One Step at a Time

[BEARiiKADE]

I'm liking this fic so far, good team and interesting premise. Only complaint is that I wish the MC seemed to have some more fun. Stop and smell the roses while he can before things get too serious. The pokemon world is a wonderful place, just wish we could see the MC experience that.

 

[Frost41]

One Step at a Time
Chapter 16: Signals in the Fog



The clearing behind the Ranger substation was quiet.

A low mist clung to the outer edges of the grass, softening the outlines of scattered training posts and half-buried marker flags. The morning air was cool, dry, and still laced with the scent of ozone from the night before—residual energy from the station's floodlights humming down into silence.

Kael stood at the far edge of the field, arms crossed, boots planted in the dust. The sun hadn't crested the ridge yet, but the sky had begun to pale, casting long, low shadows behind him.

Leaf approached without a word, her jacket drawn close around her shoulders. She let her bag slide off her back and land beside one of the old training posts with a soft thud.

"This place always look like this?" she asked.

Kael glanced sideways. "Clearing's probably not been used since the last rotation. Used mostly for basic team checks. Not battles."

"Good. We've had enough action for a while."

He didn't disagree.

They didn't coordinate. Just moved—setting up on opposite ends of the field like magnets repelling without conflict. Two halves of a wheel already in motion.

Leaf pulled her Pokéballs free and released her team one by one.

Quilava landed in a crouch, flames low, exhaling steam into the air. Mankey emerged mid-bounce, shook once, and darted up a wooden post before immediately dropping back down. Lotad blinked up at the sky before waddling a few slow circles around her boots. Weepinbell stretched into a tight coil, leaves wide and body already angled toward the sun.

Houndour had followed behind her on foot, limping slightly. He didn't need a Pokéball. He hadn't left her side since the night before.

Kael watched from across the field, then turned away without a word and released his own team.

Spectre emerged in a low crouch, eyes already scanning. Vespertil shot straight into the sky, looping once, then angling into a slow, high glide. Tarrasque dropped into a squat the moment his feet hit the dirt, snorting once before beginning to test the ground, raking the dust with his claws. Praxis appeared with a shimmer of light and a faint pulse of pressure, his blade already hovering loosely in one hand.

Leaf stepped forward and raised her voice—not loud, but clear.

"Quilava, we are focusing on footwork, since I've noticed you haven't fully adjusted to how you move differently. Lets run a fan-pattern perimeter, with low flames. Keep it even."

The fire-type hissed softly, then took off at a steady loop around the edges of the field, embers trailing in short, controlled bursts behind him.

"Mankey—quick step work. Keep the pivot tight, and watch your recovery."

Mankey snorted but obeyed, diving into a sequence of short dashes, planting on one foot and spinning in controlled arcs.

"Lotad, we need to work on your tracking pattern. Stay near me. We'll work on reaction timing."

Lotad blinked and shifted sideways, matching her movement in a slow follow-loop.

"Weepinbell—razor leaf strikes only. We need to work on your long-range accuracy. Low power shots, but make sure they hit the target. No physical moves today."

The grass-type pulsed once—petals flaring wide—then began snapping leaves in low arcs at the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Kael observed the group without comment, then turned to his own.

"Spectre—run pattern 4, but focus on the corner angles. Mark the perimeter, then draw in tight."

The Umbreon broke into motion immediately, tail flicking once before he vanished into low zigzag sweeps along the boundary of the field.

"Vespertil. Gliding practice, form 6. None of the speed dives, only flap to return to the start."

Above, the Golbat chirped once in acknowledgment and shifted his angle, wings flattening as he adjusted to the shallow pattern.

"Tarrasque—rooted earth pulse drills. You know the rhythm. Don't rush it."

The Larvitar grunted as he moved to a corner of the clearing and dropped into a braced stance, stomping once—then again—his weight moving with measured bursts in time with the jagged pillars of earth that appeared around him.

Kael turned his head slightly. "Praxis. Phantom tracking and Shockwave practice. Low power, no interaction."

Praxis gave no verbal reply, but the faintest flicker of acknowledgment echoed through Kael's thoughts before he faded into the background—hovering just beyond easy sight, scanning.

Leaf watched them for a moment from her crouch by Houndour, then said dryly, "You ever just tell them 'go left' or 'do a cool move'?"

Kael didn't look at her. "I did. Once."

"Let me guess—never again?"

"It wasn't efficient."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, I'm starting to think the whole mysterious-silent-tactician thing isn't an act."

