Chapter 29 – An Unburdening

POV – TRIXIE

Trixie dropped out of nowhere, landing on Arthrox with a dull thud. “Morning, Artie!” she chirped, beaming down at him. He barely flinched, but his response was predictable.

“I am not a landing pad, Trixie. And my name is Arthrox,” he grumbled. His voice came out in that odd, echoey way it did now—hollow, kind of spooky, like a deep cave. It had taken him ages to figure out how to shuffle the layers of his shell just right to make words come out again. But Trixie could hear the tiniest hint of smugness, he was quite proud of himself for that accomplishment.

Trixie just giggled, looking across the room. Their den had its own charm, she supposed. Traditional tatami mats lined the floor, soft and familiar underfoot, while wooden walls framed the space with a cosy warmth. The futon in the corner sat neatly folded, thanks to Jekyll’s fussing, no doubt, and the single window let in a sliver of morning light. A desk and chair huddled to one side, modern conveniences amidst the otherwise traditional setting. Jake wasn’t here right now—off to speak with Siobhan about something or other.

“Well,” she announced, puffing out her chest, relishing her self-assigned duty, “it’s time for the daily inspection!”

“And why exactly am I participating in this? I am a creature of iron defence, preparing for my next stage of evolution. Not… a locomotive.”

“Of course not, Artie. I mean, you’d have to be way faster for that.”

“I am still adapting to this form. Movement efficiency will come in time. My role is to defend and obey, to maintain the order of the hive. Whirlipede can achieve impressive speed—I have seen it. And with Jake’s guidance, I will be no different.”

Arthrox had been silently battling with his new form for days now. Evolution had brought a lot of changes, and he wasn’t the cute little Venipede he used to be. Everything was different—how he moved, how he spoke. Poor guy had to relearn so much. Controlling his speed? Still a work in progress, clearly. Speaking? Well, it took him ages to get that right again. He just seemed… ungainly, like he wasn’t comfortable in his own shell.

Trixie was glad she didn’t have to bother with evolving. As far as she knew, anyway. And really, why would she need to evolve when perfection was already sitting right here?

Arthrox began picking up speed, but he was jerky, more focused on controlling his pace than anything else. Trixie could practically feel his silent frustration. Humming a little tune, she strolled on top of him, deliberately padding in the opposite direction of his roll.

"Come on, Artie! You’ve got this!" she chirped, bouncing just enough to make him wobble again. "It’s like extra training! Keeps you on your toes—or, um, wheels." She flashed a mischievous grin, little hops both teasing him and balancing him at the same time.

Arthrox let out a deep sigh, as only a cocoon could. "My name is Arthrox, and this exercise is neither efficient nor productive. I have often questioned why I was placed in this hive alongside you. It seems it is my duty to ensure that you do not entirely disrupt the sanity of its workers.”

Trixie, of course, paid no attention whatsoever. Clearing her throat with far more drama than was needed, she declared, “And now, we arrive at a sacred spot of the den,” dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The perfect perch for morning observation—ideal for surveying one’s domain and, of course, ensuring that fur remains absolutely flawless.”

Arthrox rolled forward, clearly trying to keep himself steady, but Trixie’s little antics seemed to distract him just enough, so he wasn’t overthinking it. To her delight, he actually started rolling a bit smoother.

"You refer to the windowsill as if it possesses some significance. I have no interest in this 'perch.' And whom, might I ask, are you speaking to?" he asked, resigned.

Trixie giggled. "Why, my wonderful audience, of course! One must always be aware of one's admirers."

Arthrox rumbled with exasperation. "I see no audience here. Only the confines of our hive. To say you are especially odd today implies there are times you are not.”

Trixie flashed him a playful wink. “That’s because you don’t understand style, Artie.” She patted down a stray tuft of fur, sunlight catching her glossy black-and-white coat just right. Her big, bright eyes sparkled as she admired her reflection, yellow spots on her cheeks looking extra charming in the light. “See? Looking this cute is no accident. It takes dedication to the cause.”

Arthrox remained unimpressed. "A frivolous endeavour. Appearance does not contribute to the operation of the hive." he droned on.

Trixie puffed out her cheeks. Hmph! Was it too much to ask for a little appreciation every now and then? But then, her eyes flicked toward the tiny bathroom, face twisting with disgust "And here we have... the chamber of horrors." She shuddered. "A place where one’s dignity goes to die."

Arthrox tilted slightly, as if pondering her words. "You refer to the washing facility. It is essential for maintaining cleanliness. An orderly hive requires hygiene."

