(Arata POV)
The page stared back at me.
I sat out on the back patio, notebook balanced across my knees, pen tapping absently against the margin. The morning air was cool, though the sun was climbing steadily, spilling soft light across the Backyard.
But here I was sitting in the garden, with a blank page, and an idea I wasn't sure I knew how to phrase.
I pressed the nib down and began to write...
"About aura. You know, the old stories, how it was once the foundation of all power, before typings were even formalized. What if aura was the root energy? Not just myth or monk tradition, but the source everything else branched from. Fire, water, grass, all the types we catalog now, what if they evolved out of aura, shaped by environment and necessity? Divergence, like branches splitting from the same trunk."
I stopped. Read it over. Drew a small line under the last word, then added:
"It might explain the overlaps, why fighting Pokémon can learn elemental punches, why dragon-types sometimes wield fire or ice without needing to be those types themselves. If aura is the base state, then typing is just… the ones above it. A layer upon layer"
It looked clumsy, not something I could submit, but this was a start. That's all a draft needed to be: something real enough to get you started.
I leaned back, pen balanced across my knuckles, and sighed. "It definitely needs to be better."
I heard the sound of wings high up in the sky. I turned my head just in time to catch a glimpse of something flying.
Livia.
She cut through the sky above, her feathers gleaming with a silvery light, eyes fixed on the lawn. And below, Ceaser stirred from where he'd been lazing in the grass, snout twitching at the sound of her cry.
I had just enough time to snap the notebook closed before the first clash began.
"Alright then," I muttered, shoving the pen into the spiral. "So much for the article."
The first dive was almost too fast to follow.
Livia streaked down from the sky, her feathers gleaming silver, wings stiffened and glowing faintly with metallic light. She dived down in a tight arc with the beginnings of Steel Wing.
Ceaser braced himself. His small form curled inward as he crossed his arms, and a faint brown-orange shimmer began crawling over his body, coating him like a second skin. Fighting type energy held tight against his frame with just his will.
Endure
He roared and held his ground.
The impact cracked across the garden, metallic wings clashing against that stubborn little dragon. A ripple shuddered outward, scattering loose grass into the air. Ceaser slid back half a step, his feet digging into the dirt.
His eyes were narrowed with focus.
"Good," I called, though I wasn't sure if I meant her form or his resilience.
Ceaser shook the sting out of his arms and reset his stance, chest rising and falling in quick breaths. His aura brightened again, hugging closer this time, his focus sharpening.
Above him, Livia wheeled around once more, wings gleaming brighter as she pushed energy through her wings. She folded and dove again, body taut, and wing glowing silver.
This time, Ceaser didn't just brace; he roared and leaned into the blow, energy compressing tighter around him. The clash rang like struck iron. He slid back, but less than before. His fists trembled, but he stood, eyes blazing.
I couldn't help a crooked grin. "Good Job, guys."
Livia circled higher, feathers catching sunlight, her cry sharper now..
Ceaser stomped once, a burst of type energy forming around his frame, and growled at her to come again.
She obliged.
Over and over they met wing against will, steel against strengthend body. Each time the shimmer around Ceaser grew steadier, less ragged. Each time Livia's wings glowed brighter, her dives cut cleaner through the air. Neither yielded. Neither needed to.
I finally pushed myself off the chair, walking closer, notebook forgotten on the table. The words could wait.
Watching them grow, watching them sharpen each other, was better than anything I could put on paper.
Ceaser's energy still flared with each strike, dimming at the edges but refusing to break. Livia's wings still glinted with silver as she landed harder, steadier blows. And each collision shook the air, not as opponents, but as partners, a team sharpening each other.
"Enough," I said at last, voice carrying just enough steel to cut through their momentum.
Both turned at once.
Ceaser panted, energy fading, but his stance held firm, his growl low and defiant. Livia touched down lightly, folding her wings, her gaze calm but unyielding.
"Good work," I said, crouching to scratch him under the jaw. His tusks gleamed faintly as he let out a soft, rumbling growl, eyelids drooping with a mix of pride and exhaustion.
Livia tilted her head, her feathers catching the light, as if to say: We'll both get there. Given time.
"That's enough for today," I told them, straightening. "We're leaving soon. We need to catch the train."
Ceaser gave a sharp, eager growl, and Livia chirped in agreement, her wings fluttering slightly.
The Pokémon were clearly on board.
I pulled out their Poké Balls, giving them a nod. "Alright, you two, get some rest." With a flash of red light, I recalled Ceaser into his ball, followed by Livia into hers.
Tucking the balls into my bag, I turned and headed back inside.
(3rd person POV)
The underground train hummed with a low, ceaseless vibration that thrummed up through the soles of Arata's boots and into his chest. The faint smell of rain clung to the air inside the cabin, carried in from whenever the doors had opened at the last station.
He sat quietly, duffel bag tucked against his leg, one hand resting lightly over its strap. It wasn't a large bag, but packed with the necessities Hailey had insisted on: spare clothes, toiletries, a field kit, a compact bedroll, and most importantly, identification papers.
And his knife.
His thumb brushed against the faint outline of the sheath tucked under his jacket.It was a dagger, simple but reliable, its blackened steel hilt was engraved with a single Ranger's crest. A gift from Hailey.functional and Practical.
"Sometimes," she had said, fastening the sheath to his belt the night before,
"your Pokémon can't be between you and danger fast enough. This is for then. Not before."
Arata had nodded, too aware of the gravity in her voice to argue.
that memory stayed with him.
He adjusted the jacket, sleek navy canvas lined for travel, its collar sharp against his throat. His shirt underneath was pale grey, simple, fitted. Dark slacks and sturdy boots completed the look.
The duffel was rough canvas, weather-sealed, Ranger-issue but reworked, bearing Hailey's old patches faintly stitched across one side. His initials, freshly added, stood out in crisp black thread: A.I.
The train rumbled forward, the windowpane trembling faintly under the weight of its rhythm. In the glass, his reflection gazed back, a sharper jawline than he remembered. At fourteen, he looked older, something the boy from a year ago wouldn't recognize.
His Pokémon rested in their balls at his belt, both silent, but he could feel them there, like a pulse. They'd grown with him, beyond him in some ways, their strength nearly twice what their growth should have managed. He'd pushed them, and they'd risen.
He glanced at the ceiling of the train cabin, lights flickering faintly with each turn through the tunnel.
His mind wandered, settling on Rin. Not the quiet girl he'd known for three years, her eyes always half-hidden behind a curtain of bangs.
Her hair was longer now, cascading in loose waves, her voice quick and bright, carrying the cadence of someone who'd found her place in the world. Her smile had bloomed unguarded as she confessed her thrill at leaving home behind.
She'd spoken of her research, her paper on move variance that had earned her university admission, she'd let slip hints of new friends, late-night get-togethers, and parties.
He had focused more on her lips than her words.
I don't want to go through puberty again. He'd thought with slight amusement.
He shifted uncomfortably and looked out the window, watching the tunnel flash by.
The intercom crackled overhead: "Next stop, Saffron Central. Please prepare your belongings."
Around him, other passengers stirred. A pair of businessmen in long coats murmured. A young woman tugged her toddler's hand closer. Two trainers whispered over a Pokénav's screen, their Pokéballs gleaming at their belts.
Arata adjusted the duffel strap over his shoulder, fingers brushing the knife at his side once more.
First stop: the Pokémon Center. Mira would be there, Rin too.
Arata stood, steadying himself as the Cabin jolted.
Lets go