Kaiy stood a few meters behind Graisey, feeling the wind churn through the arena like a living thing while Fearow cried out. Even with fair skies above, the design of the stadium pulled every draft down into the pit. He lifted his goggles from his eyes and pushed them back up on his head—he wouldn’t need them anymore.

  Graisey turned and caught his eye. Kaiy nodded once. She looked calm, ready. The kind of calm you earn, not borrow. Something had shifted in her since Sprout Tower—she stood taller, more certain. The weight of the spectators pressing in from all sides didn’t rattle her. Not today.

  “Time to battle!” the younger Falkner sister shouted, hurling her Poké Ball—not just into the field, but directly at Graisey.

  Kaiy narrowed his eyes. That was unorthodox.

  A soft signaled Hoppip’s arrival, floating into the air. The crowd of children cheered at the appearance of the Pokémon. Kaiy’s gaze drifted past it, to the sisters themselves. The older one was clearly reprimanding her sibling, who snapped back, brushing it off and settling into an eager stance. Her Pokémon hovered with stillness—it winced visibly, battling the soft currents, trying to stay in one spot.

  Graisey answered with eagerness. Her Poké Ball arced into the air, Stars emerged, buzzing in zigzag-lines above her head.

  On the arena screen, the spectators could follow the match: Hoppip’s portrait lit up on the blue side, with two Poké Balls beside it. Graisey’s side was marked in red—Ledyba’s face next to a single remaining icon.

  A disadvantage on paper, Kaiy noted. Graisey was outnumbered—three Pokémon for the Gym, just two for her. And with a Bug-type like Ledyba in a Flying-type arena, it wasn’t just a type disadvantage—Graisey was battling the very air itself.

  But Gym battles weren’t just about winning. They were lessons, evaluations. The field, the matchups, even the opponent—it was all designed to test more than battle strength.

  Hoppip hovered uneasily, bobbing in place. Kaiy knew its species didn’t fare well in harsh wind—they banded together in the wild just to avoid getting blown away.

  The younger Falkner sister couldn’t be more than twelve years old. Hard to say. But from the way she shrugged off her sister’s scolding and grinned like this was a game, it was clear the young one was the one being challenged today.

  Graisey didn’t hesitate. “Stars, Reflect!”

  Ledyba snapped to action, his eyes narrowing as he waved his paws with practiced precision. A shimmering barrier appeared into place—thin as glass but sturdy, catching the light as it settled between him and Hoppip.

  And then—nothing.

  The field fell into stillness. The reflective-barrier disintegrated.

  Hoppip floated in place, wobbling slightly in the breeze. No command came. Graisey blinked, eyes flicking toward the older Falkner sister—who stood with her head bowed, two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

  The younger one just grinned, as if waiting for something.

  Graisey shifted awkwardly, then glanced at Dardua.

  The League official smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Graisey nodded, sniffed, and called for Stars again.

  “Go for Comet Punch!” Her partner shot forward like a bolt. She’d memorized his move pool from her PokéDex. Graisey trusted the matchup—not because she knew Hoppip, but because she knew Stars.

  The Bug-type met his opponent mid-air with a flurry of precise, paw-driven jabs. One—two—three—four strikes in quick succession. Hoppip flailed with a cry, its flight destabilized. Stars rolled into a backflip and landed lightly near Graisey again.

  “Uh… Tackle!” the younger Falkner called out, almost as an afterthought.

  Hoppip floated forward sluggishly, eyes a little dazed.

  Stars looked back at Graisey, confused. She tilted her head, unsure. The move wasn’t even close—Ledyba casually rose above it. Graisey even lifted her hands as if to stop Hoppip from drifting too far.

  “Hey, hey—are you okay?” she asked softly, catching the Hoppip gently by its face.

  “Piiip!” It chirped brightly, almost… cheerful.

  From the corner of her eye, Graisey spotted motion— the older sister had stepped forward, now whispering urgently into her sibling’s ear. The younger one made an exaggerated “Ohhh!” and snapped her fingers.