"Sure, sure," Trixie waved her paw airily. "But you weren’t there for Jake’s so-called ‘help’ with my grooming." She leaned in. "He said it was something ‘special’ that would, get this, improve our bond." Her eyes widened in mock shock. "I thought, oh, this’ll be nice, right? Trainers are meant to care for their Pokémon! A little pampering, you know?”

She puffed out her cheeks and sighed dramatically. "Big mistake. Turns out, Jake had no idea what he was doing! I ended up looking like a soggy Purrloin, fur sticking out everywhere. Can you imagine? Me, a total mess!"

Arthrox blinked—or at least Trixie imagined he would have if he had regular eyes. "You are excessively dramatic. Washing, by definition, involves becoming wet. Jake completed the task as intended." He paused, then added in his usual matter-of-fact tone, "Furry creatures are... irrational. As a logical being, I secrete a protective substance to maintain my shell’s integrity. It is efficient and requires no outside intervention. Wet fur, on the other hand, is simply the unfortunate consequence of having fur at all."

Trixie sniffed, lifting her head high. "I can handle my own grooming, thank you! A girl’s gotta have her standards, you know."

Arthrox emitted a deep, resonant sigh. "You continue to defy logic. This so-called inspection serves no practical purpose."

"Now, watch closely as we journey through the wilds of the den! Here, you’ll witness the curious habits of its most fascinating inhabitants," Trixie narrated grandly, completely ignoring Artie’s grumbles as they continued their slow trek.

"Who exactly are you addressing this time, Trixie? I’ve asked this before… and yet, here we are again."

"Shh!" Trixie whispered with excitement. "We mustn't let them know we're here." She could barely contain her glee, fully immersed in the game—whether Arthrox liked it or not.

They crept forward, moving ever so quietly. "Now, behold," Trixie whispered, hushed with anticipation. "The Inkay in her natural habitat." Tuli floated near Jake's backpack, her tentacles curiously nudging it as the bag hovered slightly off the ground. She seemed completely absorbed in studying it, lights flickering as she turned it this way and that.

"The new sister," Trixie went on with a grin, "Squishy is the technical term. Always curious, always poking around. A mystery wrapped in—well, tentacles." She stifled a giggle. "She's got some wild stories, too. Lots of bubbles and silver. What do they mean? Who knows! But one thing's for sure—she's never boring."

Arthrox emitted a low, disapproving hum. "She is erratic, lacking any sense of structure or purpose. Her behaviour disrupts the harmony of the hive. However, there is still time for correction."

Trixie grinned, ignoring Arthrox’s criticism. "Ah, but that's what makes her fun! You never know what she'll do next.” She smirked, recalling yesterday when Jake had to scold Tuli. "Of course, she does get a little naughty sometimes. Tsk tsk, Tuli."

"It is good that the commander enforces discipline within the hive. Perhaps the same should be applied to you."

"Never!" Trixie shot back, shocked. "Jake knows I'm a good, responsible girl."

Suddenly, Trixie felt a soft nudge at the edge of her mind. A quiet, puzzled: "Why does Arthrox not respond to my questions?"

Trixie gasped dramatically, throwing her paws in the air. "Oh no, we’ve been spotted!" she exclaimed, then turned to Arthrox with a mischievous grin. "Artie, why don’t you ever respond to Tuli? She says you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder."

"Cthulhu has made no attempt to converse with me." He said, toneless.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Duh, Artie, can you not hear her in your brain? She does it all the time."

Arthrox remained motionless for a moment. "I have noticed nothing." Tuli, floating there, drooped with sadness at his words. “Mental fortitude is crucial to maintaining defence. It is possible my mind is simply impervious.”

Trixie sighed. He always acted so serious, but the moment it was about his defence, he couldn’t help but get all puffed up. "Or, you know, because you're a bug. Naturally resistant to psychics and all that."

Arthrox sounding almost defensive. "The distinction is irrelevant. The outcome remains the same."

Tuli floated closer, speaking out loud, voice drifting like a soft breeze, sweet and almost too captivating to ignore. "Arthrox," she began, thoughtful yet carrying that subtle, almost hypnotic quality. "Have you thought about shifting your weight? You're not a Venipede anymore, right? The way you move has changed."

She hovered even closer, her tone changing, becoming more methodical, almost mimicking Arthrox's more precise cadence. "Centre your weight—focus your centre of gravity. That’s where balance comes from. If you're only focused on speed, you’ll lose efficiency. Stability first, then speed will follow."

Her voice lightened again, playful and curious as she added with innocent sweetness, "Maybe give it a try?"

Arthrox went silent. Still.

For a moment, he didn't react at all. Then, beneath Trixie, there was a slight shift. Arthrox hesitantly adjusted his weight, first one way, then another, testing it out. The roll was still a bit uneven at first, but as he adjusted again, finding a better balance point, something clicked. His motion smoothed out, jerky stops and wobbles fading as his rolling became much more stable.

