One Step at a Time
Chapter 19: Charge in the Air
The freight yard was quiet when they arrived — just the low groan of steel cooling in the morning air, the distant cry of Wingull along the waterfront, and the muted tick of a signal post rotating on its rusted bearings.
"You want the big space or the narrow lanes first?" Leaf asked.
Grass poked through cracks in the slab, swaying in the salt wind as Kael dropped his bag. Leaf set hers beside it and rolled her shoulders, scanning the line of derelict boxcars that flanked the yard.
"Big space," Kael said. "We'll start with movement and sight lines before we drop them into a choke."
Spectre padded forward, low and deliberate, tail swaying just above the ground. Tarrasque came behind him, claws clinking faintly against the concrete, eyes already flicking to the shadows under the nearest car as if expecting something to lunge out.
Kael crouched and pulled his notebook from the side pouch. "Alright. Today's focus: first match is Spectre, second is Tarrasque. No substitutions, no resets. One falls, the other steps in. Surge is going to open hard and hold something mean in reserve. We prep for that."
Praxis's knife tilted as he hovered a meter away.
Acknowledged.
Kael pointed the pen toward the others. "Vespertil, you're running Magneton duty — lock-down angles, zone control. Gastly, you're Raichu — speed feints, pivot harassment. Praxis, you'll rotate in for pressure drills and keep time on sets."
Leaf smirked. "Guess that makes me the crowd."
Kael didn't look up. "You're running hazard placement in phase two."
Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't argue.
---
Kael set his watch timer. "Alright — Shadow Two, half-speed."
Spectre lunged left, keeping his body low as Vespertil dropped into the Magneton role — beating his wings just enough to stay airborne and peppering him with Supersonic bursts and feints of Air Cutter. Kael's eyes tracked every step.
"Don't track the head — track the hips. There's your pivot tell. Break."
Spectre cut sideways into a feint Protect, letting the false shimmer pull Vespertil's angle wide before snapping into Feint Attack from his blind side.
"Better," Kael called. "Now chain it — Pulse Snap."
Spectre's shoulders bunched, Dark Pulse blooming point-blank into his flank. Vespertil skidded sideways, hissing, then rolled back into the air.
Tarrasque's turn — Praxis floated in as a bulky pseudo–Electrode, sending flickers of Confusion along the ground as mock-Thunderbolt arcs. Kael barked, "Break Three!"
Tarrasque dropped low, sliding forward under the arc before heaving up into Rock Slide, stones scattering like shrapnel across the bay.
"Hold your core tighter!" Kael shouted. "You're giving away your wind-up."
Tarrasque snarled, reset, and threw again — this time the motion was cleaner, the slide-to-throw almost seamless.
Kael flipped a page. "Alright, same matchups, but now you run Shadow Two into Reset One."
Spectre's ears twitched — Kael had explained the combo earlier: Protect to bait, quick-step out of line, immediate re-engage with Feint Attack, and into a Yawn to force a tempo shift.
He executed it smooth as glass. Protect shimmer. Step right. Snap forward, Feint Attack low into Vespertil's guard. Before he could counter, his eyes glowed faint silver — the pulse of Yawn rippling out like an invisible net.
"Perfect. Again. Tighter pivot after the Protect."
Tarrasque's sequence was new — Kael called it Breaker One: Swords Dance to pump power, immediate step into Rock Slide for terrain scatter, and finish with Throat Chop to disrupt momentum.
First run was sloppy — too much gap between the Rock Slide and closing for the Throat Chop. Kael stopped the set.
"You're letting them breathe. Terrain is just the opener — you follow instantly or it's wasted."
The second run? Rock Slide's debris was still in the air when Tarrasque barreled through, Throat Chop driving into Praxis's guard.
---
They set the field — Kael marked four "hazard zones" in chalk. Leaf scattered a few soft training orbs around the perimeter to stand in for mines or loose debris.
"Vespertil, Gastly — you're up. Treat Spectre and Tarrasque like they're real opponents. Don't give them freebies."
First sim lasted forty-five seconds. Spectre got caught in a cross-angle between Vespertil's aerial spam and Gastly's flickering illusions. Tarrasque stepped in, overcommitted on the first chase, and "took" a lethal to the side.
Kael blew the whistle. "That looked sloppy. Reset. Shadow Two, Break Three."
Second sim — tighter. Spectre used hazard zones to break angles, cutting off Gastly's approach. Tarrasque held back until the field opened, then pushed through clean, ending his combo with a Stone Edge.
By the third, sweat was rolling down Kael's back and even Leaf was leaning forward in the shade, lips moving with the calls as if she'd been on the field herself.
---
Sun was low when Kael finally called the last set. "Alright. All or nothing. You know the drill — fail the opener, the closer has to salvage it. Four-minute timer. Go."
Spectre danced through Vespertil's pressure, Dark Pulse snapping between Protect frames, until Kael's sharp "Drop!" had him rolling under a fake-out swing. Yawn pulsed out, forcing Vespertil to slow — and Kael swapped the call without missing a beat. "Pulse Snap!"
Dark Pulse. Impact.
