Chapter 20: A Plan

POV - JAKE

Jake ambled back from the Stout Slowpoke, the moon hanging high in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the cobbled streets of Applinby. Quaint streetlamps flickered gently, lighting his path to the dojo, his temporary new world home. He walked slowly, lost in thought, the echoes of his footsteps mingling with the distant murmur of the town’s fading nightlife. The cool night air was a welcome relief, helping clear his mind as he reflected on the battle he had just witnessed.

Jake had come to realise the importance of intensifying his Pokémon training. He had been committed before, of course, but there were distractions—so many distractions in this new, overwhelming reality he found himself in. The myriad of new sights, sounds, and the endless stream of knowledge flooding into his mind at nearly every moment left little room for rest. It’s like my brain’s in overdrive, trying to soak up everything this place throws at me, he thought.

Despite the distractions, Jake’s aspiration remained unwavering—to reach the Spear Pillar, the Mount Olympus of the Pokémon world. The Champions Cup battle had sharpened his understanding of the path ahead. It’s a means to a greater end, Jake reflected. Becoming Champion of Galar wouldn’t aid him directly, and it couldn’t be his ultimate goal, but it could be a vehicle to train his Pokémon, traverse this world, and acquire the power, fortune, and fame necessary to pursue his true aim.

Jake became aware of an unusual stillness on his shoulder, a spot that had rarely known silence during his time in this world. Glancing over, he saw his usually lively companion unusually subdued. "Trixie, you’re pretty quiet tonight. Did the match wear you out?" he asked, half-joking. He sometimes wondered if she ever truly needed rest.

“Emol...” Trixie murmured; her usual spark noticeably dimmed. She glanced at Jake, her large eyes reflecting a hint of something unspoken.

Jake’s smile faltered. “Hey, what’s up? You’re not yourself tonight.” He paused, giving her his full attention.

Trixie shifted slightly, unusually at a loss for words. Maybe a change of scene would lift her spirits. “Come on, Trix, let’s check out the docks. I’ve never seen them up close,” Jake suggested. The docks were charming in their own way, the air filled with the salty tang of the sea, mixed with faint traces of fish and seaweed. As they walked along the cool, solid concrete of the quay, they noticed the faded blue and green fishing boats gently bobbing in the water, securely tied to the pier. The usual daytime bustle had given way to a calm stillness, broken only by the occasional creak of a boat or the soothing sound of water lapping against the quay.

Jake soon spotted a bench overlooking the sea, the vast expanse of water stretching out before them, the surface shimmering under the moonlight. A few Wingull perched on distant rocky outcrops, their cries now silent as they settled in for the night.

Taking a seat, Jake turned towards Trixie. The usually lively and mischievous Emolga seemed deep in thought, a rare, subdued air hanging around her.

“You’ve been quiet since the match, Trixie. Did something bother you?” Jake asked gently.

Trixie’s gaze lingered on the moonlit sea. “Emol,” she replied softly, a wistfulness in her tone that Jake hadn’t heard before. It was almost as if she were reflecting, ‘They were so strong... too strong for me.’

“Yeah, the Pokémon in the championship are on another level,” Jake agreed. “But remember, they’re competing at the highest tier.”

Trixie’s eyes, now shimmering with unshed tears, met his, a vulnerability in them that Jake hadn’t seen before. “Emol?”she whispered, as if questioning herself, ‘Can I ever reach them?’

Jake thought carefully about how to respond. In the games, Emolga didn’t rank high in terms of raw strength – they were often considered more of an early-game choice, effective for their unique type combination, but in the end more of a collector's item, charming but not contenders for a late-stage team.

"Trixie, it's true that some Pokémon will have natural advantages in terms of raw power," Jake admitted gently, meeting her eyes. "But you have your agility, cleverness, and spirit, which are just as important. Remember, battles aren't won by strength alone."

Trixie looked down, ears drooping against her small head. “Emol, emol,” she said softly, 'But I'm not like them.'

