

Kael twisted mid-fall, bracing. He hit the slope hard, rolled, slid halfway down into the basin before catching the right angle off of the stone with a well timed jump and stumbling to a stop near a pile of shattered gravel.

Spectre landed beside him, light on his paws but bristling, eyes locked ahead.

From the dust, it emerged.

Short. Stocky. Covered in jagged, scale-like green hide that shimmered in the sunlight like chipped malachite. Red diamond-shaped eyes stared from a blunt, horned head as it stomped forward, claws dragging deep furrows in the gravel.

Larvitar.

This one's hide was pock-marked with wounds in various states of healing and some fresh scars, streaked in dry earth like it had clawed its way from deep beneath the basin.

Its gaze fixed on Kael and Spectre with the kind of raw, territorial fury that only came from being displaced.

"Shit," Kael muttered.

Above, Leaf crouched at the ridge's edge, wide-eyed.

"Is that—"

"Larvitar," Kael confirmed. "Back up. If it charges, I don't want to be distracted by you screaming."

Leaf blinked. "Rude."

"Spectre," Kael said, calm and low, never taking his eyes off the creature. "Get ready."

The Larvitar snarled, and the gravel beneath it shifted again. Stones rolled, clacked, and lifted slightly as if tugged by unseen gravity. Smaller particles and pebbles began to slowly drift through the air.

Sandstorm. Not just a move—a presence. But untrained. Unrefined.

Kael narrowed his eyes.

Spectre stepped forward with a growl, body low, tail twitching.

"Let's see how far it's willing to go," Kael whispered. "Swift!"

Spectre's tail lit with starlight and fired a volley of energy—clean, sharp, precise.

The stars struck true, but the Larvitar barely flinched. It turned with a snarl and raised one stubby arm.

The ground rumbled in response.

A burst of rocks erupted from the gravel and shot forward like cannonballs.

"Quick Attack to dodge left, into Double Team!"

Spectre blurred to the side, vanishing into five flickering clones that scattered wide.

The rocks collided with one clone and obliterated it. Dust choked the air.

Kael dropped behind a stone outcrop. "Bait it. Draw it center!"

Spectre and a clone circled, one nipping in with a Bite, the other feinting.

The Larvitar turned, unbothered, and dug its claws into the ground.

"Shit—he's—"

The earth erupted beneath Spectre. An unstable usage of Ancient Power?

Spectre was caught by the edge and thrown sideways, skidding hard.

Kael hissed. "Spectre! Status?"

The Eevee stood, shaking it off, favoring one leg.

The Larvitar stomped forward.

"Close the distance," Kael snapped. "Quick Attack! Circle it. Find an opening."

Spectre vanished, reappearing by Larvitar's flank and slamming into its side.

It stumbled—but didn't fall.

It turned, jaws snapping with a Bite.

Spectre yelped and twisted—narrowly escaping with only the fur on the end of his tail clipped.

He rolled, another blur of quick attack creating extra distance.

Kael scanned the terrain. Loose rocks. Shallow ledges. Unstable footing.

Perfect.

"Double Team. Into Quick Attack. Spiral pattern."

Spectre split again—nine now. They zipped through the dust, circling.

Larvitar turned—snapping—missing.

Its breathing had changed. Heavier. Deeper.

"This one's still young," Kael murmured. "Too much power. Not enough control."

"Spectre—Swift. Full spread. Then Curse."

Stars launched, aimed higher than center mass, not to hit but to blind.

The Larvitar reeled—just for a moment—and that was all Kael needed.

Spectre's body pulsed dark violet, limbs tensing as the aura settled. Not the life-sapping grip of a ghost's Curse, but the bracing kind—like invisible armor locking into place, weighing him down slightly.

Kael saw it immediately. His speed dipped. But his stance grounded. Muscles flexed. Defense rose. Attack surged.

"Good," Kael breathed. "Now we turn the field against him."

The Larvitar charged—claws raised, eyes wild.

"Counter with Bite!"

Spectre met the charge with force this time. No evasion. Just collision. His jaws snapped forward, catching Larvitar mid-leap.

The two tumbled—grappled—slammed into the gravel.

Spectre hit hard, but this time, he held his footing. Curse had given him just enough of an edge.

Larvitar rolled away slower, growling and panting, and looking rattled.

"Quick Attack. Go low. Target the knee."

