Chapter 28 – A Reward
POV – CIARA
"Well, well, look who's back! I hope those little adventures of yours weren’t too rough, eh?" Mustard beamed at them. "I’ve been at this for a good long while, and let me tell you, those Towers—now there's a real test for a young trainer! Mistress Morgana and Master Reed, top-notch trainers and mentors, the both of 'em! Tough as nails and always ready to put on a great battle."
He let out a hearty laugh, standing casually, but full of energy. "And from what I’ve seen, that still holds true!"
Ciara stood tall, cool and composed; with discipline, as they all lined up before Master Mustard in the main hall of the Master Dojo. Yet beneath this controlled exterior, her thoughts churned with self-reproach, fixated on the bitter memory of her defeat at the Tower of Waters. She had come so close—reaching the final stage—only to be outmatched by Reed, the Master of the Tower.
Who would have thought he’d actually use his Poliwrath? The memory of the battle replayed in her mind. That Pokémon was a powerhouse, a veteran of the late stages of the Pokémon League. Kaida hadn’t stood a chance. I never expected to face something of that calibre, not in this trial, Ciara thought, gritting her teeth in frustration.
The training mats, usually scattered across the floor, had been rolled away. Equipment—dumbbells, punching bags, practice dummies—lined up neatly against the walls, leaving the centre of the room an open expanse of polished wood, gleaming and impeccably maintained. The room was quiet, silence broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as the group stood at attention in relaxed martial arts pose.
To Ciara’s right, Jake’s dusty-blonde hair shifted slightly as he adjusted his weight, light filtering down from the short gaps in the rafters. He was more casual than she was, still adapting to the formality of a martial arts dojo. Snuggled against his neck, the ever-present Trixie was snoozing, small chest rising and falling, not quite ready to face the early hour.
Many Pokémon appreciated the comfort of a Poké Ball, seeing it as a sanctuary to rest and regain strength. But some, like Trixie, despite her present state, were too restless, too energetic to be confined for long—as in many things, it was all about the Pokémon's will.
Pokémon could not be treated as robots; they had their own desires, their own spirit, and that spirit could be stronger than any ball or command. It wasn’t a question of power alone but of mutual respect. A trainer had to earn their trust. Without that even the control of a Poké Ball could falter. In moments of crisis, some Pokémon would emerge to protect their trainer, driven by loyalty—but if the opposite was true, some might refuse to obey, and in rare cases, even leave.
What surprised Ciara was how many young trainers failed to grasp this. Sadly, there were Pokémon out there with more loyal dispositions, driven by a strong instinct to please their trainers. This could lead to some truly tragic situations. In their eagerness, these Pokémon might unintentionally reduce themselves to mere tools, blindly following commands even when they shouldn’t. It was a terrible position for them to be in, torn between their own will and their desire to be loyal friends. Trainers who took advantage of that loyalty—turning Pokémon into nothing more than obedient instruments—were rightly abhorred. Yet, there were still those who believed in that kind of control, wrong though it was.
Whatever his faults, Jake was the opposite of that. His loyalty and care for his Pokémon were undeniable. Ciara had been wrong about him—and about Jekyll. She could admit that now. Jekyll wasn’t the monster from her nightmares. She had been wrong to project her fears onto him. He was not like that Banette. Like him.
She shivered, she could almost hear that voice—smooth and rich, like oil sliding over glass, dripping with unsettling certainty. "Freedom, Ciara... true freedom," he had said, calm but sickeningly sweet, "is submission to the higher cause." The words slithered through her mind, leaving a trail of unease, insistent, revolting. "Pokémon cannot understand this on their own—they must be led, shown the path by those who know better. Only in bending their will to ours can they ever be liberated. It is our duty, child, to free them from their ignorance."
Her stomach twisted at the memory as Mustard continued with a smile. “But don’t let that get you down! There’s an important lesson hidden in the Second Trial, one that’s as valuable as any victory.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “That lesson is resilience.”
Mustard’s gaze swept across the room, landing on each of them, one by one. “The key, my young trainers, is how you react to that. Will you get back on your feet, ready to face the next? Will you acknowledge the lessons learned from the experience, the growth that comes from struggle? Or will you decide that enough is enough?”
She glanced to her left. Siobhan’s shoulder-length orange hair had been pulled back in a casual ponytail, her bright green eyes flicking around the room. There was a lightness about her, a sense of peace, as if a weight had been lifted—though she struggled to suppress a yawn.
Beyond Siobhan stood the idiot duo, Jab and Bab, bright blue and red hair striking against the mustard-yellow gi they all wore. Despite what Ciara considered a more than disappointing performance in the trial, the cousins were still full of energy, grinning and snickering like they hadn’t just stumbled through the day.
To either side, junior students stood in neat rows, some with wide eyes of curiosity, some looking a bit bored as the ceremony unfolded. Ciara was reminded that this was her final formal year at the dojo. She wasn’t usually one for sentimentality, but the memory of standing in their place—watching the older students receive their rewards. Back then, she had only felt impatience, desperate to be in their shoes, only vaguely aware of the challenges to come.
Mustard’s smile softened. “This path isn’t just about winning, it’s about growing. It’s about facing the setbacks, the failures, and using them to become stronger, wiser, more determined. That’s what it means to be a true Pokémon trainer. So, take what you’ve learned, and carry it with you. Let it make you better, not just as trainers, but as people.”
Reed’s words after the battle still echoed in Ciara’s mind, congratulating her on making it that far. But they felt hollow, even patronising. There will always be someone better. That was the message she took from it, but it was irritating. A bitter pill she had to swallow. That, despite all her dedication, the preparation of her Pokémon, defeat was always a possibility in the end.
He then chuckled, rubbing his hands together with a gleam in his eye. “But enough of my jabbering! You don’t need to hear any more of that, eh? Let’s get to the juicy part—your rewards!”
With a grin, Mustard stepped aside, gesturing towards his wife, who greeted them with a warm, calm smile. “Honey, my dear, the floor is yours,” he said with a wink, before casually leaning against one of the pillars.
“Thank you, darling,” Honey said. “Now, let’s have a quick recap of your objectives for the Trial of the Two Towers. First, we had the Test of Creativity, where you needed to find an Armorite Ore. That one was all about using your smarts and thinking outside the box."
"The Test of Leadership. Evolution brings its own challenges, doesn’t it? As a good trainer, it’s important to understand what evolution means for your team. How does it change the dynamics? And how do you adapt to your newly evolved Pokémon?"
“And finally, the Test of Resilience—the aim was to reach the summit, not win the battles at the top. Think of those as a bonus! What truly mattered was whether you could keep going when it got difficult.”
"So, stressing out was part of the syllabus?" Jake asked.
Ciara shot him a sharp look. "Quiet, Jake. Pay attention," she instructed quietly, though a barely perceptible smirk quirked at her lips.
Honey smiled warmly at Jake. “Those final battles are designed to you a taste of what it’s like to go up against seasoned trainers in a real competitive setting. It’s one of the special privileges of the Master Dojo’s program—most trainers won’t have that kind of experience until they’re standing in front of a gym leader.”
“Mistress Morgana and Master Reed? Oh, they’re seasoned trainers who could’ve been gym leaders themselves! Their experience is hard to match. But what makes it even more special is that they were once part of the Master Dojo too. They’ve been Guest Disciples under Mustard, and it’s always such a delight to have them back, lending a hand with our program, You—oh, you gave them an interesting challenge! I’m sure it surprised them, and I bet you opened their eyes a little.”
Mustard let out a chuckle. "Ah, the Mistress! Now that’s a shocker, isn’t it? She’s more likely to freeze you on the spot with one of those icy stares than dish out compliments. But, young Jake, you’ve worked some magic! She actually had something to say about you—something good, no less! Sang your praises, in fact. Said you and your Pokémon had a style she doesn’t come across too often. And let me tell you, when Morgana’s got something nice to say, well, that’s about as rare as a sunny day in a hailstorm!"
As Mustard spoke, Ciara noticed the shift in the room. The other trainers were starting to pay closer attention to Jake. He was still an unknown quantity to many of them—friendly and likeable, sure, but also a bit of a mystery. The younger students, in particular, had been shy. Mainlanders were a rare sight in Applinby, usually veteran trainers seeking tips from Master Mustard or hunting for rare Pokémon. But someone like Jake—or Leon for that matter, young, but with an air of something unfamiliar, like they came from another world entirely—was almost unheard of.
Then again, she was Unovan, which was even more unusual around here. Not that it mattered. The younger trainers kept their distance, though she’d caught them watching her now and then—admiration, perhaps? Fine by her. She wasn’t here to make friends or play mentor. If they were keeping their distance out of respect, good. She didn’t have time for anything else.