Kael didn't answer.

That, apparently, was the answer.

---

A hour passed like that.

No battles. No shouts. Just a steady churn of motion—controlled drills, formation testing, quiet movement. Each trainer managing their own rhythm. Each Pokémon falling into pace.

Quilava's loops shortened, then reversed. Mankey's footwork tightened into nearly dancer-like precision. Weepinbell flicked razor-thin air arcs and began adjusting mid-swing, calibrating her balance.

Spectre doubled back through a path he hadn't made previously, tail flicking once as Praxis phased silently across the far side of the field, trailing his movements by exactly two steps. Vespertil softly flew above them in patterns. Tarrasque continued his rhythmic stomps, shaping the dirt beneath his feet in short, compact pulses.

Houndour did not move.

He lay in the shade beneath a half-burned trainer post, his eyes locked on every motion. His head tracked Spectre. Then Mankey. Then Weepinbell. His ears never flicked. His tail never twitched.

Just watching.

Leaf knelt beside him at one point, brushing her fingers just behind his ears.

"Not today," she murmured. "But soon."

Houndour didn't respond.

He didn't need to.

---

Kael circled back toward the edge of the clearing, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Praxis drifted into formation behind him, silent as a shadow.

"They're trying harder, learning faster," Kael said, almost absently.

Leaf nodded. "It's different now."

"They've seen how real the stakes are."

"Yeah." She looked toward the field. "And they're still moving forward."

Kael didn't speak.

He just watched.

And made sure they all kept moving.

One step at a time.

------

The trail south was narrow—half-choked with tall grass and old root clusters that poked up through the dirt like fossilized ribs. The trees had thinned since the substation, and the sun now filtered freely across the path, washing everything in late morning gold.

Kael moved at a steady pace, head slightly lowered, one hand adjusting the strap on his satchel to keep it from bouncing. Vespertil swept low overhead in wide, lazy arcs. Spectre flanked his left. Praxis his right. Tarrasque had been recalled—for now.

Behind him, Leaf picked her way over a patch of broken gravel, muttering as she shifted her pack higher. Mankey clung to her shoulders like a scarf, tail curled around one arm, occasionally chittering if a branch got too close. Quilava followed close on her heels, moving smoothly across the rugged terrain.

They hadn't spoken much since leaving the field. There wasn't really a need to.

The silence wasn't heavy—just habitual.

Kael's eyes flicked across the horizon. He could see the shimmer of heat beginning to rise where the grasslands met the edge of the industrial outskirts. Distant silhouettes of fencing. Power poles. Concrete.

Vermilion wasn't far.

Still maybe another hour, give or take.

Kael slowed without warning. Something felt off.

It wasn't abrupt—just a subtle shift in pace, like something was out of alignment. He reached down to his belt, fingers brushing each capsule in sequence, reassuring himself.

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.

…Five?

He stopped walking.

Spectre halted beside him with practiced ease, posture still but alert.

Leaf turned. "What is it?"

Kael didn't answer right away. His eyes were on the unfamiliar Pokéball—clipped neatly to his belt as if it had always been there.

It hadn't.

He unhooked it slowly.

The casing was standard. Untagged. Smooth. Balanced. But it felt slightly off—cooler than the others. The locking ring was stiff, like it had never been used.

Definitely occupied. He could feel the subtle pulse of internal energy, faint but steady.

Leaf stepped closer. "That's… new."

"I know," Kael murmured.

"You didn't catch anything."

"No."

"Then where—"

"I have a feeling I know."

He pressed the release.

With a soft hiss of expanding light, the Pokéball opened—and from the swirl emerged a Gastly.

It floated forward in near silence, suspended in the air like it had always belonged there. The gas around its core rippled gently, the edges flickering like smoke caught in still wind. Its wide eyes were half-lidded, as if amused. As if waiting.

Leaf took a cautious half-step back. "Is that—?"

"The one from the base," Kael confirmed, watching closely.

"You caught him?"

Kael shook his head. "No."
Then he paused. "Well... I guess, yes."

Gastly chuckled as he tilted his head forwards in a nod—not a taunt, not a threat. Just acknowledgment.

The silence stretched.

Then, without a sound, it drifted back toward the Pokéball still in Kael's hand. The light drew it in. The ball shut with a clean click.

Registered. Claimed.

Accepted.

Kael stared down at it for a long moment. Then clipped it back to his belt.

