Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jericho VII, a lightly populated human colony world located in the Lambda Serpentis system, orbited by four silver-colored moons. It's vast oceans green in color and it's rolling plains of palm grass that could be seen from space.

A beautiful planet.

A calm planet.

Home.

Gone.

During the Human-Covenant War, Jericho VII was found and attacked by the Covenant on early 2532. She remembers the smell of the plasma to this day, her mother shoving her inside a crowded pelican that couldn't hold anyone else as it took off.

She never saw her again.

It didn't took long for a man in dark suit to aproach her, he started sweetly, saying no child should need to go through what she went through, his compassion was nothing but leading bait to make her accept joining the Spartan program, if they claimed kidnapping they had recordings of each candidate accepting join the Program.

But she never complained, she did what it was asked of her, quiet, competent, lethal. And then they pulled her out of her company, gave her specialized training, the argumentation... That hurted like a bitch! But she didn't complain, she never complained.

Not when she killed ONI's conspirators, not when she was send alone to eliminate insurrecionist, not when she was send on Reach to join Noble Team 

Noble... Was a new breath of air. She knew she wasn't wanted. Their old Noble Six, Thom, had died just a month ago. She didn't expect to remain on the team actully, she had expected one week before Carter requested for her to be send back to where she came.

But then... The covenant happened.

And suddently she found herself getting along with the rest of the team.

And then once again, everything feel down.

"Tell'em to make It count." 

"First glassing? Me too."

"I will do what's necessary, good luck sir." 

"You're on your own Noble, Carter out."

"I'M READY! HOW ABOUT YOU!?"

"Negative sir, i have the gun."

'I hope It wasn't in vain...'

She gasps, a sharp intake as her helmet breaths in clean air for the first time that week.

Wait...

'Clean air? Helmet?'

She sits up looking down on herself, her mate black MJONIR armor is intact, no dents or burn marks, most of all, no burn gaping hole over her chest.

"...What in the fuck...?"

She looks around, she wasn't on the plateau over the cliff launching pad. Instead, around her, green foliage and trees everywhere, looking up, the sky was a deep clean blue with soft cotton like clouds, unlike the Orange ablaze skys of Reach.

She get's up, instincts taking over as she cheeks her equipament, her armor is miraculously intact, she didn't question it, what matters is that she had protection. 

But she had no weapons besides her combat Knifes.

'well, shit. Problem for another time tho.'

She initiates her armor, her neural interface conecting with her armor, systems came online, she tested her movement, her montion delay decreased, great. Montioning Tracker? Working. Shilds. The familiar bzzz of shilds rechaging filled her ears. Fantastic.

She looked around herself, memorizing the place she had woke up and then started to walk, she could hear birds in the distance and on the horizon, smoke reached for the bright skies. Civilization.

She knew where she had to go.

The birds stoped singing the closer she got to the city, leaving an eerie silence around her. She didn't like that, it felt like thousands of eyes where staring at her, waiting for the right moment to attack.

Soon the familar sound of a city reaches her ears and she speeds herself up. Down the hill, a colerfull and livid city is in place. Wind turbines can be seen on the horizon, a Crystal clear River passes through the middle of the gleaming buildings. Laughter runned up the hill, the kind that didn't belong in a warzone.

She tensed, and steathly aproached the city.

Getting into the city was easier than she though, there simplely was no security on any part of the city border, wich imediataly raised alarms of the spartan's head. 

Her alarms sounded even higher when she saw a strange creature waking the streets, It was bipedal, but resembled a jackal, not the covenant troops, the actual Earth animal, It had blue and Black fur with yellow on it's torso and spikes on his hands and chest.

She watched wide eyes as a child, no older than 5 runned up to it and hugged it giggling in pure inocence. The animal smile and hugged the child back.

Looking deeper into the city she noted other similar situations. A gray muscular and humanoide creatures with four arms helping a man unload a truck. A nine tailed fox walking besides a woman in expenssive clothes. 

Everywhere she looked a diferent creature walked besides a Human, laughing and smiling, like there was nothing for them to worry about.

The scarier part? She saw no police patrol, no cry of pain or scream for help.

The city was silent.

She kept to the shadows, her Black and Grey armor helping blend in the industrial parts of the city. Carefull to not drawn the attention of any of the tier-1 creatures drinking tea with an old lady.

