《Child of the Desert (Unovan Pokémon Story)》


 The Yaan-ah

    "What if something does happen?" The voice was weary, deep and sand worn. Male unmistakably and tinged with youth behind the gravelly timbre. A boy, maybe fifteen, perhaps slightly older, stands before a heavy cloak embroidered with murals of the Sun, sand, and scale. His own tanned body is painted with yet more murals of the Sun, each complex and different, as if portraying the Sun through a thousand different lenses. Upon his cheekbones was detailed a strange, almost horn-like design that snaked around his sharp features and almost seemed to protrude out.


    ¡°Ni han¨¢lyiih Ats¨ªl¨ª. Nothing will happen. There is nothing to be worried about." The voice was higher yet even more coarse. A woman, only a few years older than the boy, stood off to the side. The resemblance between the two was unmistakable.


    "Gowteel." The boy sighs, and a small smile plays across the woman''s face, her green eyes glittering with amusement.


    "Aidinza." She calls back mockingly, in the same tone. The boy, Aidinza, grabs something hanging from the top of the tent the two of them were standing in, throwing it at the older woman.


    She sidesteps it, her feet crunching against the sand pressing up against the bottom of the tent. "It''s been longer than your life and mine combined, Ats¨ªl¨ª, since something has happened. Just satisfy the Naisho''h elders and go off on your journey. Explore Unova or some other region."


    Gowteel''s tone turns wistful, and her eyes dance with a long put-away dream. Before she shakes her head, sending fiery red hair flying through the air. Aidinza watches her silently; wanting to say something, but unsure what.


    "If something does happen, Aidinza, then it will be fine. A blessing is a blessing. If something more than that happens, then." Gowteel steps up next to her brother, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. "You''ll do us all proud."


    Aidinza breathes out and leans into the half-embrace. Trying to use it to calm his nerves.


    "K?ad das-teh-do." An old woman''s voice calls from outside the tent, and a moment later, there''s a ruffle of leather.


    "Come in, Elder Tsesei; Aidinza just has the nerves," Gowteel calls, as Aidinza''s eyes widen and he fumbles with the cloak in front of him. The figure that enters a moment later is large, in a way that''s difficult to encapsulate. Tsesei, despite encroaching on seventy years of age, had a heft about her that seemed fit to shoulder mountains. Before her, the other two''s lean bodies almost seemed tiny, like shinx before a persian.


    "Bah, why have nerves? You''ll make the Ya''an-ah proud boy; my old bones know it." Tsesei''s tongue touched upon the common word with a strange lilting awkwardness, familiar but foreign.


    "He should focus on making the Naisho''h proud, Elder Tsesei. We are his people." Gowteel and Tsesei shared a glance filled with old words and stillborn conclusions.


    "The Ya''an-ah are all of our people." Aidinza avoids looking at the two, still awkwardly fumbling with the heavy cloak in front of him. Before he straightens up and looks them both in the eyes. Tsesei beams, craggy face exposing mostly gum.


    "Well put, Aidinza, we are of the Naisho''h, and we are the Ya''an-ah." The second seemed pointed towards Gowteel, who simply let it go, stepping forward and helping her brother with the cloak.


    With her help, it slides onto him easy enough, resting heavily on his shoulders. It would be hellish in the desert sun, and dancing in it would be as draining as anything Aidinza had ever tried. All for something that by all and every account should do nothing.


    When Aidinza put it like that in his own head, it almost sounded masochistic.


    But the quiet pride in Gowteel''s eyes as she stepped back, and the happy grin of Tsesei, made the thick cloth bearable as he smiled back.


    "Come, noon approaches." Tsesei''s arm comes to rest on Aidinza''s back, firmly leading him out of the tent into the blazing sun.


    It began.


    -


    The Ya''an-ah desert was a harsh land. Sandstorms ripped at her dunes daily, turning well-worn paths into featureless stretches of sand unnavigable by all but the most keenly knowledgeable pathfinders. The Sun''s endless heat bore down on her sands with little respite, and when it disappeared over the horizon, it was only replaced by a terrible, consuming chill.


    Any attempt to lay true dominion over the desert was an attempt doomed to fail. The sands would swallow whole any structure worth building in days.


    Only one people called this desert truly home, the Ya''an-ah natives. A people of hardy constitution and a deep, stubborn pride. Nomadic desert dwellers who bore their mother desert''s wrath with determination, uncaring for any attempt to make it easier on themself. They were a people of a tradition so old that they made mountains look young.


    Simply put, the Ya''an-ah had little time for anything but their desert. Wider Unova held little interest to them.


    Oh, they had their treaties; the route winding through their dunes was proof enough of that. But if the entirety of Unova suddenly disappeared one day, there would only be a select few that the Ya''an-ah would shed tears over.


    And so it was a strange and rare sight for the sparse dwellers of the so-called ''desert resort'' that an entire tribe of Ya''an-ah would be seen dancing down their streets. Twenty men and women clad in light brown cloaks marked with a single pink line moved with a grace that belied their shared age. Upon their neck was long roped cords, most interwoven with shining quartz-like jewels.


    Between them were younger members of the tribe, from infants to teens. But rather than the elaborate, high-stepped dance of the elders around them, they were singing. A chant led by a figure standing in the centre, in a cloak decorated in murals of Sun, sand, and scale.


    And it was not just humans who walked down the winding roads of the Desert Resort. All around, watching with keen eyes, were the pok¨¦mon of the Ya''an-ah desert. From tiny dwebbles, little more than specks crawling through the sand. To large, heavy-set Hippowdon, watching with wide eyes.


    Behind the precession, far more intimately involved, was another kind of pok¨¦mon, though they were mostly hidden from view. Little more than flashes of red and black in the sun as they swam through the sand like water.


    The tribe continued its dance through the ''streets'' of the Desert Resort until they came to a starkly marked boundary as the road ended and nothing but sand began.


    Then were the drums; as the dancing natives crossed from road to sand, a heavy, rhythmic drum hammered through their bones. The noise danced perfectly with the motions of the Ya''an-ah people and drove them onwards, deeper and deeper into the sand.


    It was an irresistible noise as it melded and blended with the chant, its heavy beat demanding every heart to contemporise and every foot begin moving to the tempo of the ritual. To follow its lead.


    The chant reached an apex before slowing, the drum cooling alongside them.


    Another sound, a flute, rose to fill the air. With lingering notes that called to a time long since past, the Pok¨¦mon following the Ya''an-ah began to move on their own. Tiny dwebble skittered at the feet of the Ya''an-ah. Hippowdon, so heavy as to shake the sands with their steps, began to follow in their wake.


    In the distant dunes, several maractus, previously indistinguishable from cacti, began their own dance, following along the precession with an unrestrained glee.


    The drum thundered back into the air, driving those newly caught in the ritual''s tempo onwards and deeper into the sand.


    Then the Ya''an-ah crossed a final threshold and stood before a massive ruined castle. The music stops, almost as if in awe.


    There was much to be in awe of, of course. The castle was more akin to a mountain than anything a man could make, even half buried in the sands as it was. What parts of its magnificent structure were still visible were worn but yet served their purpose. All along their edges was carved the tale of a story beyond living memory. A story of a great hero and a people with their fates entwined with that hero.


    This was the Relic Castle, the sacred shrine of the Ya''an-ah, the great construction of Bi At Ini, the conduit of the Sun. A peerless construction, unattainable by human hands.


    Still dancing, the Ya''an-ah people began to split into two groups, spreading two ways along the front of the castle, their dancing kicking sand high in the air, a sandstorm formed of human feet. Yet if the sand that started grinding into their skin and sliding down their clothes bothered the dancers, they made an admirable attempt at ignoring it. It is here that the Pok¨¦mon following grew more frenzied with their involvement; the red and black figures rose up, six krookodile, as massive as any had hope to be, added their own presence to the proceedings.


    The Ya''an-ah began folding in on themselves, both wings of dancers dancing past each other, forming two concentric circles centred on the young robed figure.


    Slowly the boy begins chanting once more, slowly building and building. First, the drum began anew, each beat a primal call to action. Then the flute, each note an unplaceable memory.


    Then it was almost as if the brewing sandstorm seemed to join the crescendo, the rasp of sand and whip of wind dancing in time with the boys'' musical chant.


    The circling Ya''an-ah responded with their own voices, a thunderous chant that seemed to shake the ground itself. Only growing in noise and intensity as the watching pok¨¦mon began their own braying.


    The boy drags the robes from his shoulders, sending the embroidered cloth crashing to the ground and leaving the murals of suns painted across his body exposed to open air.


    His voice grows louder and louder until it reaches an apex, and he falls to his knees. The sun reached its pinnacle in the sky, noon in truth. All noise cuts out with a single commanding beat of the drum.


    Tranquillity for a moment.


    This was the ritual of the sun. To honour the magnificence of Bi At Ini, the conduit of the sun. Here before the Relic Castle, these most sacred grounds, a tribe of the Ya''an-ah would come every time one of their own would reach their age of maturity. It was here that the Ya''an-ah beseeched the conduit of the sun to bless their youngest with greatness.


    This was Aidinza''s Ritual of the Sun. It was here that he would be judged by the Highest, and it would be here that he would either be blessed or be told to prove himself yet further.


    But in his heart, he already knew that would not happen. It had been decades since the Sun had shown favour to the Ya''an-ah. Since a Volcarona had flown from the Relic Castle''s depths and proven once more that their worship was known.


    There was not even a sense of disappointment anymore; this was something that the Ya''an-ah had come to expect. Were it not for the oldest among them remembering the glory of the Sun''s conduit blessing the children of the desert, perhaps the Ya''an-ah would believe that there was nothing to happen at the end of this ritual.


    Then, a strange sound cuts through the expectation of nothing happening. The sound of claw clacking against the sandstone. Forty eyes snap to the entrance of the relic castle, and forty eyes see a baffling sight. Sat at the apex of the stairs into the holiest sites of the Ya''an-ah was a small quadruped figure. With light brown skin, black bar markings, and a healthy pink underbelly. There was no mistaking a Sandile for any other Pok¨¦mon.


    Perhaps to any other group of Ya''an-ah, that would be little more than a curious Pok¨¦mon intruding on a curious ritual. While none but the high priests of the Volcarona were allowed within the relic castle - not that there were any of those left, in the decades since the last appearance - that was a human rule, for human minds. No Ya''an-ah would find themselves roused to force out a Pok¨¦mon who was not removed by the Castle''s own protectors.


    But to the Naisho''h, to this tribe of the Ya''an-ah, the Sandile represented something wildly different. Because the Naisho''h roamed the dunes where the Sandile and their evolutions were the kings of the sands, where Krokorok hunted, and Krookodile ruled. And in that shared proximity, to a people as spiritual and ancient as the Ya''an-ah, there came a connection. It was not uncommon for the camping grounds of the Naisho''h to find themselves home to Sandiles, left by their parents to the caring arms of the Naisho''h as they went hunting. More than once, their primacy over an Oasis was enforced by a Krookodile whose egg had been protected by the Niasho''h against the cruel hands of Salazzle years ago. Even now, half a dozen Krookodile watched this all with bated breath, having followed the Naisho''h to this sacred place.


    While the Naisho''h were Ya''an-ah and honoured the sun with as deep a love any human could muster, their connection and love for the desert croc line could not be understated.


    And now, to see a sandile, on the sacred steps of the Relic Castle, in the apex of the ritual for the Aidinza''s coming of age¡­ That was a sign to the Naisho''h.


    Then the Sandile sneezed, startled itself and fell off the front steps of the relic tower, bouncing against hard sandstone with a squeak, building up momentum as it hit the sand, rolling tail over snout until it lightly collided with the young Ya''an-ah''s kneeling form. "Bwah." It moaned as it relaxed into a slump against the young man.


    With shaking hands, the young man reached out towards the Sandile, hands coming to stroke along smooth scales to a happy mewl.


    This was not meant to happen.


    This was not being blessed by the Sun, nor was this a Larvesta appearing to mark him as indeed something great this was¡­


    This was¡­


    Aidinza''s eyes flick through the crowds of assembled elders, desperately searching out Gowteel.


    He found his sister and met eyes as lost as he felt.


    Then he seeks out Tsesei, the mountainous woman unmistakable among the tribe. Her dark eyes were distant and calculating as they watched Aidinza. Her attention shifts to the Sandile before him as the reptile pulls itself to its feet and examines the young nomad.


    She steps forward, the other elders parting as she approaches the two. Anticipation built, but for what Aidinza did not know.


    Her bony hand pressed down on Aidinza''s head.


    "The sun has spoken!" Her voice washes over the dunes, and the anticipation of the assembled Ya''an-ah mounted. A maddening expectation pressing down on Aidinza that he had no idea how to parse. "We expect great things from you, Aidinza."


    Blankly he nods at his elders'' words, eyes falling to the Sandile that had begun burrowing itself into his cloak, snuggling into it, and poking his head out with bright, black-rimmed eyes.


    "I-I won''t let you down, Tsesei." He stutters out, unsure of what that could even mean. Tsesei does not respond.


    Aidinza had expected there to be no sign today.


    He expected the ritual to end and for his journey to begin with nothing different from the last decades of silence.


    Aidinza wondered, briefly as expectant eyes stared down at him, if there was irony in that.


    -


    "It doesn''t change anything." Gowteel paced back and forth through the rough sands, separated from the mainstay of the tribe by only distance and respect,


    "It changes many things." Tsesei''s voice was solemn, but her eyes held that same calculating gleam from before.


    "A sandile is a sandile is a sandile, Tsesei; more nights than not, our children sleep warm in their basks." As if to support Gowteel''s point, Sandile stretched in Aidinza''s lap, claws catching lightly on his trousers.


    "Their cribs are not as sacred as the Relic Castle, Gowteel." Aidinza gives Gowteel a quick smirk, a thin mask over the confusion ghosting over his posture. She scoffs and shakes her head.


    "The point is the same. It changes nothing. And if it would, what do they expect? Aidinza to get us even closer to the krookodile? For us to sleep comfortably with our necks between their jaws?" Gowteel laughs at her own joke, but Tsesei only looks uncomfortable, her dark eyes sliding off to watch the distant eastern dunes.


    Gowteel follows the elder''s gaze, staring into the distance alongside her for a long moment. "No¡­" she breathes out as realisation sparks in her green eyes.


    "The Naisho¡¯h squeeze blood from a stone. Gowteel. It needs to change." Aidinza looks up from his sandile, following the two women''s gaze to the distant east. "How many do you think have walked this path this year?"


    It only took a moment to realise the implications. The Naisho''h were what was known to many of the Ya''an-ah as a shallow desert tribe, avoiding the depths and dangers of the Far East. Sticking close to the Relic Castle, and consequently, the little civilisation that snaked through their desert.


    They were also one of the few tribes that still honoured the Ritual of the Sun, their young still walking the path and beseeching the Sun for its blessing. Other tribes had allowed the ritual to slowly drift away, despondent from the lack of response.


    "That''s redic-"


    "How?" Aidinza interrupts his sister, meeting Tsesei''s heavy stare evenly. After a moment, the elder looks away.


    The silence in itself was telling; she did not know. He glanced over his shoulder, where the tribe, made of old men and women too feeble to leave and children too young to risk the deep desert.


    He lets his head fall backwards, the warm touch of the Sun euphoric on his face. His fingers scraped along the sandile''s ribs, and he slowly breathed in.


    "Aidinza¡­" Gowteel''s voice was soothing, and he knew that if he said no, then that would be the end of this whole thing in his sister''s eyes.


    It would be the end of it in everyone''s eyes. It was not the Ya''an-ah way to lash a man to expectations they do not choose.


    "Then I''ll have to learn how on my own." Aidinza was not a man to slink away from expectations. He straightens to his full height, his head held high. "Where are the pok¨¨balls? I have a journey to begin."


    -


    The Naisho''h did not linger too long in the sands of the Desert Resort. They had their own days-long journey ahead of them and had little care for spending time near the denizens of the Desert Resort, no matter how close it was to the Relic Castle.


    Aidinza did not blame them. There was something¡­ off-putting about the Unovans that nestled in the shelter of the Ya''an-ah''s sacred site. A feeling that only intensified as Aidinza wandered through the streets in a half-listless stupor.


    The desert resort felt wrong. Like a half-finished painting, a restoration marring a masterpiece.


    He pauses as his eyes catch on the glare of the sun. He glances over and sees the strange sight of a massive mirror, nearly half his height, leaning against the back of a squat building. For a moment, he just stares at the mirror across the road. It was a truly opulent piece framed by immaculately embossed wood, a scene of galloping Zebstrika, powerful Gigaliths, and massive Scolipedes.


    He knew peripherally of the Desert Resorts near sole export. When all around you was sand and dunes, and you lacked the means to truly thrive off the land like the Ya''an-ah, you would start to get ideas. But he would not have thought that a work of something seemingly so valuable would be left to open air.


    Though, he supposed that it would take more than a curious thief to move something of this size. Aidinza steps closer to the mirror, his eyes flicking to a sign hanging above the mirror for a moment.


    TELEPORT PICKUP ZONE!


    And underneath.


    Thieves beware, psychic on site.


    Or maybe they had more subtle security. He looks away from the sign above the mirror to the mirror itself. His reflection was an unfamiliar sight, there were few mirrors among the Naisho''h, and it was a rare day he was given enough of a break near an oasis to stare into tranquil waters.


    But more than that, it was strange. Like looking at his sister, but everything was purely wrong. His jawline is too sharp, and his cheeks were just slightly too low.


    Sometimes he liked to think the differences were his father''s influence.


    He shakes his head and winces as the motion pulls on his chest. He glances back at the mirror and shrugs off the poncho around his shoulders. The Naisho''h, his tribe, had not wished to linger, but they stayed long enough to give him his respects.


    He rubs a hand across the irritated skin of his upper chest, where the sigil tattooed into his flesh sits proudly. It was not a complex thing, little more than six lines, forming two sigils whose meaning had long since lost their meaning to time. Yet every child raised by the Naisho''h had it tattooed upon them when they reached adulthood. When they performed their own ritual of the Sun.


    Other tribes had their own symbols, Aidinza knew, but if they still knew the hidden meanings to them, he had no idea. In all honesty, he had no idea even if they still honoured the sigil. Few kept the Ritual of the Sun, to begin with.


    He shakes his head; that would be something to linger on later. All he needed to know for now was that this marked him as an adult. Marked him free to travel beyond to the desert sands he was raised in.


    Free to travel to find¡­ something.


    He stares at the lost boy in the mirror for a moment, the crushing weight of expectations he took upon himself driving his skin pale. What wou-


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The noise of displaced sand caught his attention, pulling him out of his half-panicked thoughts. Sandile was swimming through the loose top layer of sand, revelling in the warm ground. Though, something in the distance seems to have caught his attention. A tall figure cheerfully whistling as he returns a brownish pok¨¦mon that Aidinza only caught a glance of.


    He was heavily dressed, and his vest would leave him sweaty and unclean. His not properly tied-off boots would see him picking sand out from between toes for hours. And perhaps fittingly, he was a heavy-set man. Not fat, but a man who loved exercise and food in equal measure.


    His study of the man did not go unnoticed, the man pausing his whistling to wave merrily at the young man, a wide grin framed by his voluminous beard.


    "Ahoy there, me matey." The bearded man seemed to be infinitely amused by his own greeting, chuckling to himself as he moved towards Aidinza.


    "Cool sands and wet winds, traveller." The young Ya''an-ah man was cautious, not quite stepping away from the rotund man but certainly keeping a free back. However, Sandile had a vastly different outlook on the situation, cheerfully snaking towards the large man through the sand.


    "A wee Sandile?" The man kneels down in the sand, greeting the curious sand crocodile with a cheerful scratch. A rather bold choice, Aidinza could not help but think. He had seen more than once the power of a sandile''s jaw. "Aren''t ye the curious one?" The man scratched at the sandile''s scales, to the ground-types evident joy, writhing underneath powerful fingers. "Ah, I''m soorry. Looks like I''ve stolen ye pok¨¦mon from ye."


    Aidinza''s eyes widened in a panic, hand shooting to his belt by his side where Sandile''s pok¨¦ball sat.


    "Ohoho, I didn''t mean like that!" The big man gives a loud belly laugh, and the noise startles Sandile, sending him skittering through the sand to curl around Aidinza''s ankle, surprisingly soulful black eyes staring betrayed at the big man. "Ah, I''ve gone, and dun startled him, I''m sorry."


    "He''ll live." Aidinza''s answer was short, unsure really what to say to someone who had such a boisterous bearing, much less one who was an outsider to his people and still coming down from the shock of panic at thinking someone might have stolen his Pok¨¦mon.


    "Ah no, no, I have to make it up to ye. How about a battle? I''ve always found it the best way to shake out any nerves with someone!" The heavy-dressed man gives a cheerful thumbs up at that, looking to all the world like he genuinely believed that sentence. Aidinza, on the other hand, boggled slightly at the man, having a fight to make up? It seemed like somewhat backwards logic to the desert nomad.


    However, Sandile seemed all for it, cheerfully bounding forward to set himself up in front of his trainer before his face dropped into a severe mien, powerful jaws clenching together.


    "I guess so. I haven''t¡­ I haven''t battled before." Aidinza felt slightly awkward confessing that, even though, according to his tribe''s law, he was not allowed to have owned a Pok¨¦mon until just half a day ago.


    "Dun ye worry lad, I''ve got just the wee Pok¨¦mon that needs a nice calm battle. Just make sure to keep ye head in the fight, and ye''ll do fine." The large man pulls a Pok¨¦ball off his belt, and with a start, Aidinza notices that the man has six balls. Was he an experienced trainer with an entire team? "Go ye mad lad!"


    The ball split apart, unleashing a red beam of energy, the same red energy that Aidinza had become familiar with only a few hours prior when he caught Sandile. As the red energy hit the ground, a small form - even smaller than Sandile - appeared. It was some sort of mostly gingerish furry quadruped, whose face was a shock of splotchy black. It immediately spun on its paws and bounded over to the large man, tripping over the sand as it went. The man cheerfully picked up the Pok¨¦mon, cuddling him close to his face as the Pok¨¦mon lapped at his face.


    "Ohoho, I''ve missed ye too, Lillipup, but we''ve got a wee fight with another wee like Pok¨¦mon to get to!" The man scratched at the Lillipups'' side for a moment before letting him drop back down to the sand, where it sniffed at the air and turned towards Sandile. "Now." The man pauses before hitting his forehead with one massive hand. "Ah, I''ve gone and dun challenge ye without even introducing meself. I''m Mark. It''s nice to meet ye?"


    "Aidinza. May the sun watch over you." The young nomad gestures towards the sun and touches his forehead, not really expecting Mark to know how to respond.


    "And I''m sure it''s already watching over ye." He booms out with a grin, one that Aidinza returns, that was not exactly what he was supposed to say, but it was closer than he would expect. "Now, if it''s ye first battle, I''ve got to insist that ye fight without a bet. I''ve got cash to spare, but ye new trainers can be pretty tight."


    "Okay. Any other rules?" While the tribe did part with a fair bit of cash for Aidinza to support himself, he was not overly eager to part with it, so no bet was fine in his books.


    "Just one on one first to yield, ye wee sandile doesn''t look like we need to start setting rules for property damage just yet." Sandile seemed to take exception to that, letting out a tiny little growl that no matter how adorable Sandile looked, still set off a primal part of Aidinza''s monkey brain that said a predator was nearby. Mark, on the other hand, seems unbothered. "Ohoho, maybe we should set some just to be safe!"


    "Now, let''s get started!" Mark gave Aidinza an expectant look as his Lillipup wagged its orange tail. Aidinza returned the look with a slightly confused one of his own. "Er, laddie, ye should probably tell ye wee sandile there what to do."


    "Oh! Uh. Sandile bite it?" Aidinza had witnessed the fearsome bite of a sandile before and was willing to bet that it would have serious applications in a real fight. Or not bet, as the case may be.


    "Lillipup, dodge, and get the wee thing''s scent with Odour Sleuth!" The Lilipup yipped excitedly, lowering into a stance ready to throw himself in any direction, as Sandile surged forward, sharp white teeth flashing in the sun. However, instead of closing his powerful jaws around the puppy pok¨¦mon, Sandile caught nothing but air as the smaller Pok¨¦mon slipped away.


    "Good job, Lillipup! Now that we have his scent get in close and knock him over with tackle!" It was an almost comical sight to Aidinza to see the Lilipup half stumble in the sand and scramble to cross the distance. Especially since the Lilipup only came up to Sandile''s shoulders and looked far, far lighter.


    "He''s coming right to us this time; bite can''t miss." Sandile nods firmly, despite the note of uncertainty in his trainers'' voice, tracking the Lillipup carefully as it makes its approach. Soon enough, the puppy Pok¨¦mon had crossed the distance, throwing its body weight at Sandile. Considering the difference in size between the two Pok¨¦mon, it came as quite a shock for the two to see Sandile sent sprawling from the impact.


    "Ye shouldn''t look so shocked, laddie, no matter their size Pok¨¦mon pack quite the punch. Ye gotta start thinking if ye don''t want to lose this!" Aidinza''s green eyes narrowed at that, straightening up to his full height as he forced himself to really look at the fight. "Now those are the kind of eyes I like! Lillipup, get in close for another tackle!"


    "Sandile! Into the sand! Dodge around the tackle!" Sandile were incredibly fast inside their natural habitat, and while the loose top sand was a hindrance to Lillipup, it was far from one for Sandile.


    Sandile wasted no time in obeying, sliding straight under the Lillipups'' next tackle as he delved into the sand. But the Lillipup was quick to whirl around on the Sandile, its keen nose impossible to escape now that it had a scent, and it tried to chase the lump of moving sand through the dunes.


    "Get ready, Sandile! He''s right on your tail!" Aidinza warns his Pok¨¦mon, knowing that the Pok¨¦mon lacked the sand sense that its older evolutions had.


    "They''re trying something, Lillipup. Keep on your guard." Aidinza''s brow furrows at that, and he finds himself wondering if he actually was up to anything. Regardless, Mark''s words proved to be his own Pok¨¦mon''s downfall, as the Lillipup hesitated, breaking his momentum.


    "Now, Sandile! Turn around and bite!" Sandile turns on an absolute dime, sand more like water to the desert croc, jaws opening wide to snap down onto the Lillipup, teeth glittering in the sunlight. It was truly a fearsome sight, a sight that would incite primal fright. And Lillipup certainly thought so, scrambling in the sand to turn and get away from the gaping maw.


    However, the Pup was too slow, and though he managed to put his back to the croc, he lost his footing in the sand. Sandile''s jaw snapped closed, catching the tiny canine''s tail in a potent grip.


    A beat passes, then two, and then a heart-wrenching squeal hits the air as the pain of having his tail bitten hits the young Pok¨¦mon. The Lillipup, heedless of the fifteen kilograms of sand reptile behind it - or perhaps all too aware - shoots off as best it can, desperately trying to shake Sandile off his tail. However, no matter the surprising strength in the Lillipups form, it was still yet subject to physics, and with a weight three times it''s own sliding around behind it, it was inevitable that he would lose balance at some point.


    And it just so happened that when it did happen, they were sent spinning out of control, skidding over the sand in a strange Pok¨¦mon rendition of a spinning top, until they came to a halt in front of Aidinza. The trainer watched with some curiosity as Lillipup stood up and stumbled around, dazed for a few seconds, before collapsing in the sand, out cold. Aidinza glances down at his own Pok¨¦mon. Sandile himself looked dizzy but quickly shook it off.


    "Well, I didn''t reckon that would be the way it went down, but ye did great, Lillipup!" The tall man returns his Pok¨¦mon, patting the shell of the white, red device with a fond grin before he turns to Aidinza. "Ye did great too, laddie; I didn''t even expect ye Sandile would be old enough to know Bite!"


    The tanned young man blinks slowly at that and slowly looks down at where Sandile was glancing around, confused from his dizzying journey, and confused about why its opponent had suddenly disappeared. Sandile was a little on the smaller side, but he was far from a literal hatchling; the idea of him not knowing how to bite was mind-boggling to the young Ya''an-ah. As Sandile continued to look for his erstwhile opponent, he turned his attention to his trainer, who gave an encouraging smile. "You did great, Sandile. We won!"


    That seemed to be all Sandile needed to know, a cheerful smile spreading over his snout as he swam back over to his trainer and butted against his shin. Aidinza kneels down to properly pat the victorious Mon.


    "Heh, ye know laddie, it always gladdens this old heart to see a new young trainer with some bite to him." Mark straightens up, stretching his back for a moment before he breaks and chuckles. "That''ll serve ye nice and pretty on the gym circuit."


    Aidinza pauses, eyes flicking up to meet Mark''s eyes.


    "First time ye thought about the circuit, eh?" The question itself was casual, but there was a keen note in it that was unmistakable. "Good place for a kid to prove himself. Ye learn a lot of good lessons, answer a lot of questions."


    Aidinza knew what the gym circuit was, of course. The Ya''an-ah were isolated; they were not savages. Eight of the strongest trainers in Unova honoured protectors and leaders that upheld law across the land and tested trainers for their worthiness.


    For a moment silence stretched through the air as Aidinza''s attention slid back to the mirror a few paces away.


    "What kind of questions?" He asks lightly, staring at what little of the reflection he could make out.


    "What kind ye got?'' Aidinza licks his suddenly dry lips before a loud ringing. Mark''s eyes widen, and he fumbles with his pocket. He pulls out a device. "Darlin! I was just thinking about ye! Yes, I''m right in front of the mirror! I was just about to release Beheeyem Darlin. Just had to take a moment to appreciate how lucky I am to be with ye." Aidinza watched Mark awkwardly, the sudden shift in the conversation off-putting.


    The older man pulls something out from his pocket, looking at it confused for a moment, before throwing it towards Aidinza with a sly grin. He shoves his hand back into his pocket and pulls out a shrunken pok¨¦ball.


    A strange brown pok¨¦mon appeared in a flash of red, it was almost human-like, with three colourful gems capping off both its arms, but its head was an odd squashed slab painted with black stripes.


    Aidinza meets the pok¨¦mon''s eyes, the strange alien green glow almost terrifyingly cold and piercing. The pok¨¦mon glanced away as Mark snapped his fingers and pointed at the mirror.


    "Yep, Beheeyem is seizing up the mirror right now. Is the room ready for him?" Mark presses a hand to the side of the mirror, and a moment later, he and the mirror are engulfed in an alien glow. Mark catches Aidinza''s eyes again, giving him a hurried wave before he nods to the strange floating Golem. "Right, I''ll see yo-."


    The older man disappears, along with the mirror and the alien Pok¨¦mon.


    Aidinza blinks again as he scratches at the back of his head. That¡­ happened, he supposes, before he examined the disk, still kneeling in the sand. It was an odd yellow-brown colour, held in a black casing with the word DIG marked across it. The young man glances over at Sandile, where the Crocodile had lost interest in whatever was happening and had taken to chasing his own tail around in the sand.


    "Do you know what this does?" Aidinza felt it was a pretty redundant question, considering that Sadile could not actually respond to him. Regardless it made him feel better, especially when Sandile stopped his tail pursuit to shuffle over to him, once again dizzy, and nuzzled its way into his lap.


    Aidinza''s hand begins massaging over the reptile''s scales as he looks away from the teleport bay, across to the very end of the town, where the sand-covered road gave way to just sandy dunes, beyond which was the Ya''an-ah desert proper. What was known as route four to wider Unova.


    Towards where Nimbasa City was over many horizons.


    He glances back to where the mirror had sat, its outline still marked in the sand.


    "Come on, Sandile. Time to start our journey."


    -


    Aidinza''s wandering along the road cutting across route four was in equal measures exhilarating and utterly routine. This close to Unova''s constructed works, the desert had few secrets kept from the young Ya''an-ah. But the roads did have along them young Pok¨¦mon not yet old enough to brave the desert itself but old enough to have left their parents'' care.


    They made excellent training partners for Sandile and Aidinza to start exploring just how trainers and Pok¨¦mon fought together. Lacking the honed edge to go straight for the win when the inexperience of the two confused Sandile mid-fight, yet still a credible threat to the croc.


    It was during these fights that Aidinza learned that while Sandile had a set of powerful jaws on him, it was far from his only avenue of attack. Nor was it really his best avenue. Strangely enough, Sandile''s best move seemed to be boasting at his foes. The desert-born reptile would flex his powerful muscles at his opponent, something that seemed to infuse him with potent energy. When his foe inevitably grew angered by the Sandile''s posturing and attacked, Sandile would easily bat them aside, sometimes with a headbutt, sometimes with a slash of his claws. One time Sandile even used his powerful tail to send a scrafty rolling down, and then back up, a sand dune.


    The only real common point of the attack seemed to be Sandile''s boasting and the energy that came from it.


    This perhaps tied into the second thing that Aidinza learned about his Sandile. When Sandile beat another Pok¨¦mon, he did not slow down or become tired. If anything, it seemed to be the opposite; he would become stronger, muscles bulging tight against his smooth scales. Aidinza was pretty sure that it was not a confidence thing, nor did he think it was just adrenaline. No, it seemed to be a deeper matter than that, a similar potent energy as Sandile''s boasting that suffused through his body when he triumphed over a foe.


    And it was something that the two of them were only beginning to scratch the surface of. Aidinza could tell that the glimpses at the power in Sandile''s body after he beat one or even two Pok¨¦mon in quick succession was the tip of a Trapinch nest.


    It was something that Aidinza knew that he would need to explore or perhaps research. There had to be an explanation that others had already found? Maybe when he reached Nimbasa city, there would be an Elder willing to share their wisdom? He was cautious about exploring it on his own whenever the power started building Sandile grew a bit wilder. Not to the point where he would disobey Aidinza. But certainly to the point where he was harsher on his opponents, just a bit more brutal, and just a bit slower to listen to his trainer''s orders.


    Even with Aidinza taking plenty of time to fight the wild Pok¨¦mon along the wide bitumen road, travel out of Route four was quick, and in only a few days he had come upon a bizarre sight, to both him and Sandile.


    It was an odd thing, tiny and stretching as far as the eye could see. Some of it was tall, nearly as tall as Aidinza''s waist, while others were barely taller than a single finger. The strange little things prevented Sandile from smoothly swimming through the brown sand - soil Aidinza reminded himself, soil and dirt - seemingly holding it all together.


    And most peculiar of all was the fact it was green of all colours. Indeed, the little green plants were, to their knowledge, grass.


    It made things very green.


    Aidinza was unsure how he really felt about the little plants. They felt strange and did not fall away from his steps like he was used to. But ever since he hit the dirt and grass outside the Ya''an-ah desert, he had not felt the annoying grate of sand caught in his clothes.


    Sandile, on the other hand, seemed to have very much made his mind up about the grass, and that mind was that it was the worst thing in the world. More than once, Aidinza would find Sandile tearing into the grass around him, acting as if he pulled up enough grass that it would transform the dirt underneath into sand. Once, when the two of them had set up for the night, Sandile forced Aidinza into joining him in tearing up the grass, turning soulful black eyes on him whenever he stopped to go and lie back down.


    It even affected Sandile''s fighting. The Sand Crocodile''s speed in the sand was far greater than his speed overland, and it was something that the two of them had to seriously account for.


    Going from being both the physically strongest and fastest in any fight Aidinza had thus far to only being the physically strongest against the Pansear that the other trainer sent out was a real shock to Sandile.


    Luckily, with some careful timing and Sandiles'' uncanny ability to flex his enemies into striking at him, the pair proved triumphant, getting a disappointed tut from the opposing trainer and a hundred Pok¨¦, the absolute minimum bet that the Unovan league requires. Before parting ways to do some "Super intense training, booyah!" His words, not Aidinza''s.


    But no matter how discombobulating the grasslands and forest were to the two desert dwellers, it had nothing on just how bizarre Nimbasa City was. Though he had seen in the darkest and clearest nights the lights of both the south coast and the north, it did not prepare him for the first real sight of the city. A sight that neither of them really understood what they were looking at. On the horizon had been a strange, massive wheel that rivalled even the walls of the relic castle, slowly rotating in place, the function of which completely escaped Aidinza. He supposed they could be one of those windmills he had heard about that would somehow turn wind into lightning. But if it was indeed a windmill, then windmills looked even more bizarre than he had imagined.


    The strange sights only grew stranger as he continued walking closer; in half a day, other buildings became obvious in the distance, and these were nothing like the wrought stone buildings that peppered the Desert Resort, hiding in the sanctuary offered by the Sacred Relic Castle. No, these were massive and almost sleek things of steel and a mind-boggling amount of glass. The painted buildings were a riot of colours to rival even the most colourful of Ya''an-ah clan meets and were often framed by artistic decorations that defied explanation.


    It was something that was only accentuated when Aidinza found his way into the city itself. At a distance, he could almost pretend that the structures were reasonably sized; they seemed tall, but perhaps only as tall as some of the valleys and cliffs that Aidinza had waited out fierce sandstorms in.


    That was not true in the slightest. Some of the bigger buildings absolutely dwarf anything that Aidinza had seen in his life, barring perhaps the Relic Castle. Painted concrete and glass jutting into the sky.


    And it almost did not seem to be enough to contain the sheer amount of people that Aidinza saw around him. Thousands of people bustling through the wide streets of Nimbasa, ducking into buildings, crossing streets, or just seemingly walking.


    There were more people on one side of the street than Aidinza had seen in his life. Even the vague memories he had of the Half-centennial Sun Festival, where every Ya''an-ah tribe would come together to honour Volcarona and the sun for a month straight, did not have anywhere near as many people as Nimbasa.


    Everywhere the nomad looked, there was some new crowd, a new cacophony of noise, another set of Pok¨¦mon and humans, more colour, more steel, more concrete. It was overwhelming.


    He had to get away from it all, and judging by the complete lack of protest from Sandile when he was returned, the young man''s starter agreed.


    Maybe it was providence that he ended up stumbling into the Pok¨¦mon centre; perhaps it just seemed to be the most welcoming building in the steel prisons that seemed to be closing in on the desert-dweller. Or maybe its sign was just that universal, that even someone who had no experience with the outside world could realise it was a place of sanctuary.


    The inside was calmer than the bedlam, not quite a tranquillity, and still, far more people than Aidinza was comfortable with, but more manageable as long as he ignored the solid walls around him.


    "Hello there!" Aidinza startles as a cheery voice comes from off to his side. An older woman sat behind a desk not far from the entrance, with an elaborately made up pink-hairdo and a soft matronly smile. But most importantly to Aidinza, balanced slightly precariously by her hair, was a white hat with a pale pink plus embroidered into it.


    A symbol that he had been taught to recognise in his youth, of the honoured healers throughout Unova and the world that he was to seek out if he ever found himself lost from his tribe.


    "Honoured healer!" Aidinza immediately bowed toward the older woman; the Ya''an-ah relied on wise men and women who would wander the desert between tribes to ensure that the Sun Worshippers would remain healthy. It was a difficult life, solitary and dangerous, and no Ya''an-ah would ever consider giving them anything else than the utter respect they and anyone else who dedicated themselves to healing deserved. "The sun shines ever bright for you."


    The healing woman looked flummoxed for a moment, crystal clear blue eyes blinking before a flash of realisation crossed them.


    "And may you find a place in its light." This time it was Aidinza''s opportunity to be caught on the back foot as the traditional greeting was returned. The words felt like an anchor for Aidinza, a flash of normalcy in the overwhelming alien nature of the city he found himself in, and the remnants of stressful tension pulling at his shoulders fell away. "It''s been a while since I''ve met one of the Yaanah."


    Aidinza smiles at the woman, tinged with something difficult. "Yeah." He agrees quietly, and the woman seems put off by the sudden change.


    "Ah, did you need me to give your Pok¨¦mon a check-up, or are you looking for accommodation?" She gestured at a rack of keys behind her, but Aidinza was focused on what she had first said.


    "I-if you are not too busy, I would, of course, welcome you to look over my Sandile. Who knows when the winds will lead you to me again!" Aidinza knew not to waste the opportunity to have a healer look you over; it could be months before another wise woman would crest the dune and request to stay with the tribe. In fact, once, when he was young, he had kept close to his chest the heavy feeling in his stomach while a healer was staying with the Naisho''h, too shy to bother them with what seemed to be a petty bug. Unfortunately, only a week after they left, it had blossomed into a terrible sickness, and it had taken nearly a month for another healer to come to the tribe. It was not a mistake that the young Ya''an-ah would repeat twice, and certainly not one that he would risk with his Pok¨¦mons health.


    "I can even pay for your time!" The Naisho''h knew the value of ensuring that the healers'' time was well compensated; not only would their generosity mean the Healer would always keep them in mind, but it would mean that the Healer could purchase and barter for more medicine, propagating and bolstering the health of the Ya''an-ah as a whole. However, his words seemingly caused the woman to grow concerned, her pink eyebrows furrowing slightly, and Aidinza felt a shock of worry that he had done something wrong.


    "You are really new to training, aren''t you?" Aidinza was, but he was not entirely sure how that was relevant. Maybe there was some sort of taboo about looking after your Pok¨¦mon''s health? Or having someone else look after it for you that you had somehow stumbled into?


    It sounded insane to the young nomad, but then the terrifyingly tall buildings of steel and concrete and the strange windmill in the middle of the city that made no more sense the closer he was to it also were insane to him.


    "Oh no, it''s nothing bad, it''s just new trainers don''t need to pay for the Pok¨¦centers healing services, and I''m certainly not going to be carried away by a wind." The woman gave another full-cheeked smile, her face dimpling as her teeth shined in the sterile light.


    Did she mean that she did not travel? "But what about the people that need your help outside of this city?" He blurts out before feeling a hot sting of shame on his cheeks. Despite him becoming an adult in the eyes of the Ya''an-ah, he was still far from having the right to question someone with as great stature as a healer.


    "Well, most cities and towns have their own nursing staff. In fact, much of my family is spread out around Unova to help out the Pok¨¦mon centres." Have their own nursing staff? She meant healers. But that would mean that there were hundreds of healers, right? Aidinza was never the best when he was being taught geography, but he knew Unova was teeming with permanent settlements that were presumably - hopefully - not as big as Nimbasa but still were sizable.


    "Your family?" The young man absently asks, mouth on autopilot as he tries to come to terms with the idea of there being potentially so many healers. He knew that Unova was much larger than the Ya''an-ah, with a great deal more people, but he never considered that it would also extend to people of such august stature as healers.


    "Yep, the Joy family has been a backbone of Pok¨¦mon healing for centuries, ever since Champion Joy became the twenty-third champion of Kanto, and began spreading the Chancey line all throughout the world." Aidinza blinks as he focuses back in; second names were rare in the Ya''an-ah. Most went by their tribes'' name if ever called upon it. For there to be an entire family with the same second name¡­ Was Aidinza in front of some sort of royalty? "Though, us Unovan Joys found a partnership with the Audino suited us better."


    "You are Healer Joy then?" She said that one of her family was a champion of Kanto? Kanto was a region like Unova, he knew, though one far away, past the sands of Orre, the region so famously lawless that even the Naisho''h had stories about it.


    "Doctorate first-class Joy, technically, but most of us prefer to be called Nurse Joy." Nurse Joy''s clear blue eyes study the young man for a moment before she taps away at some strange box in front of her. "If you haven''t heard about Pok¨¦centers yet, does that mean you haven''t been registered with the league?"


    That was a question that Aidinza for sure knew how to answer. "By the agreement for the Relic Castle Sanctuary, and in trade for the secrets of the Desert, the Unova League recognises the Ya''an-ah right to determine the feasibility of their people as trainers and agrees that they will require no further testing to be assigned a trainers licence." It was one of the cornerstones of the agreement between the Ya''an-ah and the Unova League, at least for the Ya''an-ah. Back before the agreement was made, the Unova''s had been encroaching on the Ya''an-ah with accusations of not properly looking after their Pok¨¦mon and sending out underprepared trainers into the wider world. It was something the Ya''an-ah easily dispelled. Even though they had not had a sun-blessed trainer in decades, the Nomads knew how to prepare their children for training, teaching them the valuable skills of existing alongside pok¨¦mon and how to scavenge for food in even the harshest environments.


    But now that they had their agreement, not just Unova acknowledged that fact, but the entire world beside.


    "Yes, you are right, but we still need to get you into the system; otherwise, how can we keep track of your gym challenge? I am assuming you want to challenge the gym circuit right?" The nurse gave Aidinza a knowing look as she continued to tap away at the odd box behind her desk.


    Aidinza paused again, and slowly nodded.


    "Excellent! Now, I just need you to fill this out." The Nurse stands up and hands over a small tablet sort of thing, with a sleek metal frame, and a glassy front that was lit up with lights, showing what seemed to be several very neatly written lines. Aidinza takes the strange device as Nurse Joy sits back down and turns her attention back to her big box, completely missing the lost look on the young nomad''s face.


    Carefully the man prodded at a button on the side, unsure what else to do, and found himself staring backwards as the crisp white on the tablet suddenly flicked black. The Ya''an-ah stared at the thing in his hands for a long moment, wondering if the fact the light had retreated at his touch was a sign of a bad thing.


    He pokes the button again, and the light returns to his relief. Still unsure of just what this thing did and trying to remember back to stories in his childhood about ancient tablets in tombs, the young man pressed his full palm to the front of the tablet.


    Unfortunately, that seemed to be exactly the wrong thing to do. The screen flickers black again, but this time it was not an absence of light, but a corruption, like the light had been eclipsed - a cursed, woeful event for the Ya''an-ah - and the thing began flickering and shaking, the words rapidly growing smaller and larger seemingly at random.


    The young man, panicking and sure that this time it really was a bad sign that he had corrupted a pure white light into something dark, let go of the tablet. The metal thing slammed into the ground with a heavy clatter, so noisy that he was sure that his people days away would have heard it.


    Aiden''s wide green eyes met Nurse Joy''s bemused blues, panic writ clear across his face. "Honoured healer, I don''t know what I did but I''m sorry."


    The young man seemed so earnestly lost and apologetic that the older woman could not help but give an amused smile, one that she hid behind a delicate hand.


    "I''m sure you didn''t do anything too bad. Pick up the tablet, and come behind my desk. I''ll show you how to use it." And so Aidinza picked up the tablet between two fingers, carefully making his way behind the desk.


    Soon enough, he was introduced to the wonders of a touchscreen tablet and was well on his way to completing the first of many forms to come.

 Elesa, the Shining Beauty

    It had taken hours for Aidinza to have finished all the paperwork that Nurse Joy insisted was absolutely required to be registered with the Unovan League, and the wider United Pok¨¦mon League Association.


    Identification forms, statutory declaration forms against Pok¨¦mon abuse, applications for Pok¨¦ storage eligibility, a form for carnivorous Pok¨¦mon, a form for Pok¨¦ball grants, registering for the gym circuit, registering for international travel, and a form agreeing to assist Pok¨¦centers in the event of a crisis.


    It was enough to have his head spinning, the legalese melding together until it was just some hopeless blob inside his brain. But at the very least through it all, Nurse Joy took the opportunity to give him some needed lessons and advice. At first, it was just tips for keeping a Pok¨¦mon like Sandile healthy outside of its native habitat of a desert, mostly by ensuring that he had a dry place to sleep at night and that he was properly washed - the nurse recommended always picking up a bag of sand when he travelled town to town.


    Then it turned to more general things, ways to administer field medicine to the average Pok¨¦mon, which boiled down to spray potion directly on a wound, common indicators of sickness; the young nomad would have to be checking his Pok¨¦mon¡¯s teeth often, and just what he was entitled to when it came to treatment at a Pok¨¦centre. As a first-year gym circuit trainer, it encompassed free medical care up to using super potions, fifteen days of free accommodation per month, and access to the Pok¨¦centre¡¯s computers while there.


    It was the third thing that Nurse Joy really emphasised, because in her mind half the battle to being a good trainer, was being a trainer who knew how to properly research his Pok¨¦mon. She went on at length about the sheer amount of resources that people had access to at a Pok¨¦centre, their computers having access to information from giants as massive as the Aether Foundation, and Oak Labs.


    It was not the same as being an experienced trainer, or having one of the famed Pok¨¦dex, she later admitted to him, but it was good enough that it would give any young trainer the right direction.


    So when all the paperwork was finally over, the desert nomad found himself behind a wood desk, on a surprisingly comfortable rolling chair, tapping away at a keyboard and squinting at a box very similar to the one that Nurse Joy had been using.


    He was looking up Sandile, obviously, finding an ¡®article¡¯ by a man named Clay on the troubles of raising the at times foul-tempered Pok¨¦mon. The issue was that the Sandile line had intense dominance instincts, nearly on par with dragons, and when they had demonstrated that dominance, the rush of endorphins, and adrenaline caused certain kinds of Sandile to naturally tap into something Clay called ¡®distortion¡¯, the power that dark types used in their abilities. It also caused them to be more prone to attempting to establish their dominance again, making them disagreeable and aggressive for as long as the chemical mixture was swirling inside them.


    This ability was something he called ¡®Moxie¡¯, and was one of the biggest hurdles for properly training the desert reptiles, even if the Sandile outside of when his instincts were roused was as sweet as anything.


    It was also not something that could be easily overcome, according to Clay, other than by ensuring that your relationship with the Pok¨¦mon was such that even when riding high on a rush almost as great as evolution, that the Sandile would want to listen to you, and ensuring that you familiarise the Pok¨¦mon with the feeling.


    Luckily, the Sandile line had an almost inbuilt set of training wheels for the ability. Hone Claws, a move that let Sandile tap into their natural reservoir of distortion by making a pantomime of the natural rituals that preceded the dominance fights between Krookodile. It was not exactly the same rush of emotions and power as Moxie, but it was similar enough to help.


    It had been exactly what Aidinza had been looking for when he first realised just how aggressive Sandile got when he was on a roll during fights. A way to ensure that he did not lose control of a battle, and to make sure that Sandile did not do something he would regret.


    He wasted no time, holding the power button down until the computer went silent and jogging out the Pok¨¦centre, he had training to get to. Nimbasa city was a different beast at night, compared to during the day. For one, it was a lot less crowded. Though there were still people wandering around, it had nothing on the press of people when he arrived. Second, the buildings were different in the dark. The lower floors lit up and the upper floors utterly dark created a somewhat creepy contrast, but one far less overwhelming than when the glass was glittering with reflected sun.


    However that did not mean that he felt that comfortable, and so rather than going to one of the parks that he saw dotted around the city, the young man instead travelled to and past the very edge of the city.


    It did not take him long to find a little clearing in the trees, close enough to the city to be lit by the residual light it was naturally exuding. The place was even scarce on grass, something that Sandile seemed to appreciate on release, rolling about in the dusty dirt.


    ¡°Hey, Buddy.¡± Sandile¡¯s attention snaps over to where his trainer had set up against a nearby tree, his backpack cushioning the hard wood. ¡°I¡¯ve got some training ideas, to help us keep focus when you start to win fights.¡± The Croc Pok¨¦mon¡¯s head tilts at that, black eyes blinking closed before he prodded the nomad¡¯s leg with his snout. It seemed that he did not really understand the why, but was eager enough. ¡°Now, we¡¯re going to teach you Hone Claws.¡±


    Sandile got even more confused at that, recoiling slightly from his trainer, before trying to look at his claws, a strangely pout-like expression passing over his snout. It was certainly an event to behold, Sandile¡¯s head did not have anywhere near enough motion to twist that far, no matter how much he flattened himself against the ground to stretch out his claws, no matter how tightly his cheek pressed against his shoulder, he just could not get the right angle. Aidinza could not help but chuckle at the comical sight, picking Sandile up to place him back down in his lap.


    ¡°Your claws are plenty sharp Sandile, Nurse Joy told me that you take good care of them.¡± He explained to the reptile, as he scratched at his pokemon¡¯s cool scales. ¡°So we don¡¯t really need to sharpen them, it''s like¡­ you know when you flex at your opponent?¡± Sandile smiled at that, nodding happily even as he cooed at the feeling of Aidinza¡¯s fingers. ¡°That¡¯s a Move, you use the energy inside you to empower something that you do. And with this, you''re, um tapping into distortion to empower yourself?¡± His voice trailed off in a question, still rather unsure about the exact mechanics of what went on. ¡°So what you need to do is scrape your claws against each other okay?¡±


    Sandile nodded cheerfully, tumbling out of his trainer''s lap, and ambling some distance away. Then he rears back on his hind legs, and claps his hands together awkwardly, then with a cheerfully gummy smile that exposes rows of sharp serrated teeth, he turns back to his trainer proudly.


    ¡°Nice attempt!¡± He encourages, unable to bring himself to tell Sandile outright that was not what needed to happen at all. ¡°But you really need to make sure the sharp parts of your claws connect with each other.¡±


    The small Pok¨¦mon nods firmly, rearing up again, and this time the noise of keratin claws clinking together hits his ears. But, the expected sight of the claws glowing a ¡°darn infernal sight¡± did not manifest, nor did the sight of Sandile¡¯s muscles bulging under his scales, like when his Moxie activated, manifest.


    Aidinza¡¯s brow furrows as he tries to remember what the article said about Hone Claw. It said that it tapped into the innate dominance rituals of the Sandile. That just the action alone would be enough to trigger millennia-old instincts. It also warned that it would put Sandile in the mindset of a dominance display. But considering that Sandile had since gotten bored, and began chasing his own tail in the time the Ya¡¯an-ah had taken to think, that seemed to not have taken root.


    Slowly he breathes out, and shifts around to get comfortable against the tree he was leaning against. He had seen Krookodile fight for dominance before, though they generally attempted to keep fighting like that away from the Naisho¡¯h. He had even seen Sandile fight for dominance before, wrestling in the sand with claws not yet sharp enough to break their thick scaled hide. He even thinks he might know the exact ritual that the article had been talking about, vague memories of large, mean-looking red Pok¨¦mon scraping cruel claws against each other as they squared up against a foe.


    But he never saw anything like that when the Pok¨¦mon were alone. As tough as Krookodile looked, well he knew they were all big softies at heart. When they were alone they would laze about in the sand, and be completely fine with letting the young of the Naisho¡¯h climb all over them. It was only when you started adding¡­


    Other Pok¨¦mon. He steals a quick glance around the dark clearing, trying to spy any nearby Pok¨¦mon through the thick trees surrounding him. Unfortunately, there was none that he could see at dusk. But that might not be an issue. He stands up suddenly, the motion so startling to Sandile that the croc launches into the air, and comes back down to land in a heap.


    ¡°Sorry Sandile just had an idea.¡± He gives Sandile an apologetic smile, before tearing through his backpack, searching for a pad of paper that Nurse Joy had handed to him to take notes on. It was a surprisingly large thing, nearly as long as his arm, and while that might have made it slightly awkward to hold he was pretty sure that it made it perfect for the thought he just had.


    Because it was not just the presence of other Pok¨¦mon that saw Krookodile honing their claws. Or well, not just the presence of living Pok¨¦mon. Once when Aidinza was young, his sister had made him a little Sandile doll, or well it was supposed to be one but the resemblance was pretty slim.


    But it was close enough that while he was playing with a Sandile, and brought it out one day, the Sandile attempted to assert dominance over it. The young nomad frowned slightly, remembering the outcome of that display, his precious teddy had been completely shredded. While a young Sandile¡¯s claws were not enough to leave a mark on scales, it was certainly enough to tear through the cloth.


    And now he was going to see if he could replicate it with just a drawing, which¡­ well let it never be said that he was an artist. But also let it never be said that he shied away from a challenge easily. It took nearly twenty minutes for him to draw out something that he thought was a good enough rendition of a Sandile. It was certainly rough around the edges, and it was probably only halfway decent because of how many Sandile that he had seen over the years, but that was fine. He doubted he would need to teach this way to any other Pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Sandile!¡± He called out, to catch the attention of the desert croc, where he was attempting to chew on the tip of his tail. The limb was just too short for him to manage and so he was left trying to force it the rest of the way as he lay on his back, claws wrapped around his muscular tail. ¡°The idea¡¯s ready.¡± The Croc perked up, rolling over his shoulder to land on his feet upright. So Aidinza wasted no time in brandishing his drawing at Sandile.


    And¡­


    Nothing happened, at least nothing that he wanted to happen happened. Instead of reacting to another sandile right in front of him, Sandile just waddled over to investigate the drawing, with a slight warble.


    It seemed that his artistic skills were not up to snuff. But the sound of Sandile¡¯s warble gave the Naisho¡¯h teen an idea. He had always been a fair hand at mimicry, sometimes when walking across the scorching desert, the only thing to keep him entertained was trying to see how could make the best Pok¨¦mon noises between him and his sister.


    A low growl rumbles out of his throat, starkly reminiscent of the growl that Sandile had made against Mark. Aidinza could pinpoint the exact moment the sound registered with his Pok¨¦mon, could see black eyes dilating, the friendly sheen being replaced with something more¡­


    Primal.


    Sandile immediately growled back, and this time when his claws slid against each other, the sound lingered in the air with malicious glee. His snout pulls back to expose sharp teeth, and underneath his scaled hide muscles bulged with a vicious strength as they coiled and threatened to send him hurtling forward.


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Sandile snapped out of his instinctive display, at the sound of his trainer''s excited exclamation. ¡°Great job!¡± The Croc preened under his trainer¡¯s praise, seemingly instantly forgetting his aggression moments before. Cheerfully he waddled over to his trainer, and Aidinza wasted no time in giving him scratches in reward. ¡°Now, we just need to do that again. Can you do that for me?¡±


    Sandile jumped up, once more rearing up on its hind legs. However, this time when he growled, it came out high pitched and adorable, and the clack of his claws against each other lacked the lingering malevolence.


    Aidinza frowned slightly, it looked like it was going to take more work than just that. Luckily, it was a warm night, and after being stuck inside for hours the young Nomad welcomed the chance to spend a few hours under the stars.


    -


    Nimbasa gym was an intimidating sight. It was not the tallest building in the city, nor was it the highest but¡­


    It had an energy about it, with the pulsating lightning bolt lights mantled onto it, and the heavy pointed obelisks that jut into the air above. It felt like it was a place more fitting for an ancient tyrant, rather than a place of an honoured leader.


    Or maybe it was the fact that it was teeming with people, like a desert cliff teemed with Durant, that was putting him on edge. It was probably less than the main street of Nimbasa, but they were more concentrated in the courtyard, lining up to get in the building or streaming out of it.


    Luckily for him, he did not have to line up with the vast majority of the people, no as a trainer signed up for the Gym Circuit, he had been directed towards a small side door nestled underneath one of the intimidating granite obelisks on the east side of the building.


    But even that had a line that he was forced to wait in, half a dozen young men loitering around waiting to be called inside, most a few years older than the young nomad, and strangely enough most were guzzling water, and more than one had abandoned their top. The young Ya¡¯an-ah attempted to introduce himself to one, but he got little more than a grunt out of him. So he resigned himself to waiting in mostly silence, thankfully the day was rather mild, and the shade of the massive building kept him cool.


    It ended up only taking twenty or so minutes for the young Nomad to be let inside the building, a closely walled dark grey affair, with very dim lights hanging overhead. It was also completely empty of people, barring a single rather intimidating man, leaning against the wall, with what seemed to Aidinza to be a set of very superfluous sunglasses.


    ¡°Keep heading down that way.¡± The man jerked his head to his right, ¡°until you hit the third corner, then head up to the second intersection and go left until you reach the desk. If you see anyone you better make sure you stay out of their way, got it punk? Don¡¯t go down the first intersection, don¡¯t even think of going to the third, the second intersection.¡± Aidinza nods, slightly awkward. Already just being inside felt strange to him, and adding to that a large man getting into his face? Well, it certainly did not give him much of a reason not to hurriedly follow the directions.


    However, it was just after he turned at the second corner, and was crossing the first intersection, that he ended up inadvertently getting in the way of someone.


    ¡°Oh, darling that looks wonderful on you.¡± Or more accurately, Aidinza found someone getting very intentionally in the way of him. It was a dark-haired woman, nearly a full head shorter than the young Ya¡¯an-ah, with a small upturned and high aristocratic cheeks. She also stood far, far too uncomfortably close to him, patting long his poncho and straightening it out at seemingly random intervals. ¡°You look so bold! So magnifique darling. Oh, I heard that Elesa had picked up some incredible new talent, but I had no idea that it would be this incredible.¡±


    Aidinza was frozen under the onslaught of attention, feeling like he had been caught in a sandstorm, and like his best option was to hunker down and hope to weather it out.


    ¡°Look at that jawline, and those piercing green eyes! Just one look from them will have everyone swooning.¡± His eyes widen, as he leans away from the women as best as he could. ¡°Exactly like that darling! You¡¯re amazing.¡± Finally, she stepped away, flicking her immaculately curled hair over her shoulder, and looking at the Ya¡¯an-ah with a frown, that made the severe lines of her face all the more evident. For a moment he felt like he was caught in front of a frowning Tsesei, and found himself straightening up. ¡°It''s not one of the outfits I assigned, where is it from, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a traditional Naisho¡¯h robe¡­'''' Came Aidinza''s weak response, which only saw the strange ladies'' eyes lighting up.


    ¡°Aha you¡¯re right darling, it''s such a bold entrance, full of¡­¡± She trails off for a moment, tapping a single long finger to a pair of white painted lips. ¡°Pizazz! Yes, such a strong statement is only going to be loved by the crowds, you¡¯re brilliant, a tyranitar in metamorphosis! And I, Edith, will be there every step of your evolution!¡±


    Edith spins on a high heel, a hand lashing out to grab his own. She dragged Aidinza along behind her, deeper into the build, deeper into the right turn of the intersection.


    ¡°A-ah honoured Lady Edith.¡± Edith snaps to a stop, turning to face him the moment he opens his mouth.


    ¡°No no, you have to be respectful! Even if you¡¯re wearing their clothes, you should not take their language!¡± Her voice was sharp and incredibly serious. Once more Aidinza felt like he was standing in front of Elder Tsesei. But then her face softened. ¡°I can understand your enthusiasm for their culture, but we walk a fine line between art and icons in fashion darling. Just call me Aunty E.¡±


    ¡°O-okay.¡± He stuttered out, feeling incredibly flat-footed being told to be respectful of his own culture. Then the woman gave him an expectant look. ¡°A-aunty E?¡±


    She beamed, before spinning around once again and tugging him along once more. Edith led him through the dark grey, unmarked halls with intent and confidence. The pair seemed to take dozens of corners at seemingly random, passing by rooms and halls without a second glance.


    ¡°Now darling, I would usually insist that you be given a few minutes to warm up, but you¡¯ve been so scarce that you¡¯ll have to head on as soon as we arrive, or I¡¯ll lose this slot.¡± She waves a hand dismissively in the air as if trying to convey a sense of what can you do nonverbally.


    ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°No no, darling.¡± Aunty E bulldozes straight through what Aidinza was about to say, not even pausing in her stride this time. ¡°No need to apologise, this place is a maze that you could lose a paparazzi in for a week, HA!¡± She lets out a sharp bark of laughter and throws an expectant look over her shoulder. The weak chuckle he gave seemed to be exactly what she was looking for because a moment later she beamed.


    Soon enough the pair of them crossed into a wider room, lit by dozens of flashy lights. Inside were dozens of what Aidinza could easily recognise as incredibly beautiful people, all of them dressed up in extremely elaborate getups. Some dressed up in just an incredible riot of colours, others with feathers and scaled clothes. One Aidinza could swear was wearing a shirt as pants. But none of them seemed self-conscious in the slightest about their somewhat bizarre wear, all of them confidently striding through the room.


    ¡°Edith and James Swoon, you¡¯re up!¡± A svelte man called, at least Aidinza thought it was a svelte man, he was a rather androgynous figure, and it was only voluminous, spiky ponytail behind him that made Aidinza think he was male.


    ¡°That is us, darling, we¡¯re just in time! Just like a wizard. Now one final check!¡± Edith spun on her red heel as the pair of them reached a heavy curtain, intently studying the young Ya¡¯an-ah. She started circling him, checking him over from every angle. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re going to be the darling of the crowd darling.¡± She claps her hands together excitedly, before pushing him through the curtain into¡­


    That was a lot of people.


    That was a lot and a lot and a lot of people. Wide green eyes shone with panic as they darted around the massive coliseum before them. There were thousands of people here at minimum, more than even the main street of Nimbasa when he arrived, and unlike there where no one was looking, all of those eyes were focused on the long strip before him.


    ¡°Go on, get walking!¡± A long strip that Edith wanted him to walk down. His feet, completely unbidden from his mind, take a step forward.


    ¡°Now the next ensemble is a real treat, from the desert of route four, an outfit inspired by the savage noma-.¡± Aidinza¡¯s eyes snapped around at the sound of that, prickled pride for his people roused at the assertion that they were savages. He finds the culprit quickly enough, a man in front of what he knew to be a ¡®microphone¡¯. However it seemed that he did not need to make his displeasure known as Edith - somehow - was standing right next to the man, and slapping at him with a shoe?


    ¡°Darlings, this is a pseudo genuine recreation of the traditional Naisho¡¯h robes, there is no savagery here.¡± Edith¡¯s voice boomed around the stadium, as she wrestled control over the microphone. Her eyes met his, and she gave an encouraging gesture.


    Unwilling to disappoint someone who had just stuck up for his people - He thinks? - Aidinza steeled his resolve and stepped forward. It was not easy, and he almost froze up again as the attention shifted from the spectacle of Edith over to him. But he squared his jaw and pressed on regardless, even if he was unable to stop his eyes from widening.


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    It was easier to take the next step, somehow, if he just tilted his head up and stared straight ahead, he could almost imagine that it was only the hundreds of people right in front of him looking at him, which was more manageable than the thousands.


    One foot in front of the other. Left-right, left-right. He repeated over and over inside his own head, and soon enough he found himself on the far side of the strip and found himself lost as to what came next.


    Was still lost as to exactly what anything of this was in service of. Desperately his eyes flickered around the massive room, trying to find any hint of what was next. It is then that his eyes catch on a truly stunning figure.


    Not just because the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman was without any doubts the most beautiful woman that Aidinza had ever seen. With her smooth fair skin gracefully slender arms and the blue-yellow outfit that clung tightly to her, it was hardly even a contest. Even the strange headphones with trailing cords attached did little to detract from her striking eyes and high cheekbones.


    No, it was not just because she was beautiful, but because it was a familiar face among the crowd. After all, it had only been yesterday that he had seen her face on one of the multitudes of forms he had been forced to fill out.


    That was Gym Leader Elesa, of Nimbasa City. The realisation of what must be going on struck the young Ya¡¯an-ah, this was some sort of procession to honour the woman before him! Mildly unsure as to why he was part of it, and why him being on this stage achieved that, but certain that it did in some way, Aidinza felt himself relax.


    ¡°The sun sings for your health. Honoured Leader Elesa.¡± He bows low at his waist, one hand coming up to press against the bottom of his neck, as respectful a gesture, and a greeting as the Ya¡¯an-ah had. One only to be said to those so far above you in stature, that there was no need for a reply.


    That was when a man, half-dressed in some truly tight pants, dashed onto the stage, and with all the offence of an impugned child stabbed a finger towards the Naisho¡¯h boy. ¡°This boy stole my spot!¡± He wailed out, and a shocked gasp passed through the room.


    ¡°Sacr¨¦ bleu! The savage dressed boy might in fact just be a sav- Ow ow ow.¡± The announcer from before begins and then cuts himself off as the sound of heavy smacks ring over the microphone.


    ¡°It¡¯s true! I was snapping into my wonderful outfit, having lost track of time, and next thing I know the wonderful Poppy is telling me that my slot had been stolen by this¡­ cad!¡± Aidinza freezes underneath the weight of thousands of judging stares, and the accusation of the man. In moments he hears jeers and boos from the crowd and feels his shoulders start to slump under the disapproval.


    Then, Elesa spoke. ¡°Is this true?¡± Her voice was light, airy even. But it cut through the jeers and the din of the crowd with incredible ease. It just had an undercurrent of steel to it that told woe to any who would even consider ignoring it.


    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean to? I¡¯m just here for a gym battle.¡± Aidinza felt so incredibly small underneath her sharp blue glare, the weight of a thousand jeers was nothing compared to her attention. Then like an incredibly small saviour sent by the sun, Edith slid in front of him.


    ¡°It is my fault Elesa dear, I saw this young man on his way to the gym registry, and my artistic soul sang! He looked so bold, and so out of place! Like a Sugimori found in a hotel room!¡± Aunty E¡¯s voice rang out over the crowd, as the short-statured woman covered her face in faux shame, turning away slightly. The Gym Leader¡¯s cool eyes turn to Edith, a hint of amusement in them that Aidinza missed.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± She chuckles slightly, a warm rich sound. ¡°Well, I can hardly be upset with two people sharing my two greatest passions, fashion, and battling!¡± The crowd, somewhat bizarrely to Aidinza cheers wildly at that, as Elesa flicked her hair, the two cables snapping in the air behind her. ¡°Ye¡¯an-ah!¡± She calls out, and Aidinza perks up at the sound of his people¡¯s name properly pronounced. ¡°How many badges do you have?¡±


    ¡°No badges, Honoured leader, this will be my first.¡± An amused, disbelieving laugh passes through the crowd at that, and Elesa stands up, vibrantly painted lips pulling up into an amused smile.


    ¡°Will be? Such confidence! Such Gravitas! How can I do anything but reward such spice! Jaundice!¡± A young rather put upon looking man glances up from his tablet in a sloth-like manner, heavy bags under his eyes. ¡°Clear a battle slot for tomorrow! No, clear the two-thirty battle slot!¡± At that Aidinza¡¯s eyes widened, the implications were obvious. ¡°Be prepared for tomorrow, young challenger, because I¡¯ll dazzle you with my beauty!¡±


    The Gym Leader turns sharply on her feet, cords trailing in the air behind her, before she all but strutted away, long sleek legs on obvious display, as the crowd went absolutely wild.


    Aidinza shakes his head slightly, to pull his attention away from the stunning gym leader''s retreating form, and finds himself sharing a glance with a widely grinning Edith.


    ¡°Come, Darling, you have a gym challenge to prepare for!¡± Edith¡¯s steel grip once more grabs onto the young Ya¡¯an-ah and drags him off the stage.


    -


    Edith had Aidinza out of the gym in minutes, the short-statured woman once more proving her absolute mastery of the seemingly identical hallways in the backrooms. He ended up leaving from a different door, and this one somehow seemed even more out of the way, a precaution against the paparazzi Edith told him.


    Then, after a brief stop at the Pok¨¦centre for a free meal, one he was entitled to even if he had used his fifteen days a month, Nurse Joy told him, he made his way back to the clearing from last night.


    Edith was right, he did have a gym challenge to prepare for, if her eyes were any indicator of the calibre of trainer Elesa was, then you would need everything you could muster.


    Hone Claws was progressing at a reasonable pace. The biggest issue was crossing the final hurdle of getting Sandile to use the move without first rousing his dominance instincts. But that issue was not as bad as it might seem, Sandile did not, and maybe never did need Aidinza¡¯s drawing. However, he did need the added push of Aidinza¡¯s mimicked growl.


    There had been a slight issue at the start, where Sandile would mistake his trainer as someone he needed to assert dominance over and would be slow to obey his orders. But after a few hours of effort, that was ironed out.


    In fact, barring the fact that Aidinza had to rely on the crutch of the growl, he was very satisfied with the move, it only took a moment for Sandile to ¡®power up¡¯ as it were, and the Croc always performed the move successfully.


    And so, Aidinza decided that at least for now, Hone Claw¡¯s could be set aside.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be trying to learn something else now, Sandile.¡± His Pok¨¦mon wasted no time in reacting to that, cheerfully bouncing to attention with more energy than he has had for hours. Something about using hone claws exhausted the little guy, though Aidinza was not sure if it was the energy he channelled, the chemicals that flowed through him, or if it was the rousing of his instincts that did it.


    The young man does not dwell on that thought for long, flipping through the notes he wrote out while he had been eating his lunch at the Pok¨¦mon centre. Specifically on training Sandile on just how to use a move known as Sand Tomb. It was something that the Sandile line was predisposed to, they naturally manipulated the sand around them when they swam through it to go as fast as possible, and Krookodile were capable of causing massive sandstorms when roused to anger.


    Or stopping them, as the Naisho¡¯h were more familiar with.


    Though training was made slightly awkward, for the fact that they were no longer in a desert, instead they were in a dusty dirt clearing. Thankfully, Aidinza had wasted no time in securing a bag of sand at Nurse Joy¡¯s instruction yesterday, and it was coming to benefit him in more ways than just hygiene.


    The training was both slower and faster than Hone Claw. Faster because Sandile seemed to have a more conscious understanding of what he needed to do when he pushed the sand around. Slower, because Aidinza did not have a shortcut to having Sandile do it exactly right.


    Still, there was progress, even if that progress was little better than Sandile just kicking sand at the enemy. He was starting to figure out how to manipulate the sand for longer, and there were even times when it started to circle whatever ¡®target¡¯ he was focusing on for a few moments.


    Hopefully, by tomorrow, the two of them will have something workable down.


    If not, well the two of them have managed well enough so far with just physically bullying their way into victories.


    And at this point, all he could really do was hope that was enough.


    -


    There was more buzz around this fight than Aidinza thought was really reasonable. He had even heard it talked about when he ate breakfast in the morning at the Pok¨¦centre. Well he heard about a ¡°cute boy¡± sneaking onto the catwalk to challenge Elesa, and maybe it was slightly self-absorbed to think that it was probably about him, but it seemed slightly too fantastical to happen twice.


    ¡°Of course, there is a buzz about it Darling, think about it from their perspective! It is such a vibrant story! A young handsome desert nomad, so enamoured with our beloved Gym Leader that he sneaks onto the catwalk to personally challenge her? It¡¯s the stuff of naughty nighttime reading.¡± Edith dragged the comb through his hair once more, before nodding, seemingly satisfied with the oddly wild way she had styled the young Ya¡¯an-ah¡¯s hair.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure the battle would live up to expectations though.¡± While he had quickly come to love his Sandile, Aidinza was not blind to the fact that he was a very new trainer, with a rather young Pok¨¦mon. Hardly something able to compete with the legendary battles of elite trainers.


    ¡°It''s not about the battle darling, it''s the narrative.¡± The short woman brushed the front of his cloak once more before she beckoned him to stand up. He wastes no time doing so, even if he found himself agreeing with Edith that he had to look his best infront of Elesa, it was still uncomfortable to have the woman fussing over him. ¡°It¡¯s the zest and spice!¡± The woman spun around, her red dress sparkling in the stark light of the dressing room. ¡°I¡¯m sure even if you go out there and lose in a single move the city would buzz about it.¡±


    The young man hums noncommittally, looking at himself in the mirror he had been set up in front of as he stood up. Edith had, in her words, ¡®lightly¡¯ touched up on his face, added just a dash of daring darling. Considering that he could not see much of a difference in his face, he found himself wondering just how lightly she meant.


    ¡°Now darling, it''s time for your two thirty!¡± He followed Aunty E through the uniform maze-like hallways of the gym, unable to really tell where he had come from or where he was going no matter how much he tried to focus on the corners they were taking. This time, however, instead of coming out in a room full of beautiful people, they came out into a room with a somewhat aged man, with grey receding hair, and again still very odd to Aidinza, wearing sunglasses inside.


    ¡°And here is our challenger for the day. I¡¯m Cylde, I¡¯ll be the referee of the battle today, the battle will be following the standard league rules, in a two versus two format. However, unlike standard league rules, items, and substitutions will be allowed.¡± The young trainers'' brow furrows at that, that seemed like it could get annoying. Clyde seemed to notice his expression, giving him an easy-going smile. ¡°You shouldn''t need to worry about that one, Elesa¡¯s not going to bring out the Emolga twins on a zero badge trainer.¡± Despite not knowing what the Emolga twins meant, the words were surprisingly calming to Aidinza, and he tried to return to smile. ¡°Now, I have to head up to the referee box, but do you have any questions?¡±


    Aidinza shook his head no, and with one final smile from the older man, he headed towards a door, a keycard at the ready. ¡°Wait, I have one¡­ question.¡± Clyde was gone, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.


    ¡°What is it darling?¡± He glances down at a concerned Edith and shrugs.


    ¡°I don¡¯t actually have a second Pok¨¦mon.¡± He smiles bashfully, hoping to head off any sort of scorn from the woman and to cover up the nerves that were playing on his mind.


    ¡°Your bold moves know no bounds darling! Challenging your first gym before you catch your first Pok¨¦mon? Daring.¡± Despite the probably reassuring intent of Edith''s words, Aidinza still felt worry curling in his gut. Something the red-dressed woman took quick notice of. ¡°Don¡¯t worry darling, you¡¯ll do great, I¡¯m sure of it, just give your best shot.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Aunty E.¡± Her words finally got through to him, and with a deep breath to expel the last of his nerves, the young man stood up.


    ¡°Challenging her, from the infamous Yaanah desert, also known as Route Fourrrrr!¡± The two of them perk up at that, and Edith immediately begins pushing him towards the door to the arena.


    ¡°Good luck, prove great skill! You¡¯ll do great, put on a good show and the crowd will love you, darling! I¡¯ll sort out the announcer''s pronunciation for you so don¡¯t worry about that darling.¡± Soon enough he was standing at the precipice of the entrance to the arena, and Edith had disappeared from the room.


    ¡°Give it up for AIDINZA!¡±


    The just named man takes a slow breath in, and pushes through the door into a wall of blinding light and deafening noise.


    Flashes of bright stark light, beams of coloured lights, shouts and jeers, cheers and screams all hit the young man at once, and it took him a long moment to recover from the sensory overload.


    And when he did, he almost wished he had not. Once again the entire stadium was utterly packed, and this time he knew that they were not just here inadvertently to his presence, but actually here in some tangential way for him.


    Struggling to ignore the crowd, he turns his attention to the arena before him. It was a long unraised strip, reminiscent in some ways to the ¡®catwalk¡¯ he had been on yesterday. Though it was much wider. The floor itself was tiled, and at the edge of it was a net, probably to prevent any Pok¨¦mon from slipping off and colliding with either the crowd or the ground.


    Then before he could look any further the lights dimmed, two large spotlights tracing along the sides of the strip, starting in the middle, and crossing over each other seemingly at random as they approached the other end of the arena.


    ¡°And defending her gym¡¯s badge, the electric, stunning beauty of Nimbasa, GYM LEADER ELESAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!¡± The lights crossed over each other one last time, coming together to beam down on the stunning figure of the Nimbasa Gym Leader, hip cocked and a cool smirk on her face.


    If Aidinza thought that the noise he heard in reaction to himself was overwhelming, it had nothing on the reaction to Elesa. The crowd went utterly wild, screaming and stomping, a cacophony of revenant adoration. The lights around the arena strobed, almost as if they were joining in on the raucous cheering.


    It made the boy feel slightly lightheaded, the world spinning and warping in his head. It was so bad that he was half sure that he was going to fall over on the spot. For a boy of the desert and the sun, it was just too much.


    Too much was becoming a distressingly common feeling to him in the few days he had been in Nimbasa.


    At some unseen signal, the crowd¡¯s cheering died down, and when he was recovered enough to really take things in again, he saw Elesa strutting down to take up her position on the strip.


    ¡°It''s a two on two battle folks¡±. Aidinza winces slightly at that, and wonders if it''s too late to tell anyone that he doesn¡¯t have a second Pok¨¦mon. ¡°And between you and me, even if this is just a zero badge fight, the beautiful Elesa knows how to make the most out of even the youngest of Pok¨¦mon! If you pay close attention at home, you¡¯ll catch some ideas you can apply to your own battles!¡± The announcer, Clyde Aidinza noticed when he glanced over, hyped up the crowd, as he rose up on some sort of odd platform that gave him a perfect view of the arena. ¡°Gym leader Elesa to choose first!¡±


    ¡°Get ready Aidinza, zero badge team or not, I¡¯m going to leave your head spinning!¡± He resists the urge to call back that his head was already spinning, as the graceful blonde expands a Pok¨¦ball, and throws it to the middle of the arena.


    The ball snaps open, and in a flash of red light, a small blue and black Pok¨¦mon appeared, only a little taller than Adam''s Lillipup, that Sandile had fought on the first day. The crowd cheered, and the Pok¨¦mon preened under the attention, yellow eyes sparkling.


    ¡°And Elesa sends out a Shinx to start things off! These dazzling flashers will leave anyone too shocked to fight! Now how will the challenger respond?¡±


    Unknown to the crowd, the challenge only really had one response. ¡°Go Sandile!¡± A tossed ball, a red flash, and an adorable sand croc appeared in the middle of the arena, to the more muted roar of the audience.


    ¡°He sends out a Sandile! A smart choice from the challenger to neutralise the electrifying moves of Elesa! But type advantage isn¡¯t everything!¡± Doing everything he could to ignore the crowd around him, he meets Elesa¡¯s eyes. Her painted lips were tilted up in an almost approving smile. ¡°Now get ready! Get set! Begin!¡±


    ¡°Ultramarine, get pumped up for a performance, Howl!¡± Elesa¡¯s voice rang clear across the arena, a single slender arm cutting through the air in a remarkably dramatic gesture. Instantly the Ultramarine lets out a deep-chested howl, the sound scratching at a deep remnant of Aidinza¡¯s monkey brain.


    It was a move similar to Hone Claw, Aidinza realised immediately, as the Blue-black Pok¨¦mon¡¯s muscles began to bulge underneath its fur.


    ¡°Sandile, Hone Claw.¡± His growl is instantly echoed by his Pok¨¦mon, as the sand croc rears back on its legs, and the malicious rasp of keratin scraping against keratin fills the air. ¡°Now get in close, and overwhelm it!¡±


    Sandile explodes forward, claws padding against the tiles as he moves at a speed that belies its size.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let him push you around, tackle!¡± Shinx wastes no time in obeying his trainer''s instructions and meets Sandile with as much ferocity as a half metre blue feline could muster.


    Which was a rather large amount as it turns out, shoulder checking the sandile on its approach, sending it sprawling backwards. Sandile wasted no time in getting back on his feet, but once again Aidinza found himself reminded of the difference between using moves and raw physicality.


    ¡°Keep dazzling them Ultramarine!¡± Elesa before Sandile had even got to his feet, and the small feline darted forward.


    ¡°Sandile, Sand Attack!¡± It was a spur of the moment choice, one that Aidinza found himself immediately unsure of, but Sandile gave him no time for him to rescind the order, ripping sand out of the tiny bag tied to his side, and throwing it at the charging Shinx¡¯s eyes, causing him to stumble to a stop. ¡°Give him no time to recover, flex on him!¡±


    Instantly Sandile''s posture shifted, his back legs bending slightly, front legs straightening, and Aidinza knew from experience a crocy smirk would be spread along his long snout. But this time rather than waiting for the blinded Shinx to react, Sandile exploded forward and crashed into Elesa¡¯s pok¨¦mon. However, the lack of reaction from Elesa¡¯s Pok¨¦mon did not seem to weaken the move in the slightest, as Sandile crashed into him with incredible force.


    The Shinx was sent flying, the face full of sand it had received flying everywhere from the sheer force of the impact, and came to a rolling stop not far from Elesa¡¯s feet.


    It did not get back up, and for a moment the crowd seemed stunned.


    ¡°Incredible! In a single attack, the challenger has put down Elesa¡¯s shinx! I didn¡¯t promise a clash of titans here folks, but maybe Sandile wants to deliver one!¡± Sandile straightened up even further at the praise, tilting its head side to side, as his muscles, already empowered by Hone Claws, grew even further as the chemical cocktail of Moxie spread through his body.


    ¡°Well done! I¡¯m glad to see you aren¡¯t wasting my time.¡± Elesa flashed a wide, brilliantly white smile at the young Ya¡¯an-ah, and he felt his cheeks warming up at the attention. ¡°But my next Pok¨¦mon won¡¯t be so quick to go down. Go Bolt!¡±


    This time the Pok¨¦mon released was taller than Sandile, a hooved creature with a black and white coat, and a tall mane that was stylized into a lightning bolt. Two intelligent, but rather cloudy blue eyes stared out at¡­ seemingly nothing. Aidinza frowned.


    ¡°And Elesa releases one of her incredible Blitzle! Keep an eye on this one people, Elesa¡¯s main Zebstrika is considered one of the strongest electric types in Unova!¡± The crowd cheered, however they still seemed subdued, after the quick loss of shinx. ¡°Now get ready for the second round, people, because it begins now!¡±


    Aidinza, rather than ordering Sandile to do anything, instead continues to watch the Blitzle, focusing on its eyes. It only took a moment for him to realise what was pulling at him, he had seen those same eyes on the older folk of the Ya¡¯an-ah, the folk whose eyes had long failed them. Half horrified, his eyes snap up to meet Elesa¡¯s.


    ¡°Is he blind?¡± Are you forcing a Pok¨¦mon to fight blind, was left unsaid for the moment, but if he did not get a satisfactory answer, then it would certainly be on his lips in an angry second. Elesa did not seem put out by the question, or well not in the way he expected. Instead, she only gave a soft, almost sad smile down at the Blitzle.


    ¡°He is. Little Bolt¡¯s one of my Zebstrika¡¯s foals, but unfortunately was born with damaged eyes.¡± Despite the explanation, Aidinza was no closer to being satisfied. ¡°He still loves to fight, however, so I make sure he gets a chance whenever he can.¡±


    ¡°How do you even expect him to fight if he can¡¯t see!¡± Despite his obvious mounting frustration, Elesa merely smiled at him appreciatively, which did little for the Nomad¡¯s mounting temper.


    ¡°Through the bond of a trainer and a Pok¨¦mon obviously! He¡¯ll trust me to tell him what to do, and I¡¯ll trust him to pull it off with everything he can! Now Bolt, S S E Quick Attack!¡± The conversation ground to an instant stop, as the Blitzle blurred forward, his hooves beating a quick tempo against the tiled floor.


    ¡°Sandile, dodge!¡± Despite himself, he still could not really bring himself to order Sandile to attack a blind Pok¨¦mon. However, he knew that since it was blind there was no way it would be able to make an adjustment already in motion as it was, and hopefully once Elesa realised that she would call of thi-


    ¡°S S S E!¡± Elesa called, as Sandile dodged left, and instantly the Blitzle readjusted its charge to dead-on Sandile, slamming into him with bone-rattling force.


    However Sandile was empowered by both Hone Claws, and the territorial instincts of Moxie, and rather than sending him sprawling like Shinx¡¯s tackle, it only sent him sliding back slightly, the grind of the sand left from the previous fight awful on the ears. It seemed that Elesa was going to give the two of them no real choice in fighting a blind Pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Sandile, flex on it!¡± He called out, wanting to at least end this quickly if he had to fight it.


    ¡°Dodge N N W!¡± Not that Elesa was planning on making things easy for him as Blitzle reared onto its hind hooves, and booked it away from the preparing Sand Croc. ¡°Now S S E, come in on an angle!¡±


    Blitzle immediately complied, running straight perpendicular with the edge of the arena, using its incredible speed to get a flank on Sandile. However, Sandile was no fool to sit around gormlessly, spinning to face the fast equine.


    ¡°Get ready Sandile, attack when he¡¯s close!¡± He catches the slight nod that Sandile gave in the distance, already almost glowing with the power of his flex, and turns back to watch as the blind Blitzle blurred forward in another quick attack.


    ¡°Now!¡±/¡°Jump!¡± The two of their orders blended together, but their Pok¨¦mon seemed to have no trouble in making a distinction between the two. Sandile shoved himself forward, looking to barrel straight through the Blitzle.


    However, the Blitzle jumped clean over the Croc¡¯s snout, landing with a clatter on the sandy tiles behind him, and once more rearing up to spin around.


    ¡°Behind you!¡± Came Aidinza¡¯s too slow warning, as the Electrified Pok¨¦mon surged forward in another lightning-fast dash, colliding with Sandile back, and this time having a far greater effect, unprepared as the desert dweller was.


    ¡°This is what my Gym teaches, Aidinza, that with a strong enough bond with your Pok¨¦mon you can overcome anything, all you need to do is trust them!¡± Elesa¡¯s call to Aidinza was followed by a roar of approval from the crowd, many of which began a chant of her name.


    Aidinza¡¯s shoulders hunch into a tight line, as he turns back to the fight, ruminating over her words. However, he was not given long to think, as Elesa pressed the assault, guiding her Blitzle into leveraging its speed advantage to a frankly incredible degree.


    It was not going well, no matter what Aidinza or Sandile tried, the Blitzle was just too fast, and too agile for them to catch out, and even empowered as Sandile was, he was starting to feel the strain of multiple quick attacks.


    They had to change something soon, or they were going to lose. But what could they do? No matter the progress they had made on Sand Tomb, it was nowhere near ready. While Sandile could throw a lot of sand at once, he could do nothing with it after a few seconds beyond the smallest tugs, and considering Blitzle was already blind, it could hardly work as a distraction.


    Aidinza winces as Blitzle sends Sandile sprawling again, his fast found friend landing in the¡­


    Sand that had spread across the arena. The sand from Sandile¡¯s sand attack. A plan began formulating in his head, one that would stop the Blitzle for long enough for Sandile to get a solid hit in. The only issue is it would be doing something with sand that the two of them had yet to manage.


    ¡°N E E E, let''s finish this Bolt, Double Kick!¡± But was that not a facet of the lesson that Elesa had just tried to teach him? Sandile was trusting him to come up with something to do, and Aidinza now that he had come up with something, now had to trust Sandile to give it his all.


    So, as Blitzle approached on a blisteringly fast approach over sandy tiles, and Sandile sluggishly turned to face him, Aidinza put his plan into action.


    ¡°Sandile! Push all the Sand around you!¡± And now, all he could do was trust.


    Trust, and hope Sandile could deliver.


    And of course, Sandile wasted no time in attempting to follow the order. Instantly the thousands of grains of sand left behind from Sandile¡¯s sand attack and spread about the arena throughout the fight shuddered and shook, but did little else. For one sinking moment Aidinza was sure that it was not going to happen, far too familiar with the sight of shaking, but unmoving sand proceeding a tired Croc.


    But that Desert Croc was not this Desert Croc. Empowered by Hone Claw, and Moxie, and with it all on the line? Well, Sandile could do and would do nothing less than absolutely deliver.


    As Blitzle spun around, his powerful hind legs lifting in preparation for two powerful kicks, the sand coating the tiles surged back, with incredible force. Blitzle, unprepared for the very floor underneath it moving against it, found himself dragged along with it, unbalanced and toppling..


    ¡°Now Sandile, finish it!¡± The order was almost superfluous from him, as an already irritated Sandile slammed his body into the blitzle, sending the white and black equine skidding across the arena and over the edge to be caught by the net underneath.


    Silence, for the first time since Aidinza had stepped onto the arena. Not even the stunned murmurs of when he had beat Shinx in a single move was this quiet.


    The sound of a Pok¨¦ball returning a Pok¨¦mon breaks the silence, and when Aidinza looks over to his opponent he sees a soft expression on Elesa¡¯s face. ¡°Well done, you¡¯ve earned a Bolt Badge. Your trust in Sandile dazzled me.¡±


    She pulls a yellow bolt-like metal badge from somewhere, and it flashes in the light as she flicks it over to Aidinza. He catches it, and for a moment just stares at it, not quite understanding.


    ¡°There you have it, folks! The challenger beats the stunning Elesa one pok¨¦mon to two! What an incredible performance.¡±


    He glances up at the stunned crowd, wide green eyes taking in the surprised faces of thousands.


    And then they go absolutely fucking ape-shit. Cheers and screams, louder than even Elesa¡¯s entrance. A chant of his name took up through the arena, and it almost felt like the building was shaking from the raucous applause.


    Aidinza¡¯s eyes fell back to the badge he had caught.


    He had done it.


    He won.


    -

 Route Five, where Eaglets Fly

    Aidinza hardly remembered moving off the stage. Between the cheering crowd, beating a Gym Leader, and Sandile pulling off sand manipulation in the heat of the moment¡­


    It was just a moment he tried to stretch out into eternity.


    But soon enough he found himself sequestered in a backroom by a short-stayed Edith, who soon after she pulled him from the arena said that she had ¡°inspiration to attend to darling!¡±


    Carefully he breathes out through his nose, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair in front of one of the many mirrors that seemed endemic to this gym. He did not realise how sweaty he got, standing up there, the heat of the moment perhaps ironically taking away the heat of the moment.


    Somehow in front of the mirror, he looked worse and better than he ever had. He could see the tired exhaustion in his eyes and could see the smudged makeup Edith applied as clear as day, making him look like a half-melted painting. But when he pulled back slightly, stopped looking so closely, it was almost like all of that did not exist. Between his high cheekbones and intensely green eyes, he could almost delude himself into thinking he looked noble, or fierce.


    Edith had done good work, for all that it was being washed away by sweat he mused, and for all the little she had to work with, he ended in his mind with a wiry grin. He pushes himself to his feet, leaving the stool in front of the mirror to glance around the small room. There was some sort of closet in the corner full of feathers and fluff, a dazzling array of yellows and blue garments.


    But he only gave them a brief look, instead, he slumped over to a couch pressed up against the wall to sprawl out over the surprisingly cool black leather, wondering if he should stay or if he should try and brave the confusing labyrinth of the gym, but even Bi At Ini lost himself in the endless mists of the Na-si-yiz Ts¨¦?¨¢¨¢n, the cave of the great ruler of the beyond realm, and to Aidinza there was little difference between the two.


    ¡°You did very well.¡± A voice startles Aidinza, nearly sending him toppling off the couch. Wide eyes snap towards the entrance of the room, where a tall blonde was politely covering her mouth to hide a small giggle.


    ¡°Honoured leader Elesa!¡± He blurts out, hurriedly rising from where he lounged on the couch to properly address the Gym Leader. ¡°The sun sings for your health!¡± He rushes through the words, mind half taken with berating himself for forgetting them in the first place, and for making someone as August as Elesa address him first.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be so formal, after a performance like that you¡¯ve earned being at ease.¡± She gives him a cool smile, as she struts over to the mirror, checking something on her face.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do much, Sandile did it all.¡± Aidinza immediately obfuscates, unwilling to ever appear conceited in front of someone so far above his station, even if he did just ¡®beat¡¯ her.


    ¡°Not an uncommon thought for many trainers, and it makes me glad to see you know your partner''s value.¡± She looks away from the mirror, her cool smile melting into something intensely warm and pleased. He blushes at the sight of it. ¡°But you always have to remember that our Pok¨¦mon rely on us just as much as we rely on them. To train them, to care for them, to guide them in battle.¡±


    ¡°The bonds you talked about in the fight, right?¡± That earned him another pleased smile, and he could not help but start to preen under it. He always enjoyed it when he did well in his sisters'' impromptu lessons.


    ¡°You¡¯re very right.¡± Elesa paused for a moment before her vibrant eyes went distant and melancholy. ¡°Just as many trainers do the opposite of undervaluing their own part in the relationship, more even. Pushing their Pok¨¦mon too hard, demanding more than they can give, and not looking after them. Their negligence and neglect hurt their Pok¨¦mon, and they don¡¯t care. So many trainers become abusive.¡±


    Elesa¡¯s grave eyes met Aidinza, and the young nomad knew that writ across his face was an uncomfortable, or even repulsed expression.


    ¡°It''s good to see that expression on your face. Too many people, even if they don¡¯t abuse their Pok¨¦mon themselves, are ambivalent to the suffering others cause.¡± Elesa, rather than strutting like she was usually so prone to, seemed almost tired as she walked to a strange metal door in the corner of the room, pulling a bottle from within. ¡°Nimbasa used to be like that before the league started¡­ before the league put itself back together. So many abuses, so much pain. Gang sponsored pit fights to the death, dozens of Pok¨¦mon thrown against one Pok¨¦mon, just to name the surface of the depravity.¡± Elesa spits, her smooth, timeless features twisting in disgust, and for the first time, Aidinza saw that she was not as young as he thought, that for however smooth her skin had been kept, for however young she seemed. She had been around for a long time. ¡°And no one cared. The league was fractured, and the people of Nimbasa ignored it all, or they were a part of it. Until I put a stop to it.¡±


    Aidinza swallowed heavily, as he found himself pinned by Elesa¡¯s passion, eyes fierce and back straight. He could almost imagine what Elesa had done to put a stop to it all, with eyes like that, there it was no surprise that she was an honoured leader. With eyes like that, she seemed like she could change the world.


    ¡°The world sounds like it''s a better place for it.¡± He tentatively tried, and it is only then that Elesa seemed to notice how he was shying away from her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, this might seem a bit much for you¡­ I¡¯m one of the only gyms that keep a roster trained for every skill level of trainer. I¡¯m also the only gym badge absolutely required for a trainer to compete in the Unovan Conference. One of the concessions I forced out of the league, back when it was desperate to stop us from spiralling into Ore two point oh.¡± She snorts, a surprisingly unladylike sound from the graceful woman, but it does nothing to detract from the clear pride in her posture. ¡°Every year I make sure that Unova¡¯s best are taking care of their Pok¨¦mon, or at the very least aren¡¯t abusing them. That¡¯s my mark on this league, that¡¯s how I make up for the horrors of old Nimbasa.¡±


    ¡°Are you¡­¡± He trails off, not sure that he wanted to finish that sentence, his heart freezing in his chest. But he gathered his courage and tried to forge forward. ¡°Are you saying you think I¡¯m abusing Sandile?¡± His voice takes on a dangerous edge at that, almost reminiscent of the rumble he used to rouse Sandile¡¯s instincts.


    ¡°No.¡± The single word sends relief surging through him, and he feels his tense shoulders relax. ¡°Sandiles is very well treated, he likes being with you. He would not have managed that unpractised sand manipulation unless he did.¡± She gives him a soft smile, and despite himself, he finds himself preening again under the praise. This woman was just too good at hitting his buttons. ¡°But he¡¯s your only Pok¨¦mon right?¡±


    ¡°You noticed that?¡± He chuckles nervously, and wonders if he was going to get in trouble of some kind for not even meeting the basic standards of the fight.


    ¡°I did, you looked very nervous when it was announced. But that doesn¡¯t matter. What does is that it is easy to care for your starter. There¡¯s a bond there that tugs at the heart of even the cruellest trainer.¡± She trails off, studying Aidinza where he stood before her, hip cocking slightly, not that it made any difference between their heights. ¡°It¡¯s the other Pok¨¦mon. The one¡¯s not quite as ¡®special¡¯ as the starter, that to the callous lose their identity. Become just another fighter to them. I wanted to make sure you knew that was wrong. I also wanted to ask for you to come back when you have a few more badges, a few more team members. So I can see them.¡±


    Slowly Aidinza nods, despite the swirling frustration at being accused even in the slightest of potentially being the sort to abuse a Pok¨¦mon. This was an honoured leader, someone with wisdom and valour. If she needed him to prove himself twice, then he would.


    ¡°Is that why you name them?¡± That question did not seem to be what Elesa expected, and the woman raised one elegant brow at him. ¡°Your Pok¨¦mon had names. Do you name them so you don¡¯t forget that they¡¯re individuals?¡±


    The widest smile yet spreads across Elesa¡¯s face at that, a beam that ensnared Aidinza with just how bright and proud it was. ¡°Yes, some of my partners don¡¯t want them, my oldest friend Zebstrika never needed one. But when they want one, I make sure to give them one.¡±


    The young Ya¡¯an-ah hummed thoughtfully at that, as his eyes drifted to the Pok¨¦ball at his side. He wondered if Sandile would want a name. Or if like Elesa¡¯s Zebstrika it would not matter to him.


    ¡°You know. I have something for you.¡± She reaches into a¡­ pocket? Aidinza¡¯s brow furrows as he watches Elesa pull a small disk from what he had assumed to be a skin-tight piece of clothing, tightly hugging her thigh.


    The fact that he was utterly unable to tell any difference after the fact was even more baffling to the young Nomad. When his wide green eyes met Elesa¡¯s sparkling blue eyes, he saw her lips pulled into a mysterious smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s a TM. A technical machine. It teaches Return, without having to spend days or weeks trying to learn it by yourself. You still have to master it obviously but your Pok¨¦mon will have a good idea of how to use it. It¡¯s¡­ it''s a move that grows stronger the more your Pok¨¦mon is willing to trust your commands¡± She hands over the small disk to Aidinza, and he takes a moment to examine it, eyes tracing over ¡®Return¡¯ painted stark on its back, briefly unsure why it seemed so familiar. Then it struck him, and after a moment of rooting around in his pocket he pulled out a similar if more bulky disc. ¡°That¡¯s an older version, the newer versions can be reused, so be careful who you use that on.¡±


    Aidinza stares at the two disks, tilting his head as he tries to figure out just how in the sun¡¯s name they were supposed to teach Sandile. Was he supposed to eat it? It looked like it was supposed to be inserted somewhere, but that was an uncomfortable thought to have. He was not sure what his face looked like when he glanced back up to Elesa, but clearly, it was funny enough to draw a short chuckle from her.


    ¡°You press it to a Pok¨¦ball while it''s inside it. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re not privy to the functionality of it, but it will handle the rest.¡± She gives Aidinza an encouraging pat, before she struts over to the doorway, sipping at a bottle as she does so. She pauses just before she leaves, glancing over the smooth expanse of her shoulder. ¡°You seem like a good kid, Aidinza, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll make your people proud.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll honour the sun.¡± Comes his quick promise, and a moment later, Elesa sweeps out the room, the last sight he catches of her the cables that hung from her headpiece.


    Left alone, he continues his examination of the disk, but his mind was distant, not on the disks. Instead, it was rolling over the conversation with Elesa. Remembering his Pok¨¦mons individuality¡­ it sounded simple in his head. It sounded like something that was obvious.


    The idea that it was something people had trouble with was¡­ difficult to him. Sandile could be a bit airheaded, and more interested in play, but he was intelligent, fiercely so.


    ¡®it is easy to care for your starter¡¯


    The words bounced in his head, a taunt in his own mind, even if it was not one when formed on her lips. A challenge.


    Distantly his mind turns to leaving Nimbasa, turns to the Pok¨¦mon that could be found between here and¡­


    Driftveil.


    Turned to where he would find his next Pok¨¦mon, and how he would rise to meet Elesa¡¯s expectations.


    -


    It¡¯s comfortable being outside of the concrete walls of Nimbasa¡¯s aptly named skyscrapers. While Aidinza still had to contend with thick forest, and all the trees that implied, it was far better than the cloying feeling of a city.


    The moment that Edith remembered to lead him out of the Nimbasa city gym, he had been a man on a mission, stopping by the Pok¨¦centre to drop Sandile off, before heading about to secure supplies. While he was happy enough foraging for food, his reading told him that Pok¨¦mon, especially at higher evolutions, were required by law to have their meals supplemented by the league approved food, to prevent a hungry third stage Pok¨¦mon from depopulating whatever region it found itself in.


    While he did find himself accosted by a strange woman and a man with a large camera, they went away satisfied when he answered their questions, and he knew to avoid people like them lest he ends up trapped in a cycle of answering questions.


    Then it was just a matter of collecting Sandile. He had been bruised from the fight, but bruises to a healer as august as Nurse Joy were like water to a drain. There was a while when Aidinza followed the wide road very similar to the road that cuts through the Desert Resort, but he quickly found himself abandoning it.


    Like many things in wider Unova, it was busy. Strange cars roaring down the road, cyclists and bikes. Merchant hawkers with large trailers that would attempt to wave the young Nomad down.


    It was not for the Naisho¡¯h boy. The calm of the forest, however, was. There were certainly Pok¨¦mon out and about, rustling in the trees he saw strange grey-furred Pok¨¦mon, with large whitetails, competing with the many Pidove and Pidgey for tree space. On forest floor he would occasionally catch sight of a pack of purple feline - he took careful care to avoid their path, he had read about the dangers of getting in the way of hunting Liepard - and once he was completely certain that he saw what was one of the foul-smelling bags he saw in Nimbasa moving about.


    Occasionally a Pok¨¦mon would attempt to fight him, catching sight of Sandile cheerfully - as cheerfully as he could manage with grass under claw - bounding beside Aidinza and seemingly taking umbrage with Sandile¡¯s presence. He quickly proved superior to most of them, especially when the heat and strength of Moxie started pumping through his veins. Though there were occasions where Aidinza found himself having to call Sandile off before he did serious damage to a light-hearted challenger and one time where he even had to return the Sand Crocodile, moments before its powerful jaws would have closed with dreadful finality around a Pidove¡¯s body.


    ¡°Hunter?¡± And through it all, Aidinza had been throwing out names for Sandile¡¯s judgement. The reptile had seemingly been open to a name when he asked but had thus far proven to be rather pervicacious in actually accepting any of his suggestions. ¡°Dodge to the right, and flex on him, time to finish this!¡±


    Sandile¡¯s muscles bulged, as he sneered at the opposing Venipede, the toxic bug nearly as large as him, as it approached in a ball. He dodged its attack, but before it could properly pass him, he slammed it as hard as he could, sending it crashing into the tree that had been to Sandile¡¯s left.


    Then he turned to face his trainer and shook his head with a definitive ¡°bwuh¡±, and a rumbling hiss.


    The Venipede, clearly realising it was on the losing side of this fight, took advantage of the distraction to skitter away. Aidinza merely watched the bug passively, thumbing at the pok¨¦ball at his belt. Wondering if this was the Pok¨¦mon he wanted to add to his team as the second member. But it just did not feel right, something in him hesitated a gut instinct he was loath to ignore, especially with something as important as this felt.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Sandy?¡± He instead turns back to his starter, who only gave another shake of the head. Aidinza hums at that, eyes tracing around the forest he was in half for some sort of inspiration, half for something to do.


    It was then his eyes came to rest on a rather new sight in the forest. At least for him. It was another bird Pok¨¦mon that was obvious at a glance, with powerful talons gouging into the wood underneath it, and tiny blue wings tucked tight into its body. But it was its eyes that really caught his attention, thick black iris, and a tiny spot of white pupil, all lit with a fire obvious even where was standing. Its hooked beak cracks open and a piercing caw fills the air, as its claws shone an infernal light, and its body bulges in the familiar signs of Hone Claw.


    Sandile¡¯s answering primal growl fills the clearing in response, the malicious noise of keratin against keratin filling the short gap between trees. Not as gracefully as other birds that Aidinza had seen, its flight was rough, and the beat of its wings heavy. It did not cut through the air as other birds did, he could see that outright.


    No, the white plumed bird was forcing itself through the air, with all the force it could muster.


    ¡°Sandile.¡± His smile could have reached his ears for how wide it was, as that gut feeling that had been warning him away from other Pok¨¦mon screamed out that this was it. ¡°We¡¯re catching this one.¡±


    As if in response, the bird cawed once more, the piercing noise rattling through the air as it began a tight descent towards Sandile, its wing beginning to shine with a bright white light.


    Sandile, his head firmly screwed on his shoulders, wasted no time in getting out of the way of the dive, throwing himself to the side and leaving his enemy to dig a thin furrow of dirt into the ground with its wing. Aidinza resisted wincing, thinking that the bird had injured his wing with that manoeuvre, the other flying types he had fought certainly seemed to struggle with any damage to their wings. But the bird hardly paused after splitting the earth.


    ¡°Sandile, sand tomb!¡± Aidinza snapped out, after the breakthrough in the fight versus Bolt, Sandile had made great strides towards basic mastery of the move, able to keep a dervish of sand a metre or so in the air.


    Unfortunately, a metre or so was nothing compared to a flying Pok¨¦mon, and the moment that the sand began swirling, the bird was rising into the air once more.


    ¡°Looks like he won¡¯t be making this easy on us Sandile! You¡¯re going to have to hit him when he comes down for an attack!¡± Sandile gives an acknowledging hiss at that as he moves to keep the bird in vision.


    Thankfully, the Pok¨¦mon wasted no time in coming back around, his wing glowing once more as he built up to a brutal speed. This time however rather than Sandile throwing himself out of the way with no plan, he went to mimic his previous success against the Venipede, muscles flexing in a taunt against the bird, as he skittered to the side and prepared to slam into his enemy before the bird could pass him.


    Unfortunately, it seemed that the bird was smarter than the centipede, or else had learnt from watching the fight, because instead of letting himself hurtle passed its opponent, he instead snapped powerful and comparatively large wings snap open, ripping his moment to a stop, as his two powerful talons dug into the ground a more effective break not to be seen.


    So instead of Sandile smashing into the birds'' side, instead it overextended and ended up stumbling in front of the bird as it hit nothing but air. The piercing caw that the bird let out caused both trainer and Pok¨¦mon to wince before his hooked peak snapped out to dig painfully into Sandiles ribs, a clean and painful hit.


    One that Sandile amped up by Moxie and Hone Claws, was not going to let go unpunished, and the beauty of flexing on his opponents, was that the attack did not just have to come from him throwing his body into his enemy.


    Sandile turned on an absolute dime, his body already intensely strengthened, and rage only contributing. There was nothing that the bird could have done to avoid what came next,  aside from perhaps just not being there. Sandile¡¯s powerful tail slammed into the bird''s side, sending skidding back, its claws still dug deep in the ground, leaving six rivets as deep as you please.


    It said all that Aidinza needed to hear, that the bird was not just still standing after a hit like that, but still seemed raring to go, eyes lit up with a burning will to fight.


    He did not even need to consciously have the thought, for the ball to be hurtling through the air, opening up not far from the flying type and sucking it into its red-white confines.


    One shake.


    Two shakes.


    Three shakes.


    Aidinza was sure that he saw four shakes before the Pok¨¦ball dinged. ¡°Rufflet, Male captured!¡±


    A wide grin crosses Aidinza¡¯s face, that gut feeling singing with joy at those beautiful words.


    He had done it, he had a second Pok¨¦mon.


    Of course, the moment was slightly ruined by the fact that Sandile decided to investigate his newly caught teammate by chewing lightly on the ¡®Rufflet¡¯s¡¯ ball.


    ¡°Sandile!¡± He chastises immediately.


    ¡°Bwah.¡± The desert croc vaguely ignores him.


    -


    Retrieving the Pok¨¦ball from Sandile took a bit of coaxing. In the end, the Ya¡¯an-ah just returned the playful desert dweller. The Pok¨¦ball itself was not in much danger, Sandile¡¯s jaw was strong, but Pok¨¦balls were made of some of the most robust steel in the world.


    They had to be, to survive some of the stuff that trainers got up to. No, aside from a few scrapes to the red paint, and it being covered in croc saliva, it was perfectly fine.


    Still, he can¡¯t imagine it would have been particularly pleasant for the rufflet inside to see the jaws of a Sandile gumming on it. Though, would the rufflet have seen anything? Aidinza pauses, as he glances at the Pok¨¦ball he was cleaning in front of him, wondering just how much the Pok¨¦mon inside perceived.


    Something to look up when he reached Driftveil, he supposed as he leaned back against one of the many trees of the route. Now he should probably get to seeing to any injuries his - His! His own, second Pok¨¦mon! - new pok¨¦mon had. After all, Sandile hopped up on Hone Claws and Moxie packed a mean punch.