Tarrasque came in like a boulder rolling downhill, Rock Slide scattering the last hazard zone before a perfect Throat Chop drove through the imaginary target.
Kael finally blew the whistle, a sharp single note. "That's it."
They gathered at center, breathing hard, the scent of dust and salt clinging to the air. Spectre's tail flicked once, slow. Tarrasque's chest heaved, but his eyes were steady.
Kael closed the notebook. "Four days from now, it won't be drills. We've got the skeleton. Now we put on the muscle."
From the far side of the yard, the city's lights were beginning to come on — and in the distance, the Gym windows glowed like watchful eyes.
---
Kael leaned back against the cool steel of the derelict boxcar, boots scuffing the dirt while the heat shimmered over the empty freight yard. Praxis kept the corner of his playbook from curling with a faint psychic hold, the pages occasionally rustling when the wind cut through.
Spectre, Tarrasque, Vespertil, and Gastly formed their usual half-ring in front of him, each settled in their own way — Spectre like a shadow carved out of the air, Tarrasque crouched forward with claws dug deep, Vespertil balancing on the sun-bleached stack of pallets, Wraith Gastly drifting just enough to keep the haze curling at the edges of everyone's vision. Praxis himself stayed by Kael's shoulder, silent, but with that faint mental hum that meant he was already cataloging ideas before Kael even spoke.
Down the lane, Leaf was easing Houndour through another low hurdle run, her voice quiet and even. The fire-type was still a bit stiff, his tail low but moving. Weepinbell ran the course with him, sometimes falling behind to let Houndour lead, sometimes darting ahead to pull him along. Kael let his eyes linger just long enough to clock the progress before turning back to his own crew.
"Alright," he said, flipping a page and sketching a loose circle. "Surge runs a clean game, but he doesn't give second chances. We've got two slots for this fight — Spectre opens, Tarrasque closes. That means we sharpen both ends of the blade and make sure the middle can flex if it has to."
Spectre's tail twitched at his name.
"For you," Kael said, tapping the page, "I want to create a way to clamp someone's movement without tying yourself down. It should follow similar principles to Mean Look. Think of it like… a chain or net around their body— just enough to hitch their movement or disrupt their stance. We'll call it Black Collar. Quick deploy, quick drop, staggers for one or two seconds tops. That's all you need."
Spectre's ears pricked forward, a slow blink of interest. Praxis's voice slid into Kael's thoughts.
Anchor it to terrain. Or even an ally for joint drag control — Tarrasque could even pull it tighter.
Kael smirked faintly. "Not bad. We'll try that." He turned the page. "Now, I also want you playing with a fake retreat — you backstep and turn like you're falling off pressure, then snap forward with a Quick Attack into Pursuit or another hard hitting move We'll call it Snapback. Works best on someone who thinks they've forced you off the mark."
Spectre's head lowered slightly in that way Kael recognized — the Umbreon equivalent of a predatory grin.
"Moon Veil stays in our pocket for now," Kael added. "A move that cuts visibility can be disruptive, but one that obscures a good part of the battlefield is devastating."
Kael shifted to Tarrasque, who was already leaning forward like a soldier waiting for orders.
"You're the wall that falls on them," Kael said. "If Spectre can't close it, you end it. First thing — a ground shock, quick burst around you. Not wide, but enough to stagger anything not braced. Eventually, it should grow into something better as you evolve. That's your Quake Burst. Second, Shard Guard — spin up a vortex of stone fragments to chew up ranged fire and melee attackers."
Tarrasque rumbled his approval, tail thudding once.
"Anchor Drop's another one for you," Kael continued. "Launch up with Stone Edge, bring your weight down into a slam to disrupt footing. We may play around with adding some extras to that later on. And Rift Spike — jagged stone pillars shooting up and down in a line or cone, force them where you want. Vespertil can herd into it."
Above, Vespertil let out a high trill, clearly in favor of that.
Kael pointed the pencil at him. "You'll get your turn." He looked back at Tarrasque. "I have a couple of moves in mind for after you evolve into a Pupitar that will interest you, as well."
Now to Vespertil, who had shifted forward on his perch, wings curling slightly in the still air.
"You're our speed and harassment. Problem is, you stay in the kill zone too long. I want a gust shield, Wing Screen, to block light ranged fire. A targeted diving Poison Fang/Leech Life combo aimed for weak points — Drain Fang. Keep your opponent honest. We've got Echo Shift for throwing your wingbeat somewhere else, messing their aim. That will combo perfectly with this next one. You scatter venom in an arc — Venom Flare. Make it wide enough to haze their field of view, dense enough to sting if they charge through. In the right light, it'll look like nothing but mist, and in the wrong light, it'll be a wall they hesitate to cross. It could even mask one of Gastly's Will-O-Wisp attacks."
From behind, Gastly let out a low, amused hum, drifting closer.
Kael gestured up at Vespertil. "Last for you — Swoop Bind. Wing hooks, mid-flight grapple. Risky, but if everything is in position, it's lethal."
Praxis, ever the straight-backed sentinel, didn't move when Kael's gaze shifted to him.
