I stood up slowly, ignoring the dozen or so curious glances tossed my way. Compared to Gary and Zinnia, barely anyone paid attention to me—and yet that didn't stop a few people from whispering anyway.
Maybe they were just bored.
I made my way to the podium, trying not to think about how this moment could potentially brand me for the rest of the year. For better or worse.
The Aura Flower sat motionless in its globe. I placed my hand on the glass.
At first, nothing happened.
Just like with Zinnia.
A few seconds ticked by.
I was starting to get nervous. Maybe because I had come from another world, I wouldn't have any Aura at all? Or maybe—
A faint shimmer flickered from the center of the flower.
My breath caught.
The glow was weak. So weak I'd thought I imagined it. But it was there. Just barely.
The flower shifted to a pale, almost translucent gray. Like ash diluted in water.
The room was silent.
"…Did it break?" someone whispered.
"No," Professor Diane replied evenly, staring at the globe with an expression that could only be described as clinical detachment. "It registered."
She paused, then turned her dispassionate gaze to me.
"E-Rank."
My stomach dropped.
Everyone so far had been at minimum a D-Rank. That meant I had not only the lowest rank in the room, but also likely the lowest ranking possible.
I pulled my hand away, trying to keep my face neutral. A part of me hoped no one was paying attention.
But that hope died instantly.
"Pffft—seriously?" a voice snickered from the side.
Of course, it was Gary being obnoxiously loud while he lounged in his chair. And with just that, the floodgates opened for others to do the same.
"How did someone like that even get in this school?"
"E-Rank? That's real?! I thought that was, like, a joke or something…"
"That's certainly one way to stand out, I guess," someone muttered.
I returned to my seat, trying not to look at anyone. I didn't know how Aura worked, so I wasn't too sad about it, but it was still a bummer to know I had another disadvantage other than my lack of knowledge.
I let out a long breath and slouched in my chair.
At least I knew something for certain; Whoever sent me here definitely wasn't expecting me to be the chosen one.
Professor Diane didn't call the next name right away. Instead, she tapped her pen once against the lectern—and another wave of pressure swept through the room, silencing the last of the whispers.
"For those of you already forming opinions based on what you've seen so far..." Her voice remained dry, but there was an unmistakable edge now. "...remember what I said before we began."
The room went from quiet to dead silent.
"Despite what this school will try to convince you, one's Aura capacity is not everything."
Some students shifted in their seats, quickly realizing she was speaking directly to their judgmental little whispers.
"A high Aura reserve is simply a larger tank of fuel. It helps—but it means nothing if you don't know how to use it, and even less if you never improve."
Her eyes flicked toward Gary for the briefest moment.
"Some of you will coast on talent and burn out. Others will start small and climb further than anyone expects. We've seen it happen every year. Don't assume today's results will determine your place in this school."
She glanced back down at her list. "Next: Ritchie."
The moment passed. Another name. Another student walked up.
But her words stuck with me.
Some will start small and climb further than anyone expects.
She didn't look at me when she said it.
She didn't need to.
--------
The Aura evaluations wrapped up by midday. Some students were buzzing with pride. Others kept their heads low.
I didn't lose much of my earlier enthusiasm, even if I had low Aura. A new world was a new world, after all.
But that didn't last long.
Shortly after lunch, we were summoned again. This time, to a wide circular hall attached to the academy's southern garden. Unlike the clinical vibe of the lecture hall, this place felt… sacred.
The ceiling arched high above us like the inside of a cathedral, and in the center of the room were dozens—maybe hundreds—of eggs. Each one nestled into a socket on a stone pedestal, like a gemstone in a crown. They pulsed faintly with energy, some glowing more brightly than others.
The room felt warmer in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. More… alive.
Professor Diane stood at the head of the room, arms crossed, flanked by two teachers I didn't recognize. She didn't raise her voice this time.
"This is the Fated Bond Ceremony," she said. "Behind me are Pokemon eggs that have resisted every known method of incubation. They refuse to hatch without a specific Aura present—a resonance between trainer and Pokémon."
She paused, scanning the group.
"You can't cheat it. You can't force it. Whatever ties between you and the Pokemon that chooses you must be real."
A student raised their hand. "How are we supposed to know which egg is ours?"
Professor Diane tilted her head slightly. "You don't."
Then she stepped aside.
"You'll each enter the circle one at a time. Walk among the eggs. If one reacts, stay with it. If it doesn't... move on. You'll have five minutes."
Another student raised a hand. "And what if none of them react?"
A dry smile tugged at the corner of Diane's lips. "Then you'll be issued a standard Pokémon as your partner tomorrow."
Some students paled at that. I knew exactly why.
While this ceremony was very important, that wasn't the only reason. During lunch I learned about these so-called fated Pokemon while listening to random student conversations. They were known as Partner Pokemon.
Essentially, a Partner Pokemon had a far greater potential than their base counterparts, with each aspect of them being simply better.
That much I knew already, though.