Gathering his thoughts, Jake spoke quietly. "You know, Trixie, there's a story about a trainer from another land. His Pokémon was a Pikachu, not the strongest type out there, just like you."

Trixie glanced up; curiosity piqued.

"This trainer, just a kid really, started his journey like any other, with a dream and a Pokémon by his side. His Pikachu wasn't the strongest, not by a long shot. But together, they had something special. He didn’t rush; he took his time, understanding each of his Pokémon, growing with them. He faced each gym leader one by one, learning and adapting."

Trixie listened, her ears perking up. "He faced all kinds of challenges – fierce opponents, treacherous terrains, and even villains who sought to use Pokémon for their own gain. But this kid, with his Pikachu, stood against them all. It was their courage, their unbreakable bond that saw them through. And in the end, he faced dragons, the mightiest of opponents. His Pikachu, small as it was, stood bravely by his side, and together they triumphed. That kid became a champion, not just because of his Pikachu’s power, but because of their shared determination and trust."

She seemed to think about what she had just heard “Emol?” Her voice uncertain, as if she was asking, ‘Could I really do that?'

Jake recalled Ash’s philosophy – the belief that any Pokémon could achieve greatness. Jake subscribed to this idea, though he was also aware that there were natural limits to the power a Pokémon could reach. It would not be easy, but he knew that for Trixie to stand shoulder to shoulder with the naturally mightier Pokémon, they’d have to break new ground in their approach.

“Not right away,” he admitted. “I’m not sure what that trainer did to achieve all that with a Pikachu, but Trix, remember when you used to be scared of flying? What did we do? We took it step by step, your confidence growing by the day."

Trixie looked at him, her eyes still shining.

Jake took a moment, gazing out at the ocean, thinking, before quietly asking, “What do you want, Trixie?”

After a brief hesitation, Trixie replied softly, “Emolga emol,” expressing her desire to stay with him, to be part of his journey, and more than anything, ‘I don’t want to let you down.’

Jake’s expression softened. “Trixie, remember how we met? I was hurt, lost… alone. You saved me… I think I knew right then, the moment I saw you, that you were going to be my partner in this crazy world.” He met her gaze sincerely. “You could never let me down. Travelling the world with you? It’s the best unexpected journey I could’ve stumbled into.”

He continued, now more encouraging, “Believe in me, trust yourself. You’ve got this incredible potential inside you—I’ve seen it.”

Slowly, Trixie seemed to find her spirited self again. Jake picked her up, holding her in a warm hug. “We’ll do this together,” he said softly, “and we won’t be alone. Jekyll, Arthrox, and now Iggy—they’ll be with us too. They need your help, Trixie. You’ll be the cool sister they never knew they needed. You can be a guiding light for them, and for me, now and into the future.”

Trixie brightened, energised by Jake’s words. She snuggled into his hug before playfully pulling back, her mischievous grin returning. “Emol!” she chirped, her tone bubbling with enthusiasm, as if to say, ‘Just say the word, and I’m on it!’

Jake chuckled; his spirits lifted by her enthusiasm. “You’ve got this, Trix,” he said with a smile. “You’re going to soar higher than a Pikachu could ever dream of.”

The next morning, under the soft glow of the rising sun, Jake gathered his Pokémon team in the shade of the towering dojo wall, in a quiet corner of the courtyard, for a huddle.

“Emol, Emol!” Trixie chirped energetically, flitting around Iggy, who watched her with wide, curious eyes. “We’ve got to stick together and listen to me… and Jake, of course! Just follow our lead, Iggy, and you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Iggy responded with a “Cynda, Quil!” bouncing eagerly. “Wow! So amazing!”

Jake chuckled softly. Seems like she’s already enjoying being the big sister, huh.

“Emolga, Emol!” Trixie replied cheerfully, as if saying, “That’s right, I sure am! Remember, I call the shots around here, and you should do fine!” And there she goes, ruining it, Jake sighed.

