Chapter 30: An Unseen Fist

POV - JAKE

The ground rushed up to greet him. Ciara’s leg swept around his, hooking behind his knee and yanking him off balance in one lightning-fast move. Before he could even process what was happening, she slammed her palm into his chest, flipping him through the air and driving him into the dirt.

Blinking up at the bright blue sky, Jake’s view was soon replaced by the barely perceptible satisfaction on Ciara’s composed face. Dark amber eyes, tan skin, and dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail—all too pleased to have him pinned beneath her—though probably not for the reasons he might’ve liked.

“You know,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably under her grip, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

Ciara smirked. “Someone has to.”

Jake took the opening, pushing himself back onto his feet. “Yeah, well, not all of us were born ready to kick people across the room.”

He dusted himself off, glancing at the low stone wall that framed the edge of the courtyard. Beyond it, the world seemed to fall away into a sheer, dizzying drop down the mountain’s shadowed cliffs. The kind of drop that reminded him he wasn’t just at some neighbourhood dojo.

Back on Earth, Jake had been decently athletic—he’d played football and been on a few school teams. But even he’d admit sports weren’t really his focus. He wasn’t bad, just... average. Average enough that he eventually drifted into other things. Pokémon mainly, but also books, games, stories—that’s where he’d felt most at home. Places where the stakes were high, but on a screen or in the pages of a well-thumbed book.

His experiences so far, along with his steady adaptation to the more oxygen-saturated air of the Pokémon world, were working their magic—Jake thought he was already in the best shape of his life. Master Mustard did not share that opinion.

Every morning, without fail, they would set out, climbing the steep, gruelling trail, wounding through rocky outcrops and countless switchbacks.

“Rise and shine!” Mustard had cheerfully called out on that first morning—and every morning since—with the kind of enthusiasm no one should have at 5 a.m. The routine quickly became a blur, the days merging into an exhausting, relentless rhythm. In the back of his mind, Jake was certain there had to be a school regulation against this sort of thing. But human rights—and any rights at all for young trainers—didn’t seem to be a concept here. He knew better than to make that point.

Waking up at dawn to haul himself up the side of a mountain? Sparring until his muscles screamed in protest? An insane regimen that had somehow blended Pokémon, sherpa and kung fu all together, and there was no reprieve.

They were on one of those mountains now, high above the dojo grounds. North of the Master Dojo, hidden in this isolated spot, was this refuge—reserved for the Unseen Fist, and the Golden Path. It felt like something straight out of a martial arts film. A Shaolin monk’s temple, maybe. The grey stone-paved training courtyard, bathed in sunlight, sat before a smaller version of the dojo, painted the same mustard yellow. But instead of Kubfu, the face of Urshifu was carved into the front.

The air up here was thin, biting. Jake could feel a steady burn in his lungs, sweat trickling down his forehead despite the cold. It was a clear day—sky so open and blue it almost made the journey worth it. Almost. The snow-dusted peaks loomed around them, a stunning backdrop to what had become his daily grind. The wind barely stirred, but he could still hear it whispering through the gaps in the small mountain range.

Mustard had introduced the Unseen Fist as more than just a battle technique. It was rooted in Wushu, the art of aligning one’s body, mind, and spirit. That had implications Jake hadn’t expected. For one thing, it required that he be as physically strong as the Pokémon he commanded—or at least fit enough to keep up. He remembered the first time Mustard had explained it, right after they’d made it up the mountain for the very first time.

Jake had been panting hard, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Siobhan, beside him, looked winded but nowhere near as wrecked as he. Of course, Ciara was perfectly fine—barely even breaking a sweat. And then there was Mustard, grinning like he hadn’t just dragged them up a three-hour trek. Jab and Bab weren’t even allowed to come, and Jake almost envied them for missing out on this particular form of torture.

"Alright, listen up!" Mustard had boomed across the mountaintop. He stood before them, hands on his hips, grinning widely as if he were having the time of his life. "This is where the real work begins."

Jake stifled a groan, sneaking a glance at Siobhan, who raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Ciara, of course, just stood there, completely unfazed, like this was just another Tuesday.

"The Unseen Fist isn’t just about hitting hard," Mustard had said, though the mischievous spark in his eyes never quite faded. "Well, the clue’s in the name, right?" He chuckled. "It’s about speed and precision—striking so fast your opponent doesn’t even know what hit ’em. You’ve got to disorient and overwhelm them before they can even react."

He’d started pacing in front of them, hands moving as he explained, energy infectious. "You use momentum—aggressive, relentless. Once you start, you don’t stop. You don’t give ’em room to breathe. Keep them on the back foot, and you’ll take control of the battle."

Jake had straightened up then, trying to absorb it through the fog of exhaustion. It sounded intense, but Mustard wasn’t done.

"Adaptability," Mustard had continued. "Every Pokémon has its own strengths and weaknesses. This isn’t one-size-fits-all. You tailor the principles of the Unseen Fist to each of them, to maximize their abilities."

He’d stopped, locking eyes with Jake, and for a moment, it felt like everything he was saying was aimed directly at him. “And lastly, strike at their vulnerabilities. Read your opponent, exploit their weaknesses, and make your move when they least expect it. It relies on misdirection and surprise.”

The games barely scratched the surface of what Pokémon battling really was, in reality, there were no turns, no pauses to deliberate. It was fast, relentless. He’d learned that first-hand in his battles against Mustard, Rowan, and Morgana. Even someone like Siobhan, who’d grown up with Pokémon, could easily get overwhelmed in the heat of a real battle. That was the core of Mustard’s strategy—forcing that confusion, exploiting it. And while it worked, Jake knew from experience it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Plenty of trainers couldn’t handle that kind of pressure, and the Unseen Fist was designed to create those moments of vulnerability.

