Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The taxi's wheels crunched against the cobblestone path as Elio pressed his face to the window, taking in his first real look at Mezagoza Academy. The building rose before him like something from a fairy tale—ancient stone walls topped with gleaming orange spires that caught the morning light, expansive courtyards where students were already gathering in small clusters, and battle arenas visible in the distance where he could hear the faint sounds of Pokémon training.

"First day?" the taxi driver asked with a knowing smile as Elio fumbled with his bags.

"That obvious?" Elio replied, shouldering his worn duffel bag and clutching his acceptance letter like a lifeline.

"You've got the look. Seen plenty of kids with that same expression drop off here over the years. Mix of excitement and terror, right?"

Elio nodded, not trusting his voice. The driver had nailed it perfectly.

"You'll do fine, kid. This place has a way of bringing out the best in people."

As the taxi pulled away, Elio found himself standing alone before the massive iron gates of Mezagoza Academy. Other students streamed past him—some confidently striding toward the main building as if they owned the place, others looking just as nervous as he felt. He noticed the variety immediately: students from all across Paldea, judging by their different regional accents and clothing styles, and everyone seemed to be his age or close to it.

"Excuse me," a voice said behind him. "Are you looking for the new student check-in?"

Elio turned to see a boy about his own age with carefully combed dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Everything about him seemed precise and organized, from his perfectly pressed uniform to the way he held his orientation materials in a neat folder.

"Yeah, I am. I'm Elio."

"Oliver," the boy replied with a small smile. "I arrived about twenty minutes ago but wanted to observe the layout before going in. This place is... impressive."

"That's one word for it," Elio said, looking up at the towering spires. "I'm starting to wonder if I belong here."

"Imposter syndrome is common in high-achieving environments," Oliver said matter-of-factly, then seemed to realize how clinical that sounded. "Sorry, I mean—I'm nervous too. But we got accepted for a reason, right?"

Before Elio could respond, a commotion near the fountain caught their attention. A girl with long dark hair was trying to corral what appeared to be several sheets of paper that had scattered in the morning breeze, while other students walked past without offering help.

"Should we..." Elio started.

"Yes," Oliver said immediately.

They hurried over and began collecting the wayward papers. The girl looked up gratefully as they returned her documents.

"Thank you so much," she said, her accent carrying hints of another region. Galarian maybe?. "The wind caught my research notes right out of my bag."

"Research notes?" Oliver asked, interested. "On your first day?"

"I like to be prepared," she replied with a matter-of-fact voice. "I've been studying battle mechanics and probability calculations for months. I'm Melody, by the way. Melody Blade."

"Elio. And this is Oliver."

"Are you planning to specialize in battle analysis?" Oliver asked, clearly impressed by the depth of material he could see in her notes.

"Eventually, yes. I'm planning on entering the Paldea League one day." Melody organized her papers carefully. "What about you two?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet," Elio admitted. "I just know I want to be here."

"Computer programming, potentially with applications in Pokémon research," Oliver said. "Though I'm keeping my options open."

As they talked, more students began filtering through the gates. Elio noticed a boy with confident posture and bright eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for adventure, while another near the entrance seemed more cautious, checking his watch repeatedly. Another student with an easy smile was chatting animatedly with anyone who would listen, and across the courtyard, a red-haired girl was having an animated conversation with what appeared to be older students wearing different coloured badges.

"Everyone's got a reason for being here," Oliver observed. "Look at how different we all are already."

"That's what makes it interesting," Melody added. "In my research, I found that the most successful trainer teams have diverse backgrounds and skill sets."

A chime rang across the courtyard, and a student wearing a prefect badge called out: "New students, please proceed to the main hall for orientation! Follow the orange and purple banners!"

The three of them joined the stream of students moving toward the imposing main entrance. As they walked, Elio felt some of his nervousness begin to transform into anticipation. He'd already met two people who seemed genuinely interesting and kind, and the academy itself was even more impressive than he'd imagined.

"Think we'll end up in the same house?" Oliver asked as they climbed the stone steps.

"I hope so," Elio replied, and he meant it. Something told him that these early friendships might be important in the days to come.

The massive doors of the main hall loomed ahead, and through them, Elio could see hundreds of seats arranged before a grand stage. The real beginning of his academy journey was about to start.

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the main hall of Mezagoza Academy as Director Clavell adjusted his tie and stepped up to the podium. Hundreds of new students filled the ornate space, their nervous chatter echoing off the vaulted ceiling like the sound of Pidgey preparing for flight. Some clutched acceptance letters. Others fidgeted with their bags, knowing they'd soon receive their first Pokémon partner.

Elio found himself seated in the third row, with Oliver beside him and Melody just a few seats down. The hall was even more impressive from the inside—stained glass windows depicting legendary Pokémon battles, portraits of famous graduates lining the walls, and a ceiling that seemed to stretch impossibly high above them.

"Welcome," Clavell's voice boomed across the hall, instantly silencing the crowd, "to the most prestigious training academy in all of Paldea."

Elio shifted in his seat, exchanging glances with Oliver. His new friend looked calm and focused, but Elio could see the slight tension in his posture. First days were always the worst.

"For over three centuries, Mezagoza Academy has been the premier institution for Pokémon education and trainer development," Clavell continued, his voice carrying easily through the grand hall. "Our graduates have gone on to become Elite Four members, Gym Leaders, renowned researchers, and champions in their chosen fields. You are now part of that legacy."

The Director paused, allowing his words to sink in as he gazed across the sea of young faces.

"During your time here, you will have access to world-class facilities designed to nurture every aspect of your development as both trainers and scholars. Our battle arenas are equipped with the latest safety technology and terrain modification systems. Our research laboratories contain equipment found nowhere else in Paldea. Our library houses the most comprehensive collection of Pokémon-related texts in the region."

Elio felt a thrill of excitement. This was so much more than he'd imagined.

"For those of you with creative inclinations, our art studios are staffed by master artisans who will teach you everything from traditional Pokémon portraiture to modern sculpting techniques. Our culinary program, led by Chef Saguaro, will teach you not only how to prepare gourmet Pokémon food, but also the nutritional science behind optimal Pokémon health and performance."

A murmur of interest rippled through the crowd. 

"Our faculty represents the finest minds in their respective fields," Clavell continued. "Professor Jacq, our head of biology, is a leading researcher in Pokémon genetics and evolution. Miss Tyme, who teaches mathematics, is a former competitive battler whose analytical approach to battle strategy is unmatched. Instructor Dendra brings years of experience as a professional trainer to our battle studies program. Each member of our staff is here not just to teach, but to mentor and guide you toward your individual goals."

The Director's expression grew more serious. "Now, I must address something that some of you may have heard whispered about in the halls or read about in recent news reports. There have been unusual energy readings detected across various locations in Paldea. These phenomena are currently under investigation by qualified researchers. I want to be absolutely clear: students are strictly forbidden from approaching these areas. The energy sources are unknown and potentially dangerous. We have received reports of individuals returning from these locations with serious injuries. Your safety is our paramount concern, and any student found venturing toward these sites will face immediate disciplinary action."

Elio felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't heard anything about dangerous energy readings, but the Director's tone made it clear this was serious business.

"On a more positive note," Clavell's demeanor brightened slightly, "this academy offers numerous opportunities for extracurricular involvement. We have clubs for every interest—from competitive battling to Pokémon photography, from archaeology to astronomy. Our student government provides leadership experience, and our various academic societies offer opportunities for advanced study and research collaboration."

The Director moved closer to the podium's edge, his eyes gleaming with what Elio now recognized as genuine excitement.

"Beginning next term, we will be launching two extraordinary programs for qualified students. The first is our Champion Assessment Program—an intensive evaluation process designed to identify and nurture students with the potential for regional championship competition. This program will include advanced battle strategy, media training, and mentorship from former champions."

The hall erupted in excited whispers. Oliver leaned over to Elio and whispered, "That sounds incredible."

"The second program," Clavell continued, raising his voice to regain attention, "is what we're calling the Independent Treasure Hunt Initiative. Selected students will be given the opportunity to explore the vast region of Paldea, conducting independent research whilst finding something that you can call a treasure of your own. This program represents the ultimate expression of our academy's commitment to self-directed learning and discovery."

Elio's pulse quickened. Both programs sounded like incredible opportunities.

"However," Clavell emphasized, "these programs are for next term. This current term is dedicated entirely to establishing your academic foundation. You cannot run before you learn to walk, and you cannot embark on advanced field research before you master the fundamentals of Pokémon science, mathematics, history, and battle theory."

The Director straightened up, his voice taking on a more formal tone.

"Remember, you are not just students here—you are future leaders, innovators, and champions. The bonds you form with your classmates may last a lifetime. The knowledge you gain here will shape not only your careers but your character. And the Pokémon partners you receive today will be your companions on whatever journey lies ahead."

Clavell gestured to a table beside the stage where dozens of Poké Balls sat in neat rows.

"Now, we'll begin individual introductions. When your name is called, please come forward to receive your house assignment, badge, and most importantly, your first Pokémon partner. The Poké Ball you receive contains a Pokémon specially selected based on your entrance examination, personality assessment, and stated goals. These partnerships have been carefully considered by our staff, and we believe each pairing will prove mutually beneficial."

One by one, students made their way to the stage. Elio watched as each received a certificate with either Naranja or Uva emblazoned at the top, a house badge that matched, and a Poké Ball that actually contained their starter Pokémon.

"Elio Medina," Clavell called.

Elio's stomach lurched as he made his way to the stage. The Director handed him his materials with a slight smile. Naranja house—same as Oliver, thankfully. The Poké Ball felt warm and surprisingly heavy in his palm.

"Please don't release your Pokémon until you return to your dormitories," Clavell instructed quietly. "Let them acclimate to their new surroundings in a more controlled environment."

Back in his seat, Elio clutched his Poké Ball and tried to ignore the nervous energy coursing through him. Around the hall, other students were doing the same, all of them probably wondering what Pokémon waited inside their spheres.

"Oliver Newman," Clavell called.

Oliver returned with the same house assignment and his own Poké Ball, looking both excited and nervous.

"Reuben Hunter," Clavell called.

Silence.

"Reuben Hunter?" the Director repeated, scanning the crowd.

Twenty minutes later, Elio and Oliver were hauling their bags up the stairs to their assigned triple room in the Naranja dormitory. The building hummed with activity—students unpacking, excited voices echoing through hallways, and the occasional sound of a Pokémon being released from its ball for the first time.

"Think Reuben's okay?" Oliver asked, fumbling with the key to their room.

"Maybe he just overslept," Elio replied, though privately he wondered what kind of person missed the most important day of their academic career.

Their room was small but comfortable, with three beds, three desks, and a large window overlooking the academy grounds. Oliver immediately claimed the bed by the window and began methodically unpacking his belongings. Everything had a place, and everything went in its place. Elio, meanwhile, dumped his bag on the middle bed and held up his Poké Ball.

"Ready to meet our partners?" he asked.

Oliver nodded, holding his own Poké Ball with reverent care.

"Together?" Elio suggested.

"On three. One... two... three!"

Both boys pressed the release buttons simultaneously. Two flashes of light filled the room, and suddenly they were no longer alone.

A Paldean Wooper materialized on Elio's bed, its purple and brown colouring gleaming in the morning light. The Pokémon looked around curiously with its dopey, endearing expression, then fixed its gaze on Elio with what seemed like recognition.

"Wooper," it said cheerfully, waddling closer to its new trainer.

Meanwhile, Oliver's Litwick had appeared on his desk, its flame burning bright and steady. The Ghost-type seemed more reserved than Wooper, carefully observing its new surroundings before floating over to Oliver.

"No way," Oliver breathed. "A regional variant and a Ghost-type. What are the odds?"

"Pretty good, apparently," Elio said, gently reaching out to pet his Wooper. The Pokémon leaned into his touch, and Elio felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with temperature.

"Your Wooper's dual-type," Oliver observed. "Poison and Ground is a solid combination."

"And Ghost-types are incredibly versatile in battles," Elio replied. "Plus, Litwick evolves into Chandelure eventually, right? That's a powerhouse."

They spent the next few minutes getting to know their new partners, sharing treats they'd brought and marvelling at how perfectly their Pokémon seemed suited to them. Through the walls, they could hear other students having similar conversations, the excitement palpable even through several inches of stone and wood.

Meanwhile, in a small house on the outskirts of Cabo Poco, Reuben Hunter was having the worst morning of his life.

The alarm clock had been ringing for exactly thirteen minutes, but Reuben's brain refused to process the sound as anything more than an annoying background noise. It wasn't until his phone started buzzing with increasingly frantic messages from his mother that his eyes finally cracked open.

"Academy orientation starts in fifteen minutes," the latest text read. "Please tell me you're already there."

That text was 30 minutes ago. 

Reuben shot upright like he'd been hit by a Thunderbolt.

Academy orientation.

The most important day of his academic career.

The day he was supposed to officially become a student at Mezagoza Academy.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" he shouted, scrambling out of bed and nearly tripping over a pile of clothes he'd laid out the night before. His room looked like a hurricane had hit it, which wasn't unusual, but today it felt particularly catastrophic.

He threw on his clothes, grabbed his acceptance letter and emergency supplies, and bolted out the door just as his phone rang.

"Please tell me you're at the academy," his mother's voice crackled through the speaker.

"I'm... heading there now," Reuben panted, flagging down an air taxi with desperate arm movements. "I might be a little late."

"A little late? Reuben, the ceremony started twenty minutes ago!"

The Flygon-shaped air taxi touched down, and Reuben dove into the passenger seat.

"Mezagoza Academy, and please hurry," he gasped to the driver.

As the taxi lifted off, Reuben pressed his face to the window and watched Paldea's landscape blur past below. Rolling hills dotted with wild Pokémon, ancient ruins that spoke of civilizations long past, and in the distance, the sprawling city of Mezagoza with the academy perched on its central plateau like a crown jewel.

Under normal circumstances, the view would have been breathtaking. Today, it just reminded him of how far he was from where he was supposed to be.

Director Clavell was not known for his patience, but as he looked at the dishevelled teenager standing in his office doorway, he felt more amused than annoyed. The boy was clearly out of breath, his hair pointing in six different directions, and his uniform was so hastily put on that his shirt was buttoned wrong.

"Reuben Hunter, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry, sir. I overslept and the taxi took forever and—"

Clavell held up a hand. "Breathe, Mr. Hunter. You're not in serious trouble."

Reuben's shoulders sagged with relief.

"However," the Director continued, "missing orientation is not exactly the first impression I hoped you'd make."

"No, sir. It won't happen again."

Clavell studied the boy for a moment. He'd seen Reuben's entrance exam scores, which were impressive despite his apparent organizational challenges. Sometimes the most promising students were the ones who marched to the beat of their own drum.

"Here are your materials," he said, handing over the same packet everyone else had received that morning. "Naranja house, room 247. Your roommates are Elio Medina and Oliver Newman. They're probably wondering where you are."

Reuben accepted the Poké Ball containing his starter with trembling hands.

"What Pokémon did I get?"

"That's for you to discover when you reach your dormitory," Clavell said with the ghost of a smile. "Now hurry along. Your first class starts in thirty minutes, and I'd prefer you not miss that as well."

Reuben clutched his materials and headed for the door, but Clavell's voice stopped him.

"Mr. Hunter? Welcome to Mezagoza Academy."

Chapter Text

Elio and Oliver were debating whether to go looking for their missing roommate when the door burst open and Reuben stumbled in, looking like he'd just run a marathon.

"Are you Reuben?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm so sorry I missed orientation," Reuben gasped, collapsing onto the remaining bed. "I overslept and everything went wrong and Director Clavell probably thinks I'm a disaster already."

"Hey, relax," Elio said, surprised by his own desire to comfort someone he'd just met. "What matters is you made it."

Reuben looked at both of them with something like gratitude. "I'm Reuben. I'm guessing you're my roommates?"

"Elio. And this is Oliver."

"Did you guys already meet your starters?"

Oliver gestured to his Litwick, which was floating curiously around Reuben's head, while Elio's Wooper waddled over to investigate the newcomer with friendly interest.

"Ghost-type and a regional variant," Reuben said, impressed despite his flustered state. "Those are incredible starters."

Reuben released his own Pokémon with shaking fingers, and a bright-eyed Shinx materialized in a flash of blue and black fur. Electricity crackled gently around the Electric-type as it looked around the room with curiosity.

"Electric-type," Oliver observed. "That's going to pair well with our team."

"Our team?" Reuben asked.