  “Right! Stun Spore!”

  The Hoppip reacted fast—too fast. It twirled, suddenly bursting with a golden cloud of shimmering spores. Even Graisey had to step aside. The kids in the crowd gasped in awe as the pollen caught sunlight midair, cascading like fairy dust.

  Stars wasn’t ready.

  The spores hit his left wing—just a few specs—but enough. His flight faltered. He spiraled down, wings flapping unevenly, and barely managed a soft landing at Graisey’s feet.

  “Hoppip, now Sleep Powder!” the younger Falkner called, back in the moment.

  Hoppip let out a joyful squeak and gave a burst of powder, this time blue and dreamy.

  “Stars, duck under and use Swift!”

  With a spring off his hind legs, Stars dove low—right beneath his opponent—and fired three golden stars. They curved in their pathway and struck true.

  Hoppip gave a soft cry, dropping from the air.

  Stars darted upward instinctively, one wing dragging behind in uneven rhythm. His flight was laboured, but he reached the falling Pokémon just in time. With a strained hover, he caught Hoppip against his chest, then drifted down in a spiraling glide. The landing was clumsy but careful. He placed the fainted Pokémon down with all the tenderness he could manage, before fluttering—unsteady but determined—back to Graisey’s side.

  “Advantage to the challenger!” the official called.

  The scoreboard flickered. One icon on the Gym’s side faded out.

  With tear-brimmed eyes, the young Falkner sister recalled her Hoppip. For a moment, the arena held its breath—just the sound of feathers drifting in the wind. Then her older sister stepped into the square and wrapped her in a quiet hug. The crowd stirred with a gentle round of applause. Dardua smiled from the stands, clearly moved.

  “A warm cheer for my sister—an aspiring Gym Leader!” the elder called through her microphone. The crowd responded with energy, and the girl waved, still wiping a tear from her cheek.

  The older sister turned to Graisey and nodded.

  “Tend the wing. Raise your hand when your heart’s ready to fly.”

  She stepped back to retrieve her Poké Ball. Behind Graisey, Kaiy stepped forward just long enough to hand her a Paralyze Heal. A tap on her shoulder—a wordless show of support. Graisey smiled, treating Stars gently, gave him a small hug, and then raised her hand high.

  A sharp whistle from the referee cut the tension, and the older sister returned to her side of the field. With her sibling in tow.

  This time, the wind rose with her.

  With a snap of her wrist, she launched her Poké Ball into the updraft.

  “Pidgey—go!”

  The ball popped midair, and from the light emerged a flurry of feathers and motion. The Pidgey steadied itself with skilled flaps, using the swirling air currents to stay aloft.

  “Stars, round two!” Graisey called.

  Ledyba took flight with a buzz, meeting Pidgey high above the floor as the bell rang.

  “Pidgey, Gust!” The Gym Leader’s voice cut through the wind like a blade. Pidgey’s wings snapped into motion, stirring a powerful blast that funneled in a spiraling column. The wind howled across the arena, rattling loose feathers and tugging at Graisey’s jacket.

  “Fly up, Stars!” Graisey shouted.

  Stars strained against the wind, wings wobbling, but caught a sharp updraft and spun higher.

  Graisey squinted through the swirling air, searching for her moment. Then—she saw it.

  “Supersonic, from above!”

  Stars let out a shrill pulse, straight down. Pidgey, caught in the last throes of its own Gust, shuddered midair. It faltered, eyes spinning, and crash-landed awkwardly on the ground.

  “Good move, Graisey!” the Gym Leader called. “Pidgey, try and shake it off—Peck!”

  Pidgey blinked, staggered back into the air, then dove with a sudden burst, aiming directly for Stars.

  The two collided midair. Not with a precise jab, but a disorganized slam that knocked Stars sideways.

  “Swift, now!” Graisey shouted, her voice rising above the wind.

  Even while spiraling down, Stars fired. Golden stars burst from its carapace and curved with perfect precision, each one landing on the disoriented Pidgey above. The impact sent bursts of light scattering through the wind.

