Chapter 33 – A Divergent

  POV - JAKE

  Jake lay sprawled upon the dark wooden platform, arms and legs akimbo, sweat pooling beneath him in a way that defied both dignity and physics. His chest heaved as he glared at the dense canopy above, treetops towering like indifferent gods. The air clung to him—thick, sweltering, merciless—with no breeze to carry away the oppressive heat.

  “So… this is it,” he muttered. “Loop Lagoon. The relaxing getaway of my dreams.”

  The name had conjured images of tranquil waters and a gentle shoreline. Maybe a beach chair or two. But no, here he was, marinating in what could only be described as the soup pot of a jungle—an endless sprawl of trees, tangled ferns, and vines so thick they might double as suspension cables.

  He sat up reluctantly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, only to realise it made no difference. “How is there so much water in me?” he groaned.

  The platform wobbled slightly, suspended by thick ropes strung between colossal tree trunks. Above him, sunlight filtered through the canopy in fractured beams, turning the jungle floor below into a patchwork of shadow and light. To his left, the lagoon itself did indeed live up to the hype, shimmering like a gem—a warm, inviting sparkling green ringed by a pristine white beach that jutted just enough to tempt a break.

  And yet, it was strange. No flies. No mosquitoes. No wasps buzzing around looking for trouble. Not even ants crawling over the wood. Instead, the jungle hummed with a bizarre, almost hypnotic symphony: the metallic whirr of Blipbug, the pulsing clicks of Dottler, the chime from an Orbeetle drifting by like a miniature UFO. Butterfree and Metapod clung to the bark, colourful wings and chrysalises adding dashes of brightness to the greenery. High above, Fletchling flitted between branches while Fletchinder swooped low, feathers glinting like molten copper.

  Beautiful? Absolutely. Normal? Not even slightly.

  The lack of tiny lifeforms was one of the peculiarities of this world of Aura. He figured that Pokémon must replace the natural roles that insects and other micro-creatures filled on Earth. Jake was not about to complain. No swamp flies, no midges. He could still remember that one school trip to the Scottish Highlands—torrential rain, soggy sandwiches, and a battalion of midges swarming trying to eat him alive. Not for the faint of heart, that was for sure.

  Jake shook himself from his thoughts and scrambled to his feet, platform beneath him swaying. He adjusted his balance instinctively, knees bending in an effort to stay upright as he surged forward. The air here was heavy with humidity, but he wasn't out of breath. Not anymore. His time on Armor had seen to that. He darted forward, boots thudding against the suspended wooden planks of the narrow bridge, bouncing across the gap towards the next platform.

  Ahead, Ciara was already scaling the next obstacle—a thick, knotted rope hanging from the branches above. Jake cursed under his breath, not because he couldn't do it, but because she was fast, annoyingly so. He launched himself off the edge of the platform, grabbing hold of a dangling vine. It swung wildly, jungle blurring around him as he arced forward. His hands burned from the friction, but he held firm, letting go at just the right moment to land on the next platform in a crouch.

  Jake found himself at another Urshifu Refuge, and he wondered just how many of these were dotted about Armor. This treetop labyrinth, though, was a marvel. He had almost begun to think obstacle courses were becoming a specialty of his after all this training—but this place blew any of his paltry ideas out of the water. Plank bridges swayed dangerously over gaps where safety nets hung taut below. Thick ropes dangled like vines, inviting climbers to ascend to the higher levels. Some platforms were connected by narrow beams requiring balance, while others featured steep inclines of wooden steps that had to be scaled at speed. Everywhere, the jungle framed the course.

  A reminder of the remarkably diverse Armorian ecology, a place that did not seem to want to abide by rules of hemispheres, seasons, or basic planetary logic. Tropical jungles, alpine peaks, deserts, windswept plains—all crammed together as if geography had simply given up.

  Jake reached the bottom of the rope, he didn’t hesitate, muscles primed as he grabbed it and hauled himself upwards. Hand over hand, he climbed, strain in his shoulders and burn in his forearms. Sweat slicked his grip, but he pushed through, heaving himself onto the platform above.

  The bridge ahead was steeper now, steps unevenly spaced to force nimble footwork. He started forward but stumbled on the third, foot slipping. For a heart-stopping moment, he swayed towards the edge. The safety net below seemed much too far away. But he caught himself, somehow planting his other foot firmly. A shaky laugh escaped him. "Not today," he muttered, pushing onward.

  A sudden rush of wind heralded the arrival of one of the said Urshifu, bounding past him with ease. Effortlessly graceful, as if the course was more play than challenge. Jake swore he could see it smile, as it glanced back at him. "You've lapped me again, haven't you?" Jake called after it.

  The Urshifu barked a laugh, slowing enough for Jake to keep up. It raised a paw as if to say, Pay attention.Then, it crouched low, precise, deliberate. Then, a perfectly controlled spring forward, a landing so smooth it seemed a whisper against the platform. Jake eyes widened, feeling something stir—an understanding, a strange, instinctive pull, his body being coached into the idea.

  Jake adjusted almost without thinking, crouched, and mirrored the motion. His leap was cleaner, more controlled than before. The Urshifu barked an approval, clapping him on the shoulder before launching itself onto the narrow rope bridge ahead. With a single bound, it propelled into a graceful arc, flipping clean over the next platform. Mid-air, it snagged a dangling vine, swinging effortlessly to another. Twisting, it released at just the right moment, landing flawlessly on a swaying platform several metres away without even a wobble.

  It then bounded off with a playful wave, pulling ahead, quickly disappearing around the bend.

  "Show-off," Jake grouched, though there was little bite to it.

  Jake, Ciara, and their Pokémon had come to the Loop Lagoon to complete the Way of the Unseen Fist, preparing for the Lesson of Technique and the Armorshyr Cup looming just ahead. With time running short, the Urshifu wasted none of it, pushing them through obstacle courses, sparring matches, and demanding drills.

  The change of scenery was a relief. It gave Jake some distance from Leon, whose unsettling intuition still lingered in his mind. Leon had noticed something about him—something different. The guy couldn’t possibly know what it was, but the fact he recognised anything at all had left Jake uneasy.

  It was baffling. After that intense encounter, Leon had snapped back to his usual affable self, like nothing had happened. He still seemed oddly drawn to Jake in some way, but it was hard to take seriously when Leon’s attention outside of battle was, well… lacking. Observing him, Jake couldn’t help but notice that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed. It seemed ridiculous, but Jake had watched him struggling to open a juice box. It must have taken him hours before he thought to ask Honey for help.

  And his advice on battling? Laughably basic. Know your type matchups, trust your partner, and follow your instincts. Brilliant. Profound. Revolutionary.

  Leon really was, in some ways, the most terrifying opponent. How did one counter someone who operated on pure, inexplicable instinct? Someone who had seemed to sense Jake’s battle experiences—not as a trainer, but as a master. Jake had probably been a Champion more times than anybody on this world, training some of the most elite Pokémon imaginable. Legendary Pokémon—gods, even—had been part of his rosters.

  Had Leon somehow picked up on that? Felt Jake’s past victories, those thousands of simulated battles? Leon did not fear it. He welcomed it. Jake could still see that gleam in his eye. Leon was not just excited by the idea—he had relished it. Crazy.

  But this was not the time to dwell. Jake launched himself forward, the swaying platform beneath him stabilising as he moved, feet slapping lightly upon the planks. The rush of the jungle surrounded him—chirps, hums, the faint rustle of leaves stirred by movement. A rare warm, damp breeze brushed his face as he reached the edge of the platform.

  The only way down was the vertical climb directly before him. Covered with Dottler clinging like tiles, stubby limbs latched onto the surface with unwavering grip. True to form they were not inclined to move, glossy shells a mosaic of muted oranges and yellows.

  Jake sighed, gripping the rough rope ladder affixed to the side. As he began his descent, one of the Dottler twitched.

  “Dot!” it chirped mechanically.

  “Yeah, yeah, you know I’m not bothering you,” Jake muttered, sidestepping carefully. He shifted his footing, only for another Dottler to vibrate gently.

  “Dot!” came another reprimand.

  Jake grimaced, craning his neck to glance down. The platform wasn’t far now. He shifted to avoid one particularly large Dottler, legs stuck out stiffly as though daring him to come closer.

  “Dot!” it chirped accusingly, as Jake edged his way past.

  The chorus of Dottler calls followed him until, finally, he reached the bottom. Jake released the rope, dropping lightly onto the wooden platform below. His boots landed with a dull thud that echoed faintly through the still air.

  But his relief was short-lived.

  Ciara came out of nowhere, a brief shadow across the platform a split second before her strike.

  Jake’s instincts kicked in. His arm shot up to block, impact sending a jolt through his forearm. She moved again, next strike already lined up, but Jake wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand.

  He grabbed her arm, twisting sharply to redirect her momentum. In one smooth motion, he flipped her over his shoulder, air rushing around them.

  Ciara landed on her feet, twisting mid-air to break free of his grip fluidly, weight shifting instantly as she faced him, amber eyes amused as she faced him.

  “You predicted it this time,” she said.

  Jake adjusted himself into a fighting position, a confident grin spreading across his face. “Fool me once,” he quipped, “even I can learn.”

  Ciara’s eyes narrowed, fluidly adjusting to match him, a predator assessing her prey. “You really want another lesson?” she asked, one brow arched in amusement. “Alright, Jake. Your funeral.”

  She settled into her own stance, low and balanced, focus razor-sharp. Jake could feel the shift in the air between them, the silent agreement of another bout.

  But just as Ciara tensed, ready to strike, Jake smirked. Without warning, he pivoted—not toward her, but toward the edge of the platform.