“Mik, Mikyu!” Jekyll cried indignantly, the ears of his costume flopping as his ‘head’ shook. Probably saying something like, “Preposterous! I bow to no one!”

Iggy, eyes alight with admiration, scampered excitedly towards Jekyll, flames flaring up. “Cyndaquil!” conveying, “Wow! So cool!”

Jekyll, taken aback by Iggy’s sudden approach, edged backward, keen to avoid the enthusiastic flames and attention. ‘K-kyu…’ he uttered hesitantly, his usual self-assured tone wavering, as if saying, ‘Well, naturally, one cannot help but acknowledge my certain… charm.’

He awkwardly hopped back into his Pikaguise, trying to shake off his surprise and regain composure. It seemed he had mistakenly assumed that Iggy’s fascination stemmed from his acting skills. Jake shook his head. Jekyll, I dub you the master of misunderstanding.

Before Jake could observe further, a faint, rhythmic vibration, barely perceptible, teased at the edges of his hearing, an almost enigmatic sound, unfamiliar to his ears. Simultaneously, Iggy’s ears perked up, nose twitching as she caught onto something in the air. With a surge of curiosity, the Cyndaquil scampered off, veering away from Mimikyu and towards the source of this intriguing sound.

Jake’s gaze shifted to Arthrox, who stood unusually still yet radiated a sense of quiet contentment. A slight vibration underfoot, barely noticeable unless one was paying close attention. Jake couldn’t suppress a small grin. Clever, he thought. Seems like Jekyll might have found an ally.

Then, sensing the right moment to shift the group’s focus, he clapped his hands lightly, drawing all eyes to him. “Alright, let’s get serious,” he began. “We’ve got a big couple of weeks ahead of us. Mustard’s second trial is coming up, and we need to be more prepared than ever.”

Jake had realised that much of his understanding of his Pokémon's abilities had been gleaned through a blend of trial and error, spontaneous but lucky decisions in the heat of battle, and, frankly, a fair bit of winging it. He still hadn’t come across anyone with a Pokédex. None of the students seemed to carry one, nor did they even mention its existence. It struck him that perhaps Pokédex weren’t as common here as portrayed in the more recent games, or maybe they didn’t serve the same purpose.

Without a Pokédex, he’d have to rely on careful observation and intuition. He gazed thoughtfully at each of his Pokémon: Trixie, Jekyll, Arthrox, and Iggy, each waiting expectantly for their turn. “Alright, let’s start with a simple call-out,” Jake said. “I want to get a sense of every move you know.”

As he called out various moves he remembered from each Pokémon’s potential move pool, he watched their reactions. Some moves were met with eager recognition, others with curious tilts of the head or blank stares.

Jake quickly realised that the mechanics he was familiar with didn’t quite apply here. The concept of levels seemed irrelevant, and the way moves were learned or retained was different—more nuanced. Mustard had once told him, “Experience shapes a Pokémon, Jake. They grow and adapt based on what they face, just like we do.”

In this world, Pokémon moves were much like muscles, developing and evolving with repeated use. They didn't simply forget moves as they might in the game; rather, they honed these abilities, specialising their skills through practice and application. For example, Trixie, from birth and in the wild, would instinctively know how to use moves like Nuzzle and Tail Whip.

However, as she grew and frequently used her abilities, these moves would evolve into something more potent like Thundershock, or become a specialised move like Thunder Wave, depending on her experiences.

Furthermore, different Pokémon held natural inclinations towards certain moves. Taking Trixie's case again, her species' inherent behaviours might make her more adept at learning moves like Quick Attack or Double Team, which she would then continue to refine and adapt into stronger versions as she matured.

Jake resorted to a more traditional method, jotting down observations in a trusty paper notepad. He recorded each Pokémon's abilities, still using the game's level system as a rough gauge, though he knew it wasn’t entirely accurate.