    Aidinza glances around the forest for any sign of a Pok¨¦mon nearby, only seeing tall trees and thick canopy around. A strange sight if he was being honest, though Pok¨¦mon did not teem from every crevice of the forest, he had gotten used to at least seeing a pidgey overhead or a Venipede crawling up a tree. At least when he was alone, without Sandile to scare away anyone he cared to.


    But he did not give it much thought, it meant that he would not have to send out Sandile to chase them off before meeting the rufflet.


    He pressed the release button on the Pok¨¦ball, the Flying-type he had captured only ten minutes before appearing in a flash of red a few metres from him in the dewy, thick grass of the clearing they were in.


    The bird glanced around cautiously, his white pupiled eyes no longer filled with a fighting fire, instead, he looked almost curious, and as he finished his look around, he turned his attention to the human in front of him, studying him with a keen eye.


    Aidinza saw no reason not to do the same now that the Pok¨¦mon was not hidden in the blur of fast movements.


    The first thing he saw was that Rufflet had a single red and white feather jutting up from his forehead, calling to his mind very briefly the dress of the Ti¡¯an-oi, one of the Ya¡¯an-ah tribes that he had only seen once. One of the deepest desert tribes, where dangerous Pok¨¦mon that made even the most cantankerous Krookodile he had met look convivial roamed. The feather rests against the comparatively massive plumage of the bird, a ruff of white fluffy looking feathers that Aidinza found himself tempted to run his hands through. The fluffy feathers extended down the bird''s shoulders, making him look slightly amorphous between his head and his body.


    Rufflet¡¯s body was made up of a blue feathered barrel chest, and Aidinza could see the clear pride in how he puffed up his chest. The chest had two powerful wings folded into it, ones that looked deceptively small curled up into his body as they were. The Naisho¡¯h remembered how they almost seemed to beat the air into submission as the bird flew.


    The trainer''s eyes continued to wander down, towards the powerful talons underneath the bird. He had made a mistake when he first saw Rufflet, thinking that the bird only had three wickedly sharp digits. Instead, there were four, three pointing forward and even now proving how easily they could dig into the thick grass, and one pointing backwards. Though how large the talons were would almost look comical compared to how large the talons usually are on a bird, but on Rufflet they fit. They carried a sort of rugged power that the bird seemed to embody even this young, and an errant thought crossed Aidinza''s mind, of course, he needed tree trunks for legs, how else would he hold up his powerful body?


    There were injuries there too, that the Ya¡¯an-ah took note of, displaced and matted clumps of feathers, probably the result of coagulated blood, and his left-wing was being held slightly further from his body than his right.


    But it did little to detract from the powerful majesty that Rufflet managed to embody, even as young as it was.


    The young Ya¡¯an-ah found his eyes sliding back up Rufflets body, and in some strange coincidence, found himself meeting his eyes just as the bird finished its own inspection of the human.


    The eyes matched the body, peeking out from the break of the fluffy white ruff coating its head, the white pupils held a spark inside them that was anything but transient. A fierce pride, a fierce drive.


    Aidinza found himself wondering what was sharper, the bird''s curved beak, or his sharp eyes.


    The two of them kept eye contact for a long moment, though he was unsure if that was because Aidinza found himself resonating with that spark, or if he was waiting for the majestic creature to make the first move.


    Finally, Rufflet does indeed move, head tilting to the side. ¡°Cwa?¡± It choofed out, head tilting slightly the other way.


    ¡°I caught you.¡± He finally speaks at last, and the reminder causes Rufflet¡¯s eyes to flash dangerously. His powerful wing flutters by his side, the fluffy white ruff that gave the species its name bristling.


    A piercing, territorial cry pierces Aidinza¡¯s ears. The same cry that it let out when it challenged Sandile.


    Maybe it was the close contact with Sandile the last few weeks that caused what happened next, maybe it was the training of Hone Claws. Maybe there was just something about the Naisho¡¯h that was closer to the Sandile that populated their dunes than they knew.


    All that Aidinza knew was rather than flinching away from the bird and attempting to calm him down he instead let out a deep, territorial growl, as dark and powerful as any Krookodile he had ever heard.


    Rufflet, for all his powerful and proud features, hesitated as the noise rattled his bones, and reminded him of a loss fresh on his mind. The flying type seemed to war between backing down and snapping out with its wickedly sharp beak at the threatening noise.


    ¡°I caught you.¡± He reminds the rufflet, the words hitting the air with all the iron certainty of a hammer. The Pok¨¦mon almost backs down at it, the flash of emotion in his eyes no longer as sharp, his ruff beginning to settle.


    But something in Aidinza¡¯s mind told him that it was just a stay of execution, something that was going to fester under the surface. Rufflet was proud, that was incredibly obvious, Rufflet had a fire in him that would rage against his situation. Rage against the claim that Aidinza had staked over him.


    Unless¡­


    ¡°Do you want to come with me?¡± His words seem to startle the flying type, a seemingly complete gear shift from how the Pok¨¦mon expected the conversation to be going. The young nomad supposes he was not surprised by that, the claiming growl of a Krookodile probably left little doubt in Rufflet¡¯s mind of his intent, and the lack of choice the flying type had in it.


    But giving the proud bird a choice, letting it choose to come with him¡­ well Rufflet was proud, that was obvious enough, and as long as Aidinza did not give him reason to regret it, there was no doubt in the Naisho¡¯h¡¯s mind that the Rufflet would bear his decision with pride.


    That was, of course, assuming that Rufflet said yes.


    The moments of Rufflet¡¯s decision weighed heavily on Aidinza¡¯s perception of time, the moment seemingly stretching into the same infinitive eternity of his victory over Elesa, but in a far worse way. Rather than wanting it to stretch on forever, it was the nerves and constant questions of what if that stretched it out.


    There was a part of him that wished he could take the words back, that wanted to have just forced the Rufflet into following, and proving himself along the way. Or dealing with the bird''s pride as he had to.


    But the words were out there, and even attempting to backtrack on them, or attempting to ignore Rufflet¡¯s choice from here on¡­


    It would be a disaster.


    So instead of letting his nerves run roughshod over his mouth, he simply waited.


    And waited.


    Even when Rufflet¡¯s eyes slid along the tree¡¯s around them, and he flexed his wings, he waited. Letting him come to his own choice.


    Until, slowly, suspicious white pupil¡¯s narrowed on him, and a fluffy white head nodded, first hesitant, then far more decisive.


    ¡°Welcome to the team Rufflet.¡± A wide relieved smile crosses Aidinza¡¯s face at that, and he feels the tension that had been carving itself down his body loosen. Even Rufflet seemed swept up in the face of the nomad¡¯s genuine relief, his own tension bleeding away, as he let out a soft coo. ¡°Now, come here, I have potions and I can see your wing is hurting.¡±


    He carefully kept which wing he thought was hurting to himself, unable to tell yet if the rufflet holding a wing tight against him, or gingerly away from him was a sign of his pain. Luckily, Rufflet wasted no time in hopping over, eagerly stretching out his left-wing, exposing a patch of feathers that was broken and split, underneath which was a nasty bruise.


    Aidinza wasted no time in cracking out one of his potions and spraying the area, before setting about picking the damaged feathers from the wing, an important task that Nurse Joy recommended for any time a flying type was injured. Most flying types would groom themselves, but the taste of the potion was foul to most of them, unlike most other Pok¨¦mon. So it was better if the trainer did it.


    ¡°Now, what¡¯s your opinion on a name?¡± He asks as he takes the opportunity to run his hand through the incredibly soft and down ruff of Rufflet, to the bird''s obvious pleasure as it coos.


    -


    ¡°Astazhei, Raptor King, the name of one of the Pok¨¦mon from the Ya¡¯an-ah Sun legend. When the land was coated in an endless sky sea of ash, so thick and deep that not even the sun could pierce it. The Bi At Ini, the great hero larvesta, sought out five great Pok¨¦mon to help pierce the Ash.


    Astazhei, a Pok¨¦mon whose wings created hurricanes with every beat, was the second Pok¨¦mon to be approached.¡± Aidinza closed his eyes and tried to remember the story as the Ti¡¯an-oi elder told it, though it was a common tale among the Ya¡¯an-ah, few tribes honoured Astazhei as fiercely as the Ti¡¯an-oi.


    ¡°When Bi At Ini first approached Astazhei, the great bird mistook the larvesta, then a weak fragile Pok¨¦mon little greater than a Venipede, for a meal and took to the skies to hunt him. Bi At Ini protested the hunt, claiming that he had a mission from the Sun, and Astazhei would doom the world if he consumed him.


    Astazhei, perhaps so prideful as to believe that the Sun itself was beneath him, told the larvesta that if the sun needed the help of such a weak morsel, then the world was already doomed.


    Bi At Ini, though knowing his weakness of body compared to the great Astazhei, who carved mountains with every wing beat, challenged the Raptor King. He would prove that he was not weak, by surviving for three days from the Raptor Kings hunt, and when he did so, Astazhei would acknowledge the world''s need and help. Claiming that if he did so, the Raptor King would be able to boast of defeating a chosen of the sun.


    Astazhei, sure that there was no chance Bi At Ini would be able to escape his powerful beak for three days agreed to the challenge, his pride prickling at the chance to prove himself grander than the grandest of all things.


    On the first day, Bi At Ini merely hid from Astazhei in the sand storms that the Great Raptor left in his wake with every wing beat, Astazhei was convinced that none could survive in his wake, so he never checked the caves and valleys that sheltered the larvesta. It is from this that the Ya¡¯an-ah learned how to weather sandstorms, how to find shelter and keep safe.


    But at midnight the great bird claimed that it was not strength, but cowardice to hide from sight, and claimed that if he spent all three days hiding then the bird would be the victor.


    So as Astazhei returned to his mountain roost, Bi At Ini learned the land, mapping out the entire desert while the Raptor King slept, learned of every dune and every Oasis until he knew every part of the desert as well as he knew his own face.


    Then when Astazhei began his hunt once more, instead of Bi At Ini hiding, he instead fled in the open, using his knowledge of the land to stay ahead of the Great Raptor. It is from this that Ya¡¯an-ah learned to always know the dunes, no matter how they shifted.


    But once again at midnight, the great bird claimed that it was not strength, but cowardice to flee before a hunter, and claimed that if he spent the last day hiding then the bird would be the victor.


    So once more as Astazhei returned to his mountain roost, Bi At Ini set to work. He raised from the sand a mighty castle, unlike any ever seen before, made of sandstone and larger than even the mighty Dzilmagi, the mighty mountain crab that Bi At Ini first befriended. This later became the Relic Castle. Yet while the castle was mighty enough to turn aside any assault it was too heavy, sinking deep into the sand, so quickly that in minutes it would be submerged.


    Seeing the distress of his friend, Dzilmagi offered to bear the great weight on his back, the great mountain born by the crab was large enough to hold the castle, and Dzilmagi himself would simply hold himself from sinking into the sand.


    And so, Bi At Ini set the castle onto his friends'' back and began to gather his strength inside, as Astazhei attempted to blow down the castle with mighty hurricanes, hammering into the sandstone with force enough to reshape the desert. Yet to the Relic Castle it was a mere breeze, so large was it that not even the sandstorm the hurricanes kicked up could slip past it. Then Astazhei attempted to batter down the castle with his body, flying high into the side and diving down on the castle with a terrible crash. The earth shook for kilometres, forming many of the valleys that dotted the Ya¡¯an-ah desert to this day, but the castle stood firm. Then Astazhei noticed Dzilmagi and though his great pride tore at him, the Raptor King descended to the ground to coax the great crab to abandon his duty. While Dzilmagi was a steadfast friend, the Raptor King was a king, with a King''s charisma, and realising that if he continued to listen to the great Bird that he would betray his friend, Dzilmagi instead chose to descend into a deep slumber, from which nothing could rouse him.


    Astazhei, worried that he would fail this challenge, shrank himself down from the mighty titan he was so that he could enter the Relic Castle through its entrance. While it would mean that he would not have access to much of his great power, the great bird was certain that the tiny larvesta did not need much.


    But Bi At Ini had not wasted his time sequestered into the temple, instead, he had been praying for strength through the thin connection to the sun available to him through the Ash Cloud, gathering its strength within his body. As the Raptor King approached in his lesser form, Bi At Ini unleashed the power he had gathered in a powerful beam of solar energy, knocking the mighty raptor out with a single blow!


    It did not take long for the Raptor King to stir, for he was mighty indeed and if he so chose he could have slain and devoured Bi At Ini right there. But the proof of strength was enough for the great bird because while he held pride high, he held something higher than that. His honour.


    Astazhei promised Bi At Ini that when the larvesta called to him that he would come and fulfil whatever he needed to free the Sun from the Ash Clouds hiding it, before leaving the castle and retaking his massive form. It is from this that we learn a lesson from not Bi At Ini, but Astazhei, that even when mighty you must always treat your enemies with respect, and you must always honour your word.¡±


    -


    Aidinza felt slightly lightheaded as he finished the tale of Astazhei, taught to him in detail by a Ti¡¯an-oi elder in his youth. The tale was only one part of six tales of Bi At Ini¡¯s journey to free the sun from the Ash sea, eventually leading to the larvesta becoming Volcarona, and bringing the sun back to the land, by bypassing the Ash in the sky.


    The young nomad takes a deep breath and turns towards his surprisingly attentive, and silent audience. ¡°Rufflet, do you accept the name Astazhei? Do you promise that no matter how mighty you become, you are always honourable?¡±


    Astazhei had been the first name that Rufflet seemed interested in, but Aidinza was not willing to let Rufflet take upon the august name lightly, if the Eaglet wished to bear the name of the great bird, then he would need to commit to the ideals of the legend which he took his name.


    However, the tale did little to stifle Rufflet¡¯s enthusiasm for the name, and perhaps unsurprisingly, he was unwilling to back down from the challenge presented in the name, as he closed in to look up at his new trainer with wide eyes.


    ¡°Then bear the name Astazhei with pride.¡± He smiles, and reaches down to scratch at Astazhei¡¯s ruff, as the bird trilled with pride, and puffed up even further.


    He feels a bump at his side, and reaches out with his left hand to scratch along Sandile¡¯s side, the desert croc quick to slump on his side and let Aidinza¡¯s fingers scratch at his soft underbelly.


    ¡°We¡¯ll probably find a name you like soon, Sandile, don¡¯t you worry.¡± He quietly assured the reptile, though the croc had already rejected most of the names of the heroes from the Ya¡¯an-ah tales already.


    The reptile croaked, and snuggled deeper into his trainer''s thigh, stretching out to give him even more access to his underside.


    A resigned grin crosses Aidinza¡¯s face, as Astazhei hops onto his knee, talons digging just enough into his flesh to be noticeable, but not yet painful. It seemed that his Pok¨¦mon had decided that the three of them were staying here for a while yet.


    And rather than protesting that, he simply leans back into the tree behind him and enjoys being close to his starter, and his new friend.


    -

 Driftveil, the Bronze Port

    Astazhei proved a quick fit with the team; well, with Sandile and Aidinza. He fluttered about in the trees above, swooping down whenever Aidinza called him to battle. He and Sandile got along¡­ fine. Sandile at least enjoyed having a Pok¨¦mon to roughhouse with. That was something that Astazhei was endlessly willing to provide, and was easily capable of partaking in, unlike most other flying types - birds really, with their brittle and delicate wings - Astazhei had all the bulk and power to wrestle with the ground-bound Pok¨¦mon. More even, unless Sandile was coming off the power high of Moxie, Astazhei proved to be his physical superior.


    Aidinza¡¯s starter never seemed to let that get him down in the slightest though, cheerfully righting himself after every bout and throwing himself back into the roughhousing uncaring for his far greater loss record.


    Of course, there were teething issues. Sandile was cheerful enough when his metaphorical hackles were not raised, but the moment those millennia-old instincts thundered to the surface, Aidinza would find his campground home to mighty roars and great squalls, as the two Pok¨¦mon squared off with dangerous intent, the malignant rasp of Hone Claws sharp in the air.


    If Aidinza let them go as they were wont to do, he had no doubt that the entire campsite would be rendered apart, and that both would be bloody and bruised. Without him there to guide Sandile into finishing the fight quickly, the desert crocodile would seek to lay a lasting impression on whatever ¡®trespasser¡¯ was in his ¡®territory¡¯ and Astazhei would surely do the same.


    So he did not let them do what their instincts screamed, instead he channelled their aggression into what he thought was a rather productive activity, a challenge the two of them could measure themselves against and find a winner, without tearing each other apart. Besides, it also acted as training for the two Pok¨¦mon. They had sharp powerful claws, and learning to channel ever greater amounts of energy through them would only be beneficial.


    It also had an added benefit of the two of them independently pushing forward their usage of Hone Claw, dragging more and more power out of the ability to perform ever greater feats of carving.


    Though the two of them might just be taking it slightly too far, he thinks to himself as he wakes up from his sleep, rolling out of his tent, feet curling in the dewy grass, and taking in the sight of every tree around his encampment marked with deep, weeping wounds through the dim light. Though the way that Sandile smugly sauntered up to him, as the desert croc gestured vaguely to the largest tree, and the gouge dug halfway into it, softened any irritation at their exuberance.


    The young Ya¡¯an-ah paid Sandile his victory scratches, before the dejected look in Astazhei¡¯s eyes broke him and he spared a hand for the eaglet to clear delight as the bird coos.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to cross Driftveil bridge soon.¡± His rufflet perked up at his words, but Sandile simply continued enjoying his trainer¡¯s fingers with a formless rumble. Aidinza shrugged, well used to his starter¡¯s lack of care for much, outside of play, training and fighting. His brow furrows for a moment, marvelling slightly at what a blessed life that sounded like.


    Then again, what had Aidinza done since leaving the Naisho¡¯h? Play with his Pok¨¦mon, train and fight. His brow furrows further, did walking count as an activity? Either way, he let his smile split into a big grin, he had always wanted to be a trainer, ever since his sister Gowteel left the sands to become one herself.


    Thus far, it was living up to all the dreams he has ever had of it and more. He pulled himself out of his introspection to see Sandile and Astazhei jostling each other, a sure sign of them descending into another bout of roughhousing. The young Nomad snorts and shakes his head.


    ¡°After Driftveil bridge is Driftveil itself. There is another honoured leader there.¡± At his words, the two Pok¨¦mon stopped the beginnings of their scrap, and two sets of eyes eyed him curiously, flush with confusion. ¡°Like Elesa, in Nimbasa city.¡± He explained mostly to Sandile, who slumped slightly at the mention of a city, digging up grass and exposing loamy dirt. Despite his own tumultuous stirring at the idea of once more finding himself constrained by the gigantic concrete of a city, he tried to give his starter a reassuring grin. ¡°We¡¯ll get used to it.¡± He promises.


    Sandile merely croaks, curling in on himself in a spot of half uprooted dirt, prepared at some point clearly.


    The young Ya¡¯an-ah glanced towards the horizon, where the glorious sun was slowly rising to continue its ceaseless duty. His people were one of ritual and celebration, but no matter how intense their worship was, it was sparse. What prayer they did offer in their day to day was brief, no one knew the words that Bi At Ini spoke to the sun, and to even think to guess at them was sacrilege.


    So all Aidinza did at the sight of the dawn was offer a single word of thanks, before turning his mind to the journey ahead of him. He had not lied when he said that they would be at Driftveil Drawbridge soon, already he could see the massive concrete and steel construction in the distance, and more than once he had watched as the titanic thing groaned and cracked as it drew itself up until it was a monstrous tower of concrete in the distance, rather than just a pair of red steel pylons.


    The idea of the thing was baffling to the desert nomad, the purpose of it even more alien. What purpose could there possibly be to hoist such a grand amount of anything? Why did they feel the need to hoist it many times a day? Was it because of the deep droning roar he heard? Some Pok¨¦mon demanding passage or amusement?


    He supposed that he would find out when he reached the bridge proper.


    Or maybe he would be left in the dark, as they revealed a ritual older than knowledge, that they simply did because it was what they always did. The Ya¡¯an-ah had a few of those. Rituals on dark nights, under the stars with sharp masks and dull colours, save for a single dash of gold, on days whose auspicious meaning had been lost. To honour what? No one could remember.


    All that was known was that it must be done.


    Aidinza turned his thoughts from his people¡¯s rituals toward his two Pok¨¦mon, returning both of them absently and rolled his shoulders. He would release them when they were on the road once more, but they would just make a mess if he left them out while he cleaned up the campsite.


    Or maybe he would leave them in their balls. He had seen a few trainers as he drew closer to the bridge, who seemed off-put by the presence of Astazhei flying overhead. Or far too interested, he remembered with a scowl, a man who attempted to capture his rufflet.


    Maybe it was a better idea to leave them hidden away in their pok¨¦balls.


    He shrugs to himself, as he sets about packing away the camp, something to consider at least.


    -


    The Driftveil Drawbridge was massive. Four large red arches ribbed with thick corded steel jut up into the sky from four massive wheel-like constructions, one that even a Desert Nomad like him could tell was linked to its incredible ability to move. The body of the bridge itself stretched across the massive river that split west Unova from central Unova.


    It was honestly an awe-inspiring sight, without the discomfort of the cloyingly tall buildings of Nimbasa. The glittering water underneath it - more water than he had seen in his entire life! - as blue as anything that existed in the world contrasted the bridge perfectly, the glittering blue-white against the gleaming red-grey. The almost serene twisting of the waves as they flowed freely underneath, the steadfast stillness of the bridge¡­ it all created an effect that saddened the Desert Nomad to be unable to truly put to words.


    It was not the massive buildings of Nimbasa attempting to crudely mimic how the relic castle dominated the land and sky, but it was its own thing, conquering the sea without a touch.


    It was incredible to the young teen, that this was something that human minds built, that something this wondrous could come from an age where the Sun stayed silent.


    Then the bridge moved! With a groan of concrete and a hiss of steel, the wheels began dragging what must have been several kilometres of concrete into the air! He watched utterly rapt, as the thing exposed its red steel underbelly, and crept higher and higher until it was the concrete tower that he remembered seeing in the distance.


    Then the deep droning roar he remembered from the day before boomed out, thundering into the air and startling the few humans and Pok¨¦mon around him. His attention snapped towards the noise, and yet another wondrous sight was to be seen.


    Aidinza had seen boats before, well he had seen a boat, floating on one of the few rivers that snaked their way from the coast into the Ya¡¯an-ah desert, bringing life-giving water to the desert. It had been a flat, wooden thing, little more than a hut afloat, with the owner a sullen man who nonetheless traded well for the Nomad¡¯s goods. The entire tribe ate well that night. But to compare that float to this¡­ ship was like comparing a finger to an arm. It was massive. Dwarfed, granted, by the bridge it approached. But combined with the fact it moved and the ocean was parting in its wake in great waves that broke even the serenity of the great river mouth the Driftveil Drawbridge sat over¡­


    Today was surely a day of wonders, Aidinza could not help but think, as he marvelled at it.


    Unfortunately witnessing the wonder did not come without its cost, the bridge had been dragged high into the sky, a mountainous tower, and not a bridge. According to the man who controlled the bridge, usually, it would only stay up for a handful of minutes, while the boat crossed underneath it.


    However, that was not true during the peak of the day, when dozens of ships would cross out into the international waters south of Unova, or cross into the great river Seismahan, the river that Driftveil Drawbridge sat above.


    Simply put, for the next hour or so, he was stuck on this side of the river. Which would be fine, there was still the drawbridge to marvel over, and he even ended up having a decent battle with an older man looking to train one of his younger Pok¨¦mon. The sight of a scraggy had been a familiar and welcome one, and though Astazhei proved to be her physical superior, the older trainer''s experience levelled the playing field remarkably.


    No, the issue was the sock-bunned, twin-tailed brunette girl who had arrived not long after Aidinza beat the older fellow.


    She had a remarkably innocent look about her, between her hairstyle, the frilly flared yellow shorts, and the wide blue eyes. But she quickly dispelled that notion.


    ¡°Urgh, fucking Northsiders, no damn courtesy for other people¡¯s time.¡± She storms out of the bridge control tower, her cute face twisted into a furious scowl. The loosely assembled people waiting for the bridge to come down watched her wearily, they had all heard her loud demands for the bridge to be lowered. She turns her scowl onto the trainers and imperiously points at one, a young gangly looking ginger boy. ¡°You, if I have to waste time waiting for the lousy boats, then I¡¯ll at least spend it doing something fun.¡±


    Without another word, she expands a Pok¨¦ball, and releases a slim bipedal Pok¨¦mon, with a cream underbelly, and a number of green leaves jutting out of its green back and short tail. Narrow red eyes scanned over the assembled trainers with a contemptuous arrogance, its nose held high in the air.


    She then, to put it in very soft terms, destroyed the boy. His funny looking blue flying fuzz ball lasted only a few moments, and his canine Pok¨¦mon - that looked like an evolved form of Mark¡¯s Lillipup - only managed to get in a single move, before the girl¡¯s pokemon - who she called Servine - battered it into the ground with powerful vines.


    ¡°Che, you¡¯re barely even worth the air we¡¯re breathing.¡± Aidinza boggled at that, the incredible rudeness of the girl on display baffling him. ¡°But what can I expect when I challenge some nobodies as a four badge trainer.¡± She flicked her hair, smirking out at the begrudgingly impressed trainers assembled. It seemed that was considered something of a big deal. ¡°You.¡± She jerks a finger at Aidinza. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll be a better distraction than useless over there.¡±


    She waves an imperious hand at the ginger boy, as he slinked off out of sight one final shame directed unfairly at the boy.


    ¡°The Sun watches.¡± Aidinza rumbles, the casual arrogance drawing only the bare modicum of a greeting from him. ¡°Rules.¡±


    ¡°Yeah whatever punk, I¡¯m feeling nice so let''s make it my Servine versus whatever ragtag team you can muster. We start on release¡± Her Servine hissed at that, red eyes glinting with a casual superiority, and the toss of its head left no doubt that it thought this was a foregone conclusion.


    ¡°Go, Sandile.¡± In a flash of red, his starter appeared with a long yawning croak, looking to all the world like he had just woken up from a nap. ¡°Hone Claws.¡± He growled out, and in moments Sandile answered his order with his own growl and the rasp of keratin on keratin.


    ¡°A ground type? You clearly didn¡¯t beat Striaton, grass beats ground doofus. Whatever, Servine finish this off quickly, vine whip!¡± Aidinza resisted the urge to interrupt her tirade, if she wanted to give Sandile longer to gather strength then he was not going to stop her.


    Two long, vividly green vines burst from the Servine¡¯s back, first up into the air, where they wavered for a moment, before racing towards Sandile.


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    ¡°Sandile, dodge, then Sand Tomb.¡±


    Sandile wasted no time in obeying, amped up from the distorted power now surging inside his body, and the territorial instincts roused by his trainer¡¯s growl. He skittered along the dirt field in front of the control tower, avoiding the vines as they slammed into the ground with a heavy thump, kicking up a plume of dirt.


    Then, from Sandile sand exploded forth, crossing the distance between him and the Servine in seconds, building into a whirling dervish in moments, not the first time that he had pulled off the move, but definitely his strongest example.


    It only took a moment for the Servine to test its new prison, a third far thinner vine extending into the sand, stealing a hiss from her as it scraped away at it.


    ¡°You think that does anything? Che, Servine doesn¡¯t even need to move to beat your stupid sandile. Now Serv-


    ¡°Flex on it.¡± Aidinza interrupts, to a very affronted look from the girl, which quickly shifts into a look of baffled confusion.


    Sandile bursts forward, a low, keening growl splitting the air, soaked in thoughtless arrogance. And that was more than enough for the Servine to respond with its own hiss, body lowering as it prepared to attack the taunting reptile.


    ¡°Leaf Tornado!¡± The girl bites out, and Aidinza feels a flush of satisfaction from her finally shutting up.


    But it only lasted a moment, before worry replaced it, as the Servine¡¯s many leaves shook free of its body, hovering, glowing in the air for a moment before they surged at the charging Sandile in a tornado of neon green.


    ¡°Sandile look out!¡± But his warning came too late, the tornado of leaves slammed into the desert croc, dragging him into the air and sending him flying backwards as the leaves tore across his hard scales. Adiniza¡¯s heart leapt into his chest, as Sandile skittered to a stop, his tough scales, and ever tougher hide had stopped any real damage from the leaves, but he was covered in thin scratches and had landed very heavily.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let up Servine, Vine Whip!¡± Aidinza snapped out of his concern for Sandile to turn to where Servine was standing - the tornado had dispersed the sand tomb he noted with a scowl - vines bursting from its back once more. It was clear that the move had taken a fair bit out of the green and cream Pok¨¦mon, its mouth cracked open to suck in heavy breaths.


    Clearly, it had enough to keep fighting, however, as the vines slapped into Sandile¡¯s side, earning a pained croak from Aidinza¡¯s starter, who was clearly on his last legs.


    Though, Sandile seemed loath to go out on just that, pushing to his feet with a growl, his eyes flashing dangerously, as once again he wrested control of the sand, and forced it back into a harsh whirl around the Servine.


    It was weaker than his first, far weaker, but it was one final fuck you to his opponent, and even if he had not collapsed forward into the dirt, there was no way Aidinza would have left him on the field.


    ¡°Good job Servine, now to clean up whatever weakling he throws out next, and I¡¯ll have a treat for you!¡± Aidinza ignored her casual taunt, as his hand closed around Astazhei¡¯s ball, and whipped it around to release it into the air.


    Astazhei burst out of the red with a piercing cry, powerful wings beating the air into submission as he rose into the clear blue skies.


    ¡°Astazhei! It can make a leaf tornado that nearly took out Sandile in one hit!¡± The rufflet shrieked loud and proud, almost as if boasting that he would not go down so easily.


    ¡°Now you get a clue about type advantage? Don¡¯t think it will be enough to win, flare head!¡± This girl definitely had a talent; one for getting on Aidinza¡¯s nerves, his eyes flashing as the Sun¡¯s hair was insulted.


    ¡°Hone Claw, and get in close, it''s trapped by Sand Tomb!¡± Unlike Sandile, Astazhei needed no crutch for his piercing cry to fill the air, powerful talons clicking together with brutal promise high in the sky.


    ¡°Batter him away with Vine Whip!¡± Came the bratty girl''s immediate response, arms slicing in the air in a grand gesture. The vines, not even yet finished pulling back into the grass-type¡¯s back, surge forward once more, though Aidinza noted that they were far more sluggish than when they first emerged.


    But they still did their job, smacking into Astazhei as he dove towards the green and cream Pok¨¦mon, pushing him back in the air, and forcing him to abandon the dive. But that was all it did, the thick feathers layered over his body, and his sheer physical potency meant that he took it easily.


    However, it set the pace of the next few minutes, Astazhei diving down towards Servine, powerful claws outstretched, before his flight was interrupted by his opponent''s powerful vines.


    It was a frustratingly stalled state of affairs, but one that favoured Aidinza more than it favoured Servine. While the Vine Whips might have pushed Astazhei out of his dives, they did little else, while Servine was still suffering at the hands of Sand Tomb''s occasional rough rip, no matter how weakened it was by Sandile¡¯s lack of maintenance, and the increasing exhaustion of using its vines at such a height.


    Until, it simply did not have enough force behind them, and rather than Astazhei being forced to find another angle, he bullied through the vine strike with a mighty cry.


    ¡°Wing Attack Astazhei!¡± With the barest of acknowledgements, Astazhei¡¯s wing glowed with white light, as he minutely changed his course, angling to slam his powerful wing down onto the exhausted Servine.


    ¡°Now! Leaf Tornado!¡± It seemed the Servine was putting on a bit of a show, pretending to be more exhausted than it actually was. Because the moment the orders left its trainer''s lips, it perked up and once again it shook loose half a dozen leaves, and instantly they shot off in a whirl of neon green, slamming into Astazhei, with all the force of his dive behind him.


    The incredible momentum that Astazhei had built up found itself clashing against the Leaf Tornado, and as strong as Astazhei was, he found himself on the losing end of that clash, forced back and back until it all slipped away from him, and he was flung upwards, before descending in an uncontrolled spiral to crash into the ground just in front of Servine.


    ¡°Finish him off now! Tackle!¡± There was a frustrated edge in Aidinza¡¯s opponent''s voice, a note of uncertainty that made it clear she had not expected anywhere near this amount of effort. But it was just under the surface, and with another arrogant flick of her hair, it was clear that she thought that this was going to be the end of it, as Servine forced itself through the sand barrier to crash into Astazhei.


    Against most other opponents at her level, she would probably be right, most birds that Aidinza had fought in the past few days would certainly be down for the count.


    ¡°Astazhei! Peck!¡± But Astazhei was built different from other birds. He was not as graceful in the air, did not slide and glide with aplomb, but he was bulkier, heavy and tough.


    He also had a fire in him, a fire that Aidinza was quickly feeling flickering to life inside himself, to match the driven flying type, fed by the satisfaction of his approaching victory against this arrogant trainer. The same fire that had already spread to Sandile, that saw him force another Sand Tomb out. That fire would not let Astazhei simply keel over in a single move.


    So, as the Servine forced itself through the tearing sand, leaving itself even further weakened with the expectation that it would be facing an already broken foe, it instead met the fierce piercing eyes of Astazhei, as his beak glowed a white light, and his powerful talons flung himself forwards.


    Servine slammed into Astazhei, and Astazhei buried his wickedly sharp beak into the grass type¡¯s ribs, as his talons dug into the dirt underneath him and he presented an immovable wall.


    The white-cream Pok¨¦mon, already weakened by two powerful Leaf Tornados, Sandile¡¯s Sand Tomb, and his attempts to keep Astazhei at bay, crumbled, collapsing onto the Eaglet bonelessly.


    Beaten.


    The grin that crossed Aidinza¡¯s face at the sight of his opponent''s stunned confusion was as wild as the victorious cry of Astazhei, as he threw his opponent to the ground, and planted a wicked talon on its chest.


    ¡°Y-you only won because it was two on one!¡± The girl returns her Pok¨¦mon, and while Aidinza does not correct her, he does nothing to hide his victorious grin. ¡°And because I fought that other loser before! This means nothing, got it? I don¡¯t lose to punks like you!¡± The girl spun around, and stalked off towards the bridge, standing right in front of it with an intense, impatient air, foot-tapping loudly against the concrete path flush against the fence line, as if it would cause the bridge to lower faster.


    Aidinza frowns after her, but quickly finds himself distracted as Astazhei flutters over, the proud bird''s chest puffed, despite looking battered and, perhaps a bit ironically, ruffled. Aidinza kneels down in front of him, running his hand through his dirty feathers, straightening them out as he goes.


    ¡°Good job Astazhei, yo-¡±


    ¡°You sure showed her!¡± A loud nasal voice interrupts him, starling the desert nomad. He snaps around, catching sight of the ginger boy that she had first fought.


    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Aidinza leaned away from the boy, as he approached, unsure what to do about his wide grin, and pretty sure he would bolt if he followed through on what the nomad was sure was a gesture to clap him on the back.


    ¡°That rufflet of yours seemed pretty tough! Don¡¯t see too many of those around here.¡± Thankfully, the boy seemed to decide against physical contact, simply coming to a stop a few steps away, and shoving his thumbs into his waistband. ¡°I¡¯m Kaine, nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, Kaine. I¡¯m Aidinza.¡± There was no reason to be impolite, though Aidinza doubted the other boy would know if he was being so. No offence intended to him, but he did not seem¡­ travelled enough to know the greetings of the Ya¡¯an-ah.


    ¡°Aw shucks, you too man.¡± He grins wide, one hand going to scratch at the back of his fuzzy red hair. ¡°Anyway, I was going to come back here to give the chick a piece of my mind for being so rude, but you already got to her, so save me some effort!¡± The boy laughed loudly, and Aidinza chuckled awkwardly. ¡°And a good turn like that deserves a good turn in turn, and it¡¯s my turn to make sure your turns are served, gettit?¡±


    Aidinza leaned even further back from the other boy, puzzling through what in the world he had just said to him.


    ¡°Hah! Your face man, actual classic. But serious time, you¡¯re planning on being in Driftveil for a bit, yeah?¡± Cautiously Aidinza nods, unsure where the other boy was going. ¡°Well, might be a bit surprising considering which side of the Seismahan river I¡¯m on, but I actually live in Driftveil, and am cordially inviting you to make use of my spare guest room, as of course my honoured guest.¡±


    The Ya¡¯an-ah tribesman freezes as Kaine gives an exaggerated bow, shock slamming into him, he had known that trainers were honoured in the wider world, the Ya¡¯an-ah also did so, but to be considered an honoured guest mere weeks into his travel? It was¡­ it was so much.


    ¡°I- you uh. You honour me.¡± He stutters out, suddenly all too aware of the dirt and grime thick on himself and his clothes, and hyper-aware of how his arms dumbly hung by his side. Should he do something with them? Why was he just standing there? He was being given a hu-


    There¡¯s a massive groan of steel and concrete, and Aidinza finds himself saved by the drawbridge finally beginning its descent into proper function once more. For a moment he just admired the marvel, it looked as wondrous as when it had hoisted itself up.


    ¡°She''s a real beut hey? The largest drawbridge in the entire world had to have steel-types and psychic-types reinforcing it the entire time.¡± Kaine shakes his head with a grin, before turning away from the bridge, back to Aidinza. ¡°I¡¯ve really got to get going, didn¡¯t expect to be caught on the other side of peak traffic. I live on two twenty-eight Clayton Avenue, not far from the Pok¨¦mart. No pressure!¡±


    Then he was off, lightly jogging over to where the bridge had already flattened out, and where people had begun their journey across.


    Aidinza glances down to Astazhei, where the Eaglet was picking at his feathers, to clean himself, and wonders if he should take him up on that.


    But first things first, he needed to find a reward for his Pok¨¦mon.


    -


    Walking over the Driftveil drawbridge was an experience that did not quite match up to the sight of the wonder itself. It was still incredible, the scent of the sea in the air, the sound of crashing waves, the sheer size of the bridge itself. But compared to its majesty at a distance¡­


    Though maybe it was just the fact it had taken him nearly half an hour to cross the bridge, familiarity had worn away at the experience.


    Driftveil city itself was a less overwhelming sight, compared to Nimbasa, but it had something about it that was awe inspiring. Rather than attempting to scrape at the sky with towering buildings, Driftveil was far less vertical, spread wide across the coast, and half-carved into the small mountain behind it.


    The buildings themselves further distanced themselves from Nimbasa, rejecting the uniform grey for an eclectic mix of colours of coloured clays and stone, with a common thread of bronze lining framing the houses, emphasising windows and balconies. The bronze glittered in the sun, creating an almost contrast with the deep blue sea that it rested against.


    There were still massive modern grey buildings, especially towards the large docks that bookended both sides of the city. But even that was given colour and emphasis by bronze detailing.


    The lesser verticality also came with thinner crowds in the streets, Aidinza at least felt like he could breathe as he traversed the bronze-lined cobble pathways. He had already been to the Pok¨¦centre, meeting the surprising sight of a near-identical Nurse Joy inside, though Aidinza was pretty sure she was younger than the Nimbasa city Nurse Joy.


    The woman did not keep his Pok¨¦mon long, even with Sandile being knocked out an hour or so beforehand, it did not take long to get him up and running about. The real-time sink was the Nurse giving Astazhei a number of medical shots, something that a reptile-like Sandile did not need.


    Or did not have access to, Nurse Joy was not entirely clear, her comparative youth evident by her hesitance.


    Now Aidinza was walking up to the Driftveil Gym, wanting to sign up as soon as possible, and hoping this time it would not turn into as much of an affair.


    If Elesa¡¯s gym was the seat of a tyrant, then the Driftveil Gym was the seat of a warrior king. It was a powerfully built building, all straight, hard lines, and polished bronze, with tall towers capped by glass framing the corners. The windows along the sides of the building were reinforced by a honeycomb pattern, again made of bronze, as if strengthening the building''s weakest material.


    The entrance itself was the most intricate part of the building, two bronze panel outcroppings that jut into wings that pointed away the entrance, and lead up into an almost crown-like cornice, emphasised by red, shimmering jewels before another glass dome capped off the crown design. Set between the two winglike panels was a gold enamelled plaque, with the Unovan league symbol gleaming proudly.


    The entrance proper was a tall door of imposing red, nearly twice the size of Aidinza, etched with decorative gold lines. Thankfully for the young nomad, it was already open, saving him from having to figure out how to pull it open. Inside was a foyer reminiscent of the Pok¨¦centre, a young man stared boredly at a computer, behind a large desk of some sort of carved white stone.


    Aidinza walks over to the man, waiting patiently in front of the desk for the young man to acknowledge him. When the man did, he seemed startled by Aidinza¡¯s silent presence.


    ¡°Oh hey, uh sorry, um. I was doing work stuff. Cool work games.¡± The man was a bit older than Aidinza, with thick curly brown hair, and matching brown eyes. He was a fairly tanned person, less so than the Desert Nomad, but clearly no stranger to the embrace of the sun. On his wrist was a gleaming bronze-gold wristwatch that even Aidinza could tell was an expensive piece. ¡°Ah please don¡¯t tell uncle Clay that I was goofing round on the computer.¡±


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, I am Aidinza, and I am here to challenge the Honoured leader of Driftveil.¡± He gives the man behind the desk a respectful nod, who looks taken aback by the greeting.


    ¡°Cool, uh, I¡¯m Ssssilt¡­ You¡¯re a how many badge trainer?¡± Silt¡¯s - Ssssilt? - voice had a strange rising inflection throughout his sentence, hitting a disturbingly high note towards the end. His head turned sideways as he pulled back, eyes narrowing.


    Aidinza gives Silt his own strange look, brow furrowing, and the two men just stare at each other for a long moment. ¡°I have one badge.¡± He finally breaks the silence, after several long moments.


    ¡°Cool cool coool coolcool.¡± Silt gives a thumbs up, a nervous - forced - smile crosses his face as he types something into the computer. ¡°Pretty out of season to see a trainer hitting Driftveil, but I guess if you¡¯re a one badge trainer you didn¡¯t start at uhh that Strattation whatsit place with the triplets.¡±


    ¡°Out of season?¡± Aidinza questions, wondering if he was the one making this awkward, or if Silt was the awkward one.


    ¡°Yeah like, uh, usually we get people hitting up us like, halfway through the season? You obviously have people starting off with the Triplets, they¡¯re pretty chill with being a warm-up for new or returning trainers, so they¡¯re who people go the first few weeks. Then you got Lenora.¡± He whistles strangely and bounces his eyebrows. ¡°Who¡¯s right next door. Usually, people get caught up on her for a bit, and the smart trainers will train around there for a month or so. Then if you have the right team Burgh is pretty easy when he¡¯s lowballing for a third badge team, but there¡¯s a long-ass waiting list in Castelia city, and then you have to wait for Route Four to not be a raging bitch to cross. So you¡¯re losing another month or two.¡±


    Aidinza recoiled at the idea of his home desert being described as a raging bitch. Ya¡¯an-ah desert was a harsh mother, but she was a mother nonetheless. ¡°You should only insult the sands when you have mastered the sands.¡± He warns, interrupting the other teen.


    ¡°Oh uh, um. Sorry uh, you¡¯re one of those Ya¡¯anah right? Maaan it¡¯s pretty cool how you guys live in the desert and stuff.¡± He gives another nervous smile to Aidinza, as his typing intensifies. ¡°Uh, yeah. So I can do you at two forty-five today, which is like¡±. He glances at his wrist, then glances at the computer. ¡°Ssssome tiiiime ffffrom nowww like sort of thirtyish minutes? Or I could fit you in around noon tomorrow? Pretty free the day after that too, and then it''s like, the world''s your oyster.¡±


    ¡°I can wait thirty minutes.¡± Aidinza glances away, looking around the foyer for wherever would be the furthest place from this awkward situation.


    ¡°Nice, we¡¯ve done it! You can wait around here or you can go watch the current gym challenge going on inside.¡± The moment after Silt gestured towards the door, Aidinza was moving, waving briefly to the other boy, and pushing into the other room.


    He did not feel bad about fleeing the awkward situation in the slightest, as the second, much wider room was revealed to him. It was a large auditorium, the massive windows letting the sun illuminate the stadium in the centre where two trainers stood facing each other, their Pok¨¦mon clashing in a furious battle.


    The furthest trainer was a large man with curly brown hair, very similar to Silt, but his was partially hidden away by a large white hat, with a gleaming gem set on a gold belt resting against the brim. He had a very different style of clothing than any that Aidinza had seen since he left Ya¡¯an-ah desert, with a leather, sleeveless jacket, and what seemed to be different pairs of pants on.


    This was Honoured Leader Clay, Aidinza knew. The gym leader of Driftveil.


    And across from him, was a familiar sight. The sock-bunned girl that Aidinza had fought, and beat earlier today. She was commanding a Whirlipede against what Aidinza thought was a Sandslash.


    ¡°Bugbite! Put that shrew into the ground!¡± Aidinza watched as the bug''s odd horn-like appendages glowed green, and shot forward in a powerful roll.


    ¡°Crush Claw.¡± Clay¡¯s voice matched his body, loud and commanding. Sandslash wasted no time in obeying the order, long claws glowing a blue-white as it lashed out at the Whirlipede, slamming into the bug¡¯s side, and completely knocking it out of its charge. But despite the savage blow, the Whirlipede simply got back up, and the girl ordered another attack a moment later.


    Aidinza wandered over to a set of bleachers taking a seat and getting comfortable, as he watched the two Pok¨¦mon duke it out. If the way that both of them were shrugging off the other¡¯s blows was any indication, he was going to be waiting a while.

 Driftveil Gym: Confrontations and Realizations.

    ¡°Panpour, finish this! Scald!¡± The blue and cream monkey pok¨¦mon danced around the heavy form of his opponent, its skinny limbs providing him with rather athletic capabilities. A moment later a harsh hiss filled the air, as the panpour spat a stream of steaming water at his opponent.


    His opponent, a mole-like pok¨¦mon with massive drill claws, screeched in pain, stumbling over itself and face-planting into the dusty ground.


    ¡°Excadrill is unconscious. Challenger Rosa is victorious!¡± A robotic voice rings out, high pitched and tinny, and the woman that Aidinza met earlier today, Rosa clearly, celebrates. She snatches Panpour up, spinning him around, and posing victoriously.


    He watches for a few moments, as Clay approaches the victorious trainer, but the young nomad ends up turning away. Feeling slightly creepy staring at someone he mildly disliked being so happy.


    Instead, he examined the field that the gym battle happened upon. It was large, much larger than Elesa¡¯s battlefield, but more importantly to him, rather than being a tiled floor, it was proper ground. More of a dusty dirt field painted with stadium lines than the runway of Nimbasa.


    It was something that Clay had used to his advantage, his excadrill specifically dug through it with incredible ease, seemingly faster underground than it was above ground. But more than that, the excadrill could send a tide of rock at his opponents, which was what ended up putting down Rosa¡¯s Whirlipede.


    The loose topsoil would be used to Aidinza¡¯s advantage, he could already tell, well to be specific it could be used for Sandile¡¯s advantage. It would probably be close enough to sand that Sandile would be able to use it for Sand Tomb. But that was a double-edged sword because clearly Clay¡¯s pok¨¦mon were trained in its manipulation as well, and they were also very physically powerful pok¨¦mon. Astazhei would probably end up carrying the fight; while the rufflet was not as agile and quick as a traditional bird, he could still fly high above any ground-bound manipulation, and pick and choose whatever fight he cared to.


    ¡°Howdy there, you plannin¡¯¡¯ on sittin¡¯ for the entire day, or are we gonna get to things?¡± Aidinza starts, as a drawling voice pulls him from his little strategizing session. He glances up and sees the large gym leader looming over him, a stern look framed by curly hair on his face.


    ¡°The sun sings for your health, honoured leader Clay.¡± The young nomad jumps to his feet, bowing before the older man, one hand pressing to the bottom of his neck. ¡°I did not mean to waste your time.¡±


    ¡°One o¡¯ them desert folk huh?¡± He snorts slightly and walks over to where he had been standing when he had been fighting Rosa. ¡°You can make up for it by makin¡¯ this a good fight.¡±


    Slightly unsure if he was making up for potentially wasting the Honoured Leader¡¯s time, or for being one of the Ya¡¯an-ah, Aidinza walked over to where Rosa had previously been, the woman had left while he was distracted.


    ¡°How many pok¨¦mon you have there, boy?¡± The large man adjusts the gleaming bronze belt buckle holding up his two pairs of pants, before glancing at the watch on his wrist, as expensive, if not more so than Silt¡¯s watch.


    ¡°Two, honoured leader.¡± The large man nods along at that, fingering one of the Pok¨¦balls on his belt; one that he had not used against Rosa.


    ¡°This''ll be a two on two battle! Standard league ruling applies, I¡¯ll do you the respect of choosing first.'''' Clay drawls out, and after a moment a robotic voice sounds out a very similar sentence.


    ¡°Show our hard-working spirit, Onix!¡± A flash of red fills the air, and with a mighty roar, more akin to rocks grinding together than anything natural, a massive stone pok¨¦mon is revealed.


    Aidinza¡¯s mouth goes dry, as he stares at the behemoth. It was akin to a snake, a chain of grey boulders that coiled around itself, a ¡®smaller¡¯ series of boulders acting as a tail that dug idly into the ground, displacing dirt easily. The thing¡¯s head was the largest boulder, with a wide craggy mouth, set below a hard angled ¡®nose¡¯ and two white eyes, with tiny beady pupils. A tall horn jutted from the top of its head, and Aidinza was sure that if the creature extended to its full height, several metres tall at least, it would drag against the ceiling.


    This was an Onix, and Aidinza knew that they were one of the largest pok¨¦mon in the world, and knew first-hand how terrifying they could be; the few that lived under the Ya¡¯an-ah desert shook the earth with their passing unless they kept to the deepest of their tunnels.


    And Aidinza knew that he did not have anything that could put it down. Their bodies were built to withstand the weight of the entire world. Pure physical force would meet the hard stone, and just bounce off. Astazhei for all his strength would be helpless against the massive creature. Sandile would maybe have a better chance with his sand manipulation, but sand agains-


    ¡°Challenger release your pok¨¦mon, or forfeit the battle.'''' The robotic voice rings out again, and Aidinza throws Astazhei out in a panic. The rufflet appears with a piercing caw, taking to the skies, turning fierce eyes onto his opponent, regardless of its size. ¡°The Battle begins in three, two, one. Begin!!¡±


    ¡°Onix, let''s turn this fight into a right proper throw down!'''' The grey snake roared again, the sound of stone on stone grinding against Aidinza¡¯s ears, as the Onix¡¯s tail dug into the ground, and flung a massive clump of earth at Astazhei.


    ¡°Astazhei dodge!¡± He was wasting his breath, Astazhei was a prideful bird, but he was in no way eager to be slammed by that amount of stone. Astazhei¡¯s wings stilled, ceasing the powerful beats that held his burly form aloft, and dropped easily under the hurled rock. ¡°Hone Claw! We¡¯re going to need to really bulk up for this!¡±


    ¡°Put in the hard yards, Onix! Don¡¯t let up.¡± The rock snake continues to fling rocks at Astazhei, as the rufflet continues dodging around them, throwing his body out of the way with powerful wing beats, even as he gathers power using Hone Claw. Aidinza watched on edge as Astazhei¡¯s muscles began bulging, and the sound of his claws rasping together hanging in the air, almost sending a shiver down the young nomad¡¯s back.


    However, Astazhei would not have much longer to gather power, as already the Onix¡¯s rocks were honing in on his flight. The burly bird was not agile, and the rock snake was figuring out its exact range of motion.


    Aidinza had to pull the trigger.


    ¡°Astazhei, get in close and do as much damage as you can!¡± His order came, already knowing that there was little chance that Astazhei would properly put the powerful pok¨¦mon down. Astazhei for his part showed no sign of believing for a moment that he would not triumph here, rising into the air, and then diving towards his opponent, building up a brutal speed.


    ¡°Onix! If he¡¯s gonna come right to you, then give him a propah west welcome.¡± Despite the fact that Clay did not order any specific move, Onix seemed to know exactly what its trainer wanted, a blueish energy building around its boulder-like head, as it angled itself towards the approaching bird.


    ¡°GO LOW!¡± The Nomad shouts, unsure what the Onix was doing, but knowing that it spelled nothing good for Astazhei. But the rufflet had committed to his descent already, and attempting to drag himself out of it was nearly impossible at this point.


    So Astazhei did not even bother to try and abandon his dive, the flicker of a shell of energy sparks to life around him the moment before he slammed into the rock snake that was well over ten times his size. The noise of the impact rattled Aidinza¡¯s teeth, and it was all he could do to not look away from the crash, sure that Astazhei would be injured by the brutal collision.


    Aidinza watched, honestly shocked that not only was Astazhei not seriously injured by the collision but had sent Onix sprawling back, slamming it down into the ground causing dust to explode up into the air.


    Slowly, the dust clears, revealing Astazhei hovering proudly in the air, wings powerfully beating, as he lets out a loud caw. For a moment Aidizna thought that the rufflet had triumphed over the Onix in one single, potent blow, a thought that almost seemed to bear out as the dust cleared, and Onix was revealed curled in on itself on the ground.


    ¡°That varmit¡¯s got some strength on it, but that ain¡¯t no excuse to slack off. Onix! Rock Throw!¡± Unfortunately, Clay¡¯s voice dispelled that delusion, and immediately the rock snake snapped up, exposing a mound of rocks that it had seemingly raised from the ground. The snake uncoiled, spinning around, and throwing at Astazhei the rocks in a buckshot of earth.


    Astazhei stood no chance, the rocks forming a large net that he was completely unable to get out of. The flying type was sent spiralling out of control towards the ground, and rather than letting him slam into the ground, Aidinza recalled his pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Challenger¡¯s Rufflet is unable to battle! Challenger must now release his second pok¨¦mon!¡± The robot voice announces, and Ya¡¯an-ah lowered his hand to Sandile¡¯s Pok¨¦ball. Astazhei had done some damage, he had to have done, considering the sheer amount of force he crashed into the rock snake. Sandile could take advantage of that, Aidinza told himself.


    Sandile would make Astazhei¡¯s first - and final - attack count.


    A flash of red fills the field, and a moment later Sandile appears. The desert croc eyes his opponent wearily, glancing back towards Aidinza as if wondering what in the world his trainer was thinking.


    ¡°Sand Tomb!.¡± Aidinza does not waste any time, knowing that there were no real breaks in a fight, and not wanting to give any time for the Onix to recover. But already he was cursing himself, Sandile¡¯s Sand Tomb was growing in strength, but it was nowhere near the point where he could trap something as massive as Onix. Though judging by the shaking sand on the ground, it was likely that Sandile was going to attempt it regardless.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re bringin¡¯ some heat there boy.¡± Clay gave Sandile an appreciative glance, and though Aidinza could not see exactly what he was looking at on Sandile''s body, he clearly seemed pleased at the sight of the young desert croc. ¡°Onix! Let¡¯s stifle this heat, Head Smash!¡±


    The massive rock pok¨¦mon roared, upper body hitting the floor and surging forward towards Sandile. In doing so, it gave Aidinza a golden opportunity.


    ¡°Target the Sand Tomb in front of the Onix!¡± Sandile might not be strong enough to fully trap Onix in a sand devil, but he was more than strong enough to whip something up to cut off the rock snake. Sandile wasted no time in changing his focus, turning his already gathered power from controlling enough sand to try to entomb the entire pok¨¦mon, to just creating a whirl of harsh sand right in front of it.


    ¡°Get out of there Onix!¡± Instantly the sand plumed up into the air, building into a miniature tornado that lashed at everything in its bound, and Onix having already built up speed and being far too large to easily change its momentum, smashed straight into the intense rotation, roaring, pained as the sand ground at the joints of its boulder-like sections. It was not enough to truly put down something as strong as an Onix, but as its joints were clogged with sand, it was clear that Sandile had done some serious damage and sent Onix writhing out of its charge.


    ¡°Hone Claw!¡± Aidinza wasted none of the time Sandile earned, twin growls filling the air as Sandiles claws rasped together, his muscles bulking up.


    ¡°You got a style and yer stickin¡¯ to it, ain¡¯t ya? Onix! Finish this hoedown with a Smack Down.¡± The massive rock snake, having pulled away from the Sand Tomb raging in front of it, roars, slamming its tail into the floor; two rocks tearing themselves up from the floor and beginning to glow with orange light.


    Aidinza eyed the orange rocks wearily, if they were as fast as when Onix threw rocks, then Sandile would not be able to dodge the attack.


    ¡°Sand Tomb on its head!¡± Aidinza ordered, if Sandile was not able to dodge, then the only option was to disrupt the attack. Sandile wasted no time, and with the power of Hone Claw strengthening him, the Sand Tomb that he unleashed was far stronger, a raging near tornado that completely hid the Onix from view, causing the glow around one of the boulders to sputter out.


    But the other did not, and a moment later it flung itself forward, slamming into Sandile¡¯s braced form, heavy tears forming in the ground, as the desert croc dug his talons into the dirt. The blow was not truly telling, Sandile was a hardy reptile, but an attack from an Onix, even one not using its massive form, was not something to be easily shrugged off.


    ¡°Nice shootin Onix, now Dragon Breath, break that Sand Tomb!¡± Onix roars again, and a powerful flash of blue lights up the inside of the dust devil, breaking apart the whirling sand instantly, exposing a ground down Onix, most of its body held close to the ground.


    ¡°Flex on it!¡± Aidinza shouts, despite how the words made him feel slightly awkward, wondering if it was disrespectful to do so to an Honoured Leader.


    ¡°What in tarnation?¡± Clay looked visibly confused, staring for a moment at Aidinza in mild disbelief. Sandile flexed his powerful reptile body, before thundering forward, leaving deep gouges into the ground with his vicious claws as he did so; the power of Hone Claw visibly surged through him as he slammed into the Onix, sending the already exhausted beast backwards, collapsing on its back.


    Despite his pok¨¦mon just being beat, Clay started laughing, a heady sound that bounced off the bronze-plated walls.


    ¡°Good job Sandile, you did it!¡± Aidinza grinned giving his starter a thumbs up as elation filled him. The three of them just took down something as massive as an Onix.


    ¡°Bwah!¡± Sandile turned to his trainer, and gave him a gummy grin, proudly jutting his head into the air, body beginning to bulge with the increased power of Moxie, as a red flash engulfed his defeated foe!


    ¡°Leader Clay¡¯s Onix is unable to battle! Clay must now release his second pok¨¦mon.¡± The robot''s voice fills the stadium once more; Aidinza and Sandile freeze, somehow the fact that this was a two versus two fight had escaped the trainer, with how massive Onix was.


    ¡°Heha hooo boy, that was a chuckle and a bit.¡± Clay wipes at his eyes for a moment, before his hand falls to his belt, picking out another Pok¨¦ball. ¡°Yer a riot boy. Now let''s see how you go against Baltoy!¡±


    A small, floating pok¨¦mon appears, with tan skin painted with red stripes, emphasising its stomach with a circle, and rimming its closed eyes in an upside-down half moon. The pok¨¦mon itself had two arms jutting out on its side, arcing slightly in an almost drooping T-pose. It also had two spikes, one jutting up from its head, and one jutting down below it.


    ¡°Sand Tomb!¡± Aidinza blurts out, Sandile might be empowered by Hone Claw and Moxie, but he was weakened by the blow from the Smack Down and the levitating Baltoy wou-


    The pok¨¦mon rose high in the air, easily avoiding the Sand Tomb¡¯s viscous torque.


    Would be able to avoid Sandile¡¯s attacks with ease, Aidinza finishes his thoughts with a scowl.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t much for it boy, Mudslap!¡± The crack of the pok¨¦mon''s eyes glow with a red light, the shine lighting up the baltoy¡¯s face with an ominous radiance, before a small section of the ground lifts up, and surges forward to slam into Sandile. ¡°Now no need to extend this, Ancient pow-.¡±


    Aidinza returns his pok¨¦mon, mind blank for any way he was going to be able to actually reach Baltoy, and unwilling to let Sandile just be hammered into over and over again in a helpless fight.


    ¡°The challenger has forfeited his pok¨¦mon! Gym Leader Clay is Victorious!¡± Aidinza blinked slowly, he had lost. It was not an insane idea to the Ya¡¯an-ah, but¡­ He knew that he would have to deal with losing at some point but¡­


    But maybe knowing something intellectually was far different from experiencing it directly. A different sort of blank from winning against Elesa takes over him, as he stares at the Pok¨¦ball in his hand.


    ¡°You got two good pok¨¦mon there boy. But they¡¯ve got weak points and you ain¡¯t put in the hard yards to fix them.¡± Aidinza looked up at Clay¡¯s condemnation, green eyes wide and shining with something unshed. ¡°You sent out a bird type against an Onix, and don¡¯t have no options for yer Sandile when he comes up against flyers.¡±


    Aidinza hangs his head, staring at the spot where Sandile had dug in against the Smack Down. He did not know what Sandile could have done, but there had to be something. Something that he could teach him, or he should have not panicked and sent out Sandile first. Astazhei was tough, but it was a flying type up against an onix.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t give it yer everything, yer letting them, and yourself down.¡± The gym leader¡¯s voice was hard, but it was not cruel. He was telling how he thought it was, telling the young nomad what the gym leader thought he needed to hear.


    He was right. Astazhei gave it his all despite Aidinza¡¯s mistake of sending him out first, landing a brutal blow on a pok¨¦mon many times his strength and size. Sandile gave it his all, manipulating Sand Tomb in new ways that they had never practised before. While Aidinza¡­ he let them both down.


    ¡°Thank you, Honoured Leader Clay.¡± Aidinza bows, hand pressing to the bottom of a tight throat, before he turns away and leaves in a daze.


    Leaves into the bronze paved streets of Driftveil,


    A loser.


    -


    He does not know what led his feet in this direction. Hardly understands how a coincidence like this could happen, but after handing his pok¨¦mon over to the nurse on duty at the Pok¨¦mon Centre, he wandered the streets of Driftveil in a mild haze, and found himself outside of a house he was half-convinced that he had never been told the address of.


    A young ginger man, Kaine, stood out front, holding some sort of odd stick device against a patch of grass, the device cutting through the grass with ease. Sandile would like that, Aidinza noted, as he came to a stop at the gate.


    ¡°Oh hey there man, didn¡¯t expect to see you today, you seemed a bit put off by my invitation.¡± Kaine waved cheerfully, shutting off the noisy stick in his hand and placing it down. Aidinza waves back absently and watches as the ginger walks over and unlatches the gate. ¡°Come on in, man. You have the full run of the place.¡±


    ¡°You honour me.¡± Aidinza gives a half bow and walks through the gate robotically.


    ¡°Hey, you okay? You seem a bit out of it?¡± The ginger man gives Aidinza a concerned once over as he leaned against his fence. Aidinza was tempted to tell him nothing, to just bottle it all up.


    ¡°I lost against Honoured Leader Clay.¡± He says instead, not exactly an admission on just how lost he felt, but it felt like enough of one.


    ¡°Oh. Oh¡­¡± The man trails off, brow furrowing, before he walks over to his stick, and unplugs it, taking it over to his veranda. ¡°This your first loss?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been a trainer for very long.¡± Aidinza glances up to the sky, wondering for a moment why he was being so¡­ evasive. Why he would not just come out and say things straight. He had already started opening up to this near stranger.


    ¡°Yeah that¡¯s a sign, come on, I¡¯ll fix you up something and we can talk. This is¡­ something pretty common.¡± Aidinza nods, wandering into the house at his urging, and soon enough finds himself with a blanket over him on a couch, Kaine pushing a mug into his hands.


    He glances around the room, as Kaine goes to fetch something else. It was a small living room, probably one of the smallest rooms that Aidinza had ever been inside, comparable more to a tent than what he associated with buildings. But something about it did not trigger his discomfort with being inside. Maybe it had to do with how decorated it was, with painted plates taking up much of the far wall, a colourful gallery of various first and second stage pok¨¦mon frolicking around. In front of Aidinza was a table, with a number of books and what he was pretty sure were board games stacked upon it, an old coaster with heavy coffee circles on it off to the side. Behind the large screen that took up much of the room were a variety of pictures of the ginger man. At the start he was young, but as the pictures went on he grew into the gangly boy you knew. He was cheerfully grinning in all of them, alongside a number of other men at what seemed to be the docks, alongside a number of burly pok¨¦mon. At times the scene changed, and at times some of the people in the scene changed, but the majority of them were nearly identical.


    ¡°That¡¯s the dock crew.¡± Kaine¡¯s voice interrupts his examination. A now-familiar cheerful grin on his face as he holds his own mug, softly blowing on it after a moment. ¡°Pa used to be a worker, and they all but raised me after¡­¡± He stares at the wall for a moment, before shaking his head, and giving a half shrug. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t distract us. We¡¯re talking to you.¡±


    Aidinza hummed, half tempted to ask him to continue to talk, not exactly looking forward to examining the empty feeling inside him.


    ¡°It¡¯s easy at the start.¡± Kaine starts suddenly, as he takes a seat on a plush chair. Aidinza eyes him, curious as to what he was going to say. ¡°When you start out as a trainer. It¡¯s real simple. You¡¯ve got the gym circuit, you¡¯ve got your starter. You probably win more than you lose, and those you lose you can explain away pretty easily.¡± He pauses, sipping at his mug. ¡°You aren¡¯t losing anything serious, and when you do have serious fights you win. It¡¯s easy. You just get swept up in it.¡± He glances over at Aidinza, who was raptly listening. ¡°How on the head am I?¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Aidinza considers his words for a moment. It had been really simple, he even thought about it earlier today, right? Musing that all he had done since leaving the Ya¡¯an-ah desert was play with his pok¨¦mon, train and fight.


    Before losing, that seemed like such a sweet life. So easy.


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty spot on.¡± Aidinza verbalises after a few seconds, and Kaine nods unsurprised.


    ¡°Then you lose for real. All that fun time and happy feeling stops. You learn the other side of it, that crushing feeling of defeat. You start thinking I wasn¡¯t doing enough, I need to do more. Then you find yourself asking a question.¡± Blue, serious eyes stare at Aidinza as Kaine pauses for several long moments, and Aidinza feels like the next words were going to¡­ change something. ¡°Why do I want to put in that effort.¡±


    There. That was the empty feeling verbalised. He realised he had let down his two pok¨¦mon, realised he was the one who needed to shape up. Needed to get serious, if he wanted to go far as a trainer.


    And found curling up in his chest¡­ the question of why. Why would he be giving up the carefree feeling? There was¡­ there were some answers there. Because Sandile and Astazhei needed him to. Because he wanted to be a strong trainer.


    But they felt slightly hollow, doing something for someone else, or chasing after something as absent as power.


    It just did not have enough strength to convince him.


    ¡°I faced that question pretty early on. Had a rival, and lost pretty badly to him and realised I just didn¡¯t have the drive needed, when I asked myself why I had no answer.¡± He shakes his head, looking reminiscent for a moment. ¡°I let my starter head off with another friend, and made my way back to driftveil.¡± He gestures over to the wall as if telling Aidinza he had already seen what came next. ¡°What you¡¯re feeling right now, it¡¯s natural. Normal. My friend faced it a few weeks after me, my rival faced it, halfway through the gym challenge. You¡¯re not a bad person for feeling it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to stop being a trainer,¡± Aidinza speaks, after a long moment of silence, and that was true, right?


    ¡°Would just that be enough for your pok¨¦mon?¡± Kaine once more hits the nail on the head, and Aidinza slowly shakes his head. ¡°They need something more from you.¡± The gangly man sips at his drink once more, and Aidinza for the first time copies him, the warm taste of something sweet filling his mouth. ¡°You¡¯re from Route Four right? From the desert?¡± Aidinza nods at the question. ¡°Why did you leave?¡±


    Aidinza mulls the question over, staring at the pictures on the wall, imagining what it would look like if it was him. He could already picture the long desert dunes, and the cool nights spent around the fire with his tribe. It was tempting. Why did he leave the desert? Was it just to follow in his sister''s footsteps? Was it just the expectation to do so?


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± He admits finally, staring down at the mug in his hand. Sandile¡¯s appearance¡­ Sandile''s appearance could be explained easily. There were thousands of sandiles in the Ya¡¯an-ah desert, if not tens of thousands. The chances that one would walk in on a ritual as noisy as the Ritual of the Sun were not insignificant.


    And if he was chosen, then how was he so quickly shaken? He was a faithful man, but could his belief be comparable to the great heroes of Ya¡¯an-ah? Could he even begin to compare his flickering candle, to the raging bonfire of faith akin to Bi At Ini?


    ¡°I¡­¡± He trails off. Maybe he should just stop now before he tricked himself into some sort of delusion of grandeur. ¡°May-.¡±


    ¡°Before you come to a decision.¡± Kaine stops him, for the first time since this conversation looking unsure. ¡°There¡¯s a cave system north of the docks. It''s not massive but¡­ I think before you come to a decision you should check it out. Maybe end things on a high note, maybe figure out something to drive you.¡±


    Aidinza swirls his mug for a moment, watching the dark liquid for a moment. There was a temptation to just say no, to not waste time on something that felt so decided already. But, for a moment he finds his mind turning to his sister. Gowteel always told him that nothing good came from giving up early.


    One last try, he resolved. ¡°Where¡­ exactly is this cave?¡± He asks, and Kaine gives him a half-smile.


    -


    The docks smelled of sulphur, salt, and fish. That is to say, it smelt terrible to the nose of the desert nomad. This part of Driftveil was probably the closest in appearance to Nimbasa, with large concrete warehouses that loomed over the streets, blocking out the sun and creating an oppressive way.


    It was as ever, uncomfortable for the desert nomad, but this time he was too caught in his own head to pay too much mind to it. His feet felt heavy, his head hanging. It felt almost final to him, as he walked on and on, following Kaine¡¯s directions.


    What was he going to say to Sandile and Astazhei? Would they understand? Would they know that it was better if he let them find their own path rather than with someone of such flighty conviction?


    Were they already waiting to be released? So they could find someone of proper certitude?  Aidinza traces one of the Pok¨¦balls at his waist; Sandile¡¯s Pok¨¦ball was cool against his fingers.


    He pulls his hand away, glancing around the shaded streets, and continues on. He would talk to the two of them outside the cave system, he resolves to himself, and he continues onwards, slipping through warehouse alleys and slowly darkening streets.


    It took him a little under half an hour to find the final dirt track to the cave, the trail snaking down the cliffs, to an incredibly thin strip of rock and sand. The cave was a crack in the earth, just slightly taller than Aidinza, and twice his width, the ground covered in wet sand.


    Aidinza pauses just before the cave watching the flowing Seismahan. For a moment he felt something spark in his chest, watching the wonder of just so much water right in front of him. There was nothing like it in the Ya¡¯an-ah desert. Save perhaps if he was to ascend to the very peaks of the Relic Castle, and attempt to see beyond the wastes to see this river from the other side.


    He slowly breathes in, and out, calmly walking over to a nearby rock, sitting against it, and unclipping both his Pok¨¦balls.


    He examined both their red-white exteriors; they were so small. Even compared to their young occupants. Yet the entire world hinged upon them, even the Ya¡¯an-ah had come to rely on these fantastical devices.


    He snorts; he was dragging his feet, delaying things. He lets out Sandile first, a flash of red in the darkening evening, seeing the desert crocodile appear on the sand. Sandile examined the sand for a moment, gleefully dragging his claw through it, not minding its slightly damp composition. But he pauses and glances over at Aidinza, having noticed his trainer''s melancholy.


    ¡°Bwuh?¡± The ground-types keen, dark eyes watched Aidinza for a moment, glittering with concern, but all Aidinza managed was a wan smile. Sandile was not satisfied with that. He drew closer, nestling into his trainer¡¯s side, snout coming to rest against his chest, as his eyes turned soulful.


    Aidinza glanced away and released Astazhei. The rufflet, seemingly sharing his trainer¡¯s depression, did not let out a mighty caw as he usually did, instead just fluttering down to the sand, and kicking at it.


    For a moment, the sight of the lethargic bird stole Aidinza¡¯s words, and he just stared at his second pok¨¦mon. How would the rufflet react to being told that Aidinza had let him down? That they had lost, and it was Aidinza¡¯s fault? Angry? Dismissive? Disappointed?


    ¡°We lost.¡± He croaks out after a long moment of paralysis. Sandile blinked up at him, a low, soft noise building up in the reptile''s throat. Astazhei on the other hand has a far more intense reaction, and not in the way that the young nomad expected.


    The bird burst into tears, his large black iris¡¯s disappearing behind his eyelids as thick tears welled at the corners of his eyes. The strong-bodied flying type began wildly fluttering around in a tear-filled tantrum.


    ¡°A-Astazhei!¡± Aidinza stuttered, not expecting the sudden outburst from the bird. Astazhei, hearing his trainer''s voice, slumped down pounding at the sand with his wings, whipping up a great gust. ¡°Astazhei!¡± He tries more firmly, and this time the flying-type pauses in his tantrum, opening his white pupiled eyes to stare shamefaced at his trainer. ¡°I know you¡¯re upset.¡± The rufflet cooed sadly, slumping down further as tears continued to flow. Aidinza gestures for him to come closer, gathering him up against his side, opposite where Sandile was still staring up at him.


    Aidinza runs his left hand through Astazhei¡¯s soft downy feathers, until the flying type stops crying, closing his big eyes and just relaxing into his side. With his right hand, he traced the rougher scales of Sandile. There was a temptation in him to just stay like that forever, to just stay here watching the water of Seismahan river as the sun drifted below the horizon, kept warm by his pok¨¦mon.


    But that was not fair to them, he convinced himself. They had a right to know, they had as much investment in this as he did, if not more than him.


    ¡°You¡¯re right to be upset.¡± He breaks the quiet, speaking over the sound of rushing water. ¡°I let the two of you down.¡± The admission drove him to close his eyes, as he felt his pok¨¦mon shift against his side. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ I haven¡¯t put in what you needed me to put in.¡± He swallows a lump in his throat, feeling something prickle at the corner of his eyes. He did not want to say what came next. But he needed to say it, right? They needed to know. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I have what it takes to give you what you need to succeed. I¡¯m not sure I can be a good trainer for you.¡±


    There. It was out in the open. He cracked open his eyes, seeing Sandile sadly watching him, from where the croc¡¯s snout was still resting against his chest. He glances over to Astazhei and sees the rufflet had pulled away, keen eyes shadowed in the dusk light.


    Aidinza took in one more shuddering breath, with one more thing that needed to be said. He stares out into the glittering river and tries to come to terms with it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­ I might not be a trainer tomorrow. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Silence reigned, the words ¡®I might not be your trainer¡¯ he finds himself briefly unable to say. Aidinza, and Sandile were motionless in the wake of the declaration but Aidinza feels Astazhei shift, and make a low whistle. He swallows. ¡°I might not be your tra-¡± Before he could finish he finds himself interrupted by a keening caw, and Aidinza finds himself buffeted by wind.


    He bites down on his lip, and lets his head fall back against the rock, tracing Astazhei¡¯s ascending form as he flies high into the air, and then away. His heart clenches, and this time he cannot stop the tears that slide down his face.


    Sandile¡¯s claws lightly pressed into his chest, as the desert croc climbed up Aidinza¡¯s body, getting as close as possible to his face. Soulful reptilian eyes stared at him, before Sandile rocked forward, booping his snout into Aidinza¡¯s tear-stained cheek. ¡°Bwah.¡± The sound pulls a weak, shuddering smile from Aidinza as he scratches just behind the pok¨¦mon¡¯s eye ridge, his favourite spot.


    ¡°I wanted to explore the cave here before I made the final choice.¡± He glances towards where the crack in the earth was, patting at the torch he had bought by his side. When he turned back to Sandile, his starter was giving him a gummy grin, but Aidinza could tell that it was off. ¡°Come on.¡± He whispers hoarsely, and Sandile climbs off him.


    He stands up and walks into the cave, Sandile following close behind him. The inside of the cave system was smooth stone walls, and though he knew little about caves even he could tell they were not carved out by humans. Maybe pok¨¦mon, using their power over the earth? Maybe once upon a time, it was a duranthill. Whatever the source, it formed a labyrinth of interlocking and twisting tunnels.


    Aidinza let himself get lost in the markless tunnels, Sandile on his tail as they moved through the wet sand. There were pok¨¦mon here, but few stuck around long at the sight of Sandile, and those might be the opponents of some of Aidinza¡¯s last fights.


    It felt like hours passed as he simply explored, there was an almost familiarity to it. More than once the Naisho¡¯h had taken shelter from the raging of their mother desert inside the caves that dotted her dunes. Though those were far more craggy, than the smooth stone of this place, he mused to himself, as he let his left hand trail over the walls.


    It was as he was doing this, that the cave system widened up into a large cavern, half of it dominated by a large pool of clear water. He walks over to it, staring at his reflection in the water for a moment before he sees past that, several water pok¨¦mon lounging at the bottom. He examines them for a moment, noticing a few he recognised, Tympole, the first stage of Seismitoad, was easy to identify, there existed a few colonies of the line along the few rivers in the Ya¡¯an-ah desert.


    So were Basculin, the green and black pok¨¦mon being the focal point of many Ya¡¯an-ah legends. Of a man who died thrice, as the man attempted to calm the endless war between red and blue striped Basculin.


    However, there were many others that he did not recognise; a round, white and blue pok¨¦mon with a peculiar black spiral marking its chest was one. A predominantly orange fish with long whiskers was another, a particularly dumb species if Aidinza had to judge, considering it kept bumping against the wall.


    ¡°Oh, hello there!¡± A soft, feminine voice calls out behind Aidinza, startling him out of his examination. He whirled around, Sandile moving in front of him defensively. But it was just a human.


    A strangely garbed woman. She had what he could only really describe as a tunic, over the top of a tighter black garment, the tunic white and grey with a coif like hoodie held together with a black X. She had tall boots on and oddly large stiff gloves, and on the centre of her tunic was an emblem, a shield half black, half white, with a stylized P intertwined with a z in the centre.


    The woman herself was a ginger, a few shades lighter than Kaine, with cheerful blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks from a kind smile. She shifted slightly, and Aidinza was pretty sure he heard the clink of actual metal.


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, stranger.¡± He greets back, unsure at the appearance of another person. Then again,  Kaine never said that this place was particularly private, or unknown.


    ¡°Plenty of that here.¡± Her smile widens, eyes closing for a moment as she giggles at her joke, and Aidinza finds himself cracking his own smile. The sand underneath them was cool, and the draft in the air hung heavy with damp. ¡°I¡¯m Jamie! Nice to meet you.¡±


    She sticks a hand out, and Aidinza cautiously takes it; he had seen people do this hand grasp more than once, and its intricacies escaped him. So he resolved to carefully watch Jamie to see when he was supposed to let go. ¡°Aidinza. Same?¡±


    He quickly found his careful examination of her body language interrupted by a giggle. ¡°Eye¡¯s up here silly.¡± Her voice was teasing, but there was a note of chastisement that Aidinza hastened to obey, snapping up from where he was staring at her elbow. But not before he noticed something odd.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have any Pok¨¦balls?¡± That seemed¡­ ill-advised to Aidinza, this cave, while not particularly dangerous, still had a number of aggressive pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Oh, uh yeah! I don¡¯t believe in them!¡± The way she said it made it seem like she thought it was the most natural idea in the world, yet Aidinza found himself taken aback. Did not believe in Pok¨¦balls? Was she¡­ crazy?


    With a careful eye on her, he lowers his hand to his belt and unclips Sandile¡¯s Pokeball. Before lifting it up to her field of view, and after a moment of deliberation, returned Sandile, as direct a demonstration of a Pok¨¦ball as he could think of.


    After the flash of red light, Aidinza watched Jaime carefully, finger hovering over the release for if she proved truly deranged. But all that happened was Jaime trying to stop a giggle, before she descended into full-blown belly laughter, collapsing onto her butt as she held her stomach and gasped for breath between guffaws.


    Aidinza pointedly did not move his finger from the release of the Pok¨¦ball.


    ¡°Y-you thought I mean I didn¡¯t think they were r-real?¡± She gasps out between laughter, tears welling up in her eyes as she laughed so hard. Aidinza watched confused, what else could she have meant by saying she did not believe in them. Clearly, the confused look on his face was amusing, since it set her off again, slamming a glove clad hand into the ground as she rolled about. ¡°I¡¯m going to pee myself. Fuck.¡±


    After a long - very long - bout of laughter, Jaime finally recovers, pushing herself up so she was sitting, and cradling her ribs. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re a riot Aidinza.¡± She snorts, and for a moment it seemed like she would descend into more laughter before she schooled herself. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean I didn¡¯t think they¡¯re real, I don¡¯t believe in using them.¡±


    That made a bit more sense than denying their existence to Aidinza, but he was still leery at the idea. ¡°Why? They¡¯re very useful.¡±


    She seemed pleased by the question, her smile turning from merry to joyful as she leapt to her feet.


    ¡°It¡¯s about trust!¡± She, for some reason, pointed toward the cave''s roof at that, and Aidinza followed her gesture to see nothing but smooth stone. She giggled again, and Aidinza wondered if he should just stop trusting anything she said. ¡°I believe that Pok¨¦balls prevent trainers from trusting their pok¨¦mon!¡±


    Aidinza kept his finger hovering over the release of Sandile¡¯s Pok¨¦ball, and glanced around the cave, looking for if there was anyone else there.


    ¡°You look like you think I¡¯m crazy.¡± She spins a finger around her temple, before jabbing a finger into her cheek, the plush flesh distorting around it. ¡°But I¡¯ve got really good reasons! Wanna hear them?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Jamie beamed at the response, before rocking on her feet and tapping at her lips, clearly thinking.


    ¡°Well. Like I said, it has to do with trust.¡± She moves away from Aidinza, wandering over to the water, tugging off her gloves and dipping her hand into the water. ¡°Trainers¡­ they go their entire lives with their Pok¨¦balls always at the ready, prepared to trap away their pok¨¦mon at the slightest provocation. Unable to trust them without their back up.¡± She shakes her head sadly, as she stares into the clear water, looking like she thought that was the most tragic thing in the world. ¡°Why can¡¯t they learn to just let go of their fear?¡± She looks back at Aidinza with wide blue eyes, and he finds himself genuinely moved to answer.


    ¡°The desert is a harsh mother. She is dry and rough, with a cruel temper. The Ya¡¯an-ah know this. Yet we also know she will provide water from the Oasis and shelter from the worst of her storms.¡± Aidinza pauses for a moment, then joins the woman crouching at the edge of the water, staring deep into it. ¡°It is not that we do not trust the desert when we prepare water tanks and tents. It is that we know the desert, and trust what we know.¡±


    ¡°So you think that pok¨¦mon are dangerous? Do you have to prepare for that?¡± She challenges, her blue eyes flashing with indignance. Aidinza for a moment is tempted to say yes, that no matter how docile a pok¨¦mon could be, they could be roused to terrible anger. But he finds his mind turning to his team, to Sandile and¡­ and Astazhei, could he really say that he would think they would turn violent? Could he even bring himself to properly think about it?


    No, he could not, so he fell silent, just watching the natural aquarium before him.


    ¡°It¡¯s when Humans and pok¨¦mon trust each other¡­ when they really have faith in each other, something beautiful forms.¡± Aidinza gives careful thought to her words, rolling them around in his head and examining them. He hears the woman rise once more, the clink of metal just reaching his ears before she patted his shoulder. ¡°I hope you see the truth.¡±


    She walks away, leaving Aidinza alone to continue staring down into the water. Trusting his pok¨¦mon¡­. He did, right? Except, had he proved that? In the battle against Clay, not only had he let them down by not planning better but had he also not trusted Sandile, not believing him able to overcome the Baltoy.


    He did not have faith.


    Faith¡­ Aidinza considered himself a faithful man. He opened his heart and his soul during the rituals of the Ya¡¯an-ah, he held the existence and the glory of the sun to be self-evident. He knew the stories, he knew their tales. He knew their meanings. He knew the signs, and he had resolved to himself his entire life that if he was called upon he would not falter.


    Yet here he was, faltering. It took him only a few weeks away from the Sand and Sun to do so. Falter in what his people called a sign, and faltered in being a trainer.


    A splash of water and a surfacing pok¨¦mon distracted him for a moment. Its body was made up of red segmented plates ending in white lines, leading from a smooth red mandibled face with two large white antennae, all the way down to two white, rectangular fins for its tail.


    It had three pairs of black legs with two ending in long plated red tips. The foremost pair of legs were larger, and the right one was even larger still. The left one formed a jagged, many-pointed end, while the right was a large pincer with a red claw, both rimmed by the same white lines of the body plates.


    Perhaps most striking were its eyes, pure blue, with small beady black pupils half-hidden by red eyelids, set on the side of its head, that lazily glanced around the cavern, before its attention landed on Aidinza as he observed it. There was a terribly tense moment as the two of them watched each other, the red, almost bug-like pok¨¦mon¡¯s eyes flicking between Aidinza¡¯s hand and his face, its larger claw rising slightly.


    He was still holding his Pok¨¦ball, he realised. That was¡­ good. Aidizna would definitely need it if this went bad. Though judging by the way the carapaced pok¨¦mon¡¯s attention flicked to his Pok¨¦ball, it might know the danger it posed to it. Preparing its own response.


    It seemed that he was in a standoff, a dangerous one considering how close the pok¨¦mon was, and how strong and large its claw looked. Would he even have time to release Sandile, before the pok¨¦mon got to him? It was clearly just as wary of him as he was of it, probably having some experience with trainers before. A bad experience if the way it was watching him could be trusted. Maybe he should throw himse-


    The pok¨¦mon lowered its claw, with a placid blink, its eyes still examining Aidinza, as he breathed out carefully. It seemed that the pok¨¦mon had decided to extend a measure of trust towards the Ya¡¯an-ah boy.


    To put faith in him not attacking. Aidizna lowered Sandile¡¯s Pok¨¦ball, clipping the device to his belt as he watched the six-limbed pok¨¦mon. Today seemed to revolve around faith and trust, and once more he proved himself recalcitrant to extend it. Was it another test? One final trial that he had just failed to overcome?


    Aidinza snorts, as he sits down, letting his feet dip into the water, his shoes having already been soaked through in the soggy tunnel anyway. He felt exhausted, the day had exhausted him. It had just kept coming and coming. An endless parade of what he could only see as mistakes. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spies the pok¨¦mon approaching, its back legs skittering on the sandy ground, and two claws held from dragging by the bare minimum of effort.


    It sets itself up next to Aidinza, lowering its body into the sand, its head hanging over the edge, mandibles just touching the water. Now that the tense moment had passed, it seemed like it felt rather relaxed in his presence.


    ¡°The funny thing about faith is you always think you have it before you find it tested.¡± Who knows what possessed him to start talking, to something that more likely than not had no real way to reply. ¡°It seems so simple when you don¡¯t have to think about it. But the moment you start to second guess things¡­ it suddenly gets a whole lot more difficult to just trust. You know what I mean?¡±


    The Pok¨¦turns its placid eyes towards him, and for a moment he thought that was all it would do, before it straightened up, and turned, showing off its left claw as it shook it. Now he had a better look at it, he could see that the jagged end was not natural, the claw not closing properly, and looking almost¡­ smashed apart, and on the grey of the limb was a large healed scar.


    ¡°Someone did that to you.¡± The red pok¨¦mon turned back to the water, dipping its mandibles in again, and nodded. ¡°Was it a human?¡± A single eye flicks over to him and nods again. Abuse then, he realised with a start, or maybe this pok¨¦mon¡¯s claw was valuable and someone tried to take it. ¡°Surprised you lowered your claw.¡± He¡¯s not sure he would, in this pok¨¦mon¡¯s shoes, having grown up among the Sandile, who had taught the Naisho¡¯h a longer memory than most.


    Aidinza watched as the pok¨¦mon shrugged, lowering its claw into the water and playing with it. He marvelled at the casual display of trust. It just¡­


    Trusted.


    ¡°I could be dangerous, trying to get you to lower your guard.¡± Another sideways look, that seemed to pierce into his soul, its half-lidded eyes surprisingly keen. It shrugged again, spurting a bit of water out, and turned to watch the ripples. Aidinza chuckled. ¡°What do you lose by playing it safe?¡± He found himself asking, staring into the rippling, though he suspected he knew the answer already. A moment later he feels a splash of water against his face, and he turns to see that the pok¨¦mon had leaned over to point its large claw at him. ¡°That¡¯s pretty rude.¡±


    The pok¨¦mon twittered, its eyes opening slightly in a chastisement that Aidinza could only take as ¡®that was the point¡¯. It would have been rude, heck it would have meant that this conversation would not have happened. This pok¨¦mon, no matter his reasons for being justified in being aggressive, simply did not want to be. Did not want to be the sort of pok¨¦mon that would attack first.


    By the glorious Sun, was it really that simple? Was he just trying to make something complex when it did not have to be? Was his miserable walk this entire time pointless, this self-doubt pointless?


    Yes.


    He snorts, yes it fucking was. A grin crossed his face, it was that simple. He wanted to be a trainer, he wanted to be faithful, and he wanted to put in the effort, so why did he not become that person?


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He beamed, and without thinking he reached out to pat the pok¨¦mon, hand rubbing against hard keratin plating. The pok¨¦mon twittered again, its antenna shifting and producing a squeaking noise before it leaned into the touch. After a moment of companionable silence, while Aidinza traced the ridges and edges of the pok¨¦mon¡¯s body, finding occasional soft flesh to massage, a temptation filled the young Ya¡¯an-ah. ¡°Do you want to come on my journey? You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to, but I would appreciate it, and I¡¯d make sure to treat you properly, and train you properly¡­¡±


    Aidinza glances down to his side as he rambled, seeing a placid yellow eye staring up at him, before it taps a large claw into one of the Pok¨¦balls, and disappears in a red flash.


    That answered that, he supposed, as he touched a hand to the cool metal of the near-perfectly still Pok¨¦ball. He gets to his feet, glancing around the cool cavern. It was about time to head off.


    There¡¯s another flash of red, and Sandile appears by his side. He grins down at the desert croc, who seemed confused by the difference in his trainer. It made sense, it was a stark difference; gone was the listless man who had stumbled through the cave tunnels like a man walking towards a death sentence. Gone was the weak posture, and hung head. But maybe even more than that was the difference between this Aidinza and the Aidinza of this morning, the one that saw Driftveil bridge, and fought against Rosa. That Aidinza had been lively but unsure, following the current of life without any resistance or real cause.


    This Aidinza stood with his head high, and purpose in his movement. A drive in his green eyes, found from the simple understanding that if this was what he wanted, then he simply had to be that.


    It seemed to be a good difference in Sandile¡¯s eyes, as he smiled gummily, and wandered behind his trainer cheerfully. He seemed to be fully enjoying the sandy tunnels for the first time, digging into the soaked sand, and popping out at random intervals. Seemingly not minding in the slightest the wet.


    The atmosphere was simply far more joyous than it had been an hour ago, and Aidinza, now firm in his understanding that while the path before him remained murky he still wanted to be the kind of person to walk it, smiles with new conviction.


    -


    It had taken the two of them twenty or so minutes to wander out of the cave, the twisted tunnels and pathways were not so labyrinthine now that he was out of his rut. As he walked down the cave''s entrance, he noticed that the water had risen, submerging his ankles as he waded through it.


    He pauses as he breaches the open air, the sun having long since fallen below the horizon, a field of stars above him and a full moon shining off the river Seismahan. Aidinza watched the sky for a long moment, hand falling to his side, to trace a currently empty Pok¨¦ball. It only takes him a moment to come to a choice, and despite the rising water - that Sandile was cheerfully playing in, he wandered over to a nearby rock and sat down.


    ¡°Oh hey again.¡± He glances up, and see¡¯s Jaime standing there, still in her strange knight costume marked with the symbol of the P and Z intertwined, a large sack slung over her shoulder.


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, Jaime.¡± He greets, gracing her with a half smile, before looking up to the skies, waiting.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking a sight more cheerful, the caves clear your head?¡± She bounced over to her own rock, sitting down and drawing her legs up to her chest, the sack being placed on its own rock.


    ¡°Something like that.¡± He hears Sandile splash by him, and scoops up the desert croc, to scratch at his wet scales absently, to rumbled approval. ¡°Met a pok¨¦mon who just made sense.¡±


    He hears Jaime giggle. ¡°And you thought I was crazy.¡± His brow furrows for a moment, remembering her Pok¨¦ball speech, but shrugs it off, going to watch the sky once more. ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t stay out here for the whole night, the Seismitoads upstream will probably decide to knock over the Bibarel dams at some point in the night, and that makes a big wave!¡± She slaps the water in an apparent demonstration, the water flicking everywhere. But Aidinza was already soaked at this point and paid it no mind.


    ¡°Got a pok¨¦mon I need to wait for.¡± Astazhei would come back; they had not known each other long, but he felt it in his bones. He runs his hand down Sandile¡¯s drying body, brow furrowing briefly when he finds the desert croc¡¯s tail still soaked.


    ¡°Did you release them?¡± She questions and her voice is intent and interested. He glances over at her, finding that her blue eyes were much the same, shining brilliantly in the light of the moon.


    ¡°Not quite. Just said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong mind.¡± Her brow furrows for a moment, seemingly deliberating something for a moment, as a finger scratches at her pale skin.


    ¡°Maybe it would be better if you did?¡± That was not what he expected her to say at all. His good mood flickers and stills and he turns hard green eyes on her. ¡°Well if it¡¯s not here, and you hurt it¡­ maybe it would be better if you released them? That way you aren¡¯t putting yourself in danger of the Seismahan flooding, and your pok¨¦mon is released!¡±


    She beams at that as if what she had said was a perfect storybook ending, her soft face lighting up under the moonlight. Aidinza felt something foul curl up in his gut, a terrible feeling scraping at his good mood and newfound conviction before he discarded it. Tore it up in his mind and burnt it up in the flames of the sun.


    ¡°No. It would not be better if I did that.¡± His voice was as frigid as the cold night air that flowed over his wet body, and at his voice, Jaime finally seemed to notice the glare he had levelled at her.


    ¡°Jeez, it¡¯s just an idea.¡± She flicks her ginger hair, and as the tense silence continues, finally stands up and brushes herself off. ¡°I should probably go.¡±


    Aidinza turns away from her, looking towards the sky once more. Waiting for Astazhei to come back.


    Forty-two minutes later, with the water level rising so much that the Ya¡¯an-ah returned Sandile, a figure broke the light of the moon for a moment.


    His waning attention, worn by the exhaustion of the day and the desire for sleep, snapped back into focus and he looked up at the night sky, hearing the powerful wing beats of Astazhei before seeing his powerful form. With a tremendous cry, the flying type swooped down, wind breaking and water shuddering in his wake, as he landed heavily on Aidinza¡¯s knee.


    In his powerful beak was clutched a peculiar pink berry, with a knotted crevasse giving it a rather strange surface. He jerked the branch at his trainer with surprising urgency, stopping just short of shoving the berry into his mouth.


    Aidinza takes the berry for a moment, and examines it, unsure if it was actually an edible one. Many, despite their fantastical properties for pok¨¦mon, did not react well with humans.


    He puts it away, despite Astazhei¡¯s protests, and pulls the bird into a hug, running his hands through his soft downy feathers. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to hurt you. I just needed to figure some stuff out.¡± Carefully Aidinza breathes in, still stroking his flying type. ¡°If it''s okay for you, I still want to be your Trainer.¡±


    Astazhei looks up at him with wide white pupiled eyes, as they gleam with wetness. He bursts into tears, and buries his face into his trainer''s chest, wings flaring out to wrap around Aidinza in a rendition of his own hug. The two of them stay there for a long moment, Aidinza just letting Astazhei get everything out, delighting in the fact that he came back, and wanted to stay.


    Unfortunately, the moment could not last forever, and as the water raised high enough to submerge half his stomach, Aidinza realised it was definitely time to go.


    He glances towards the pathway winding up the cliff. He¡¯d get back to the Pok¨¦centre, and learn what his new pok¨¦mon was, introduce him to the team and then¡­


    Then it was try two for the Driftveil Gym.


    A wide grin crossed his face, as he stood up, wading through the water as Astazhei took to the skies above him with a cry.


    This time, the outcome was going to be different.

 Victory and Blackouts

    Aidinza hardly slept when he got back to the Pok¨¦mon Centre, instead, he found himself in front of one of the screens that the Nimbasa Nurse Joy introduced him to, researching his new capture.


    His new pok¨¦mon was a clauncher, otherwise known as the water gun Pok¨¦mon due to the extremely high-pressure water gun they are capable of producing from their large right claw. Most commonly found in Kalos, and considered their national aquatic Pok¨¦mon. Usually, it was predominantly blue and black, however, it was not uncommon for the pok¨¦mon to have differing colours if it was born in different climates.


    The crustacean was a fairly potent presence in the Kalosian competitive scene; as one of the few native Water-types it filled a rather necessary niche to compete with their powerful - and often esoteric - fire types, and the strong presence of rock and ground types in the league. While not as incredibly powerful as a well-trained and bonded Greninja, its evolved form, Clawitzer, was a potent manipulator of water, capable of cracking apart cliffs with a single high-pressure blast and the focal point of a great deal of national pride, due to their presence in Kalos¡¯s Armed Forces in the Last War. Which made it strange to Aidinza that he found so many recipes involving their claws.


    The pok¨¦mon did have several glaring weaknesses he would need to account for according to the articles that he was reading. Predominantly was its surprising issues as a water type in water. Its asymmetrical body prevented it from swimming properly, and its form was built for defence rather than agility. It did however have a way to mitigate its mobility weakness at the highest levels by apparently being able to propel itself with high-pressure force from its claw-cannons. As a clauncher by firing water from its front, and as a clawitzer by having special gas chambers and releases in the back of the cannon, capable of temporarily flinging the Pok¨¦mon at incredible speeds.


    However, even that mitigation of their weakness had its own issues. For a clauncher, they would have to physically fling themselves backwards, and lacking any way to properly look behind them, would be basically blind during it. Not only that, the powerful pressurised water they would have to use, would also blind them from seeing properly to their right and front due to the water spray. For a clawitzer, its gas chambers only had a limited amount of gas, and without significant forethought and planning a clawitzer was not able to use its most potent offensive asset while it was moving.


    But that was fine, Aidinza would have wanted the pok¨¦mon even if Clauncher was the weakest pok¨¦mon in the world. The help that Clauncher gave him in that cave mattered to him far more than having to consider any weakness ever would. He also learned over the course of his research that Clauncher was most likely male, females of the species being incredibly aggressive.


    Slowly he breathes in, standing on the river bank. His right hand played a beat across the three Pok¨¦balls on his belt, as he considered how he was going to handle this. Sandile was generally very calm, at least in the sense of aggression, more likely to play with a new pok¨¦mon than fight it without direction. However his territorial instincts changed that, and Aidinza was not sure if a new teammate that he had not beat would trigger those instincts or not.


    Astazhei was a more predictable issue, there was no chance that the rufflet would not challenge the new Pok¨¦mon in some way. Aidinza was hoping that Astazhei would at least keep to the Hone Claws challenge.


    He lets his thumb catch on one of the Pok¨¦ball releases, Sandile¡¯s to be exact. There¡¯s a flash of red, and the desert croc appears on the sandy bank of the river Seismahan. He immediately set about enjoying the sand, digging into the bank until he was mostly submerged, only his black-rimmed eyes visible.


    ¡°Hey, buddy.¡± He grins down at the Pok¨¦mon, kneeling down to help bury parts of Sandile that were exposed to the air. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be meeting a new Pok¨¦mon I caught.¡±


    The sand shudders and Sandile pokes his head out blinking up at his trainer. ¡°Bwaah?¡± His head tilts slightly, as he smacked his lips.


    ¡°I caught someone in the cave we were exploring after we met that girl.¡± A flash of confusion visibly furrows Sandile¡¯s face, and his head tilts the other way. ¡°The weird girl.¡± He explains, and Sandile¡¯s mouth opens and it makes a rumble of realisation. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to make sure things go okay. Okay?¡±


    Sandile grinned gummily, and croaked as he nodded; As clear an acknowledgement as Aidinza could have asked for.


    ¡°Let''s do this then.¡± Two twin flashes fought the sunlight for a moment, and after they disappeared, two figures were revealed: Clauncher and Astazhei. Astazhei as he usually did, quickly rose into the air, heavy wing beats masked underneath his prideful cry. Clauncher on the other hand, simply glanced around the sandy riverbank placidly, antenna twitching, creating an odd squeaking sound.


    Astazhei was quick to notice the new arrival, stalling his flight to dive harshly, landing with a plume of sand and letting out a challenging caw, one he often made when using Hone Claws. Aidinza kept one eye on Sandile, seeing him visibly resist the urge to respond to the challenge with his own millennia-old growl. ¡°Astazhei.¡± He warned, earning a sheepish look from the bird. ¡°Both of you, meet Clauncher, our newest teammate.¡±


    Sandile, having stamped down on his territorial instincts, moves forward as sand slides over his sleek scales easily. He chirps at the crustacean, giving another gummy smile. Clauncher¡¯s antenna twitches again before he makes a sort of twittering sound that Aidinza vaguely remembers from their first meeting.


    Then Astazhei arrived with a brief flap that sent him on a surprisingly long hop; he landed not far from the duo, letting out his own chirp. But this one was far more on edge than Sandiles. Astazhei it seemed was still eager to prove his place in the pecking order.


    ¡°Not today Astazhei. We have to train for rechallenging Honoured Leader Clay.¡± The words stopped the situation in its tracks, Sandile turning serious, and Astazhei turning to Aidinza to buff up his chest.


    Clauncher, perhaps unsurprisingly, was completely unmoved by the trainer''s words.


    Hopefully, though, that would not last long, Aidinza had put in a lot of effort in the training session he was going to run the three through. Mostly in learning just what he would need to focus on at all for Clauncher. He pulls out a notepad from his bag and flicks through a few pages.


    ¡°Now, Astazhei, you''re going to be learning Gust, and Sa-,¡± Aidinza finds himself cut off as Astazhei beats a wing in his general direction, and the wind nearly sends him stumbling. He glances over to the bird and sees him proudly puffed up. ¡°Yes, like that Astazhei.¡± The bird crows proudly, and before he could do it again, Aidinza interferes. ¡°But it feels a bit weak to me.¡± Aidinza smiles at Astazhei, features sharp, while Astazhei looks mildly offended. ¡°I¡¯ll be around to help you set up some weights soon enough, they¡¯ll help make you stronger.¡±


    That seemed to placate the bird, who seemed pleased by the idea of weights as he hopped away to a nearby tree. Aidinza¡¯s smile only widened, he knew that Astazhei was not going to be that pleased for long. Or maybe he would, Aidinza knew of some who enjoyed the burn of heavyweights. ¡°Now Sandile, you¡¯re going to keep working on Sand Tomb alright?¡± Thankfully Sandile did not also decide that was a prompt for him to use that on him, instead, he swam off in the sand, and already he could see a dust devil whirling into existence. ¡°And Clauncher, you and I are going to figure out what you know.¡±


    He grinned down at his red-white Pok¨¦mon, looking forward to figuring out just what Clauncher knew, compared to what he had learned they could know. Clauncher blinked placidly at him and glanced towards the river.


    -


    Clauncher quickly proved that he had quite the move pool, and just as quickly proved to be slightly recalcitrant in actually applying them. It took Aidinza a while to properly coax Clauncher into actually using his moves, and while he was pretty sure he managed to figure out everything Clauncher could do - including a half-hearted Smackdown - it felt like Clauncher was not putting in the full effort for any of them.


    So after Clauncher demonstrated Aqua Jet with a jump with less air time than what Aidinza could manage, the trainer had the idea that he might get better results if he bribed Clauncher into performing with food.


    He quickly double-checked the harness that he had rigged up for Astazhei, that strapped several stones to his wings that Aidinza was pretty sure were heavier than Astazhei at this point. But the eaglet kept demanding more weight, seemingly taking personal affront to the idea that anything could restrain his movements. With the bird checked, and Sandile still cheerfully moving a disconcerting amount of sand, Aidinza heads off to go find some treats.


    When he returned from a nearby Pok¨¦ food shop, with a sack of food that was supposed to be especially delicious for water Pok¨¦mon, he found that Astazhei - still weighed down by his rock-weights, and visibly drooping - had squared up with Clauncher. Picking up his pace, he was gratified to see that Sandile soon stepped up to support the new teammate, squarin- he stops himself, as he sees Sandile turn his growl between the two, as the two-way square off, turned into a three-way stare down, as Clauncher hefted his claw threateningly.


    Aidinza sighed, and lowered his hand to his Pok¨¦ball, seeing he was going to have to step in. Then a moment later all three lunged forward, starting up a three-way fight with Sandile and the still weighed down Astazhei rolling around while Clau-


    He blinked, as his eyes flicked back to Clauncher, who apparently had only started forward, and was now casually walking over to the shallows of the river. Aidinza watches the fight for a moment and realises that both Astazhei and Sandile seemingly had no idea that the instigating factor of the fight had bailed, and even now was walking into the shallows of the river.


    Leaving the two hard-headed Pok¨¦mon to fight - Sandile at a clear advantage with how heavily Astazhei was weighed down - he headed over to where Clauncher was floating in the water, his usually half-lidded eyes fully closed.


    He had managed to fall asleep in the time it had taken Aidinza to walk over and wade into the shallows. The young nomad snorts, ¡°Naazin.¡± He mutters to himself, as he shakes his head, slipping back into the old tongue for a moment.


    Clauncher¡¯s blue eye cracks open for a moment, and he lets out a satisfied trill. Aidinza, impressed despite the fact his other two pok¨¦mon had been bamboozled into a fight, pulls out some of the treats he had gone off to buy. He offers the food to the crustacean, and the pok¨¦mon lets out a squeak with his antenna as he takes the food, letting out a pleased twitter as he finishes.


    ¡°That won¡¯t get you out of training with me.¡± He informed the pok¨¦mon, who flipped over onto his back exposing his black underside. ¡°Naazin.¡± He mutters again, shaking his head, and picks the pok¨¦mon up, as he wades out of the water. ¡°You¡¯ll get more treats if you stop being lazy.¡±


    He places the Clauncher down on the sandy bank, and glanced back over to where Sandile had triumphed over the weighed down Astazhei; With his right claw pressed into Astazhei¡¯s chest, Sandile was looking confused, finally realising that there was supposed to be a third participant in this fight.


    ¡°Sandile! Astazhei! Stop slacking off!¡± Sandile jumped out of his skin, startled by the command in Aidinza¡¯s voice. Astazhei was similarly spooked, and as he surged upright he sent Sandile stumbling head over tail into shifting sand, as a panicked Sandile immediately tried to start up his sand manipulation again. He chuckles and turns back to Clauncher who was examining the sack of food Aidinza had brought, who looked like he was weighing up the pros and cons of just tearing the sack apart.


    ¡°Now Clauncher, Smack Down.¡± This time there was nothing half-hearted about Clauncher¡¯s Move, his claw sending dozens of rocks into the air, and sending them shotgunning across the beach, turning a nearby rock into cracked collateral. Aidinza wastes no time in rewarding the behaviour, feeding Clauncher from his hand to another pleased twitter.


    -


    The training from then on was far more productive, with Clauncher seemingly giving it his all, and it turned out that his all was pretty significant. The crustacean proved capable of throwing himself dozens of metres at high velocity with ease using Aqua Jet, and his Smack Down was enough to put even Astazhei on his feathered rear. Unfortunately, the pok¨¦mon was unable to use one of his most powerful moves, Aqua Pulse, properly; he was capable of generating an orb of massively compressed rotating water, but he had no idea how to turn that into the second stage of the move.


    Still, that meant that the two of them had a concrete goal to work towards, which Aidinza found to be a rather necessary thing to motivate Clauncher. The pok¨¦mon was just generally uninterested in training without knowing the ¡®end goal¡¯ of the training, unlike Sandile or Astazhei who would just do whatever they were told when it came to training. It made it both more and less difficult to train him as it meant that Aidinza had to give a lot more thought to whatever he was training Clauncher in, but it also meant that since Clauncher had an understanding of what Aidinza wanted, the water-type could make his own adjustments to the training.


    And if Clauncher did not have the motivation, he wasted no time in slacking off, usually slipping into the shallows of the river Seismahan, and taking a floating nap. It happened so often that well, Aidinza decided that Naazin - Ya¡¯an-ah for Floating Sleeper - fit the pok¨¦mon more than anything else he could really come up with. Something which earned him a slightly less placid blink from the blue-eyed clauncher, and seeming agreement.


    Naazin was not the only one that had a productive few days of training. After the first day, and seeing just how proud Astazhei was of overcoming heavier and heavier weights, Aidinza found himself purchasing actual weights for the eaglet. While weight training was not exactly common for flying types - and not that common for pok¨¦mon in general - Driftveil as a city had a proud history of craftsmen, both leatherworkers and metalworkers and Nurse Joy was happy enough to direct him to someone who could help, with a warning not to overdo it. So now Astazhei had a dozen bronze-plate weights, with a harness to hold them.


    With a proper harness for himself, and not having to rely on Aidinza¡¯s rather questionable crafting abilities, Astazhei proved that his feat of carrying his body weight in rocks was nothing compared to what he could manage. His proper limit, to the point where even his pride could not convince him to demand more, was thirty-two kilograms, using three of the heaviest plates. It saw Astazhei hobbling around, and barely able to fly faster than a light jog, but the rufflet seemed pleased by the weight slowly growing less troublesome for him.


    Sandile for his part was the recipient of Aidinza¡¯s first use of a TM, specifically the Dig TM that Mark gave him on his first day. Apparently, there was a difference between Sandile just digging, and Sandile using Dig. The first was just his natural capabilities, especially in sand, which while fast, was not the incredible speed a master of Dig could get to. The second involved properly manipulating the ground in the wake of the pok¨¦mon, softening it and allowing even rock to potentially be moved through as easily as sand.


    It provided Sandile with some pretty significant options, not only did it mean that he was near immune to any sort of recompense - anyone wanting to hurt him would have to get through dozens of metres of earth first - but it also addressed some of his mobility issues. Sandile while in sand was a quick predator, easily able to outstrip anyone else on Aidinza¡¯s team. Sandile on normal earth, or worse, the grass was slower than even Clauncher when he was moving about on his legs.


    With his newfound skill with Dig, he could move much faster and that speed proved to be a very surprising factor in the fights that Aidinza participated in against any of the Driftveil trainers he found himself challenged by.