"Well, we're roommates," Elio said with a shrug. "Figured we might as well stick together."

For the first time all morning, Reuben smiled. Maybe this day wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.

"Speaking of sticking together," Oliver said, checking his watch, "we have mathematics class in fifteen minutes with Miss Tyme. We should probably head over there."

"Maths?" Elio groaned. "At a Pokémon academy? This is going to be the most boring class in existence."

"Seconded," Reuben said, already looking tired at the thought.

"Maybe it won't be that bad," Oliver offered, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

The three of them recalled their Pokémon and gathered their materials, heading out into the hallway where other students were doing the same. The nervous energy from the morning had settled into something more like cautious excitement, though Elio noticed that everyone looked a little overwhelmed.

As they made their way across campus, passing manicured gardens where wild Pokémon played among the flowers and battle arenas where upper-year students were already training, Elio found himself looking forward to their first class despite his complaints.

Mezagoza Academy was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The buildings seemed to pulse with centuries of knowledge, and everywhere he looked, there were reminders that this was a place where dreams became reality.

Even if they had to sit through boring mathematics first.

Miss Tyme's classroom was nothing like the sterile math rooms Elio remembered from his previous schools. Charts covered the walls showing type effectiveness calculations, statistical analyses of famous battles, and probability distributions that somehow related to Pokémon training. It looked more like a battle strategist's war room than a place to learn algebra and calculus.

The teacher herself was older than Elio had expected, with greying hair styled in a distinctive shape and an energy that radiated warmth. She waited for all the students to file in and take their seats before speaking.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, grinning at their confused expressions. "Maths at a Pokémon academy? How boring, right?"

A few students nodded. Elio, Reuben, and Oliver exchanged glances.

"Well, you're in for a surprise. This isn't your ordinary math class. Welcome to Battle Mathematics, where we'll explore type advantages, damage calculations, stat modifications, and probability theory as they apply to Pokémon battles."

The room's energy shifted immediately. Students sat up straighter. Elio felt his earlier dread evaporate.

"Can anyone tell me how to calculate the damage output of a Hydro Pump against a Rock/Ground-type Pokémon?"

Melody's hand shot up immediately. Miss Tyme nodded at her.

"You'd start with the base power of the move, factor in the attacker's Special Attack stat and the defender's Special Defence, then apply the type effectiveness multiplier—in this case, four times normal damage since Water is super-effective against both Rock and Ground types."

"Excellent!" Miss Tyme beamed. "Though I suspect you know more than just the basics, don't you?"

Melody grinned slightly. "I've done some independent research on battle mechanics. I've been looking for more though. Do you have any recommendations on EVs and IVs and how they factor into competitive calculations?"

"IV discussion is Professor Jacq's speciality," Miss Tyme said, "but I can recommend some excellent reading on EVs if you're interested. After class, come see me."

As the class continued, Elio found himself genuinely fascinated. This wasn't the dry, theoretical mathematics he'd expected. Every equation had a practical application. Every formula could mean the difference between victory and defeat in a real battle.

When Miss Tyme dismissed them for lunch break, the three roommates gathered their materials with renewed enthusiasm.

"That was incredible," Reuben said as they headed toward the cafeteria.

"Much better than regular maths," Elio agreed.

Arnie had been looking forward to exploring Mezagoza since the moment he'd first seen the city sprawling below during his arrival at the academy. Everything here was new and exciting, from the ancient architecture to the modern shops that lined the winding streets. His companion, Sage, seemed less enthusiastic about their urban adventure, but he'd agreed to come along when he'd promised they'd be back well before their next class.

"Look at this place," Arnie said, spinning around to take in the plaza they'd just entered. "It's like something out of a storybook."

"It's certainly... busy," Sage replied, stepping closer to him as a group of older teenagers walked past.

Arnie's Ralts peeked out from behind his legs, curious about the new environment but staying close to his trainer. Sage's Sandygast remained safely in its Poké Ball—he'd decided that a crowded city street wasn't the best place for Sandygast to stretch its legs, so to speak. 

They'd been wandering for about twenty minutes, sampling street food and window shopping, when two older students approached them. Both wore Mezagoza Academy uniforms, but something about their demeanor set Sage on edge. She noticed a small badge on their shirts. A golden star. 

"Hey," one of them said, his tone friendly but somehow forced. "You're first-years, right?"

"Yeah," Arnie replied eagerly.

"Thought so. You guys settling in okay?"

"Great, thanks," Arnie said with genuine enthusiasm. "The academy is amazing."

"That's good to hear," the second student said. "Listen, we're part of an organization that helps new students adjust to academy life. Team Star. Maybe you've heard of us?"

Arnie shook his head, but he was clearly interested.

"We're all about making sure kids don't get bullied or pushed around," the first student continued. "Academy can be tough for newcomers. But with Team Star watching your back, you never have to face confrontations alone."

Arnie's eyes lit up. 

"That sounds incredible," he said. "What exactly do you do?"

"We look out for each other. Simple as that. If someone's giving you trouble, you let us know, and we make sure it stops."

"And if someone's giving one of us trouble," the second student added, "we all stand together."

Sage was shaking his head before he'd even finished speaking.

"Thanks, but we're not interested," he said firmly.

"Hold on," Arnie said, turning to her with disappointment clear in his voice. "Why not? This sounds exactly like what we need."

"We don't need anything like this," Sage whispered urgently. "We're perfectly fine on our own."

"Come on," the first Team Star member said, his friendly tone becoming slightly strained. "Your friend here gets it. What's the harm in having people who'll watch your back?"

"Yeah," Arnie said, clearly warming to the idea. "Sage, they're just trying to help students like us."

"No thank you," Sage repeated, more firmly this time, grabbing Arnie's arm. "Come on, we should head back."

But the two Team Star members moved to block their path, and Arnie looked confused rather than alarmed.

"Look," the second one said, his voice taking on a harder edge, "this academy can be rough. You sure you want to go it alone when you could have protection?"

"We're sure," Sage said, but his voice was shaking slightly.

"I'm not sure," Arnie protested. "These guys are making sense. Why wouldn't we want friends who'll help us?"

The Team Star members exchanged satisfied glances.

"Smart kid," one of them said. 

"Arnie, no," Sage pleaded, but he was already taking a step toward the Team Star members.

"It's just a conversation," he said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Elio and the others had been enjoying their walk through Mezagoza when he heard raised voices from a nearby plaza. His first instinct was to mind his own business—whatever was happening probably wasn't his concern. But something about the tone of the conversation made him pause.

"Hey," he said to Reuben, who was walking beside him. "Does that sound like trouble to you?"

Reuben tilted his head, listening. "Yeah, it does."

They quickened their pace and rounded the corner to find two older students in academy uniforms confronting two younger ones. 

"That doesn't look good," Reuben murmured.

Elio's hands clenched into fists.

"Hey!" he called out, striding into the plaza with Reuben close behind. "Is there a problem here?"

The four students turned to look at them, and Elio immediately recognized the two younger ones as fellow first-years. He'd seen them in the cafeteria.

"No problem," one of the older students said, though his expression suggested otherwise. "Just having a friendly conversation with some new friends."

"Didn't look very friendly from where I was standing," Elio replied, noticing how the distressed boy looked relieved at their arrival.

"This doesn't concern you," the second older student snapped.

"Maybe not, but I don't like watching people get hassled."

"Nobody's getting hassled," Arnie protested, surprising everyone. "These guys are from Team Star. They're trying to help students like us."

Elio blinked, not expecting this response.

"Help how?" Reuben asked.

"They protect students from bullies," Arnie explained earnestly. "They make sure nobody has to face confrontations alone."

"By cornering people in plazas?" Elio asked sceptically.

"We're not cornering anyone," the first Team Star member said. "We're recruiting members who want to be part of something bigger than themselves."

"And what happens if someone doesn't want to join?" Reuben asked pointedly.

The second Team Star member's smile became predatory. "Well, that would be unfortunate. The academy can be a dangerous place for students without friends."

"That sounds like a threat," Elio said, his voice hardening.

"Take it however you want," the first member replied. "But maybe you two should walk away before you get involved in something that's none of your business."

"Actually," Elio said, reaching for his Poké Ball, "I think it just became my business."

"Mine too," Reuben said, following suit.

The Team Star members laughed.

"You want to settle this the proper way?" one of them asked, pulling out two Poké Balls. "Fine by us. We challenge you to a double battle!"

A crowd began to gather as the confrontation escalated. Sage looked increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, while Arnie watched with fascination.

"Two on two," the other Team Star member confirmed. "When we win, you leave us alone to finish our conversation."

"And when we win, you leave these students alone," Elio countered.

"Deal," both Team Star members said simultaneously.

"Go, Wooper!" Elio called, releasing his starter.

"Shinx, let's do this!" Reuben shouted.

The Team Star members released their own Pokémon—a Shroodle and a Yungoos.

"This should be easy," one of them muttered. "Just a couple of rookies with new starters."

But Elio was already moving. "Wooper, use Water Gun on Shroodle!"

His starter responded immediately, firing a powerful jet of water that struck the Poison-type dead centre. The Shroodle staggered backward.

"Not bad for a rookie," the Team Star member admitted grudgingly. "Shroodle, Scratch attack!"

Meanwhile, Reuben was having his own troubles. "Shinx, use Spark!"

The attack connected, but weakly. Reuben winced.

"Pathetic," the other Team Star member laughed. "Yungoos, Tackle that excuse for an Electric-type!"

The crowd was growing larger, drawn by the sounds of battle. Arnie cheered excitedly for both sides, while Sage became increasingly uncomfortable with the spectacle.

"Wooper, Mud Shot!" Elio called, trying to press his advantage.

His starter fired a glob of mud that splattered both opposing Pokémon, slowing their movements and reducing their accuracy.

"Nice hit," Reuben said, his confidence growing. "Shinx, try Thunder Shock!"

This time his timing was better. Electricity crackled from Shinx, causing both opposing Pokémon to flinch.

The battle was intensifying, with more students gathering to watch. The Team Star members were starting to look worried as their initial confidence wavered.

"Shroodle, Poison Sting!" one called desperately.

The attack grazed Shinx, and Reuben's starter began to look sluggish as poison coursed through its system. But Reuben was gaining confidence with each exchange.

"Hang in there, Shinx," he encouraged. "Use Thunder Shock again!"

This time, the Electric-type attack was perfectly executed. Lightning erupted from Shinx's small form, paralyzing the already mud-splattered Shroodle and causing the Yungoos to flinch violently.

The crowd was swelling to nearly thirty students now, completely surrounding the battle. Many were cheering for the underdogs, and Elio could feel their energy boosting his confidence.

"Now, Wooper!" he shouted. "Water Gun at full power on that Yungoos!"

The attack struck with devastating force, and the Normal-type staggered but remained standing.

"Yungoos, Bite on that Wooper!" the Team Star member called, desperation creeping into his voice.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Sage quietly slipped away from the crowd. While everyone else was focused on the battle, he headed back toward the academy at a quick pace.

The battle continued to rage behind her. "Shroodle, try another Scratch!" one Team Star member shouted, but the paralyzed Pokémon could barely move.

"Shinx, one more Thunder Shock!" Reuben called.

"Wooper, finish this with Mud Shot!" Elio added.

Both attacks struck simultaneously, and it looked like the Team Star Pokémon were about to collapse when a commanding voice cut through the crowd like a blade.

"ENOUGH!"

Director Clavell strode into the plaza with Sage hurrying behind him, his expression thunderous. The crowd immediately began to disperse at the sight of the academy's director, students scattering like startled Pidgey.

"All of you, recall your Pokémon immediately!" Clavell commanded.

The four battlers quickly returned their Pokémon to their balls, none of them daring to meet the Director's gaze.

"Elio Medina, Reuben Hunter," Clavell said, his voice deadly calm. "Step forward."

The two roommates exchanged nervous glances as they approached the Director.

"And you two," Clavell said, fixing his gaze on the Team Star members. "I believe we've had this conversation before about unauthorized battles and recruitment tactics."

The walk back to the academy felt like the longest journey of Elio's life. Director Clavell led the group in stern silence, with Sage walking nervously beside him and the two Team Star members trailing behind with sullen expressions. Other students they passed quickly averted their eyes, sensing the tension.

"My office," Clavell said simply as they reached the academy grounds. "All of you."

Arnie, who had been unusually quiet during the return journey, finally spoke up. "Director Clavell, sir, they were just trying to help—"

"Mr. Morrison," Clavell interrupted, "you'll have your chance to speak in my office."

The Director's office felt impossibly small with six people crammed into it. Clavell took his seat behind his massive desk while the students arranged themselves in front of him like defendants awaiting judgment.

"Mr Atkins," Clavell said, addressing Sage, "thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. Your quick thinking prevented this situation from escalating further."

Sage nodded nervously, stealing a glance at Arnie, who looked hurt by her actions.

"Now," the Director continued, his gaze sweeping across the Team Star members, "we've discussed your recruitment methods last year but it appears the lessons haven't sunk in."

"We were just trying to help new students," one of them protested weakly.

"By cornering them in public spaces and refusing to accept their refusal to join your organization?" Clavell's voice was ice-cold. "That's not help—that's harassment."

He turned to Elio and Reuben. "As for you two, while I understand your impulse to defend fellow students, engaging in unauthorized battles is strictly prohibited."

"But they challenged us," Reuben said.

"And you accepted," Clavell replied. "You had other options. You could have found a teacher, contacted campus security, or simply helped the students leave the area."

Elio felt his face burn with shame, but also frustration. "So we were supposed to just walk away while they pressured our classmates?"

"You were supposed to think before acting," Clavell said firmly. "Your actions today, while well-intentioned, could have resulted in serious injuries to both your Pokémon and yourselves."

The Director leaned back in his chair, studying the assembled students.

"Reuben, you'll serve detention with Instructor Dendra next Monday after classes. Elio, you'll be serving your detention with me."

Both boys nodded reluctantly.

"As for you two," he said, addressing the Team Star members, "this is your final warning. You will be serving your detention with Miss Raifort. Any further incidents of this nature will result in suspension and possible expulsion."

After dismissing the Team Star members, Clavell turned his attention to Arnie.

"Mr. Morrison, I want you to understand something very clearly. Team Star may present themselves as protectors, but their methods are becoming increasingly problematic. I strongly advise you to reconsider any involvement with their community."

"But they were trying to prevent bullying," Arnie protested. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"The road to poor decisions is often paved with good intentions," Clavell replied. "True protection comes from building genuine friendships and seeking help from appropriate authorities when needed—not from joining organizations that use intimidation tactics."

Later that evening, in an abandoned classroom in the academy's east wing, Team Star leaders Giacomo and Eri sat across from the two members who had been involved in the plaza incident.

"So let me get this straight," Eri said, her voice carefully controlled. "You not only failed to recruit the new students but also got into a public battle that brought Clavell's attention directly to us?"

"The first-years interfered," one of the members said defensively. "We had the situation under control until they showed up."

"Did you?" Giacomo asked, adjusting his sunglasses. "Because from where I'm sitting, it sounds like you were pressuring students who had already said no."

"We were being persistent," the other member protested. "That's what recruitment requires."

Eri shook her head, frustration clear in her expression. "This isn't what Team Star is supposed to be about. We're supposed to be helping students, not forcing them to join us."

"But if we don't recruit actively, how will we grow?" the first member asked.

"Maybe we don't need to grow," Eri said quietly. "Maybe we need to focus on actually helping people instead of building an organization."

Giacomo looked at her with surprise. 

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I'm saying maybe it's time we reconsidered our approach," Eri replied. "If the academy administration sees us as a problem, and if our own members are resorting to pressure tactics, then we're not living up to our ideals."

She stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the academy grounds bathed in evening light.

"Maybe it's time we considered establishing ourselves somewhere else. Somewhere we can actually help people without interference."

"The Star Bases?" Giacomo exclaimed. "We retired that idea ages ago! We didn't even tell the rest of the Leaders!"

"Well maybe it's time to unretire it" Eri said. "Team Star needs a home and the Academy? It's not working."

Oliver had been waiting in the hallway outside Director Clavell's office for over an hour, his laptop open as he worked on programming exercises, but his attention kept drifting to the closed door. When it finally opened and Reuben and Elio emerged, Oliver quickly packed up his things.

"How did it go?" he asked quietly.

"Could have been worse," Reuben replied, though he looked emotionally drained. "Clavell's not as scary as I thought he'd be. Strict, but... fair, I guess."