Murmurs began spreading through the group of junior students. They exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves as they sized up the newcomer. Jake, catching the sudden attention, rubbed the back of his head, looking a bit nervous, maybe even a touch ashamed, though Ciara couldn’t quite figure out why.
Mustard’s grin softened, and he gave Jake a reassuring nod. "You haven’t been here long, but you’ve shown you’re a capable lad, adapting quicker than most would in your shoes. With that attitude, I’ve got no doubt you’ll reunite with your family. Keep this up, and there’s nothing you can’t handle."
Jake blinked rapidly, taking a quick breath before speaking. “I… I can’t even find the right words, Master Mustard. Honey, too. Just… thank you. I’ll do my best. I really will.”
As he spoke, Trixie, still snoozing on his shoulder, nuzzled closer to his neck, her tiny paws gripping his collar as if to offer comfort. It was a simple, unconscious gesture, but it grounded him in the moment, a reminder of just how close they were.
Ciara noticed Siobhan’s sympathetic look, but something about the whole situation felt off—a sense of incongruity she couldn’t quite pin down. Jake was beginning to seem like more of a challenge than she’d expected, and that didn’t add up.
She felt sympathy too, of course. He’s lost, she reminded herself, with parents and a little sister who must be desperately searching for him. It was hard not to feel for him, knowing how alone he must be, even if he didn’t always show it.
But that sympathy was tinged with something harsher, something bitter. Ciara clenched her fist. She had been separated from her family too, but unlike Jake, the thought of going back didn’t bring any comfort—it made her skin crawl. The idea that they might still be searching for her filled her with revulsion, not hope. She had left that life behind for good. She would never return. Not ever.
Suppressing a shiver, Ciara turned her focus back to Jake, eyeing him closely. He was supposed to be a novice, right? A guy without memories who had only been at the dojo for what, a month? Yet here he was, earning praise from the notoriously harsh Grim Lady. How was that possible?
Too capable for someone with no background, no memories. The thought gnawed at her, but she shoved it aside, refusing to let doubt creep in. If anything, this was a reminder—she couldn’t afford to be complacent. She’d already lost once. She would simply have to work harder, train longer, push herself beyond her limits. No matter how skilled Jake turned out to be, she would be better.
Honey retook command. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, you’ve all done wonderfully. Let’s talk about the rewards you’ve earned from all your hard work, shall we?”
"Now, first up, Jab," she announced, her gaze locking onto the blue-haired boy. "Since you and Bab have both earned your Red Belts, it’s my pleasure to present you with the Mustard Yellow Belt."
Jab stepped forward; broad, cocky grin plastered across his face. Ciara watched him, half-amused, fully incredulous. How did they manage that? Her mind refused to process it—like an error in the system. It didn’t make sense that people like Jab and Bab even existed, let alone succeeded at something. They were an aberration. She tried not to think too much about them; it hurt her head.
They had been impossible to shake, appearing out of nowhere just when she thought she’d finally lost them. Like a couple of stubborn pests that refused to stay gone, their voices grating on her nerves as they fired an endless barrage of questions.
“Ciara, where can we find Armorite Ore?!” Jab had whined for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“Yeah, Ciara! You’ve gotta help us!” Bab’s voice had climbed an octave, for some reason. “Why can’t we catch any Pokémon that will evolve? Are we doing something wrong?”
Everything, she thought, but had bitten back the urge to snap. “Figure it out yourselves,” she muttered, quickening her pace, hoping to outrun their incompetence. But no matter how fast she walked, no matter how many detours she took, there they were—always right in front of her. As if they had some kind of supernatural ability to be annoying.
“Ciara, are we even in the right place? This doesn’t look like where we’re supposed to be!” Jab had moaned, his blue hair bobbing like some kind of irritating beacon in her periphery.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t just give up and go back to the dojo?” Bab had chimed in, red hair swishing as he somehow kept up. “This is so hard! Can’t you just show us where the ore is?”
By the time she neared the Tower of Waters, her frustration had peaked. She thought she’d finally ditched them, but just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, there they were—splashing around on Challenge Beach like a couple of carefree Wingulls, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the trial.
“Hey, Ciara! Glad you could make it! The water’s great!” Jab had called out, zooming past on a rental surfboard, his Squirtle surfing along beside him, shades on as if it were living its best life.
“Yeah! You should totally join us! We’re taking a break from all that nonsense!” Bab had added, wobbling precariously on his paddleboard while his Mienfoo meditated at the edge, as if this were completely normal.
Ciara couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Watersports. They didn’t even battle, didn’t even attempt the Tower. Unbelievable. Her mind boggled that they’d survived at the Master Dojo this long. If nothing else, she had to give them credit for… what? Persistence? No. Thickheadedness. Like stubborn Grubbin, they just refused to crawl off and disappear.
But somehow, against all odds, they’d at least managed to scrounge up an Armorite Ore each.
Honey handed the Mustard Yellow belts to Jab and Bab. “Congratulations, both of you,” she said gently.
Jab accepted the belt with a smug smile. “We just knew where to look—investigation is the most important skill in media, after all!” he declared. Both he and Bab then turned to Ciara, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up, as if to say, We’ll rely on you again. She grimaced and looked away, while Siobhan giggled softly, and Jake just shook his head with a smile.
Her smile lingered as she added. “As you’ve both achieved a Mustard Yellow Belt, each of you will receive a special gift—a Pokémon.”
The moment the words left her lips, the cousins’ eyes lit up with excitement. Mustard stepped forward, grin as wide as theirs, holding two Poké Balls. “I pulled a few strings over in Stow-on-Side for these,” he quipped, handing them over. “Hope I didn’t mix them up!”
The first was a stocky, muscular creature with a deep crimson hue. A body that was compact, almost squat, yet powerfully built, wrapped in a snug white judogi. The Pokémon’s large hands fumbled slightly as it adjusted the belt around its waist, focused and with a touch of nervous excitement, as though wanting to get everything just right. It cast an eager glance up at Bab, eyes shining with a determination to make a good impression.
Beside it stood a slightly taller and more slender Pokémon, skin a dark, almost midnight blue, dressed in a white karategi. Long limbs, graceful but slightly gangly, as if it still growing into them. The creature shot a quick, curious look at Jab, as if checking for approval, before setting into a practiced stance. There was some playful confidence, but also a hint of uncertainty —like a young performer eager for applause, yet unsure if it had done enough to earn it.
They’re young, Ciara noted. Barely two feet tall, with a slight baby softness to their features—junior in a way that didn’t quite match the image they were going for. A Throh and a Sawk—serious, obsessive about training, yet there was something kind of cute about their attempts to look tough.
Jake, standing next to her, leaned in with a grin. “I can’t think of two Pokémon more perfectly matched, yet so different, as those two.”
Ciara had to agree. Colours aside, Throh and Sawk were disciplined and intensely focused. Difficult Pokémon to keep satisfied without a consistent routine. Maybe this was Mustard’s last-ditch attempt to get those two slackers to take their training seriously. Are they really going to be okay with these Pokémon?
But to her surprise, they seemed to hit it off—literally. Bab dropped into a mock wrestling stance in front of Throh. “What do you say, partner? Ready for a throhdown?”
Throh shifted on his heels like a kid with too much energy, and before Bab could even blink, he was plucked off the ground and hurled through the air like a ragdoll. He hit the mat with a resounding thud, knocking the wind out of him. For a moment, he just lay there, eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling, as if wondering how he’d gotten there. Then, with a wheezy chuckle, he raised a hand in surrender, grin still plastered on his face. “Alright, alright, you win this round,” he gasped. “Next time, I’ll make sure not to skip leg day.”
“High-five, buddy!” Jab called out, practically hopping on his feet. The second Sawk’s hand slapped his, Jab yelped like he’d touched a live wire, instantly clutching his hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I think you just shuffled my bones!” he yowled, shaking his arm as if checking all the pieces were still in place. “But hey, who needs a chiropractor when I’ve got you?”
Siobhan giggled. “Maybe they’ll actually learn something this time?”
Ciara scoffed. “Teaching those two clowns is like trying to train rocks—only rocks are more useful.”
Jake laughed. “If Jab and Bab can become half as serious as Sawk and Throh are focused, they’d be unstoppable. Maybe Mustard is onto something?”
Ciara seriously doubted that, but her attention shifted as Honey called Siobhan forward. With a lightness in her step, Siobhan offered Jake a warm smile as she passed by. Ciara’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unidentifiable stirring in her chest. It seemed Siobhan and Jake had become close during the trial. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.
Siobhan had been Ciara’s first real friend on Armor—maybe her first true friend ever. Those early days wouldn't have been easy for her; Ciara knew that. Growing up in Castelia hadn’t exactly made her the friendliest person around. She’d been tough, guarded, and far from approachable. But Siobhan had been patient, kind, and though she couldn’t fully grasp everything Ciara had been through, she never wavered. Siobhan’s kindness was genuine, something that had been unfamiliar to Ciara, but she couldn’t help but hold it close, even if she’d never admit it out loud.
