Morning training had become a ritual.
Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just repetition sharpened by intent.
Grant stood at the edge of a clearing outside the town, arms folded, eyes fixed on Swadloon. The Bug-type stood squarely in the center of the dirt circle they'd marked days ago, leaves pulled tight around its body, not in fear, but in readiness.
"Again," Grant said calmly.
Swadloon inhaled.
This time, there was no hesitation.
The air shimmered.
A clean, translucent barrier snapped into place around Swadloon's body, solid and steady, its edges sharp instead of wavering. Grant stepped forward and struck the barrier lightly with a wooden staff.
The impact rang out.
The barrier didn't flicker.
Swadloon held.
Grant felt his shoulders loosen. "That's it. You didn't retreat. You didn't panic. You chose."
Swadloon's leaves parted slightly, its eyes visible now, focused, confident, no trace of the meekness that once defined it.
Nyra watched from a rock nearby, Whirlipede beside her. "That's not just Protect anymore," she said. "That's trust."
Swadloon shifted its weight, pride radiating quietly.
Grant smiled. "Perfected."
Adjustments, Not Explosions
Whirlipede's training was less about breakthroughs and more about refinement.
Where Venipede had once charged blindly, Whirlipede now calculated. Its heavy armor demanded balance, and Nyra worked it through drills that emphasized braking, pivoting, and defensive positioning.
"Don't just roll," she instructed. "Decide where you stop."
Whirlipede rolled forward, then slammed its body sideways into a controlled skid, dust spraying as it came to a halt inches from a marked line.
Nyra nodded. "Better."
Whirlipede's antenna twitched, acknowledgment without ego.
Grant watched closely. "It's like it learned patience before it learned power."
Nyra glanced at him. "Funny how that works."
A Choice Made Official
Drilbur lingered near Grant throughout the morning.
Not clingy. Not hesitant.
Just… present.
It watched Swadloon train. Observed Whirlipede's drills. Listened when Dewott and Pignite sparred nearby, their clashing styles sending ripples through the clearing.
Finally, Drilbur stepped in front of Grant and placed its claws gently on his boot.
Grant froze.
Nyra noticed immediately. "Grant…"
He crouched slowly. "You sure?"
Drilbur met his gaze, eyes sharp with intent. It tapped the ground once, firm, decisive.
Grant reached for the Poké Ball.
He didn't throw it.
He held it out.
Drilbur touched it with one claw.
Light flashed, and then settled.
When the ball clicked shut, Grant felt something in his chest tighten, not fear, not excitement.
Responsibility.
The ball shook once… twice…
Then stilled.
Grant released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Welcome to the team," he said quietly.
When Drilbur emerged moments later, it stood taller than before, not physically, but internally. It looked at Dewott. At Pignite. At Swadloon.
Then it clenched its claws.
It wanted to catch up.
Dewott and Pignite had never disliked each other.
Yet they had an intense rivalry between them.
But they challenged each other constantly.
Where Dewott flowed, Pignite surged. Where Dewott reacted emotionally, Pignite powered through obstacles with brute determination.
Their sparring session that afternoon was intense.
Aqua Jet met Flame Charge in a collision of steam and sparks. Dewott skidded back, teeth clenched, eyes burning. Pignite dug its hooves into the dirt, snorting, refusing to yield.
Grant raised a hand. "Control!"
Dewott pulled back first, barely.
Pignite hesitated a second later, flames dying down.
They locked eyes.
Then, almost simultaneously, they turned away.
Pignite's breakthrough of Arm Trust.
The next exchange came faster.
Dewott darted in with a short Aqua Jet feint, slipping past Pignite's guard and striking its side with the flat of its scalchop. Pignite staggered back a step, snorting in frustration.
"Don't just swing," Nyra called out. "Anchor yourself!"
Pignite growled, hooves digging into the dirt. It charged again, but this time Dewott slipped inside its arc, close enough that Pignite's wide strike had no room to land.
Pignite froze for half a heartbeat.
Then it did something different.
Instead of winding up, it drove its fists forward, short, rapid strikes, elbows tucked in, body rooted to the ground. One blow. Then another. Then another, each one snapping out with compact force.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Dewott barely managed to leap back, eyes wide.
The ground cracked beneath Pignite's stance as it finished the motion, breathing hard, arms still raised.
Grant blinked. "Nyra… did you see that?"
Nyra's grin was instant. "That wasn't flailing. That was control."
Pignite looked down at its own fists, surprised, then slowly clenched them again, embers flaring brighter at its wrists.
Grant nodded. "Arm Thrust. You didn't overpower it. You stood your ground."
Pignite huffed once, pride clear, but instead of charging again, it relaxed its stance, clearly exhausted but satisfied.
Dewott met its gaze across the clearing.
Not angry.
Respectful.
The rivalry hadn't faded , it had become more intense
Nyra exhaled. "They're not trying to beat each other."
Grant nodded. "They're trying not to fall behind."
Drilbur watched them intently.
That night, it trained alone, digging short tunnels, surfacing, repeating. Not recklessly. Methodically.
Grant didn't stop it.
He sat nearby instead.
Quiet and ambitions.
Later, as the town lights flickered on, Grant and Nyra stood outside the Gym registration hall.
The building loomed—stone, steel, authority.
Grant stared at the sign.
Nyra nudged him gently. "You're allowed to be nervous."
He chuckled weakly. "I know. I just… every time we get closer, it feels heavier."
She stepped closer, their shoulders brushing. "That's because it matters."
Inside, the registration clerk stamped their documents, eyes flicking over their badges and team lists.
"You're cleared," she said. "Battle appointment confirmed."
Grant nodded, heart pounding.
Outside, the night air felt sharper.
Nyra stretched her arms overhead. "Next gym. Next test."
Grant looked down at his Poké Balls, Swadloon, Dewott, Drilbur, then at Nyra's, Pignite, Whirlipede.
"We're not rushing," he said softly.
Nyra smiled at him. "No. We're growing."
Behind them, their Pokémon rested, each different, each driven, each walking their own path forward.
And for the first time in a long while, Grant didn't feel like he was chasing something unreachable.
He felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.