As they walked down the hallway together, they encountered Melody and a student Oliver didn't recognize—a boy with slicked back hair, a striking white streak cutting through the dark strands and deep brown eyes. 

"Hey," Melody said, approaching them. "This is Kieran. We were in Advanced Biology with Jacq together."

"Nice to meet you," Oliver said, extending his hand. But as Kieran reached out to shake it, Oliver noticed something that made him pause.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gesturing to a fresh scar on Kieran's chin.

Kieran's hand instinctively went to the mark, and his expression became guarded. "It's nothing. Just a small accident."

"It looks recent," Oliver observed, noting the clean edges of the wound. "Did you see the nurse?"

"I said it's nothing," Kieran replied, his tone becoming defensive.

Melody looked between them with concern. "Kieran, if you're hurt—"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Actually, I need to get to the library. There's some research I need to do."

"But we don't have any more classes today," Melody pointed out.

"Independent study," Kieran said quickly, already backing away from the group. "I'll see you all later."

As he hurried away, leaving the three friends standing in the hallway, Oliver frowned.

"That was strange," he said. "We literally just finished our first day. What kind of research would require immediate library access?"

"Maybe he's just really dedicated to his studies?" Reuben suggested, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Sure..." Oliver replied, watching Kieran's retreating figure disappear around a corner.

Later that evening, as students were returning to their dormitories after dinner, Sage found Arnie sitting alone in one of the study lounges, staring out the window at the academy grounds.

"You're upset with me," he said, taking a seat across from him.

"I don't understand why you called Clavell," Arnie said without looking at him. "Those Team Star guys were trying to help."

"Were they?" Sage asked. "Because from where I was standing, they looked like they were pressuring us to join something we didn't want to be part of."

"You didn't want to be part of it," Arnie corrected. "I thought it sounded interesting."

"Arnie, they blocked our path when I tried to leave. They ignored my repeated refusals to join. How is that helping?"

Arnie finally turned to look at him, conflict clear in his expression. "But their goals are good. They want to protect students from bullies."

"Maybe their goals are good," Sage conceded, "but their methods aren't. And if an organization with good goals uses bad methods, what does that tell you about the organization itself?"

Arnie was quiet for a long moment, processing her words.

"You think I'm naive," he said finally.

"I think you want to see the best in people," Sage replied. "That's not a bad thing. But it can be dangerous if you're not careful."

Through the window, they could see Director Clavell crossing the courtyard with two figures Arnie didn't recognize but both were wearing a familiar badge on their uniforms, shaped like stars.

"We need to talk," they could see Clavell say, his posture indicating this was not a friendly conversation.

"Looks like Team Star is in more trouble," Sage observed.

As they watched the three figures disappear into the administrative building, Arnie felt some of his enthusiasm for the organization beginning to waver. Maybe Sage had a point about their methods.

"I'm sorry I got upset with you for reporting it," he said quietly.

"And I'm sorry you felt like I was ruining something you were excited about," Sage replied. "I just want us both to be safe."

"Friends?" Arnie asked, extending his hand.

"Friends," Sage agreed, shaking it with a smile.

Chapter Text

The morning light streaming through the dormitory windows felt different somehow—harsh, less forgiving than it had just last week hours ago. Elio rolled over in his bed. Across the room, Reuben was already sitting up, staring at his hands with the kind of intensity that suggested he hadn't slept much either.

"You nervous about the detention today?" Elio asked quietly, not wanting to wake Oliver, who was still curled up under his covers with his Litwick floating peacefully beside his pillow.

Reuben nodded without looking up. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, I guess." Elio admitted. There was no point pretending otherwise.

They went through their morning routine in relative silence, both of them moving with the careful deliberation of people trying to postpone the inevitable. Reuben methodically organized his school materials while Elio threw on his uniform with less care than usual. Their Pokémon seemed to sense the tension—Wooper staying unusually close to Elio's side, while Shinx kept glancing between its trainer and the door as if expecting trouble.

Oliver finally stirred as they were gathering their things for breakfast.

"How are you both holding up?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep but his eyes already sharp with concern.

"We'll manage," Reuben replied, though his voice lacked its usual steadiness.

"The detentions might not be as bad as you think," Oliver offered, pulling on his uniform. "Clavell seemed more interested in understanding what happened than just punishing you."

Elio wanted to believe that, but the knot in his stomach suggested otherwise. He'd never been in serious trouble before, and the prospect of facing the academy's director one-on-one was daunting.

The academy dining hall buzzed with the usual breakfast chatter, but Elio noticed more students than usual stealing glances in their direction. Word had clearly spread about last 's confrontation.

Sage waved them over to her table, where she'd saved seats next to Melody, who was already deep in conversation about their upcoming mathematics assignment.

"I hope you both got some sleep," Sage said as they sat down, her voice carrying genuine concern.

"Some," Reuben replied, though the dark circles under his eyes suggested otherwise.

Melody looked up from her notes. "The whole school's talking about what happened last week. Surprised it took this long for it to take off. Most people seem to think you did the right thing, even if the method was questionable."

"That's something, I guess," Elio said, picking at his breakfast without much appetite.

Across the dining hall, they could see Arnie sitting with several Team Star members, engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation. Even from a distance, his enthusiasm was obvious, and Elio felt a pang of concern. After the confrontation, most students had been wary of Team Star, but over the last week, Arnie seemed more drawn to them than ever.

"He's still convinced they're trying to help," Sage said quietly, following Elio's gaze.

"Maybe give him time," Oliver suggested. 

Elio hoped that was true, but something about the way Arnie looked at those Star Members suggested he was moving in the opposite direction—deeper into Team Star's influence rather than away from it.

Reuben's detention was scheduled immediately after classes in the academy's battle field. As he made his way across the campus, his Shinx padding nervously beside him, he tried to prepare himself for whatever punishment awaited. He'd never been particularly athletic, and the thought of being forced through gruelling physical exercises as penance made his stomach churn.

The field was even more impressive than he'd expected—a vast space with multiple arenas, each equipped with different terrain features and safety barriers. Electronic displays showed various battle statistics and environmental controls.

Instructor Dendra was waiting for him in the centre arena, her posture radiating the kind of confident energy that made Reuben feel even smaller than usual. She was younger than most of the faculty, with an athletic build that spoke of years of practical battle experience rather than just academic study.

"Reuben, right?" she called out as he approached. "Bring your Shinx over here."

He did as instructed, noting that she seemed more interested in observing his Pokémon than in lecturing him about his behaviour.

"So you got into an unauthorized battle," Dendra said, but her tone was more conversational than accusatory. "Want to tell me about it?"

Reuben hesitated, unsure if this was a trap. "We were trying to help some younger students who looked like they were being pressured."

"And you thought a battle was the best way to handle that situation?"

"Not exactly," Reuben admitted. "They challenged us. I didn't really know what else to do."

Dendra nodded thoughtfully. "Show me how you commanded your Shinx during that battle."

The request caught Reuben off guard. "I'm sorry?"

"If you're going to get into battles—authorized or not—you might as well know how to do it properly," Dendra explained. "From what I heard, your technique needs work."

Over the next hour, Dendra guided Reuben through a series of training exercises that were unlike anything he'd experienced in regular classes. Instead of focusing on theory or memorizing type matchups, she emphasized the practical aspects of battle command—timing, confidence, reading his Pokémon's body language, and projecting authority in his voice.

"Your Shinx wants to please you," she explained as Reuben practiced calling out attack commands. "But if you sound uncertain, your Pokémon becomes uncertain too. Confidence is contagious."

Reuben tried again, putting more force behind his voice as he called for a Spark. This time, Shinx responded immediately, the electrical attack crackling with noticeably more power than his previous attempts.

"Better," Dendra nodded approvingly as Reuben's improved Spark attack crackled through the air. "Now, let's talk about when battles are appropriate interventions and when they're not."

She gestured for Reuben to follow her to a quieter corner of the gymnasium, where training dummies and scenario equipment were set up. Shinx padded alongside them, still energized from the successful attack but attentive to whatever came next.

"Tell me about the confrontation," Dendra said, settling into a cross-legged position on the mat and indicating Reuben should do the same. "Not the battle itself—the moments before it started."

Reuben sat down, trying to organize his thoughts. "Elio and I saw these older students surrounding Sage and Arnie. They looked... trapped. Like they couldn't leave even though they wanted to."

"And what did you feel in that moment?"

"Angry," Reuben admitted. "And helpless. Like we had to do something but didn't know what."

Dendra nodded. "That feeling—that's your moral compass working. It's a good thing, Reuben. But let's explore what your options were in that situation."

She stood and moved to the equipment area, pulling out several training props—foam barriers, practice targets, and what appeared to be simple communication devices.

"Scenario one," she said, arranging the barriers to create a mock corridor. "You see students being cornered. Your first instinct is to..."

"Jump in and help," Reuben replied immediately.

"Physical intervention. Sometimes necessary, but what are the risks?"

Reuben considered this. "Escalation. Making the situation worse. Getting people hurt who weren't in danger before."

"Exactly. Now, what else could you have done?" Dendra moved one of the barriers, creating a different configuration. "Think beyond the immediate."

Reuben studied the new setup, his mind working through possibilities. "We could have... gotten help? Found a teacher?"

"Good. What else?"

"Created a distraction? Made it so the older students had to focus on something else instead of cornering people?"

Dendra smiled. "Now you're thinking strategically. Let's try that scenario."

She had Reuben practice different approaches using the training equipment. First, they worked through a version where he would position himself to give the trapped students an escape route without directly confronting the aggressors. Then they tried a scenario where he would call for adult intervention while maintaining visual contact with the situation.

"The key," Dendra explained as they reset the equipment, "is reading the level of immediate danger. If someone is about to get hurt right now, physical intervention might be necessary. But if you have even a few minutes, there are usually better options."

"But what if the adults don't come in time?" Reuben asked. "What if they don't take it seriously?"

Dendra's expression grew more serious. "That's a real concern, and it's part of why situations like that happen. Students lose faith in official channels because they've been let down before."

She sat back down across from Reuben, her posture more relaxed but her attention still focused.

"Let me tell you something about Team Star," she said quietly. "They started with good intentions. Real good intentions. But they made a fundamental mistake—they decided that the ends always justify the means."

"What do you mean?"

"They saw problems the administration wasn't addressing quickly enough, so they decided to bypass the system entirely. Every time they 'helped' someone through intimidation or unauthorized battles, they told themselves it was worth it because they were protecting people."

Reuben nodded slowly. "But that's... that's kind of what we did, isn't it?"

"It is," Dendra acknowledged. "And that's why we're having this conversation. Because I want you to understand the difference between emergency intervention and vigilante justice."

She stood again, this time moving to a different section of the gym where more complex training scenarios were set up.

"Emergency intervention," she said, activating a holographic display that showed various conflict situations, "happens when someone is in immediate physical danger and you're the only one who can help. It's reactive, it's temporary, and it's followed by getting proper authorities involved."

The display shifted to show a different scenario.

"Vigilante justice happens when you decide the system isn't working fast enough, so you'll create your own system. It's proactive, it's ongoing, and it usually involves deciding you know better than the people who are supposed to be in charge."

Reuben watched the scenarios play out, seeing the subtle but important differences between them.

"Last week," he said slowly, "we were probably in emergency intervention territory. Those students really did look trapped."

"Probably," Dendra agreed. "But here's the crucial part—what happens next? Do you report the incident to proper authorities and let them handle the follow-up? Or do you decide you're now responsible for monitoring Team Star and intervening whenever you think they're out of line?"

The question hung in the air between them. Reuben realized he hadn't really thought about the aftermath of the confrontation beyond the immediate consequences.

"I... I guess I assumed that was it. One incident, done."

"But it's not, is it? Team Star is still operating. The tensions that led to the confrontation are still there. And now you know what it feels like to step in physically."

Dendra returned to the training area and began setting up a new scenario, this one more complex than the previous ones.

"This is the hard part," she said as she worked. "Learning to help people without becoming part of the problem yourself. Learning to intervene when necessary without taking on responsibilities that aren't yours to carry."

"Let's practice some scenarios where the right answer isn't immediately obvious," she said. "Where the moral thing to do might not be the safe thing to do, or where helping in the short term might cause problems in the long term."

For the next thirty minutes, Reuben worked through increasingly complex situations with Dendra's guidance. They practiced de-escalation techniques, proper communication with authority figures, and how to provide support to people in difficult situations without taking over their agency.

"The hardest lesson," Dendra said as they were winding down, "is learning that you can't save everyone. And that sometimes the best way to help someone is to step back and let them handle things themselves, even if their way seems slower or less efficient than what you would do."

Reuben felt his Shinx brush against his leg.

"But we shouldn't just ignore problems, right? We shouldn't just walk away when people need help?"

"Absolutely not," Dendra replied firmly. "But there's a difference between helping and taking over. There's a difference between supporting someone and deciding what's best for them."

She began putting away the training equipment, and Reuben realized their session was coming to an end.

"What about Team Star?" he asked. "If they really are helping people the administration has ignored, but they're doing it in problematic ways, what's the right response?"

Dendra paused in her clean-up, considering the question seriously.

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" she said finally. "And honestly, I don't think there's a simple answer. But I can tell you what won't work—fighting them directly, trying to stop them through force or intimidation. That just creates more conflict."

"So what will work?"

"Understanding why they exist. Addressing the problems they're trying to solve, but doing it through proper channels. Making the system work better so people don't feel like they need to bypass it."

Reuben nodded, though he suspected that was easier said than done.

"The real test," Dendra continued, "isn't whether you can win a battle against Team Star. It's whether you can help create conditions where Team Star isn't necessary anymore."

As they finished putting away the equipment, Reuben found himself thinking about the complexity of what seemed like straightforward moral questions just a day ago.

"Will I be able to figure all this out?" he asked, voicing his deeper concern.

Dendra smiled, the same encouraging expression she'd worn when praising his improved battle techniques.

"You're already asking the right questions," she said. "That's the hardest part. The rest is just practice, patience, and staying true to your values even when the situation gets complicated."

She looked down at Shinx, who had been unusually well-behaved throughout the entire session.

"Your Pokémon trusts you to make good decisions," she observed. "That's a big responsibility, but it's also a reminder that you don't have to carry these burdens alone."

Reuben reached down to pet Shinx, feeling the Electric-type's warm fur and steady breathing.

"Thank you," he said to Dendra. "This... this wasn't what I expected detention to be like."

"The best lessons rarely are," she replied. 

"Will I be in trouble if something like that happens again?" he asked as they were wrapping up.

"That depends," Dendra replied. "Are you going to think before you act next time?"

Reuben considered this carefully. "I think so. But if I saw someone in real trouble..."

"Then you'd better be prepared to handle the situation properly," Dendra finished. "Which is why we'll be continuing these sessions twice a week for the rest of the term."

Reuben blinked in surprise. "We will?"

"Consider it preventive maintenance," Dendra said with a slight smile. "You've got good instincts, Reuben. You just need to develop the skills to back them up."

While Reuben was discovering that his detention wasn't quite what he'd expected, Elio was having a very different experience in Director Clavell's office. The room felt imposing even without the director present—tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes on Pokémon research, educational theory, and what appeared to be regional history. Certificates and awards hung between the shelves, testament to years of academic achievement.

When Clavell finally entered, he wasn't alone. Three other students followed him—all of them looking as nervous as Elio felt. He recognized one as a quiet boy from his mathematics class, but the other two were unfamiliar.

"Please, all of you take seats," Clavell said, gesturing to the chairs arranged in a semicircle before his desk. His tone was formal but not unkind.

As they settled into their seats, Clavell opened a thick folder and spread several documents across his desk.

"I've asked all of you here because you've had encounters with Team Star members over the past few days," he began. "I need to understand exactly what this society has been doing and how they've been operating."

Elio shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This felt more like an interrogation than a detention.

One of the other students, a girl with short red hair, spoke up first. "They helped me when some older kids were taking my lunch money. The teachers didn't do anything even after I reported it twice, but Team Star made sure those bullies never bothered me again."

"How did they accomplish that?" Clavell asked, making notes.

"They... talked to them," the girl replied, though her hesitation suggested there might have been more to it than conversation.

The quiet boy from Elio's math class nodded agreement. "There was this guy, Marcus, getting shoved around by older students near the lunch hall. Teachers walked right by three times. Team Star saw that and... dealt with it."

"And last week," Clavell said, looking directly at Elio, "you witnessed Team Star members attempting to recruit younger students through what you perceived as intimidation?"