Leaf let out a breath. "So he just… decided?"

Kael nodded once. "Apparently."

"That's really weird."

"He's a ghost."

Leaf rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, but ghosts don't usually self-capture for trainers, do they?"

Kael didn't answer. His expression hadn't changed.

Leaf glanced sidelong at him. "So…what's the plan for Vermillion?"

"Not sure yet."

She raised an eyebrow. "Planning to ask the locals first?"

Kael didn't blink. "Maybe."

---

The city came into view not long after.

Not the full skyline—just the outer layers. Storage lots. Rail lines. Long stretches of fencing topped with angled barbed wire. The smell of salt and distant oil drifted in with the breeze.

Vermilion hummed ahead like a live wire beneath pavement. Not as clean or curated as Cerulean. Not as quaint as Pewter. But real. Lived-in. Moving.

Kael adjusted his gait slightly as the path merged into gravel and the shadow of a substation tower fell across them.

Leaf exhaled. "Back to civilization."

Kael didn't respond.

He just reached for the new Pokéball again—confirming it was still there—and started walking.

-----

The streets of Vermilion buzzed with late afternoon activity—couriers and Pokémon weaving between shopfronts, drone carts rumbling along embedded tracks, trainers checking Pokégear readouts while their partners trotted at their heels. Steam curled from rooftop vents. Somewhere, a Magnemite hummed as it latched onto a streetlight.

Kael and Leaf moved side by side through the city's outer layers without any meaningful conversation. They pointed out storefronts and kiosk vendors that appeared with more frequency as they moved. The transition from overgrown trail to cracked pavement had been gradual—sheds, fences, and storage lots giving way to larger buildings and old signage faded by sea wind.

Spectre walked at Kael's side, poised but at ease. Praxis had opted out of his capsule for now, and kept pace slightly behind Kael. Leaf's Mankey clung lazily to her shoulder, his grip relaxed but alert, Quilava trotting at her heels.

They passed a food stall, a repair shop, an open-air mechanics bay. Signs of daily life. Nothing out of place.

Until the scream.

It wasn't close—just sharp enough to cut through the din. A woman's voice. Brief, but panicked.

Kael didn't break stride.

He just turned.

Spectre vanished from his side in an instant, slipping into the shadows of a nearby alley without command.

Leaf adjusted course beside him, already moving. "That sounded like it came from—"

"Three stores down. Near that bike lot."

"Got it."

They took off without another word.

---

By the time they reached the corner, a crowd had already begun to stir. A few pedestrians had gathered near a fenced-off side lane behind the lot, where a pair of men in dark coats were half-dragging a third man toward the alley mouth.

The third man was struggling—older, finely dressed, his satchel half-open and papers scattered along the curb. One of the attackers yanked it away. The other muttered something sharp and fast, barely audible under the crowd's confusion.

Kael didn't hesitate.

He bent down and flicked a pebble from the gutter toward the far side of the alley.

The impact made one of the attackers turn—just slightly.

Spectre struck a half-breath later, rings flashing in the light. The man hit the wall with a grunt, gasping for air and trying to regain his feet as the Umbreon flowed past him and circled low, eyes glowing with the beginnings of Mean Look.

Kael stepped into view just as the second man started to run.

Praxis reappeared in a shimmer of light—directly in his path.

The man skidded to a stop.

"Down," Kael said.

Both men dropped. Spectre put his front paws on the back of the one closer to him, keeping pressure on him to keep him pinned.

The older gentleman was breathing hard, one hand braced on the wall.

Leaf stepped forward and helped steady him as he stumbled around, scrambling for the loose papers strewn about. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No—no, I—thank you. That was… those men—"

"They're done," Kael said flatly.

Spectre released his pressure just enough for the downed Rocket grunt to wheeze, as an Officer Jenny showed up on the scene, barking orders at people.

"Thieves," the older man managed, trying to collect his things. "They were after my satchel. Unbelievable. In broad daylight!"

Kael glanced down at the satchel. A League registry tag was stitched along the top flap, half-torn.

"I'm Kael. This is Leaf. You're with the Fan Club?"

The man blinked at him, fhen straightened up slightly. "Oh, yes. Yes, I'm the chairman."

Kael nodded, looking at the approaching Jenny, who had just cuffed the two assailants. "We'll walk you home. After we give our statements."

---

It had ended up being a much less time consuming process than Kael had anticipated, with Jenny not caring to keep them for longer than it took to get their version of what happened, and turn over custody of the would-be thieves.