Trixie smirked to herself, feeling the change. In his usual flat tone, Arthrox muttered, “Balance... achieved.” He didn’t sound particularly pleased about it.

Trixie bit back a grin. Oh, was he embarrassed? Arthrox was the sort who prided himself on figuring things out on his own. Being told something so simple by Tuli of all mons? Might be a bit of the proverbial sting to the pride.

She glanced at Tuli, noting how the Inkay had adjusted her tone just so—soft and measured, almost fitting into Arthrox's way of thinking. Clever, Trixie thought, a flicker of something passing through her mind. Jake had told her once to keep an eye on Tuli's knack for... adjusting situations to her favour. Not that Trixie was suspicious; this time it was genuinely helpful. Still, she made a mental note, tucking it away for later.

Tuli watched, eyes wide and unblinking. When Arthrox made no visible reaction, she tilted her head, tentacles rippling slightly. "Are you... alright?" she asked softly, the melody of her voice carrying a hint of concern.

Trixie smirked and temporarily floated off her perch, whispering conspiratorially to Tuli. "He's fine. Just a bit embarrassed." She straightened up, giving Arthrox a pat on his shell. "See, Artie? Not so bad, right?"

Arthrox rumbled quietly, still not moving much. "I am named Arthrox. I have learned... a new principle today," he admitted with great reluctance. There was a pause, then he added, "Gratitude is given to Cthulhu for the assistance."

Tuli blinked, eyes shimmering with delight. "You're welcome," she said simply.

Trixie beamed, puffing out her chest like the big shot she was. "By my authority as the boss of this merry band, Tuli passes inspection with flying colours!" she declared cheerfully. Floating up to Tuli, she held out a paw.

Tuli giggled, her eyes sparkling as she tapped Trixie's paw with her two tentacles. "You're so funny, Trixie," she said warmly. "I really like you."

Trixie almost blushed at Tuli's straightforwardness but quickly recovered with a playful grin. "Well, who doesn't?" she quipped, puffing out her chest. Then, with renewed energy, she cheered, "Onward, my noble steed! Our next inspection awaits!" She gave Arthrox’s shell a few enthusiastic pats, urging him forward.

Arthrox let out a deep, rumbling sigh, clearly at the end of his rope. Without warning, he shifted his weight inward, suddenly more stable than he’d ever been. Then he began to spin—rapidly. His segments blurred into a whirlwind of movement. Trixie's eyes widened as the shell beneath her turned into a spinning vortex. She had to start running in place, paws scrambling frantically just to keep up.

"Whoa, Artie! Slow down, you're gonna—"

Before she could finish, Arthrox adjusted again, pressing into the ground with some kind of resistance. It anchored him in place, but he whirled with such force that Trixie had to break into a full sprint. It was like trying to run on an out-of-control merry-go-round!

"I must protect the hive from further inspection," Arthrox intoned.

The spinning increased, and Trixie felt her paws slip. In the blink of an eye, she was launched off his back, flung into the air with a force that sent her tumbling head over tail. She instinctively tried to spread her wings, but the momentum sent her spiralling wildly, the den turning into a blur of colours and shapes. Her wings flapped uselessly, unable to catch the air properly.

"Artieeeee!" she squealed, half laughing, half shrieking, as she hurtled across the den, twisting and flipping mid-air.

Jekyll and Iggy both glanced up at the flying Emolga, then immediately turned away in unison. Here we go again, they seemed to say without a word.

Just as she was about to attempt to right herself, the door slid open. Jake stepped in at precisely the wrong—or right—moment. With a muffled thud, Trixie collided with his chest, abruptly halted. Jake staggered back slightly, catching her against him with one arm while the other held a bag filled with an assortment of items.

"Getting into trouble again?"

Trixie grinned sheepishly, heart still racing from the impromptu flight. "Just a little mid-air workout, no big deal!" She snuggled into Jake’s chest for a moment, catching her breath, then scrambled up to her favourite perch on his shoulder. As Jake walked further into the room, Trixie glanced back at Arthrox, who had finally stopped spinning, giving what she was sure was a sigh of relief.

How rude. Now she was all dizzy! Still, mission accomplished. Not that Artie had been listening to her, of course. She’d seen him struggling with his new form for days, and every time she tried to help, he brushed her off with his usual ‘hive’ talk. But Tuli? Tuli could get through to him.

She gave herself a mental pat on the back, eyes narrowing with playful mischief as she scrunched up her nose. Sneaky, sneaky Trixie. Artie’s rolling smoother than ever, and no one’s the wiser to my brilliance!