Elio nodded reluctantly. "They weren't taking no for an answer. When Sage tried to leave, they blocked her path."

"But their stated mission is protecting bullied students?" Clavell clarified.

"That's what they said," Elio confirmed. "But the way they went about it felt..."

"Aggressive?" Clavell supplied.

"Yeah."

The director continued taking notes as each student shared their experiences with Team Star. A pattern began to emerge—the organization genuinely had helped students who were being bullied, often more effectively than official channels. But their methods were becoming increasingly forceful, and their definition of "helping" seemed to be expanding beyond what many students were comfortable with.

"What I'm hearing," Clavell said after everyone had spoken, "is that Team Star has identified a real problem—students who need protection from harassment—but their solution has created new problems."

"So what happens now?" the red-haired girl asked.

"Now I have the information I need to address this situation properly," Clavell replied. He closed the folder and looked at each of them in turn. "I want you to understand that your detentions today have served a dual purpose. Yes, unauthorized battles cannot be tolerated. But your first-hand accounts have provided crucial evidence about what's really been happening in our school community."

Elio felt a mixture of relief and confusion. "So we're not in serious trouble?"

"Your intentions were good, but your methods were problematic," Clavell said firmly. "Real change requires patience, proper channels, and institutional support. Vigilante justice, no matter how well-intentioned, often creates more problems than it solves."

Yet as he left the office, Elio couldn't shake the thought that patience might not be enough. 

Chapter Text

History class had always been one of Oliver's favourites, but today he found himself distracted by the empty seats scattered throughout the classroom. Several Team Star members were notably absent, and he wondered if they were facing consequences for their recruitment activities or simply skipping class to avoid uncomfortable questions.

Miss Raifort entered the classroom with her characteristic air of mysterious authority, her purple hair catching the light as she moved to the front of the room. There was something about her presence that commanded immediate attention—an intensity that suggested she knew secrets others could only guess at.

"Today we delve into the shadows of Paldean history," she announced, her voice carrying a theatrical quality that made even routine lessons feel dramatic. "The ancient civilizations that once thrived in this region who left behind more questions than answers."

She gestured to a map that showed trade routes connecting various settlements, but unlike what Oliver expected from a history presentation, hers seemed to emphasize the gaps and mysteries rather than the established facts.

"The Paldean region has always been a crossroads of power," Miss Raifort explained, her eyes scanning the classroom as if searching for students worthy of deeper truths. "Different cultures, different approaches to living with, or controlling Pokémon."

She moved away from the map display, her glasses catching the light as she began to pace slowly in front of the class. There was something predatory about the way she moved, like a hunter sizing up her prey. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the faces of her students. 

"Most of your textbooks will tell you pleasant stories about harmony and partnership," she continued, her voice taking on a slightly mocking tone. "They speak of ancient peoples who 'worked alongside' their Pokémon companions, who built civilizations based on mutual respect and understanding."

Miss Raifort paused, letting her gaze fall on several students who were taking dutiful notes. She scoffed. 

"But history, true history, is written by those who seize power and keep it. And power in Paldea has always flowed from one source—the ability to command forces beyond ordinary human strength."

She gestured toward the ancient map, but now her focus seemed to be on the darker, unexplored regions rather than the established trade routes.

"The earliest Paldean rulers didn't simply befriend powerful Pokémon," she said, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial whisper that made students lean forward despite themselves. "They sought to harness forces that could reshape the very landscape. They delved into mysteries that modern trainers can barely comprehend."

Oliver found himself genuinely captivated, though there was something unsettling about her intensity. Around him, other students seemed caught between fascination and unease.

"Consider this," Miss Raifort continued, moving to point at the centre of the map. "The Great Crater of Paldea. For centuries, it has been treated as a natural wonder, a geological curiosity. But the ancient texts—the ones not included in your sanitized curriculum—tell a different story. Have you ever wondered why it's forbidden to enter it?"

She turned back to face the class, her eyes gleaming with the kind of fervour usually reserved for religious zealots or mad scientists.

"They speak of it as a wound in the world, a place where the normal laws of nature break down. Where Pokémon exist that defy every category we've created, every understanding we've built. Where the line between life and death, between possible and impossible, becomes... negotiable."

The classroom had grown completely silent. Even students who usually whispered during lectures were hanging on her every word.

"The civilizations that thrived in ancient Paldea didn't avoid the Great Crater," Miss Raifort said, her voice rising with dramatic emphasis. "They were drawn to it. They sent expeditions into its depths, seeking power that could elevate them above mere mortals. Some returned changed. Others..."

She let the sentence hang.

"Others never returned at all. But the knowledge they brought back—fragments, whispers, impossible truths—that knowledge shaped empires. It toppled kingdoms. It created legends that we still tell today, though we've forgotten what they really mean."

Miss Raifort moved back to her desk, but her presence still dominated the room completely.

"You see, class, when we study ancient Paldean civilizations, we're not just learning about pottery shards and trade agreements. We're learning about humanity's eternal desire to transcend its limitations. To become something more than what nature intended."

A student near the front raised her hand tentatively. Miss Raifort's gaze fixed on her with laser-like intensity.

"Yes, Charlotte?"

"Miss, what about Heath and the Zero Crew? Didn't they explore and document the Great Crater?"

Oliver turned to look at the speaker—Charlotte Baleson, a girl with dark hair and an obvious enthusiasm for the subject matter. He'd seen her in other classes but had never spoken to her directly.

Miss Raifort's expression shifted to one of keen interest, almost predatory. "Ah, Charlotte. You've been reading beyond the assigned materials, haven't you?"

"I find historical mysteries fascinating," Charlotte replied, though she seemed slightly unnerved by Raifort's intense focus. ""

"The Zero Crew, led by Dr Goza Heath," Miss Raifort said, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, "documented things that modern science still struggles to explain. Species that defied classification. Phenomena that challenged everything we thought we knew about Pokémon biology. They even spoke of a hidden cavern deep within the crater where time itself lost all meaning."

She moved closer to Charlotte's desk, and Oliver noticed other students leaning in despite themselves.

"But their records, I suspect, were fragmentary by design," Miss Raifort continued, her voice taking on an almost reverent tone as she spoke of the ancient explorers.

She moved closer to Charlotte's desk, and Oliver noticed how Raifort's presence seemed to make the air itself feel heavier, more charged with possibility.

"Some knowledge, you see, is too dangerous to preserve intact." Her pale eyes swept across the classroom, lingering on faces as if measuring each student's capacity for forbidden truths. "Some discoveries are so profound, so potentially catastrophic, that even their discoverers understood the wisdom of... selective documentation."

Miss Raifort paused, letting her words sink in before continuing with deliberate slowness.

"The Zero Crew understood this principle intimately. Everything we have left of their actual findings—their real discoveries, not the sanitized versions in your standard textbooks—is sitting in a single, small volume in our academy library."

She turned toward the window, gazing out as if she could see the library from here, as if she could see through its walls to the secrets hidden within.

"The Violet Book," she said softly, the name falling from her lips like a prayer or a curse. "Fragments of wonder. Glimpses of impossibility. Just enough to tantalize, never enough to truly understand."

The classroom was so quiet now that Oliver could hear his own heartbeat. Around him, students seemed to be holding their breath, caught between fascination and something that might have been fear.

Miss Raifort turned back to face them, and there was something almost predatory in her smile now.

"But there have been whispers," she continued, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial tone that made everyone lean forward despite themselves. "Rumours that circulate in certain academic circles. Talk of research that goes beyond what any respectable scholar would admit to pursuing."

She began to pace again, but slowly, deliberately, like a cat stalking its prey.

"They say—though of course, this is nothing more than conspiracy theory, mere academic gossip—that the Violet Book was never meant to stand alone. That there was always intended to be a companion volume. A sister text."

Miss Raifort stopped pacing and fixed her gaze on Charlotte, who had asked the original question about the Zero Crew.

"The Scarlet Book," she whispered, and somehow her quiet voice carried more weight than any shout could have. "A repository of the discoveries that were deemed too dangerous even for fragmentary preservation. The secrets that the Zero Crew decided should never see the light of day."

The silence that followed was absolute, as if the very mention of this mythical second book had drained all sound from the world.

"Of course," Miss Raifort said finally, her tone shifting to something lighter, almost dismissive, "such a book would be purely theoretical. A fantasy born of academic curiosity and the human tendency to believe that forbidden knowledge must be more valuable than the knowledge we're allowed to possess."

But her eyes betrayed her casual words, holding depths that suggested she believed every word she'd just spoken—and perhaps knew far more than she was willing to share in a classroom setting.

After Miss Raifort finished her dramatic discussion of the Violet and Scarlet Books, she moved on to the practical portion of the lesson. The students were tasked with analysing maps of ancient Paldean power structures, working in pairs to trace the political connections between settlements.

Charlotte ended up partnered with Oliver due to the seating arrangement, and as they spread out their materials, he could see that her initial enthusiasm for the Zero Crew topic had been somewhat dampened by Raifort's intense focus on her.

"You know a lot about Paldean history," he observed as they worked together to trace political connections between ancient settlements.

"I like understanding how history has shaped this region over time," Charlotte replied, carefully marking their map. "Did you know the Zero Crew discovered Terastalisation?"

Oliver blinked. "Tera-what?" 

"Terastalisation," Charlotte repeated. "The phenomenon where a Pokémon can hide its natural typing behind a crystal coating which in effect gives it a singular special type called its Tera Type."

"Um... English please?" Oliver said. Charlotte smirked, more in playfulness than smugness. 

"In effect, it allows Pokémon to change their type when exposed to concentrated terastal energy. A Gourgeist is normally a grass and ghost type but it might have a Tera Type of fire, meaning when exposed to terastal energy, it turns into a fire type."

"How do you know a Pokémon's Tera Type?" Oliver asked. 

"Without terastalising, you can't," Charlotte said, then paused her map work to give him her full attention. "The Zero Crew were the first to document this phenomenon when they explored Area Zero."

She pulled out a small notebook from her bag, flipping through pages filled with her own handwriting and sketched diagrams.

"From what I've been able to research in academic journals and geological surveys, Heath and his team were the first to document crystalline formations that seemed to respond to Pokémon presence. They called them Tera Crystals."

Oliver leaned closer to look at her sketches. "These crystals are still down there?"

"Not just down there," Charlotte said, her voice taking on the same enthusiasm she'd shown during Miss Raifort's lecture. "Over the decades since Heath's expedition, Tera Crystals have been found scattered across Paldea. Small deposits, usually, but they seem to be spreading outward from the Crater."

She flipped to another page in her notebook, showing a rough map of Paldea with small dots marked across various locations.

"They're actually quite distinctive once you know what to look for. The crystals have this unique geometric structure and they give off a faint energy signature. Most people just don't realize what they're seeing because it isn't widely understood yet. Mezagoza Academy is the only place in the world that is licensed to teach about it."

"Energy signatures?" Oliver asked, genuinely intrigued now.

"Terastal energy," Charlotte explained, returning to her original map but continuing the conversation. "It's unlike any other energy source documented in Pokémon research. Not like the Dynamax energy from Galar, which is suspected to be extra-terrestrial, or like Z-Power from Alola, which seems to have a more spiritual connection to the Alola region. This is something entirely unique to Paldea."

She pointed to several locations on their class assignment map.

"See these ancient settlement patterns? Some historians think our ancestors might have been drawn to areas with natural Tera Crystal deposits, even if they didn't understand what they were. There's a correlation between the oldest archaeological sites and places where we've found larger crystal formations."

Oliver studied the patterns she was indicating. "You think ancient Paldeans knew about Terastalisation?"

"Maybe not consciously," Charlotte said thoughtfully. "But Heath's expedition notes mention finding what appeared to be very old artificial structures that were almost consumed by the larger crystal formations. As if people had been building around these sites for centuries and the Tera Crystals just grew on top of them."

She lowered her voice slightly, glancing around to make sure Miss Raifort wasn't paying attention to their conversation.

"The thing is, so much about Heath's expedition remains classified or restricted. The academy library has that Violet Book Miss Raifort mentioned, but students aren't allowed to access it without permission from a teacher. What I've found comes from secondary sources—research papers that reference Heath's work and geological surveys that mention his findings indirectly."

Charlotte paused, seeming to consider her words carefully.

"From what I've been able to piece together, Heath's team went deeper into the Crater than anyone since, but like Miss Raifort said, decided to keep most of their findings to themselves. The official reports just say they documented 'unusual phenomena' and 'previously unknown species.'"

"That's still impressive research," Oliver said.

"Maybe," Charlotte said thoughtfully. "But there are so many gaps in what's publicly available. Most people see a Pokémon behaving slightly unusually and assume it's just individual personality differences. They don't consider that it might be responding to environmental energy sources we barely understand."

She flipped to another page, showing more detailed sketches of crystal formations.

"The crystals themselves are what fascinate me most, though. Based on what I've read in geological surveys, they seem to be growing. Not just sitting there as static mineral deposits, but actually expanding and developing new formations over time."

Oliver looked up from the notebook. "Growing how fast?"

"Slowly, according to the historical records I've found. But if you compare what little documentation exists from Heath's era with more recent geological studies, there's definitely been expansion. The crystal formations are larger now than they were when Heath's team first documented them."

Charlotte turned to a page near the back of her notebook, where she'd apparently been keeping track of modern sightings and reports.

"There have been unverified reports of new crystal deposits appearing in areas that showed no terastal activity even a few decades ago. Always small at first, just tiny crystalline formations that most people would dismiss as normal geological features."

"Have you seen any yourself?" Oliver asked.

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded. "During holiday breaks, my family does camping trips around Paldea. I've come across clusters of crystals cropping up in all kinds of places."

She showed him a sketch of what appeared to be a Pokémon surrounded by a faint crystalline outline. 

"Does the academy know you've been researching this?" Oliver asked.

"Unofficially," Charlotte replied. "Professor Jacq has been helpful when I've asked specific questions about terastal energy theory. But most of the faculty seem to consider it too dangerous for student research unless they're part of Mezagoza's Terastal Program. So far only League participiants and terastal researchers are even allowed to use Terastalisation. I tried signing up for the program but applications are closed till next semester."  

She closed her notebook and returned her attention to their class assignment.

"We should probably get back to the work. Sorry I went a bit off topic" Charlotte said sheepishly. 

"Time," Miss Raifort announced, her voice cutting through the classroom chatter. "Leave your maps on your desks—I'll be reviewing your work for next class."

Oliver gathered his materials, still thinking about Charlotte's research on Terastal energy and those mysterious books. The classroom emptied around him as students headed out, chatting about dinner plans and homework assignments. He was slinging his bag over his shoulder when movement outside caught his attention.

Through the window, he could see someone leaving the dormitory building through a side entrance—not the main doors everyone used, but the smaller exit near the maintenance area that most students ignored. The figure moved carefully, checking over his shoulder before crossing the courtyard.

Oliver recognized him immediately. Kieran Zarek. The same guy who'd gotten defensive about his scar during their first meeting, then made up some story about library research before practically fleeing the conversation.

Oliver waited until the classroom cleared, then slipped out to follow. He'd read enough mystery novels to think he understood how to tail someone but he'd never actually tried in real life. Turns out, it was harder than books made it seem. Every time he thought he was being clever—ducking behind trees or staying in shadows—Kieran would do something that revealed just how amateur Oliver's efforts were.

The guy had clearly planned his route. He avoided the main pathways where students typically gathered, instead taking winding paths between buildings that Oliver barely knew existed. It was clear that he'd done this before.

Oliver was concentrating so hard on staying hidden that when he looked up, Kieran had vanished completely. Just... gone.

"What?" Oliver muttered, standing alone on the empty path.

Then he spotted movement to his left and realized what had happened. Kieran had ducked around a building and emerged on an entirely different route, leaving Oliver following nothing but air.

Oliver had to admit it—he was good. This wasn't some kid sneaking off to meet friends or skip study hall. Kieran moved like someone accustomed to avoiding detection, like he'd had practice losing people who tried to follow him. This was someone who knew how to be invisible. 

Thinking back to their first encounter, Oliver remembered Kieran's jumpy reaction to questions about his injury, the obviously fabricated excuse about research, the way he'd bolted from their conversation. At the time, Oliver had assumed social awkwardness or embarrassment. Now it felt like something more deliberate.

The exhaustion Oliver had noticed, the defensive behaviour, the professional-level evasion—Kieran was definitely involved in something he couldn't let anyone discover. The question was what, and why it required this level of secrecy.