Spectre moved, slower than before, but heavier—more deliberate. He struck the weakened joint like a bowling ball, and Larvitar dropped to one side with a pained snarl.

Kael stepped forward. "You don't have to keep doing this. You're lost and angry. But we're not your enemy."

Larvitar blinked.

Then roared—and stood tall.

Spectre crouched.

Kael clenched his jaw.

This wasn't about winning anymore.

It was about pride.

The Larvitar stood unsteady, one foot dragging slightly in the gravel, its breath sharp and rattling through clenched jaws. The Curse-enhanced impact had clearly gone as intended—its balance was shot, and its rage no longer masked its fatigue. Spectre held his ground, tail low, eyes locked forward, his body coiled like a spring.

Kael's mind worked faster than his heartbeat.

The enemy was slower now. Hurting. But dangerous. If it got off another Rock Throw or worse—Ancient Power—they were done.

"Alright," he murmured under his breath. "Brawling won't work. We need to strip it piece by piece."

"Spectre—Double Team again. Wide arc. Go."

The Eevee burst forward, four more clones spinning off him like mirrored shards of light. They shot in opposite directions, darting behind stone outcrops and small mounds, spreading confusion.

Larvitar snarled and swung wildly—first right, then back—crushing one illusion instantly. The rest scattered.

"Good," Kael muttered. "Make it mad. Make it guess."

"Now! Swift—mid-height—then retreat left!"

Spectre vaulted into the air and fired a spread of glowing stars mid-spin. The stars raked across Larvitar's front, bouncing off armored skin, but hitting the bruised side with force. It howled and backed into a wall of slate—momentarily stunned.

"Quick Attack—target the bad knee!"

Spectre blurred again, a bullet of fur and light. He struck the leg with precision, slamming into the already-weakened joint and rolling away before Larvitar could counter. It buckled. Dropped to one knee.

The basin fell still.

Dust swirled.

Kael narrowed his eyes. "Now we test if you're too stubborn for your own good."

Larvitar looked up at him, panting, eyes still burning with fire—but its claws twitched slower. Its legs trembled.

"Spectre—one more time. Double Team into Bite. Don't go for the head—go for the neck. We need control, not blood."

Five clones emerged in a blur.

They closed in fast.

Larvitar twisted—

Too late.

The real Spectre lunged from the blind angle and clamped his jaws tight onto the back of Larvitar's neck. Not deep—but firm. Dominant.

Larvitar roared and tried to throw him—but the strain was too much. Curse had reduced Spectre's speed, yes—but it had fortified him. And Larvitar's strength was spent.

Its limbs sagged.

The growl dropped to a trembling exhale.

And then—it stopped fighting.

Kael watched the creature closely. Its claws still dug into the gravel, but the tension had left them. The growl was gone. Its breathing slowed. Still wild—but not mindless, tired.

With a gesture, Spectre released the hold and backed off, panting.

Kael approached carefully, one hand moving slowly toward his belt.

Leaf's worried voice echoed from above. "Kael—what are you doing?"

"Finishing it, with a choice," he said quietly.

He withdrew a Pokéball but didn't throw.

Instead, he crouched—five feet away—and held it open in one hand.

"Your territory's gone," he said, voice even. "I don't know how it went down, or what happened, but you were forced out of your home. That wasn't your fault."

Larvitar blinked, unmoving, still looking down.

"I said it before, but I'm not your enemy. If you come with us, I can get you healed. You fought hard, and I want to help you to be better. Stronger."

Spectre said nothing, simply eyed the creatur from the side, his tail held low but posture steady.

Larvitar's claws flexed once. Twice.

Then, slowly, it stood up. Looking Kael dead in the eyes, a fire burning in its gaze. Then he took a step forward.

Just once.

And tapped the Pokéball.

Click.
Wobble.
Ding.

Kael didn't breathe until the indicator light turned solid.

Only then did he sit back cradling the ball in his palm.

Leaf whistled from above. "I can't decide if you're stupid or fearless."

Kael rose, looking up at her. He held his hand up to shade his eyes from the sun. "They're the same thing sometimes."

Spectre limped over, clearly tired now. Kael crouched and ran his hands gently over his legs, checking for deeper bruises or sprains. He pulled a potion out of his pack and began treating the tender spots he found.

"I don't want to push you, but we move fast," he said softly. He opened his arms, and Spectre used his limbs as easy steps, curling up across his shoulders, braced against the top of Kael's pack.