  Pidgey tumbled, and found the ground again, hard. It didn’t rise.

  “Advantage to the challenger!” the referee cried.

  The scoreboard adjusted.

  The crowd erupted.

  From her corner, Graisey caught Dardua jumping to her feet, cheering loudest of all.

  Graisey saw even the Gym Leader applauding her before she recalled the Pidgey.

  “You’re doing great Graisey, I can see you are passionate. You’ve trained Ledyba well.” She held up the last feather Cyndaquil shot down. It was large, brown and with a white tip.

  “Now, Let’s see how you do when you face a hurricane! Go, now!” The Gym Leader called out in a frantic, pointing position. No Poké Ball was thrown, but a fierce cry came from above; Fearow!

  Graisey startled a little, gazing upward and changed position. The large Fearow—one of the Pokémon that had caused the fierce storm earlier—descended, hovering just above the ground, next to its Trainer.

  Falkner did not smile; she beamed, although her eyes carried something else. Challenge. Eagerness. It activated Graisey as she called Stars for one more battle.

  The challenger and the defender stood face to face, ready to leave it all in the arena.

  “Stars, Reflect!”

  “Fury Attack, Fearow!”

  Both voices rang out at once, filled with conviction.

  Stars whipped its paws through the air, casting a shimmering barrier. But Fearow crashed through it like a missile, wings flared wide, beak hammering down with brutal force. The Reflect shattered midair like glass. Stars braced—but it was to no avail.

  “STARS!” Graisey’s voice cracked as her partner was struck and sent flying.

  Fearow landed, proud, wings tucked in. Its Trainer stood motionless, arms crossed. Stars didn’t get back up. The referee raised his flag, called the result, but Graisey wasn’t listening. She sprinted across the field, dropped to her knees beside the fallen Ledyba.

  “Stars?” Her voice trembled. Her beautiful Ledyba lay motionless, facedown on the turf. Every instinct screamed at her to scoop him up and bolt to the nearest PokéCenter. A tear stung her eye.

  “He’s fainted, Graisey!” Kaiy’s voice boomed from the sideline. “Recall him—he’ll be fine! Stay focused!”

  His voice anchored her. Gritting her teeth, she pressed the Poké Ball to Stars’ carapace. “You did masterfully, my love.”

  A short red beam whisked him away. Applause echoed around her, but she barely heard it. She returned to her spot, brushing away the single tear.

  “One to go, Graisey,” the Falkner sister said. Her voice teased, but her eyes held something truer. “Can you feel the wind of change?”

  “Oh, I’m ready.” Graisey threw her Poké Ball high. “WE are ready!”

  With a cry, Cyndaquil hit the field, planting himself between his Trainer and the towering Fearow.

  “Cyndaquil, Ember!”

  The Fire-type’s back flared to life. Flames burst forward with surprising force, striking Fearow square in the chest. It screeched—a sharp, unearthly sound—as small flames danced along its feathers.

  “You burned my Pokémon...” The Gym Leader’s stance shifted. She no longer looked relaxed. There was no anger—only respect.

  “Fearow, Aerial Ace!”

  Fearow climbed fast. Its body shimmered white as it caught the wind currents and dove. A perfect hit. Cyndaquil was thrown back—but it landed on its feet.

  Graisey’s mind raced, looking for options.

  “Use Smokescreen and run around!” A thick, black mist poured from Cyndaquil’s mouth as it sprinted around the arena. The wind caught it, spreading thick clouds across the battlefield. Fearow hovered above, scanning for movement, but found none.

  “Now! Ember!”

  A sudden burst of fire from the fog below struck again—Fearow cried out, startled and scorched.

  “Enough!” The frustrated Gym Leader yelled, “Razor Wind!”

  Fearow whipped its wings violently—it made a whirlwind!

  The smoke vanished like a candle in the wind. Cyndaquil stood revealed. Fearow’s eyes locked in.

  It dove.

  Graisey clenched her fists.