“Mwahahaha!” she chuckled to herself. This was just one piece of a much bigger game. Behold, my master plan! Jekyll might be good—she’d give him that—but he was trying to lure the others to his side. The real game was about who could recruit the most mons. Obviously, Iggy was already hers. Best little sister, hands down. Arthrox? He was starting to sway; she could feel it. And Tuli? Oh, Tuli was the wildcard, but soon enough, she’d be on Team Trixie too. Victory would be hers, and then Jekyll would have no choice but to finally respect her as his big sister!

Jake, blissfully unaware of her grand, world-conquering plans, moved to the desk and sat down. Trixie wiggled happily into a comfy spot on his shoulder, feeling like she was on top of the world. He set his bag on the desk with a soft thud, the contents clinking faintly. With a sudden clap of his hands, he called out, "Alright, everyone, gather around!"

All eyes snapped to Jake. Trixie watched as the rest of the team shuffled over. Jekyll, of course, was already right at his side. Typical. Right on cue, Iggy scampered up, all too happy to settle next to the Mimikyu. Trixie puffed out her cheeks. How does he do that? That whole strong, silent act of his was working too well on the little Cyndaquil. Iggy, remember I’m the big sister!

Arthrox rolled over with his usual calm, stoic attitude, unfazed. Trixie huffed in his direction, but of course, he didn’t even notice. Meanwhile, Tuli floated up with her usual cheery energy, orbiting Jake’s head like an excited little satellite. Trixie had to admit, it was pretty sweet how happy Tuli was around him.

“The next few weeks are going to be huge for us,” Jake began, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “The Armorshyr Cup is just around the corner. It’s not only Mustard’s final trial—it’s also the qualifier for the Pokémon League. If we want to get noticed and secure a sponsorship, we’ve got to step it up.”

He paused, looking at each of them before continuing. “You all did great last time, but let’s be real—it was clear, especially in that match against Morgana, that we’ve still got some work to do.”

Trixie’s smile wavered slightly. Morgana’s Liepard flashed in her mind. That mean cat had toyed with her like she was nothing more than prey. Trixie had fought back as well she could, of course—she always did—but there was no denying it. She had been completely outclassed.

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She bit her lip. Jake believes in me, I know that, and she had some skills, sure. But still... the memory of that final battle stuck with her—the sight of that Charizard and Duraludon clashing like titans. Could she really ever get to that level? She respected Jake’s story about that Kantoan Pikachu, but... could she really be the same?

Jake’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re about to kick things up a notch. This time, it’s the real deal—training with Master Mustard and his Urshifu. We’re talking The Way of the Unseen Fist, the techniques of the Golden Path.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “Siobhan mentioned the training doesn’t happen here, so I’m guessing we’ve got a bit of a journey ahead of us in the morning. But wherever it takes us, it’s gonna be the push we need to get to the next level.”

But then, his aura shifted—more serious, almost intense. Trixie felt it immediately, ears perking up. Something was off. She hopped down from his shoulder, landing softly on the tatami mat, watching him closely. Jake crouched down to their level, looking each of them in the eye.

"Before we start," he began, a nervous edge to his voice now. "I need to tell you something. Something important I should’ve mentioned a long time ago."

Without thinking, Trixie scooted a little closer, and the others followed. Before she knew it, they were all huddled together, looking up at Jake. Even Jekyll had shuffled over, totally unaware of how close they’d all gotten. Trixie blinked, glancing around in surprise. Huh. When did we all end up in a circle like this? It wasn’t planned or anything, but there they were—like a little family meeting. Trixie tilted her head, watching him closely. Jake rarely sounded like this—so heavy, so uncertain.

Jake took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "You’ve probably found it a bit weird, right? How I always seem to know what moves you should learn, or just... know so much about Pokémon and training." He paused for a moment. "Well, there’s a reason for that."

Trixie blinked, glancing around at the others. Weird? That wasn’t weird at all! Wasn’t that exactly what trainers were supposed to do? She caught Iggy’s eye, and even Jekyll seemed equally confused, all of them thinking the same thing.

Trixie sighed, watching Jake with a gentle, amused look. There he goes, slipping into responsible mode again. It was kind of cute, really, how serious he could get sometimes. She let him carry on, bemused but ready to see where this was going.

“I’ll completely understand,” Jake continued, “if, after hearing this, you decide to leave.”

Trixie was startled. Leave? She had to stifle a laugh. Was Jake being serious? He was being ridiculous. As if she’d ever leave him! For someone so smart, he could be such an idiot sometimes. Whatever he was about to say, it didn’t matter—she adored him, through and through. He was her trainer, her best friend. Nothing could change that.