He gave a tired but determined grunt and nodded once.

Kael turned his eyes to the ridge above. "We're making for Viridian."

Leaf already had her bag in hand. "Should be just a few hours if we cut across the low fields."

Kael didn't respond. He just clipped Larvitar's Pokéball to his belt and started walking.

The hike was sharp, fast, and done in near silence.


---

The sun had begun to dip when they crested the last ridge and saw the glint of metal and glass roofs tucked between the forest edge and the winding river—the outskirts of Viridian City.

The Pokémon Center was just past the main road, a white dome with red accent plating, glowing gently in the warm light of early evening. As they approached, the automatic doors hissed open, bathing them in clean fluorescent light and chilled air.

A nurse at the desk—pink-haired, sharp-eyed—stood immediately.

"How many patients need to be looked over?" she asked, already moving for trays.

"Two from me." Kael stepped forward, returning Spectre to his Pokéball as he did so. "Both injured in a wild encounter. Eevee's stable. Larvitar's new—tired, stressed, showing signs of trauma and old wounds. Might have been displaced from deeper mountain terrain."

Nurse Joy blinked at the name. "Larvitar? That's… rare. I had heard rumors, but..."

Kael handed both Pokéballs over. "They both fought hard. But I don't think either one wants to be enemies anymore."

Joy nodded and disappeared through the doors behind her.

Kael turned to a terminal and dropped into the nearest seat, finally exhaling like something had let go of his ribs.

Leaf sat a chair over, slouched and sweaty, having placed her pokeballs on the tray as well.

"You know, I really didn't expect this when I agreed to tag along."

Kael gave a half-shrug. "Things escalate."

"No kidding."

They waited in silence for a time. The clock ticked. Two parents guide a kid with a Paras through the lobby. A trainer in a hoodie dropped off a fainted Spearow.

Eventually, Nurse Joy returned with both Pokéballs.

"They'll need some rest," she said gently, "but no permanent damage. Your Eevee's got a nasty bruise on his back leg, as well as overall mild exhaustion from the altering effects of Curse—his muscles are strained from overextension. Your Larvitar was clearly suffering from some mild infections, overexertion and dehydration, but they'll both be fine after an overnight stay."

Kael took the Pokéballs, slow and respectful.

"Thank you."

She smiled. "We don't see a lot of trainers who use Curse. You timed it well. Made it defensive, not reckless."

Kael gave a tight nod. "We try to fight smart."

Leaf leaned forward, arms on her knees. "So what now?"

Kael stared at the Pokéballs for a long moment.

"Now," he said, "we train smarter."


---


The cafeteria in the Viridian Pokémon Center was quiet.

The sun had dipped low outside, casting long golden lines through the reinforced windows. Most of the tables were empty—just a few trainers eating alone, heads down, eyes glazed from battle or travel. The soft hum of overhead lights and a flickering Kanto League newsfeed filled the silence.

Kael sat across from Leaf at a small corner table, tray half eaten. His food—steamed rice and some type of protein cubes—sat cooling beside a black mug of strong tea.

Leaf, by contrast, was already halfway through her second plate of curry and rice.

She looked up, chewing. "You gonna eat that or just analyze it until it surrenders?"

Kael's eyes didn't move from the Pokéballs on the table. Spectre and Larvitar. Both dimmed to a soft red pulse coming from the center ring.

"They're still recovering," he said quietly. "I want to give them time before I start strategizing."

"They're fine," Leaf said, softer now. "Joy said so."

A pause.

Leaf set her spoon down. "You do this with everyone?"

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"The whole distant-tactical-fixated thing. You treat Pokémon like partners, but also like chess pieces."

Kael looked at her for a long moment.

"Yes."

She didn't flinch from it. "Why?"

Kael's gaze dropped back to the Pokéballs.

"Because I don't get to make mistakes."

That shut her up for a second.

He reached for his mug and took a slow sip, letting the heat wake up the edges of his mind again. The caffeine helped. So did the ritual.

"I've been running theories in my head since before we got here," he said after a moment. "The team's starting to take shape. Spectre's proving he can frontline—better than I expected. Larvitar's raw, but once he learns control, he can tank entire phases of a fight."

Leaf picked her spoon back up, listening now.

Kael continued. "But I need more than coverage. I need presence. Mobility. Field control."