"You're tempo control. Mind Pin, runs on the principles of Disable to telekinetically hold them in place for a second of two— that's all we need for someone else to land the hit. Mirror Pulse to catch and return projectiles, even at reduced speed, just to throw them off. The rest of these are theoretical at this point. Pattern Break to disrupt their rhythm, Faultline to unbalance stance, and Recall Net to yank someone out of trouble."
*Or force an enemy into cover fire,* Praxis added in Kael's head.
Finally, Kael turned toward the haze at the edge of the group. "Gastly. You're hit-and-run with misdirection. You drop Smog Veil–which will be a few things, primarily Ominous Wind and Smog– to poison and hide in. The area should fill fast, heavy with ghost energy to hide you. Again, I have a couple more theories to work out with you. Soul Needle for pinpoint ghost-poison strikes. Phase Fang to bite through some defenses. And the new one — Ember Husk."
Gastly's haze stilled at the name.
"You leave a glowing afterimage similar to Double Team laced with a Will-O-Wisp burn. Touch it, and it bursts like a Shadow Ball. Burns and damages. Praxis says Vespertil's Venom Flare could likely hide the glow just as easily as your Smog Veil, to make it invisible until it's too late."
Vespertil let out a chirp of agreement.
"Last one for you," Kael finished, "Hollow Spiral. Ghost-type energy vortex, push or pull depending on the direction of the spin. Crowd control, pure and simple."
---
Kael crouched and began sketching diagrams on the page — Spectre opening into Tarrasque closing, and vice versa. "Collar Pulse — Black Collar into Dark Pulse. Quake Chain — Quake Burst into a Throat Chop. We'll drill them until they're second nature."
As he spoke, he caught Vespertil leaning forward when he'd described Black Collar. Gastly had floated closer when he mentioned Snapback. Kael tapped the pencil on the page. "We'll think on cross-assignments. Some of these might fit more than one of you. We've got more training days coming — nothing says a move can't change hands."
He shut the playbook with a quiet snap. "Water. Light food. Back here in twenty."
The team dispersed — Tarrasque heading for the barrels, Vespertil gliding into the shaded interior of a boxcar, Praxis levitating a ration pack, Gastly melting back into the shadows of the sunlight haze.
Kael glanced again down the lane. Houndour had cleared another lowered hurdle, tail still low, but his stride looser now. Leaf reset the markers, still speaking in that even tone. No rush, no push — just steady shaping.
He looked back at the playbook in his hands. The Gym fight was tomorrow. The hour they'd just spent was sharpening steel, but the truth was they wouldn't hit peak efficiency with half of these moves until evolution kicked in — more muscle, better stamina, refined control over their energy flow. He'd drilled enough to know the gap between "functional" and "final form" could feel like another world entirely.
Still, he'd take functional if it won the day.
Kael exhaled through his nose and shut the playbook. "And now," he muttered under his breath, "I get to write this all up for Oak so he can make it official." The groan was quiet but genuine. The professor would want diagrams, demonstration videos, move origin notes, and probably a list of potential variants— all in precise, clean language.
He could already feel the cramp in his hand from the paperwork.
---
By the time Kael called them back out for their final training rotation, the freight yard had shifted from gold to shadow. The skyline's last strip of light was fading behind the boxcars, and the air had cooled enough for the concrete to hold a faint dampness.
Spectre was already there, little more than a sliver of deeper darkness against the far fence. Tarrasque crouched near the faded chalk hazard zones, claws sunk into the surface. Vespertil clung to the edge of a rusted freight door, the whites of his eyes catching what little light remained. Gastly was simply there—drifting, blending, the haze making the yard's edges seem further away than they were.
Kael glanced at Leaf as she came in, Houndour padding along at her side. Weepinbell dangled from her sling, eyes half-lidded but turning to track the movement of the others.
"Night matchups?" she asked.
Kael set his pack down, flipping the playbook open on one knee. "Vision drills. Same field, less light. Surge's arena isn't dark, but there are blind corners in real life, and on average that means half your fight's in shadow. I want them comfortable picking targets they can barely see—or hitting ones they can only hear."
Praxis's knife tilted, and the faint psychic hum rolled across the field. The hazard zones flared into dim, uneven halos—just enough to mark the borders, but patchy, with dead spots to simulate a bad angle.
"Spectre's anchor tonight," Kael said, tapping the notebook. "First three sets are two-on-one. You've got three minutes to break both opponents. If you go down, Tarrasque comes in blind."
Spectre's ears twitched once in acknowledgment.
"Vespertil, Gastly—you're up first," Kael said. "Force him to split focus. No freebies."
---
The whistle echoed once, and Spectre simply vanished—low to the ground, staying inside the darkest edge of the field. Vespertil tried the old daylight trick—flaring wings wide to pull fire—but Spectre didn't bite. He waited for the rhythm of the wingbeats, then slid under in silence.
Gastly's haze moved in from the opposite side, curling to mask the sound of Vespertil's shift. Kael saw the tell just before it happened—the faint stutter in the haze where Spectre's form cut through. Black Collar flared, dragging Gastly into a point-blank Dark Pulse.
Vespertil dove immediately, but Spectre let him pass, Snapbacking into a Pursuit that drove the Golbat's momentum straight into the hazard zone.
