“Welcome to your first day of battling class,” Instructor Jordan said, his voice echoing through the open-air arena. “I’m Jordan Skywatcher, and I’ll be your instructor this semester.”

  He stood in the center of the stadium, tall and relaxed, but there was no mistaking the strength behind his stance. Behind him were ten older students, each wearing the sleek black-and-silver uniform of Academy graduates. They stood like pillars—watchful, calm, confident.

  We were in the Battle Center, a massive facility that held a variety of arenas tailored for different terrain types—grass, sand, even aquatic. For now, we were led into the standard concrete arenas, where no environmental advantage could be found. A blank canvas for raw skill.

  “For today’s session, you’ll be split into groups of ten,” Jordan continued, gesturing to the assistants behind him. “Each group will be assigned an advisor. When I say move, move.”

  No one moved.

  His brow lifted. “That wasn’t a suggestion. Groups of ten. Now.”

  Irene was the first to act, stepping forward with her usual defiance and confidence. She picked an assistant and stood beside him like she belonged there.

  Melody nudged me. “We should split up—better to learn from different people.”

  Flavio nodded. “Yeah, no point huddling like hatchlings.”

  I agreed and made my way toward one of the older students. Soon, ten of us were gathered. The assistant—a lanky teenager with sharp eyes and a leather bag strapped across his shoulder—gave us a nod.

  “You can call me Jerry,” he said casually. “I’ll be your referee and advisor today. Follow me.”

  We trailed him to a separate arena. Once we were in place, Jerry opened the bag and began handing out Poké Balls, one by one, without explanation. When he reached me, I took mine with a quiet nod, feeling the smooth, cold surface in my hand.

  “Inside each ball is a randomly assigned Normal-type Pokémon,” Jerry explained. “They’ve been chosen from common regional species. Today’s exercise is simple—you’ll battle with them. Treat these Pokémon as your partners for the day.”

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  A murmur passed through the group—some excited, some nervous. One student whispered, “Feels just like the third exam...”

  Jerry continued, “You’ve got ten minutes to get to know your partner. Scan the Poké Ball with your Pokédex to learn its stats. Once released, you can scan again for species data. Use the time wisely.”

  I lifted my Pokédex and scanned the ball.

  *

  Zigzagoon

  Level: 9

  Type: Normal

  Gender: Male

  Moves: Tackle, Growl, Sand Attack, Tail Whip, Covet

  *

  I watched another student release a Rattata and start testing its attacks, muttering commands. Hesitating only a moment, I tapped the center of the ball and released mine.

  The red light took form, and a small Zigzagoon landed with a bounce. He immediately darted in a small circle around my legs, tail twitching, tongue out, full of energy.

  He stopped, tilted his head, and looked up at me with curious eyes.

  I crouched beside him and held up the Pokédex. A synthetic voice began reading aloud:

  “Zigzagoon: This raccoon dog-like Pokémon has bristly, zigzag-patterned fur in alternating layers of cream and brown. Its mask-like facial markings give it a mischievous appearance. It leaves territorial markings on trees and may feign death to evade predators.”

  I reached out and gently stroked the fur along his head. He leaned into my touch, eyes closing, letting out a soft chuff of approval.

  “You’re kind of a goofball, huh?” I said, smiling.

  Zigzagoon yipped and spun in a circle.

  I sat cross-legged and let him crawl into my lap. He flopped down, content, then started pawing at my sleeve like he wanted to play.

  Around us, other students were practicing moves, barking commands, trying to run drills. Tackle. Tail Whip. Standard stuff. I watched for a moment, but it didn’t feel right for me—not yet.

  My partner didn’t know me. I didn’t know him. Ten minutes wasn’t enough time to build a strategy, not a real one. But maybe it was enough to build something else.

  Trust.

  “Okay, buddy,” I whispered, scratching behind his ear. “Looks like we’re partners for today. Let’s just do our best, yeah?”

  He barked in response—short, cheerful. Then nuzzled against my chest like he already believed in me.

  Looking back at his moveset, I couldn’t help but frown. Tail Whip and Growl were considered joke moves by most, especially at high levels. Sand Attack wasn’t much use on concrete, and Tackle was basic.

  Covet was the wild card—Teddy had used it in mock battles back home. It was fast, disruptive, and unpredictable. That could work.

  I leaned back, Zigzagoon now sprawled on my legs.

  Around me, classmates glanced my way—some curious, some judging. I saw a few smirks, probably wondering why I was playing instead of training.

  But they didn’t get it.

  I wasn’t wasting time.

  I was making a connection.

  And in a real battle, that’s what mattered most.