The early morning air in Verdant City's training plaza tasted like ozone and ambition. Neon signs, still buzzing from the night before, painted the polished stone floors in electric blues and magentas. Holographic scoreboards flickered, replaying yesterday's victories in silent, ghostly loops. It was the best time of day, before the midday crowds turned the plaza into a chaotic symphony of battle cries and elemental attacks.
I knelt on the cool tiles, my green skin a stark contrast to the gray stone. "Alright, buddy, one more time. As hard as you can."
In front of me, Metapod wobbled slightly. He was more than just a chrysalis; he was my partner, my first real friend in this city of steel and dreams. He let out a low, determined chirp, and his emerald-green shell seemed to shimmer, hardening until it looked like polished jade. I gave it a solid rap with my knuckles. The resulting thunk was as solid as bedrock.
"Perfect," I grinned, giving him a gentle pat. "You're getting stronger every day."
Lila, perched on a nearby bench and scrolling through her Pokédex, didn't look up. "You've been saying that for an hour, Logan. I think he gets it."
"It's called positive reinforcement," I shot back, helping Metapod practice a slow, careful pivot. "It's how great trainers build confidence."
"It's how weird green guys talk to bugs at six in the morning," she retorted, a smile playing on her lips.
That's when the all-too-familiar voice cut through the relative quiet, dripping with the kind of smugness you could practically smell.
"Still playing pretend, huh? Thought you'd run home by now, 'Green Boy.'"
I didn't have to turn around. I could feel the arrogance radiating off him. Derek. Of course.
I slowly rose to my feet and faced him. He stood there, arms crossed, with a brand-new badge—the Obsidian Badge—glinting on his jacket like a tiny, condescending star. He'd already beaten the first Gym. The thought sent a hot spike of envy through me, but I forced it down, burying it under a wide grin. "Funny, I was thinking about running—right over you."
Derek's smirk widened. It was the kind of look that made you want to test the structural integrity of his face. He unclipped a Pokéball from his belt, enlarging it with a practiced flick of his wrist. "One-on-one. You and me. No excuses this time. No running away. Let's see what your little circus act can really do."
Lila sighed dramatically, pocketing her device. "Here we go again," she muttered, but she stood and walked toward the center of the nearest battle square to referee. She knew I couldn't back down. I wouldn't.
We took our positions. The plaza was starting to fill up, and the sight of a pending battle was like a magnet. A crowd began to gather, their whispers a low hum in the air. I saw a few of the junior trainers pointing, their voices carrying on the morning breeze.
"Hey, that's him."
"The green shapeshifter… the one who fought those thugs at the Pokécentre."
My brief, accidental stint as a local vigilante had earned me a certain reputation. It wasn't the one I wanted. I didn't want to be a freak or a hero; I just wanted to be a Trainer. Derek was my chance to prove it.
He tossed his Pokéball with a flourish, a perfect arc that burst open mid-air. "Spearow, let's go!"
The Tiny Bird Pokémon materialized in a flash of brilliant white light, letting out a piercing shriek that echoed across the plaza. It was sleek and aggressive, its eyes sharp and its beak looking like it could punch a hole through steel. It circled once above Derek's head, a clear picture of well-trained confidence.
I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders and feeling the familiar energy begin to coil in my gut. I didn't have a Pokéball to throw. I was my own Pokémon.
"Alright, little guy," I said, looking Metapod's way. He was already stationed safely near Lila. "Let's show 'em what chaos can do."
The world dissolved in a flash of green light. It's a feeling I can't ever properly describe. It's like every cell in your body is a lightning storm and a rainforest all at once. My bones stretched and hollowed, my skin prickled and erupted into feathers, and my arms flattened and widened into powerful wings. When the light faded, I was hovering three feet off the ground, a Pidgeotto with feathers tinted a distinct, unnatural emerald.
"Battle begin!" Lila shouted, her voice cutting sharp and clear across the square.
Derek recovered quickly. "Spearow, Peck attack! Fast!"