Starting with Trixie, he estimated her to be somewhere between level fifteen and twenty-five. Shock Wave, he noted, was her most powerful move, but she had also picked up Acrobatics quickly after mastering flight. That makes sense, Jake wrote in his notes, Emolga are known for their agility, which likely helped her learn it so fast.

However, what really caught his attention was her electric prowess. He speculated that her early fear of heights might have led her to focus more on developing her electric skills than a typical Emolga, but he knew more observation would be needed to confirm this.

Considering her strengths, Jake thought that Electro Ball could be an excellent next step in her training. Jake had some inspiration on what could be effective for Trixie. He remembered reading about dive bombers from the Second World War back in his world. ‘What if Trixie could perform a similar role?’' he pondered, envisioning her as a swift, agile aviator, capable of striking from the skies and swiftly changing direction.

He imagined Trixie plummeting at high speed, skimming close to her opponents, allowing her to hit with high impact and targeted electric attacks at effective range. Her ability to quickly shift momentum would be key to this approach, enabling her to dodge physical attacks while remaining close enough to prevent opponents from using energy attacks effectively.

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"Air Slash," Jake realised, "that’s the move we start with. It’s perfect for building up the speed she needs." He envisioned Trixie using this move to gain momentum, the ideal setup for launching an Electro Ball at dive-bomber velocity before swooping in for the finish.

That’s going to be a game-changer against most Pokémon types, he thought. We used an obstacle course to help her get over her fear of heights, and it worked wonders. She learns best through play, so we’ll set up something similar for her. He saw no reason not to try and added the idea to his notes.

Trixie watched him, eyes wide as she listened to Jake ramble to himself. “Emol, emol!” She nodded eagerly. He couldn’t help but smile wryly, knowing she probably didn’t grasp the whole plan but seemed impressed by the sound of it. “You’ll get it soon enough, Trix,” he said.

Next, he turned his attention to Jekyll. Estimating his level to be between twenty-five and thirty, Jake found Jekyll's move set intriguingly atypical for a Mimikyu. Curse was an egg move for a Mimikyu, and Misty Terrain was not in the regular move pool. Mimikyu were enigmatic creatures, and Jekyll's past—how long he had lived and what experiences had shaped him—remained shrouded in mystery.

Astonish, Shadow Sneak, Double Team, Wood Hammer, and the newly learned Drain Punch were also part of his arsenal. Jekyll knew Copycat, but Mimic, a more advanced version of the move, stood out as perhaps his most valuable and versatile skill, useful for both learning and battle.

The one glaring omission was a strong offensive Fairy move. Play Rough is Mimikyu’s signature move, Jake thought, but I have no idea how to teach it. If Pokémon moves were learned by experience, then maybe Jekyll would literally have to learn to ‘Play Rough.’ Unfortunately, Jake’s Mimikyu hadn’t shown much natural inclination for play so far, and any hands-on practice with this move probably wouldn’t end well for him.

Jake put a hand to his chin, his gaze resting thoughtfully on Jekyll as he mulled over the idea. Mimikyu are deeply emotional creatures, he thought, jotting down notes. He recalled the intense emotions he’d felt when making contact with Jekyll's true form—a whirlwind of feelings, almost tangible in their intensity.

“Maybe Jekyll’s moves are expressions of his emotions,” Jake pondered, the pen moving across the paper. He considered moves like Charm or Baby-Doll Eyes. They could be born from Jekyll’s longing for love and acceptance, he noted. Then there were moves like Curse or Shadow Claw, which might stem from Jekyll’s fear and resentment towards those who might see through his disguise.

His thoughts circled back to Play Rough. Could it be a fusion of these emotions? he wondered. A mischievous yet aggressive move, blending his deep need for acceptance with his defensive instincts. Jake watched Jekyll closely, observing the Mimikyu’s every move and mannerism. “To teach Play Rough,” he mused, “we might need to tap into both sides of Jekyll’s nature, the loving and the fearful.”