"Which means?"

"Next up is a Zubat."

Leaf blinked. "Seriously? You're going after a Zubat?"

Kael nodded. "It's not about how they start. It's what they can become."

Leaf leaned forward, curious despite herself.
"Golbat is ok i guess, but Zubat, really?"

"Zubat evolves fast. Golbat's strong, durable, has decent utility. But the real reason is Crobat."

"Crobat? Those are super rare. Nobody knows how to consistently evolve them." she groussed.

"Speed. Evasion. Air superiority. High maneuverability. Can hold against psychics and sweep poison-types. Perfect for intercept missions or strike tactics. If we're flanked, Crobat becomes the wall and the blade. And I have a theory on how they evolve. I think its similar to several pokemon species, actually."

Leaf made a thoughtful face. "Okay, sure, but they're… wild. Skittish. Don't bond easily."

"That's the test, in theory." Kael said simply. "If I can't bring it to trust me, I don't deserve it."

He leaned back a little now, lifting his chopsticks to poke at the protein cubes again.

"I'm also looking at early synergy. Spectre and Crobat can both run evasion sets. If I can train them to flank in pairs, we can hit from two angles simultaneously. Pressure. Confusion."

Leaf grinned. "Sounds like a nightmare."

"That's the idea."

"And Larvitar?"

"Frontline brute. Backup terrain control. Once he learns Rock Slide and gets a few ground-type counters, he'll be my stabilizer. Something to anchor and set the field while the others move around him. I might start a training game that denoted him as "home base"."

Leaf stabbed another piece of curry pork. "So, like a vanguard-sentinel setup?"

Kael nodded once. "Exactly."

She whistled softly. "You're thinking in terms of war games. You know that the league is mostly formatted for 1v1s, right?"

"I'm preparing for far worse than the Gym circuit."

That sobered her again, but she didn't press.

A moment of silence passed between them.

Kael finally took a bite of the rice—chewed—swallowed.

"I want to head for Mt. Moon by the end of the week. That's where the dens are."

Leaf looked over at the clock. "You think they'll be ready by then?"

"Joy seemed to think so," he admitted. "And if they are, I need to be, too."

---

The trainer dorm above the Viridian Pokémon Center was quiet, lit only by a low lamp over the bed and the distant amber glow of city lights bleeding in through the narrow window. Outside, the night moved slowly—bikes humming on the streets, a few late trainers passing under the flickering lampposts.

Inside, Kael sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the bed frame, a small collapsible table set in front of him. On it rested three trays—two smaller ones filled with specialized Pokémon rations, one holding Kael's own meal of plain rice, egg, and broth.

Spectre was already seated to his left, hunched slightly but alert, tail wrapped around his side. He poked at the protein-dense kibbles with his paw, then started eating in small, measured bites. His ears never stopped tracking.

Larvitar sat on the opposite side, rigid, arms folded, eyeing the tray in front of him like it was a trap. His scars looked harsher under the glare of indoor lighting—etched across one shoulder, partially healed. Dirt still clung to his back legs where the nurse hadn't quite scrubbed him down.

"You can eat, it isn't poisoned." Kael said calmly, not looking directly at him. "No one's going to fight you for it, either."

Larvitar didn't move. He just stared at Kael.

Then, with exaggerated care, he leaned forward, scooped up a handful of the rocky mix, and crunched down—loudly—without breaking eye contact. He didn't trust the room. Or Kael. Or maybe even himself.

But he ate.

Spectre flicked an ear toward the sound, visibly unimpressed.

Kael took a sip of warm broth and exhaled softly.

"We're not strong yet," he said aloud, voice even. "Not strong enough to win the way we need to."

Spectre didn't react, though his chewing slowed.

Larvitar paused, staring across the table, then shoved another handful of food into his mouth. He wasn't interested in conversation—but he was listening.

Kael set his cup down and leaned forward slightly.

"We have strengths," he continued. "Speed. Terrain control. Impact. But we're missing cohesion. Fluidity. Response time."

Spectre huffed—a short, dry noise that might've meant 'you just noticed'?

Kael ignored it with a slight smirk.

"Spectre, you set the tempo. You pressure, flank, misdirect. You bait bad reactions. You don't lead by force. You lead by momentum."

Spectre sat a little straighter at that, his tail thumping once against the floor.