Honey beamed as Siobhan approached. “Well, Siobhan, you’ve really outdone yourself. I remember when you first joined us at ten, and now here you are, earning your Green Belt. You’ve come such a long way since those early days.”
Honey carefully unfolded a neatly rolled belt, the deep forest green fabric adorned with intricate golden embroidery. As she handed it to Siobhan, Honey’s eyes sparkled with fondness. “This is for passing two of the objectives: evolving one of your Pokémon and reaching the top of the Tower of Darkness. You’ve earned this.”
Ciara couldn’t help but again notice the change in her friend—a newfound confidence that hadn’t been there before. What happened during the trial? She wondered. Siobhan had mentioned her swift defeat at Morgana’s hands, but Ciara would not have expected this kind of response. Siobhan was a decent battler when she had her head on straight, but the aggressive, confrontational side of the sport unsettled her, and she didn’t like seeing Pokémon get hurt. She had even confided in Ciara, voicing doubts about whether she was truly cut out to be a trainer.
Ciara had never known quite what to say, uneasy with how difficult she found it to disagree—they approached Pokémon battling so differently. While she could respect Siobhan’s care for Pokémon, she found it challenging to fully understand that perspective.
Pokémon were naturally competitive. In the wild, that instinct drove them to fight fiercely for resources, territory, and status. For trained Pokémon, battles were the purest expression of that primal drive. The thrill of combat, enhanced by the bond they shared with their trainer—rooted in teamwork, trust, and respect— all made the experience a deeply satisfying one for the Pokémon, regardless of the outcome. However, not everyone could understand or tolerate this, and it was a significant reason why some people couldn’t become Pokémon trainers.
Ciara had seen it happen before—people trying to become trainers because it was the expected rite of passage, only to struggle with the reality of it. The pressure, the responsibility, and the understanding that Pokémon thrived on battle—it wasn’t something everybody could handle. And if someone wasn’t suited for it, the journey could become long and painful.
She had feared that this was what was happening to Siobhan. Their battles had become routine, with Ciara winning more easily each time, and it frustrated her. It felt like Siobhan was holding back, not finding satisfaction in their battles, and that this was stalling her own progress as a trainer. That frustration bred guilt—a lingering resentment, despite how much Ciara cared for her best friend.
“With this Green Belt,” Honey continued warmly, “you now have access to the techniques of the Golden Path, exclusive to the qualified trainers of the Master Dojo.”
Honey paused, her smile brightening as she looked at Siobhan. “In addition, we’ve got something special lined up for you, Siobhan. Something we think is just right for your interests.”
“Siobhan, you’ve done wonderfully here at the dojo. We’ve all seen how much you’ve grown and how deeply you care for Pokémon. But we also recognise that the Master Dojo trains a very specific battle style—the Unseen Fist. It’s fast, aggressive, and designed to push both trainers and Pokémon to their limits. And while it’s powerful, we know it’s not the only path to success.”
She paused gently. “Every trainer has their own style, their own unique connection with their Pokémon. That’s the beauty of it—there are so many ways to become a great trainer. What we teach here is just one way, but we believe you might flourish even more in a different environment, one that suits your own approach.”
Honey’s smile widened. “That’s why, after discussing it with your parents, we’ve arranged something special for you. If you’re up for it, you’ll be spending a year at Professor Magnolia’s lab in Wedgehurst. It’s a fully sponsored apprenticeship where you can focus on Pokémon well-being and learn from someone with a fresh perspective.”
Siobhan’s eyes went wide with delight, her breath catching as the words sank in. “I… I can’t believe it! Really? Oh, thank you, Honey! This is… it’s everything I’ve ever wanted!”
Siobhan, overjoyed, fumbled between hugging Honey and bowing to Mustard, ending in a half-bow with an arm around Honey, almost pulling her into it. She giggled at the awkwardness, then hugged Honey tightly.
Honey chuckled, gently returning the embrace. “Applinby’s a bit small for someone with such big dreams,” Honey said warmly. “This opportunity will let you chase what you love, with one of the very best in the field.”
Jake nudged Ciara gently. “That’s pretty amazing for Siobhan, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea,” Ciara replied quietly. “Professor Magnolia is world-famous. She specialises in Pokémon biology, and places with her are prestigious and in high demand. Siobhan’s going in as an intern—but it’s a big deal.”
Jake looked thoughtful, murmuring to himself. “Mustard must have some serious connections. A champion really is a powerful figure, huh?”
Ciara noticed a look in Jake's eye—maybe he sees the champion’s position as a way to find his family. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She wanted that title too, but for the exact opposite reason—to put as much distance between herself and her family as possible. The thought made her sigh.
Siobhan rejoined the lineup, beaming with excitement as she passed by Jake. She paused, eyes sparkling with joy, and for a moment, Ciara noticed the warmth in her friend’s expression.
“Jake! Thank you! I couldn’t have done it without you,” Siobhan said brightly.
Jake grinned as they traded fist bumps. “You earned it, Siobhan. No doubt about that.” Trixie offered Siobhan a playful high-five, which she returned with a light giggle.
Ciara’s chest tightened slightly as she realised what this meant—Siobhan would be leaving. It hit her harder than she expected. When Siobhan approached, her eyes softened further, smile warm but wistful. She paused before Ciara, as if searching for the right words.
Then, with a knowing laugh, Siobhan said, “You’re terrible at hiding your feelings, C.”
Ciara rolled her eyes. “You’re imagining things.”
Siobhan simply stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around Ciara in a tight hug, whispering, “Don’t worry, C.”
Ciara stood stiffly at first, then gradually relaxed into the embrace. She wasn’t one for emotional displays, but this was different. There was a warmth in Siobhan’s hug, a comfort that Ciara couldn’t quite describe. “I’m not worried. I know we’ll stay in touch.” she said tersely.
Siobhan smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Sure we will.”
But as Siobhan turned to leave, Ciara couldn’t shake the sadness welling up inside her. But it won’t be the same.
Siobhan gave Ciara one last reassuring smile before turning to banter with Jab and Bab, who, predictably, were already teasing her about how she’d better not forget them once she became some big-shot Pokémon expert.
“Ciara!”
Ciara drew in a steady breath and stepped forward, deliberate, controlled. Her gaze fixed straight ahead as she made her way to the slightly raised dais. Passing Jake, she caught Trixie’s cheeky little wave.
The junior students watched her, eyes tracking her every move. She didn’t acknowledge the stares—there was no point. Focus was everything.
As she neared, Mustard grinned widely, nodding at her in approval. Ciara returned the nod, respectful but unwavering. Her pace didn’t falter once.
“Ciara,” Honey announced. “For finding an Armorite Ore and reaching the summit of the Tower of Waters, you’ve earned this.”
A Green Belt for her as well, she could not say she was not disappointed.
Finding the Armorite Ore hadn’t been too difficult. Maridon, her Totodile, had excelled in the wetlands on the road to Challenge Beach, slicing through the thick marshy terrain with ease to uncover the amethyst rock. But evolution? That was still out of reach. Kaida and Valianta needed far more energy to evolve, and Maridon was still finding his stride. She’d kept an eye out for a Pokémon with a quicker evolutionary path, but none felt like the right fit for her team.
“With this Green Belt, you too now have full access to the Golden Path,” Honey explained warmly.
The Golden Path—Pokémon moves that could only be learned through direct tutelage with Mustard’s Urshifu. This wasn’t just a few exclusive techniques; it was mastering a way of life, one that set Master Dojo students apart from most mainland trainers.
Mustard had not always been the secluded mentor hidden away on Armor. After he resigned his Championship, he’d all but disappeared from the public eye. His victories fading from memory. But Mustard wasn’t done. He’d embarked on a soul-searching journey across the world, delving into every corner, every remote region, in search of something more. Something deeper.
His quest led him to a forgotten place, remote and wild, where he encountered Pokémon unlike anything Galar had ever seen—Urshifu. These Pokémon, with their unique fighting styles—Single Strike and Rapid Strike—impressed Mustard. They held to a martial discipline, a physical and spiritual mastery that Mustard hadn’t found anywhere else. He trained alongside them, learning their ways, adopting and adapting their fighting style. He called it the Unseen Fist— inspired by the Urshifu's mastery of striking techniques, so fast and subtle that they often seemed invisible to the opponent.
Urshifu were naturally inclined to train, both themselves and others they deemed worthy. These masterful Pokémon found fulfilment in coaching their knowledge, a trait deeply rooted in their commitment to Wushu—a martial art that harmonised body, mind, and spirit. Mustard embraced this philosophy, shaping it into a set of moves that he would later name the Golden Path.