  Fearow struck like lightning. One blow, and Cyndaquil tumbled across the floor. The Flying-type flared its wings, rising again on an updraft

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  “Cyndaquil!” Distress lingered in Graisey’s cry.

  Cyndaquil lay still. Dust curled around him. The referee lifted his flag—then froze. The Fire-type stirred. Slowly, painfully, he crawled back to his feet. Disoriented, it looked for Graisey, and he found her, he gave her an affirming nod.

  “He’s got a heart like a tempest—and so does Fearow! Peck, now!”

  Fearow cried out under the bright sky of the open dome. It still had flames trickling in its feathers. It dove again with neck-breaking speed. Its beak radiated with white light.

  But Cyndaquil didn’t flinch. He stared the Beak Pokémon down, calm, ready.

  Then—at the last moment—he sidestepped.

  Fearow missed by a hair, hitting the ground like a meteor. Dust burst into the air. Graisey saw her chance.

  ”EMBER!” she shouted, bracing herself like the ground beneath her had just shifted.

  Cyndaquil inhaled deeply. Flames sputtered to life, then surged—twisting, coiling, wrapping around him like a firestorm. He began to spin.

  “That’s not Ember, Graisey!” Kaiy shouted. “That is Flame Wheel!”

  Wreathed in fire, Cyndaquil shot forward like a blazing vortex, crashing into the grounded Fearow with explosive force.

  The flag went up.

  The referee shouted the outcome—it was over.

  Graisey didn’t move. Not until Kaiy wrapped her in a tight hug from behind.

  “We won,” she whispered, her mind flashing back to the Apricorn farm—the training. The doubts. The wind.

  The crowd exploded in cheers. Children screamed. Dardua leapt over the barrier and ran to her, arms flailing in celebration together with her scarf.

  Cyndaquil charged forward too, launching himself into her arms. She caught him, laughing and crying all at once.

  “Thank you…” Her voice cracked. “I’m so proud of my team.”

  "That was amazing, Graisey!" Dardua grabbed her by the arms, spun her around, and pulled both her and Cyndaquil into a playful hug.

  "I'm not even surprised," came Kaiy's dry remark.

  It brought her back to the moment. Graisey arched a brow at him, then answered with a sly, mocking grin. The tension broke—and they all laughed.

  The younger Falkner sister stepped forward. She gently took Graisey’s hand.

  “Graisey, follow me, please.”

  Though smaller in stature than the others, the novice Gym Leader’s presence stood tall. Graisey, still holding Cyndaquil close, led the group to the center of the battlefield.

  There, the elder sister was already waiting. Her Fearow, freshly treated, stood proudly by her side. Its fierce edge had softened. The once-relentless hunter now radiated calm—a dignified warrior recognizing its equal. Its eyes met Cyndaquil’s and shone with quiet respect.

  “That was a whirlwind of a match, Graisey. You passed with flying colors.”

  From the folds of her windjacket, the Gym Leader produced a small, silvery pin—its shape fine and elegant, feathers fanned in mid-glide.

  “This Zephyr Badge is yours. Wear the feathers with pride.”

  It landed in Graisey’s open palm. Heavier than expected. Whether from its actual weight or the trials she had overcome—she couldn’t say. The badge shimmered in the morning sun.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, bowing slightly.

  Then she held it out to show Cyndaquil. “Teamwork,” she said warmly.

  Kaiy stepped beside her, took her hand, and raised it high. The crowd erupted one last time in applause.

  And in that moment—etched forever in her heart—Graisey felt the shift:

  The struggles behind her, the journey ahead. Her dream of becoming a Pokémon Master had truly begun.

  People trickled out of the Violet City Gym, the energy from the battle still hanging in the air. Teachers gathered their students, performing a head count before setting off back toward the Pokémon School. Kaiy watched the scene unfold. It reminded him of his own school days back in Kanto: the nervous excitement, the whispers of admiration, the way battles became stories.

  His thoughts drifted, until a soft huff drew his attention. The Drampa that had waited outside was gently nuzzling the youngest Falkner sister, rumbling with contentment as she laughed and patted its long neck.