  “What the—?!” Ciara started, already stepping forward, but Jake was too quick. With a burst of energy, he launched himself toward a rope hanging just off the side, grabbing it and swinging out wide.

  “Catch me if you can!” he shouted, laughter echoing through the jungle as he swung in a perfect arc, the air rushing past him.

  “Hey!” Ciara barked, taking a step forward, but Jake was already swinging wide around the nearest tree.

  The world blurred past, of green and gold as he whipped around the thick trunk, the rope taut under his grip. The sensation was exhilarating, almost like flying, as the jungle air rushed past him.

  “Seriously, Jake?!” Ciara followed by a string of muttered curses. He could practically hear her frustration as she was forced to dart after him.

  Jake couldn’t help himself—he laughed, as the rope brought him to the next platform. Without pausing, he sprinted ahead, wood vibrating faintly beneath his boots. The next section was a crisscross of ropes, a suspended web that required both balance and agility.

  Jake vaulted onto the first set, hands gripping the taut cords as he moved across them with what was by now practiced efficiency. The ropes swayed and wobbled, his footfalls light and quick.

  The final stretch loomed ahead—a single rope dangling from a thick branch. Jake reached it in a few strides, grabbed hold, and leapt into the air.

  This time, the swing was steeper, the pulling him down before propelling him forward. Base camp came into view below—a low-hanging treehouse nestled within the canopy, blending well with the surrounding foliage.

  He released the rope at the perfect moment, boots hitting the final platform with a satisfying thud. He raised his arms in triumph as he crossed the invisible finish line, his chest heaving lightly with exertion but his grin as wide as ever.

  Waiting for him, one of the Urshifu beamed at him, hearty laughter shaking the platform. The Pokémon clapped its massive hands together and rumbled, “Urshi... Fu... Fu!” Jake decided it must be some sage advice, something like, “All warfare is based on deception, young whippersnapper!’

  “Dot!” agreed a Dottler from a branch above, as if congratulating him too.

  His physical training over the past week had not let up—rather, it had ramped up to levels he had not expected. Mustard’s goal was to make Jake capable of keeping up with his Pokémon—or, at the very least, ensure he wasn’t lagging far behind in stamina.

  That had felt impossible at first. Jake wasn’t out of shape, but trying to keep pace with creatures designed for battle was a different league. But, as gruelling as it was, he was starting to see method in Mustard’s madness. The old master had explained that Pokémon battles were often won and lost in fractions of a second. Reaction time, how quickly you could assess an evolving situation and adjust your plan, was what turned the tide in high-stakes matches.

  Here, there were no turns. There was no clean system for gauging an opponent’s strength—no neat level indicator above a health bar to let you know if you were wildly outmatched. Battles were fluid, unpredictable, and far messier in reality. About instinct, wits and being able to think three moves ahead while responding to what was happening in front of you.

  No two battles were ever quite the same. The arena could be a rugged mountainside, an open field, or a purpose-built stadium, each with its own challenges. Formats could change too. Sometimes, trainers were restricted to using only four pre-selected moves that had to pre-registered, much like the games. In official matches, every decision mattered. How a trainer planned, thought ahead, and adapted to the situation could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

  In a way, Jake could appreciate how the games had prepared him for this—at least on a conceptual level. The meta had mirrored some of the thought processes he needed now, giving him an edge a native trainer might not have. But here, everything was amplified. Every misstep, every second counted, and every decision mattered—for real.

  Then a sharp voice cut through the calm.

  “How dare you fool me?” Ciara, half indignant, half amused as she followed shortly after into the base camp.

  Jake turned, still catching his breath, and couldn’t resist a quip. “Know your enemy, a hundred battles, a hundred victories.” He threw her a sly look. “Well, something like that.”

  Ciara raised an eyebrow. “You say some weird stuff sometimes.” Her lips curved slightly. “But that’s a good saying.” She loosened her arms. “Alright, enough running. Ready?”

  Jake’s grin widened, but before he could respond, a familiar sound echoed through the trees: Arthrox shot onto the platform from another part of the course, rolling at full speed.

  Jake stepped aside just as Arthrox sped in, circling him in a tight spiral, tilting low to the ground as though carving invisible racing lines into the platform. Jake could almost hear the revving of engines as Arthrox completed his circular, screeching to a halt in front of him. With a resolute, “Whirli!”—a declaration as clear as if he’d said, At your service—the Pokémon held his ground, vibrations resonating against the earth.

  Jake nodded. “Good to see you, buddy.”

  Not a moment later, Ciara’s Pawniard, Valianta, emerged from yet another direction. Gleaming blades caught the sunlight as she approached, as she soon stood next to Ciara, red eyes fixed on Arthrox with a look that said she was ready for anything.

  Ciara’s smirk widened. “Ready?”

  Arthrox, however, had no time for pleasantries. The moment his compound eyes locked onto Valianta; his attitude changed. His usually stoic demeanour bristled, a crackling energy that Jake recognised all too well. Arthrox was not particularly fond of the Pawniard line. There was something primal in it, but personal, an enemy instinct turned up to eleven. Jake could almost feel the aggression radiating off him, the telltale of the Scolipede line. Arthrox would never be one to hold back.

  Across the field, Valianta stiffened, confidence flickering for just a moment. Jake saw it, even if she tried to mask it behind her cold, unwavering stare. He also saw Ciara’s glance, the briefest flicker of concern before settling back into its usual cool composure. She knew what Arthrox was capable of.

  Jake’s stomach twisted as a memory surfaced: that desolate battlefield where Ciara had found Valianta, abandoned by her Bisharp leader. Sacrificed, left to fend for herself. A tool discarded. He grimaced. But now wasn’t the time to dwell. “Arthrox!” he called out sharply. “Rollout!”

  Shell gleaming, Arthrox coiled inward, rolling with a burst of speed that sent him rocketing forward. The air seeming to ripple with the force of his acceleration. The honing of his mobility was on full display—he moved with a dexterity Jake could only have dreamed of before. The key with Arthrox was momentum. Hesitation was the enemy.

  Ciara didn’t falter. She had seen this evolve from a rudimentary technique to this. “Low Sweep!” she commanded, clipped and calm.

  Valianta’s blades glinted as she lowered her stance. Steel against a sixty-kilo bug seemed like a mismatch, but Jake trusted Ciara had a plan. Valianta didn’t rush to meet Arthrox head-on; instead, she moved slightly to one side, crouching low and angling one of her blades downward, poised like a lever waiting to snap into action.

  As Arthrox barrelled toward her, she timed her move. Her arm shot forward, the flat of her blade intercepting just below his spinning mass. With a sweep, she redirected his momentum, tilting him upward and using his own velocity to launch him off balance. He spun wildly, hurtling into the air in a chaotic arc, momentum working against him.

  Jake winced, but he could not stop. “Toxic Spikes!”

  Mid-air his segmented shell continued its rapid spin, expelling a spray of venomous, jagged spikes in every direction. Raining down like a storm, coating the ground and sending Valianta skidding back as she scrambled to avoid the worst of it. The battlefield transformed into a hazardous hellscape—one only Arthrox could cross without trouble.

  Jake didn’t have time to admire the handiwork. Arthrox collided with the trunk of a massive tree, but instead of stopping, he rebounded almost motocross-style, using the impact as a berm to propel himself back toward the fight.

  Ciara’s expression darkened. “Lash Out!” she barked.

  Valianta’s red eyes burned, charged with raw energy as she lunged forward, both blades swinging in a powerful, rage-fuelled arc. The air hissed as her blades cut through it, frustration boiling over into the strike.

  “Iron Defence!” Jake shouted.

  Arthrox’s shell shimmered, hardening with a metallic sheen just as Valianta’s strike connected. The impact was jarring, a sharp crack echoing through the trees, but Arthrox could not be stopped. The momentum and defence he’d built carried him through, shrugging off the blow like it was nothing. His spinning form clipped Valianta, sending her sprawling to the ground, blades scuffing against the spiked terrain.

  Arthrox screeched to a halt, dirt spraying as he came to rest just in front of Jake, letting out a triumphant, rumbling “Whirli!”

  Jake raised a hand, calling, “Time out!”

  Ciara mirrored him, hand going to her hip as she signalled Valianta to stand down. She strode forward, carefully avoiding the poison pits scattered across the ground. “Well done, genius” she snarked at him.

  Jake glanced down at the ground. The sand beneath their feet, stark white, soft yet firm where it met the jungle. The spikes gleamed ominously; sharp points scattered like jagged gemstones. “Probably not my best call.” he admitted.

  Before Ciara could retort, Jake caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The pristine sand began to shift and ripple as small mounds emerged, forming into stubby, dark shapes. A group of Sandygast popping up from beneath the surface. Without hesitation, they began to consume the venomous barbs, wiggling slightly as they happily munched away.

  As Jake dropped onto one of the low log benches, he gestured broadly. “See? Problem solved. Our ghostly pals are on it. Arthrox, would you mind lending a hand?”

  “Whirli,” he intoned, dutifully rolling over the sand to pick up his handiwork, still wary of Valianta.

  Base camp was modest but functional, nestled beneath the sheltering canopy of the trees. A cluster of wooden benches formed a semi-circle around a central space of white sand, rough-hewn but solid. Nearby, training gear was arranged into well-defined sections—padded posts, agility poles, and a makeshift target range—providing everything needed for a proper workout. The treetop obstacle course loomed overhead, conveniently accessible from the camp. A semi-permanent setup, designed to host no more than a dozen people.