Kaida, though still in the process of learning, shared that same drive to train. While she wasn’t yet ready to be a master like her parents, her presence alone had a significant impact on Ciara’s team. A Kubfu could not teach the Golden Path, but Kaida was delighted to coach, to train and be mentor to others. Ciara’s Pokémon were able to pick up new moves more quickly and adapt to the rigorous discipline her standards demanded.
When Mustard returned to Galar, he did so quietly, slipping back into Armor almost unnoticed. Those who knew him were shocked—not just by his reappearance, but by the two Urshifu at his side. Settling on Armor with his wife, Honey, he founded the Master Dojo, bringing with him the lessons he’d learned and the Pokémon that had inspired him.
The Golden Path emerged from this experience, a set of techniques that couldn’t be taught by anyone else—that required both Wushu and the guidance of Urshifu to obtain. The Green Belt was the one every student aimed for, the gateway to the Golden Path, and where the real training of the Unseen Fist could begin.
The Master Dojo was, in many ways, an elite training school, though without the official title. For Mustard, it was just a hobby, yet the trainers it produced were often more disciplined and resilient than those from the mainland. At least, that was the intention, Ciara thought, casting a disparaging glance at Jab and Bab. The three trials were designed to separate the worthy from the chaff, few were able to fully complete them. Those who did often became high-ranking trainers, like Bea Amantea, Reed Marshall, Morgana Baines—or even champions like Leon. And Ciara fully intended to be one of them.
As she returned to the lineup, a surge of determination coursed through her. She would master those techniques, push herself beyond her limits. She’d been humbled—defeated by Jake, Jekyll, and now Reed. Maybe she had grown too complacent, too used to winning, too comfortable in the safe confines of Armor. But she couldn’t forget that those who would take her were powerful, relentless, and they wouldn’t stop. She was half a world away now, but that would not protect her forever.
Jake was up next, and as he stepped forward, Ciara found herself clenching her fists. She would not accept being second place, not to him, not to anyone. In a strange way, she was grateful—finally, she had a rival worthy of testing herself against. One that could push her where she needed to be.
Memories flashed in her mind, unbidden—her father’s fanatical eyes, harsh voices echoing with the words, “To bind is to sin; to liberate is to ascend!!” The hammering of those words into her mind sent a shiver down her spine. But she forced herself to focus, to remember her resolve. She would fight with everything to ensure they would never take her.
If she could face ghosts, she could defy her blood—her future would belong to her alone.
POV - JAKE
Jake strode up to the dais, a little self-conscious under the stares of his peers. The wooden floor beneath his feet creaked slightly with each step, air rich with the scent of incense. He noticed Ciara standing off to the side, strong amber eyes catching his. That, by now, familiar edge to her expression—today it seemed to carry a little extra resentment than usual. “Challenge accepted” mode activated. Ah, how I have missed this, he thought, amused.
That said, it was good to see her again. She was as striking as ever—dark brown hair in that tight high ponytail she always wore, deeply tanned skin, ultra-athletic build. Not that she’d care, but yeah, she was hard to miss.
Ciara’s look sharpened into a glare, as if reading his thoughts. Jake smiled faintly to himself. Guess the Jekyll incident didn’t smooth things over for long. Ciara always had her guard up, but he could respect that. Nothing wrong with wanting to be the best there ever was.
His own little attention seeker was already basking in it. Trixie had her chest all puffed up, preening as they passed by the row of junior students. Some of them watched, struggling to restrain themselves in the face of the adorable flying squirrel. Jake could almost feel Trixie’s head swelling.
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“Seriously? Right now?” Jake muttered, giving her a side-eye. “You’re not that famous, you know.”
Trixie, unfazed, struck a pose, flicking her tail with flair. “Emol, emol!” she said with a pout. “It’s not easy being this cute, but some mon’s gotta do it!”
Jake grinned. “Now only posing worked as a battle move, Trix, the Mistress wouldn’t have stood a chance."
Trixie puffed out her cheeks, giggling before letting out a theatrical sigh. She flung herself against Jake’s neck, swooning over him like a starstruck fan. “Emol, emolga!” she cooed, as if his ‘wonderful’ words had completely melted her heart.
Jake rolled his eyes. Typical Trixie—dramatic as ever. She would be terrifying if she ever learned the actual move Charm. Or Baby-Doll Eyes. Maybe Jekyll would teach her. But he was glad she wasn’t taking her defeat to heart. She’d struggled with her confidence before, but it seemed like she was doing okay this time. That’s my girl, he thought, giving her a gentle scratch behind her ears.
Honey continued, “Jake has successfully completed all three of the Second Trial’s objectives!” A murmur of surprise rippled through the dojo, the students looking impressed. “As such, he has earned a Blue Belt!”
Jake blinked, taking in the applause, still a bit surprised to learn that the final objective wasn’t to actually defeat Morgana, just reach the final battle. A bit disappointing in a way, he’d thrown a lot of energy into that battle. Guess that was the point.
Mustard said. “Not bad, kid. You know, it’s rare for a young trainer to finish the Second Trial on their first try. That’s usually for the veterans.”
Jake raised his eyebrows. Veterans? That was news to him. He wasn’t exactly sure how to take it. He had plenty of knowledge from the games, sure, but that didn’t explain everything. Much of his success had to be credited to Jekyll. Not to dismiss his other Pokémon, but a loyal Mimikyu was powerful for a starter. He’d been all but unstoppable right up until that mean Liepard. Was that luck? Or skill? He didn’t really know. He could feel Ciara’s eyes on him, intensity ratcheting up a notch. Target acquired, Jake thought dryly.
Honey’s voice broke through again. “But that’s not all! Along with your new Blue Belt, Jake, you’ve earned the right to train in the Golden Path and receive special tutoring in the Way of the Unseen Fist!”
Uh... what? Jake tried to keep his face neutral, but inside he was scrambling to process the unfamiliar terms. Golden Path? Unseen Fist? It sounded like something out of a martial arts movie. But he quickly realised that it was probably the in-world explanation for Mustard’s Move Tutor role. In the games, Unseen Fist was Urshifu’s ability, that allowed it to strike through moves like Protect and Detect. Even more interesting, though, was the idea that the Unseen Fist was also the name of Mustard’s battle style. Now that’s cool. The games never covered that.
Before he could ask more about it, Honey spoke again, her tone softening. “We also have something else for you, Jake.” She hesitated slightly, her usual warmth dimming just a touch. “I know you’ve been looking for your family… unfortunately, despite our best efforts, there’s been no missing report that identifies you.”
Jake felt a familiar pang of guilt. He nodded, not really trusting himself to say anything. It wasn’t their fault. It’s mine, he thought.
“But,” Honey continued with a smile, “we wanted to offer you this, as a prize.” She opened her hand, revealing a sleek, modern-looking device. It was dark blue and white, with a slightly chunky, retro feel to it. A smartwatch—but not just any smartwatch. Jake’s eyes widened. A PokéGear.
He recognised it instantly. The same design from the games, but real, solid in Honey’s hand. He reached out to take it, smooth surface cool against his fingers. For a moment, he just stared at it. It felt like another bridge between his old world and this one.
“Thank you,” Jake said quietly, glancing up at Honey. She smiled warmly, kindness radiating as always.
“Think of it as a way to keep in touch,” she said softly. “You may feel like you’re alone, but you’re not. You have your Pokémon, and us here at the dojo. And there will be many more you meet along the way.”
Trixie nuzzled against his neck, almost as if to remind him. Honey smiled, continuing, “This is a tool to help you connect, to remind you that you have a place here. Use it to reach out, to stay in touch… with all of us.”
Mustard, still leaning casually against the pillar, caught Jake’s eye and gave a knowing grin. “Right, kid,” he said, pushing himself up. “Now that you’ve got your fancy new gear, why don’t you head over to Hyde? He’ll get it all set up for you—registration, installation, the whole lot.” He waved his hand vaguely, clearly not entirely sure what all that involved. “That boy understands all this tech stuff way better than me. Back in my day, we had to write letters to keep in touch, and let me tell you, I struggled with that too!”
Mustard chuckled. “Don’t I sound like some old fart? But seriously, Hyde’s the expert. He’ll have you up and running in no time.”
Jake nodded, but the smile he’d worn faltered for just a second. Mustard was all smiles, a living legend who had taken him in without a second thought. And Honey, always so warm and kind. It was kind of hard to believe people so altruistic could actually exist. I don’t deserve this.
That thought hit him like a dull thud in the chest.
They’d trained him, trusted him, welcomed him—and all the while, he’d been hiding the biggest secret of his life. Forcing them to search on his behalf.
I’m from another world, he thought. The weight of it hit harder now than it ever had before. It wasn’t like he’d volunteered for this—he hadn’t exactly signed up for a Pokémon adventure in an alternate universe—but the longer he stayed at the dojo, the weirder it felt not to come clean. Amnesia’s not really cutting it anymore, he admitted to himself. It must be obvious by now that memory loss wasn’t the issue.