To master the Unseen Fist, one had to start with the basics—build a solid foundation that began with the body. That meant one had to be sharp, physically fit, and able to read combat situations. The idea was simple: if a trainer could move well, they’d be quicker in mind, better able to react, and fight smarter alongside their Pokémon, not just stand there barking orders.

“Your stance is off,” Ciara cut through his thoughts, calm—almost too calm. She circled him like a predator, pointing down at his legs. “You’re too rigid. Loosen up, or you’ll be flat on your back again before you know it.”

Jake rolled his eyes, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I don’t know, I’ve been getting pretty good at that secret technique.”

Ciara smirked, shaking her head. “Not much of a technique if that’s all you’ve got.” She stepped in, adjusting his arm. “And balance. If you don’t find it, I’ll be more than happy to keep knocking you down a notch.”

And that was how Jake found himself here, sparring with Ciara. She’d been more than happy to take on the “responsibility” of bringing him up to speed. He figured he could call her a friend, though she wasn’t the type to make it obvious. Since the Jekyll incident, at least, she actually responded when he spoke—an improvement from before. But after his victory in the Second Trial, there was a noticeable edge to her. Maybe it was just competitiveness, or something else. Either way, the last few days had given her plenty of chances to get her own back.

Jake shook off the thought, focusing on his stance, but before he could make his next move, he felt a presence behind him. The faint sound of padded feet on stone. He didn’t need to turn to know who, or what it was.

Urshifu—one of the two that lived up here—strode over. Its presence was heavy but somehow soft in its approach. It didn’t say anything (not that Jake expected it to) but stepped in close and gently adjusted his posture. A subtle nudge to his shoulders here, a shift in his balance there.

The Urshifu’s presence washed over him like a wave—steady, calming. It used the move that had become the cornerstone of their training: Coaching. At first, Jake hadn’t even realised it was a move. He thought the Urshifu were just naturally skilled at guiding them, like any expert teacher. But then he noticed Ciara, even Siobhan, reacting in a similar way.

It wasn’t hypnotic, more like slipping into a meditative state, where everything in his body seemed to align. His breathing steadied, the tension in his muscles eased, and the exhaustion lifted—not completely, but enough to make him feel like he could keep going. The Urshifu’s hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment longer before it stepped back, satisfied.

The Unseen Fist wasn’t really Mustard’s philosophy—it was the Urshifu’s. They were the true masters here, and Mustard was more of an interpreter, guiding them through the lessons.

The brutal training schedule was only manageable thanks to the Urshifu. Each day began with the trek up the mountain, followed by martial arts training, then Pokémon work in the afternoon, and finally the long descent back down. Without their help, Jake wasn’t sure he’d still be standing.

The Pokédex had mentioned Urshifu came from a mysterious eastern region, and the structure of the Unseen Fist regimen made Jake wonder if they hailed from this world’s counterpart to the Himalayas.

With Coaching flowing through him, Jake felt sharper, his reflexes quicker... more aware. He was picking things up faster than he ever thought possible—thanks to the personal attention from the Urshifu. They were patient, masterful in the way they seemed to enjoy mentoring and refining the skills of others.

It was surprising that Coaching could have this kind of effect on a human, but then again, why not? Pokémon moves worked in all sorts of ways, and this was just another extension of that. Still, he couldn’t imagine this was common knowledge. It had to be some top-secret part of the Master Dojo.

Jake wondered how many people would be clawing for a chance like this if they knew. Some might even try to exploit it, but he glanced at the Urshifu again. Yeah, good luck trying to force these guys to do anything.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime, four-week programme designed to push both trainers and their Pokémon to their absolute limits. A concentrated, high-intensity boot camp under the personal guidance of living legends—Master Mustard and his Urshifu. Jake knew how incredible the opportunity was, even if his sore muscles had other opinions. And while his body screamed for a break, he wasn’t about to waste it.

Before he could dwell on it further, Ciara was in front of him again, fluid, anticipating his next move. Coaching hummed in his veins, sharpening his focus, clearing his mind. He squared up, stepping lightly on the balls of his feet. Now, he wasn’t just reacting. He could see the way Ciara moved—the slight shifts in her stance, the way her weight transferred.

Jake darted in, blocking a low strike with his forearm, quicker, more precise this time. His counter came instantly—a sharp jab aimed at her midsection. She deflected, but he was already moving, turning into to a low sweep that, to his surprise, nearly connected. For a few exhilarating moments, he was keeping up with her. His body moved in sync with his instincts, like he’d been doing this for years.

He didn’t know what style this was—Mustard just called it Unseen Fist—but it felt like some blend of karate, aikido, and maybe a bit of that close-range stuff... what was it? Wing Chun? Whatever it was, it was working.

For a moment.

Then Ciara moved, a subtle twist, and suddenly, she wasn’t where Jake expected her to be. He hesitated—just for a second—and that’s all it took. She ducked low, spinning past his guard. Before he could react, she’d hooked his leg out from under him, tumbling him to the ground.

"Ah, my old friend... how I have missed you."

Ciara stood over him. “Your balance was off,” she said, nodding toward his legs. “You’re still not grounding yourself properly. It’s why you keep ending up there.”

Jake let out a breath. She was right. Again. “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder.

Ciara extended a hand to help him up. “At least you’re learning. Slowly.”

Truth be told, she was a good teacher—strict but diligent and fair, even with the subtle relish she took in knocking him down. Jake nodded, taking her hand as she helped him up. Perhaps by her standards, he was learning slowly, but back on Earth? Dojos would be mystified by his progress. Any martial arts instructor would probably think he was a prodigy.

He looked across the courtyard to where Siobhan was too sparring with Mustard. The Urshifu had stepped aside, observing quietly, powerful arms crossed. Siobhan was faring better than Jake, though Mustard didn’t seem to be holding back much. He was pushing her hard, but without the bite that Ciara seemed to add to every jab and kick. Today was her last day at the dojo—she’d be leaving the next morning for her internship with Professor Magnolia. Not that it was stopping Mustard from giving her a proper send-off in the form of bruises.