    Even so, Sandile still did not have many options against a flying target. Aidinza would have liked to try and teach him Dark Pulse but had no idea how to do so. He did find an article about it, but it had been hidden behind a very hefty paywall, and most other articles said that it was better to both wait for evolution, and to use a TM; many advertising specific TM''s to use, since apparently there were TM brands that offered different quality TM''s.


    Or maybe that was an advertising trick, and there was no difference, the computer did not seem to have a consensus on that fact.


    But hopefully with his ability to hide from a flying opponent, the two of them would be able to set a trap of some kind. Either way, today was the day that Aidinza would be rechallenging Clay.


    But first thing first, he found himself in front of Kaine¡¯s house once more. The place, which he had paid little mind to before, was a fairly nice house. With a well-kept lawn, a white picket fence, and a rather modern looking house, thin and tall with the bronze lining that marked it as a Driftveil dwelling.


    Aidinza stops for a moment, to admire the well-kept flowers, examining the pink petaled and orange tufted, the yellow petaled black tufted wildflower, and the white and purple flowers in turn. While they were very different from the desert flowers that he was used to, they were still rather pretty.


    However, he does not spend too long admiring them, instead, he turned to the path once more, and walks up to the door of the house. He knocked on it briskly, having researched what he was supposed to do, and waited for Kaine to appear.


    A few moments later he did, the door cracking open and revealing the unusually pale and tense face of Kaine. ¡°Oh uh, hey Aidinza.¡± He tried for a grin, but it was clearly strained. ¡°What do you wa-. Sorry, how can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, Kaine. I don¡¯t need any help.¡± Aidinza watched the ginger carefully, unsure why the lanky man was acting so oddly. ¡°I just wanted to say thank you.¡±


    ¡°Thank me? Uh, don¡¯t need any thanking man, just glad to help however I did.¡± He gave a thumbs-up through the cracked door, and from the hallway, Aidinza heard another person''s voice.


    ¡°Are you¡­¡± The nomad leans forward lowering his voice. ¡°Are you okay? Is someone there?¡±


    Kaine looks shocked for a moment, his blue eyes widening. ¡°No! I mean, I am okay, there¡¯s no one here.¡± He goes to shut the door, before seemingly thinking better of it and stopping. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m really busy at the moment, and I need to go.¡±


    ¡°I see. Sorry for taking your time then.¡± Aidinza, still eyeing Kaine suspiciously, gave him a nod and turned away to the door closing heavily behind him.


    That was¡­ concerning. But he does not keep his mind on it for long, turning his mind towards the gym challenge soon, and walking off the property. Hopefully, he would be able to give Kaine a proper thank you later.


    Maybe even have a celebration to tell him about, he thinks to himself as his eyes lock in the direction of the gym.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    -


    Silt - Ssssilt his mind reminded of the awkward conversation cruelly - was thankfully brief when Aidinza arrived, simply asking if he was here for a rematch and waving him on through.


    Clay was not standing on his side of the battlefield when Aidinza walked into the field, instead, the leather-clad magnate was standing with his foot upon the bleachers he had watched Rosa¡¯s fight on, and was loudly speaking into a phone. ¡°-vestigate that there shipping container, I want to know what it was doing in my city and why it¡¯s empty.¡± The large man notices Aidinza¡¯s presence, something approving flashing over his face for a moment. ¡°I have a challenger, but the moment somethin¡¯ changes, you tell me you hear?¡±


    The phone snaps shut, and the Gym Leader fully turns to the Ya¡¯an-ah man.


    ¡°The Sun sings for your health, Honoured Leader Clay.¡± Aidinza bows, and gets a gruff nod back from the two-pants man, as he moves to take up position on his side of the battlefield.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see you so soon, yer training better have paid off, or I¡¯m going to be annoyed.¡± He drawls out, and the robotic referee boots up at the side of the field once more. ¡°You still looking for a two versus two boy?¡±


    ¡°Three versus three. Honoured Leader.¡± Aidinza did not want a single one of his team to not have a chance to get involved in this fight.


    ¡°You better not be the type to think a new varmint is enough for an easy win, you hear me?¡± Clay rolled his shoulders, and pulled a single Pok¨¦ball from his side, expanding the device before he gestured at the screen.


    ¡°This will be a Three on Three battle! Gym Leader Clay will choose first!¡± The robotic voice once more made its appearance, and a moment later there was a flash of red. It was Onix, the powerful rock snake letting out a rock grinding roar, as its tail slammed into the ground.


    Aidinza did not need to wait for the robotic voice to prompt him this time, Sandile appeared on the field with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.


    ¡°Yer reptile is looking pretty intimidatin¡¯ there, boy. Good look for that line to have.¡± Clay¡¯s voice rang out over the sound of the referee¡¯s countdown, and Aidinza resisted the urge to grin, Sandile had been as serious as the desert croc could be about the training that Aidinza put him through.


    ¡°Begin!¡±


    ¡°Sandile, Sand Tomb!¡± Aidinza snaps out before Clay could order his Onix around, and with the extra training Sandile had been put through, it only took a moment for the sand to surge from its resting place, quickly raising a dust devil that partially obscured Onix from view.


    ¡°No thing for it, Bulldoze!¡± The massive rock snake surged forward through the sand tomb swirling around him, the wild charge leaving a deep furrow in the earth.


    ¡°Dig!¡± The instruction was superfluous, he and Sandile had already discussed that the reptile should be quick to head underground when Onix went to attack him. The desert croc sent dirt and sand flying everywhere, as his powerful claws burrowed through the earth, and moments later he was entirely underground.


    ¡°Follow him.¡± Onix wasted no time in obeying his trainer''s instruction, and Aidinza got to see the disconcerting sight of Onix delving into the earth, leaving a hole nearly five times the size of Sandile¡¯s behind it.


    It left the two men in a slightly awkward position, both pok¨¦mon were more than likely too far underground to properly hear any order, and any order would more likely just give away what they are thinking to their opponent. Clay seemed unphased by this, however, simply flicking out his phone and appearing to type something into it.


    Honestly, if anyone was to be looking into the gym right at this moment, they could be forgiven for thinking that nothing was happening. Of course, standing in the gym would dispel that notion immediately, as the earth trembled and shook with Onix¡¯s every movement.


    Despite the near earthquake Sandile¡¯s opponent caused with its mere existence, Aidinza remained calm. He had been expecting this to happen, and part of the discussion with Sandile was about what he wanted to happen while he was hidden from view.


    It was not that complex, all he wanted Sandile to do was gather as much energy with Hone Claws as he could before he went after Onix.


    A moment later, he saw that plan put into practice, as Onix exploded up from the ground! But this was not by his own power, as the sheer force that he had been hit with sent him high in the air. No, the reason for his flight was quickly revealed, as Sandile followed not long after him, all the muscles on his body bulging and quivering as the power of several consecutive Hone Claws flowed through him, empowering him with the strange energy of distortion.


    ¡°Yer still keepin¡¯ with that trick? Smack down, into Dragons Breath! Let''s make us a campfire.¡± Onix, in a feat that boggled Aidinza¡¯s mind, regained control of his flight as he reached the apex, twisting the boulders that made up his body in several different directions.


    Then he began a furious descent, slamming into the ground with a mighty bang, the earth audibly cracking under his weight as dust was sent everywhere.


    ¡°Sandile Sand Tomb!¡± Aidinza demands, wanting to take advantage of all the loose detritus that Onix had kindly sent into the air. With the power from Hone Claws at his claw tips, it proved to be an easy task for the desert dweller, as all dust kicked up by Onix froze, before twisting into a potent tornado that encompassed a quarter of the room. However despite earning a roar of pain from the Onix, it did not stop him from his next attack, and a moment later it was revealed that while Sandile took control of all the dust, Onix had taken control of the larger debris. Two dozen sharp rocks sliced through the air towards Sandile in a shotgun spray, slamming into the reptile and sending him flying backwards.


    ¡°Cushion your fall!¡± The order was sparse on details, but Aidinza hoped that Sandile would understand his intent, and considering the way that sand surged up to catch the reptile, as he turned the manipulation behind Sand Tomb to his own safety, it seemed that the intent came across.


    Then the whipping dervish of sand surrounding Onix lights up with a stream of powerful blue light and explodes outwards sending clumps of detritus everywhere and revealing Onix. It was clear the pok¨¦mon was in dire straits, its body was worn away, and its breathing laboured as it kept low to the ground.


    ¡°Flash Cannon.¡±/¡±Sand Tomb!¡± The two trainers ordered near-simultaneously, and as the dust coating the ground surged into existence once more, Onix unhinged his jaw and spat out a beam of vividly silver energy, that roiled and spun in a kaleidoscope of different greys as it reflected the light of the sun brightly.


    The beam of energy slammed into Sandile with incredible force, sending the desert croc flying. But Sandile had already whipped up another Sand Tomb, and Clay clearly thought that it was a foregone conclusion, returning his rock snake with a flash of red light.


    ¡°Gym Leader Clay¡¯s Onix is unable to battle! Clay must now release his second pok¨¦mon.¡± Aidinza let a grin cross his face, as he focused on where Sandile had dragged himself up, the Flash Cannon had clearly done a number on the reptile, who looked scuffed up and dirty. But as he let out a deep, primal growl, a sign of Moxie setting in, and his dark eyes flashed dangerously, Aidinza knew that he was far from being out of this fight.


    ¡°You faltered here last time boy, put up a better fight! Go Baltoy!¡± The small floating pok¨¦mon, the one that had been the cause of Aidinza¡¯s soul-crushing loss last time he was here, appeared.


    ¡°Dig.¡± Aidinza snapped out, it might not put Sandile in a position to reach Baltoy, but it would certainly prevent the clay doll pok¨¦mon from raining down moves on the ground-bound pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Baltoy, let''s try some of those new-age fancy pants meditations! Calm Mind.¡± Clay drawled out, and Aidinza felt his lips twist into a slight scowl. He had done research on Baltoy since his loss, and while it was not something the pok¨¦mon learned naturally, it was a common move to teach the psychic-type, any psychic-type really. It allowed them to focus their mind and strengthen their strange powers.


    It put a time limit on the two of them, to prevent Baltoy from just powering up to the point where it could sweep through Aidinza¡¯s team.


    But thankfully, Aidinza already had an idea. Though telling Sandile to cushion his fall had been a spur of the moment idea, the fact that Sandile managed it told Aidinza that Sandile was capable of supporting his own weight with sand, and that was before he started pulling from the well of power from Moxie.


    Aidinza placed two fingers into his mouth, and let out a piercing whistle, the loudest he could manage, and the signal for Sandile to surface, even if he had not figured out an attack angle.


    ¡°Sand Tomb! Make steps to reach it!¡± Sandile got the idea instantly once more, and sand surged towards him, quickly forming unsteady, dripping platforms that he raced up, each platform collapsing the moment after he stepped on it.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be.¡± Aidinza¡¯s attention flicked to Clay as he spoke, and caught him shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°Baltoy cool things down with Ice Beam!¡±


    Baltoy¡¯s eyes glowed blue behind their eyelids for a moment, and his horn lit up similarly moments later. Then, just before Sandile would be in range to slam into Baltoy, a frigid blue beam burst out of its horn, crackling across the distance to slam into Sandile. A thick layer of hoarfrost formed over the reptile, and Aidinza had to hold back a wince, he knew how painful cold could be for Sandile. But despite that, Sandile still lunged across the final gap, his potent jaws snapping down onto the Baltoys lower spike, the added weight sending both hurtling towards the ground.


    The two of them landed with a heavy bang, not quite the brutal crash of Onix¡¯s landing, but for the manifold smaller pok¨¦mon it was still brutal, sending a cloud of dust into the air. When it dissipated it revealed Sandile knocked unconscious, with Baltoy still trapped in his jaws, and a visible indent in the ground where Sandile had slammed his opponent into the ground.


    Unfortunately, the ground-psychic type was still conscious even after that, but as it rose into the air, its levitation was unsteady and tilted.


    ¡°Heh, I knew that Sandile was a beaut the moment I saw it, but if you keep putting in the effort for him he¡¯ll take you miles.¡± Aidinza grinned, despite the loss, the open and very genuine praise from someone as august as Clay sending a jolt of warmth through him.


    ¡°The Challenger¡¯s sandile is unable to battle! The challenger must now send out his second pok¨¦mon!¡± Aidinza hardly even waits for the robot to finish speaking, before Astazhei entered the area with a mighty cry, a single beat of his wings sending dust flying, his body unleashed from the weights that had been holding him down recently.


    ¡°Wing Attack.¡± Astazhei let out another potent cry, before flinging himself towards the weakened Baltoy, quickly reaching his top speed as his right-wing glowed with white light.


    ¡°Baltoy Ice Beam!¡± Clay called, but it was a hopeless order, Astazhei had dropped into a dive towards the weakly hovering ground-type, and before the blue glow could even spread from its eyes to its horn, he was sent smashing into the ground, creating a second indentation not far from the one Sandile made with his form.


    ¡°Gym Leader Clay¡¯s Baltoy is unable to battle! Clay must now release his third pok¨¦mon!¡± For a moment Clay paused, letting a hand hover over one of his pok¨¦balls before seemingly deciding against it, and releasing a pok¨¦mon from another pok¨¦ball.


    As the flash disappeared, Aidinza saw that it was a bipedal pok¨¦mon, with a short body, and a long pink-tipped snout. Its body itself had an odd almost jagged black and blue pattern to it and had two arms that looked almost seamless when they were by its side. But as it raised them, it revealed that it had two stubby, but powerful arms capped in three long, sharp claws.


    It was a Drilbur, a not unfamiliar sight to Aidinza, more than a few made the Ya¡¯an-ah desert their home. Not exactly an ideal opponent for Astazhei, though that was because Drilbur was at a distinct disadvantage.


    ¡°Dig!¡± Clay snapped out instantly, seemingly agreeing with Aidinza¡¯s assessment of Drilbur¡¯s capabilities against Astazhei. Drilbur buried his claws in the ground and started spinning, sending dirt everywhere and quickly disappearing. ¡°Bird-types and the like are a good counter to most ground-types, but that does not mean that they are an instant victory you hear? SANDSTORM!¡±


    Aidinza winced at the bellow Clay let out, the noise louder than even the sound of Onix crashing back into the earth. Then he winced for a different reason, as he easily recognised the signs of a stirring sandstorm. It was not immediate, clearly, the drilbur was not powerful enough to whip out a sandstorm casually, but soon enough it would turn into something vicious, that would sand away at Astazhei¡¯s unprotected body until the flying type fell unconscious.


    Clay was going to simply wait Astazhei out. Unfortunately, Aidinza was not sure that Astazhei had anything to counteract that. As strong as the bird was, he was far from being able to smash through metres of ground with just his body. Nor did he have anything he could send after Drilbur to flush the mole pok¨¦mon out. Thankfully, Aidinza had a backup for this, Naazin had more than enough power to flush out the drilbur with a few well placed water-type moves, and his plated body was far more suited to resisting the effects of the oncoming sand storm.


    Unfortunately, Astazhei was certainly not going to like what Aidinza was about to do. ¡°You can¡¯t hit him while he¡¯s underground!¡± He calls out, hoping that the explanation would soften Astazhei¡¯s negative reaction, as he raises up the flying type''s pok¨¦ball.


    Of course, it seemed that Astazhei took that more as direction than an explanation of why he was about to be recalled, and with a mighty caw he dove, wings tight against his side.


    Towards the hole that Drilbur had left in the ground.


    ¡°Did yer bird-type just fly straight underground?¡± Clay boggled at the sight of Astazhei¡¯s disappearance, his craggy face turning incredulous. Aidinza could only shrug, it seemed that Astazhei had decided that several metres of ground between him and his target would not stop him.


    This time Clay did not check his phone as the two trainers waited for their underground pok¨¦mon, still looking like he was trying to decide between laughing at what just happened, and just giving up.


    Nearly half a minute passed with nothing happening, Aidinza waiting on the edge of his seat the entire time, until the earth cracked open again, revealing a terrified Drilbur, its eyes wide and its chest rising and falling in quick panicked breaths. The mole pok¨¦mon was incredibly beaten up, one of its long claws was cracked, it looked like its snout had been shoved up to the halfway point into dirt, and it was limping away from its entrance as quickly as it could.


    Then Astazhei exploded out of the hole with a mighty - and rather malicious sounding - cry, powerful wings sweeping forward, sending a gale of wind towards the drilbur, lifting the ground-type up and slamming its back down, leaving it entirely vulnerable to Astazhei as the flying-type dove for it.


    A moment later, a red flash of light returned the drilbur, and Aidinza looked over to see Clay with a strange look on his face.


    ¡°Gym Leader Clay¡¯s Drilbur is unable to battle! Challenger Aidinza is victorious!¡± Astazhei screamed victoriously at the announcement, turning his dive into a steep turn and slamming into Aidinza, sending the two of them stumbling over in a tangle of limbs, as the Flying-type chirped excitedly.


    Aidinza realised belatedly that he had also screamed in victory alongside Astazhei, and even now was wrestling with his pok¨¦mon, half in an attempt to pin him down for a hug, and half in the sheer adrenalin.


    This was not like beating Elesa, with Elesa there was the crowd sure, but there had not been the stakes or the feeling of overcoming something that beating Clay brought him. With Elesa he had just won against the Honoured Leader, against Clay it felt like he had triumphed. Conquered something that had delivered him his first important loss.


    At some point during his and Astazhei¡¯s celebrations, Clay had moved to stand over the two of them, and Aidinza looked up at him wild-eyed, with his fingers buried in Astazhei¡¯s dirty but still soft feathers.


    ¡°You did alright boy. You put in the work, and used that thick noggin of yers.¡± He glances at Astazhei, who was staring up at him challengingly. ¡°Or yer pok¨¦mon is just too stubborn to know what¡¯s logical.¡± He pulls out a shining badge from his pocket, looking like a cracked pillar of stone, whose top half had started to slide off diagonally, a number of different materials that Aidinza was half sure were meant to represent different soil types. ¡°You earned it boy, you earned the Quake badge.¡±


    The man doffed his hat once, before stepping forward and placing a single large hand on his shoulder. ¡°Now you run along, don¡¯t get too drunk now you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Honoured Leader Clay.¡± He managed distantly, too enamoured with the shining badge to really pay attention to the Gym Leader, as the man turned away and pulled out his phone. ¡°Come on Astazhei, time to go.¡±


    Astazhei trilled, examining the gym badge in Aidinza¡¯s hand with prideful white eyes. Aidinza hefted the bird up with him as he stood, grunting slightly at the exertion.


    ¡°YOU FOUND WHAT AT THE DOCKS?!¡± The sheer noise of Clay¡¯s voice shook Aidinza out of his victory fugue, as the large man stormed over to a nearby table containing five Pok¨¦balls, and then all but sprinted out of the room, the man moving with surprising speed considering his bulk.


    Aidinza found himself dithering for a moment, tempted to follow Clay. Whatever invoked such an intense reaction from an Honoured Leader surely could not be a good thing, and perhaps if Clay had been slightly slower he would have, but as Aidinza approached the door Clay had just rushed through, he found no real indicators of where the large man had gone.


    So instead, Aidinza decided to head back to Kaine¡¯s house, half out of concern for the strange behaviour of the ginger man, and half out of a desire to share his victory with the only person he really knew in this city.


    Strangely enough, Silt was not out front as he left the gym, the slightly older boy having left in his own hurry if the knocked over the chair was any indication. He would have to check the news when he got to Kaine¡¯s place it seemed.


    The streets grew tense as he walked them, the citizens of Driftveil becoming shady eyed and high strung. More than once the young nomad found himself eyed with suspicion, with hands hovering over pok¨¦balls.


    Something big had happened. Something that made the Driftveil citizens suspicious of obvious outsiders like Aidinza. He pulled his robes tighter over himself, as the attention grew uncomfortable, and walked faster through the suddenly cold streets of Driftveil. While it had never been openly welcoming before, he could sometimes at least expect a gruff nod if he met someone¡¯s eyes as he moved through the streets.


    Now, he was half sure that if he met someone¡¯s eyes, he would be forced into a fight with no way out. He was so on edge that against his better judgement he kept Astazhei out, the flying-type a ward against the suspicion.


    He felt an intense bolt of relief as he rounded the corner onto Kaine¡¯s street. As odd as he had been earlier today, it was surely better than the looks he was currently getting.


    He quickly walked up the pathway to the house and knocked on Kaine¡¯s white door, not even stopping to admire the flowers out front. There was no response, but Aidinza was sure he heard muffled voices.


    He tries again, louder this time, as the voices turn heated. This time the response was a loud, thunderous crash inside the building.


    Aidinza, already on edge, had no chance to resist the compulsion to act upon hearing that, and, after testing the doorknob to find it unlocked, he pushed his way inside.


    ¡°-igned up for, this is fucking insane.¡± Aidinza heard Kaine¡¯s voice first, frustration clear in every note, and an undercurrent of fear that sent a shock of concern through him.


    ¡°You signed up to help the cause, now shut up and help the cause.¡± Another, harsher voice shoots back, and Aidinza heard the characteristic sound of a pok¨¦ball being released. ¡°Or we will make you help the cause.¡±


    ¡°W-what are you doing?¡± There was no brash frustration in Kaine¡¯s voice anymore, and the undercurrent of fear had become a swirling eddy as a feline growl filled the house.


    Aidinza moved, crossing the distance between him and where the voices were in moments, Astazhei squawking at the sudden motion. He came to a heavy-duty door near the back of the hallway, and as the harsher voice began threatening Kaine again, he shoved his way through it, to reveal a stairwell leading down into a grungy, windowless room. Illuminated by two lights were four figures, three humans and one pok¨¦mon. Kaine stood pressed up against one of the carved dirt walls, menaced by the powerful form of a lithe Liepard, and two men in similar garb to Jamie, whose attention had shifted to Aidinza at the doorway.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± The one closest to the door demanded, he was the harsh voice that Aidinza had heard when he first entered. He was a stout man, heavyset and well-muscled, and though most of his hair was hidden behind his coif-like hoody, Aidinza could see that he was a dirty blonde. His brown eyes were flinty, and his lips had twisted into a sneer.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Aidinza answered with a question, supported by Astazhei on his shoulder, screeching loudly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t ask the questions here, boy.¡± The last man speaks with a similar twang to Clay, but that was where the similarities to the Gym Leader stopped, this man was a scrawny figure, all thin limbs and hunched posture, and electric blue - presumably dyed - hair.


    ¡°Get out of here Aidinza.¡± Kaine bites out, his face twisting into a paradoxical slant of half relief and half panicked.


    ¡°You¡¯re not heading anywhere. He¡¯s seen too much.¡± The harsh voice man glared at Aidinza for a moment, before gesturing towards the man at his side. ¡°Deal with him, Blake.¡± The scrawny man snarls at the squat man, his already rather ugly face turning even uglier, and he looks moments away from punching his ¡®partner¡¯


    ¡°Fuck you, Michael.¡± That earns him a sneer to his back, as Blake approached the stairwell, pulling a pok¨¦ball from inside his tunic, drawing Aidinza¡¯s attention briefly to the Pz symbol on his chest. ¡°Now kid you can either come down here and save me the trouble, or you can make this entertaining.¡±


    He enlarges the pok¨¦ball, and as Aidinza stares at him stone-faced, sends out a¡­ literal trash bag. A foul stench filled the room, quickly seeping up the stairway to cause Aidinza to wrinkle his nose.


    ¡°Gust.¡± Astazhei pushed himself into the air, nearly sending Aidinza stumbling over as he did so, and with a powerful flap of his wings, the room below was buffeted by a gale wind. The living trash bag was sent flying back into the dirt wall behind him with a heavy crash. It also had the pleasing side effect of getting the foul stench away from Aidinza. ¡°Step away from Kaine.¡± The Ya¡¯an-ah warned, as harsh and severe as the desert that raised him, green eyes gleaming dangerously.


    Both men turned to face Aidinza now, the feline threatening Kaine moving away from the pinned man at a gesture from the stout man.


    ¡°Hod¨¦ezy¨¦¨¦l bii haz aanii.¡± Aidinza offered, before remembering exactly where he was, no one here would understand anything said in the tongue of the Ya¡¯an-ah. ¡°Peace, whatever is happening here let Honoured Leader Clay deal with it.¡±


    The two men shared a glance and seemed to come to a quick, silent consensus. One that spelled trouble for Astazhei, as they stepped menacingly forward.


    ¡°Sucker Punch.¡± Aidinza scowled, as the leipard coiled up, and opened his mouth to order Astazhei, as another red flash from Blake filled the room. He stops a moment later, as the leipard flickered forward, and a paw glowing with darkness buried itself in his stomach.


    Aidinza stumbles backwards in pain, mind whiting out as he feels his stomach roil and surge, gut emptying all over himself and the floor through his mouth. He gasps for breath, distantly hearing Astazhei¡¯s enraged screech, as he collapses into a puddle of his own sick.


    With shaking hands he manages to unleash Naazin, as he feels something dark encroach at the edge of his vision. Humans were not meant to handle being the subject of a pok¨¦mons attack, especially not ones tainted with the strange energy of distortion.


    As Aidinza recovered from the literal Sucker Punch to the stomach, he heard the sound of battle raging, Astazhei¡¯s fury sounded out every few seconds and the sound of water cracking apart walls and dirt was obvious.


    It was as he was almost recovered that he noticed someone approaching him, a vaguely familiar bouncy figure. Blearily he sees cheerful blue eyes for a moment, and dimpled cheeks, before something grabbed his head and smashed it into the wall behind him.


    Things went dark.

 Crimes and Trespassing

    There was a haze over Aidinza¡¯s mind as he woke up, a white noise that rang in his ears while shadows clung to his vision as his head lolled, and a splitting pain dug behind his eyes. There was something blocking his mouth, and he felt something just tight enough to be noticeable around his neck.


    ¡°-mp him in Mistral Cave, if we throw him deep enough it will be a week before he manages to find anyone, and by that point he¡¯ll just be another voice in the crowd.¡± Aidinza flinches as the voice hits him, piercing through the ringing. He opens his eyes, and sees the inside of a roughspun sack.


    ¡°You want to throw someone with no pok¨¦mon in Mistral Cave? He¡¯ll starve to death.¡± It took a moment for Aidinza to realise that the second voice was familiar, and it took him several seconds to realise that it was Kaine¡¯s voice. The nomad twitched his hands, realising they were tied together tightly. He had been knocked out, he realises woozily, and from the sounds of it, so had Kaine.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have much of a place to speak here, fink.¡± The first voice - so harsh and rough - spat out, and an awkward silence fell over the room. ¡°Besides, he¡¯s Ya¡¯an-ah, if he can survive the desert, he can survive the caves.¡±


    ¡°With a concussion and whatever else you do to him?¡± Kaine¡¯s voice was¡­ moving. Was he not tied down? Maybe he was tied to something¡­ ¡°Just let him go, I¡¯ll talk to him, he won¡¯t say anything.¡±


    ¡°If he talks to Clay, we¡¯ll be made. No, we have to deal with him.¡± A third reedy male voice spoke, Blake his mind distantly noted, the man with the trash bag pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Urgh, let him go, shove in a cave, stop being a bunch of silly heads and just kill him and throw his body into the river!¡± A female - Jaime? - voice spoke with a cheerful bounce that was at odds with the contents of her words. They were talking about him, he noted distantly. Talking about killing him?


    ¡°He¡¯s just a kid.¡± It was strange to the addled boy''s mind to hear Michael, the harsh voiced man defending him especially against Jaime threatening to kill him. He blinks his eyes, thinking for a moment that he was still unconscious.


    ¡°He¡¯s a trainer.¡± The sneer in Jaime¡¯s voice was obvious, the cheerful beat in her voice disappearing behind an ugly coating of hate. ¡°I gave him a chance to give up his abusive ways yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Just give him time, he can be convinced.¡± Kaine''s protest had an edge of nervous desperation now; he was audibly scared of Jaime. The two men were noticeably silent.


    ¡°You going to give him a little talk? ¡®Oh Mr Trainer it''s so normal and natural to just give up. You should really try it¡¯.¡± Her voice turned childish and mocking. Was she implying¡­ Aidinza hears her walk over to him, and rip the sack off his head. Her fingers dug into his cheek, as she grabbed his face. ¡°Oh he looks so shocked and confused Kaine. Maybe you should explain things?¡±


    With bleary eyes Aidinza found the lanky form of Kaine, standing unbound in the middle of the room. It took a moment for Aidinza¡¯s eyes to clear, and he could see that the ginger man looked guilty. ¡°What?¡± He managed to spill out.


    ¡°Go on. You¡¯re usually so proud of it Kaine? Don¡¯t you do such a good job?¡± Jaime bounced over to the lanky man, standing on her tippy toes to place her hand around his shoulders. Kaine freezes and stays silent. ¡°Oh, are you not proud of it?¡± Her face turns angry. ¡°You a fucking fink?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ when I heard that you lost to Clay, I was trying to get you to give up on being a trainer. The speech and the story that I gave you I learned from Plasma. It¡¯s supposed to make you want to give up.¡± Betrayal was a cold and burning feeling, that felt like it consumed whatever it touched and left behind only a frozen void. Aidinza stared at Kaine wide eyed.


    ¡°And how many times have you done it to other people?¡± Jaime presses, her lips tilting up into a smile, face dimpling cutely in a way that felt utterly at odds with the situation.


    ¡°Six times.¡± He admits, head hanging, and Aidinza swallows heavily. He was what, just another target for Kaine? A trainer he saw and decided looked vulnerable.


    ¡°Oh would you look at that face? I¡¯m not sure he¡¯s going to be too interested in listening to you anymore. Just like a trainer, the second he learns something that upsets him, is the moment he casts away his friendship.¡± She sneers out, and as Aidinza¡¯s head cleared, he could not help but think that she was reaching extremely hard. ¡°And leaving him in that cave is just going to be starving him to death, and that¡¯s pretty cruel.¡±


    There was a tension in the room as she tapped at her lips with her pointer finger, rocking back and forth on her feet. All three males knew what was about to happen.


    ¡°That just leaves killing him now, right?¡± She smiles again, looking like she had just declared they would all go for a fun trip to the pool, rather than condemning someone to death. Kaine flinches at the declaration, and even Michael and Blake looked uncomfortable. ¡°You know it has to be done right? You aren¡¯t going to baulk at what our cause needs, right? And after that we will all know we¡¯re in this together.¡±


    She glances around the room at the likewise dressed men and as her blue eyed stare crossed over them each in turn, they flinched back, muttering their agreement. It was clear she was calling the shots.


    Aidinza glanced around the grungy basement, cursing for a moment that he was not even going to be done the honour of being killed under the Sun, as his heart began to race. The reality of the situation setting in. He could make out three pokeballs on a table nearby, and could tell they were his; Astazhei''s pokeball had tooth marks from where Sandile had gummed on it.


    He tugged at his bonds for a moment, they were tight, but maybe if he leveraged them against something he could snap them free. ¡°Koroky, deal with him.¡± Aidinza froze as a deep growl filled the basement, a very familiar sound to him.


    The growl of a krokorok. Aidinza¡¯s eyes snapped to where the large form of sandile¡¯s evolution straightened up to its full height. It was rather similar to sandile in many of its features, but rather than being quadrupedal, it was bipedal, its two front legs now two stout and powerful arms, and black spikes running down its spine and much longer tail. Its snout had lengthened, and its features strayed from the juvenile cute features of its pre-evolution, to something sharper and altogether harsher.


    The pok¨¦mon was a hulking member of his species, Aidinza could tell that outright, and the reddish tinge that its beige skin had taken on hinted that the pok¨¦mon was not far from taking the plunge into being one of the mighty tyrants of the desert, a Krookodile.


    Truly, life had conspired to deliver upon him a terrible death. Hidden from the sun, and at the hands of his people¡¯s spiritual pok¨¦mon; he even had the feeling that these four would not do him the honour of proper death rites.


    He tests his plastic bonds again, as the krokorok approaches, the desperate pace of his heart cooling under a sharp focus. He did not have time to find something to leverage it against, and with them tied up behind him he could not use his stomach to break them. But he might be able to jam his fingers into them and use them to snap the plastic. It would probably be more likely to mangle his hand, but his desperate mind could come up with little else.


    He managed to stab a thumb into the sharp gap, before the room exploded into action. First was Kaine, it seemed that he had had some sort of change of heart, or just could not let someone he knew personally get killed right in front of him. Whatever the reason, the lanky man shoved himself past a shocked Blake, and closed his hand around one of Aidinza¡¯s pok¨¦balls.


    The krokorok acted second, whirling around to face Kaine, and lunging forward, fire flickering to life between its wickedly sharp teeth.


    Third, was the basement door smashing open, revealing a sight that Aidinza was unable to process for several seconds. The sock-bunned girl standing there, with intense, focused eyes was the last person that Aidinza would have expected to be here.


    Two twin flashes of red filled the basement, as Rosa took less than a moment to process the situation and Kaine hit the release on Sandile¡¯s pok¨¦ball.


    ¡°Servine Leaf Blade.¡± Rosa¡¯s voice was icy, and before the red flash had even ceased illuminating the room, a sharp green glow replaced it, as a serpentine body blurred across the room, and slammed its tail into the krokorok.


    ¡°Koroky! Fire Fang!¡± The flicker of flame that Aidinza had seen a moment ago turned into a burning inferno contained in the bipedal desert croc¡¯s mouth, as it grabbed onto Servine¡¯s body, and lunged downwards to bite down on its body.


    ¡°Sandile.¡± Aidizna snapped out, before freezing as he struggled to think of what he would actually have the younger croc do. Luckily, Sandile was far more on the ball than his trainer, and a moment later he smashed into his older cousin, forcing it to drop the grass snake.


    Servine wasted no time in taking advantage of the opening, vines bursting from it¡¯s form and wrapping around the krokorok, and bodily tossing it deeper into the basement, the ground-type flying past where Blake had restrained Kaine, and Jaime was staring at him with a lethal slant to her face. She seemed so caught up in Kaine that she was ignoring the fight going on a few metres from her, as she pulled a switchblade out of her pocket, the steel wickedly sharp as she twirled it through her fingers.


    ¡°Sandile, Sand Tomb around Kaine!¡± Aidinza hoped that the ginger man understood his reasoning, the oncoming sand bath would not be pleasant for him, but it would certainly be better for him than a knife to the stomach.


    Sandile wasted no time in obeying, the room was full of dust and sand, and though much of it was moist, there was more than enough for Sandile¡¯s purposes. A moment later, a pained scream fills the basement, and Blake is forced away from Kaine, as the lanky man disappears behind a swirl of rough sand.


    The Ya''an-ah boy forces himself to his feet, as Servine and the krokorok clash again, Rosa ordering a leaf tornado that fills the entire room with harsh wind. He stumbled over to a nearby table, bracing his hands against the outcropped wood, and in a single sharp motion, freed himself.


    He turns to see Sandile locked in a fight with a barely conscious rubbish pokemon, and a fierce looking Watchog, the upright red and yellow lined pokemon keeping Sandile at bay with a three pronged attack, using its arms, its legs, and its long prehensile tail in a confusing assault.


    ¡°Flex on it.¡± Aidinza snaps out, glancing to where Rosa had advanced in the room, and was proving more than a match for the krokorok, even with Jaime having taken over actually ordering it, now that she was denied Kaine¡¯s blood. He catches sight of Sandile flexing for a moment, before he turned his attention to his other two pok¨¦balls, Astazhei¡¯s had been knocked onto the ground and getting it would see him kneeling down and half wedging himself between a table and some sort of cabinet. Far more vulnerable than he was comfortable with. But Naazin¡¯s pok¨¦ball was just sitting on the table.


    He snatches the ball, and releases the clauncher in front of him, seeing the red-white pok¨¦mon scuffed up, and favouring his left legs, but clearly pissed, if the way it threw itself into battle against the krokorok was to be judged, a corona of water forming around him, as he entered the fastest Aqua Jet Aidinza had ever seen.


    It seemed Naazin had his own idea on how he wanted to contribute to the fight, and Aidinza was fine to leave it to him, as he turned back to where Sandile was fighting. The desert croc had not been idle, his powerful jaws had closed around the midsection of the Watchog, thrashing him about and slamming him into the ground over and over, as he focused on a second Sand Tomb that consumed the trash bag.


    It was a strangely savage way of fighting that Aidinza was not used to seeing from Sandile. Battles usually had an undercurrent of not quite safety, but security in them. This on the other hand was chaotic, and brutal. The scent of blood fills the air, as Sandile releases the Watchog and it is sent slamming into the wall.


    Then, with a single sharp whistle, it was over. A strange green jelly-like creature appears with a white flash, and disappears with another, taking with it Jaime, as the krokorok dug into the earth, disappearing in moments.


    Leaving Michael and Blake behind. The two men shared a glance, as three pok¨¦mon and two trainers turned their attention to them.


    Wisely, considering that Sandile alone had dominated the two pok¨¦mon they had sent out to contribute to the fight, the two men returned their pok¨¦mon, and raised their hands up.


    A universal gesture of surrender.


    Aidizna glanced at Rosa, subconsciously looking for direction from the girl he had met barely a week ago. But she was ignoring him, mouth twisted into a scowl as she stared at where Jaime had just disappeared, one she turned onto the two men.


    ¡°Empty your pockets, and get on the ground with your hands behind your head.¡± There was no disobeying the whip-sharp command in her voice, and even Aidinza found himself compelled to obey. The two men did not even bother exchanging a glance, emptying out their pockets quickly, and kneeling on the floor. ¡°That includes you too.¡± She shoots towards Kaine, freshly revealed from the sand tomb he had been covered by.


    The man was in quite the state, skin rubbed red and bloody by the rough sand. But he did not protest, just getting onto his knees.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Then, once the three of them had assumed the position, Rosa ordered Servine to properly restrain them, and pulled something rectangular out of her pocket, tapping into it, much like Clay did on his phone.


    Aidinza listened for a moment as she addressed someone on the other end, a ¡®Doc J¡¯ of some kind, which Aidinza knew was some form of healer. It made sense to him, Kaine was bleeding a great deal. Though he personally would have gone with informing an Elder, or even Honoured Leader Clay.


    With her distracted, and the three men restrained, Aidinza turns to retrieve Astazhei¡¯s pok¨¦ball. It was as he was clipping it to his belt, and rising to his feet, that he glanced over his shoulder and found Rosa looming over him. Freezing awkwardly, he looked up to meet her blue eyes, half bent legs shaking underneath him slightly.


    ¡°You will be sticking around to give a statement.¡± She informed him, before her brow furrowed and she tilted her head and stepped closer, examining him. And trapping him in his awkward half crouched position. ¡°Do I know you?¡±


    ¡°We fought a week ago.¡± He tries to lean back from her, uncomfortable with the fact he could smell her flowery perfume punctuated by her sweat. But his awkward position meant that all he could do was crouch lower.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like someone I beat.¡± She looked genuinely confused at that, and Aidinza could not help but think that she genuinely did just assume if she had fought someone that she had beat them.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t beat me.¡± Her thin eyebrow arcs at that, disappearing behind a new hat accessory, and she looked at him from another angle. Then her face fell, and she rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Oh the rufflet kid. You know if I fought you seriously, and not a one on two you would have stood no cha-.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Aidinza interrupts, wanting to get his gratitude out there before she sours it into him wishing that the krokorok had been given a minute longer. ¡°You saved my life.¡± He tries to give her a grateful smile, but looking over his shoulder as he was, he was not sure if it translated well.


    ¡°O-oh um well think n-nothi-.¡± She for some reason goes crimson, stuttering for a moment before she pauses and takes a deep breath. ¡°Che, of course I did, a hopeless trainer like you needs someone experienced like me to make sure you don¡¯t drown yourself in a bucket of water or something.¡±


    Aidinza blinks and stares blankly at the girl, who merely jut out her chin proudly. He wonders if she even registered how ridiculous what she said was, or if she just assumed it came out right.


    ¡°Right.¡± The two of them stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments longer, him baffled, and her¡­ amused? With his legs really starting to burn from the awkward position, Aidinza decided it was high time to get her to no longer have her pin him to the wall. ¡°Can I stand up please?¡±


    She blinked at that, and Aidinza was now sure that that was a smug look in her eyes, as her lips tilted into a condescending smile. ¡°I know you¡¯re grateful, but you don¡¯t have to dedicate your whole life to me, you can do simple things without asking me.¡±


    Aidinza straightened up, the swift movement sending the girl stumbling backwards slightly, arms pinwheeling out by her side, as the nearly a head taller Aidinza stood over her.


    ¡°Che, didn¡¯t your mum ever teach you to not get physical with women?¡± She complained, as she finally stepped away.


    He let this woman save his life. He harshly regretted that. He glances over towards Naazin and Sandile. Naazin was watching the three men with startling intensity, but Sandile was watching the byplay with the two trainers, and Aidinza could easily read the amusement on the reptile''s scuffed face. Everyone was enjoying his discomfort today it seemed.


    But he does not dwell on that for long, turning to Kaine, bound on the floor in vines. He was still bleeding, a small puddle of blood forming as it dripped from his skin-stripped arm. The Ya¡¯an-ah stared at the blood for a moment. For a single insane moment, he found himself analysing the order to cover him in Sand Tomb. He could have ordered a Sand Attack instead, blinding Jaime. Or tried to pull off a similar trick to the platforms against Clay¡¯s baltoy, just smaller.


    He shakes his head slightly, but his eyes fell back to the blood nonetheless. He should do something about that, probably. He had been taught the basics of treating wounds from sandstorms, how to wash out the sand and staunch the deep abrasions. He should step forward and do what he could to treat the man.


    He should.


    But there was a still ambivalence that stayed his hand, a lack of drive to move forward. He was scared to look too deep at it, scared to touch the pulsating hurt that was buried under adrenaline, and willful disassociation.


    Would the feeling remain ambivalent, if he addressed his feelings right here, right now? Would he find himself driven to do something he would regret? Was he already doing something that he would regret, with his inaction? Which way would he regret, not doing something to help.


    Or not doing something to prevent his recovery.


    Thankfully, that was the moment the door was slammed open again, and the large form of a furious Clay glared down into the room.


    ¡°Now all yall better hope that you have good excuses.¡±


    -


    The Driftveil Police Station overlooked the entire city, perched on the cliff which a quarter of the city was carved into.


    Perhaps most importantly to Aidinza, it overlooked the docks, where the league had taken over, and was out in full force. Hundreds of people, hundreds of trainers cordoned off several massive boats, enforced by hulking pok¨¦mon, or imposing spectres that sent a shiver up Aidinza¡¯s spine just looking at, even from this distance.


    But the main attraction was pok¨¦mon that swarmed over the boats themselves, the blue-black figure of Swoobat, the strange brown pok¨¦mon Mark had - Beheeyem he remembered distantly - and even the green pok¨¦mon that had disappeared with Jaime.


    He was also sure that he saw spectres flicker through the hulls of the ships, disappearing or reappearing at random.


    ¡°The League¡¯s out in force.¡± Aidinza glances over his shoulder to see Silt standing there, alongside a strange, serpentine creature, with coiled pouches twisted down its body. ¡°They¡­ ah can¡¯t really afford to do anything else?¡± His voice took on the same rising inflection of the first time they met, and Aidinza could already tell this conversation was going to be awkward.


    ¡°Have they not found the danger?¡± Aidinza asks, as he watches another team of trainers step onto the boat.


    ¡°Nah? I mean yeah? Like Uncle located the three bombs pretty early on. It¡¯s just like¡­ this is the only port we have left. Can¡¯t let anyone think The League won¡¯t come down with all the force of a Dragon Rush.¡± He grins at that, looking pleased at something. Though Aidinza was not sure at what.


    ¡°Bombs?¡± He had read up on some pok¨¦mon moves that shared the name, but had not exactly felt compelled to research it further.


    ¡°Yeah, like boom.¡± He pulls his hands away from each other, as he makes an odd crinkly sound with his mouth. ¡°Someone set them up to scuttle the ships, and all three were scheduled to head out to open sea at the same time. I reckon that they were trying to block the entire river mouth, making it impassable.¡±


    Well this was turning out less awkward than he expected, and far more informative. ¡°Why would someone try that?¡±


    ¡°Well like I said, this is our only port really, certainly the only one allowed to receive international cargo. Consequences of losing I guess.¡± He shrugs, and rubs at the back of his neck. ¡°And a lot of Unova relies on it for the economy. Castelia and Nimbasa would starve if we weren¡¯t getting imports to support them, and Mistralton and Icirrus would be forced to entirely rely on their own pretty scarce farmlands.¡±


    ¡°Lot of damage then.¡± He had seen Castelia from a distance, and oftentimes found himself wondering how the massive city could manage to support itself. With the Ya¡¯an-ah desert above it, and nothing but sea below it¡­


    Even if they plundered the sea, it surely could not be enough? The Ya¡¯an-ah struggled to support their population at times, and they had the entirety of their desert to feed from.


    But perhaps the massive cargo ships would have enough food to sustain the blot of light on the south horizon.


    ¡°Lots of damage.¡± He agreed, and glanced over his shoulder. ¡°We might have had to beg the National League, or maybe even worse, Ferrum for aid.¡±


    ¡°Silt!¡± The just named boy jumped out of his skin, as Clay¡¯s voice boomed out from inside the police station. ¡°I said grab the kid, not have a mothers meeting with him.¡±


    ¡°Er S-sorry Uncle!¡± He calls back, with all the same volume, but lacking the certainty that saw Clay¡¯s voice shaking buildings. ¡°Uh, yeah Uncle wants to talk to you.¡± He gestures quickly towards the door to the police station then steals away, nervous feet making quick strides.


    Aidinza watches the boy¡¯s retreating back for a moment, wondering what his life must be like, for him to be so vastly different from his uncle. For the slightest of chastisement to see him redden with embarrassment? For that moment, he felt some of his dislike of putting up with the Driftveil gym trainer spilled away, under a curiosity of just who Silt was.


    But he dragged his mind out of that quick enough, an Honoured Leader had requested his presence, and Aidinza was not ill-raised enough to leave him waiting.


    Inside the police station was bedlam, the same bedlam that had driven him outside for fresh air, and an unclustered view. Dozens of men and women filted around, clad in various stages in a blue uniform. Noise crashed down on Aidinza like a storm, sending a harsh whine ringing through his ears, and a headache pulsing to life as his muscles tensed. It was different to the noise at Nimbasa Gym, where the noise had been formless. This was anything but formless, the shouts and demands were pointed. Each important in their own ways, each conveying information. This did not just leave him lightheaded, this saw him panicked and nervous.


    Something that the officers inside seemed to pick up on, if the side eyes he was getting was to be read into.


    Pushing through into the conference room on the second floor, where Clay had taken over, was relieving in a way that saw his tension headache draining away. Inside Clay sat cross-armed, and stern-faced at the head of a long table; a figure that dominated the room he was in easily. Across from him, at the other end of the long table was Rosa lounging over the chair with a fist propping up her cheek.


    ¡°Boy.¡± Clay nodded at Aidinza, before gesturing at the table, and Aidinza eyed it, wondering where exactly he was supposed to sit. Sitting at Clay¡¯s right hand was out of the question, improper in a way that Aidinza would never allow himself, but sitting near Rosa was as unappealing as ever.


    ¡°Honoured Leader.¡± Aidinza bowed slightly, before he let the silence in the air grow too long. Not willing to be too presumptuous, and not willing to sit too close to the girl borderline swinging on her chair, he took a seat dead centre between the two.


    ¡°Yer statement seems to line up with the others, but I wanted to ask a few questions, just personal curiosity.¡± Clay drawls out, dark eyes scanning over Aidinza for a moment. The nomad nods, having expected that when he was told to wait around after he had written down everything.


    ¡°Now, in yer statement, you mention that you heard sounds of ¡®several muffled, but heated voices¡¯ after you knocked for the second time?¡± Aidinza nods silently, fiddling with the cloth of his poncho. ¡°Now you then say that you heard a violent crash, and moved inside. It is then that you heard the voices clearly, and heard the homeowner¡¯s voice ¡®swirl with an eddy of fear¡¯ and after that poetic realisation, you moved downstairs and found the homeowner, and two plasma-garbed men, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, honoured leader.¡± The frown lines on Clay¡¯s face deepen, as he leans back in his chair and turns his attention onto where Rosa was still lounging back in her chair.


    ¡°Now that makes sense to me, you heard a scuffle through a door, and investigated. The noises were muffled and you could only hear them at the doorstep.¡± Aidinza nodded along with the Gym Leader''s drawl, despite Clay not looking at him, in favour of scowling at Rosa¡¯s feet, as she propped them up on the table. ¡°Now, with that in consideration. How do you, across the street, hear anything girl.¡±


    ¡°I saw some of the neighbours concerned about the noises coming from the house while walking down the street, and like I said in my statement, I investigated.¡± Rosa¡¯s tone would have her hide tanned by an elder. The way she rolled her eyes would see her spending a night freezing outside the tents to learn respect.


    Aidinza was not impressed, and judging by the deepening scowl on Clay¡¯s face, he was not either.


    ¡°Now from the statements given by the homeowner, young mister Aidinza was out for a minute thirty, and the medical officer''s initial report on his neurological situation supports that.¡± For a long moment, Clay fell silent, just staring Rosa down, as she squirmed underneath his gaze. ¡°My question then becomes, why exactly you barged into a home, not hearing any sort of scuffle after a mere minute thirty?¡±


    Rosa slowly lowers her feet from the conference table, her blue eyes narrowing. ¡°What exactly are you implying Clay?¡± Aidinza¡¯s eyes flick between the two of them, feeling a mounting tension.


    ¡°The only reason yer still in my city, Trainer Rosa, is that I was assured that yer string of breaking and entering was simply a misunderstanding. I want to make sure that yer not attempting to repudiate that.¡± There was a flash of something across Rosa¡¯s face, something there and gone so fast that Aidinza could not be sure that it was there at all. But if he was forced to name what he saw, he would have to say hurt. Or maybe mortification.


    ¡°Honoured Leader, are you trying to accuse Rosa of breaking the law?¡± It was clear that neither of the two expected his interjection, and it was shockingly in sync the way that they turned their stares onto him.


    ¡°Trainer Rosa in her barely more than a week stay in my city, has been written up for seven accounts of trespassing and one account of breaking and entering. It is only the testimony and assurance of Professor Juniper that it would not happen again that saw me dismiss the case.¡± As Gym Leader Clay spoke, his attention left Aidinza to return to Rosa. It was very clear his entire speech was meant for her. ¡°Her entering the property without due cause leaves me suspicious that perhaps I should revisit her actions prior.¡±


    That in many ways, should have been that for Aidinza. At home, with the Naisho¡¯h, that would be that. An Elder had spoken. It was his duty and expectation to bow his head and let them carry on as they decided. That aside, Aidinza did not particularly like Rosa. She was arrogant and rude. Without manners or respect, even to someone as respected as an Honoured Leader ¡°If she hadn¡¯t come in I would be dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so certain that those extenuating circumstances apply to her thinking at the time. Her statement, and the Home Owners statement, imply that it was not a reasonable belief of a crime in process that led her to entering the property.¡± Clay stares down at the teen girl who for the first time seemed to be wilting underneath the glare.


    But that being said. This dressing down felt¡­ ingenuine to Aidinza. Ya''an-ah elders were not always fair, but they always did what they felt was best, or easiest to resolve a situation and only that situation. But here, there was an undertone, a backstory and motivation beyond the surface that sat ill with Aidinza.


    ¡°In the Ya¡¯an-ah desert, we do not cut away a child¡¯s hand for stealing water for a dying man.¡± Aidinza¡¯s green eyes came to meet the Honoured Leader¡¯s, placid, yet bright. ¡°To steal is wrong, but to teach that they should leave someone to die of thirst is worse. That¡¯s a truth above even the Sun.¡±


    A silence hung in the air after the young man''s declaration, and he could feel Rosa¡¯s stare digging into the side of his head, as he calmly maintained eye contact with Gym Leader Clay, trying to discern the curly haired man¡¯s thoughts.


    But Clay was stone, unreadable and unmoving, as his brown eyes slowly scanned the young nomads face. Slowly Clay¡¯s eyes grew darker and more distant, a haunting shadow of some past flickering over him and giving his stare a weight that quickly grew uncomfortable for the young Nomad.


    Then the man snorted, and turned his attention back to Rosa. ¡°I want you out of my city, and so help you Arceus if I have reason to believe you trespass on any of my citizens property.¡± The large man just lets the threat hang in the air, before his lips twitch slightly. ¡°Now both of you get out of here.¡±


    Aidinza wasted no time in leaving, the uncomfortable weight of Clay¡¯s stare lingering on his shoulders, and in moments he was standing in the long plain-white hallways of the police station.


    ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t reckon you would have the balls to say anything back there. But have to admit, you proved me wrong Sandy.¡± Sandy? Aidinza looked over his shoulder, to where Rosa was leaning against the wall, smugly smirking as what seemed her standard, seemingly having recovered her composure at some point. ¡°Course, I could have dealt with it, but good to know that chivalry isn¡¯t dead.¡±


    It was almost enough to break Aidinza¡¯s placid politeness, almost enough to break his reservation with those outside the harsh comfort of his mother desert.


    ¡°It¡¯s impressive that you are unpleasant enough to make me regret that.¡± Well, it seemed that he overestimated his own restraint. The lapse in self control only seemed to amuse Rosa however, her left eyebrow arching.


    ¡°Oooh the little sandshrew has claws after all.¡± Rosa claws at the air, in some odd pantomime that Aidinza could hardly begin to guess at the reason for. He sighs, turning to face her fully, and runs a hand through his vivid red locks.


    ¡°What are you trying to do?¡± Aidinza gestures with his hands first towards the girl, and then into the air in helpless confusion. ¡°Are you trying to be annoying? Do you want me to go back to Clay and convince him he should punish you?¡±


    ¡°That would be funny, got any truths above the sun that go the other way?¡± Rosa pushes off the wall, and crosses the few steps between her and him getting uncomfortably close. Her clear blue eyes glittering alongside the knowing smirk on her face. ¡°You know, you don¡¯t have to make up cultural sayings to impress a girl.¡±


    ¡°I did not make anything up?¡± Aidinza¡¯s voice grew in pitch as he puzzled through whatever in the world Rosa was implying, his brow knitting together slowly.


    ¡°Uhuh, you just happened to have a desert saying that everyone knows and is super crucial to your people or whatever that was perfect for just that moment.¡± She tosses her head, her twin tails trailing in the air before she gives Aidinza another strange look. ¡°Gotta say Sandy.¡± Aidinza blinks slowly. ¡°You¡¯re much quicker on your feet than your dumb face implies.¡±


    ¡°It is the moral of one of the many stories of Bi At Ini, one teaching that context matters, and that even those highest may learn something as a fundamental truth.¡± Aidinza met Rosa¡¯s knowing stare with an even stare, frustration masked behind evenness. ¡°It is a story and lesson steeping in millenia of tradition. Learned and proven in bloody sand, and sick starvation.¡±


    That seemed to have thrown Rosa off balance, whatever her perception of how the conversation would go splintering under his unamused stare.


    ¡°Uh, right.¡± An awkward silence fell between the two of them, before Aidinza stepped away, glancing towards the exit.


    ¡°Try not to annoy any more gym leaders.¡± He manages, before he turns away fully, and walks towards the stairs that would get him out of this situation.


    ¡°You too Sandy!¡± There was a very, very long moment where Aidinza was tempted to just leave it at that, ignore her and just get on with his life. But something about the name Sandy just rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it had to do with him being proud of the name, it was a strong name, of both the Sun and of heroism. Maybe it sat wrong with him, the idea that someone could save his life and either not know his name, or not use it. Maybe it was because Sandy sounded so very stupid.


    ¡°It¡¯s Aidinza.¡± He does not even glance over his shoulder, a moment of rudeness, a moment to ask for forgiveness for later, was well worth the price of just getting out of here. Away from deceitful ¡®friends¡¯, crazed criminals, strange subtext, weighty stares, and weird girls.


    By the Sun, if he did not get out of here soon, he might actually start regretting not just staying in Nimbasa.


    Aidinza pauses as that thought passes his mind and palms his face, hiding his mouth from view as a question hits him. Were all cities going to be like this? Is this what he had to look forward to for months?


    It was a question that haunted him, as he headed back to the Pok¨¦mon centre.

 Electric Rocks and a Green Hair Day

    Route Six could best be described as tranquil, a set piece to a calm journey after a string of strenuous and stressful events. Even as foreign as green still felt to Aidinza, he could not deny the placid nature of the road snaking back and forth across a slowly flowing, clear river.


    There was just something soothing about the dance of territory between the tall rocky mountain, and the dense forests. The Forest waxing and waning in step with the Mountain¡¯s lead.


    He could understand why the Unova league decided to let the route linger and meander, unlike the direct route they took through the Ya¡¯an-ah desert. The desert was a harsh mother, but loving, each trial existing to carve her children into something strong and wise. This place with its abundant berries, constant flowing clean water, and abundant shade as the mountain hid the Sun only an hour after noon, just felt loving.


    Aidinza would not raise a family here, too many lessons would be lost in its halcyon paradise. This place would only give rise to the spoilt and the greedy.


    But he would spend nearly two weeks dragging his feet to enjoy it for a few days longer.


    It was a state of affairs that his Pok¨¦mon seemed to be keen to enjoy. The banks of the river were sandy enough for Sandile to spend hours at a time avoiding the most hated grass. The water was well to Naazin¡¯s liking, lazing in the shallows as clear water lapped at his hard shell.


    Even Astazhei found enough wild Pok¨¦mon itching for a fight day-to-day to keep himself entertained, and on the days that the Tranquills and the Unfezants were few and far between, he was content with pushing himself with his weight harness.


    That was not to say that the other two slacked off with their training. No matter how much Naazin may have wanted to. Aidinza might have been taking his time to cool down after the¡­ After everything that went down, his resolve when he caught Naazin was unshaken even by the betrayal of someone he thought he could trust. Who he thought got it, who he thought understood. But he misjudged that did he not? Or maybe he was the one that did not understand¡­


    Aidinza glances towards the clear river, away from where he was watching Naazin puzzle through the second stage of Water Pulse. No matter how much he lingered on this Route, his thoughts felt circular.


    ¡°It hardly even makes sense.¡± He mutters an increasingly familiar mantra under his breath, watching a vivid black and green fish dart about the clear waters, racing towards a hapless Marill. ¡°I knew him for what? Days?¡± He sighs, not even bothering to finish the thought.


    It was hardly like he would ever meet him again either, an accessory to terrorism and attempted premeditated murder, both of which he admitted to. Kaine was going to be put away for a long time. So it should be easy for Aidinza to just put him out of mind. Instead, he found himself trapped in a cycle of begrudgement, anger, and occasional self-loathing as his mind tried to puzzle why Kaine did what he did, and what Aidinza should have done differently.


    It felt like it should have a simple answer right? Kaine did not care, was just there to exploit Aidinza¡¯s moment of weakness. To dig at his insecurity and push Aidinza into his way of thinking.


    It should be solved by Aidinza just telling himself that Kaine did not matter and that Kaine did not care. That a good conversation and a bed to sleep in was not worth this much thought.


    The young nomad snorts, watching as the Marill turns around and slams a heavy tail into the fish pokemon - Basculin, he reminds himself - and sends it careening into the river bed. It was funny, he had spent more time thinking about Kaine and what he did than he had ever spent interacting with Kaine.


    A snout pushes into Aidinza¡¯s side, and his hand falls absently to scratch along the scaled ridges of Sandile¡¯s eyes to a satisfied purr. ¡°When did you start paying attention?¡± Aidinza twists to smile down at his starter and brings his left hand around to join in on petting the desert croc.


    Sandile was probably the principal reason why Aidinza had not just spiralled into endless questioning of why. The care-lacking starter for all his bumbling outside of training or battle, was sharp to his Trainer slipping into his thoughts, and quick to distract him. ¡°Maybe I was too quick to say that you only cared for training, play and fighting.¡± Aidinza pulled his hand from the ground type''s head and he watched as Sandile strained to follow, pushing himself up on his tiptoes. After a moment, the croc overbalanced tilting forward and tumbling down the rock tail overhead into the soft sand below.


    Unlike the first three times he had seen it happen, Aidinza hardly reacted, just leaning over slightly to look down at the crumpled heap of reptiles. ¡°There is not a thought in that head, is there buddy?¡±


    Sandile blinks up at him ¡°Bwaah?¡± His jaws open in a wide yawn despite the fact half his body weight was pressing down on it, and his tongue lolled out.


    Aidinza could not help the grin that split his face, as he let himself slip down the rock to scoop up his starter. ¡°Now come on, the Sun loathes idle hands, and I want to get Bite down before we get to Mistralton.¡±


    It was definitely a sign that Aidinza had been leaving Sandile and Astazhei alone together too much, that in response to that Sandile decided to nibble on Aidinza¡¯s arm. Hopefully being tossed into the water would curb that behaviour.


    An annoyed twitter hits Aidinza¡¯s ears, and when he glances over he sees that he managed to toss Sandile at where Naazin was lazing in the shallow water.


    ¡°Yes that was intentional Naazin, just because I¡¯m thinking does not mean that you can go have a nap in the river.¡± Aidinza watched as Naazin, realising that there was no real point in trying to argue with his trainer, turned a slightly less placid gaze onto Sandile. Aidinza shrugs and turns away, the two of them would be back to work soon enough.


    Of course, he turned just in time to meet two white pupiled eyes staring up at him and see Astazhei half tangled up in his weight harness, caught in the middle of trying to add yet more bronze weights to his harness.


    The rufflet blinks and slowly lets the bronze disc fall back into its bag, before trying to hop away. Only to find himself tripping over the weight harness he had tangled up.


    ¡°Truly, the Sun punishes the discontent.¡± It was going to take Aidinza forever to get him untangled, and Astazhei would not sit still for any of it.


    -


    Aidinza was not the only person meandering down the peaceful, winding road and as a trainer, especially someone trying to slip away from his own dominating thoughts, that meant only one thing.


    ¡°Naazin, Smack Down!¡± If two trainers'' eyes meet, then it was fate for them to meet in battle. Or at least, that¡¯s what it felt like to Aidinza. Nearly twice a day someone would come up or down the road, and nearly every time moments after a greeting, most days without even finding out the other person''s name a battle was on.


    ¡°Protect.¡± This was one of those times. A middle-aged man, half his body inked and missing a finger had come down a slight hill, asked how many badges Aidinza had, and sent out a Pok¨¦mon. A flying bug to be specific, with four mostly translucent wings that buzzed up and down dozens of times a second, banded with an orange stripe that almost created a solid bar of orange.


    While the bug seemed extremely fragile, it darted about the air in incredibly quick bursts, stopping and turning on a dime, and was seemingly capable of seeing everything coming at it at any moment.


    It made for a frustrating opponent for Naazin. A single good hit would put it down for good, Aidinza could tell that. The past few weeks of fighting had given him more than a little familiarity with just how much punishment a pok¨¦mon could take. But getting the pok¨¦mon into a position where he could be hit¡­


    Was made all moot by that Sun-blasted green shield.


    Dozens of sharp rocks, flung into the air by the clauncher¡¯s massive claw, scraped uselessly against the protective shell. ¡°Aerial Ace!¡± And like clockwork, the moment that the assault was over, was the moment that the bug flickered forward, as fast as could be believed and slammed into Naazin sending both Pok¨¦mon skidding.


    ¡°Vice Grip!¡± And like a dance on repeat, Naazin and Aidinza attempted to snap at the agile pok¨¦mon and caught nothing but air, the Yanma flittering away as the sound of a whistle pierced the air. The young nomad glanced up at his opponent, hoping to gauge anything from his face, but he was stone-faced.


    ¡°Follow through, Water Gun!¡± A pressurised stream of water blasted out the end of Naazin¡¯s Red Claw, slicing through the air just behind the flying bug. Aidinza¡¯s lips twitched downwards, he had hoped that the bug had been lulled into the pattern by this point and that by adding something new he would catch it getting lazy.


    But the bug was far too fast for that.


    Aidinza would need something a bit more clever it seemed. ¡°Yanma, Sonic Boom.¡± Maybe it was comparing Cacti to figs, but knowing the difficulty Astazhei had in changing direction, much less stopping at his full speed, and then seeing this bug manage to go from a dead sprint in one direction, to a total stop and facing the complete opposite direction? The only delay in movement seemingly is registering the command from his trainer.


    As frustrating as the fight might be, the young nomad could easily acknowledge both how impressive the feat was, and how surely well trained the bug was. For a moment a flicker of disappointment played on Aidinza¡¯s mind, a fight between this bug and Astazhei would have been fantastic.


    And a lot more straightforward. The bug¡¯s wings blur even faster, becoming little more than an orange and white glow, and with a harsh crack, a shock wave blasted through the air towards Naazin, slamming into his carapace. It was nowhere near a telling blow, a light jab if anything. But it was done uncontested, and even a single raindrop could drown a desert if it fell a million times.


    The young nomad''s dry lips pressed together, as he watched the bug type hang in the air for a moment, another whistle splitting the air seeing it diving straight back into its insane fli-


    ¡­


    The whistle¡­


    Aidinza was thinking that the bug was very well trained but¡­ what if it was too well trained? His eyes traced along the seemingly random flight path, esoteric and unknowable even with a suspicion that it was a tightly trained pattern. Esoteric and unknowable, but oh so familiar as he stared at it.


    But he did not need to figure out the pattern. If he could exploit the source no?


    His eyes drift slowly up to his opponent, the half-inked statue of a man. In fact, Aidinza thought he had just the idea for this. Progress with Water Pulse had slowed to a crawl, neither of them really had context for just what needed to happen. So they started trying to experiment with Naazin¡¯s other moves to try and find some inspiration. They had little luck on the Water Pulse front, but in the desert, a man who only used what he wanted was a Mandibuzz¡¯s feast.


    ¡°Naazin, when I order you to use Bubblebeam, don¡¯t shoot them, hold them behind you,¡± Aidinza muttered, just loud enough that he was sure that Naazin would hear it. ¡°Pen it in.¡± He demands a start to another cycle and a signal for a barrage of Water Guns and Smack Downs.


    A cycle that ends quicker than Aidinza expected, with a flicker of a green shell, and a shouted demand for an Aerial Ace.


    ¡°Bubblebeam,¡± Aidinza mutters again, then much louder. ¡°Water Pulse.¡± It was on the surface Aidinza retrying a trick. Early on in the fight, he attempted to fake out the other trainer with a powerful move, an attempt to dissuade him from committing to his attack with the potent move.


    Naazin¡¯s large red claw lifts up, a stream of water spilling out and gathering into a tightly compressed ball, the first stage of Water Pulse.


    The trick had worked before, Aidinza¡¯s opponent calling off his pok¨¦mon to completely avoid the attack.


    ¡°Commit.¡± It did not work now. But it was not supposed to, it was just there to cover up the dribble of bubbles from the clauncher¡¯s mouth. The bubbles from Bubblebeam were surprisingly malleable for a few seconds, able to be redirected.


    Or held in place just out of view.


    Of course, that meant that it was Naazin¡¯s body that went slamming through the strangely viscous bubbles, as the two pok¨¦mon went skidding with the force of Aerial Ace. Ultimately, the bug was never directly hit by the bubbles, and it was just Naazin left to shout in pain.


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    Yet Aidinza grinned nonetheless. It did not matter that the bug was not directly hit by them, as he caught sight of the Sun glinting off a new sheen on his opponent¡¯s wing joint. It was splashed by it nonetheless, and the strange chemicals that turned bubbles into a genuine threat against monsters that could shrug off being punched in the face with the force of an explosion.


    It would take literal seconds for that light film on the creature to thicken and harden, messing with the creature''s range of motion in its wings.


    Slowing it down.


    ¡°Water Gun.¡± Astazhei would account for it. Astazhei does account for it, whenever Naazin splatters him with a Bubblebeam. But if what Aidinza thought was happening was true then the bug would not account for it.


    A whistle pierces the air.


    The bug flitters away.


    The water gun slams into its back, and it goes toppling.


    One good hit.


    Aidinza grins over at his opponent, who returns it with a nod and an annoyed huff as he moves over, hand rummaging through his pockets. ¡°Two badges my ass.¡± He grunts, as he pulls out a few notes, and hands them over. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Miltank take less punishment.¡±


    Aidinza shrugs and shoves the notes into his own pocket. But before he could properly reply the man had already put a dozen paces between them. The young nomad shrugs again, honestly not the briefest, nor the rudest conversation he had had on this route. Some people just desired brevity he supposed.


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds. Traveller.¡± He calls after him nonetheless, making up for being cut off by the other man just sending out his pok¨¦mon. Aidinza glances over to his own pok¨¦mon, Naazin unlike his other pok¨¦mon was not pumped up by his victory. Instead, the placid lobster was stretched out in the shade a few meters, quick to a nap even without water nearby.


    ¡°You and I are going to be playing around with that Bubblebeam trick a bit more.¡± Naazin twittered, and stretched further, presumably trying to convince Aidinza to just let him sleep. The Ya¡¯an-ah just shakes his head, glancing north as he wanders back over to his pok¨¦mon. He would be reaching Chargestone cave soon, and his meandering will be put to an en-


    There¡¯s a rustle above him, and his attention snaps to it. Placid as route six was, it would not be the first time that some bird pok¨¦mon had swooped down at him. But he catches nothing but a flash of burnt orange and pale blue.


    Strange¡­


    His hand falls to Astazhei¡¯s pok¨¦ball for a moment, before he shakes his head and just returns Naazin. No need to chase trouble in some vain attempt to prolong his stay on the route.


    As tranquil as Route Six had been, it was time to stop dragging his feet.


    -


    Sandile hated the colour green. Left alone near a patch of grass, he would take great delight in tearing it to shreds, ripping it up root and stem. He fought particularly hard whenever he was sent out against the Sewaddle line, and more recently, he tried to - unsuccessfully - gnaw a ferroseed¡¯s spikes off.


    Aidinza hears a low gurgle and resists the urge to sigh as he glances down.


    Conversely, Sandile seemed enamoured with the colour blue. Maybe it was the recent presence of water near his beloved sand, maybe it was because, unlike green, blue things did not tickle at his scales, nor leave behind an unpleasant scratch.


    Maybe he just had some wires crossed and it made him really like blue.


    Whatever the reason, it meant that Sandile was delighted by finding blue things to show off, especially to his trainer. Which would be fine, Aidinza had read that dark-types presenting things to their trainers was a sign of a healthy relationship, where the dark type valued the trainer¡¯s opinion and was seeking approval.


    In the past two months, Aidinza had actually built up a small collection of things Sandile had brought to him. A stick that Sandile liked to gnaw on, a strangely shaped rock he found one day that if you squinted just right looked like a krookodile¡¯s head, a nice blue flower with its stem utterly eviscerated, and the first thing Sandile had ever brought him - what instigated Aidinza to do a little digging into why Sandile was so insistent he take what seemed to be a piece of junk - a piece of vividly blue fabric, which sat tied around Aidinza¡¯s right wrist, from the day he was given it.


    The problem was simple, Chargestone Cave was, save for the parts covered by web, entirely blue.


    Its rocks were blue, its pok¨¦mon, roggenrola and boldore, were predominantly blue. It was all illuminated by a blue luminescent glow that radiated out of yet more blue - usually floating - rocks. It even had a strange electric tang to the air that tasted blue.


    Sandile looked up at his trainer with a gummy smile and held between glittering teeth, was a blue rock.


    A blue rock like the nine other blue rocks that Aidinza had stuffed into his bags or pockets. Aidinza looked away, he nearly had two rocks for every day he had been in Chargestone, and he was quickly running out of places to put the rocks.


    He knew he had to tell Sandile to put the rock away, at some point he had to put his foot down or he would end up having to throw away something to make room. He knew he had to take a deep breath and tell Sandile no.


    So he takes a deep breath and glances back down at Sandile.


    ¡°Bwaah?¡± Sandile¡¯s gummy smile spreads wide across his face, and his head tilts slightly, the rock held so delicately between jaws that it could crush it into dust, clinking lightly against his teeth. But nothing in the world could crush that rock more than that damn smile crushed Aidinza¡¯s resolve to tell Sandile no.


    ¡°That¡¯s a very nice rock, Sandile.¡± He kneels down, hand coming up to scratch at Sandile¡¯s throat scales, earning a pleased rumble and after a moment the rock dropped into his hand.


    Aidinza pauses as he examines the rock. It was different, smoother, with an inner light that flickered against Aidinza¡¯s tanned skin. Different but not unfamiliar, the young nomads'' eyes flicker to the side, towards a glowing blue rock nearly twice Aidinza¡¯s size floating off the ground.


    Carefully his eyes traced along the ceiling of the cavern, as his hand slowly explored the blue rock. This was the first time he had seen any of the rocks smaller than him, much less small enough to hold. A keen pain interrupts his search as his thumb wanders over a sharp edge.


    Maybe it was just another oddity of this strange blue cave, whose rocks float and the air crackled with a colourful taste. But Aidinza was willing to bet that this rock was cut away from its whole, and judging by the lack of teeth marks, it was not done by Sandile.


    ¡°Did you sneak into someone¡¯s camp and take this?¡± Despite addressing his starter, Aidinza continued glancing around the cavern he was in. He had tried touching one of the glowing rocks when he first entered the Chargestone Cave, and it took nearly three days for his hand to stop throbbing painfully.


    Aidinza brings the rock up to just in front of his face, studying the dance of blue luminescence inside, before tracing his eyes along the precisely cut edge.


    ¡°Hello! I think my Sandile has taken your shiny rock!¡± Aidinza calls out, as Sandile bumps his snout into Aidinza¡¯s shin, and splays himself over Aidinza¡¯s left boot.


    ¡°I know, I watched him take it.¡± A rich, but strangely rough voice startles Aidinza, and he pivots on his left foot to half turn towards the source.


    It was a tall, lanky boy with long well-kempt green hair, partially hidden underneath a white and black hat. ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, traveller.¡± Aidinza nods at the man, and studies him as best he could side-on as he was. The green-haired boy was at a glance best described as delicate, his face boyish and expressive, and while Aidinza found his pale skin strange, it was far from sickly like he had seen in some people in the cities.


    But most interesting to Aidinza were his eyes. Blue orbs glittered in the cave light glow with a cautious uncertainty, lost in a way that Aidinza knew had nothing to do with the winding tunnels.


    ¡°Greetings, I am N.¡± The boy inclines his head, the elegant, practised gesture a strange contrast to his rough voice.


    ¡°Aidinza. May the Sun watch over you.¡± Aidinza¡¯s hand traces over his heart before he touches his forehead. Aidinza glances down at N¡¯s belt as serendipitously as he could side on. The lack of pok¨¦balls was strange after weeks of meeting nothing but trainers.


    ¡°You¡¯re a trainer, aren¡¯t you?¡± The boy talked like a deep desert Ya¡¯an-ah teen, one who knew his words but was not yet comfortable with both his tongues. But the twist on his words was beyond strange, unlike anything that Aidinza had heard.


    But maybe that was not saying much.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Aidinza feels Sandile shift on his foot, and glances down, hoping that he would get off so the nomad could turn to properly face N. When he glances back up, it''s to catch the tail end of a strange expression. A twisting of his mouth, eyebrows just a touch lower¡­


    The nomad could recognise disgust when he sees it.


    Aidinza¡¯s hand hovers lightly over his pok¨¦ball, a motion that did not escape N¡¯s attention in the slightest. While the young nomad could see no pok¨¦balls on ¡®N¡¯s¡¯ body, that did not always mean that a trainer did not have Pok¨¦mon nearby.


    Verdant green eyes met aqua blue, as the air grew tense and heavy. Aidinza could see expectation in N¡¯s eyes, a certainty on just how this was going to play out. Tanned fingers played across the smooth metal of Astazhei¡¯s Pokeball, and the moment stretched into a tense eternity.


    Aidinza''s ears pricked up, as the scrape of skittering chitin broke the silence between the two men. A sound that instantly tore Aidinza out of this strange territorial stand-off. Because it was a sound that he had been expecting for days at this point. All across Chargestone caves were massive cobwebs, the smallest merely man-sized, the largest spanning hundreds of metres, covering entire tunnels with silk that occasionally flickered with electricity.


    Galvantula webs. Webs designed to entangle even the heaviest of rock-ground types, making up for their creators'' usual inability to step toe-to-toe with them.


    The issue was that Aidinza had yet to see even a Joltik in the cave. The sheer quantity of webbing meant there should have been thousands of Jolitk and hundreds of Galvantula, at the very least. Something had spooked the usually docile Pok¨¦mon away, and a spooked Galvantula was an agitated Galvantula.


    His eyes flick over N¡¯s shoulder and widen as he spots a truly behemothian example of the Galvantula species crawling across the blue stone roof of the cave, its two larger eyes focused on the green-haired boy only a few steps from Aidinza, its four smaller eyes little more than a dull shine in the blue glow.


    It was moments away from spraying its webs and pouncing.


    Aidinza did not wish to give it those moments, and so with a silent apology to Sandile he surges forward. He crossed the distance between him and N in moments before the Green Haired boy could even manage anything more than his eye widening. Aidinza¡¯s right arm latches around N¡¯s waist - thin and boney, he notes - as his boots skid slightly on the stone floor of the cave.


    ¡°What are yo-.¡± Aidinza meets the Galvantula¡¯s hungry blue eyes for a moment, as it rears up on its hind legs, long pedipalps sparking with electricity. Aidinza shoves the two of them backwards, physically lifting the taller, but much lankier N.


    A silken web infused with crackling electricity spewed out of the Galvantula¡¯s mouth, crossing the air with shocking speed, before splitting into a wide net, blazing with lightning.


    But its target had already moved, pulled away, leaving it nothing to envelop. But even still its ends caught Aidinza¡¯s boots, the brutal electricity hardly dulled even by the thick leather, burning its way into his foot, and up his calves.


    He collapses with a choked scream, nerves fried, right leg uncontrollable. He lands heavily on the unforgiving blue rock floor, pain lancing down his shoulder to mingle with the burn searing through his veins up his leg.


    In a blind panic, he attempts to both scramble for the pok¨¦balls at his waist and push himself up with his shoulders, only managing a useless, spastic motion, as the weak current still pumping through his boot kept his muscles seizing intermittently.


    He was paralyzed, both from the electricity coursing through his body and from the pain it brought with it. He was not thinking clearly, and all he had to protect himself was Sandile against a behemoth of an agitated Galvantula and a hostile man.


    In short, his situation was nightmare fodder. Even if Sandile managed to overpower the clearly fully mature Galvantula, there was all the chance in the world that the electricity still skipping through his veins would stop his heart before that could happen. Some insane corner of Aidinza¡¯s mind, untouched by the pain by sheer obscurity, snorted and wondered if a situation could be nightmare-inducing if someone did not live long enough to have nightmares about it.


    Then, the pain stopped. The electricity blistering through his body had for the moment, ceased, and not long after his spasming muscles calmed down. Though, it did little for the panic racing through his mind.


    But what he saw when he managed to scramble to his feet, stopped it dead in its tracks.


    There¡¯s no room for panic when it gives way to the bafflement of watching a gigantic Galvantula fall apart like a puppy under the hands of a boy it out masses by at least ten kilos.


    Aidinza pushes himself up on quivering arms, his balance slumping forward, as a low murmur hits his ears. N was saying something to the Galvantula. Sweet nothings or proper words Aidinza had no idea.


    Was N¡­ the Galvantula¡¯s trainer? That thought was enough to spark the panic in Aidinza¡¯s mind back up, through the confusing sight of a Galvantula¡­ snuggling. Someone training a Galvantula that was agitated enough to snap attack another trainer was dangerous.


    Sandile.


    The name struck Aidinza with all the force of a sledgehammer. Where was his starter? The implications of a battle not currently raging was almost as terrifying to Aidinza as being paralyzed in front of a hungry Galvant-


    A trill of noise floods Aidinza with relief, the welcome feeling of a smooth snout bumping into his side a soothing balm in the chaotic mess of the current situation. His hand limply falls down to scratch along Sandile¡¯s scaly skin, and once again his emotions twisted down this heart-pounding roller coaster, as he was left wondering why in the world if Sandile was not hurt, there wasn¡¯t a fight going on right now?


    Before Aidinza had the chance to even properly process the thought, the sound of chitin skittering stole his attention again, head snapping up to track as the Galvantula stole away deeper into the cave, in a burst of explosive speed, an outbreak of frenetic energy and motion so patently unique to bug pok¨¦mon.


    Though in some strange way the energy found itself mimicked in the way N twisted around and crossed the distance between him and Aidinza in moments, squatting over the still recovering Desert Nomad.


    The two men watched each other for several long moments, blue-grey eyes meeting green with an almost inhumane intensity. Aidinza was not a small enough man to deny that the stare was unnerving, intimidating almost. Made him feel like he was being examined in a dozen different ways like his core was being drawn out and probed.


    ¡°You did not attack the Galvantula.¡± N breaks the silence first, the once strange rough voice, now remarkably fitting, like a prior veneer that tilted it into something uncanny had been stripped away.


    ¡°It was agitated and hungry, there are few ideas worse than making it more so with pain.¡± Aidinza sits further up, pulling one knee up to his chest. In part for comfort, in part to hide the way his hand hovered over his pok¨¦balls.


    Another long silence, another long moment of being dissected underneath N¡¯s stare.


    ¡°You had no idea what you were doing.¡± Comes N¡¯s certain declaration, the strange alien intensity in his eyes slowly falling away, to something more familiar. More human.


    Aidinza¡¯s eyes flick away for a moment. N was right, he had no real plan beyond getting N out of the way of the massive Galvantula.


    N rocks back on his feet, the same uncertainty that glowed in his eye when the two of them first met, before N realised Aidinza¡¯s status as a trainer. The look of a man with a lot to think about things that he had no particular desire to think about.


    ¡°Keep the stone,¡± N says abruptly, straightening up to his full height. ¡°We have enough, and Sandile would not forgive me for attempting to take it back anyway.¡± Aidinza blinks, hand falling to his pocket, and the stone inside. He had managed to forget about the start of this whole thing.


    Then without another word, N brushes past him, the lanky boy''s long stride eating distance quickly. In moments he had disappeared into one of the dozens of different tunnels branching deeper into the depths of Chargestone Cave.


    Aidinza pulls the rock out, feeling a slight tingle as his fingers run over the mostly smooth blue surface. He twines the blue fabric tied to his wrist around it, creating a makeshift bracelet.


    He lightly taps the glowing stone, as he glances towards the tunnel N just disappeared into.


    What a strange man.


    Then, his lips thin as he glances to where the Galvantula had skittered away to.


    What strange circumstances.


    He adjusts the stone, as a tingling sensation spreads across his wrist, and glances down to where Sandile had taken to chewing at his singed boot.


    ¡°Time to go, buddy.¡± Sandile perked up, and with another glance backwards, they continued deeper into the cave.

 Skyla, Heavens Surprising Girl!

    It had been little hints, here and there, that set off Aidinza¡¯s paranoia. The empty boldore tunnels widened just enough to be off. The deep peg holes not yet collapsed in on themselves. The unnaturally uniform glowing rocks, and the continued absence of the Galvantula line.


    Alone, they seemed inconsequential, but together they painted a stark picture:


    Someone had torn through Chargestone cave with a single minded rapacity, and did not care about the Pok¨¦mon they displaced doing so.


    Did the league know about this? Surely not. To let a population as dangerous as Galvantula ferment in agitation, in a path open to the public? One connecting the thrones of two of their honoured leaders?


    That would be dangerously negligent.


    It was fortunate for Aidinza that the Mistralton city gym was both his next stop, and the easiest way to get to the bottom of things.


    The young nomad¡¯s paused on a grassy knoll overlooking the city, though city might be a stronger word than warranted. Unlike Nimbasa there were no steel behemoths that jut into the sky at seemingly random locations, and unlike Driftveil there was no sprawl of houses dressed in a dizzying array of opulent bronze. No, the buildings of Mistralton were strangely uniform. Single storied and wood walled, their red tiled roofs all had a single break in their slant for an attic window.


    Aidinza had been shown how to use the copy-paste function on the Pok¨¦centre¡¯s computers by the kind Nurse Joy of Nimbasa, and there was a part of him that wondered briefly how someone managed to replicate it in real life.


    There were only two true breaks in the identical features of the city. The first was a tall tower of carved stone brick and what his reading about Driftveil told him was ¡®oxidised¡¯ bronze. Though, Aidinza thought green bronze would be a simpler name.


    The second was a wide field of concrete that stretched along the entirety of the city¡¯s width, marked with uniform white markings, lined with tall metal buildings, and dominated by a strange metal thing. The metal thing had two long metal blades jutting out of its sides, and a tail almost shaped like a vertical Vibrava tail, that was crawling along the concrete, slowly turning to face the far side of the field.


    Aidinza stared as the machine finished its circle, lined up in the centre of the white markings. The last time he had seen such a large metal thing moving, it had been Driftveil¡¯s massive drawbridge, and that had been an awe inspiring sight.


    ¡°First time in Mistralton?¡± A voice startles Aidinza out of his examination, and he snaps around to the source. It was a young woman standing at the base of the hill, a woman not much older than Aidinza, with long dark red-hair pulled into a bun on top of her head, held together by an accessory that looked like four blue-petals. She giggled at the sight of his face, bulky blue gloves coming to cover her mouth, as her sky blue eyes twinkled, and she walked up to stand at the top of the hill with Aidinza. ¡°Sorry, it''s just you have the look of someone seeing a plane for the first time.¡±


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, stranger. ¡®Plane¡¯ is what the machine is called?¡± He asks, gesturing towards the metal machine as it sat in the centre of the concrete field.


    ¡°Ya-huh. Archeops C-Seventeen Sky Trotter to be exact. The C stands for Cargo-plane by the way.¡± The woman¡¯s clear enthusiasm for the ¡®plane¡¯ was infectious, and Aidinza found himself eyeing the Sky Trotter with a keen eye. ¡°Usually I¡¯d be in the control tower just behind it, but LZ-Twelve got a bee in his bonnet and just absolutely demanded to stretch his¡­ wings in the forest.¡± She jerks her head towards the forest just past the odd glass houses that bookended the concrete field. ¡°Plus I¡¯ve got gym battles after lunch anyway.¡±


    ¡°Lunch?¡± Aidinza¡¯s eyes flick up to the well past noon sun, then back down to the woman as his brow furrows slightly. ¡°Gym battles?¡±


    ¡°Ya-huh, Gym Leader Skyla, the heaven''s surprising girl don¡¯tcha know?¡± She beams at the young nomad, as she raises her right hand to her head, and pulls it away in a strangely sharp gesture.


    ¡°T-the sun sings for your health Honoured Leader!¡± Aidinza straightens up as best he could, turning to fully face Skyla. ¡°If I could just ask for a mom-.¡± Aidinza flinches as a thunderously loud noise interrupts him.


    ¡°Ooh this is gonna blow your mind if you¡¯ve never seen a plane before.¡± Blue gloved hands pushed Aidinza¡¯s head around to look at where the plane was beginning to move, but unlike before where it was doing so silently, now it was screaming like an enraged hydreigon.


    And was starting to move very quickly.


    The Ya¡¯an-ah boy stared, transfixed as the plane charged down the concrete field, faster than anything that size had any right to move, so fast that in a mere thirty seconds it had crossed half the length of the field that was nearly the size of Driftveil Drawbridge.


    So fast that Aidinza¡¯s eyes could not help but snap to the chain-linked boundary that marked the edges of the field, and the strange glass buildings beyond that. If it kept going like that, at that speed. Well, the brutal conclusion was obvious, and Aidinza¡¯s heart began to race in his chest. What sort of insane show was happening here?


    But then something genuinely, truly fantastical happened.


    Rather than slowing down, or crashing through the obstacles in front of it. Instead the plane began to rise. The back of the long steel blades that jut out of its sides snapped downwards, and the piercing scream reached a fever pitch, and in a moment that slowed to an eternity, the nose began to list up, the front wheels pulling off the field first agonisingly slowly. Then all too quickly the back wheels were off the ground, and this steel behemoth was in the air, rising steadily.


    Flying.


    Aidinza goes slackjaw, as he stares at something insane. The plane itself did not dawdle for a moment, continuing to speed up as it left Mistralton behind in moments, and rose high enough to split the clouds.


    ¡°Pretty amazing isn¡¯t it?¡± It took a long moment for Aidinza to even register that the voice next to him, the voice of an honoured leader, might be addressing him, and he looks back at her witlessly.


    ¡°Uh.¡± Was all he managed, sending her into another set of giggles, before she skipped a few steps away from Aidinza.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s pretty incredible from down here, but when you¡¯re up there with it.¡± She shakes her head, twin strands of dark-red hair framing her face jumping around with the energetic gesture, one ending up caught on her mouth. She spits it out. ¡°It¡¯s a hundred thousand times better.¡±


    But Aidinza did not really process any of that, the moment the words up there with it had left her mouth, he was lost in his own thoughts. Though, those thoughts were just an endless cycle of trying to comprehend what being inside a plane while it was flying would be like.


    ¡°Uh-oh I mental boomed him.¡± A gloved hand jabs Aidinza in the nose, snapping him out of his daze. ¡°Hey you¡¯re a trainer right?¡±


    Distantly Aidinza nods, before shaking his head and focusing.


    ¡°Well I¡¯m a Gym Leader, and there¡¯s only really one natural thing to do now hey? Come on, we¡¯ll head back to my gym.¡± Skyla¡¯s hand snatches Aidinza¡¯s wrist, and in moments he is being dragged down the hill, and into the city proper. Caught up in the whirlwind of the gym leader''s energy, and the lingering mind bending of the plane¡¯s fantastical feat, it takes him several streets to even properly register that he was being taken anywhere.


    Though, that did not mean he pulled away from Skyla, she was an honoured leader, if she wanted him to go somewhere, then it was his duty to be there.


    Besides, he came here for a gym battle right? Getting there with the gym leader in tow was hardly an issue.


    -


    There was somewhat a line in the gym when the two of them arrived, full of irritated trainers who all looked like they had been at this training business for years.


    Skyla, dragging a slightly out of breath Aidinza behind her, did not give any of them a moment of attention as she entered the gym proper.


    ¡°Got a Gym Battle Jazzy!¡± She calls over her shoulder at a rather elderly lady, who just smiled and waved at the Gym Leader. ¡°So usually you¡¯d sign in and whatever, but we¡¯re takeoff buddies so you get to skip the line. How many badges do you have?¡±


    ¡°Er, two badges Honoured Leader.¡± Skyla hummed, as the two of them came to a section of floor replaced by a massive fan behind a heavy metal grate.


    ¡°And you¡¯ve got three Pokemon! Easy as pie. Now watch this.¡± Skylar fiddles with a switch on the wall above the massive fan, and in moments the things begin to spin at an insane speed. ¡°Now watch this!¡±


    They also became extremely noisy.


    ¡°WHAT?¡± Aidinza shouted, unable to hear Skyla over the noise. But Skyla in turn could not hear him, or did not care to clear up any confusion, as she jumped - backwards for some reason - into the fan¡¯s air stream.


    And did not hit the ground.


    The complete opposite in fact, she shot up through an opening above the fan disappearing in moments.


    Aidinza was not sure how he should feel about that. If he was to be honest, he was fast approaching his limit for today.


    A few moments later he dimly heard Skyla¡¯s voice again, and when he glanced up, he could see her leaning over a railing high above him, gesturing towards the fan, and shouting something.


    She wanted him to walk onto the fan.


    Aidinza was raised in a culture where you obey your superiors. In most tribes that meant the honoured leaders, and the elders. The first for the weight they have taken upon themselves for the tribe, and the Ya¡¯an-ah in totality. The second for the wisdom they had learned underneath the harsh eye of the Mother Desert. The closest Aidinza had ever been to breaking that guiding ideal was questioning Honoured Leader Clay.


    Right now, there was nothing Aidinza wanted to do less than obey an Honoured Leader. Over the intense noise of the sound, he managed to catch Skyla shouting that it was safe, she promised.


    Considering that Aidinza could see that Skyla was almost bouncing over the railing that was keeping her plummeting down several stories, that did not reassure him as much as she might have hoped.


    Carefully he pushed his hand into the air stream, his arm shooting up, and then out of the flow in an unsettlingly violent manner.


    Another shout from Skyla lost to the sound of this terrifying contraption touched the edge of Aidinza¡¯s hearing, and the young nomad was pretty sure that if he looked up at the gym leader, she would be doing something else insane that would gut his slowly building nerve.


    ¡°Send my bones home to the mother desert.¡± He mutters to himself, before squeezing his eyes closed, and throwing himself forward into the airstream.


    Aidinza had never felt heavier than in that moment of weightlessness. Never felt the relentless pull of gravity on his limb harder than when he was being bodily raised in defiance of it. The fact that the opening led immediately into a tight, dark metal tube that felt like it was pressing down on him did nothing to help the strange sensation of heaviness.


    The young desert nomad had never felt more relief in his life, than when he was spat out the top of the tube, landing heavily on his front, importantly on solid ground.


    ¡°Took you a hot minute there didn¡¯t it?¡± Aidinza groans, and rolls over onto his back, taking in the gym arena for the first time. It was very similar to Clay¡¯s field, the battle ground made of earth, and marked out clearly with sharp white lines. The difference was in the air, all around the field were hoops strung up on floating balloons, and beyond that there was no roof, leading into the clear, open sky.


    ¡°That was¡­¡± Aidinza took in an unsteady breath as he pushed himself to his feet. ¡°Something.¡±


    ¡°You should come around when I finish convincing the league to let me put in cannons!¡± Aidinza knew that he was¡­ less than familiar with a great deal of things outside of his mother desert. But he was pretty sure that a cannon was a large barrel that shot things at great velocity, not something that any human would ever want to be shot from.


    ¡°C-cannon?¡± Aidinza had never been terrified by anything more than the way that Skyla¡¯s smile widened into a beam, and she nodded eagerly.


    ¡°Ya-huh. The league keeps saying it''s too dangerous, but human cannonballs do it all the time, and could you think of how cool it would be?¡± Aidinza needed to get out of this town before Skyla gave him a heart attack, or attempted to use him as a demonstration to the league of how safe being shot from a cannon was.


    His hand fell to the pok¨¦balls at his side, and without a word to acknowledge what she just said, he walked to take his position on the battlefield.


    As he turns to face Skyla, he catches her covering her mouth, before she pulls a pok¨¦ball from her belt, and gets more serious.


    ¡°This will be a Two on Two battle! I will choose first!¡± There was a whirring noise off to the side, so similar to the fan down below that Aidinza actually flinched, but it was just the wall pulling back to reveal a large screen, that briefly flashed up with Skyla¡¯s face and name, before a not found error popped up. ¡°Hawker Hurricane, come fly with me!¡± A flash of red fills the clearing, and with a coo the familiar sight of a tranquill materialises in the air.


    But this tranquill was different from the wild pok¨¦mon Astazhei had bullied along route six. Its grey feathered chest was well-groomed and slick, rather than rough and matted. Its sharply slanted yellow eyes were intent and focused, rather than absent-mindedly ditzy. Most of all, it was larger than any tranquill that Aidinza had seen before, maybe even larger than some of the smaller unfezants that he had fought before, with long grey and black wings stretching at least a metre.


    Not that it changed the pok¨¦mon Aidinza planned to send. A tranquill was a tranquill was a tranquill, no matter how big and well groomed it was.


    And Astazhei ripped tranquill out of the sky for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.


    With a flash of red, and a domineering cry, Astazhei appeared in the air, powerful wings beating a gust over the field with a single flap.


    ¡°Now isn¡¯t that a handsome lad! You¡¯ve been holding out on me!¡± Skyla took a moment to admire the Eaglet, as he landed on one of the hoops strung up over the arena, powerful talons digging tightly into them, as his head tilted at his opponent. ¡°Ooh he¡¯s such a confident boy! Those raptor eyes could spot an Ice-type in the snow at six kilometres couldn¡¯t they?¡±


    Now Astazhei was not a vain bird, he enjoyed fighting in the muck and mud far too much to properly care about his appearance, beyond the grooming that Aidinza gave to him every night. But he was a prideful bird, and it came as no surprise that the moment the compliments from Skyla registered with him, that the Eaglet immediately began ignoring tranquill calmly riding the thermals around the arena, to preen himself at Skyla.


    Something told Aidinza that that was going to come back to bite him in some way.


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    ¡°Now on three okay?¡± The screen flickered with an error again, before it went white, and a large, blocky number three appeared.


    ¡°Three!¡± A robotic voice boomed across the arena, and Astazhei stopped his preening to sharply eye his foe once more.


    ¡°Two!¡± Aidinza studies his own opponent for a moment, her bubbly grin doing nothing to hide the sharp eye that studied Astazhei.


    ¡°One!¡± Astazhei exploded into the air, his tranquil opponent dove through the thermal it had been lazily circling, and two shouted orders mingled in the air.


    ¡°Gust!¡±/¡±Air Cutter!¡± Astazhei¡¯s powerful wings beat twice, tearing the air in front of him into a crashing wake that ripped towards the Tranquill. It was Astazhei¡¯s favourite way to start a fight with another flying type, and it had taken Aidinza a long while to figure out why, especially since more often than not the gust would miss.


    The answer was both simple and complex. As much as a hammer as Astazhei was, he was not stupid. He knew he was not as fast as other birds, knew they were more agile, knew that if it came to a chase he had no hope. But what he did have was the unrelenting power to dictate the shape of the battlefield, and while the gust might miss, what it did to the thermals and airflow of the airspace dragged both flying types to an even keel. Because while other birds might ride the winds better than him, might be more agile, Aidinza had yet to see a bird tear through turbulent air better than Astazhei.


    Unfortunately for that plan, Skyla and her tranquil was not willing to let Astazhei dictate the battle that easily. The tranquill¡¯s wings crack through the air with an incredible speed, blasting forward two streams of tightly controlled wind that slammed into the mighty - unfocused - gust that Astazhei had whipped up. It was a battle of dexterity versus sheer force, a clash between a spear and a sledgehammer.


    A clash with only a pyrrhic victor, as Astazhei¡¯s Gust pushed through the Air Cutter by mere inches before petering out. Not that Aidinza had a moment to spare to count those inches, as the tranquill raced forward into the wake of the clash.


    ¡°Swift! Then pull around!¡± Came Skyla¡¯s order, as the tranquill closed in on Astazhei, its beak parting and dozens of brightly glowing gold stars shot towards Astazhei before one of its wings snapped downwards, throwing the tranquill into a sharp right bank, and leaving Astazhei to fruitlessly chase its tail feathers.


    It was attempting to keep its distance from Astazhei, while still getting close enough to inflict meaningful damage. Smart, considering what Astazhei did to most pok¨¦mon that got close enough to him.


    ¡°Gust, into Wing Attack!¡± Unfortunately for the tranquill Astazhei did not need to catch it. Once again Astazhei¡¯s powerful wings struck out against the air, but this time it was not a probing attempt to wreak havoc on the airspace, but to slam the tranquill out of its sharp turn.


    And this time, Astazhei did not stay still after his attack, diving forward much like the tranquill dove after its own attack, his wing gleaming with a white light, as the gust crashed into the tranquill, the turbulent wind throwing it into a spin.


    But that only ignited Aidinza¡¯s paranoia. Skyla and tranquill had proved from the very first move that they understood Astazhei¡¯s game plan, and it was very obvious that Skyla specialised in flying-types. She and tranquill should know that this is exactly what Aidinza and Astazh-


    His eyes catch a flicker of shaped air, hidden previously in tranquill¡¯s wake, set on a collision course with Astazhei moments before he would smash into his vulnerable opponent.


    ¡°DIVE!¡± Astazhei¡¯s wings snapped to his sides, and not a moment too late, as the shaped air missed him by mere centimetres¡¯ ruffling his feathers with the proximity.


    And leaving both him and his tranquill foe in a strange limbo. Tranquill was bare metres away from Astazhei, and had yet to recover from the previous gust. An unenviable position for any bird. But by the same vein Astazhei was now below Skyla¡¯s bird, and far too close to build up the momentum to overcome that while ensuring that Wing Attack landed cleanly.


    But pok¨¦mon battles were not dictated by just moves. ¡°Tear it out of the sky!¡± Astazhei screeched, and with one powerful beat of his wings he tore himself out of his dive and threw himself at tranquill.


    ¡°Feather Dance!¡± Aidinza heard Skyla call, but the mass of feathers that burst into the air between Astazhei and his opponent did nothing to stop the rufflet from slamming into the wild pigeon pokemon, his heavy black tipped talons digging into its wings and trapping it in close quarters with Astazhei.


    Leaving it at the mercy of the far physically stronger bird.


    It was not a move, at least not that Aidinza could tell. There was no invocation of the energy that saw Astazhei¡¯s wings glow when he used Wing Attack, no strength beyond their size like tackle. Just the raw force of Astazhei¡¯s muscles used to wrestle his opponent into submission.


    Astazhei threw himself into another dive, taking his unwilling passenger hurtling towards the ground, and as he reached full tilt, so close to the ground that the tranquill had no hope of recovering, he let the tranquill go.


    Straight into the red beam of a pok¨¦ball.


    ¡°Hawker Hurricane forfeits!¡± Skyla calls across the field, hand falling to another pok¨¦ball by her side. ¡°Jeez I didn¡¯t expect you to spot the razor wind so quickly, and just going for a grapple was pretty smart. I guess I should take you a bit more seriously.¡± Aidinza feels a flush of warmth at the praise, though he did not let it distract him when Skyla threw out her next pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°F Thirty-Five B Lightning Two, come fly with me!¡± Skyla had not been kidding in the slightest, when she said she was going to take this more seriously.


    To call Skarmory just a bird, would be like calling Driftveil bridge, just a bridge. Correct on all accounts, but failing to convey the inherent majesty. Well over three times the size of Astazhei, the Pok¨¦mon''s steel-grey frame gleamed in the sunlight, as its two wickedly sharp three clawed talons dug deep into the earth. A terrible screech fills the arena, as it flexes its blade like feathers, the sanguine underside an unspoken threat to its enemies. The three plated bands that protected its neck twist, as the Skarmory surveyed the field with beady black eyes, before it''s attention flicked up to where Astazhei had reclaimed his perch.


    Its wickedly sharp beak splits open, exposing six terribly jagged teeth lining its mandible, before it lets out a scream that could be best described as crashing metal.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna have a lot more trouble pulling F Thirty-Five B Lightning Two out of the sky than you did Hawker Hurricane! She¡¯s a real mean one up close!¡± Aidinza had little trouble believing that, F Thirty-Five B Lightning Two¡¯s steel plate skin looked nearly as thick as a Durant¡¯s carapace, on top of being nearly three times the size of Astazhei.


    She would be a terror in close combat, and Aidinza could only hope that he could keep Astazhei on a tight enough rope to keep the armored bird at a distance to chip away at her with gust.


    ¡°Gust.¡± Aidinza seized the initiative, this was going to be a long, gruelling fight and Aidinza had¡­


    Something to do? Why did it feel like he had forgotten something?


    ¡°Lightning Two! Take off check!¡± Aidinza snapped out of his momentary lapse of attention, to watch as Astazhei¡¯s gust slammed into the Skarmory, and barely budged the powerful steel-type. Then watched as it shuddered from her head to her sharp talons, small flakes of something drifting off her into a pile on the ground.


    Something told him that was not good.


    ¡°Keep it grounded! Gust!¡± Another buffet of wind, this one sending the skarmory sliding backwards the barest of inches.


    Something told him, this was about to go very poorly for him.


    ¡°Steel Wing.¡± Her segregated wings flex, as her talons crush the earth beneath her, and as another gust slams into her, sending dust and dirt swirling around her, she surges forward.


    And despite the gust that Aidinza had seen bend trees far enough backwards to crack them pressing down on her, Lightning Two rose into the air with a terrifying ease.


    ¡°Keep your distance Astazhei.¡± Aidinza warned, but it was a hopeless task, now that she was in the air, the skarmory proved that its hefty bulk did not mean that she was slow. Her wings beat powerfully, each feather independent, as she rose above Astazhei in moments. ¡°Don¡¯t let it hit you!¡±


    Lightning Two did not give Astazhei a choice. Her speed rising into the air was nothing compared to her dive, an insane eye blurring pace that could cross entire planes in moments.


    Astazhei had no hope to avoid the pursuing white wing, no matter how he strained to keep away.


    The terrible noise of steel crunching into flesh filled the arena, as the skarmory¡¯s wing slammed into Astazhei, sending the rufflet hurtling towards the ground in an uncontrollable spin.


    ¡°Keep up the pressure! Steel Wing!¡± Came Skyla¡¯s relentless instruction, and the skarmory wasted no time at all in deepening it¡¯s dive, banking tightly and chasing after Astazhei with raptorial focus.


    Aidinza fumbled with his belt, trying to rip Astazhei¡¯s pok¨¦ball and return the eaglet before he could be hurt any further. But Skarmory was too fast, crashing into Astazhei before Aidinza had even managed to get his pok¨¦ball off his belt.


    ¡°Nice try bud.¡± Aidinza mutters out of the corner of his mouth, as he finishes recalling Astazhei, guilt chewing at him for being so slow. But a loud crash ripped him from his self recrimination, and his head snapped up to see Lightning Two push herself to her feet, having crashed into the ground.


    The reason took only a moment to reveal itself, two of the skarmory¡¯s feathers were twisted and crushed, both with three distinct dents. Astazhei did not let himself go down quietly, managing to use his powerful three taloned claws to crush Lightning Two¡¯s feathers.


    ¡°Sheesh, maybe we should start calling you heaven¡¯s surprising girl instead. A rufflet that¡¯s willing to try to keep away from a bigger opponent, and makes sure to inflict some real damage on the way out?¡± Skyla shakes her head with a grin, as Naazin appears on the field with a flash of red. ¡°Just hold on a moment, gotta make sure that spitfire didn¡¯t do anything serious kay?¡±


    Skyla skipped across the field to where Lightning Two was prodding at her twisted feathers with her beak, and Aidinza watched with some level of interest as Skyla squatted down and grabbed the feathers herself, examining them with a keen eye. ¡°Well¡­ she¡¯ll be alright with a bit of elbow grease and some potions. But that¡¯s something for after the battle yeah?¡±


    She retakes her position on the far end of the field, as Lightning Two bit at her feathers some more. ¡°Only fair I give you the first move no?¡±


    ¡°Naazin, Bubblebeam.¡± If there was anything that the fight between Astazhei and Lightning Two proved, it was that the skarmory needed to be slowed down.


    ¡°To the skies!¡± But maybe he should have trusted Astazhei¡¯s pyrrhic wound, because the gulf in speed between Lightning Two when it first took off, and now was difficult to describe. Before the skarmory was a lethal, graceful predator, slicing through the air with brutal ease. Now it was a hobbled pidove, hardly able to keep itself in the air, and far from being able to dodge Naazin¡¯s unnerving accuracy.


    The viscous bubbles splattered all across the ungainly skarmory, steel feathers coated in a thick layer of cloying mucus. She stuttered in the air, her wings twisted and clogged, hardly able to keep herself flying.


    ¡°Flash Cannon!¡±/¡±Smack Down!¡± A feeling of dejavu washed over Aidinza, as Naazin sent dozens of sharp rocks hurtling into the air towards the skarmory. But unlike Clay¡¯s second pok¨¦mon, the vividly silver beam that slammed into Naazin just washed over his heavy plates, unable to even push him back, with how he was anchored to the ground with his smaller claw.


    Though Aidinza only saw that out of the corner of his eye, confident in Naazin being able to handle himself. Instead he watched as Naazin¡¯s Smack Down finished Astazhei¡¯s work, ripping the skarmory out of the air for the second, and final time.


    ¡°Aw man, we hardly even moved your little lobster.¡± Skyla gives Aidinza an exaggerated pout, as she returns skarmory, before her eyes turn serious. ¡°Be careful with that Rufflet, flying types willing to go that far¡­ they¡¯re the type of pokemon to get hurt in a serious way.¡±


    Aidinza¡¯s hand falls on Astazhei¡¯s pokeball, tracing his fingers along the cool metal surface. As much as the eaglet¡¯s sacrificial brutality had sealed the next battle, it was borne from Aidinza being too slow to stop him from getting hurt.


    ¡°Ah man there I go, getting all serious and stuff. Good job! You¡¯ve won the Jet Badge!¡± Skyla¡¯s gloved hand dips into a pouch at her hip, pulling out a badge shaped like a stylized feather. Aidinza paused for a moment, as he looked at it from across the battlefield, the tiny badge colourfully stark even at this distance. Swept up by the energy of Skyla, he had sort of forgotten why he was here. What all this was heading towards, and despite himself he found himself briefly longing for it to not end so quickly.


    Despite all of Skyla¡¯s¡­ eccentricities, Aidinza had not met anyone who just clicked so quickly, so easily. Certainly no one outside of the Ya¡¯an-ah Desert.


    Someone who left him feeling like there was something he was¡­ forgetting?


    ¡°Commere and get it!¡± There was something about Skyla¡¯s energetic gesturing that kicked Aidinza into scurrying over to collect his badge, not that Skyla made it that easy on him, hooking an arm around his neck, pulling him down, and rubbing a knuckle into his head. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t worry too much about that rufflet yeah? Just gotta be careful when a pokemon gives a hundred and fifty percent like that.¡±


    Maybe it was his subconscious reminding him in an effort to stretch his time with Skyla just that bit longer. Maybe the knuckle digging into his head had special memory properties, but the realisation slammed into him with all the force of a skarmory¡¯s steel wing.


    ¡°Chargestone!¡± He blurts out, pulling himself from Skyla¡¯s warm grip around his neck, and earning himself a confused look from the red haired gym leader. ¡°The electric rocks at Chargestone, someone¡¯s taken them and has upset the Galvantula.¡±


    Sky blue eyes sharpen, and the easygoing air that had swept up Aidinza was drowned underneath the heavy weight of one of the eight strongest trainers in the region.


    ¡°I have one of the cut rocks.¡± Aidinza offers his wrist, where the glowing stone that Sandile had found days ago still sat glowing against his wrist. Skyla reached out, grip firm as she brought the stone up to look at.


    ¡°Tell me everything.¡±


    -


    Skyla had decided to investigate chargestone personally. She had also decided that Aidinza had volunteered to show her what he had found, which was fine with Aidinza. Walking back to Chargestone cave was not ideal, but he would have dealt with it. Fortunately Skyla had another plan.


    Unfortunately, it had been taking her personal bi-plane.


    Aidinza stumbles out of the side of the cockpit, landing heavily on his feet before collapsing to the dirt, hands desperately digging into the soil just to feel something truly solid.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve never heard of a ground-type human before.¡± Aidinza groans, as he feels Skyla rub at his back with a giggle. ¡°Come on. You¡¯ve got some rocks to show me.¡±


    ¡°I want to walk back to Mistralton.¡± Aidinza half begs, half pleads as he slowly wrenches himself up to his feet.


