I wiped my face with the sleeve of my uniform just before the door opened.

  Instructor Jordan stepped back into the office, quieter now. No smirk, no teasing tone—just calm understanding behind his eyes.

  He gave me a moment before speaking.

  “I know that must’ve been… a lot,” he said, his voice lower, more measured. “Your father wrestled with whether you should hear any of that. He wasn’t sure if it was a burden or a gift.”

  I didn’t trust my voice yet, so I just nodded.

  “But in the end,” Jordan continued, “he wanted you to have the full picture. The name Santos carries weight—for better or worse. And he fought hard to make sure that, one day, you could wear it with pride.”

  I let those words settle. I wasn’t sure how I felt—not yet. But I knew one thing for certain:

  I will make my parents proud.

  Not because I’m supposed to.

  Because I want to.

  “I’m proud of my father,” I said, voice steadier than I expected. “And I want to be someone he’d be proud of, too.”

  Jordan nodded. “That’s the right answer.”

  Then he smiled again—just a small one this time.

  I nodded, still feeling the weight of the last few minutes pressing down on my chest.

  I’m proud of them. Not of the legacy we inherited, but of the one they built for me.

  The Santos name won’t be remembered for violence or war. Not if I have anything to say about it.

  “I’ll be honest with you, Gabriel,” Jordan continued. “Your family made enemies—some of them dangerous. That’s why we’re not taking any chances. You’ll be safe in the Academy. But when you leave…”

  He met my gaze.

  “We’ll make sure you’re strong enough to protect yourself.”

  I hadn’t even considered that—that someone might come after me because of who I was. Who I’m related to.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He gave me a knowing look.

  “That’s also why I’m not cutting you any slack. You’ve noticed it, right? Being a legacy puts a target on your back. The way your classmates look at you. The whispers. The more pressure you will receive from your peers.”

  I nodded.

  “Let them talk,” he said. “Let them doubt you. Then prove them wrong.”

  That was the plan anyway.

  I was going to be number one. Not to prove something to them—but to prove something to myself.

  “Now,” Jordan added with a smile, “there’s someone who wants to see you.”

  He turned and led me down a long hallway. We passed classrooms, training arenas, and eventually came to a wide metal door.

  The moment it opened, I heard the sound of water gently lapping against stone.

  The room was enormous—one of the elemental arenas, built like an artificial lake. There were small platforms scattered across the water, just big enough for land Pokémon to leap between. Sunlight poured in through the skylights, making the whole place shimmer.

  Jordan walked to the edge of the water and pulled out a Poké Ball.

  “He likes it here.”

  With a flick of his wrist, the Poké Ball burst open.

  And then—

  A massive shape emerged, water cascading off its thick blue scales.

  Feraligatr.

  But not just any Feraligatr.

  “Igor!”

  I sprinted forward without thinking and wrapped my arms around his thick leg. He looked down, eyes warm, and patted my head with one giant clawed hand.

  “Gaaa-tor,” he rumbled.

  He was twice my height now—maybe even more. Still massive, still powerful. But to me, he would always be the same old Igor. My dad’s starter. My first friend outside my family.

  He was there when Dad taught me to swim. When I fell off a Tauros and scraped my knee. When I watched them spar in the fields beyond our village.

  He was part of my childhood. Part of home.

  “You’ve grown,” I whispered.

  Igor huffed and bumped his snout against my shoulder like he was proud of me too.

  “He’s been helping out around the Academy,” Jordan said. “Your dad left him here before his last expedition—Igor was recovering from an injury at the time.”

  “But... how can Dad fight without him?”

  Jordan smirked. “Oh, Javier’s got plenty of firepower. Igor’s just one of the stars in his lineup.”

  He turned toward the exit but paused. “Some of your father’s other Pokémon are here too. You’ll meet them soon enough. I’m curious to see their reactions when they see you.”

  I looked back at Igor, who tilted his head, watching me with curious eyes.

  “By the way,” Jordan added, tone casual, “did you request a Totodile egg?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

  “I thought so.” He chuckled. “Igor’s been working overtime to make sure that egg’s ready. So when you hatch it—you’re not just getting any old starter.”

  I turned to Igor, eyes wide.

  “You mean…”

  Jordan grinned. “That’s his kid you’re getting.”

  My mouth opened—but nothing came out.

  Igor puffed his chest slightly and gave a proud little growl.

  I’m going to raise my dad’s partner’s child.

  I’m going to train him. Fight beside him. Learn from him.

  It felt… right. Like the first real thread tying me to my father’s path—not because of legacy, but because of bond.

  I looked at Jordan, hopeful. “Can I see the egg?”

  He laughed. “Nice try. You’ll get it Wednesday—same as everyone else. Can’t play favorites, remember?”

  I groaned, and even Igor looked amused.

  Fine. I could wait.

  But only just.