Kieran caught his breath behind the South Gate, reasonably sure he'd lost his tail. He was almost certain it had been Oliver—the same guy who'd immediately noticed his scar and the first one to ask questions about it.

This was exactly what he couldn't afford. Curious students asking questions he couldn't answer, people getting suspicious about his activities. He'd been getting careless lately, and carelessness could have serious consequences—not just for him, but for what was depending on him.

The hike to Inlet Grotto was long on a good day, but exhaustion made every step feel shorter and every second longer. His Charmander stayed close, probably sensing Kieran's fatigue. The Fire-type had adapted to these excursions better than expected, though Kieran could see the constant alertness wearing on his partner too. He made a mental note to leave him behind next time, so he could get some rest. 

They reached the cave entrance across from the lighthouse as afternoon shadows lengthened across the rocky landscape. Kieran pulled out the sandwich he'd saved from lunch—ham and cheese, nothing elaborate, but better than nothing.

"Hey there," he called softly into the cave's depths. "I brought dinner."

A low rumble echoed back from the darkness—acknowledging, not threatening. Kieran smiled despite his tiredness. At least someone was glad to see him.

"Come on. I know you're hungry."

For a moment, nothing happened except the distant echo of Kieran's voice bouncing off the cave walls. Then, from the deepest shadows where even his eyes couldn't penetrate, came the soft scrape of claws against stone. The sound was deliberate, cautious—not the frantic scrambling of a wild creature, but the careful movement of something large trying not to startle.

A snout emerged first from the darkness, reptilian and powerful, followed by a head that dwarfed Kieran's entire torso. The creature's scales caught what little light filtered into the cave, revealing deep scarlet markings that seemed to shimmer with an inner warmth. Its eyes, ancient and intelligent, fixed on the sandwich in Kieran's outstretched hand with singular focus.

"There you are, Scarlet" Kieran said quietly, holding out the food.

But instead of taking it immediately, Scarlet pulled back slightly, tilting his head with what looked almost like mischief in his ancient eyes. His tail swished once against the cave floor—a gesture that reminded Kieran of a playful dog.

"Oh, you want to play games today?" Despite his exhaustion, Kieran couldn't help smiling. "Maybe tomorrow, but I'm too tired today."

Scarlet made a soft rumbling sound—not quite a purr, but something warm and amused. She leaned forward and gently bumped his shoulder with his snout before finally accepting the sandwich pieces, careful not to let teeth or claws touch his skin.

Then howls echoed from deeper in the cave system—wild and urgent, bouncing off unseen chambers.

Scarlet's reaction was immediate and dramatic. Instead of the confident creature he'd been moments before, he pressed against the cave wall, his body language shifting to something almost cowering. The massive form that had seemed so imposing now looked terrified.

"Hey, it's okay," Kieran whispered, reaching out to stroke his flank. His scales felt warm, but he could feel trembling beneath them. "They're just Houndour. They're moving away from us."

The howls came again—multiple voices, but definitely receding. Even so, Scarlet remained pressed against the wall, crest flattened, watching the entrance with nervous attention.

"It's okay," Kieran murmured, continuing to pet him gently. "You're ten times their size. They should be afraid of you."

It took several minutes of quiet reassurance before Scarlet began to relax, his breathing gradually returning to normal. Only when the distant sounds had completely faded did he return her attention to the remaining food—though he stayed noticeably closer to the wall, ready to retreat at the first sign of trouble.

Kieran sighed fondly. "What would you do without me?" 

The common room buzzed with subdued conversations as evening settled over the academy. Students clustered in smaller groups than usual, their voices carrying an undercurrent of tension that hadn't been there a week ago.

Elio found Reuben and Oliver near the tall windows overlooking the main courtyard, where maintenance staff were methodically illuminating the evening pathways. Even from this height, it was obvious that something had shifted in the academy's social fabric. Students moved differently now—more cautiously, with frequent glances over their shoulders.

"Your detention wasn't what you expected either?" Oliver asked as Elio settled into a nearby chair.

Reuben shook his head, still seeming surprised by his own experience. "Dendra treated it more like specialized training than punishment. She actually helped me understand why my battle commands weren't working properly."

"Clavell's approach was different but similar," Elio added. "He seemed more interested in understanding Team Star's impact than just disciplining us for getting involved."

Elio leaned back in his chair, studying the patterns of light and shadow across the courtyard. "Do you think we did the right thing? Getting involved when we did?"

"I don't know," Reuben admitted. "But I keep thinking about what would have happened if we hadn't."

"The alternative bothers me more than the consequences," Oliver said after a moment. "Standing by while people get pushed around... that doesn't feel like an option. You two did the right thing."

"Yeah," Elio agreed. "If Clavell thinks I'm just going to roll over and let Team Star push people around, he's wrong."

The three friends sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the last of the evening light fade from the academy grounds. Around them, other students were beginning to head back to their dormitories, but none of them seemed ready to end this conversation just yet.

Whatever came next they knew they'd face it together. The academy was changing, and so were they.

Chapter Text

Professor Jacq stood at the front of the classroom, his usual enthusiasm for the subject matter evident as he gestured toward the large display showing various Pokémon habitats across Paldea. The morning light streaming through the tall windows illuminated detailed diagrams of ecosystems, food chains, and evolutionary adaptations that covered the walls.

"Environmental pressures are the primary drivers of Pokémon evolution and adaptation," he explained, clicking through images of different regional variants. "When a species encounters new challenges—changes in climate, food availability, or territorial competition—they adapt accordingly."

Elio found himself genuinely engaged, a welcome change from some of his other classes. Professor Jacq had a way of making even complex biological concepts feel accessible and relevant. Around him, other students were taking notes with varying degrees of attention, though most seemed interested in the material.

"Now, this brings us to an interesting development I've been following in my research," Professor Jacq continued, his tone shifting slightly to something more serious. "Over the past several months, there have been increasingly frequent reports from across Paldea of Pokémon exhibiting unusual size variations."

He clicked to a new slide showing what appeared to be field research notes and blurry photographs.

"These aren't simply large specimens of known species," he clarified, noting several students sitting up with increased interest. "We're talking about Pokémon that exceed normal size parameters by significant margins—some reports suggest increases of 300% or more beyond typical measurements."

A student that Elio didn't recognize raised his hand immediately. "Professor, I've heard similar stories from colleagues in other regions. In Galar, there were reports last year of Dynamax-like phenomena occurring outside of Power Spots. Could this be related?"

"An astute observation, Peter," Professor Jacq nodded approvingly. "The similarities to Dynamax are... concerning. But unlike Dynamax, these size changes appear to be permanent, or at least long-lasting. And they're occurring in areas with no known connection to Dynamax energy sources. Besides, Galar's little crisis last year had more to do with Chairman Rose of Macros Cosmos tampering with nature a little more than was necessary. This is unrelated."

Reuben leaned forward in his seat. "Are these Pokémon dangerous? I mean, if they're that much larger than normal..."

"That's precisely what makes this phenomenon so troubling," Professor Jacq replied, pulling up what appeared to be incident reports. "Most of the encounters have been... challenging. These Titan Pokémon, for lack of a better term, seem to exhibit increased aggression and territorial behaviour. Several research teams have had to abandon their studies due to safety concerns."

Melody's hand shot up. "Professor, have there been any patterns identified? Specific species affected, or geographic clustering of incidents?"

Professor Jacq's expression grew more serious. "The reports span multiple species—everything from common Pokémon like Klawf and Bombirdier to rarer specimens. As for geographic distribution..."

He clicked to a map of Paldea marked with red dots indicating reported sightings.

"The incidents appear to be scattered across the region, but there's a notable concentration in areas that are... shall we say, less frequently travelled by the general population."

Oliver studied the map intently. "Are these areas being investigated? By the League or research institutions?"

"Official investigation has been... limited," Professor Jacq said carefully, his tone suggesting there might be more to the story. "Many of these locations are considered too remote or too dangerous for standard research protocols. The few teams that have attempted detailed studies have returned with incomplete data."

"What kind of incomplete data?" Charlotte asked.

Professor Jacq hesitated for a moment, as if debating how much to share with his students.

"Equipment failures, mostly," he said finally. "Cameras malfunctioning, recording devices producing corrupted data. Some researchers have reported... unusual phenomena that made it difficult to maintain scientific objectivity."

The classroom had grown notably quieter. 

"Could environmental factors be causing these size changes?" Sage asked from the back of the classroom. "Pollution, or changes in food sources?"

"That's the most logical explanation," Professor Jacq agreed. "Rapid environmental change can trigger dramatic adaptive responses. However, the speed of these changes suggests something more immediate than gradual environmental pressure."

He moved away from the display, his expression thoughtful.

"In my personal opinion—and this is purely speculation—we may be dealing with some kind of unknown energy source affecting Pokémon physiology. Something that causes rapid, dramatic physical changes without the normal evolutionary timeline we'd expect."

"Like radiation?" Elio asked, concerned.

"Possibly, though not in any form we currently understand. The affected Pokémon show no signs of illness or genetic damage that we'd associate with harmful radiation exposure. They appear to be perfectly healthy—just extraordinarily large and aggressive."

Oliver raised his hand again. "Professor, are students allowed to research this phenomenon? For independent study projects?"

Professor Jacq's response was immediate and firm. "Absolutely not. Under no circumstances should students attempt to locate or study these oversized Pokémon. The safety risks are too significant, and frankly, we don't understand enough about what's causing these changes to predict how dangerous an encounter might be."

He moved back to the front of the classroom, his demeanor becoming more authoritative.

"I want to be very clear about this," he continued. "If any of you encounter reports of unusually large Pokémon in your travels, you are to maintain a safe distance and report the sighting to academy faculty immediately. These are not training opportunities or chances to test your battling skills against unique specimens."

"But Professor," Arnie called out, "what if one of these Pokémon is threatening other people? Wouldn't we have a responsibility to help?"

Professor Jacq's expression softened slightly. "I understand the impulse to help, Arnie. But these situations require trained professionals with proper equipment and backup support. Student intervention would likely result in serious injury or worse."

Arnie scowled, clearly disagreeing. 

The discussion continued for several more minutes, with students asking increasingly detailed questions about the phenomenon. Professor Jacq answered what he could while maintaining his emphasis on safety and proper procedures.

As the class period drew to a close, he assigned their homework: a research paper on environmental factors that influence Pokémon size and behavior, with emphasis on documented cases from academic literature rather than recent unverified reports.

"Remember," he said as students began packing their materials, "science advances through careful observation and proper methodology. Amateur investigation of dangerous phenomena helps no one."

Oliver fell into step beside Elio as they left the classroom. "That was more concerning than I expected," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Elio agreed. "Makes you wonder what else is happening out there that we don't know about."

The bell rang, releasing Jacq’s biology class in a tangle of voices. Students spilled into the corridor, their chatter a messy weave of excitement and unease after the talk of Titan Pokémon. Elio and Reuben found themselves walking with the current, Shinx padding at Reuben’s heels, ears flicking at every echo of the word “Titan.”

The Academy’s corridors bent toward the next class, the hum of shifting groups rising like waves. 

“Languages next,” Reuben muttered, glancing at his schedule. His stomach tightened. After talk of giant Pokémon and dangerous expeditions, what could words and alphabets possibly compare to?

The room was tall and sunlit, its windows arching wide to let in a sea of afternoon light. Maps of Paldea and foreign regions layered the walls, their edges curled with use, the ink of ancient trade routes fading into sepia. Charts of alphabets—familiar Unovan letters, looping Kalosian script, jagged Galarian runes—covered one wall like a tapestry. A globe sat in the corner, its surface notched with pins marking distant ports.

At the front, a tall man with swept-back hair stood with a broad smile, his hands already raised in welcome.

“Salut! Bonjour! Buenos días! Enchanté, my dear students!” he cried, his voice warm and musical. “Your favourite teacher of languages, Mr Salvatore is here again, non? Heh, heh! Let us learn, let us laugh, let us live the words of the world together!”

A ripple of chuckles and groans spread through the class. The man beamed all the wider.

“Today, mes amis, we practice greetings in foreign tongues. To travel is to meet strangers, and with the right word, ah!—a stranger becomes a friend. Pair up, vite, vite!”

Chairs scraped, voices mingled as students sought partners. Elio found Oliver, Charlotte leaned toward Melody (apparently they shared a dorm) and Sage had already opened his book before his partner Arnie even sat down.

Reuben glanced around, only to hear a voice beside him.

“You’re free? Good. Looks like it’s you and me.”

He turned to see a boy already sliding into the chair across from him. His uniform was crisp but worn at the cuffs, as if well-used. A sharp-eyed Wattrel perched on the back of his chair, feathers sleek, gaze alert.

“Peter Sorran,” the boy said easily, offering a hand. “That’s Wattrel. She doesn’t bite—much.”

Shinx’s fur bristled at once, a spark dancing across her whiskers. Wattrel gave a sharp cry in answer.

“Uh—Reuben,” he said, shaking Peter’s hand quickly. “And that’s Shinx. She… does bite sometimes.”

Peter smirked. “Good. Means she’s got spirit.”

Salvatore clapped his hands. “Pairs ready? Vraiment bien! We begin with greetings. One partner speaks, the other repeats. Then switch! Let us see who sounds très magnifique.”

The room filled with stuttering attempts: “Bonjour—no, bon-jooor…,” “¡Hola, amigo!” punctuated by laughter.

Peter leaned forward. “Salut,” he said crisply.

“Salut,” Reuben repeated, stumbling slightly on the vowel.

“Better than half the room,” Peter said with a grin. He rattled off another phrase in Kalosian, smooth and melodic. Reuben tried, mangled it, and both Shinx and Wattrel tilted their heads at him.

Peter chuckled. “Not bad. You’ll get it. The trick is confidence—say it like you mean it, even if you butcher it.”

Reuben smirked faintly. “Easy for you to say.”

“Not just for me.” Peter lowered his voice, eyes sharp. “For anyone who wants to be Champion.”

Reuben blinked. “Champion?”

Peter nodded, leaning closer. “I’m going to take the Champion Assessment and I'm gonna win it.”

Reuben blinked. “The… Champion Assessment?” 

Peter’s grin widened. “You don’t know?”

Reuben shook his head, embarrassed. “I’ve heard the name, but never really paid attention to what it was.”

“It’s the gate to the top,” Peter said, voice carrying the heat of conviction. “You collect Gym Badges, prove yourself to the League, then you take the Assessment. If you pass, you get to enter in the Paldean Pokémon League. And if you win—” He spread his hands, as if unveiling a horizon. “You get to be one of the few people in Paldea with the privilege to hold the rank of Champion.”

Shinx’s ears pricked at the word. She gave a sharp yip, sparks dancing across her fur. Wattrel flared her wings, cawing back in defiance, feathers gleaming in the sunlight.

Peter smiled at the display, not breaking eye contact. “And I’ll need rivals to push me there. Someone who won’t roll over. You’ve got that look.”

Reuben’s throat tightened. “Me? I’ve… never thought about it.”

“Then start thinking. Why come to this Academy if not to get stronger? Every Champion started in a classroom somewhere. Why not us?”

As if on cue, Shinx gave a low growl—not of anger, but of excitement, her fur sparking faintly. Wattrel tilted its beak skyward, squawking back in defiance. The two Pokémon circled each other, restrained only by their trainers’ steadying hands.

The teacher’s voice cut through the tension. “Enough fraternizing—practice your vocabulary!”

The class stumbled back into exercises, repeating phrases in Kalosian and Galarian, scribbling translations. But Reuben’s mind wandered, every word dissolving into the echo of Peter’s certainty. Champion Assessment. Gym Badges. Rivals.

By the bell’s ring, his notebook was half empty, his page filled with only a few scattered phrases. Peter’s was immaculate, dense with careful notes.

As they rose, Peter clapped him on the shoulder. “Think it over. Rivals make the journey. You might be mine.”

Shinx yipped, sparks flicking between her whiskers.

Reuben swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure if the tightening in his chest was excitement or dread.

The students spilled into the hall, voices rising like waves again. Peter walked ahead, Wattrel perched proudly on his shoulder, speaking animatedly in Kalosian to anyone who would listen. Reuben trailed behind, Shinx at his side, her stride livelier than usual.

For the first time since arriving at the Academy, he felt something stir—an ember. Small, fragile, but real.

Could I…?

The thought lingered, heavy and dangerous, as the corridor swallowed him into the flow of students.