"Two down," Kael called. "Reset."
---
Tarrasque stepped in, the field immediately feeling smaller.
"Quake Burst on my mark," Kael called.
Praxis flicked a hazard into sudden bright flare. "Mark!"
Tarrasque slammed down, the vibration carrying further than the light. Gastly was forced to break haze to avoid the follow-up Rock Slide, but Vespertil tried to counter by herding debris toward Tarrasque's flanks.
"Follow!" Kael barked.
Tarrasque lunged straight through the hazard glow, Throat Chop snapping into empty air—but the force made Vespertil break altitude, and the next Rock Slide clipped him hard enough to simulate a hit.
---
Kael shifted the rules. "Leaf, throw in hazards. Random placement. I'll call switches."
She grinned and lobbed soft training orbs across the field, each one glowing faintly. The terrain became a broken patchwork of light and shadow, hazard and open space.
"Spectre—double time!" Kael's voice cut the dark.
This time the Umbreon drove straight through the mess, weaving through hazards and forcing Gastly into the open. A feint Protect flashed, pulling Vespertil off-line, and Spectre rolled into a low sweep that would have taken the Golbat's wings if it were live.
"Mark it—hit's clean!" Kael called.
---
Kael didn't stop there. "Mix it up. Spectre and Vespertil versus Tarrasque and Gastly. Two minutes. No stalling."
The whistle shrilled, and immediately Vespertil used Echo Shift, throwing his wingbeat into the opposite corner of the yard. Spectre cut under, forcing Tarrasque to pivot, but the Larvitar simply slammed Quake Burst into the ground to break both angles at once.
Gastly slipped through the dust to hit Spectre with Hollow Spiral, pulling him sideways into Tarrasque's line—only for Vespertil to hook a wing into the Umbreon's collar and drag him clear.
Praxis's hum picked up—cataloguing angles, no doubt. Kael didn't call the set until all four were breathing hard, tails and wings twitching in the low light.
---
He finally blew the whistle long and sharp. "Break it down."
They worked in silence, rolling up the chalk lines, gathering orbs, and sealing the notes in Kael's pack. The glow from the hazard zones faded, leaving only the uneven fence lights.
Leaf jogged over, Houndour at her side. "They're going to sleep like rocks."
Kael smirked faintly. "After food."
---
They left the yard together, moving through the quieter streets where the smell of salt gave way to the warm spice of the harbor quarter. Lamps painted long gold stripes across the cobblestones, and the noise of the day had given way to the softer murmur of night-shift workers.
Reginald's manor sat at the top of a narrow rise, its windows spilling amber light into the cool dark. The gate swung open as they approached, the hinges silent, and the heavy front doors opened to the smell of roasted meat and fresh herbs.
Reginald was waiting in the entry hall, hands clasped behind his back, wearing the faint, knowing smile of someone expecting a good story.
Kael glanced at Leaf, then back to his team. "Dinner," he murmured, "and then we plan for tomorrow."
-----
The dining room was warm in a way the freight yard never could be — high ceilings lined with old wood beams, walls hung with maps faded at the edges, and a long table set for far fewer than it could hold. The light was soft and gold, spilling over polished silverware and steaming platters.
Reginald waved them toward the far end of the table, where the settings were laid close together. "I've had the staff keep things informal," he said, settling into his own chair with the ease of someone who knew exactly which creaks in the floor to avoid. "We can talk properly this way."
Kael took the seat nearest the wall, setting his pack down within reach. Leaf slid in across from him, her eyes already tracking the nearest platter — a roasted game bird glazed in something dark and fragrant.
"I hear you've been occupying the freight yard again," Reginald said with a trace of humor, pouring wine into his own glass and water into theirs. "How many times did you run them before the light went?"
"Four full cycles in daylight," Kael said, "then we switched to low-light drills. Vision control, angle denial, adapting combos to reduced visibility."
Reginald's brow arched, the faintest gleam of approval there. "And how did they do?"
Kael's mouth ticked in the smallest of smirks. "Better by the end. Still a few gaps I can't close until they evolve."
Leaf leaned back in her chair, the corner of her mouth lifting. "He didn't tell you he made me toss hazards in the dark just to mess with them. I think Tarrasque nearly took my head off on the second run."
"That's called training under pressure," Kael said evenly.
Reginald chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Ah, it reminds me of a night in my own youth… before I inherited all this." He gestured vaguely toward the room, the maps, the estate beyond. "There was an island chain north of Seafoam where the currents made the reefs shift. Not the reefs themselves, you understand, but the sand and rock between them. Charts were useless by the time you returned from a single loop — what was a clear pass on the way in could be a trap on the way back."
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the polished wood. "We were young and certain we were clever enough to outthink nature. Took a cutter into the maze at dusk to find a rumored wreck — sails down, running on nothing but the tide and our own nerve. The moon came up, the tide turned, and suddenly every gap we'd threaded was gone. The sea had closed the door behind us."
Leaf tilted her head. "How'd you get out?"