Kael turned to Larvitar. "You hold the field. You absorb the opening hit. You shape the terrain. You scare the reckless and crush the weak-footed. But only if you're in control. If your rage burns too hot, they'll use it against you."

Larvitar's chewing slowed.

Kael let the moment breathe, then reached into his satchel and retrieved a small holopad. With a flick, he activated a low-light terrain grid—projected in blue over the surface of the table. The ridgeline from earlier appeared as a 3D model, then zoomed out to show multiple simulated paths.

"This is where we fought. There are angles we missed. Part of our training will include theory for us. Individually, and as a group."

He rotated the map slowly.

"Tomorrow, we start planning formations. We don't want to trip over each other in a fight. Double Team interference zones. Flank reinforcement timings. Zone coverage. You'll learn visual signals, verbal cues, fallback patterns, to feel the atmosphere of combat and anticipate. And I'll learn how you fight without commands. How best to direct the battle flow to make use of your strengths and mitigate weaknesses."

Larvitar leaned in, eyes narrowing with interest. He reached out and touched one of the cliff models—then pressed on a ridge that had collapsed during their earlier battle. The terrain flickered.

Kael nodded. "Exactly. That ledge failed under you. You fell into a bottleneck. With better battlefield awareness, we can turn that into a trap instead."

Spectre stepped up onto the table and sat directly in the middle of the projection like he owned the whole map. His tail swiped through the east exit, scattering glowing terrain.

Kael chuckled. "Yes. You'll be our chaos factor: the backline support with frontline capabilities."

Larvitar growled low, eyes flashing in the flickering gridlight.

Kael raised a hand. "Not a bad thing. Chaos isn't weakness. It's misdirection, to cause confusion and uncertainty. We'll master it."

He reached for his tray and took a bite of rice, chewing thoughtfully before continuing.

"I don't want machines. I don't want blind obedience. If I call for a Quick Attack and you know it's a mistake—don't do it. Evade. Reposition. Adapt. Trust that I have a reason for making certain calls, but at the same time, think for yourself. That's what makes you more than just trained."

The room was quiet again.

Then—Spectre moved closer, hopped off the table, and leaned against Kael's side, curling up near his thigh.

Not submission.

Not obedience.

Just trust.

Larvitar kept his distance, but his glare had softened. There was no anger in his expression anymore. Just calculation. And something harder to name.

Respect, maybe.

Kael glanced at both Pokéballs resting on the bunk nearby, then back to the two of them.

"We'll head for Mt. Moon within the week. That's where the next piece of the team is."

Spectre twitched his ears.

"Zubat," Kael clarified. "Fast. Agile. Disruptive. Evolves fast. If it joins us, it completes the flanking triangle. It lets me pin and rotate formations without relying on you to carry the whole sweep."

He paused, watching both of them.

"It'll mean more drills. More training. Tighter timings. You'll hate it, probably. But when the time comes, it'll save our lives."

Larvitar scoffed once. Not mockingly. Almost approving.

Spectre flicked his tail in silent agreement.

Kael leaned back, stretching his spine with a soft exhale.

"Tomorrow's light work. Formation practice. Healing stretches. No full combat drills until we get the clear from Joy."

He picked up the holopad again, dimmed the projection, and set it aside.

Spectre yawned and curled tighter.

Larvitar finished his tray and folded his arms again, clearly watching the lights of the city through the window now, just quietly processing.

Kael didn't say anything else.

He just leaned back against the bunk and let the silence of the room settle in like cooling embers.

For the first time since they'd met, the three of them sat in the same space without tension, without command.

Just presence.

The team had formed.

It was still raw. Still jagged. Still new.

But it had shape. Purpose.

And it was his.

---

The sun was still low, casting beams through the mossy canopy of Viridian Forest, when Kael pulled out his Pokédex and turned toward Larvitar. The Pokémon sat a few paces away, calmly gnawing on a rock with practiced intensity.

"I shouldn't put off scanning you any longer, Larvitar."

Kael flipped open the device, its screen flickering to life with a soft chime.

Larvitar – Rock/Ground Type. A solitary Pokémon that feeds on soil to grow strong.
Brave Nature.
Moves Known: Bite, Sandstorm, Rock Throw, Ancient Power, Stealth Rock, Focus Energy.

"Brave, huh?" Kael muttered.

Larvitar grunted approvingly, apparently taking it as a compliment.