  Meanwhile, Dardua was deep in conversation with the Gym Leader. Something about the arena sound system and League paperwork. Kaiy only caught fragments—he’d already tuned out.

  “Hey there, Pokémon Trainer.” Kaiy turned, bumped lightly into Graisey, who stood just outside the Gym doors. “Head still in the clouds?”

  She was still glowing from the match, cheeks flushed, arms wrapped around a very proud-looking Cyndaquil.

  “Hey there, warrior,” Kaiy smirked. “Looks like someone learned a new move. That Flame Wheel was intense.”

  Cyndaquil gave a pleased murmur, flicking his flame as if in agreement.

  “Watch it!” Graisey felt the heat and Cyndaquil quickly doused the flame with an expression.

  “Not to be that guy, Graisey, but we’ve still gotta grab our gear before heading to the school.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, rocking on her heels, still in that post-victory high. “I just want to say goodbye to Dardua. She came all this way.”

  They both turned to watch as Dardua shared a few final words with the Falkner sisters. The sisters waved in unison toward Graisey and Kaiy—who instinctively waved back.

  “Sorry, you two,” Dardua called, walking over. “League business doesn’t stop. I had some official checks to run.”

  She glanced at her PokéGear and startled. “And apparently I’ve got about three hours to make it to my afternoon meetings.”

  She slung her scarf over one shoulder, its bright colors catching the light as the charms on her wrist jingled. Drampa draped his neck protectively over her, causing Kaiy to chuckle at the sight.

  With practiced ease, Dardua mounted the Dragon-Type, pushing his neck aside.

  “It was great meeting you, Graisey. Maybe I’ll join again sometime. And if you ever make it to Silver Town, drop by the League Center. Ask for me at the front desk.”

  She gave a sharp Ranger salute. “Ranger—thanks for your service.”

  Kaiy returned the salute just as formally.

  Dardua gave a click of her tongue. Drampa rose into the air—and not without a final show of personality. The Dragon-type veered slightly, swooping low over the road where the children were walking. Screams of delight erupted as the teachers scrambled to maintain order.

  Kaiy grinned. “Show-off.”

  The Foundation Building was fairly new. Its sleek, modern design stood out in Johto. Plastered white exterior walls, dark aluminum window frames, and tinted UV glass were familiar materials—just rarely used in this region. The locals didn’t mind. If anything, they welcomed it. It felt like Goldenrod City was creeping closer every day.

  Inside, the air conditioning whispered to life. No berry-sweet aromas lingered in the halls—just the sterile crispness of filtered air and polished surfaces. Monitors near the entrance displayed what could be found on each floor.

  She knew the layout by heart. Every turn, every door. She’d drawn some of the original architectural lines herself. Her heels clicked in rhythm down the corridor, each step sharp against the clean tile. Her Pokémon trotted behind her—silent, part of her shadow.

  A sturdy, wooden door loomed before her. Helena stood still, palms damp, heart thudding in her throat. Her Murkrow, ever at her side, cooed quietly—comforting yet alert.

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor. A young man in a pressed shirt approached with a clipboard, eyes downcast. Helena’s shoulders squared instantly, back straightening like a whip. The secretary flinched slightly upon meeting her eye, speeding up as if stung by her silent authority. Good. She was still in control out here.

  And yet… not.

  Her eyes flicked to the door again. Just wood. Just brass. Yet her hand hovered, refusing to knock. She paced once. Twice. This was different, she could not just flick her dagger on a table to assert dominance.

  Then, a knock. Not hers.

  She turned. Murkrow, looking guilty but resolute, stood beside the door.

  “Come in.” A voice from behind the door called out. The die was cast. Helena swallowed hard, pressed her sweaty palm to the brass handle, and entered.

  Sunlight poured in through tall windows as she stepped inside, painting the professor’s polished floor in gold. His office was wide, clean, almost too clean. And yet something—a shadow—ducked just behind the desk. She blinked, and chose not to question it.