Reginald's smile deepened, the lines at the corners of his eyes showing. "By going deeper. We stopped looking for the way we came in and found one the tide hadn't finished making yet. Risky, but the stones were still settling — we scraped the hull and lost the rudder cap, but we made it through before the passage vanished. By morning, it was nothing but whitewater and teeth."
Kael's gaze sharpened faintly, the lesson plain without being spoken. "You couldn't go back," he said.
"No," Reginald agreed. "And sometimes forward is the only choice you're given, even if it's not the path you'd have preferred." He glanced toward Kael's pack. "You're making your own charts, in a sense. Marking hazards, mapping angles. Just remember — the map is only as good as the tide's patience."
For a moment, the room was quiet but for the soft clink of cutlery and the muted crackle of the hearth.
Then Leaf broke the silence with a grin. "Next time, maybe you come down to the yard and run the drills with us. See how your maps hold up in the dark."
Reginald laughed, rich and genuine. "My dear, I think I'd embarrass myself."
"Or surprise us," Kael said, his tone unreadable.
Reginald's eyes twinkled at that. "Perhaps." He raised his glass in a small toast. "To tides, maps, and the fools who trust them."
They drank, and for a little while the talk stayed light — about ships and fishing runs, rare wines and rare storms. But under it, the weight of tomorrow lingered, as steady and certain as the glow of the Gym windows somewhere out beyond the manor walls.
-----
The sun was still low when Kael unlocked the freight yard gate, the chain rasping against the iron posts. A thin marine haze hung in the air, muting the gold in the light, and the steel skeletons of boxcars stood like silent sentinels in the cool breeze.
He stepped inside first, his boots scuffing the dust where last night's chalk still ghosted the ground. Praxis drifted in behind him, playbook already floating open under psychic grip, pages rustling. Spectre padded along Kael's right, tail low and measured, while Tarrasque's claws clicked over the concrete at his left. Vespertil and Gastly circled lazily above them, the Golbat's wings whispering against the still air, Gastly's haze curling in faint spirals.
"Same set," Kael said without looking back. "We start clean. No drills until the mechanics are there."
They spread out on his gesture — Spectre moving to the left lane of the yard, Tarrasque settling near a half-buried pallet stack, Vespertil perching above him. Praxis floated a few meters forward, already sketching rough diagrams into the dust with telekinetic nudges.
Kael dropped his pack and crouched, flipping to the first page of notes from last night.
Black Collar first. He motioned Spectre closer.
"Alright. Anchor here," he said, tapping the ground, "and snap it tight. Think of it as part of you, not a thing you're carrying."
Spectre's eyes narrowed, the dark energy gathering low to the ground, tendrils curling toward an invisible throat. On Kael's nod, he yanked. The pull was clean but shallow, snapping back before it could bite deep.
"Better range," Kael said, marking the page. "Try linking to a fixed point—" He pointed to a rusted bolt in the slab. "—and drag through."
The second try slid smoother, the collar's arc dragging across the bolt before snapping to the imagined target. Praxis murmured mentally: Anchor retention acceptable. Test with moving link next.
Kael moved on to Snapback, marking out the lines in chalk. Spectre backstepped into the shadows, head lowering as if conceding ground, then blurred forward in Quick Attack. The follow-up Pursuit clipped the target marker hard enough to knock the chalk loose.
"Good. Now chain the two. Collar, pull, retreat, Snapback."
The third pass drew a faint smile from Kael — the rhythm was rough, but the intent was sharp.
---
Tarrasque's turn. The Larvitar stomped forward, eyes locked on the pallet stack. "Quake Burst," Kael called. Tarrasque dropped low and slammed down, the vibration throwing a faint haze of dust into the air. Kael made him repeat it — shorter, sharper — until the burst was a violent ripple with no wasted wind-up.
"Now into Shard Guard," Kael ordered. Tarrasque spun, Rock Slide fragments spiraling outward to create a jagged perimeter. The first attempts were uneven; Kael stepped in, nudging his stance, shortening his pivot. The next spin sent shards in a cleaner arc, bouncing off Praxis's telekinetic catch like hail on glass.
"Anchor Drop," Kael called. Tarrasque launched upward, then came down in a slam that rattled the rusted rails. The ring of dust that followed clung in the air just long enough for Kael to imagine the real thing slowing a charge.
"Again. This time into Rift Spike."
Stone split upward in a jagged line, ending right at Praxis's marked hazard point. Vespertil trilled from above — he'd been watching angles.
---
Vespertil's drills came next: Wing Screen tests against mock projectiles Praxis launched, Pierce Fang strikes at dangling rope targets, Echo Shift across the yard until the sound bounced out of sync with his actual position. Each attempt got sharper as the Golbat learned when to commit and when to vanish into the sky.
Gastly worked in the margins, practicing Smog Veil's density until it could conceal the faint glow of Ember Husk. Soul Needle left tiny blackened pits in the slab when it landed, the ghost's grin growing with each one.
By the time the sun had burned the haze off the yard, each Pokémon had run their assigned moves at least a dozen times, the rough edges filing away under Kael's sharp commands and Praxis's silent adjustments.
"Alright," Kael said, shutting the playbook. "Run water, then gear for scrims. Leaf's up next."
