By the time I got back to the dorm, it wasn’t even that late—but it felt like my brain had been through a blender. Two classes, a secret legacy, a terrorist grandfather, and a holographic message from my maybe-missing father?

  Yeah. That’s enough emotional damage for one day.

  I crashed the second I hit the bed. Didn’t even bother changing. Out like a light.

  *

  I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been hit by a runaway Tauros.

  Also, starving.

  Skipping dinner was a mistake. My stomach made sure I knew it.

  I dragged myself out of bed, got ready, and shuffled out of the dorm building. There was barely anyone around—just a few early staff members on duty. The air was crisp and quiet, the kind of peaceful that usually meant I should be asleep.

  The cafeteria was almost empty too. I convinced the cook—well, more like begged her—to let me double up on breakfast. Apparently, the school keeps track of every meal we skip, which somehow became my justification for a second helping.

  She rolled her eyes but gave me the extra food anyway. Hero.

  I was halfway through inhaling my oversized breakfast when Flavio and Melody appeared.

  “Did you sleep okay?” Melody asked, eyeing my plate.

  “Like a rock,” I lied through a mouthful of eggs.

  They chatted about tomorrow’s Pokémon Care class—how both of their starters were coming from family Pokémon, and how that might mean a few egg moves added in. I nodded along, but mostly stayed quiet. I wasn’t ready to talk about the stuff with Jordan. Not yet.

  *

  After breakfast, we headed to the gymnasium—the building for Physical Conditioning 101.

  The first thing I noticed when we stepped inside was how massive the space was: high ceilings, climbing walls, equipment everywhere. The second thing I noticed?

  Our instructor.

  She was terrifying.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  A mountain of muscle in a crop top and shorts, dark skin glistening with sweat, jet-black hair pulled back into a high ponytail. And she wasn’t just standing around barking orders—she was working out alongside a team of Fighting-type Pokémon: a Machoke, a Medicham, and a Riolu.

  And keeping up with them.

  No—outpacing them.

  I blinked as I realized some older students—graduates by the look of their uniforms—were sprawled out along the wall, gasping for breath.

  That’s when she noticed us.

  The smile she gave was not comforting. It was the kind of smile my mom used to give right before handing me a mop and a list of chores.

  “Class is here,” she announced, clapping once. “Playtime’s over, people.”

  The Fighting-types stopped immediately. Medicham floated into a meditative position. Riolu stretched.

  The instructor turned to the collapsed graduates. “I expected more from you. Top fitness was a requirement for this assistant position. Guess I’ll just have to whip you into shape too.”

  Then she looked at us. That same too-wide smile stretched across her face.

  “Don’t just stand there like Magikarp out of water. Start warming up.”

  I glanced at Flavio and Melody. They looked as nervous as I felt.

  The instructor seemed to realize she needed to guide us a little more. “Rio!” she barked.

  The little Riolu perked up and jogged to her side.

  “Set a beginner pace around the gym. The rest of you—follow him. Don’t try to impress me. Just move.”

  Riolu started jogging with smooth, steady strides. We fell in line behind him, forming a loose pack. More students arrived, joining the formation as we made laps around the gym. I noticed one of the exhausted graduates by the entrance was quietly pointing at us, making sure we were counted as we came in.

  Eventually, the full class—around a hundred of us—was jogging behind the pint-sized martial artist.

  After a few more laps, the instructor raised her voice.

  “Stop. Time to stretch. Rio, lead.”

  Riolu moved to the center of the gym and began demonstrating stretches.

  I copied him as best I could—trying to reach, bend, and not fall over while pretending I knew what I was doing. The others looked just as awkward. Riolu was fluid and graceful; I was... not. Still, it felt good to move. My body was stiff from sleep, and honestly? It helped to focus on something physical after everything else.

  We cycled through some basic stretches: hip openers, hamstring holds, lunges. Riolu didn’t miss a beat.

  And neither did she.

  “Good enough,” the instructor said, striding forward. “Let’s make this official.”

  She stopped in front of us and folded her arms, her biceps flexing in a way that made even Flavio stand a little straighter.

  “My name is Instructor Savannah Smith. I will be overseeing your physical development this semester. Your minds are being trained in class. Your instincts in battle. But your body? That’s my domain.”

  She paced like a general addressing new recruits.

  “Your bodies are seeds. And I am the weather, the soil, the sun, and the thunderstorm. You will grow under my care—or you will break trying.”

  A couple of students gulped.

  “For today, we’re running baseline fitness tests. Nothing fancy. My assistants”—she pointed at the still-recovering graduates—“will record your results so I can build a personalized training plan for every one of you.”

  She smiled again.

  Not a comforting smile.

  A “you will suffer, and I will enjoy it” smile.

  And in that moment… I recognized it.

  The same one my mom used to wear whenever she was deciding what punishment best fit my crimes.

  And now it was aimed directly at me.

  Fantastic.