    ¡°And I want an SR Seventy-One Zekrom.¡± She shrugs, as she grabs his wrist, and pulls him towards the not very distant plateau that sat above Chargestone Cave.


    ¡°I find one of them and I get to walk?¡± Aidinza offered hopefully, glancing around the clearing as if whatever an SR Seventy-One Zekrom was would suddenly appear. Then he glanced further into the sky, knowing Skyla however briefly, it was probably another plane.


    ¡°If you get me an SR Seventy-One Zekrom, I¡¯d carry you back to Mistralton.¡± The two of them pause for a moment, as Aidinza sized up the five inches smaller Skyla, before they both break down into laughter.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m getting out of flying back to Mistralton is there?¡± He manages, as the two of them reach the entrance of Chargestone Cave.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to do so many loop-de-loops on the way back.¡± She giggles, as he hangs his head in mock despair.


    Then they cross the threshold into Chargestone, and Skyla¡¯s easy grin falls away, leaving behind the serious mein of Mistralton¡¯s Gym Leader.


    Aidinza¡¯s own smile drifts away, as he forces himself to focus on the situation at hand, stepping in front of Skyla and gesturing for her to follow.


    It did not take long for the two of them to reach the first of many things that Aidinza had wanted to show Skyla, the chipped and deformed remnant of one of the many glowing rocks throughout chargestone.


    Skyla examines it without a word, her thickly gloved hands running across the sharp edge of the rock, as the scent of ozone fills the air.


    ¡°Pressure cut. They had to have serious equipment to do this without electrocuting themselves.¡± She pulls her hand away, as a spark flicks between her hand and the rock. ¡°How many Charged Stones did you see cut up like this?¡±


    ¡°Dozens, in the other half of the cave they were all whole, but after a point every one I saw was cut up like this.¡± Aidinza gestured at the stone - Charged Stone, which he supposed made a certain amount of sense - as Skyla¡¯s hand fell to one of the pok¨¦balls at her side, one she specifically grabbed before they left.


    ¡°Fly with me, SR Seventy-One.¡± A four winged, thickly purple furred pok¨¦mon appears in a flash of red, and a high-pitched chitter. ¡°SR I need you to locate the Galvantula left in the cave. Be careful, they¡¯ve been agitated.¡±


    The pokemon gave another high pitched chitter, before taking off like a startled dugtrio, navigating the cave at an insane speed, and leaving both trainers behind in moments. Moments passed in complete silence, as Skyla frowned down at cut rock, lips pressed into a thin line.


    ¡°So¡­ if I catch that pok¨¦mon I get carried back to Mistralton?¡± The flying-type trainer¡¯s sky blue eyes flicked up to Aidinza, and for a moment he regretted opening his mouth. Before Skyla¡¯s lips cracked into a smile.


    ¡°Catching SR might be harder than stealing a proper Zekrom from the league. That crobat can leave Accelgor in the dust.¡± Aidinza did not know what an Accelgor, but considering how quickly SR had disappeared into the cave, he did not need to. Skyla¡¯s eyes trail away from Aidinza, over the roof of the cave. ¡°You know, a fast flyer is pretty important to have on a team, if you want to compete at the highest levels. Your rufflet, when it evolves into a braviary, is going to be a monster that¡¯ll rip a Hydreigon straight out the sky. But they¡¯re not meant to dog-fight, in a match up against something faster, they don¡¯t have many options.¡±


    Aidinza followed Skyla¡¯s gaze, catching a flicker of orange - the miracle of the sunset to reach even this deep below ground was awe inspiring - as he did so. ¡°So what do you think I should do?¡±


    ¡°Keep an eye out for something fast. A pidgeot, or a crobat. A Noivern if you can swing it¡­ or maybe a Talonflame if you spot one.¡± Skyla¡¯s eyes glitter as she says the last pok¨¦mon, and Aidinza felt like he was missing something.


    Then Skyla perked up, her head tilting to listen for a noise that Aidinza could not hear. ¡°That¡¯s SR. Come on. I want to give the league at least some idea of how long fixing this mess is going to take before I call in the rangers.¡±


    Aidinza nodded, and silently followed after Skyla once more.


    -


    Aidinza might have a new nightmare.


    In fact, he was pretty sure that anyone he told about what he and Skyla found deeper in Chargestone Caves would have a new nightmare.


    The Galvantula and their Joltik offspring had obviously not migrated out of Chargestone cave. An event that could manage that would be unmissable, mostly on account that it would take the destruction of much of Chargestone cave to do it. But what they had done was retreat into the less defined corners of the cave. Into the tight crevices and hidden dark places.


    Thousands of them had. The sight of at a minimum, hundreds of Joltik crawling over each other in a pulsating fuzzy mass, of hundreds of beady, hungry eyes and skittering yellow legs would stay with Aidinza for a long time.


    The sight of Galvantula along with them, coiled underneath their offspring, watching Skyla and Aidinza with dripping pedipalps would stay with him for even longer.


    Thankfully, it had not taken much for Skyla to be satisfied, and none of the bugs had wanted to even think of tangling with the powerful Gliscor - A Ten Pignite Two, whatever aircraft that was - that Skyla had released as they travelled deeper into the cave. A single crack of its purple claws, and a glance at its sharp toothed grin were enough to keep them in line.


    But now the two of them were done, and regrettably, it was time for them to head back to Mistralton.


    Which meant that Aidinza found himself eyeing the Swanna D Three with trepidation, as he waited in the dwindling afternoon light for Skyla to finish making her pre-flight checks. ¡°You know, a thought occurs.¡± Aidinza looks up as Skyla jumps from the wing of her plane back down to the ground, landing in a crouch. ¡°You gave a pretty decent battle, helped me with my gym leader duties, and you¡¯ve been a pretty good sport all day. But I haven¡¯t even given a single thought about a reward yet.¡± She pauses, as she wipes some grease on her gloves onto a towel that she throws back into the cockpit. ¡°Aside from getting to spend time with me.¡±


    ¡°Just doing my duty, honoured leader.¡± Aidinza demurred, strange as it felt to do so to Skyla, which in itself was strange after so little time knowing her.


    ¡°Nonsense! Besides, if I don¡¯t do anything, that poor fletchling is going to tear its feathers out!¡± Skyla spun around, and pointed a finger at an empty branch in the trees. Or maybe at the burnt orange glow of the sky as the sun began its descent below the horizon¡­


    Aidinza¡¯s brow furrowed, something clicking in his mind. ¡°Ah jeez, I kind of expected him to come out after that¡­¡± He heard Skyla speak, but for the moment ignored her, running briefly over the past few days.


    ¡°You were looking at something in the cave. I thought it was the sunrise shining off the cave roof, but¡­ something¡¯s been following me since Route Six.¡± Aidinza focused more intently on the trees and almost hidden entirely from his view, was a black and white feathered tail peeking out from behind a tree. ¡°You can come on out now. I¡¯ve spotted you.¡±


    The tailfeathers shook for a few moments, and after a moment of waiting, out hopped a bird of lively reddish-orange and sky blue feathers on two spindly feet. Its jet black beak split open in a trill, as its wings fluttered open exposing a fluffy white underside that glittered in the sunlight to a mesmerising dance.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been following me since route six.¡± The flying type - because what else could it be - gave a gesture that Aidinza could only decipher as a shrug, its dark eyes curling up in a way that he could only characterise as mischievous.


    Or smug.


    ¡°Why? If you¡¯re looking for a fight, you¡¯re not going to get it slinking around.¡± The bird - fletchling? - whistled, and flexed its wing again, diving to the ground, and once more flaring the white underside of its wing.


    Aidinza¡¯s hand drops to where Astazhei¡¯s pok¨¦ball usually was, but meets nothing but air. His dedicated rufflet had been left back at the pok¨¦mon centre after his fight with Skyla¡¯s skarmory.


    Ignoring the brief guilt, he instead grabs Naazin¡¯s pok¨¦ball, expanding it and sending the orange crustacean out in a flash of red. The bird sang for a moment, its wings twisting in a way that drew attention to its orange head feathers, and definitely smug eyes.


    Aidinza was pretty sure that if the bird tried that on Astazhei, the eaglet would smash it into the ground with vindictive glee.


    As it was, Naazin lazily glanced back towards his trainer, his left antenna squeaking as it bobbed upwards. Aidinza shrugged back at him, the sting of Astazhei¡¯s, however temporary, absence lessened at the realisation that this was probably going to go a lot smoother with Naazin.


    ¡°Last chance to back down Fletchling.¡± The sky-blue pok¨¦mon rolled its eyes at that, and without another word spat a ball of flame at Naazin as it thrust itself gracefully back into the air.


    Naazin, as the somewhat lazy water-type was prone to doing, simply ignored the flames that splattered across his thick plated body, as he turned away from his trainer to face his flying foe.


    ¡°Smack Down.¡± Naazin¡¯s claw smashed the ground in front of him into dozens of sharp pieces, and with a surge of speed that shocked Aidinza no matter how many times the placid water-gun pok¨¦mon did it, he rammed his claw into the rocks, sending them flying into the air in a wide spread net, perfect to clip a flying pok¨¦mon out of the air and put an end to them early.


    Which was why it came as such a surprise when the Fletchling all but danced its way through the hazardously sharp rocks, ducking and weaving with a graceful agility that Aidinza felt no shame in being impressed by. He already had a feeling that it was going to be a good idea to catch the pok¨¦mon after Skyla¡¯s theatrics. This display of acrobatics only confirmed it.


    ¡°Bubblebeam.¡± Naazin¡¯s smaller claw buries itself into the ground as his back arches, and his large claw tracks the Fletchling banking hard right, spitting out another ember that did little more than blind the water-type.


    But maybe that was all the Fletchling wanted, as instead of strafing by Naazin once more, it blurred forward, diving at the crustacean with blistering speed. A quick attack, or at least a very very fast tackle. Fast enough to blur around the oncoming bubblebeam.


    ¡°Vise grip.¡± Not fast enough to avoid Naazin¡¯s massive claw closing around its chest, as it bounces off the braced water-types hard carapace. ¡°Don¡¯t tighten.¡± Aidinza said quickly, as Naazin studied the struggling fletchling, and just as quickly threw one of the empty pok¨¦balls on his belt, before Naazin decided that ¡®don¡¯t tighten¡¯ was code for ¡®let it go¡¯.


    He certainly took his opponent disappearing in a flash of red light as code to wander away and take a nap in the soft sun-set warmed grass.


    ¡°Did you see how fast that little birb was? That¡¯s a real keeper right there, would fly rings around other birds in the sky.¡± Aidinza was not entirely sure how he managed it, but the fact that Skyla had been there the entire time had slipped his mind entirely. ¡°Pretty good reward from your pal Skyla huh?¡±


    ¡°You could have told me it was there in the cave.¡± Aidinza complained back with an easy grin, as he bent over to pick up the still pok¨¦ball that housed his new pok¨¦mon. Of course, Skyla did not leave that alone, and Aidinza grunts as she bumps into him, slinging a hand around his neck, and digging her knuckles into his head again.


    ¡°Jeez if you¡¯re gonna be ungrateful maybe I¡¯ll take the Talonflame myself hey? I¡¯ve been looking for something to shut Brycen down, you know?¡± Aidinza clips fletchling¡¯s new ball to his belt, and ignoring the - surprising weight - of the honoured leader hanging around his neck, straightens up to his full height, leaving the red-head scrambling to avoid sliding off and falling on her ass ¡°Just for that I¡¯m adding another two full loop-de-loops on the way home, and a stall turn!¡±


    Aidinza glanced apprehensively at the plane sitting only a few metres away, and then back at the smirking Skyla. Without a word he unclipped the pok¨¦ball holding Fletchling, and proffered it, but he already knew his fate was sealed.


    Skyla simply shook her head, and with heavy shoulders Aidinza climbed his way into the co-pilot''s seat to the soundtrack of a gym leader''s giggles.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Aidinza glanced over to Skyla, as she took her seat and flicked on the engine. ¡°You saw a flash of orange, and you thought the sun reflecting off the cave roof half a kilometre underground when the entrance pointed north, instead of a pok¨¦mon?¡±


    Aidinza¡¯s tanned face reddened, as he looks away and stares out the other side of the Swanna D Three''s cockpit. Between Skyla¡¯s giggles and the surge of the plane underneath him, it was an unfair war on two fronts.

 Sleet and Rain, Route 7

    As much as Aidinza might have wanted to linger in Mistralton, and he really did want to linger, he knew he had to keep moving. Knew that the Sun loathed indolence in all its forms.


    So, here he found himself walking down route seven, kept company by only the sound of his boots crunching through waist-high, wet grass and by the shiver sent up his spine by the ice-touched wind. For the first time in the two months since he had left his mother desert behind, he felt the pull of s¨¢h t''¨¢¨¢, of being one. Chasing a phantom idea of a given duty alone.


    He stops for a moment, eyes falling closed, his head tilting back, warmed for a moment by the sun breaking through the sleet clouds. A hint or comfort? A coincidence or accident? His hand falls to Sandile''s cool pok¨¦ball, and he struggles to find even the questions to ask in his own head.


    Then the sun slides back behind the grey clouds of route seven, the unknown question left to fallow on Aidinza''s tongue. He sighs and turns an eye onto his surroundings, sighting an area hidden from the intermittent sleet by several tall interlocked trees. It was getting late in the afternoon, and he did not wish to be caught in the cold again.


    Besides, he had not been able to properly introduce the entire team to the new member. Now was as good a time as any. It took him a few minutes of wading around the small forest to find a good place to set up camp, with somewhat more manageable grass.


    With a flash of red, Sandile appeared on the tarp of Aidinza''s tent, eying the sea of grass surrounding him with distaste. Aidinza sits down next to him, pulling his poncho tight against the chilly wind and running a hand down his starters scaled back. Without a word, he unclipped Fletchling''s pok¨¦ball and presented it to Sandile.


    The ground-type reptile eyed it with gleaming black eyes, head tilting to examine it from different angles. "I caught a new pok¨¦mon; remember what I said last time?" Sandile nodded slowly as he stretched out his back legs and yawned. "You said that last time, and you got into a fight the moment I turned my back."


    Sandile slumped against Aidinza''s side, head craning upwards. The reptile blinked at his trainer guileless as a toothy smile spread across his snout. Aidinza bonked him on the nose. "Just because Naazin tricked you two doesn''t mean you didn''t let a fight happen." Sandile bonelessly slid off Aidinza, thudding on the ground with a pout. Unfortunately for him, in doing so, he put his nose right up against the edge of the tarp and the wet grass beyond it.


    His sneeze shook his entire body, and the confusion on his face afterwards shook Aidinza''s shoulders.


    "Just try harder for me this time, okay, bud?" Tanned fingers played across the Sandile''s eye ridges, massaging the tough flesh to a content purr. For a few minutes, he just sat there, enjoying Sandile''s presence, even as the chilly air raised his skin and a light drizzle threatened to send his teeth chattering. "Come on, time to stop delaying things."


    Three identical red flashes illuminated the dwindling light of the forest, dancing off the droplets of rain as they formed into three distinct figures. The first coalesced into the familiar form of Naazin, yellow eyes sliding around the clearing with expectation, and then pleasure when he realised it was empty. The second pulled itself together into a much less familiar sight; Fletchling appeared mid-flight with a twitter and a roll, climbing into the trees in a moment.


    The third formed with a triumphant screech as his wings beat once in the air, flattening the grass and sending droplets of dew splattering everywhere. Astazhei dove forward and crashed into Aidinza''s chest, sending both sprawling backwards into the nomad''s tent.


    The young nomad laughed as his hand came up to run through the rufflet''s downy feathers, and he glanced down to meet the question in Astazhei''s white pupiled eyes. "Could hardly even fly after what you did to her. Naazin didn''t even break a sweat." He answered it to another victorious screech and a pleased coo as his hands massaged into Astazhei''s tense wing muscles.


    Then his eyes fell to Astazhei''s talons, and his left hand traced along the slightest hint of the damage the rufflet did to himself. The use of a skarmory''s feather as a sword was not hyperbole. In centuries long since gone, the nobility would spend fortunes of gold and armies of lives to have a single feather worked into a peerless blade. A blade that could cut stone and steel with the same brevity they cut human flesh.


    It had done a number on even Astazhei''s thick talons, cutting a rivet into the nerves and tendons underneath. Thankfully, Nurse Joy had fixed it with little issue. But it had left Skyla''s words echoing in his head; flying types willing to go that far¡­ they''re the type of pokemon to get hurt in a serious way.


    "But you didn''t need to do that." Astazhei paused his snuggling into Aidinza''s chest, glancing up to meet his trainer''s eyes with confusion. "You did great, and don''t tell Naazin," not that the lazy water-type would care or was even listening in "you won that fight single-handedly. But you hurt yourself doing it." The rufflet stood up, claws digging softly into Aidinza''s rumpled poncho, and puffed his chest out. "Even if you would do it again. You did not need to. Naazin could have handled the Skarmory. I should have been quicker, but you should not have hurt yourself." Aidinza sat up, hand cradling Astahzei close to his chest as the corners of the bird''s eyes began to water. "Htu dadz¨®l¨ª." He mutters as he presses his forehead into Astazhei''s feathered crest, staring into white pupilled eyes. "I cannot rely on you if you are hurt." The two of them stayed like that for a moment, as Aidinza just let his fingers slip through Astazhei''s feathers and relief slips through his heart.


    This was why he had not introduced his team to their newest member yesterday. Or even the night that Fletchling was captured. He did not know what he would say to Astazhei, both with Skyla''s warning in his ears and the guilt for sluggish reflexes eating at him.


    Though he should probably stop leaving the fletchling in suspense - he should have released Astazhei earlier, he chastised himself - and make some proper introductions. He straightens up, pulling Astazhei away and letting him down onto the tarp next to Sandile.


    It was then that he made a somewhat distressing discovery. Fletchling, who had flown up to roost on one of the many high branches, was now nowhere to be seen. "San-" He pauses and thinks better of it. "Naazin, where is Fletchling?" Half hidden by the thick grass coating the forest floor, the water type makes a vague gesture behind Aidinza. His head whips around, the beginnings of panic stirring. Not just at the idea of Fletchling deciding to just up and leave, but at the prospect of trying to explain that to Skyla next time the-


    Something tugged on his hair as he twisted around, pulling his head backwards slightly. Aidinza blinks and reaches over his shoulder, into his swiftly getting out-of-control hair, but before he could run a hand through it, a sharp beak pecked him.


    "Fletchling, are you in my hair?" Aidinza''s hand hovered over his shoulder. Struck still by surprise. A series of whistles Aidinza could only describe as laughter was all he got in response. His hand closes around the surprisingly hot body of fletchling, pulling the chuckling bird into view in front of him. The weightlessness of the bird, especially compared to the hefty bulk of the rufflet, surprised Aidinza. It hardly felt like he was holding anything at all. It probably helped that Fletchling was not struggling, simply going boneless in Aidinza''s hand and glancing around at the other pok¨¦mon with gleaming black eyes.


    "Everyone, this is the newest member of the team. Fletchling." Aidinza feels the tiny bird struggle out of the light grip on his body, pulling his way onto Aidinza''s arm. For a moment, he simply surveys the other pok¨¦mon again, and they examine him in turn.


    Sandile breaks the silence with a pleased rumble, mouth pulling into a gummy smile that exposes his rows of razor-sharp serrated teeth as he lays his head down on Aidinza''s shoulder and stares up at the new pokemon. Fletchling chortles back, and Aidinza slowly brings his arm closer to Sandile to give them a decent view of each other.


    Though he does not focus on them, he keeps his attention on Astazhei. If any of his pok¨¦mon would make meeting a new team member¡­ volatile, then it would be his most rambunctious pok¨¦mon.


    But unlike any other time Astazhei had seen a new pok¨¦mon in his life, his hackles were not raised, and his white eyes did not glint with that spark of challenge. What they gleamed with¡­ Aidinza was not sure he could place. Teetering on an emotional edge from before, not yet dulled, and tinged with something just about half-formed.


    Aidinza reaches out with his left hand, weaving it through soft white feathers. "Htu dadz¨®l¨ª." He repeats. Astazhei glances away, and his eyes are far more self-assured when he glances back. Aidinza''s lips pull up into a smile that slips away as a moment later, the rufflet''s challenging cry rang out through the small forest they were in.


    He should have expected that the moment Astazhei was feeling more like himself was the moment he would want another fight.


    Fletchling gives an answering chatter, flaring out his wings to expose the white underside. It was considerably less impressive than the rufflet''s posturing, considering that Astazhei was easily twice the size of the tiny robin, but no less eager.


    Then again, Astazhei''s posturing was ruined slightly by the fifteen kilograms of desert reptile that slammed into him. Aidinza''s first two pok¨¦mon go toppling into the long, wet grass with a squawk, a tangle of feathered wings and scaled limbs. With a sigh, and a hand stopping Fletchling from joining the two wrestling pok¨¦mon, Aidinza looks towards the lazing Naazin off to the side.


    "Water Gun." He instructs, to a lethargic shrug. He watches as a highly pressurised spray of water is spat out of Naazin''s claw and sends the two pok¨¦mon tumbling to the side once more, though this time separated. "Astazhei, training will come later. Behave."


    The rufflet squawked again, shaking himself like a lillipup, sending droplets of water flying. "Now come here and introduce yourself." Hopping on powerful, literally steel-crushing talons, Astazhei approached. Sensing that he was not about to start a fight for once, Aidinza lowered Fletchling to meet the senior flying type.


    Critically, forgetting that Fletchling had been just as eager to start a fight as Astazhei. He watched as the robin, half the size of Astazhei and maybe a tenth of the weight, snapped forward and pecked Astazhei right between the eyes.


    Proudly Fletchling began a loud birdsong, and Aidinza had no doubt that if he was to look, the bird would have that same smug gleam in his black eyes.


    He wondered how long that would last, as Astazhei, with all the stealth of a sneaking Onix in a river, slowly reared back before slamming his entire head into Fletchling. Immediately the bird song stopped as the fletchling was sent tumbling off Aidinza''s hand and landed heavily on his lap.


    Ignoring the - probably deservedly punished - bird for a moment, Aidinza stared at Astazhei and struggled to not laugh. The eaglet''s eyes were wide and innocent, glancing around as if he had no idea where Fletchling had gone before shrugging his wings at his trainer. It seems that he thought he had managed to hide what he did from Aidinza, despite doing it right in front of him. To something that Aidinza had been holding in his hand no less.


    Rather than say anything, Aidinza simply poked him in the forehead hard enough to send him sprawling backwards in the wet grass. Then he reached into his lap and picked up the dazed fletchling. "You deserved that." He informed his newest pok¨¦mon as the robin managed to focus on him for a moment.


    "Well, now you''ve met everyone." Fighting Naazin counted as meeting him, right? Aidinza shrugged and lifted the robin up to look at him properly. "Now, how about a name?" That managed to snap the fletchling out of his daze, and the increasingly familiar gleam in his dark eyes worried Aidinza. The robin twisted its wings so that it drew instant attention to the brilliantly orange feathers that crowned his crest. The second time it had done so.


    It took Aidinza only a moment to realise what was happening. "No." The Fletchling did not waste a moment in leaping into flight, circling the clearing with what little sunlight that broke through the canopy at his back.


    "No," Aidinza repeated sullenly.


    Fletchling chortled as he dove, landing on Astazhei''s shoulder and burying himself in his hair once again, hiding away his lower half, leaving only his orange upper half visible. His orange upper half was remarkably close in colour to Aidinza''s hair.


    Aidinza tries to look away from the flying-type towards his starter for moral support. Unfortunately for him, his starter had been, in a word, triggered by the grass once again and was in the process of tearing up massive clumps of the thick grass that made up the forest floor.


    Fletchling whistled.


    "No," Aidinza repeated weakly.


    -


    Gowteel, in another time, to another people, would be a prodigy. From raising herself and her brother from when she was eight to crushing the gym circuit in her first year and bowing out of the conference in the semi-finals to the eventual winner of the tournament in a twelve pok¨¦mon, brutal slugfest. She was the model of what others could only hope to be. Strong, independent, and dependable.


    She had once been poised to be someone. Stood on the precipice of the sort of strength and authority that every trainer begins to dream of.


    In another time, to another people, Gowteel would have been a shining jewel.


    In this time, the Ya''an-ah did not need Ace Trainer Gowteel. They did not need in-time elite four hopeful Gowteel.


    What they needed was the Gowteel that was there. There to help the elders and the young ones. There to pick up the pieces left behind by the adults as they slipped away into the deep desert.


    Gowteel wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, the sweat matting her sun-lit hair to her skull, before she lifts the last of the crates from the desert floor onto the cart, like she had lifted every other crate that was unpacked last night.


    Like she had unpacked every crate last night.


    Not for the first time, Gowteel feels the keen absence of her brother. The boy got underfoot and was a clumsy ditz when distracted, but he was someone to split the load with and someone Gowteel could relax with.


    Now that he was gone, all that was left behind were brittle-boned elders, children more liable to be crushed by a crate than lift it, and the crushing worry of an elder sister.


    The young woman adjusted her belt, hand tracing along the cool metal of Bika''s pok¨¦ball. The temptation to send him after Aidinza, just to make sure he was doing alright, was strong. Was this what he had felt? When she left on her own journey? This unquellable concern, tinged with a questionable powerlessness?


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, shaking the sweat off into the sand a moment later. Part of it was worry about him not being by her side, and much of it was a worry for the¡­ expectation that had crept into the Naisho''h in his absence. The tribe had suffered the most from this¡­ Sun drought. Lost more blood than any other to journeys deeper into the desert, from people trying to hide from the perceived abandonment by the Sun.


    Some of the elders, Gowteel knew, had been sure that the tribe would be washed away underneath the sands soon enough. That one day, all that would be left is the elders too weak to risk the deeper desert and the children not yet keen enough to navigate it.


    But now, they mutter over creaking bones and sandy coughs. That he was going to change something. That he was ordained to fix the sinkhole that was consuming the Ya''an-ah.


    Gowteel scoffs. Aidinza was meant for great things; she had known that since he toddled about the sands playing with even the grouchiest of Krookodile. But none of the elders could even begin to think of what he might do to fix that. None of the elders thought to do anything to make it easier for the boy. Just had goalless expectations.


    "Gowteel! Gowteel!" A young voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and kicking up sand everywhere, S?oosei stumbled over the apex of a dune and into an uncontrollable descent. "Gowteel!"


    Gowteel catches the young girl moments before she breaks her teeth on the cart the Ya''an-ah once elite-trainer had finished packing. "S?oosei, you need to have a firm footing in the sand."


    "Gowteel! There''s a strange man at meetpoint asking about Dzilmagi!" Gowteel ignores being ignored for a moment as her brow furrows. It had been a long time since someone had come asking after the Ya''an-ah legends, and Dzilmagi specifically¡­


    "S''oosei, go tell Tsesei that the carts are packed. I''ll go meet this man." She lets the girl squirm out of her grip, watching for a moment as she raced off over another dune.


    Hopefully, it was some scholar with too much paper and not enough sense. If not¡­ her hand falls to her starter''s pok¨¦ball, then she would prove to the Sun that not all Ya''an-ah were yet keen to abandon their worship.


    -


    Shand¨ª¨ªn was fast, the fastest of Aidinza''s pok¨¦mon, though maybe Sandile in the sand could be comparable. But he was small and frail; even Naazin, focused as the clauncher was on his long-range techniques, could overpower him physically. Even at a distance, offensively, he was less than impressive. Sandile had spent nearly a month dealing with Naazin''s incredibly potent, accurate, and effective water-type abilities. The little embers that Fletchling could spit out washed over his rough scales as little more than a pleasant warmth.


    Simply put, the tiny robin was rough and needed a great deal of training.


    It was not all gloomy for Aidinza''s newest pok¨¦mon, however, Shand¨ª¨ªn, barring the fact that he kept trying to physically fight much stronger pok¨¦mon, was a clever fighter. When his embers did nothing to Sandile, he set the grass - what little survives around Sandile - alight instead, using his fire as a spark rather than the power. Or, when his quick attacks only bounced off Naazin''s thick carapace, he would find the largest rock he could pick up and drop it on the clauncher instead.


    Granted, that usually ended with Naazin growing annoyed with the fight and ending it soon after. But Aidinza could undoubtedly appreciate the ingenuity; Shand¨ª¨ªn simply needed the experience and strength to take advantage of it.


    So Aidinza and his pok¨¦mon set about getting him that experience. For the days that they wandered the increasingly soaked, overgrown roads of route seven, Shand¨ª¨ªn hardly spent more than an hour not training. Battling the many deerling and foongus that made the route their home during the day and learning at the heel of Sandile and Astazhei during the afternoons.


    It was slow going. Often at the start, Shand¨ª¨ªn just could not put and keep down his opponents, requiring Aidinza to swap him out before the robin exhausted himself. But as time dragged on and days turned into weeks, that had changed. Under the pressure of keeping up with Aidinza''s team, Shand¨ª¨ªn had grown much stronger and grown larger in turn.


    Now instead of barely reaching half of Astazhei''s height, the bird was only half a head smaller. Now instead of Naazin hardly budging no matter the speed that the bird built up, he was sent sliding backwards.


    "Shand¨ª¨ªn, flame charge, finish this." The fletchling sang back, throwing himself into a tight turn, the air around him beginning to spark and waver with heat. Then he dove towards his target, a Blitzle, the first that Aidinza had allowed Shand¨ª¨ªn to face.


    For most flying types, it would be a foolish move. Blitzle was a blisteringly fast electric type and would be easily able to react to most approaching flying types with an electric move that would leave them paralysed and unconscious.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn left the Blitzle dizzy trying to keep up with his speed, hammering into the wild pok¨¦mon and sending it crashing to the ground. It was too weak to continue even if Shand¨ª¨ªn''s fiery corona had broken before impact. He returns to the sky, letting himself reach an apex and stall out as he sings a victorious tune.


    Aidinza watched Shand¨ª¨ªn''s victory lap for a moment - hardly even sparing a thought to the fleeing blitzle - a sight that had become increasingly common as they progressed through the route, with a smile. As mischievous and smug as the bird could be, something was mesmerising about seeing him happy and celebrating.


    Rather than saying anything, Aidinza just holds his arm out. After a few moments of continued freefall, Shand¨ª¨ªn recovers, flaring his wings out and landing on the proffered perch. Aidinza reaches out with his left hand and scratches along the flying type''s nape. "You did well. But you need to keep focus during your flame charge, if you want to take out stronger pok¨¦mon."


    The fletchling chatters, flaring his wings before settling in to continue getting scratched.


    "Mother fucking shit house route with shit house pok¨¦mon and shit house ghosts." An unfortunately familiar voice interrupts Shand¨ª¨ªn''s reward, and Aidinza looks up to see a dishevelled figure stumble into the clearing that he was fighting in.


    It was Rosa, the girl''s usual sock-bun and twin-tailed hair was instead a half-burnt tangled mess, and the look on her pale face was beyond furious. Her dark blue eyes swung around the clearing, lighting up with a cruel gleam when they landed on Aidinza. "You, desert boy. We''re fighting."


    Aidinza did not bother replying, just letting Shand¨ª¨ªn take off into the air. If Rosa''s pok¨¦mon were in a state half as bad as she was, then the fletchling should be able to hold his own. A moment passes while Rosa holds up a tiny machine towards Shand¨ª¨ªn flying overhead before her hand falls to a pok¨¦ball by her side.


    "Panpour, stress relief!" A flash of red filled the clearing, and short tan simian pok¨¦mon, with a tall blue wave-like crest and large blue ears. Maybe in another circumstance, it would be an impressive specimen. In fact, Aidinza vaguely remembered it from Driftveil, and back then, it was only half the size it was now. But now its coat was scuffed, and it looked like it was barely managing to keep itself upright.


    Aidinza honestly felt sort of bad for the monkey.


    "Acrobatics." Not bad enough to give Rosa of all people initiative, obviously. Shand¨ª¨ªn screeched as he rose into the sky before flicking into a dive, crossing away from the panpour''s line of sight in moments.


    "On your le-." Rosa tried to warn the Panpour, but the water type''s reactions were too slow, and it could not turn anywhere close to fast enough to stop Shand¨ª¨ªn. It goes stumbling to the side, off-balance and unprepared for Shand¨ª¨ªn''s follow-up, sending it crashing to the ground.


    "Water Gun." Rosa commands, and to the panpour''s credit, despite being obviously exhausted, it still managed to roll to its feet and spat out a heavy stream of water. Unfortunately, it is too exhausted to have anywhere near the aim required to catch out Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    "Peck." Shand¨ª¨ªn raced forward, rolling around the Water Gun in a fit of showmanship, before stalling right in front of the panpour. His beak glowed white before he slammed it several times into Panpours face, the pain causing the monkey to collapse to the ground, unconscious.


    "Urgh. You''re lucky Panpour''s tired from the tower, or he would have crushed your bird." Rosa returns the panpour, and with another flash of light, the familiar sight of Servine appears, who, unlike Panpour, was in a far better condition. "Vine whip!"


    Four vines exploded from the graceful snake''s body with shocking speed. Individually they might have been slower than the fletchling, but together they closed in on Shand¨ª¨ªn like the jaws of a trap, each moving independently of the others to corral the bird into the grass-type''s reach.


    "Ember, burn through the vines!" Aidinza ordered, ignoring his opponent''s exasperated scoff as he did so. Shand¨ª¨ªn rolls underneath one of the vines and dives towards one as it closes in on him, an orange glow shining through his closed beak. The vine surges forward, Servine sensing an opportunity to cut the fletchling off, but the sweltering heat as the tiny robin snapped open its beak and spat out a ball of flame caused the vine to wither and burn and with it, the energy animating it was seared away. Shand¨ª¨ªn raced through the ashes of the blockade, out of the reach of the grasping tendrils chasing his tail feathers.


    "Leaf Tornado!" Even annoyed as he was by being rudely intruded upon, he could not help but admire the control and focus the Servine had. Even as its vines continued to relentlessly hunt Shand¨ª¨ªn, it wasted no time following its trainer''s instruction. Glowing green leafs floated in the air for a moment before they surged forward in a dervish of grass energy.


    "Agility, then Flame Charge!" Shand¨ª¨ªn''s body shudders in the air before his already insane speed all but doubles as he throws himself into agility. It was the sort of move that would exhaust the fletchling if used for too long, but the insane speed it offered, comparable to a sustained quick attack, was invaluable.


    Something that Shand¨ª¨ªn proved immediately, blurring between the encroaching vines and out of the path of the powerful leaf tornado tearing through the air.


    "Grass knot." Of course, Rosa''s Servine could not let things be that easy. The serpent let its vines finally slacken as Shand¨ª¨ªn closed in on the grass-type, the air around him flickering with flame. But before he could make contact, the ground exploded with wild growth. Grass lashed out and caught Shand¨ª¨ªn''s narrow feet as he flew overhead, dragging him to a dead stop in moments. "Energy ball."


    Aidinza''s hand snapped to Shand¨ª¨ªn''s ball. Before the Servines ball of green energy had begun forming, he had the fletchling''s pok¨¦ball primed and ready to return.


    But something strange paused his hand. Shand¨ª¨ªn began glowing a piercing white light. Aidinza watched transfixed as the light grew harsher and harsher, becoming an implacable, searing brightness that somehow contained all the luminescent glory of the sun yet did not hurt his eyes to look at.


    Then the metamorphosis began. Shand¨ª¨ªn''s shape, so clearly outlined in the marvellous light, began to contort and bulge, growing in size and length. His beak, a cute little outcropping of keratin, sharpened into a long, sharp point. His legs, tiny straight sticks, grew to nearly twice the length as the digitigrade knee that had previously been hidden beneath blue feathers was exposed. His head perhaps changed most of all, the smooth uniformity gaining a taller crest and a sharper shape.


    "Evolution." Aidinza breathed out, his voice raw with undisguised emotion. He knew about the phenomenon, obviously. He knew what happened and why it occurred, but never before had he seen the miraculous sight first-hand. Never had he seen a pok¨¦mon become another with his own two eyes.


    Then with one final shine, the process was over, and where there was once a fletchling was now a fletchlinder. Shand¨ª¨ªn''s wings flared, exposing a newly yellow underside, as he tore through the grass holding him still and surged back into the air, gracefully avoiding the Servine''s energy ball.


    For a moment, it was all Aidinza could do to admire the flying type''s new form. He had pressed the bird hard in the last few days, and to see the fruits of that labour blossom so directly¡­


    It brought the young desert nomad a visceral sense of joy and satisfaction.


    "Of fucking course it evolves into a fucking fire type after beating my water type. Because of fucking course, that''s the kind of day I''m having." Unfortunately, like many things, Rosa chose to quickly ruin his good mood. The dishevelled girl had the machine back in her hand and looked utterly done with the day. There''s a flash of red, and Servine disappears back into its ball. Rosa turned around and stormed out of the clearing. "FUCK CANDLES." She shouts over her shoulder as she disappears from view, leaving a stunned Aidinza and Shand¨ª¨ªn behind her.


    Unsure what to say following that, Aidinza simply stuck his arm out, letting the newly evolved fletchinder land on the outstretched limb with a grunt. He was much heavier than he had been previously. Probably almost as heavy as Astazhei. Though, it was clear that the fletchinder was still built for speed, not raw brute strength.


    "You must have been pretty close to evolving for a while, huh?" Aidinza mutters to the preening bird as he traces his fingers along the far more defined pattern on the new fire-types chest, marvelling at the incredible warmth that radiated from the bird. He had noticed that Shand¨ª¨ªn ran hot while he was still a fletchling, but now it was like touching a rock that had sat underneath the midday sun, teetering on the edge of discomfort.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn cood, eyes glittering with pride as he flared his wings once again, letting them flutter in the air. He was as pleased with his new form as Aidinza was. Then as Aidinza traced along the newly blackened coverts of Shand¨ª¨ªn''s wing, the look in the bird''s eye turned mischievous.


    Aidinza only had a moment''s warning before he had ten kilograms of bird attempting to crawl into his hair. Caught off guard as he was, he had no hope of stopping the bird from getting up onto his shoulders and grabbing at his hair with sharp talons.


    "Ow Shand¨ª¨ªn, no! You''re too heavy." Aidinza hissed in pain as his hair was pulled taut by the flying-type''s weight. He bends forward to try and at least get Shand¨ª¨ªn''s weight onto his back instead.


    Rather than doing anything as helpful as getting out of his hair, his blasted fire-type instead crowed victoriously, and then broke into high-pitched chuckles.


    Aidinza knew, as he strained to reach behind him and get a hand around the bird, that his revenge for this was going to be sweet.


    -


    "Aidinza! Darling! Dinner!" A soft feminine voice rolls across the desert sands, and a young boy with hair as bright as the sun rides the dunes to its call, the desert itself pulling him closer and closer.


    "Hey there, Tyke, got lunch?" The young boy turns as a deep voice speaks from behind him, a tall man with hair that glittered and danced like an inferno, an easy grin on his smooth, pale features.


    "Yep! Gowteel and I caught a Basculin by the oasis." The man''s grin widens across his weathered, tanned face as he holds the fish like it is some grand prize and his green eyes glitter with pride.


    "Aidinza! Darling!" The feminine voice calls once more, and the young boy is pulled along and along, the desert pulling away. The woman''s dark hair was like the inky blackness of the empty space, her soft¡­ features dimpling as she smiled.


    "Dinner!" She calls, and Aidinza feels excitement build in him as the sand pulls them away and away. To an empty eating mat, to a silent tent.


    "I''m home!" Gowteel calls out, her own hair as bright as the sun and her shoulder darkened by the cool form of her corvisquire. "Atsil¨ª! You didn''t come to see my match against Tsesei." She snatches him up, warm and comforting and solid and there. Her delicate features - like his mother''s, while father had your jawline - beaming as she held him close.


    "Hey there, tyke." The four of them sat around the mat, and a feast of half-eaten food was spread in front of them. The young boy picks one randomly and can almost swear he can still taste it. "Did you see the sandstorm?"


    The boy blinks, the voice was strange, the memory not there. "It''s going to be a big one, Atsil¨ª, better not forget to tie up the bags." Gowteel half hugs him to her side, the scent of sweat and steel filling his nose for a moment.


    "Aidinza! Dinner!" The woman, his mother, calls and he pulls away from Gowteel and reaches for an embrace. Empty arms, with empty warmth, wrap around him. "Darling!" He chases the half-remembered scent of Apache Plume before the sand pulls him and the rug away and away.


    "The sandstorm?" Echo''s in an endless desert, as the sand began to shift and shake and thunder and rock. A wind only known to silica tore into dunes, whipping up dervishes and terrible, choking clouds of sand. Aidinza attempts to push through it, the sand underneath him falling away with every step and the sand whipping at his skin, eyes, and mouth.


    "Aidinza!" He looks up at another call, a woman that looked like Gowteel with¡­ blue eyes. Stood there in the raging sandstorm, moments from being hidden away beneath a tide of sand. "Din-." Her voice is cut off as sand spills from her lips.


    Aidinza desperately tries to reach out to her, but single, massive pillar of chitin smashes apart the desert in front of him, sending him hurtling back, before the sand once more dragged him far, far away, to stand behind a broad figure, his hair styled into a long ponytail, with five tufts of red-orange hair jutting from his crown. The figure, in turn, stood cast in darkness in front of a twisted, rotting thing, with stretched tendons suspending it in their air, its lower half oozing incandescent blood that sizzled at the ground.


    "There is no regret more bitter in this world. No word you can utter that would hurt me more than I have hurt myself." Aidinza''s heart ached as the figure spoke in a low rumble, crushing defeat weighing at his shoulders, as his shirt fell away exposing a back of weeping lacerations.


    He reaches out, but he''s pulled away, and away and away and away, until he stands alone in a cave of unwrought blackstone and heat. Heat so oppressive that it weighs down on him, down and down as he melted into the floor and went deeper and deeper until he falls, falls and falls through a vast caldera, as he twists in the air to face the oncoming magma, and a face forms, a deformed jaw large enough to engulf buildings wrenching open as long strands of molten steel dripped from its maw.


    Then it was dark. Dark and more blackstone and hard rock that scraped and pulled and heat and heat that pressed in on him, and the walls moved and collapsed as they grew orange and molten pressing down onto him and burning and burning and crushing him. His was burning and melting and his bones were ash and dust underneath a sunless sky.


    Aidinza gasps as his heart hammers in his chest, and he jolts up in his sleeping pack. For several long moments, he sits there, gasping for breath and desperately teetering on the edge of panic. His shaking hand slowly lowers to where Sandile is curled on his lap and strokes along the reptile''s cold scales.


    He sits there for a while, just trying to regain his breath, trying to fight back the all too real feeling of burning magma flowing across his body, trying to fight back the mounting panic. As his heart finally calms down and his breaths feel like they fill his lungs, he glances at the mouth of his tent, where a wind had blown the flap open, leaving the moon to shine down upon him.


    Aidinza shakes his head, a moon-addled dream. Of all the things¡­


    He sighs before he hears the sound of fluttering wings and the crunch of grass outside the tent. He slides towards the door, poking his head out into the freezing cold of the dead of night. It was an exhausted-looking Astazhei clutching a¡­


    Ice cube?


    Aidinza slowly blinks and realises he is still dreaming. Carefully he pulls the tent flap shut and slides back into the spot he has warmed all night, curling up with Sandile.


    He''s gone in moments.


    -

 Icirrus, the Pale North Flower

    Aidinza had never been so cold in his life. Even in the dead of winter, the coldest nights in the Ya¡¯an-ah desert had nothing on the icy chill consuming his bones as he approached Twist Mountain and Irricus beyond it.


    Where once sleet rain had pounded down from the heavens, now snow danced on the wind, coating the trees and road in thick layers of powder that Aidinza struggled to wade through.


    It was, in many ways, miserable. Aidinza was forced to sleep in his spare clothes and wear the previous day¡¯s still slightly damp clothes the next day just so he would have something dry to sleep in.


    Thankfully, the thick leather of his tent was enough to keep him somewhat warm during the nights. The Ya¡¯an-ah detested the idea of sleeping where the moonlight could reach them almost as much as they detested settling down in permanent shelters.


    And what chill he was forced to face on the road, well, as frustrating as Shand¨ª¨ªn could be, his newly evolved body made for a fantastic heat source. Aidinza just had to put up with the bird tugging on his hair every once in a while.


    Though, if he got too annoying, Astazhei was always ready and willing to put him back in line. The eaglet had taken Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s evolution as a challenge and had more than once proven that a new typing and a more mature body were not enough to wrestle him on even terms.


    Aidinza pauses as he thinks of his first bird, glancing around the sky as if he would see him swooping down at any moment with his newest obsession. He was not totally sure why Astazhei had taken to carrying ice cubes back to camp, but he was willing to blame Skyla for it.


    He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. The only one of Aidinza¡¯s pok¨¦mon that seemed impressed by Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s new form was Sandile. The desert croc had taken to watching the newly evolved bird with wide eyes whenever they were released together at night, wide eyes alight with something like expectation.


    Expectation for what Aidinza could only guess at. But he suspected it might have something to do with Sandile¡¯s recent growth; his back legs were thickening, and small ridges had begun forming along his back. He was starting to look like the older sandile that Aidinza would play with back home.


    Aidinza paused, glancing around as he struggled to recognise where he was. It took him a few moments to realise he had been so lost in his thoughts about Sandile evolving that he had managed to wander out of the freezing snow and into twist mountain.


    Though being inside the mountain hardly did anything for the chill in the air, if anything, it was even colder inside. Aidinza shuddered and pulled his poncho tighter against his body, briefly tempted to release Shand¨ª¨ªn again. But the fire type had fought a powerful Zebstrika earlier in the day and had far more trouble than it usually did against its unevolved form.


    ¡°Oi kid!¡± A voice bounces around the cave tunnel, and Aidinza looks over to see a burly man maybe a few years older than him with teal hair approaching in a shining yellow vest and hat.


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds.¡± Aidinza greets as he comes to a stop. The other man just gives him a curt nod, evidently in something of a rush.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got some serious earth-works going on deeper in the mountain. So the lower levels are off limits, and I¡¯m going to have to ask you to wear this while you¡¯re here.¡± He shoves a hat like his own into Aidinza¡¯s hand. The Naisho¡¯h examines the hat for a moment, its yellow plastic gleaming even in the soft lights illuminating the cave, and it felt solid in his hand.


    With a shrug, he puts it onto his head. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get to Iriccus city. Do I need to go to the lower levels?¡±


    ¡°Eh, nah. It¡¯ll be a bit of a walk, but you should be able to skirt the upper levels just fine.¡± The man shrugged before giving Aidinza a long look. ¡°You¡¯re ah, you¡¯re one of the Ya¡¯an-ah, right? Dzil¡¯ana?¡±


    Aidinza blinks; of all the places he had expected for one of his people¡¯s tribes to be mentioned by name, it was not in the mountain. Icirrus certainly, but not the mountain. ¡°Naisho¡¯h, the Dzil¡¯ana no longer participate in the ritual of the sun.¡±


    The burly man snaps his fingers and shakes his head. ¡°Thought the hair was the giveaway. Ah well, trustworthy steps, clear or cold cousin.¡± The man grins and shrugs off his vest and then the jacket underneath, offering it to the shivering teen. ¡°You look like you¡¯re just about to turn blue.¡±


    Aidinza eyes it for a moment before another shiver down his spine convinces him. He takes it and throws it over his shoulders, grateful for the warmth even if it was several sizes too big for him, the sleeves hiding his hands from view.


    ¡°I¡¯m Gwi¡¯geh, of the Tly¡¯an-yeh.¡± Aidinza¡¯s eyes widen for a moment, and his attention flicks to the man¡¯s cyan hair. It had been years since he had last met one of the other native peoples of Unova, but he and the Ya¡¯an-ah would not soon forget their cousins-in-land.


    His own smile crosses his face, and the tension of meeting a new person slips away. ¡°I am Aidinza, of the Ya¡¯an-ah. I didn¡¯t expect to meet your people outside of Icirrus.¡± Gwi¡¯geh turns to stand beside Aidinza, hand coming to pat his shoulders.


    ¡°Gwee¡¯aa Brycen would not let such a big project happen in our lands without money passing into our hands.¡± The other man led Aidinza through a carved-out opening in the rock that led into a massive cavern filled with men and pok¨¦mon dressed in the same hats and vests of Gwi¡¯geh. Aidinza watched in awe as a giant machine, perhaps only somewhat smaller than Skyla¡¯s cargo plane, bore into the side of the mountain, a great grinding sound filling the cavern. ¡°A path from Driftveil to Icirrus, a vein between two beating hearts of Unova.¡±


    There was no mistaking the beam on his face as anything but proud as the two of them witnessed the very mountains themselves being reshaped in front of them.


    ¡°It will take months and enough sweat to fill our wetlands, but it will be well worth it.¡± Aidinza could only hum in acknowledgement as his eyes traced over the already worked stone. Hundreds of tons of rock had been mined through, and he could only imagine how much earth would be moved by the time they were done.


    ¡°It¡¯s very impressive.¡± The man pats Aidinza on the shoulder again before stepping forward and bellowing to the workers below. ¡°Nijin t??oo ?aiin-choo, it?ee valak ??uu nduh ts????¡±


    ¡°About ten minutes might have to wait for them to unload, and no Tly¡¯an-yen on-site man, the foremen can¡¯t understand it.¡± Gwi¡¯geh turns back to Aidinza and gives him an exasperated shrug, clearly not too pleased with being called out.


    ¡°My brothers make excuses. They simply don¡¯t remember their mother tongue as well as I do. The foremen just ask for translations.¡± He chuckles and scratches his pale face. Aidinza just nodded. Some of the other Ya¡¯an-ah children he had met struggled with their Ya¡¯an-ah and preferred to speak the common tongue. ¡°We have another truck coming soon. You can head across on that, save you half a day skirting around the edge.¡± He nods his head towards a trail that circled around the edge of the mountain, illuminated by a long stretch of wired lights pinned to the cave wall.


    ¡°Thank you, I appreciate it.¡± Even with the extra warmth of the jacket on his shoulders, he had not been looking forward to walking through this freezing air any longer than he absolutely had to. ¡°And for the jacket.¡±


    ¡°Bah, don¡¯t mention it. Have to coax you desert nomads out of your sandy dunes someway, and a bit of kindness seems like it ought to do it.¡± Aidinza hums to himself and lets his attention drift back over the work site. Not everyone was obviously Tly¡¯an-yeh, but there were so many that were. Even during his ritual of the Sun, even during his sister¡¯s ritual of the sun, he had not seen so many Ya¡¯an-ah in one place in his entire life.


    Maybe during the half-centennial Sun Festival, but he had hardly been capable of toddling back then, and this was something as mundane as work - as much as that word could apply to reshaping mountains - not something as sacred as the festival.


    ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll introduce you to some of my brothers while you wait.¡± Aidinza looks back to Gwi¡¯geh, his eyes lost in thought for a moment. He shakes his head and nods, following after the broad man to the crowd of his cheerful people.


    -


    Driving in a truck had been an experience much more palatable than flying in a plane. For one, the truck remained firmly on the ground the entire time. Or under the ground as it were here. Though the company was less enjoyable than Skyla, no offence meant for the taciturn man who had driven him.


    It was also blessedly short; in ten minutes, Aidinza had been driven through the massive worksite for this enormous undertaking, and in twenty, he had walked through the other side of twist mountain. The quicker he got out of the mountain¡¯s freezing cold air, the better, in his opinion.


    Though, the road leading from twist mountain to Icirrus was not much better. Even with the jacket that Gwi¡¯geh had lent him - with the promise that he would return it to Brycen - the chill of the snowy air sent his teeth chattering. Aidinza was not even sure that his tent would manage to keep this cold at bay when night fell, and for the first time, he found himself hoping to reach a city before that. Even if it turns out as disorientating as Nimbasa, getting out from this weather would make Aidinza¡¯s day.


    So when he ascended the steps to the clearly defined bounds of the city - the road actually cleared of snow for the first time in what felt like days - it was with no small amount of relief. For the first time since he had seen lights in the distance, Aidinza pauses and takes the city in.


    Where one could use the word uniformity to describe Mistralton - a product of it being a corporation town, Skyla had told him, whatever that meant - that word would be the farthest thing from any tongue witnessing Icirrus. No, with diamond dust snow glittering in the dusk as it swirled through the streets, the only thing that came to Aidinza¡¯s mind was character. Each building was a beautiful structure of an eclectic selection of carved wood, every aspect of each house different from the next. But not only that, all of them were painted with colourful murals stark against the snowy ground.


    On one side of the street might be a single-story house of cedar planks painted with a mural of clashing dragons, and across from it would be a house of oak, painted with picturesque rolling summertime hills.


    But it was more than just the buildings. It was the people as well. There were fewer of them than Nimbasa or Driftveil, maybe. But despite that, they felt more¡­ present. Children played in the snow, an echo of their giggles filling the streets, left on their own as the adults tended to open, roaring fires of roasting meat. Often Aidinza saw a pok¨¦mon, too dirty to be tamed, too clean to be truly wild, lumbering around the streets. He saw massive beartic, each large enough to dwarf the oldest of Krookodile, watching with lazy eyes as Cubchoo stumbled into groups of playing Tly¡¯an-yeh children.


    There was life in these streets that made Aidinza ache for home. Ache for the nights playing with basks of sandile and krokorok. For looking after the young of the Naisho¡¯h and getting dragged into their contests and games.


    Replace this cold in the air with heat and the buildings with thick tents, and Aidinza could almost be convinced he was home.


    It was enough to sweep Aidinza into simply wandering the town, ignoring the shiver threatening his spine. Simply taking in the sights and sounds and smells of Icirrus. He saw entire neighbourhoods whose building¡¯s mural¡¯s combined into one unifying art piece. He saw things done with wood that he struggled to even understand with wood that he would never be able to name. He saw entire streets turned upside down by children throwing snowballs at each other in giant wars.


    ¡°Vizhee gwich?in yaa?ee.¡± Aidinza stops his aimless sightseeing as a woman standing at one of the many fires around Iriccus waves him down. ¡°Ya¡¯an-ah! I recognise those colours! Come, come!¡±


    Aidinza glances around as if he would see some other desert nomad behind him before shaking his head and walking over to the woman and the half dozen other adults standing around the fire with her.


    ¡°Trustworthy steps, cold or clear Vizhee Valak.¡± The woman was black-haired, but her pale as driven snow skin and icy blue eyes marked her as Tly¡¯an-yeh as clear as cyan hair would. Most of the people standing around the fire were, and Aidinza only said most because he was on the fence about the last two.


    ¡°Vizhee Valak?¡± He murmurs, trying to recall what little he knew of his cousin tongue. ¡°Colour friend?¡±


    ¡°You wear our colours, cousin, and unless you walk into our home with blood on your hands, it must mean you are a friend.¡± A short man spoke as he flicked salt over the sweet-smelling meat cooking over the fire. The jacket, Aidinza realised, must have Gwi¡¯geh¡¯s colours, like Aidinza¡¯s poncho had his own Naisho¡¯h colours.


    ¡°Gwi¡¯geh gave me his jacket when we met in the mountain.¡± There¡¯s a moment of shared oh¡¯s among the Tly¡¯an-yen and more than a few chuckles. ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, sorry.¡± He blurts out, remembering his manners.


    That earned even more laughter.


    ¡°No sorry¡¯s here, cousin. It¡¯s a beautiful winter afternoon, with a warm fire and good company!¡± A woman, not the one that invited Aidinza over, slurs out to a cheer from the rest of them. ¡°Our baby snow goose might have talked your ear off already, but stay a while, and we¡¯ll prove it runs in the family!¡±


    ¡°The fire does smell good¡­.¡± And with another round of cheers, Aidinza found his fate sealed. In moments he was sitting in front of a fire, two Tly¡¯an-yeh on either side plying him with a plate of sweet-smelling meat, as they chattered his ear off, probing for any detail about his journey Aidinza would spare.


    Aidinza spared few. From Sandile appearing at his ritual to the mistaken identity in Nimbasa, his encounters with plasma and every meeting and fight in-between. The nomad did not consider himself much of a storyteller, but the Tly¡¯an-yeh made him feel like he could weave words as enchantingly as Bi At Ini.


    They would gasp and cheer at every turn, from his unimpressive victory over Mark to his crushing defeat at Clay¡¯s hand. All the while, plying him with more and more food and a sweet drink warmed him from inside out.


    When he was done, the Tly¡¯an-yeh did not give a moment to dead air. Diving into their own stories, from triumphs over powerful gym leaders to braving the frozen swamps north of Iriccus for grand hunts.


    And Aidinza gasped and cheered along with everyone else.


    -


    There were more than a few things that Aidinza noticed upon waking up. The first, and perhaps the most pressing, was that he had absolutely no idea where he was. The second and most irritating was that his head throbbed and ached like he had been smacked by one of Gowteel¡¯s pok¨¦mon.


    The last, and the most important to him at the moment, was that the bed he had fallen asleep in was snug and cosy, with a large fluffy blanket, pulled tight around his shoulders.


    He groans as he tries to sink deeper into the soft pillow behind him as if he could force his headache away.


    But it was a losing war. Before long, Aidinza shoves the warm blankets off him and stands up to find answers to where he was and why his head hurt so much. Though, it only gave him a fourth question, why was he in strange new clothes? The thick cotton he wore was far from unpleasant, but he did not remember putting it on.


    He stumbles through an ornately carved wooden hallway, half taking in the scenes of a seismitoad dancing through a valley of flowers. Before he stumbles across a woman that he vaguely remembers from last night in the living room.


    ¡°Vizhee Valak, your snores could wake the slumbering Truth!¡± The woman¡¯s laughter sent a lance of pain through Aidinza¡¯s skull, and he winced. Something she was quick to notice, crossing the living room and pressing a blessedly cool hand to his forehead. ¡°Che, you¡¯re hungover. Luckily I have just the remedy.¡±


    Aidinza finds himself sitting at the head of a stone table covered in a white and black patterned cloth. He glances around, first at the door the woman had disappeared through, then at the house¡¯s walls covered in paintings and pictures, of landscapes and people and everything in between. However, his attention is disrupted when the mouth-watering scent of sizzling meat touches his nose. He had not realised before how ravenously hungry he was, but now it was all he could think about.


    Luckily, he did not have to wait long, a few minutes passed, and the woman walked out and placed a plate in front of him.


    Aidinza hardly managed to give her a thankful nod before he began devouring it wholesale. ¡°There¡¯s a compliment to the chef, eh? Careful you don¡¯t bite through your fork going that fast.¡± Aidinza flushed, slowing down his feast. Not that it mattered particularly much, considering that most of his plate was already gone.


    ¡°Sor-.¡± He starts before an amused look cuts him off, and he flushes again. Silently he eats the last of his meal before crossing his cutlery and placing them to the right side of his plate. He glances back up to the woman, and to her pleased smile. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t exactly reme-¡±


    ¡°Where you are?¡± The shorter man from last night enters the room, scratching at the side of his lightly bearded face. ¡°A tip for next time, cousin, drink halfway; an empty cup is an invitation for the Tly¡¯an-yeh.¡± The man takes a seat and slides over a glass of pinkish liquid. ¡°For the hangover, our little snow goose would throw a fit if we left his friend in such a sorry state.¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Aidinza eyes it for a moment and drinks it to the halfway point before carefully placing it back on the table. It was a reasonably pleasant taste, all things considered, but he did not want to be rude by rejecting freely given advice in one¡¯s own home. The other two seemed to find that hilarious, their infectious laughter drawing out a half smile from the desert nomad as his headache recedes.


    ¡°Snow goose?¡± He asks as the laughter dies down. The other two exchanged surprised glances, and the man rubbed at the back of his head with a sheepish smile.


    ¡°Ah, you really did have a lot to drink.¡± The man says haltingly, leaning away from the woman¡¯s increasingly unimpressed look. ¡°Yee oo?an gwahaadlii. I am Nah¡¯aa. This is my wife Da¡¯zhoh, Gwi¡¯geh¡¯s sister.¡±


    ¡°No sorrys here.¡± Aidinza half mutters to a pleased grin from Nah¡¯aa before shaking his head. He vaguely recalled the names from last night, and he definitely remembered their faces. ¡°Where are my¡­.¡± He trails off, not exactly sure what to ask about first.


    ¡°Your pok¨¦balls are by the bedside, and your clothes are drying in the clothes dryer,¡± Da¡¯zhoh said as she gathered Aidinza¡¯s plate. ¡°We considered taking them to the Pok¨¦mon Centre, but we thought it would be too forward.¡±


    Aidinza slowly nodded, glad for that. Waking up with his clothes removed was strange. Waking up with his pok¨¦mon gone¡­ would be far more difficult to stomach.


    ¡°Speaking of the Pok¨¦mon Centre, my friends have spent weeks on the road fighting. They deserve a healer¡¯s touch.¡± Aidinza stood up and rubbed at the cotton he was wearing. ¡°Thank you for your hospitality.¡±


    ¡°You are blood of our land, Vizhee Valak of our kin. Our home is your home, our fire your fire, our bed your bed.¡± Aidinza pauses for a moment, the weight of Nah¡¯aa¡¯s words settling over him. He slowly breathes in, still in a moment of appreciation he was unsure how to express.


    So all he does is bow his head. His people were far from hostile to travellers or strangers, but something in him told him that they would never welcome someone into their lives so openly like this.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get your clothes.¡± With one final grin towards Aidinza, the shorter man stands up and disappears into another room. Leaving the nomad to slightly awkwardly linger in the room with Da¡¯zhoh. The woman watched him for a moment, her dark hair stark against her pale skin.


    ¡°His words are true, cousin. Our home is open to you.¡± The nomad slowly nods again, still unsure what else to do. ¡°It¡¯s been so long since we have seen any of you; perhaps a little kindness will change that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the second person to say that to me.¡± Aidinza lingers at the head of the table for a moment, watching the woman.


    ¡°Then maybe it will be true.¡± She stands up with Aidinza¡¯s plate and glass in her hands and, with one final smile, disappears through the door from which she had brought the food.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He mutters again to himself as a yawn cracks his jaw, and he heads back to collect his pok¨¦balls.


    -


    Icirrus Gym was carved into a cliffside painted in a vivid mural of an endless field of snow flowers, lit by a calamitous crash of living lightning and fire that curled around the pillars and balcony that made up its entrance.


    It was a fitting tribute to their beliefs. Aidinza knew that everyone who would challenge their leader would do so underneath the eyes of their Truth and Ideal. For a moment, he wondered what the Ya¡¯an-ah would do in the Tly¡¯an-yeh¡¯s place. Would his people¡¯s gym honour the Sun, or perhaps invoking the ideals of Bi At Ini was more fitting?


    He could almost see it now, a tent of gossamer silk embroidered with the stories of his people. Their meaning and lessons there for anyone in the world to learn. Patterned with the legends that made the Ya¡¯an-ah who they were. Their glory for everyone to see.


    Aidinza tightens Gwi¡¯geh¡¯s jacket around his shoulders and pushes through the heavy gym doors. The other side was cold, the walls were rimmed with ice, the air brisk in his lungs. A blonde-haired man sat behind the desk, bundled underneath several thick layers.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to challenge the gym leader.¡± He announces, and the man gives him a thumbs up.


    ¡°Aidinza? Gwee¡¯aa Brycen is waiting for you.¡± The man¡¯s tongue stumbled on Brycen¡¯s title, giving away that he was not one of the Tly¡¯an-yeh just as surely as his blonde hair.


    The nomad nods, and continues through another set of doors, and finds himself surprised as his boots meet something slick and cold. He catches himself before he could slip and eyes the frozen ice floor with trepidation. It was not quite as ridiculous as Skyla¡¯s fan, but he found himself missing Clay¡¯s straightforward gym design.


    Finding a gait that prevents him from slipping every few seconds on the ice takes him a few moments, but he manages it quick enough. He was Ya¡¯an-ah; he was used to strange footing underneath him. Soon enough, he found himself standing on one end of a tall ice stadium filled with icy boulders and watched by more than a few Tly¡¯an-yeh in the bleachers.


    But he did not look at them. No, his eyes were drawn to the man sitting on the other end of the stadium. The Tly¡¯an-yeh were a distinct people, especially compared to the Ya¡¯an-ah, and Gym Leader Brycen seemed to embody that distinctness. His skin was as pale as falling snow, his cyan hair glittered like ice, and even sitting down, Aidinza could see he was a tall man, with his powerful muscles exposed by the mantle covering his left arm.


    ¡°The sun sings for your health, Ah-na-ghai Brycen. I am Aidinza of the Ya¡¯an-ah, son of the Naisho¡¯h.¡± He called across the field, hand falling to his belt. ¡°I am here to challenge you, honoured cousin.¡±


    Aidinza flinches slightly as the bleachers explode in cheers and whoops. He had not been expecting that.


    ¡°Ideals guide your path, and Truth guides your judgement, Aidinza of the Ya¡¯ah-ah. I am the Gwee¡¯aa of the Tly¡¯an-yeh. I am a gym leader of Unova. I accept your challenge.¡± The cyan-haired man rises, his full height an imposing thing to witness as his muscles rippled. He turns to face Aidinza, his cyan eyes almost glowing with colour. ¡°This will be a three-on-three battle! There will be no substitutions; Pok¨¦mon may only be returned upon being declared unable to battle! Test him, Snorunt!¡±


    In a flash of red, a small black pok¨¦mon appeared, with spherical hands that almost seemed to hold its cyan coat closed and fierce orange eyes. A moment later, Shand¨ª¨ªn appears with a furious cry and flicker of flame across his orange coat in answer to a chorus of oohs.


    The two of them stood there for a moment as Brycen¡¯s icy blue eyes slowly scanned the bleachers. He raises a hand, tension and anticipation building among the watching Tly¡¯an-yeh. He brings it down, and the crowd roars. ¡°BEGIN!¡±


    ¡°Shand¨ª¨ªn, to the skies, ember!¡± With a whistle, the fire type rose into the air, making use of the high ceiling of the stadium to completely avoid the ice-rock-covered field.


    ¡°Icy Wind.¡± Brycen snaps as the fletchinder dove at the snorunt, a spark of intense flame flickering in his beak.


    ¡°Acrobatics. Avoid it.¡± Even if the natural heat in Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s body would help him resist the icy cold better than the average flying-type, it was far from something the fragile bird could take easily.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn hastened to obey, spitting out the flame resting on his tongue towards Snorunt before banking hard left, avoiding the icy wind that tore through the air behind him. Then he dove, building to a speed that made him little more than a blur to Aidinza¡¯s vision.


    ¡°On your back-left, Ice Shard when it¡¯s close.¡± Aidinza looked across to his opponent, who seemed to be keeping up with Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s speed with little issue.


    However, his pok¨¦mon lacked the same ability. Before the snorunt could even spin around, Shand¨ª¨ªn slammed into it, sending it sliding backwards on the ice. Without offering it a single moment¡¯s respite, he threw himself into a turn and crashed into the snorunt from a different angle, this time causing it to smash into a heavy rock of ice, unconscious.


    ¡°Snorunt is unable to continue the battle.¡± Aidinza gave a double take to the older man standing on the side of the field, wracking his brain to remember if he was there when he came in. ¡°Gym Leader Brycen has two pok¨¦mon remaining.¡±


    ¡°Hide the path to Truth, Cryogonal.¡± With a flash of red, perhaps the strangest pok¨¦mon Aidinza had ever seen appeared floating above the battlefield. It seemed to be made of sheer ice, cut into the shape of a blue, hexagonal snowflake. Two cracks ran through its body, the first exposing cold, fierce blue eyes. The second exposed what Aidinza hesitated to call a mouth.


    ¡°Mist.¡± A groan of ice fills the field, and Crygonal¡¯s lower mouth cracks open with a shuddering movement, spewing forth a mass of white gas that filled the arena in moments, seeping between the icy rocks and obscuring the entire stadium.


    Including where Aidinza was standing. He grits his teeth as the mist turns the place even colder and rubs at his face. It would be embarrassing, to say the least, if he could not order his pok¨¦mon because his teeth were too busy chattering.


    Though considering he could hardly see Shand¨ª¨ªn circling high above the arena, and could not see the Crygonal in the slightest, maybe he had more pressing things to worry about.


    ¡°Ancient Power.¡± Not that he would be given a moment to worry about it, as he watched four large rocks rip from the mist-bed towards Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    ¡°Agility.¡± Aidinza would not be able to warn Shand¨ª¨ªn of coming attacks, and the bird would not be able to see where the attacks were coming from. The fletchinder would need to be at his fastest to react and avoid being hit by the powerful rock-type attacks, which very well might put him down with a good connection.


    ¡°Keep it up, Crygonal.¡± It was a brutal stalemate, Shand¨ª¨ªn only managing to keep ahead of the powerful barrage by the skin of his teeth. Dipping and diving with all the grace that had impressed Aidinza when he had dodged Naazin¡¯s smackdown.


    But the Crygonal was growing more accurate by the moment, Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s ability to avoid them growing more and more tenuous.


    They had to do something, and maybe it was a mistake, but Aidinza thought there was something to be learned from the last time Shand¨ª¨ªn was in this situation against Naazin.


    ¡°Flame Charge.¡± But this time, the flying-type had a fair bit more power behind his wings.


    The fletchinder did not even waste a moment, his wings snapping tight against his sleek body as he dove towards where the ancient power had just come from. A trail of flame spilled out of his beak to form a thick nimbus of flame around himself. He slammed into the mist, sending a ripple through it as he disappeared into it, lighting it all with an intense orange light that raced through the obscuring mist.


    A moment passed, and then two as the flame flickered and raged inside that mist, lighting up the entire arena in a dance of shadow and light on fog. Shand¨ª¨ªn was chasing his enemy with lethal focus, and the Crygonal was managing to keep ahead of him in the hazardous field.


    Then, the Crygonal broke the mist, its fierce blue eyes locked underneath it, as it hung high in the air, rock-type energy coalescing in the air around it to form large boulders. But coalescing was as far as it got as Shand¨ª¨ªn broke through the mists on its heels, a burning fireball as he crossed the distance between the two in a heartbeat and slammed into the Crygonal¡¯s cracked face, sending it careening into the ceiling.


    Aidinza¡¯s grin was as fierce as Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s cry as he swept around the misty arena, the white mist breaking in his wake without its master to control it.


    ¡°Crygonal is unable to battle.¡± The older man speaks once more as the crowd goes wild with cheers. ¡°Gym Leader Brycen has one remaining pok¨¦mon.


    Rather than releasing his pok¨¦mon immediately, Brycen seemed to study Aidinza, and as blue eyes met green, he seemed to come to a conclusion. ¡°Yee oo?an gwahaadlii. Cousin of my land. I am unused to this sort of battle and am rusty. Nor should I have dishonoured you with it. Please.¡± His hand falls to a pok¨¦ball by his side and the stadium gasps. ¡°Let me do you the honour of a proper battle.¡±


    The pok¨¦mon that appeared left no doubt that Brycen was taking this fight seriously. Aidinza had seen beartic around Icirrus yesterday, even beartic that would, in theory, dwarf this one. But they had lacked the trained edge that sculpted the massive ursine beast in front of Aidinza. Lacked the sharp steel in its eyes.


    The other beartic were enormous because beartic were enormous. This beartic was enormous because it was built with muscle and intent.


    A low, rumbling growl shakes the arena, only matched by the crowd going wild, cheering for the appearance of the freezing pok¨¦mon.


    ¡°Hail.¡± Aidinza¡¯s eyes widened as Beartic¡¯s icy beard began glowing a harsh blue. Though hail was far from something he had spent any particular time looking into, it was something he had stumbled across while reading up on sandstorm, an ability he had seen Krookodile put to incredible effect in the sands of his home.


    ¡°Flame Charge.¡± He snaps out. Fighting in the hail would be disastrous for his team, without even considering the natural advantages it would give Beartic. Shand¨ª¨ªn, showing a complete disregard for the fact that his opponent was well over two and a half metres of powerful muscle, surged forward, fire once more spilling out of his beak.


    ¡°Liquidation.¡± But it was nothing but a trap. The moment that Shand¨ª¨ªn was close enough, the Beartic¡¯s beard stopped glowing, and it reared back onto its hind legs. A thick layer of glittering water formed over its powerful arm and, like a guillotine, swung down on Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    The flying type did not stand a chance, and Aidinza watched wide-eyed as he was sent crashing into the ground, unconscious with a single blow, to a whisper of shock from the crowd.


    ¡°Fletchinder is unable to battle!¡± Aidinza returned Shand¨ª¨ªn as he stared at the muscular ice-type. His hand fell to the pok¨¦balls at his side as he raced to think of how in the world he could beat something that big. But then again, he had won against something even bigger before, had he not? ¡°The challenger is down to two pok¨¦mon.¡±


    His hands closed around Sandile¡¯s pok¨¦ball, and in a flash of red, his starter appeared on the field, claws digging into the slippery ice beneath him.


    ¡°Hone Claw.¡± Aidinza knew that he would need every edge he could get against this pok¨¦mon, and between the lack of ground to manipulate, and the chill in the air, he did not have many to start with.


    ¡°Frost Breath.¡± Not that the massive eight-foot bear was going to let them get that edge. As the malicious rasp of Sandile¡¯s claws scraping against each other filled the air, Beartic filled it in a more direct sense. It spat out a gale of blue-tinged wind towards Sandile.


    ¡°Dodge!¡± He did not want to find out how ill-suited Sandile was to deal with an ice-type attack without the innate heat to ward it away like Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    The sound of keratin sliding across ice fills the stadium as Sandile struggles to throw himself out of the way, taking cover behind a rock by the tip of his tail.


    ¡°Icicle Spear, then follow up with Ice Punch.¡± With a roar, Beartic¡¯s beard glowed again as he slammed down onto all fours and charged Sandile, crushing through rocks in his way.


    Sandile did not need to be told to get out of the way. But before he could build up speed on the slick ice, Beartic roared again, and several long shards of ice fell from its beard and raced towards Sandile, cutting off his escape with a crash of crushed ice.


    ¡°Sandile!¡± Aidinza shouted as the massive form of beartic slammed into the desert croc, arm glowing with a harsh, icy light as it crushed him to the floor.


    And just like that, it should have been over. Aidinza knew that a physical ice-move like Ice Punch was almost uniquely suited to crushing through the defences of a ground type, and as tough as Sandile was, Beartic was a monster of physical strength.


    But Sandile held on.


    As the beartic reared up on its back claws and roared its victory to the crowd, Sandile dragged himself off the ground and lashed out with his powerful jaws, the strange energy that empowered him when he used hone claw so thick in his teeth that it turned them black. He latches onto Beartic¡¯s calf, teeth sinking deep into the thickly furred limb, and with all the might he could muster, he dragged the mighty ice-type off balance sending it crashing down onto its back. The dark-energy Sandile mustered sank into the bear¡¯s white fur, staining it as it roared in pain and anger.


    But it was not enough to truly put the beartic down, and after a moment, Sandile was lifted off the ground by his jaw and slammed into the ground. That was enough to put him down.


    ¡°Sandile is unable to battle!¡± The desert croc disappeared into his pok¨¦ball, and Aidinza whispered praise to him before clipping it to his belt again. ¡°The challenger is down to one pok¨¦mon!¡±


    An air of tense expectation fills the stadium as the assembled Tly¡¯an-yeh - whose number had only grown since the start of the battle - waited for Aidinza¡¯s next choice of pok¨¦mon.


    Aidinza, for his part, let his mind race. Sandile had landed a clean blow, and he could see that Beartic was gingerly on its back leg. It was not enough to decide the next bout outright, not like it had been against Skyla¡¯s skarmory. But it was something to take advantage of.


    Something that Naazin would be able to take advantage of.


    The sixth and final flash of red fills the stadium. Naazin appeared on the ice, his placid yellow eyes quickly finding the beartic. He turns to glance at Aidinza, incredulous. Aidinza, for his part, gives him an encouraging smile. ¡°It¡¯s down to the wire, Naazin. You¡¯re last up.¡±


    The crustacean let his antenna squeak and turned back to face his massive opponent, still reluctant. Though, how much that reluctance counted when he was reluctant against all his foes and hung around anyway was questionable. As he watched his opponent, he tested his claw-like legs against the ice, feeling them slide over the slick material before he tapped it with his smaller arm, a web of cracks forming.


    ¡°Slash.¡± Naazin was not given long to test the ice as Beartic charged forward again, its bulk no less intimidating for being slightly slower. Naazin, much like Sandile, was well aware he wanted nothing to do with a beartic at close range. The water-type skittered across the ice, slightly more comfortable in the ice compared to Sandile.


    But it was not enough to make meaningful distance between him and his opponent, and soon enough, Beartic would crash into him with all the force that brought Sandile and Shand¨ª¨ªn low so quickly.


    ¡°Bubble Beam.¡± It was a desperate idea, the time lost from coming to a stop to attack the beartic might not even be made up for by the potential speed that Beartic would lose. Fortunately for Aidinza, while Naazin was lazy, he was far from stupid and had noticed something long before his trainer.


    Rather than coming to a stop, Naazin just spun on his claws, letting his momentum continue sliding him along the ice, as his keen yellow gaze locked onto his opponent and brought his larger claw to bear. A stream of viscous bubbles spat out from his claw, smashing into the charging beartic with enough force to stagger it for a moment.


    A moment that Naazin did not waste, twisting back around, and with barely a pause, he retook control of his momentum. Just in time, too, the giant wall of the stadium was looming in front of him, and it would have been very embarrassing to lose the gym battle to his pok¨¦mon knocking themselves out on a wall they ran into.


    The clauncher pulled into a wide turn, struggling against his own forward momentum, and moments before he would have smashed into the side of the stadium, he managed to complete his turn, skittering parallel to the wall.


    Beartic did not have the same trouble. This was his home and his terrain. Where Naazin struggled against the ice, making barest guesses of how to turn it to his advantage, the beartic knew precisely how to move to get exactly what he needed. A spray of shaved ice crashed into the stadium wall as Beartic made up all the time and more that he lost from his stumble.


    ¡°Frost Breath.¡± Another terrible gale of glittering, icy blue wind surged out of Beartic¡¯s mouth, crossing the thin distance between it and Naazin with terrible force. The moment it touched him, he lost control of his gait, sliding on his front as his back legs were frozen underneath him.


    ¡°Brick Break.¡± The powerful ice-type roared, moments from his quarry, arms beginning to glow a potent white that glared off the ice with searing brightness.


    But if there was anything that Naazin disliked more than having to put in effort, it was being punched in the face by a massive two-and-a-half-metre tall bear. So rather than rolling over and accepting his fate, the crustacean improvised.


    His minor, anchoring claw slammed into the ground, ripping around a ninety-degree angle, leaving him facing the wall. While his firing claw snapped open, a familiar if slightly frustrating orb. The first stage of Aqua Pulse.


    Naazin rips his anchoring claw out of the ice and fires the Aqua Pulse at the wall. And unlike every other time, rather than falling apart into a useless puddle of water, the Aqua Pulse expanded into a wide circle of pulsating water, crashing into the wall with enough force to soak the onlookers in water.


    And enough force to send Naazin careening backwards, out of the way of the Beartic¡¯s brick Break to raucous cheers.


    Aidinza¡¯s grin was just as fierce as when Shand¨ª¨ªn had put the Crygonal down as he watched Naazin¡¯s first, proper Water Pulse.


    Beartic attempted to rear up on its back legs to turn to face Naazin, but in its worst moment, Sandile¡¯s parting gift came back to haunt the powerful ice-type, its back leg buckling underneath both momentum and weight.


    ¡°Aqua Pulse.¡± Naazin¡¯s anchorclaw smashed into the ice in front of him, tearing him to a dead stop, and without a moment¡¯s pause, another aqua ring ripped from his large claw. The pulsating ring of water smashed into Brycen¡¯s final pok¨¦mon, yanking it off its feet and sending it slamming into the wall behind it. Its sheer weight buckled the high stadium wall as it bounced off and landed heavily on the thick ice in front of it. Cracks reached as far as Naazin, four metres away.


    It did not get back up.


    ¡°Beartic is unable to battle! The challenger is victorious!¡± The assembled Tly¡¯an-yeh went wild, with thunderous applause that shook the arena. But Aidinza had eyes for Brycen instead, as the cloth-masked Gym Leader returned his pok¨¦mon. He had been right when he said he would give Aidinza a proper battle. The young nomad had never been so pushed in a fight, even when he had lost to Clay.


    Brycen meets his gaze, and his pale lips pull into a pleased grin. ¡°Your strength is commendable, cousin of the sand. You do your people, and mine, proud. There is a seat at my table tonight; I would like to see it filled.¡±


    A scratch of ice catches Aidinza¡¯s attention, and he kneels down to heft Naazin up as the clauncher reaches his side. Lazy as the crustacean was, he would never turn down getting pampered after a fight. It also gave him some time to remember just what he was supposed to say when the leader of another tribe invited him into their home.


    ¡°You honour me, Ah-na-ghai Brycen. I would be honoured further by filling that seat.¡± That sounded¡­ about right to his ears. Brycen at least seemed pleased by it as he nodded at the young Ya¡¯an-ah and turned to leave the stadium.


    Slowly Aidinza breathed out and let his gaze wander among the Tly¡¯an-yeh in the bleachers, who even now were comfortably talking among themselves, occasionally waving down to him.


    Then his eyes fell to his clothes, and he remembered that all he had was ratty travel gear and someone¡¯s borrowed jacket.


    He was going to need to buy some clothes.

 Route Eight, Where Ice Cubes Lie.

    Brycen''s home was a lonely affair, hidden away high above the city below, of plain lacquered pine wood. The inside was much the same, uncarved and unadorned.


    It was at odds with what Aidinza had expected of the Gwee''aa of the Tly''an-yeh. Judging by the look Brycen gave him from across the table, the gym leader could tell what Aidinza was thinking.


    The tall, pale man smiled, the tight mask around his eyes crinkling as he did so, and made a gesture. Two Tly''an-yeh walked in, one male and one female, carrying plates and drinks, placing them down in front of the two, before retreating out of the house entirely. Leaving the two of them alone.


    Brycen picks up his knife, letting his thumb trail up the blunt edge, pausing on the tip. Aidinza picked up his knife and fork, cutting into the beautifully cooked venison to take a single bite. "Dadz¨®l¨ª." His voice breaks the silence, muffled slightly by the meat he was chewing.


    The Gym Leader looked pleased and twisted his hand so the knife could cut into the thin skin below his thumbnail. "Akwa'' gwik?injiindhat." A single bead of blood slid down the cut of the knife, and both men placed their cutlery back onto the table. "It must have been said before, cousin, but it is good to see you away from your home."


    "It has been¡­." Aidinza trails off for a moment, glancing at the empty walls as if they would inspire the right words. "Silent times."


    Brycen picks up his cutlery again, and Aidinza copies him, taking another bite of the fantastic meat. But Brycen does not start eating however, just studying Aidinza. "Silent truths can be just as dangerous as loud ideals."


    Aidinza slowly nods, unsure what to say. Uncertain of what it was his place to say. A few moments of silent eating pass between the two before Brycen speaks again.


    "You were wondering why my walls were bare." It was not a question, simply a statement of fact.


    "They are¡­ the murals. The city is beautiful because of them." Aidinza answered, to a proud, loving smile from Brycen, his attention drifting to the air above Aidinza''s head as if the gym leader was picturing the city in his mind.


    "Do you know why we paint our walls'' outside and carve the inside?" The Ya''an-ah youth leans back in his seat, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. It had been a long time since he had been taught of the Tly''an-yeh.


    "The murals are¡­ the ideal? What you wish to show the world, and for the world to reflect." Aidinza sneaked a look at Brycen, who gave him an encouraging nod. "The carvings¡­ their truth? Shown only to those who they invite to their hearth?"


    "It gladdens me that our cousins inland still teach of us. You are right; the Murals are the ideals the families wish to see in the world, personal to them but shown to the world often; they are repainted as families grow or change. The carvings, however, usually stay the same. It would take a great event for someone to change it, something life-changing." Brycen sips carefully at his drink. "In years past, the home of the Gwee''aa were mighty things, awe-inspiring murals of promised futures. The inside''s a tapestry that could teach the tribe exactly who their Gwee''aa was, who would lead them to that promised future. The Ideal and Truth that would lead the tribe."


    Aidinza leaned forward in his seat, feeling like a young boy learning the six tales of Bi At Ini for the first time. "Then why¡­?"


    "Because in this day and age, the Tly''an-yeh do not need a guiding ideal, nor an overarching truth. They need the room to blossom and grow into their own ideals and truth. While the Gwee''aa''s home was a beautiful thing to behold back then, others would hardly bother with their own. Mimicking the Gwee''aa in all things, or simply leaving it unpainted." He shakes his head, and despite the mask obscuring his face, Aidinza could see the worry on his face as clear as day. "I have travelled the world and the breadth of Unova. I have seen and experienced so much. Enough to realise that my people needed to come into their own identities, rather than come into my identity, and I gave them space to do that."


    He gestures towards the unadorned house and then towards the mask covering his pale face.


    Aidinza slowly nodded, unsure if he understood what Brycen meant or if he should mention the worry on Brycen''s face.


    "But those are worries for the Tly''an-yeh and for me. You are challenging the gym circuit, correct?" For a moment, Aidinza was tempted to press Brycen about that; Tly''an-yeh problems were Ya''an-ah problems for much of history, even with the distance between them. But he simply nods instead. "Have you tasted defeat yet?"


    "Yes, Honoured Leader Clay, the first time we fought, he¡­ crushed me." Aidinza hung his head slightly; the loss and what followed was not his proudest moment.


    "There is no shame in defeat, nor in how you have to handle it, Cousin of my land. You kept moving forward, and that is what matters, no matter how you ended up there." Aidinza sat up straighter, the slight sting of shame falling away. "I asked because you will taste it again soon."


    Aidinza could not help the shock of offence the words gave him, green eyes hardening as they met cool blue.


    "There is no offence intended, Aidinza. You''re stronger than I would have expected of a three-badge trainer, probably better than I''d expect some five-badge trainers to be. But Drayden has never cared how many badges his opponents have, he will treat you like you are an eight badge trainer, and his dragons will crush through you." Aidinza breathes out slowly, reigning in the flare of pride. "Challenge him if you don''t believe me. Challenge him even if you do believe me. Drayden may not care about how many badges his opponents have, but he is careful to avoid hurting them. Many of my people challenge him first and learn first-hand what one of the pinnacles of Unova can do. Or perhaps they just like wasting the Pheyan''atho''s time." He gives a wiry grin, and Aidinza finds himself sharing it before the conversation once more falls into silence.


    Aidinza finishes his meal, picking through a small salad of mostly berries, before placing his cutlery on the right side of his plate. He glances at Brycen, studying the pale man, eyes tracing along the mantle that marked him as the Gwee''aa of his people.


    A people not far removed from his own.


    "It has been thirty-one years since a volcarona has blessed the ritual of the Sun. Well over fifty since a larvesta has joined our own." His words took even himself off guard, but the way that Brycen calmly placed his cutlery down on the left side of his plate made him suspect the Gym Leader had been expecting them. "It''s a mark of shame for our people. One most tribes¡­ cannot face anymore."


    "So your people do not face it." Brycen finishes for him. Aidinza''s eyes flash, his back straightening.


    "The Naisho''h remember their roots. Silence does not break us." Nor would it, and that was one of the problems. As blood drifted out of the Naisho''h and left behind only the young and the elderly. "But for many Ya''an-ah¡­."


    He can not bring himself to finish the sentence, just letting it hang in the air.


    "My starter¡­ During my ritual of the Sun, he appeared on the Relic Castle''s steps, falling down them, even. Maybe it''s a sign." He sighs, running a hand through thick red hair. "Maybe it is just a coincidence. But either way, I have to do something."


    "But you don''t know what." Brycen finishes for him, and Aidinza falls silent. "And you see what the Tly''an-yeh have built¡­ and wonder how it could be your people." Brycen''s eyes were distant, lost in the past as if he was seeing an entirely different person in Aidinza''s seat. "What the Tly''an-yeh have built¡­ it was not done in a lifetime Al-..." he catches himself, seemingly realising who he was talking to. "It was not done in a lifetime, Aidinza." He repeats.


    Aidinza''s head hangs. "If I just find something to prove myself to the Sun or my people. Maybe it could be done in a lifetime." Brycen breathed in harshly, but Aidinza did not look up to meet his eyes.


    "Oh old friend, oh new blood¡­ I wish I had the words to say to you." Brycen coughed, a harsh wracking sound, before the sound of wood scraping against flooring filled the house, and he stood up. "Change¡­ change like that." He runs his own hand through his tightly tied cyan hair, frustration in his eyes. Before he deflated. "Challenge Drayden, and open your eyes to look. Maybe in that, you could see what you need to see."


    "I''m sor-" Aidinza tries to apologise; he had not wanted to burden his cousin like this. But a sharp look cuts him off.


    "There is nothing you need to say sorry for Aidinza. The only shame here is that I still don''t know what to say after all this time." Brycen gathers his utensils, placing them on the right side of his plate. "Yee oo?an gwahaadlii, your presence has honoured me, and I wish I could give you more. But I must go."


    Aidinza stands and gives Brycen a respectful nod. Then he takes the jacket off his shoulders. "Gwi''geh told me to leave this with you, Honoured Leader." He placed the jacket on the chair back, exposing the clothes that Nah''aa had gifted to him, and then insisted he cover up with the jacket.


    He turns to leave, knowing that he had been dismissed, but before he could pass through the doorway, he hears Brycen call. "Aidinza, Vizhee Valak, cousin of my land. Come back after you fight Drayden the second time." Maybe he''ll have something more to give Aidinza then, sits unsaid in the air. Aidinza nods and leaves.


    -


    Aidinza had entered Icirrus city with only two sets of clothes and his poncho. The morning he woke up to leave Icirrus, he had four sets of clothes, including a thick snow jacket, his own rather than borrowed, and thick cotton pyjamas.


    He had tried to tell Da''zhoh that she did not need to give him so much; her home, food, and company had been more than enough for the Ya''an-ah boy. But every time she would bring up that she had to look after ''their little snow gooses'' friend or tell Aidinza that if he really did not want them, he could return them when he returned.


    She was not particularly subtle.


    But if AIdinza was being honest, it made a difference having the ability to wake up and put on actual dry clothes. Or going to sleep snug and warm in his pyjamas. Really, few things on his journey so far had physically matched how pleasant it was to lay down in his thick tent at the end of a long day''s walk and be warm on this freezing route.


    The young nomad let a sleepy smile across his face as he rolled onto his back and stretched out his legs. His skin brushed pleasantly against the soft fabric as the sound of frozen midnight touched his ears.


    Even the slightly chill wind as one of Aidinza''s pok¨¦mon rumpled the tent''s entrance hardly stirred the boy. Not enough to get through the pleasant crispness.


    The heavy weight that cracked his ribs, however, was more than enough to rip him out of the pleasant warmth-lulled doze he was experiencing. Aidinza felt the stew he made for himself earlier that night rush to his mouth as he was all but folded in half.


    Then came the cold. His thick cotton clothes that laughed at route eight''s chill were utterly worthless in the face of the sheer cold of the crushing weight pinning him down.


    Aidinza was not really a tempestuous person. He preferred to remain outwardly calm in most things, the product of being raised by strict elders and a sharp sister. He was slow to anger and quick to let go of it, usually only getting mildly annoyed.


    Aidinza was enjoying his sleep.


    Aidinza was pissed.


    The noise he lets out is more like an enraged hippodon than an understandable word as his eyes snapped open, and he desperately tried to roll the weight off him - a fucking ice cube of all things - managing to push it one way as he moved the other, curling around his bruised rib with a groan. He was going to make whoever just did that to him pay.


    The culprit wasted no time in making it exactly clear who they were. Astazhei''s victorious, piercing cry split the silent winter midnight, quelling the few chirps of the bugs brave enough to risk the frozen north.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    While only fanning Aidinza''s anger since the bird did that right next to his Sun-blasted head. With great pain, Aidinza sat up and turned his ire-filled eyes onto the rufflet, proudly preening in front of the ice cube he had just dropped on Aidinza''s chest, which was nearly twice his size.


    It was difficult to stay angry in front of Astazhei''s sheer prideful bearing, looking to all the world like he had achieved something worthy of incredible praise, and while having the frankly ridiculous thought of just how the flying-type managed to move something twice his size any reasonable distance.


    Aidinza managed it as his hand fumbled at his side, and he grabbed his half-full water bottle, unscrewing it with a violent motion. Astazhei''s proud, beaming features were soaked as Aidinza''s freezing cold drinking water was thrown in his face, his fuzzy white plume drooping as his eyes widened in shock.


    "Astazhei, I''m going to ask this once. What the fuck?" He''d say a prayer to cleanse his tongue of foul words later, but for now, nothing else felt like it conveyed exactly what he wanted to say.


    The eaglet, for his part, let out a sad crow and, with hunched shoulders, gestured at the ice cube with a talon.


    "Yes, the ice cube that you dropped on my chest." He rubs at his bruised ribs, and when he turns back to Astazhei, he feels his anger slink away as the corner of the flying-types white pupiled eyes begin to water. "Look, I know you''re proud of them. But they really don''t need to be dropped on me. Leave them outside. They''re not going anywhere."


    Of course, that was the moment that the ice cube decided to wriggle. Aidinza''s head slowly turned to it, then back towards the snivelling bird.


    Realisation struck him only a moment later, and he took a moment to curse Skyla. The cute gym leader was almost more trouble than she was worth.


    The confirmation came a moment later as a short, stubby leg cracked through the ice, waving in the air. "Astazhei, have you been looking for an Ice-type this entire time?"


    Astazhei nodded, eyes still downcast. Aidinza groans, feeling terrible for lambasting the bird. He rolls over onto his side and slides a hand under Sandile, picking the lazy reptile up from where he had slept through the entirety of what had just happened.


    "Bwaa?" The ground-type drools out sleepily as he is twisted through the air and placed down in front of the ice cube. Aidinza, knowing he''s going to have to make it up to Astazhei, and feeling too guilty to look at the chastised bird, focuses on the new, strange pok¨¦mon in his tent, though when he put it like that, it lessened the sting of guilt towards Astazhei. The sound of banging filled the tent as they watched another stubby limb tap against the ice encasing the pok¨¦mon.


    It seemed like it was at least somewhat trapped.


    "Sandile, dig it out." He orders and turns to Astazhei, reaching over to lift his first flying-type into his lap, despite the freezing cold water that soaked through his nice PJs. He runs a hand through the bird''s soaked feathers, feeling it drip away under his grooming. "I shouldn''t have thrown water into your face." He sighs out, feeling uncomfortable, as he spruces up the bird''s red-white crowning feather. "But you should not have brought a strange pok¨¦mon into my tent and certainly shouldn''t have dropped it on me. What if it was hostile and attacked me? Or if it was heavy enough to do serious damage?" More severe than the bruising that Aidinza could feel throbbing beneath his skin every time he moved.


    Astazhei cooed softly, apologetically bumping his head against Aidinza''s hand, his eyes brightening. Satisfied that he''s at least done right by his pok¨¦mon, Aidinza turns to face his starter, and the wild pok¨¦mon dropped on his chest.


    It was going to take him some time to properly let that go.


    Sandile was half lying on his side, sleepily scratching at the ice cube without much success, his sharp claws barely making a scratch on the frozen surface.


    "Hone Claw," Aidinza ordered; they would be there all night if Sandile kept limply scratching at the ice.


    "Bwuu." Sandile groaned, and Aidinza heard a clumsy clack of claw on claw. He glances down at his starter, who looked like he was going to fall asleep halfway through his move.


    So he fell back on an old, faithful technique, and a low growl, filled with as much residual frustration as he could manage, rumbled from his chest. If there was anything that would wake Sandile up, it was his territorial instincts.


    Aidinza was proven right moments later when the malicious rasp of keratin on keratin sent a shiver up his spine, and a deep chest growl rattled his bones.


    "Dig the ice out." He orders again, and this time ice parted like water, cracking away as three stubby limbs were freed from their prison. Then, the pok¨¦mon that had been dropped onto his chest, inside his tent while he was sleeping, used Sandile''s claws to scratch away at its middle with a pleased groan.


    Soon enough, an actually defined form had been chipped away.


    The ice-type was a quadruped, the tiny stubby limbs that had struggled to smash their way through the ice engulfing it leading up into a smooth white body. The Pok¨¦mon''s upper half, despite Sandile''s best attempts, was still covered in a layer of ice that was built into two powerful spikes. But this ice was thicker, more compact.


    More akin to armour than a trap around its body.


    It had calm, yellow eyes framed by purple sclerae, protected by a layer of translucent ice, and its confusion was extremely evident.


    It twisted on its nubby legs, glancing around the dark tent as best as possible, exposing a third spike jutting out its back. It turned towards Sandile as his territorial alertness drifted away, and his snout cracked open into a wide yawn. Then towards where Astazhei had hopped off Aidinza''s lap to examine the Ice Type he had caught.


    There was a moment as Astazhei stared down the ice-type before he lifted a massive claw and slapped the top of the new pok¨¦mon''s head with the same force that Aidinza had seen crack rocks. Despite Astazhei''s strength, the new pok¨¦mon did not react, the exact opposite in fact, not even acknowledging the attack as it turned to face the only human in the tent.


    The only issue was that Astazhei''s claw, in its brief contact, had stuck to the ice shell. With a squawk, the bird finds himself unwillingly along for the ride as the pok¨¦mon turns, his wings rustling the tent''s air into a burgeoning whirlwind as he desperately attempts to keep balance.


    Aidinza grabbed Astazhei''s pok¨¦ball from where it rested against his bag, returning the bird before he could hurt himself or start a fight in the middle of Aidinza''s tent.


    As the bird disappeared in a red flash, it left unobstructed the unconcerned yellow eyes of the Ice-type peering up at Aidinza, and the pok¨¦ball in his hand, with curiosity. The young nomad waved at it, not knowing what else to do. He then watched slightly incredulously as the Ice type lifted its body to rest on its back spike and waved its stubby front leg right back.


    The ice type might have been confused about where it was, but it seemed like it had no concern for its safety.


    Aidinza, still lost on what to do, glanced down at Sandile, who had already slumped down to sleep, and longed to join him. It had been a long day, and it was quickly turning into a long night; he was tired.


    It seemed that the ice-type was on the same page, and after a heavy thump, Aidinza glanced over to see that it had lain down, facing Sandile with closed eyes.


    Rather than questioning things or wondering if it was safe to just let a wild pok¨¦mon sleep next to him, Aidinza just laid back and joined the two pok¨¦mon.


    He was gone in moments.


    -


    Aidinza was half sure that when he woke up, everything that had happened the night before would turn out to be some sort of weird cold-induced fever dream. Much like his nightmare a few days ago.


    The other half was pretty sure that the ice type would have wandered off in the morning, leaving him cold from an open tent flap.


    No part of him was sure that when he woke up, not only would the ice-type still be there but that the Ice-Type would have frozen over during the night, leaving it coated with the same thick ice that Sandile had dug it out of.


    But, lo and behold, off to the side of his broad leather tent, half a metre from a confused Sandile, was a large Ice Cube that sent phantom pains through Aidinza''s ribs.


    Or maybe it was just actual pain, he thought with sleepy sardonicism as he rubbed at the massive bruise on his chest.


    A yawn cracks his jaw as he sits up and gropes for Astazhei''s ball, only remembering that he had already returned the bird when he appeared in a flash of red light and a greeting cry. Deciding that it could hardly hurt if Astazhei was flapping around, Aidinza lets the ball drop back down to his side and turns to face the ice cube.


    It was not exactly the same as last night; the ice was much thinner in several places. But it still encased the pok¨¦mon completely, and just like last night, the sound of thumping filled the air as its stubby limbs cracked into the ice from the inside.


    Aidinza shared a glance with Sandile and was unsure if the reptile was confused or hungry. Deciding that leaving that alone would probably end poorly, Aidinza took control. "Hone Claw. Dig the ice-type out."


    The familiar rasp of claw on claw fills the air, echoed by the sound of someone else also using Hone Claw. Aidinza watched as Astazhei landed heavily in front of the ice cube and started cutting away. Before shrugging, the job was getting done, he supposed.


    Soon enough, the Ice-Type had been freed from its encasement, and happy yellow eyes trailed over everyone in the tent as it leaned back on its back spike and waved. Aidinza and Sandile waved back.


    Unsure of what to really say to a strange pok¨¦mon in his tent, Aidinza fell onto an old faithful when there was someone strange in your home. "Do you want to join us for breakfast?" Be a decent host.


    There was the sound of cracking ice and followed by a high-pitched sound that reminded him of walking underneath swaying electrical lines in Driftveil, almost like a taut wire being plucked that warbled strangely and crackled like the static in Chargestone Cave. It was the sort of sound that Aidinza never thought he would hear come from a pok¨¦mon, much less an ice type.


    But there was no mistaking the hungry look in its eyes, so Aidinza shrugged and stepped outside; Icirrus had left him flush with more supplies than he knew what to do with.


    One more mouth for the morning would hardly be an issue.


    -


    Aidinza was not exactly sure what he expected to happen after he fed the Ice-type and packed up his camp.


    He had not expected the spikey pok¨¦mon to follow him down the road. But he was not going to complain about the company; if they were heading the same direction, they were heading the same direction. Besides, Astazhei had stayed in his ball today, and Shand¨ª¨ªn had flown off somewhere above the surrounding forests. He would have been left all alone without the ice-type plodding along behind him.


    That''s why, when it had stopped plodding alongside him, it came with a sense of resigned sadness, like meeting a new person and never learning how to keep in contact. He sighs into the frigid air, his breath forming a cloud in front of him.


    Maybe instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, he should have caught the ice-type, even if a fight would have ruined his tent.


    He glances over his shoulder, hoping to catch one final glimpse of his temporary friend before he pauses. In the middle of the road, straining and struggling, surrounded by snow, was the Ice-Type.


    Aidinza felt a flush of embarrassment warm his face. He was getting dramatic. A hand fell to Sandile''s pok¨¦ball as he approached the struggling Ice-Type, kneeling down on the snowy road next to it.


    It seemed the Pok¨¦mon''s ice issue was not just limited to its sleep time. Aidinza brushes some of the snow out of the way, hissing as the freezing cold burns at his fingers. That was far colder than any other snow that Aidinza had touched.


    "What''s going on with you, little buddy?" He murmurs to himself, eyeing the ice he exposed, sticking the Ice-Type to the ground. The pok¨¦mon pauses its struggling as it hears Aidinza''s voice, looking up at him with happy yellow eyes. A flash of red heralds Sandile''s appearance, followed by a whine as the cold snow irritated the reptile''s sensitive scales. "Sorry, Sandile, but we need to dig this Pok¨¦mon out again. Hone Claw."


    Sandile shuddered before the rasp of his claws filled the air again before making quick work of the ice freezing the Ice-Type to the road.


    The creature let out a chirp that seemed to bounce and echo at several different pitches, shaking snowflakes off its body as it looked up at Aidinza eagerly. But already Aidinza could see the snow that was touching it was starting to build up into frigid ice. Whatever this pok¨¦mon was, it seemed to attract the cold and wet like an Oasis attracted scraggy.


    Luckily, Aidinza had just the thing for that. In his hand, a pok¨¦ball expanded, and he proffered it toward the pok¨¦mon. "Not sure if you know what this is, but this is a Pok¨¦ball. If you want to come with me, it''ll stop you from getting frozen to the road."


    The Ice-Type examined it with open curiosity, letting out a low keening warble mixed with a sound like hundreds of marbles clacking together. Sandile, for his part, gave a rumbling chirp as he circled Aidinza''s legs, trying to get away from the snow. Seeing that it did not move away, Aidinza tapped the pok¨¦mon on its biggest spike, and it disappeared in a flash of red.


    The ball in his hand only shook once before the familiar ding of a capture filled the air. "Bergmite, Female Captured!" Well, that answered those questions, he supposed.


    He straightens up from his squat, glancing down the road and then at the pok¨¦ball in his hand. An ice type that struggled to live in this frozen forest seemed¡­ strange to him. He''d have to make sure that he talked to the Honoured Healer Joy when he arrived at Opulucid just to ensure there were no issues with his new pok¨¦mon.


    Though that probably meant he should get a move on, there were still several days between him and the next city, and waiting around was not going to change that.


    He let out a piercing whistle in the frigid air and a few moments later there was an answering whistle from Shand¨ª¨ªn in the distance. If he left the fire-type behind because he picked up his pace, he would be paying for it for days.


    He turned to the road, and as he returned Sandile, he stepped off once more.


    -


    Bergmite slid into the team with casual ease, and no matter what was happening, she just seemed happy to be there. Whether that was dealing with Astazhei''s attempts at roughhousing - and attempts all most of them were, attacks against the Ice-Type were more likely to freeze you to the pok¨¦mon than hurt it - or hanging around a napping Naazin. She even enjoyed playing along with Shand¨ª¨ªn''s japperies.


    For Aidinza''s part, he came to appreciate the odd quirk that meant whatever cold and moisture was in the area coalesced around her. Ironically, it meant that having the Ice-Type out inside his tent would make the tent dryer and warmer.


    All at the low cost of having Astazhei or Sandile carve the poor girl out of the shell that grew to encase her whenever she spent¡­ any amount of time doing anything. Whatever was causing the ice shell around her was highly active, working at all times at full tilt.


    At least, that''s what it seemed like to Aidinza. But that was fine; both Astazhei and Sandile were happy enough to help out the new capture. More than happy even, Aidinza might not be able to understand Pok¨¦mon beyond guesses at their intent, but he was pretty sure that Astazhei had challenged Sandile to see who could free the bergmite fastest.


    It made for some decent training, as the two of them pushed Hone Claw as far as they could to get whatever edge they could manage.


    Speaking of training, Bergmite proved that she was no slouch in a fight. Part of that was how bulky she was. The ice shell that remained after her being carved out was ridiculously tough, able to take full force blows from any one of Aidinza''s team without much issue. A lot of that was that even when she did take damage from a move, her body''s natural cryo-magnetism or whatever you would call it would freeze over any injuries in moments.


    Aidinza, curious as to the limit, coaxed Bergmite into a series of battles against his older pok¨¦mon. He learned that the limit of the ability was less a limit and more a suggestion. Bergmite would never stop her incredibly fast healing, constantly building up more Ice no matter how much damage she had already taken. But it did tire her out, grinding away at her Stamina until the Ice-Type would decide she was tired enough and just go to sleep for a while. Then the rate of ice growth would only double rather than slow down.


    It made her an insanely defensive fighter that could just keep going and going until she absolutely had to stop, something that could take several pok¨¦mon to force her.


    But on other fronts, she was less impressive. Her speed, most of all, was an issue; Bergmite was Aidinza''s slowest pok¨¦mon by a significant margin. Her sheer weight - nearly a hundred kilograms if Aidinza was a decent judge - combined with her stubby legs meant that she was just not meant to move at any significant speed, and attempting to reach a pok¨¦mon playing keep away would exhaust her faster than sitting there tanking one attack after another.


    She also had a limited move pool. Beyond the standard tackle, she could manage this strange bouncing move that spun her around and used the force of the spin to smash into an opponent, and a freezing cold icy breath tinged with powdery snow.


    It was an issue that Aidinza was struggling to work around. He had been researching as many different things as he could whenever he stopped off at a pok¨¦centre, collecting more than a few pamphlets and other reading material on just about any topic presented to him. But he had yet to do any significant research into Ice-Types, maybe if he had stayed at the pok¨¦centre in Iriccus he would have, but right now, he was, plainly speaking, blind when it came to moves for Bergmite.


    But that was alright, the two of them could still work on the foundational fundamentals of combat. Another thing that Bergmite was also not as up to speed on as the rest of his pok¨¦mon. Which he supposed made sense; there was little reason to properly fight when you could take a pok¨¦mon like Astazhei''s crush claw with barely a flinch and would be entirely healed of any damage in minutes at most.


    Aidinza would not be surprised to learn that most of Bergmite''s wild battles consisted of the Ice-Type being attacked and both sides getting bored before any significant damage had happened.


    So it meant that Aidinza was trying to get Bergmite used to actual combat, which meant that as Aidinza travelled through route eight - and across a massive bridge the size of Driftveil''s bridge, though this one did not move - he let Bergmite take the lead on most battles, switching her out for a rotating schedule of his other pok¨¦mon when she grew too tired to continue.


    Something that gave Aidinza plenty of time to try and come up with a name for his newest friend. Not that his latest friend made it easy on him. Despite Bergmite being willing to go with the flow on nearly anything, it seemed that she wanted to be very picky regarding her identity.


    It led to entire days of walking where Aidinza would just be tossing ideas Bergmite''s way as she plodded along beside him, distracted as he wracked his brain for something that both fit and Bergmite would like.


    It led to more than a few situations where Aidinza had tripped over some obstacle he had not seen or tripped into a trainer, who he usually had to battle in recompense.


    "How about Nihanlo?'''' There''s a moment of considering silence, before Bergmite lets out a quivering warble that Aidinza was pretty sure was agreement. "Nihanlo then, it fits. Means Gift of hai-" He grunts as something whips around his leg, pulling it to the side violently, sending him crashing to the ground. Before whatever was grabbing him could drag him away, he flails towards Bergmite, catching his hands on her painfully cold shell, anchoring himself. Naazin appeared in a flash of red by his feet, and the Water-Type took only a moment to realise something was wrong, cutting whatever was grabbing Aidinza the very next moment.


    Harshly panting, Aidinza rips his hand from Bergmite''s frozen skin, wincing as it leaves behind a layer of skin. It was better than being dragged off, but it was far from pleasant. He stands back up and, after a moment of deliberation, goes to investigate. If there was some grass-type or whatever attacking humans on the road, then he should probably deal with it.


    But he found no sign of it being a pok¨¦mon. The opposite, in fact, and Aidinza''s mouth curled into a frown as he took in the remnants of a rope trap that would have dragged an unsuspecting victim across a second net trap.


    Disgust bubbled up inside the Ya''an-ah nomad; he knew exactly the kind of person to do something like this.


    Poachers.

 Caves and Poachers

    The world revolved around pok¨¦mon, and humans were just living in it. It was a simple truth, though difficult to grasp for many. Nature bent and catered to pok¨¦mon, shaped by their mighty whim. Entire ecosystems could live or die by a single pok¨¦mon. Humans had to take great care not to be the instigating factor behind those eco deaths, lest they invite disaster and ruin.


    It was why Aidinza had told Skyla what had happened in Chargestone Cave, why he travelled there with her despite it potentially being a several-day journey without her plane. He knew how important it was to make sure that the delicate balance was not disrupted.


    Poachers did not understand that. Or, perhaps more detestably, they did not care about the damage they were causing. They set up traps and nets and hunted with pok¨¦mon trained to capture rather than fight, trained to injure rather than win. They tore apart delicate systems that had lasted centuries as they seized hundreds of pok¨¦mon. Left young unprotected, or entire native species without their next generations.