  Jake sat down on one of the benches, leaning back against the bark with a heavy sigh. His gaze drifted toward the rest of the camp, where their Pokémon were hard at work. Jekyll was hopping nimbly within an area of rotating poles; a makeshift contraption he and the Urshifu had thrown together. A blindfold wrapped neatly around the gap in his disguise, to create a game of sound and intuition. Jake smiled to himself as Jekyll slashed out sharply with Shadow Claw, like he was some kind of spectral samurai.

  Further off, Tuli was hovering unnaturally still on a low platform, tentacles slack, her usually restless self, frozen in concentration. Jake recognised this as her meditation task—an exercise in recycling her psychic energy, a form of intense mental conditioning. In some ways, Tuli wasn’t so different from Jekyll: powerful, but needing to fine-tune her mentality.

  She was flighty, prone to sudden bouts of curiosity that, while endearing, could lead to distraction in battle. Jake had remembered something his mother often mentioned about helping kids with endless energy find their focus—using mindfulness to channel their attention. He figured meditation might work for Tuli in the same way. If she could concentrate her mind, even just a little, she could become an even greater asset in a fight—and maybe a slightly smaller headache outside of one.

  “Alright, spill,” Ciara said, folding her arms and standing in front of him, with a stern look. “I knew you were working with your Whirlipede, but bouncing off trees? How did you manage that?”

  Jake blinked at her. “Is that not normal?”

  Ciara scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Of course not. I’ve seen some top-tier Scolipede in expedition matches or on TV, but none of them moved quite like that—and Arthrox isn’t even a Scolipede yet. He’s a Whirlipede.” She gestured pointedly to where Arthrox had rolled to a stop, as if to emphasise her point. “How did you even teach him that?”

  Jake shrugged. “Inspiration, I guess.”

  She gave him a look, disbelief on her face. “Inspiration,” she repeated dryly. “You seem to have a lot of that.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  Ciara tilted her head, amber eyes narrowing as she studied him. “No,” she admitted after a moment, voice softer. “Just… different. You’re not like any trainer I’ve come across before.”

  Jake opened his mouth to respond, but Ciara—typical as ever—moved straight on to the practicalities. “Anyway, he’s moving well, I’ll give you that. But Arthrox still has a problem. He can’t stop easily. If someone throws him off balance, he’s going to struggle to recover.”

  Jake nodded thoughtfully, pulling out his BattleLog note taker. As the device blinked to life, recording his notes, he muttered, “Yeah, I’ve noticed that too. His strength’s all in his momentum, so I’ve been working on improving his mobility. But you’re right—if he can’t adjust or change direction fast enough, he’s a sitting duck. Or, well… a rolling one.”

  As he noted this, a thought flickered in his mind: Arthrox, once he got moving, seemed only to pick up speed the longer he went. It made Jake wonder if all their training had somehow triggered Speed Boost, an ability a Whirlipede did not normally have if he followed the games’ logic. A hidden one, if Jake remembered right, so probably pretty rare here.

  He looked at Valianta, who stood defiant beside Ciara. Disciplined, and—surprisingly—watching him expectantly, waiting for his take.

  “Speaking of,” Jake said, inclining his head toward her. “Your Pawniard is exceptionally well trained—no doubt about it. But if I may point out, she struggles in open terrain. That’s a real weakness when facing fast movers.”

  Ciara’s brow twitched, reluctance obvious, but she let him continue.

  “You might want to think about controlling the battlefield,” Jake said, his inner geek taking over. “Pawniard are incredible for utility. Metal Sound? Underrated. Drops Special Defence, which means even the tankiest Pokémon crumble if you time your attacks right. Stealth Rock? Brutal. Forces chip damage on every switch-in, basically punishing mobility-heavy strategies for daring to exist. Against someone like me, it’d be a nightmare. Set it up early, and you’re making every opponent play your game.”

  “Pawn,” Valianta said, faltering as she blinked at Jake, caught off guard by his word salad. For a moment, she seemed torn between glaring at him and nodding in begrudging respect—somehow managing both at once.

  Ciara wore a similar look but was furiously jotting notes in her notepad. A traditionalist it seemed—real pen and paper, Siobhan-style. I suppose that’s what you got in the boonies like this, he thought, amused, though the momentary smirk earned him a deserved harsh glare.

  This whole shtick had been his idea—“If we’re going to make it to the top four, we’ve got to work together. Sparring’s great, but it might be worth giving each other real feedback—stuff we wouldn’t spot on our own.”

  To Jake’s surprise, Ciara had not outright rejected it. She had looked at him like he’d suggested the most ridiculous thing in the world and muttered something about not needing anyone to “hold her hand.” But she had eventually agreed—grudgingly, sure, but without the cold dismissal he’d half expected.

  Ciara did not seem like she was used to sharing strategy, even with somebody she trusted. And her hyper-competitive streak didn’t make things any easier—sometimes, her critique came with its fair side of snark. But Jake had to give her credit: she listened, and she took the job seriously.

  Jake’s well of Pokémon move knowledge—stuff no one else could pull out of thin air—gave her insights she may not have spotted alone. In return, Ciara gave him the perspective of someone who had lived and breathed the Pokémon world her entire life. A win-win, as far as he saw it.

  It didn’t take long for Jake to pick up some of the hallmarks of her battle style either. There were definite shades of Mustard in it—aggressive takedowns, relentless pressure—but Ciara had refined it, pared it down to something almost... minimalist. She wasn’t flashy, not like Leon or some of the big showmen Jake had seen, nor did she overwhelm with sheer force. Instead, Ciara was precise. Ruthlessly so.

  Every move was well chosen. She would wait, watching with that cool intensity for the slightest vulnerability—for that crack in the armour. And if she couldn’t find one, she would create it. A feint, a reversal, an unexpected move to throw her opponent off-balance. Then she would strike—fast, hard, and without a shred of hesitation. No wasted motion, no unnecessary moves, just pure, honed intent.

  It made Jake wonder, though. Why had Ciara never been a character in the games? He had played Sword and Shield, trained in the Master Dojo, fought his way through those generic dojo students. Was she just one of those? Some nameless trainer you swept past on your way to the next battle? Somehow, Jake doubted it.

  She didn’t strike him as someone who would quietly fade into the background. Maybe she hadn’t made the cut—hadn’t qualified to stand alongside Hop, Marnie, Bede, and the rest. That didn’t sit right either. Ciara was good. Strong enough that Jake was sure she could’ve been one of the standout rivals—maybe even one of the strongest.

  And so, the week at Loop Lagoon passed in a blur of heat, effort, and progress—a sweltering rumble in the jungle. Early mornings were devoted to gruelling physical conditioning and martial arts under the Urshifu’s watchful eyes, while the rest of the day was filled with intense Pokémon training that stretched on until dusk.

  One of the cornerstones of the Unseen Fist programme was mastering the Golden Path techniques, and for that Jake found himself playing the role of a very sweaty spectator.

  Trixie stood ahead of him on a wooden platform high, her tiny frame looking even smaller next to the massive figure of the Rapid-Strike Urshifu.

  Jake leaned against a trunk, a welcome reprieve. “Alright, Trix, it’s all you,” he called, though she hardly needed the encouragement. She practically bounced with excitement, just as she had during the Rising Voltage lesson.

  Not that Jake understood any of it.

  “Right, so how does this work?” he muttered under his breath, glancing at the Urshifu. It hadn’t said a word—well, not in a way Jake could interpret. But Trixie seemed to hang on every motion, ears twitching at its faint grunts, wings fluttering in sync with its movements. “Okay,” Jake mused, “maybe it’s explaining the aerodynamics of wing strikes. Or, who knows, maybe it’s just saying, ‘Don’t mess up.’”

  The Urshifu began to move.

  Jake blinked as it stepped forward, paws rising in deliberate arcs, cutting through the humid air with deliberation. Each movement fluid, of strength and grace, a martial artist performing a kata, flawlessly. Its legs bent slightly, so controlled that it felt as though the platform, the trees, and the air itself responded to its will. Jake was mesmerised, his eyes following the rhythmic sway of the Pokémon’s strikes as they transitioned seamlessly into wide, sweeping arcs.

  And then it struck the air.

  The sound was almost imperceptible—a sharp crack, as though it had carved a ripple into the fabric of the jungle. Trixie, standing just a metre away, froze. Her wings stopped mid-flick, her entire body still, but her eyes shone, wide and unblinking.

  “Is she... hypnotised?” Jake wondered aloud. Tuli should take notes. “A trance? Or... what if it’s like TM programming? Is this where the idea came from?”

  The Urshifu continued its ritual, its strikes growing faster but never losing control. It began to resemble the sweep of wings—long, deliberate motions, and then sharp, sudden bursts that seemed to cut the air itself. Trixie mirrored it almost instinctively, her wings rising slightly, moving in sync as though she’d been pulled into the flow of the dance.

  “Right, this definitely inspired TMs,” Jake muttered. “Some genius saw this and thought, ‘What if we could just skip all this mysticism and slap it into a disc?’ Bet they made a fortune.”

  The Urshifu’s tempo increased, strikes now punctuated with forceful pivots and lunges. The air around the platform seemed heavier, charged, like the moment before a tornado. Trixie, still watching intently, began to move. Her wings rose and fell in time with the Urshifu, each beat growing stronger, more deliberate.

  “That’s it, Trixie,” Jake called softly, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t sure if she even heard him, but it felt right to say.

  The Urshifu turned suddenly, crouching low and then springing forward in a fluid motion. Its massive paw swept outward, striking the air with a resounding crack. Trixie mimicked the motion, wings snapping outward with a sharp, decisive beat. The air rippled, a faint, visible distortion emanating from her.