They escorted the Chairman, Reginald, to his home. He had made sure to have his Togetic out with him this time. On the way, he gave them an inpromptu tour of the city, complete with historical locations and events. He proved to be a surprisingly quick walker for a man his age, but he slowed often to gesture at buildings, bridges, and the occasional street-side statue.

"This quarter," he said, motioning to the wide avenue they followed, "was the original harbor road. Merchants used to line both sides with stalls so close together you could barely see the cobblestones. Now it's mostly League offices and shipping manifests — dull, but vital."

They passed under a curved iron arch stamped with the year 1854. Beyond it, a narrow canal ran parallel to the street, the water reflecting a web of overhead power lines. Reginald pointed out the restored ferry dock ahead, its stone pylons darkened by decades of salt spray.

"That's where the S.S. Anne anchors when she's in port, and the next scheduled stop in in three days. My grandfather used to take me there to watch the crews load supplies. Entire crates of apricorns from Johto, berries from Hoenn…" His voice warmed at the memory.

They turned down a quieter side street, where old gas lamps leaned slightly over brickwork older than the city's League charter. "And this—ah, this is the Old Quarter. Fewer tourists, more stories. If you ever have the time, ask for the brewer's alley. Best nanab-berry cider in Vermilion, and no two batches taste the same."

---

The Fan Club chairman's manor was tucked just off the main thoroughfare—decoration modest but well-kept, with hand-painted shutters and a stone path framed by flowering grass. Inside, the foyer was a maze of curiosities—shelves lined with display cases, glass jars of polished stones, and a wall-mounted cabinet filled with evolution stones and rare minerals.

Leaf's eyes widened slightly. "Whoa. That's a lot of rocks."

The chairman, who was petting his Togetic, smiled a little sheepishly but clearly proud. "Oh, I've collected stones and fossils for years. Fire Stones, Water Stones, even a Moon Stone fragment from Mt. Silver. Some of these are too rare to use—just having them is enough."

Kael stepped past her without comment, scanning the display. He slowed near the center of the cabinet, eyes narrowing slightly.

His hand hovered near a pale, luminous stone nestled between a Dawn Stone and an opalized Helix Fossil. The surface shimmered faintly under the ceiling light—like polished snowglass.

"You have a Shiny Stone," he said.

The chairman blinked. "Ah—yes? That one's from Johto, actually. Found it near a cliff outcrop by accident. I've never figured out what it does, but it's beautiful, isn't it?"

Kael didn't answer. His eyes had shifted.

The cream-colored Pokémon hovered nearby, blinking at him with red eyes and a soft chirp.

"Your Togetic," Kael said.

The chairman turned, his smile warm. "Ah, yes, dear Elisar. My oldest partner. He's been with me since he hatched when I was about your age. Why?"

Kael looked back to the cabinet. "Why haven't you evolved him?"

"Wha–I—" The man looked surprised. "Well, he is evolved. From a Togepi. Togetic's the final form, isn't it?"

"It's not," Kael said simply. "He can evolve again. If you use a Shiny Stone. You have one right there."

The room went still.

Leaf slowly turned toward him. "You're saying—what, that he just can evolve again? With this sparkly rock?"

Kael didn't answer.

The chairman frowned, but moved closer to the cabinet. He carefully opened it, reached inside, and picked up the Shiny Stone—handling it like something fragile. "You're certain?"

"Togetic responds to it. It's one of the few known lines that trigger."

"Known to who?" Leaf muttered, eyes flicking between him and the stone.

Kael ignored her.

Togetic floated forward, staring at the stone with curiousity in its wide, glimmering eyes. Its small wings gave a few fluttering beats, and it chirped—soft, but steady.

Something in the air shifted.

A faint pressure. Like static before a storm.

Kael took a step back, holding up his Pokédex to record.

"Go ahead," he said.

The chairman blinked. "Now?"

Kael gave the faintest nod.

The man held the stone out with both hands, leveling it gently toward Togetic, who extended his nose curiously.

The stone pulsed once—soft white light blooming from its center.

Togetic flared with light.

The evolution wasn't explosive. It was graceful. Quiet. Light spilled outward in rippling waves as the little Pokémon's shape grew, its wings stretching wide, its form smoothing and unfurling into something sleek and serene.

The glow faded.

Hovering in the air before them, still radiant with residual energy, was Togekiss.