Jake’s gaze drifted over to the far end of the courtyard, where the other Urshifu was working with their Pokémon, putting them through the wringer in their own version of physical conditioning. Trixie, Arthrox, and Iggy seemed to thrive under the effect of Coaching, energy levels boosted as they responded to the guidance.

He thought back to that first morning—all their Pokémon had to trek up the mountain too, and it had been almost funny watching them clamber, roll, and stumble their way up the rocky path. Jake had been especially relieved that Arthrox had figured out how to stabilise his motion; otherwise, he had no clue how the Whirlipede would’ve managed.

Then there was Trixie, who hadn’t been thrilled about being banned from perching on his shoulder during the hike. But Mustard was firm—she had to fly the whole way. She’d puffed her cheeks and made a big show of her protest, but Jake wasn’t about to argue. Besides, it was great for conditioning her for long-distance flying, even if she took plenty of shortcuts and kept doubling back just to remind him how much she didn’t appreciate it.

Jake could still picture her at the top—panting, glaring at him with that familiar, indignant emol as if to say, This is your fault. And in a way, she wasn’t wrong.

“All right, kid,” Mustard had said, sharp but encouraging. “Let’s talk about how the Unseen Fist applies to your little speed demon here.” He gestured toward Trixie, who immediately puffed out her chest with pride.

“This isn’t about brute force for her. She’s got agility, speed—and we’re gonna sharpen that. Fast in, fast out. Hit hard, then vanish, keep them guessing.”

Jake nodded, catching on. “Hit-and-run tactics?”

“Exactly,” Mustard said. “Quick, electric strikes that confuse the opponent, then she’s out before they can react. Think of her like a thunderbolt—fast and gone before they know what hit ’em. She’s not built for long, drawn-out fights; it’s about hitting precisely and rapidly.”

He glanced at Trixie. “We’re gonna push that speed—lightning fast. Those wings’ll keep her moving, striking from the air, always a step ahead. Relentless, until the other guy’s down. But don’t think it’ll happen overnight. This is laying the groundwork, getting her in the right mindset. If she can get the hang of this, and you keep at it, she can go as far as she wants. Any Pokémon can become strong—it’s the trainer’s job to lead 'em there."

Trixie was listening closely, letting out impressed little emols as Mustard spoke. Jake could see the extra determination in her eyes. He knew why. That battle against Morgana’s Liepard had been a wake-up call for both of them. Trixie had been outmatched—defeated easily, if he was honest.

But Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. He crouched down to her level, giving her a confident grin. “You ready for this, Trix? We’ve been working on some of this already. This is everything you’re already good at. We’re just taking it up a notch—faster, sharper, smarter.”

He paused, giving her a playful poke. “You know, you’re no ordinary Emolga. I’ve seen what a little electric mouse can do with the right training—strong enough to take down opponents way bigger. And you? You’re already fast, already clever. You’re gonna be more awesome than you already are.”

Trixie let out a happy emol, ears twitching as she bounced on her paws, then suddenly wrapped her tiny arms around Jake in an affectionate hug.

Jake chuckled, reaching down to gently scratch her ears. “Exactly, we’ll keep working at this together. Remember how far you’ve come since we first met? You can fly—with confidence now. And that Electro Bomb? The dive bomber move we worked on? You’ve got some serious electric juice, Trixie. Now we’re gonna make it even better.”

He watched Trixie vibe cutely to the praise—she loved it, no doubt. When she wasn’t causing trouble, she was an absolute joy. Jake couldn’t help but smile. His mind wandered, though. Red and Ash had each unlocked incredible electric powers in their Pikachu—sometimes by accident, other times with more creative methods.

Jake had the benefit of their experience. Galar might not have the magnetic fields some electric-types needed—at least not in the games—but that didn't mean he was stuck. He had options. Small scale at first, something he could actually set up himself. Lightning rods, magnets—stuff like that. It wouldn't be too hard to pull off.

Held items weren’t the instant power-ups they were in the games, either. Not magic boosts in battle, but more like training aids—tools. Give a Pokémon something like a magnet to work with, and over time, it could help strengthen their electric abilities.

That would help expand Trixie’s capacity bit by bit. Get her used to absorbing more electricity, gradually build that static charge, like training a muscle. He could track thunderstorms with his PokéGear, take her to the right places at the right time, and let nature do its work.

But his thoughts didn’t stop there. If he wanted to take it up a gear, really supercharge her... That’s when Jake remembered. Galar might not have natural magnetic fields, but Kalos did. And not just that—there was something even better: a Zap Plate. His heart skipped at the thought. A Zap Plate. Its function in the game was to change Arceus’ typing, sure, but it also gave a serious boost to electric-type moves. He strongly suspected the games had downplayed the impact it would have. That could be an option, no question.

And where was one located? Kalos Power Plant. His excitement built. That could be it.

“Also,” Jake continued, glancing over at Mustard, who was watching with an amused grin. “You’ve also got two new moves to learn—Rising Voltage and Dual Wingbeat. Those are your Golden Path, and we’re gonna work on both over the next four weeks. After that, we’ll put it all together.”

Trixie had as much potential as Red or Ash’s Pikachu—maybe more. She could fly, after all. That was their edge, and Jake was going to make sure they used it.

Jake could spot her in the Pokémon section of the courtyard, darting from side to side like a bolt of lightning. Electric sparks crackled around her as she zipped through the training course. Her hit-and-run style was already becoming sharper—strike, vanish, reposition. A game of speed, and if anyone loved a game, it was Trixie.

“Focus up, Jake,” Ciara’s voice pulled him back to his present situation. “We’re not done yet.”