  The Urshifu stepped back, movements slowing, a faint nod of approval. Trixie hovered in place, her wings still, her face filled shock and joy. Then, with a burst of giddy energy, she twirled mid-air, laughing in delight.

  Dual Wingbeat was hers.

  “I did it! I did it!” she emoled, darting back and forth like a spark bouncing off a fuse.

  Jake grinned at her. “You sure did, Trix!” He stepped forward, crouching to catch her as she flew toward him. She nuzzled into his chest, still chattering excitedly about how “big and boomy” the sound was and how “her parents had to have heard it from here.”

  As Jake straightened, still laughing at her enthusiasm, his thoughts drifted to the week’s progress. Trixie and Arthrox had shown the most promise with their Golden Path training, natural instincts aligning well with the effects of the techniques. Iggy, too, was starting to grasp the theory behind Scorching Sands.

  Tuli and Jekyll, however, would need more time. Tuli seemed to understand Expanding Force conceptually but Lash Out remained elusive—perhaps it required a level frustration she simply was not that emotionally inclined to express. Jekyll was in a similar position. Burning Jealousy demanded an emotional spark, one that Jake suspected he had not felt in quite some time. In truth, Jekyll seemed rather settled these days, integrating into the team far better than Jake could have imagined for the lonely ghost he had first encountered.

  Jake focused heavily on refining his Pokémon’s techniques. Learning a move did not mean mastering it—unlike in the games, there was no instant understanding of how to execute it perfectly or apply it effectively in a battle. The Urshifu had provided Trixie and the others with a framework for their Golden Path moves, but truly understanding and using them properly would require practice, thought, and repetition. Each move required an understanding of timing, context, and situational awareness within a battle. It was about knowing how and when to use it.

  The frustrating part was how much he still didn’t know. Jake had every move in the Pokémon world crammed into his noggin—Energy Ball for Trixie, Dazzling Gleam for Jekyll, the list went on. He could rattle off types, base power, secondary effects—everything. But actually teaching them?

  He could tell his Pokémon the name of the move, maybe even describe how it worked conceptually, but that was it. He was not an Urshifu. How was Trixie supposed to conjure grass energy from her electricity? How did Jekyll tap into whatever weird fae magic powered fairy moves? Jake didn’t have the first clue.

  Mustard wasn’t much help either. The old man was a fighting specialist, and while he could teach the Golden Path, moves outside his wheelhouse was a no-go. Jake couldn’t blame him—he was already doing more than enough, but it was a limitation on what he could do.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  So instead, Jake tailored specific exercises to bring out his Pokémon’s individual strengths to ensure they were prepared for the challenge ahead. Mustard’s guidance was invaluable, but Jake had quickly realised in the past few months that the old master never provided direct instruction. Instead, Mustard offered high-level advice, hints, and the overarching philosophies—enough to illuminate the principles behind the Unseen Fist but never so much that Jake was shown exactly how it should work.

  That part was left to him. Jake was being provided a framework, a lens through which he could view training and battling. Mustard’s words were like brushstrokes on a canvas, suggesting shapes and forms but leaving Jake to decide how to fill in the rest.

  It made Jake realise that Pokémon training was far more individualistic than he had expected. Trainers were not handed a formula to follow. Instead, they were expected to craft their own, blending their personality and instinct into every decision they made. There was no “right” way to train or battle—only the way that worked for you and your Pokémon.

  It was a deeply personal challenge, one that demanded hard work, creativity and self-expression. Not too different from creating music or art. You might draw inspiration from others, have your influences, but in the end, the work had to be your own. It had to carry your mark, shaped by your hands and infused with your interpretation.

  Jake wandered down to the beach as the day began to wane, the green waters of Loop Lagoon shimmering under the late afternoon sun. He sank down onto the soft white sand, propping his arms on his knees as he stared out across the lagoon. The gentle lapping of the water a rare sound in a world where he was rarely alone. For the first time in what felt like months, he had a moment entirely to himself.

  Three months. Three months since he had been dragged into this world, kicking and screaming on the inside, with barely a clue what he was doing. He had been a scared, uncertain kid that first day—no plan, no Pokémon, no idea how to survive in a world where Pokémon were real, living creatures. Now, five Pokémon on his belt, he was on the verge of becoming a full-fledged trainer.

  “Not bad for a guy who started out wondering if a Blipbug would eat him from the inside,” Jake muttered with a smirk.

  Joining the Master Dojo had been the best decision he could’ve made. He had found his feet, learned so much—and not just about training and battling. He had found a sense of purpose. He knew what he was supposed to be doing.

  Jake's thoughts wandered further—Gloria. Not Victor.

  Leon had confirmed it—offhand. Gloria existed here. Which meant Jake’s suspicions were correct: he had arrived before the main story of Sword and Shield had begun. A few months, maybe.

  That probably meant Zacian or Zamazenta were already roaming about somewhere, Gloria would have already stumbled into the Slumbering Weald and set things in motion. Depending on which game version this world was playing out, of course. Jake smirked to himself, shaking his head. Here I am, treating it like a game again. He would stop that. It was not a game. It was real. The sweat. The effort. The triumphs. The Pokémon.

  Strange how the world had decided this version of the protagonist would take the lead. Was somebody else making that choice? Was he actually in a game? A player from Earth, maybe, running the show while he was just… a random trainer? What if he was just part of the background? A generic NPC to stand in the way of somebody else’s scripted story?

  It made little difference to him. If Gloria was to stick to the story as he expected, great—less for him to worry about. It would be a relief. He had enough on his plate already. Whatever his role was meant to be, he would figure it out on his own terms.

  Jake’s goal was clear: hone his skills, strengthen his Pokémon, and build the resources he would need for the path to the Spear Pillar. The world was vast, but he had a plan. Next, the Lesson of Technique. Then, the Armorshyr Cup. After that, the GPL. Step by step, he would climb to the peak.

  POV – TULI

  The world was quiet when Tuli awoke. Upside down, of course, because that was how one ought to sleep—the faint pulls of gravity nudged at her. The soft hum of Kricketot and Kricketune filled the air like a song without an end—pleasant, rhythmic, alive. She stretched lazily, tentacles curling outward before she casually thrummed an invisible thread of gravity, the sensation rippling through her mind. With a simple tug, she rotated herself upright.

  She blinked slowly, clearing the sleep from her large eyes, taking in the room. Small, warm, built of deep brown wood. Walls uneven but charming, texture rough yet inviting, like the surrounding trees they had come from. There were a few windows, open to the jungle breeze, scents of damp earth, fresh leaves, and something faintly sweet she could not yet name.

  A treehouse. How peculiar. She had never imagined such a thing before. Above the sea, on dry land, in the middle of this strange and vibrant jungle, humans had built themselves a nest.

  She soon found herself drawn to the sway of a hammock across the room. Jake. He was asleep, of course. Face slack, breathing slow and steady. Snoring faintly. She tilted her head, studying him. How contrary humans were when they slept, so vulnerable yet so at ease. How strange it was this one had chosen her. Invited her into this outside world and made her part of this... family.

  And there they were. Trixie and Iggy, snoozing beside him, pressed close against his side. Trixie wriggled constantly, twitching and shifting as though chasing those apples she was so fond of in dreams that couldn’t quite keep up with her. Jake didn’t seem to notice.

  Tuli stared at Iggy. Flames, though subdued in sleep, still occasionally at the edge of ignition, a soft, flickering light that pulsed in rhythm with her breathing. It was curious—Jake let her sleep there, so close. Neither an Emolga’s lightning nor a Cyndaquil’s fire would be a small thing to a human.

  Floating closer, she tilted herself to observe. It was interesting, the way Jake allowed them to cluster like this—so casual, so unguarded. No calculation, no careful weighing of gain or loss. She thought of the vast, cold depths she once called home, where currents carried silence, and survival meant vigilance. Back then, closeness had been something else entirely. No shoalmate, no spawner would have let their guard down like this. To be so near was to risk too much.

  To trust.

  Jake’s arm loosely draped over Trixie, smooshing her against the hammock, she squeaked in sleepy protest, but he did not seem to be aware of it. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, and his lips twitched as though caught in some private dream. Tuli couldn’t resist. Gently, she extended a tentacle and poked his cheek.

  “Mmm... noodles,” Jake murmured, thick with sleep, and rolled over, nearly dislodging Trixie in the process. Tuli giggled to herself. Humans were endlessly entertaining, saying odd things, with odd priorities.

  It made her think of all the interesting places she’d seen since meeting Jake. So many. Each one so utterly different from that cave and the depths of the ocean. Without him, how long would she have stayed there, oblivious to what lay beyond?

  It was almost dizzying, the thought of it. All this—a fraction of the world Jake had told her about. And then there was Jake’s world, one called ‘Earth’, entirely separate, equally vast. How could such things exist? Limitless places, limitless sights. Her thoughts swirled with excitement, and she felt the faint tug of gravity around her as she almost began to turn herself upside down again. Oh, what a wonder it was!

  She straightened herself with some effort, glancing around the room. Arthrox sat motionless in the corner, utterly still, as if he had decided to become part of the furniture. Peculiar, wasn’t he? Communicating with him wasn’t like the others—he never responded to her nudges. His mind was a wall no psychic could cross.

  At times, she even felt a faint, primal sense of danger from him. How rare! Almost thrilling. Jake had suggested she observe Arthrox, to see what she might learn. Loyalty? Oh, he had that in abundance, he was almost fanatical. But it had different quality to what she was used to. Not imposed. Not absolute. But earned.