Chapter Text

After Professor Jacq's lecture ended and students filed out of the classroom, Arnie lingered near the building's entrance, still frustrated by the professor's warnings about staying away from the Titan Pokémon. The restriction felt like another example of adults telling students to stand by helplessly while problems went unsolved.

"Pretty typical, right?"

Arnie turned to see Marcus, one of the Team Star members he'd been talking to recently. The older student had an easy smile and the kind of confident posture that made him seem like he had everything figured out.

"What do you mean?" Arnie asked, though he suspected he knew where this was going.

"Professor Jacq telling you to stay away from dangerous situations, report everything to faculty, let the adults handle it," Marcus said, shaking his head. "Same story as always. 'Don't get involved, don't take risks, just trust the system to protect people.'"

"But those Titan Pokémon sound genuinely dangerous," Arnie said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Sure they are. But so are bullies, and the system hasn't done much about those either." Marcus gestured toward the courtyard, where students were heading to their next classes. "You know what the difference is between dangerous Pokémon and dangerous people? At least the Pokémon are honest about being threats."

Before Arnie could respond, both of them were interrupted by raised voices from around the corner of the building. Marcus's expression immediately shifted to alert attention.

"Stay here," he told Arnie, then moved toward the sound with the quick, purposeful stride of someone accustomed to intervening in conflicts.

Arnie followed anyway.

Around the corner, they found three older students surrounding a younger boy that Arnie recognized from his mathematics class. The kid looked terrified, clutching his backpack like it contained everything he owned.

"Come on, just let us see what you've got in there," one of the older students was saying, his tone mockingly friendly. "We're just curious about your homework. Maybe you could help us understand the assignment."

"I already told you, I can't just give you my work to copy," the younger student replied, his voice shaking but determined. "That's cheating."

"Cheating?" another of the bullies laughed. "We prefer to call it 'collaborative learning.'"

Marcus stepped forward, and his presence immediately changed the dynamic of the situation. The three bullies turned toward him, their confident postures shifting to something more defensive.

"Problem here?" Marcus asked casually, but there was steel underneath his conversational tone.

"No problem," the apparent leader of the bullies said quickly. "Just having a friendly conversation with our classmate."

"Funny," Marcus replied, moving to stand beside the younger student. "From where I'm standing, it looked more like three people intimidating someone half their size. But maybe I misunderstood the situation."

The tension in the air was palpable. The bullies clearly recognized that Marcus wasn't someone they could easily push around, but they also didn't want to back down in front of their target.

"This doesn't concern you," one of them said, trying to project authority.

"Actually, it does," Marcus replied calmly. "See, when I see someone getting pushed around, it becomes my concern. Funny how that works."

The younger student took advantage of the distraction to step closer to Marcus, clearly viewing him as protection from the situation.

"Look, just walk away and we'll forget this happened," the lead bully said, though his voice had lost its earlier confidence.

"Or," Marcus said, his voice remaining conversational but his posture shifting subtly into something more threatening, "you could walk away and forget this happened. Seems like a better option for everyone involved."

The three bullies looked at each other, clearly calculating whether the confrontation was worth escalating. After a moment that felt much longer than it probably was, the leader shrugged.

"Whatever. Not worth the hassle," he said, trying to save face. "Come on, guys."

They walked away, but not without several backward glances that suggested this wasn't necessarily over.

Marcus waited until they were completely out of sight before turning to the younger student.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle now.

"Yeah," the kid replied, though he was still clearly shaken. "Thanks. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up."

"Nothing good," Marcus said grimly. "Listen, if those guys bother you again, or if anyone else gives you trouble, you let me know, okay? Here's how to reach me."

He handed the student a small piece of paper with what appeared to be contact information written on it.

"You don't have to deal with this stuff alone," Marcus added. "There are people who care about making sure students can learn without being harassed."

The younger student nodded gratefully and hurried away toward his next class, leaving Marcus and Arnie alone.

"See?" Marcus said, turning back to Arnie. "That's what I mean. The system would have told that kid to report the incident, fill out forms, wait for an investigation. Meanwhile, those bullies would have kept pressuring him every day until they got what they wanted."

Arnie had to admit the intervention had been effective and immediate in a way that official channels definitely wouldn't have been.

"But what if they escalate?" Arnie asked. "What if they decide to get back at him for getting help?"

Marcus's expression darkened slightly. "Then they'll discover that was a very poor decision on their part."

Something in his tone made Arnie wonder exactly what that meant, but before he could ask, Marcus was already walking away.

"Think about it, Arnie," he called back. "How long are you going to watch people get pushed around while you wait for someone else to do something about it?"

Miss Raifort’s office smelled faintly of old parchment and pressed flowers, the shelves crowded with volumes most students never dared touch. She sat hunched over her desk, quill scratching furiously across a page of notes on the Zero Expedition, irritation flickering at every unanswered question.

A knock disturbed her concentration. Her pale eyes narrowed.  

“Come in,” she said, clipped and unwelcoming.

Charlotte Baleson slipped inside, posture composed, smile carefully soft.  

“Miss Raifort,” she said gently, “I hope I’m not intruding. You always seem so very busy.”

“You noticed correctly,” Raifort replied flatly, though she didn’t dismiss her. She set the quill aside, tapping it once against the desk. “What is it?”

Charlotte stepped closer with a graceful dip of her head. “Your lecture yesterday was... fascinating. Truly, no one else at the academy can make history feel so alive. I was wondering if you might recommend some further reading? Something from the library perhaps—whatever you think would best suit a student eager to learn.”

Raifort’s brow arched faintly, but she reached for a small ledger, scrawling down several titles with brisk efficiency. “These will suffice. Accounts of dynasties, explorers’ journals. Worthwhile for those with patience.”

Charlotte accepted the slip with a practiced smile, letting her voice drip with sweetness. “How generous of you. You always seem to know just what your students need. I cannot tell you how grateful I am, Miss Raifort. You’ve already given me more than I deserve.”

Raifort tilted her head, the edges of her mouth curving faintly. The flattery was clumsy, transparent. The girl thought herself subtle, but she wielded charm like a child waving a ribbon—obvious, though not without a certain earnestness.

Charlotte lingered a moment longer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “If it wouldn’t be too presumptuous… there is one more thing. The Violet Book. I would never dream of overstepping, of course, but… perhaps, with a permission slip, I might be allowed to take it out of the library?”

Ah. There it was.

Raifort’s eyes gleamed. She let silence stretch, watching Charlotte fidget just slightly under her gaze. The girl thought she was drawing Raifort into her net, when in truth she had stepped neatly into the one Raifort had been weaving all along. The Book was meant to lure a mind with enough hunger to grasp at it. Charlotte had bitten down hard.

“My, my,” Raifort murmured, voice silk and teeth. “So that’s what you’ve been fluttering toward all this time.”

Charlotte offered a nervous laugh, carefully rehearsed. “Only because I wish to understand the history of the Zero Crew better. To be worthy of your lessons. Surely knowledge should be pursued, not… hidden away?”

Raifort leaned back, enjoying the performance. The girl’s ambition was exactly what she needed—a willing pawn to carry the Book forward when the time came. How delightful that Charlotte thought the manipulation was hers.

Without further hesitation, Raifort reached into a drawer, scrawled her signature across a slip, and pressed it into Charlotte’s hand. “If you insist. Consider this my reward for your… initiative. Let us see what you make of forbidden fragments.”

Charlotte’s relief bloomed across her face, triumph painted as humility. She bowed her head gracefully. “Thank you, Miss Raifort. Truly. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

Raifort said nothing, only watched her depart, pale eyes alight with amusement. When the door closed, she whispered to the empty room, lips curling into a smile not meant for students.

“Run along, clever little bird. Let us see how far you fly with secrets in your beak.”

Her gaze slid back to the Zero Expedition notes. The plan had always required a student to take the bait. Now, at last, the game could begin.

In a different part of the academy, Team Star was facing its own crisis. Giacomo and Eri's conversation with Director Clavell had been... enlightening, and not all members were interpreting its message the same way.

Giacomo sat across from Eri in an abandoned classroom they'd been using for meetings, both of them struggling with the administration's ultimatum. Around them, other Star Leaders—Atticus, Mela, and Ortega—waited for direction that neither founding member seemed ready to provide.

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Giacomo finally spoke.

"So they want us to just... stop," he said, adjusting his headphones nervously. "Pack it up, go back to being good little students, pretend none of this matters."

"Perhaps we could find some middle ground," Atticus mused, his formal tone contrasting with the tension in the room. "Collaborate with the administration rather than oppose them directly."

"Are you kidding me?!" Mela exploded, her fiery temperament flaring. "Those uptight suits have had YEARS to deal with bullying, and what've they done? Jack squat! Now they wanna tell US to back off?"

Eri had been quiet throughout the initial discussion, but now she leaned forward, her expression hardening with determination. "What if we took our operations outside academy jurisdiction entirely?"

The suggestion hung in the air like a challenge. The other leaders leaned forward with interest, but Giacomo's face immediately showed concern.

"Eri, we talked about this months ago, back in the spring term," he said carefully. "Leaving the academy entirely? That's not a solution—it's running away from the problem."

Atticus's eyebrows shot up. "You two discussed this before? Without telling us?"

Mela's expression shifted from interest to hurt. "You've been planning contingencies behind our backs?"

"It wasn't like that," Giacomo said quickly, realizing his mistake. "It was just... theoretical discussion. We weren't seriously considering it."

"Theoretical enough that you remember it months later?" Ortega asked, his voice carrying a note of betrayal.

Eri looked uncomfortable. "We should have brought it to all of you at the time. It was wrong to keep it between just the two of us."

"I'm sorry," Giacomo said, his voice genuine. "You're right to feel hurt. When Eri first suggested it, I thought it was too extreme to even discuss with the group. But I should have trusted all of you with the conversation."

The tension in the room was palpable for a moment, but Atticus was the first to let his shoulders relax. "Well, you clearly didn't think it was a good idea then either, so..."

"And you're bringing it to us now," Mela added, though her voice still held a trace of hurt. "I guess that's what matters."

"We're a team," Ortega said firmly. "That means no more secret conversations about major decisions, agreed?"

"Agreed," both Eri and Giacomo said simultaneously.

The momentary rift seemed to heal as quickly as it had opened, but now the other leaders were looking at Eri's suggestion with new eyes—not as a sudden desperate measure, but as something that had been percolating for months.

"What do you mean by outside jurisdiction?" Mela asked, ignoring Giacomo's objection completely.

"We establish bases off-campus," Eri continued, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. "Continue helping students, but without being constrained by academy rules. A silent protest against their inability to protect their own."

"That's brilliant," Ortega said immediately. "We could set up operations in remote locations, maybe some of those abandoned facilities scattered around Paldea."

"Wait, hold on," Giacomo interjected, raising his hands. "You're talking about abandoning our education entirely. Our futures. Everything we came here to achieve."

"Are we though?" Atticus asked, his analytical mind clearly working through the implications. "Or are we choosing to prioritize what really matters? The academy has made it clear they don't value what we're trying to accomplish."

"But we can accomplish more from within the system," Giacomo argued, his frustration evident. "If we leave, we lose any chance of creating real, lasting change. We become outlaws instead of reformers."

Mela shook her head vigorously. "Reformers? Giacomo, we've been trying to reform this place for months. How has that worked out? They're threatening to expel us for doing what they should have been doing all along."

"Because our methods have been—"

"Effective," Eri interrupted firmly. "Our methods have been effective where theirs failed completely."

Giacomo looked around the room, realizing he was losing the argument. "But if we leave, what about the students who still need help? The ones who can't just abandon their education to join us in some remote hideout?"

"We'll help them better from outside," Ortega said with conviction. "No bureaucracy, no administrators breathing down our necks, no rules preventing us from doing what needs to be done."

"And when Clavell sends League officials after us?" Giacomo pressed. "When we're branded as criminals instead of activists?"

"Let them try," Mela said defiantly. "We'll be far enough away that they can't interfere, and we'll have the moral high ground. History will vindicate us."

Atticus nodded thoughtfully. "We could establish multiple bases across different regions. Make it harder for any single authority to shut us down."

"This is madness," Giacomo said, but his voice lacked conviction now. "We're students. We're supposed to be learning, growing, preparing for our futures."

"Our futures as what?" Eri asked pointedly. "Graduates of an academy that taught us to ignore suffering when it's inconvenient to address? That prioritizes institutional reputation over student welfare?"

"She's right," Ortega added. "What kind of future is worth having if we have to compromise our principles to achieve it?"

Giacomo was quiet for a long moment, staring at his hands. Around him, his friends and co-leaders waited, but their body language made it clear the decision was already made in their minds.

"You're all determined to do this," he said finally. It wasn't a question.

"The vote was already taken the moment Clavell gave us that ultimatum," Mela said quietly. "He made the choice for us."

"So what's the plan?" Giacomo asked, his voice resigned but with a note of reluctant acceptance. "How do we even begin something like this?"

Eri pulled out a map of Paldea, spreading it across the table. "I've been thinking about this since last year. There are several abandoned research facilities and old mining operations scattered across the region. Remote enough to avoid interference, but accessible enough for students who need our help."

She pointed to several locations marked on the map.

"We could establish five bases initially. One in each major geographical area of Paldea. Each of us would take responsibility for one location."

"The Star Bases," Atticus said thoughtfully. "I like it. Each one specialized for different types of operations."

"Exactly," Eri continued. 

Giacomo studied the map, his expression conflicted. "When would we do this? How do we transition from academy students to... whatever this makes us?"

"Soon," Eri replied. "Before Clavell can implement whatever disciplinary action he's planning. We leave on our own terms, not as expelled students running from consequences."

"What about the students who depend on us now?" Ortega asked. "The ones we've been helping here at the academy?"

"We make sure they know where to find us," Mela said firmly. "And we make sure they understand that our leaving doesn't mean we've abandoned them."

The room fell silent as the reality of their decision settled over them. They were talking about abandoning their formal education, leaving behind the structure and opportunities the academy represented, all in pursuit of an ideal that might be impossible to achieve.

"Are we really doing this?" Giacomo asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Eri said without hesitation. "Because doing nothing feels worse than risking everything."

"When?" Atticus asked practically.

"End of the week," Eri decided. "That gives us time to identify specific locations, gather supplies, and make arrangements. And it gives us time to say goodbye to the academy properly."

Giacomo nodded slowly, still processing the magnitude of what they were committing to. "I hope we're making the right choice."

"There is no right choice," Atticus said quietly. "There's only the choice we can live with."

Chapter Text

The tall windows of the art room let in pale shafts of morning light, illuminating shelves of paints and stacks of sketch paper. The quiet clatter of stools and the smell of wood shavings gave the space a warmth that set it apart from the sterility of most classrooms.

At the front of the room stood Hassel. His long hair caught the light, his posture upright, the very image of refined dignity. To most, he was simply their art instructor. To those who knew better, he was also a member of the Elite Four — one of the strongest Trainers in Paldea. Even in the calm of the classroom, that fact lingered around him like a shadow, and the students seemed to sit a little straighter in his presence.

“Art,” Hassel began, voice calm but firm, “is the expression of the soul. It does not matter if you think yourself skilled or not. Each line, each shape, carries who you are. Your task today is simple — put yourself on the page. No more, no less.”

He moved slowly between the rows of easels, pausing to glance at blank pages and hesitant strokes. His presence was not intimidating, exactly, but heavy, like the weight of someone who carried far more than the room could see.

At his desk, Sage set down his pencil carefully, staring at the empty page in front of him. He breathed out through his nose, as if steeling himself.

The stool beside him scraped, and someone sat down with an easy thump. A new girl leaned on the desk, grinning as though she’d already decided Sage was worth talking to.

“You’re Sage, right? I’m Alizaren—but most people call me Liz. Or Lizzy, if you’re feeling friendly. Either works for me.”

Sage blinked, caught off guard. “…Okay. Nice to meet you, Lizzy.”

Lizzy flashed him a broad smile. Her hair was pulled back loosely, strands escaping to frame her face. A Riolu dozed by her chair, ears twitching now and then at the noise of the room. Unlike most students, Lizzy didn’t seem interested in the page in front of her at all. Instead, she leaned forward on her elbows, eyes sparkling with energy.

“Man, can you believe it? Hassel. An Elite Four member, just… here. Teaching art like it’s nothing. I heard his Baxcalibur once took out an entire team singlehandedly back when he was a Gym Leader. Do you think he ever, like, paints his battles?” She gestured broadly, nearly knocking her pencil to the floor. “I’d frame that in my house if I could.”

Sage tilted his head. “I’m… not sure that’s how it works.”