    The Ya''an-ah desert was not an uncommon target for poachers. Close to the ports of Castelia and full of thousands of pok¨¦mon, many of which were nearly entirely unique to the harsh dunes of Aidinza''s home. It was unsurprising it was such a tempting target.


    But no matter how withdrawn and sullen the Ya''an-ah would become, they would never let their beloved mother be plundered easily. Aidinza could remember with crystal clarity hunting through the dunes with his tribe, scouring for any hint or sign of those who were tearing apart their home. Could remember the fury his sister brought down upon them in a terrible whirlwind of crushing steel. Remember the dreadful potency of Tsesei''s last remaining pok¨¦mon as it ripped the sand into a furious storm that cut off any hope of escape.


    Remembered the vicious satisfaction as he picked the locks of cages full of terrified sandile - most barely more than a week old - stolen from hidden burrows and set them free. Knowing that he had tracked down the poachers, he was responsible for this.


    Aidinza glances around the green forest, slick with sleet rain. It was far from his home, far from dry dunes and pounding sun. But as his eyes caught on a boot print, he knew it did not matter.


    These poachers were cut from the same cloth, and skulking in their veins was the same rotten, sluggish tar-blood.


    No terrain in the world would hide them from Aidinza.


    -


    The forest was riddled with traps. Many triggered, most empty. Some not. But what became quickly apparent was that these traps were not meant for the average pok¨¦mon. They were far too high quality for scum-like poachers to waste money on if they were just going after Liepard. No, the rope quality made it very obvious to Aidinza that the poachers were hunting a specific type of pok¨¦mon. Steel-types.


    This meant that the many non-steel types they caught as a by-product had to suffer through being ripped into the air violently by rope designed to find purchase on steel-skin.


    Aidinza did what he could for those pok¨¦mon he found still in the traps, having Astazhei saw through the tough rope and doing what he could with potions and stitches. He was no healer, but it was better than nothing.


    He did not linger long, doing as much as he could for the pok¨¦mon, before moving on. He would tell the league about the injuries once he was done here, and they would deal with the rest.


    Besides, if scum thought like scum, then he was confident that whoever had set these traps was not far. They would not want to leave the pok¨¦mon hanging in their traps for any longer than they had to.


    Not out of any sympathy, but purely to make sure that whatever injuries sustained by the pok¨¦mon did not permanently mar their product.


    The Ya''an-ah boy knelt in the wet underbrush, eyeing a crushed plant. Unlike his home, he could not follow trails carved into dunes by unsure footing in the sand. But the forests had their own stories to tell, and Aidinza dragged those stories out with a single-minded focus. Admittedly it was made easier by the traps themselves all being set up in the same way, all facing the same direction, artlessly brute forcing their way into effectiveness by sheer weight of numbers.


    It made it easy to guess where the signs of the poachers would be.


    Aidinza brushed his fingers over the plant and let his eyes drift upwards. In the distance, hidden in a grotto of thick trees, was a cave entrance. If Aidinza ever cared to sully his hands with a bet, he would place it on that being exactly where the poachers were staying with their product. Aidinza spits to the side and straightens up, hand ghosting over the pok¨¦balls at his side.


    The sun might be setting in the sky, and he might have trudged through hours of wet flora, but he was here now, and soon he would do the honoured duty of anyone with a beating heart.


    -


    The cave entrance wasted no time in digging steeply into the earth, the path dropping several metres at an absurd angle. If Aidinza had to say how it formed, it was most likely at the hand of a family of ground-types carving out a den deep in the forest, or maybe even a nest of durant.


    But that was something to care about later; what Aidinza cared about was the marks left in the topsoil. Something heavy, or several somethings had been dragged down this¡­ ramp.


    The final confirmation.


    Aidinza''s footsteps were light as he strode further into the cave, the less warning he gave the poachers, the less likely they were to find a way to scurry somewhere he could not follow.


    Soon the cave widened into a large cavern that was the focal point of dozens of different tunnels, confirming his thoughts that this was a durant nest. Or once was. Where there should have been hundreds of steel-bodied insectoids glaring down at him with red eyes for daring to intrude on their nest, there were dozens of stacked cages filled with strangely silent pok¨¦mon.


    Aidinza let his eyes rove over the cages, categorising them as best as he could. It was predominantly the iron ant pok¨¦mon, most likely the once occupants of the nest, but among the higher stacked cages were pok¨¦mon covered in black and dark red plates, pawniard, Aidinza knew, few lived in the Ya''an-ah desert, but those that did were rarely seen far from a bisharp. There was even a pok¨¦mon that Aidinza did not recognise, a blue-furred pok¨¦mon kept in a cage off on its own, and a pok¨¦mon with a massive black jaw curled around its yellowish body protectively.


    Silent steps took him through the tall cage walls, and the reason for their silence became clear; all of them were unconscious. None of them even stirred at his passing.


    It was unnatural.


    Aidinza did not let it distract him for long, slinking past the cages as his eyes caught a steady glow emanating out of one of the many tunnels that made up the once-network of a durant nest.


    Inside was another chamber, what had probably been the durant''s food storage, smaller than the main chamber, and leading deeper into many essential rooms. The acrid scent of smoke touched Aidinza''s nose as he peered around the corner. A man and a woman sat at a table with their backs facing Aidinza, and the staticy noise coming from beyond them told him they were watching some form of TV.


    The man was lanky, all harsh lines and bones as he balanced his chair on its back legs, feet firmly on the table. He had brown hair, and his left arm was in a rough brace tied tightly to his body.


    On the other hand, the woman was broad; even from behind, Aidinza could see that her crop top was exposing lean muscles. She was the one smoking, arm slung around the back of the chair as she gestured with her cigar at whatever they were watching.


    Between the two of them, they had five pok¨¦balls, three for the woman and two for the man. It would have been a worry for Aidinza, but the enclosed space meant that leveraging the weight of numbers would be difficult at worst and actively detrimental at best.


    "Astazhei, Nihanlo, go." It was all the warning that Aidinza gave the poachers, but it seemed like it was all the warning that the woman needed as she spun around in an explosive motion and matched the twin red flashes of Aidinza''s pok¨¦balls with her own. The man, for his part, overbalanced on his chair, swearing as he crashed to the ground with a painful snap.


    Aidinza did not recognise the pok¨¦mon that came out; it was a large short-furred black canine with two wicked horns jutting out of its head and three exposed almost rib-like protrusions growing from its back.


    "Gust, Powder Snow." Aidinza snapped out, and as Astazhei''s prideful screech filled the room, he beat his wings in one powerful motion, ripping the stagnant cave air into a furious gale that sent the strange pok¨¦mon skidding backwards before Nihanlo''s own wind, glittering with powdery snow in the dim light illuminating the cave followed it, crashing into a thin layer of frost over the pok¨¦mon.


    "Flamethrower, take the flying-type out. Rocky, get your head out your ass and help." The woman''s voice was gruff, sneering at Aidinza as fire burned in the back of her pok¨¦mon''s throat. "I don''t know who the fuck you think you are, kid, but you picked the wrong cave to stumble into."


    The lean man, having picked himself up, throws his own pok¨¦ball. However, the flash of it is masked underneath a powerful stream of fire that the canine spat out, bathing the entire room in an intense orange glow.


    Astazhei did not need to be told to avoid the move, snapping his wings closed and letting gravity rip him from its path, letting the flamethrower splutter uselessly on the ceiling. It seemed to be a costly miss for the dark canine, its tongue hanging out as it let out short, gasping pants.


    "Wing Attack." Aidinza did not want to give the canine any time to recover; if a fire attack that powerful actually landed, it would be enough to put either Nihanlo or Astazhei out of commission.


    "Eelektrik, thunder wave." The smell of ozone fills the cavern as the male - Rocky? - joins the fray, his pok¨¦mon an almost skeletally thin blue-black eel, a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth and two fins that lit up with a harsh yellow light.


    It screeched as the electric building up in its fins lashed out, engulfing Astazhei as the bulky bird lunged at the canine with glowing wings. It was not enough to stop his momentum, but it was enough to remove any control Astazhei had over himself afterwards. He slammed into the canine in a terrible crash of flesh, and both tumbled into a tangle of limbs.


    Aidinza grit his teeth. He had overextended, not respecting the second poacher''s release. The thunder wave was far from enough to spell Astazhei''s end, but it meant that his muscles would betray him in close quarters with another powerfully built pok¨¦mon. Already Aidinza could see the bird and canine struggling against each other, and Astazhei''s disadvantage was quickly made evident. The electricity arcing through his nervous system would paralyse him whenever he was starting to overpower the canine, ripping away any progress he had made.


    "Astazhei crush claw, Nihanlo rapid spin take the eel out." He had overextended, and the only way to avoid disaster was by committing harder. Astazhei could not fight two pok¨¦mon at once in his condition.


    Thankfully the cave was small enough that Nihanlo''s slow speed was hardly noticeable as she threw herself at the eel, building up a potent spin in only a single bound. The electric-type was too gangly and awkward to avoid the attack; there was no chance it would avoid being slammed with all the force of a hundred kilograms of ice. "Eelektrik, bind." Aidinza''s grin touched on feral as the male gave the worst possible order. The eel, moments before Nihanlo hit, snapped forward in a shocking burst of speed, its wickedly sharp teeth digging into the bergmites thick top-ice, anchoring it as the rest of its body was slammed backwards.


    Aidinza saw the very moment that the eelektrik realised how terrible what it had just done was, as the freezing cold that permeated Nihanlo''s body, enough to freeze flesh to itself in a moment, registered. It shuddered in pain, twisting and writhing to free its mouth, unable to even manage a scream of pain.


    "Discharge." Not that its trainer seemed to care, the lanky man already reaching for another ball as his first pok¨¦mon writhed, struggling to obey through the pain.


    Two flashes of red filled the cave, and a wave of confusion hit Aidinza. Rocky had yet to grab his second ball.


    "Flamethrower, Houndoom ." The woman snapped as her canine - Houndoom? - appeared again, a bare metre away from Nihanlo, with fire glowing between its sharp teeth. Aidinza felt panic seize him, freezing in place, as the implications of the Houndoom reappearing dug at him.


    Fire blasted over Nihanlo, engulfing her and the eelektrik wrapped around her in an inferno. Her strange warble, pained and scared snapped Aidinza out of his panic, and he returned Nihanlo with shaking hands. Then Astazhei''s furious cry filled the cave as he slammed himself back into the canine, powerful claws closing around its neck. The Houndoom yelped as it was ripped into the air and crashed into its terribly burned ''partner'' pok¨¦mon, unable to move.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    The man cursed and glared at the unconcerned woman, who simply unclipped another pok¨¦ball. The two of them released their next pok¨¦mon; the first Aidinza had no trouble recognising it as a whirlipede, though he noticed its hard shell was remarkably thin. The second was a strange grass-type, with eight overbitting ''teeth'' that jut out from its jaw and a tangle of red and white vines making up its ''legs''.


    "If you give up now, kid, we''ll do you the courtesy of not breaking your fingers after we kick your teeth in." The poachers were certainly confident, even if it had taken two of their pok¨¦mon to put down one of Aidinza''s.


    Aidinza had the perfect response. Shand¨ª¨ªn appeared in a whistle and a flourish, the flames that flickered over his feathers brightly illuminating the cave.


    "Astazhei gust, Shand¨ª¨ªn, follow up with flame-charge on that grass-type." Astazhei, despite the electricity still twitching his muscles, gave two powerful beats of his wings, once more sending the stale cave air into a fury.


    A fury that Shand¨ª¨ªn rode like a breeze, as the flickering fire dancing through his orange feathers burst into a thick corona, and he thundered towards the grass-type as its leg vines latched onto the wall and attempted to pull it out of the way.


    "Protect." Aidinza blinks as a weakly shimmering green bubble appears in front of the grass-type at the woman''s order. Shand¨ª¨ªn slammed into the barrier, causing it to buckle and warp but hold. The fire-type''s offended screech fills the air, his flames igniting to an even harsher white, before he pulls away from the grass-type, back into the air. "Vine whip."


    The grass types split, lashing out at Shand¨ª¨ªn''s tail feathers, unable to move fast enough to keep up with the speed of the fletchinder, even limited as it was to the tight, enclosed spaces of the cave. But before he could find himself too satisfied with himself, Astazhei''s cry tells him that it was just one part of the attack. The grass-type''s vines had also gone after Astazhei, and half paralysed as he was, the rufflet was far from mustering anywhere close to Shand¨ª¨ªn''s speed.


    Thick grasping vines wrapped around Astazhei, awkwardly pinning his wings to his body and forcing him to the floor.


    "Toxic." Aidinza tried to return his first caught pok¨¦mon, but the red flash of light sputtered out as it clashed against the entangling vines. So he was forced to watch as a viscous blob of foul-smelling ooze splattered over Astazhei''s feathers, as he was forced to wallow in the thick muck.


    The scowl that twisted Aidinza''s face was terrible and harsh; getting poisoned was an issue that all trainers had to deal with at some point, but he had never seen it so cruelly inflicted. Never had an opponent held his pok¨¦mon in the muck and filth.


    "Agility, flame charge. Burn that grass-type to cinders." Shand¨ª¨ªn did not even give the woman time to open her mouth as agility shuddered through his body. He was in a hard bank to avoid the wall in one moment. The next, he was a flaming comet smashing into the grass-type, searing away its vines and crushing it to the wall.


    Aidinza returned Astazhei the moment the vines went slack. It was far beyond cruel to expect him to keep fighting between the electricity and the poison in his system. Naazin took his place, placid yellow eyes taking in the room brightly lit by a furious Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    "Gyro-ball." The male poacher snapped out, and the whirlipede, hereto immobile, surged forward in a tight ball and met nothing but air as Shand¨ª¨ªn took to the roof of the cave, avoiding the move with casual grace.


    "Water Pulse." Naazin''s skill had only grown since his breakthrough against Brycen''s powerful Beartic, and it only took a moment for the ring of pulsating water to crash into the whirlipede, sending it flying through the air, as a thin layer of dirty water filled the cavern. It was not down just yet - whirlipede was a hardy bug - but nothing Aidinza had met could casually shrug off an attack from Naazin.


    The woman lets out a piercing whistle, and a moment later, a strange pink and purple pok¨¦mon floats up from where it had been hidden beyond the TV. The Pok¨¦mon''s pale pink head had a short trunk, and at its base was a dark pink oval oozing out a sickly purple gas that weakly flickered with strange and terrible shapes. But strangely, it did not seem like the pok¨¦mon was focusing on the present, its eyes distant.


    "Oi, we''re not meant to disturb the Musharna, you stupid bitch." The gesture that the woman replied with was foul, and the two of them glared at each other.


    "If you shut your disgusting fucking mouth, then there won''t be a problem, will there be, cunt?" She spits out, eyes flashing dangerously as the two of them seem to lose track of the fact they were in a battle.


    Aidinza did not make the same mistake. "Acrobatics, finish the bug off." His eyes flick to the purple pok¨¦mon, he would have to be blind to not recognise the Musharna as a psychic, and for the first time since he had left Nimbasa, he found himself lamenting that he did not have access to dark pulse. While few pok¨¦mon enjoyed dealing with the caustic energy that empowered dark-type attacks, psychic types were particularly vulnerable.


    "Water Pulse." He ordered, and a second pulsating water ring blasted out of Naazin''s claw once more.


    "Psychic." The woman snapped out in response, and the musharna''s eyes glowed a harsh purple, the sickly gas leaking from its front trembling as it formed into a perfect mimicry of Naazin. The water pulse slammed into the psychic type, sending water crashing everywhere once more, but the creature''s levitation held it firm against the blow, and the mimicry of Naazin in the sickly mist rose into the air before slamming back down. Moments later, the real Naazin found himself the mimic as he rose into the air, engulfed in a purple glow. The force that sent him crashing to the ground cracked the cave floor, and Aidinza winced. Even through his thick shell, that was a brutal blow.


    Thankfully, the other side of the fight went better for Aidinza, as Shand¨ª¨ªn slammed into the whirlipede from several angles, ending the already weakened bug. "Eelektrik, thunderbolt." Something sick lurched in Aidinza''s gut as the realisation that they had not even returned their defeated pok¨¦mon hit him. They had left them to suffer and wallow in pain, leaving them out for a last-ditch attack.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn, surprised by the heavily burnt eel even being able to move, could not avoid the harsh yellow, and flying as he was, there was nothing to ground away the electricity. The fletchinder shrieked in pain, crashing to the ground in a spasm of feathery limbs.


    Aidinza returned him and was not sure which was causing more disgust to build in his stomach. The poachers hurting his pok¨¦mon with dirty tricks, or the poachers actively leaving their pok¨¦mon out to suffer.


    Two flashes of red fill the cave as the woman sends out her last pok¨¦mon with a scoff towards the man, and Aidinza sends out Sandile. Aidinza''s scowl deepens as he recognises the poachers'' final pok¨¦mon. The bipedal lizard''s distinctive red crest was unmistakable by any desert dweller. A hoodlum in pok¨¦ form, the creature was a terror of the sands. Forming massive networks of thieves and robbers that stole and pillaged with impunity from both humans and pok¨¦mon. The way the scrafty''s pinprick black eyes slid over the cave, including its own injured teammates, with cruel indifference, told Aidinza that the pok¨¦mon was much the same as the rest of its species.


    "Sandile, Sand tomb, Hone Claw. Naazin, keep them back, Bubble Beam." Between using Water Pulse twice and being slammed into the ground with enough force to crack it, Naazin had to be feeling the strain. Exhausting him further would just turn this two-on-two into a two-on-one.


    The wet-dusty floor surged strangely underfoot as Sandile ripped the sand from the water and trapped the scrafty in a dervish of biting sand. At nearly the same time, a stream of chemically viscous bubbles slammed into the bulky form of the musharna, hardly rattling the psychic. It was clear that it was in a far better condition than the other pok¨¦mon.


    "Psychic, stop that reptile." It was also clear that the poachers were using the pok¨¦mon as a bludgeon, unskilled and unfamiliar. As the rasp of keratin on keratin filled the air, caustic energy flooded Sandile''s body, which lashed out and devoured the psychic energy that the musharna attempted to bring to bear as a tiny figure of sandile was thrown into the wall in its mist.


    "Flex on it." Sandile did not give a moment for his opponents to process his trainers'' orders, shooting forward through the thin layer of water coating the cave, his infused muscles flexing underneath his scales, glittering in the cave''s dim light.


    "Brick break." The Scrafty imposed itself between Sandile and the Musharna, cruel eyes glittering as his hand shone with fighting-type energy. Putting itself directly in the path of Naazin''s follow-up bubblebeam, the sharp-eyed crustacean taking the initiative to cover for Sandile. The bipedal bandit went sprawling, and Sandile effortlessly bounded over him as he let a deep growl drip into the cave, rattling Aidinza''s teeth. He lunges at the Musharna, the caustic energy empowering him bubbling to the surface as his claws catch on the Musharna''s thin purple coat and tears it to the ground.


    "Get up, low sweep, you stupid fuck." The two''s relatively unconcerned air broke for the first time, and the woman''s eyes grew panicked. The scrafty attempted to dive for Sandile, but the thick chemical mixture of Naazin''s bubblebeam made him sluggish, limbs all but glued together.


    It gave Sandile all the time in the world to finish off the Musharna, dark claws pumping darker energy into the psychic type, its eyes clearing as the energy that fed its power was, in turn, fed upon by Sandile''s. It was too much for the Psychic type, and it went limp underneath Sandile.


    "You stupid fucking bitch." Rocky swears as the scrafty reaches Sandile at last, its leg glowing as it aims a kick at his stomach. Under normal circumstances, it would be an intensely dangerous position for Sandile; the scrafty line had evolved over centuries to compete over the same sands as the krookodile line and did so with tightly controlled savage blows that could pulverise flesh through scale.


    The growl that filled the cave did not just rattle Aidinza''s teeth but rattled his bones, as triumph over a rival sent a potent cocktail of adrenaline and norepinephrine racing through his veins. Sandile turned on a dime, leaving its conquered opponent to spasm on the ground as his teeth lashed out, closing down on the scrafty''s skin-covered leg. Sandile ripped his head back, tearing the scrafty off balance before he slammed the creature to the floor with a brutal crunch.


    And just like that, it should have been over. All five of the poachers'' pok¨¦mon had been beaten, plus their psychic type. While Naazin was tired from the fight, Sandile was nearly entirely fresh, and with Hone Claw and two victories racing through his veins, he was in top form.


    "Galvantula, discharge." Then a third voice filled the cave, and red warred with brutal yellow, sending pain searing up Aidinza''s legs. He drops with a scream, dirty water soaking his clothes as he falls to his hands and knees, unable to resist the electricity as it burns through the water. After a moment, it mercifully stopped, and with his eyes blurring from pain, Aidinza lifted his head.


    The first thing he noticed was the musharna had been returned, the purple pok¨¦mon nowhere to be seen. The second was that Naazin had not been spared the electric shock; the water-type slumped on his side, unconscious.


    The third was a cacophony of noise coming from the cave behind him, the sound of steel clashing on steel, and the bray of angry pok¨¦mon.


    The fourth was the massive form of a Galvantula wrestling with Sandile, as a lithe man watched with dark eyes. The Galvuntula disappeared in a flash of red as Sandile''s jaw closed around one of its many legs. The desert croc snarled as its challenger was ripped from it before it could break it like it had broken the last two.


    The man scoffed, running a hand through his poorly cut, short, flat dark hair, and a moment later, another pok¨¦mon appeared, a short white and green bipedal pok¨¦mon that almost looked like it was wearing a ballerina''s outfit. "Kirlia, disarming voice." The kirlia giggled, a light, airy sound that seemed to strangely bounce around the cave, ringing in Aidinza''s ear as it grew louder and louder and turned painful. But not physical pain; no, something foreign was ripping through his mind, a forced guilt that tightened Aidinza''s throat and set his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm.


    But whatever he felt was nothing compared to what it did to Sandile, the empowered reptile screamed, thrashing underneath the noise. "Finish him, dazzling gleam." Another giggle filled the air as the kirlia''s red eyes shone for a moment before a rainbow-hued glow began emanating from two red-horn-like protrusions adorning its head. Aidinza forced his aching, spasming muscles to move, and twin flashes of red filled the cave as he returned Naazin and Sandile.


    Leaving him alone.


    "Do you know how long it takes to get that many pok¨¦mon to go to sleep and stay asleep?" The kirlia''s trainer''s voice was rough, the sort of gravelly voice that only a lifetime of abuse could get you. But the tone was casual, almost amused. "Hours, and kilograms of valuable dream mist."


    The man stepped forward, his pleather shoes splashing in the dirty water Aidinza was kneeling in. He was sharply dressed, Aidinza noticed in a moment of insane, panicked clarity. A pressed grey suit, with a soft pink undershirt that somehow fit. His face was surprisingly soft for a poacher, almost looking like a kind teacher, but his eyes¡­ Those dark eyes told all the story of danger needed.


    Aidinza struggled to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. He had been blinded by a hatred for poachers, and now he was alone, with no combat ready pok¨¦mon, in front of one the lowest scums of the earth.


    His heart began to race.


    "That''s a lot of time, and a lot of money." The man''s amused look fell away, and he loomed over the boy despite only being slightly taller than Aidinza. "Do you want to guess how you will pay that back?"


    Aidinza was not sure he was meant to actually answer the question, but thankfully a tremendous crash in the next room meant he would never have to find out.


    The man''s eyes flashed with a dangerous fury, and his hand clutched at a ball by his side. "I told you two to never disrupt Musharna''s concentration."


    The harsh sound of steel rending steel fills the cave, bouncing off the walls at an ear-piercing pitch.


    "Hypnosis on the boy. Revy, go get the fucking dream mist. Rocky, get the potions." Kirlia''s eyes glow for a moment, and Aidinza felt the exhaustion that had been pulling on his limbs since he had been electrocuted become almost overwhelming, his eyes slowly drifting clo-


    The whistle of a blade slicing through air snapped Aidinza out of his daze. His eyes slowly open, the aftereffects of two pok¨¨mon moves being used on him exhausting him. The source of the whistle made itself evident in moments, a short black and blue plated pok¨¨mon, with two wickedly sharp blades on the end of blue-steel coated arms and a large horn-like blade jutting from its helmet.


    The pok¨¨mon - pawniard some distant part of him, taken far away by exhaustion, notes - glanced over its shoulders, yellow eyes categorising Aidinza''s condition at a glance.


    It glanced back towards the Kirlia, falling into a light-footed stance. Its blades clanged together, sending a brutally disorientating metallic sound ringing through everyone''s ears.


    "Dazzling Gleam." The lead poacher orders moments before the pawniard bursts forward, blades lighting up with a harsh grey gleam. "Teleport." The Kirlia, already glowing with the light of Dazzling gleam, disappeared. In one moment, she was there. In the next, she was elsewhere. Specifically, she was now behind Pawniard.


    "Behind you." Aidinza managed to yell out, but it proved to be pointless. Pawniard had already turned on a dime, one blade arm stabbing into the ground before it threw itself at the glowing Kirlia.


    The Kirlia, for her part, danced back, graceful limbs lithely carrying her through deceptively sharp footwork. But the pawniard was relentless, and every attempt to squirrel away seemed to be preempted before it even began. The short ballerina''s dazzling gleam had even sputtered out as it desperately attempted to avoid the sharp point of the pawniard arm blade.


    "Teleport." The poacher instructed again, a harsh frustration in his voice. But it was too little too late; the pawniard''s gleaming blade stabbed in the Kirlia''s front, cutting through the thin white garment that made up its leotard and digging into the sensitive skin underneath.


    But the pawniard was not satisfied with just that, its second arm swinging forward to continue a flurry of debilitating blows.


    However, it was not given a chance to. A yellow blur slammed into the pawniard''s side, sending it skidding away from its target. It was the black jawed pok¨¨mon that Aidinza had seen before; it was slightly taller than the pawniard, but only by the crest of its massive black jaw. It stared down the pawniard, its head held high and its stance wide, a long metal pole held like a flag by its side.


    The sight of it squaring off with pawniard sent a sinking feeling through Aidinza''s stomach. The poacher having more pok¨¨mon - or a way to control the pok¨¨mon they were poaching - would end terribly for him.


    "What the¡­?" Though the poachers seemed just as confused by the appearance of the pok¨¨mon as Aidinza was. However, the lead poacher did not let the opportunity go. "Kirlia, teleport."


    Kirlia''s eyes flashed with a scarlet light, and with the pawniard on the other side of the new arrival, it had no hope of stopping it before it got away. Not that the new arrival was keen to do anything that made sense, as its metal pole snapped out and smashed into Kirlia''s cheek with a gratifying crack, sending the psychic type sprawling into the cave dirt.


    The yellow furred pok¨¨mon returned to pointing its blade at the pawniard, a stream of meaningless grunts and tones spilling out of its tiny mouth. But meaningless as the noise might have been to Aidinza, the meaning in its bearing was unmistakable. This pok¨¨mon wanted a fight, and it was going to take one.


    Or at least that was what Aidinza thought before it let its pole drop to the ground and pressed its hand dramatically to its head, its grunts turning distinctly dramatic as it turned from the pawniard.


    The pawniard, for its part, looked baffled by this turn of events. It had been just as ready as the twin-mouthed pok¨¨mon to throw down. Now it was sneaking glances towards where Aidinza swayed on his feet, confusion writ in its yellow eyes.


    Aidinza shrugged back at it, and the pawniard seemed to take that as an instruction to blitz away, dancing around the lamenting pok¨¨mon and then out into the wider durant cave system.


    It took a long moment for the yellow furred pok¨¨mon to realise the other pok¨¨mon was gone, and the moment it did, the dramatics stopped immediately. It glanced around, eyes locking on the pawniards footprints, and twisted around to race out right after.


    Aidinza, needless to say, was confused.


    "Well, punk, it''s three on one, and there are no pok¨¨mon." Aidinza glanced over; he had not realised that Revy had returned. The female poacher was carefully holding a tightly sealed container as she sneered at Aidinza. "If you start running now, maybe you''ll esca-"


    Aidinza releases Nihanlo, whose cheerful greeting cry utterly lacked any trace of the defeat she had suffered.


    "Get on your hands and knees and place any pok¨¨balls out of reach." His voice was firm, the last traces of hypnosis leaving him, and relatively recovered from the discharge he indirectly took. Even a small pok¨¨mon like Nihanlo was more than enough to keep three humans in line.


    It seemed that the poachers realised it and realised that the disdain in Aidinza''s eyes as he glared down at them meant he would not hesitate to leverage his power over them.


    It only took a few moments for Aidinza to collect the pok¨¦balls, stuffing them into different pockets of his bag, and tie rope around the poacher''s hands. "We''re days away from any rangers. You think you can keep us imprisoned for three days with just some rope?" The lead poacher''s - the only one he did not know the name of - voice was a persuasive croon, sweet and seductive. "If you just let us go, we can head our separate ways. If you don''t, we get free." His voice turned dark, eyes flashing with a fit of dangerous anger held back by only the rope restraining him.


    "No." Aidinza rejected him firmly as he examined the sealed container Revy had been holding.


    "I''ve picked locks in maximum security prisons; you think these fucking knots you learned humping the sand is anything compared to that?" He struggles against the rope, hands shifting an almost imperceptible amount in the tight bonds. Aidinza pauses and places the container down, disgusted at even having to interact with a filthy poacher. If he was in his home desert, nothing would stop him from throwing them all to a bask of Krookodile. In the Ya''an-ah''s eyes, there was only one fitting punishment.


    But he was far from home and in the Pheyan''atho''s territory besides. It was not his judgement to pass, as much as it would simplify things.


    But the poacher had a point; keeping them bound for the days it would take to get to Opelucid would be difficult. Especially if Aidinza wanted to keep a decent pace on the way to the city. Aidinza approached the bound poacher.


    "Yeah, just let me go, let me go, and we''ll forget all abo-." Aidinzas boot stomped down on the poachers'' fingers, the crunch of bones snapping filling uncaring ears. "Fuck! Shit! Fuck! I''m going to fucking strangle you with your starter''s fucking intestines, you prick!"


    Aidinza stared down at the writhing poacher, feeling nothing but hate towards everything about him. He turns back to the container and ignores the swearing poacher. With broken fingers, he would not get far even if he escaped on the way to Opelucid.

 Soldiers and Dreamers

    It had taken Aidinza well over three hours to clean up the poacher''s hideout and to get everything movable out of the durant''s nest. It took another hour to free the Pok¨¦mon captured, mainly because Aidinza had no desire to unleash a network of angry durant while trapped in their once nest. Doing that would leave him on a fast-track to having his bones used to repair the damages the poachers had left behind.


    Unfortunately, there was far too much to carry to Opelucid in one go, even with him loading as much as he could into packs he strapped to his prisoners.


    But that was fine; he buried what he could not take and made sure what he did take was important.


    Aidinza pauses as he tends his fire, glancing over to the three figures he had captured. It had been¡­ challenging to encourage the three poachers to keep moving. They dragged their feet, spitting and swearing all the while. But it was either moving their feet or getting dragged along on their faces by Nihanlo.


    The question of what to do with them at night¡­ Aidinza was still trying to decide on that. He glances over to the three poachers as he prods the fireplace. He had tied them to a nearby tree but was unsure if he could muster the motivation to make a proper shelter for people like them.


    He sighs; he should probably get his pok¨¦mon to keep a watch over them while he was sleeping. While he had broken the lead poacher''s fingers, Rocky and Revy still had full range of motion, having yet to give him a reason to break their fingers as well.


    Though who he could leave in charge of it was another question. Naazin was probably out. The crustacean was smart enough to realise what Aidinza wanted but would likely grow uninterested and head off for a nap. Nihanlo, for her part, would more than likely freeze over and be unable to even warn Aidinza if she did see them try to escape.


    While Sandile¡­ he casts a fond look over to his starter, as he snaps at what little grass had been left unmolested around the campfire, tearing it out with powerful jaws more suited to finding purchase in thick scale than a plant. He tosses the grass out of the torchlight, the clump of dirt arcing high in the air to land next to a rustling bush.


    Aidinza''s eyes linger on the bush, it would not be the first time some wild pok¨¦mon had poked their head into one of his campsites. Usually, they only took a few moments to assuage their curiosity, disappearing without fully exposing themselves. But it would also not be the first time a wild pok¨¦mon decided that they were intruding and attacked. They always managed to repel the attacker, but it meant that they would have to move, given territorial pok¨¦mon usually had a family to call upon.


    A figure emerges from the bush, and Aidinza resists the urge to groan. Of course, he would not be given a break today by not being attacked after he set up camp. Then he noticed the firelight glinting off steel blades, and a shock of recognition hit him. It was the pawniard from the durant''s nest, its serious yellow eyes staring up at where Aidinza was sitting next to the warm fire. It scanned around the campfire, the blue plates that made up its protective armour only slightly visible in the dim light.


    Only slightly visible was all the visibility that Sandile needed. The look of shock on the pawniard''s face as Sandile pounced on it with a gummy grin was enough to make Aidinza snort. The way it flailed and struggled against Sandile''s firm hold was enough to make him actually laugh out loud, the panicked look entirely at odds with the severe shape of its face and the wickedly sharp blades jutting out of its body. Or, maybe wickedly sharp was an exaggeration, Aidinza noted, as Sandile hounded the steel type into the firelight and cooed over the deep blue plates.


    The pawniards blades were dulled and notched. They might have dug uncomfortably into Sandile as he fussed around the new object of his blue obsession, but they did not actually find purchase in his scales. Aidinza''s brow furrowed; he remembered them being in far better condition earlier today. Yellow eyes sought his own as the pawniard sat frozen under Sandile''s attention.


    Aidinza gave a little wave at the steel-type, just a little flick of his fingers, and then watched bemused as the pawniard surged to its feet, throwing Sandile off it and whirled around in a ready stance, glaring out into the dark, wet forest surrounding them. Had it heard some sort of threat? Aidinza let out one piercing whistle, and Astazhei, who had been resting off his injuries, and the poison he had been forced to process, took to the air - slower than usual, Aidinza noted with a frown - surveying the scene from above.


    A moment passed, then several seconds. Nothing happened; Aidizna glanced up at Astazhei, who flew higher in the air before descending back down, clearly not seeing anything worth paying attention to. His eyes seek the strange pok¨¦mon in their camp but seem to decide to leave it alone when Aidinza gives him a stern look.


    The Ya''an-ah glances back at the new pok¨¦mon, who stared dead into the dark night with extreme intent, poised to defend at a moment''s notice. "Do you hear something?" The steel type glances over its shoulder and shakes its head emphatically. Aidinza was lost. "If you don''t hear anything, you can relax." Then, just as suddenly as the pok¨¦mon had burst to its feet, all tension drained from its body, and it sat down in front of the fire. The pok¨¦mon pulled its right leg up into its chest, blade scraping at its blue-plated feet, digging off muck and dirt built up.


    Aidinza, feeling like it needed repeating, was lost. Like many times when he found himself lost, he turned to face his starter, and like usual, doing so was a mistake. Sandile''s dark eye membranes had pulled back as far as possible, making his eyes as large as Aidinza had ever seen them, and that grin¡­


    That damn gummy smile.


    Aidinza could not resist it back in chargestone, and he was pretty sure he had no chance of resisting it here. Feeling his resolve crumbling, he glances over to where the pawniard was sitting, catching it stealing its own glance at him. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to catch a pok¨¦mon normally. Astazhei had crashed down on him with a challenging fury. Naazin had shown up to be a source of stability in a sea of lies. Shand¨ª¨ªn had followed him for some reason that Aidinza still did not know, and Nihanlo¡­ He glances at the newest member, limping with along half-frozen back leg.


    He was pretty sure that as a trainer, he was supposed to be searching for pok¨¦mon himself, not having them¡­ stumble onto him. Aidinza rubs his mouth with his hand before being startled out of his thoughts as the pawniard hits the ground, burying its face in the dirt with all the desperation of a man on fire.


    For a moment, he just stared at the steel-type, head tilting ever so slightly. That was the second time it had exploded into a burst of motion and ended up in some strange position. Aidinza paused for a moment, glancing down at his right hand. A kindling of a thought formed in the back of his mind.


    That thought was quickly broken when Astazhei pulled himself to his feet and bullied his wings towards the far side of the camp - opposite of where Pawniard had shown up - with a threatening shriek.


    Aidinza heard what the flying-type was menacing only a few moments later, as the sound of breaking sticks and rustled undergrowth hit his ears. Pawniard snapped to its feet, racing between Aidinza and the noise source - tripping over Sandile as it did so.


    He watches as the two of them go down in a tangle of limbs for a moment, before a new figure bursts into view. It was a small pok¨¦mon, just slightly taller than pawniard, with yellow skin and a massive, black second jaw filled with sharp teeth. The pok¨¦mon had focused red eyes and a thin torso that flared into an almost dress-like protective layering. In its black-tipped arms was a thick stick that it held like a blade.


    It was the pok¨¦mon that had attacked the pawniard earlier today. It took one look at the tangle of limbs that pawniard was caught in - Sandile was not making it easy for the blue pok¨¦mon to escape - and launched into action, crashing into the steel-type with a clang that sent the bladed pok¨¦mon stumbling. As Sandile looked around in confusion at his lost playmate, the yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon imposed itself between the reptile and the steel-type, almost protectively standing over Sandile.


    Like it had earlier in the day, the black-jawed pok¨¦mon began a stream of meaningless grunts and noises as it posed heroically at the pawniard and waved its wooden ''blade'' about.


    And, driving home the feeling of deja vu, the pawniard was stealing confused glances over to Aidinza, looking for guidance. Aidinza, for the sake of his sanity, avoided shrugging again. Letting events play out exactly the same way twice was to forgive his superstition, bad mojo. Besides, if what he suspected was true, then¡­ he shakes his head and gestures at the newest pok¨¦mon to invade his camp. Half to just do something different, half to test the idea still in the back of his head.


    Pawniard exploded forward, as the yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon clutched its jaw in its arms like it was cradling a fallen brother-in-arms. Needless to say, it was not prepared for what it seemed to be implying was its nemesis to fall upon it in a flurry of dulled blades.


    Not prepared but quick to respond, it untangled itself from its jaw-horn and brought its stick sword up to meet pawniards'' use-dulled blade-arm. Even dull, Pawniard''s arm dug deep into the stick, threatening to snap it in half with a single blow. Not that the steel-type saw fit to follow it up, instead reaching inside the yellow-skinned creature''s guard, raking its glowing black blade across its foes'' side.


    The black-jawed pok¨¦mon grunted, stumbling back, clutching at its side as it collapsed into the dirt, one arm reaching to the sky as it whined. Aidinza was pretty sure that it was trying to pantomime dying from a fatal wound.


    He just watched the spectacle for a moment, grunting slightly when Astazhei hopped into his lap. Despite himself, he could not help but be impressed, he might not be able to understand the noise the strange pok¨¦mon was making, but its emphatic gestures conveyed more than enough.


    Though considering that AIdinza was pretty sure it was trying to say that it would power through its great wound with the power of strength of duty and love to defeat its evil foe, maybe he had just gone around the twist.


    With great effort the yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon hauled itself to its feet, staggering a few times before straightening up, and closing a hand around its stick blade that had snapped under its body weight when it fell. But Aidinza let his attention drift away from the theatrics going on ahead of him, hand pressing to the back of Astazhei''s neck, feeling an intense heat. Astazhei not getting involved in the fight made him suspicious, but this worried him. He had given the bird an antidote, but it seemed like being held in the muck from toxic had deeper consequences.


    "You''ll feel better in your ball." He mutters, and the flying type does not resist when he lightly presses the ball into the bird''s side, disappearing with a flash of red. He stands, glancing towards the sky; the sun had only disappeared half an hour ago, it would be a treacherous walk, but that was fine. The only issue would be keeping the prisoners moving, especially with Nihanlo struggling with the cold air.


    But he had something more pressing to address at the moment, namely the two furiously fighting pok¨¦mon that had entered his campsite. Despite his earlier bemoaning of the fact he never seemed to capture a pok¨¦mon normally, he knew he was not going to pass up on the opportunity to capture at least pawniard. The steel-type had saved him inside the cave, giving plenty of time for Nihanlo to recover from her defeat.


    While the other pok¨¦mon¡­ had proven to be erratic. Pok¨¦mon did not think like humans as a rule, which only grew more true the further separated they were from what it was like to live like a human. Sandile might have their territorial instincts, but they had nothing on the strange behaviour of a durant part of a full-on nest. But Aidinza had never seen one as strangely delusional as this yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon. Willing to help, however indirectly, poachers that had captured it in one moment and dash their last hope in the next just to fight its object of obsession.


    Aidinza was not planning on leaving here without the pawniard and was not sure just what the black-jawed pok¨¦mon would do if the pawniard was captured in front of it. But he was loath to have his pok¨¦mon beat it down until it stopped getting up, which seemed unnecessarily cruel so far from the miracles of city healers.


    So he supposed he was leaving here with two new pok¨¦mon. He slipped a hand into the pouch strapped to his thigh, feeling the cool metal of empty pok¨¦balls. He had four left after capturing Nihanlo. But he doubted he would need anything more than just the two. Both pok¨¦mon were vicious fighters, grinding away at the other with mighty blows, the yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon using its black jaw as both a shield and a deadly trap, while pawniard danced around that trap, its dull blade-arms slipping through its foe''s guard with instinctual grace.


    Neither were giving a quarter, and the toll of the battle was quickly becoming apparent. The pawniard was not in the best condition before the fight had even started; its plates scuffed and blades notched, and it seemed like the yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon was not much better off. Its jaw beginning to lag behind its body, its blows losing the real force that had been behind them at the start of the fight.


    It was inevitable that the pawniard would land a truly telling blow, and with a blade oozing a dull, black light, it did so, smashing its arm into its enemy''s smaller chin and sending it crashing to the ground.


    "Stop," Aidinza called, banking on the pawniard''s odd obedience, even as he glanced to his side to see which of his pok¨¦mon was paying attention if he needed to physically interrupt the fight. But the pawniard froze, arm centimetres from a devastating follow-up blow straight to the downed pok¨¦mon''s forehead. The steel-type glances over to Aidinza, silently hovering over its opponent, prepared to land an injuring, if not fatal, blow.


    Aidinza expands one of the pok¨¦balls, and with a flick of his wrist, the ball arcs through the air towards the yellow-skinned pok¨¦mon. The pawniard followed the trajectory of the pok¨¦ball, seemingly recognising what was happening, as it stepped back to let it have an unobstructed path to the black-jawed pok¨¦mon.


    Or at least tried to step back; its eyes widened as it felt a grip on its leg and was torn into the path of the pok¨¦ball. The steel type disappeared in a flash of red.


    "Pawniard, Female Captured!" Aidinza watched as the yellow-skinned pok¨¨mon leapt to its feet, possessed by a vigour that had waned as the fight progressed, and pressed a foot to the top of the weakly shaking ball.


    It strikes a heroic pose, chest puffed out and hands pressed into its side as it lets out a series of unintelligible grunts and chirps that nonetheless convey victory.


    Aidinza let a hand fall to his side, running a calming stroke down Sandile''s tense, ridged back. The reptile was on edge; something not-his had defeated something he was interested in, in his own territory. Aidinza could only imagine his instincts were raging at him to do something about that. The tense pok¨¨mon calmed at the touch, muscles relaxing ever so slightly, still teetering on the edge of flinging himself forward, but for the moment, willing to wait.


    The motion drew the black-jawed pok¨¨mon''s eye, and it twisted around to face Aidinza and his watching pok¨¨mon, once more posing and babbling out noise.


    It had to be said that there was a vast gulf between what was a pok¨¨mon and what was human. An evolutionary divergence millions of years in the making. There were many ways that fact was demonstrated: pok¨¨mon could throw around elemental attacks capable of crushing stone for one. But another was the fact that pok¨¨mon could broadly understand each other and had a strange, universal link that meant no matter how different they were from each other, they knew what other pok¨¨mon were saying. Or at least had a broad understanding.


    That link was not something humans had; that¡­ connection was barred from them. Forever separated from the hundreds of thousands of species that made up pok¨¨mon by their inability to just get it.


    The elders of the Naisho''h used to tell a young Aidinza that the greatest tragedy humanity has to bear is that lack of ability to truly communicate.


    It is¡­ somewhat different for trainers and their pok¨¨mon. Somewhere along the line, things start to click. Little ques begin to make sense, and the little differences in tone start to have a purpose. It was not proper communication, but some great Ya''an-ah thinkers believe that somewhere along the line, a pok¨¨mon let their trainer tap ever so slightly into that great network of understanding.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    But that took time. Less time the longer one was a trainer, but time nonetheless for each new pok¨¨mon.


    Aidinza was pretty sure that this yellow-skinned pok¨¨mon never got that memo because he got the feeling he knew exactly what it was saying.


    And right now, it was demanding praise for it vanquishing such a terrible evil. The black-jawed pok¨¨mon tossed its head, a look of smug faux humility glittering in its ruby red eyes.


    Aidinza stared at it blankly.


    Seemingly noticing that it was not getting its demanded praise, the pok¨¨mon paused, hands crossing in front of it as it stomped a foot into the ground.


    "You didn''t beat the pawniard." The pok¨¨mon stumbled backwards, hand clutching to its chest. It stood there bent over for a second, visibly gathering itself, before straightening up. It thrust an arm at the still pok¨¨ball, with a proud exclamation, and a humble shake of its head.


    "You came around and attacked a tired pok¨¨mon before tripping it into the path of a pok¨¨ball after it beat you." Aidinza cut the pok¨¨mon off as it tried to pat itself on the back again. "Hardly fighting a great evil."


    That set the yellow pok¨¨mon off, its arms flailing wildly by its side as it growled. Then very deliberately, it began¡­ pantomiming evil acts? That was the best Aidinza could get, from the way the yellow-skinned pok¨¨mon menacingly posed, arms held in a poor mimicry of how the pawniard held its arm-blades.


    "If anything, considering you helped the poachers¡­." Aidinza trailed off and glanced over to where the poachers were still tied to a tree; Rocky and the pleather-wearing poacher were hardly paying attention. But Revy seemed to be watching, struggling to muffle laughter.


    The yellow-skinned pok¨¨mon whined, shaking its head as it pounded its black hands into its sides, producing a harsh metallic clang. Then it jabbed a hand back at Aidinza, then at its jaw, then at the pok¨¨ball and itself.


    Aidinza watched, perplexed but strangely enthralled, as the pok¨¨mon began playing two parts with one body. Acting out a grand betrayal where its main body gained its jaws'' trust before backstabbing it at the last moment. It was a strangely moving show; for all that it lasted ten seconds.


    "You think the pawniard was trying to deceptively gain my trust?" Both of the pok¨¨mon''s heads'' nod'' emphatically before it posed again, seemingly thinking it had convinced the trainer. "Why would she ever do that?"


    The pok¨¨mon paused again, for the first time looking genuinely lost. It dithered on its feet for a moment, glancing around as if the dark forest would hold the secret of what it should say. Before it settled on posing menacingly again.


    "Because it''s evil?" Aidinza was, if he was being honest, pretty sure he was being fucked with. The pok¨¨mon nods again. He should have just left it at that, abandoned chasing this insane rabbit hole. "Why is it evil." Aidinza may have been slightly masochistic.


    The yellow-skinned pok¨¨mon paused before kneeling down, and pointing at its yellow skin, then the black of its leg. It then gestured in front of itself, in the shape of pawniards steel helmet.


    "Because it''s not yellow?" Aidinza knew broadly what racism was. He had been called sand humper and desert rat by more than a few unpleasant people unhappy to be defeated by him. He sneaks a languid glance over to the poachers again. He knew that many people in Unova hated anyone from Kanto or Johto, and the less said about what some people thought about Hoenn, the better. But this was the first time he had seen a pok¨¨mon be racist.


    The pok¨¨mon shook its head, then paused, a thoughtful look crossing its head, and it slowly nodded and tilted its hand side to side in front of it. Then it repeated the gesture at its yellow skin and black leg, finishing it with another tracing of the pawniards helmet.


    "Because it''s¡­ blue? It''s evil because it''s blue?" Aidinza felt Sandile tense underneath his fingers and knew that this would end terribly. The black-jawed pok¨¨mon, on the other hand, remained oblivious, eyes lighting up as it nodded enthusiastically.


    Aidinza should not add fuel to the fire. Aidinza should simply throw a ball at the pok¨¨mon and capture it. As animated as it was, it could not hide how beaten it had been during the fight.


    "So you hate blue?"


    Aidinza did a little bit of mischief.


    The pok¨¨mon nodded again, smiling wide, and took twenty kilograms of angry reptile to the face.


    -


    The yellow pok¨¦mon was called a ''mawile'', and he was male. That was all the pok¨¨ball said before it declared itself locked until a connection to the pok¨¨ transfer network.


    Which concerned Aidinza, partly because the idea that his pok¨¨ball could be locked was¡­ terrifying, and mainly because Sandile had not been gentle in his vigorous defence of his favourite colour. He did not know what the pok¨¦mon experienced while in their balls, but he could only hope that it dulled the pain.


    On the bright side, it was not like he was going to be far from civilisation for long; with Astazhei ill and the mawile potentially injured, Aidinza set a brutal pace through route nine. If the poachers dragged their feet, Aidinza dragged their faces through the mud. Or well, Nihanlo did, the ice type would hardly notice if the poachers put their entire body weight into moving her; she was simply too heavy and too strong.


    Unfortunately, the pace Aidinza set meant that there was little time to get to know the newest pok¨¦mon he actually had access to, there was no time to waste battling the various wild pok¨¦mon along the route, and the particularly insistent ones would find themselves quickly thrashed by an agitated Sandile.


    But little time was not no time, and in the short camps that Aidinza took as it grew too cold to continue on, and his aching muscles slowed him, he did what he could to figure out the female pawniard. It was informative and confusing in equal parts. Pawniard was not like his other pok¨¦mon; she was less¡­ independent. Everyone on his team was obedient, though some like Shand¨ª¨ªn toed that line, but they were self-contained in their downtime. Driven by their own motivations to¡­ do things. Whether that was heading off to sleep like Naazin, or Astazhei''s once daily foe-seeking after training, or even as simple as Sandile''s hatred of grass. They had something driving them outside of what Aidinza asked them to do.


    Pawniard seemed to not have that. Nearly every moment she was out of her ball, she was looking for direction. Constantly waiting for the next order and interpreting those orders from Aidinza''s slightest twitch.


    Oddly enough, it made him remember one of the fights he had in Route Six against a Yanma. It was a superbly trained pok¨¦mon, reacting to its trainers'' whistled orders with split-second obedience. But when it came to something it knew but its trainer did not, the bug-type made no adjustment to what it was doing. Made no effort to do anything but exactly what it had been taught.


    Even when Aidizna told her to relax, it was a perfunctory thing; she was relaxing because she had been told to rest. Not because she had a drive to relax. She was still an individual in that she had a personality. But that fell by the wayside because of her absolute obedience.


    It was a heady amount of power, one that concerned Aidinza. There was an adage in the desert sands. One does not belong to the tribe; the tribe belongs to the one. Aidinza was of the Naisho''h, born to their sand paths, and so was his sister. He was expected to honour their elders, and obey their leaders, though they were one and the same. But if there ever came a time when he wanted to leave the Naisho''h and join another tribe, there was no shame in it. No expectation of staying, no matter what responsibilities might linger when he leaves.


    That was a right afforded to every Ya''an-ah. The right of the tribe to belong to the individual. Or, more simply, the right to be an individual.


    And no matter the phantom sting that lingered in his heart whenever he thought about it, it was a right he honoured, with all the expectations of independence that went along with it.


    But the way that Pawniard acted, it was like she was an individual that belonged to a tribe.


    Aidinza was not sure he wanted his pok¨¦mon to be like that. Aidinza was not sure he could accept a pok¨¦mon like that.


    Even beyond the moral issue, there was the practical issue. Though Aidinza used Sandile to fight any wild pok¨¦mon during their brutal pace to Opelucid, that did not mean he had no opportunity for practice fights amongst his team. In those practice fights, Pawniard proved that she was a lethally skilled fighter, not able to purely overpower someone like Sandile but able to leverage her strengths far better.


    But she was held back by how tightly she held to any instruction she was given. If she was told to use metal claw, she would throw herself at her opponent repeatedly to just land the ability, no matter how fruitless it was.


    Worse still, Aidinza could see that Pawniard knew better options, could track that half-start to do something else that she instinctively knew was better. But she abandoned it to throw herself into what she had already been instructed to do.


    The comparison to the Yanma from weeks ago was growing more apt by the moment. A noise prickles at Aidinza''s ears, and he manages to glance up from the notes in his lap just in time to catch a behemoth of a man dressed in a heavy jacket with many pockets calmly walking into the clearing.


    "Opelucid Rangers, keep your hands where I can see them and away from any pok¨¦balls." Aidinza freezes, pencil falling out of his grip as he shows his palms to the man. He had been given an extensive run down on who the Rangers were by the kind Healer Joy at Nimbasa. The men and women that brought as much law as could be brought to the wilds between cities.


    "Cool sands and wet winds, lawbringer." Aidinza greeted, letting his arms rise above his head. The man gave him a cool glance, brow furrowing for a moment, before glancing towards the small lean-to that Aidinza made for the poachers.


    "Ya''an-ah eh? Great." The man spits to the side and pulls out a device. "I have a report of a Red-haired young man, travelling with three prisoners, two male and one female, pulled along by an ice-type. You match this description." He jerks a head towards the lean-to, and Aidinza nods, that sounds almost exactly like him. The ranger pulled out a device that beeped when he pressed a thumb to its side. "I am Ranger Captain Carlson, Numel Umbreon Four-One-Nine Five-Nine-Two, investigating case reference Sawk Timburr Nine Seven Clauncher. I have positively identified the subject male between ages fifteen and sixteen, six foot tall, with red hair and green eyes. Ethnically and culturally, Ya''an-ah. Subject has shown no signs of hostility and is currently compliant." The device beeps again, and the man pulls a notepad from one of his many pockets. "To keep this short, kid, I have a full ranger squad surrounding the clearing; you will be coming with me, and you will be explaining why you are brazenly travelling to Opelucid with three prisoners."


    The man gestures to the side, and Aidinza glances over to see a man dressed nearly identically to Ranger Captain Carlson watching silently.


    "All answers you give will be verified by a psychic. As this case falls under potential human trafficking, you do not have any right to refuse verification. Do you understand?" Aidinza''s glance back to Carlson was far more cautious; he felt like he was being penned in.


    "I have done nothing wrong." Aidinza''s words were measured as he carefully met Carlson''s brown eyes.


    "You forced three people, bound in rope, to travel for seventeen hours a day during winter." The ranger captain''s voice was devoid of any particular judgement about that, simply stating the fact.


    "They are poachers, not people." For the first time, a crack appeared in Carlson''s calm demeanor as he double took at that, blinking rapidly. In the distance, Aidinza heard the sound of laughter.


    "Well, that might make things simpler." He drawls, shooting a lazy glare over Aidinza''s shoulder at where the laughter had come from. "Vincent, check the prisoners against the database. Then make sure they''re not being injured by the ropes." Carlson''s voice did not change tone, simply rising in volume, carrying easily in the frosty air. "You are still coming with us, and you will b-."


    "Oi, Captain! It''s that wanna-be Giovani-looking fuckstick that was posted up a few weeks ago." The voice that cut Carlson off had a heavy accent, curling strangely around its words in a way strangely reminiscent of Rosa''s accent.


    "Is that a positive identification Vincent?" Carlson looks like he''s deciding whether he is pleased, or annoyed by the development, as he takes out another notepad and begins scribbling something down.


    "Yeah, he''s even got those pleather shoes he stole from Nimbasa Captain; Lorenzo here is fucking wearing pointed shoes in the middle of the wilderness!" The man laughs, a jackal-like sound that dances through the frozen trees strangely. "This guy stole a class two restricted Pok¨¦mon, right?"


    "Did the poachers have a Munna with them?" The ranger loses the lazy slump in his shoulders, straightening up to his full, intimidating height for the first time since he entered the clearing. He stared down at Aidinza, a full head taller than him. "Pink psychic pok¨¦mon, with flower-like patterns in its hide, and secretes a pink gas?"


    "They called it Musharna. Its pok¨¦ball is in my backpack." Carlson''s mouth twists into a scowl, and with a jerk of his hand, another ranger - female this time - enters the clearing proper, pulling the bag at Aidinza''s side away from him and rooting through its pockets. "The second pocket, underneath the blue rocks."


    "Thanks, kid." Her voice was hoarse from smoke inhalation, and when Aidinza glanced back at her, he caught sight of burn marks running down her arm.


    "Eyes on me. You are still coming with us, and you will be subjected to a psychic examination." He glances around the clearing before sighing. He takes another device out of his pocket, a heavy thing that his large hand struggles to wrap around. "Ranger Squad One Four requesting immediate psychic transport of full squad and four passengers, Priority Code Pansage Two." The large man glanced around the clearing, eyes flicking between the various effects that Aidinza had set up around his campsite. "You ever been teleported, kid?"


    "No, I ha-." A familiar brown pok¨¦mon appeared in a flash, interrupting Aidinza. It hovers in the air for a moment, the tri-coloured jewels on its arm flickering wildly. Before it froze.


    A moment passed, and the forest disappeared.


    It is difficult to explain just what teleportation feels like; the best Aidinza could attempt was the very precipice of the moment of wake from a dream where it feels like you are falling. Where your physical body was telling you you were still, and your mind was screaming that you were falling.


    The young nomad feels his body jolt, knees bracing for a shock of force that simply was not there, bones and muscles twitching strangely. He stumbles forward, hand slapping into a newly there concrete wall to brace him. Someone touched his shoulder, a solid grip to steady him.


    He glances over to see the amused face of the man who had called the poacher ''fuckstick''.


    "Don''t worry, it never gets better, eh? Take a few moments and blink the shit out of your head, yeah?" Aidinza stares at him for a moment, his mind spinning as it protests being forced to process an entirely new environment. Not just the sights but the scents, temperature, and solid beneath his feet. "Now, Captain''s gonna get the prisoners set up, so why don''t I get your na-"


    The young trainer zones out for a moment, dizzy and feeling a sickly feeling creep up his throat. He sways for a moment, even with his hand holding himself up against the wall. "Pok¨¦ Transfer Network Connection Established, Pok¨¦ball Mawile registered to Pok¨¦mon trainer Aidinza. Six Pok¨¦mon carry limit exceeded. Transferred to Route Five Pok¨¦mon Habitat Research Centre."


    The voice rattles out from his side, startling Aidinza, and he whirls around to look at it as his belt vibrates before losing an important weight.


    The man - Vincent, Aidinza remembers distantly - attempts to catch Aidinza; unfortunately for the ranger, the sickly feeling creeping up the Ya''an-ah''s throat turns into a flood, his throat bulging as his small dinner explodes from his lips as his consciousness gives up.


    Or, in simpler terms, Aidinza vomits on the ranger''s shoes and passes out.

 Of Stone and Glass

    Aidinza passing out was perhaps the quickest way for him to get out of the ranger''s station. Mainly because the Rangers did not bother explaining anything to his unconscious body; they just had their Psychics pluck the information from his head.


    Which was thoroughly¡­ uncomfortable knowledge to grapple with as he left the ranger station. Granted, he apparently was not going to get a choice in it anyway, but to not even be aware while his mind was being examined.


    A shudder ran up his spine as he paused in the doorway of the ranger station. It left him with an oily feeling that seeped into his spine and left an odd helplessness curling around his every thought.


    He shakes his head harshly and shoves his way through the door with more force than needed. But it does little to chase away the feeling of violation.


    But what was on the other side, well, that helped somewhat.


    Aidinza had seen many cities since he had left his desert home. From the behemoth skyscrapers of Nimbasa to the opulent bronze of Driftveil to the warm colour of Iriccus. In each, he found they had their own clear-cut identity.


    Opelucid, at first glance, looked like two cities intertwined.


    The first was a city as old and storied as Icirrus, if not as colourful. Grand stone complexes, squat and sprawling, jut up from the ground. Marked with buttresses and towers built to withstand the weight and fury of a dragon. Buildings from a time when Opelucid was the Pheyan''atho''s sole domain, and they raged mightily against themselves.


    But surrounding those great stone fortresses were more modern buildings, perhaps the most modern that Aidinza had ever seen. Glass was entwined with steel and neon, which hummed with electricity. Beacons of light illuminated the streets and shone down upon the older stone buildings.


    It was a strange mixing of an era long gone and what felt like an era just on the cusp of coming. Aidinza would be the first to say he found cities uncomfortable. The scent on the air, the tall buildings blotting out the sun, and the far too many people pressed down on him like a too-tight blanket.


    But for a moment, standing there at the outskirts of Opelucid, staring at the melding of ancient and modern, Aidinza found longing stir in his heart.


    No, more accurately, he felt a tempestuous need race through him. After the¡­ the hope, the Icirrus dangled in front of him to look at Opelucid and see such an evident melding of a people that once had even been considered by the Ya''an-ah to be overly traditional and the modern world.


    Aidinza exhales, centring himself for a moment, as he realises he was blocking the sidewalk as he gawked at the surrounding buildings. He manages an apologetic smile as the people walking past give him side-eyed looks before he remembers the reason he had been rushing to Opelucid in the first place.


    His eyes snapped back up to the skyline, hand falling to hover protectively over his pok¨¨balls. He needed to get to a pok¨¨centre.


    Without another glance at the people irritated by his gawking, he takes off. The sooner that Astazhei could get medical attention, the better.


    -


    "The rufflet has an infection in his ear canal." Aidinza felt his heart sink. "The toxic managed to seep behind his tympanum and inflamed his saccule."


    Doctor Adrien was an older man with salt and pepper hair who looked dead on his feet. One hand clutched a paper cup, and the other held a clipboard. He had taken Astazhei''s pok¨¨balls an hour ago after a nurse had noticed a complication.


    "Is he going to be alright?" Aidinza''s hands twisted into his poncho, forcing them to not worry in front of him.


    "Yes, but he needs to recover. The inflamed saccule is pressing against his inner ear, which is messing with his Vestibular System, his sense of balance. He has a lumbosacral organ which acts as a backup sensory organ, but that is primarily for moving on the ground." The man yawns, sipping at his coffee before straightening up, his eyes going hard. "The stasis slowed down the infection, but without constant observation, there''s still a chance of permanent damage. As of right now, the rufflet is being placed under two weeks of medical observation and will not leave this centre."


    Something dark and vicious twisted in Aidinza''s stomach at that, a surge of protective possessiveness that wanted to deny the doctor. To refuse and refuse until he is given his pok¨¦mon magically hale and healthy. But he bites his tongue and bows his head. As much as it would pain him to part with Astazhei for a single day, much less two weeks, he knew it was for the bird''s health.


    And more than that, he knew that it was his fault that Astazhei was sick.


    The old man''s features softened just slightly. "The antidote helped; you just didn''t have the right tools, and it''s better than it would have been if you just left it. You prevented the rufflet from losing all hearing, or worse, vision." Aidinza swallowed heavily. The words were little comfort compared to knowing just how bad it could have been. "Now get out of here; you have two weeks in Opelucid. Do something with them."


    Doctor Adrien slumped away, exhaustion obvious with every step. Aidinza watched him go for several seconds, hand drifting to the empty spot on his belt. There was a strange weightlessness to his belt now, light in a way that Aidinza found that he loathed.


    His shoulders slump even lower as he glances around the foyer of the pok¨¦mon centre. It was mostly empty, only a Nurse handling the front desk, servicing a few older trainers. His eyes lingered on the nurse for a moment before this attention drifted to a computer.


    He would be here for two weeks. He would not waste them.


    -


    Technical Machines, more commonly known as TMs, are a marvel of programming, computer engineering, and psychic prowess. Only possible with the miracle of pok¨¦ball technology, the machines would temporarily create a psychic hypnosis that, in highly simplified terms, would teach a pok¨¦mon a move by running hundreds of mental simulations in the pok¨¦mon''s subconscious.


    Needless to say, they were expensive. Even the most common TMs were usually a few thousand dollars. They were significant, long-term investments. Most trainers at Aidinza''s point of the journey would generally pick up one or two, lest they find themselves broke.


    Aidinza planned on following suit; he had three TMs that he planned on buying today. The first was simply because it was just too cost-effective not to buy. Rock Slide was a move that nearly every member of Aidinza''s current team could learn and addressed an issue that most of his pok¨¦mon, outside of Naazin, had. They had no real ranged options, and it was a weakness that more than one trainer had taken advantage of.


    The second was something of a gift to Astazhei and something to keep the bird safe. Steel Wing was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a steel-type move that turned a bird''s fleshy, injury-prone wing into a rigid steel beam capable of shattering stone. It would cut away at Astazhei''s theoretical weakness - theoretical in that Aidinza had yet to see a pok¨¦mon that Astazhei could not physically bully - to rock types, but would hopefully help him avoid wing injuries.


    The last was one he had kept an eye on since nearly the start of his journey. Dark Pulse was a move that Aidinza had only witnessed once before when Tsesei''s partner Krookodile fought against a massive Rhydon that had strayed from the deep desert. The move had darkened the midday desert sun and carved in twain a sandy dune. Which had been more than enough to dissuade the agitated Rhydon.


    The display had stuck with Aidinza for years afterwards. It was the first time he had seen a pok¨¦mon display the awe-inspiring prowess that separated them from any other species on the planet. And, in that little boyish place in his heart, he had always wanted that power for himself.


    As he slid the three metal cases across the counter to the old store attendant, he was about to have that power for himself.


    Or at least some form of it.


    Aidinza flashes a small smile at the attendant as the three metal cases are slid back over to him. He leaves the store in an uncharacteristic rush, there were few places to train in the crowded limits of Opelucid, and fewer still that would let someone train there for free.


    He was in such a rush that he collided with a man the same age as him as he sharply turned a corner. The two of them went sprawling, sending the TMs that Aidinza was holding clattering to the ground.


    "Man, did anyone catch the name of the hydreigon that hit me?" The other boy groans as he sits up before staring forlornly at several bags of food that had crashed to the ground.


    "Ah." Aidinza pauses, coughing as he rubs his back. "Wet winds and cool sands stranger, I think I may have knocked us both over." Aidinza greets awkwardly, caught between the urge to find the incredibly expensive TMs he just dropped and checking on the man he had just sent crashing to the ground. "Please forgive me."


    "You too, man." Aidinza watches as the man rolls over his shoulder, bouncing to his feet in a single smooth motion. Then his words registered, and a mild sense of confusion washed over him.


    "Pardon?" The young Ya''an-ah rises from the ground with a grunt, glancing at the mess in front of them as he does so.


    "Uh, don''t worry about it. Don''t mean to be a drag, but¡­." He gestures at the mess in front of the two of them, the request for help obvious. Aidinza nods, feeling a guilt stir, and the two descend on the food, packing it away as quickly as possible.


    "Big shot trainer, eh?" The other boy, who had managed to put away most of what was near him, speaks up, distracting Aidinza for a moment. He glances up, taking a good look at the other male for the first time.


    He was slightly shorter than Aidinza, with skin just a few shades darker than the nomad''s sun-touched features. His dark hair swept across his sharp lined face in wild locks, tinged with a purplish hue under the glint of the sun. The boy shoves some of his hair out of his face and gives Aidinza a quick grin, exposing sharp teeth as he waves one of the TM''s in the air.


    "Dark Pulse, hey?" Aidinza watches carefully as he puts away a plastic box of strange shrunken purple fruits, half sure he is about to be robbed. "Got a dark type, then?"


    "A sandile and a pawniard." His newest pok¨¦mon''s second typing was a surprise to Aidinza; he had thought they were a pure steel type. The man''s brown eyes light up, and he flips the TM around in his hand, offering it to the Ya''an-ah nomad.


    "You know, it was preeeetty rude of you to knock me over like that, and you made me spill our food everywhere." Aidinza cautiously takes the TM back, unsure where the other boy was going with this. The purplish-hued boy grins wide, "You might have to make it up to me."


    Aidinza''s eyes widened as he kicked himself for not properly realising what he had done. Destroying another tribe''s food was considered a grave insult, or worse, a heinous crime depending on the context. Sharing a meal, inviting another into your hospitality, was considered by many Ya-an''ah elders to be a symbol of the brotherhood between the desert nomads and the Tly-an-yeh. A connection formed from the very first time the two people met and had long since bled into the rest of the Ya''an-ah''s culture. A ritual of brotherhood that Aidinza participated in with Brycen.


    To reject that hospitality was rude, perhaps, but to spit on that hospitality by destroying the food, ruining it. That was a grave insult to the centuries of stories and history that entwined the two people.


    But Aidinza was not in this man''s home and had not been invited to eat his food. No, even without the extension of hospitality, he had fouled another''s food.


    Tribes had exiled people for less.


    He bowed low at the waist in desperate apology, "My deepest and gravest apologies", Aidinza rushed out, tongue tripping over itself. "Please forgive me, or tell me how to earn it."


    "Oi oi oi, it''s fine, no need to look so terrified, man. I''m not mad or anything." Aidinza glanced up; the boy looked as panicked as Aidinza felt, glancing furtively around the street. "I was just gonna ask you to let me watch you teach your pok¨¦mon Dark Pulse. Please stop bowing. I''m sorry I didn''t mean to set you off. You don''t even have to show me Dark Pulse; it''s fine, hey want a prune?"


    Now it was Aidinza''s turn to be unsure, accepting a handful of the strange, shrunken purple fruits he had packed away. This entire encounter was getting out of hand.


    "Yeah, it is." Aidinza blinks and flushes slightly; he had said that out loud. Luckily, it seemed the other boy agreed. "Let''s restart. I''m Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den. You can call me Jayden if that''s too hard."


    "Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den." Aidinza rolled it around on his tongue, eyeing the other man''s darker skin for a moment. "I am Aidinza of the Naisho''h." He studies Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, and after a moment, a flicker of recognition sparks in his eyes, but the other boy does not say anything.


    "Nice to meet you." A silence fell, stretching awkwardly for a long moment, neither particularly sure where to go from here.


    "So, uh, where were you planning on training those new TM''s?" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den ventures, half eager and half visibly thinking.


    "I''m not sure." Aidinza''s response felt curt on his tongue, and as Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den continued to stand there, mouthing Naisho''h, he felt compelled to continue talking. "Not many places in Opelucid to train."


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den snorts absently, paying slightly more attention to the conversation. "Yeah, and the places there are make you pay a motzer cuz they''re used to trainers coming to fight Dra''kh¨ª -" He pauses, tongue stumbling over his words. "Dra ''Kh¨ª za - ide'' en." He sounds out the words phonetically, lingering on each syllable. "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en". He grins to himself, proud of managing what Aidinza could only assume was a name. Then a flicker of realisation crossed his brown eyes. "Naisho''h are the Ya''an-ah, the desert guys, right?"


    "I would hope the Pheyan''atho would remember us as more than just the desert guys." Aidinza could not keep the biting edge out of his tone; he knew the Pheyan''atho were self-centred, you needed to be to tame dragons, but this was slightly ridiculous.


    However, his tone seemed to have no effect on Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, the proud grin on his face only widening as his back straightens - disproving Aidinza''s first impression that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den was shorter than him - and his eyes light up.


    Aidinza only nods; maybe if he was not in the heartlands of the Pheyan''atho, he would be more hesitant. But in Opelucid itself, there was no mistaking him for anything else.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den hesitates for a moment, fiddling with the handles of his groceries bags. "I know a place where you can train for free."


    "I don''t want to go too far." Aidinza hedged; leaving the city limits, even for training, without Astazhei felt wrong.


    "It''s just a short ride; I''ll even bring you back when you''re finished." He gives Aidinza a half-eager, half pleading look, his brown eyes wide enough to give Sandile a run for his money. Aidinza wavered for a moment, technical machines were expensive. Though he had few expenses, even the cheapest of training ''areas'' in Opelucid would leave him with next to nothing.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den observed for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought before he seemed to have a lightbulb moment.


    "You can even have dinner with us; there''s a seat at our table." Aidinza pauses, tapping a single finger against his side.


    "And you''d see it filled." He murmurs, finishing the half-formed sentence. Carefully his eyes trace the street lines of ancient stone fortifications entwined with modern glass titans. "You really want to see that Dark Pulse¡­."


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den grins bashfully, and Aidinza snorts, sending the Pheyan''atho into a fit of chuckles.


    "Lead on." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den pumps his fist in a strange gesture, and the two of them were off.


    -


    Flying with Skyla had been a terrifying experience. Soaring kilometres above the earth, while Skyla did her best to make him forget which way was up or down, with only the security of glass and thin metal between him and death had sickened him to his stomach.


    But at least for that, Aidinza had been pretty sure that the plane was meant to be in the air.


    Riding on Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s bike removed even that comfort. On top of removing the thin casing of glass and metal, and even a proper seat to cower on.


    He supposed that the Pheyan''atho at least did him the courtesy of not rising kilometres into the air every time his bike was flung off some ramp or over some ditch.


    Cold comfort, since it meant that the number of occasions he found himself racing towards the ground was exponentially higher.


    After forty minutes, across winding roads and up and down fractured hills, when Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den finally brought the two of them to a stop, it had taken Aidinza nearly five minutes to find his feet and quell his stomach.


    The sight that greeted him when he did, in many ways, made up for what he had just been subjected to.


    The two of them stood on the precipice of a valley, a cradle of verdant forest and tranquil, rolling hills. All across the valley were buildings of timber and stone, far from the brutalist military fortifications of old Opelucid; instead, they seemed to be homes. Quiet and understated.


    Something dark and¡­ massive stirred in the corner of Aidinza''s eye, and he snapped around to face it and felt his heart stutter to a stop.


    It should perhaps not have been a surprising sight, the Pheyan''atho was the most prominent of the tribes native to Unova for one reason. Not their location, not their people. But their bond with Haxorus.


    And the legendary Hydreigon.


    The creature, its face covered by blue fur so light as to be grey, and framed by fur as black as the darkest night, lumbered to attention. Frills pressed tight to its skull peel back, exposing a fuchsia underside as it sniffs at the air.


    It rears back further, reaching its full height, nearly twice Aidinza''s height. Its two arms crane around, the ''heads'' that made up its hands yawning, exposing inches of age yellowed fangs. The hands sniff and focus down on Aidinza and Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den.


    The Ya''an-ah native stood still. Not even the endless sands of the Ya''an-ah desert were enough to protect the tribes from the interminable brutality of the great scourge of the Unovan skies. Dozens of stories of the terror descending on wings of darkness on unsuspecting Ya''an-ah caravans, reshaping the mother desert in its wake in its ever-endless drive for more to satiate the endless hunger of its three mouths.


    To live on Unovan soil, or sand or rock or grass, and anything in between was to understand the shadow of fear that the Hydreigon cast upon it.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den flung himself at the beast and wrapped his arms around its nearest arm.


    "Ha?h¨¦da?z¨¦?a!" The beast rumbles, its other arm coming to prod at the boy wrapped around it. "Koda hd¨ª wote woyute wask¨²ye?a a hdi"


    The beast, Ha?h¨¦da?z¨¦?a, sniffs the air and turns to where Aidinza was still trying to avoid any notice. Even a young Hydregion would absolutely destroy Aidinza''s team, and there was nothing young about this Hydregion. The arm not being embraced by Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stretches out to Aidinza, or¡­ above Aidinza?


    It sniffs again and tilts to face Aidinza properly.


    It was blind, he realised; its eyes, the same fuchsia as the frills still extended around its skulls, were glassy and unfocused.


    "Koda." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den insists, and the Hydregion turns away, softly shaking off Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den and curling back in a mountain of muscle and fur so large that Aidinza had previously mistaken it for part of the mountain pass.


    "Come on, Ha?h¨¦da?z¨¦?a needs her sleep." Aidinza, for the first time since the behemoth stirred, blinked, feeling his eyes ache. He carefully nods, as if the slightest bit of noise would wake the Hydreigon and send it into a terrible rage, and carefully follows Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den.


    -


    Sandile''s first Dark Pulse was far from Tsesei''s Krookodile darkening the sky and tearing apart dunes. In fact, it barely managed to carve into the dummy on the far side of the room that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den had led Aidinza to.


    But, it was something that shored up Sandile''s weaknesses, and with time and practice, perhaps it could someday rival that old reptile. It seemed to come naturally enough to Aidinza''s starter.


    The others took to their TM''s with slightly less grace. Rock slide was a common and inexpensive move. But it was deeply foreign to most of Aidinza''s team. Not only dealing with rock-type energy but also dealing with using that energy to form something at a distance. Even Shand¨ª¨ªn was struggling with Steel Wing.


    But they were slowly puzzling it out; they had all the pieces they needed from the TM, after all.


    "So, you''re just going to leave them to it?" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den had disappeared for a mere few minutes after he had first shown Aidinza the training room. When he returned, sans the groceries, he had been a whirlwind of questions about anything and everything.


    It was overwhelming at first, but Aidinza found himself appreciating it. Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s questions drove him to consider ideas more in-depth to adequately explain them.


    "They know what they need to do. I watch to see if they need more help, but they need to find their rhythm." Micromanaging pok¨¦mon while they were learning was pointless at best and actively detrimental at worst. Aidinza did not understand how the energy pulsed in their veins, did not understand how it formed.


    He could offer ideas and whatever he could find in the endless archives of Pok¨¦centres, but directly telling them what needed to happen was beyond his ability.


    "What about that one?" Aidinza''s hand twitches to the pok¨¦ball Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den gestures to, sitting innocuously on his belt.


    Where Astazhei usually sat. Where Astazhei should be sitting.


    Where another pok¨¦mon was now sitting.


    It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision nearly two days ago. Astazhei was, legally speaking, under the Opelucid City Pok¨¦centre''s care. Not currently registered on Aidinza''s team.


    Leaving him with only five team members. Aidinza had seven pok¨¦mon.


    It was a logical decision; it should have felt like the right decision. Aidinza had caught that seventh pok¨¦mon, and he had a duty to take care of it. Had a responsibility to train it unless he released it, and his waist had felt strangely empty without a sixth pok¨¦ball.


    When he had first decided to do it, that had been all it had taken to convince him.


    Now, with the faint warmth of a full pok¨¦ball that felt so natural yet so incredibly different. His waist had felt strange without the sixth pok¨¦ball. With a different pok¨¦ball, it felt wrong.


    And so those thoughts tasted ashen in his mouth.


    "Aidinza?" He meets the other boy''s eyes for a moment, studying his sharp features and guileless eyes. Aidinza found himself reminded of the children the Naisho''h looked after for a moment. With their endless questions and eager eyes. "Hey, if you don''t want to ta-."


    "One of my pok¨¦mon was injured on the way here; he is in the pok¨¦centre." He admits, then frowns. "One of my pok¨¦mon was heavily injured, poisoned while I was fighting poachers." And had been too slow and inexperienced to react to the fast pace of the double battle, he let echo through his own head.


    "So the pok¨¦ball is empty?" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s voice cut through his self-recrimination, somehow both firm and soft.


    "No. I have seven pok¨¦mon." Aidinza''s hand falls to the ball at his waist, feeling the almost unnoticeable warmth.


    "You don''t think you should have brought the seventh." Aidinza glanced up at him and noted at least one more difference between the young taken care of the Naisho''h and Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den.


    Their eyes were never quite so discerning.


    "I caught it. Him. After Astazhei was hurt. So did Pawniard." Aidinza pauses, hands tapping a thoughtless rhythm on the pok¨¦ball. Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stayed silent. "I caught him, a mawile, and Pawniard after Astazhei got hurt."


    "Pawniard is training." It was a gentle admonishment but still drew a flinch from Aidinza.


    "Pawniard is training." He agrees, glancing over to where the steel-type was robotically going through the motions of attempting Rock Slide. Seemingly just trying the same thing over and over.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den let the silence sit in the air.


    "It feels like I''m replacing Astazhei, while he''s hurt." Aidinza was the one that was not good enough; why was he allowed to¡­ to replace Astazhei. It did not feel right. It should not feel right.


    Aidinza expected a lot of responses to that, from that not being fair to Mawile, to telling Aidinza that he needed to deal with swapping his pok¨¦mon. If Aidinza was to be honest, he had already refuted them all, even if the content of the words had not been entirely laid out.


    "Would Astazhei care?" Aidinza had expected a lot of responses, but somehow that one slipped his mind. Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den pressed forward in the wake of Aidinza''s shocked expression. "Can you honestly say that your pok¨¦mon is going to be as hung up on this as you?"


    Aidinza could not.


    Astazhei, in all his brash, cocksure nature, would sooner get annoyed that Aidinza was having doubts again than be concerned that Aidinza brought along another pok¨¦mon while he was not with his trainer.


    Aidinza''s hand closes around the pok¨¦ball at his side and gives Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den a wiry smirk. "You know, the last person to invite me into their home and give me a heart-to-heart was a terrorist that tried to kill me. Should I be worried?"


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stared at Aidinza slack jaw for a moment before the dusky boy snorted, and the two of them descended into laughter. "What the hell? Who just says that?" He gasps out between bouts of laughter. Aidinza could not manage a reply, leaning against the wall as he clutched his ribs, pissing himself laughing.


    After several long moments of hysterics, the two calm down. "First things first, you''re telling me that story, then we get to the mawile."


    Aidinza sputters into another brief laugh before relaxing bonelessly and nodding, feeling lighter than he had in an age.


    -


    Dealing with Mawile was¡­


    Easier than Aidinza expected, it was¡­ mostly obedient. It even avoided bothering Pawniard under the gimlet eye of an uncharacteristically grumpy Sandile.


    Though that did not mean it was not disruptive. No, instead of fighting among the other pok¨¨mon, Mawile constantly attempted to drag the others into his¡­ dramatics.


    Most of Aidinza''s pok¨¨mon ignored him, Sandile still nursing a blue-grudge, Pawniard was too¡­ focused. Even Shand¨ª¨ªn seemed to consider himself above participating unless he thought he could annoy another pok¨¨mon while he was at it.


    And, of course, Naazin would not be caught dead putting more effort into life than necessary.


    Except for Nihanlo.


    Aidinza watched, half resigned, as only a few minutes after he had set them both back to training, Nihanlo found herself drawn back into Mawiles'' big personality.


    Mawile stood tall, proud and unmoving before a pile of rocks that Nihanlo had conjured. Before him was the conjurer kneeling as her strange, piercing cry echoed through the room.


    Mawile turned, exasperation in his face as he paced away, firm tones matched by a countenance that Aidinza could only describe as imperial.


    He pauses and glances over to Nihanlo, gesturing to her eagerly. A moment later, Nihanlo bounds in front of him, this time affixed with a single rock on her head.


    She cries again, the sound strangely beseeching, as she knelt again.


    Mawile imperiously dismisses the ice type again, a senseless speech of growls and whines spilling from his lips.


    It was only then that the third member of the strange act struck. In a genuinely baffling motion, the steel type''s own black jaw seemed to sneak up on Mawile, nipping at the air behind him.


    A truly fatal blow, as Mawile stumbled backwards, back colliding with the rock stack as he grasped at the ''wound''. Before he turned to steady himself against the monument, with what Aidinza was pretty sure was part of Mawile''s lunch smeared into his back.


    It was then that Nihanlo rose from her kneeling, stabbing her forward spike into Mawile''s back while he was turned. He arches up from it, crying out in pain.


    He stumbles around for several moments as Nihanlo tries to shake the rock from her head; unfortunately for the ice type, the stone had frozen solid.


    As the steel-type stumbled around, he seemed to realise that his accompaniment was having issues, turning to see Nihanlo struggling with the rock frozen to her.


    He rushes over, his yellow hand closing around the stone to yank it out before throwing it to the side - narrowly missing Naazin, who had taken the distraction as an opportunity to curl up in the corner - and racing back to where he had been standing.


    He stumbles around some more, and this time when he turns to Nihanlo, he stumbles to her in character, collapsing onto her for support.


    Then slowly, three rocks form in the air.


    Mawile looks up to see the rocks. His eyes meet Nihanlo''s for one long, soulful moment as he lets out a betrayed sob. The Rock Slide descends on him, cracking into his back, and sending his wasted food splattering everywhere.


    He goes limp, collapsing onto Nihanlo.


    "You know, you have to admit that''s something special right there." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den pipes up from where he had sprawled out over a bench. "Or maybe unique is a better word eh?"


    "Nihanlo was making good progress." She was easily the best with Rock Slide among the team, internalising the TM quickly. While Aidinza had no idea what mastered looked like, he was pretty comfortable with her ability to wield the rock-move.


    Easy-going and eager as Nihanlo was, she had a keen mind behind her yellow eyes.


    "She formed the Rock Slide behind him¡­." The other boy trails off, and Aidinza acknowledges the point with a hum. It was disruptive, but Nihanlo was clearly practising. Aidinza would bring up the fact that Mawile was distracted. Still, the reality was that whenever the Mawile did practise, he clearly gave it his all, throwing himself at it with the same die-hard determination that characterised his dramatics.


    He was as eager to learn new ways of combat as he was to make sure that whatever story he lived in came to a thrilling conclusion.


    "Extricating him is going to distract the others." The young Ya''an-ah mused as he watched the moment that Mawile realised that he had frozen to Nihano''s constantly freezing body and began to struggle to get free. Then his eyes flick over to Naazin, still curled up in the corner. "Naazin!" He calls and waits patiently for the crustacean to stretch out of his sleep. "Help Mawile out, then get back to training. That was a long enough nap."


    Naazin turns his usually placid eyes onto the two pok¨¦mon, his harsh attention turning befuddled as he watches Mawile attempt to free himself. But the steel-type only ends up more trapped in the ever-encroaching ice of Nihanlo, losing control of his left arm and both his legs.


    "You know I was meaning to ask about the Bergmite." Aidinza glances up to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, fingers flicking through his notepad in anticipation of the question. "She grows pretty¡­ fast?"


    "Hypercryosis." Aidinza flicks to the detailed notes he had taken when Nurse Joy had diagnosed Nihanlo, nearly three pages of some of the smallest writing Aidinza could manage. Everything from case studies to dietary differences to suspected links to increases of other disorders and write up on those disorders. He passes it over to the other boy as he continues. "Bergmite naturally have an ability known as Ice Body; they have the ability to draw moisture in from the air surrounding them to repair any cracks in their protective ice shell. Hypercryosis is when¡­ something in their body causes their body to draw in extreme amounts of moisture."


    "She needs biotin?" He asks absently as he reads the notes that Aidinza handed to him, straining to read the tiny and admittedly messy writing.


    "The increased Ice mass means that the keratin that connects the ice shell to her body is under a lot of stress." Which meant cheese and spinach mixed in Nihanlo''s lunch and dinner, the first real constant expense Aidinza found himself put under.


    "Eeh, I''ll ask Elder Unktehila to include liver in tonight''s meal." Aidinza gives him a grateful nod before returning to the spectacle of watching Naazin trying to figure out how to get Mawile out of the icy coffin that was consuming him. Made all the more challenging by Mawile being incapable of sitting still and letting Naazin work. "He''ll probably scrounge something up for my Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we."


    Aidinza hums and lets the air fall into a comfortable silence. The sun on his neck and the soft wood beneath him lulled him into a quiet mood.


    He watches as Naazin finally loses his patience, snapping his firing claw around Mawile''s jaw and burying his anchor claw into the excess ice Nihanlo generated, ripping the two of them apart in a display of physical strength that Naazin''s ranged fighting style rarely got to demonstrate.


    The newly freed pok¨¦mon go tumbling away from each other, and Nihanlo finds herself rolling in front of Aidinza. The ice type bounces to her feet, and her bright eyes beam up at her trainer as she all but bounces in place, clearly unaffected by what had just happened. Aidinza gives a small smile in return, allowing himself a quick stroke along her exposed fur, coming away with freezing, stiff fingers.


    "Back to training. You almost had it." He prompts her and watches as she bounces in place before heading off to where she had been previously practising. He leans back into the sun, warming his hand against his chest.


    "Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we." Aidinza sounds out, the word foreign on even his tongue. "You''ve mentioned it a few times."


    "The night of identity. Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s voice was reverent, sitting up straight and all but vibrating in place. "It is our ritual to come to age, our chance to discover what is important to us. To earn ou-"


    "It is a journey of self-discovery." A gruff voice interrupts him, and Aidinza flinches around to face the new voice.


    The first thing that Aidinza noticed was the sheer size. The voice belonged to a man who would not be much taller than Aidinza, yet bulged with muscles, straining against his dress shirt even as he stood there, arms crossed.


    The next was that it was an older man, with a shock of stark white hair and gracefully worn wrinkles hidden beneath an immaculately groomed beard, styled into sharp lines that mimicked the strong lines of his face.


    The last was the way Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den threw himself into a bow. "Dra''kh¨ª-." He coughs and tries again. "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en."


    "Drayden, please, cousin." It took a moment for the name to register, but when it did, it was with all the force of a beartic.


    Aidinza scrambled to his feet, sending his writing supplies scattering across the floor as he did so.


    "Honoured Leader Drayden. The sun sings for your health!" He blurts out as he inclines his head toward the gym leader.


    "You''re far from your dunes, Ya''an-ah." The words were neither disbarring nor welcoming. They just seemed like a statement of fact.


    "I invited him here, Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?." Aidinza almost swore he saw Drayden flinch at the title, but when he took a second look, the man''s face was carved from stone.


    "Drayden, please cousin." He says again, and Aidinza could visibly see Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den pull in on himself. A slump pulled at his shoulders, curling him in on himself. Drayden turned to Aidinza, brown eyes studying him for a moment.


    "As I was saying, Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we is a journey of self-discovery in adversity. It is meant to teach you what is important and teach you how to hold onto them." His voice had an almost hypnotic quality to it, some undertone to his deep baritone that demanded obedience. Demanded that Aidinza fall into line.


    "Drayden, Ita?ca? wica?-." Drayden cuts him off with a glance.


    "Not now, Jayden." There was something frustrated in his tone and something powerless that sent a shiver down Aidinza''s spine. "Ya''an-ah. Your name." His tone was brusque as if he was trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.


    "Aidinza, of the Naisho''h." Drayden''s eyes glinted with recognition, and his eyes sought where Sandile was practising Dark Pulse. "Ah-na-ghai Brycen told me you had answers I sought."


    Drayden''s head tilts, just far enough to demand Aidinza continue.


    "He told me to challenge you, to open my eyes and look." Drayden stared down at Aidinza impassively, and Aidinza met it evenly. "He told me that in doing so, I may see what I need."


    "Brycen is a man of tricky tongues, as wise as stars themselves." The man who was to the Pheyan''atho as Brycen was to the Tly''an-yen, looked pensive for a moment. Lost in a thought from times past. "Careful that wisdom does not lead you blindly to lash and flame."


    He sighs and turns from the two boys. "Come and eat with us. Come live as the Pheyan''atho still do. Come fight when you''ve mustered your strength." He steps away, his steps utterly silent despite his size. "Maybe you''ll have the answers Brycen promised."


    He steps out of the room, the door not even creaking in his wake.


    Aidinza slowly breathes out. "Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den." He mutters, and the boy glances up at him, shoulders tight.


    "Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den." He repeats, and the darker-skinned boy manages a half smile.

 Bird and Elders.

    Dinner had been a veritable feast, three large stone tables filled from edge to edge with a genuinely unrestrained amount of food, enough to feed an entire army, in stark contrast to the atmosphere. Conversation was sparse and quiet, most concerned with eating their fill, or in Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den¡¯s case, consumed by anticipation.


    Anticipation for what, Aidinza was not quite sure. The slightly younger boy had been all but vibrating in place ever since he had sat down, stealing glances at Drayden whenever the Gym Leader ever so much as twitched.


    Going from being inundated with questions from Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den to being borderline ignored was jarring and slightly hurtful if Aidinza was, to be honest. But he distracted himself with a slow conversation with an older woman that used to dive for a living with her Kingra, sometimes recovering valuables from shipwrecks, other times harvesting clamperl pearls.


    ¡°Keh Waka?u?ci was never a great battler, too concerned with his scales getting scuffed, but he had the finest control over water I¡¯ve ever heard of.¡± The woman paused, slowly cutting the chicken leg in front of her into tiny pieces. ¡°He once held an air bubble around me for three days, long enough for me to rig up something to get to the surface.¡±


    Aidinza leans forward, he did not exactly know if Wacis¡¯a-m?i was telling the truth about her many great escapes from peril underneath the waves, but they nonetheless made for gripping stories.


    Unfortunately, before the old woman could continue, the sound of a spoon tapping against glass filled the room. Wacis¡¯a-m?i immediately turned to look at the front of the tables, something complex flashing across her face.


    Aidinza followed her gaze. An old man, well into his eighties, had stood up and drawn the entire room¡¯s attention, his skin thin and translucent, but his eyes sharp and jaw set into a determined line.


    ¡°Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?.¡± His voice rattled through the room, as rough as sandstone. ¡°U?kitawapi hok?ina ode owu?ke ko?ka.¡±


    From the corner of Aidinza¡¯s eye, he could see Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den freeze, and a broad smile breaches his face. He snaps to his feet, head held proud. ¡°Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha? mitawa Hi¡¯Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we-e¡¯e.¡±


    The boy did not stumble for a moment over his words. Unlike every other time Aidinza had heard Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den speak his mother tongue, he sounded truly confident in what he was saying.


    A murmur spread through the room, an electric undercurrent of anticipation gripping those assembled, silenced when Drayden stood from the head of the centre table.


    ¡°Hiya, nitawa Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we ecu??ni hie¡¯e niye wiyeyakeni.¡± Drayden¡¯s voice was not loud, but it carried through the room with commanding ease and carried with it the unmistakable tone of rejection.


    Aidinza did not need to even look at Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den to feel the devastation that wracked the other boy. The boy¡¯s proud stance melted away. His head falling, his shoulders slumping.


    ¡°Unktehila, wohdakapi. Wa?na.¡± The elder stares at Drayden¡¯s back as the gym leader leaves the table, his weathered face stoic. Aidinza catches the elder¡¯s eyes glance towards Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den before he follows after Drayden.


    Silence reigns over the room as Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den sits back down, staring at his half-eaten meal.


    A beat passes, then two, before he stands again and stumbles over words under his breath, wincing as he does so before he leaves the room with as much haste as he can manage without sprinting away.


    Aidinza half starts to stand, eyeing his own food with uncertainty. Not finishing your meal was a sign of disrespect, but he did not want to leave Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den alone.


    ¡°Te?iya, follow him. Kakija koda.¡± Aidinza glances at Wacis¡¯a-m?i as the woman pushes a bowl into his hands.


    Then he was gone.


    -


    It took him nearly an hour to find where Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den had disappeared to. He had to blindly fumble through the dark of the Village of Dragons until he found this half-cored overhanging hill, staring off into the dark forests north of the village. If Aidinza was in a joking mood, then he would perhaps say that it was harder to find Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den than it had been to track down the poachers.


    As he approached Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den¡¯s curled-up form, his brown eyes staring listlessly into the distance of a dark, frozen forest, humour was the furthest thing from his mind.


    Aidinza sits next to the boy, staring into the same distance, struck silent by the uncertainty of what to say.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair,¡± Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den mutters after a long stretch of silence, but when Aidinza glances over at him, his head lowered into his knees again.


    ¡°What¡¯s not fair?¡± The boy tenses, his frame shuddering, before going still.


    ¡°N-never mind.¡± The younger boy breathes in sharply. ¡°I guess you want a lift back to Opelucid, huh?¡±


    There was something that vaguely horrified Aidinza as Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den¡¯s voice suddenly shifted to something upbeat and bouncy. Maybe it was the way his face still twisted in despondency, half hid as it was; maybe it was just how good he was at hiding what he was feeling with his voice.


    ¡°Not until you tell me what happened back there.¡± Aidinza kept his voice calm and soothing as he leaned back into the broken hill behind him. Making it clear he was not planning on getting up any time soon.


    ¡°You don¡¯t care.¡± Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den hisses, frustration and anger bubbling over as he rounded on Aidinza, eyes wild and fierce. Aidinza met them evenly, and a moment later, the Pheyan¡¯atho glanced away. ¡°I¡¯m telling you not to care.¡±


    Rather than replying, Aidinza simply continued to settle in, one knee drawing up into his chest as he stared out into the great darkness he found Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den looking into, the bowl in his hand placed by his side.


    ¡°Look, if you want I can take you to O-Opelucid, but if you don¡¯t just¡­ just¡­ just get lost okay?¡± There was something vulnerable in his voice now, fragile and delicate. He collapses in on himself again, hugging his legs to his body protectively. ¡°Please?¡±


    Silence claims the night once more, long and oppressive, as Aidinza struggles to pull together an idea of anything to do or say. He had never been particularly good with emotions, only his sister was an exception, and that was because¡­


    Aidinza resists the urge to flinch away from the thought. He forces himself to look away from the tempting void of darkness that beckoned for him to get lost within.


    He slowly breathes in.


    ¡°The Ya¡¯an-ah have a belief that you are only bound to bonds that you chose. We believe that if you ever decide to no longer be bound by those bonds, no one can stop you.¡± Aidinza traced a formless shape across his knee, an echo of a half-remembered comfort, and for a moment, he could almost swear that he smelled Apache Plume. ¡°Whether that be unbinding yourself from a tribe, a friend¡­ or your family.¡±


    ¡°Leezh bi? h¨¢¨¢yol. In one sandstorm to the next, my parents were gone.¡± Aidinza fell silent; it had been a long, long time since he had openly talked about his situation with his parents. Longer still since he had willingly done so. ¡°I still try to remember them sometimes; I was told I have my father¡¯s jaw, but I always thought I looked like my sister and Tsesei says she looks like our mother.¡±


    Perhaps that said all that needed to be said, that Aidinza needed someone else to tell him if he looked like his father or that his sister looked like his mother.


    Aidinza hoped it did; he was not sure he could continue digging at this.


    A moment passed, then two.


    ¡°I used to live in the Opelucid Orphanage.¡± Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den¡¯s voice was quiet, but he looked up, and Aidinza met his bloodshot eyes. ¡°I remember my mum, but she wasn¡¯t Pheyan¡¯atho. My dad¡­¡± He shrugs helplessly. ¡°When she passed on, no one knew there was anyone else. I didn¡¯t know there was anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Then, one day, an old man sees me in the streets, marches right up to me and tells me that I was Pheyan¡¯atho.¡± He smiles a tenuous flash of white in the dark. ¡°He was adamant. It was unmistakable to him. Told me he was Elder Unktehila. I couldn¡¯t pronounce it. Called him Elder Urkle.¡± He gave a huff of laughter, but there was something grim in his eyes. ¡°Couldn¡¯t pronounce a lot of things.¡±


    He looks down, visibly gathering himself, scratching at his arm. ¡°It was hard at the start, Elder Unktehila had so much to teach me. So much that I missed. So much that someone of the Pheyan¡¯atho had to know. Told me that one day I would have my own Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we and would be a full-fledged member of my people. Somewhere to belong.¡±


    ¡°I tried so hard.¡± Aidizna could see his eyes flash in the dark, his nails digging into his flesh, sending bloody rivulets oozing down his hand. ¡°Every lesson I tried so hard, I tried to memorise every word and every name and every place and¡­ and¡­.¡±


    He lets out a frustrated noise, and drags his hand away from his arm, visibly restraining himself. ¡°When that was not enough, I started doing as many chores as I could. I would feed Ha?h¨¦da?z¨¦?a no matter what mood she was in. I would collect the groceries from Opelucid every day, I would clean up the plates and repair the fences and houses, but none of that is worth anything, is it? None of it is enough to wipe away the fact I stutter when I speak the mother tongue. None of it is enough to wipe away the fact that I wasn¡¯t raised here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ not fair.¡± He hangs his head once more, shuddering as he breathes in heavily. ¡°I just want the chance. I just want to earn my place here. I want to be Pheyan¡¯atho.¡±


    ¡°You have fed the tribe with your food, helped them with your work, and chosen to live among them. You are already Pheyan¡¯atho.¡± Aidinza speaks as it becomes clear that Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den is not going to continue. ¡°More than that, you want to be Pheyan¡¯atho; to the Ya¡¯an-ah, that would be enough.¡±


    Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den breathes out slowly and manages a half smile. ¡°Must be nice to have it figured out like the Ya¡¯an-ah, hey?¡± Aidinza glances away, shamefaced, into the inky darkness of the vast forest before the two of them. ¡°Grass is always greener, huh?¡± The redhead turns back, hiding the ache behind a single raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Means that it always looks better when you are looking at what someone else has. The matron used to say it all the time.¡± Aidinza hums, and the two fall into a comfortable silence.


    ¡°Thanks for sticking around. I was being a bit of a brat, hey?¡± The facade was thin but not as horrifying as the switch Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den managed before. But¡­ worn.


    ¡°Everyone deserves their time to get everything out.¡± The young nomad shifts, and knocks briefly against the bowl by his side. He glances down at it and picks it up. It was cold and had strange white food in it that looked half melted. Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den looks confused when he offers it to the younger boy but takes it.


    ¡°You brought ice cream?¡± There was a note of incredulity in his voice as he picked up the spoon from the bowl with bloody fingers.


    ¡°Wacis¡¯a-m?i gave it to me.¡± Another moment of uncertain silence before a tiny smile flickered across Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den¡¯s face. Tiny, but sure.


    -


    Astazhei had been removed from medical stasis late last night, under close overnight observation by the pok¨¦centre¡¯s doctors. Aidinza had been told he would not be allowed to see his rufflet until well past noon.


    That did not stop Aidinza from arriving at the pok¨¦centre early in the morning, cold and tired from walking from the Village of Dragons, instead of Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den bringing him in on his bike.


    He waited silently in the foyer, as unobtrusive to the healers working as he possibly could be, pulling together some facade of patience that he certainly did not feel inside. It had been a long week without Astazhei, and every second that passed where he did not see the bird was agony.


    ¡°Trainer Three Two Zero Two Zero? Aidinza?¡± A young woman with her dyed pink hair styled into an undercut called out, and Aidinza leapt to his feet. ¡°Doctor Adrien has approved your rufflet for an hour-long visit.¡±


    The nomad nods and looks over the healer¡¯s shoulder as if he would catch sight of his first flying type, despite being nowhere near his room.


    ¡°Now, some ground rules. There will be no training in the pok¨¦centre. Your pok¨¦mon is here to rest, not to strain himself. Any food you want to give the pok¨¦mon has to be screened by a Nurse before it is fed to the pok¨¦mon. Do not attempt to unhook the pok¨¦mon from any machines, or attempt to adjust them in any way, and do not attempt to return the pok¨¦mon to his pok¨¦ball unless there is a clear and present threat to his life.¡± Aidinza pays close attention, despite all this and more having been said to him when he had visited yesterday by Doctor Adrien. ¡°Am I understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Healer Joy.¡± The woman gives an amused half-smirk for a moment before turning around and gesturing for Aidinza to follow.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a Joy.¡± Aidinza¡¯s eyes flick to her dyed hair, but he decides not to ask, too consumed by anticipation to see Astazhei again. The healer leads him deeper into the pok¨¦centre, and soon enough, he finds himself standing in front of a solid door labelled Otolaryngology Care. ¡°I¡¯ll be watching from the other side of the two-way mirror.¡± She nods at another room and opens the door for Aidinza.


    Inside was a white room, covered wall to wall in odd machines and screens. At its centre was an upraised circular platform covered in cloth and swaddled in the fabric was Astazhei.


    A wide grin breaks across Aidinza¡¯s face, which only grows as Astazhei notices his trainer and cries out, struggling to get up. In moments Aidinza was by the rufflets side, hand stroking through the rufflets fluffy mass of white feathers, stilling the flying type.


    ¡°Shhh, Astazhei, ni han¨¢lyiih.¡± He mutters, holding the bird still as he simply takes in his warmth. Astazhei puffs out his chest, trying to untangle himself. ¡°Still Astazhei, for me.¡±


    Astazhei¡¯s wide white eyes looked up at Aidinza for a long moment before he relaxed into his swaddling petulantly.


    ¡°Have you been behaving for the doctor?¡± Astazhei trilled mulishly, picking at the cotton surrounding him in a tight prison; his white pupilled eyes peered up at Aidinza, silently begging to let him out. ¡°It¡¯s just for another week.¡±


    Aidinza scratches at the bird¡¯s neck, massaging a tight muscle knot that always bothered Astazhei. The two of them sat silently for a while, Astazhei leaning into Aidinza¡¯s touch and Aidinza lost in thought, staring at one of the many beeping machines that lined the wall.


    ¡°I need to say aplogi-¡± Aidinza starts before a sharp pain in his finger cuts him off. He grunts and glances down to see Astazhei has nipped his finger. The flying type met Aidinza¡¯s eyes, proud and imperious despite being trapped in cloth. He squawks once and shakes his head. Aidinza snorts and examines the bead of blood on his finger. Of course, he would spend a week worrying about it, just for Astazhei to refuse to care. ¡°Then I need to tell you, you did great. More than I could have asked for and then some. Just need to make sure you don¡¯t end up here next time.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Astazhei preened as much as he could with his wings bound tightly at his side, and Aidinza had to push him back down into his nest when he tried to stand again.


    ¡°I caught two new pok¨¦mon. The pawniard and the mawile.¡± He started when the bird had settled back into his bedding. Astazhei perked up, his white pupilled eyes keen. Aidinza would bet all he had earned with that was Astazhei trying to figure out just how he was going to challenge the new pok¨¦mon. ¡°Mawile¡¯s¡­ unique, I think. You¡¯ll like him, or at least have plenty of excuses to fight him.¡±


    Astazhei¡¯s eyes lit up with a pleased glint as he let out a low whistle. ¡°The pawniard¡­ Pawniard.¡± He corrects himself absently. ¡°She¡¯s very controlled. Only really does things when she¡¯s ordered to.¡± Aidinza trailed off, glancing towards the door as he felt a stir of frustration cut at him. He had been trying for days to instil independence into the steel dark type, but everything he attempted just resulted in the same thing.


    Pawniard mindlessly doing whatever he told her to do and then waiting for more instructions.


    Astazhei whistled once more, sitting up as much as he could and puffing out his chest, and Aidinza could almost imagine him declaring he would fix Pawniard. He smiles down at the bird, running a hand along his red-white crest. Maybe Astazhei could manage what Aidinza could not. While he was far from as independent as Naazin, the flying-type would often fly off. Sometimes it was just to explore, but mostly it was because Astazhei wanted a fight, and none of the team was giving it to him.


    Come to think of it, perhaps Astazhei was not the best role model for Pawniard. But the proud determination in the flying-types¡¯ eyes killed any attempt at even a gentle letdown. So Aidinza left it; even if the pawniard became as big a battle maniac as Astazhei, he would learn to deal with it.


    The two fell into silence once more, and Aidinza glanced at the clock on the wall. It had already been twenty minutes since he had arrived. He looks back at Astazhei, who had retreated into his warm bed, body drooping.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been spending time with the Pheyan¡¯atho.¡± Astazhei perks up, his dull eyes meeting Aidinza¡¯s with a spark of curiosity. ¡°They are a tribe like the Ya¡¯an-ah, like my tribe. They rule these lands and share a bond with the dragons of Unova.¡± Aidinza softly ran his fingers through Astazhei¡¯s downy feathers, lulling him back into his cradle. ¡°Ah-na-ghai Brycen told me there would be answers among them.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s been a week, and I am no closer to understanding what I am meant to see. I have eaten their food and walked among their pok¨¦mon. I have seen their leaders battle and sat beneath the stars with their young.¡± Aidinza pauses, listening as Astazhei¡¯s breathing evens out, and his eyes flutter closed. ¡°I see them but don¡¯t see what Brycen wants me to.¡±


    ¡°Their Elders are as full of wisdom as my own. But it¡¯s not the wisdom I need. I ask about Opelucid, and their words grow distant and unsure.¡± Aidinza pulls his hand away from Astazhei and chuckles when the bird¡¯s head follows. He continues patting the bird. ¡°I have made a friend, Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den. He sits with me while I train the others, asks questions and gives company in exchange. I think you would like him; he often encourages me to have the team spar. Sometimes I wonder what he would tell me if I asked; other times, I fear his answer.¡± Aidinza pauses and stares down at his lap. Even in the silence of an empty hospital room but for his half-asleep pok¨¦mon, he did not want to say why he feared the answer. ¡°I would ask their Ah-na-ghai, but Drayden¡­ he is as distant to me as the ground to the stars. He spares me little time and fewer words. Brycen told me to challenge him, and when you are better, I will. But watching his fights, I see nothing. I only feel empty.¡±


    ¡°I worry, even if I do fight him, that nothing would change. Every day that passes that I find nothing, I worry more and more that I cannot find anything.¡± Something prickles at Aidinza¡¯s eyes, and he swallows a lump in his throat. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I can find nothing. I¡¯m not sure the Ya¡¯an-ah¡­ I can¡¯t just find nothing.¡±


    He finishes in a whisper, voice hoarse.


    His eyes drift to the clock once more; the hour had disappeared on him so very quickly. He stares down at Astazhei for a long moment, watching the bird sleep peacefully and briefly wonders about the pok¨¦mon¡¯s own family. Was there a tribe of larger Astazhei out there? A family of braviary that one day expected their son¡¯s return?


    Did he have expectations of him? A people¡¯s fate laid at his feet with no direction?


    Aidizna hoped he did not.


    A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he softly pulled the blankets tighter around the bird and stood up.


    He would find his answers.


    -


    Aidinza had spent time among many of the Elders of the Pheyan¡¯atho; he had helped Opa?¡¯ta cut firewood for the winter. Had baited the traps that Wacis¡¯a-m?i set up among the ponds scattered through the forests surrounding the Village of Dragons, and on and on. Whenever he was not training, he was helping the Pheyan¡¯atho.


    In many ways, it was a familiar routine. An echo of the dunes of his home and the choring needed for the Naisho¡¯h to move each day.


    But he had never spent time with Elder Unktehila. The man who had found Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den in the streets around Opelucid¡¯s orphanage. The elder was seemingly constantly on the move; he would travel to Opelucid before dawn was even a hint on the horizon and return only in time for dinner. Even after dinner, he would seek out other elders, talking to them in hushed and sometimes heated tones.


    That was not to say that Aidinza did not get to know Elder Unktehila; it took little for Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den to start talking about the man, gushing that even at the tender age of eighty-seven that he did everything he could for the Pheyan¡¯atho.


    Which meant it came as something of a surprise that Unktehila had asked for Aidinza to meet with him today, alone, at noon. Despite him usually spending that time to gauge his team¡¯s progress and adjust their training, Aidinza agreed to meet with him readily. Partly because he was interested in meeting the man personally and partly because he was pretty sure Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den would beat him unconscious and drag him to the meeting if he refused.


    So here he was, seated on top of a quiet hill underneath the shade of a large gnarled tree, staring out into the dark snowy forests surrounding the Village of Dragons.