Jake took a breath and squared up. Their sparring had been intensifying every day, and he could already feel the change. Coaching was a constant boost—locking in muscle memory, sharpening reaction speed. Each round he could predict Ciara’s next move a fraction earlier, keep pace with her that bit more.

Suddenly, Ciara sprang into action—still faster than he’d like, but this time, he was ready. Instinct took over, and he dodged her fist with ever so slightly sharper footwork than he’d ever managed before. She quickly pivoted, leg slicing through the air in a low sweep toward his knees. Jake blocked it, the impact sending a shock through his arms.

Jake didn’t wait—he snapped into a counterstrike, feinting high before dropping low in one swift motion, aiming to take Ciara’s legs out from under her. For a heartbeat, he thought he’d got her. But Ciara flowed out of reach, twisting like water just as his leg swept past. Before he could regain his footing, she was on him, her hand grabbing his shoulder. With a sharp twist, she used his own momentum against him, and in an instant, Jake found himself airborne.

He met the ground. Again.

Gasping, Jake stared up at the sky for a moment. Learning kung fu in a world of Pokémon was something he’d never imagined. He’d be barely recognisable if he ever got home. At least it was only four weeks. Better than being stuck in some xianxia sect, cultivating chi for centuries. Now that would’ve been a nightmare.

He had no illusions of surpassing Ciara anytime soon. She was an incredible fighter. Perhaps by virtue of partnering up with a Kubfu, she’d already had a sneak peek into what real mastery looked like. Whatever the reason, her dedication was obvious, and it showed in every move she made.

“For someone who's scared of ghosts, you sure move like one,” Jake teased her.

Ciara shot him a glare, stubbornness flashing in her eyes. “Shut up. And I’m not scared.”

“Sure,” Jake said with a grin, shifting the topic smoothly. “So, Kaida knows how to coach too, huh? That’s… a bit of an advantage,” he managed, pushing himself back up.

“She is," Ciara said, still glaring. "But Kaida’s not an Urshifu. She is not so proficient that she can teach like they can, as much as she might like to pretend on occasion."

The Urshifu chuckled at that, a deep, rumbling sound like distant thunder. Must be Kaida’s parent, Jake thought. Is this one mum or dad? No idea—and I’m not about to ask.

Jake slid back into position. "But Kaida’s already been giving some lessons to the new recruit?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"It’s good experience for her," Ciara said, taking her stance. "Kubfu aspire to mastery, and there’s no better way to fulfil that than by teaching a student. Besides, it’s effective for team integration. Voltaro is young. He needs that."

Ah, yes. Voltaro. Ciara’s newest acquisition, Jake thought wryly. If he could have picked any Pokémon for her not to catch, it would’ve been this one. Heck, he’d have preferred her to snag a legendary over the potentially legendary trouble this one could cause. That’s right. She’d gone and caught a Pichu.

Ciara really fancied the rival title, as it wasn’t the first time. A Pawniard for Arthrox, a Totodile for Iggy, and now a Pichu for Jekyll. Ciara was systematically assembling the perfect team to drive his Pokémon crazy. Only Trixie and Tuli had been spared so far—though it was quite hard to imagine what their rival counterparts would look like.

Jake had been more than a little surprised at Voltaro’s introduction. And yeah, sure, the little guy was cute as heck. But Jake knew better than to start cooing over him like Trixie and Iggy did. They had been practically gushing. His attention was on Jekyll. Jake had kept a close eye on his Mimikyu during the Pichu’s grand entrance, half-expecting some jealous outburst, but Jekyll’s reaction had been... flat.

Lately, Jekyll had been oddly content, even after his disguise was busted in the match against Morgana. Not that Jake had been too worried—he’d come to trust Jekyll more, to rely on him. Sure, Jekyll had his moments, but Jake knew his behaviour wasn’t driven by malice. It came from a place of insecurity, a need to be accepted for who he really was, not just the mask he wore.

In fact, Jekyll seemed almost... happy about it. Maybe not the unmasking itself, but what came afterward. It meant Jake would spend time with him, fixing up the disguise. What had once been a sad, solitary ritual for a Mimikyu had become something Jekyll could actually look forward to.

Of everything Jake had done since landing here, this felt like one of his greatest accomplishments.

That said, Jekyll could be a real priss when it came to his disguise. He really liked things just so, and Jake’s handicraft… well, left much to be desired. The amount of times Jekyll had let out an exasperated “kyu!” while pointing out a crooked stitch or uneven patch was beyond ridiculous. You’d think he was tailoring for a runway show, not some raggedy Pikachu costume.

“Look, I’m not an expert, alright?” Jake muttered, cursing under his breath as he pricked his finger for the third time, while Jekyll hopped happily but impatiently. “And stay still. You’re lucky it’s holding together at all.”

“Kyu, kyu” Jekyll made a sound of somewhat mixed approval, as if saying, Well, at least you’re trying.

Jake chuckled as he stitched. "You know, maybe one day we could throw in some... upgrades?" His mind wandered. "Like, rocket arms? Or spring-loaded feet. Think about it—one bounce and you’re halfway across the battlefield."

Jekyll hopped indignantly, not amused at the idea of messing with his disguise.

"Alright, fine.” Jake continued, undeterred. “How about retractable claws? You could be part Mimikyu, part Wolverine. We could play you off as a short Zangoose. That'd give 'em something to think about."

Jekyll grew tense, shrouding in that unsettling, dark energy, pulsing and flickering. An ominous glare, a baleful glow, locking onto Jake with silent, seething warning. Slowly, deliberately, he raised a hand, jabbing at his disguise as the air, thickened around them.

Jake was unconcerned. Once upon a time, he might have been rattled, but by now? This was just Jekyll being Jekyll.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Jake chuckled. “I’m not gonna mess with your look without your say-so. You’re the boss, I get it.”

Jekyll paused, staring up at him with a baleful glare that seemed to say, You better. Though his exaggerated puffed-up look made Jake stifle a laugh. By now, it was more adorable than intimidating.