It had seemed like the perfect excuse at first—a simple explanation, like something straight out of fiction he’d grown up with. But in practice? It was starting to feel pretty flimsy. Turns out, it’s a lot harder to be clueless than he’d thought. How far could ‘memory loss’ really go? Sure, forgetting basic stuff was one thing, but when he couldn’t stop himself from rattling off the internal Pokédex that was his brain, getting way too into training, and now one-upping the dojo’s star student. All within the span of a month. It had to be raising a few eyebrows.
He wasn’t stupid. He noticed the occasional glances. They weren’t suspicious, exactly, more like they were just... giving him space. Letting him figure things out. He wasn’t sure he’d get that kind of patience anywhere else but here.
These were good people—Mustard, Honey, Siobhan, even Ciara with her prickly edges. Jab and Bab, too. All of them, solid and trustworthy. But the truth? It was a heavy burden to casually give someone. Once that kind of thing was out, you couldn’t reel it back in.
Jake wanted to tell them—of course he did. There was a part of him that longed to just sit down and let it all spill out. Mustard would probably understand, maybe even Honey too. They weren’t the types to freak out over something big. But this? This was bigger than just a ‘something.’
He wasn’t about to play the martyr, act like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was just one person, and this was a whole world. One with its own history, its own way of doing things. His family wasn’t here—they were back in a place that none of these people had even imagined existed. And what would it even mean if they knew? Not just for him, but for them. For everyone.
The thing about information like that was once you let it slip, there was no stuffing it back into the box. It could shift things in ways he couldn’t predict, ways he wasn’t sure anyone was ready for. And honestly? He wasn’t sure he was ready for it either.
He stopped his thoughts there. No need to dive too deep into it, not right now. He should think this through rationally, without letting his emotions take over. He glanced over at Trixie, who was leaning over trying for a better look at the PokéGear.
Jake smirked. "Interesting, huh?"
Trixie didn’t even look up, completely engrossed.
“Fine,” he said, handing it over. "Go on."
He sighed; I haven’t even told my Pokémon...
That was a bad move. You don’t keep things like that from your team, your family. How exactly does one break the news that they’re fictional? That they were dreamed up by a dude obsessed with bug collecting? It wasn’t the sort of conversation you slipped into over breakfast. Oh, uh, by the way, you don’t technically exist—
No. He shook his head. There was no clean way to explain it, and right now, it didn’t matter. Right now, they were all here. They were real to him.
Time passed, and the ceremony was over. Jake stood in the courtyard in front of the Master Dojo, the pale grey stone tiles cool beneath his feet, the low walls framing the view of the ocean beyond. The breeze, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed, gently ruffled his hair as he breathed in the fresh air. It was one of those perfect days—warm, but not too hot, with the soft summer sun balanced by the cool wind coming off the sea. In the distance, he could just make out the small quay of Applinby, the little dock where fishing boats bobbed in the gentle waves.
The courtyard itself was alive with the sounds of junior trainers hard at work. Their morning session had started, the familiar thud of feet hitting stone as they practised. Jake and his peers had been granted a rare break after the Second Trial, time to catch their breath. They’d be back to training tomorrow, with the weekend to follow, and the rest was well-appreciated.
Siobhan, Ciara, Jab, and Bab stood nearby; Pokémon scattered around them. Trixie, naturally, was in the centre of it all, holding court as she showed off the PokéGear, waving it dramatically in front of Kaida and Cobie, Siobhan’s new Rockruff. The two Pokémon looked completely baffled, just staring at her like she was speaking a different language, which, she probably was.
Jake noticed Tuli quietly drifting about, keeping a watchful eye on her. He half-expected her to cause a stir—she usually did. She was still adjusting to being around people, after all. He hoped this would be a good place to gently introduce her to civilisation. Having spent much of her life in isolation, she had not even been aware of human existence until very recently.
Siobhan crossed her arms. “Trixie’s giving your gear a real once-over. Hope you don’t expect to get it back in one piece.”
“She’ll give it back.” Jake shrugged. “Might be covered in glitter, though.”
Siobhan laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds about right.”
Jake leaned back against the wall, grinning. “Congrats on the Magnolia gig, by the way. That’s huge.” He paused, then asked, “But does that mean you’re giving up on being a trainer?”
Siobhan raised an eyebrow, smiling gently at him. “Of course not, silly.” she said. “It’s actually an amazing opportunity to focus on both research and training at the same time.”
“The Magnolia Institute is a bit different,” Siobhan explained. “They’re more flexible—less focused on battle techniques like here at the dojo. There’s some of that, but the real emphasis is on Pokémon biology—things like physiology, habitats, and psychology. I’m really looking forward to learning about Pokémon wellness, but the best part is the variety. You can choose your own path, which gives me way more options than I’d get here at the Master Dojo.”
“Sounds like a lot of reading,” Jake said, teasing slightly. He paused, then grinned. “But it sounds incredible.”
Siobhan nodded. “It’s a special opportunity.” she said simply.
Jake’s grin softened as he added more quietly, “So, I guess we won’t be seeing each other for a while, huh?”
Siobhan raised an eyebrow, half-teasing, “What, so you’ll miss me, Jake?”
“Of course,” Jake replied, straight-faced, without hesitation.
Siobhan’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing slightly at his bluntness, but she offered a sweet smile as she met his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” she admitted, her voice quieter for a moment. “You better keep in touch with that fancy new device of yours. No excuses, alright?” She said playfully.
Before Jake could respond, Ciara, leaning against the wall, spoke up. “You’ll be missing the Cup, though, won’t you?”
Siobhan’s smile faltered for a moment, and she gave a small nod. “Unfortunately,” she said softly. “I’ll still join the League, just a bit later. It usually ties in with a field study anyway, so it works out.”
Jake’s attention was drawn back to Tuli, she appeared to be drifting toward Jab and Bab, who were busy trying, and failing, to get their Sawk and Throh to join in on their games. Jake’s caution spiked. Better head over before things get out of hand, he thought, making his way toward them casually, but with a little more urgency than he’d like to admit.
Tuli floated closer, lights softly pulsating as she studied Jab and Bab with curious eyes, particularly interested in their hair. Circling with innocent fascination. 'Ink? Inku?’ she sang cheerily.
Jab and Bab exchanged confused glances. Jab scratched his head, grinning. “Uh… Jake? Is this one of yours?”
Bab chuckled, eyes flicking to the little cephalopod. “She’s new, right? What kind of Pokémon is it?”
Jake sighed, already feeling the headache coming on. “Meet Tuli, she’s an Inkay.” He watched as Tuli floated in front of their eyes; lights flashing a bright little pattern, fixated on their brightly coloured hair. Oh no…
“Kinda... floaty, huh?” Jab commented, drawn to her. Then he blinked, rubbing his temples. “Weird... I just had this sudden thought of, like neon lights and… styling products? Did you feel that too?”
“Yeah, man! Hair gel and, like, the best pomade money can buy,” Bab chimed in, nodding enthusiastically
Jake groaned inwardly. Tuli wasn’t just fascinated—she was already projecting images into their minds.
Sawk and Throh were not so happy, though. Both fighting types had their hackles up, glaring at Tuli with warning eyes. Their muscles tensed, not happy at all with her presence. Sawk stepped forward, fists clenched, while Throh let out a low growl, protective and aggressive, telling her to stay away.
Jab laughed awkwardly. “C’mon, Sawk, she’s just checking us out. No need to flex.”
Bab patted Throh on the shoulder. “Yeah, relax, big guy. I mean who wouldn’t, right?”
But before anyone could react further, Tuli’s fascination turned to action. Headlights flared up in a mesmerising pattern, diffused reds, blues and greens. Jab and Bab’s expressions went slack. They suddenly started styling their hair, running their fingers through it like they were posing for a photoshoot. Jake’s stomach dropped. Oh, god.
"Ink, inku!" Tuli chimed happily, floating higher as her tentacles twitched in excitement, like she was pulling invisible strings. Her eyes sparkled as Jab and Bab, slack-faced but surprisingly graceful, twirled and struck poses with all the enthusiasm of two very confused mannequins.
“Dude, why am I... why can’t I stop?” Jab mumbled.
Each flick of Tuli’s tentacles sent Jab and Bab into exaggerated moves—Jab’s arm sweeping across his chest, Bab spinning awkwardly, before landing in a pose that looked straight out of a cheesy action movie. Tuli giggled with mischievous delight, eyes sparkling with childlike wonder, as if she were testing the limits of her new ‘toys.’