She glanced at the others, giving a little sigh, feeling like the responsible one for once. Silly Jake. Thinking any of them would just walk away? Not a chance. She settled back, amused and a bit indulgent, already knowing her answer. Looks like I’ll have to tolerate this nonsense.

Then, with a serious expression, Jake took a breath and finally said it. "I am from another world."

Silence.

The room felt tense, but not the scary kind—more like the huh? kind. Trixie furrowed her brow. That's it? She’d been bracing herself for something earth-shattering, maybe even dreading he'd confess to something horrible, like stealing her snacks. But this? This was just... anticlimactic. She thought he had something important to say!

Iggy broke the silence first. She stepped up to Jake, eyes wide. “Are you an alien?” she asked, full of wonder.

Jake stared at her for a moment, caught off guard, but somehow understanding her meaning. “Uh, well... I guess so? Huh, never thought I’d be one of those... uh, maybe I’m more of a dimensional traveller?” He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. But yeah, where I’m from, Pokémon aren’t real.”

More silence. But Trixie’s mind was racing. Not real? What was Jake even talking about? She gave herself a quick pat—fur, check; wings, check; tail, check. Yep, all there. She let out a tiny sigh of relief before puffing her cheeks at Jake. How dare he make me question my own existence!

He took a deep breath, words spilling out in a rush. "I’m... I’m from a place called Earth. It’s sort of like here, like Galar, but... not. Similar in some ways, but—uh, different in others. Like... really different." He paused, glancing around at them, searching for a reaction. Nothing. Just blank stares and puzzlement.

"Okay, so, here’s the thing—back home, we have animals, like, you know, dogs, cats, elephants... but nothing like you guys. I mean, they don’t breathe fire or control the elements or anything. They're just... well, normal. It’s all very, uh, non-magical.” He scratched his head. "See, where I’m from, Pokémon… they’re stories, games, shows, that kind of thing. I know it sounds wild, but I’ve spent my whole life with them in a way. I was kind of obsessed since I was a kid—playing, watching, learning... I thought I knew everything, but then, when I accidently got here and met all of you? It’s like... whoa, there’s so much more to it than I ever imagined." He laughed, a little nervously.

There was another pause as Jake's words hung in the air. Trixie glanced around, and sure enough, each one of them was looking at each other, totally baffled.

Iggy seemed to be having a similar crisis to her. “But... I’m real though, right?”

Jake hesitated, trying to understand where she was going with this. “Yeah, of course you’re real.”

Iggy’s flames flickered softly. “Good,” she said, nodding to herself. Then, as if needing extra reassurance, she added, “But really, I’m real, right?”

“Yes, Iggy, you’re real. Definitely real.” Jake repeated, looking like he felt increasingly ridiculous as the tables turned on him

Jekyll, of course, was unfazed. He stood there with his ‘head’ tilted, as if to say, your point? After a moment, he hopped closer to Jake, gripping the bottom of his jeans with his real claw, almost reverent.

"Master," Jekyll began. "Whether you hail from this world, another, or the void beyond, it matters not." His grip on Jake’s jeans tightened, dropping to an eerie whisper. “Jekyll shall never leave you. Not in this life, or the next... or the next after that."

Trixie raised an eyebrow as Jekyll squeezed Jake’s leg a little harder. "You are Jekyll’s... forever."

Trixie’s eyes flicked between the rest of the group. Jekyll didn’t budge, Iggy looked confused but somehow comforted, and Tuli... well, Tuli was absolutely fascinated.

Tuli floated right up to him, hovering so close that Jake almost stumbled back, awkward in his crouched position, eyes fluttering as a barrage of questions hit his mind, faster than he could keep up.

“Uh, yeah, there’s an ocean. No, no Inkay. But, um, there are things that kinda look like you... sorta. They’re called squid. No, they don’t float, at least on land... and, uh, I don’t think they talk. I’ve never asked one?” He trailed off, as if questioning what exactly he was doing.

Arthrox remained unmoved, his voice echoing from within his cocoon. “I fail to see the relevance of this information,” he stated flatly. “It neither hinders my evolution into a Scolipede, nor does it disrupt the order of the hive.”

“Uh... what did he just say?” Jake asked, Whirlipede were not exactly expressive.

Trixie grinned. “Tuli, mind giving Jake a translation?”

Arthrox let out a resigned sigh, “My debts to you,” he grumbled toward Trixie, “are increasing.”

Trixie chuckled, her gaze flicking back to Jake. He looked... well, a bit lost, like he’d expected something totally different. Silly human. He’d dropped this massive electro truth bomb, and here they all were, just being themselves. So dramatic.