His Pokémon was a brown bullet. It shot across the arena, its beak aimed right for my chest. But I was ready. The instincts of the Pidgeotto form were a second nature I didn't have to think about. I banked hard, feeling the wind rush beneath my new wings, and countered with a powerful flap.
"Gust!" I screeched, the command feeling more like a natural cry than a spoken word.
A vortex of wind erupted from my wings, slamming into Spearow mid-flight. The two of us clashed in a dizzying explosion of air and scattered feathers. For a moment, I had the upper hand. My Pidgeotto form was larger, stronger. I pushed forward, driving the smaller bird back.
But Derek was a strategist. He wasn't just about raw power. "Don't let him bully you! Aerial Ace, now!" he commanded.
Spearow's form blurred. It vanished. My bird-brain instincts screamed danger, but I couldn't track it. One moment it was in front of me, the next, a searing pain erupted from below. The attack was flawless, unavoidable. It hit me like a stone from a catapult, sending me tumbling out of the sky.
I crashed onto the stone tiles, the impact jarring every bone in my body. The transformation shattered. Green light flickered around me as I collapsed back into my human form, groaning as I pushed myself onto my elbows. The world was spinning.
"See?" Derek's voice was a triumphant sneer. "You'll never win pretending to be one of us. You're just a cheap copy."
I spat a mouthful of dust onto the ground. His words stung more than the attack. Pretending. That was the word everyone used. The word that made my blood boil. I looked up at him, a slow, painful smirk spreading across my face.
"Not pretending," I growled, pushing myself to my feet. The energy surged again, stronger this time, fueled by defiance. My muscles swelled, my frame thickened, and two extra arms burst from my sides. The green light faded to reveal the hulking, four-armed form of a Machamp. My voice came out as a low rumble. "Just evolving."
Derek's eyes widened again. This, he hadn't seen at all.
Spearow, sensing the shift in power, soared high into the air, flapping hard to gain altitude. Smart. It was trying to stay out of my reach. But a Machamp has other ways of reaching out.
I slammed my four fists into the battle square. The stone groaned and cracked under the impact, sending shards and chunks of debris flying. I snatched a piece the size of my head with one hand and hurled it. A makeshift Rock Throw.
Spearow dodged, but the attack forced it to change course. I kept up the barrage, ripping up the ground and turning the pristine square into a cratered mess. Each throw was a message: the sky isn't safe either.
"Quick Attack!" Derek yelled, his voice tight with frustration. "Weave through it!"
Spearow became a blur again, zig-zagging between the flying stones with incredible speed. It was too fast to hit, too nimble. I was all power, no precision.
From the sidelines, I heard Lila whisper, almost to herself, "He's thinking now… reading the field."
She was right. Brute force wasn't working. I needed a new plan. I let my Machamp form dissolve. Another flash of green, and I was shrinking, my body becoming lithe and quick. I landed on all fours, now a sleek, brown Eevee with green-tipped ears. The change was so sudden it even made Spearow hesitate in its flight pattern.
Agility was the new game. I darted across the broken field, my smaller form making me a difficult target. Spearow swooped, trying to nail me with another Peck, but I was too fast, weaving and dodging. I wasn't attacking. I was herding. With every dodge, every feint, I was subtly maneuvering the bird Pokémon across the arena, closer and closer to the edge where Lila and Metapod watched.
Spearow, focused entirely on me, didn't see the trap until it was too late. Derek, caught up in the chase, made a fatal error. "Finish it! Dive straight down!"
I slid to a halt just in front of my partner. "Metapod, Harden—now!" I shouted, my Eevee voice a high-pitched yip.
Spearow tucked its wings and dove, a feathered missile aimed for my head. It came in fast, a blur of brown and pink. And then, THUNK.
It slammed headfirst into Metapod's iron-hard shell. My partner didn't even budge. Spearow, however, reeled back, stunned, its flight pattern becoming a dizzy, uncontrolled wobble.