The cousins, though clearly under Tuli’s compulsion, didn’t seem bothered at all—if anything, they were leaning into it, striking over-the-top poses like models on a runway. With each movement, their thick, normally shaggy hair transformed, styled into ridiculous, towering popinjay hairdos. It stuck up absurdly high, somehow defying gravity, tufts poking out in odd directions.
Jab, flipping his hand through his now ridiculously tall hair, moved with strange fluidity. “Dude, check me out,” he said flatly, but with a weirdly cheerful tone, as he spun dramatically.
Bab, admiring his own equally ridiculous hairstyle, mirrored Jab’s pose. “Yeah, man, I gotta say, I’m feeling fabulous,” he declared, striking yet another pose.
The scene wasn’t going unnoticed. A few students nearby had stopped their training to watch, heads tilted in stupefaction, while others exchanged amused glances. Siobhan and Ciara stood a little further off uncertain whether they should be laughing or stepping in to help.
Sawk and Throh were having none of it. With a furious battle cry, they charged forward, desperate to rescue their new trainers.
Tuli didn’t even flinch. She turned toward the two martial artists almost lazily, as if she had all the time in the world. Her lights pulsed, the air around her warping, twisting. Sawk and Throh froze mid-lunge, locked in place as if invisible chains were pulling them down.
Tuli hardly seemed to put in any effort. She just floated there, tentacles moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, like the two fighters were no more than pieces in a puzzle she could calmly rearrange. Their muscles strained uselessly, caught in her psychic grip.
The crowd watched in awe, a few trainers whispering in disbelief as Tuli’s lights continued to flash, holding the two effortlessly in place. Ciara moved to intervene, but Siobhan gently held her back.
“Tuli!” Jake called out, firm but calm. “That’s enough. Let them go.”
Tuli paused, lights dimming as she turned to Jake, her face lighting up, as if forgetting everything she had been doing. “Ink, inku!” she sang, floating over to him with a playful swish of her tentacles. Did you see that? Wasn’t that interesting? I didn’t know I could do that! she projected into his mind, excitement bubbling over.
As she floated away, the psychic hold on Sawk and Throh loosened. The two Pokémon stumbled slightly; still tense from the sudden freedom. They seemed pretty rattled actually, and though they shot a wary glance at Tuli, retreated to check on Jab and Bab.
Bab ruffled Throh’s head with a grin. “Well, at least she didn’t make us do push-ups or something.”
Jab snapped his fingers. “Bro, forget push-ups—she gave us style! This could be the start of our media career.”
Bab nodded, excited. “Yeah, man! I’m thinking reality TV—Pokémon Trainers: Behind the Battles. We’d be stars!”
Jab smirked. “Or a podcast! ‘Good Hair, Great Battles.’ We’d crush it.”
Jake sighed, glancing at the cousins. These guys are kind of nuts. Fun, but nuts. Tuli might’ve just kickstarted the most ridiculous trend in Galar. What have I unleashed?
Meanwhile, Tuli’s lights pulsed cheerfully, and Jake felt her thoughts again, sharper this time. You bipeds have such funny-looking things on your heads, she projected with bright curiosity. Hair, you call it? So many styles and colours! I just had to try it out. I can change yours too if you want!
Jake was startled, imagining the ridiculous look. “Uh, no thanks,” he shook his head, amused. “Right, sure, but Tuli, you can’t just make people do stuff like that.”
Tuli’s lights dimmed a little, and she floated lower, her wide eyes blinking at him in confusion. Why not? She wasn’t being defiant—she genuinely didn’t know.
Gently, he reached out and touched her soft, rubbery cheek. “I know you’re curious.” Jake said, brushing lightly against her. “I don’t want you to stop using your powers. There’ll be times when they’re really helpful, and I want you to feel free to do that. But…” He paused, choosing his words. “When it comes to compulsion, you’ve gotta be careful. It’s not something you should do without permission.”
Tuli’s lights flickered, and her tentacles wavered as she seemed to absorb his words.
“I get it, though,” Jake continued. “You’re still learning, and honestly, so am I. But part of that means understanding when it’s okay and when it’s not. You’ll fit into this easier that way. We’ll figure it out together.”
Jab piped up from the side. “Hey, I kinda enjoyed it, actually!” he said with a grin, still running his hand through his now thoroughly styled hair. “I mean, I’ve never looked this good!”
Jake shot him a look, then turned back to Tuli with a thoughtful smile. “The point is, Tuli,” he said gently, “you don’t need to stop being curious. In fact, curiosity is great. But you’ll learn so much more by asking, instead of just watching or making people do things. If you compel them, they won’t trust you, and it will be harder for you to get the answers you want.”
Tuli’s lights flickered as she processed his words. Jake continued, trying to break it down. “Remember how you used to watch me from a distance when we first met? It was okay, sure. But it wasn’t the same as us having a conversation, was it? You’re smart—you can get so much more information if you engage with people. Asking questions, getting their perspective.”
“Isn’t it much better that you can talk to me now? You can ask me anything, anytime you like. That’s way more interesting than making me do what you want, right?”
Tuli’s lights pulsed brighter as she processed what Jake had said. She then proceeded to gloop onto him, tentacles wrapping around him and tickling his face. Jake laughed, trying to squirm away.
Ok then! I should find out more about you instead! Tuli projected, playfully poking at his sides with her tentacles, causing him to laugh even harder.
“Alright, alright!” Jake chuckled, pushing her tentacles away, shaking from the laughter. “No need to poke and prod me!”
Before he could say anything else, Tuli suddenly bombarded him with a flurry of projections—images, thoughts, and sensations flashing through his mind so fast he barely had time to process them. Snippets of their journey, bursts of colour, of silver, the sun, flashes of their team, random sensory impressions like the feeling of wind or the smell of a flower. With that, Tuli abruptly inverted herself with a small wobble.
Jake blinked, watching her as she hovered there upside down, perfectly still. Psychic energy spent. She was out cold, peacefully recharging after pushing herself to the limit. He chuckled softly, patting her gently. "Time for a nap, huh?"
Inkay are actually quite vulnerable creatures in some ways, he realised. Tuli might seem powerful when she was in action, but her energy had its limits. In this state, if she were in the wild, predators or enemies would have an easy time of it. The fact that she trusted him enough to completely let her guard down like this... it said a lot. She was extremely fortunate to have survived her long journey to the surface by herself.
"Finally decided to join the fun, Ciara?" Jab called out. "Thought you’d forgotten about us."
Ciara glanced at him. "I’ve tried."
Siobhan appeared right behind her. "What have you two got yourselves into this time?"
Bab jumped in. "Oh, you know, psychic meltdowns, hair disasters, upside-down naps. The usual."
"How do you even survive?" Siobhan asked, half-amused. "Ciara’s going to kill you if I’m not here to stop her, isn’t she?"
"Oh no, how tragic," Ciara said, deadpan. "Who’s going to stop me now?" Her gaze shifted to Jab and Bab, eyes narrowing just enough to make them tense. "Maybe I’ll finally get some peace and quiet."
"Peace and... quiet?" Jab repeated, not familiar with that concept.
Bab, quicker on the uptake, scratched his head. "Wait... stop you from what exactly?"
Ciara's flat stare seemed to turn menacing, Jab and Bab’s confidence started to waver. "Uh, Siobhan? You’re not really leaving us alone with her, are you?" Jab asked, suddenly looking like he was finally reconsidering his life choices.
Siobhan giggled lightly. “I’m not sure even I can stop her at this point. You two might just be on your own.”
Bab’s grin had vanished. “Uh... Ciara? We were joking... right?”
Ciara’s expression stayed cold, small smile barely reaching her eyes. "Who knows?" she said, voice like ice.
Jab and Bab exchanged wide-eyed looks. Bab leaned towards Jab, whispering loudly, "Bro, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome."
Jab nodded fast, his eyes darting. "Yeah, man. Uh... oh! Look, Sawk and Throh need us. Right, Sawk? Throh?"
They turned and bolted towards their Pokémon. "We’re coming, Sawk! Throh! Don’t panic!" Bab called out dramatically as if the fighting types were in desperate need of their help, despite them just standing there calmly.
As they sped off, Siobhan shook her head with a laugh. “I swear, they’re hopeless.”
Ciara turned her attention to Tuli, who was still floating upside down by Jake’s side. “So... a new Pokémon? Interesting colour for an Inkay.”
Jake nodded, gently taking hold of the little cephalopod. “Yep, meet Tuli. She’s... an experience.”
Siobhan chuckled, stepping closer. “Jake’s been catching a lot of Pokémon lately. I’m starting to think he’s on a mission to catch ‘em all,” she teased with a grin. “Every time I turn around, there’s a new one.”
Ciara’s eyes flicked briefly to Siobhan, her teeth subtly gritting. “Seems so,” she said coolly, staring at Jake closely, unnervingly so.
Jake wisely chose to ignore it. “You mentioned her colouring’s unusual?”