Larger. More majestic. Its wings spread like soft banners on a breeze, eyes closed in silent peace. When it opened them, they glinted with something old. Something calm.

Leaf exhaled. "Well, that's… wow."

The chairman stepped forward, awe-struck. "He's… I never imagined…"

Togekiss turned and dipped low toward its trainer, gently nuzzling against his chest.

Kael watched without speaking.

"Why doesn't anyone know about this?" Leaf asked, still stunned. "Why isn't that in the Dex? Or the League registry?"

Kael didn't respond.

But his eyes flicked briefly to the stone—now dim and inert—and then to the display shelves, to the quiet corners of the room most trainers wouldn't look at twice.

Some answers didn't live in books.

The light from Togekiss's evolution had faded, but its presence lingered—soft and gentle, like warmth after a storm.

The chairman hadn't stopped smiling. He stood near his partner, one hand resting lightly against Togekiss's side as if afraid the moment might vanish if he let go.

Kael observed quietly from his place by the shelf.

Leaf leaned against the wall with her arms folded, a subtle grin tugging at her mouth. "You know," she said, "for a guy who acts like emotions aren't a thing, you sure know how to cause them."

Kael didn't answer.

He was still watching Togekiss.

"Togekiss, a Flying/Fairy-type," he said, almost to himself.

The chairman blinked. "Fairy?"

Kael glanced toward him. "New type classification. Relatively recent. Togekiss is one of them. Immune to Dragon-types. Strong against Dark and Fighting. Weak to Steel and Poison. Porfessor Oak is looking into them."

"Fairy-type," the chairman echoed softly. "I like that."

"You could show Elisar off to Professor Oak," Kael said.

Leaf turned, brow raised. "Oak?"

Kael nodded. "He's cataloging Fairy-type emergence across Kanto and Johto. He'd want this logged. Real-time evolution, long-term trainer bond, rare catalyst. I have the recording, but he will have other questions. Togetic is a bond evolution, and the whole line is Fairy-typed."

"Didn't realize you were his secretary now," Leaf muttered.

Kael ignored her. "You mind if we make a Pokégear call real quick?"

The chairman nodded. "Of course! I—yes, yes, hold on. Let's go outside, I want to see Elisar in full form."

He quickly shuffled off into a side hallway and returned with an ornate black and gold Pokéball.

Togekiss floated serenely in place, wings barely moving. Its eyes passed over Kael once—not dismissively, but almost like… recognition. Gratitude.

---

A minute later, Kael stood outside, Pokégear in hand. The Chairman—"Reginald, I insist" he had said—mentioned, "I have Professor Oak's personal number from a number of League committees, if you think he'd really want—"

Kael had already stepped forward.

"I have it on speed dial."

The chairman nodded and turned, releasing Elisar into the air, and watching him float around.

The screen lit up. A soft buzz rang out.

One ring.
Two.

Then the call connected.

The feed resolved into the familiar face of Professor Oak—half-lit by a desk lamp, brows furrowed as he glanced toward the screen, distracted.

"Yes, hello—this is Professor Oak speaking, if this is about—"
He paused.

Then blinked.
Then smiled.

"Kael! And... Leaf, too. What a surprise."

"Hey, Professor," Leaf said, lifting a hand. "Sorry for the drop-in."

Oak leaned forward, his tone immediately curious. "Where are you two now?"

"Vermilion," Kael said. "At the Fan Club chairman's home. We just witnessed a live evolution you might want to see. I just sent you the video."

Oak sat straighter, pulling up the file that popped through. "Live evolution?"

Kael angled the Pokégear toward the open space beside them.

Togekiss floated serenely there, watching the camera with the same gentle calm it had shown moments ago.

For a moment, Oak didn't speak.

Then he exhaled, low and astonished. "Is that…?"

"Togekiss," Kael confirmed. "Evolved from a Togetic using a Shiny Stone. Lifelong bond. Minimal exposure to battle stress. Smooth transition. Fairy-type."

The professor rubbed his temple, a slow grin spreading across his face as he watched the clip. "Incredible. I've been chasing secondhand reports for the past two weeks, and you just… hand me one on a silver platter."

"It handed itself over," Leaf said. "Kael just knew what to do."

Oak laughed softly. "That sounds about right."

The chairman stepped into frame briefly, smiling and waving. "Hello there, I can provide any documentation you need, Samuel. The stone's origin, the duration of our partnership, even the original hatching records."

