The inside of the Battle Club thrummed with energy, the air filled with the clamor of Pokémon training and the sharp calls of trainers directing their teams. Caelan sat in the bleachers, his arms folded as he observed the various sparring partners and coaches working on their moves.

It was Monday, his first day at the Stardust Battle Club.

As it turned out, most of his job involved simply waiting for challengers to approach. Given that, it was no surprise that the workers spent their mornings either warming up or diving straight into training.

Across the room, a trainer's Charmeleon roared as it unleashed a ball of purple flames, its Dragon Rage lighting up the space. Nearby, a coach meticulously guided a small Machop through a series of flexibility exercises, each movement demonstrating a mindful precision. The energy in the room was varied, but the focus displayed by each Pokémon and trainer was impressive.

Caelan's gaze shifted to a corner where a pair of trainers were locked in a heated sparring match. Their Pokémon, a sleek Electabuzz and a robust Magmar, exchanged blows with practiced efficiency. While the trainers had rooms for private practice, the competitive atmosphere of the open training space seemed to keep them engaged.

All in all, it was a chaotic mess.

But it was a chaos that Caelan felt he could draw inspiration from while he waited.

"There's something that's been bothering me about your fight with Tyrogue," he muttered to Rattata, who was busy watching the displays with rapt attention. That was fine; he was mostly thinking out loud. "Even with a level advantage, your natural speed should've evened the odds."

Yet, that hadn't been the case. Throughout most of the battle, Rattata had been on the defensive.

The more he watched the other trainers and their Pokémon, the more the pieces began to fall into place. There was something fundamentally different about Rattata compared to the Pokémon around him, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it.

The higher-level Pokémon were of course faster and more powerful, but that didn't explain Rattata's struggle. In theory, she should have had an edge over them if they were in the same level bracket as Tyrogue. After all, none of the Pokémon he had seen used anything beyond basic attacks. They were tougher and stronger, but Rattata was quicker and sneakier.

Despite understanding this intellectually, Caelan's frustration grew. There was still something missing that made him doubt Rattata's ability to handle a single opponent he saw. A feeling that if he ignored some unknown fundamental aspect, they'd always be behind moving forward.

It was then, as he watched the Electabuzz stop a sprinting Magma dead in its tracks with a Screech to the face, it hit him.

Caelan almost jumped out of his seat, the answer suddenly clear. "It's your reaction time!"

With a renewed sense of purpose, he rose from the bleachers and turned to Rattata, who was watching him warily. "I've got an idea, Rattata," he said, his tone a bit too excited.

Rattata, recognizing that shift in demeanor, bounded up and leapt onto Caelan's shoulder with practiced agility. She settled comfortably, her tiny paws gripping his shoulder.

Caelan walked out of the door, guiding Rattata to a quiet corner of the battle club, a room far away from the bustling main area. His memory ever since the soul fusion was really good, so he'd already memorized the layout of the place after Nina gave him a tour at his request.

Finally finding the room he was looking for, walked up to the door before typing his name into a keypad. It was a system in place so Nina would always know where he was on her computer and could guide any challengers to the room he was using without any hassle.

Walking in, he bee-lined for the machine at the back of the room with a confident stride.

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Rattata looked around curiously as Caelan adjusted the settings on the device. "From now on," he explained absentmindedly as he tinkered. "I think we'll do varying reaction time exercises in the morning. Strength training can come after our shift is over."

Her ears perked up as he spoke, the machine whirring to life with a push of a button. With a smile, he turned to her, eager to explain. "Rattata, despite how much weaker you were compared to Tyrogue, you actually have much higher natural speed. You shouldn't have been on the back foot during that battle. I've figured out that it's not your physical speed that's the issue, but your reaction time."

He paced in front of the machine, gesturing towards the three buttons on the ground and the three mechanical dummies arranged in a line. "When you're in the heat of battle, you tend to perform better, but you can't rely on adrenaline alone. If an opponent catches you off guard, you could be knocked out in the first second."

Caelan pointed to the buttons. "This machine will help us train your reaction time. Each button controls one of these mechanical dummies. When you step on a button, the corresponding dummy moves forward slowly. If you get off the button, it will slowly move back. Sometimes, the dummies will speed up randomly while you're still on the button. If a dummy reaches the end of the track, or if you get off the machine completely for more than a second, it's a loss."

Rattata's whiskers twitched as she processed the explanation. Her eyes flicked from the buttons to the dummies, and she nodded, determination setting in.

He looked down at Rattata, who was staring at the machine with a fire in her eyes. "As I said, this is just the first exercise. We need to make sure you're ready at all times, so you don't get complacent."

She winced at his words for some reason, before shaking her head and giving a determined nod. "Rrrraata."

"Let's get started, then." Caelan smiled as he activated the machine. "Don't worry about failing—we've got time."

Rattata took a deep breath, her paws flexing in preparation. With a determined nod, she stepped onto the middle button. The corresponding dummy began inching forward at a steady pace.

"Stay alert," Caelan urged gently, watching as her focus sharpened. Her ears twitched, picking up the faint hum of the machine as she braced herself.

With a quick hop, Rattata leaped to the left button. The first dummy froze and slid back, while the new dummy on her left began creeping forward. She shifted her weight, eyes darting between the moving targets, her muscles coiled and ready.

Then, without warning, the left dummy sped up.

Rattata's ears perked, and in a flash, she jumped back to the middle button. The left dummy halted, retreating as the middle one resumed its advance. Soon, she was darting between buttons, her movements growing more frantic as multiple dummies accelerated at random. Her paws barely touched one button before she leaped to the next, racing to keep them all in check.

Caelan observed in silence, noting how each jump became more reactive, her adrenaline hard at work. She was starting to anticipate, her body responding on instinct to the sound of the machine rather than waiting for the dummies to accelerate. Still, he saw the strain building in her legs, the quickening of her breath as the pressure mounted.

Another dummy surged forward. Rattata tried to keep up, but the instant she stepped off one button, another dummy advanced dangerously close to the end of its track.

"Keep going!" Caelan encouraged, his voice calm but firm. She was struggling, but that was the point—she needed to react faster, to make the right choices, even under pressure.

Rattata grimaced, her eyes flicking to the speeding dummy. It was closing in. She rushed to the left, landing just as it neared the end of the track.

But as she landed, the left dummy sped up, catching her off guard.

She hesitated—just for a split second—and in that moment, the left dummy reached the end of its track with a dull beep. She had boxed herself in between two advancing dummies. The correct choice had been to jump to the right, but panic had sent her back to where she'd started.

Rattata froze, her panting soft. She glared at the dummy that had bested her, frustration flickering in her eyes. Caelan knelt beside her, but before he could even offer her encouragement, the sharp sound of a door creaking open echoed in the room.

"So, you're the new punching bag, huh?" a sneering voice cut through the focused quiet.

Caelan paused, glancing up with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. His gaze landed on the source of the voice—possibly the most irritating sound he had ever heard in either of his lives.

It was a boy around his age, strutting into the room like he owned it. Hands shoved lazily into his jacket pockets; the kid smirked with an air of superiority. Tall and lanky, with a cocky swagger that only made his scrawniness more pronounced, he practically oozed smugness. At his side, a gleaming Galarian Meowth padded along, its claws gleaming as it flexed its paws in anticipation.

"I heard you've been playing trainer with that little rat," he taunted, his smirk widening. "Hope it's ready to be shredded—I could use a bit of cheering up."

Caelan's gaze flicked between the boy and his Galarian Meowth. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the words hang in the air. Then, with a faint sigh, one thought crossed his mind:

'Great, another clown.'