  He tolerated Trixie and Iggy with a patience her spawner would never have shown. Still, despite his grumpiness and overly serious nature, she felt like she could rely on him. Inexplicably.

  How curious!

  The window tugged at her, a secret too tempting to ignore. She floated closer, the breeze tickling at her, night buzzing with endless possibilities. What could be out there? Surely Jake wouldn’t mind if she took a little peek...

  Just as she was about to make her escape, the air thickened. Heavy. Unnatural.

  A pair of eyes ignited in the darkness, faint and sickly yellow. They did not blink, did not waver—just stared. A jagged grin followed, serrated and uneven, carving itself out of the shadow. The room seemed to bend, the edges of the world pulling toward that awful smile. A low, oppressive weight settled over her, pressing against her from all sides.

  “Leaving...”

  The voice that followed was high and sweet, almost saccharine—adorable, really.

  “... is not permitted.”

  The figure tilted its ‘head’, an unsettling motion that did not conform to natural joints. Then it stepped forward, slow, measured. Patchwork limbs shuffled as Jekyll emerged, sentinel of the windowsill, a harbinger of nightmare, a parody of joy. The ragged edges of his disguise shifted slightly with the breeze, moonlight reflecting grotesque shapes across the walls.

  “Oh, it’s just you, Jekyll!” she said cheerfully.

  Jekyll loomed closer; his voice dropped a note deeper. “Jekyll is under orders,” he declared, “to ensure that none stray beyond the bounds of this... den.”

  “From Jake?” Tuli asked.

  “Of course!” Jekyll hopped indignantly—or as much as he could. “No leaving! No exceptions! Thus speaks Jekyll!”

  “Hmm, I was sure he just said it was bedtime,” Tuli mused, tilting her head. “Is that the same thing? Do you think you might have misunderstood?”

  “Never!” Jekyll shrieked. “Jekyll is the only one who truly understands the master! Only Jekyll knows the sacred will of the master! And the master decrees: none shall pass!”

  “Jekyll, Jekyll, Jekyll,” she said gently, almost musically. “You’re so good at protecting everyone. No one can match your dedication! That’s why you could trust me to handle the small stuff outside while you focus on holding the fort here. I’d only be expanding your influence! Imagine how pleased the master would be with us both.”

  “Silence!” Jekyll menaced, bristling. “Jekyll needs no assistance from meddlesome pests! Jekyll alone safeguards the master’s will, and Jekyll alone decides what is necessary. Return to your place and cease this insolence!”

  “Oh, Jekyll, of course, you are the one in charge,” she said with a playful bow, extending her tentacles almost in a curtsy. “I would never dream of acting without your say so. I simply suggest... perhaps you would delegate this small task to me? You keep the den safe, and I, your humble servant, extend your influence beyond. Does that not sound positively masterful?”

  “Ha!” Jekyll barked. “You think Jekyll is blind to your schemes, charlatan? You may fool the others with your honeyed words, but not Jekyll! The master’s command is final, and Jekyll will not be swayed! None shall leave—none!”

  For once, Tuli did not know what to say. Or feel. It was not very often she found herself at a loss. She could not convince Jekyll. How strange! That had never happened to her before. Not with any other. She did not think even the spawners had realised she had never been fully under their sway.

  She could not resist Jekyll physically—he was much too strong. That was a certainty. And her usual fallback, the gentle nudge? The plant of an idea? It did not work on him. Every time she tried, it was as if her thoughts disappeared into a void. Nothing came back, no trace of contact, no feedback at all. Like he was not even there.

  If Arthrox gave her a faint sense of danger, Jekyll was that doubled. No, tripled. It was not something overt—Jekyll was not threatening her—but there was a sense, deep in her core, that if he ever became serious, he would be an opponent she could never overcome. Not with all the tricks and cleverness in her head. Not that she wanted to. Jekyll was fascinating. She liked him quite a bit!

  But hmm, what a conundrum.

  She wanted to explore. But Jekyll would not let her. What could she do? She spun slowly in place, lost in thought.

  “Did some mon call for a night stroll!?” Trixie emoled as she swooped down, her landing bumpy but full of flair. “It’s the best time! The stars are out, the air is perfect, and—who knows?! What if we find something amazing? Let’s go, let’s go!”

  “Nuisance!” Jekyll hopped angrily, “Jekyll has no need for your chatter or your nonsense! Crawl back to whatever corner you wriggled out of and leave this task to Jekyll!”

  Trixie puffed out her cheeks. “Excuse me, but I did ask! Jakey said, ‘Whatever, just let me sleep,’ and that’s basically a yes, isn’t it? And if he’s going to keep mumbling about noodles—whatever those are—and bumping into me while I’m trying to nap, then he’s saying I should go outside! I mean, I’m just being considerate!”

  “Preposterous!” Jekyll growled. “The master would never be so careless as to give you free reign! …Would he?” He faltered a moment, before bravely gathering his resolve. “No! Jekyll will not be swayed by your nonsense! Stay and do not bother Jekyll!”

  Trixie tilted her head. “Hmm, so stay and be a bother, or leave and be helpful? Gosh, so rude Jekyll! I guess I’ll just pick the one that makes every mon happy!”

  Jekyll froze, jagged almost smile twitching. “That’s... that’s not—Jekyll does not—” He flailed. Finally, with a huff, he declared, “Fine! Leave! But never return! Jekyll does not care!”

  Trixie clasped her paws together. “Aww, thanks, lil’ bro. I knew you’d come around!”

  Jekyll bristled, puffing up like a disturbed Growlithe. “Jekyll is no little brother! Jekyll is—”

  Trixie turned to Tuli, grin spreading across her face as she raised a triumphant thumbs-up. “See? He gets it! Let’s go, let’s go!” she said cheered with excitement. “Adventure awaits!”

  Tuli hovered in place, a bit stunned. How had Trixie managed that? Jekyll, who had so stubbornly shut down all her attempts, had crumbled in the face of Trixie’s exuberance. Fascinating. Could she... imitate that? She doubted it. Somehow, she felt certain that Jekyll would see straight through her.

  How delightful. Tuli bounced in excitement. This was something to watch more closely, a puzzle she would enjoy untangling.

  Not that it mattered now, of course. Trixie had accomplished what she could not, and that meant they were going. Tuli brightened at the thought, her mind already spinning with possibilities. She liked Trixie quite a bit! Exploring together? Oh, how interesting that would be.

  Tuli floated toward the window, following Trixie’s confident lead. The Emolga chattered cheerfully, words barely registering as Tuli’s thoughts danced ahead to all the fascinating possibilities of the night. But just as Tuli reached the windowsill, a shadow loomed once again.

  Jekyll stepped forward, blocking her path. His stitched disguise seemed to warp the air around him, the faint glow of his eyes still burning in the dim.

  “Jekyll permitted the nuisance to go,” he said, his voice soft as broken glass. “But not you, pest.”

  Tuli hovered mid-motion, tilting her head in mild surprise but said nothing. She would not have to.

  Trixie, spun on her wings with a flourish. “Aww, don’t worry, lil’ bro!” she chirped, as sunny as ever. “I’m in charge, so it’s all good! I’ve totally got this!”

  Jekyll twitched. “Jekyll is not worried!” he snapped, trying to claw back some authority. “Jekyll—”

  “Exactly!” Trixie interrupted, flying back to give him a playful pat. “So, see? No worries at all! I’ll look after Tuli and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble!”

  “Jekyll does not—”

  Trixie was already turning back to Tuli. “C’mon, let’s go before the stars get bored and leave. I mean, they wouldn’t actually leave, but who knows, right?”

  Jekyll slumped, muttering darkly. “Fine, on your head be it! Go if you must, but when you return, the master shall be Jekyll’s alone. Jekyll does not share!”

  “Sure, sure!” Trixie chimed cheerfully. ”Let’s go, Tuli!”

  The night welcomed them like an open secret, soft and warm with just a trace of the day’s lingering heat. Tuli followed Trixie, who zipped ahead with all the energy of a star untethered. The lagoon wasn’t far, but their journey through the treetops felt like an adventure all its own.

  The path was illuminated by streaks of moonlight that slipped through the canopy above, casting silver over their way. Stars glittered across the sky, light bright as though you could pluck them down. A few clouds drifted lazily, edges glowing faintly, painted by the luminous moon.

  Trixie talked almost the entire way, a cheerful constant that filled the quiet spaces. Mostly about Jake, of course. She adored him—no, adored wasn’t quite enough. Jake was her everything. She flitted from story to story, each one painting Jake as some sort of larger-than-life figure. He’d helped her with so much, she said.

  One detail caught Tuli’s attention. A fear of flying? Trixie, who now darted and swooped as naturally as breathing? Tuli was surprised. Amazing. She somehow could not imagine Trixie so grounded.

  “Jake knew what to do,” Trixie said simply, as though that explained everything. And maybe it did. The trust and love in her voice was unmistakable.

  Tuli pondered this as they floated through the warm, silver-dappled night. Was that what training was? Overcoming fears? Growing stronger? She thought of her own training, carefully crafted routines Jake had designed for her. The power to confuse, to mesmerise, to manipulate—skills that she had known she possessed but had never thought to explore further.

  Of course, at first, Jake had not really known what to do with her. She had watched him scratch his head and mutter to himself before he went to Mustard for advice. Then came the plan. Jake had explained it to her with enthusiasm: four main areas, each tailored to her. That’s what a trainer did. They thought, they planned, and they improved. Jake had told her so many interesting things about her abilities, ideas swirling in his head like a whirlpool. Tuli had found herself listening, more intrigued than she thought possible.