A flicker of concern crossed his mind. He couldn’t shake the thought that leveraging Jekyll’s emotions, combined with the nature of battles and the risk of Jekyll’s disguise being compromised, might cause emotional, if not physical, pain. Is it right to use his feelings this way? he wondered, his brows furrowing slightly.

The last thing Jake wanted was to hurt Jekyll. His goal was to help him, not add to his burdens. But maybe there was a positive side to this approach. Training could offer Jekyll a way to better understand and manage his own emotions. By becoming more self-aware and accepting both his playful and protective sides, Jekyll might find a more stable, contented existence. Maybe, Jake thought with a hopeful note, this could lead to a happier life for Jekyll, in whatever way a ghost can be said to live.

He nodded to himself, affirming his plan. “The key to progress with Jekyll lies in tuning into his emotions. We start there.” A brief pause followed as another thought occurred to him. “Bringing Ciara in could really help unlock this,” he mused. “Though, knowing her, she might not be thrilled about playing therapist to a Mimikyu.”

Anyway, that was for later. Right now, it was Arthrox’s turn. Jake's memory of Venipede's move set was a bit foggy. In the games, he had never caught or used one much. The Scolipede line were somewhat obscure, often overlooked by many fans. But Jake remembered a day back in school when his friend Josh, the irrepressible Poké-geek, had launched into an uninvited, impromptu lecture about them.

Jake recalled Josh’s enthusiastic rant about Venipede, his glasses nearly slipping off in his excitement. “Jake, listen, Venipede are fierce,” Josh had insisted, hands slicing through the air. “They’re aggressive, man. Their venom can knock out a bird Pokémon twice their size. It’s not just their moves; it’s their attitude, you know?”

Jake remembered nodding, half-listening as he packed his backpack for the next class, while Josh’s words flowed like an unstoppable torrent. “And dude, they can even learn Steamroller! It’s a Bug-type move that’s perfect for squashing Psychic-types! And when they evolve into Scolipede, oh man, they become total powerhouses!”

True, Arthrox’s aggression had been clear in battles, but there was also a stoic, almost calculating side to him—a bit different from the Pokédex description. Arthrox’s straightforward, no-nonsense approach was refreshing, a nice counterbalance to his other Pokémon. Maybe a bit too stiff, but with Trixie around, that might be just what we need. I wonder how that might change with evolution?

Even now, as Jake looked at Arthrox, he smiled at the memory. Josh’s enthusiasm had always been infectious, if a bit overwhelming at times. Well, Josh, let’s see if your ramblings about Venipede were on point.

He’d already seen Defence Curl, Poison Sting, Rollout, Protect, Toxic, and Poison Tail before, but starting from the top:

“Alright, let’s see, or hear I should say, Screech.” The moment Arthrox let out a high-pitched, ear-splitting sound, Jake winced, his hand flying to his ears. Trixie, Jekyll, and even some trainers in the dojo shot them annoyed looks. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Jake laughed, quickly ticking off Screech.

Moving on, Jake decided to start with something a bit different. "Alright, Arthrox, let's try Pin Missile!" But instead of the expected barrage of needles, Arthrox just stared blankly at Jake, his small body seeming to deflate.

Jake couldn’t help but smile. He knelt down beside the Venipede, gently patting his segmented back. “Hey, no worries, buddy,” he reassured him. “This is all about finding out what we don’t know yet. You’ve got plenty of time to learn.”

“Veni,” Arthrox responded, perking up slightly. The gentle vibrations from his feelers conveyed a sense of understanding and gratitude. Jake was getting better at reading these subtle cues, though he still found it challenging to interpret Arthrox’s limited expressions. But he was improving, noticing the slight vibrations and the way Arthrox’s feelers moved when he felt stronger emotions.

Jake continued with his list. “Okay, how about Pursuit?” he called out next.