    ¡°Forgive me for being late; my legs do not move as they used to.¡± Aidinza breathes out sharply as an old, rough voice makes itself suddenly known. He glanced over his shoulder; Elder Unktehila stood behind him, his aged face stoic.


    ¡°Cool sands and wet winds, Elder Unktehila.¡± Aidinza stands smoothly, turning to face Unktehila. As he does so, he studies the older man. There was not much to say beyond that he was a man who looked his age. Thick wrinkles masked his facial features, his skin translucent and varicose, and his hair a bare wispy hint.


    He was an old man. Perhaps the oldest that Aidinza had ever seen, well past the age where the average Ya¡¯an-ah would simply decide to not follow as their tribe left for the day.


    The man¡¯s mouth shifted into a slight smile at the greeting, exposing teeth that had long since rotten away and black gums. ¡°By lash and flame, walk welcome here, Aidinza.¡± The old man limped forward, taking a seat in the grass that Aidinza had just been sitting on with a long groan and a creak of ancient bones.


    Aidinza sits down alongside him. The two just sat there for a moment as Unktehila stared out across the forest, face solemn and introspective. Aidinza joined him; there was something enchanting about the dark woods that encircled the Village of Dragons. ¡°Forgive an old man for his moments; it¡¯s rare I get to see this sight these days,¡± Unktehila spoke after several minutes of silence.


    ¡°You wished to meet with me, Elder?¡± The old man shifted at Aidinza¡¯s prodding, turning to face the Ya¡¯an-ah boy.


    ¡°You have been asking my brothers and sisters about Opelucid.¡± Aidinza nods, unsurprised that the other elders would have told Unktehila. Even the Naisho¡¯h elders were incorrigible gossips.


    ¡°Ah-na-ghai Brycen told me that I would find answers here, answers that I need.¡± The elder hums, a noise that sounds like two rocks being murdered against each other.


    ¡°The Tly¡¯an-yeh do so like having someone else answer for them.¡± Aidinza¡¯s lips twitch downwards, and his gaze turns frosty, but Unktehila presses on. ¡°You do not believe you have found those answers, do you?¡±


    ¡°Have I?¡± Aidinza returns, half out of curiosity, half out of an urge to act out.


    ¡°Keh, you would not still be here if you had. I see it in your eyes; they¡¯re restless. Driven by something you refuse to let down.¡± The two men, separated by generations of years, watch each other for a long moment. ¡°The weight of a people¡¯s future is a heavy burden.¡±


    Aidinza leans back. He had not been particularly subtle in his questioning of the Pheyan¡¯atho; it made sense to him that at least someone had guessed at what he was searching for.


    But it still came as something of a shock to have it laid out in front of him. Which made the implications all the more tantalising.


    ¡°You think you can help me then?¡± He manages to mask his ardour behind ire, his words restrained. Something flickered across Unkethila¡¯s face, a spark of hesitation in his half-clouded eyes before he straightened his already impeccable posture.


    ¡°I cannot give the answers to you.¡± He hedged, and Aidinza scoffed.


    ¡°Maybe the Pheyan¡¯atho also like to have someone else answer for them.¡± Aidinza knew he was being unfair and, in many ways, was being a brat. But something had his hackles raised. Maybe it was the subtle insult to Brycen; maybe it was just centuries of his blood fighting against the Pheyan¡¯atho alongside the Tly¡¯an-yeh coming to the fore.


    Maybe it was something else.


    ¡°The Ya¡¯an-ah are still as prickly as the cacti that grow in their sands.¡± He mutters, something like an amused smirk crossing his face for a moment. Before his face turned to stone once more. ¡°The only answers you¡¯ll find here are earned.¡±


    ¡°And how do I earn them?¡± Aidinza straightens up, his eyes intent as his mild animosity falls away.


    ¡°Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we.¡± It took a moment for the word to register. Ever since the first dinner that Aidinza had spent with the Pheyan¡¯atho nearly a week ago, it had been a word that people seemed to avoid. Especially around Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den.


    Drayden¡¯s cold rejection still stung the boy harshly.


    ¡°I am Ya¡¯an-ah.¡± It was a quiet declaration, but a deeply important one to Aidinza, something that he would never let change


    ¡°You must have your Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we to stand among the Pheyan¡¯atho; you do not need to be Pheyan¡¯atho to have your Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we.¡± The elder¡¯s voice was gentle and understanding. Tinged with what Aidinza thought was approval and something else that was lost on him.


    Unkethila sighed and looked away from the Ya¡¯an-ah boy towards the dark forest, his eyes going distant.


    ¡°What is Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we?¡± The elder stays silent for a long moment. ¡°What is Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we?¡± He repeats, he was not typically one to get impatient with an elder, but the anticipation in him was too much.


    ¡°It is a journey of self-discovery. A night to learn who you truly are in the face of frost and peril.¡± Unkethila echoed the words of Drayden near a week ago, but his telling lacked the hypnotic demand for obedience. Instead, the rough grind of his voice was almost like a story, enthralling to the attention of any who heard it. ¡°Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we, the night of who. Who you are. Who the world is. Who is important.¡±


    ¡°I know who I am.¡± Came almost unbidden to Aidinza¡¯s lips, and all he gets in return is a knowing look from Unktehila. ¡°You think this will teach me something then?¡±


    ¡°Where else will you look? In Wacis¡¯a-m?i¡¯s traps once more? In the splitters of Opa?¡¯ta¡¯s firewood?¡± Aidinza looks away, his silence telling.


    ¡°What about Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den?¡± The words sound weak in his ears. He knew as well as anyone could that he had been ensorceled. But he had to at least ask for his friend¡¯s sake, even if he knew in his heart that it would change little about his decision.


    But the question seemed to please Unktehila, who smiled wide at the reminder of the young Pheyan¡¯atho. ¡°It will help him more than you could guess.¡±


    Aidizna waited for the elder to explain, but he turned back to the forest again, watching out over it with a strange hope. So Aidinza turned to his own thoughts, mulling over what he had just heard.


    ¡°When will it happen?¡± Unktehila breathes out slowly before rising to his feet with a pop of cracking joints. He rubs his hip for a moment before turning towards the Village of Dragons.


    ¡°Come, you have much to be told before you can know when.¡± The elder takes off, setting a surprising pace for a man his age, without even waiting for Aidinza to stand. The nomad watches the old man¡¯s back for a moment, feeling something unsure slither down his spine before he stands.


    And follows.


    -


    It was rare that Aidinza got a moment alone with his pok¨¦mon in the past week. Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den was an ever-present shadow, keenly interested in absorbing anything he could about pok¨¦mon training.


    But at Aidinza¡¯s request, Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den had left to help Opa?¡¯ta on his own this afternoon. He only managed it by telling Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den that he would not be doing any ¡®secret training¡¯. Which he supposed was true. He was giving his team a break; they had done well over the week in keeping themselves on track without his direct oversight.


    He watches with some amusement as Mawile menaces Shand¨ª¨ªn, the fire-type hovering in the air before a ¡®cowering¡¯ Nihanlo. It was a favourite of Mawile to rescue Nihanlo from the evil ¡®dragon¡¯ of Shand¨ª¨ªn whenever the fletchinder deigned to join in the steel-type¡¯s plays.


    Something cold pressing against his side interrupts him, and he glances down to see Sandile¡¯s eyes glittering up at him. He gives his starter a half smile and hefts the reptile into his lap, stroking a finger down the ground-types rough ridges to a pleased growl. Sandile stretched across Aidinza¡¯s lap and sniffed at the blue fabric bound around the nomad¡¯s wrist.


    The reminder prompts him to glance over to Pawniard, where the steel-type was silently waiting. Her form is tense and ready, sharp eyes surveying the entrances to the room, flicking over to the Ya¡¯an-ah boy every few seconds. Rather than telling her that it was relaxation time alongside the other pok¨¦mon, Aidinza had just released the pawniard without instructions. Hoping that in the absence of orders, the steel-type would do¡­ something.


    But no such luck.


    But maybe time would change that. A theory that Aidinza would be testing soon enough. The reminder caused him to tense, and Sandile looked up from his puddle of bliss, eyes keen. Part of the reason he had sent Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den away today was to give his pok¨¦mon a well-deserved rest; the other part was time alone to tell them of the decision he had made.


    But now that he was in the perfect position to do so, he found himself hesitant. Unsure of where or even how to begin. There was so much to say, so many thoughts to explain.


    So many reasons and excuses.


    ¡°I will be leaving for three days tomorrow morning.¡± So rather than doing any of that, he simply went with the most direct approach as he scratched along Sandile¡¯s ribs. His voice hardly made a dent in the din of the room, and for a moment, he thought his pok¨¦mon were ignoring him. ¡°I will be leaving alone.¡±


    The room went silent nearly immediately, only Mawile continuing on. Until a quick blast of water from Naazin silenced him


    Aidinza found himself still as six sets of eyes stared at him in silent disbelief. ¡°I have something I must do. I wish I could, but I cannot bring you.¡± Noise filled the air, a bedlam of strange grunts and panicked growls, as everyone seemed to try and protest at once. Carefully Aidinza looked around the room, meeting five pairs of eyes in turn, his posture firm and his eyes unyielding, and slowly the commotion died down.


    ¡°You will be staying here with Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den, and I expect you to behave.¡± Carefully he breathes in and does what he knows would be the hardest thing he has ever attempted. He glances down to his lap to meet Sandile¡¯s eyes.


    The reptile was distraught, his eyes wide and uncomprehending, as moisture built at the corner of the black membrane surrounding his eyes. Whatever Aidinza was about to say was lost to his mind, as it felt like something punched him in the gut. His will nearly collapsed in a fraction of a moment.


    It was all he could manage to not immediately capitulate in the face of Sandile¡¯s despondency. ¡°It¡¯s only going to be three days.¡± He utters softly, running a hand down Sandile¡¯s spine. But his starter only whined, shaking his head. ¡°I need to go, Sandile.¡±


    Aidinza wiped away some of the tears as they spilled from Sandile¡¯s eyes, his hand falling to cup the ground type¡¯s jaw as the desert croc¡¯s claws dug into Aidinza¡¯s trousers. ¡°If I could, I¡¯d bring you Sandile, but I can¡¯t.¡± Sandile lashed out, his teeth flashing as they bit down on Aidinza¡¯s poncho, the material tearing easily as the croc locked his jaw.


    ¡°Sandile.¡± He warned, firming his heart against the relentless assault, trying to tug his clothes out of Sandile¡¯s mouth.


    A deep primal growl fills the room, rattling bone and wood. A territorial noise that hacked at the primordial part of Aidinza¡¯s mind that remembered being a monkey fumbling into an apex predator¡¯s land. It was a sound of pure, aeons refined dominance.


    Aidinza straightens up, ignoring the way his poncho ripped. His green eyes flash down at Sandile as his chest rumbles in answer, the Naisho¡¯h blood in the veins thick and potent.


    There was a moment of intense silence as the two locked eyes as Sandile tried to command his ¡®property¡¯ to still, and Aidinza asserted his own dominance.


    Then Sandile seemed to realise what was happening, a soft whine building at the back of his throat as he let go. Aidinza holds his stare for a long moment before his hand falls to soothingly rub at Sandile¡¯s snout.


    ¡°I will be back in three days. Rest up, and behave for Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den.¡± He announces to the room again, and after a moment, the pok¨¦mon return to what they were doing.


    But now, there was an undercurrent of tension.


    -


    Three nights, in Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka, the deeps of the forest encircling the Village of Dragons.


    No pok¨¦mon, no food, and with only the trousers wrapped around his legs as the winter chill wrapped its hand around Unova¡¯s throat in truth.


    He would be led blindfolded into the forest at the dawn of the first day and would only be found before the birth of the fourth day.


    Three full days, three full nights.


    A trial of survival in a forest that raised brutal dragons and those hardy enough to cull their numbers.


    Anyone would be mad to agree to it for any reason. The Pheyan¡¯atho must be mad for it to be something so critical to their very survival.


    Aidinza must be mad because as he quietly knelt in a freezing, dark room and awaited the arrival of Unktehila, there was no stir of fear or apprehension in his stomach. Just the pull of sleep at his eyes and the warm consumption of determination burning away at the chill caressing his exposed chest.


    His pok¨¦mon had been left with Jha¡¯y¡¯z¨¦?a-den, and Naazin had been coaxed to promise to keep them in line, with the threat of intense training and the temptation of a nice long day to relax in the clear ponds of the Pheyan¡¯atho when Aidizna returned. Last night he had returned to Astazhei¡¯s side, telling the bird what he had to do and promising that he would be back as soon as possible.


    It was something he was paying for tonight; he had only managed to return to the Village of Dragons past midnight. But he refused to leave Astazhei in the dark.


    Carefully, he breathes in and out. A fleeting white mist curling in the air as he does so. The sound of the door unlocking thuds through the room, and two men and one woman step inside, their bodies hidden underneath thick covers and heavy staves held at their side.


    Aidinza smoothly rises to his feet but does not greet them. They move forward and offer him a blindfold. He takes it and ties it around his head, blocking out all vision.


    The woman begins to hum, the noise low and primal. The men start a sombre chant, their staves beating on the ground.


    The sound of a fourth person entering touches the edge of Aidinza¡¯s hearing, and he feels a light pressure on his back prodding him forward. He waits for a moment as the chanting grows louder, digging into Aidinza¡¯s bones and rattling his lungs.


    He steps forward.

 Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka

    Aidinza was an even-tempered man, controlled and restrained. Too controlled and restrained in many ways. Prone to introspection over things that he should just let go. He was slow to anger and rare to hate. But the things that did anger him, the things that he learned to hate, he hated with all the immoderate fury of the burning Sun.


    That was all to say that Aidinza hated being led around with a blindfold covering his face. Doubly so when he was lifted onto a pok¨¦mon''s back and carried for who knows how long in the frigid cold.


    But he bore it silently, just like he bore the uncomfortable garments silently during his Ritual of the Sun.


    Soon he would be rid of this blindfold if the burgeoning creep of the sun across his face was anything to be judged by. A whistle pierces the air, and the pok¨¦mon comes to a stop. In moments Aidizna was pulled from the creature''s back, and cold boney fingers freed him from the darkness of the blindfold.


    He winced as the light of the dawn stung his eyes for a moment. He glanced around the clearing, eyes flicking between the four robed figures and the large hydregion he had been riding. Slowly he blinked; he had not even realised that he had been hovering on his way here.


    "Ihakam ni." There was a strange echo to the Elders'' words, and Aidinza did not have to understand the instruction for it to feel like a heavy collar closing around his neck. The four figures watched him for a moment before they climbed back onto the hydregion and disappeared into the forest.


    Leaving Aidinza alone, with nothing but his trousers and the sound of a waking forest.


    Slowly he breathes out, the air misting in front of him. This was far from where he had been taught to survive. A land as radically different to his own as he suspected it could get. But the essentials of survival were the same in any land the Sun touched.


    He needed shelter, food, and water.


    He straightens up, rubbing his hands together, hissing at the chill that had set in already. The rules of three''s, he reminds himself. Three minutes without air, three hours in the elements, and three days without water.


    Three seconds without thinking, his sister''s voice comes unbidden to his mind, and despite the miserable cold, he manages a brief smile. He needed to keep focused and always be thinking about his next move.


    He needed shelter, something to stave off the frost and rime. A lean-to would not be much, but it would be a roof to keep a fire dry and his body heat trapped. From there, he could range out for something better while looking for water.


    Time to get to work.


    -


    "Come on. C-come on." Aidinza begs as he rolls a stick as quickly as his stiff, frozen fingers can manage. The lean-to had been easy enough to get together; the dense forest had enough sticks and reeds to make something almost homely.


    A fire to warm that lean-to was slightly less achievable. Finding dry kindling itself had been an exercise in frustration. By the time Aidinza had decided to try to gather something, the morning frost had already begun melting.


    He bites out something foul and throws the two sticks down, as another minute of effort yields nothing.


    "Three seconds." He breathes out. This was a waste of time, and he knew it. He needed something else to spark the fire.


    He straightens up, committing the clearing to memory. He needed to explore the surrounding area.


    "Three days without water." Aidinza rubs at his arm, more thankful for the Sun than ever. The touch of its warmth was the only thing keeping Aidinza from being a shivering mess.


    Of course, that would change come night. He shook his head harshly and slapped colour into his cheeks. He was getting distracted.


    He had to stay focused. He gathers the sticks from the ground and ties them to the roof of the Lean-to. Even if he found nothing useful, they would be slightly drier when he returned.


    He looks around the clearing, one final commitment to memory.


    Then he was off.


    -


    If Aidinza was not half naked, on the verge of freezing to death, and without his team, he thinks there would have been a part of him that would have liked this place. He might have hated the cold, and the squelch of the snow beneath his feet would have driven him to murderous hate.


    But something was enchanting about the endless stretch of gnarled trees, and endless compulsion whispered between branches that had outlasted dozens of generations. A thousand lifetimes of stories just waiting to be found, if one cared to go looking.


    Yes, Aidinza was pretty sure that he would like this place in a different light.


    As it was, he was pretty sure he had never wanted to burn something down more in his entire life. What could have been a spellbinding adventure through a forest with a history as rich as the desert he called home turned into hours of stumbling over gnarled branch after gnarled branch. Swearing and cursing as some blasted knot of antediluvian kindling tripped him into the frosty grass.


    He shivers as he pushes himself off the ground, lashing out with his foot. The lance of pain through his foot might have chastised him in any other situation, but the satisfying crunch of wood was more than sweet enough to numb that ache.


    The young nomad stands there for a long moment, panting, his breath misting in heavy clouds in front of him. He had been walking for hours, and he had found - nothing - if not for the sun, he would be utterly convinced he had been travelling in an endless, pointless circle.


    The Sun had long since reached its zenith and would soon reach its nadir. The one thing that had kept this infernal cold at bay would be robbed of him, and he had nothing to replace it.


    The shiver that ran up his spine had nothing to do with the cold in the air.


    Three seconds. Three seconds. Aidinza clung to the words like a mantra, a helpless blanket against the cold. He had to get back to his camp. He might not have a fire, but shelter over his head was better than nothing; he had to preserve his body hea-


    The low growl that filled the forest froze him in a way that no ice could ever manage.


    Wood crunched, but there was no satisfaction in how it splintered through the air like a deadly gunshot. His eyes flick over his shoulder, and what he sees would set horror in the heart of even the bravest of men.


    A beartic.


    Aidinza had seen beartic before. Massive, hulking beasts bulged with muscles, gleaming fur and claws sharp enough to shred mountains.


    Aidinza had been closer to beartic. In Iriccus, he had sat around the fires of the Tly''an-yeh, shared in equal measure between man and ursine.


    This beartic was not the hulking mass of well-treated bear, groomed and trained by a people as in tune with them as the Naisho''h were in tune with the Krookodile. It stood nearly fifty metres away, beyond thick trees that had stood the test of aeons.


    It was ratty; its coat matted and clumped. Its frame too lean by half for the hulking beast it should have been.


    Aidinza''s heart beat faster than it had ever before in his life.


    It snuffs at the air, and through thick arboreal, green eyes meets ravenous black.


    It could have been a moment; it could have been an eternity.


    His breath slows to a crawl. Every muscle still.


    A creak of wood, a shift of snow.


    He runs.


    The crash of shattered trees told him it followed.


    It was a desperate, unrestrained sprint. Uncontrollable in every way, a maddened dash with only a single goal in mind.


    Escape.


    He bounded from gnarled root to gnarled root and slid between the smallest gaps between entwining trees. He scurried over rock and ducked branches. Every misstep is a step towards his last.


    Then he makes the misstep that may very well be his last, as he bounded between the gap of two trees so tightly interwoven as to be one. His leg catches on the lip of the opening, and he goes rolling, back over shoulder, until he comes to a stop with a horrible crunch.


    The beartic is seconds behind, its horrible bulk slamming into the tree that had just sent Aidinza to the ground. He watches in shock as cracks spread through the tree, wood buckling underneath the beartic''s charge.


    But for a moment, it holds.


    He stared up at the beast through the gap, watching as it clawed and ripped at the tree in a murderous frenzy. Every swipe ripped through wood thicker than Aidinza''s chest. Then, once more green eyes met ravenous black.


    The frost that dripped from its mouth began to glow, and something terrible swirled in its maw.


    Aidinza threw himself away as something truly frigid cut past his back, missing by mere millimetres, sending a shudder through his body.


    He runs, not even taking a moment to gather his bearings or figure out what the beartic just did.


    The sound of a tree crashing to the floor with a horrible crunch told him it was the right decision. He had to move, no mistakes, no slowing down.


    Not a single misstep.


    There was no place for direction or time. No time for thought or plan, just moving and moving until his breath burned in his lungs. His blood screamed in his veins, and the terrible promise of each heavyweight step behind him grew quieter and quieter.


    Until it was nothing but a distant taunt in his mind.


    His shoulder bounced off a tree, too tired to bother coming to a proper halt. Aidinza grunts as he collapses to the snowy ground and desperately heaves for air. He just lays there for a moment, staring at the thin light of dusk as it breaks through the forest canopy.


    He recognised nothing about anything around him. Not a single leaf on a tree even tugged at a memory. He was lost.


    The dusklight burned redder and redder as if the Sun itself was castigating him for this¡­ pointless day.


    A day for a lost lean-to, a day for no fire, no water. A day for nothing.


    Three seconds. Aidinza breathes in.


    Three seconds. He takes another breath as his body aches. He needed to get up. Needed to think of something. Needed to keep thinking.


    "Three seconds, Aidizna. You can last three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, and three days without water. But only three seconds without thinking, that''s true in the wilds and the battlefield." He sits up and mutters his sister''s words once again before he pauses as the sound of something lapping at rocks touches his ears.


    Water.


    Aidinza moved with all the desperate speed he could muster. Water was not what he needed, but it was something. Something resembling a chance of a hope of a dream to survive this.


    But of course, there was no such thing as unpunished hope in this thrice-damned forest. Because no matter how far he ran, there was nothing. No water, no nothing. Just the mounting sound of water that almost seemed to mock him as it grew louder and louder.


    He collapses to his knees, the sound of water so tantalisingly close. So so close. So close that he should be on its very shore. So present that it was insanity for him not to see it.


    The young man lets out a frustrated scream, his fist punching into the snow, a fit of pique more befitting a chil-


    *crack*


    Aidinza stills as pain stabs through his knuckles. He pulls his hand back, examining the blood dripping from the back of his right hand. His left-hand reaches out, brushing away the top layer of snow.


    Ice.


    He had found water, but it was frozen. Frozen in a layer as thick as Nihanlo''s icy shell.


    That does not stop him from trying to break it. He heard the crack and saw the thin webs spread through the ice. His fist comes down to smash at it again and again. A desperate need to shatter his way through to the water below consuming him, choking away every thought.


    But it earns him nothing, just cosmetic cracks and blood coating his hands.


    Something insane takes him at that moment, and as he stares at the red-tinged ice, all he could do was laugh. Laugh and laugh. A gripless, desperate chuckle because there was nothing else he could do, sitting on his knees before yet another mockery.


    He was never going to see his sister again. He would never get to see his team or his tribe or go back to Iriccus and meet with Brycen again.


    He would never meet the expectations of his people.


    He lied to Tsesei.


    He would never even begin to fix the malaise that was slowly bleeding the Ya''an-ah into irrelevance.


    Over what? The refusal to just admit that he could not see something? The inability to swallow his pride and accept what was there was not his to see?


    It was mad.


    Insane.


    And all he could do was laugh about it. Because otherwise, he would sit there until the snowy night stole his last misty breath crying.


    Something moved under the ice.


    He should have moved. The forest alone was dangerous enough, but whatever pok¨¦mon would be here would be pok¨¦mon savage and brutal enough to survive in a forest that gave rise to dragons.


    He had already met one, fled from one already.


    In the penultimate moments before twilight, as the sun threatens to crest the final horizon.


    He stays.


    Whatever the pok¨¦mon was, it exuded a soft shadowy green glow, a luminescence that softly danced through the red-stained ice. He stares at the pok¨¦mon for a long moment as it shifts beneath the icy surface. It was difficult to make out any details of the creature through the opaque surface beyond its vaguely serpentine body and sharp, pointed head.


    But that should have been enough of a warning to leave; Aidinza was not a man close to the water. But even he knew how dangerous water pok¨¦mon could be. The endless rage of Gyarados brutalised even the thin coasts of the Ya''an-ah desert.


    "I hate this forest." He confessed to it instead. Maybe it was the blood dripping from his knuckles sending him dull. Maybe it was just the desperate need to vent. But for a single insane moment, it was all he wanted to do. "It''s too cold, and its trees¡­ blasted things."


    The glow beneath the ice paused as if listening to his words. "And the pok¨¦mon¡­." He can not resist a flinch at even the barest reminder of the sheer terror that had choked at his being. Then his eyes traced the languid dance performed beneath the frozen lake. "Maybe I''m one for one for that."


    He choked out a laugh as the glowing pok¨¦mon below shimmied, lazily treading in a circle underneath the ice as if responding to Aidinza. He leans back, looking away from the mesmerising glow of the pok¨¦mon below the ice, towards the transient twilight. Already he could feel the chill in the air grow, unchecked by the light of the Sun.


    "Just needed steel." He mutters before shaking his head, drawing one knee up into his chest as he sits there. He looked back at the pok¨¦mon below the ice; he was so¡­ so tired. "Or dry sticks."


    He swayed on his knees, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "I have to keep moving. I need to¡­ they need me¡­ I have to stop¡­? Start?"


    Things were¡­ fuzzy. The sway of the pok¨¦mon beneath the ice was endlessly entrancing.


    He bites his tongue, forcing himself back awake as the taste of copper warms his cold mouth. "Can''t stop." He gasps out, forcing himself to his feet. "The Ya''an-ah¡­ My people need me. Need me to keep going. Not going to f-fade into¡­ N-not going to just let us fade into history. N-no more deep d-desert. Gonna bring it all back..."


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    Aidinza stumbles back and shakes his head. "Three seconds." He mutters, then repeats it as firm as he can manage. Night in truth, was minutes away, and the cold burned at his exposed skin.


    He had to get moving, and he had to figure something out, fast.


    If he found the lean-to he had made earlier and the wood he had hung up to dry¡­


    He stumbles away from the ice and the soft glow underneath it. "Three hours." He mutters, three hours of this freezing cold night to make something stick, in spite of the fog touching at his mind.


    -


    It took him thirty minutes, by his reckoning to retrace his steps to where he had first encountered the beartic. Not because it was some great distance, nor was the path of the beartic particularly subtle, but because running into the beartic again would be the final nail in the coffin.


    From there, it had been a much quicker journey to where he had made ''camp'', Aidinza had always had a keen eye for the paths of the dunes, and that took a sharp mind for details and memorisation.


    The small clearing was exactly as he had left it, down to the footprints of the elders when they had pulled Aidinza off the hydregion. Slowly the young desert native limps towards his lean-to, a desperate prayer that the wood he had tied off earlier today had dried enough to be usable as firestarters.


    He pauses as he approaches the tree he had used as a support. Something had been stabbed into it. Carefully he turns around, eyes slowly raking over the ground around the tree, then to the branches above.


    His attention returns to the object, and he gives it a leery stare before another shudder passes through his body and presses the hanging blade of freezing closer to his neck. He steps up to it, a finger coming up to tap against its base.


    The slightest ting of metal filled the clearing. His eyes widened, and his hand closed around it, his other bracing against the rough bark. He rips it out of the wood, hissing as it cuts into the side of his knuckle.


    It was a claw of some kind, razor-sharp and slightly hooked. But most importantly to him, it gleamed in the starlight with a veneer of steel. Urgency clutched at Aidinza as he ducked underneath the lean-to, grabbing a dark rock he had found earlier in the day.


    He stumbles out of the lean-to, breath misting heavily.


    His shaking hands tried to strike the flint against the steely claw, but his fingers were too numb and stiff.


    He swears and tries again and again. Each attempt, more desperate than the last, cuts building up across his palm as a specious whisper that it would not work cut at him. Ripped at the last vestiges of hope sputtering inside his chest.


    Then.


    A spray of sparks fills the clearing.


    A tremulous smile spreads across his face as relief thunders through him. The insidious certainty of the cold, the malignant promise of failure burning underneath a new hope.


    He turns to the fire pit he had made earlier.


    "Three hours without shelter."


    -


    Aidinza clung to the fire''s warmth like a baby clings to a mother''s bosom. He let it heat his bones and redden his skin. Anything to get away from the frightful cold that set in as the moon reached its apex.


    He tried to sleep but could only manage fitful bursts; between the open moon-filled sky only a half roll from him and the uncomfortable forest floor, it was a doomed prospect. So he did the best he could to at least try to relax. Letting his mind calm as he watched the fire flicker and dance in the moonlight, trying to find rest in that rather than just sleep.


    Meditation, he thought it was called, vaguely recalling looking it up in the aftermath of his fight with Honoured Leader Clay.


    If he was being honest, it was more effective than he expected it to be, the flicker of the flame was soothing, and as his heart slowed, Aidinza could almost be lulled into enjoying the night. Could almost feel the hours sli-


    The rustle of leaves cuts through his tranquillity. Louder than the soft swish of the wind through the treetops.


    Slowly he looks away from the fire, eyes tracing the impenetrable blackness of the canopy. Another rustle, branches swaying under an alien weight.


    He licks his dry lips and swallows softly.


    A strange high-pitch chirp echoes through the air, and a piercing whistle calls back in reply. Aidinza''s hand begins lowering to the campfire, where the end of a stick juts out.


    The sound of edge scraping down the edge freezes him for a moment, the sound cruel in his ears, sending a shudder down his spine and setting a calm heart racing in his chest.


    There was no mistaking that malignant noise for anything but what it was.


    Hone Claw.


    Aidinza''s hand latches onto the stick, and he hefts it into the air, firelight cast just high enough to reach the tall branches.


    Dozens of ruby red eyes glittered back at him, gleaming with an inhumane light as they stared at him from the canopy.


    The sound of claws rasping against each other filled the still air, a brief spark lighting up the canopy for a brief moment, exposing the pok¨¦mon in full for a fleeting second. It was bipedal, with blue-black fur and prominent feathers jutting out in front of its ear in a way eerily reminiscent of Astazhei''s crown. Aidinza''s eyes were drawn to the two wickedly sharp claws that had produced the sparks as the pok¨¦mon flexed them in the dim light before his eyes traced down to its other arm, where its claws were hidden in the thick gnarled branch it was perched on.


    Aidinza did not recognise what the pok¨¦mon were, but there was no mistaking the gleam in their eyes for anything good.


    Another chirp filled the air, and this time there was a harsh hiss in response.


    Aidinza struggled not to flinch as the indistinct figures above him began to move, his eyes barely making out silhouettes as they began circling him from above.


    A sharp crack freezes his heart as he pivots around, his makeshift torch leaving a trail of fire in the air as he goes. Another hiss and he watches as the pok¨¦mon above him retreat slightly from the fire.


    They were off-put by the fire. Ice-types then, or maybe steel judging from their claws¡­


    Another crack and he whirls around to face it, brandishing his fire as a ward against them, the pok¨¦mon retreating at its attention.


    But he could hear the pok¨¦mon behind him quickly grow bold again, hearing them skitter forward. He turns to face them, but when they retreat, it was not even half the distance they had taken.


    They were beginning to drop lower, taking branches only half a head taller than Aidinza, closing in on him.


    This was not going to end well.


    A keening noise breaks through the quiet encircling of Aidinza, an old noise filled with depthless nostalgia that calls to a part of Aidinza that remembers quiet days swimming through an oasis with his sister.


    The pack of pok¨¦mon perk up at the noise, and a volley of chirps and whistles break the silence.


    Then, in one moment to the next, they break away. Scurrying into the trees and away from Aidinza''s camp.


    He collapses to the ground, the weight of helplessness crushing him to the floor, as he stares wide-eyed at the fire in front of him, his once serenity irreparably broken.


    This forest¡­


    He hated it with every inch of his soul.


    -


    The light of the red dawn came and with it came a number of tasks. The first of which was to find somewhere else to camp. The pack of pok¨¦mon from last night may not have descended onto him, but there was no guarantee for tonight, and he would rest much easier if the pok¨¦mon did not simply have to retrace their steps to find him.


    Difficult because Aidinza had no idea what had drawn them to him in the first place, baring the light from his campfire, and going without that was a non-starter.


    The second was that he needed water. He could already feel the dry parch at the back of his throat and the creeping headache dizzying his vision. It was manageable, but difficulty thinking was the last thing he wanted to deal with in this forest.


    Luckily, this was the easier of the two. He knew where the frozen lake was and still had the partly metallic claw to start a fire. If he found something to act as a container, then he would have all he would need for safe drinking water.


    If not¡­ Aidinza would figure something out.


    He rolls his shoulders, body stiff from sitting still for most of the night, before casting a glance to the tree tops above.


    In the light of the Sun, the aftermath of the pok¨¦mon from last night was clear. The trees had been torn to shreds, with claw marks and gouges ripped from the old wood. Most seemed to be random, careless and arbitrary. But some of the marks struck Aidinza as too¡­ uniform. Deliberate.


    He does not linger on the thought for long, turning northeast towards the river from yesterday. He knew that daylight was ever fleeting, and he needed to make every moment count.


    "Three seconds." He mutters before he takes off.


    -


    The lake stretched endlessly east to west. A stretch of thick ice that glittered and gleamed in the sunlight, frozen so suddenly that Aidinza could swear he saw waves caught still in motion


    It was a strange sight, and the very idea that some place could freeze so quickly that the water itself did not have time to settle¡­ it boggles the mind.


    Just as surely as it boggled Aidinza''s that he somehow missed it the last time he was here.


    Carefully he knelt next to the frozen edge, fingers running along the slightly wet - snowless - surface. His eyes flick to the back of his hand, his knuckles scabbed over during the night¡­


    He takes a step back and digs into the snow edging the bank of the river, finding nothing but earth beneath.


    A flicker of light catches his eye, and when he glances over, it is to see the same glow he had found yesterday, the shadowy green exactly as he had remembered it.


    His eyes linger on his knuckles, then the unmistakable sight of a lake frozen in motion, before falling to the glow beneath the ice as it sat nearly perfectly still, a strangely contrite image for how simple it was.


    Aidinza''s hand falls to the claw stabbed through one of the belt rings in his trousers, and the glow begins to slowly shift in a way that Aidinza could only describe as a nervous pace. He steps forward and drops into a squat at the edge of the frozen river.


    There''s a moment''s pause before the glow beneath the ice - the pok¨¦mon - creeps forward, pressing closer to the ice dividing the two of them, then through it. Aidinza watched, fascinated as the pok¨¦mon seemed to treat the thick ice as more of a suggestion than a barrier, rising through it until it was just beneath the surface.


    Aidinza would have to be a fool not to recognise that sign for what it was. This was a ghost pok¨¦mon, one of the terrifying revenants of the night, the subject of horror stories and legends of avarice and cruelty. He could almost remember the crackle of fire as he was bewarned of the dangers of ghost types, of their capricious nature, formed by their nature as Other from the world.


    The ghost was small, it would be able to curl up along Aidinza''s forearm, and its thin serpentine pale green tail would barely even approach his elbow. Three dark green fins protruded from its tail, rigid and unmoving, and it had two bent flippers that it used to tread the ice it had slipped into.


    Its head was flat in a vaguely reptilian way, with two horns jutting out the sides, tipped with pink. Underneath the horns were four more pink protrusions that seemed to wave in a current despite the ice it was floating in.


    But its eyes were what really caught and held Aidinza''s attention, yellow like Naazin''s but wide and open in a way that made Aidinza long for his starter.


    His hand tugs at his belt loops, the absent weight like a keen stab to his heart.


    The ghost hummed to itself, the sound old in a way that Aidinza struggled to articulate, like the sound of a cave moments before its collapse, or¡­ or like


    Like the last words of someone whose time is soon to pass. Dignified, in a word he supposed.


    Which was somewhat juxtaposed by the fact the pok¨¦mon began chasing its own tail, the shadowy green glow flickering from the pok¨¦mon''s translucent skin dancing between the thick ice.


    Aidinza groans slightly and lets himself rock back to sit on the ground, settling in to watch the pok¨¦mon enjoy itself. The mere presence of a pok¨¦mon settling into some subtle crook of Aidinza''s soul, some aspect of his being that had formed over the last months of being a trainer that only felt properly comfortable when there was a pok¨¦mon nearby.


    Carefully he breathes in and exults in the sunshine playing across his bare chest, the warmth of the sun a welcome companion to this quiet moment of peace. The pok¨¦mon began swimming through the ice in increasingly complex patterns, sometimes truly surfacing as if breaching water, other times diving deep until it was little more than a twinkle in the ice above it.


    Every now and then, it would return to the river bank, staring up at Aidinza with wide yellow eyes as if to confirm he was still there before returning to its play, each time seemingly just that bit more energetic.


    It was a nice way to spend some time, though Aidinza knew it could not last long; as much as he might have wanted to linger in this Pok¨¦mon''s presence, he had things he needed to do.


    But for a few minutes, no more than half an hour, he let himself relax back and carefully controlled his breathing.


    Just¡­ relaxing.


    -


    Aidinza was used to dehydration. It was a fact of life in the desert, some days, you would simply not have enough water for the tribe, and people had to make sacrifices. He learned to deal with the chapped lips and the dizzy spells. To keep himself focused and push away the throbbing pain of a headache.


    But what he could never get over, and probably would never be able to get over, was just how sweet water tasted after a day or more without. It was one of the greatest experiences in the world, as close to tasting life and joy itself as Aidinza reckoned was physically possible.


    He sips again from the makeshift plate he had ground out from a flat stone, and groans as the water wet his dry throat again. Now that Aidinza had the step of the land, he was starting to grow almost¡­ comfortable, if not for the infernal chill in the air. His eyes slip close for a moment before an echo of the wicked rasp of sharpened claws sent a flinch through his body.


    Slowly his eyes slide open, and he looks towards the sky as he takes a shuddering breath, hand tightening around a heavy stick by his side.


    He needed to find somewhere else to spend the night, somewhere better, hopefully, but somewhere elsewhere, definitely. He glances off into the distance towards the frozen lakeside in some vain attempt to see the ghostly pok¨¦mon once more before he turns south, his heart just beating that slightest tempo too fast.


    He could not rely on something distracting those pok¨¦mon tonight.


    -


    Between the easy access to a firestarter, and the water quenching his thirst, most of the absolutely pressing issues had been dealt with. So, Aidinza allowed his search for a new shelter to be absolutely meticulous, not stopping even when he found places that would, in all likelihood, be more than good enough.


    He needed to find somewhere safe. Better than good enough.


    Perhaps it was only natural then that it was only when he stumbled across what seemed to be an abandoned warren that his shoulders relaxed from its tight line. It would be hidden from the trees, and if nothing else, he would not be surrounded again.


    Besides, if there was one thing that the Ya''an-ah knew outside of their desert, it was what was underneath their desert. Entire days had been spent sheltered from sandstorms, just exploring with his sister the under earth.


    He pauses for a moment at the entrance, remembering days of trying to puzzle out the nature of whatever cave the Naisho''h were in with his sister. His hand ghosted along the rough stone, making up the entrance to the underground. This was not a durant cave by his reckoning; the entrances of their caves tended to be almost aggressively smoothed over, ground down by their tough steel bodies.


    Maybe this was a sandslash cave? There were only a few sandslash populations in the Ya''an-ah desert, dotting the southlands. But their presence would explain the harsh scratches along the wall, though not why the cave''s ceiling was high enough for Aidinza to stand up nearly straight.


    Though, maybe he was too quick to judge the scratches as something a Sandslash would make. They were too¡­ deliberate, almost like the intricate carvings of an excadrill, but what he remembered of Gowteel''s excadrill, it would never let its warren''s walls become so scratched.


    Too orderly for a sandslash. Too chaotic for an excadrill. Did Aidizna even know a pok¨¦mon that would fit that description?


    Just the tiniest spark of excitement filled Aidinza as he wandered deeper into the warren, trying to figure out the little mystery in front of him. There were very few pok¨¦mon that dug this close to the surface. Most pok¨¦mon that did significant tunnelling would do it far below the earth like Onix, or in the mountains like graveller.


    He pauses as the warren widens into a large circular room before it diverges into two tunnels, one much larger than the other. That meant diglets were right out; their ground manipulations usually produced a single long straight line from which their personal burrows would branch off.


    He squats down to examine the wider tunnel, fingers tracing the scratches in the wall. A distant memory of exploring a Krookodile''s warren when he was young filled his head, watching as its claws scratched through the markings of its previous ow-


    Aidinza freezes, hand hovering over the scratches in front of him. Tentatively he sniffs at the air.


    A heady, musky odour greats him, breaking past his cold, numbed nostrils. He feels the blood drain from his face. He had gotten¡­ overconfident was not the right word, lulled into complacency by the familiarity of the under earth. Deceived by exploring something that so closely reminded him of home.


    The warren had not been abandoned.


    The sound of burdensome steps above Aidinza rattles the earth.


    It had been taken over.


    This was an excadrill''s warren, the usually smooth lines left behind by their shockingly careful technique roughened by age and the poor attempts to widen it by its new owner.


    The sound of heavy breathing echoes through the cave as something truly ponderous enters, the sound of its bulk inadvertently crashing into the ground around it, rattling the floor beneath Aidinza.


    A terribly familiar snuff at the air freezes the blood in Aidinza''s veins, and the grim growl that follows horrifies him to his very bones.


    The beartic.


    He was in a beartic den.


    He was on the other side of a beartic, inside a beartic''s den.


    Now that he had the full pictures, he could see the signs clear as day of a larger pok¨¦mon moving in and clumsily expanding a cave to fit their needs.


    His attention snaps to the second, smaller split in the warren, his mind desperately racing. Did excadrill make multiple entrances to their warrens? Would the tunnel lead to anywhere, or just into the depths of the underground? Did he even have a choice if it did?


    Another low growl rips him out of his thoughts, and Aidinza glances over his shoulder to see the tremendous form of the beartic, its powerful form brushing up against the sides of the cave.


    When he had seen the beartic yesterday, it had been ravenous. The pinched gaunt of its ribs reflected in the glint of hunger in its eyes.


    He had been prey, an absent target by simply being there.


    Today, its eyes were not hungry.


    They were furious, its jagged teeth bared in a brutal snarl, its eyes wide and bloodshot. The ice-type''s paw crushed through stone as its muscles bunched up. The moment of its charge stretched to a tortuous length as adrenaline flooded Aidinza.


    What happened next was explosive. In one moment, Aidinza was crouched in front of the forked path as a beartic began an unstoppable charge. In the next, he had thrown himself towards the smaller tunnel in a mad dash, rolling underneath a glowing blow that shattered the stone above him. Avoiding being crushed against the wall by the skin of his teeth, the entire cave shuddered as the bear''s insane bulk crashed into the mangled stone.


    He pauses for a heartbeat of a heartbeat as he finds his feet, watching over his shoulder as the beartic turns its head to him, the ice clinging to its mouth beginning to glow with a stygic light.


    Aidinza threw himself forward in a dead sprint as the Beatic ripped its claw from the wall of the cave, sending chunks of dirt and stone flying through the air. Then, as the glow emanating from its icy ''beard'' reached an apex, a harsh white mist spilled out of its maw, almost like a crashing wave, crystalising a thick rime on everything it touched as it raced after Aidinza.


    The boy himself, however, had not wasted the time the Beartic had been trapped by his own blow against the earth itself, barrelling down the smaller tunnel, hunching over as the height of the cave all but collapsed in on itself. Trying to put as much distance between him and the raging ursine as possible.


    It was not enough distance.


    He screams as freezing pain lances up his leg. He crashes full to the ground, biting down on his pain as his ankle twisted in some insane grip. Choking down a sob of pain, he glances over his shoulder, half expecting a beartic moments away from mauling him.


    But all he saw was a wall of ice. Whatever move the beartic had used froze the air solid, and his leg had been caught by it.


    Aidinza bites out a foul word. The icy wall might have separated him from the beartic''s sight but also left him trapped, and he could already feel the chill searing through his trousers, his flesh prickling and growing painfully numb.


    He might not be currently being mauled by a beartic, but losing a leg to frostbite, then himself to whatever came next, was maybe even worse. As if to remind him that the two were not mutually exclusive, the cave around him rattled, dirt coming loose from the ceiling as the beartic smashed at the earth.


    Aidinza pats down his body, trying to figure out if he had something - anything - that could get him out of this. He had the claw and a piece of flint. He had the rock he had used as a plate to boil his water and¡­


    Not much else.


    He grunts as he forces himself up into an awkward kneeling position. He gathered everything he had and arrayed it in front of him before twisting around to push at the ice encasing his leg. It hardly budged.


    He reaches out, hand hovering over his stone ''plate'' before he grabs the piece of flint. He brings it above his head and then smashes it down on the ice. It chips slightly, but the impact makes him drop his flint and sends a brutal lance of pain through his leg.


    That was¡­ something. He brushes a hand over the site of the impact, scowling at how little ice had actually been smashed off.


    He needed to¡­ to soften the ice somehow, melt it slightly. That should make it softer right? Another slam on the cave wall, the noise pressing down on Aidinza like a physical weight as he desperately tried to figure out what to do.


    He needed heat. He had no kindling but¡­ friction? Friction generated heat. He grabs the claw and seizes the hem of his trousers, cutting away a square of fabric. He twists around and desperately rubs at the lattice of ice encasing his leg, it was awkward and unwieldy, but he could already fe-


    The sound of another blow rattles Aidinza''s teeth, and he stares wide-eyed as a network of cracks spreads through the ice wall. He fumbles for the flint again, desperately hacking at the ice with the rock, chipping away at his prison in a surge of strength.


    Another smash, yet more frantic, cutting at the ice trapping him. His hand scrambles for the claw, pressing it into thin cracks that he had made and attempting to twist into them and leverage them free.


    The ice shifts.


    Aidinza is jerked backwards, dragged across the ground as the ice wall is torn backwards. Driven by panic, he stabs the claw into the ground, a white-knuckled grip barely slowing down the terrifying strength pulling him back.


    He tries to twist free, tugging on the weakened ice. Tries to pull himself away with the anchor of the claw that was sunk into the earth.


    Another heave on the ice dragged him nearly a metre back, ripping him away from the claw as it cut through his hand. He claws for a handhold, anything to stop the inevitable.


    Then, it stops.


    That was not a good thing. The ice, once flush with the cave walls, now had nearly a handspan of air between it and rock. Aidinza tries to peel away the ice as his eye flicks between his trapped leg and the gap between the ice and the cave, smearing streaks of blood across the harsh bluish lattice with rubbed raw fingers.


    A broad white paw reaches into the gap, cruel black keratin digging into the ice like fingers through sand.


    The cracks in the ice spread.

 Lesson

    What is terror? Not fear of a situation or the outcome of said situation, the ill staccato of the heart spasming. Not panic, with its insidious grip slowly choking the senses. Not dread, the creeping feeling up the spine of something wrong, the lightest touch of flight or flight pulsing against someone''s neck. Not even despair, where every path forward seemed to lead to malignant ends.


    But terror.


    Fear so all-encompassing that the heart beats a thousand times one moment and freezes the next. Panic so bone-deep that every sense is overwhelmed, driven blind while barraged with things to see. Dread so visceral that the entire body screams to run to fight to run to escape to be¡­ anywhere else. Despair so consuming that it freezes someone still.


    Aidinza had felt dread before; the wrong in chargestone cave had seen to that. He had felt fear, the Plasma in driftveil had sent adrenaline and cortisol stabbing through his veins. He knew panic; his first steps into the tall cities of Unova had been full of it. Despair¡­ that desperate hopelessness¡­


    There was a reason he was in this forest.


    None of it had even a moment''s thought on the terror that ripped through Aidinza at that moment, seizing his bones and painting his veins.


    Terror as ice cracked away under the awesome might of an enraged beartic, his heart twisting and writhing as it tried to desperately pump enough adrenalin into him to escape his icy trap. Terror as the weight of the situation burned into his mind, pressing down and down, until the beartics every twitch was a blur and every glitter of ice sent a dizzy spell through him. Terror as the frozen barrier was ripped away, and the beartic forced its terrible bulk into what it cleared, errant slashes leaving hand-deep gouges in the stone.


    Terror, as nothing he did seemed to get him any closer to freeing his trapped limb, nothing he did seemed capable of budging that one further millimetre.


    So animal and uncontrollable that it nearly ripped every thought from Aidinza. So potent that it would almost stop a man dead.


    Leaving behind only desperate ideas and the base enough motivations to try them. He lunges for the claw again, the feeling as it settles into the laceration that it had torn into his hand excruciating. He ripped it from the earth, and with base-born rationale, he drove it at the seal where the ice was closed around his leg, a desperate attempt to find leverage.


    The claw strains against the ice. It cuts through flesh and muscle. It buckles around the bone.


    It shifts the ice.


    Not just for the terribly powerful beartic ripping through it, tearing layer upon layer out of it with every moment given to it.


    No, it shifts upwards, and cracks spread.


    Despite the pain that ripped through his body, Aidinza twisted and slammed at the ice with his other leg, a last-ditch, awkward attempt to desperately escape.


    The ice gives.


    Aidinza explodes forward, with all the fervour of a man dying of thirst offered water. He does not look back or take even a moment to gather himself.


    The tunnel thinned and thinned until there was barely enough space for Aidinza to crawl, but he did not stop for a moment, dragging himself forward into the stale air and dark, until all he could feel was the claustrophobic press of the earth on his back.


    Distantly, he hears a furious roar, and a truly monstrous blow shakes the ground, the ceiling, and the walls. He hears a distant crack and feels the rockslide as it collapses the tunnel behind him.


    He still did not look back. In part, because there was no room, but in most, because terror still held his heart in a vice-grip.


    So, he crawled and crawled, a forlorn hope that there would be another exit, and he would not just waste away in the dirt, body to desiccate untouchable by the Sun.


    Aidinza had no idea how long he had crawled through those tunnels, had no idea how many times he squeezed his body through tight confines, desperately hoping that this would not be the one too tight that would leave him stuck for the rest of his life. No idea how many times he shaved skin from his body as he contorted around some turn or slid into another deeper tunnel.


    Hours maybe¡­ he had boasted earlier today that the Ya''an-ah knew what was underground, but no cavern or cave would ever prepare a man for the brutal, disinterested weight of this crushing labyrinth.


    Then, light.


    Not much, the tiniest trickle, but compared to the utter dark of the underneath, it was the brightest thing he had ever seen. Fervently he dragged himself forward until fresh air touched his lungs.


    Until the evening Sun touched his face.


    The opening was a corner of the tunnel, nearly flush against a cliff face. Something had torn the rock apart long ago. An ugly scar on the cliffside that looked more beautiful than anything that Aidinza had ever seen.


    He rolled out of the tunnel, sliding down rough terrain into the snow below. He stares at the blue sky above, his eyes stinging as they readjust to the surface. Emotions bubbled up in him, a disorientating cocktail that Aidinza struggled to process.


    He breathes in and lets a shuddering breath out.


    Then he laughs, laughs and laughs. Just letting everything go until he began to cry. Deep sobs wracked his body until every emotion was spent, and he started laughing again.


    Let it all out until he was drained and empty, simply staring at the sky.


    Alive.


    He sits back, feeling his body ache in every conceivable way. Carefully he inspects himself, examining each laceration and bruise in turn. On the bright side, it seemed he would not bleed to death. His wounds were packed with dirt and congealed blood, as effective a seal as he could have expected. On the dimmer side, his injuries were packed with dirt; if he did not clean them, there would be an infection.


    He struggles to his feet, feeling pain lance through his left leg, nearly seeing him collapse back to the ground.


    The problem with cleaning his wounds was that after everything that had happened, Aidinza just did not have the energy. He sways on his feet, carefully scanning the surrounding forest. He needed to rest. What came next, would have to come next.


    Not now.


    First, he would find one of the many ''good enough'' shelters and get some rest. He glances at the sun once more and then limps north.


    -


    Aidinza spent the night huddled in the hollow of a tree''s roots, hidden by a thick grotto of entangled moss and vine.


    It was not as cold as the open air, but it was not much better. But the constant yowls and screeches that echoed in that dark night struck still any desire to light up fire for warmth. As much as it might have cut at his beliefs, his best protection was the inky night.


    So he grits his teeth, keeps his breath even, and tries desperately to hold onto any scrap of body heat he can.


    A glow, just the slightest touch brighter than the starlight above, slid into the grove. Aidinza presses himself back into the wood behind him, mouth pressed into a thin line, his hand falling to the claw tangled into his trousers.


    Desperately he hoped whatever it was moved on; he was in no state to run and even less of a state to put up any fight.


    The glow pressed deeper into his sanctuary, and his hand tightened around the claw.


    A familiar, keening noise surprises him. He heard the noise on the first night, moments before the pack of pok¨¦mon had broken off.


    Wide, yellow eyes peek over the lip of the hollow hiding Aidinza, bright even in the near lightless midnight.


    And unmistakable.


    The pok¨¦mon from underneath the thick ice of the lakeside. The tight line of Aidinza''s shoulders relaxes as he places the claw to the side.


    The pok¨¦mon drifted forward, pausing as Aidinza tensed again, something instinctive in him raising the hair of his nape. The two watched each other for a moment, which dragged on for years, bright yellow eyes meeting bright green.


    Slowly, he breathed in and leaned back.


    The ghost took that for the permission that it was, silent as it slithered through the air. He watches as it sniffs, a look of confusion bunching up its face and crossing its eyes.


    It twisted around itself as it tried to figure out whatever it smelled. Then, the ghost''s attention stilled on Aidinza''s leg.


    He took a moment to examine it himself in the dim light cast by the pok¨¦mon. His shin was¡­ a mess. His last desperate ploy had ended up with the back of the claw digging down into his bone, and the crawl through the tunnels had left the wound a disgusting sight of clotted blood, dark earth and entangled cloth.


    The pok¨¦mon approached, its shadow green forelimbs touching the edges of the wound for a moment. Aidinza hisses, and the ghost whirls on him, eyes wide with something Aidinza suspected was panic¡­


    And concern.


    "I got hurt." He explains as he swallows heavily. "Stumbled into a beartic''s den. It, maybe rightfully, did not really appreciate that." Aidinza chuckles; he had got off lightly, in all likelihood. If it had been a ground-type pok¨¦mon, he would have never escaped. "I should clean it before it gets worse¡­." He shrugs as he trails off; he did not have water and hardly thinks digging around his wound with dirty fingers would do much.


    The ghost lowers back down to the wound, the look on its face unplaceable. Slowly its two front arms traced the air above his wound, then, with one last snap quick glance at the cautious look on Aidinza''s face, it touched the wound.


    "What are you doing?" Aidinza nearly jerked his leg away, but a firm look from the ghost stopped him - even if the look was slightly ruined by the way it puffed its cheeks out as it quelled him.


    Slowly the serpentine pok¨¦mon peeled the cloth of his trousers away, tugging the fabric out of the sticky grip of dried blood with infinite care. So careful that it hardly stung.


    Then it framed Aidinza''s wound with both limbs, its mouth coming so close to his wound that he was sure it would dig in. The Pok¨¦mon''s already bright eyes began to glow, patches of shadowy green circles dotting its eyes, expanding until they replaced the yellow. The ghost¡¯s form shudders and wavers, its crisp definition dulling until it was less a defined thing and more of a defined boundary.


    What happened next was simple to tell. But Aidinza was not sure he would ever be able to really describe it. The congealed cesspit of his wound began to shift, not as if it was being pulled away. But as if it was tearing itself away.


    Whatever it was, the result was the same, the filth slid from the wound, rising into the air before being carefully lowered to the ground. Underneath, clean bone was stark against the air, and healthy pink flesh pulsated. Blood already began pooling as it was exposed once more.


    Aidinza winced; he had hardly thought about bandages or what he would think of doing after he cleaned his wound. Nor had the pok¨¦mon it seemed.


    Or maybe he was giving the pok¨¦mon too little credit. The shadow green glow flickers away, replaced by a bright yellow. Aidinza hisses as a heat touches his leg, a flickering spark of something purple slowly pressing to the bleeding flesh.


    The heat was not quite hot enough to burn; there was a strange lack of substance, at least Aidinza did not think it was hot enough to burn. Yet the flow of blood began to slow, first to a trickle, then to nothing.


    The ghost leans back away from the wound, the ill-fitting boundaries of its form flickering and stuttering. Aidinza reaches out, catching it as it bobs unevenly in the air.


    It felt like it would slide through his body for a moment before seemingly becoming properly solid, resting on the platform Aidinza offered.


    The Pok¨¦mon''s body was cold. Almost sapping the warmth from Aidinza''s hand. It was also inconsistent, Aidinza was not sure if it was always that way, but as its¡­, something struggled at the domain of its body, the Pok¨¦mon''s shape and feel changed relentlessly.


    It was an off-putting feeling that clawed at something in Aidinza''s hindbrain, screaming that the thing in his hands was wrong. Other.


    Carefully, Aidinza pulls the pok¨¦mon closer to his body, leaning back against the wood behind him. For a long moment, he stares out the opening into the night sky beyond the thin gaps in the verdure, just wondering what his life had turned into.


    He glances down at the cold, strange pok¨¦mon held against his stomach by his arm. "Thank you."


    The pok¨¦mon does not stir, but he feels content enough to let his body relax into as comfortable a position as he could manage in the hollow.


    Then, in one blink to the next, he drifted away.


    -


    Was it ominous or auspicious that the third and final day was so quiet? The first day had been crushing. Pulled in a dozen different directions with no clear path forward to survive, every step forward contending with two steps back. The second¡­ Was there any way to describe it other than terrifying? The cold paranoia drove him to desperately find the perfect location to hide from that pack of pok¨¦mon, the white-hot fear as the beartic came moments from ripping him apart.


    Aidinza could see the forming pattern. He expected the third day to come with its own brutalism, to find a new way to torment him. A new avenue to grind him into dust.


    But as the day passed by, and he prepared for the worst, nothing manifested. Nothing accosted him on his journey to the frozen lake to clean his wounds. Nothing uprooted him from his hideaway as he lashed wood together to make a hatch.


    Nothing happened.


    Only the ache in his bones from yesterday kept his paranoia in check. But even still, it drove him to be even more surreptitious, digging out a proper fire pit made of two connected holes. One hides the fire from sight, and the second feeds the fire air.


    It meant that the final night would not be one of freezing cold and that he would have something - anything - to defend himself if worse came to worst. While also not giving his position away so blatantly.


    As the sun broke towards the horizon, its light glittering across the endless forest of Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka, Aidinza came back to the same question that had haunted him throughout the day.


    Was it ominous or auspicious that nothing happened on the third day?


    -


    The Moon occupied a strange position in the Ya''an-ah''s culture. It was a conduit of the Sun''s will upon the night, but it was an imperfect, tempestuous reflection. The Sun''s goals and powers warped in a way that could not be described as malicious but rather mischievous.


    It was both a prophet and a trickster. To perform rituals under its auspices was considered by many Ya''an-ah to be one of the best ways to compel the Sun to act. But how it would act¡­ would depend on the Moon''s whim.


    An object of deep reverence and great suspicion.


    The Moon was full. The Sun''s power upon this night was unchained, and the Moon''s influence unchecked.


    Many stories were told about this time. Both grand fables and terrible tragedies.


    So it came as no surprise when a hideous sound split the night. A piercing, frightful yowl bounced through the air, a horrible, dizzying noise that seemed to grind into Aidinza''s ears no matter how faint it grew.


    The call was swiftly taken up by others, dozens at least, with their own, pitched screeches, each more offensive than the last. Aidinza steps towards his fire pit, where a large pile of dirt waits to put it out.


    But he pauses; he¡­ should wait. The young nomad sits by the fire pit, warming his hands on the intense heat that emanates from within. He glances to the sky, tempted for a moment to speak a prayer to the moonlight that broke through the thick canopy above. Tempted to roll that hand of fate.


    Another screech breaks his thoughts, sending a flinch through him as he glances around. That was closer.


    He freezes as the sound of plants rustling touches his ears, a terribly familiar sound of branches swaying under alien weight.


    Carefully his eyes trace through the canopy, his hand drifting to the heavy wooden stick by his side as a terrible silence reigned. He found nothing in the canopy, but he could not shake an ill feeling in his gut that he was in some sort of standoff with some creature he could not see as the hair on the back of his neck raised.


    Another rustle of leaves, then three high-pitched chirps. Another long beat of silence before a snarl and the sound of metal clashing against metal, followed by a low whine.


    The presence of the pack of beasts from the first night set Aidinza''s heart thundering in his chest, and he inches closer to the fire pit, preparing to light the end of his stick.


    A rustle of flora.


    Aidinza lights the stick, surging to his feet, eyes wild, expecting once more to be surrounded by black-furred creatures as firelight flickered through the branches.


    The canopy was empty.


    For minutes Aidinza stood there, carefully scanning the hoarfrost-lined trees for any sign of the pok¨¦mon from the first night, torch burning brightly.


    Yet none manifest. From the corner of his eye, he glances towards the Moon, wondering for a moment if he was addled.


    Another yowl.


    Followed by an achingly familiar keening noise, so hauntingly ancient as to be unmistakable.


    The lakeside ghost.


    Something sunk in Aidinza''s gut, something that only grew heavier as the scrape of claw on claw rasped through the air.


    In that moment, he should have kept his head down; put out his torch and hoped that he was left alone in the aftermath. He was just a human, an injured one at that. He was strong¡­ debatably, he carried more than his fair share through the sands. Fit, undeniably. But all of that was irrelevant before the first fact.


    He was a human.


    Out there were pok¨¦mon, creatures capable of reshaping the earth in their wake. More potent than he would ever be, faster than he could ever think to contend with¡­ and hungry. Interposing himself would achieve nothing. He had nothing to offer.


    He should keep his head down.


    That same voice, its tenor of such a disparate epoch, cried out in pain.


    Aidinza was outside his fortress grove in moments, lingering between the thin fork of a tree, his eyes scanning through trees lit by the trickster moon, torch held bright and hot by his side.


    In the distance, a hazy green glow panicked and flickered as it shambled through the snowy forest, pursued by the glint of moonlight off steel-laced claws.


    He moves.


    -


    The greatest difference between the Ya''an-ah and the Tly''an-yeh could very easily be said to be their stance on hunting. To the Tly''an-yeh, it was a matter of great honour, an expression of their connection to the land to delve into the cycle of life and be a part of it. To the Ya''an-ah, it was a last resort, an act that must be carefully considered. One that would only be glorified for the reasons, not the action.


    That was not to say that Aidinza had never participated in a hunt. The desert sands were, in nearly all things, poised to cause desperation. That was the fierce love of the land. As the numbers of the Naisho''h dwindled, those who were able to do right by the tribe did so too. Sometimes that meant that only he was left to do right by his tribe. Even their connection with the desert crocs only went so far.


    He always made it dignified and respectful.


    What the pok¨¦mon were doing as they chased down the lakeside ghost¡­ was not a hunt. There was no dignity in how they would play with the spirit, batting it around as it fled, keeping just close enough that it could never relax but never moving to finish it. There was no respect in the baleful rasp of claw on claw nor in their yowling taunts.


    This was not a hunt. They were tormenting the ghost; they were not trying to bring it low, to feed on it as gruesome as that might have been. That would have been easy enough. They outnumbered it by a dozen fold and were faster.


    No, they were trying to terrify it, to pick it apart until all that was left was a cowering wreck.


    A feat they were not too far away from achieving. The lakeside ghost was a fitful mess of frightful incorporeal panic; every malignant rasp of claw saw the thin boundary defining the ghost as present wane. Every flicker of moonlight off false swipes drove the delicate power keeping the ghost animate in the air to greater and greater strain.


    Until it was too much.


    The lakeside ghost careened into the snow, at times flickering through the snow, at times ripping a furrow through it as it tumbled to a stop at the base of a stumped tree. The ghost had turned into a writhing mass of something, an aggregation of shifting otherness, little more than flickering dim light and being.


    Moonlight gleamed off steel-laced keratin as one of the black-furred creatures lunged at the mass, a ravenous, ecstatic gleam in its beady red eyes. A triumphant yowl ripped from its throat.


    Until Aidinza''s boot slammed into its salivating jaw.


    The Native''s chest heaved, his green eyes burning in the torchlight as he swung at another, the fire forcing the creature back with a hiss. There was a moment as the pack of creatures contended with Aidinza''s interruption, dozens of ruby eyes staring down with fury dancing in their depths.


    Another surged forward, ripping through the air with feral intent. Not towards Aidinza, but the mess of frightened ghost behind him.


    It screeched as the stick caught it in the ribs; for a moment, its thick, slick fur, meant for resisting the coldest of winters, touched fire. The beast was thrown metres through the air, flame engulfing it.


    It was not for long; Pok¨¦mon were built far too tough for normal fire to do severe damage.


    But that was more than enough of a statement to give the pack pause, tempered by their reckless comrade''s quick, painful admonishment.


    Then, as they did the first night, they began circling. A slow encompassment as the creatures slipped into Aidinza''s blind spots, pressing in as his attention flickered between them.


    The Ya''an-ah boy simply set his feet, twisting slightly, so he stood over the lakeside ghost as its shape slowly redefined itself. The pok¨¦mon were far more cautious. When Aidinza turned his attention on them this time, they flinched back beyond their initial encroachment.


    It was a stalemate. One that Aidinza had no recourse but to maintain. He could not fight a dozen pok¨¦mon and the moment they realised that was the end of it. No, as much as the cold might be setting in, as much as his sweat might be crystalising to his skin, this stalemate benefited him. If only because the longer time went on, the infinitesimally slight chance that something happened to drive the pok¨¦mon off rose.


    He glanced towards the pok¨¦mon between his legs; it looked like itself again or at least did not look like a mass of shadowy other. But it was indistinct, flickering from one moment to the next. He doubted it would be able to run.


    A branch creaks behind him, and he whirls towards it with a sneer, fire arcing through the air as it sends the beast skittering back into the canopy.


    A creature, the first he had accosted, drops to the ground, snarling at Aidinza as its claws ripped through the earth. Aidinza growls back, throat taken by the feral dominance he had used to teach Sandile.


    He was claiming this ground, this forest, this ghost. It was his.


    The pack grew ever wilder, hissing and snarling, a furious cacophony of yowls as they savaged at whatever they could reach. Seething as they were denied.


    He hissed back, his countenance as feral as the creatures above him, another slow growl built in his chest as he whirled on another beast, spearing out with his blunt stick and sending it screeching into the snow. He lets it out as his back straightened and his eyes flashed in a primal display more fitting of a krookodile than a man.


    It was enough that the creatures wavered. They might have been able to rip Aidinza to shreds in truth. But as they picked and skittered at the edges of his reach and were rebuffed each time, they seemed to begin doubting that.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    With fire and bluster, it almost seemed like he was moments from dissuading the pok¨¦mon.


    Aidinza whirled around once more, torch borne high, his eyes containing the same apex primalism that had ruled distant sands for hundreds of thousands of years, the physicality that was borne from a hard life of sun-scorched labour on full display.


    But at that moment, so terribly critical, the worst happened. Maybe he moved too fast, maybe the fire just waned at the wrong moment, maybe it was just the Trickster Moon revelling in chaos.


    But the torch sputters and dies in the wind.


    His eyes flick to it, and at that moment, the words that come from his mouth would curdle a sailor''s blood.


    Aidinza did not give a moment for the unfortunate loss of his weapon to register with the creatures about him. In one smooth motion, he had pulled the lakeside ghost into his chest, ignoring the terrible otherness about it, and had thrown himself into a dead sprint forcing himself through the awful pain in his leg.


    The pack hunted.


    -


    Aidinza''s entire body burned. His legs screamed for a break, and his lungs begged for a moment''s rest. His aches and cuts throbbed and bled thick rivulets of blood. He needed to stop.


    But he could not. A single moment''s pause, a single stuttered stride¡­ it would be his end.


    The creatures showed no sign of hesitation as they dogged him; they were natural-born hunters, as at home during a knife''s edge as Aidinza was at home in the sands. They cut him off, corralling him into uneven dangerous grounds. Constantly keeping him under pressure as they forced him to exhaust himself running uphill. Waiting for him to expose a single weakness they would ruthlessly exploit, the most minor chinks to dig into.


    Aidinza knew it was only a matter of time. At some point, all the discipline and dogged, pertinacious will to live would fail him as his body simply lost the ability to keep going.


    If the way his left leg flinched and tightened with each step was any indicator, it would be a matter of sooner rather than a matter of later. He needed to do something. He clutched the ghost tighter as his eyes flickered through the thicket, desperately searching for something to rip him from this spiral.


    His eyes caught on something in the distance, and pure desperation made it appealing. He twists his stride, only avoiding stumbling in the loose snow with a lifetime''s experience in shifting ground, breaking for the forest''s edge.


    He had hardly taken a step before three of the black-furred cretins reacted, darting from the tree tops, interposing themselves between Aidinza and his new direction. He doubted they knew what he had planned; they were just taking cruel delight in ripping any semblance of control from his hands, knowing he would not dare run straight into the pok¨¦mon hunting him.


    In another circumstance, they would be right. Even if he did manage to get past them, there was little doubt in his mind that it would result in him being injured, and no doubt it would take bare minutes before they were on him again. It would be too much risk for too little reward.


    Aidinza hardly broke a stride, throwing himself at the roadblock with a single-minded brutalism. He crashes into one, using as much weight and momentum as he could to crush it into the tree behind it. Without wasting a moment, he turns on the next, using the stick that had once been his torch as a bludgeon to bat it away as it lunges at him, catching it in its teeth and sending spittle and splinters flying through the air.


    For humans, being crushed into a tree or taking a tree branch as thick as Aidinza''s arm to the face would put them down for the count. As it stood, Aidinza knew that he had mere moments before the disorientation of the hits wore off, and the pok¨¦mon were left no worse for wear.


    So he did not allow a moment to go to waste, desperately throwing himself back into a dead sprint no matter how much his body begged him to just take a moment. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten one key detail in his exhausted rush.


    There were three pok¨¦mon blocking his way.


    As he crosses from forest to an open plateau, the last creature crashes into his back and sends him tumbling into the snow in a tangle of limbs. Frantically he tries to fend the beast off with one arm, slamming his fist into its side to no effect.


    The black-furred pok¨¦mon loomed over Aidinza, its ruby red eyes filled with cruelty and savage anger as it snarled in his face, its rotten breath feeling like it was moments away from freezing the moisture in his eyes.


    Then in a flash of moonlight, pain blossomed along the arm keeping the lakeside ghost hidden against his chest. He screams as his arm is wrenched away, claw scraping against bone.


    A beat passes, then something¡­ heavy and wrong touches the air. Hidden by the creature''s bulk, he feels as the lakeside ghost twists and contorts. Then what feels like a hundred thousand skittering legs pour off it, over his skin and onto the clawed creature poised over him. While he could not see what it was, he certainly saw what it did to the creature. It screamed in terror, powerful claws tearing at its fur as it panicked.


    Aidinza tossed the creature from his body as it madly scratched at itself, tearing out clumps of fur as a hideous mass of skittering black poured over it. He did not take a moment to figure out what it was, forcing his brutalised arm back up to cusp the lakeside ghost to his chest and then forcing himself to keep moving.


    Already he heard the rest of the pack screeching behind him, trees rustling as they descended to the ground to chase him. But they were too far away as Aidinza approached what he had seen through the trees.


    Pushing him uphill had been an intelligent tactic to exhaust him, sapping at his strength far more than just running along flat forest ground would have. But unfortunately for his pursuers, uphill inevitably became downhill.


    Snow sprayed as he skidded to a stop, eyeing the drop before him with trepidation. It was far from a sheer cliff face, but there was no chance he would have anything beyond the barest hints of control beyond the first six steps.


    He glanced over his shoulder at the approaching horde and felt his lips pull into a sardonic smile. The barest hint of control was better than no control at all, he supposed. He takes a single look at the ghost still clutched to his chest, half coated in blood from where his arm had been stabbed.


    It nearly looked like the ghost Aidinza had first met. But it was clear it was exhausted as a single yellow eye cracked open to peer up at Aidinza. He gives it a reassuring smile that he was pretty sure was just too many shades beyond mad to be anything akin and covers it with his arm once more.


    And jumps.


    He managed all of eight steps before the momentum ripped his legs from under him, and he was left to tuck his limbs in and hope that whatever he hit at the bottom was soft enough not to break him.


    For nearly three minutes, he tumbled down the hill, rolling and rolling and rolling, able to do little more than hiss in pain as his already pummelled body was thrashed further, as thin shrubbery sliced at his skin, and he was slammed again and again into the ground.


    Even his iron discipline could not force him to do anything more than lie there in the furrowed snow and groan as he finally came to a rolling stop at the foot of the hill. After a long moment, he feels the lakeside ghost in his arms stir, and he carefully rubs a thumb across its half-existent head.


    Aidinza grunts as he sits up, his left arm rubbing at his thigh where it had landed on a rock during his descent. He glances to the side, seeing that he had avoided breaking his back on a frozen pond by mere metres. Then he glances up the hill, a vindictive part of him hoping to see the black-furred wretches seething at his escape.


    But this blasted, demented place would never be so kindly. He felt despair stab through him as the miserable creatures raced down the hill, their long claws anchoring them as they went. He sighed and glanced down to meet yellow eyes, it still flickered and jittered beyond the boundary of its own body, but it was only a stone''s throw from seemingly being fully recovered.


    "You should probably get a move on." He mutters with cold, stiff lips as he staggers to his feet. The ghost just stared up at him, wide-eyed. "I can''t get away from them, couldn''t before, sure shot won''t be able to now. But it''ll take them a moment, hey? Maybe that''s enough of a head start."


    Something catches in his throat, and he forces himself to swallow down a hopeless noise. "Just do me a favour? You know the Pheyan''atho? They have my pok¨¦mon. I need you to¡­ tell them I''m sorry. Tell Naazin to look after the others, no leaving Nihanlo to just freeze somewhere, a-and tell Shand¨ª¨ªn not to give any reason for the others to beat him up too much."


    He rambles, the words spilling from his mouth in an endless tide. "Tell Pawniard, and blast it even, Mawile. I''m sorry that I didn''t have enough time. That even if they weren''t around long, they''re still part of the team. Tell Astazhei I''m proud of him, a-and Nihanlo has to look after the team, but Astazhei has to protect them, alright? And to do that, he needs to look after himself."


    He pulls the ghost from his chest, lifting it in the air. "And Sandile¡­ tell him he was right, and I''m sorry I shouldn''t have left him behind¡­." He hangs his head for a moment. "and I''m so so glad it was him that day. I''m sorry we fought before I left, and I love him, tell the entire team I love them, alright? A-and tell Astazhei to find a Corviknight in the Ya''an-ah desert; she can lead them to my sister."


    His eyes flick to the hill again, the pack closing in with every passing moment. "You have to go." He looks back at the ghost as it curls around his arm, staring at him wide-eyed. "You have to go. Tell them, please." He begs as he tries to push it into the air.


    It does not move.


    The rasp of claw on claw fills the air.


    It was too late.


    Aidizna sighed and pulled his right arm across his body again, hiding the ghost from view. He made it this far, may as well see how long he can make it take.


    He lets his gaze slip over to the approaching pok¨¦mon, his green eyes flinty. The sneak of pok¨¦mon approached with languid intent, they knew as well as Aidinza did that he was not getting away after a fall like that. His eyes paused on one as it stepped forward, chest puffed out. It was bigger than the others, older maybe, or a leader of some sort. A clump of fur on its chest was burnt away, exposing bleeding leathery hide underneath. He flashes teeth at the creature and feels a malicious rush of satisfaction as it flinches back.


    This might have been the end of the line, but Aidinza had made sure that they would remember him for a long time, and even though he knew that antagonising them would only make things worse, he would take what victories he could get at this point.


    "Not like it could get much worse." He mutters, carefully controlling his breath as it misted in the freezing air in front of him.


    The moment of weakness seemed to infuriate the black-furred mustelid as the pack paused to snicker, and it surged forward with a furious squeal. Claws trailed along the ground, sending a snow spray drifting into the air.


    It seemed to be little more than a wasteful display, something to desperately assuage the wound to its pride. Unfortunately for the creature, it made it child''s play to jilt out the way. He sidesteps the wild charge with a twist of his feet, his boot stomping in its back and sending it sprawling metres away.


    In a moment, it was back on its feet, its ruby-red eyes flashed with fury, and a steely light slowly spread down its claws. There was no doubt that it was livid.


    A low growl filled the clearing, the mustelid froze, and Aidinza realised he had managed to live long enough to regret his words, as a large figure stalked out of the forest.


    It was a beartic, filthy, dishevelled, but no less brutally imposing. Its mouth peeled back, exposing jagged teeth as its roar shook the forest. The pride-fouled leader twisted around to face it, hissing as it attempted to puff itself up.


    The ice bear hardly gave it a second glance as its mighty paw slammed into its body, sending the long-clawed creature crashing into a boneless heap metres away.


    The beartic snuffs at the air once, and then beady black eyes lock onto Aidinza.


    Aidinza remembered those eyes just as well as they remembered him. But last he saw them, they were filled with such red-hot fury that they stilled his heart. These eyes were not filled with red-hot rage. No, this was far colder¡­ darker. The beartic was not angry. It was filled with hate. Unrelenting black hatred, cold and focused.


    The beartic was going to rip him apart. Not just because he was food or because he had invaded its territory. But because it was going to personally revel in it. Because it wanted to.


    It limped forward, its left paw a mangled mess of exposed flesh and crushed claw. It must have been injured by the cave''s partial collapse, Aidinza realised.


    It blamed him for that.


    In most circumstances, that would have been terrible. The absolute worst possibility, a wild pok¨¦mon actively wanting you dead, usually only ended one way, especially for someone with no pok¨¦mon to protect them. But¡­ Aidinza''s attention drifts, ever so slightly, to the pack of pok¨¦mon that had just spent the last hour hunting him through the forest.


    For a moment, all the smaller pok¨¦mon did was shifted awkwardly. They had been off put in a simple standoff with a human hardly able to harm them against a brutally behemothic beartic; they were thoroughly unnerved, hardly daring to breathe.


    The beartic turns on the creatures, its eyes filled with burgeoning madness, as a possessive, hateful growl rips from its throat, sending the pack flinching back. It wanted Aidinza for itself and wanted nothing to interfere with that.


    A moment passed as a tense standoff formed between the three parties, and Aidinza studied each in turn.


    First, the pack of pok¨¦mon not wanting to give up their prize so easily. They had hunted him and the lakeside ghost for hours, tormenting their prey through icy, dark forests. Aidinza knew the teetering edge of hunger that wild pok¨¦mon often existed on; this much energy expended with nothing to show for it¡­ it boded poorly for their winter.


    Aidinza''s feet slowly shifted in the snow, his breath carefully controlled as he angled himself away from the pack. Despite the hate and power behind the beartic, he suspected the pack would be the biggest danger to him getting out of this alive.


    The second was beartic, a barely restrained abyss of hateful insanity swirling in its eyes, a cloying desperation to take revenge into its own potent claws. It had been slighted, its home invaded and if Aidinza had to guess, partially destroyed when it caused that cave-in. He might have even been sympathetic if it was not his neck on the line.


    The lakeside ghost stirred, its body slowly coiling around his arm. He could escape the beartic he had managed the first day. He was injured¡­ but so was the beartic. It was just a matter of getting somewhere he could leverage his superior agility. His legs tense as he carefully scans the surroundings, his heart sinking as he realised that the closest treeline was where the Beartic had emerged from and that behind him was open ground. Both doomed prospects unless¡­


    The last of this little triumvirate was, of course, Aidinza, not wanting to die in some frozen hellhole. Selfish, he knew. He hoped that the Sun could forgive him for his lack of consideration. With a touch of something mad rearing up in his mind, Aidinza laughed at his own joke.


    It was a little thing, little more than a chortle and a snort. But it was enough to break the tense air. The beartic surged forward with a furious roar, spittle flying everywhere as powerful muscles threw it forward metres in moments. The pack split between defending ''their'' meal and fleeing in the face of such a powerful pok¨¦mon do both, some scampering away, others lingering to watch the beartic.


    Aidinza, for his part, twisted on his feet and bolted for the tree line as fast as his ruined body could. It was a pretty impressive speed, but compared to the beartic, it was almost like he was standing still.


    He would never make it to the tree line.


    But then, as his feet hit slick ice, that was not his goal. His grip tightened around the claw, wincing as it dug into his bandages, and he desperately hoped it was in good enough shape.


    Whoever said that only Trainers taught pok¨¦mon and not vice versa?


    Aidinza lets his feet slip out under him, momentum carrying him for a moment over the slick ice as he twists in the air. Behind him by a mere metre was the beartic, and Aidinza liked to think if its face was not burning with so much hate, it would have been confused as its target dropped right in front of it.


    With all the force he could muster, he slammed the claw into the ice, grunting as it stabbed through, and momentum nearly ripped his shoulder from its socket. Then he ripped himself forward and dove for the beartics'' left side.


    It attempts to stop itself, to fight against the incredible momentum it had already built up, and whirl around to crush Aidinza. But it makes a critical mistake. It puts its total weight on its left paw.


    The leg, mangled by whatever happened in the aftermath of Aidinza''s escape, buckled and collapsed from underneath the massive bear, sending it crumpled into the ice.


    Aidinza did not waste a second, scrambling to his feet and making the mad dash to the far closer forest from which the beartic had emerged.


    Which put him in the path, once more, of the black-furred hunters. Few had stuck around, but those who did wasted no time trying to take advantage of the opportunity. For another insane moment, Aidinza wondered what even their plan was, the beartic had tripped, not been laid low, and already he could feel the shake of the ground as it began moving again. Even if they managed to kill him, the beartic was so consumed by hateful vengeance that it would probably rip them to shreds for it.


    Aidinza would probably never find out. Thankfully, rather than because they managed their first step, it was because the oppressive wrongness of the lakeside ghost once more touched the air.


    Once again, a tide of skittering things - bugs, Aidinza realises, but none of what he had ever known - spills from the lakeside ghost, dropping from Aidinza''s chest to form a carpet of scurrying black.


    Whatever the move was, it was effective in repelling the pok¨¦mon. But it seemed to exhaust the ghost further, its once nearly fully defined shape once more going strange around Aidinza''s arms.


    Something that he could process later, or maybe he would just try to desperately forget the horrible feeling of that many insects crawling over him. For now, he simply focused on getting away.


    The relief that flooded Aidinza as he crossed into the forest made him wonder if this was how people with Verdanturf syndrome began to feel about their captors? Not even a sense of safety, but of slightly less danger sparking a feeling of intimacy.


    When all this was over, Aidinza was going to have to make sure that he did not have any lingering attachment to this blasted place.


    Of course, that was all theoretical, as the beartic reminded him mere moments later as it crashed through the tree line behind Aidinza, sending splinters flying everywhere.


    He was not out of the woods yet in the most literal interpretation of matters. He ducked and weaved through heavy underbrush and thick roots, pushing his thrashed body for all it had left.


    All he had left was not much. He was running on two hours of sleep at best, even if it had just been three days of gruelling physical exertion and surviving extreme cold that would have left him exhausted enough. But add to those hours of running and tormentation, a tumble down hundreds of metres of hill, and the injuries he had wracked up from the cave?


    Aidinza was lucky to be moving and, in very frank terms, doubted he would be moving for much longer.


    But he managed to move far enough as he stumbled past a tree; taking a moment to prop himself up on it, he listened carefully. When several moments passed, and he did not hear a single tree felled by the monstrous strength of the beartic, he felt relief flood through him.


    He collapses to the ground, taking desperate heaves of air, chasing the terrible burn from his lungs for what feels like minutes. It was only the lakeside ghost stirring, unwrapping from his arm, that pulled him out of his recovery.


    Aidinza glances down at the ghost, trying to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes. Was it¡­ smaller? The lakeside ghost had never been particularly large, but now it was downright diminutive, or maybe his bone-tired mind was playing tricks on him.


    He dazedly shook his head, trying to focus as the ghost tugged at his wrist, barely able to do much more than budge his arm. He studied it again for a moment, wondering if it had something it was trying to tell him.


    Slowly his attention slides up to where it was tugging him ''towards''. He blinked as a rush of recognition hit him; he was close to his first camp. Close to where he had first arrived at this horrid place.


    "I have either gone a very long distance or a very short one." The lakeside ghost tugs at his wrist again with as much urgency as its own exhausted body could muster. However, it was also spent from the brutal night, slumping out of the air to hang off Aidinza''s wrist.


    He''s distracted from the ghost as something solid drops from the air, bouncing off his shoulder. He grabbed it; it was a small piece of "Hail?" He blinked, brow furrowing. It had been snowing non-stop since he arrived, but thankfully the weather had been mercifully uneventful. A moment later, more pieces of hailstone began to fall, the beginnings of a hailstorm.


    His attention slowly drifts back to that familiar tree. "You might be onto something." He mutters towards the ghost before he sways to his feet, pushing through the continuous ache that pervaded his body as he limped in the vague direction of his once-camp. It did not take long; the lean-to he had made two days before stood firm, even if it was coated in a thick layer of snow and a growing layer of hailstone.


    Hail crunches as he sits down underneath the lean-to, and a yawn cracks his jaw. With a moment''s peace, the adrenaline flooding his veins fled, and he was left moments away from crashing in its aftermath.


    With leaden limbs, he reaches out and brushes the snow from the fire-pit, there was not much as it had been covered by the weaved roof of the lean-to, but even that meant that the kindling underneath was damp and cold.


    He sighs and leans back as his eyes grow heavy. The Moon had nearly slipped from the sky, and the slightest hint of the Sun''s glory purpled the slightly cloudy sky. Dawn would break soon, and this would all be over.


    As if the forest itself was rebutting him, the hail grew heavier, the sound of it bouncing off the trees near deafening.


    The lakeside ghost tugged at his wrist again, and when he looked down, its wide yellow eyes were staring up at him. He smiles at it, his other hand coming to stroke along its body, the terrible sinking hopelessness when it did not flee before long since fallen away. "We''re safe; this is going to be over soon."


    It seemed to visibly gather itself and tugged on his wrist again, the simple act seeming to exhaust it. Aidinza''s brow furrowed; it seemed¡­ worried? His eyes linger on where it was still clinging to his arm. Even exhausted as it was, it refused to let go of him. Did it¡­ want to come with him?


    A warm joy bubbled up in his chest; he had grown attached to the lakeside ghost, and if there was anything that would leave him with fond memories of this place, it would have been meeting the serpentine pok¨¦mon. "If you want to come with m-."


    Humans can not physically keep up with a pok¨¦mon; some pok¨¦mon they could maybe briefly overpower if surprised, and if they had momentum on their side, Aidinza proved that. But the moment their strange energy came into play, there was little a human could do to compete.


    Except when it came to reaction speed, especially when it came to Trainers. They dedicated hours every day to trying to keep up with pok¨¦mon, and so their reactions were honed to a fine edge.


    That reaction speed was the only reason Aidinza was not crushed under his own lean-to. He throws himself forward as a towering form shatters the wood into splinters, crushing through the weaved lean-to with contemptuous ease.


    Adrenaline floods through Aidinza, the dark edge encroaching on his vision ripping away as he rolls over his shoulder, twisting around to see his assailant.


    The beartic.


    Of course, it was the beartic.


    In the dwindling hailstorm, it was nearly invisible, just a looming figure of gaunt ribs and potent muscles. But the hateful murder that poured off its every twitch was unmistakable.


    Aidinza attempted to throw himself into another run, it would have been fruitless at this distance, but it would have been at least an attempt. But the moment''s rest had cost him; his tired muscles and strained nerves had cooled and were no longer primed to the intense effort that had been needed to keep Aidinza alive throughout the night.


    His calf spasms and tightens into an excruciating stitch.


    He crashes to the snowy ground, back cracking painfully even through the thick snow, all but left immobile as the homicidal beartic stalks forward. Aidinza drags himself backwards through the snow, a last-ditch effort to keep the space between him and the ice type. But it only takes a few seconds for him to bump against a tree, the solid wood a terrible condemnation.


    Lacking anything better to do, he pushes himself upright, back against the tree, as he watches the beartic stride forward. For a moment, Aidinza wondered if it was savouring its victory or if it was simply making sure that he had no hope of escape.


    With as much subtly as he could manage, he tries to shift the ghost off him. Hoping that it realised that even if it had not fled the first time Aidinza offered, that now was different. With his other hand, his fingers closed around the claw in his trouser.


    Aidinza and the ice-types eyes met for one last time, the demented hate-filled black meeting grimly defiant green.


    A powerful paw glowed white as the beartic reared up.


    A low, mournful, keen filled the air as the ghost twisted around his arm.


    Aidinza lunged forward, claw held like a dagger, one last obstinence as the paw crushed down through the air.


    The red dawn touched the horizon.


    Both met nothing but air.


    Three intensely bright beams slam into the beartic''s side, digging into pinched ribs with macerating force and sending the ice type flying off to the side.


    His head snaps to the source, his stomach turning strangely as both relief and innate fear curled through him. In the air hovered the three-headed figure of Unova''s most feared brute. On its back, a robed figure sat.


    The Pheyan''atho.


    The beartic was on its feet in moments, a terrible roar shaking snow loose from the trees, and it charged forward. For the hydregion or Aidinza, the young nomad could hardly tell.


    Mostly because it did not get far, a whistle pierces the air, and once again, three orange beams - hyper beam his dizzy mind recognises - lance through the air and crash into the beartic, sending it toppling to the ground.


    Weakly it attempts to push itself to its feet, the black hate in its eyes burning away under a helpless rage as its prize was ripped from its grip at the last moment. Despite himself, Aidinza found himself impressed. Hydregion was the apex of Unova for a reason; even taking an attack from one was beyond what most pok¨¦mon could dream of mustering.


    To get up after two? Especially one as powerful as hyper beam - his tired mind was still rolling over the consecutive uses - that really did speak to the beartic¡¯s commitment.


    Granted, that was a commitment to rip Aidinza limb from limb. But in that moment of terror, exhaustion, and relief, he found himself flippant enough to look past that.


    The third barrage was too much even for the beartic; it collapsed into the snow, breathing but unmoving.


    Footsteps pulled Aidinza''s attention away from his attempted killer, and he felt the ghost slip away as the figure approached him. He resists the urge to try and catch the ghost, merely staring down the approaching elder.


    It might have stung, but it was the lakeside ghost''s decision.


    "You''re alive." Unktehila''s words were not precisely pleasantly surprised, but they were close. More like his expectations were met, but he was not sure what his expectations really were.


    Aidizna leaned back against the tree behind him, dulled green eyes meeting calculating brown. He should have gotten to his feet and greeted Unktehila as his status as another tribe''s elder deserved. Under most circumstances, he would; Aidinza was nothing if not polite.


    "Take me back to the village; I want to get back to my pok¨¦mon." This was not most circumstances, so all the elder got was a flat demand.


    If that offended Unktehila, or his two companions, they did not show it. The elder merely inclined his head and whistled once more, a higher pitch this time.


    The hydregion approached, and Aidinza climbed onto it.


    They were gone in moments.


    -


    Flying on the back of a hydregion, without being blindfolded, gave Aidinza an appreciation for many things. First and foremost, how smooth the wingless flight of the Unovan Brute was. The second was that it was no surprise that the Pheyan''atho stood on the precipice of Unovan dominance so many times throughout Unova''s history. The sheer speed of the dragon type was a terrifying combination with its absolute power.


    It had taken the dragon only twenty minutes to clear the icy forest, and the relief that flooded Aidinza as they broke the treeline was indescribable. All the tension and stress bled from his body between one breath and the next.


    He was looking forward to indulging in the comforts of society, a good tent and enough food to fill his belly.


    A few minutes later the hydregion lands in one of the many clearings that dotted the village of dragons.


    One already filled with waiting Pheyan''atho.


    Carefully Aidinza slips from the dragon''s back, wincing as he landed on pained limbs. A mutter passes through the crowd, low and pointed. Unktehila is not far behind Aidinza, something which only causes the muttering to intensify.


    ¡°De u?kitawapisni hok?ina yuha ni Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we. Isw-" Unktehila begins, his voice low and solemn. But as the crowd parted before a tall, white-haired figure, he fell silent.


    Aidinza did not blame him; Drayden''s face might as well have been carved from stone, his countenance giving almost nothing away. But there was a flicker of something furious in his yellow-brown eyes. For a long moment, he says nothing, simply staring down Unktehila.


    "The outsider has completed his Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we, Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?. Three days and three nights until the red light of dawn." The elder''s voice was, perhaps on the surface, respectful. But even Aidinza could feel the poison dripping from each word.


    "This was not what I meant, Unktehila." Drayden''s voice was measured but far from calm. Each word chosen carefully lest they flare up into an uncontrolled tirade.


    "You demanded proof. I give you proof. His heart beats, his lungs rattle in his ribs. Makipa? itu??nis''a." Another hush of whispers, whatever Unktehila had just declared, it seemed to carry with it a heavy weight.


    Drayden''s demeanour shifts, and he all but snarls at Unktehila before turning to Aidinza. The look on his face was fearsome, and if Aidinza had not just spent three days staring down pok¨¦mon hellbent on tearing him limb from limb, he would have been cowed.


    As it was, tired green eyes met furious burnished gold with an indolent stare.


    A few moments pass, before Drayden recollects himself, his face imperious.


    "Have you learned what you came for, Ya''an-ah?" There was something cruel in Drayden''s eyes, like he was moments from revealing a sick trick. Aidinza''s mouth opens, a half-formed mind to tell Drayden to shove his head up Unktehila''s ass before the words register and his indolence flees.


    Had he?


    Between the terror, and helplessness and freezing cold. Had he learnt something? Had he learned what Brycen told him to learn?


    He stood there, searching in himself. Searching for something fundamental about him that had changed or some truth that three days of torture had revealed. In that moment, he found nothing.


    Three days.


    Wasted.


    The thought almost drives Aidinza to despair as his eyes trace the assembled Pheyan''atho¡­


    Elders.


    ¡­


    He scans the gathered people again and casts his mind back to the near week he had spent with these people. As he looks, he meets Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s eyes, the brown-eyed boy seems lost, but when he realised he had Aidizna''s attention, he simply mouths, ''are you okay?''


    Aidinza just stares at the boy for a while as he nervously shifts.


    For a moment, he just looked.


    "There is nothing for me to learn here, is there, Drayden?" Brycen did not send him here to search for a lesson steeped in wisdom. "Or nothing I wanted to learn."


    He sent him here to learn a lesson steeped in warning.


    "Where is your next generation Drayden?" His own tribe had blinded him to this, he realises. The Naisho''h were old, or they were young. They were a tribe in decline as their adults fled deeper into the desert.


    The Pheyan''atho were not far different. But it was not a fervent adherence to faith that had brought them low.


    "Don''t try this, boy." Drayden''s voice was filled with a deadly calm. A warning that Aidinza would not like what happened if he kept this up.


    "Do you even know? Do you even care?" Aidinza pressed on regardless, and the way Drayden''s nostrils flared told him all he needed to know. "You don''t even want to know. How long would you have let me stumble around deluded to think that I would want my people to be like yours? Are you even really a people Drayden? Your own leader runs from his name, what else does he flinch from?"


    And there it was.


    That flicker of shame in his eyes.


    Aidinza felt his anger build, his tired eyes growing sharper. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe he had just gone over an edge, chasing after a delusion in his mind¡­ Unktehila might have almost gotten him killed, but if what he thought was happening here was true¡­


    Drayden was spitting in the face of the whole point of Aidinza''s journey.


    "Why do you deny Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den?" Aidinza hears the boy''s sharp intake of breath but keeps staring down Drayden. The question related to his friend, but it was not for him. "Where are your people? Do they even know who they are?"


    "You have no idea what you''re talking about. Tokataha?." Drayden''s voice shivered, his hand wavering between his belt and chest as his eyes began flickering from Aidinza to the empty air around him.


    ¡°Ita?ca? wica?ta otok-.¡± Unktehila speaks; his voice is soft, consoling even. But Drayden interrupts him.


    "No. I have had enough of this." Drayden''s head snaps to Unktehila, his voice a low growl. "Unktehila, you have done enough damage today. We''ll talk about your role in this later. Ya¡¯an-ah, Tokataha?.¡± He spits out, as he looks at Aidinza. "You have gone behind my back, abused my hospitality, and accused me in my own lands. I will not deny you a gym battle, but I will deny you my home. Leave."


    The gym leader turns sharply, his head held high and the crowd once more parts before him. Aidinza could almost be fooled into thinking that Drayden thought he was in control, was almost fooled into thinking that the retreat did not burn like bile in the Gym Leader''s throat.


    "Two days," Aidinza calls after Drayden''s retreating back, his lips pressed into a thin line.


    The gym leader did not pause his stride, merely scoffing as he continued to walk away, the door of one of the many houses dotting the valley slamming shut behind him.


    The young native stands there, staring at where Drayden had disappeared, as the Pheyan''atho mutter among themselves.


    "Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den." He glances over to the boy and watches as it takes him a long pause to snap out of his daze. Aidinza jerks his head and lets a grin cross his face as the boy rushes over. "In order, I want my pok¨¦mon, I want enough meat to feed a snorlax, and I want my tent. Reckon, you can help with that?"


    "Uh, what do you feel about something greasy?" The boy seemed half torn between disbelief and concern, close enough to see the full extent of Aidinza''s injuries.


    "I don''t know what that is." But it sounded absolutely perfect to Aidinza''s ears at that moment.


    "I know a burger place in Opelucid that has an open pok¨¦mon seating area." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den gestured towards the mouth of the valley, where Aidinza imagined if his vision was not swimming, he would see Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s bike.


    He steps off.


    "Pok¨¦mon, then burg-." Black encroached on the edge of his vision, and his legs collapsed out from underneath him. Only Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s quick reactions stopped him from slamming face-first into the snow.


    "Aidinza, I think you need to go to the hospital." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den hoisted the Naisho''h upright, pulling Aidinza''s arm over his shoulder as he did so.


    ¡°Pok¨¦mon, burger, tent.¡± Aidinza insisted as he tried to limp forward.


    "You''re bleeding." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den held him back by his arm, studying the hand that had been ripped apart by repeated uses of the claw. "By Zekrom, I can see bone Aidinza."


    "Pok¨¦mon, burger, hospital?" He offered, after a moment of thinking.


    The younger Pheyan''atho boy groans.

 Burgers and Roofs

    Three broken ribs, a fractured left forearm, two dislocated fingers, a fist-sized gouge in his shin, a "half dislocated ankle", frostbite, and innumerable lacerations and scrapes. On top of that was severe dehydration, extreme sleep deprivation, three separate infections, blood loss, and lactic acidosis.


    Aidinza''s body had been shattered by his experience in Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka. The honoured healer had told him that it was baffling that he was still breathing, much less walking.


    In another time, there might have been nothing that they could do. He would have been out of commission for months at minimum; even pok¨¦mon healing would have meant a brutal and imprecise recovery.


    But modernity came with miracles, apparently. The same advances that bottled sprays capable of closing pok¨¦mon wounds in moments had helped human medicine leap forward to the point that Aidinza''s wounds were¡­


    Inconvenience was the wrong word, but there was a distinct feeling that the moment he crossed the threshold of the hospital, his recovered health was an eventuality.


    So with the strange feeling of foreign flesh slowly becoming indistinguishable from his normal flesh, a barrage of different pills and drinks slipped down his throat, and after minutes of attention from a specially trained Audino, Aidizna was told to rest.


    If there was any evidence needed to say Aidinza was still delirious, the fact that he was sitting on the hospital''s roof, instead of following the honoured healer''s words as stringently as he could manage, should be the final say.


    In his defence, the smell of the meal that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den bought was irresistible. With all respect to the healers of the hospital, the pill they had massaged down his throat might have given him all he needed to recover from three days of starvation, but it was far from a filling meal.


    The burger that was nearly so thick that he could not hold it in two hands, however, was as filling a meal as he had ever had.


    Aidinza takes another bite, and juice drips down his face as he hums appreciatively. The crunch of the bun, the explosion of flavour, the texture¡­


    Tsesei forgive him, but he had never eaten something so virulently addictive.


    "I never thought about how dangerous it could be." The voice reminds Aidinza that he was, in fact, sitting here with company, and as he wipes up the sauce from his mouth, he glances over to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den. "Sometimes the Elders talk about what happened with Iris, but¡­."


    He shrugs and looks out over the edge of the roof.


    "It was dangerous because I was unprepared and unwary. I''m Ya''an-ah; my home is the sands, not blasted ice forests." Aidinza offered his sauce-coated fingers to Sandile, where he was splayed out over Aidinza''s lap, occasionally snapping up whatever fell from his trainer''s burger.


    The words cause Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s gaze over the city to grow melancholic, and Aidinza caught his eyes, tracing the city streets in the dim light. Aidinza could guess the thoughts in his head.


    "You''d be the same in my home; the desert sands would chew a forest dweller like you up and spit you out in hours" Aidinza scratched along Sandile''s spine as the reptile shifted in his lap, wincing slightly as the ground type''s tight grip on his hospital robes pricked at his skin.


    "Heh, you reckon?" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den looks away from the city and then gives Aidinza a smirk, just bold enough to hide away the insecurity for a moment.


    "The mother desert has no time for pale forest dwellers. You wouldn''t even know what dune you were standing on past the first step." Aidinza hides a mocking grin behind a bite of his burger but does nothing to mask the taunt in his eyes.


    The Pheyan''atho boy, for his part, just shook his head and waved Aidinza off dismissively.


    A moment passed, and Aidinza snorted, sending both boys into a fit of giggles. The smile that crossed Aidinza''s face when he stopped was far from mocking; it had been a long time since he had someone he could just laugh over stupid, barely funny things with.


    Companionable silence descended on the roof, and Aidinza continued demolishing his burger as he watched Astazhei slowly circle the roof, enjoying the freedom from the hospital now that Aidinza was back. That enjoyment of his freedom would soon turn into a lust for a good fight soon enough if Aidinza had to wager a guess, and he would be bothering the others spread around the roof.


    He glances over to where Naazin was de- he pauses, taken aback for a moment. The clauncher was not asleep; instead, he was sitting on the roof''s edge, watching Aidinza. He gives the crustacean a smile and points up at Astazhei. Naazin''s eyes flick to the flying bird, and his antenna bob in what Aidinza hoped was acknowledgement.


    "So, who''s Iris?" Aidinza asks, turning back to the other human on the roof. Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den looks startled for a moment, pausing mid-bite of his own burger.


    Hurriedly he chews his mouthful, swallowing heavily. "Ahh, a cousin of mine¡­ I think? Another¡­ a member of the Pheyan''atho. Was meant to be the second coming of Drayden."


    "Was meant to be?" A flutter of wings interrupts Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den for a moment as Shand¨ª¨ªn lands on Aidinza''s shoulder, nearly toppling the nomad. He swats at the bird as it chortles and takes off again. That was the third time the fire type had done that since he had returned from the forest.


    "Don''t tell him I told you this, but every morning he would check the entire village for you. He missed you." Shand¨ª¨ªn pauses in his ascent and lets out an offended crow before diving at Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, passing over mere centimetres from the boy''s head. Aidinza just snorts and gives a wiry grin. "Maybe meant to be is the wrong word; it''s just¡­."


    He shrugs, furrowing his brow as he considers what to say next.


    "She was the last person to have her three days of Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we." He side-eyes Aidinza for a moment, and a wiry grin crosses his face. "Was being key there. Don''t know too much about it, but¡­ that was two years ago, and I haven''t seen her since."


    Something complex flashes over his face, but he covers it up behind his burger after a moment. Aidinza studied him as the Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s shoulders hunched slightly.


    There was a long story there. But it was not one that the Pheyan''atho boy was willing to tell.


    "What about other cousins?" He asks instead, as he polishes off the last of his burger. Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den perks up for a moment, and then he pauses.


    "A few, I think, no uncle or aunties, but I could probably trace my blood to some relation to everyone in the tribe..." For a moment, he looked lost, and it came as a surprise when he spoke up some time later. "How often do you see all of your tribe?" Aidinza leaned back and cast an obvious glance around the tall concrete buildings of Opelucid. He only lasted as far as the other native rolling his eyes before he cracked up laughing, nearly startling Sandile from his lap. "Yeah yeah, you know what I mean."


    Aidinza calms down and lets his face grow serious as he runs his fingers across Sandile''s scales. "The Naisho''h¡­ there is only the tribe. Before I came on this journey¡­." The young nomad''s mirth shifts into something maudlin and homesick. "It would be a strange day that I had not seen all my people, my family, my tribe by noon."


    He pauses, letting his mind wander through memories of toiling with his people, of playing with the children and learning at the feet of the elders. And of dumping sand in Kayeena''s tent to wake him up before the Sun peaked in the sky.


    "While the Ya''an-ah¡­ it could be weeks or it could be months before we would see another tribe. But we always made sure it was something to remember." The mother desert was cruel in her love and had long since taught the Ya''an-ah to make every memory as precious as they could. "The times when all the tribes would meet¡­." Aidinza''s smile turns proud as he slips into what may well be his earliest memory. One of a thousand riotous colours and a celebration that lasted weeks. "It''s something unforgettable."


    He glances back over to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, who, in stark contrast to Aidinza''s halcyon recollection, looked deeply troubled. The Pheyan''atho notices Aidinza''s attention, unsettled brown eyes meeting nostalgic green. He takes a moment, visibly looking for the words to say. "Unkethila rises an hour before the sun each morning and walks nearly two hours to reach Opelucid."


    Aidinza felt his lips tighten at the mention of the elder, but even if Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den was staring right at him, the boy was consumed in his own thoughts. "He''s eighty-seven. I always thought that was incredible; I love the Pheyan''atho I have ever since I left the Orphanage¡­ but I was always content with seeing the others once every few weeks or months or years. I asked him why once, and he just told me he hoped that I didn''t understand when I was his age."


    The northerner fell silent, but Aidinza did not need the rest of his words to understand what he was trying to say. "Let it only ever be spoken, but if the Naisho''h ever scattered to the winds, I would walk the breadth and width of the world to see them. I''m not sure¡­ I''m not sure I''d be able to handle anything else."


    The words almost seemed to physically strike the air from Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s lungs as he let out a sharp breath. His eyes cleared as the confusion unsettling him was torn away by a deep want.


    "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en won''t let you win. You know that, right?" Aidinza just nodded. He had no doubts in his heart that he was going to lose his upcoming gym battle. Brycen had told him as much, and he had done little to garner sympathy from the Ah-na-ghai of the Pheyan''atho. "He''s going to try to humiliate you. You''ve challenged him. He''s going to make an example of you; it''s what the Pheyan''atho do."


    "He''ll try." There was a quiet confidence in Aidinza''s tone that spoke more than anything else he might have said. He might have known he would lose this coming battle, but he would not lose it easily.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den seemed to latch onto that confidence, the want in his eyes crystallising into a drive. "We''ll need to do research. Read up on his rules, and watch his old battles. Come up with a strategy." He scrunches up his burger wrappings and stands up. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a panicked cry.


    A very familiar cry, one that resonated with the still-fresh memories of homely sand in Aidinza.


    And called up even fresher memories of freezing cold and dark woods.


    Aidinza snapped around to the source of the cry, eyes quickly finding where Nihanlo had been lying in front of a vent, enjoying the warm airstream.


    The sight he saw invoked a potent mixture of relief, panic, and, if Aidinza was honest, absurdity. It was the lakeside ghost, smaller than the first time Aidinza had met it but solidly defined.


    And frozen by its horn to Nihanlo''s back.


    He stares at the sight for a long moment as the lakeside ghost wiggles wildly in an attempt to get free, only managing to get itself more trapped by Nihanlo''s insanely cold body. Nihanlo, for her part, seemed completely unconcerned with the ghost frozen to her body, just blinking as the pok¨¦mon¡¯s struggles to levitate away hardly even budged the heavy ice-type. She turns to Aidinza and, seeing him paying her attention, bounds over to him.


    He smiles down at the eager ice-type, resisting the urge to run his fingers across her frozen shell. Before, his attention flicks to the lakeside ghost, as it seemingly gives up and plays¡­ dead.


    There had to be some level of irony in that, Aidinza thinks as he watches the shadowy green pok¨¦mon limply bounce around as Nihanlo meanders around in front of him.


    But before he could properly process that, the sound of a near hysteric fit of laughter, so loud that it spooked Sandile out of his lap, filled the air. He glances over to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den as the Pheyan''atho absolutely loses it.


    "A dreepy! It fits so well!" He crows as he doubles over, clutching at his midsection. Aidinza stares at the other boy, and after a few more seconds of laughing, Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den meets his stare.


    Then doubles over again. "It shouldn''t be so funny, but it is!"


    Aidinza felt like he was missing out on a joke and was pretty sure that the joke was at his expense. So he turns away from the hysterical native and sets about awkwardly trying to free the lakeside ghost from Nihanlo''s dangerous body.


    Finally, after Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den had calmed down, the boy began to explain what he found so funny. "It''s just¡­ okay, so that''s a dre-." He pauses and giggles again. "That''s a dreepy." Aidinza glances over as he and Sandile finally manage to free the Lakeside ghost - the dreepy, he supposed.


    "And what''s so funny about dreepy?" The ghost in question rises in the air, its body trying to shiver off Nihanlo''s cold. Aidinza reaches out, and moments later, the serpentine pok¨¦mon curls along his arm. He sits back down and pulls Sandile into his lap, letting the two pok¨¦mon study each other.


    "Well, uh. Dreepy are pretty elusive. Because they''re always with their caretaker, and they only¡­ um, are said to come out for a certain kind of person." The two boys exchange looks, both uncertain in their own way. "And you are¡­ that kind of person?"


    "Haha?" Aidinza questions trying to put Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den out of his misery.


    "It sounded funnier in my head." The young Ya''an-ah just nods, trying to give Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den an out to just stop talking. "So there''s a legend that every Dreepy is the soul of a great man lost at sea. Someone burdened in life by great responsibility, and when it comes back to life, they seek out someone similar to them in life, and help them shoulder their own burden."


    It was incredible that someone could look so uncomfortable yet try so hard to continue explaining something, Aidinza thought to himself as he watched Sandile yawn.


    "And you always seem like you''re thinking about something, and when the dreepy showed up, it was like ''duh what other dragon is he going to have'' and¡­ I''m going to stop now, okay?" Aidinza snorts and looks back up to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, the other boy as red as Aidinza''s hair.


    "You could have stopped several minutes ago. You should have stopped well over a minute ago." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den grimaces slightly and awkwardly rubs at his shoulder. Aidinza gives him a cheeky smile before turning back to see a peculiar sight.


    The dreepy with its head halfway into Sandile''s mouth.