---
The sun was still low enough to keep the freight yard cool, but heat shimmered faintly above the steel rails. Chalk lines and hazard markers from earlier drills still ghosted the slab, though Praxis had redrawn fresh boundary circles.
Kael leaned against the faded side of a boxcar, playbook open, while Leaf stretched her shoulders out and adjusted her gloves.
"Order's set," Kael said. "We go straight through — four rounds, one-on-one. No swaps mid-match. You win, you stay in. You lose, next one's up."
Leaf nodded once, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You first, then?"
Kael jerked his chin toward the field. "Spectre, you're up."
---
Quilava rolled his shoulders, the flames along his back snapping into life as he paced the edge of the chalk line. Spectre sank low, his body a stretch of black against the yard's concrete.
The opening exchange was all movement — Quilava testing with feints of Ember, Spectre ghosting sideways until he caught the rhythm. Kael's call — "Snapback!" — broke the pattern, Spectre's sudden retreat luring Quilava into overextending. Pursuit landed clean across his flank.
Leaf's counter-call came sharp: "Flare Spin!" Quilava surged forward, spinning fire in a tight coil. Spectre rode the edge, letting the flames lick past before snapping Black Collar across Quilava's foreleg. A point-blank Dark Pulse finished the round.
Kael marked the win without comment.
---
Mankey came in bouncing, fists snapping in the air. Tarrasque lowered his stance, claws digging into the slab.
Leaf called for "Rage Step," Mankey darting in with a flurry of strikes that rattled off Tarrasque's forearms. Kael waited until the gap opened. "Quake Burst!"
The ground rippled, Mankey stumbling just long enough for a Rock Slide to follow. Leaf yelled "Over!" and Mankey vaulted the second rock, landing a jab to Tarrasque's shoulder — but the Larvitar caught him mid-motion with a sudden Throat Chop, ending the match.
---
Praxis floated forward, spoons tilted like antennae. Weepinbell swayed on his roots, leaves twitching.
"Mind Pin," Kael said evenly, and Weepinbell froze for a half-second — just enough for a Confusion burst to push him off balance.
Leaf's counter came quick: "Bind Lash!" Vines whipped around Praxis's arm, pulling hard. The Kadabra twisted, Mirror Pulse catching a stray Vine Whip and sending it snapping back at Weepinbell. Kael pressed, "Faultline!" and the telekinetic shove knocked the Grass-type's stance loose.
Weepinbell toppled outside the chalk line.
---
Lotad scuttled forward, webbed feet slapping against the concrete, water already glinting at the corners of his shell. His eyes tracked Vespertil's shadow as it slid over the slab, but the Golbat stayed high, wings flaring wide.
"Drain Fang!" Kael barked.
Vespertil folded his wings and dove, a silver streak against the dull yard. Lotad snapped his head up and fired, the Water Gun clipping along Vespertil's left wing in a spray of droplets — but it didn't break the dive. The bite landed just behind Lotad's frilled headplate, making the little Water-type grunt and rock sideways before Vespertil pulled clear with a beat of his wings.
"Keep him turning!" Leaf called. Lotad spun into a tight spiral, spraying water in arcing bursts that caught the light, turning the air between them into a shifting lattice of mist and glare.
Vespertil answered with Echo Shift, his wingbeats vanishing from where they should have been and reappearing as ghost-sound off to the right. Lotad snapped toward the phantom noise, body pivoting to intercept—
—only to take the second Drain Fang clean across his shell. The impact sent him tumbling to the slab with a splash from his own pooled water.
Lotad staggered back upright, sides heaving. His eyes narrowed, the blue-green plates along his body starting to pulse faintly. The pools of water around his feet trembled, then surged upward in a ring, clinging to his shell like a living tide.
The light in the plates brightened, flaring white. His body lengthened, shell widening, plates splitting into ornate fronds that unfurled like leaves on a lily pad. When the glow faded, he stood taller, his new form balanced on strong, splayed legs — a Lombre now, the water still dripping from his leaf-shaped head.
Leaf's grin was quick and sharp. "Well, that changes the math."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly, already recalculating angles in his head. "Then we keep going," he said, voice even. "Let's see if the upgrade sticks."
Lombre wasted no time. He surged forward, water whipping around his fronds before snapping out in a sudden, wide arc — a Water Pulse that cut through the air like a thrown net. Vespertil banked hard, feeling the spray clip his right wingtip, and dove in retaliation.
Leaf's call was sharp. "Intercept!" Lombre planted his feet and brought one broad frond down in a sweeping strike, the motion knocking Vespertil off-line just enough to blunt his Drain Fang. The Golbat wheeled mid-air, hissed, and came back around low — wings skimming the ground to force Lombre into a defensive crouch.
Kael's tone was cold and precise. "Echo Shift, then Drain."
The false wingbeat echoed to Lombre's left; he turned his head, just for a heartbeat, and Vespertil's true dive came in from the right, teeth snapping across Lombre's shoulder before the Golbat kicked clear.
Both Pokémon reset, eyes locked, the air between them charged with the weight of the new challenge — but the point was made. The evolution hadn't dulled Lombre's fight.