Partner Pikachu and Partner Eevee were Pokemon with a noticeable increase in stats than normal Pikachu and Eevee. But there was one other aspect that caused even people who didn't care about strength to pale.
The Partner system was a status symbol. If one of these eggs chose you, it was believed that despite everything, you mattered in a way others simply didn't. As long as you followed whatever path you chose with that Partner then you'd ultimately achieve something great.
Aura Rank or not, getting a Partner Pokemon was a sign that you had potential.
Names began to be called.
One by one, students entered the circle.
The first few students walked the circle slowly. Some stopped to look closer at a pedestal. Some whispered things under their breath—maybe prayers, maybe desperate encouragements.
The eggs did nothing.
After a few minutes, Professor Diane would murmur, "Next," and someone else would go.
Ten students passed before anything happened at all.
When the first reaction came—a faint flicker of orange light from a striped egg near the back—the entire room tensed. The student stopped, hopeful.
But the glow faded just as quickly. Diane made no note of it.
Then she called, "Gary Oak."
Gary stepped into the circle like he owned the building. Confident, casual. Hands in his pockets. Half of us watched with barely hidden envy. The other half seemed too proud to admit it.
He made one lap around the circle. At first, nothing.
Then a soft hum started rising from the pedestals.
One egg lit up. Then another.
Then another.
By the time he was halfway through his second lap, no fewer than five eggs were glowing faintly. One pulsed in sharp, deliberate beats. Another gave off sparks that jumped like static.
The murmurs started. No one tried to hide them.
Gary just rubbed the back of his neck and gave a theatrical sigh, like he was being asked to choose which luxury car to drive to prom.
'Lucky bastard.' I cursed internally. I wasn't surprised, but it was still frustrating watching him effortlessly get every perk with that smug look on his face.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a sleek, pale blue egg. Besides that, there were no other defining features on it.
Gary tapped the side of the pedestal once, then nodded.
"This one's fine," he said.
Without waiting for permission, he reached down and gently scooped the egg into his arms. It didn't resist. In fact, it glowed a little brighter in his hands.
A few students murmured.
"Is that a Squirtle egg?"
"Nah, it can't be. There's no shell pattern on the—"
Professor Diane spoke up before the whispers turned into gossip.
"Not all Partner Pokémon resemble their base species' eggs. That particular one carries the lineage of an exceptional Squirtle line." She glanced at Gary. "Take good care of it."
Gary grinned, the picture of smug satisfaction. "Obviously."
He walked off without another word, cradling the egg like a trophy.
Zinnia's turn was more subdued. She stopped in front of a dark, slate-blue egg streaked with jagged red markings and faint white banding — like scales waiting to form. The moment she neared it, the egg lit with a fierce inner glow. It pulsed not gently, but sharply, like a heartbeat trying to break through stone.
Zinnia stared at it in silence for a few seconds before reaching out and pressing her palm to its shell.
It answered.
A brief, hot flash of energy radiated from the egg before fading.
She picked it up without hesitation.
Professor Diane nodded once. "Bagon."
Zinnia turned and left, holding the egg against her chest, its dull glow just barely peeking through her fingers.
Whispers once again rushed through the room like wildfire. I didn't need to listen to understand the reason they were talking like crazy. Zinnia might've disappointed them with her Aura Rank, but that was a Bagon. A Pseudo-legendary Pokemon.
Not one of them could ridicule her now.
Most of the remaining students had no such luck. One by one, they walked the circle. A flicker here. A faint pulse there. But no real reaction.
Then—
"Jasiir."
I didn't move at first. Not because I was afraid.
But because I didn't expect anything.
Still… it wasn't like I had a choice. I walked the circle.
Left side. Nothing.
Right side. Nothing, yet again. Shocker.
I slowed my pace, passing pedestal after pedestal, each one cool and quiet. Some of the eggs were beautiful—marbled, shimmering, streaked with gold or patterned with wild, natural markings. But they didn't react. Not even a flicker of warmth.
I was nearly at the edge of my five minutes when something made me stop.
Set a little apart from the others, nestled in a dull iron pedestal that bore no flowers or carvings, sat an inconspicuos white egg. Its shell was a bit long and it had three distinctive red claw-like shapes near the base.
The moment I stepped in front of it, something changed.
A faint tremor ran through the floor. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. A thousand pictures couldn't describe the feeling, much less words.
The egg pulsed. Once. Then again.
Diane tilted her head slowly from the edge of the room. "That's a…"
I didn't hear anything. I didn't say anything. I didn't reach out. I just stood there, letting the moment consume me.
Something primal flickered between us—not a thought, not a word, but a certainty. It was watching me, even without eyes. Waiting. For me.
Eventually, my time would run out.
I stepped forward and placed both hands on the shell. It was warm.
The moment I lifted it from the pedestal, the glow flared bright enough to wash the surrounding pedestals in white-red light.
And then it faded. Quiet again. But as the light faded, I swore I felt claws wrap around me protectively.
Behind me, I finally heard Diane speak.
"Zangoose."
And something deep in my soul sang.