This was the moment.
The Eevee form melted away as the green light flared, and I surged back into the four-armed powerhouse. In one explosive leap, I crossed the distance, catching the stunned Spearow in two of my hands before it could recover. I held it for a beat, its frantic, disoriented chirps echoing in the sudden silence. Then, gently—but decisively—I slammed it onto the ground. Not a full-force blow, just enough to pin it. A knockout.
The crowd erupted. Cheers and shouts rained down. For a glorious second, I thought it was over. I had him.
But Derek, ever the strategist, just smirked. That damned, infuriating smirk. "You're good, Logan. I'll give you that. But I've got more than one trick."
A faint, pulsing glow began to emanate from the downed Spearow. I'd seen it earlier, a subtle shimmer I had dismissed as a trick of the light. Focus Energy. It had been charging this whole time, storing power for a critical hit.
With a final, desperate shriek, Spearow blasted free from my grip. It spun in the air like a top, its beak glowing with concentrated power. A last-ditch Drill Peck.
I tried to raise my arms to block, to shift into something more durable, but I was too slow, too drained. The attack hit me dead-on in the chest. The force was incredible. It felt like being hit by a freight train. I was lifted off my feet, sent skidding across the arena floor, and crashed headfirst through a padded training dummy, which exploded in a shower of foam and fabric.
The world swam back into focus slowly. My vision was blurry, and every muscle screamed in protest. My transformations were flickering, my body unable to hold a stable form, shifting between human, a feathered wing, a muscular arm. My energy was gone.
Across the field, Spearow was barely standing, swaying on its feet, its breathing ragged. We were both down for the count.
Silence hung over the plaza. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting. Lila, as the referee, hesitated, her eyes flicking between me and the wobbling Spearow. Finally, with a sigh, she raised her hand.
"Winner… Derek!"
The silence stretched for another moment. Then, something unexpected happened. The crowd began to clap. It started with a few people, then grew into a wave of applause. But they weren't looking at Derek. They were looking at me.
I pushed myself up, my body aching. A grin, painful but genuine, stretched across my face. "Guess… I'm getting better at losing."
Derek crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. He looked from his exhausted Spearow back to me, the begrudging respect finally breaking through his arrogant facade. "You're weird, Logan," he said, his voice lacking its usual mocking tone. "But you've got guts. Maybe next time, I'll actually go all-out."
He recalled his Spearow, the red beam of the Pokéball a final, definitive period on our battle. Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the growing crowd.
"You're insane." Lila was at my side in an instant, helping me to my feet. I leaned on her heavily, my legs feeling like jelly. "Absolutely, certifiably insane. But that was… incredible."
Metapod crawled over, nudging my leg with his head and letting out a proud chirp. I reached down and patted his shell. "We were incredible, buddy."
I looked out at the skyline of Verdant City. The sun was higher now, its light catching on the countless glass towers and turning them to gold. The loss stung, but it wasn't the bitter, frustrating sting of before. This was different. This was progress.
"No Pokéballs, no fancy badges," I said softly, more to myself than to Lila. "Just me, my team, and one goal."
My eyes found the distant Gym tower, a monolith of rock and glass that seemed to touch the sky. It glowed in the twilight-that-wasn't-twilight-yet, a silent challenge.
I pushed myself off Lila, standing on my own two feet, wobbly but upright. "From now on, I'm not just the green freak. I'm a real Trainer. And we're gonna rock this world—our way."
As I stood there, flanked by my best friend and my loyal partner, I caught our reflection in the polished window of a nearby shop. For a second, my own image seemed to flicker, overlaid with the ghostly silhouettes of my other forms—the sharp wings of a Pidgeotto, the four powerful arms of a Machamp, the nimble frame of an Eevee. They were all a part of me, layered behind my own human silhouette.
The Gym tower loomed, waiting. And a single thought echoed in my head, as solid and clear as the Obsidian Badge I was determined to earn.
To face Terra, you don't just fight rock. You become unbreakable.