Arthrox crouched low, moving forward slowly, as if stalking prey, before springing forward with a sudden burst of speed, aiming to intercept an imaginary foe trying to flee. Jake’s eyes lit up, and he quickly jotted down a note. “Pursuit, that’s great! A Pokémon with a Dark-type move could be really handy.” He paused for a moment. I wonder if their predatory nature in the wild makes this move more intuitive for them? he thought.

Next on his list was Bite. “Alright, Arthrox, show me Bite!” Jake said. However, Arthrox simply stared back at him, not moving an inch. Jake raised an eyebrow. “How about Bug Bite?”

This time, with sudden quickness, Arthrox clamped his fangs onto the dummy, the grip firm and seemingly calculated to inflict maximum damage. Jake scratched his head in confusion. “What’s the difference?” he muttered to himself, watching as Arthrox disengaged and returned to his starting position.

He glanced over at Mustard, who had been observing quietly. “Master Mustard, any idea why he knows Bug Bite but not Bite?”

Mustard shrugged with a grin, “Ah, Jake, there are plenty of mysteries in the world of Pokémon. Some of them, well, we might never quite figure out.”

Jake sighed at the disappointing answer, jotting down, ‘Mystery: Bug Bite, yes; Bite, no.’

He continued the session, calling out various moves, but Arthrox only responded blankly to each. Then, “Toxic Spikes,” Jake commanded. The Venipede began rolling around the dummy, releasing sharp, purple-tinted spikes, forming a hazardous ring.

In the games, Toxic Spikes is an egg move, not something Venipede would learn just by levelling up, he thought. If Arthrox were to be described in game terms, perhaps he could be considered as having a 'Careful' nature. It was probably an oversimplification, but it made him wonder if a Pokémon’s personality might naturally influence their learning of certain moves. Another one for the notebook.

He grinned. “I bet my teachers would fall over if they saw me now—turns out all I needed was Pokémon to crack open a book.”

Jake was about to close his notebook when he noticed Arthrox’s expectant gaze. The Venipede sat there, feelers vibrating subtly, as if anticipating something. Jake smirked, knowing exactly what he wanted.

Leaning in, Jake spoke slowly, his voice lowering. “Deeeefense…” he teased, watching as Arthrox’s excitement visibly grew, his feelers wiggling faster, his body vibrating with barely contained energy.

Then, with a dramatic pause, Jake finished, “…Curl!”

Instantly, Arthrox responded with an enthusiastic “Veni!” He coiled into himself with such precision and grace that it was almost artful. The smooth, shiny carapace gleamed in the morning sun as Arthrox formed into a near-perfect sphere.

Jake laughed softly, ticking his notepad with a flourish, looking fondly at the compact Venipede ball before him. “Ten out of ten, Arthrox,” he said with a grin.

Closing his notebook with a satisfied snap, Jake estimated Arthrox to be around level sixteen to twenty-one. “Not far from evolving into Whirlipede,” he mused, knowing that level twenty-two was the benchmark from the games.

As Arthrox already possessed most of his naturally occurring moves, preparing for evolution was the next step. Jake identified three key areas to focus on: shell hardening, strength, and speed. For shell hardening, Arthrox would go through burrowing and rolling exercises to prepare for the tougher shell of a Whirlipede. Strength training would also be vital for handling the heavier armour. Lastly, speed and agility were essential.

Despite Whirlipede's generally static nature, they were still more manoeuvrable than other Bug Pokémon in their cocoon stage. Jake pondered integrating Arthrox into the agility course he had in mind for Trixie, training them together, with Arthrox on the ground level. 'This could work well,' he mused, liking the idea.

As Jake shifted his focus towards Iggy, eager to begin their session, he caught the purple glint of Arthrox’s Toxic Spikes out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, right," he sighed with a hint of regret, noticing the sharp, purple-tinted hazards still littering the ground. He straightened up, approaching the area cautiously. "This never came up in the games," he muttered to himself. With a careful gesture, he enlisted Arthrox's help, who dutifully rolled over the spikes, collecting them with his sturdy body.