Deciding to call the round there, they took a quick water break, the air now warm enough to make the shade under the boxcars a welcome reprieve.
---
"Switching it up," Kael said after the short rest, flipping to a fresh page in his playbook. "Two-on-two. First pair: Spectre and Tarrasque. Second: Praxis and Vesper."
Leaf rolled her shoulders, eyes scanning her own lineup. "Quilava with Mankey first, then Weepinbell with Lombre."
The whistle cut the air sharp.
Quilava bolted forward, flames flaring along his back before he flung a burst of fire across the lane. The arc bloomed into a rolling wall of heat and smoke, screening Mankey's approach from behind.
Tarrasque's rumble cut through the yard—he dropped into a tight spin, Rock Slide fragments already forming in the air. Shard Guard whirled around him, breaking the fire into sputtering embers that hissed against the concrete.
Kael's voice was flat and quick. "Spectre—wide!"
The Umbreon slipped into the periphery, a flicker of darkness hugging the boxcar's shadow. In the same breath, Black Collar snapped out, catching Mankey mid-step and yanking him half a stride off balance—just long enough for Tarrasque's Rock Slide to hammer the space he'd been aiming to cross.
Leaf was fast on the counter. "Cross!"
Mankey's eyes flashed, and he leapt into motion, vaulting clean over Quilava's low spin. His foot clipped past the edge of the hazard zone and into Spectre's flank, a glancing blow but enough to draw a grunt from the Dark-type.
Kael's answer came instantly: "Snapback—now!"
Spectre broke backward as if retreating, then lunged in with sudden acceleration, teeth bared. The Pursuit angle curved him into perfect alignment for an Iron Tail that slammed against Mankey's guard, forcing him to skid back toward Quilava's arc.
Quilava tried to cover with a flare burst, but the ground shook under Tarrasque's Quake Burst, dust and pebbles leaping from the slab in a tight, violent ring. The impact sealed both opponents in place just as the whistle signaled the round's end.
Kael marked the result with a nod, already jotting adjustments for the next match.
---
Praxis took his position dead-center, feet planted in the dust, spoons tilted forward. His eyes flared gold, and a ripple of psychic force pinned Lombre in place just as the Water/Grass-type lunged to break forward.
"Dive!" Kael snapped.
Vespertil dropped from his high arc, wings tucked tight to cut through the air. The piercing shriek of his descent made Lombre flinch in spite of himself.
Weepinbell swung in from the left to intercept, vines snapping forward—
"Echo Shift!" Kael barked.
The Golbat's wingbeat shattered into a ghost-sound that rang from the opposite side of the yard. Weepinbell's aim flicked toward the phantom, his vines snapping through empty space as Vespertil's real form blurred past on the other side.
Leaf's voice cracked the air. "Twin Spray!"
Weepinbell and Lombre reacted in perfect tandem, a high arc of Acid hissing through the air just as a spiral of water surged low along the ground. The combined streams crossed into a mesh of stinging mist and spray, rushing straight for the center.
"Mirror it!" Kael's order was sharp.
Praxis caught part of the volley with a psychic catch, twisting his wrists and hurling the captured Acid-Water blend into the nearest hazard zone. The impact hissed against the concrete, leaving a faint steam in the cooler morning air.
The rest of the attack broke against Vespertil's Wing Screen—broad pinions snapping open to deflect the spray in a glittering arc, droplets scattering harmlessly into the dust.
"Push now!" Kael's voice cut in.
Praxis snapped his arms forward, unleashing Faultline—a low, jarring wave of psychic force that cracked through the slab and knocked both opponents' footing askew. Vespertil dove into the stagger, teeth catching Weepinbell in a clean Drain Fang just as the Grass-type stumbled into Lombre's side.
Both opponents hit the slab together, the whistle signaling the match.
Kael made a quick note in the playbook, the faintest edge of approval in his voice. "That's more like it."
Another break followed — shorter this time — just enough for both sides to catch their breath and use healing items as needed.
By the time they reset, the sun had dropped enough to leave the yard in long, fractured shadow. The warm gold of the day had given way to the cool blue-gray of early night, and the steel rails gleamed faintly under the fence lamps. Praxis dimmed the hazard zones to a faint pulse, their halos leaving deep pockets of darkness between them.
"Four-on-four," Kael said, voice even. "No rotations. Full field."
Spectre and Tarrasque stepped forward together, a silent wall of black fur and green armor. Praxis and Vespertil anchored the rear, one floating with knife held at the ready, the other circling high enough to vanish against the deepening sky.
Leaf's formation mirrored his in intent if not in stance — Quilava and Mankey on point, Weepinbell swaying just behind, and the newly evolved Lombre crouched low, water already glinting along the edges of his leaf-like fronds.
The whistle shrilled, and the opening was chaos.
Quilava's back flared like a torch, casting the nearest hazard zone into stark relief. Mankey darted from light to shadow in bounding arcs, using the flare as moving cover. Spectre was gone in an instant, melting into the black along the far lane. Tarrasque answered by driving Rift Spike into the concrete, jagged stone cutting off Mankey's approach and herding both frontliners toward Spectre's angle.