That said, his sincerity hit her. She could feel it, plain as day. Trixie remembered Kaida talking about this kind of thing—how Pokémon could sense human emotions, read their aura. It’s how they communicated so well, how sometimes they didn’t even need words. She’d said it got easier the longer you spent with a human. Funny to think they had only met less than a moon ago, but sometimes it felt like she’d known him her whole life.

Another world. The idea should have been startling, crazy. But it wasn’t. Jake was the first human Trixie had ever seen. She had nothing to compare him to, but he didn’t feel strange or out of place. If anything, it felt... right. Like they were always meant to meet, like they were supposed to find each other and be friends.

She’d heard stories about humans, more rumours and gossip from other Pokémon. But her family had been so isolated, she never really knew what it meant to partner with one. Still, even back then, when she first laid eyes on Jake, she just knew. Deep down, she felt it—this human was going to change everything for her.

Fly. She could remember the weight of that word; how heavy it had felt back then. She’d watched her siblings take to the air, one by one, wings catching the wind like it was the easiest thing in the world. But not her. No matter how hard she tried, how much she wanted it, she stayed grounded. The eldest of her siblings, and yet... she couldn’t do what should have been natural. She didn’t know why. She despaired, wondering if something was wrong with her, if she’d ever be able to live the life she was supposed to. The time was coming when she would have to make her own way, but how could she, if she couldn’t fly?

She didn’t like to think about what would’ve happened if she’d never learned. She’d seen what happened to those who couldn’t keep up. In the wild, life went on without them. And that thought had haunted her.

But then Jake came into her life, and suddenly, it was different. She hadn’t understood what a "trainer" was at the time. Honestly, she still wasn’t sure exactly what the purpose of it all was, and there needn't be one. But with Jake, she’d learned so much—about the world, about herself, and about him. It was like he’d opened the sky for her, showed her how to fly, how to become who she was always meant to be. He’d changed her destiny, and she couldn’t love him more for that.

Jake let out a long, shaky breath, glancing around at them before laughing. "You guys make me feel stupid," he said, lighter now, relief spreading across his face. "I’ve been carrying this around for ages... and you’re all just like, ‘Oh, sure.’"

He shook his head, smiling. "When I first landed here, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, it’s... amazing. A dream come true, really. Where I’m from, living in a world with Pokémon is something people can only fantasise about. And now, not only am I here, but I get to be with the best Pokémon I’ve ever met."

His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint. "Sure, the ones on my screen didn’t give me quite as many headaches... but you lot? You make every day way more interesting. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade that for anything."

And there it was—the belief. He believed in her, in all of them, so deeply. He trusted her completely, and it made her heart swell. She could feel his adoration, a warm glow wrapping around her like a soft, cosy blanket. Jake thought she was special. That wasn’t a shock—she already knew that. But to feel it so strongly now? It almost made her blush.

Iggy was the first to dart forward, knocking Jake over with pure excitement. “You’re the best, Jake! The absolute bestest!” she cried, nuzzling into him with all the energy her little body could muster. Jekyll followed, gripping Jake’s shirt with his real claw, silently agreeing in his usual possessive way. Tuli wrapped her tentacles around Jake’s neck, and even Arthrox rolled forward, giving Jake a careful nudge at his side with surprising care.

Trixie, of course, dropped down onto Jake’s chest, looking down at him with a playful grin. "See?" she teased. "You’re not getting rid of us that easily."

Jake chuckled, his arms wrapping around as many of them as he could. “Alright, alright,” he laughed. “You’re gonna smother me!”

But then, slowly, the embrace loosened. Trixie felt it first—the tiniest shift in his aura, like a ripple spreading through calm water. She couldn’t see it, but she sensed the change in the emotional current between them. The others must have picked up on it too, because without a word, they all pulled back, giving Jake the space to sit up.

“There’s something else,” he said quietly. “I didn’t just... wink into existence here. There were people in the other world.” He paused, his eyes distant, almost like he was seeing something far away. “People who would miss me.”

Trixie felt her heart skip at that. “A family. A mother, a father...” He hesitated, voice catching slightly. “A sister.” That word seemed to hang in the air, heavy with emotion. Trixie could see it—the pain in his eyes, feel the rawness of it. Whoever this sister was, she meant the world to him.

“They don’t know where I am,” he said softly. “And they probably think... they probably think I’m gone.” The room went still. Trixie shifted uncomfortably. For once, she didn’t have anything to say. She just... watched him.

This wasn’t exactly new—she’d felt it before, that little shadow lurking just behind Jake’s smiles and jokes. It flickered in his aura during those quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The others had probably noticed it too. They’d all given him space, let him talk when he was ready. She’d done her part in her own way, of course.

But now, hearing him say it out loud, she could see where this was heading. Her heart squeezed a little, but she wasn’t going to be left grounded. Not this time. She wanted to help him, support him—but more than that, she had to be ready.