"I'd be grateful, Reginald" Oak said sincerely. "This is the most detailed firsthand Fairy-type evolution I've seen in Kanto. And from an evolution triggering stone not yet categorized in the current League index…"

Kael tilted the screen back toward himself. "The shiny stone also evolves Roselia, into something called a Roserade. Solid Pokemon."

Oak raised a brow. "You just love to give me more work, don't you?"

Kael didn't answer.

Oak chuckled. "I just wish that I could have sent you into the field years ago."

Leaf made a face. "Please don't say that–you'll only encourage him."

Oak gave her a warm look. "And you, Leaf—still keeping him from walking off cliffs?"

"Barely," she said. "But I've gotten good at redirecting existential dread into sarcasm, so it evens out."

Oak laughed again. "Glad to hear it."

His expression sobered slightly. "You said you're in Vermilion now?"

Kael nodded.

Oak's voice lowered, the warmth in his tone edged with something harder. "Kael, listen carefully. There's been more than 'chatter' near the shipping quarter. Three Ranger patrol signals have gone dark in the last week, and their reports never reached the network. No wreckage. No witnesses. Just silence." He glanced offscreen again before meeting Kael's eyes. "If you go there — and I suspect you will — stay sharp. Whoever's responsible isn't sloppy, and they're not afraid of League eyes. That makes them dangerous."

Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "Rocket?"

"Possibly. Or someone with their level of resources." Oak glanced offscreen for a moment, then back. "If you see anything unusual, don't engage alone."

Leaf snorted. "Do we ever engage alone?"

Kael ignored her. "Understood."

Oak looked between them, thoughtful. "I'll loop you into the Fairy-type database update when I get it up and running. And if you do find another undocumented evolution, Kael, please do me a favor?"

Kael blinked once. "What?"

"Try pretending you're surprised next time."

The call ended before Kael could reply.

Reginald stood quietly for a moment, one hand resting lightly on Elisar's side. The Togekiss hovered beside him, wings barely moving, casting soft shadows in the waning afternoon light.

Then he clapped his hands together, startling a passing Pidgey from the rooftop eaves.

"Well!" he declared. "That settles it. You're staying here for your time in Vermillion."

Kael tilted his head slightly. "We were planning on roughly a week, maybe even up to ten days. We couldn't impose on you like that."

"Pah." Reginald waved a dismissive hand. "Ten days is nothing. You'll stay here. My home is open—more than enough room for both of you and your teams."

Leaf raised a brow. "That's very generous."

"It's not generosity, it's repayment," Reginald said with a grin. "You saved my life, preserved my satchel– and my documents!–, revealed my partner's true form, and apparently you just handed Professor Oak a scientific breakthrough over tea. The least I can do is feed and house you."

Leaf blinked, already reconsidering. "Wait—feed us?"

"I insist," he said, already heading for the front door. "And I do mean properly. No negotiations. You'll dine like League royalty tonight!"

Kael glanced at Leaf.

Leaf shrugged. "I'm not saying no to a real meal."

-----

The dining room looked like it had been untouched for weeks—but not due to disuse. It was simply pristine. Lace runners lined the long, dark table. Glass lanterns glowed gently from the walls, casting flickers of light over the cabinets filled with polished cutlery and vintage dinnerware.

Reginald had changed into a formal crimson tunic and a gold-embroidered sash that looked suspiciously like a retired League commemorative garment. Elisar hovered at his side like a silent co-host.

Kael had tied his hair back into the pineapple ponytail he had grown accustomed to. He was grateful for a hot shower, but the full blown contest level spa treatment that followed was... interesting. His usual travel-mussed look replaced by a clean, brushed sheen he didn't quite know what to do with. His boots had been polished, jacket dusted, and even his belt aligned with almost military precision. He'd accepted it without complaint, but not without quiet suspicion.

Leaf, on the other hand, had fully embraced the luxury. She emerged from the parlor in a soft forest-green wrap over fresh outerwear, her hair brushed out in long waves and her nails faintly glossed. She basically glowed with happiness.

Their Pokémon had received just as much attention.

Spectre's fur gleamed in the light, groomed smooth and dense with a faint lavender oil that enhanced his natural sheen without muting the dusky tones. He moved like a shadow painted by moonlight.

Quilava's pelt had been trimmed and brushed with a fireproof silk cloth that made his flame vents pop like polished bronze. He prowled now with quiet pride, head held high.