Jekyll’s kind of a Luddite, Jake thought, even the idea of using a sewing machine had sent the Mimikyu into a mild strop.

“How about something a bit more… subtle?” he suggested, gently. “Like, what if we swapped your tail out for something else? Hear me out—what if we went with steel?”

Jekyll recoiled; now scared not scary at the idea. Jake sometimes forgot he was part fairy-type, given how much he leaned into his ghostly side. The idea of steel probably felt like nails on a chalkboard to him. Mistakes were made.

“Alright, maybe not. I get it,” Jake said, backtracking. “How about some kind of ironwood? Or carbon fibre? Something lighter but durable. Stronger than steel in some cases. But not metal. Might give you some cool moves, upgrade Wood Hammer to… Gigaton Hammer…uh lite” He paused, thinking of Tinkaton’s signature move. Jekyll tilted his head at this, not sure precisely what Jake was referring to, but perhaps sensed the benefit of it, there was still some hesitation, but not outright rejection.

Jekyll puffed himself up again, muttering under his disguise—I will consider it, Jake translated in his head. And I’m not short!

Jake and Ciara’s footsteps were light, he struck first, lunging forward with a quick punch. Ciara moved smoothly, dodging and countering with a sharp elbow that Jake barely avoided. He pressed on, ducking low and aiming a sweep at her legs. Ciara jumped back, Jake following her up with a sharp strike toward her chest. This time, she met his attack head-on, blocking it and slipping inside his guard in one move.

Before he could react, Ciara had him locked up, throwing him off-balance with a twist. Jake staggered, trying to recover, but a quick shove sent him tumbling backward before he knew it. Defeated once more.

Lying there in the dirt, he glanced again over at the Pokémon training section, spotting Jekyll watching him, even as he darted between targets. Coaching, did nothing for Jekyll, and indeed had the total opposite effect on Tuli. They had to learn through experience, the regular way.

Unseen Fist had been an odd fit for Jekyll at first. He was, after all, the first Mimikyu ever to train in the style, but both Mustard and the Urshifu were calm as ever. Jake had known from the start—Jekyll was perfect for it. Being unseen was what a ghost-type was all about, and he could already pack a serious punch when it mattered.

Mustard, always up for a challenge, saw the potential and laid out four key principles for Jekyll to focus on: deception, quick surprise attacks, psychological warfare, and mastering the fear of the unseen. The goal was for the opponent to never know when or where the next strike would hit. Jake was completely on board with this approach—Mimikyu were far more versatile than people gave them credit for. Jekyll could learn some of the most powerful offensive moves out there, like Dark Pulse, Thunder, or Psychic.

Before this, Jekyll had not really focused on power or technique—but balance. Emotional balance, really. He’d come a long way from that brooding, obsessed little ghost. He still clung to Jake, sure, but he had started speaking to the others, even if reluctantly. That was progress. Huge, even. Jekyll was strong already—the strongest on the team—so his focus was more mastering what he already had, to refine existing skills on a technical level. Jake was pushing him to lock in Shadow Claw and, eventually, learn an offensive fairy-type move.

Mustard stood with his arms crossed, a puzzled expression on his face as he glanced at Jekyll, who stood quietly clinging to Jake’s leg in front of them. The Urshifu next to him let out a low, "Urshi..." in agreement, its eyes fixed on the Mimikyu. Mustard gave a small nod, rubbing his chin.

"A ghost-type, eh?" Mustard muttered, his voice trailing off. "We don’t see many of these on the Golden Path."

"Shifu," the Urshifu rumbled.

"Right, right," Mustard said, remembering something. "We had that Haunter here a couple of years back, didn’t we? What was the move it learned... Polteageist?" He scratched his head. "No, no—Poltergeist, that’s it."

Jake shifted uncomfortably. That’s not it at all, he thought, but he stayed quiet. Jekyll didn’t follow the usual ghost-type path. In fact, his move was something else entirely, something that neither Mustard nor the Urshifu had caught onto yet.

Jekyll’s golden path was Burning Jealousy. A fire-type move. The problem was figuring out how to teach it. There was a clear clue in the name, and Jake had an idea of what might trigger it. But at what cost? Inspiring jealousy in Jekyll wasn’t something he was eager to try. It wouldn’t be pleasant for Jekyll, and it didn’t sit right with Jake either.

He sighed. I don’t have a solution right now, he thought. And besides, Jekyll already had plenty to work on with the Unseen Fist and Shadow Claw. Jake decided it was better to focus on that for now—there was no need to rush this. The move would come when the time was right, and maybe an opportunity would crop up naturally.

Jake wanted his Pokémon to become strong, of course, but their mental wellbeing always came first. Especially Jekyll, who had only just found some peace. Pushing too hard now would risk undoing all the progress they’d made. So for now, Jake would wait and see, maybe a solution would reveal itself in time.

After another morning of rear kicking, Jake was relieved to reach the best part of the day: lunch. Though sore, he could just about sit in the courtyard and enjoy the stunning high-mountain view. The bright sky stretched out forever, the air cool and crisp, the valley below like a distant world. It was hard not to feel small up here, but in a good way.

As the group sat enjoying the lunch Honey had kindly prepared for them the prior evening, the courtyard filled with the soft hum of multiple conversations. Trixie happily chattering away with Voltaro, Kaida and Junie, occasionally pitching in. Jekyll kept his distance, eyes lingering on Trixie, watching with what Jake could only describe as suspicion. Mustard was murmuring with the Urshifu, and Siobhan and Ciara were engaged in their own discussion.

It would have been peaceful, if Jake had not found himself with a lively Iggy beside him. Despite the intense morning of training, she still had plenty of pep, chittering excitedly at him, as if she couldn't contain herself.