Jake took a breath, looking at each of them in turn, that flicker of determination clear in his eyes. “I have a task in this world,” he said firmly. “I want to stay—more than anything, I want to stay here, with all of you. You’re my family now—my brothers and sisters in this world. But... I also need to find a way to contact the old one. To let them know I’m okay.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze steady. “The only place I can think to do that is Sinnoh. The Spear Pillar. I need to reach it and somehow speak to one of the Creation Trio—Arceus, Palkia, or Dialga. Maybe even all of them. I don’t know how, but I’m going to try.”

Sinnoh? Arceus? Palkia? Trixie had no idea what any of that meant. None of those names rang a bell, but that didn’t matter. Not to her. She’d follow Jake anywhere—whether it was to some mysterious place like Sinnoh or all the way to the ends of the world and back. She loved him too much to do anything else.

Her eyes softened as she looked at him. Fine, she thought. No matter where Jake came from, or where he needed to go, they’d make sure he had a reason to stay. Together, they’d create something so warm, so full of life, that leaving would be the hardest thing he’d ever have to consider. She glanced at the others, knowing they felt the same way.

They were his family now too, and they’d give him something worth staying for.

POV - JEKYLL

Jekyll watched. Jekyll recoiled. Another family. Not here. Terrible. He would leave. Jekyll’s place, gone.

Jekyll trembled. Terror crawled through him, twisting in tight, suffocating coils. Jake. Away. No, no, never. Nothing could be permitted to take Jake away. Not worlds, not time, not anything.

Lock up. Yes, keep him here. Barriers, sealing tight. Yes, yes, yes. That would work. He would lock Jake in. No leaving. No family. They would find a way. Bind him here, safe. Find the means, the power. The pest could do it. Whatever it took. Jekyll would—

Jekyll froze. Panic. That wasn't... too much? His mind stuttered, the plan collapsing. He squirmed, the fear gnawing at him, hidden beneath his disguise. Jake wouldn’t like that, would he? Jake had to choose... right? Jekyll shuddered.

No. Jekyll tried to shake it off. No. He had to. He would hide him away. Keep Jake here. Keep Jake Jekyll’s.

Then—light. Too bright. The nuisance. Jekyll recoiled, pulling back. She looked into his eyes. Jekyll’s eyes. She stared, like she could see him.

She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. But she did.

Frustration twisted inside him. Curse her. She knew. His real self. Saw too much.

Why? Why did she always know? But... relief flickered, confusing, unwelcome. No. Not relief. Jekyll hated that. Hated her for it. And yet, she didn’t look away.

Curse her.

An insult. A nuisance. Everything he despised, everything he envied. So close to what he wanted to be, but never could. Too bright, too warm. Jekyll wanted to hate her. Oh, how he wanted to.

Jekyll faltered. He glared back, tried to summon his anger, his contempt. Why did she look at him like that? Not afraid. Never afraid. He hated that about her. Hated her bright, shining... everything. But... it hurt, didn’t it? It hurt because she was there, and she wasn’t scared. And for some reason, that made Jekyll’s fear quiet. Made the plan seem less... less...

Jekyll hesitated, glancing at the others. His siblings, the word twisted in his thoughts. Jake's family here. Jake only needed one family. Jekyll stared at them, the bug, the pup, the pest. And her. The nuisance.

Jekyll hesitated. A concord. A pact. Unthinkable. Moments ago, impossible. No. His mind snarled, raged against it. Never.

But then—snap. Like tearing flesh, like ripping away a part of himself, something gave. Let go. Jekyll shuddered, the change ripping through him, violent, jagged. His mind twisted, reneged, fought—then bent.

It moulded. Shifted. Changed.

He could use the light. She could use the dark. Together, they could bind Jake here. Forever.

Fine. Fine, then. If this was the way. He'd do it. Anything to keep Jake here. Jekyll shuddered. He couldn't do it alone, not this time. And now he had allies.

A low growl. "Fine," Jekyll murmured, cold, tinged with darkness. "We... work together." The words felt bitter. But necessary.

Jake only needed one family. This family.

They would keep Jake here. Shadow and light. Together.

POV – JAKE

Jake really was an idiot. How could he have doubted them? The moment he looked around, his Pokémon huddled close, pressed up against him, their varied sizes and textures forming a peculiar but comforting blanket.

He’d really gone overboard there, all dramatic and gushing. Embarrassing, really. This was not something he ever had to do before, not even close. His mother, a child psychologist, had taught him ways to handle pressure and challenges—breathing exercises, grounding techniques, that sort of thing. But sharing an existential truth with a group of sapient otherworldly creatures who had become his lifeline? There was no manual for that.