“There are Inkay on Armor, they’re quite common on the southern coast,” Ciara explained, still inspecting Tuli. “But her skin is a brighter blue—look,” she pointed. “It’s almost translucent. That’s not normal for the ones we see around here.”
Jake gently lifted Tuli up towards the sunlight, holding her carefully as the rays diffused through her body. Her skin had a light sky-blue tone to it, with a transparent quality, though thankfully, he couldn’t see her insides. Kind of like those deep-sea fish on Earth, he thought.
“Morgana called her a deep-sea Inkay,” Jake said, remembering the battle.
Ciara raised an eyebrow. “Is that a thing?”
Jake shrugged. “Apparently. Morgana mentioned something about it during our match. I didn’t get a chance to ask her more about it.”
Siobhan nodded slowly. “There are chromatic Inkay too—super rare, kind of like a brass instead of blue,” she added thoughtfully. “I think Tuli’s different, even beyond that.”
“Chromatic?” Jake asked.
“Uh, yeah, kind of like shiny,” Siobhan clarified. “Some Pokémon are susceptible to colour morphism. It's really rare, though.”
Jake’s eyes widened slightly. Interesting.
Just as he was piecing it together, Ciara folded her arms and shot him a pointed look. “So... you’ve been catching all these rare Pokémon, huh?”
Jake shrugged again. “Well, Tuli kinda found—”
Before he could finish, Ciara spun on her heel, her competitive side flaring up. “Right. That’s it. I’m catching another Pokémon too. Something even better.”
Siobhan blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Wait, what?”
Without warning, Ciara grabbed Siobhan by the arm, as if Siobhan had no say in the matter. “And you’re coming with me,” she declared, leaving no room for argument. Her pace was quick and determined, as if she'd already planned out exactly where she was headed.
Siobhan giggled as she stumbled to keep up. “Ciara, what are you—”
Jake smirked as Ciara practically dragged Siobhan out of the gates, Kaida and Cobie in tow. She was a girl on a mission. And none would dare stop her easily.
“Why the bloody hell isn’t it working?” came the sharp, high-pitched voice from inside the room, followed by a loud crash that made Jake wince. He stood outside the sliding door, listening to the string of curses that followed. “For f— sake, oh, for crying out loud, not again!”
Jake blinked, glancing at Trixie, perched on one shoulder, then Jekyll, on the other. He hadn’t actually met Hyde before. No one had really mentioned him—despite knowing from the games that he was Honey and Mustard’s kid and some sort of boy genius. A twelve-year-old Mensa child, locked in a room, inventing who-knows-what. In the games, Hyde was responsible for creating devices like the Exp. Charm and Cram-o-matic, but how any of that translated into reality was a whole different question.
Another loud bang, then a crash, like metal clattering heavily onto wood. Jake sighed, the Machoke must come here often. then knocked on the door. “Uh... Hyde?” he called. “I’m here about a PokéGear.”
“Bloody—ARGH!” Another crash, more volatile cursing. Jake raised an eyebrow. “Off to a good start.” Another crash, an ear-piercing screech.
Jake shuddered. “Hyde sounds like a crazier version of you, Jekyll,”
“Mimi, kyu!” Jekyll puffed up. Crazier than me? His stance proud screamed, Impossible!
“Emol, emol!” Trixie shot back, who could not resist a one-up. As if anyone could out-crazy me, bag-boy!
Jekyll was outraged, trembling with indignation. “Kyu!” I am no bag! I am a being of terror and fear!
Jake let them bicker. It was good for Jekyll to interact with someone else for a change, and Trixie was more than happy to stir things up. A bit of healthy sibling rivalry never hurt anyone.
Another loud crash resounded from the inside of the room, accompanied by Hyde’s high-pitched and furious. “F—OW! Bloody ‘ell, me toe!”—the door slid open. Jake barely had time to register the figure standing in front of him because the room beyond was... chaos.
Jake stared. Trixie stared. Jekyll stared. They all stared.
“Emol...” “Kyu...” Trixie and Jekyll murmured in sync, shocked. They looked at each other, surprised they’d agreed on something.
The room was a mess. Half-assembled gadgets, scattered tools, wires tangled in ways offensive to rational beings. Papers and blueprints everywhere, crumpled like they’d been tossed aside. A few mechanical bits and bobs littered the tatami mats, and something in the corner that looked suspiciously like it had been smoking not too long ago. Like a tech laboratory had exploded inside an otherwise, traditional Japanese-style room.
It took Jake effort to tear his eyes away to land on Hyde. He was short, for a kid, with light brown hair that was slightly messy, probably from the frustration of whatever he’d been working on. He wore in-ear headphones, and Jake could faintly hear heavy metal blasting from them—aggressive for a twelve-year-old, but maybe not for this twelve-year-old. Hyde’s jumper was unexpectedly... cute? Pink with a scrunched-up blue Urshifu face on it, layered over a dress shirt that seemed way too formal for the room he was standing in.
Hyde glanced at Jake, then at the Pokémon on his shoulders, not bothering to take his headphones off. “What d’ya want, mate? I’m in the middle of... fixing... well, something,” he said, his voice was kind of nasal but clipped with irritation. He kicked at a piece of machinery near his feet and frowned. “You’re here for the bloody PokeGear, right?”
Jake nodded, still recovering from the scene. “Yeah, that’s me. You alright in there?”
“Am I—? Yeah, ‘course. Just another sodding disaster,” Hyde muttered, motioning Jake inside with a wave. “Come in, and watch your step—unless you want a face full of wires.”
Jake stepped carefully into the room, again hit by the chaos of the place. Watching for the myriad tripwire tangled across the floor like a web, and strange gadgets cluttered every available surface. Half-built machines hummed quietly in corners, glowing faintly with some unknown purpose. The whole place had a weird blend of futuristic tech and retro bulk—chunky, functional devices that seemed to prioritise results over appearance.
Before Jake could even take it all in, Jekyll suddenly hopped off his shoulder, puffed up like he was about to face down an enemy. His eyes locked onto the mess.
“Mimi, kyu!” he said sharply, making a beeline for Hyde. This? This is unacceptable!
Hyde jerked back, bewildered as Jekyll got right up in his face, hovering with an air of menace. “Oi, what the hell—?”
Jekyll stood firm, looming over Hyde, full foot-and-a-half of indignant rage. “Kyu!” How dare you live in this filth!
Hyde, to his credit, didn’t back down. “What’s your problem, mate? It’s a sodding organised mess!”
Jekyll wasn’t having it. He let out an annoyed kyu! and immediately started tidying, moving wires and stacking papers like a Pokémon possessed.
Jake and Trixie exchanged looks—bemused and a little resigned. Of course, Jekyll would do this. For all his creepy, sometimes psychotic vibes, turns out he was a complete neat freak. It was almost funny. Maybe it was the disguise—Jekyll had developed an obsessive eye for detail. Nothing out of place, ever. And apparently, that didn’t just apply to his wearables. Clutter? Absolutely not.
Jake smirked, remembering the times Jekyll had actually scolded him for leaving things lying around his own room.
Trixie was already giggling, watching Jekyll zip around the room like a grumpy maid. “Emol, emol,” she clapped, thoroughly entertained.
Hyde, however, was less impressed. “Oi! You can’t just start moving stuff!” He threw his hands up in the air as Jekyll shifted a pile of cables. “You’re disturbing the ecosystem!”
“Kyu!” Jekyll responded coldly. Your incompetence knows no bounds!
Hyde turned to Jake, exasperated. “This is bollocks, mate. I won’t be able to find a bloody thing after he’s done!”
Jake stifled a laugh. “You’re not gonna stop him,” he said, shrugging. Then, reaching into his bag, he pulled out the PokéGear and held it up. “How about you take a look at this instead?”
Hyde let out a long sigh, muttering something colourful under his breath before giving in. “Damn it… fine.” He plopped down heavily into his chair, already grumbling as he snagged the PokéGear from Jake’s hand.
Hyde’s desk too was an offence of cables, and he quickly plugged the PokéGear into one, connecting it to a massive, clunky PC. The thing looked like it belonged in an 80s sci-fi—big, chunky, but undeniably advanced in its own way. Pokémon tech seemed to have taken a different path from what Jake was used to back on Earth. Amazing, but less sleek, more function over form. Probably something to do with the less overtly capitalistic character of the world on a whole.
As Hyde began fiddling with the PokéGear, Jake glanced around the room, taking in the strange gadgets scattered everywhere. Some looked like half-finished inventions, others like they were pulled from a time capsule. A huge metal arm hung from the ceiling, sparks flying occasionally as it malfunctioned.
“Don’t touch anything you don’t understand,” Hyde snapped suddenly, not even looking up from the screen.
Jake raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His eyes drifted to Trixie, who was already reaching for a particularly shiny contraption nearby. He cleared his throat, shooting her a pointed look.