"Cynda, quil!" Iggy chirped, miming quick dodges and weaves. Jake could only imagine her meaning, something like, “And then I was like—woosh! Right past them, Jake! Did you see? They couldn’t even keep up!”

Jake smiled, nodding along as he tried to keep up with her rapid-fire recounting while also managing to eat. "Yeah, I saw you. You were all over the place," he said. She puffed up proudly, thrilled by the praise.

Iggy leaned in closer, eyes bright. "And then, and then I hit ‘em with that flame, right? Real fast! Bam! They didn’t know what was happening!" Mimicking a quick strike, nearly knocking over Jake’s plate in the process.

Jake chuckled, catching his plate. "Sounds like you’re really getting the hang of those blitz moves, huh?"

For Iggy, the Unseen Fist was straightforward. She would focus on blitz-style attacks, utilising quick bursts of flame in quick succession, never giving her opponent a chance to recover. Breaking through defences with overwhelming speed and power, each move faster and harder than the last. A battle philosophy of constant escalation, always building towards that fiery crescendo. It fit her perfectly and would be effective across evolution as well.

That said, Iggy was probably the weakest on the team right now. It wasn’t her fault—she was young, just starting out. Jake had tried to give her as much battle experience as he could in the lead-up to Morgana, making sure she had plenty of opportunities to grow. She loved every second of it. He could see why the Cyndaquil line were chosen as starters—skittish at first, but so eager to learn and incredibly adaptable.

"Quil! Cynda, quil!" Iggy chittered excitedly, bouncing with energy as she recounted the morning’s training session. "Yeah, endurance! You know, getting stronger, building up my lungs—boosh, more flames, right?"

Jake nodded along; Iggy had come to enjoy running. He didn’t think he could say the same. But as he understood it, Iggy was basically a little biological combustion engine, storing energy in the form of fats and sugars, to provide fuel for her fire. That meant her diet was key to keeping those flames going strong. She needed plenty of fat, carbs—calories to keep that internal furnace burning.

“I know you’re excited, but remember to eat, Iggy,” he gently reminded her.

Iggy nodded eagerly, her attention snapping back to the spicy, cheese-filled sweet potato concoction in front of her, diving into it with gusto. It actually looked pretty good, and before he knew it, he’d nabbed a small bite for himself.

"Quil!" Iggy protested, glaring at him with betrayed eyes, offended he’d dared take some of her food. Why do you have to be so much like Trixie sometimes?

"Alright, alright!" Jake laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I’ll leave the rest to you."

The main take away from the battle against Morgana was that Iggy’s move pool was pretty limited right now, and while she could be powerful when Blaze kicked in, relying on that wasn’t a winning strategy. That left him with two options: either diversify her move set or focus on improving the raw power of her flames.

Jake had chosen both.

For one, they were working on Double Kick. Cyndaquil had strong hind legs. Ciara suggested Kaida help out with that, since the little Kubfu so loved teaching others and had never had a chance with a fire-type before. It was a fun challenge, and Iggy seemed excited about learning something new from a senior mon.

But Jake had another, super classified project in mind.

Leaning in close, Jake whispered, "By the way, any time to work on what we discussed?"

Iggy’s eyes lit up, nodding quickly. "Quil! Quil!" Thrilled to share a secret with Jake and mimicking his whisper. "I’m not sure yet, but I might be able to do it," she squeaked quietly, playing along.

Jake grinned. He loved that she was so into it. The idea was quite simply blue fire. The only direct depiction of it he’d come across was with a Reshiram’s use of Blue Flare, but no other Pokémon seemed to use it in regular moves.

It made no sense, really. A Pokémon like Magcargo or Camerupt were said to produce internal flames nearly 10,000 degrees celsius, yet none seemed to be able to generate blue fire. Maybe it was something trainers just hadn’t considered, or maybe it was Jake’s Earth-based chemistry knowledge that made him see the potential. Either way, he had a hunch Iggy might be able to do it.

The plan was simple in theory. Iggy’s body was a natural combustion engine—if they could increase her oxygen intake and apply enough compression, the fire would burn hotter, eventually turning blue. It was something they’d have to start small with, though. Her flames were manageable now, but once she evolved, they’d be far more powerful and harder to control. Jake figured it was better to experiment while she was still in her relative infancy, before things became more dangerous. Which conversely might be the reason none had tried.

He leaned in again, half-serious, half-playful. "Keep at it, alright? Don’t rush it. And remember…" He lowered his voice dramatically, "Keep it secret. Keep it safe."

Iggy’s eyes widened, nodding solemnly. "Cyndaquil!" she whispered back, all serious now, like she was a tiny spy on a mission.

While the mornings were all about physical conditioning—basically, getting both Jake and his Pokémon to the point of exhaustion—the afternoons were where the real battle techniques came in. This was where Mustard and the Urshifu taught the battle philosophy of the Unseen Fist, working on syncing up trainer and Pokémon while mastering each Pokémon’s Golden Path moves. The best part? Mustard gave plenty of personal guidance, but also encouraged Jake to throw in his own ideas, letting him tailor the training to suit his team’s unique strengths and quirks.

A Whirlipede was easily the best of the cocoon evolutions. He’d heard of trainers with Metapod or Kakuna finding innovative ways to make String Shot impactful, and Jake had to give credit to anyone who pulled that off. Still, those evolutions were more about waiting for the real transformation to take place before they became truly effective. Not so with Whirlipede. Jake had read they could reach speeds up to 60 mph, and with Arthrox’s mass, that kind of force would be devastating if they could control it properly.

He’d learned that Tuli had already proven helpful by teaching Arthrox the simple concept of weight distribution. Of course, Tuli would be the one with an intuitive grasp of gravity, but it had been an important ‘step’. Thanks to her, Arthrox now had some stability and could at least move forward without going completely off the rails.

Arthrox made a low grumbling sound from inside his shell. It took Jake a moment to realise that Arthrox was trying to speak.