Lizzy laughed, unconcerned. “Doesn’t matter. It’s cool either way. You think he’s gonna show us a Pokémon battle one day? Bet he could clear the whole field with one move.”

Her enthusiasm was almost contagious. Sage found himself smiling faintly. “He is… impressive.”

“Impressive?” Lizzy raised a brow. “He’s a walking legend.”

She leaned back finally, tapping her pencil against the blank sheet in front of her. “Guess we’re supposed to draw something, huh?”

Sage didn’t answer, returning his gaze to his own page.

Across the room, Arnie sat alone. His paper was untouched, his pencil lying flat on the desk. He wasn’t looking at it. His eyes, shadowed under his fringe, lingered on Sage instead — on the way he spoke easily with this new girl, how his shoulders seemed a little less tense with Lizzy sitting beside him.

Arnie shifted in his seat, a coil of discomfort tightening in his chest. His hand twitched toward the pencil, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, he pressed his palms flat against the desk, staring down at the wood until it blurred.

Beside his chair, his Poké Ball twitched faintly. Ralts, still inside, stirred at the taste of his unease.

“Arnie,” Hassel’s voice broke into his thoughts. The teacher stood by his easel, peering down with quiet patience. “The page is yours. What will you place upon it?”

Arnie swallowed. His throat was dry. “…I don’t know.”

“That is fine,” Hassel said, and there was no judgment in his tone. “Sometimes it takes time to find the shape of what we carry. Do not force it.”

He gave a small nod and moved on, leaving Arnie staring after him, caught between shame and a strange sort of relief.

The bell rang before long, sharp and metallic. Students scraped back their stools and packed away their papers. Some clutched half-finished sketches, others only blank sheets.

Lizzy slung her bag over her shoulder, Riolu hopping to her side. “See you around, Sage.” 

Sage hesitated, then gave a small nod. “…See you.”

As the class filed out, Sage and Lizzy passed a side corridor where faint whispers curled from the shadows.

“…the base’ll be ready… not here, keep quiet…”

The words stopped as soon as footsteps echoed. By the time they turned to look, the hall was empty.

Sage frowned, eyes narrowing. Lizzy raised a brow. “Weird. Probably just gossip, right?”

But Sage’s gaze lingered on the empty stretch of hall.

Behind them, Arnie followed at a distance. His eyes flicked from Sage to Lizzy, then away. His jaw tightened, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He said nothing.

The training yard rang with restless noise, sunlight pouring down over the packed dirt field. Students gathered in loose groups, clutching Poké Balls, voices rising in excited speculation. 

The clatter stilled when Instructor Dendra strode out, boots striking the earth in a confident rhythm. She radiated energy like a furnace, her grin wide and sharp.

“Alright, everyone!” she called. “Eyes forward, ears open! Time to get into some real battle experience!”

A hand went up at once — Melody’s. Her voice carried quickly: “Kieran’s not feeling well today, Instructor Dendra. He asked me to let you know.”

There was a brief murmur among the students, then silence again.

“Understood,” Dendra said with a curt nod. “We’ll move on.”

Most thought little of it, but Reuben noticed the narrow flicker in Oliver’s eyes — suspicion cutting sharp and quick before vanishing. Shinx’s Poké Ball pressed warm at his hip, and Reuben found himself shifting uneasily.

Dendra clapped her hands once. “Now then! Talking theory’s no fun, so I brought someone in to help me with today’s lesson. Deven!”

A tall, composed older student stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

“Normally this guy’d have the period to himself,” Dendra said with a grin, “but I asked him to give us a demonstration and he was kind enough to give up his free period for you guys.”

Deven gave a short nod, unclipping a Poké Ball. 

“Ready when you are.” Dendra hurled her own Poké Ball forward.

Light burst across the yard, forming into the massive, muscle-bound bulk of her Paldean Tauros. It snorted, hooves pounding the dirt, eyes burning with challenge.

Deven flicked his wrist, releasing a sleek Grovyle that landed gracefully, crouched low with forearm blades gleaming.

“Begin!” Dendra barked.

Grovyle sprang forward, a blur of motion, striking with a sharp Quick Attack. Tauros grunted, absorbing the hit, and spun with brutal force. Its hooves lashed out in a rapid Double Kick, the impact hammering Grovyle backward across the dirt.

“Leaf Blade,” Deven called.

Green light burst along Grovyle’s arms as it darted back in, slashing across Tauros’s chest in an X that staggered the bull with a bellow.

“Zen Headbutt!” Dendra snapped.

Tauros’s horns glowed with psychic light as it charged. Grovyle vaulted aside, twisting in the air and landing neatly, eyes sharp, blades still humming.

The class erupted into gasps and murmurs — Grovyle had made it look effortless.

“Double Team!” Deven ordered.

Grovyle blurred, its shape splitting into five illusions that spread across the field.

“Trailblaze!” Dendra shouted.

Tauros roared, hooves blazing with green energy as it charged. It tore through one clone, then another, scattering dust and light. The real Grovyle struck from the side, Leaf Blade cutting deep across Tauros’s flank. The bull staggered hard, dropping to one knee before hauling itself upright again.

The students’ cheers rose — Grovyle was holding its own.

Dendra’s grin only widened. “Not bad. But let’s turn up the heat.”

She lifted her Tera Orb. Crystal light surged outward, scattering in a shower of refracted colors. The brilliance poured over Tauros, encasing its body in crystalline facets that gleamed like cut jewels. Above its horns, a fiery crown formed, radiating orange-red light.

The air shimmered with heat. Tauros stamped the ground, its aura transformed, now blazing with the power of a pure Fire-type.

“Terastallisation…” someone whispered in awe.

“Raging Bull!” Dendra roared.

Tauros charged, flames trailing, the crystalline crown blazing bright.

“Aerial Ace, full force!” Deven commanded.

Grovyle sprinted in, blades flaring, the two colliding in an explosion of sparks, fire, and dust. For a heartbeat, Grovyle held firm, its blades biting deep.

But the flames roared hotter, crystal light magnifying the charge. With a bellow, Tauros drove straight through, hurling Grovyle across the yard. It hit the dirt hard, rolled, and lay still.

The yard fell silent.

Tauros pawed the ground, smoke drifting from its nostrils, crystalline glow still shimmering around it.

“Battle over!” Dendra called.

Deven recalled his Grovyle, rising calmly to his feet. “As expected.”

“And you kept me sharp,” Dendra shot back with a grin. “Good instincts, good timing. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She turned back to the students, clapping her hands. “That’s how you fight with grit! Now let’s see what you’ve got!”

Laughter, groans, and nervous energy rippled through the class. Students shifted on their feet, hands tightening on Poké Balls.

Reuben felt Shinx’s Poké Ball trembling faintly, sparks crackling inside. He swallowed, heart thudding.

Pairs were called, and one by one students stepped nervously onto the field. Some matches ended in awkward stalemates, others in quick knockouts. Each clash added to the current of energy running through the crowd.

“Reuben! Lizzy! You’re up!” Dendra barked.

Reuben felt his stomach flip. He stepped forward, legs stiff, Shinx’s Poké Ball clutched tightly in his hand. His partner throbbed with faint sparks inside, eager.

Across the field, Lizzy strolled into place, Riolu at her side. Both looked eager — almost buzzing. Lizzy tossed her braid back, grinning like she’d been waiting for this all day.

“Hope you’re ready!” she called. “Riolu doesn’t know how to hold back!”

Reuben swallowed, nodding, and released Shinx in a flash of light. The little Pokémon landed with a growl, sparks popping faintly from its fur.

“Begin!” Dendra shouted.

Riolu launched forward instantly, feet kicking up dirt, closing the gap with startling speed.

“Quick Attack!” Lizzy yelled, almost leaping with the command.

Riolu blurred, slamming into Shinx before Reuben had time to react. Shinx tumbled back, skidding across the dirt with a yelp.

Reuben’s heart lurched. “Shinx, Tackle!”

Shinx scrambled upright, lunged forward, and crashed into Riolu with raw force. Both Pokémon locked together, growling and straining. Sparks burst across Shinx’s pelt as it pushed harder.

Lizzy laughed, pumping her fist. “Hit back with Counter!”

Riolu shifted its weight, twisting, and slammed Shinx over its shoulder with a brutal throw. Shinx hit the ground hard, sparks scattering wildly.

Reuben’s breath caught. He wanted to call for another Tackle, but hesitation froze his tongue.

Then Shinx shook itself and growled — not beaten, just angrier. Sparks leapt across its fur, blue light crackling around its body.

Reuben’s hands clenched. “Thunder Shock, now!”

Electricity crackled, and Shinx released a burst of lightning. Riolu cried out, jerking back as the bolt caught its side. Lizzy gasped, eyes wide — but quickly grinned again.

“Yes! That’s it, Reuben!” She stomped a foot, Riolu mirroring the motion. “Now get back in there, Quick Attack!”

Riolu dashed again, weaving around the fading sparks, and struck Shinx square in the chest. Shinx staggered, claws scraping the dirt, but stayed on its feet.

Reuben’s pulse hammered. Something shifted inside him — nerves thinning into something sharper. Excitement. His mind raced, seeing Riolu’s momentum, the way Lizzy barked orders like she was in the fight herself.

He could do this.

“Shinx, pull back!” Reuben ordered.

Shinx leapt away, widening the gap. Riolu pursued immediately.

“Now circle around!”

Shinx darted sideways. Riolu swerved to follow — but Shinx cut across sharply, sparks flying as it pivoted. Riolu stumbled just a fraction, losing its rhythm.

“Hit it with Thunder Shock again!”

Shinx blasted another bolt, electricity flashing across the field. Riolu took the strike head-on, gritting its teeth, knees buckling. Lizzy’s grin faltered, just for a moment.

“You’ve got tricks after all!” she shouted, laughing again. “But Riolu doesn’t stop that easy. Force Palm!”

Riolu burst forward, palm glowing, and slammed into Shinx’s chest with a shockwave of fighting energy. Shinx yowled, sent flying backwards. It landed hard, sliding through the dirt before struggling to its paws again.

Reuben’s fists clenched tighter. Shinx was panting, sparks flickering weakly. Riolu wasn’t much better — sweat dripping, knees trembling.

“C’mon,” Reuben whispered. “We can do this.”

Lizzy thrust her fist forward. “Finish it, Riolu! Quick Attack!”

Riolu blurred toward Shinx, determination burning in its eyes.

Reuben’s voice rang out, stronger now, cutting through the noise. “Shinx, Spark!”

Shinx roared, sparks exploding around its body, fur glowing electric blue as it charged head-on. The two Pokémon collided mid-field with a crack of thunder.

For a heartbeat, it was impossible to tell which would fall.

Then Riolu twisted, glowing palm slamming against Shinx’s side in a desperate Force Palm. The electric light scattered in a burst, and Shinx was hurled back, tumbling across the dirt.

Shinx lay still, sparks fading into the ground.

Riolu staggered, dropping to one knee, chest heaving. But it remained upright.

“Battle over!” Dendra barked.

A moment of silence, then Lizzy threw her arms up with a laugh. “That was incredible! Reuben, that was amazing!”

Reuben blinked, dazed, staring at Shinx. His Pokémon groaned, pushing itself weakly onto its paws before collapsing again. Reuben knelt, gently resting a hand on its head.

“You were great,” he whispered. Shinx’s eyes flickered open, growling faintly — proud, even in defeat.

Lizzy jogged across the field, Riolu limping beside her. “Hey, seriously — you’ve got fight in you. I thought we’d steamroll, but you kept us working. That was awesome!”

Reuben looked up, words caught in his throat. Something was different. His chest burned, not with disappointment, but with exhilaration. Every nerve in his body still buzzed with the clash.

He’d lost — and yet, it felt like a victory.

Instructor Dendra clapped her hands, grinning. “That’s what battling’s about! Doesn’t matter if you win or lose — it’s about heart, guts, and pushing yourself further!”

The class cheered, the sound swelling.

Reuben held Shinx’s Poké Ball close, heart pounding. He’d never felt like this before. Not in any lesson. Not anywhere.

The thought rose unbidden, stubborn and bright.

Maybe… just maybe… he could be more than this. Maybe one day he could take on the Champion Assessment himself.

The academy gates loomed behind Oliver as students poured out, their chatter fading into the warm hush of the afternoon. The sun hung low, painting long shadows across Mezagoza’s cobbled streets. Most of his classmates left in groups, laughing or trading notes on the battles they’d just had.

Oliver wasn’t watching them. His gaze fixed instead on the lone figure slipping along the edge of the dispersing crowd.

Kieran.

His shoulders were hunched, his steps uneven. From a distance, he looked smaller than usual, weighed down by something invisible. The boy hadn’t looked well in days — pale, eyes ringed with shadows, his movements stiff like his body was dragging him forward against his will.

Oliver’s jaw tightened. He’d noticed it before. Every time, it seemed worse.

“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this,” he muttered under his breath. “What are you doing, Kieran?”

Without another thought, he slipped after him.

Kieran moved quickly through the streets, his pace strange — sometimes slow, almost sluggish, then suddenly quick as if jolted by instinct. Each turn seemed designed to shake anyone who might follow. Every so often he glanced back, sharp-eyed despite his weariness.

Oliver ducked into doorways, pressed against walls, heart hammering. He wasn’t afraid of being caught, not exactly. But if Kieran noticed him… would he be angry? Or would he just vanish, like the other times?

The streets grew quieter the further they went, the chatter of other students left behind. Oliver kept his distance, muttering encouragement to himself. “Just stay steady. Don’t let him slip this time.”

Then they turned a corner — and Kieran was gone.

Oliver skidded to a halt, breath ragged. The alley stretched empty in both directions. No sound, no sign of movement. Just stillness.

“Again…” His voice cracked with frustration. He pressed a hand against the wall, breathing hard.

For a long moment he stood there, before dragging his Rotom Phone from his pocket. The screen lit his face in the dimming light. He flicked through the notes he’d been keeping, each line stark and damning in its own way.

“Skipped lunch Monday.”  

“Didn’t show up after history class.”  

“Looks more tired every day.”  

“Melody covered for him in Battle Studies.”

“Barely comes back to the dormitories to sleep”

He scrolled back and forth through the list, thumb trembling slightly. To anyone else, it probably looked like nothing — fragments, coincidences. But Oliver felt it in his gut. He wasn’t imagining this. Something was wrong.

And he couldn’t let it go.

“Oliver?”

He jolted, snapping the phone shut. Reuben and Elio were walking toward him, Shinx padding at Reuben’s side with its fur still faintly sparking from earlier battles.

Reuben tilted his head. “What are you doing out here?”

Oliver hesitated, words tangling in his throat, then spilled out in a rush: “I was following Kieran. He—he’s not okay. I know he’s not. He looks worse every day, and now he’s just… disappearing.”

Reuben frowned. His first instinct was to brush it off, but he remembered Oliver’s expression earlier in class when Melody spoke for Kieran. That wasn’t suspicion, not really. Looking at him now, it was clearer: Oliver was worried.

Elio folded his arms. “So he’s tired. Big deal.”

“It’s not just that!” Oliver snapped, louder than he meant to. His voice wavered at the edges, frustration and fear mixing. “I’ve been watching him. He skips meals, skips classes, and every time I try to follow him he slips away like he’s hiding something. And now Melody’s covering for him too.”

Reuben’s gaze flicked to Elio, uncertain. Elio scowled, skeptical. “And you think that means what? He’s some kind of criminal? Maybe he just wants to be left alone.”

Oliver’s hands clenched around his phone. “No. It means something’s wrong. He’s not fine, and if we ignore it, it’ll only get worse.”

Silence hung between them, broken only by the faint buzz of Shinx’s sparks.

Finally, Reuben let out a slow breath. “You want to do something about it?”

Oliver nodded sharply. “Melody covered for him today. She has to know something, even if she doesn’t realize it. If we want answers, we have to talk to her.”

Reuben rubbed the back of his neck, but after a moment he gave a reluctant nod. “Alright. If you’re that worried, we’ll ask her.”

Elio sighed, throwing his hands up. “Fine. Whatever. But if she chews us out for prying, I’m blaming you.”

Oliver barely heard him. Relief flooded his chest, mixed with the same stubborn determination that had driven him here in the first place. At least now, he wasn’t the only one who would see it through.

The three of them started back toward the main streets, their footsteps echoing in the fading light.

But Oliver paused, just for a moment, glancing back at the empty alley where Kieran had vanished. 