The dojo courtyard now safely cleared, buzzed with early morning activity. Jake's eyes briefly scanned the area. Trixie was zipping around, occasionally peering over the shoulders of other trainers to see what they were up to. Jekyll remained loveably fixated on Jake as ever his ‘head’ tilting watching his trainer’s every move. Arthrox, having finished his task, settled next to Jekyll, seeming content. Jake observed this, musing that Arthrox seemed to really have developed have a respect for Jekyll.

Across the courtyard, Mustard was engaging with various trainers, offering advice and encouragement. The mix of students included those from Jake's class as well as faces he recognised from the recent reward ceremony. In another quiet corner, Siobhan was concentrating on bonding with her recently acquired Fomantis and Chikorita. Jab and Bab were notably absent, likely still enjoying their morning rest.

Jake’s attention shifted as Ciara approached. She leaned against the wall in her mustard-yellow Gi, dark brown hair in its usual ponytail. She nodded quietly, and Jake returned a small smile before turning back to Iggy.

“Alright, Iggy,” Jake began, pulling out his notepad. “Let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve.” Iggy let out an enthusiastic “Cynda, Cynda!” full of eagerness.

“Let’s start with Leer,” Jake said, eyeing his notepad. Iggy’s eyes glinted, narrowing her already narrow gaze in an admittedly adorable rather than menacing way. “Good job, Iggy!” Jake chuckled, ticking off the move.

“Next, Tackle!” Without hesitation, Iggy charged forward, delivering a solid impact on the unfortunate dummy. Jake nodded in approval and made another tick.

“Now, try Smokescreen.” Iggy puffed up, releasing a dense, white smoke that quickly filled the surrounding area. Jake coughed, waving his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air. His vision blurred, and he found himself disoriented in the thick smog.

Suddenly, Jekyll emerged from the smoke with a soft “Kyu,” gently tugging at Jake’s Gi. Jake smiled in gratitude, following the Mimikyu’s lead out of the smokescreen. Emerging into clearer air, he saw Ciara still leaning against the wall, an amused eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face.

Jake felt his cheeks warm slightly. “Caught in the haze, huh?” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

He glanced back to see Iggy weaving through the dissipating smoke, her little form darting about in confusion. “Iggy, over here!” he called. The Cyndaquil quickly scampered to his side, looking relieved. “Cynda, Quil?” as if to say, “Where the heck were you?”

Jake just sighed. “We might need to work on that one…”

Jake looked at Iggy, ready for the next move. “Alright, let’s see Ember.” Iggy took a deep breath and shot a small but precise flame toward the dummy. The flame hit its target, leaving a small scorch mark. “Nice one, Iggy!” Jake exclaimed, marking Ember off his list.

Next, he called out a series of moves: Quick Attack, Flame Wheel, Swift. Each time, Iggy responded with a blank stare. Jake frowned slightly, noting this down.

Jake, curious, called out, “How about Howl?” Iggy responded unexpectedly, her small frame expanding slightly as she let out a surprisingly deep, resonant howl that echoed around the courtyard. The sound seemed to invigorate her, with her flames flickering more intensely for a moment. Interesting, another egg move, Jake thought. That’s an unusual one for a Cyndaquil.

But then, he noticed Iggy’s small frame heave slightly, her energy ebbing as quickly as it had surged. He knelt beside her, offering a comforting pat. “You’re doing great, but we’ve got to build up your endurance, little one. Using flame attacks takes a lot out of you, and we can’t have you tiring out too quickly.”

Iggy nuzzled his hand, her flames dimming to a gentle glow. Jake estimated that Iggy was probably between level five and ten. For Iggy, the foundational skill she needed to master was controlling her flame. It was crucial for her to learn not to instinctively flare up in response to surprise or stress. Equally important was building her endurance; using fire was strenuous and drained her energy quickly.