Mankey had begrudgingly endured a full claw buffing and tail detangling, and now sat like a gremlin noble on the back of Leaf's chair, posture regal and fur fluffed with barely-restrained smugness.

Houndour had initially resisted, but a combination of Leaf's soothing whispers and the soft sponge bath, paw massage, and ear brushing had worn him down. He now lay curled beneath the table at Leaf's feet, cleaner than he'd ever been, eyes half-lidded and watchful.

Vespertil had received a flight membrane check, ultrasonic frequency calibration, and a special mineral mist for his wings. He clung to the dining room's upper rafter now, judging the room like a bat-borne aristocrat.

Praxis stood behind Kael's seat like a statue, mustache neatly combed, blade polished until gleaming, and movements refined. Even the groove between his brow plates just seemed more symmetrical.

Gastly had proven more challenging for the staff—not due to behavior, but composition. Traditional grooming tools were useless, but a League-approved spectral harmonizer was brought out: a small orb that resonated with calming pulses of frequency. The ghost had circled it curiously at first, then allowed himself to be enveloped in a faint mist of purified incense and static discharge. The result was a strangely crisp outline to his vapor—more defined edges, deeper saturation of color. Now, he floated near the chandelier like a polite haunting, quietly observing the room with unreadable amusement.

Reginald clapped his hands once. "Dinner is served!"

And it was.

A procession of dishes followed—each more elaborate than the last.

First came a delicate soup of sautéed wild leek and Psyduck egg yolk, garnished with thin ribbons of steamed bell peppers and bean sprouts. Then a tray of roasted Farfetch'd breast with a tart nanab glaze, accompanied by crispy rice cakes seasoned with sweetroot oil.

Leaf leaned back halfway through the second course, blinking. "Okay, I take it back. You're not eccentric. You're spoiled."

Reginald beamed. "I had to learn something from years on the League sponsorship committee. You should see what Lance eats."

The third course was a palate cleanser—shaved ice with bluk berry syrup and a twist of fresh mint.

Fourth: thin-sliced grilled Magikarp flank, marinated in fermented tangela vinegar and served on a bed of steamed jasmine rice with crushed walnut crumble. Spectre sniffed the air once and gave a pleased rumble before settling back into his crouch.

And finally, the fifth course: miniature lava cakes with spicy cheri compote and whipped cream infused with powdered figy.

Kael took a measured bite. The spice hit first—then the richness.

He blinked. "…That's good."

Reginald beamed. "High praise indeed."

Leaf made a muffled sound into her dessert. "If I die right now, tell the Rangers I went happy."

Reginald raised his glass of dusk-hued berry wine. "To heroes, revelations, and unforeseen guests."

Kael raised a glass of cheri soda and nodded.

Leaf lifted hers as well. "I'll drink to that."

They clinked lightly.

---

Later—when the plates were cleared and the lanterns burned low—Reginald guided them down a hallway to two guest rooms.

"They're simple," he warned, "but quiet. And secure. No thieves, no Rockets, no unannounced guests."

Kael stepped inside his room and scanned the layout: modest bed, clean sheets, small desk with a globe lamp, and a window overlooking the garden.

Leaf poked her head into her own room next door. "Better than most Pokémon Centers."

Reginald grinned. "And no overnight curfews. Just let somebody know if you need anything."

He gave them a mock salute, then retreated down the hall.

Kael stood still for a moment, then turned and gently set about releasing his team, setting his belt with their Pokéballs on the side table by his bed.

The room was quiet, filled only with the odd shuffling of his team as they found comfortable positions.

Outside, Elisar glided past the window as he circled the manor, trailing faint starlight from his wings.

------

Kael sat cross-legged near the foot of the bed, boots lined up by the door, jacket folded neatly on the desk chair. The room's low desk lamp glowed warm, casting amber light over the rug.

His team had gathered loosely.

Specter lay at his side, tail curled just close enough to touch. Tarrasque perched at an angle, one arm across his chest. Vespertil hung upside down from the curtain rod, wings partly sheathed like a cloak. Praxis hovered, calm and steady, blade resting across his knees.

Gastly drifted in near-silence near the ceiling light, his outline pulsing gently in and out of focus.

Kael looked across them. "Let's talk."

The room didn't shift—but attention focused.

"I've been giving orders," Kael said. "Acting like I always know what's best. But with Praxis here… we can have a real conversation. So I want to start doing that. Now."

Praxis's mind-voice answered, clean and soft.