    Both pok¨¦mon freeze as Aidinza lets out a panicked noise, Sandile''s eyes going wide as he snaps around to look for threats. With the lakeside ghost still held limply in his mouth. The ghost let out an echoing squeal, its back half wiggling wildly.


    "Sandile, do not eat that!" The desert reptile craned his neck back towards his trainer, visibility confused, his eyes wide. "Open your mouth." Aidinza firmly pointed at Sandile with as much authority as he could manage.


    Sandile, still visibly bemused, let his powerful jaw drop open, releasing a saliva-coated dreepy. Who, rather than looking terrified, instead looked inordinately pleased with itself, and held in its tiny forearms, was a small piece of half-rotten meat.


    Aidizna, for lack of anything else to do, glanced up at Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den. Wondering why Sandile''s teeth had not been cleaned properly.


    "Dreepy are really into helping out other pok¨¦mon; I hear over in Galar they call them the caretaker pok¨¦mon." Not exactly the question that he was thinking of, but useful information, he supposed.


    "You know a lot about dreepy," Aidinza commented idly, watching as the dreepy placed the rotten meat off to the side and began scratching at Sandile''s scales.


    "I am Pheyan''atho! We know our dragons." There was no mistaking the pride in his tone, almost deep enough to cover up the wistful longing shading his words. "Actually, that reminds me."


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stood up and, with long strides, approached Sandile and the dreepy. He squats down and lightly grasps the lakeside ghost''s tail. The ghost stiffened for a moment before glancing back at the Pheyan''atho. The boy smiled and mouthed something Aidinza did not catch. But the ghost relaxed as he did so.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Then Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stood up, spun the ghost by the tail over his head, and threw it off the roof.


    It took Aidinza a very long moment to process that.


    ¡°Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den?¡± He questions, his voice dangerously neutral.


    "Okay, I know what that looked like." The boy held his hand up, his face a strange mixture of delight and panic.


    "It looked like you threw that pok¨¦mon, a pok¨¦mon that saved my life, off a roof." Aidinza straightens up to his full height as Sandile''s low growl fills the roof.


    "It did look like I threw her off the roof, but¡­." He trails off and glances over his shoulder towards where he had tossed the dreepy.


    "Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, if there is not a good explanation, I will throw you off the roof." He liked the Pheyan''atho boy, but saving his life ran far deeper than the quick bond they had formed.


    Fortunately for Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, that was the moment that dreepy barreled back onto the roof, its entire body vibrating in excitement.


    "But dreepy like being thrown." He says with a flourish, a childish look of glee crossing his face. "You should try it."


    Aidinza''s attention lingers on the boy for a moment, a bizarre moment of uncertainty as he grapples with the idea of intentionally throwing a pok¨¦mon off a roof. Then he feels Sandile bump into his calf, and he glances at the ghost as the tight line of his shoulders relaxes.


    The dreepy perked up, eagerly floating forward and presenting its long tail to Aidinza. It was still for a moment before beginning to excitedly wag side to side.


    Aidinza would have to be heartless to reject that, so he grabs the dreepy tail and steps up to the edge of the roof. For a moment, he eyed the streets below; it was¡­ a long way down. The dreepy twists around to look up at Aidinza, its thin mouth parting as it pants in excitement.


    He supposed that heights like this were not much when it came to flying. Besides, Astazhei and Shand¨ª¨ªn were in the air, and he could interrupt their fight to go rescue the ghost.


    So he spins the ghost once over his head, then twice, then three times. He steps forward as he reaches the apex of the final spin and yeetes the ghost with all his strength.


    The tiny ghost arcs through the air like a softly glowing arrow with an incredible speed, quickly becoming little more than a dot against the soft glow of the city, then not even that.


    "I''ve always wanted to do that. Ever since I first heard about dreepy." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den leans down on the fencing at the edge of the hospital next to Aidinza. "Used to run around throwing rocks from a sling for hours. Drove Unktehila and Wacis''a-m?i crazy."


    "Always wanted a dreepy, then?" Aidinza''s eyes carefully trace the streets, concerned as he fails to spot the lakeside ghost again.


    "Always wanted a Dragon." He corrects the other boy, leaning back slightly to watch the intricate fight above. "It''s¡­ I am Pheyan''atho; Dragons are¡­ what we are."


    Silence falls between the two for a moment as Aidinza''s eyes finally find a soft glow racing back towards the hospital. He stares at it for a long moment, a part of him, deeply steeped in generosity and something else he was too scared to name, almost spoke up. Almost offered the lakeside ghost before a phantom freezing chill ran up his spine, and his bones shivered at the echo of a low growl.


    "Don''t," Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den spoke up, breaking him away from the warring emotions inside him. "That''s your Dragon." Aidizna glances over to him, meeting profoundly certain brown eyes. "Don''t even think about offering it."


    Aidinza looked away, feeling strangely guilty. But whether it was for almost offering the lakeside ghost - who he had yet to even catch, he scoffs to himself - or for having something that seemed to mean so much to the other boy¡­ he found he could not tell.


    A few moments pass and the two boys watch as the dreepy floats up the walls of the hospital. Immediately it beelined for Aidizna, shivering with excitement. Every so often, it would glance back to Aidinza, a pleading look in its eyes. But it was too excited to stay still, flittering around in the air like an excited child.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den claps the older boy on the shoulder once and straightens up. "That''s your dragon." He repeats before he walks off, only pausing a moment to give Nihanlo attention before disappearing through the roof door.


    The dreepy trills and begins twirling through the air above Aidinza''s hand. He reaches up and catches its tail; the ghost - dragon, as well, he supposed - goes stiff, its little limbs jittering in the air.


    He lifts the ghost up to his face and studies it for a moment. Doubt begins flickering in his stomach as he stares at its tiny, tiny form. It seemed so fragile, and Aidinza could swear he could feel the ill-feeling of the ghost''s¡­ something distorting away from the thin boundary of its body.


    Had the ghost been coming to see him when that pack of pok¨¦mon began hunting it? Did it blame him for what happened? Did it-


    The dreepy starts to hum with an almost musical keen, and Aidinza finds himself joining it, the notes pulled from some ancient part of his mind.


    Like some old, nostalgic lullaby.


    As the notes rumbled low in his throat, Aidinza felt bubbling doubt and panic drown away. The dreepy stops humming, and the two of their eyes meet.


    "You know I''m going to catch you, right?" Maybe in another circumstance, that would have been a choice Aidinza was giving the dreepy. Maybe in another time, there would have been an out inherent to his words. Every other one of his pok¨¦mon, save perhaps Mawile, had the opportunity to not come with him.


    Then the dreepy eagerly nodded, and with a flash of red,


    "Dreepy, female captured! Six Pok¨¦mon carry limit exceeded! Transferred to Route Five Pok¨¦mon Habitat Research Centre."


    Carefully he breathes out through his nose, as the pok¨¦ball disappears in a flash, and then leans down against the edge of the thick walls fencing off the roof. A small squeak catches his attention, and he glances to the side to see Naazin''s antenna softly waving in the light wind. The water-type studies his trainer for a moment, something inscrutable in the slant of his eyes.


    Aidinza purses his lips for a moment and looks out to the horizon. Slowly he breathes out as Sandile slumps over the top of his shoe, compelled under those studious eyes to say something, yet not knowing what. Carefully he closes his fingers to trace along the barely perceptible difference of new flesh.


    He meets Naazin''s studious gaze once more. "The hea- the honoured healer said to get some rest." The clauncher''s antenna twitches just far enough for the slightest of squeaks. Aidinza straightens up, takes one last look at the horizon, and leaves the roof.


    -


    The table buckles as Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den drops a box onto it with a grunt of exertion. Aidinza glances up from where he was carefully tapping, one key at a time, at the pok¨¦centre''s keyboard. For a moment, his attention lingers on the other native as he struggles to regain his breath before Aidinza looks at the heavy box. "That''s¡­ more than I was expecting." Aidinza was not sure what he had been expecting when Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den said that all of Drayden''s battles were taped, mostly out of an ignorance of what a tape was. But a box nearly half the size of Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den seemed excessive.


    He stands up from the computer, fumbling around in the dimlight of early morning to open the box and squinting at the tightly packed cases inside.


    Then again, Drayden was old, reigning as the pinnacle of Unova''s Gym Leaders for well over forty years, if the article he was reading was to be believed. Doubtlessly he had hundreds, if not thousands of battles in that position.


    Honestly, when Aidinza put it like that in his head, a box that size almost seemed reasonable. He wipes a thumb down the back of one case, brushing aside dust and muck.


    ¡®Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en Versus Agatha 09/10/2466 (Victory)¡¯


    He blinks for a moment; he would have expected that battles from Drayden''s early career as a gym leader would have been at the bottom of the box. Surely whoever was keeping the records was not pulling out all the old tapes to put the new ones on the bottom every time.


    He brushes the dust from the next one.


    ¡®Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en Versus Jurgen 09/10/2466 (Defeat)¡¯


    Two fights in one day? That had to be pretty rare; Aidinza deluded himself.


    ¡®Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en Versus Gwi''gie 09/10/2466 (Victory)¡¯


    Oh.


    ¡®Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en Versus Siegfried 09/10/2466 (Victory)¡¯


    ¡®Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en Versus Lisa 09/10/2466 (Defeat)¡¯


    ¡®Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en Versus Kanaye 10/10/2466 (Defeat)¡¯


    Aidinza slowly blinks and stares up at Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den wide-eyed.


    "That''s box one of two." The boy seemed as bewildered as Aidinza, weakly rubbing at his arm.


    "Two boxes sound¡­ manageable," Aidinza said weakly; that day had to have been a fluke then. The rest of them had to be one or two fights a day.


    "Box one of two for Sixty Six." There was no mistaking the deep awe that suffused Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s voice as he grappled with just how many battles Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en had fought.


    Aidinza could not help but feel the same stir in his own chest; even one battle a day could leave him feeling worn out and exhausted if it was particularly intense. He had read that Drayden has always, from the first day he had taken his mantle, had six on six battles, even if his victories were crushing, his defeats¡­


    They would have to be gruelling fights.


    "Please tell me that it was a busy year, and that''s why you brought it first." Aidinza''s voice was weak as he grappled with the realisation of the sheer depth of experience he was going up against.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, rather than doing anything so reasonable as nodding, instead shook his head. "S-slow year, took the record keeper less time to organise."


    Aidinza sits back down in his chair and leans back to stare at the ceiling.


    "That''s¡­ that''s so much." Even a quick six-on-six could take at least a quarter of an hour; a good six-on-six, one between the pinnacle of gym leaders and a trainer fit to fight him, would be a matter of hours of brutal back and forth. "Too much."


    He had a day, a single day, to cobble together something, anything to step toe to toe with Drayden. A man who had, at a conservative estimate, fought tens of thousands of battles.


    Aidinza could feel a low, sinking feeling in his stomach. He¡­ this was not going to go well for him.


    "We need more hands." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s voice broke him out of his burgeoning pessimism, and when Aidinza looked down from the ceiling, not even the dark of early morning could hide the sharp determination in his eyes.


    "I''d need a small army." There was no mockery in Aidinza''s tone, just an unadorned statement of fact. There was potentially years worth of footage on these tapes, and that was not a statement of period but of raw time.


    Between Aidinza and Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, it would literally take years to grind their way through it all.


    "Yes." The sheer aplomb made Aidinza sit up, studying the traces of conviction warring with momentary hesitance across Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s face.


    "You¡­ have an idea." The hesitation darkens the younger boy''s eyes further, but it was a thin layer of paint to the growing confidence stitching into Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s stature. "You don''t think I''ll like it¡­ but you think it will work."


    He slowly nodded before he turned towards the wide window that dominated the entrance of the pok¨¦centre, watching as the glorious Sun softly prodded at the horizon. "Elder Unktehila will reach the city soon."


    Aidinza felt distaste immediately flicker at his stomach as his hands found each other to trace along new flesh. The old Pheyan''atho had earned no kindness in Aidinza''s heart, even if Drayden had managed to find himself as the focus of Aidinza''s ire.


    If it was up to him, he would have nothing to do with the Elder ever again. The cold that still lingered in his bones, surging and writhing whenever he turned his mind to that.. that time saw to that.


    It was up to him if the uncertainty lingering in Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den were to be judged. But that look in his eye¡­ that damn certainty. Utterly convinced by his own thoughts, tinged with the assumption of victory.


    It was up to him¡­


    But it really was not.


    "Elder Unktehila will reach the city soon." Aidinza agreed, and that was that.


    -


    Unktehila had a split lip. A nasty gash that was the focal point of a large bruise that stretched into a purple swell of the entirety of his cheek. The end result of the kind of heavy punch that would put someone out like a light.


    There was a small part of Aidinza that was sad that he did not put it there.


    The injury on the Elder''s face does not seem to bother the man, however, as he calmly sat in the living room of ''little Win''heta-ite'' with a steaming cup of tea held lightly in his hands.


    Aidinza blew softly on his own tea, steadying the cup as Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den shifted next to him on the couch. "I''m sure you can understand the issue, Elder Unktehila. There is just¡­ so much to get through, and we only have a day."


    "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en was always relentless." It was impressive how much emotion could be expressed with four simple words. The simmering bitterness, the lingering resignation, and the deep exasperation. All wrapped around a heavy admiration. One worn and tattered but deep-rooted. "I can understand your issue, but I''m unsure what you think I can do about that. My old hands cannot turn years of work into hours."


    That was something that Aidinza had also been wondering. Despite his own experiences with the old Pheyan''tho, he did understand Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s respect for Unktehila. But he did not see how that translated into Unktehila being able to help them.


    "W-well uh." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stumbles over his words. His attention flicks between Aidinza and Unktehila, mouthing though nervously silent words.


    The door of the living room slams open, and a small figure rushes inside. "Uncle Urkel!" A childish voice cries out, jumping onto the couch and glomping on the elder in a hug.


    "Wan''la-ite! You''re getting so big!" Immediately the Elder lit up, delving into a salvo of answering from and asking questions of Wan''la-ite, a tiny girl of maybe nine.


    Aidinza looks to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, the question that he should have asked nearly half an hour ago before being swept up in the other boy''s conviction on his tongue. But the question died as that same flicker of assumed victory returned with force in Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den eyes as he stared at Unktehila and the youngest Pheyan''atho in the room.


    "Call yourself old all you want, Unktehila, but it''s¡­ it''s not your hands we need." The realisation of Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s words was sudden and stark, and Aidinza leaned back at the sheer audacity of it.


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den took Aidinza''s words that he needed a small army literally.


    "Who are you?" The youngest in the room asked as Unktehila and Aidinza grappled with his words.


    ¡°I¡¯m Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den.¡± Wan''la-ite''s eyes light up, leaning forward precariously on Unktehila''s knee.


    "You''ve got a funny name like me!" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den beams at that, open and joyous. As if being told he had a funny name was the greatest thing to ever happen to him.


    "We are Pheyan''atho. I''m your cousin, of sorts." The girl oohed at that, jumping off Unktehila''s lap to approach Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, studying him with keen brown eyes. Eyes that briefly turned suspicious.


    "How come I didn''t know your name then, huh?" She demands, voice impertinent and demanding.


    "I don''t know, but¡­." He trails off, but this time it is purposeful, as he looks up to meet Unktehila''s eyes without even a tinge of nervous energy. "I''m going to change that."


    "You already did!" She giggles, all traces of suspicion gone, and seemingly deciding that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den was being truthful enough about being family, clambered up onto the couch to poke and prod at him curiously.


    But Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den only lightly engaged with it, most of his attention still locked on the elder sitting opposite to him..


    Unktehila is silent for a long, long moment. Just watching the two younger Pheyan''atho with the eyes of a man dying of thirst, hearing the soft flow of an Oasis in the distance.


    "I think¡­" He slowly began, his face twisting in on himself with near physical pain, splitting open his lip further. The Elder takes a careful breath. "I think you might think that this¡­ this would be more important than it will be."


    His words were desperately raw, almost choked out of his throat, incapable of taking his eyes away from the sight in front of him.


    "I think¡­ that this can be as important as we want to make it. As important as it needs to be to bring us back together." The force of those words on the Old Elder would have made the punch that left such a harsh bruise swelling up half his face feel like the softest of caresses. He leaned back into his seat, mouth tracing through words soundlessly until finally.


    "Wan''la-ite. Go get your mother."


    -


    It was incredible, the difference in perspective about one man. What Unktehila was to Aidinza was someone who gambled with his life, leading him by the nose to the worst three days of his existence. What Unktehila was for the hundreds of families that they met after that conversation, however, was a beloved grandfather, a pillar of unflinching support that had again and again given his everything for all of them.


    So much so that the premise of him asking them to give up their entire day on no notice to do something as insane as helping a stranger prepare to fight their own gym leader¡­ was just a favour. Hundreds of people contorting their day for something that should have been incoherent, just on his askance.


    It was difficult to leverage the deep respect and love for the man against the man who almost got Aidinza killed.


    And as the day progressed, Aidinza found himself ravenously gripped by the need to find out the why. What drove that dichotomy? How can a man Aidinza found so repulsive, be genuinely beloved by so many.


    As the Sun crept towards its zenith, Aidinza got his chance. A moment alone with the Elder, a break between his own study of Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en and Unktehila''s endless march around the city.


    "What did you expect would happen when I entered Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka?" The question was as mild as Aidinza''s distaste for the other man would allow as they stood at the entrance of one of the many old Pheyan''atho buildings dotting Opelucid. One of the many they were quickly converting into some kind of mass internet cafe.


    "Are you asking if I thought it would be dangerous or what I thought would happen afterwards?" The reply was not quite practiced but obviously well considered, it had been on his tongue for a while.


    "The first to start, others to follow." Aidinza''s hand carefully traces along the new flesh of his hand, the shiver of freezing cold that the cave had left him creeping up his spine.


    "It had been years since the last Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we, and many more the one before that. Her Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we-."


    "Iris''s." Aidinza interrupts, remembering the conversation last night, and the elder just nods.


    "It did not go well. She came back empty-handed and¡­." He trails off, the carefully neutral look disappearing under some old, terrible memory.


    "His heart beats, his lungs rattle in his ribs," Aidinza mumbles, mostly to himself. An echo of the same words Unktehila spoke to Drayden.


    "Hers did not. Not¡­ not when we found her, with ice coiling across her body. Iris was Pheyan''atho; her blood is the blood of the land, just like your blood is the blood of your desert." And if it had done that to someone with such a deep connection to it¡­ "I had hoped you would live, but I knew there was a reason I would have to hope."


    Aidinza''s eyes closed, and he carefully breathed. There it was. The confirmation of what he had thought when he had first seen Unktehila at dawn yesterday. He had expected to either find Aidinza dead or in the state he had been.


    That just left two more questions.


    "You said that the only answers were earned. Did you¡­" Aidinza paused, unsure how to word his question, unsure how much he wished to reveal to this man.


    "I don''t know what you were looking for. What questions are so important to you, are important to you. Maybe they could have been found in Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka¡­ that was not my concern." Aidinza ran a hand through his hair as bitter self-recrimination took over his mind. He really did let himself get led around by the nose.


    "What a terrible idiot I am, then." His hand covers his eye for a moment before a violent impulse takes him, and he drives his palm into his forehead.


    Before he could do it again, a firm grip took his forearm, and when he looked up, it was to see Unktehila staring down at him, guilt bubbling in his eyes.


    "The sweetest lies are the ones we are already telling ourselves." The old man''s words were careful, tainted with regret and uncertainty. "But no matter how you sweeten them, it takes a Vespiqueen to make honey."


    "I should have-"


    "I lied to you, Aidinza. I manipulated you. It is an act I am not proud of, and it is one you should not blame yourself for. You could have noticed, yes, but I knew." It was a terrible thing to have someone you hate try to comfort you, and it was an act that left Aidinza adrift in a dizzy confusion.


    "Why." Was all the words left to him, a single word for enough questions to last hours.


    "I love my people, Aidinza. My entire life has been dedicated to the Pheyan''atho. During the golden ages and terrible, terrible times. I would give anything for them. I would give anything to make sure they continue." The words were¡­ old and terrible. Each carries the hidden weight of decades of joy and misery, carried by a face carved from stone. "I will not let them slip into the pages of history. You wanted to know what I expected to happen after your Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we? I expected just a chink in Drayden''s armour. The slightest edge I could leverage, no matter how minor, to pull my people out of his terrible strangle. That was what your potential death was worth to me."


    The grip on Aidinza''s forearm weakens, and the Ya''an-ah boy stumbles back. Staring at the Elder, trying to make any sense of the man¡¯s controlled countenance, of his indifferent eyes.


    "They love you?" It was a condemnation, an accusation, and an uncertain question all in one as he tried to grapple with the idea of hundreds of people willing to drop everything they were doing for a man like¡­


    Like this.


    The question shattered Unktehila''s mask, and out came shame and guilt and self-loathing in equal terrible measure. The old man''s shoulders slumped, and he turned from Aidinza.


    "My only hope, Aidinza. Is that I hold my people together for long enough that they realise that they should hate me." With that, the man simply walks away. Leaving the entrance, back to gathering the people he hoped would one day hate him.


    Leaving behind a man who wondered if he could.

 The Looming Mountain

    Pheyan''atho were born for combat.


    In times past, it was a common refrain, a boast usually spoken by the Pheyan''atho themselves.


    It took Aidinza sitting next to a Pheyan''atho boy hardly teasing his teens, whose only experience of his blood''s culture was intermittent meetings with Unktehila, as he utterly picked apart a pok¨¦mon battle, to realise that it was not just a boast.


    They had war in their veins, hot and fierce.


    A war that they bent solely and wholly to rip apart tens of thousands of recordings of Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en''s gym battles. It was an ungainly process, a thousand different ideas and a thousand different ways to convey them.


    But convey them, inevitably, they did. Write-ups and word of mouth consolidated and consolidated. Built upon and refined over and over as the Pheyan''atho painted a picture of what made Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en the pinnacle of Unova''s gyms.


    A picture that was writ grim for Aidinza. The Gym Leader had been fighting for decades, had seen tricks that would baffle Aidinza for days, and turned aside teams that would sweep him without a sweat.


    Maybe if this fight was to happen decades before, there would have been some glaring weakness that Aidinza could exploit to a victory. But those had been long since ironed out of the pinnacle of Unovan Gym Leaders. He had seen every trick and learned to adapt to each in turn, often in the same battle he encountered them, building up an endless repertoire in which even the craftiest tricks became almost rote to him.


    At this point in Drayden''s career, there was only one actual path to beating him.


    Being good enough.


    Aidinza, mere months into his journey and with only a single evolved pok¨¦mon to his name, was simply not at the point in his career where he was good enough.


    It should have been as simple as accepting that. The Sun exposed all truths in its rays and brooked no delusion about those truths. He should have accepted the obvious outcome and simply taken the crushing defeat he was owed.


    Yet¡­ that obvious truth seemed to not matter to the Pheyan''atho, and even as they painted a picture of grim, inevitable defeat, they continued painting. Slowly building a plan of a thousand iterations, predicated on a hundred different combinations of pok¨¦mon Drayden could send out, forked what felt like an impossible amount of times based on how Drayden would act, or react, or not act.


    It was humbling to understand just a taste of how far pok¨¦mon battles could actively be planned.


    But every single plan, no matter how elegant, or complex, or simple, or clever, or optimistic or or or¡­ inescapably, ran into the same problem. Aidinza''s team would run out of steam. Even the cheapest ''trades'' Aidinza could hope to manage would see him down several swaps or multiple pok¨¦mon.


    It always came back to the same issue. It was obvious.


    It was obvious. The Sun exposes all truths in its rays.


    It was obvious. So why was Aidinza sitting in front of this boxy screen long after the Sun had slipped past the horizon, long past the trickster moon''s apex? Why was he sitting in this horribly claustrophobic room, with nothing but a tiny window, half a dozen boxes of tapes, a chair that dug uncomfortably and a boxy screen that hurt to look at for too long, trying to get into the heads of trainers decades removed and impossibly more skilled than him?


    ¡­


    But he supposed that, too, was obvious.


    He presses the tape into the machine once more, as his lips thin.


    -


    Unova was a strange land of strange people. Strangely, Jurgen almost found that to be more familiar than if they were the same as those back home. Maybe that was because Jurgen always felt like an outsider looking in; maybe it was something else.


    The strangest thing about Unova, to Jurgen at least, was, almost ironically enough, one of the few things it shared with most of the world. The Gym Circuit. A part of him almost wanted to call it barbaric, some sort of strange edifice to violence.


    The larger part of him simply appreciated the elegance in how it inspired the next generation into something more controlled and restrained.


    He also appreciated the outlet it offered; he grinned to himself as he focused back on the fight in front of him. This Drayden may be young, but he was a lethal fighter. He had already removed Jung and Kaspar from play, something few other Unovan Gym Leaders had managed.


    "Lawrenz, Guidance." His voice naturally deepened into the boom of command, rolling across the shattered field and over the din of combat. Lawrenz, the steel behemoth who had long been the guiding anchor of his team, whirled. Yellowish energy blitzed from his steel frame as he distanced himself from the terribly powerful dragon Drayden had at his command.


    Drayden calls something to his beast after a moment of hesitation, carefully modulated to be just low enough to be unintelligible to Jurgen. But the split moment of hesitation was all Lawrenz needed as his body rattled and the twin prongs that made up his arms locked into place.


    "F Forty Six." In his people''s culture, it would be considered somewhat dishonourable to hide your commands beneath code. But Jurgen was always an outsider, and the frustration at his own foe toeing that line was mounting.


    Not that knowing what had been commanded would have helped Drayden, Lawrenz was a monster through and through, having ripped through entire ecosystems of lesser monsters in their journeys.


    The steel behemoth''s body lit up with yellow energy, and then the screws that jut from his back began tightening of their own accord, the energy turning white, then a deep blue.


    Once more, Drayden ordered something, but it was pointless. Lawrenz unleashed a beam of gathered energy that arced across the battlefield in a moment. The beam slammed into the dragon, consuming it utterly in a flash of light and the terrible rattle of an explosion.


    A moment later, as the dust settled, it brought with it a surprising sight. Drayden''s dragon, singed and charred but still standing, the barest touch of white slowly bleeding from its claws.


    ¡°Haxorus, m¨¢nika?y¨¦la!¡± Drayden''s voice was steady and firm. But the fact Jurgen could hear it clearly sold his desperation as much as any quiver in voice would have.


    Jurgen''s lips twitched up into a half smile; Lawrenz did that to everyone who witnessed the sheer power of F-


    -


    Aidinza''s thumb ejects the tape, one that he had watched a dozen times by now. Yet, strangely, he kept coming back to it. The battle was one of the older ones recorded, with poor quality and only a single camera angle that struggled to capture what would have been a magnificent battle.


    Yet there was a lesson here. His gut was telling him that there was something here that he could figure out then¡­


    Something would happen.


    Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation giving him delusions.


    He shakes his head and grabs the next tape. With one hand, he pushes it into the player, and with the other, he pushes his hair out of his eyes.


    -


    Kanaye was not impressed.


    Which was, in his opinion, a shame. Unova was meant to be a land of conquerors and warriors. Gym Leaders act more akin to warlords than protectors. The beating heart of the dark of humanity.


    All he had seen thus far, however, were hypocrites and weaklings. They were too scared to grip their blade barehanded and too weak to thrive in the true anarchy of battle.


    Drayden seemed like just another permutation of that. Standing so far back that he would not even feel the heat of battle singe his skin, and eying Kanaye with nervous energy.


    Kanaye would crush him like he had crushed everything else in his path, and he doubted the man would even warrant a footnote in the glorious legend Kanaye would be known by.


    The Gym Leader''s kenin rattled off some inanity, and rather than bothering to listen to him, Kanaye simply released the first of his team. A low hum filled the air, which quickly deepened into a rumbling growl that shook the earth. A tall, slender figure with pristine cream fur framed by regal violet and collared by a writhing flame of purple and red that obeyed no rational whim as it moved.


    Drayden released his own monster, a tall, rough creature with blue wings that seemed too small for its body and wicked red spikes that jut out from every part of it.


    The kenin awkwardly tried to interject, begging Kanaye to move himself off the field. But the man simply let a small smile stretch across his lips. "Rin, shadowclaw."


    Kanaye''s pok¨¦mon exploded forward, crossing the distance between her and the fluttering dragon in a flash, her shadow twisting and writhing behind her. Drayden''s dragon rushed to meet her, its sheer speed belied by its tremendous bulk shaking the ground.


    The two pok¨¦mon were set to crash together in a crash of terrible physicality. Rin''s form was lithe, but the lean muscles underneath told a story of limber strength, and no dragon could ever be considered a slouch in a brutal melee. It would set the pace for the entire fight and establish the tempo of strength that both fighters would carefully evaluate. The stronger would press their advantage, and the weaker would attempt to mitigate it.


    At least, that was what should have happened. Instead as the beast crashed into Rin''s form, it''s claws met nothing material, punching straight through like Rin was a ghost, or a cloud of vapor.


    Kanaye grinned as a snicker filled the air, and the illusion of Rin''s lithe form fell apart. In its place was a much shorter figure, with a mane of blood-red hair tipped with black spikes, grey fur, and, most importantly, shadow-wreathed red claws that had slipped completely underneath Drayden''s monster''s guard.


    It roared as the shadow claw slammed into its stomach unimpeded, buoyed by not only the strength in Mikasa''s short form but also the unanchored momentum of the monster''s own charge.


    ¡°Mikasa, Night Slash.¡± The words were unnecessary; Kanaye''s illusionist knew as well as he did to never waste time taking advantage of surprise, and already she was preparing to rip into the reeling creature as it struggled to decide what to do with the head-spinning pain and strangeness of its opponent changing mid-fight.


    But a barked command from Drayden cut through its confusion, and with two heavy beats of its wings, it ripped itself away from Mikasa''s strike, leaving the ill shadow of Night Slash to bleed away into the open air.


    "After it," Kanaye instructs, but Drayden''s monster was not going to give up its space easily, its mouth flickering with multi-hued light.


    -


    Aidinza shoved his finger into the fast-forward button; he knew what came next. While Drayden''s Druddigon was slower than the fox, its constant barrage of purple beams was enough to force the fox to abandon its pursuits, and it never seemed capable of finding the right angle to re-engage in the fierce melee it obviously thrived in.


    It was honestly a bit of a disappointment of a fight if it could even be described as a fight. Neither combatant was particularly excellent in the range that Drayden forced, but at the very least, the druddigon had the capacity to fight at that range.


    He pulled his finger away from the fast-forward button as he reached the end of the first bout, watching the furious scowl spread across the Challenger''s face.


    -


    "Rin." Kanaye glared across the field as, in a flash of red, a tall, slender figure appeared once again. But this time, the pristine cream-furred frame was not just an illusion but the powerful pok¨¦mon in truth.


    He had not expected to be humiliated like that; he had not expected Mikasa to be humiliated like that. Most opponents she fought would be doggedly chased down by Kanaye''s fox, picked apart and broken over her knee without even needing the illusions that her kind was famed for.


    It seemed he had grown complacent in this soft land. Allowed Mikasa''s training to slip and his own overconfidence to lead to an avoidable loss. He let the illusion go too early, losing the element of surprise well before it needed to.


    Across the field, Drayden gave his own pok¨¦mon an order, and once again, that infuriating multi-hued beam began flickering in his dragon''s mouth. It seemed he was sticking to his strategy, perhaps thinking that Mikasa and Rin''s capabilities were similar if the first had come out disguised as the second.


    "Hyakki Yagy¨­." He seethed out, and the ethereal purple flame that flickered from Rin''s collar flared, intensifying for a moment before a myriad of fireballs split from it. The purple fire wavered in the air strangely, bordering on the obscene line of reality and something¡­ other.


    The drake spat out its attack, the multi-hued glow in its mouth coalescing into a jagged beam that spiked out against its own bounds wildly, the sharp erraticism almost reminiscent of a dragon itself.


    The three jewel-like fires around the front of Rin''s regal purple fur flashed twice, and the hovering purple fire snapped from bordering on the obscene line of reality and something other into something that could only be described as wrong. The fire twitched and writhed across the air to meet the drakes'' attack, like angry spirits being ripped around by an unseen, uncaring demon.


    As the first fireball, if the twitching mass of purple not-light could be described as such at this point, slammed into dragonkin-beam, a keening almost scream filled the air, so sharp that Drayden''s slave stumbled back from his position on the side of the field.


    Both attacks struggled against each other for a moment, the formless energy that animated both keeping the stitching of their form together as they attempted to overcome the other.


    Then, the second ball slammed into the attack, and it shattered like rotten wood, bursting apart into multi-hued embers. The twisted fire at Rin''s command swarmed into the absent air left behind; like locusts, they consumed the energy still flickering in the air until all traces of the attack had been obliterated from this world.


    Drayden ordered something, but before the swarm of Rin''s not-fire washing across the field, all was irrelevant. The fire twisted around the dragon, consuming it in a great whirl of purple inferno, and Kanaye watched with grim satisfaction as the shadow of something terrible shuddered across the fire.


    When the attack finally burnt out, the dragon that had so humiliated Mikasa had collapsed, its form covered in bite marks and clawed rivets, both charred over by the awesome power Rin had at her disposal.


    Kanaye stared out over the field, his own skin red and ruddy from being so close to the attacks, an arrogant stare clapping onto Drayden''s own fierce scowl. If the gym leader wished to dance away from Kanaye''s strengths, then Kanaye would show him that his team had few weaknesses to be cowered to.


    -


    Aidinza ejected the tape; while the rest of the fight was a sight to behold, something told him he had seen what he had needed to see. However, the weight of exhaustion on his mind made it difficult to even articulate what he needed.


    He rubs his eyes and glances out the window at the looming dawn light.


    "You stayed up all night." Aidinza flinches away from the unexpected voice, feeling light-headed and dizzy as he does so, black spots forming in his vision. When he glances over to the voice, he sees Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den staring down at him, a look of both concern and something else on his face.


    Aidinza tries for an easy smile but feels heavy against the weight pulling at his eyes, and it only seems to make Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den more concerned. "I¡­ yeah." He starts and finishes lamely.


    "Aidinza, I know there''s a¡­" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den cuts himself off, blue eyes flicking away from Aidinza for a moment. "You shouldn''t skip sleep; it''s not healthy, not after what you went through."


    "Too much riding on this." The young Ya''an-ah mutters as his eyes slide to the half a dozen boxes of tapes he had been spending the entire night trawling through. Though he doubted that he even managed to watch a full box worth of tapes.


    It was mind-boggling just how many fights Drayden had fought. There were thousands of these boxes; it could take someone literally years to watch them all. It would not surprise Aidinza if someone told him that Drayden had spent more time fighting than some people spent eating.


    "I wanted to talk to you about that." Aidinza looks back up to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, his brow furrowing as the other boy does not quite look him in the face.


    "About the fight?" There was some level of confusion in Aidinza''s voice; he had been talking about the oncoming fight in some way for nearly two full days; there was no reason for Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den to be nervous about it.


    "About the fight." He confirms with a half nod, still not quite looking straight at him. "I just wanted to say¡­ all this." He trails off, right hand coming up to scratch harshly at his forearm. "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en is a very experienced trainer."


    Aidinza slowly blinked at him, or maybe he fell asleep for a moment, and it took a moment to wake back up; it was difficult for even him to tell. Without a word, he gestures towards the boxes of tapes of literal days of battles that represented a mere fraction of the battles Drayden had recorded.


    "I mean, you only have three badges, you''ve only been training for a few months, and that''s really impressive, don''t get me wrong, but you haven''t eve-" The younger boy started to ramble, his nervous - uncomfortable - scratching becoming more violent. But even Aidinza''s sleep-addled mind could tell where this was going.


    "I know that I''m probably going to lose." He attempts to put the other boy out of his misery, but if anything, that seems to put Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den on an even harsh edge, nails digging into his dusky flesh in a way that made Aidinza uncomfortable to even look at.


    "You can win." The other boy says with an almost off-putting certainty and sharp insistence. "I just want you to know that¡­" Aidinza takes a long moment to study Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den as he meanders around whatever point he is trying to get to. The boy looked exhausted, with heavy bags carved under his eyes, his dark hair unkempt, and the shadow of facial hair that Aidinza knew the other boy hated.


    Aidinza doubted that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den got any more sleep than he did, and it was not difficult to understand why. As hefty as all this was on Aidinza''s shoulders, as frustrated as Aidinza had been about everything regarding Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka¡­. There was more at stake for Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den.


    Maybe exhaustion was the reason it took him so long to connect the dots, but it definitely was the bone-deep tiredness that caused him to say what came next. "You want me to know that it''s okay to lose." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den stills for a moment, no longer digging into his forearm, as he gives a half-aborted nod. "But you don''t want to say it."


    "It feels too much like it''s inviting defeat." He admits after a moment''s pause before running a hand harshly through his hair. "I''m being ridiculous; it''s just a gym battle, it''s just a pok¨¦mon fight, you''re¡­ you''re not even Pheyan''atho, and you''re supposed to be resting. Something like this... it''s not meant to be important enough to harm yourself. Right? But I can''t just let it go. But it''s not fair to not." Blue eyes met green, filled with an uncertain emotion, desperate for direction. "Am I even making sense?"


    Maybe to someone else, he would not be. The deluge of words and ideas was coloured with a tired incomprehensibility, and maybe if Aidinza was not in the same state and, in many ways, the same position, he would not understand. But putting himself in Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s position was all too easy. How tightly would his desire to be a good friend clash with the opportunity to set his people right, no matter how slight, or irrelevant, or unhinged from reality that opportunity was?


    If Aidinza was standing in Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s shoes, he knew he would be struggling with the same words, unwilling to say anything that would jeopardise whatever this proved to be, no matter how flimsy its effect could be, and he doubted he would be any more eloquent through his own grit teeth. But what he would say in Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s position was not exactly what was important here; rather, it would be what he would want to hear in Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s position.


    And that was filled with far less murky, conflicted feelings.


    "It''s as important as we make it, Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den." Aidinza echos the other boys'' own words, but where it seemed to have an almost physical impact on Unktehila, here it seemed to relieve Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den of the heavyweight sloughing his shoulders. "And I think we can make it worth losing some sleep over."


    The other native boy''s face splits into a wide grin before he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Aidinza''s shoulders and half dragging him out of the chair in a sharp jerk.


    Unfortunately for Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, Aidinza had spent the last eight hours straight sitting down motionless, and as he was dragged up, black spots filled his eyes, and nausea swirled in his stomach.


    Or, in simpler terms, for the second time in Opelucid, he vomited on someone''s shoes while losing consciousness.


    -


    Opelucid was both a city of the looming future and the unwavering past. Towering glass skyscrapers entwined with beautifully engraved stonework, paved roads framed by earthworks as old as the league itself. The history of the city was as undeniable as the march of time that was slowly rendering it irrelevant.


    Aidinza was not certain how to describe it. Part of him felt like it was a decay, to see grim grey skylines slowly encroach on such a deeply rooted part of Unova''s history. To know the constructs that had provided the Pheyan''atho a canvas and shelter both for thousands of years was no longer needed and hardly even desired. But Aidinza was not delusional enough not to see why, as off-putting and at times nauseating, he still found these concrete jungles; there was no denying the improvement of quality of life. To call it decay was wrong, but simply naming it unmarred progress did not sit right with the Naisho''h boy.


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    It was only when he laid eyes on the Opelucid City Gym that the word properly came to mind.


    It was a massive thing, a sprawling fort in a once-upon-a-time literal name. The first Pheyan''atho redoubt, whose history Aidinza did not need to know to feel thick on the air. Murals lined every inch of the limestone, a tapestry of history and culture just as intense as the Tly''an-yen, if not more so for the permanency in their marking. But more than that was the history of war that the fort told, countless battle scars raked across the surface of the fort, a story of an endless protective vigil, at times turning aside what must have been truly monstrous pok¨¦mon attacks, at others crumbling.


    Or at least, that was the history that should have been told. Instead, it told a different story, and instead of those proud wounds being allowed to stand in testament of its exemplary service¡­ they were patched over. A patchwork of steel and glass and concrete jut out of those wounds, patching what did not need to be patched. Worse were the entire annexures stabbed into the structure, the modernity bolted onto history, irrevocably changing it.


    There was only really one word for it.


    Parasitic.


    If this was the Relic Castle, Aidinza would have been apoplectic. The safety and history were taken advantage of with no respect for the dignity of a structure that had served well.


    Or maybe that was just the exhaustion haunting Aidinza''s eyes speaking. He pauses and takes a long drink of the ahw¨¦¨¦h that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den gave him, though the bitter brown liquid had nothing on the beverages drip brewed over months by the Dzil''ana. It was enough caffeine to take most of the edge off Aidinza''s all-nighter.


    It was not enough to not have him baulk at the sheer number of people loitering around the gym. The number here was, in some ways, rivalling the insanity of Nimbasa; hundreds of people lingered outside of the gym, and hundreds more streamed inside in what seemed to be a never-ending tide.


    Men and women with cameras and microphones skittered about, at times trying to flag someone''s attention at seemingly random or finding some measure of a better vantage point to record.


    Some of the people he recognised, more than a few of the people who had been flagged down, were people he had spent the last twenty-four hours pouring over strategy with, and something told him that these were just the stragglers and the mainstay of the Pheyan''atho would already be inside.


    That being said, he had no idea why the rest of them were here. Especially at such an awkward time, Drayden had shoved their battle into whatever time slot he apparently had available, half an hour before three. While his Nimbasa gym battle had a crowd of uncomfortable proportions, they were there for Elesa, whose insane cult following Aidinza still struggled to grasp. His battles with Clay and Skyla, on the other hand, were entirely unobserved, and while his battle with Brycen had a crowd¡­ that was the Tly''an-yen being polite.


    Though maybe he was being presumptuous about the crowd being here for him, Drayden was the pinnacle of Unovan Gym Leaders, the final stop before the conference for most trainers. Which he was peripherally aware of was considered a big deal, sometimes seeing hubbub on the pok¨¦centre''s computer about some trainer or other challenging Drayden while doing his own research.


    Regardless, he walks through the entrance of the gym, trying to suppress the shudder that nearly runs up his spine at being penned in on all sides by the crowd. Focusing instead on the automatic door nestled in the cracked ruins of a once mighty set of massive stone doors, so weighty that it would have taken a dragon to even consider shifting it.


    The inside of the gym was much the same as the outside, a patchwork of storied stone and featureless steel. There were fewer people here, or rather, the number of people was more dispersed. The door did an adequate job of funnelling everyone entering to the point where half a dozen uniformed trainers could take charge of directing it all into orderly movement.


    "Aidinza, I hope you are doing well." In his old age, Unktehila could not be described as towering, but regardless, the Elder carried himself with a certain weight and presence that saw the crowd parting around him.


    "Unktehila." Aidinza''s greeting was far from his first respectful greeting of the Elder but no longer held an edge of festering resentment in it. The conversation yesterday had been¡­ enlightening as to the sort of person Unktehila was and the role he was playing. It was far from enough for Aidinza to forgive the old man, but it was difficult to actively hate someone who you could understand so easily. "There are more people here than I expected. Is there another battle before mine?"


    "Stare at the ground for long enough, and a crowd will form to stare with you." The man glances at the crowds still streaming past the two of them, a look somewhere between disdain and regret in his eyes before he shakes his head. "The Pheyan''atho came to watch their efforts, and where they go, Opelucid inevitably follows, as it always has."


    Aidinza feels a heat rising in his cheeks as he realises that the hundreds of people around him were not here coincidentally or for someone else, but in no uncertain terms for him. Something not quite nausea and not quite panic bubbling up in him, heavy on his lungs and squick in his stomach.


    But he stomps down on it as best he can. It had been months since the sheer scale of the wider world had overwhelmed him. Months, three gyms, and half a dozen near-death experiences. He had grown, so he takes all that panic and ill nausea and forces it out of his body in a single exhale.


    He looks back up to the Elder, who watches him with an indecipherable expression.


    "Are you ready?" The much older man does not comment on what he just saw, and Aidinza did not doubt that his trepidation was as obvious as the sun in the sky. For that, he finds some level of gratitude; if Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den saw him have that panic attack, then he would worry incessantly.


    He did not want to worry his friend any more than his all-nighter already had.


    "I am." He nods, forcing himself to feel more certain than he was. Unktehila watches him for a second before nodding and turning, striding deeper into the building. Aidinza follows without a word, being taken out of the main flow of the crowd and through a mess of winding corridors, another odd mirror of Nimbasa. For a single silly moment, he expected Edith to pop out of one of the corridors jutting off the path Unktehila was leading him down, calling him darling and insisting that he allow the tiny woman to make sure he looked his best.


    That, of all things, truly calms his nerves. Despite how little time he had spent with her, he could easily imagine her vibrating up and down this dilapidated castle, cawing about how bold Aidinza was and that while Drayden was a mighty dragon, he was nothing in the face of Aidinza''s grand oncoming metamorphosis into a daring beautifly.


    Skyla would¡­ well, she would have run roughshod over him, dragged him along without giving any mind to his trepidation until he had been dragged straight through it. Forced to confront the fear and danger.


    Nah''aa and Da''zhoh, and¡­ the Tly''an-yen would be cheering him on, delighting already thinking up however they were going to tell the story around their fires and amused by the chaos that he had sowed among the Pheyan''atho and Drayden if the stories he heard about how their new trainers would capture Eiscue just to waste Drayden''s time were true.


    Which, with the Tly''an-yen, was a fifty-fifty.


    Brycen would have some wisdom for him, for all his conversation with the Gwee''aa of his cousin tribe had ended in a festering frustration; Aidinza respected the man fiercely. He would know what to do¡­ he would have some other method to achieve what Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den needed than pinning hope on a single fight.


    Kaine would¡­


    Aidinza''s thoughts grind to a halt. It had been a long time since he had thought about Kaine, and the sting of betrayal still burned at him like a festering wound. But now was not the time to unpack that aching hurt, nor was there time to as he and Unktehila crossed the threshold into Drayden''s arena.


    It was the noise that crashed into him first, not quite the enthralled roar of Nimbasa, at least not yet. It was a dull murmur, a mind-bogglingly weighty and loud noise for all it was just of humans existing. The implication that this was as quiet as it could manage was headier than if he had been greeted by its most raucous roar.


    Then it was the light. Most of the corridors that Unktehilia had led him through were dim at best, the torches that had once lit the entire fort clearly too much effort to maintain full time. But that could not be further from the truth for Drayden''s arena, or perhaps it was true in a different way. Bolted to the ceiling were massive, jutting floodlights that cast the entire room in a searing bright white.


    Then it was the stare. Not the crowds, though Aidinza could hear their notice and feel their eyes turn to study him. But Drayden''s stare, the massive man watched Aidinza like one of the dragons his people were so renowned for, with his arms crossed in front of each other, one hand clutching tightly to his bicep. His thoughts were concealed behind that full white beard, but Aidinza could feel a sense of fury from the man.


    The gym leader had not grown calmer in the days following Aidinza''s return from Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka.


    It did not take long for Aidinza to figure out why, as a cheer stole his attention towards the stands, towards Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den. The other native boy was all but vibrating in place, nestled amidst what looked like hundreds of Pheyan''atho. Here, in spite of the way it should have been, to support Aidinza rather than their own Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?.


    Here, together, despite all of Drayden''s efforts.


    Aidinza can not help the pleased smile that splits his face; even if this was as humiliating as it should be, the fact that Pheyan''atho were here at all, were here together, might be all that needed to happen.


    The young Ya''an-ah''s pleased smile did not go unnoticed by Drayden, the furious look in his eyes growing all the sharper, and as he uncrossed his arms, Aidinza could see white marks had formed on his biceps even at this distance.


    He makes a small gesture, the short movement belying the wild anger in his limbs.


    A woman walks out from a side entrance, dressed in a pink shirt with a large pok¨¦ball symbol taking up much of her left breast. She barely spares Aidinza a glance; instead, she watches Drayden, concerned.


    "This will be a Six on Six standard league rules battle! There will be a maximum of three substitutions, and the Challenger will choose first." Aidinza breathed out slowly; he had been hoping that it would be the other way around. Reacting to Drayden''s opening pok¨¦mon would have been a distinct advantage for the rest of the match.


    But what was one more disadvantage to overcome compared to the mountain already there?


    "Challenger, release your pok¨¦mon or forfeit the challenge!" The judge presses, and Aidinza gets the impression she would be rather thankful if he did, in fact, forfeit.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn appeared on the field in a flash of red and a prideful chortle. The crowd cheers for the pok¨¦mon, or more likely, for the fact the battle was going to start. Regardless of the reason for the cheers, the fletchinder basked in the attention, stretching out his wings to show off the contrast of rich black and vivid orange in his plumage before it took off, holding to a lazy circle above Aidinza.


    Drayden had far less hesitation in releasing his own pok¨¦mon. In a flash of red, a bipedal pok¨¦mon appeared. It was short, maybe only slightly taller than Shand¨ª¨ªn himself, most of its height coming from two well-developed hindlegs that tilted the rest of its body forward in a remarkably aggressive posture. Or perhaps that was just the impression to be taken from the harsh lines of its face, furrowing its forward-facing predator eyes into a belligerent slant. Its white jaw, stark against the grey-brown stain of the rest of its body, cracks open into a soft growl that sounded like two rocks grinding against each other.


    Or, more accurately, a yawn, Aidinza realises as its tiny little arms stretch out from underneath the white ruff of feathers collaring its neck, and it smacks its tongue against its razor-sharp teeth.


    It was a tyrunt, Drayden''s favourite counter to flying types at this level. Shand¨ª¨ªn screeches at it, flaring his wings to the side as his feathers puffed out, a common reaction of his to birds that managed to fly under Astazhei''s battle radar. The tyrunt, for its own part only blinks at the fire bird sleepily.


    "Begin!"


    "Keep moving, keep at a distance, Shand¨ª¨ªn!" Aidinza knew that he needed to set the tempo of the fight quickly and equally knew that Shand¨ª¨ªn had no hope of doing so in close quarters. Tyrunt was a physical powerhouse; its powerful legs made it incredibly agile in short bursts, and its jaws had bite force comparable to some of the younger krokorok Aidinza had known. If that was not enough, the feathers that stretched from its collar ruff to its tail were made of some kind of hardened rock, giving it an extra layer of protection against flying types.


    It was a monster through and through, the first of six that formed the mountain that Aidinza had to surmount.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn crows as he dances into the air in a flurry of blurring feathers, rising high above the arena before accelerating to a dizzying pattern high above, looking almost like a flame carving a mural against the ancient stone of the roof.


    For a single moment, Aidinza was mesmerised by his own pok¨¦mon, and he took a single steady breath in; as the crowds'' awe at the beautiful sight murmured into the air, as Drayden''s own voice buzzed unintelligibly, as the tyrunt shifted and cracked at the ground, as the warm colours smouldered against the tiny part of Aidinza still stuck in Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka, wondering if he would ever fully feel warm again.


    This was familiar. This was comfortable, for all he did not know when it became so. Even with the hundreds of people watching, even with the ire of a gym leader, even with the weight of expectations on his shoulders.


    He breathes out.


    "Dodge, there''s four." He snaps out as the ground around the tyrunt explodes upwards, and four staggered blasts of rocks rocket towards Shand¨ª¨ªn. The fletchinder whistles, and as the first rock approaches, he dives out of the way, letting it shatter into a dozen pieces against the roof.


    The next would have cracked straight into the bird if it had just merely dove to avoid the first, but Shand¨ª¨ªn had already begun a harsh bank, clearing the rock by what to an untrained eye would seem to be a worryingly slight distance but put him in the perfect position to spin through the next two with indelible agility.


    Someone would almost be forgiven for thinking it was practised, but an unfortunate side effect of Aidinza''s own impatience was that he had barely a day to prepare. But a fortunate side effect of Drayden''s own full-bodied coverage of his battling career meant that despite not being practised, they were definitely forewarned, and if there was any match-up that Aidinza was utterly sure was going to happen, it was this one.


    "Ember." There was a moment that Aidinza was worried that Shand¨ª¨ªn did not hear him, as the fletchinder barely adjusted his flight pattern; maybe he was being drowned out by the rising clamour of the crowd at the display of acrobatics.


    Then a ball of fire crashed into the tyrunt with all of Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s blistering speed and momentum as the bird''s slightest adjustment turned into a deft half loop that left it barrelling straight towards his opponent. The fire splashed across the tyrunt''s calcified feathers and spilled across hard, uncaring scales. But the momentum behind the ember sent the dragon-type staggering, awkwardly stumbling over its own powerful hindlegs.


    Neither was enough to stop its answering attack, as a silvery orb shimmered into existence at the end of the tyrunt''s stubby tail, and the lizard turned its overbalanced stumble into an almost smooth swing, flinging the orb towards the still approaching Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    Rather than call for Shand¨ª¨ªn to move, Aidinza holds his tongue. He watches the orb as it hurtles through the air, eyes straining both to stare at the incredible luminance and keep up with it.


    Time almost seemed to slow down as he tracked the blurring attack, the slightest of moments stretching out as adrenaline flooded his veins. It was going to hit Shand¨ª¨ªn if Aidinza did not say something, and with the sheer momentum behind the fletchinder, it would swat the fragile bird straight out of the air.


    But he continues to hold his tongue, his eyes burning as he forces himself to see something against the mercurous surface of the ancient power. Then he sees it, in a moment that would struggle to fully encompass a second, yet feels like an hour, he sees a spreading crack across the left side of the orb.


    "Right." He barks as pure-minded gratification floods his veins, as Shand¨ª¨ªn''s wing snaps down, and he rolls right as tight as Aidinza had ever seen, slipping past the attack with barely a feather''s length between it and him.


    Then the attack exploded, bursting into a kaleidoscope of obscuring light and smoke that covered Shand¨ª¨ªn utterly.


    For a long, heart-stopping moment, Aidinza thought he had made the wrong call as Shand¨ª¨ªn failed to thunder out from the obscuring smoke. Thought that he had made a mistake banking on something he had only barely made out on the fuzzy quality of the gym''s battle cameras.


    Then Shand¨ª¨ªn exploded from the canopy with a dramatic spin and a triumphant screech, the smoke trailing from his wing tips as sparks danced across his feathers, and utterly unharmed.


    A grin spreads across Aidinza''s face as he looks across the field to his opponent, the tall form of Drayden utterly stoic as he stares at the fight, thoughts unknowable behind his stark white beard.


    Then he turns back to the fight himself and breathes out slowly. He only needed to do that, however, many more times for something to stick.


    "Keep moving, Shand¨ª¨ªn." He calls almost superfluously as the bird lets its body stall in the air, lingering in the exaltation of the crowd as their murmurs build to a roar before he dives into a display of blistering speed.


    He was coming utterly alive in the attention.


    "Six!" Aidinza called as another half dozen blasts of rock rose into the air, flaked out against the air in an array to catch Shand¨ª¨ªn more by chance and volume rather than aim. The fletchinder danced through them, yet again making a run on the tyrunt and sending it stumbling before letting Aidinza call how to slip away from the retaliation.


    Then he did it again.


    Then again.


    It was a pattern that differed only in truth by the different moves and tricks that Drayden tried to throw out, each mapped out by a hundred Pheyan''atho minds before the tyrunt had even been released.


    It was a winning pattern.


    Slow it was, but it was building. Like a sandstorm emerging from a single ruffled grain of sand, the momentum was building. Tyrunt was sturdy, but no pok¨¦mon could let another beat on them uncontested and not begin to feel the oppressive grind of attrition. With every ember, the Tyrunt staggered further, as the heat sunk deeper into calcified feathers, and any attempted retaliation grew more and more erratic, giving Shand¨ª¨ªn leave for tighter and tighter runs, building up the pressure faster.


    Maybe if Aidinza was another person with four badges, Drayden would have let things play out like this. As deeply frustrating as Aidinza found the man, he was never cruel in battle, and while he would never just give someone his badge if they were unworthy, he rarely just outright crushed some hopeful trainer''s dreams.


    But most trainers had not outright called him a coward and jammed themselves deep in the matters of his tribe.


    It was as Shand¨ª¨ªn dove past another flakk of rock blasts that Drayden broke the sequence without any warning. It was only because Aidinza was watching the tyrunt so intently to guide Shand¨ª¨ªn away from the expected air-burst ancient power that he realised that something was different in the first place. The tyrunt lowered its form, head tilting downwards; at first, he thought it was just trying to better brace for the imminent force of Shand¨ª¨ªn''s ember until he caught sight of a flickering purple glow spilling out between the dragon''s wicked teeth.


    "Pull out! Agility." Maybe Shand¨ª¨ªn had his own bad feeling; maybe Aidinza managed to convey just how little time and how much danger Shand¨ª¨ªn was in because heartbeats after Aidinza called out, Shand¨ª¨ªn snapped into a gravity-defying turn as a shudder visibly ran across his body, and his speed doubles taking him nearly halfway across the field in moments.


    It was almost not enough.


    With a deep, primaeval growl to rival Sandile''s, the tyrunt lifts its head and spews out two staggered purple-hewed beams that zigzag across the field with an air-splitting crack, guided unerringly towards Shand¨ª¨ªn. They were as fast as Shand¨ª¨ªn, even in the throes of agility, faster even, the bird barely having a moment to react even with the forewarning.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn rolls in the air, for a moment upside down, before beginning a looping descent at a dizzyingly tight angle, letting the beam pass above him to shatter against the wall behind him, sending dust and rock exploding into the air.


    But then he was staring down the second beam as it twists and writhes through the air almost as if it was alive, no¡­ almost as if it was hunting.


    Desperately, the bird twists to the side, half a bank, half a roll, all lacking the graceful control the fletchinder had demonstrated this entire fight. Only by the skin of his teeth did Shand¨ª¨ªn manage to slip past in a miraculously timed zag of the beam.


    But he was too close, and Aidinza watched with his heart in his throat as the explosion sent Shand¨ª¨ªn crashing to the ground, rolling over and over, bouncing like a rag doll. Already a part of him knew it was over; even if Shand¨ª¨ªn was able to keep going, he was in the reach of the tyrunt''s overwhelming physicality. The crowd knew it too, the roar that had built in the gym quelling to an oppressive silence.


    After a bare beat of two seconds, Aidinza caught in the corner of his eyes as the tyrunt began to charge forward, powerful bipedal limbs pumping as it built up to a shockingly fast sprint. His hand fell to the pok¨¦ball at his waist; there was no point in letting Shand¨ª¨ªn get torn apart.


    "Get back in the skies, Shand¨ª¨ªn!" It was little more than an impotent outburst, a frustrated last-ditch effort before his fingers closed around the pok¨¦ball, allowing this first bout to slip through them.


    But Shand¨ª¨ªn''s dramatics were not over just yet. Moments before the tyrunt would be on him, the flying type''s wings snapped out, and with a mighty flap, he tore himself out of the uncontrolled tumble, slipping past the tyrunt''s teeth as they cracked with lightning to the hysterics of the crowd.


    "YES!" Aidinza screamed alongside the crowd as Shand¨ª¨ªn laps around the field to build up speed or perhaps to just bask in the noise of the crowd. But Drayden was not just going to let Shand¨ª¨ªn showboat nor build up speed again; within moments, there were rocks flying through the air. "FOUR!"


    Shand¨ª¨ªn dove into action once more, dancing between the oncoming rock blasts and beginning the pattern once again. But as he dove past the tyrunt''s attempts to swat him out of the sky, beak flickering with flame, the twofold cost of his mad dash became clear. It might not have been an outright defeat, but Shand¨ª¨ªn''s mad dash retreat had given away all of his momentum, giving plenty of time for the tyrunt to ground itself. Second to that was the use of agility, and his subsequent tumble was exhausting. There was a reason why Aidinza only called for him to use it in such a snap emergency. In the aftermath, he was slower, less nimble, struggling to dance through the air with the same daredevil flair. Either Shand¨ª¨ªn was going to have to conserve his energy, or he was going to be swatted out of the sky when he exhausted himself.


    Drayden had reset the fight, and the neutral position was losing for Aidinza.


    His hand, still hovering over the pok¨¦ball at his side, taps along its surface before his gaze drifts away from Shand¨ª¨ªn as the bird prepares for another run on the tyrunt, to the tyrunt itself. In a single unexpected move, it had turned the tide of the battle, and if it had been just a fraction of a second faster, it would have been able to end the fight outright. At any moment, it could use it again, and if Shand¨ª¨ªn was not prepared, that would be the end of the fight.


    Not for the first time, Aidinza marveled at the mountain that was set before him, and this was only the first step.


    But no mountain is created without footholds, no peak unweathered by the wind. His mind catches on to the fact that if the tyrunt had been faster, the battle would be over. The tyrunt should have been, Shand¨ª¨ªn''s descent had not been subtle, nor had his tumble across the field been quick. It had plenty of time to react.


    "Left!" Aidinza calls as mind locks on why the move had both been unexpected and why the tyrunt had not been faster. Why the tyrunt, why Drayden, had not used it earlier, nor was he using it now.


    Aidinza had heard about moves like this, so powerful that they cost their wielders terribly. He remembers reading about Hyper Beam; he remembers seeing it in at least a dozen of Drayden''s fights that he had watched. Remembered seeing Pok¨¦mon, who were stronger than Aidinza could grasp, falter under the weight of just using it themselves.


    It was a long shot; the young Naisho''h was banking everything on an assumption. But as his eyes strayed back to Shand¨ª¨ªn dancing through the air above, the weight of the exhaustion of the fight pulling at his wings, something told him that it was the only option he really had.


    If they played it safe and slow, Shand¨ª¨ªn would never deal enough damage to put the tyrunt down, and inevitably there would be a lucky hit that takes him out. Even if they set the pace as before, another use of agility would exhaust Shand¨ª¨ªn and leave him too slow to continue to the fight afterwards.


    He had to bait Drayden into using that move again and take advantage of whatever exhaustion it brought.


    This meant that Aidinza could not let Shand¨ª¨ªn pull back and conserve his energy. He needed the bird to keep his foot on the gas.


    "Keep up the pressure, Shand¨ª¨ªn! Let''s give them a show!" Luckily, Shand¨ª¨ªn was very easy to convince. The bird whistles and lets a flicker of flame dance down his feathers in a mesmerising show to the awe of the watching crowd. Then he dives back towards the tyrunt, a renewed swagger in his form as he slices through the air.


    For the next minute, Aidinza and Shand¨ª¨ªn burnt the candle at both ends, playing on the same knife''s edge that they had been ripped from as they played wimpod with the looming spectre of exhaustion.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn ducks, weaves, rolls and dives through at least two dozen rock blasts from the tyrunt, bathing the dragon in enough fire that soot had begun to darken the edges of its calcified feathers. He pushed himself as hard as he could under the noise of the crowd, as enraptured by them as they were enraptured by him.


    He built up pressure, and speed, and heat, and momentum until the fight was rocketing towards the same equilibrium that had tipped Drayden over the edge the first time. But Shand¨ª¨ªn was also rocketing towards exhaustion; it was subtle, half a degree lost on his turn here, a half-second delay on reacting to Aidinza''s callouts there.


    "Just a little more, Shand¨ª¨ªn, just a little more." He mutters to himself; a victory or loss here would set the cadence for the entire battle to come. He needed to overcome this; he needed Drayden to take the bait.


    And with a flicker of purple glow, backlighting wicked teeth, he did. "Agility." Aidinza snapped the very second he saw the glow. There was no time to waste; the beams had caught up to Shand¨ª¨ªn in the blink of an eye when he retreated from them¡­ "Flame charge." And he was going to have even less time while he was diving straight towards them.


    It all came down to these eight metres; either Shand¨ª¨ªn would reach the tyrunt, or he would be smashed out of the skies.


    Seven metres, Shand¨ª¨ªn''s body shudders as the agility sets in, pulling deeply on the final reserves of his energy to boost his already absurd speed.


    Six metres, the tyrunt shifts its stance bracing, itself as its teeth disappear in a purple glow.


    Five metres, Shand¨ª¨ªn''s beak cracks open, a gout of white flame spilling out the sides as he dove even lower, all but skidding across the ground.


    Four metres, the tyrunt''s mouth widens, exposing a pool of palpitating energy.


    Three metres, the flames spill across Shand¨ª¨ªn''s form, ripped back by the drag of the wind until it encompasses his entire body in a fiery aura.


    Two metres, the energy shifts and spikes; two distinct forms jag out from the pool, orbiting each other in a feral dance.


    One metre, the two pok¨¦mon regarded each other for just a moment in a still realisation that this was it. The fight, as invigorating as it was infuriating for both, was going to end in this very heartbeat.


    Two beams of draconic energy tear out of the tyrunt''s mouth with a terrible roar, filled with the kind of power that only the pinnacle of Unova''s gym leaders could impart. Fired at point-blank range, the distance between it and Shand¨ª¨ªn could only be measured in tongues.


    "Acrobatics!"


    The fletchinder disappears, flickering away and leaving only an outline of fire that momentum sent crashing against the tyrunt''s wide-open eyes, too weightless to harm but well enough to blind.


    The beam stabs forward, but in tracing Shand¨ª¨ªn''s breakneck approach the tyrunt''s aim had drifted unerringly towards the ground. The dragonic pulse slams into the floor of the arena, detonating in a wave of force and sending the tyrunt hurtling backwards.


    Then Shand¨ª¨ªn was on him; the fire bird slammed into its side as it flew backwards, his body still alight with flames stoked by incredible friction. Then he flickers again, the speed of acrobatics, the adrenalin of flame charge, and the overwhelming overcharge of agility combining into something impossible to keep up with at these distances obscured by dust and smoke. The next hit slams into the top of the tyrunt, arresting its momentum brutally and sending it slamming into the ground. Shand¨ª¨ªn rose into the air as sparks and remnants of flames danced across his body, his wings stretched out, and his plumage ruffled as he took a moment of glory in the midst of his victory.


    Then he dove again, wings hugging his side as the fire burst to life once more like a comet descending from the heavens; he slammed into the tyrunt''s head as it weakly struggled to its feet.


    "The Gym Leader''s tyrunt has been eliminated by knockout! Gym Leader, choose your next pok¨¦mon!"


    The crowd went wild as if Aidinza had won the entire fight and not just the first bout, the Pheyan''atho incomprehensible in content but utterly unmistakable in emotion. Shand¨ª¨ªn screamed his victory as he stood atop his defeated opponent, and then he took off into the air, screaming another challenge, as battle manic as Astazhei in the sway of the crowd.


    Once more, Aidinza found himself watching his opponent, the man as inscrutable as ever beyond that all-concealing white beard. However, Drayden had to be troubled, the young Ya''an-ah, and Shand¨ª¨ªn of course, had just ground through his hand-chosen counter with grit and temerity. Winning in spite of such a crippling disadvantage.


    But as a flash of red light filled the air, Aidinza knew that it was not over yet.


    That was just the first step in scaling this mountain.

 Scale

    Drayden¡¯s next pok¨¦mon was larger than his first, though much of its height was its slender, graceful neck that stretched nearly a full metre from its body. Two long plumes extended out from the back of its head, fluttering in an unseen wind. Strangest was its body; it looked almost cloudlike, with its feathers puffing up around it, shifting in that same unseen wind.


    Altaria, Drayden¡¯s favoured option for flying types that were beyond tyrunt.


    Its beak, the same colour as the fluff of its body, cracks open as it sings a short, beautiful stanza. Then its eyes, somehow both beady and kind, land on Shand¨ª¨ªn flying high above, still basking in the attention of the crowd. In only a moment, it seems to take Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s measure before it glances at Drayden as if it is more concerned with its trainer than its opponent. Regardless, its cloud-like body shifts even more, and two long wings stretch out to its side. With a single graceful flap, the altaria slowly rises an almost unnatural distance into the air, looking more like it was levitating than flying.


    For a moment, the altaria circles in the air above Drayden, a lilting lullaby on its beak. Aidinza considers the flying dragon as his hand returns once more to the pok¨¦balls by his side. Shand¨ª¨ªn had been burning the candle from both ends for nearly ten minutes, pushing his body beyond its limits with agility. He had also not escaped physically unscathed from his final attack on the tyrunt; he was favouring his left wing, the same wing he had used to slam the tyrunt into the ground. The sheer speed he had slammed the wing into the heavy form of tyrunt had hurt him as well.


    In a different match, Aidinza probably would have forfeited Shand¨ª¨ªn; the fire-type had performed beyond Aidinza¡¯s wildest expectations and deserved a break.


    But this was a match against Drayden; Aidinza could not afford to spit out water, even if it came with a bit of sand; he needed every advantage he could get.


    The question then was, what could Shand¨ª¨ªn even manage to do? The altaria was a step above the tyrunt. A fully evolved dragon trained by the leader of the Pheyan¡¯atho, a man who has fought tens of thousands of battles. But worse, it was fully capable of flight, entirely negating Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s greatest advantage against the tyrunt.


    At this point, with how tired Shand¨ª¨ªn was, Aidizna doubted that the fletchinder would even be faster than the altaria.


    Which meant Shand¨ª¨ªn had a very limited window to do something that could stick.


    Unfortunately, before Aidinza could come up with an answer for that, Drayden broke the uneasy ceasefire. With a piercing cry and a mighty flap of its cloudlike wings, the altaria surged forward at a blistering speed, utterly at odds with its previous lilting flight.


    ¡°Just a little bit longer, Shand¨ª¨ªn!¡± Aidinza calls as the bird tilts downwards, trading height for speed as it cedes airspace to the charging altaria. It was obvious that Aidinza had underestimated the ember pok¨¦mon, as it kept ahead of this new, fresh challenger. He could work with that; at a much lower volume, he speaks again. ¡°We¡¯re not going to have long to make our mark here.¡±


    But before Shand¨ª¨ªn could even acknowledge the quiet words, the altaria spits a long spray of flickering, blueish, translucent vapour at him. The attack was slow, at least in comparison to the insane speed of the beams of draconic energy that the tyrunt had been throwing about, but there was not even a measure of effort to it; in one moment, the altaria was surging forward, and in the next this blast of breath was forcing Shand¨ª¨ªn to pull up out of his dive.


    Then two more long streams lash out from the altaria, the first forcing Shand¨ª¨ªn to bank harshly and the second forcing the bird to twist downwards. It was corralling the fletchinder, almost leisurely gaining on the flying type as it forced Shand¨ª¨ªn into manoeuvres that sacrificed speed and position. With only three attacks, it had coerced Shand¨ª¨ªn into flying away from his opponent, leaving the fletchinder with few offensive options.


    Drayden was taking the fight easy, slowly guiding it towards an inevitable conclusion and conserving his pok¨¦mon¡¯s energy. He wanted his altaria to be fresh for whatever came next; he wanted this to be clean.


    And frustratingly, it seemed like Drayden would be getting that clean fight. Every blast of the altaria¡¯s breath attack was placed with surgical precision to force Shand¨ª¨ªn to either bleed speed dodging or force him to stay nearly directly in front of the altaria.


    Aidinza needed to do something, or the two of them would be choked out of the fight. But he struggled to think of what he could do; he had never been in this position before. He usually let Astazhei bully flying types out of the air or had Naazin act the part of the tyrunt, blasting flying types from a position of defensive impunity. But how was Shand¨ª¨ªn meant to attack an enemy that seemed to so easily corral him in the air? How could Shand¨ª¨ªn do anything when he was stuck flying away from his enemy?


    What could a pok¨¦mon do when they are flying through the air and have a pok¨¦mon directly behind them?


    Aidinza just did not have the experience to know.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn, on the other hand, lacked Aidinza¡¯s inexperience and felt even more pressingly the looming defeat, the exhaustion in his wings, and the sputtering of the power inside him.


    So he made a move, and with a startling suddenness, he flipped upside down. His forward momentum, which had managed to keep ahead of the altaria by the scarcest of amounts, bleeds from him as the aerodynamics that made him so suited to speed turned against it. Gravity, now unopposed, tugs the bird unhindered towards the earth and underneath the altaria.


    The altaria, its beak glowing with the blueish, translucent light it had been using to corral the fire bird the entire fight, flared its wings half a second later, a span nearly three times anything that Shand¨ª¨ªn had to offer, dragging against the air as it tilts to aim a point blank range breath at the fletchinder.


    It was a matter of fractions of a second and the barest of inches. Half a moment, more or less, would have changed the outcome immeasurably.


    But Shand¨ª¨ªn does not make it. He comes as close as possible, but rather than letting the altaria slip past him and expose its vulnerable underside, their speeds equalise, and instead, he was facing up at the looming front of the altaria, no wind in his wings or speed to call on to avoid what would come next.


    The altaria¡¯s beak opens, and it spits out the fight-ending deluge of translucent vapour as Shand¨ª¨ªn gives one last defiant cry.


    Aidinza had Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s pok¨¦ball in his hand in the same moment, expanding it and pressing the return button. The fight was over; no more tricks to see, only to spare pain to spare Shand¨ª¨ªn.


    But he was not faster than the altaria, and dragon breath slammed into the fire type¡¯s chest, sending the bird hurtling towards the floor in an uncontrolled spiral, utterly limp and smoking with the residue of the powerful Move that had just slammed into him.


    Halfway through his descent, the red beam of the pok¨¦ball lashes out and catches him, returning him to the stasis of the pok¨¦ball to rest and recover.


    ¡°The Challenger¡¯s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by knockout! Challenger, choose your next pok¨¦mon!¡±


    Aidinza squandered the opportunity, and with almost contemptuous ease, Drayden had reset the fight, arresting Aidinza¡¯s momentum and Shand¨ª¨ªn¡¯s heroic effort. Well, not all of his efforts, Aidinza thinks to himself as his hand falls to his second pok¨¦ball. Shand¨ª¨ªn managed to essentially give Aidinza the opportunity to start the fight with a counter to Drayden¡¯s pok¨¦mon rather than the other way around.


    Then a pained cry splits the air, and Aidinza¡¯s eyes snap up to Drayden¡¯s altaria high above. An orange-burning glow spreads through the bundled fluff coating the altaria, racing through strands and clumps of the woollen feathers at such burning intensity that the outline of individual plumes could be made out from the mass.


    A grin curls at Aidinza¡¯s lips as he realises that he might have squandered the opportunity, but Shand¨ª¨ªn had not, managing to score a searing hit in the bare moments he was facing his opponent and managing to ignite the altaria¡¯s feathers.


    The burn had not spread far; the glowing smoulders sputtered out not long after Aidinza had looked up, but it left behind a patch of blackened, limp feathers covering where the altaria¡¯s right wing met its body, exposing the knobbled bulge of its shoulder joint.


    Not a crippling injury, but it was well beyond good enough.


    Naazin appears on the field a moment later, his lazy blue eyes casting around the arena for his opponent before they catch Drayden. The Clauncher¡¯s thoughts, beyond searching for the next nap spot, were inscrutable at the best of times, and without being inside the crustacean¡¯s head, there was no telling what he thought as he eyed the opposing trainer.


    But the slow stretch of his orange, segmented body, as his eyes drifted away from his trainer¡¯s opponent to his own, and the long flex of his powerful primary claw, was as eager for a fight as Naazin ever really got.


    There was no restful pause this time; within moments of Naazin being released, the altaria spat another translucent stream of dragon breath at the clauncher, clearly intending to seize the same control that had almost left it unharmed against Shand¨ª¨ªn. A good plan, doubly so because Naazin lacked anywhere close to the speed of Shand¨ª¨ªn to keep ahead of the attack.


    ¡°Bubble beam.¡± If not for the fact that, unlike Shand¨ª¨ªn, Naazin was very capable of standing his ground. A current of dozens of bubbles explodes out of the clauncher¡¯s primary claw, spilling into the air in a concentrated beam, glimmering in the sterile floodlights of the gym.


    The two attacks, both translucent in vastly different states, slam together with a crash and explosion of energy and smoke. Viscous, chemical water splatters everywhere as the crowd cheers their new champion.


    But Naazin, unlike Shand¨ª¨ªn, does not give any attention to the crowd, merely eyeing his opponent high above.


    ¡°Smack Down.¡± The clauncher¡¯s large primary claw slams into the earth in front of him, sending a swarm of shattered rocks exploding into the air in front of him; then he skitters in a shockingly tight circle, bringing his tail around to slap the rocks, sending them rocketing at the flying dragon in grapeshot.


    The altaria dove to avoid the smack down, easily twisting away from it in graceful motion as it spits another dragon breath at Naazin. But like the first, a stream of bubbles met it immediately, neutralising it utterly.


    ¡°Water Pulse cut it off.¡± The pulsating, dizzying ring of water was in the air before Aidinza had even managed to finish the order. Like a disorientating riptide, the water pulse lurched through the air on a collision course with the altaria¡¯s dive. The altaria attempts to rip itself out of that way, long wings flaring to catch as much air as possible, but before it could reach full extension, its shoulder buckled in on itself, instinctively flinching away from the painful burn.


    Naazin¡¯s water pulse slams into the altaria¡¯s side, the concentric turbulence tearing the altaria into an uncontrolled tumble. Despite the force of the blow, it seemed as trifling as a direct hit from Naazin could be, water merely soaking into the hefty fluff protecting the altaria, as the dragon evened out its flight.


    Just in time to catch a grapeshot of energy-infused rock to the face, causing its wings to lock up and a shudder of greyish energy to dye across its body.


    Smack down was a confusing move, in ways Aidinza struggled to understand. It was just a fact that Naazin¡¯s water pulse hit harder than smack down; not only was Naazin a water type, but his massive primary claw was uniquely suited to imparting more power to the move. But despite lacking the beguiling force of Naazin¡¯s water pulse, the crack of smack down slamming into the atlaria sent it hurtling to the ground, powerless to take control of its body.


    But he did not need to understand why it worked to knowthat for the next several seconds the altaria would be incapable of flight.


    And helpless to avoid what was coming next. ¡°Rockslide.¡±


    The pollex of Naazin¡¯s primary claw digs into the earth, tearing up a deep furrow of dirt and loose stone that travelled further than his body¡¯s reach before exploding upwards in a tall arc.


    Aidizna did not really understand the mechanics of smack down, but he had a great deal of understanding for rockslide. He knew with intimate familiarity the mind-flinching terror of when the ground collapsed and raced to become the sky.


    Naazin¡¯s rockslide, learned in the little hours of the morning with a device the size of Aidinza¡¯s fist, was a pale imitation of a real rockslide.


    But an imitation was more than enough.


    The altaria tries to brace itself as its cottonlike feathers glow and begin rapidly growing, but its leaden wings were sluggish to react, and the growth of its body was not fast enough to cover its head.


    Dozens of fist-sized rocks slam down on the altaria, with terrible, cracking force, as clumps of dirt explode into disorientating clouds all across the altaria¡¯s form. The dragon flinches away from the attack, eyes closing as it tries to tuck its long, vulnerable neck into the rapidly grown fluff in a flustered panic.


    But even that peeled back, flaking away into a formless energy as the altaria lost focus on the defensive move, leaving it even more vulnerable.


    A vulnerability that Naazin took immediate advantage of as a second water pulse sloshed through the air. The water pulse crashed down in a riptide of force that swept up the altaria and sent it twisting over itself in a crosscurrent of turbulence until it was doubtful the dragon even knew which way was up.


    But that was not the end of it; before the water pulse had even properly connected, a second rockslide was slamming down from the skies, catching the altaria mid-air and sending it slamming into the ground with flinching force.


    Desperately, the altaria lashes out, trying to break out of the combination barrage juggling it across the arena floor. It blindly spits out a sustained beam of purplish energy sharper and more potent than the dragon breath that it had been spewing for most of the fight. The beam carves across the battlefield, tearing chunks out of the ground with all the terrible power that the altaria¡¯s almost lackadaisical dismantling of Shand¨ª¨ªn had only hinted at.


    But it misses Naazin, pulled too short; the altaria, dizzy from being tossed halfway across the field and unsteady from the crash of the earth down upon it, was too disorientated to properly aim.


    And too disorientated to realise when it should have stopped, as the chaos and disorientation overtook it, and it turned its beam well beyond anywhere Naazin could have been, catching a nearby wall.


    The beam, too close to dissipate even in the slightest, explodes. The force sent the already befuddled dragon flying backwards, its own power turned against it in the daze and confusion.


    But not even its self-hurt gave Naazin pause, and he kept up the pressure, catching the altaria in another water pulse that bounced it off the same wall it had just blown itself away from and sent the earth crashing down on it as it was pinned up against the wall.


    The altaria was being overwhelmed, it had its flight torn from it, then had the earth become the sky, then had even the concept of where was up and down ripped away as it was tossed around like a leaf in a storm.


    This was one of the innumerable plans of the Pheyan¡¯atho; domineering and brutal, it leveraged all of Naazin¡¯s strengths and forced the altaria, a powerful pok¨¦mon in its own right, into complete irrelevancy.


    It was the prize Shand¨ª¨ªn had won by triumphing against a pok¨¦mon he had no right to win again and going above and well beyond in landing a debilitating blow against his next opponent.


    Even if Drayden had something up his sleeve, it would be impossible for altaria to pull it off in its current state. Even if it could hold itself together for long enough to not flinch from the fist-sized rocks cracking down on it or the dirt clumps blinding its eyes, it had proven too dizzy to aim properly, to the point where it had hurt itself and not even come close to singeing Naazin.


    Drayden, it seemed, agreed.


    ¡°I am switching pok¨¦mon.¡± For the first time in days, Aidinza heard Drayden¡¯s voice loud and clear, and despite what he had expected, it was not shaking with some barely concealed rage. It was calm and measured.


    But there were cracks in the stoicism on his face, his breaths too measured, and the slightest hint of a frustrated flush darkening the skin visible above his beard.


    The altaria withdraws in a flash of red light, avoiding by the barest of inches taking another water pulse unbraced. But Aidinza was unconcerned; even if the altaria made another appearance in the battle, it was weakened terribly; he doubted anything caught in that¡­ bombardment would be able to shake it off with only a few minutes rest.


    Though, something tugged at the back of his mind, a detail not illusive enough to forget it existed, but enough to not grasp it, yet not enough to know what it was.


    He shakes that feeling off as he focuses on what Drayden would send out to replace the altaria. There were dozens of potential picks, some that would force him to withdraw Naazin himself, sending the two trainers down the Dunsparce den of trading switches, and just as many that Naazin would be able to make the difference for Aidinza¡¯s next pok¨¦mon.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    A moment later, in a flash of red light, Drayden threw a wrench in all of Aidinza¡¯s, and the Pheyan¡¯atho¡¯s plans.


    A long serpentine form, nearly cresting over a full nine feet, materialised on the battlefield. It was mostly blueish green, with patches of moppish white fur covering two arms that it had tucked against its chest as if to reduce its gargantuan bulk in some way. Its face, with two kind pink eyes framed by almost childish yellow eyebrows, a borderline comical moustache, a patch of beardish fur, and four segments of clumped ¡®hair¡¯ created an almost disorientating juxtaposition with its size.


    This was a drampa, a pok¨¦mon that Aidinza, at worst, expected to meet as his final hurdle against Drayden.


    Drayden was looking to end this fight, right here and right now.


    Aidinza¡¯s mind raced, tumbling over dozens of plans the Pheyan¡¯atho had stuffed into his tired mind, trying to account for every eventuality. But this just was not part of them; the idea that drampa would be sent out here, the third pok¨¦mon had been absurd.


    The Ya¡¯an-ah¡¯s thoughts freeze, as he feels something watching him. He looks up, and sees the drampa staring at him, rather than its opponent. The dragon¡¯s kindly eyes shift from him, to its own trainer, then back again. It lingers on Aidinza, the pink of its eyes¡­ deepening. It seemed to be studying him, committing his face and form to memory, and Aidinza¡¯s mind drifted unbidden to tales of it burning down the houses of the bullies of its friends.


    He shook his head, breaking eye contact with the dragon. He needed to focus.


    Naazin needed to stay in, the Naisho¡¯h decided; he needed to weaken the drampa, or Aidinza¡¯s entire team would be run roughshod over. Or maybe more realistically, he needed to get the drampa angry; as placid as the pok¨¦mon naturally looked, it hid a terrible temper that could overwhelm its better judgement.


    ¡°Water Pulse. We need to get it angry.¡± Once more, the dizzying, pulsating ring lurched through the air; the drampa was far too large to rip off its feat like Naazin had done to the altaria, but even without the disorientating effect of being caught in a riptide on land, the water pulse was still one of Naazin¡¯s most devastating moves.


    The drampa let out a single chuff that sounded almost amused to Aidinza¡¯s ears, accompanied by a short burst of dragon breath that slammed into the water pulse and overpowered it easily.


    A hush fell over the crowd; they had grown quiet as they watched Naazin¡¯s dismantling of the altaria, but this was a bone-dry silence. The drampa had turned aside Naazin¡¯s attack with not just contemptuous ease but genuine contempt.


    It was a statement of the sheer gulf between the two pok¨¦mon.


    The dragon¡¯s kind pink eyes did not seem quite so kind in that moment, as its gaze slowly pulled from Naazin to Aidinza, the easy contempt that batted away Naazin¡¯s move still lit in its eyes.


    A moment passes, and the dragon explodes forward. Its serpentine body coiled underneath it, and the furred claws curled up against its body lashed out to slam against the ground, throwing it forward. Its body undulated in the air, driving itself forward with an unseen


    propellant.


    ¡°Smack Down, keep it away from you.¡± Naazin¡¯s claw smashes into the ground once more, and a moment later, a grapeshot of stone was rocketing towards the drampa. Dozens of rocks slam against the drampa with shattering force, but it was not the drampa¡¯s scales that shattered. The rocks explode into shards of stone, ricocheting wildly in a cloud of pulverised stone. Grey energy hardly even began shuddering across the drampa¡¯s form before dissipating, so ineffective that it did not even give the dragon pause as it bullied through the attack.


    Before Aidinza could call anything else, the drampa slams down in front of Naazin. The force of its landing cracks the ground, sending the clauncher reeling. One of its claws snaps out, glowing with a rich purple light, smashing into the clauncher with a terrible crack and sending him skidding across the ground like a stone across water.


    The water gun pok¨¦mon scrambles to arrest his motion, his lesser claw attempting to jab into the ground as his larger primary claw lets out a short burst of highly pressurised water, but by the time he had managed that, the drampa was already in motion again, chasing after the lesser pok¨¦mon with dogged determination.


    ¡°Aqua Jet, get out of there,¡± Aidinza shouts, a desperate tinge to his voice. Naazin, no matter how resilient he was, would not be able to take another blow. It was questionable if he had even weathered the first blow; the water type was sluggish to react to the order, his stabilisation claw sluggish to plant itself, and his primary claw listing slightly to the side.


    But it was fast enough, a shell of water forming over his scuffed actual shell, and his primary claw spitting out a sharp burst of water, flinging him backwards, away from the approaching drampa.


    However, fast enough did not mean good enough. The drampa once more smashed down on the just vacated ground with earth-shattering force, and not missing a beat as its prey jettisons away from it, swung its long serpentine head towards the retreating form of Naazin, and a blinding orange sphere formed at the tip of its mouth, crackling with power.


    ¡°Naazin, get out of there!¡± The ball shoots out with incredible speed, catching the retreating form of Naazin in a bare heartbeat. The energy consumed the clauncher, tearing across his orange-white plates before exploding with incredible force.


    The explosion sent Naazin straight into the wall, denting the aged concrete and burying him inside, the sheer force of the impact shaking the building as the deafening crunch of concrete and carapace filled the air.


    Aidinza stood there in shock for a long moment. That had been brutal. There had been no contest; it was only describable as a fight in the cruellest of terms. He feels something watching him, and he shakes himself out of his shock just long enough to look up to see the drampa staring at him once again.


    You could have avoided this, it¡¯s eyes seemed to say. But you had to rouse my kind anger, they accused.


    Aidinza was not sure how his hands did not shake as they slowly lowered to the pok¨¦ball on his belt. But before he could retrieve Naazin¡¯s ball, the loud sound of shifting rock filled the arena.


    With almost glacial slowness, Naazin pulled himself out of the crater in the wall. He was easily in the worst condition that Aidinza had ever seen the crustacean, not even in battles that had left Naazin unconscious and defeated had he looked half as bad as he did taking that single blow. Thick cracks webbed across his carapace, one of his antennae was bent forward, two of his legs seemed to limp and trail against the ground as he shuffled forward, and one of his eyes was forced closed, whether through pain or swelling.


    Yet the water-gun pok¨¦mon merely stabbed his stabilising claw into the ground and levelled his own blue-eyed stare at the drampa so terribly beyond his capabilities.


    He was still standing.


    Aidinza reached for the clauncher¡¯s pok¨¦ball; this was far beyond anything he could expect his pok¨¦mon to go through, no matter the pride or the stakes of the battle. But Naazin¡¯s eye flicked towards him as he did so, filled with a calm certainty.


    He did not want to be returned, not yet. Aidinza did not know what was pushing the normally indolent pok¨¦mon to such lengths; unlike Shand¨ª¨ªn, he had no care for the crowd. But he would let Naazin do what he wanted.


    The drampa tossed its head, a contempt saturating its body language as it smoothly rose back up into the air and slowly approached the clauncher, rightfully thinking that the water type was on its last legs and that it had no need to rush.


    Naazin stared at the drampa as it approached, his sole blue eye conveying both boredom and some kind of disdain.


    For a single moment, the drampa hovered above the water type, staring down at him, before letting its body thump to the ground. It lifts one of its claws, the same purple glow building to a daunting luminescence.


    Then Naazin did something that no one watching could have expected. It was not a trick, or a hail mary, or a last-ditch effort, or even a move.


    No, Naazin straightened up out of his slouch as much as his battered form would allow him, tilted his head up so that he was looking down at the pok¨¦mon that utterly towered over him as the dragon scoffs and lashes out for the final blow.


    And he spits in its eye.


    For a moment, there was not a sound in the world. Not a breath nor a heartbeat. A pin would have been heard falling from a kilometre away.


    ¡°Outrage.¡± Drayden¡¯s voice snarls across the field, a statement and command both burning with tarnished pride.


    Pink bled into red, as a terrible energy shuddered up and down the drampa¡¯s form, blueish-green scales thrumming with a furious power. Flickers of energy pour and bleed off the drampa, as it lets out a seething roar.


    Outrage, one of the pinnacles of dragon-type moves, that brought their dreadful pride and mythic rage to bear in a single terrible rampage, completely unstoppable. It infused draconic energy into every inch of the user¡¯s form, bringing them to untold heights, imbuing their every movement with a potency to rival some of the most powerful moves pok¨¦mon could use.


    A single blow sends Naazin from one wall straight into the other; his body did not skid across the ground but dug straight through it until he came to a stop in an explosion of dust and concrete.


    Aidinza did not let there be a second blow, returning the undoubtedly unconscious Naazin with numb fingers. The anger issues of drampa had been something he knew intellectually he could take advantage of somehow, should take advantage of somehow, but in that moment, faced with it in person rather than through a screen, he could not help but wonder if he had made a mistake.


    ¡°The Challenger¡¯s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by withdrawal! Challenger, choose your next pok¨¦mon!¡±


    But he was in too deep, and at this point, he just had to trust the plan. With a decisive confidence he lacked, he had an unfamiliar pok¨¦ball in his hand, and with a flash of red, Aidinza¡¯s third pok¨¦mon appeared.


    The enraged drampa did not hesitate for a moment, throwing itself at the flash of red before it could have any chance to even take its new opponent¡¯s measure. It crashed down in front of Aidinza¡¯s pok¨¦mon still thrumming with reddish power, and it lashed out with its claws.


    The same blow that had sent Naazin, who was easily one of Aidinza¡¯s strongest pok¨¦mon, hurtling dozens of metres, stopped dead against a black, grinning jaw.


    Glowing met gleaming as two pairs of red eyes met, and Mawile swung his right hand to point up at the looming dragon, letting out a stream of incomprehensible babble. The drampa twists around, tail snapping like a whip, splitting the ground like water.


    It slams into Mawile¡¯s undefended left side with steel-shattering force, with all the power of its ten-foot frame behind it, bolstered by the incredible, unstoppable potency of Outrage.


    And it stops dead as a distorted metallic clang spreads through the air.


    Outrage, as best as Aidinza understood, infused the pok¨¦mon with draconic energy so deeply and heavily that their every action was empowered by it.


    Mawile was a fairy type. Aidinza understood that implication as well as he understood the mechanics of smack down. But the only thing he needed to understand was that the fae energy that thrummed inside the small yellow pok¨¦mon utterly rejected the draconic energy that Outrage had sent burning through every cell of the drampa.


    The drampa lunged at the steel type, both of its claws smashing down on the much smaller pok¨¦mon in a hammer blow that would crush a lesser pok¨¦mon with an infuriated roar. That, even without the strange energy of pok¨¦mon empowering, would have been a staggering blow.


    It stops dead.


    For as long as Outrage was active, the drampa would be unable to harm Mawile.


    ¡°Fairy Wind.¡± There were just two problems with that. The first was that Mawile and Aidinza had not spent very long together. Life had come at him very fast recently; it had maybe been two and a half weeks since they had met, and between travel, the forest, and preparing for this very fight¡­ the two of them had maybe spent a total of four days actually training together.


    The second, an almost extension of the first, was that¡­ Mawile was Mawile. So Aidinza found himself watching Mawile, instead of using fairy wind and taking advantage of the window of opportunity that Naazin¡¯s act of disrespectful defiance bought him, start incomprehensibly babbling.


    His jaw shifts to his left side, just slightly behind him, and the steel type presses his hand into it as if positioning himself to defend it. His other arm comes up to point at the raging dragon, his babbling intensifying in between being muffled by the enraged form of drampa pounding down on him.


    Then, after spending several seconds posturing, and only then did Mawile actually act. He twists backwards, his black false jaw cracking open for a moment and spilling out a pinkish mist, and in the refracted light of that mist, the world seemed ¡­ more colourful, more lively, the large field they were fighting on - dotted with mild signs of the two previous fights - became for a moment an expansive horribly scarred battlefield. Then he grabs that mist with his hand, and with an outright theatrical spin, he flings it towards the rampaging drampa in an almost benign underhanded toss.


    But there was very little benign about what it did to the dragon.


    With unsettling force the wind rushes over the drampa¡¯s form, clinging tightly to its form, contorting around every scale, and filling every crevice. Reflected through the mist the drampa grew and twisted into what could only be described as a towering edifice of rage and might, a mass of pointedly formed energy more akin to a dragon pulse than a pok¨¦mon.


    Then that energy spiked out to touch the wind and, in a violent twist, rapidly unravelled. The drampa roars, a noise bordering on a scream of pain, and thrashes; even with the pink mist unravelling, there was seemingly no visible damage to its form, its scales utterly unscuffed. But there was a drained weight to its form, the energy that so suffused it far from absent but visibly diminished.


    That did not seem to be a good thing for Mawile. Though the energy suffusing the dragon waned, it still left behind terrible anger and potent limbs coiled with corded muscle.


    Which was to say the drampa¡¯s retaliation slammed across Mawile¡¯s real jaw and sent him spinning in a decidedly untheatrical fashion. The steel type dazed on his feet for a moment, reorienting himself with the fact that he had just been spun a hundred and eighty degrees by a whiplike tail.


    ¡°Iron defence.¡± Aidinza snaps, his mouth tightening in frustration. He had hoped to take advantage of this trap for a while longer than a single move and knew that when the drampa dropped out of outrage, it would have a veritable arsenal of moves able to brutalise Mawile.


    But Mawile did not follow that order. Instead, his false jaw darkened with a caustic, shadowy power, and as the drampa lunged forward to bite down on him, he lunged to meet it. Gnashing teeth met gnashing teeth in an unsettlingly metallic clack, the two pok¨¦mon struggled against each other furiously. Though the vast height disparity gave the drampa a nearly insurmountable leverage advantage, Mawile utterly refused to let himself get bowled over, standing his ground against every twist and lunge for his neck, forcing the drampa into deadlock after a deadlock, more akin to a sword fight than the primaeval thrash of monsters vying for dominance.


    But it was a crash of limbs that could not last forever, and inevitably, the tides began to turn, but it was not against Mawile. The waning draconic energy very abruptly stops waning, burning through the drampa¡¯s form with a waxing potency, ironically leaving Mawile impervious to its struggles.


    The steel fairy type smashed past his opponent¡¯s attack, teeth closing around its thin neck. He twists his feet, dragging the drampa forward and slamming it into the ground, false jaw tightening down as it pumps caustic dark-type energy into the dragon, even as he chokes it against the ground.


    But the drampa did not stay there long, wrenching itself away from the pin with a furious roar, and with barely a pause to fill its empty lungs, it threw itself back into the fray, struggling fruitlessly against Mawile, met at every turn by Mawile¡¯s false jaw, dripping both with fairy wind and the caustic power of Crunch.


    But Aidinza found himself looking away from the fight, towards Drayden standing opposite him. He had expected the gym leader to have recalled the drampa; this situation was just as tenuous as it had been for the altaria, if not worse. The altaria, at the very least, could, in theory, hurt Naazin if it could pull itself together enough to act.


    Yet he simply watched, staring with an almost naked fury as intense as his pok¨¦mon¡¯s outrage as Mawile slowly whittled the drampa down from a position of nearly unassailable invulnerability.


    Aidinza was not keen to look a gift mudsdale in the mouth, but there was an unsettling feeling stirring in his gut, like he was slowly reaching into the gaping maw of a krookodile, tempting a much larger predator. Outrage would end inevitably, and Aidinza had no doubt the fight would end soon after; Drayden certainly seemed to think so, leaving his dragon in to wait out the rampage.


    ¡°Heat wave.¡± And when the jaws snapped shut, it was as decisive as it was brutal. The drampa snapped out of outrage with frightful suddenness; in one moment, it was chasing after Mawile with unhinged anger; the next, it had stopped on a dime and was spitting out a wild gout of flame that bathed the entire room in a white-orange glow, and consumed Mawile utterly.


    It was over in that same instant; Mawile crashed into the ground, his yellow mantle blackened with char, broken by the same incredible power that had so trivialised Naazin.


    Yet it was clear that power was on its last legs. Mawile had not managed to put the dragon down, but he had managed to savage it. It heaved with every moment, struggling to breathe after being choked against the ground. Its body shook underneath its own weight, swaying in an unfelt wind. Its two claws limp by its side, and its once livid, vivid pink eyes had dulled.


    ¡°The Challenger¡¯s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by knockout! Challenger, choose your next pok¨¦mon!¡±


    Aidinza¡¯s hand traces along the pok¨¦balls on his belt, pausing for a moment on one colder than the others. He glances across the field towards his opponent, where Drayden glared out, the thin veneer of his stoic control slowly reasserting itself.


    Then his hand fell to the most familiar ball on his belt, fingers slipping into subtle grooves, and in a flash of red, Sandile appeared on the field.


    Unlike the pok¨¦mon before him, that was a rather understated affair. He did not joyously showboat like Shand¨ª¨ªn, or stare down his opponent with terribly sharp eyes, nor did he come under immediate assault by a potent dragon.


    No, Sandile appeared with the same guileless innocence as always, a big gummy smile on his face and no two brain cells to rub together.


    To him, it might as well have just been another day on the road; there was no weight to the fight for him.


    ¡°Keep at a distance, Sandile. Dark Pulse.¡± Which meant Sandile would not mind a shift from his usual fighting style. The desert croc¡¯s jaws yawned open, a dark ball of roiling distorted energy between rows of razor-sharp teeth, growing larger over several seconds before collapsing in on itself. A lance of midnight blue energy vented out of the collapsed ball, cutting through the air towards the unsteady, half-slumped form of the drampa.


    But the dragon was not going to roll over that easy; in a surge of effort, it straightened out and, with a snarl, spat out two harsh purple beams, with the same crackling savagery that had characterised the tyrunt¡¯s beams, in a fraction of the time and a fraction of the condition.


    The beam slams into the dark pulse, an explosion of smoke and energy rattling the air as the moves shatter against each other.


    ¡°Sand Tomb, intercept it.¡± Aidinza calls a bare moment before the cloud of smoke splits apart, and the drampa¡¯s second beam tears out of it. In turn, Sandile manages to pull up a cloud of sand with his own bare moment to spare.


    The beam crashes into the dervish of sand, caught in its swirl and left to peter out harmlessly.


    ¡°Dark Pulse.¡± Aidinza calls again, watching as the dragon struggles to keep itself upright, the effects of trying to use draconic energy so soon after being absolutely bombarded by fairy energy, and in the confusing exhaustion of outrage¡¯s aftermath, seeing the energy still animating it fleeing rapidly.


    Another lance of midnight blue energy raced across the field, and once again, the drampa attempted to rally a defence, purple light flickering in between its teeth. But it was exhausted, left bereft of the energy of outrage, its body weak and unsteady. It buckles under its own weight, and crashes forward into its own attack, the draconic energy just as vicious to its owner as it would be to an enemy.


    Then the dark pulse slams into its forehead, snapping its head back and sending it teetering backwards in a boneless collapse of limbs, bouncing off the hard gym field ground.


    A moment passes, the dragon still on the ground before it stirred again, weakly pulling itself upright, pink eyes blurry with exhaustion glaring out at the gormless sandile across the field.


    ¡°Dark Pulse, finish this,¡± Aidinza ordered for the third time, feeling more like he was calling for an execution than for a fight to finish.


    The drampa refused to go quietly; it pulled itself together for one last act of defiance, pink eyes flashing to Aidinza and then towards Sandile. It seemed to gather something in its mouth for a moment before a thick deluge of water exploded out of it, a veritable torrent of pressurised water an arm¡¯s length thick.


    It was mind-boggling that even so close to unconsciousness, the drampa still had such power to pull on. If it - If Drayden - had not fallen for the Pheyan¡¯atho¡¯s trap, Naazin¡¯s taunt, then he had no doubt it would have torn through his entire team. The hydro pump shreds through everything in its path, ripping through the ground and punching a crater into the far wall.


    But it missed its target by half a dozen metres; it had never finished turning towards Sandile.


    Then, the third dark pulse collides, and the behemoth falls.


    Aidinza lets out a sigh of relief, Drayden¡¯s crossed hands tighten in frustration, and Sandile gets distracted by his tail, oblivious to it all.


    ¡°The Gym Leader¡¯s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by knockout¡­ Gym Leader, choose your next pok¨¦mon.¡±

 The Summit

    Aidinza watches as Drayden returns the drampa, muttering something to it out of the corner of his mouth. Then, as the man clips the drampa''s ball back to his belt, he takes a long, slow breath. His ordering outrage had fittingly come from a place of unrestrained temper, a knee-jerk reaction to Naazin''s disrespect, but unlike the drampa, it seemed he was struggling to fully reign in that rage.


    For a moment, his hand hovered over a visibly ancient pok¨¦ball, heavy and coated in chunky outcroppings, its paint worn and chipped. But with obvious effort, he instead grabs a more familiar pok¨¦ball, and in a flash of red, the altaria once more appears. But it was far from its first resplendent appearance, its fluffy feathers sullen and sodden, and this time, it did not glance back towards its trainer as if confused at being used at this level of battle.


    No, its dark, weary eyes were very firmly set on the distant Sandile as the ground type scuffed about in the dirt. It clearly was not eager to repeat the mistakes that had led to its utter humiliation at Naazin''s claws.


    Unfortunately for it, and for Drayden''s attempt to wrest control of the fight and his composure, sending the altaria back out was easily the worst possible choice he could have made. On the surface, it made sense; a flying type was ideal for dealing with a ground type like Sandile, forcing Aidinza to swap, ceding the advantage Naazin took from the altaria in a flurry of stone and pulsating water, or get cleaned up. Either way would stall out Aidinza''s momentum and give Drayden back the control of counter-pick.


    But beyond the surface level, Drayden had just sent out an exhausted pok¨¦mon against a moxie-empowered Sandile. Dominance was flowing through the desert croc''s blood, fueling him with power.


    It was the man''s first out-and-out mistake of the fight. It was not an exploited strategy or a misplayed tactic pulled apart because the Pheyan''atho had ripped apart the gym leader''s entire filmography and distilled hundreds of thousands of hours of footage into a plan to defeat Drayden.


    But a mistake. Something unaccountable that Aidinza outright never expected to happen.


    "Dark Pulse." Aidinza struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice, the exhaustion of the slugfest that had seen his pok¨¦mon tossed around like ragdolls time and time again slipping away in a glorious second wind.


    The difference between the fourth dark pulse and all proceeding dark pulses was as stark as night and day. The distorted energy empowering it did not simply lance across the sky as a black beam but darkened the room perceptibly, a pale imitation of Tsesei''s monstrous krookodile''s power, but an imitation nonetheless.


    The altaria threw itself to the side, the motion desperate and graceless as the dark pulse punched through the space it had just vacated, exploding against the far wall and sending chips of rock and history across the room.


    The flying-type screeches, spitting out a harsh beam of draconic energy back at Sandile, but its awkward dodge gives it a terrible angle, the beam going wide.


    "Sand Tomb, blind it." A plume of dust and sand explodes from the ground far underneath the altaria, losing power well before it reaches the humming pok¨¦mon but leaving a haze of debris to linger in the still air, obscuring the atlaria''s sight and leaving its form silhouetted against the lights behind it.


    "Dark Pulse." Aidinza watched as the altaria reacted to his voice, attempting to dodge without being able to see the attack coming for it. But it was not going to be enough. Its attempt at dodging was not just graceless but hesitant without the ability to see.


    "Protect!" Drayden snaps, the frustration of the fight, of Aidinza''s second wind, overcoming a lifetime of careful voice modulation. A shimmering green bubble forms in front of the altaria moments before the lance of darkness pierces through the obscuring dust cloud and slams into the dragon. The atlaria was shoved backwards, unharmed but displaced by the sheer force of the attack.


    "Keep up the pressure, Sandile." Before Aidinza had even finished speaking, another dark pulse was tearing through the air, Sandile might have been oblivious at the best of times, but amidst a fight, with his dominance over another pok¨¦mon already proven, his Moxie clear to see? He was as aggressive as Aidinza''s pok¨¦mon came.


    The cadence of the fight continued like that for several minutes, Sandile darkening the gym repeatedly as the altaria barely managed to keep ahead or keep the Dark Pulses at bay through desperate evasion and judicious use of Protect.


    It was a cadence that Aidinza and Sandile could maintain. But the altaria and Drayden could not, and Aidinza could see the moment the Pheyan''atho'' leader'' realised that. The altaria turned to more aggressive movements, taking sharper angles and pressing closer to the ground type. It almost abandoned its attempts to use dragon pulse against Sandile, seemingly realising the futility.


    Drayden thought that Sandile was strongest at a distance.


    He was falling for it.


    "Force the altaria lower." Aidinza kept his voice low, trusting Sandile to both hear him over the stream of dark pulses and to understand what he wanted. Sandile''s efforts immediately shifted higher, no longer forcing the altaria into sharp turns to avoid being slapped out of the sky but into steep looping dives.


    "Sand Tomb." Aidinza timed his order for the deepest part of the altaria''s dive, moments after another dark pulse had just sliced through the air above its head, and this time there was almost no loss of power as it exploded from the ground. The pillar of debris catches the altaria completely off guard, slamming into it from below, tearing the winds from its wings and leaving it to flounder in the air.


    Leaving it a sitting duck for the next dark pulse. It catches the dragon-type in the beak, spreading down its long neck like a creeping nightmare, before exploding and spiking the humming pok¨¦mon straight into the ceiling.


    And just like that, the second and fourth of Drayden''s pok¨¦mon were defeated.


    The young trainer felt more than heard Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s voice, as the young Pheyan''atho whipped the crowd into a new frenzy. Not that they needed much incitement, Aidinza''s newest victory was a tempo shift that even the most oblivious observers could feel, and with Drayden''s own home field advantage co-opted against him, the energy was running high.


    And Aidinza was running high off that energy. At that moment in the exaltation of the crowd, with blood rushing through his ears and the spectre of looming victory playing at his heart, Aidinza felt a bizarre moment where he understood Shand¨ª¨ªn implicitly. This had to be what the bird felt whenever he was the centre of attention.


    Despite himself, Aidinza looked across the field towards Drayden, his heart thumping with the energy of the crowd and eyes alight with triumph. Something¡­ maybe arrogant twists at his lips, pulling them upwards even as Drayden''s press into a thin, furious line.


    "The Gym Leader''s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by knocko-." A low, terrible growl interrupts the gym trainer as Drayden both returns altaria and releases his next pok¨¦mon in the blink of an eye. The new pok¨¦mon was not as massive as the drampa, but it was built even more thickly, it was bipedal with legs like tree trunks, covered in thick blue scales that had more in common with a cheese grater than even Sandile''s rough scales. Red spikes jut out from its form at random, each one jagged and chipped, hinting at a lifetime of brutal combat. Its arms would not be out of place on a Conkeldurr, thinner towards the humerus, but growing into massive forearms, each ending in three wickedly sharp, polished claws. Two rough-hewn blue wings stretch from its back, made of dozens of pinions that looked like one solid mass but with a slight flex of, revealed an equal number of tough, folded membranes.


    All of it leading to its crimson head, that almost seemed as if it was made of the sharp spikes that intermittently covered the rest of its body, if not for the fact that it ended in a brutal, blunt snout. Two amber eyes glare out over the field, unlike drampa it did not even glance towards its opponent, instead setting them on Aidinza standing on the other side of the field.


    Druddigon, the cave pok¨¦mon.


    Something not quite a hush falls over the gym. The crowd was still riotous, or at least the mass of it was, and it took Aidinza a moment to realise why. The Pheyan''atho had fallen silent, and it was not difficult to figure out why, because Aidinza knew they were thinking the same thing he was.


    There were two pok¨¦mon Aidinza expected at the end of this¡­ mountain he was scaling. The drampa, or this very pok¨¦mon currently staring him down with savage amber eyes.


    The fact it was here, with two pok¨¦mon yet to even be released¡­ the cloying thought of where Drayden was planning to escalate this to hung over Aidinza like a guillotine. But he could not let that uncertainty show, not here, not now. Not after he had come all this way.


    So, instead of letting the thought overwhelm him, he met the terribly powerful pok¨¦mon''s stare with an even certainty.


    That only seemed to infuriate the potent dragon type, its amber eyes flashing with something dangerous. What passed for its lips peeled back, exposing a wicked maw of razor-sharp teeth, as the air shook with a low, terrifying growl that felt as if it pitched to directly target Aidinza''s fear response.


    It was all he could do to not flinch away from the sound, a feat that the Gym Trainer, used to dragon types and far from its direct attention, could not even manage; his attempt to continue what he was saying before the drake was released stuttering to a blubbering halt.


    On the other hand, it had nearly the opposite effect on Sandile. He was infuriated by the attempt to intimidate his trainer, and enraged by the sheer temerity of his opponent to not even glance at him.


    He roars back at the dragon, an ancient bone rattling sound, the pure distilled essence of the dominant power rushing through his veins and empowering him with every victory. The sound of a ruler of vast dry, sandy horizons, an eternal apex constant to the ever shifting harshness of the desert. It did not just demand attention, but commanded respect by dint of unchallengeable genetic success.