Praxis's eyes flared — Mind Pin. Lombre froze mid-stride, legs locked. Vespertil stooped from above in a long, silent dive, fangs glinting.
Leaf's counter was quick. "Powder, now!"
Weepinbell released a thick cloud of sleep powder, the pale motes catching in the flare light and billowing into a curtain between her team and Kael's. It broke line of sight in seconds. At the same time, Lombre spun sharply, pulling water from the air and pooling it under his feet before snapping it upward in a spiraling burst. The torque freed him from Praxis's hold, forcing the Kadabra to break concentration.
Quilava's flare burst cut across Tarrasque's shoulder, heat rippling the air. Mankey lunged through the powder curtain, leading with a snapping kick — only for Spectre's Black Collar to whip out from the darkness, catching him mid-leap and jerking him sideways into the slab.
"Push the flank!" Kael barked.
Tarrasque slammed forward with Quake Burst, the shockwave rippling under Quilava's paws and forcing him to break his spin. Praxis capitalized, a Mirror Pulse snapping a fragment of Lombre's earlier water burst back into his fronds.
But Leaf's backline was ready. Lombre absorbed the hit with a grunt, then swept an arm wide, sending a low, surging Water Pulse under Weepinbell's vines. The pulse clipped Vespertil's wing mid-turn, staggering his flight path and forcing him higher.
The field fractured into a swirl of half-seen shapes — Spectre darting in and out of the hazard glows, Mankey chasing but overextending; Tarrasque and Quilava trading heavy, close-range blows; Weepinbell and Lombre working in tandem to keep Vespertil and Praxis from locking their formation down.
A final exchange in the far corner tipped the rhythm. Spectre's Snapback baited Mankey into a lunging strike that sailed wide, the counter-Pursuit driving him straight into a waiting hazard zone. Praxis locked Weepinbell in place for just a heartbeat — enough for Vespertil to dive low and clip her vines with a sharp Pierce Fang before rolling away.
Quilava tried to light the field again, but Tarrasque's Rift Spike burst upward between them, forcing the Fire-type back into the shadows. The whistle rang out over the clatter of claws and the fading hiss of powder in the cool night air.
Both sides were breathing hard when the dust settled, the heat from Quilava's flares still lingering in the air.
-----
The common room was warm with firelight, the glow licking across old wood beams and the maps and ledgers pushed to the corners of the long table to make space for both teams. Pokémon sprawled where they'd found comfort — Spectre stretched like a shadow cast too deep in the corner, tail flicking once in a slow arc. Tarrasque had planted himself by the hearth, unmoving but for the faint rise and fall of his chest. Vesper roosted high on a crossbeam, head tucked under one wing, while Praxis sat at the table, turning the playbook's pages with slow, precise telekinesis.
Leaf's side was no less at ease. Quilava's flames had banked low to a warm ember glow, his head resting on his paws. Mankey balanced on the back of a chair, tail flicking in restless little beats. Weepinbell sat in a deep ceramic pot near the window, leaves folded loosely, while Lombre lounged in a shallow basin of water, occasionally rippling the surface with a lazy swipe of his frond.
Kael set the playbook down between himself and Leaf, its cover worn at the corners from the past two days' constant use. "Coordination's improved," he said, voice even but edged with fatigue. "The new move foundations are stable, but not polished to match conditions yet. Stamina's holding for three matches in sequence. The fourth…" He tapped the book lightly. "We're seeing cracks."
Leaf nodded, tapping a fingertip on the tabletop. "Cross-support's cleaner on my end. Mankey's still biting too hard on half-opens." Her eyes slid toward the Water/Grass type in the basin. "Lombre's losing hazard tracking when the field's cluttered. And Weepinbell's powder control works, but timing's rough. We had that gap in the second doubles round because she went too early."
Kael's eyes tracked briefly to her team. "It wasn't just timing. You've got a couple of sequences where your backline hesitates after the front takes a hit. It leaves a dead second where my side can slip in. You'll want to fix that before Surge sees it."
Leaf smirked faintly. "And you'll want to fix Tarrasque's follow-through. He's landing the quake, but he's still a breath too slow on the close."
Tarrasque gave a low grunt from the hearth, not quite looking their way but unmistakably listening.
Kael's mouth twitched at one corner. "We'll handle it in warm-ups. Tomorrow's a rest day — no burning stamina before we step in."
Leaf leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "And after?"
He closed the playbook with a soft snap. "After, we see if it was enough."
For a moment, neither spoke. The fire popped in the grate, sending a spray of sparks up the chimney. Quilava's ear flicked toward the sound, but he didn't move from his spot.
Leaf broke the silence first, her tone lighter but still threaded with the day's edge. "You know, you could've eased up a little today. It's not like Surge is going to fight us in pitch black with hazards everywhere."
Kael's gaze stayed steady on her. "If he doesn't, good. If he does, we've already been there."
Leaf snorted softly, shaking her head. "Always planning for the worst."
"Always," Kael said simply.
The room settled again, but it wasn't the easy quiet of exhaustion — it was the taut stillness of people and Pokémon holding their energy tight, saving it for the moment it would matter.
AN: Well, we're coming up on Surge's Gym battle