—Accepted. Communication strengthens cohesion.—

Kael nodded. "I'll go down the line."

He turned to Specter. "You've been with me the longest. I trust your judgment. But if I've misread you, or misused your talents—tell me."

Praxis translated
—Spectre remains your sentinel. He asks to be tested beneath shadow, not sun — night maneuvers, low-light responses, and drills against unseen strikes. He will meet danger first, and hold it.—

Kael looked at him. "You want to train to reaction tank better?"

Specter gave a soft growl. Confirmed.

"I can do that. We can work on expanding your move pool, and combining them or theory crafting new ones to fit the role you want to play. But we will also need to keep up our single combat training."

He looked to Vespertil. "You've adapted fast. Smarter than most people would give you credit for. What do you need?"

Praxis pulsed:
—Vespertil seeks grandeur. He craves the artistry of motion — high arcs, bold strikes — and wishes to witness the Contest arenas you have spoken of. He believes spectacle can sharpen skill.—

Kael tilted his head. "Risky for us to be involved in that sort of thing. It gives our moves screentime and our opponents material to scout. But... I suppose we could concoct some things specifically for the routines. It would also be a good exercise in creative tactics. And nothing says we can't slip in what we use into our style irregularly."

Kael glanced up. "You want high-impact, showy moves?"

A soft squeak and wing pulse. Agreement.

Kael marked it mentally.

He turned to Tarrasque. "You don't ask for much. But I see how you train—like you're bracing for a fight that hasn't come yet. Am I pushing too hard?"

Praxis paused. Then translated:

—Tarrasque seeks stability. In body, yes—but also in identity. He was driven away from his home. He now seeks to build the armor of a mountain around himself. He asks for lessons in redirection and precision, so that his power is not wasted in blunt force.—

Kael blinked. "…You want to lean harder into battlefield control?"

Tarrasque gave a slow nod.

"That I can definitely work with."

He turned to Praxis himself. "You already translated for most of them. But what about you?"

The psychic's gaze met his own—and spoke.

—As an Abra, I was born for clarity. Connection. I learn by guiding others even as I was guided. But I would also like to experience the unpredictability of the battlefield . Not just control, but chaos—so that I can better manage it. I wish to test my coordination against volatile opponents. Shifting terrain. Misdirection.—

Kael considered. "Team Rocket. Wild arenas. Simulated crisis drills."

Praxis inclined his head.

—Also... I would like to train communication further. Other Pokémon. Other humans. Perhaps... even diplomacy.—

Kael smirked. "You want to be the team's PR face?"

Praxis gave a perfectly neutral shrug.

Kael looked to the last member—the ghost.

"You didn't ask to join. But you're here. So I'll ask you once: why?"

Gastly didn't move.

Praxis waited a long moment.

Then: —He sees this path as inevitable. He has watched many trainers. Few ask the right questions. He believes you do. He joins not to follow, but to see where the path leads. He will not speak often—but he sees everything. He asks only for space. And moments of… resonance.—

Kael narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Gastly floated forward, slowly. He passed by Kael's shoulder—not threatening—just present. Then dipped down toward the lamp.

The light dimmed as he passed, and then flared again. Faint whispers echoed, but only Praxis tilted his head to listen.

—He is drawn to places where the Veil is thin.—

Kael's eyes flicked toward Praxis.

—Graveyards. Ruins. Battlefields. Places where death and memory converge. He will lead us to them, if allowed. He seeks answers no living thing remembers.—

Kael nodded once. "We'll follow. If the answers don't come at a cost."

The ghost pulsed faintly. Agreement. Maybe approval.

–He also mentions that there was an observer at that base. I did not sense anyone, but he saw a female human observing you for a few moments just prior to you making the call to law enforcement.–

Kael stiffened for a moment as he thought frantically, then relaxed. "So Surge was right. We are on someone's radar. We will need to prepare accordingly. If you see her again, let me know."

An affirmative chuckle eminated from Gastly as he bobbed up and down in the air.

Kael nodded and sat back. "Last thing."

He looked at them all.

"Tomorrow, we explore the city. Check the shipping district. If there's trouble brewing, I want us ready. You have roles, but I'm open to changes. Questions?"

Spectre tilted his head.

Vespertil made a soft chitter.

Tarrasque grunted once—affirmative.

Gastly dimmed. Then brightened.

Praxis replied: —No questions.—

Kael exhaled.

"Then we keep moving."