The dormitory halls had gone still, the daytime noise of students fading into muffled silence. Moonlight bled faintly through the tall window of Arnie’s room, cutting pale lines across the floor.

He lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The covers were bunched around his legs, forgotten. Sleep wouldn’t come. His thoughts were too loud.

At the foot of the bed, Ralts sat curled up, small body glowing faintly in the dim light. Its head tilted, eyes narrowing, sensing every flicker of turmoil inside him. A pulse of unease rippled through Arnie’s chest — not his own, not entirely. Ralts was echoing him, reflecting what he felt back at him.

He turned his head away, muttering. “I’m fine. Don’t… don’t worry about it.”

The Pokémon gave a soft, doubtful cry, leaning closer.

Arnie dragged a hand down his face. He hated when Ralts did that. Not because he didn’t care, but because it made him feel too exposed, like even when he stayed quiet the truth still leaked out.

Today wouldn’t leave him alone. Hassel’s lecture, all that talk about art being the expression of the soul… What did Arnie even have to express? He’d stared at his page, pencil hovering, and nothing had come. Lizzy’s paper was wild with colour, Sage’s lines careful and steady. And him? Nothing.

Sage.

Arnie shifted on the bed, staring at the shadows along the ceiling. Sage had a way of sliding into everything. His voice, his laugh, even the way he stood during class — somehow, it all made Arnie feel heavier, like he was being left behind without Sage meaning to.

Because Sage was good. Not at battling, maybe — not like Elio, or even Reuben today — but at… people. He could talk to anyone. Lizzy had taken to him instantly, like they’d been friends forever.

Arnie squeezed his hands into fists. That thought had been needling him since earlier: Lizzy and Sage, leaning over their sketches, laughing about something Arnie hadn’t heard. For a second, the image had twisted in his head — Sage standing with her, Sage laughing with her, while he sat alone at the edge.

What if Sage didn’t need him anymore?

The thought landed hard, like a stone dropped into still water. What if Sage found better friends? What if, one day, he turned around and Sage just… wasn’t there?

Ralts whimpered, the sound thin and sharp. It pressed its head against his arm, sending out another wave of anxious energy.

“I know,” Arnie whispered. “I know I sound pathetic.”

His chest ached. Sage was the only one who had ever looked at him like he mattered, the only one who stuck close when everyone else turned away. Without him… what would Arnie be? Nothing.

But then…

His mind drifted back to the Team Star students whispering outside class. They hadn’t looked nervous. They hadn’t looked small. They’d looked like they belonged, like every one of them had a place to stand.

And for just a second, Arnie had wanted that.

He clenched the bedsheet in his fists. Maybe Sage didn’t want him to change. Maybe Sage wanted him to stay the same awkward, quiet shadow that trailed after him. Maybe Sage would outgrow him, leave him behind with nothing.

But Team Star… Team Star looked like somewhere he could change. Somewhere he wouldn’t have to beg for space at the edge of the page.

His throat tightened, but the words spilled anyway. “What if Sage leaves me, Ralts?”

The Pokémon pressed against him harder, trembling faintly with the storm of his feelings. Its glow brightened for a moment, then dimmed, curling close as if trying to shield him from his own thoughts.

Arnie shut his eyes, but it didn’t help. The questions pressed in from all sides, jagged and relentless.

What if Sage left?  

What if Team Star was right there, waiting?  

What if he could be more?

His breaths came shallow, and he forced them deeper, one at a time, until the weight in his chest dulled just enough to keep still.

Ralts nuzzled his arm, soft and insistent, and he let his hand rest on its head, stroking absently. “I’m fine,” he whispered again, the words hollow. “I’ll be fine.”

But the ceiling didn’t answer, and neither did the dark.

The silence pressed in, heavy as stone, while thoughts he didn’t want slipped through anyway.

Maybe Sage didn’t want him to change. Maybe Sage needed him quiet, always trailing just behind, never stepping forward on his own. And maybe that was why he’d never fit anywhere — because Sage wouldn’t let him.

His chest tightened. But Team Star… they looked like they wanted people to stand strong, to take space, to fight back.

Ralts gave a faint, uncertain whimper, but Arnie only shut his eyes harder.

“Maybe,” he breathed, the word barely audible in the dark, “maybe Sage is holding me back.”

The thought lingered, sharper than any of the others, refusing to let him rest.

Chapter Text

The academy had grown quiet in the evening hours, most students having retreated to their dormitories or common areas for dinner and study. The library stood like a cathedral in the fading light, its tall windows casting long shadows across the polished floors. Charlotte walked through the main entrance with measured steps, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit.

The permission slip crinkled softly in her hand—Miss Raifort's elegant signature still wet with ink. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted from their conversation, though something about the teacher's knowing smile had left her with an odd feeling she couldn't quite shake.

The main desk loomed ahead, carved from dark wood and worn smooth by decades of use. Behind it sat the head librarian, a severe woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her angular face was illuminated by the glow of an old brass lamp, casting sharp shadows under her cheekbones. At her side, a massive Gengar lounged in the air, its purple bulk hovering with unsettling stillness.

Charlotte approached with her most polite smile. "Good evening. I have a permission slip from Miss Raifort to check out a restricted text."

The librarian's pale eyes flicked up from her ledger, scanning Charlotte with the kind of assessment that seemed to catalog every detail. Without a word, she extended one thin hand.

Charlotte placed the slip on the desk, her fingers barely brushing the polished wood. The librarian lifted the paper, holding it close to the lamp's light. Her expression never changed as she read, but something in her posture suggested she was less than pleased with the request.

"The Violet Book," she said finally, her voice as dry as old parchment.

"Yes, ma'am."

The librarian folded the slip precisely and set it aside. Then she turned to the Gengar floating beside her.

"Fetch the Violet Book," she commanded, her tone suggesting this was not the first time she'd made such a request.

Gengar's red eyes gleamed with what might have been amusement. It gave a low, rumbling chuckle that seemed to echo from somewhere deeper than its throat, then began to sink through the floor like smoke through water. Within moments, it had vanished completely, leaving only the faintest chill in the air.

Charlotte waited, trying to fill the oppressive silence. "Busy evening?"

The librarian's gaze returned to her ledger. She didn't respond.

Charlotte cleared her throat softly. "That's a very... well-trained Gengar."

Still nothing. The woman's pen scratched across the paper with mechanical precision, the only sound in the vast space beyond the distant tick of the library's ancient clock. Each second stretched into eternity, the silence becoming almost suffocating.

Charlotte shifted her weight from one foot to the other, acutely aware of how exposed she felt standing there. The librarian's indifference was somehow worse than outright hostility—it made her feel like an insignificant interruption in the woman's evening routine.

The minutes crawled by with agonizing slowness. Charlotte tried not to fidget, tried not to let her nervousness show, but the weight of the silence was crushing. She found herself wondering what exactly lay beneath the library, what kind of collection required a Ghost-type Pokémon to retrieve it.

Just as she was beginning to wonder if Gengar had gotten lost, the air near the desk began to shimmer. The temperature dropped several degrees, and Charlotte's breath misted faintly as Gengar rose through the floor like a specter emerging from the depths.

In its clawed hands, it carried a book.

Charlotte's first glimpse of the Violet Book sent a thrill through her chest. The cover was deep purple leather, almost black in the lamplight, with silver clasps that had tarnished to a dull gray. Strange symbols were etched into the binding—not quite letters, not quite pictures, but something in between that seemed to shift when she wasn't looking directly at them.

The book looked old. Not just old—ancient. As if it had been waiting in darkness for longer than the academy had existed.

Gengar placed the book on the desk with ceremonial care, its red eyes fixed on Charlotte as if measuring her worthiness. The librarian accepted it without ceremony and slid it across the polished wood.

"Thank you," Charlotte said, her voice slightly too bright against the cold atmosphere. "Both of you. I really appreciate—"

The librarian had already returned to her ledger. Gengar had begun to fade back into transparency, dismissing her as thoroughly as its trainer had.

Charlotte carefully lifted the book, surprised by its weight. It felt substantial in her hands, like it contained far more than pages and ink. The leather was smooth but oddly warm to the touch, as if it held some internal heat.

"I'll take excellent care of it," she said to the librarian's bent head, then turned and walked quickly toward the library's exit, cradling the book against her chest. As soon as she was out of earshot, she muttered under her breath, "Grumpy old bat." and shoved the door open with a little more force than necessary.

The corridors of the academy stretched before her, dimly lit by magical torches that flickered with perpetual flame. Most classrooms stood empty now, their doors closed and locked for the evening. Charlotte moved through the shadows with purpose, her footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls.

She found what she was looking for three corridors away—an empty classroom with tall windows that let in enough moonlight to read by. The room smelled faintly of chalk dust and old wood, abandoned desks arranged in neat rows facing a blackboard that still bore faint traces of the day's lessons.

Charlotte settled into a chair near the windows, placing the Violet Book on the desk before her with reverence. For a moment she simply stared at it, hardly believing she'd managed to get this far. Miss Raifort's permission had opened doors she'd never expected to walk through.

The silver clasps opened with a soft click that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. She lifted the cover carefully, almost holding her breath.

The first page was blank parchment, yellowed with age. The second bore a title written in elegant script that seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight:

"The Path to Zero: An Account of the Expedition Beyond"

Charlotte's pulse quickened. She turned to the table of contents, her eyes scanning the book with growing excitement.

"Chapter One: The Mysteries of the Herba Mystica"

"Chapter Two: Journey into the Unknown"

"Chapter Three: The Great Crater of Paldea"

"Chapter Four: The Heart of the Crater"

"Chapter Five: A Phantom Memory"

"Chapter Six: The Crystal Pokémon"

Charlotte turned the page, her excitement building. 

The Adventure into Area Zero

"Within the Great Crater of Paldea lies the mysterious Area Zero—a place home to such landscapes, such plant life, and such Pokémon as we had never seen. It is inhospitable to human life, and as such, I suspect something altogether unknown to humankind sleeps in its depths."

Her hands trembled as she continued reading. This wasn't just theory or legend—this was an actual expedition record. She flipped ahead, finding detailed entries about the descent into the crater.

Area Zero: Cartograph

"Ledges form a spiral down the inner walls of Area Zero, offering a path of descent. Vegetation and sources of water are here as well. Legends tell that precious stones or wondrous fruits have long slept in Area Zero's depths, protected by some manner of guardian."

The accompanying sketches showed crystalline formations sprouting from crater walls, spiral paths winding deeper into darkness, and vegetation that looked unlike anything Charlotte had ever seen. Each drawing was meticulously detailed, as if the artist had wanted to capture every impossible feature.

She turned to another section, her breath catching at what she found:

Pokémon of Area Zero

"Sketches by a survey team member. Surprisingly, the Pokémon species we observed in the upper strata of Area Zero seemed little different from those seen outside the crater. Now and then, we heard unfamiliar cries from the lower strata."

The sketches that followed made her heart race. They showed Pokémon that looked almost familiar, but wrong somehow—like distorted reflections of species she knew. Some appeared more primitive, savage versions of modern Pokémon. Others looked impossibly futuristic, as if they'd been crafted from technology rather than flesh and bone.

Charlotte flipped to the next entry, finding a section that made her stomach clench with unease:

A Phantom Memory

"During our exploration of Area Zero's depths, I—Heath—strayed from the team and was later found unconscious. When awoken, I could only recall speaking with someone in an unfamiliar place, as if in a dream. I was found holding the page shown here. The handwriting is my own, but I have no memory of writing this."

The page that followed was barely legible, filled with frantic scrawl that spoke of impossible encounters and conversations that couldn't have happened. Charlotte's eyes moved over phrases like "time becomes meaningless in the deepest chambers" and "something vast waits in the crystal heart."

At the bottom of the section, she found another entry:

Our Generous Sponsor

"The author, Heath, pictured with the director and founder of Mezagoza Academy. The academy's generous funding made the Area Zero Expedition possible, and the data gathered has been shared with the academy in hopes that it will aid in the institution's research work and foster future generations of scholars and scientists."

The photograph showed a man with a beard standing beside someone in academic robes. But what caught Charlotte's attention was the background—she could see the crater's edge, and more importantly, a hint of the crystalline formations inside.

She turned to the next entry.

About the Author

"Heath, author of the Violet Book, shown here with his partner Cyclizar. A natural historian as well as a writer, he was chosen for the Area Zero Expedition and penned this account upon returning from the Great Crater of Paldea. Cyclizar aided the expedition as well by bearing the team's luggage and equipment."

Charlotte sat back in her chair, her mind reeling. Everything she'd theorized about, everything she'd been researching on her own—it was all here. The crystal formations, the strange Pokémon, the energy signatures that defied classification. Heath's expedition had documented it all over a century ago.

But as she tried to turn to the next section, she found something that made her blood run cold. The remaining pages were heavily redacted, entire sections blacked out with thick ink. At the top of one such page, she could barely make out a heading:

A [---]k P[----]on?

Below it, paragraph after paragraph of text had been rendered almost completely illegible. Only fragments remained visible:

"While sep[---]ted from the rese[---]h team in the crater's dep[--]s, I found a s[--]ange...en[--]ty. Whether it was a [---]émon, or even [--]iv[-] at all, I kn[-]w no[-]. It bore a s[--]ll with layers of o[---]lapping he[---]ons, and gl[---]ed brig[--]er still than [--]mstone. V[--]ed as a whole, it res[----]led a mys[---]ious, [--]illiant d[i]sk. I h[--]e te[-----]vely n[--]ed this c[----]ure [---------]. I s[---]ect t[---] i[-]s v[--]y [--]dy i[-] [--]de up of [---] k[-]y m[-----]al t[--]t [---]ses P[-----]n to [---]ne b[----]tly and cr[--]ta[--]ize"

Charlotte stared at the censored text, her excitement turning to frustrated curiosity. Someone had deliberately obscured the most crucial discoveries. But why? What had Heath found in the deepest parts of Area Zero that was too dangerous to preserve?

She flipped through the remaining pages, finding more and more sections that had been rendered unreadable. Technical diagrams were blacked out, entire chapters reduced to fragments and whispers. It was as if someone had carefully surgically removed the most important discoveries while leaving just enough to tantalize future readers.

Charlotte's hands shook as she closed the book and returned to the beginning. Whatever she'd glimpsed in those later chapters was too overwhelming to process properly. She needed something concrete.

She turned back to the first chapter. 

"The Herba Mystica: An Extensive Study"

"There are forces in this world that defy comprehension, energies that exist at the boundary between the possible and the impossible. The Herba Mystica represents one such force—a substance of legend that bridges the gap between myth and reality, between what we understand and what we dare to discover."

Far beneath the surface of Paldea, in the depths of the Great Crater where crystalline formations cast prismatic light across impossible walls, the Machine who was once Human stood before a bank of monitors in the Zero Lab. The facility hummed with quiet energy, its technology a fusion of cutting-edge science and something far more ancient.

It's lab coat was pristine white despite the months it'd spent in this place. It moved between the screens with practiced efficiency, monitoring data streams that tracked phenomena across the entire region.

One screen showed seismic readings. Another displayed energy fluctuations from various research sites. A third tracked reported sightings of unusual Pokémon behavior, the data automatically compiled from sources across Paldea's network.

It was reviewing the latest Titan sightings when a soft chime drew it's attention to a different monitor. The screen displayed a single line of text in clinical green letters:

RESTRICTED ACCESS ALERT - VIOLET BOOK - ACADEMY LIBRARY - 20:47

It paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

It pulled up additional details with a few quick keystrokes. The access had been authorized by History Professor Raifort, granted to a student named Charlotte Baleson. The girl's academy file appeared on another screen: academically gifted, particularly strong in historical analysis, no disciplinary issues.

"Hm," It murmured to herself. "Interesting."

It leaned back in it's chair, steepling it's fingers as she watched the data stream. The timing couldn't have been better. 

It reached for a communications device, it's fingers moving across it's surface with practiced ease. The message it composed was brief and encoded, but its meaning was clear to the one who knew how to read it:

"Phase Two initiated. Student asset acquired. Charlotte Baleson. Student ID: 92639. This one seems to have taken an interest in the Violet Book."

It sent the message and returned to her monitors, watching the various data streams with increased interest. 

Within seconds, it'd received a reply. 

"Excellent. What is the progress with Subject 1007? Has it been located since the altercation with Subject 1008?"

It scowled. 

"Subject 1007 is no longer within measurable bounds. I suspect that it has fled the Crater entirely."

The response was quick. 

"Then we shall find it. For the sake of the world, we must."