    Druddigon''s attention finally falls away from Aidinza, to Sandile across from him, its posture shifting to acknowledge the challenger before it.


    Aidinza lets out a low, slow breath of still, stale air, as the attention of the powerful dragon-type passes from him. Keeping himself together, to not show weakness under the eye of a dragon like the druddigon was¡­ difficult. But he needed to keep his wits about him, one wrong move could ruin everything he had worked for so far.


    "Keep at a distance, Sandile. Dark Pulse." The room blackens as Sandile flexes the power that bringing down two dragons had earned him; the equivalent of another pok¨¦mon spending several minutes carefully gathering power to imbue themselves with incredible strength. The air snapped as it fled in the wake of the beam, dwarfing even Naazin''s most powerful moves in that perfect moment of zenith, unerringly placed to catch the druddigon in the centre of its chest.


    The dragon makes no attempt to avoid it, and Drayden calls nothing; Aidinza does not even see his face move, his eyes blazing with unbalanced fury and frustration. Aidinza, however, definitely sees his face move when the dark pulse makes contact. The dark-type move slams into thickly plated draconic scales of a pok¨¦mon that Aidinza had seen stonewall the most potent pok¨¦mon of seven badge trainers, a pok¨¦mon that filtered monsters from Monsters.


    Sandile, dominance thundering through his veins, was in no way filtered. The druddigon stumbles, sliding back from the force as Sandile overcomes its stance and strength outright. This was not the trickery that brought low drampa, a contrivance of circumstance and traps that prevented its incredible power from ever being brought to bear. This was not tyrunt, a pok¨¦mon of conservative strength meant to weed out those who were genuinely unsafe fighting a trainer of Drayden''s calibre. This was not altaria, caught out by sacrifice and counter matchup.


    This was raw power.


    But Drayden would not be Drayden if that was all it took. Druddigon roars again, the claws of its feet digging into the ground as it stabilises itself, slipping through dirt and earth-like water through sand. It tilts forward, powerful legs bunching underneath it and its membranous wings stretching out to stabilise it.


    Then, it does not explode forward as much as bulldozes forward. Its movements were not fast so much as implacable; it ate distance with length and inevitability.


    "Sand Tomb, all across the field! Do not let Druddigon get to you." All across the gym, sand and dust stirred, twitching with Sandiles'' enhanced power, but held in reserve; a feat more of focus than power that Sandile''s wandering, juvenile mind would usually be incapable of. All dozen of them are to be prepared for the moment the druddigon charges through them.


    It did so nearly immediately, a veritable pillar of sand and force exploding underneath its feet as it stomped forward. Sand raced up the druddigon''s form, grinding through and underneath rough scales with enough strength to toss a gigalith. There was a moment where it seemed like the move would give the dragon pause, unbalancing the creature before the sheer weight, momentum, and power of the dragon carried it straight through. The next waiting sand tomb did not even manage that heartbeat of uncertainty from the dragon; it simply crashed straight through.


    The insane thing was that they were doing damage. Sand Tomb might not be anywhere near as powerful as Dark Pulse, but it was one of Sandile''s most practised Moves, one he used as everything from a weapon to a shield to a tool. With this much power behind him, it would have been enough to put most of Aidinza''s other pok¨¦mon out of commission; by the Sun, if Sandile used the move against himself, he would knock himself out; it was more than enough to inflict harm to the druddigon.


    But it simply ignored it; through discipline and a masterful - terrifying - supremacy of its own body, it shrugged it off.


    Aidinza''s lips twitched downwards; he had been hoping that would be more effective, but it only drove home something Aidinza had already known; Moxie was letting Sandile exist in this¡­ tier of monstrosity, but he did not belong there.


    Which was definitely a problem when Druddigon was barrelling down on him in an unstoppable charge.


    "Dig, get out of there." Dig was not a move that Aidinza and Sandile had used that often, despite being the first TM that they had ever owned. The sparse battles that Aidinza had on the road were never big enough to warrant the move, and his recent gym battles¡­ well Skyla would have laughed in his face, and if he tried to have Sandile dig through Brycen''s arena, he was not sure if the ground type would ever forgive him.


    But there was no rust or hesitation in the way the desert croc disappeared underneath the earth, avoiding the charge by a handful of smooth inches.


    The druddigon snarls as it spins, feet tearing gouges through the ground as it brings its bulk to a sudden stop. It glares at the hole that his opponent had disappeared into, and Aidinza feels a fragile moment of satisfaction. His Sand Tomb strategy might have been ineffective, but if he could keep Sandile at a distan-


    "Earthquake." That fragile moment of satisfaction was shattered with brutal efficiency. The very second the first clearly enunciated syllable had rung through the air, Aidinza knew that he had fucked up.


    "GET OUT OF THERE!" Aidinza was certain he had never been louder than that moment, his shout a full chested bellow in a desperate attempt to reach Sandile through the half a dozen metres of earth before that same earth was turned against the desert croc with crushing force.


    There was something wickedly savage about the druddigon as it lifted its huge tree trunk-like leg up, a thrum of energy racing up its leg through the lines of its scales before exploding from the top of its knee. The explosion slammed the leg down in a violent burst of motion.


    Distantly, Aidinza could hear panic spread among the audience as the building there shook and trembled with terrible force, dust shaking loose from the ceiling and scattering through the air in a thick cloud. Less distantly, he is nearly thrown from his own feet as the earth underneath him roils with the sheer power of the druddigon, cracking and buckling in three distinctive pulses of motion.


    But even that he could barely pay attention to, his eyes desperately scanning across the crumpled earth for any sign of Sandile, his heart in his throat. Earthquake was a typically devastating move, a severe threat to even the strongest of opponents. But that was when the pok¨¦mon was above ground, dealing only with the earth roiling and collapsing underneath them.


    When Earthquake was used against pok¨¦mon that were already underground, it became a nightmarishly potent move, as the ground they were digging through would turn into a coffin pressing into them from all sides with crushing force.


    Something rings in his ear, as Aidinza realised that in one poorly thought-out order, he had thrown away everything his team had done in this fight. From Shand¨ª¨ªn seizing victory from a counter match up, to Naazin''s defiance, that led to Mawiles weakening the drampa. All that effort, all that energy¡­ wasted.


    Because of him.


    The self-loathing recrimination only grew harsher as he watched with dull eyes as the Sand Tombs still held about the battlefield, just shy of a dozen wavered and collapsed; the sand scattering in the wind felt like a stone-cold confirmation of Sandile''s state.


    He stares at the shifting sand, feeling dizzy underneath the eyes of hundreds of people watching his folly, underneath the heat of Drayden and his druddigon''s glare, at the taste of the stale¡­


    Air.


    Aidinza''s eyes slide from the shifting sand to the roof above, a twisted artifice of ancient history parasitised by modernity. Steel beams and lights hanging from the ceiling hammered into the metre-thick stone, with wires visibly hung between hooks. He feels the humid air around him, the familiar, if unpleasant knowledge that it was his own evaporated sweat uncomfortable in his stomach.


    His eyes fall to the shifting sand.


    Just as it ceased shifting and began moving. At first, there were just shy of a dozen streams of sand, each as thick as a man''s waist, with a serpentine length to rival the beguiled drampa. But soon, they began melding and melting together, merging into a single writhing mass that slowly circled the druddigon in the centre of the field.


    The druddigon''s attention fell away from Aidinza, its eyes weary as it watched the sand erratically spasm about the field. It seemed it, too, had realised that the battle was far from over.


    "Earth-." There was a note of uncertainty in Drayden''s voice, it was clear that like Aidizna he had thought that catching Sandile out with Earthquake while he was underground would decide the battle outright. But it had not, and that made Drayden hesitate.


    And that hesitation cost him.


    The ground underneath the druddigon, already shattered and uneven, explodes upwards and with a feral, ruthless snarl, Sandile lunges out of the hole, his eyes alight with wild anger. It was easy to see why the desert croc had not escaped the earthquake unharmed; Aidinza saw that entire sections of his rough scale had been shorn away, his back left claws had been crushed into a jagged mess, and a sanguine imprint of his own teeth had been shaved into the side of his own jaw. But that was all he managed to see before the sand circling about the arena ruptured.


    Sand blasts in every direction, all at once, in one heartbeat it hung like a thick yellow haze over the arena, and in the next it was twisting and swirling across that same arena in thick sheets of sand. A maelstrom in the air itself.


    A Sandstorm.


    Aidinza can not help the grin that splits open his face despite the sand and grit that catches on his teeth, his own position engulfed in moments by scouring sand that scratched at his skin. Sandstorm was by itself not the most damaging move, though it did require power in spades, but it was a move that invariably changed the dynamics of a fight. It brought before its enemies the fury of the desert and challenged them to fight when the very air scratched at their throats and blinded their eyes.


    Perhaps, needless to say, they were conditions that the sandile line thrived in.


    As if to confirm Aidinza''s thoughts, a pained roar pierced through the harsh, lilting rasp of sheets of sand scraping against the ground and itself. One that went unanswered as the sound of force crashing against nothing followed, the only hint the average observer could parse of the fight within the maelstrom haze of yellow.


    Even Aidinza, well used to the fury of his Mother Desert, could make out little more than blurry shapes backdropped against the raging Sandstorm, leaving him little more than a passive bystander to the fight.


    Maybe if the Sandstorm was more controlled, it would be easier to see through, but there was nothing controlled in this wild maelstrom; this was Sandile throwing all of the power his victories thus far had earned him around with wild abandon.


    But, of course, that came with a cost; Sandile was substituting skill and ability with power and stamina, burning through both at a breakneck pace. It had been barely half a minute since Sandile had erupted from the ground and unleashed his Sandstorm, but already it wavered around the edges, thick sheets of sand splattering across the ground, left impotent.


    And as sheet after sheet of the Sandstorm was peeled away, the fight that had been hidden within grew clearer and clearer. The intensity of which would have been evident even only in the aftermath. The ground was pockmarked and scarred with deep gouges ripped and burnt into it; with sand settling in from the fading sandstorm, it turned the already treacherous underfoot into something truly perfidious.


    But the two fighters were oblivious to the dangerous underfoot; the druddigon''s weight reshaped the ground with every step, and Sandile''s ceaseless feral assault seemed uncaring for whatever ground he found underfoot, solely concerned with how he could use it to close the distance with his foe as quickly as possible.


    Or that was how it seemed on the surface; a longer look revealed the truth of the fight, and both fighters were flagging terribly. Druddigon''s left eye had begun a slow process of swelling shut, and its heavy stance belied the real weight on its limbs, it''s every movement sluggish and slow; its defeat by a hundred thousand grains of sand far from total but evidently draining. Sandile, on the other hand, no matter his ferocity, wore the consequences of stepping toe to toe with a pok¨¦mon nearly three times his size and many times his weight openly. The devastating injuries from Earthquake had been joined by innumerable bruises, split scales and a pronounced limp on his front leg that not even his feral rage could mask.


    The two of them had pummelled each other, ripped and tore at each other under the raging Sandstorm until both of them had been put on the precipice of defeat.


    One big push was all that was needed.


    The druddigon catches Sandile with an errant swing of its arm, and it was not so much a matter of impact as leverage that flung the desert croc several metres away.


    An opportunity for the trainers to step in and give that big push.


    "Draco Meteor!"/"Power Trip!" Aidinza snapped the moment he realised the state of the battle, but Drayden was faster still, the benefit of experience¡­ of probably being in this exact situation before.


    But Aidinza had made the call, and all he could do was trust that Sandile was fast enough.


    Sandile, clawing himself to a stop, pauses for what might be the first time since he had erupted from the ground. He straightens up for a moment, his maw curling, and despite the disparity of height between the two, he seems to look down upon his opponent. His opponent''s posture also shifts, lowering its stance as its head tilts towards the ceiling, leaving only one eye to glare across at Sandile as a thrumming orb of orange energy coalesces at the end of its snout.


    Sandiles'' battered body shivers as the energy of Moxie is focused and intensified, and his weary muscles tighten and visibly flex as he stares across at the druddigon, as orange supplanted white as the primary light source of the gym.


    Then he explodes forward, the limp that not even his feral anger could suppress nowhere to be seen as he skitters across the distance between him and his opponent.


    The druddigon twisted its body, looking like it was physically straining to move the meteor that was burning in the air above it.


    Sandile throws himself forward, his pounce cracking the ground underneath him.


    The Draco Meteor falls.


    Sandile snarls.


    Orange light replaces white, as half a heartbeat before Sandile could wrap his teeth around the druddigon''s neck, the Draco Meteor blossoms, splitting into innumerable incandescent petals mere centimetres from Sandile''s form.


    The explosion of force was devastating, lifting even the druddigon off its feet and sending it hurtling backwards. The crash of Sandile into the earth would have been equally as devastating, if Aidinza had not returned him before he could even touch the ground.


    He had known what was going to happen from the very moment he had been second to seize the opportunity.


    But he also knew he had to let Sandile go to the end; the desert croc was fast approaching his evolution, and while defeat was a bitter thing for a krokorok to taste, humiliation was unconscionable.


    "The Challenger''s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by knockout! Challenger, choose your next pok¨¦mon!"


    But that still left Aidinza down to his fifth pok¨¦mon, while Drayden was still only on his fourth. Aidinza''s hand falls to his second last pok¨¦ball, fingers tracing over chilly steel as his eyes trace over the distant battered druddigon.


    The dragon was beyond its last legs. It had thrown everything it had left into that last Draco Meteor, and that had been scraping the bottom of the barrel so deeply that there were wood chips digging underneath nails.


    Aidinza might have been on his second to last pok¨¦mon, but¡­ well, the position he was in was better than he could have possibly anticipated. The drampa had been dealt with, and the druddigon was on the verge of falling over, and he still had two entirely fresh pok¨¦mon.


    One that was uniquely suited to closing out this fight.


    "Challenger, choose your next pok¨¦mon, or forfeit the battle!"


    There was a part of him telling him that he should back out. The same doubts and fears that plagued him when he fought Clay, that reared its head in the crushing aftermath of the druddigon''s earthquake¡­


    "Challenger, final warning. Choose your next pok¨¦mon, or forfeit the battle!"


    Aidinza''s fingers tighten around cold steel, and a moment later, the gleaming ice blue form of Nihanlo appeared on the field, her stocky frozen body unassuming against the devastation of the gym battle, reshaped by the errant power of first the drampa, then the focused power druddigon.


    "Keep at a distance, Nihanlo. This is not going to take much." Aidinza warns the bergmite and resists the urge to glance towards Drayden. "Powder Snow." The sound of cracking ice fills the arena as the bergmite''s hyperactive shell growth strains against the movement of her flesh and blood body.


    A moment later, she spits a stream of tinged cyan air swirling with stark white powder towards the distant druddigon. The dragon was all but limp as it struggled to deal with the damage from its feral mauling at the hands of Sandile, as well as the exhaustion in the aftermath of using Draco Meteor. Despite that, it struggles to its feet, and stumbles out of the way of the attack by miniscule inches.


    "Fire Punch." Drayden''s voice was flat, an exhaustion matched by his pok¨¦mon dragging on him. The druddigon lets out a noise half a growl half a huff of breath, as its claws snapped into a blaze and it forced itself into a slow tilting charge.


    But even that might have been enough, Nihanlo was by far Aidinza''s slowest pok¨¦mon, between her stubby legs, natural bulk, and the fact that even when moving her shell was constantly freezing to her skin, she made even Naazin''s lackadaisical crawl look lightning fast.


    "Rapid Spin away." Thankfully, Aidinza had a tool to mitigate that, if only somewhat. Nihanlo jerks away from the druddigon, spraying another icy blue wind in a long path. Then she begins spinning in place, stubby legs sending her from bounding twist to bounding twist. Then as the druddigon closed in with its stumbling charge, and the momentum of her spinning reached an almost self-sustaining speed, she slammed all four of her feet into the ground. Throwing herself into the air.


    The torque and force carry her a few metres before she crashes down on the icy path she had just made, her spinning intensifying as she slides over the watery ice.


    It was¡­ well, Aidinza preferred to be honest in the comfort of his own mind, and he had to admit it was far from an inspiring sight. Nihanlo was not built for speed or movement in general, and watching her spin about like a dust dervish as she slid over ice on her belly was borderline comedic.


    If the druddigon was not shambling over its own feet, then Nihanlo might as well have just stayed still. But the state of the dragon meant even Nihanlos'' borderline goofy escape was good enough for the purpose.


    "Powder Snow," Aidinza ordered again as Nihanlo reached the end of her icy path and spun to a slow stop. The druddigon, already in motion, was unable to drag its bulk out of the way. The gust of freezing cold wind washes across the shoulder scales of the dragon, shards of brittle ice forming across aching limbs.


    The druddigon grunts in pain, long too exhausted to properly vent its pain in earth shaking roars. It jerks its shoulder, straining against the ice with a long flex of its limb but the ice does not snap, leaving a thick sheet immobilising the dragon''s shoulder.


    "Powder Snow." Aidinza orders, and held down by the ravages Sandile had inflicted upon it, the exhaustion of its own moves, and the weight of the ice, the druddigon had no hope of getting out of the way.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Once more, a mighty titan falls.


    "The Gym Leader''s pok¨¦mon has been eliminated by knockout. Gym Leader, choose your next pok¨¦mon."


    Drayden''s fiery anger seemed to have burned out of him, leaving behind only the embers of rage and exhaustion. It was clear he wanted this over with, that he had planned to have this over with long before this point.


    His hand falls to his belt, and with almost mechanical motion, he releases his second to last pok¨¦mon in a flash of red.


    It was a strange pok¨¦mon. Bipedal, green and clearly reptilian, it had a large black sac that was slowly inflating, connected from the top of its throat to the middle of its chest, and for a moment, its black and white-tipped tail curled in on itself, giving it the appearance of some kind of bike for a bizarre moment.


    Cyclizar, a pok¨¦mon that Drayden had only recently brought into his deep menagerie of dragons. Well, recently, for the venerable gym leader, he had only been using it for a mere half-decade rather than for the half turn of a century.


    Still, Aidinza knew enough to be wary. It was far from the monstrous plateaus of the drampa and the druddigon, but it was incredibly fast, and packed not just a hefty amount of power in its limber form but an impressive array of movements to dislodge even the strangest of type match ups.


    It was a disastrous matchup for Nihanlo; the stocky ice type was slow and had little capability to fend off the Cyclizar, beyond just outright attacks that would exhaust the ice chunk pok¨¦mon.


    "Keep at a distance, Nihanlo." Aidinza struggled to keep the waver in his voice from giving him away, keeping his face level and resisting the urge to wet his suddenly dry lips. "Powder Snow."


    "Fire Fang." Drayden''s voice fell upon the battlefield like the execution sentence of a tired god, and Aidinza could see him look away, first to the Pheyan''atho, who stared with bated breath at the fight and then for a moment behind him.


    Drayden had Nihanlo pegged as a slow, ranged pok¨¦mon. Built to sit there, take punishment and whittle away at its opponent, much like Naazin. A sitting duck for pok¨¦mon as fast and versatile as the cyclizar.


    The bipedal, green dragon raced across the field with a blistering speed that would leave Shand¨ª¨ªn jealous, a mouthful of fire backdropping several rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was on Nihanlo before the bergmite could even manage to breathe in powder snow, and with a snarl, it sank its burning teeth into the ice type''s shell.


    Aidinza could not help the smile crossing his face.


    Hypercryosis was a rare mutation of the bergmite lines'' special ability'' ice body. Aidinza, like many things about pok¨¦mon, did not fully understand it. The Opelucid City Nurse told him it had to do with unregulated hormones, atrophied prion receptors, and a specific chemical composition of a bergmite''s anchor layer, the keratin weaves that bound their ice shell to their body. It resulted in a number of concerns: a specific dietary requirement for biotin, a higher risk for a number of disorders, and a requirement for constant shavings to ensure she does not freeze into an immobile ice cube, as her body was completely incapable of bleeding excess moisture.


    Excess moisture like the saliva of a pok¨¦mon that had just sunk its teeth into her with a set of fiery chompers. It did not take long for the cyclizar to realise what was happening, as it attempted to jerk away from the bergmite and found that rather than its teeth sliding free of the watery holes it had made of Nihanlo''s ice shell, it was instead frozen tight to it.


    The dragon type tries to rear back but very quickly runs into an issue: attempting to move an object nearly half again its body weight with nothing but its teeth was a herculean task.


    It scrambles against the ground, yanking at its teeth and Nihanlo''s shell over and over to no avail, completely and utterly frozen; immobilised against its opponents own body.


    It''s opponent whose strength was physical attacks, not ranged attacks.


    Drayden had fallen for the trap.


    "Avalanche." Nihanlo''s body glowed an icy blue, a frosty mist swirling around her before she proved that while it might be difficult to move something half again your weight with just your teeth, moving something half your weight by its teeth was a much easier prospect. The bergmite rears up on her hind legs, drags the cyclizar off its own feet with ease before she twisted around, and slams the lizard straight into the ground.


    It was brutally effective; all the force of Nihanlo''s weight and the potency of the ice-type Move dropped onto the dragon type''s head.


    Aidinza had expected to use this trap on a pok¨¦mon like the drampa or the druddigon, an absolute monster. He expected about even odds that it would be able to put down one of those pok¨¦mon. Few things could take having a hundred kilograms dropped on their head from the inside gracefully, but if any pok¨¦mon he expected to face today could, it would be them.


    But cyclizar? A pok¨¦mon built for hit and run?


    In a single move, Nihanlo knocked the ''mount'' pok¨¦mon out cold.


    Aidinza looked across the field to his opponent; in a swift few minutes, he had gone from being down to his two pok¨¦mon, staring down a gauntlet of three opponents, to entirely flipping the playing field without any fatigue worth mentioning.


    Drayden''s face was blank; his eyes met Aidinza''s, but they were indecipherable. There was no sign of his exhaustion, or his anger, or anything at all. There was nothing. He returns the cyclizar a moment after the referee declared it unable to battle, and he has no reaction as the crowd explodes into cheers again.


    Aidinza watches as he reaches towards his belt one last final time. The final moment of truth, there were very few pok¨¦mon that Drayden could send out that Aidinza was uncertain that Ninhalo could take. Most that he was uncertain about had not been used in gym battles for years at this point.


    He had almost done it. He had almost scaled this absurd mountain of challenges that had been laid before him. He approached the summit.


    Then Drayden''s blank, emotionless facade shattered as his eyes flashed with a new surge of anger, and his hands closed around an old, weathered pok¨¦ball. With a flick of his wrist that looked far too young for the gym leader''s aged body, Drayden showed Aidinza just how far away from the summit he really was.


    In a flash of red, Haxorus took to the field.


    Almost immediately, that flash of rage disappears, and in stark contrast with the far too young flick of the wrist, for a moment, Drayden looks far too old, as he stares almost as if confused at his own pok¨¦mon.


    Haxorus did not announce its presence with a roar like druddigon, attempt to glare Aidinza into submission or question why it was being sent against a petty fighter. No, the Behemoth simply was. Its presence spoke for itself, an oppressive air of power informing every single person in that room that they lived by sufferance of inaction.


    It was beyond labels of apex or predator, king or emperor; it was an incarnate of power itself. The dual gleaming crimson blades jutting out of its jaw, immaculate and unscarred despite the better part of a century of combat, spoke to that just as intently as the fist thick plates of burnished gold armouring its form, or the muscles to put a conkeldurr to shame that stretched underneath those plates.


    The druddigon and the drampa had been monsters. In a tier of their own, that Aidinza could only pretend to approach with tricks and wits, but they were a pallid representation of the real power Drayden could bring to bear.


    Aidizna did the right thing.


    "I am withdrawing Nihanlo, and the rest of my team from combat." There was no fight or struggle to be had here, there apparently never was. Aidinaz returns Nihanlo in a flash of red  as he feels the crowd stare at him, but despite that Aidinza did not feel any stirring of shame.


    Despite how much weight there was on this fight. Despite how much effort the Pheyan''atho and Aidinza and Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den put into planning it, no matter the sleepless night, the fundamental truth going into this was that there was never a victory to be had. Drayden was meant to be beyond Aidinza, the pinnacle of Unova''s Gym Leaders.


    But he had taken the man to his sixth pok¨¦mon, taken down two pok¨¦mon that spelt the end of the eighth gym battle of countless trainers seeking the glory of the Unovan conference. He had gone the distance, and he had forced Drayden to play his final hand.


    To admit that he was only going to beat Aidinza with pure, overwhelming force. That was what releasing Haxorus was an admission of.


    Aidinza looked across the field, and as Drayden lifted his hand to return his pok¨¦mon, the Ya''an-ah boy knew that the Phayen''atho'' leader'' knew it too. The man continued to stare at his own pok¨¦mon¡¯s back even as the referee declared him the winner, a grim realisation of what he had just done dawning on his face.


    This was not Aidinza''s defeat to taste like ash in his mouth.


    Haxorus disappears in a flash of red, leaving the gym feeling strangely empty, a deep silence had taken the room. Struck dumb by the presence of one of the most powerful pok¨¦mon in Unova or by the inglorious ending of the fight, Aidinza did not know.


    Drayden was the first to break the silence after several long moments of its oppressive weight. "I have determined that the challenger has demonstrated capabilities worthy of the Legend Badge and have elected to award him with the badge despite the outcome of the battle."


    He pauses for another moment, and it seems like he is about to say something else before turning away. Despite his head being held high, his posture as proud as when Aidinza first saw him; it looked like a fragile, weak facade.


    The gym leader leaves through an exit behind him and disappears into a shadowed hall nearly immediately.


    Aidinza clips Nihanlo''s ball to his belt before unclasping it as the referee of the battle approaches with an uncertain look in his blue eyes. "Usually, Drayden would give you the badge, but¡­" He glances at the doorway on the other end of the field before shaking his head. He holds out a gym badge shaped like a dragon''s head, clearly expecting Aidinza to take it.


    "Keep it." Aidinza rejects the badge, glancing to the side to see Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den approaching. He takes his belt full of his pok¨¦balls and tosses it to the other native boy before stepping past the referee.


    The referee took a long moment to even register Aidinza stepping past him, standing there gormlessly with the badge held out in front of him. But when he turns and reaches to stop the Naisho''h boy, he finds Unkethila interposed between them, the old man''s gnarled withered hands closing the referee''s hand around the badge.


    But Aidinza ignored that; instead, he followed Drayden through the distant door. Drayden was not getting out of this that easily.


    Beyond that door was a long corridor lined with intricate carvings and torches, though all the torches had long since burnt out, and the ever-present string lights parasitising the walls ended only a few metres deep into the corridor, leaving it difficult for Aidinza to see two steps in front of him, much less the detailed carvings muralising the walls. Thankfully, the corridor only led one way, and he was not forced to stumble around a maze in the dark. Instead, minutes later, he found himself standing in front of a door only slightly ajar, backlit by a dim electric light.


    The boy does not hesitate to push through the door, finding himself staring at Drayden''s back as the man stands hunched over a desk.


    "You should have taken the badge." His voice was inflectionless, not quite dead, but very carefully neutral.


    "It did not feel right to take the spoils of a victory I only had one-third hand in." Aidinza takes a few steps into the room, glancing around for a brief moment. It was larger than he expected, with the pale light hanging from the ceiling, unable to even begin lighting the edges of it.


    "One-third?" An outside observer might have been forgiven for putting the word casual to Drayden''s tone as he responded, but the slowly tightening line of his shoulders told the story about the edge the Gym Leader was on.


    "The Pheyan''atho planned it; my team and I obviously fought it, and you fell for it." There was a part of him still marvelling at that, one that wanted to revel in the fact he had pushed Drayden over the edge.


    "So you''re here to gloat." There was something almost hopeful about Drayden''s tone, his shoulders relaxing. Aidinza being there to gloat would be a comfort for the older man.


    "I''m not." Just like that, the Gym leader''s shoulders draw back into a tight line, and he falls silent, staring down at whatever it was on his desk.


    "Then why are you here, U?ma?." His voice was low, roiling with a coiling threat. Like a cornered cat preparing to lash out.


    "Answers. You know why I am here, Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?. Ah-na-Ghai Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en, I have earned them." Aidinza''s words hang heavy in the air for what feels like an eternity as Drayden goes as still as a statue, and Aidinza bores a hole into the back of his head with his stare.


    As it slowly becomes clear that Drayden is not going to respond, Aidinza turns to the rest of the room and slowly walks to the edge of the light. There was a display case, and inside, there were two skulls, one obviously draconic in life, the other human, and both suffering obvious violence in death. They were cracked and fragmented, with entire sections of bone just missing.


    There was something inscribed on the front of the case, but Aidinza could not properly make out the words, so he reached into his pocket and drew out a pack of matches. He had a flashlight in one of the pockets of his poncho, but something about this felt¡­ right.


    He strikes the match, fire lighting up his face and the inscription. The writing itself was in Pheyan''atho, but Aidinza could make out three dates.


    05/08/0124 - 28/05/0131 - 26/03/0135


    "Veh''a''ha?a-den was born in the summer of the hundred twenty-fourth calendar year, and his companion Sunka¡¯?ikala, a Noivern hatched in the spring of the hundred thirty-first calendar year. He led a succession rebellion against his older brother, succeeding and uniting the Pheyan''atho after two years of fighting before both were slain in a duel by his youngest cousin." Drayden spoke without moving an inch from where he was hunched over the desk, his voice carrying the cadence of bone-deep rote memorisation.


    Aidinza pursed his lips and walked deeper into the darkness. There were more display cases and even some entire skeletons of what Aidinza guessed was Haxorus remade, though they paled in stature to the dragon that had just ended his fight.


    He pauses on a skeleton a few rows deep. It was a different skeleton from the others, lacking the bipedal structure of the others, far larger, and perhaps most obviously with three neck structures.


    A hydreigon.


    0036/11/04  - 21/12/0818 - 7/09/0841


    "Unk''kh¨ªza-dyn the Conqueror. Born on the coldest night of winter and the eve of yet another civil war among the Pheyan''atho. She was hok?iyopa?ni; her parents were the failed rivals of a man known as Lord Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, one of the many claimants of to the title of Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?. She and her siblings were taken as thralls, as kh¨ªzawi?h¨¢?a. She earned glory for her name across years and mantled her lord''s walls with scales. But days before the elders would bend the knee and declare him Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?, she slit his throat in the night, throwing the Pheyan''atho back into civil war. But not for long, as the once kh¨ªzawi?h¨¢?a walked into Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka and emerged with the fealty of the Oy¨²spa, a hydreigon from the time of wi?¨¢ka." Drayden''s voice trails off for a moment as Aidinza strikes another match, holding it up to the bones. Deep regular holes had been dug into the remains, winding around the limbs over and over.


    "When she returned, she was uncontestable, though many tried. In mere months, she ended the civil war and was declared the Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?. Then she turned her gaze outwards, first to the phe?¨ªwi?h¨¢?a, then to the ?h¨¢?awi?h¨¢?a¡­ the Tly''an-yen. She washed across Unova, unifying it underneath the Pheyan''atho, conquering lands untold since the time of the He''cetu and the Yupiya. Until-"


    "Until the Hosh''halgai." Aidinza interrupts, his eyes tracing over the holes in the bone. "I know the story of Undine the Scourge. She threatened the walls of the Relic Castle itself,  and so Ch?¨®hjil-y¨¦¨¦h and the Hosh''halgai bled her to nothing but bleached bones." It sounded so easy to put into words, but Ch?¨®hjil-y¨¦¨¦h had struggled against the Pheyan''atho for years, even after every other tribe of the Ya''an-ah was subjugated. Before her cacturne managed to drag the great scourge down before the steps of the Relic Castle itself, entombing the massive dragon and its rider in a cocoon of thorned vines that had dug into every inch of the attempted desecrator. "The Mother Desert never came closer to being lost to us."


    Drayden does not continue when Aidinza finishes, as a pointed air takes the room. Aidinza feels something stirring in his stomach, an inkling at just what Drayden was trying to get at growing.


    Aidinza walks back into the hanging light of the middle room, snuffing out the match in his hand as he stands there staring at Drayden''s back for a long moment. Words were distant and slow to form on his tongue, the story Drayden was painting, the conclusion he was ushering Aidinza towards¡­


    Something in Aidinza refused to entertain the thought.


    "She''s one of many." Drayden breaks the silence, and for the first time since Aidinza entered, he straightens up from his hunch over the desk. With his head bowed low, he gestures at the rest of the room. "The Pheyan''atho are born for war."


    And there it was. A thought plucked out of Aidinza''s own head, a refrain that had echoed throughout Unovan history. The reason he was even standing here, in what it seemed like more ways than one.


    "And they''ve proven it over and over. All throughout Unova''s history, they''ve produced nothing but warlords, violence and death." Drayden spits out, voice dripping with toxic venom as he whirls on Aidinza, eyes alight with frustration. "You want your why, U?ma?? Do you want your answers? Look around, U?ma? at the centuries of artifice revering war. You want to know why I reject the boys Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we? You faced the trials of Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka, froze beneath its dark pines, and suffered under its brutal mercies." Aidinza feels a chill rattle down his spine at just the reminder of that place. Drayden sneers, a knowing look in his eyes. "We feed our children to that forest like fertiliser, only wrenching their frostbitten corpses from its clutches to tut at them for not being strong enough, and those that do make it back to us learn nothing but the forest''s hate and anger. Why should that exist, U?ma?? Because some doddering old snake thinks that there''s something worth salvaging?"


    Drayden stared down at the young Ya''an-ah, and for a moment, he felt like he was languishing underneath the presence of the Haxorus as the weight bore on his shoulders, pressing him for his own response.


    It takes Aidinza a few seconds to find words to respond, choked underneath the attention of Drayden. "So that''s it?" The boy managed to get out with more surety and confidence than he felt. "You''re scared of a forest, so you''re just going to throw out millennia of history and culture and people?"


    "A culture of violence, a people of war, and a history of terror. You are Ya''an-ah are you not, U?ma?? You of all people should rejoice in the sun setting on the villains of Unova." The pinnacle of Unovan Gym leaders spoke with such weighty gravitas and finality, as if he was penning the last strokes of the footnote of history that the Pheyan''atho would become in that very moment. A foregone conclusion.


    Aidinza could not help but wonder if this was the same thinking that saw the Ya''an-ah draw deeper and deeper into the desert. Self-delusion about villainy replaced by the silent neglect of the Sun? The boy felt a stirring in his chest, and it took a moment for him to place it.


    Hate.


    He hated that thinking, his lips curling into a sneer and his eyes flashing as he straightened up to his full gangly height. "And you think you get to make that decision?" The man goes to speak again, but Aidinza cuts him off. "Villains of Unova? Are you even listening to yourself speak? Acting like the Pheyan''atho have sole dominion of what is wrong and violent?"


    Aidinza scoffs at him, contempt writ all over his face. "You condemn your people with one breath, but in the next you prove you embody all their worst traits. Bullheaded, stubborn, and self-obsessed with your own importance. You decided that there is nothing redeemable about the Pheyan''atho, so you decide to consign them to history, and those that will have to live with the consequences of your decision."


    "If not me, then who, U?ma?? If the decision is not made, who lays claim to the consequences of that inaction? When the next Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha? takes up the arms of his father, blood in his teeth, and war in his heart, who will be blamed for the destruction he wreaks?" Drayden spoke with fire and fury, every word dripping with venom. But it was undercut by something, a desperate timbre that rattled in the back of his throat just at the suppressed edge of every word.


    "There it is. You made a choice, and so all other choices become invalid; it''s either your path or nothing." Aidinza bit back, squaring up underneath Drayden''s glare and digging at the man.


    "Don''t act like you know me, U?ma?." The gym leader''s voice lowers, becoming deep and pointed as his glare becomes something genuinely choking.


    "Why not, Ah-na-ghai? Who you are is evident in every fight, in every victory and every defeat." The boy let the word linger in the air as he studied the other man, and he could see that hint of uncertainty in Drayden flare, even as he maintained his glare. "Keep at a distance." Aidinza''s words lost the biting edge just for a moment, taking on the air of a focused, pressed command. Drayden flinches, breaking his glare, to look to the side. "So convinced you had it figured out, no time for hesitation or a second thought. Because you know the right thing to do, and it cost you, it will always cost you."


    "I- Al..." Drayden struggles for words, his eyes growing distant and all his fury and bluster bleeding from his face. There was an artificial control to the way the Gym leader turned away from the boy, leaning onto the desk once more, hiding his face from view. But even in the dim light, Aidinza could see the way his fingers turned bone white as they clutched at the desk and the still way he stared at something in the dark beyond it. "It''s¡­ it''s not that simple."


    "What''s not that simple?" It was the non-sequitur more than the abrupt shift of demeanour that threw Aidinza off balance, his brow furrowing. He eyed the gym leader''s back as it rose and fell rapidly, and just before he could ask if the man was alright, the man whirled back around.


    His eyes were distant but wild, pupils dilated to pinpricks, and his face caught between something slack and something ferocious. "We need to-." He starts, his voice a queer nature of domineering, chilling, and nakedly forlorn as it booms. Then he pauses, his chest still heaving uncontrollably, his eyes searching for something, and with a start, Aidinza realised Drayden was not looking at him, but just slightly above his head.


    After a few moments of desperate searching, his eyes clear and his breathing calms. His attention fell to Aidinza, his usually sharp eyes lost and blurry, and for the second time today, he¡­ looked old. Despite his stark white hair, and the lines carved into his skin, Drayden usually merely seemed distinguished, not old. The weight and authority that hung in the air around him gave him an almost timeless figure, one that he maintained even in the depth of rage and petulant indignance.


    Both of those were gone in this moment, or rather, they seemed to be twisted against the man. The unspoken weight that hung in the air about him now weighed heavy on his shoulders, and the authority that made him seem so larger than life bore down on him like a wretched cage.


    He stumbles back, colliding with the desk behind him, and looks down at his hands as they shake violently, his breathing alternating between unsettlingly still and uncomfortably uncontrolled.


    "Are you¡­" Aidinza stepped forward, reaching out to the gym leader for a moment, not really certain what to do. He had steeled himself to deal with the full fury of the strongest gym leader of Unova, the Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha? of the Pheyan''atho.


    Not¡­ whatever this was.


    Drayden swallows and visibly gathers himself. His face twisted into something carefully neutral, and his eyes sharpened to the fine steel point that Aidinza had come to expect, but as he pushed himself off the table, his arms trembled. "You haven''t answered the question U?ma?, who bares the fault when blood bares true, and the skies burn under ambition?"


    The man''s voice was a biting steel, and as his arms crossed in front of him there was so little indication of what had just happened that Aidinza for a brief, insane moment wondered if it even did. But despite Drayden''s outward appearance it still lingered in the air, maybe it was an unnoticeable shift in Drayden''s stance, or maybe the Naisho''h boy¡¯s perception of the man had just irrevocably changed.


    Either way, he struggled to pull together the same fire that he had just moments ago. So instead of snapping out a cutting response, Aidinza takes a moment to think, as his eyes drift unbidden to the remains of Undine the Scourge''s beast.


    "Why are you so certain that it will?" His voice was soft, as he turned away from the gym leader. He calmly walks over to the edge of the walls, a distance that passes in silence, as he finds what he had been looking for. A torch that was sconed to the wall, unlit.


    "Because I''ve seen it before, U?ma?, in person and all throughout history. It is in the nature of peoples, no matter how you stamp it out or beat it down. The na?¨ª will always prove true in the end." He trails off as he watches Aidinza spark a match and hold it up to the torch.


    It only takes a moment to light it up, casting a proper light over the skeleton of Undine''s beast, revealing what the meagre light of Aidinza''s matchstick failed to encapsulate. "If that''s true, then why even deny the Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka of Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den? What''s even the point?" His eyes traced over the skeleton, taking it all in. It was mangled; the thorns that had dug so deep to pierce bone were hooked, and the bone around the joints was snapped and jagged. Aidinza could only imagine what it would have looked like before thousands of years had stripped away its flesh and felt a pang of pity, despite knowing its history, for how terrible its final fate ended up being.


    "What do you do with a fire, U?ma?? Feed it? Ignore it? No, you smother it. You give it nothing, and you separate it from everything it can burn." Aidinza hummed; there was a part of him, a little part certainly, but one nonetheless, that was starting to understand, if not agree. Drayden feared what the Pheyan''atho had been and feared what they could become again if given the chance. It almost made sense in that circumstance to make sure that no Pheyan''atho would ever have a tribe to support their ambition again.


    But Aidinza refused to accept the idea that a people could never change, and as he stares at the corpse of a monster that had nearly driven the Ya''an-ah to total subjugation, he finds himself lingering on the history of the tribe that defeated that monster.


    "What do you know about the Hosh''halgai, Drayden?" Aidinza does not glance over to the gym leader. Instead, he shakes out the matchstick in his hand and stares up at the bones that, even in death, dwarfed him. "They''re a tribe of the Northern Dunes, where the Tkoh basin doesn''t reach, and the western mountains deflect rain away. Their land is dry, drier than anywhere else in the Ya''an-ah Desert, but despite that, they were always close with the Cacturne; it''s what Hosh means, cactus." Aidinza pauses, shaking his head as he shares the piece of trivia. "Which meant that despite having so very little water to go around, they desperately needed water the most. One of the Mother Desert¡¯s many cruel jokes." Aidinza keeps walking around the room, lighting torch after torch. "They could have moved or requested water from the Hataa?ii''diyin; no Ya''an-ah would deny another moisture. But the Hosh''halgai were proud, and while they were Ya''an-ah, they were distant. Their lands might not have had water, but they had access to the lands that would become Nimbasa and the scattered people that lived there."


    He pauses as his match flickers out, fetching another match and sparking it to life. "Cacturne¡­ the Mother Desert is not soft on those picky about what is necessary for life, and the Cacturne earn their dark typing well. They reaped their toll on the Nimbasan plains for years, growing mad and bloated on blood, until finally they declared an A?ne?¨ª¨ª?¨¢¨¢zh, abandoning the Sun and declaring themselves Ya''an-ahda. There was only one possible response to that, and the Hataa?ii''diyin declared that the Children of the Mother Desert must be made one. An Ah-na-Ghai was declared, and Hetakh-ye led the tribes to war."


    "I will not compare suffering to suffering, but the Mother Desert was left drenched in blood; it was meant to be a war of reclamation, to bring to right a lost flock. It quickly became a war of extermination, with access to¡­ moisture." Aidinza lingers on the word, something uncomfortable stirring in his stomach, referring to the bloodletting of the Nimbasan plains as ''access to moisture''. "The populations of cacnea had exploded, and though the Hosh''halgai were fewer in number, they knew their dunes, and every step the Ya''an-ah made into those sands was met with thorns. It took eight years to put a definitive end to the fighting, the Hosh''halgai''s elders and children taken, their pok¨¦mon trapped."


    "The tribes called for the Hosh''halgai to be Forgot, to let their history disappear into the shifting dunes. Those old enough to want to remember would be declared doo yildin¨ª, left to wander the desert alone." For the first time since he started his tale, he looks back over to Drayden. The gym leader, despite the circumstances, paid rapt attention. Maybe Aidinza should have expected it, but it was clear the man had a passion for history. "A death sentence. The desert is not a place for the lone man, and any attempt to band together would bring the wrath of the Ya''an-ah down upon them."


    "The Hataa?ii''diyin agreed, Ah-na-ghai Hetakh-ye¡­ did not. Against the wishes of the tribal elders, against the wishes of the Shamans of the High, Hetakh-ye declared that they would be Biye''ke-hooghan, a tribe sheltered within tribes." Aidinza pauses, taking a moment to watch Drayden. The man stood there like a carved statue, for all his silence and attention could be taken for keen attention; his body language gave no such hints. Likewise, the signs of his¡­ episode, the uneven gait of his breath and the slight tremor to his bones had calmed and disappeared.


    Which Aidinza thought was probably for the best. But he shakes his head and continues regardless. "It was not a popular decision. Cacturne¡­ they are not kind eaters; living prey suits them. The heart pumping blood makes extracting it easier, and the brain flooding the body with adrenaline makes it richer¡­ they''re not cruel; they''re pragmatic. But in the desert, it is difficult to make a distinction between the two." Aidinza himself had seen an cacnea eat exactly once in his life, watching as it wrapped its entire body around a durant, a limpet of terrible consequence. He remembered watching as the durant thrashed and struggled, slowly growing more and more desiccated, visible even through the steel type''s steel carapace.


    He remembered its eyes¡­ usually so red and inhuman, monstrous in its hive-driven purpose. But as it was fed on, there was something uncomfortably individual about them until the cacnea''s vines sought even the moisture of its eyes.


    Aidinza feels a shudder pass down his spine. He loves the Mother Desert, in all her beauty, but it was a deeply cruel beauty. "The Ya''an-ah were furious. They did not just call it a mistake, but an action that is only worthy of jidizhah¡­  what do you know about what spit means to the Ya''an-ah Drayden?"


    If the older man was surprised by Aidinza''s question, he did not show it. Instead, after a long moment, he responded. "Spitting on someone is seen as good as declaring someone too incompetent to live."


    "That''s not all to it, but yes. The Ya''an-ah would never deny another water needed for survival, and to spit on someone is to meet that obligation in the worst possible way. Hetakh-ye did not chance into becoming the Ah-na-ghai of the Ya''an-ah. He was well respected, both in peace and battle. Wise enough that even before being declared Ah-na-Ghai, the Hataa?ii''diyin would seek his experience." The Ya''an-ah history was an oral one, their records kept by an ever-shifting network of the wise and elders. It was effective for what it was, but it was mutable and subject to a lineage of biases, though Aidinza supposed all histories were. But it still spoke to the sheer respect that Hetakh-ye had commanded, that despite his fall from grace, he had not been retroactively denigrated to a wastrel lucking into the position of Ah-na-Ghai. "But such was the magnitude of how inept the Ya''an-ah considered the decision that for the rest of Hetakh-ye''s natural life, the only succour even his own tribe would give him was the spit from their mouth. And why wouldn''t they? It was so obvious what should have been done. The Hosh''halgai had shown their colours; they were a people tainted by evil and heresy. They had killed what should have been their brothers and sisters in faith by scores of hundreds."


    Was Aidinza being heavy-handed by pausing to glance around the room, slightly less cast in darkness with a few of the torches flickering merrily? Probably. But Aidinza had been struggling with subtlety recently.


    "But they obeyed. They spat on the sand in front of Hetakh-ye and expected him to slurp it up; they grumbled and declared that he had placed a festering infection in the very heart of the Ya''an-ah, that would one day need to be burned away by the sterilizing light of the Sun. But they took the Hosh''halgai in, young and old, separate but raised as the Hosh''halgai they were." There was a part of Aidinza that always wondered if that was part of the problem. The Ya''an-ah were not keen on expected responsibility. Blood had no obligation to blood, tribesmen had no obligation to their tribe. It gave the decision to stay all the more weight. "Mere decades later, the Ya''an-ah watched with bated breath for what they thought would be inevitable, as the Hosh''halgai took the fledgling steps into the world as a rerealized tribe. For them to show their true colours and for vengeance, a fool had denied them to be justified."


    "But nothing happened. The Hosh''halgai roamed their dunes, they reconnected with their piece of the Mother Desert, they traded with other tribes, and joined their festivals despite paranoid eyes watching their every move." Aidinza shrugged; he was simplifying things. Brushing past tension and incidents, the absence of the Hosh''halgai for so many years had seen the Nimbasans encroach upon their dunes, and the Ti''an-oi had begun drawing on one of their few oases. But such things were not the return to glutenous bloodletting that the Ya''an-ah as a whole expected.


    "Where are you going with this U?ma?? I made no aspersions against the Ya''an-ah or the Hosh''halgai." It was a weak defence, and Aidinza did not even give it the merit of a response, merely staring silently at Drayden. The gym leader scoffs and shakes his head. "Even if I was to entertain the thought that it is equivalent U?ma?, it can just as easily be spun against you. The Hosh''halgai''s tendencies ripped out over decades of being raised by other tribes, kept from power by a suspicious eye so their true nature would never be revealed."


    "Except we both know that last part isn''t true." Aidinza turns to look once more at the corpse of Undine the Scourge''s horrible beast. "She got unlucky, you know? The Ya''an-ah¡­ we''d fought you before with the Tly''an-yen. But no one had been arrogant enough to threaten the Mother Desert or the Holy Relic Castle before. We weren''t ready. We knew our dunes, and our oases, and our caverns. But she figured that out soon enough. She knew all she had to do was drive us long enough until the dunes, the oases, the caverns, the mother desert were no longer ours. She turned the isolation of the Ya''an-ah, even amongst ourselves, against us. We fought for as long as we could, but when our greatest strength was taken from us, it was inevitable that we would fail."


    "Except the Hosh''halgai weren''t isolated like the rest of the Ya''an-ah; they had been raised all across the Mother Desert. No matter how far the Pheyan''atho drove them, they walked familiar sands, and their attempts to drive the Hosh''halgai from their hiding places left your people scattered and overextended." Aidinza makes a gesture at the wounds of the Oy¨²spa, pockmarked by thorns. "You know how that ended up, and in the settling sand, there was only one power left in the Mother Desert. So, by your logic, their true nature should have revealed itself. They should have clasped an iron fist across the throats of the scattered Ya''an-ah and revelled in the nightmare of bloodletting."


    "Except that didn''t happen. They drove the Pheyan''atho from the Mother Desert, helped the scattered tribes reunite, and returned to their northern dunes. Because people change, because their true nature isn''t that clear cut, Drayden. I know that, thousands of years ago, Hetakh-ye knew that, and he knew that letting a people''s identity¡­ their connection with the land, their culture die because they''d been misled once was wrong. Knew it so strongly that he ruined his life to do the right thing. His belief against the fury of his people and the wisdom of the shamans of his and my god." A contemplative silence falls over the two men as Aidinza finishes his piece. Aidinza ruminated on his own words and the idea of challenging Hataa?ii''diyin, a concept that even to someone born long after the last had been chosen, seemed absurd. Drayden''s thoughts, however, were more inscrutable, his eyes distant, lost to time that was far from now.


    "A man acting against the wishes of his elders and his people sounds almost like my situation." Aidinza gives Drayden a strange look as he breaks the silence with what almost sounds like a joke to the young Ya''an-ah. The gym leader breathes out slowly from his nose and runs his fingers through his beard, ruffling the immaculately groomed hair. "Answer me this, Ya''an-ah¡­ why are you bothering? This isn''t your people. This isn''t your fight. Why spend hours arguing with a stubborn old man? You can''t seriously think that this unimportant moment with some wet behind the ears U?ma? will convince me."


    Aidinza takes a long moment to answer, his hand falling to his waist, only to remember with a start he had given his belt to Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den to get his team healed. He opens his mouth, his brow furrowing and unfurrowing as he considers the question and all the reasons he had to be here. Then he looks up and meets Drayden''s blue eyes. "Because a friend asked me to, because a desperate old man was willing to sacrifice everything for it, because I think it''s the right thing to do, and because I think this moment could be important if I make it important¡­ but more than because I''m scared if the Pheyan''atho disappears, what will that mean for the Ya''an-ah? The most established of the tribes crushed under the weight of history, what does it mean for the least? Look around. You''re surrounded by examples of your history that will last millennia¡­ the Ya''an-ah don''t have that. If your history, your culture, what makes your people Pheyan''atho is so easy to forget, what does it mean for us?"


    Aidinza feels something prickle at his eyes, and tries to blink it away, he was not going to bawl over the fate of his people in front of this man. "So I''ll argue with you for hours; I''ll beat my head against this rock over and over if I have to. Just for the chance that when I stand in front of my elders once more, that I¡­ could have the slightest hope that it''s possible to stop the Ya''an-ah from isolating themselves into nothingness."


    The Naisho''h boy looks away from Drayden, unable to keep the blur in his eyes or the tightness in his throat at bay and his head held high. A moment later a warmth spreads over his shoulder, and when he looks he sees that Drayden has walked away from his desk, and lain a hand on him. He swallows down the tight in his throat, and looks at the gym leader, expecting him to say something.


    But he does not; instead, the man seemed poleaxed, awkwardly patting at Aidinza in some vague approximation of comfort, with the rest of his body as stiff as a board. Drayden looked like he was on the verge of panicking.


    The sight was absurd, and Aidinza snorted. What was he doing? He had come into this filled with such fire and bright indignation, and this was how he ended up?


    "I think it''s time for you to head to the pok¨¦mon centre." Drayden''s voice was almost soft behind the uncomfortably gruff pitch. Aidinza nods and, with a rough rub of his face, walks towards the door.


    But before he leaves, he pauses one last time and looks at Drayden as the man stands in the middle of the room, staring at where Aidinza had just been. "And the last reason, Drayden, was because I think I knew it would work. I know you; you always do what you think is the best thing, and now you know there was someone out there who did better than you¡­ you''re not going to be able to rest until you fix that."


    Aidinza does not spare Drayden another glance as he leaves, but as the door closes behind him, he hears a scoff from the older man.


    It sounded resigned.

 A Bitter Pill to Swallow

    "We lost." Finding time for himself in the aftermath of his ''defeat'' at Drayden''s hand had been difficult for Aidinza. Between the endless stream of people gushing over the fight, the condolences for his loss from people who did not get it, and the congratulations from those who did¡­ well, it had taken nearly two hours to extricate himself from it all, even with some very pointed remarks that he had somewhere else to be.


    Thankfully, when he arrived at the pok¨¦mon centre, it did not take long for the Nurse to recognise him, and few people were hamheaded enough to get between a trainer and his team''s prognosis.


    Which led to where he was now, sitting in one of the medical rooms out the back of the Pok¨¦mon Centre in the early morning, with Sandile carefully splayed over his lap and most of the rest of his team scattered about the room.


    There was a dull clamour at his pronouncement, mostly from Shand¨ª¨ªn and Mawile, as Sandile pressed deeper into Aidinza''s lap, sulking. Aidinza let them get it out of their system, waiting patiently for Shand¨ª¨ªn to calm down before continuing over Mawile''s theatrics unimpeded. "But that was inevitable. I''ve only been a trainer for a few months; I''ve only been your trainer for some of you for a few weeks." He glances towards where Mawile is still¡­ coming to terms with the loss in his own way, which seems to involve some elaborate ritual between him and his false jaw that already includes waterworks. Then, at Nihanlo as the ice type bobbed up and down on the shelf she had been placed on to stop her from freezing to anything important, then towards Pawniard, the only pok¨¦mon that Aidinza did not end up using in the battle.


    Honestly, Aidinza had expected her to have the worst reaction; Astazhei had certainly been beside himself when Aidinza told him that he would not be participating in the fight against Drayden. But like always, her expression was undivinable underneath her helmet, and she listened with the same focused intensity as ever.


    "We did better than we could have ever expected. We went up against the strongest gym leader in Unova and forced him to admit that he could not beat us without overwhelming force." Shand¨ª¨ªn let out a piercing whistle as he took to the air, flashing his brilliant plumage. Clearly demanding praise for his part in the fight. Aidinza stops stroking Sandile for a moment to offer a perch and lets his fingers run through the preening bird''s orange feathers. "You did great; the fight would not have gone half as well if not for you."


    He really had gone above and beyond. Tyrunt had genuinely been a terrible opponent for him, naturally absurdly resistant to Shand¨ª¨ªn''s strongest Moves, with an arsenal of its own attacks to reach the ember pok¨¦mon while he was in the air. Yet despite that, Shand¨ª¨ªn not only put the fossil down but inflicted a debilitating burn on his next opponent.


    Shand¨ª¨ªn screeched proudly as he stretched his wings out, the complicated black, yellow and orange mesh that dyed his primaries glinting in the sterile light of the hospital room.


    After a few more moments of pampering, he tosses Shand¨ª¨ªn lightly into the air and drops his hand back down to the sulking pile of scales in his lap.


    "That goes for all of you; each and every one of you did and gave more than I could have ever asked you to. From the bottom of my heart, I am proud of you, and you should be proud of yourselves." Aidinza slowly scanned the room, making sure to make eye contact with every pok¨¦mon he brought up against Drayden, even Pawniard, despite him not ending up using her in the fight itself. A smile crosses his face unbidden as they each straighten up in turn as his eyes make contact, even Mawile stopping his theatrics to bask in the heartfelt praise. "We''re going to be leaving tomorrow, so we can''t spend too long celebrating. But I asked Nurse Joy to include some extra berries in your dinner tonight, so eat up and rest up; you earned it."


    For a moment, it felt awfully little to Aidinza for how much that they had given, a pat on the head and some dessert to go along with their meal. But an excited chatter passes through the pok¨¦mon nonetheless, almost as perky as when Aidinza professed his pride in them. Clearly, they thought it was more than enough.


    Aidinza shakes his head and lifts Sandile out of his lap, carefully placing the limp pile of scales back onto his bed, being as mindful as he could of the ground type''s freshly cast leg. For a moment, Sandile tries to hold onto Aidinza''s hand, and the Ya''an-ah boy gives him a soft look. "I need to go check on Naazin." Sandile continues clinging to him, and Aidinza has to gingerly pry him off. "Be good, and get some rest." He aims the words at Sandile to start before looking up to make sure it is clear that he meant that for the entire team as he steps away from Sandile''s bed.


    Then, when he was satisfied that everyone at least got the message, he left the room and headed deeper into the pok¨¦mon centre.


    Everyone gave it their all against Drayden, for whatever might be said about how they gave it their all in the case of Mawile, but the fight had not taken from each of Aidinza''s pok¨¦mon equally. Nihanlo, for instance, had walked out of the fight in a better state than she had woken up that morning in; Sandile, on the other hand, limped away with a nasty enough broken front left leg to need a cast and likely a full week of recovery.


    Aidinza pauses outside of a door, listening to the muffled sounds of beeps within.


    But the worst off of all of them was Naazin. His carapace had been outright shattered in several places, tearing up the sensitive flesh and muscles underneath; his antenna had nearly fully snapped off, and his sensitive eye membranes had been ruptured.


    Drampa was an incredibly powerful pok¨¦mon, and rousing its anger had cost more than Aidinza was really comfortable with.


    However, all he could do now was deal with the aftermath.


    Aidinza shakes his head, chasing away his thoughts, and pushes through the door. On the other side was a rather unusual room; instead of a bed dominating the space, there was a large tank full of water. Hanging from the ceiling, walling in the tank somewhat, were an array of machines which beeped and flashed to an esoteric rhythm. Cables ran from the machines into the water, tightly bound in thick insulation to prevent the wat-


    Aidinza shakes his head and stops delaying the inevitable. His eyes fall to the pok¨¦mon softly floating in the water.


    Naazin was an uncomfortable sight. Most of his body was bound in compression bandages, held tightly to his shell with an eclectic pattern of zip ties. Two of his left legs had been set into a rigid cast, slung into place by yet more bandages, and his broken antenna had been entirely removed; it had been too damaged to be salvageable, and leaving it attached would have delayed the regeneration of new sensory nerves. Though Aidinza could not see it from where he was standing, he knew that one of Naazin''s eyes was covered by a patch, to give time for its ruptured membrane to heal.


    Though the uncomfortable feeling in Aidinza''s stomach had little to do with the somewhat gruesome sight of the lightly stained bandages that covered the crustacean and more to do with the soul-crushing knowledge that this was unequivocally his fault, beyond the natural fault that all trainers had when their Pok¨¦mon were injured.


    He had not just sent out Naazin or been slow to return him. He had left Naazin out on the field with the express purpose of getting the drampa angry. He had done so despite knowing that Naazin would lose. He continued to do so even when it became clear just how outclassed Naazin was.


    Even when Naazin had suffered the consequences of following Aidinza''s plan, had already been injured¡­ Aidinza let the pok¨¦mon conv-


    Aidinza pauses and shakes his head. The Sun demanded that he be honest with himself; he had not been convinced; he had taken the first available excuse. Unlike Sandile, Aidinza knew that Naazin would have been unbothered by being returned; the clauncher did not have the fragile pride of a sandile teetering on the precipice of evolution to wound.


    Then again, Aidinza had been blindsided by Naazin going so far as to spit in the eye of a dragon that had been in the process of utterly destroying the water type. So maybe Aidinza should not make so many cocksure claims about the colour of the sun at sunset when his eyes had only ever seen noon.


    The sound of sloshing water interrupted his thoughts, and Aidinza glanced at the tank in front of him as Naazin shifted to look at his trainer from the corner of his eye. The Naisho''h boy smiles and hopes that it is not as grim and forced as it feels as he squats, stepping to the side so Naazin has an easier time focusing on him.


    For a moment, the two of them just made eye contact, yellow meeting green as Aidinza wondered what to say, and Naazin¡­ just watched with guarded anticipation. The crustacean was expecting something, something that he was not looking forward to.


    Aidinza wet his lips, and started speaking. "We¡­ we got further than I expected. We took Drayden to his sixth pok¨¦mon, and it took him sending out Haxorus to really stop us." The smile came more naturally now, even if it was decidedly more savage, there was something endlessly exhilarating about his achievement that demanded he exult in it. But here and now he needed to focus on his injured friend.


    "We wouldn''t have been able to do it without you. The entire plan hinged on you, and you went beyond anything I could have asked; you were brilliant." Aidinza pauses as Naazin shifts, breaking eye contact to stare forward with a deliberate coolness as his uninjured antenna twitches uncontrollably. The Ya''an-ah boy suppressed a chuckle into a slow exhale of air, his smile growing fonder. "You were brilliant." He reiterates, just to watch Naazin shift about in the water again, before growing more serious. "But it got you hurt."


    The Ya''an-ah reaches out to the tank, his fingers pressing into the cold glass before he freezes as Naazin''s eyes snap to his digits. Something in Aidinza''s words had brought back all the tension and uncertainty that had been there when he first walked in. But after a moment or two of uncertainty, Naazin seemed to¡­ not relax but untense.


    "I spoke to the Nurse," the boy continued slowly under the careful stare of his pok¨¦mon. "It''s¡­ not a quick fix, not if we don''t want long-term complications." And was that not just a damning indictment of what had happened? All the horrors and terrors of Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?kainflicted on him had taken not even a day for modern medicine to deal with. "And I''m not going to force you into a premature moult just because I can''t deal with my own mistakes while you recover."


    The Nurse had been very clear on just how many issues could arrive from an improperly prepared forced moult, starting at a brittle carapace and escalating to being partially crushed within his own shell as his flesh grew into a space that simply hadn''t been developed.


    The words were meant to reassure the crustacean that despite the undercurrent to their relationship¡ªthe constant push-and-pull between getting the water-type to train and the water-type trying to nap instead¡ªAidinza was not going to push him on this point.


    Aidinza almost goes on to say more before something catches his attention¡­ or rather, a lack of something, movement. Naazin, Aidinza''s third pok¨¦mon, was not a particularly active pok¨¦mon; he was the embodiment of lethargy, in fact. But that usually precluded him from moving himself, not from being moved by the world. Aidinza had lost count of the number of times Naazin had let a river''s soft flow carry him far enough away that the Ya''an-ah boy had to send Astazhei to retrieve him. Resisting the pull of the river to stay still would have been more effort than the lazy lobster was willing to give more often than not. Even in the tank, he had been softly bobbing as the water filter and his own breathing created a subtle current.


    Naazin was no longer bobbing. He had gone utterly, unnaturally, still.


    His words had not reassured the water type. Which made what he had to say next so very much harder, and the words had already clung to his throat like muk and mucus.


    "You''ll be staying here, I can only take six pok¨¦mon on the road, and you need time to recover." There was a part of him, a very, very convincing part, that wanted to yell that he was just kidding, that this was some kind of cruel joke, and that, of course, he was not rewarding Naazin''s effort and dedication with abandonment, no matter how temporary.


    It was necessary. Naazin needed time to recover, and Aidinza''s new pok¨¦mon needed training and attention. But the justifications did not make it easier to stand here, in front of the injured Naazin, watching as each word weighed on his friend, and that unnatural stillness was replaced by a resigned slump.


    "Naazin¡­" He trails off almost as soon as he begins; if there was one thing that being a trainer had taught him, it was to see when his pok¨¦mon were not listening to him. "Naazin." He repeats, firmer than the first, and when that fails to get a reaction, he pushes his featherlight touch on the glass forward until his entire hand presses into the glass with a dull thud. Naazin, despondent or not, could not suppress his instincts to react to physicality so close to him, flinching around to eye it. "I know¡­ I don''t want this either. You gave everything, and it tastes like ash in my mouth that your reward has to be this. But you need time to recover, and I need someone to look after Sandile."


    Sandile''s name, more than any other word, drew the next reaction. A twitch of his remaining antenna and a sharpening of focus that his flinched reaction did not truly draw.


    "It''s only temporary." Aidinza pressed forward while he had his pok¨¦mon''s attention. "You''ll stay here until the Nurse is satisfied you can be safely transferred, then you''ll be sent south to where my people are." The Ya''an-ah eschewed permanent settlements to wander their beloved Mother Desert, but they were not blind to the needs of a modern world. Decades ago, one of the last Hataa?ii''diyin had established the Ya''an-ah Reserve, maintained in great part by the brokered deals that allowed wider Unova use of Route Four. The Pok¨¦mon Habitat Research Centre, which Mawile''s pok¨¦ball automatically transferred to what seemed like so very long ago, was constructed on that reserve.


    Aidinza had never been and, in all honesty, only recently learned of it. But he had no doubt that his people would treat his pok¨¦mon well; the students of Bi At Ini could do no less.


    "Then, when I reach Lacunosa when you''ve recovered, we''ll see each other again. I''m not just going to forget about you and Sandile," He pauses for a moment, a sharp twisting of the lips pulling at his face. "Though maybe Sandile would have forgotten about me by then." There was a touch of something not quite bitter and not quite fearful that Aidinza could not keep out of his voice with his attempt at levity. Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka had been days; this could be weeks.


    He did not want to do this. There were few things in the world that he wanted to do less than this. This was not a disgusting effort of cleaning out his tribe''s latrines or having to rush for shelter in the unforgiving midday sun to avoid a sandstorm. Or even an uncomfortable conversation with his sister about growth, and urges, and hair.


    This felt like he was hurting himself. Every spoken word was like a trembling knife carving around his heart; every minute twitch and reaction from Naazin felt like that trembling knife was pushed deeper and deeper. He said this tasted like ash in his mouth before, but he did not have words for how every word, every vowel and consonant, every twist of his tongue shaping each vibration of his voice box was nothing less than awful.


    Aidinza''s shoulders slump down as Naazin maintains his stillness, and his next words are begging. "Please don''t make this worse than it already is for me, Naazin. I don''t want this, I don''t. Please believe that."


    The boy was not sure if it was his words that moved the water-type in the end or the brittle emotion that he could not stop from cracking his voice towards the end. But whichever it was, Naazin finally reacted, turning towards his trainer and studying him with reserved blue eyes.


    "Please." He repeats with a helpless gesture, out of words to try to shape the emotion he put on naked display.


    A few moments passed as Aidinza waited for Naazin to make a decision, unsure what he would do if the water type rejected what he was saying. Unsure what he could do.


    Thankfully, he did not have to find out. The press of Naazin''s claw into the tank was probably rougher than the Water-type intended, but the shock of vibrations up Aidinza''s arm felt like they were lifting the weight of the world off Aidinza''s shoulders.


    -


    Naazin needed to rest, and Aidinza¡­ Well, he also needed to rest. That had been exhaustively difficult for him in a way he just had not expected. Naazin was always the easiest going of his pok¨¦mon, following the path of least resistance in all things. Or at least the path to most quickly going back to sleep.


    Aidinza expected him to appreciate the chance to simply rest for however long it would take to recover, to relax without the need to train and the constant interruption of his naps. On some level, it was even meant to be a reward for pushing so hard against the drampa.


    He felt like such an idiot.


    A high-pitched keen interrupts Aidinza''s self-flagellation, and he glances over from the tree he was sitting - slumped - underneath. Dreepy was an odd sight under the sun proper; the stark, revealing light of day defined her in ways that the trickster Moon did not. The intrinsic mutability that marked her as a ghost not gone, but diminished. If that solidity bothered the ghost dragon, she certainly did not show it as she danced through the air around Mawile.


    Mawile, for his part, dramatically stumbled around the shaded clearing, swiping through the air behind the ghost, intermittently letting out ''bellowing'' roars that, from his diminutive frame, were nothing short of adorable.


    The two of them had been playing since Aidinza released them, Mawile playing the part of a raging monster and Dreepy¡­ a helicopter? Some kind of superhero? There were definitely times when Dreepy was the damsel, but the ghost never really stayed still long enough for Aidinza to get a read on her role in Mawile''s play.


    Aidinza watches as one of Mawiles flailing limbs catches the ghost as she banks around, the blow featherlight compared to its potential, but nonetheless sending Dreepy ''careening'' towards the ground. She bounces across the ground like a stone across water in suspiciously equal arcs, before abruptly transitioning into a long tumbling roll that ends up with her at the feet of the third pok¨¦mon Aidinza has out.


    Pawniard stares down at the ghost at her feet with a defensive, and decidedly incurious yellow gaze as Dreepy lets out a low melancholic keen that sets Aidinza''s teeth on edge and sends a shiver up his spine.


    A sound not quite like a squeal catches Aidinza''s attention, and when he glances back over to Mawile, it''s to see the steel-fairy all but swooning. He had managed to pull most of Aidinza''s pok¨¦mon into his ''plays'' in the short time that he had been with Aidinza, but this was the first time another pok¨¦mon had their own overly dramatic ''death'' scene.


    Mawile did not remain a watcher for long, bellowing again and stomping towards the two with exaggerated steps, his false jaw snapping in the air at unseen threats. Pawniard''s attention snaps up to him, stepping back and lowering herself into a loose stance, ready to lunge forward or away at the drop of a hat. An aggressive, fighting stance, obvious to anyone who looked.


    Mawile did not look, continuing to lumber forward without a care in the world, clearly eager to get another swept up in his dramatics and not giving a second thought to if Pawniard wanted to be swept up or not.


    In moments, he was standing in front of Pawniard and looming over the ''still'' body of Dreepy, who was ''surreptitiously'' wriggling around to peek up at what was happening. The only sign of what was about to happen was Pawniard''s yellow eyes flicking over to Aidinza, as Mawile''s false jaw swung around to pose with the rest of his body as his real head roared.


    Or attempted to roar at least, the moment a sound came out of Mawile, Pawniard surged forward, punching forward with her two blade arms as they shone with an inner light. The first blow spun Mawile around on his feet as it slammed into his head, and the second sent him barreling ass over teakettle in a way that was starkly graceless compared to Dreepy''s previous dive.


    A snarl fills the air, distinctly real and very unpleasant compared to the over-the-top bellows and roars of before, as Mawile catches himself on the grass and lunges towards the sharp blade pok¨¦mon as the dark-type shifted her stance, angling her head down to increase the profile of her heavy steel plates, and to look searchingly towards Aidinza.


    "Mawile, stop!" Aidinza snaps, pushing off the tree behind him and dropping a hand to the pok¨¦balls on his belt. The fairy ignores him, lashing out at Pawniard with a glowing fist that slams into the black plate between the dark type''s torso blades straight through her raised guard.


    The blow was enough to send Pawniard stumbling, but unlike Mawile, she did not immediately throw herself back into the fight. Instead, she fell into the same neutral stance she had been standing in since Aidinza released her and turned away from Mawile to look at her trainer.


    Mawile attempted to use that inattention to follow up, his false jaw glowing with power. But before he could take another step, he disappeared into a red beam as Aidinza returned him. The pok¨¦ball takes a moment to settle, and as it does, Aidinza lets out a frustrated sigh; he had been hoping to have some time to get familiar with his three newest pok¨¦mon, but between getting caught up in his head about Naazin, Pawniard just standing off to the side, and now them getting into a fight¡­


    Dreepy, as was seemingly becoming common, interrupts his thoughts, rising into the air and circling around Aidinza''s head once before settling over the back of his neck. Her cool flesh a warding balm against the frustrated flush that had risen up his face, and her soft coo distinctly calming.


    He reaches up to scratch underneath the ghost''s chin, marvelling just a bit at how different it felt from normal flesh. Like something caught between a liquid and a gas, only really solid by the barest circumstance.


    "Pawniard, come here." He orders as he releases Mawile back into the world and takes the fairy type not immediately flinging himself at the pawniard again as the low victory it was. If he had, Aidinza would have had to bring out Astazhei or Shand¨ª¨ªn, and that was the exact opposite of the message that Aidinza wanted to send.


    The Ya''an-ah boy takes a moment to collect his thoughts, staring down at the two rather diminutive pok¨¦mon. Aidinza could tell that they were ashamed, or at least some equivalent of it, though they showed it in very different ways. Pawniard was preternaturally still, head bowed forward in a way that exposed the flexible flesh of her nape usually hidden by her helmet, and blade arms twisted outwards to an awkward position that would stop her from easily bringing them to bear. Mawile on the other hand was all nervous, offended energy. Shooting suspicious stares at the back of the supplicating pawniard¡¯s back, before turning an almost teary eyed gaze onto Aidinza then an eager stare at Dreepy hovering close by.


    "Pawniard, attacking your teammates is unacceptable. If you think they are trying to fight you or hurt you, you come to me." It was not the first time something like this happened, though usually, the perpetrator was Astazhei getting too invested in some roughhousing. Pawniard bent further, curling in on herself in a way that should have been defensive but only seemed to make her more vulnerable. Aidinza tried to stay firm, but between the sleepless nights, the intense battle, and the even more intense aftermath, he was emotionally exhausted. He tilts her head up, physically pushing her out of her submission posture. "It''s fine, just don''t let it happen again, okay?"


    There was a look of bewilderment in Pawniard''s yellow eyes as her head was tilted up, one that was not masked at all when her eyes dropped to the floor deferentially. Aidinza resisted the urge to sigh and poked the dark-type between the eyes. Watching her reel back and go cross-eyed, brought a quick smile to his lips. "Go sharpen your blades; your stone is in my bag."


    The sharp blade pok¨¦mon nods, the image of dutiful compliance, but the speed with which she turns around and runs off reveals her enthusiasm. Sharpening her blades with her favourite stone was one of the few activities that got more than passive acceptance or intense supplication from her.


    Aidinza turns to Mawile, studying the fairy type as he begins to fidget seemingly only just realizing that he was also in trouble. Mawile was easily Aidinza''s most troublesome pok¨¦mon; he was distractible in the extreme, he was distracting to others during training, and as seen in the fight against Drayden, only an effort shy of being outright disobedient. Then there was his attitude towards Pawniard to consider; it had only come up a few times since Aidinza caught him barely two weeks ago, but there was something harsh festering in it that was easily roused. The only reason it was not more common was likely because Pawniard barely acted without direct instruction from Aidinza himself.


    It was not enough to call Mawile trouble outright, but it was enough that Aidinza wanted to be careful in how he handled the fairy type. But then again, treating him cautiously and differently was pretty much just calling him trouble outright anyway.


    "Mawile¡­ Pawniard should not have attacked you, and unless she had continued attacking you, you should not retaliate." He keeps his voice level, trying for something chastising but not aggressive or domineering. Not that that stops Mawile from quailing in on himself. "But worse, this is all off the back of you antagonizing Pawniard. She showed you she did not want to play with you Mawile, she warned you to back off. But you didn¡¯t and then you act like you did nothing wrong? Then you disobeyed me, ignoring my orders and forcing me to return you, to stop you attacking your teammate.¡±


    That came with a bit more intensity than Aidinza was trying for. Even for the admittedly luddish Ya''an-ah, the pok¨¦ball and the bond it represented between humans and pok¨¦mon was something that was¡­ not holy but innately sacred. Being forced to use it rather than being able to properly control his pok¨¦mon left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.


    He breathes out slowly. "If you want to make this work then you can¡¯t just assume you can do whatever you want, Mawile." There was the temptation to push harder, hammer the fairy type about the disobedience against Drayven, potentially spoiling Naazin''s sacrifice; but he knew that did not come from a really fair place. ¡°If your teammates don¡¯t want to play with you, and some don¡¯t, then leave them alone.¡±


    Silence descends over the two of them for a long moment as Aidinza is left unsure what else to say, while Mawile squirms and fidgets; unable to meet Aidinza¡¯s eyes gaze for more than a second as his nervous offence turns almost panicked. The decision of what to say next eventually was taken out of his hands as a crunch of leaves and grass drew his attention.


    He gestures to Mawile that they are done, only pausing for a moment to watch the fairy-type dart away before he turns to face Unktehila.


    The Pheyan''atho Elder comes to a stop a few paces from the Ya''an-ah boy, and as he does so, the Boy takes a moment to study the Elder. For as long as Aidinza had known him, though that was certainly a short time, there had been an air around Unktehila noticeable only by its new absence. It had been a certain cast to his face, the angle of his shoulders, the weight of his steps.


    The source was obvious to Aidinza after their last conversation, but the sheer physical weight of it on the Elder¡­ Aidinza just had not realised its full extent until now. Until the weight of a doomed march was gone from his feet, until the slump of an impossible task had slipped from his shoulders, and the cast of a guilty countenance had left his face¡­


    Unktehila did not look quite so old now.


    "Nearly twenty years ago to this day, Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en ordered me to destroy the Pheyan''atho genealogy records. Nearly twenty years ago to this day, I disobeyed my Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?." The man spoke matter-of-factly, his tone almost monotone. But it was a thin veneer over the sheer depth of history and guilt in his words.


    Aidinza was not sure if he should be offended or not, that not burning some lineage book warranted more guilt than putting his life at risk.


    "Last night, my Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha? ordered me to give him those same records I had spent decades hiding from him, maintaining in direct defiance of all meaning and spirit of his order." Despite his words, a smile splits his craggy face, a moment of humour touching his blue eyes. "Or, more accurately, told me to remake those records. It was gratifying to learn that my efforts were not just Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en humouring his old friend, almost as gratifying as his face, when I gave it to him not ten minutes after he asked - forty years of service and I can still surprise my Ita?ca? wica?ta otokaha?."


    "I expected Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den to come find me first." It was probably the only reason why Aidinza had not left Opelucid already, that and the looming¡­ conversation that would have to happen with Sandile.


    "Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den is a smart boy. He will go far after he finishes his Ha?h¨¦pit¨²we and starts his journey. But he does not know the Ya''an-ah. He thinks you want time for yourself. I wager the fact that you will leave soon has not even crossed his mind." Aidinza inclines his head; he might have to go find Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den himself, even if it meant potentially aggravating Drayden¡­ again. Unktehila shifts and studies Aidinza slowly, seemingly mulling something over in his head. ¡°Mihu?kawa?z?i miye womnas?ica.¡± He mutters and shakes his head when Aidinza gives him a confused glance, his threadbare grasp of Pheyan''atho leaving him wondering why the elder was talking about a smelly brother. "If you were anyone else, any other Ya''an-ah, this would not be my place. Kici ti''da?, why must you leave so soon?"


    Aidinza opens his mouth immediately to give a response, but despite that, he does not end up saying anything. The response was so quick on the tip of his tongue, but it was never really formulated as he stood there, considering.


    In the desert, the answer would be obvious. Staying at one oasis for longer than a week or two would risk overdrawing it and the surrounding land in a way that would have disastrous effects that might only become evident years in the future. So, the tribe would stay for only as long as it took to prepare for the next journey and leave.


    Here¡­ the only pressing need to move on was the gym challenge or perhaps the cost of living to his wallet. But it would be months before the next Conference, and even after his purchase of TM''s it would take a long time before money would become a concern. Stolen novel; please report.


    Something uncomfortable stirs in Aidinza''s stomach, and the trees around him feel like they were closer, more oppressive than before, and the grass underneath him felt even more foreign than it usually did.


    "I¡­ don''t know." He shakes his head, gathering himself. Perhaps there was something to be said for getting out of the way of Gym Leader Drayden, the most powerful Gym Leader of Unova, who Aidinza had just spent nearly a week getting on the bad side of.


    But weighing that against being able to stick around for Naazin''s and Sandile''s recovery? It was not even a question.


    "The Ya''an-ah wander so much that the idea to stop never crosses their mind." Unktehila muses and Aidinza could not find it in himself to gainsay the older man. "But again, I say this for what you have done for my people, Kici ti''da?. You should leave nonetheless."


    Aidinza''s eyes narrow at the old man, and he straightens up to give him a suspicious stare. "I''m not even sure I want to give you the chance to explain." Yet despite that, he does not turn away from the elder.


    "You are a four badge trainer who just took on Opelucid, and took down Drampa and Druddigon in the same fight and then you forced Drayden to send out Haxorus five pokemon to six." Aidinza was tempted for a moment to interject that much of that victory was the planning from the Pheyan''atho, but he doubted anyone had a keener understanding of that than the man in front of him. "You have attention on you; the same people that flock around eight badge trainers are looking at you."


    "And why does that matter?" Aidinza knew what Unktehila was talking about, at least on the front of attention. But between the crowd watching his fight with Drayden and the seemingly endless stream of people who wanted to say something after that, he was pretty sure he did not want anything to do with it.


    "You want to bring the Ya''an-ah into the current age, Aidinza. You don''t want them to fade into history." The Naisho''h shifts uncomfortably. He can see where Unktehila is going with this, and he is already not sure if he is wrong. "It would be better if the current age met them halfway, and attention in this world turns to fame, turns to influence."


    It was a bitter pill to swallow, and there was a temptation to just petulantly reject the old man out of hand, turn away from him and¡­ go do something else, somewhere else. But then something shifts on his shoulders, and the cool, soothing, ethereal flesh of Dreepy presses against his neck as the dragon reacts to his agitation.


    The old man ignores, perhaps kindly, Aidinza''s resigned sigh as he continues: "There is a tournament in Lacunosa soon, one of the most famous in Unova. Some trainers focus their entire careers on it rather than the Conference. If you leave in the next few days, you''ll make it in time for last-minute registrations, and if you perform well, you''ll find the attention you found against Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en turn into momentum."


    "The thought occurs that the last time I listened to you, I nearly froze to death and just about got mauled by a beartic and a pack of sneasel." For all the truth in what Aidinza said, it still felt somewhat unfair to say it. He knew the reasons Unktehila had, and while he was far from self-hating enough to agree with them, he doubted they had anything to do with this.


    "You are right, and if you had died in that forest, I would have justified it to myself as yet another necessary step. I would do anything to make sure that my people carried on, but because of you, that''s no longer necessary." This time, it was not Aidinza who grew agitated; he had heard this frank honesty from the old man before. But instead, it was Dreepy, her body tensing and some of her weight shifting from his shoulders to her flight. "Like I said, Kici ti''da?, if you were someone else, I would not say a thing. But this old man has too many regrets to sit by and let someone who has done so much for him develop his own."


    "I didn''t do it for you." Aidinza allowed himself at least some petulance, but the old man just gave an unconcerned shrug.


    The Ya''an-ah breathed out slowly and looked away, staring for a long moment at Pawniard as she eagerly sharpened her arm blades, not far from where Mawile was dancing¡­ or maybe posing?


    "I''ll let Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den know where you are." Aidinza nodded, but the crunch of leaf and grass that followed immediately after Unktehila''s words told him that the old man had left him with his thoughts.


    Aidinza was not sure if that was better or worse. He reaches up and scratches at Dreepy''s chin as the ghost type slowly settles down, with Unktehila no longer in sight. "I''m not sure if I prefer him with an active interest in helping me, compared to when he manipulated me with a callous disregard for my physical health."


    She does not reply, simply snuggling into his fingers, leaving him to try to argue against Unktehila in his own head.


    Or, more accurately, lose to Unktehila in his own head.


    -


    At some point, Aidinza just gave up and splayed himself out in the grass in the middle of the clearing, soaking in the sun. Distantly, he could hear Mawile and Dreepy''s play in full swing, and much less distantly, he could hear Pawniard still intently focused on sharpening her arm blades. A surprisingly rhythmic, soothing sound, for how harsh the rasp was.


    It was probably not a productive use of his time, but it was better than brooding on his conversation with Naazin. Or brooding about his conversation with Unktehila. Or brooding about his impending conversation with Sandile.


    Just him, the soothing warmth of the sun, and only the sort of weird sensation of firm ground topped by soft grass.


    But the day was not done with him yet.


    "Of everyone who could have told me where you were, I didn''t expect it to be Unktehila." A shadow falls over the young Ya''an-ah''s face, and he opens a single green eye to look up at an upside-down Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den. "But maybe I should have."


    Aidinza does not respond, only letting out a mildly disgusted noise.


    "That bad huh?" The Pheyan''atho boy shifts, and Aidinza''s eye winces closed as he stops blocking the sun. There was a thump as Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den sat down, and with a grunt, Aidinza sat up to face him. "I''ve heard you''ve had a day."


    "I''m having a day." He stretches briefly before brushing a stone loose from his back. "I had to talk to Naazin about him staying behind while he recovers, then I talked to Unktehila, and he told me that I could just stay while Naazin recovers, and just when I was getting my hopes up, he told me that I shouldn''t stay." There was a part of Aidinza that thought he should hold back some of the venom Unktehila inspired from him in front of Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den, but he just could not muster the energy to. "And¡­ the worst thing about that man is he makes sense."


    If Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den was surprised at the vitriol directed at his elder, he does not show it, just calmly listening to Aidinza''s rant. "He''s good at that, making something you don''t like make sense. Though, for me, it was just getting me to eat my vegetables." A weak smile crossed Aidinza''s face at the joke, but it was startlingly ephemeral. "However much sense he might make, Aidinza, that doesn''t necessarily make him right. Definitely never made celery taste less like dirt."


    "No, but I think he''s right anyway." It hurt to admit it out loud, but Aidinza had already lost to the old man in his own head, so it was not like he had any refuge from the idea.


    "Well, if you decide otherwise, you''ve always got a welcome with the Pheyan''atho even if Dray-..." He pauses for a moment, brow furrowing before a smug, satisfied smile worms its way onto his face. "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en huffs about. Unktehila is going to be too busy to bother you if that helps."


    "Thanks." There was a part of Aidinza that was tempted, the chance to thumb his nose at Drayden after everything that had happened tickling something bitter in him. But he shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, helping Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den up a moment later. "But I''ll let Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en''s blood pressure come down, least I could do."


    "So where does that leave us?" Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den brushes some grass from his jeans and adjusts his hair out of his eyes.


    Aidinza shrugs, tossing a glance over to where Mawile and Dreepy were playing, pausing for a moment at the sight of Mawile halfway buried face down in leaves, with Dreepy nestled into his false jaw as it juts into the air. "I need to have what''s gonna be an unpleasant conversation with Sandile, and then I think I get moving."


    The Ya''an-ah boy lifts his fingers to his mouth, prepared to whistle and call his two pok¨¦mon over, but finds himself pausing for a long, silent moment. He was¡­ not really sure why he paused, maybe expecting Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den to say or do something. But the silence stretches on, companionable if not for the unmet expectation in the air.


    Then, the silence breaks as he lets out a piercing whistle. "Mawile! Dreepy! Time to go." He looks back to the other boy, who seems paralysed by some deep thought, before absently tapping a pok¨¦ball to the head of Pawniard, who had already placed her sharpening stone away and had been waiting patiently by Aidinza for some time.


    It was not until Mawile and Dreepy had slowly ambled over and were returned themselves that Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den spoke. "Some of the parents are dropping off their kids at the Village of Dragons in a few hours." Aidinza slips the last pok¨¦ball onto his belt and gives the Pheyan''atho a slightly perplexed look. Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den meets it with a shrug and a half smile. "Free childcare in Opelucid is a hell of a deal¡­ but I mean." This time, his smile was fully formed, tinged with something cheeky. "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en''s blood pressure''s already going to be elevated, right? Might not even notice you there."


    It was a clumsy invitation, but for all the reasons he had, the call of the road was as quiet as it had ever been for Aidinza. "As long as you keep Unktehila away from me."


    "Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en ordered Unktehila to remake the Pheyan''atho genealogy records; I''d be surprised if anyone sees him for a month." Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den scoffed, and Aidinza wondered for a moment if it would be funnier to burst his bubble now or later. "I have to pick up some groceries, you can come with me if you want?"


    "No, like I said, I have a difficult conversation, and I probably shouldn''t put it off." Though maybe he should, it would almost certainly spoil his mood before he got to the Village of Dragons¡­ he shakes his head. "Just try not to run over anyone on your way back."


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den grins widely. "But it turned out so well the first time, hey? Might solve all my other problems."


    "You''d need to find a braver man than me to take on that travesty you call a room." Aidinza wanders over to where his bag was leaning against a tree, fixing up the slight mess that Pawniard had left when she retrieved and put back her sharpening stone.


    "It''s not that bad." The Pheyan''atho boy followed Aidinza, leaning against the same tree that Aidinza''s bag had been sitting under.


    "Wacis''a-m?i could spend an entire night talking about everything she and Keh Waka?u?ci dredge from your room." He shrugs the bag over his shoulder and pins Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den with a look.


    "Maybe I should make my bed before the," A smile across his face unbidden, "kids come around." He pushes off the tree and glances at his watch. An almost contrite look crosses his face. "Which means I probably need to get a move on. The kids should be getting dropped off before lunch¡­" He makes a weird, uncertain gesture. "Just show up whenever you feel like it."


    The two exchange a final nod before Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den jogs off, leaving Aidinza alone in the clearing.


    For a moment, Aidinza was tempted to just head straight to the Village of Dragons. Telling Naazin that he was going to be lef- was not going to come with Aidinza on the next route had been a gut punch, and while he cared deeply for the clauncher¡­


    Sandile had been there since the start, and while Aidinza managed to convince himself that Naazin would be fine being left behind, at least before the actual conversation, there was no chance that Sandile would take it well.


    But it had to be done, and putting it off did not and would not make it better.


    So he leaves.


    -


    There were very few places in Opelucid; cities in general, really, that Aidinza really felt comfortable. Even a month after he had arrived at her doorstep, and three months after he took his first coltish steps into the lights of Nimbasa. The streets still felt like they were choking him at times, the buildings bearing down on him until they covered the sky and hid the Sun.


    Bizarrely, the top of the hospital was one of those places.


    Thankfully, that meant he had somewhere to retreat to for a very uncomfortable conversation he needed to have, where he would not need to contend with the somewhat nauseous feeling that being in and around the city gave him.


    Unfortunately, that meant that he did not have a reason to put off having to have this very uncomfortable conversation he needed to have.


    Aidinza resists the urge to sigh as he sits on the edge of the hospital''s roof and runs a hand down the bumpy spine of Sandile sitting in his lap, careful to keep from jostling the ground-types'' injuries.


    "I''ll be leaving soon. There''s a tournament in Lacunosa, and if I want to make it, I need to hit the road by tomorrow." Even just coaching the words in terms of ''I'' instead of ''we'' made Aidinza want to curl up. The idea of his journey, any part of it, not being shared with Sandile felt anathema to Aidinza''s identity outright.


    Made even more gut-wrenching by the fact that Sandile clearly did not get what Aidinza was getting at, carelessly wallowing in Aidinza''s lap, enjoying the rooftop sun.


    "I''ll be leaving you here until I reach Lacunosa." The words took a moment to register with the ground type, slowly piercing through his content-lolling haze over several seconds, an unnatural stiffness spreading through his body. Aidinza struggled to keep his voice even as Sandile turned his confused, beady eyes onto him. "The nurse said your injuries need to be kept under observation, a-and I need you to stay here to keep an eye on Naazin while his carapace heals."


    Aidinza''s voice wavered uncertainty as Sandile whined, his excuses sounding threadbare to his own ears. But as Sandile straightened up, his limbs shuddered and quaked, the weakness and pain in his limbs evident. The Ya''an-ah boy''s hand slipped under Sandile''s ribs, taking some of the weight off Sandile''s limbs. "You can barely stand, Sandile." His voice turned to an almost intimate rasp, soft and pleading. "And I need to go."


    A snarl cut through the air, and Sandile pulled himself out of Aidinza''s lap, jumping down onto the edge of the roof before whirling about to stare up at Aidinza. There was a prideful cast to the ground types features that Aidinza was not used to seeing outside of a fight. The tremble was gone from his limbs, replaced by that fierce glint in his eyes and a growl deep in his throat.


    It was almost enough to make Aidinza hesitate. It was definitely enough to give him second thoughts. If Sandile felt this strongly about it, and that feeling in his gut was this unpleasant, surely he could just take the ground type with him? Not be separated from his first pok¨¦mon?


    Then, in spite of Sandile''s determination, his back leg buckles, and he teeters into a sideways tumble towards the several-story tall drop. Aidinza lunges forward, catching Sandile before he can tumble off the edge and sending both of them tumbling off the other way. Aidinza grunts as he crashes to the rough ground of the hospital''s roof, and then hisses in pain as the Sandile, started and off-balance, lashes out; his teeth sink into the thick cloth of Aidinza''s clothes and pierce the flesh underneath by bare millimetres.


    For a moment, Aidinza just lay there, awkwardly crumpled between the hospital roof''s wall and its floor, staring up at the sky as he tried to reign in his heart rate, plagued by thoughts of what almost happened. He nearly let Sandile fall off a Sun scorched building at the barest of arm''s length.


    He gasps as something wrenches at his arm; Sandile has leveraged his panicked bite into a death grip, pinning Aidinza''s arm in place. The determination had given way to petulant desperation, a growl building in his throat as if he could intimidate Aidinza into just staying, undercut by distressed, confused, pleading whines.


    Sandile did not want Aidinza to go, and his frantic attempts to force Aidinza to not go were hurting the young native, only not actually injurious because of his clothes, weaved to survive the harsh conditions of the Ya''an-ah desert.


    But if Sandile kept thrashing, or sun forbids, started to use an actual move, Aidinza''s comparatively frail human limbs might just snap.


    A growl builds up in Aidinza''s own throat, low and primal, the same growl that he had used to train Sandile with Hone Claw. His right hand comes up to clamp down on the back of Sandile''s neck, a poor mimicry of the end result of dozens of dominance fights between krookodile he had watched throughout his youth.


    A poor mimicry, but good enough. Instincts as old as the sands themselves kicked in for Sandile, his body going limp as his body was flooded with signals he had lost a dominance display and now needed to submit or risk finding his neck in a death roll.


    He tugs his arm out of Sandile''s mouth, wincing at the ragged cloth slowly being stained with droplets of blood. He pulls Sandile close against him, hugging the ground type as tightly as he dared with the crocodile''s own injuries. The Naisho''h boy shifts and moves until he is able to sit upright with his back against the wall, ignoring the bloody scrapes that his tumble had earned to run a soothing hand down Sandile''s spine as he whimpered. "I know, buddy. I don''t want to go. But I have to, and it''ll only be a couple of days, okay? You''ll blink and I''ll be in Lacunosa, and you''ll get an extra big dinner, and I''ll buy a nice blue blanket for you."


    Aidinza tried for something conciliatory, expected he would manage something bargaining, and ended up with something bordering on desperate. He hated this, he hated just as much as he hated having to tell Naazin he would have to stay behind. Hated it almost more than having to take Astazhei to the hospital.


    Sandile whined again, but this time it was resigned, but no less heart wrenching for it. Sandile understood that he could not make Aidinza stay, and Aidinza understood that Sandile hated it, that if Sandile could he would make Aidinza stay.


    But he could not.


    "It will only be a few days," Aidinza said again, making no attempt to get up and move, as he clutched his starter to him, trying to pretend the slow wracking jolts were Sandile trying to squirm from his grip. Just like he tried to pretend the blur over his eyes was from the pain of his fall and not anything else.


    He wished Sandile could.


    -


    There was a certain tranquillity to the Village of Dragons, a quelling ataraxy that compelled a necessary level of courtesy that Aidinza naturally adopted. Here was the cradle of some of the most important people in Unova''s history. Some of its greatest villains, and some of its greatest servants. It bid respect.


    Was being the operative term. For all the gravitas that the Village of Dragons compelled in Aidinza, it did not seem shared by its newest denizens. Who yelled and squealed as they darted about the wide open spaces around the Village of Dragons that had seemed so very empty before today.


    Nor, it seemed, was it shared by its oldest.


    Aidinza only met Ha?h¨¦da?z¨¦?a once, the hydreigon only deigning to wake up to examine its fiefdom''s newest intruder the first time Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den brought him to the village. Yet the memory of it stuck with him, a dragon with teeth as long as his arm and so old as to have his eyesight stolen from it.


    It was a living, breathing piece of history.


    It was currently bounding about the wide-open plazas of the Village of Dragons like an excited puppy. The contrast of its sheer bulk next to the tiny form of the children that had been dropped off at the Village of Dragons was bordering on madness. A single misstep by the dragon could probably crush the children by the classful, and with how enthusiastic and erratic the ancient drake''s movements were, Aidinza was half certain he was at all times mere seconds away from witnessing a brutal tragedy.


    Yet, despite the hydreigon crashing into the ground repeatedly - its weight enough to shake the ground and nearly send Aidinza stumbling from nearly a dozen metres away - and its seemingly careless movements chasing after the fragile children playing with it and the fact that it was blind. Disaster never struck; the old beast was clearly intensely aware of the fragility of humans.


    Or maybe it was the innate connection between the Pheyan''atho and dragons, Aidinza mused to himself as he silently watched, like how Aidinza had known since birth how to keep himself at just the right distance from a basking krookodile so as never to be mistaken for a midday snack.


    Or maybe it was Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s colossal effort, having long since waded into the thick of things and demonstrating an old hand at playing with the massive beast of a hydreigon.


    Or maybe everyone here was just really lucky.


    A threadbare smirk crossed the boy''s lips as he looked away, just a touch morbidly amused. But it fades just as quickly as his eyes wander over to where Wacis''a-m?i had gathered a cadre of kids, sitting at the bank of a lazy river that edged the only border of the Village of Dragon''s that was not demarcated by the foreboding expanse of Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka.


    Distantly, the Ya''an-ah boy could hear the rasp of her voice as her cadence rose and fell with her story, a story that he was pretty sure he was told a few days ago with far less enthusiasm. Which considering the woman had spent nearly an hour and a half regaling Aidinza and an indulgent Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den with her dredging stories, was saying something.


    It certainly seemed to enthral the circle of kids listening to her, or maybe it was the graceful form of the old dragon hovering behind her, flexing his prowess over water that had kept Wacis''a-m?i safe time and time again, diving into even the most treacherous depths. Keh Waka?u?ci, Wacis''a-m?i¡¯s sleek treasure hunting Kindra, displayed a mastery over water that beggared belief, turning the lazily drifting river into a raging torrent as Wacis''a-m?i described the stormy currents of Savo Island, calmed time and time again at his whim as she spoke of descending to the wreckages that lay beneath the waves every day for nearly a month.


    Then came the storm that trapped her beneath the waves for nearly three days, and with a flex of will the water entirely still, lifting it into the air and pulling it into a deceptively fragile bubble of water that glinted in the sunlight.


    It was a magnificent display of a kind of power separate from battling, that left Aidinza, even at this distance, in awe.


    But his attention drifted on regardless, something heavy and grey in him dulled the awe quickly, as a commotion drew his attention to where Unktehila had emerged from one of the halls that dotted the village, a box made of wood covered in dirt that almost looked as old as Aidinza himself clutched in his hands, and an air about him of satisfaction.


    The literal hand full did not spare him, and he quickly found himself swarmed by half a dozen children who had somehow grown bored of either playing with a Dragon presumably well able of removing a small town as an afterthought, or watching a Dragon flex it''s mastery over an entire river.


    Aidinza watched as the old man struggled to both keep a hold of the box and greet the children clamouring for his attention, a wide smile on his face, even as he kept a worried eye on the box in his hands.


    He turned away until his gaze finally drifted to a presence he had been ignoring to watch the children for the last ten minutes.


    To where Drayden, Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en, honoured leader, the Ya''an-ah boy did not care much which in that moment stood half hidden from his tribe and the children of that tribe by the house Aidinza had been leaning against.


    There was a new air around the gym leader. Distant from the cold, disciplined disapproval that had coloured the man when Aidinza first met him and not quite the unravelling anger that had bubbled up during their fight. Not even the resigned defeat that had come over him after that fight was quite like it.


    But what that air was eludes Aidinza at that moment.


    "I did not expect to see you back here, so soon." His voice does not carry far, not necessarily low, but lacking the diaphragmatic boom that usually lent his words such a commanding impression.


    "Why?" The question had more than one inquiry, and even Aidinza was not sure which, if any, he actually was asking for.


    "Old expectations." Drayden''s response seemed to amuse himself, a flash of humour in his sharp yellow eyes and the slightest upturn of his lips. The closest to a smile Aidinza had ever seen on the old man.


    Aidinza did not know how to react to that, and for all his thoughts of thumbing his nose at Drayden earlier today, he found himself awkwardly silent.


    "Part of me wondered if anything would ever come of letting Unktehila have his way. I had turned Opelucid into a city of tomorrow; why would it care about the fossils underneath its feet." The gym leader stares off into the distance for a moment, towards where Aidinza knew the slightest hints of the tallest of Opelucid''s buildings could just be made out before he snorts. "Should have known that even if they did not care about the fossils, getting the children out from under their feet for free would be too tempting an offer."


    Aidinza himself was unsurprised, if there was anything he expected to be true out of the desert as much as it was in it, it was a parent pushing their children off to the grandparents at the earliest opportunity. "What do you want, Drayden." It was meant to be a question, but Aidinza''s voice was too flat to manage it.


    But if Drayden was surprised by that, he did not show it. "I will be straightforward with you, U?ma?. I do not like you." Aidinza did not even blink; the feeling was very much mutual. "But I owe far too much to someone far too important to me to let you wallow in this jealous mire like a petulant child."


    There was a certain irony to Drayden, so incapable of accepting a potential defeat at the hands of Aidinza himself that he sent out Haxorus, accusing Aidinza of being a petulant child. But throwing his words back in his face felt almost like he would be playing into them, so Aidinza only breathed out slowly. "Jealous mire?"


    "As much a fool as you made me, boy, do not think I am one. Sitting here off to the side glaring out at the fruits of your own labour like it personally offends you." The gym leader snorts and pins Aidinza with his own glare. "Do not act stupid."


    "I''ve just had a bad day." The excuse sounded weak to his own ears and clearly sounded even weaker to Drayden''s if the curl of his lip over his teeth was to be judged.


    "Then forget about your bad day and enjoy what you won, U?ma?." The gym leader goaded, jerking his head towards the Pheyan''atho reconnecting with their children.


    Aidinza does not move.


    "Jealousy, U?ma?. Look at them, gainsay me. U?ma?." Aidinza glances towards the Pheyan''atho again, that heavy, grey feeling building up inside him again, bitter in his gut. Aidinza does not gainsay the gym leader. "You look at them and think of all the blood and sweat you and your team put into the fight against me. And you remember you are an outsider, you''re an other, an U?ma?. You get nothing from it."


    "I''m Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den''s friend, I knew his struggle. I helped my friend."  Aidinza believed what he said, Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den was his friend. He knew his struggle, it was a struggle he himself knew. He had helped his friend, and even now he felt proud of that. "It matters as much as I make it matter." He repeats the words like a mantra, believing them wholeheartedly.


    So why, standing there at the end of the consequences of it all, did the words sound so weak to his ears.


    "His struggles reminded you of your struggles, U?ma?. Just like how his success reminds you that it is not yours." The gym leader''s words were cruel, yet his tone was not. It was ruminative, maybe, introspective definitely. Cruel¡­ not quite.


    "Is there a point to this?" Aidinza shifts, he did not have to stand here and listen to this, the gym leader had not earnt that.


    "Did your fight with me teach you nothing, boy?" The gym leader makes a disgusted noise as if even being reminded of the fight angered him. "Sitting here agonising over having to make hard choices and over getting hurt, acting like at the end you''re left holding the bloodied spear and an empty stomach. You got experience, boy; you proved your concept. Even without an unfezant in hand, you have information." There was an edge to the gym leader''s words, something almost desperate. This was wisdom he had to pass on, earned in such a way that it demanded he impart it onwards. "You said it to me yourself, U?ma?; what does it mean for the Ya''an-ah if the Pheyan''atho is so easy to forget? Ask yourself what it means for the Ya''an-ah that you changed that?"


    Aidinza did not leave, nor did he respond for a long, long moment. "I think I hate old Pheyan''atho men."


    Drayden snorts, contemptuous and amused all at once. "Wiser words than I could ever speak." Then, the gym leader steps out of the cover he had been hidden behind, and a moment later, a cry goes up among the Pheyan''atho children. Moments later, the Gym Leader finds himself swarmed, as enthralling to the young Pheyan''atho as the living piece of history, playing with them like an excited puppy or the dragon juggling a small river like it was nothing.


    Aidinza watched as with practiced ease Drayden calmed the crowding children, quelling Ha?h¨¦da?z¨¦?a with a glance, and taking control of the situation with a surprisingly velvet clad iron grasp.


    It did not surprise Aidinza that Drayden was good with children, he must have fought and guided hundreds in his time. Some of the people Aidinza watched fight him, that gave him his greatest fights, were little more than children.


    But it still annoyed him.


    And the fact that it annoyed him frustrated him to no end. He had not been here long, but all he could manage was sitting here, seething in a quiet resentment while cowering in the shade as if the Sun would not judge his disposition just because some building older than the bones of the Mother Desert was in the way.


    He should leave; he should have already left.


    "You''re the guy who was with Uncle Urkel an'' Jackyden." Aidinza recognised Wan''la-ite''s voice, even if he only met the girl in passing. He turned to face her, trying to plaster a smile on his face.


    "And you''re Wan''la-ite; how is your mother?" He was pretty sure he managed it; at least the little girl didn''t seem put off by him as she ran an errant hand through her dark, purplish locks, trying to tame them in a herculean task that only Drayden, of all Pheyan''atho, seemed able to overcome.


    "She''s good! She had a lot of fun helping prepare for the fight, but¡­" The girl glances around suspiciously before leaning forward conspicuously.


    Aidinza leaned forward himself, feeling only slightly silly when the girl proceeded to say nothing for several seconds. "But¡­?"


    "Well, just because you asked." The girl tried to whisper, but it instead came out just as loud as she had been talking but with a lispy rasp. "She wasn''t very good at it¡­"


    Despite his gloom, or maybe because of it, Aidinza felt his smile turn to a more genuine smirk of amusement. "Not like you, huh?"


    The girl shakes her head, long purplish hair flaring wildly. "Nu-uh, she thought that a Thunder was the same as a Thunderbolt! An- an an didn''t understand that just because Tyrunt is really good at taking a hit doesn''t mean it''s so good at-at¡­" She pauses, frowning as she tries to find her words. "Taking ranged attacks?"


    She shakes her head, clearly not satisfied with that.


    "Special attacks?" He offers; whether or not to use Naazin to shut down tyrunt had been a fierce debate he remembered clearly. A single water pulse from the Water Gun pok¨¦mon would have been enough to stop the Royal Heir pok¨¦mon in its tracks.


    "Special attacks, yeah!" She clicked her fingers sharply, yellow eyes lighting up. "Cuz you know, its rocky feather mane is so good at dis-per-sing force, but the stuff underneath is more mushy." She gesticulated wildly, a queer rolling gesture that he guessed could mean mushy. "But your Fletch-inder didn''t care about that AT ALL! He was all like, whoa, blam, fruosh!"


    Aidinza''s smile widens; he would have to tell Shand¨ª¨ªn later that he had been like ''whoa, blam, fruosh.'' The vain pok¨¦mon would love it. "Shand¨ª¨ªn did everything I could have asked of him and more."


    "Yu-huh! Then he burnt the altaria like fruosh ahhh! And he was soooo cool." Wan''la-ite bounces around for a while, playing out the fight with her hands, her left Aidinza was pretty sure was meant to be Shand¨ª¨ªn, her right the Altaria. Then she freezes suddenly, whirling around on him with wide eyes. "I''m gonna have one."


    "Yeah?" Aidinza offers lightly, not quite put off by the young Pheyan''atho''s sudden intensity.


    "Yu-huh! I''m gonna be just like you!" That one, Aidinza had to admit, hit differently. Wan''la-ite stares up at him with earnest eyes, honest and almost completely free of guile. It was difficult to keep hold of bitter feelings underneath a declaration that ardent. "I''m a start with a dreepy, an then catch a bergemite, an a fletchinder an then a sandile an a claunch, an then I''m gonna beat up Mr Drayden just like you did."


    "Drayden beat me." He teases slightly, resisting the urge to laugh as the girl''s cheeks puff out angrily.


    "Didn''t count! Everyone knows you won." Wan''la-ite narrows her eyes at Aidinza as if she was ready to fight him over whether he won or lost his own fight.


    The Ya¡¯an-ah boy hums. "Well it''s not me you have to convince of that." He glances significantly over to where Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en was dealing with a crowd of children. Wan''la-ite follows his stare, and from the corner of his vision he could see her eyes narrow further. "You could also tell him about your team plan, so he knows what''s coming."


    Aidinza was not sure how Dra''kh¨ªza-ide''en would react to being told that a young Pheyan''atho was planning on repeating his humiliation with the same team, but he doubted that the gym leader would take it well.


    The young Pheyan''atho girl nods seriously and marches off, shoulders set and a mission in her spine.


    Aidinza watches her go for a moment, oddly fond despite the brief interaction. "So I''m guessing that was your idea?" He called over his shoulder when she was too far away to hear him, lolling his head to glance backwards at Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den.


    The other native boy smiles sheepishly, walking over to stand next to Aidinza. "Was it that obvious?"


    "I''ve heard her say dispersing just fine before, and I know for a fact she knows what special attacks are." She was one of the Pheyan''atho who argued effusively for using Naazin to beat Tyrunt quickly. Part of Aidinza wondered if part of that little act was just an excuse to tell him Tyrunt''s weak to special attacks again. "And she was trying very hard to sound like a kid."


    "Sorry, I probably shouldn''t have put her up to that." He bows his head apologetically, but only for a moment, his blue eyes meeting Aidinza''s with almost as much earnest sincerity as Wan''la-ite. "She meant it, though; she was saying it to the other kids."


    "Yeah, I got that." Aidinza sighs and runs a hand through his red hair, wincing slightly as his fingers tangled up in a painful knot. He had not had a haircut since he left the Mother Desert, and he desperately needed one.


    "I thought it would be nice, to know that they look up to you, like that." The Pheyan''atho boy continues haltingly shifting his weight from foot to foot before falling silent.


    The silence drags on for a few seconds, Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den hunching in on himself as it stretched longer and longer, until finally there was another apology at the tip of his tongue.


    Then Aidinza bumps his shoulder into his. "Yeah, yeah it was." He admits, maybe it was for only a little while, and the ache of his hurt team still bit at him, but having a tangible impact like that on someone else¡­


    Maybe it was not what he desperately hoped for, but after Ca?a?akeha?ska Ca?ta?ka, after his team getting mauled by dragons, maybe it was just enough for what he needed.


    He jerks his head towards the crowd of children, as a strange hush fell over the cacophony of noise that came from so many children in one place. "Come on, I want to see if Drayden''s head explodes hearing a Pheyan''atho tell him that they want to make him face my team again."


    Jha''y''z¨¦?a-den laughs and follows.