  “Ah, Helena. Please, sit.” Tekton didn’t look up from the tablet in his hand, yet he knew it was her. Of course he did.

  She sat, carefully, Murkrow taking his usual place at her heel.

  She hated how perfect he looked in the morning light—sharp suit, sharper cheekbones, every greying hair in place like even chaos respected him.

  “Sir, I have an update.”

  He glanced up. His icy blue eyes met hers.

  “An update on what?” The warmth drained from his voice so fast it left her dizzy.

  She pressed on. “The three nitwits who nearly blew the operation.”

  There was a beat of silence. Her vile tone did not go unnoticed. Tekton sighed, deeply. When he looked up, his expression was cold, a striking shift from moments ago.

  “Mind your tone, Helena. They’re operatives. And certainly not nitwits.”

  The rebuke hit harder than it should have. Helena stiffened. Murkrow leaned into her leg, unseen comfort beneath the desk.

  “Apologies,” she muttered. “It’s just... their actions made the broadcast. National, maybe global.”

  “That’s not what I saw.” Tekton’s voice softened, becoming almost tender. “I saw a white van parked near a cave. That’s all. What are you so afraid of?”

  The shift threw her off balance. Just like that, her concern felt foolish. He was always like this—stoic one moment, disarming the next. The way he wove compassion into authority, wrapped confidence around control. He could praise and humiliate in the same breath. She hated how it made her feel—how much she craved his approval.

  “Sir, I don't know how, but it seems they got their hands on your vials. If this medicine falls into the wrong hands, it's game over for us.”

  “, Helena?” he cut in, voice gentle now, almost amused. “I appreciate your foundation’s support. Truly. But this research, this project... it carries name.”

  She faltered. “Of course, sir. I only meant—”

  “You’re doing well,” Tekton interrupted again, this time standing. He crossed the room in two long strides, eyes locked on hers. “You keep a careful eye on our progress. I value that.”

  His praise struck like a Thunder Wave. Her breath caught. He took her hand. Warm. Intentional.

  “Please. Continue to be vigilant. And trust me—I know who I’m dealing with and what I’m doing.”

  She nodded, dazed. Murkrow blinked slowly beside her, feathers puffed slightly in unease.

  “Helena,” Tekton continued, voice hushed, intimate. “I think it’s time I brought you in fully. Into my inner circle. You’ve earned it.”

  Her heart leapt. “Of course. Anything you need.”

  Tekton smiled—sharp, brilliant. “The three individuals you mentioned,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in a playful smirk, “are part of a special operation. My operation. Field testing.” He whispered that last part.

  He pressed his finger to his perfect lips. He paused, just a little too long. Then he started to pace, nervously.

  “Strictly confidential. If the board found out—if anyone found out—” His voice cracked. Tekton turned away, one hand on the desk for support, as if confessing something too heavy to carry.

  Helena sprang to reassure him. “No one will find out. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Tekton turned very slowly, his smile soft and luminous. “I knew you would. From the moment we met, I saw strength. Vision. Someone I could count on.”

  She felt dizzy. She tried to thank him, but all she managed was, “Of course, sir.”

  Her legs turned to jelly, her cheeks as red as a Voltorb.

  “I dare not ask you Helena, but... could you prepare a relocation? We’ll need a new site after the Johto phase. Somewhere older. More... ancient.”

  The word caught her off guard, unsure she’d heard him correctly.

  Tekton sank back into his chair.

  While she remained frozen in awe, Murkrow paced quietly across the office carpet. Something behind the professor’s desk stirred. The Dark-type’s feathers bristled.

  A shape. Pale. Watching.

  Its eyes locked with his.

  Red. Unnatural red. Not of this world.

  Murkrow cawed once, sharp and unsettled. Helena barely noticed.

  “Helena,” Tekton said warmly, drawing her back. “You’ve always known how to make things happen. I’m blessed to have you.”

  She beamed. She was exactly where she needed to be.

  Murkrow stared past the professor’s polished smile, and trembled.

  Dear Trainers,

  Lucas C.