  Her first focus was her mentality, something Jake insisted was critical. Hmph, flighty he had called her. That was rude. But given where she found herself, she could concede, grudgingly, that he might have a point. Jake’s solution? Games! And what games they were! Chess. What a delightful invention! Tuli could play for hours, calculating moves, anticipating strategies. She had lost her first game to Jake. And the second. But on the third, oh, what a victory!

  Then there was gravity control, her second focus. “Like telekinesis but with style,” Jake had said with that clever glint in his eyes. She could make things lighter than air or press them down with the force of the ocean depths—or at least, that was what Jake hoped she would eventually be able do. For now, her control was limited to small, isolated areas, but with practice, Jake was sure she could reach that level.

  The drills had started small—suspending leaves mid-air, as though they had forgotten they were supposed to fall. She enjoyed that one, twirling the leaves in fun and interesting patterns. But she soon moved onto heavier challenges: hovering pebbles steady, lifting logs, and increasing the pressure on small boulders until they cracked like eggs.

  Physical conditioning. Tuli sighed at the remembrance. Jake had insisted on it, saying it would help her avoid danger. True, perhaps, but did it have to be so... tiring? Side to side. Forward and back. Again and again. It was monotonous, but Jake’s persistence kept her going. “You know what they say, if you can dodge a wrench,” he’d quoted, “you can dodge a ball.” Now that had sounded rather dangerous, but while Tuli supposed he might have a point, she didn’t love it. A necessary evil, she concluded, one that she would tolerate for his sake. One always had to be useful, after all.

  Finally, hypnosis training, her favourite. Jake had called it her pièce de résistance. “Five applications,” he had explained, “each for a different situation.” Flash, Fear, Fury, Sleep, Compulsion. Each had a purpose, its own effect. Flash to stun. Fear to demoralise. Fury to enrage—similar to Swagger, interchangeable in its effect. Sleep to, well, sleep. And Compulsion? Jake had been nervous explaining that one, saying they would work on it once the others had been mastered.

  The possibilities were endless. It was quite stunning, Tuli thought. There was so much to learn. Jake’s training opened doors she had not even known were there. With him, she realised, she would never be bored. And for Tuli, there could be no higher compliment than that.

  The lagoon appeared before them suddenly, a vast mirror cradled by the surrounding white beach. Water calm, disturbed only by the faintest ripple from the light breeze. Reflections of the stars above glittered across its surface, a second sky shimmering in the depths. The trees framed the scene, branches leaning toward the water as if drawn to its quiet beauty.

  Tuli slowed, taking it all in. Applin sleeping on their tree branches, blending with the leaves. A Skwovet scurried past on the ground below, its bushy tail flicking. Trixie made a sound of disapproval, muttering something about how “those critters” never left her alone. Down by the shoreline, Krabby clacked, and Pincurchin nestled at shallows. A Shellder yawned, tongue poking out lazily, while a Cloyster floated on the water farther out, shell faintly aglow in the moonlight.

  Tuli’s gaze drifted upward, a cluster of Drifloon floating high, high above. Balloons forgotten in the night. But none of this held her attention.

  It was the water. Or rather, what was just above it.

  Trixie’s excited shout rang out. “Tuli, look! More of you!” She glided towards the lagoon, low above the water.

  Tuli saw them: a cluster of Inkay, hovering just above the gentle ripples. A dozen of them. Lights blinking, flashes of pink, yellow, and blue dancing like nervous signals in the dark. They were smaller than her, bodies more solid, a matte blue sheen that seemed to absorb the moonlight rather than reflect it. But they were unmistakably Inkay.

  “Isn’t this great?” Trixie called, chattering as she drew closer. “Hiya! Look at you all—so cute! Do you like stars? I love stars! And apples, do you like apples?”

  The Inkay flinched at her approach, lights flashing faster. They seemed... skittish, abrupt and jittery as though bracing for something.

  They hovered just above the water, the gentle lapping of the lagoon brushing against broad leaves and floating water lilies below. The vegetation stretched out in clusters, vibrant greens softening the expanse of the Loop Lagoon.

  Tuli was transfixed. Inkay. Others of her kind? Here? Were they not supposed to be in the deep? That was where she had last seen her shoal. She had told herself she was looking for them ever since—well, mostly.The silver one had led her on a merry chase. And then... the cave, meeting Jake. The world was vast, sprawling, and so full of things to see, to learn, to feel. Could anyone really blame her for getting... distracted?

  Still, there could be danger here. Where there were Inkay, there could be spawners. She reached out cautiously with her mind, lightly brushing against the water. A spawner would make things... complicated. They would not know her as she was now. She would be considered divergent. And that? Well, that would not be ideal.

  She knew what they did to the others. That emptiness. That dullness. And now, after all she had seen, all she had felt... letting herself become that would be unthinkable.

  “Trixie? Hold for a moment,” Tuli spoke softly, lightly musical, like a ripple in the water. “We should be careful here.” Her senses stretched, brushing against the lagoon’s deeper currents, delicate and searching.

  “Roger, roger!” Trixie chimed, as she swooped back toward Tuli, wings shifting as she hovered close. “Don’t worry, Tuls—I’ve got your back!”

  They remained still. Barely a breath as shadows swayed beneath the moonlit surface, silent. Watchful. Tuli’s extended her senses wide, lingering on the tangled roots below. No hint of movement. Nothing at all. Yet.

  She concentrated. Further. Deeper. Searching. The silence pressed in. Waiting.

  But it was calm.

  “There is nothing, Trixie. You can relax.”

  “Yay! It’s time to play!” She did a quick mid-air twirl before darting off toward the Inkay.

  “Hi again!” she called,. “I’m back! So, what was the verdict on apples? No? Okay! Oh, oh, do you guys like tricks? Watch this!”

  She spun spiralling around the Inkay in a series of exaggerated loops. The Inkay’s lights flashed erratically, half alarmed, half intrigued.

  “Who? Who? Who?”

  “Danger?”

  “No, not danger, not danger.”

  “Different! So different!”

  “What’s with her? The flashy one? So loud!”

  Tuli tilted her head, processing the flurry of thoughts. Their minds felt... independent. Raw. Not what she was used to, and not in a bad way. Less polished, less structured. But free.

  “Shining! Different! Not like us!”

  “Too big! Too bright! Is she... a spawner?”

  “No, no, too small for a spawner! But... maybe?”

  “Why does the other one keep talking?! Does she ever stop?”

  “No, I am not a spawner,” she projected gently, soothing as she spoke aloud for Trixie’s benefit. “Though I suppose I might be unusual to you.”

  The Inkay darted closer, their lights blinking rapidly.

  “Unusual!”

  “Very!”

  “Not like us, but she tries!”

  “Can you blink like us? Blink, blink, blink!”

  Tuli tilted her head, bemused, lights flickering faintly in response. This sent the Inkay into a frenzy, their projections spilling over in waves.

  But then, the flurry of thoughts hushed. The Inkay clustered closer sensing something about her, lights dimming slightly as they regarded her with a reverence that made Tuli pause.

  “She is... a Tethered One.”

  “Really? But don’t they put you in... a ball?”

  “The ball! A tiny ball!”

  “Do you breathe in there?”

  “I heard they feed you nothing but berries. No fish, no nothing, ugh!”

  “It is not like that at all,” Tuli replied gently with an amused lilt. “The ball is not so bad. It is... restful. And Jake makes sure we are well-fed. Even Trixie.”

  One of the Inkay blinked sceptically. “She definitely looks like she eats a lot.”

  Trixie gasped, clutching her chest as if wounded. “What! How dare you!”

  “They mean nothing by it, Trixie,” Tuli said soothingly. She turned back to the Inkay, her curiosity piqued. “But tell me, how did you hear such things about trainers?

  “The Magikarp told us!”

  “The Karp always knows!”

  “And the Krabby!”

  “The Krab knows everybody!”

  “I see,” Tuli blinked slowly, then speaking aloud for Trixie. “To answer your question, I am with a trainer, yes. But it is not what you might think. Jake is... nice. It is nice.”

  “Jake is awesome!” Trixie chimed in helpfully.

  “Tethered, but kind?”

  “They are kind? Truly?”

  “What does it feel like?”

  “To be chosen?”

  “Hmph. I wouldn’t want to be chosen. They couldn’t handle someone like me!”

  “Oh, please,” Trixie chirped with a playful grin. “You’d love it. Snacks, attention, and best of all—you’d get to hang out with me! Honestly, what more could you ask for?”

  “That sounds kinda fun!”

  “Attention is exhausting.”

  “Hang out with her? Must be hell on aura.”

  “Wait, do we still get to float wherever we want?”

  “Hmph. I’d still say no. Probably.”

  “It is very intriguing with Jake,” Tuli said, her own questions tugging at the thread of her thoughts. She spoke carefully. “If I may ask, do you have no spawner to guide you?”

  “Spawner? Not here.”

  “It went!”

  “Yes, it went! A long time ago.”

  “Moons and moons!”

  “No spawner here anymore.”

  “Maybe it got bored? Spawners get bored, don’t they?”

  “Or lazy! Probably lazy.”

  Trixie’s ears perked up. “Spawner? What’s a spawner? Is it a thing? Do I need to fight it? Because I totally could!”

  “Fight a spawner? No, no! You do not fight a spawner!”

  “Well, you could, but you’d lose.”

  “Bad idea. Very bad!”

  “They are big! And... bossy!”

  “So bossy!”

  “The bossiest!”

  “A spawner is the centre of a shoal,” Tuli explained for Trixie. “A Malamar, Jake named it. They lead, they guide, they...” She hesitated. “They subsume. Their will becomes the that of the shoal. But these Inkay have none. No controller, no centre. They simply... are.”