“Whirli… Whirlipede,” Arthrox muttered, the sound muffled, but flat and monotonous, as usual.

Tuli tilted her head, then dutifully projected the translation into Jake’s mind. "He’s asking, ‘Why is she here?’"

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You ask this every day, Arthrox. It’s part of the training.” He glanced at Tuli. “Besides, I thought you’d be glad you can speak now. It's just... you know, kind of hard to tell what you’re saying when your face is covered up with a shell.”

For this session, Jake had enlisted Tuli’s services. He’d become pretty confident at understanding most of his team by now. Trixie and Iggy were naturally expressive, and Jekyll—well, his emotions always leaked through so strongly it was easy to guess what he was feeling. With Tuli projecting thoughts directly into his head, communication was no problem there either. Not so much for this guy.

“Whirli.”

Tuli relayed, “He says, ‘I apologise for the inconvenience.’” She added innocently, “He’s being really polite! He says he hopes it’s not too much trouble.”

Jake knelt beside his curlipede, patting the cool, smooth surface of his shell, feeling the faint hum of energy beneath, all the while aware of the dormant poison spines on the tough, living armour.

“He says, ‘This is pleasant!’”

“Hey,” Jake said gently. “I know you’re frustrated about missing out on the Tower of Darkness, but you never need to apologise for evolving. This was your dream, remember? And we made it happen. That’s something to be proud of.” He gave the shell a light pat, feeling the hum of energy again. “We’ve got a plan, and we’ll do this together. You’ll be stronger than ever. Trust me.”

He felt the faint vibration of energy beneath his hand as he looked into Arthrox’s eye from the side. He smiled, knowing the strength Arthrox was building inside, even if the world couldn’t see it yet.

Tuli beamed. “He says, ‘I am prepared to adapt as necessary.’” She paused, then added, “I think he was really happy to hear that!”

Jake then stood slowly, letting his eyes sweep over the new scenery. The Urshifu's Refuge was a quiet sanctuary, but now they were on the outskirts, through a side gate that led them onto a natural, barren stretch of land. The mountain air was sharp and cold. The ground beneath his feet crunched faintly—rocky gravel and loose dirt, strewn with boulders scattered like ancient obstacles.

The terrain stretched out in front of him, rough and untamed. Jagged rocks jutted up from the ground, with scattered patches of gravel, the surface unpredictable and uneven. Occasionally, a thin, wind-scarred tree shot up from the cracks between the rocks, defying the harsh elements in which it grew. High up on the mountain with a vast, open view of the sky above and the valley far below.

Jake took a slow breath. Tuli floated beside him. The only sounds were the distant, ever-present whistle of wind weaving through the rocks and the crunching of his footsteps as he moved into place.

Arthrox sat just ahead at the beginning of this naturally made obstacle course. His shell reflected the muted light of the sky above, motionless. The Urshifu, who had led them here, stood calmly off to the side, watching with quiet interest.

“Remember,” Jake said, standing up straight. “We’re taking things roll by roll. Before we can apply the Unseen Fist or the Golden Path, you’ve got to learn how to move. You ready?”

Arthrox didn’t move, but Jake could feel the vibrations beneath his shell through the ground. Like a motor. This was it.

Jake took a breath. “Alright. Here we go...”

He raised his hand, excitement slowly building as he called out, “Five...” The wind whistled faintly through the mountainside, stirring up the loose gravel beneath his feet.

“Four...” Jake’s voice picked up, carrying a bit of that thrill with it. Arthrox tensed, poised at the starting line.

“Three...” Even Tuli floated in place beside him, bright eyes wide as she watched with keen interest.

“Two...” The world seemed to still for a moment, the wind slowing, the mountains holding their breath.

“One... Go!”

Arthrox shot forward, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel in his wake. Already moving faster than Jake had expected, barrelling across the barren, rocky terrain. The hum of energy was now a roar, shell cutting through the air, gliding over the gravel.

Jake’s watched the Arthrox pick up speed, heading straight for the first obstacle—a sharp turn.

Arthrox leaned hard, almost impossibly far into the ground, shell digging into the gravel and stabilising him as he curved sharply, pulling off a perfect turn. Arthrox had pulled it off. It hadn’t worked the first time, or even the fourth, but now, he had nailed it.

There wasn’t time for Jake to marvel as Arthrox flew towards the next obstacle—a spindly, wind-scarred tree sprouting between jagged rocks.

“Now!” Jake called.

Arthrox swerved abruptly, adjusting the layers of his shell, shifting his weight from side to side. He veered past the tree with ease, only to twist again, narrowly avoiding a sharp rock hidden just beyond it.

Without missing a beat, he kicked into high gear, accelerating as the course opened into a long straight. Jake’s pulse quickened, excitement building as Arthrox surged forward. His shell gleamed in the muted light, speeding over the gravel like the dirt bike Jake had envisioned when he had first dreamed this up.

But the next challenge was coming fast—a much tighter turn than the first. Jake’s grip on the moment tightened as he saw Arthrox prepare. He didn’t panic. Instead, he dug his weight into the ground once more, grinding into the rocky surface to slow down, but not too much. This section of the course was bumpy, full of rough rocks and uneven patches, and Arthrox handled it surprisingly well, subtly adjusting his weight to move against the contours of the terrain.

Jake allowed himself a small grin. This was it—progress. Days of hard work, endless trial and error, and some... memorable crashes. Not every attempt had been this smooth, but today... today was different.

Arthrox was on the homestretch now, the final obstacle in sight. He sped downhill, the rocky slope blurring beneath him as he picked up speed. Faster, faster—the thrill of it buzzed in Jake’s chest. Arthrox was racing with the ferocity of a machine, a gleaming wheel tearing down the mountainside.

Then came the last challenge: a natural ramp, formed from an angled boulder. Arthrox charged toward it at full throttle. This was it—the final test.