Jake knew he’d have to focus on endurance training, which, to his dismay, probably meant a lot of running. He also planned to incorporate strength exercises into her routine, all aimed at increasing her resilience and capacity for sustained fire use. Training Iggy to manage her flame without exhausting herself was crucial, not just for battles but for her well-being and their bond. The spontaneous bursts of flame were a barrier, an involuntary defence mechanism that made close interactions a cautious affair.

These sessions weren’t just about immediate control; Jake was thinking ahead. He knew that the efforts invested now, while Iggy was still a Cyndaquil, would pay off as she evolved. The stronger and more controlled she became in her current form, the more formidable she would be upon evolving. Jake was determined to ensure that when the time came for her to evolve into Quilava and eventually Typhlosion, she would have a solid foundation to build on.

Jake paused, tapping his pen against the notepad. “Mastering Quick Attack is a priority,” he said, looking at Iggy with determination. “We’ll start with short bursts, and Trixie can demonstrate. She’s already got it down, so just watch how she does it.” Iggy’s flames flared brighter, a clear sign of her excitement. “With a bit of practice, you’ll be quick enough to dodge nearly anything and strike before they even see you coming,” Jake added.

“Then we focus on precision,” Jake continued, sketching small torches on his notepad. “We’ll set up a bunch of targets for you to light. They’ll be moving around—some high, some low—all to help you get better at aiming and controlling your flames.” Hearing this, Iggy whooshed with excitement, sending a bright burst of fire from her back that illuminated everything around them.

Jake instinctively leaned back, narrowly avoiding the unexpected burst of heat. “Stunning enthusiasm, Iggy,” he said with a dry chuckle, patting the air with his hand. “But let’s not test my fire resistance today, okay?”

“The third part gets more intense,” Jake continued, his pen tracing the outline of a relay course. “Here, you’ll combine your stamina with flame control, sprinting and striking targets along a challenging path.” He planned to use the same course set up for Trixie and Arthrox.

“The grand finale?” Jake’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “A race against Trixie and Arthrox. It’s the ultimate test of everything you’ve learned—endurance, flame control, precision, and speed.”

Ciara chimed in, “Need a hand setting up that obstacle course? Valianta, Maridon, and I could use a bit of a challenge too. Mind if we join in?”

Jake stood up, his smile broadening at her offer. “The more, the merrier,” he replied. “It’ll stir up some healthy competition and make it more fun for everyone.”

Before Jake could turn to his Pokémon, Ciara abruptly approached him, thrusting a small object into his hand. It was a small disc encased in a sleek box. Jake looked at it, puzzled, until Ciara rolled her eyes. “This settles our duel, remember?” she said.

Jake examined the item more closely. A Technical Machine, commonly known as a TM. The disc was housed in a transparent case, its surface gleaming with a modern sheen. A prominent number twenty-five was etched onto it.

“What move does it contain?” Jake asked, his curiosity piqued.

Ciara shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s Protect. Won it from a rather cocky trainer a few months back, but Kaida already knew the move.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He noticed user instructions printed on the device, with arrows pointing down at the bottom, clearly indicating the disc was to be inserted into the back of a Pokéball. Just below the instructions, a bright, bold label caught his eye, proclaiming in large letters 'For Single Use Only.'

“Protect, huh?” he mused thoughtfully. “I’ll have to figure out who to give this to. Thanks, Ciara.” He pocketed the disc with a nod of appreciation.

Turning towards his team, Jake’s eyes sparkled. “Alright, everyone, our training plan is set. We’ve got a challenging couple of weeks ahead of us, but with this,” he said, patting his notebook in his pocket, “and your dedication and hard work, we’re not just training for the next battle. We’re training for something far greater.” He paused, a knowing smile slowly spreading across his face. “This is the start of our legend.”