  “Huh, so they’re, like, totally on their own?” Trixie asked.

  “It is different from where I came from,” Tuli murmured. “We always had spawners. Many spawners. Malamar. A chain of command. At the core of the shoal, a single Malamar. One that dominated the others.” She hesitated, her voice quieting. “Its will... was everything. The shoal followed. Always.”

  “So, what—you just did whatever it said? All of you?”

  Tuli contemplated this. “It was not a question of choice. It was simply the way of things. I was different. A Divergent.” She paused, then added, “I am not certain they ever realised.”

  “Divergent?”

  “What is that?”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Do we need to run?”

  “Wait—how did they not notice?”

  “They must’ve been really bad at their job.”

  But then—stillness. A sudden silence.

  Then, a rumble, faint and low, a slow ripple through the water beneath them.

  Tuli was suddenly alert, senses extended outward again. Figures approaching. Rapidly. The rumble grew louder, deeper, vibrating through the surface.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something’s coming!”

  “Something!”

  The lagoon exploded in a violent spray. Clobbopus surging into the air, round, orange and spinning as they flailed into the shallows with reckless abandon. Waves undulated, scattering Pincurchin and sending Shellder shells spinning across the sandy shallows.

  Tentacles thrashed as they landed, crashing into the water with heavy splashes. One Clobbopus leapt forward, its glowing fist crashing down in a clumsy Brick Break, scattering floating reeds. Another lunged at an Inkay, its tentacles twisting to Bind, missing as the Inkay spun away in a burst of flashing lights.

  “Attack!”

  “They’re coming for us!”

  “So many! Too many!”

  The Clobbopus were relentless but disorganised, erratic as they swarmed, tripped and crashed into each other in their pursuit. One struck too hard, skidding face-first into the sand, another tangled itself on a submerged root, thrashing as it tried to free itself.

  The Inkay scattered, lights flaring in bursts of pink and blue. The lagoon churned, water spraying as more and more Clobbopus surged forward with clumsy determination, hunger for battle driving them forward.

  Some of the Inkay turned mid-flight, firing Psybeams that streaked across the lagoon in colourful streams. One Clobbopus was struck squarely, spinning wildly before splashing into the shallows, but others pressed on, unfazed.

  “Flash, flash! Confuse!” one Inkay cried, lights shifting into a frenzied Swagger. A Clobbopus halted briefly, growing somehow even more clumsy and misdirected, but it lunged again, too dim to be confused for long.

  “They’re endless!”

  “Run! Faster!”

  “Can’t hold them back!”

  A surge of water erupted as one Clobbopus crashed into the shallows, sending another tumbling forward. The tide of orange converged, ready to overwhelm the scattered Inkay.

  Then the air crackled.

  A sphere of blue-white energy burst outward, lighting up the lagoon. Shock Wave. The electrified pulse rippled through the water, connecting with advancing Clobbopus. Sparks danced across their slick bodies, forcing several back into the deeper waters. Waves rippled violently from the impact, tossing more of the attackers into disarray.

  “Ha! Not so tough now, huh?” Trixie cried.

  The water sizzled and frothed, but the remaining Clobbopus surged forward, hunger unfettered. One shot toward Tuli, tentacles outstretched, aiming for her in a lunge.

  Tuli raised a tentacle, lights shifting a deep blue. The Clobbopus froze mid-air, weight yanked downward by with crushing Gravity. With a flick of a tentacle, she slammed it into the water, splashes spreading violently as it flailed, dazed.

  Her glow deepened, shimmering with a stormy intensity. The water around her twisted, rising in spiralling columns as her Gravity field expanded. The lagoon's surface coiled into miniature waterspouts, electricity crackling through the charged torrents as Trixie darted closer, Thunder Shocks energising the spectacle with bursts of flickering light.

  Tuli hovered at the centre, framed by the glowing spouts and shimmering sparks dancing across their surfaces. The Clobbopus hesitated. Some began to retreat, while others thrashed at the water, instinct fighting against fear.

  “She’s amazing!”

  “Look at her!”

  “A storm! A storm!”

  Trixie shot upward, wings slicing through the air. “Let’s clean this up!” she called, spinning into an Air Slash. The sharp gust tore across the lagoon, striking a Clobbopus mid-lunge. It was flung backward in a spray of water, vanishing beneath the surface with a heavy splash.

  Tuli’s glow intensified, fluidly changing through greens, blues, and purples. A burst of iridescent energy followed—Psybeam—striking another Clobbopus head-on. The force sent it skidding across the shallows, limbs flailing before it came to a halt.

  Another Clobbopus charged, tentacles flailing in its dim desperation. Tuli’s lights flared, and with a flick of her tentacle, she used Pluck, yanking the creature from the water with startling force. Suspended mid-air, it writhed helplessly before Tuli twisted, sending it flinging it into the depths with an echoing splash.

  The remaining Clobbopus hesitated, slowing as they tried to regroup. But Tuli’s lights altered once more, darkening to a deep crimson pulse—Fear. The oppressive wave rippled through the water, freezing the attackers in place.

  Tentacles twitched, hesitated. Then, one by one, the Clobbopus broke. They scattered clumsily, fleeing to whence they came.

  The lagoon stilled.

  For a moment, there was only the sound water lapping at the white sand. Then the Inkay swarmed forward, their lights flashing wildly in celebration.

  “They’re gone!”

  “Stupid Clobbopus!”

  “Flailing blobs!”

  “If they come back, I’ll... uh... let you handle it again.”

  Trixie swooped down in a triumphant spiral; arms outstretched as she grinned at Tuli. “You were amazing out there! I mean, I was amazing too, obviously, but you—” She twirled mid-air for emphasis, “—you were next-level amazing!”

  Tuli tilted her head. “Thank you, Trixie. I... appreciate it.”

  “Just facts, Tuli!” Trixie said with a cheeky grin. “You have my back, and I have yours. That’s how it works, yeah?”

  Tuli blinked, brightening happily. “Yes. That is how it works.”

  “We’re alive!”

  “She’s so strong!”

  “Thanks for the save”

  “The loud one might not be so bad!”

  These Inkay. So different. Charming, but so... cowardly. They had not been much help in that battle. How terrible it must be to be so useless.

  Was this because they had not been trained? Jake. She realised, with a flicker of surprise, how much she owed him. These Inkay were free, yes, but their freedom lacked meaning, purpose. She would not want to be like them. No. She would be different. Because she was a Tethered One. Because of Jake.

  Tuli remained still, keeping her senses outward. The calm felt... wrong. She hovered closer to the water. A faint ripple near the deeper part of the lagoon caught her attention.

  The Inkay did not notice. They flickered excitedly, oblivious. The ripple grew, deliberate, against the natural flow of the water.

  “Trixie,” Tuli murmured, quietly. “Do you feel—”

  The lagoon burst into chaos again.

  A roaring column of water shot skyward, shattering lilies and drenching the Inkay in an icy veil. Something immense surged from below, its bellow shaking the air like a thunderclap.

  A Grapploct.

  Its thick, coiled limbs slammed down with a force that cracked the floor beneath, tremors rippling outward. Tentacles lashed, water whipped, glowing yellow eyes locked onto them all. It let out a guttural, rage-filled cry, its entire body twisting in a wild tantrum.

  “Well, someone’s cranky! Ever heard of beauty sleep? Because you definitely missed yours.” Trixie emoled at the Pokémon.

  Grapploct was not one to take kindly to such cheek, smashed its strong tentacles into the water before charging at her in a fury.

  “Whoa, short fuse much?” Trixie darted upward, narrowly avoiding a lashing limb, and glanced at Tuli with a determined sparkle in her eye. “Tuli, I’ll keep him busy!” she called, stretching her wings. “You cover me—support stuff, you know, like Jake!”

  She then burst into motion, splitting into shimmering afterimages with Double Team. Dozens of Trixies swirled about the Grapploct, darting close, then retreating in dizzying patterns. The Grapploct snarled, tentacles snapping wildly as it tried to catch her.

  Trixie’s real form streaked upward, gathering energy before jolting a Thunder Shock. The beast’s muscles tensed, limbs twitching involuntarily, but it was limber, and the threat of paralysis would not stop its tumultuous tantrum.

  The electricity illuminated its massive size. Massive grappling fists bulged with power, slick body framed by jagged yellow markings and cyan eyes. Four tentacles moved like arms, three like legs, while one wrapped tightly around its waist, its mouth hidden beneath an inky blackness.

  “It’s huge!”

  “We’re doomed!”

  “She’ll protect us, right?”

  Tuli sighed but agreed. “Yes,” she murmured. They really were completely useless. At least they would stay out of her way while she did what they could not.

  The Grapploct lunged, tentacles surging outward, then curling, aiming to entrap Trixie in a crush. Tuli intervened, pulling one of the limbs downward with a focused Gravity surge. The sudden force dragging it off course, giving Trixie just enough room to slip through unharmed.

  Trixie swept clear high above, wings snapping as she twisted into a dive. “Nice save, Tuli!” she called, sparks crackling across her fur. A sphere of blazing electricity span into existence at her paws, fed by the momentum of her rapid glide. With a flick, the Electro Ball surged forward in a dazzling streak, slamming into the Grapploct’s chest with a burst of light and static.

  Grapploct staggered slightly but regained itself, then let out a guttural ‘Grappl!’, trying to shake it off.