Leaf stretched, letting out a yawn that startled a nearby flock of Pidgey. "Well, we've got a long three days of hiking and bushwhacking ahead. Better make it count."

Kael gave a faint nod and shouldered his pack. "Stay alert. Forest terrain favors ambushes."

They moved together under the green shadows, Spectre scouting ahead, Larvitar lumbering beside Kael. The air was damp and rich with scent—soil, leaves, bark—and every now and then, something scurried unseen in the underbrush.


---

Their first encounter came not even half an hour into the walk. A rustling sound and a low drone gave Kael just enough warning to shove Leaf back and step between her and the threat. A Beedrill darted out from behind a tree, its drills gleaming in the sun.

"Spectre, Swift!"

The stars struck hard and true, knocking the aggressive bug from the air. It buzzed away, dazed and furious.

"Too close," Kael muttered, glancing around for more.

---

Later that afternoon, while Kael paused to let Spectre rest, a Weedle dropped from a branch just above him. Without hesitation, Larvitar lunged and flattened it with a Rock Throw. A clean shot.

Kael blinked, then nodded. "Nice read."

---

Just before sundown, they passed a shallow pond nestled between the trees. Leaf paused, frowning at ripples on the surface pushing around a lily pad.

"Something's there."

Kael looked. "Not native."

"Not particularly dangerous either."

With gentle steps, she approached, Bellsprout at her side. A small, blue Pokémon emerged from the reeds—a Lotad, blinking up at her with round eyes.

Kael raised an eyebrow. "That's Johto stock. Might've wandered from some migratory group."

Leaf crouched, eyes gleaming. "Water and Grass. That's exactly the typing I need to handle Brock."

She didn't wait. "Bellsprout, use Vine Whip to pull it out of the water!"

The vines snapped forward, tugging the Lotad onto land. The wild Pokémon retaliated with a spray of Bubblebeam, but Bellsprout danced around it.

"Sleep Powder!"

The air shimmered with pollen. Lotad slowed, eyes drooping.

"Now—Pokéball, go!"

A flash. A wiggle. A click.

Leaf whooped. "Yes! That's three!"

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Good catch. That gives you ground and fire coverage."

Leaf grinned. "Now we just need to get you a flier."

Kael shrugged. "Working on it."

---

The second day brought more battles—mostly pests or territorial Pokémon.

A particularly aggressive Spearow divebombed them mid-morning, only to be intercepted by Larvitar's Ancient Power. The stones cracked through the air with surprising accuracy, knocking the bird out of its arc and sending it screeching into the trees.

Later, a pair of Caterpie attempted to swarm them in a tangle of silk. Spectre's Swift carved a path through the sticky threads like a blade, the glowing stars ripping the silk to shreds midair.

Kael studied the flow of each encounter, noting how the team adapted—how Spectre shifted positioning based on Larvitar's movement, how Larvitar's aggression no longer spilled over into recklessness.

Kael was cautiously pleased.

"Spectre's moving smoother with your flanks," he told Larvitar that evening, as the two Pokémon sat on either side of the small campfire they'd built just beyond a mossy clearing. "Still needs polish. But it's taking shape."

Larvitar grunted, not quite agreeing—but not denying it, either.

Leaf fed Lotad, Cyndaquil, and Bellsprout with care nearby, watching her new catch settle in with surprising calm. Lotad had been shy at first, sticking close to the pond's edge that morning, but it was clearly starting to understand the rhythm of travel.

"We'll reach Pewter tomorrow," she said, brushing her hands off on her shorts. "Straight through the thinning brush, maybe a couple more hours past that stream crossing."

Kael stared into the fire, brow low.

"And then the real tests begin."

They all sat quietly a while longer, the canopy above alive with gentle rustles and the cries of distant Noctowl. The fire crackled softly, its warmth holding back the night's chill.

Spectre curled closer to Kael's boots, tail flicking in drowsy rhythm. Larvitar remained upright, but his posture had relaxed. His eyes weren't locked on the dark anymore. They were watching the flames crackle and dance.

And just before they turned in for the night, Kael glanced at his team.

"We're getting there," he said.

"One step at a time."


AN#2: I actually rolled a 1d21 on a dice generator for the encounter, with Diglett being 1-10, Mankey 11-20, and Larvitar at 21. I was honestly hoping for a Mankey, since I thought I would get a kick out of eventually writing an Annihilape. But alas, the RNG has spoken.