Trixie froze, then pulled her paw back reluctantly, trying to be innocent. “Emol…” she muttered, disappointed.
“Jekyll, keep an eye on her, would you?”
The Mimikyu, still tidying up a pile of tools, gave him curt kyu! without even looking up.
“Right, let’s get this sorted,” Hyde muttered, leaning back in his chair as the screen loaded. He glanced over at Jake. “So, this fancy piece of kit... tells the time.”
“Revolutionary,” Jake said dryly.
“Oi, less of that,” Hyde shot back. “It’s got a map function too. More useful than you think.” He gestured at the PokéGear’s screen, showing it was touch, but there was also a small crank on the side. “This here shifts between the apps. It’s practical. Built for the outdoors.”
Jake leaned in, watching as Hyde rotated the crank, switching between the apps with a satisfying click. There was something almost rugged about it, designed for someone camping in the wild, not for speed but reliability.
Hyde clicked over to the phone function next. “This one’s your basic phone. Call, text, all that. Even does video if you’re not completely lost in the middle of nowhere.”
“Does it have a Pokédex?” Jake asked.
Hyde turned slowly; looking at him like he had just suggested riding a Rapidash to the moon. Then he laughed—a loud, almost mocking sound. “A Pokédex? You been listening to those nutters who think Oak invented one? Piss off, mate. That’s fairy tale stuff! I bloody hate conspiracy theorists.”
It wasn’t just the laugh, but the way Hyde said it that got his attention. If it existed, it wasn’t public knowledge, and that was interesting. He filed the information away, deciding not to press it for now.
Hyde leaned over the table and grabbed what looked like a sapphire-shaped jewel. “Forget your mythical Pokédex. This is where it’s at.” He pointed it at Trixie, who had been inching closer, intrigued by the machinery. The blue device lit up, scanning her quickly. Numbers and percentages popped up on the screen.
“Emol?” Trixie blinked at the flash.
“This,” Hyde said smugly, “is my portable diagnostic tool for performance monitoring. Better than any tossing Pokédex. With this, Pokémon training’s gonna change forever.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “So, this... tracks what, their stats?”
“This little beauty? Reads energy output, body fat, muscle density—all that good stuff,” he bragged. “You know, real diagnostic stuff. Good for keeping tabs on your team’s condition.”
Jake was impressed despite himself. The screen flickered to life, displaying charts and stats with percentages and bars, showing changes over time. It was clear this thing could be incredibly useful to a trainer. Exp. Charm, huh? He’d seen something like this in the games, but the real functionality might be even better.
“And look,” Hyde continued, tapping it smugly. “It even does—”
But suddenly, the screen stuttered, numbers freezing before the whole thing conked out with a sad little beep.
Hyde’s expression twisted into pure rage. “Oh, for f—useless, bloody piece of trash!” he yelled, tossing it aside without a second thought.
Before it could hit the ground, Trixie darted in, catching it mid-air. “Emol!” she chirped, triumphantly, inspecting the device, turning it over in her paws as if it held all the secrets of the universe.
“Game changer, huh?”
Hyde glared, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like another curse under his breath. “It’s a work in progress, alright? Just needs a few more tweaks.” He shot a dirty look at the device now sitting safely in Trixie’s paws. “Sodding thing never works when I want it to…”
Hyde seemed to move on quickly back to the PokéGear, now looking satisfied. “Right, all done.” He handed it back to Jake. “Took the liberty of officially registering you as a trainer, by the way. Figured you might need it sooner or later.”
Jake looked down at the screen:
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Trainer Profile
Name: Jake Blackthorne
DOB: 2nd November 2009
Trainer ID: 84216
Hometown: Applinby
Date Registered: 1st September 2024
Trainer Rank: Novice
Badges: 0
----------------------------------------
Jake frowned slightly at the date of birth—2nd November 2009—and noticed the odd Julian Calendar format. That didn’t make sense, but there it was.
“Cheers, Hyde,” Jake said, still processing the details. “Appreciate it.”
Hyde waved him off, barely looking up from his screen. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now bugger off, I’ve got real work to do. Don’t need you hovering around like some bloody Zubat, yeah?”
As Jake was about to turn, his eye caught the pink polyhedral figure with a blue front, triangular prism feet, and a rectangular prism tail, casually surfing across Hyde's screen.
But before he could say anything, “For Arceus’ sake, what’s it take to get a bit of peace around here? My bloody mess, this is.” He threw a look over his shoulder, eyes wild. “Away with ya!”
Jake sighed. This kid was kinda rude. Sure, he had some apricorns that Hyde could help with, but he wasn’t desperate enough to hang around this horror show any longer. He pulled a reluctant Jekyll from the scattered mess, the little guy still muttering angrily. Jake caught Trixie just as her paw was reaching for something that looked explosive. “Come on,” he said. “No touching.”
They made it back to Jake’s room, and he sat down, fiddling with the PokéGear. First up, the phone app. The contacts were already populated—Mustard, Honey, and to his surprise, Hyde, not that he would call him in a hurry. “Well, that’s handy,” he muttered.
Jake clicked to the map function, revealing a detailed, softly glowing image in muted greens and blues, like an old-fashioned atlas with contours and height markers, but with digital clarity. The map felt rugged, built for explorers, thick borders outlining regions. He zoomed out, the image shifting and shrinking. The further he went, the more sprawling Galar became, spreading across the screen. It wasn’t the small, compact version he remembered from the games—this was massive, overwhelming. The regions were divided up like counties, labelled: Darkmoth, Hul, Frostdyn, Wynshyr, Armorshyr, and more, the names kind of familiar yet strange.
Jake zoomed out, but the map halted at what must be the full-size Galar borders and its surrounding sea. He could just about make out the north-west tip of a landmass to the southeast—Kalos, I guess, he thought. What really caught his attention, though, was an eastern part of a land labelled Eirla to the west. Whoa, that’s new.
The map flickered gently as he slowly zoomed back in, Galar sprawling, narrowing, his current location marked on the relatively small Isle of Armor, a tiny dot in the town of Applinby the scale of it was insane.
Refusing to dwell on it, he clicked to another app—one Hyde hadn’t mentioned—PokéNet.
The screen filled with a stream of what looked like forum posts, and Jake’s eyes scanned the first few topics:
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Posted by: WyndonWeatherWiz (GBC)
"Weather Advisory for Galar's Southern Region"
"A slow-moving system is approaching Galar’s eastern coast. Expect rain in Hulbury, with strong winds in Turffield by evening. Trainers in the Wild Area, stay cautious of downpours."
#PokéForecast | #GalarWeather | #WildAreaAdventures
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Posted by: NurseJoy1278 (Pokémon Centre, Motostoke)
"Burn Heal Shortage in Motostoke"
"Due to increased activity at Kabu’s Gym, Burn Heals are in short supply. Rawst Berries are recommended as a temporary alternative."
#MotostokeHealth | #TrainerCare | #NurseJoyUpdate
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Posted by: BerryLover763
"Berry Boom in Turffield!"
"Berries are everywhere around Turffield—Sitrus, Pecha, Oran. Has anyone else noticed this? Definitely not normal for this time of year!"
#BerryLife | #Route5Finds | #NatureBlessings
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Posted by: GalarDaily
"Prime Minister Burrows Faces New Scrutiny"
"Prime Minister Edwin Burrows found himself in hot water again this week after unveiling a controversial new policy regarding Wild Area management. Critics are already calling it 'Wildgate,' citing the lack of consultation with local trainers. While the PM insists it’s all 'above board,' his approval rating continues to wobble like a Wobbuffet. Perhaps next time he’ll consult someone outside of his lunch club."
#Wildgate | #PMBurrows | #GalarPolitics
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Posted by: WedgehurstGazette
"Leon’s Triumphant Return to Wedgehurst"
"Following his recent championship victory, Leon made a grand return to his hometown of Wedgehurst today. As always, his Charizard was a sight to behold, soaring over the crowd. The champion’s visit drew a large gathering, including his younger brother and a close friend. Leon’s continued connection to Wedgehurst, despite his fame, remains a point of pride for the community."
#LeonReturns | #CharizardSighting | #WedgehurstNews
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Jake stared at the screen. The world here was so much more alive, so much more detailed than he ever imagined. Weather systems, shortages, unusual berry growths, politics, national and local news—this wasn’t just some game. It was a living, breathing world with its own problems, its own daily goings.
And I’m part of it now, he thought. But despite the enormity of it all, a new sense of determination filled him.Tomorrow I start the Golden Path. The Way of the Unseen Fist. Master it.
Jake looked at Trixie and Jekyll, his loyal friends—his family here. He didn’t want to leave them behind, but there had to be a way. A third way. With Pokémon by his side, anything was possible.
I’ll find my family again. Somehow.