  Tuli raised a tentacle, focusing her energy, and sent waves of Hypnosis toward the Grapploct. Lights floating into rhythmic, soothing patterns, flooding toward the creature in a cascade. Tuli observed closely for a sign—anything to show it was working—but the Grapploct was not having any of it

  It roared before firing jets of thick, black ink shot forward in rapid bursts at Trixie.

  She twisted nimbly, silhouette flashing in the moonlight as she easily dodged the Octazooka bursts. “Missed me!” she emoled excitedly, a grin lighting her face.

  But then Grapploct redirected a burst shot straight for Tuli. She braced herself, but the ink slammed into her, splattering across her eyes and knocking her backward. Tumbling through the air, she fought for control and managed to right herself, though her vision was now a dark, sticky haze.

  The ink clung to her, clouding her sight—then something changed. The haze would not blind her; instead, it would become her guide. Each droplet of ink began to flash bioluminescent as Contrary took hold, illuminating a brilliant map in the darkness.

  What should have hindered her now became her advantage. Grapploct now crystal clear, vivid and impossible to miss. Her weakness had become her weapon, and she was not going to waste it.

  “Trixie,” Tuli called. “Would you mind keeping it occupied, please? I need just a moment.”

  “You got it, partner!” Trixie shot forward, a blur of motion against the shimmering lagoon. She dived and twisted, wings slicing the air as she unleashed sharp bursts of Air Slash. Each diagonal swipe cut into Grapploct’s limbs, forcing it to stagger backward.

  It roared, lashing in frustration, but Trixie was too fast. She bolted in and out, swift and untouchable, leaving the mon with no chance to counter. Its massive frame shifted awkwardly, each failed swipe feeding to its growing anger.

  Trixie’s next slash of wind struck hard, forcing Grapploct’s head to turn, cyan eyes locking onto Tuli. “Now!” Trixie called.

  Tuli chose not to dither. The pain of the prior inky blow resurged within her, coalescing, amplifying. Her lights darkened into shadowy purples as she gathered the force that would not just retaliate but double in strength.

  Her aim was deliberate. Calculated. Everything set for maximum destruction.

  Tuli struck. The energy burst outward; it was all Payback directed right at Grapploct’s eyes.

  The beast roared, arms flying up to shield its face, writhing in pain. Yet, to Tuli’s interest, it withstood more than she anticipated.

  "Curious," Tuli noted calmly. "Resilience typical of a Fighting type, perhaps."

  The Grapploct bellowed, a feral roar that drowned out everything else. Tentacles thumped into the water, creating large waves. It surged ahead, moving in a frenzy. In a heartbeat, it lashed out, snaring Tuli and the Inkay. The crushing grip of Octolock closing around them.

  “Ugh, too tight!”

  “Can you like, stop breathing on me…”

  “Huh, I actually quite like this…”

  “What?! No!”

  “Ew, stop!”

  “I really do feel more solid, though.”

  These Inkay were quite disappointing Tuli concluded. That said they were not wrong about feeling more solidified, how very contrarian.

  Trixie zipped overhead, diving in with Acrobatics. Each strike landed, trying to force the Grapploct to release them but failing to loosen its grip.

  “Tuli! Hold on!” Trixie called, zipping away and pivoting mid-air to unleash an Air Slash. The cutting wind slammed into the Grapploct, but the beast’s grasp was ironclad.

  Electricity crackled around Trixie, but she hesitated. “I can’t use this—not with you all cozy like that! I’ll figure something out!” she shouted.

  “I think I might actually pass out!”

  “Good! Maybe then you’ll shut up for once!”

  "Stop it!”

  “This is why we should’ve ran away! Attacking its cousins was stupid!”

  “Wasn’t the loud one supposed to protect us? Some hero you are…”

  “You will all be silent now.” Tuli suddenyl commanded, Tuli’s three hearts turning cold. She was, to put it mildly, quite done with them.

  The squirming Inkay stalled, their lights faltering, dim and feeble. Projections clawed at her senses—chaotic, incoherent, drenched in fear. Weak. Pathetic. Useless.

  Unacceptable.

  “Wait, what’s happening?!

  “Hey, no fair! No one agreed to this!”

  “But... it’s kind of nice? Relaxing?”

  “Maybe this is easier?”

  “Thinking is overrated, anyway!”

  “You wouldn’t know—you’ve never done it!”

  Tuli tore into their minds mercilessly. Thoughts shattered, ripped apart like brittle glass. Resistance rose—fragile, pitiful. She crushed it, extinguished it with but a thought. Silence followed, deep and absolute.

  “You will obey,” she declared, harshly. “You will be silent. You will act. Or you will be subsumed.”

  Her power descended, distorting, suffocating. There was no escape, no reprieve. The Inkay’s lights flickered, then dimmed, individuality snuffed out beneath the weight of her Will. Dissent vanished. Hesitation faded. Freedom ceased.

  Their minds bent, splintered, and collapsed, fragments reshaped and bound. Thoughts fused; threads warped into a single inescapable unity.

  “You belong to me now,” Tuli murmured, her voice cold, final. “You will fight—not because you wish to, but because I command it.”

  Their lights flared as one—eerie, synchronised. Together, they turned to the Grapploct, empty vessels that were of her dominion.

  “Psybeam,” she directed coldly.

  The Inkay responded in unison, their beams erupting in a blinding kaleidoscope of colour. The lagoon’s surface churned as the Psybeams collided, point-blank, with the Grapploct. Energy crackled and screamed, deafening hum reverberating like a dirge.

  The beast staggered; roar strangled into silence. Tentacles thrashed wildly as the assault drove it back, shattering its grip. Crushing hold of Octolock breaking with a sickening snap. They were free.

  "Again," Tuli ordered.

  Another wave of Psybeam lanced forward, slicing through the air. The enormous Grapploct reeled, slamming back with a thunderous crash. It writhed, defiance crumbling.

  Trixie flew in, staring at Tuli, eyes wide with awe. “Tuli, you’re amazing!” she exclaimed.

  “The sentiment is shared. Thank you, Trixie.” Tuli said. “Shall we proceed to the end?”

  “Let’s do it!” Trixie cheered, happily.

  Tuli’s lights began to shimmer in sync with her voice, pink and violet glow rippling outward in sharp, rhythmic waves. Her fore tentacles extended, tips glinting as if pulling power from the air itself. A hum built in the atmosphere, low and resonant, vibrating through the Lagoon, rattling the reeds around them. Grapploct lurched back, momentarily steadying itself, but the battle had taken its toll.

  Above her, Trixie shot into the sky, haloed by the amber glow of electricity dancing across her fur. The crackling grew louder, violent, as she reached the apex. Wings stretching wide, scattering the droplets of water still clinging to her. Bolts of lightning lashed outward, jagged and untamed, coalescing into a single column of energy that spiralled around her.

  “Now!” Trixie called; voice strained as the voltage rose around her.

  Tuli surged, psychic energy expanding in a dome of shimmering force. The water quaked violently, forming concentric circles as Expanding Force began to take shape. The hum rose, a resonating pitch that seemed to split the air itself. And then, Trixie dived.

  Electricity met psychic energy in a cataclysmic collision. The dome exploded, a radiant sphere of light tinged with crackling bolts of gold. Loop Lagoon was illuminated as if by a second sun, the wave of power surging forward. The water roared as it was displaced, a spiralling vortex forming around Grapploct. Lightning snaked across the surface of the psychic field, striking at the Grapploct, while the psychic pressure forced it downward, thrashing helplessly against the tide.

  The Grapploct bellowed one last, guttural cry, its massive tentacles thrashing in vain. The psycho-electro wave detonated, a blinding explosion that churned the lagoon and shook the shore. The force flung Grapploct backward, bruised and battered, into the depths with a resounding splash. The water stilled, swallowing the mon whole, leaving the lagoon eerily calm, as if though it had never been.

  “Wha—what just happened?”

  “I feel weird. Did we win?”

  “That... was kind of awesome?”

  Tuli released the Inkay from her control, admittedly quite pleased with herself, if a bit exhausted.

  Trixie span in a victorious loop. “Now that’s how it’s done!” she declared. She turned to Tuli with an infectious grin. “And you—wow! You’re a total powerhouse, Tuli. Jake’s gonna flip when he hears about this!”

  “Thank you, Trixie. You were impressive as well.” A pause, speaking softly. “It is... enjoyable to battle with you.”

  Trixie beamed at that and wrapped Tuli in her paws. Tuli stiffened, startled, as her control over the Inkay faltered, breaking like a snapped string. Her three hearts skipped in strange unison. “A hug,” she murmured, blinking slowly. “I have not experienced one before. It is... pleasant.”

  “Did you see that? We were amazing!”

  “Um, you mean she was amazing.”

  “Hey, we helped! Kinda.”

  “Never doing that again.”

  Tuli turned to them briefly, releasing the last vestiges of her influence. “You were... adequate,” she said, as polite as she could be.

  She allowed herself a small moment, looking at the now peaceful lagoon. The battle had been... exhilarating. Fascinating. Tuli found herself replaying each move, each reaction. How much there was still to learn! She would like to do that again. She would have liked Jake to see it. A strange warmth stirred in her hearts at the thought, an irresistible urge to tell him all about it.

  Tuli excitedly turned to Trixie, “Let us return.”

  Together, they drifted back to the treehouse, the quiet of the water the only sound. The pale light of pre-dawn rising softly, painting silvers and purples over its surface.

  Tuli did not want to return to the deep. Not to the spawners, not to what she now understood was a dull safety of a shoal. She was Tethered, but with Jake, with her family, she was freer than she had ever been before.

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/93108/a-viper-in-the-hole-pokemon - A nice take on journey fiction with an original, interesting team.