He’d never even owned a dog. Not that he wanted to downplay the bond people could have with their pets—that could be special, no doubt. But this? This was something else entirely. Pokémon were on a whole different level. They could understand, process, and respond almost like another person, but without all the layers of complexity that usually came with that. They offered not just unconditional friendship but a kind of openness. Almost like they didn’t know how to lie. Maybe that’s why it was so terrifying, he mused. Their honesty, their straightforwardness—it stripped away any barriers he might have put up to protect himself.

He let out a breath, glancing down at Iggy. Ah, Iggy... Poor thing, he'd confused her. But she seemed calmer now, eyes drooping like she could drift off any second. Then there was Tuli, her reaction as typical as ever—less bothered by the bombshell he'd dropped and more curious about the details. What's that? You're an interdimensional traveller? Cool! Tell me everything! As for Arthrox, it was hard to tell with him—but he did not seem the type to dwell on existential crises.

A wave of relief washed over him. He’d needed to do this, to tell them the truth. And now, with that weight lifted, it was like he could finally breathe again. Still, he regretted confusing Iggy and worrying the others. They were his family, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt them. He glanced at Trixie and Jekyll. Jekyll clung to his jeans with his usual possessiveness, while Trixie perched on his chest, cheeks puffed as if daring him to worry again. They had exchanged a look earlier, one he recognised immediately. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were thinking. They didn’t want him to leave. And honestly? He shared that sentiment.

But he couldn't promise them that. Not yet, anyway. Who knew what lay at the end of this tunnel? The Creation Trio—could they even do what he needed? And even if they could, would they? It wasn’t as simple as just asking for a favour. These were gods, with their own agendas, their own rules. And whatever help they offered, it might not come in the form he hoped for. Jake didn't want to leave his Pokémon. The thought of it twisted his stomach into knots. But he had to contact his family somehow. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't try.

There was something else he had to do first: talk to Mustard. Jake knew it was time for that conversation, but how much should he share? Everything? Including the knowledge that Pokémon were fictional in his world? Or just stick to the basics—that he came from another world? He mulled it over, rubbing the back of his neck. Mustard could handle it; Jake had no doubt about that. The man had seen more than his fair share. But still, not all truths were helpful. Not all truths were necessary. Mustard had built a peaceful life for himself, retired from the spotlight. Did he really need to be dragged into this?

Jake imagined telling him, watching the old man’s world shift under the weight of that reality. The stories, the legends, the Pokémon he'd spent his life understanding—revealed as a construct of fiction from another world. It could shatter the sense of reality for someone who had dedicated so much of himself, for so long. It wasn't about whether Mustard could handle the truth; it was whether he should have to. Jake respected the old master too much to impose that burden on him.

Jake believed he had been raised with a certain set of morals, though he could only be his own judge. His mother, in particular, had taught him how to manage his emotions—to reflect before acting, to think before speaking. He could analyse himself now with that same calmness and admit that he felt guilt. Mustard had taken him in with hardly any questions, offering shelter, food, and guidance after just a Pokémon battle.

Jake knew that keeping the full truth to himself could be seen as selfish. But was it any less selfish to burden Mustard with such a complicated reality, just to ease his own guilt? His mother had always told him to weigh the consequences of his actions, and here, the balance wasn’t clear. Mustard had chosen a life of peace—retirement to enjoy imparting wisdom to others. Would it be fair to shatter that calm with a truth Mustard hadn’t asked for?

And then there was the moral grey area of it all. Selective truth could be seen as a lie by some. Jake understood that. But this wasn’t about deception—it was about necessity. His mission was to meet Arceus, to find a way to connect with his family without losing what he had here. It was a task so monumental it almost defied belief. Dragging Mustard into it, involving someone who had stepped away from the world, felt kind of wrong. Mustard had earned his peace, and Jake wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Mustard deserved to know something. The truth of where Jake came from, at least—that he wasn’t from this world. He could say that much without revealing everything, without overwhelming him with dangerous knowledge about legendaries, future events, and the like.

He sighed, torn. He would have to tell Mustard something eventually—he owed him that. But for now, maybe the core truth would be enough.

Jake let out another breath, feeling lighter, but with a new sense of responsibility settling in. His Pokémon were his family—there was no question about that—and he wouldn’t take them for granted. Not now, not ever.

But if he was going to find a way to stay here and reach Sinnoh, he would need to start using everything he knew—every bit of knowledge, every strategy, every move from his world. His path would begin with the Pokémon League—that would be the key to building their strength, step by step. It might take time, perhaps longer than he wished, but eventually, he would reach Sinnoh. He would meet Arceus.

And in the end, he would ensure that he would not have to choose between two worlds.