Arthrox hit it at full speed, launching himself into the air, soaring like the eagle he was not. He was airborne, shell glistening gloriously in the light as he flew over the gap below.

Jake smirked. “I wonder if I could call this Fly?”

But his smile faltered as he saw Arthrox beginning to lose altitude, his momentum dipping.

“Tuli!” Jake called quickly.

Tuli darted forward, headlights glowing as she exerted a caught the Whirlipede with Gravity, giving Arthrox just enough of a boost to clear the final stretch. Arthrox landed heavily but safely, rolling to a stop at the finish line.

Jake exhaled, grinning wide. "Nice save, Tuli." He walked over to Arthrox and knelt beside him. Gently patting the smooth surface of Arthrox’s shell, he smiled.

"Whoa, look at you go!" Jake grinned. "That's the furthest you've ever gone—and you were flying that time! Bet you never imagined that when you were still a Venipede, huh?"

Arthrox, silent for a moment. “Whirli...”

Tuli returned to Jake’s side. “He says... ‘No, I have never seen any of my kin do this. It is... highly improbable that my mother or elder sister could have achieved such elevation.’” She added. “He’s very impressed with himself!

“Whirlipede... whirl.”

Tuli blinked. “Ooh! He’s thanking me for the assist.” Her lights flashed cheerily. “He’s quite polite today!”

When Arthrox had first evolved, Jake had immediately recognised the potential. His body, resembling a tire, had sparked a memory—motocross, dirt bikes, MotoGP from his world. Arthrox's shape did not need to be purely defensive; it was built for Rollout. But that was no good if it was only in a straight line. The idea came quickly—why not train him like a dirt bike? Focus on momentum, weight distribution, speed, and agility. An opponent facing this kind of Whirlipede wouldn’t know what hit them.

Through discussions with Mustard and his Urshifu, Jake had refined Arthrox’s battle strategy: relentless, unstoppable assault. Rollout would become the centrepiece, embodying the spirit of the Unseen Fist—constant pressure, no room to breathe. With each turn, Arthrox’s speed and power would snowball, turning him into an overwhelming force. It was a solid start, but Jake knew there was more potential to unlock. Drawing from motocross, he could train Arthrox to maintain traction on tricky terrain, master sharp turns, and control sudden stops. There were so many ways to develop him further—jumps, surprise attacks from walls or slopes. But with so many ideas, Jake didn’t know where to start.

Steamroller, the Scolipede line’s signature move, would be ideal, but that was still a ways off. For now, Arthrox’s Golden Path moves like Skitter Smack and, most importantly, Steel Roller—a powerful steel-type attack—would guide them. With Arthrox’s mobility almost down, they were ready to begin that next phase of training.

POV - TULI

An induction. That’s what Jake called this. Something new he was trying to ease her into this ‘family.’ What a lovely word, family. She supposed she had one before, but it wasn’t quite like this. There had been thousands of others, and though she knew all their names, she was... different. They hadn’t been interested in exploring the way she was. Not at all.

Ah, there it was—her mind wandering again. How amusing! No, she was Jake’s assistant right now. She should focus. Training! How interesting. She had never done that before. Training made one stronger, apparently. Curious. Whenever she wanted to learn something, she would simply watch others do it and imitate it. It was easy, really. She didn’t understand why her... siblings—that was a delightful word—took it all so seriously. But Jake seemed to understand her. He had been so thoughtful in the first ‘week’ of what he called bipedal time.

Yes, that had been fascinating. He had invited her to observe the others’ training, to help interpret their words, and she had been useful. How delightful it was for one to be useful.

Jake had spoken to her then, warm and positive, not commanding, yet somehow it made her want to listen. He had talked about something called the Unseen Fist and how it could be applied to her. She was different, he had said, and so her approach would be different too. The power to confuse, to control. To disorientate. To dominate. To overwhelm the mind, and then strike when her opponent was weakest. Dark abilities, he called them. She liked the sound of that.

Then Jake had spoken about her Golden Path. Expanding Force and Lash Out. How very exciting! And this time, she wouldn’t be able to watch anyone do it first. No imitating here—she would have to learn by herself. How fascinating.

A trainer. She was a Pokémon, and she was to be trained. How strange that concept was. But there was something about it... something inside her that appreciated it. Perhaps even longed for it. She had always been free to do whatever she wished, and yet, watching Jake form these curious bonds with such different Pokémon, it made her think. She was still free, of course. Jake never stopped her. But somehow, he made her not want to do what she used to. She wanted to be here.

They were alike, weren’t they? More alike than anyone she had met before. He was from another place, and so was she. An explorer from another dimension—like her. That resonated deeply within her, calling to something she hadn’t quite understood until now. He was searching for his original family. Once, she thought that’s what she was meant to do too, but now... she wasn’t so sure. This new one was far more interesting.

Trixie, so fun and amusing. Always full of energy, always surprising. Jekyll, a mystery. She found his reactions fascinating. And how interesting it was that she couldn’t project her thoughts to him! Talking aloud to him instead—such a lovely experience. And then there was Iggy, so young and bright. Something about her made Tuli feel she had to look after her. Yes, she would. Being helpful was a wonderful thing. Arthrox, though... so different from her. Stubborn, proud, solid. She liked that. Dependable. She couldn’t project to him either, which was strange but intriguing.

Jake had been right about asking questions. So much could be learned that way—more than through a push or a nudge. But nudging had been so effortless, so tempting. She hadn’t meant any harm, truly. It had been just a soft touch, a little dabble here and there.

Jake hadn’t liked it. She had been naughty. Trixie was naughty too, though Tuli sensed it was not quite the same.

Perhaps she would be more careful. No need to push her siblings, after all. They were far more intriguing just as they were. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t explore... when the time was right. Oh yes, she would behave—for now.