She passed by an small plaza where a pink egg shaped creature handed out wraped rice balls, from a cart. Children circuled around it with wide toothy grins. One droped his snack and the creature bended down to hand him another, patting his hair with it's stubby arm.

Lillian narrowed her eyes.

'Disarmed and pacified. Clearly trained to show affection. Psychilogical conditioning?'

She continued sneaking, turning a corner and stoping on her tracks at the bright billboard flickering above the street.

"Eiren region pokémon League! -

Semi-finals this week! Watch raising star Logan take the stage!"

Below it, a large screen looped footage of a man standing proud, arms crossed. A long black cloak flared behind him. At his side stood a regal-looking Blue and red dragon. The man spoke confidently, passionately, as crowds cheered at his words.

"Toghether with our pokémon, we build a stronger tomorrow!"

She felt the hairs on her neck rise.

That was the voice of someone who knew how to lead. Someone who could convince others to follow. Someone who could turn peace into leverage.

She moved quickly now, past the screen and toward a quiet corner near the river. It was the only place where laughter didn’t echo. The sound of water masked her footsteps.

She needed a vantage point. A safe zone. A place to think.

At the edge of the city, hidden between two tall buildings, she spotted an old maintenance ladder bolted to a service wall. Rusted. Forgotten.

Perfect.

She climbed quickly and settled on the rooftop, crouched beside an HVAC unit. The city sprawled beneath her like a painted diorama. Too bright. Too clean. No conflict. No tension. Just artificial perfection.

She took a slow breath and finally whispered aloud.

"Where the hell am i?" 

Chapter Text

Six remained crowched besides the HVAC unit for what felt like hours starting at that unreal scenario until she moved again.

'i need more information, local speak a common languange so It won't be hard to blend in to get those. My armor tho... That Will be a problem...'

A small sigh hidden behind her helmet. 

'i need shelter, suplies, Intel... Then find out what they hell is going on.'

Just as she was about to descend, a Voice calls out from the streets below.

"Are you lost?" 

She freezes, looks at her motion tracker, nothing, it must be out of tone.

'Shit!'

She peaks over the edge, a boy Maybe 12 or 13, with spiky green hair, a backpack and belt with white and red spheres cliped on it. A stranger little yellow rodent-like pokemon with a tail shaped like lightning sit on his shoulder, it's ears twiching curriously once it saw me.

The eyes of the boy seemed to light up when he saw her.

"Cool armor! Are you cosplaying a Steel-type Gym Leader or something?"

She didn't answer him, the silence streached to ackward levels.

'well guess my armor won't be that much of a problem anymore...'

She climbs down slowly, reaching the small alley floor with a thud under her boots making the boy step back slightly. She looks up at him calmly as ever.

"Where am i?" 

The kid blinks suprised.

"Uhm... Greenheart city, Eiren region, you okay, miss? Do you need me to call the pokémon center for you?" 

The rodent on his shoulder tilts slightly, sniffing the air then tensing up looking at her, sparks leaving it's red pouches. The Spartan tenses up imediataly.

"Woah, Spark! Don't be rude!"

The rodent stops, but doesn't take it's eyes off her.

"Sorry, i don't know what came into him."

The boy apologizes, scratching the back of his head. Six on the other hand remained tense.

"That thing is yours...?"

The boy beamed at the question.

"Yeah! This is Spark, he is my starter!" 

She stares at it for a moment, the rodent itself kept looking her as if she would attack the boy at any moment.

'good instincts.'

She looked back at the boy's face 

"You let him sit on your shoulder?"  She asks calmly. The boy smiles slightly.

"He doesn't like to stay on his pokeball, so he rides on my shoulder most of the time." He explain scratching behind Spark's ear making the rodent relax a bit.

"I see..." She said quietly 'so these creatures are domesticated... What is a pokeball tho...?'

The Spartan let the silent hang a moment longer than before. She turned her head even so slightly, still keeping an eye on Spark. Not hostile, but aware enough that he would attack in any notion of hostile intention. Her eyes turned back to the boy, his body languange was open, as if a stranger in unknow armor was not something to be afraid of. 

'they clearly trust each other, it's not Battlefield loyalty but it's loyalty none the less.'

She slowly straightened, arms at her slides, carefull to not make any sudden moves that would startle the animal.

"Alright, Greenheart city, Eiren region..." She repeated quickly and the boy noded.

"Yeah, you're not from around here are you? I mean, i never seen anyone walk around with armor!" He says laughing "you Pokedex must be top of line also, uh?"

'pokedex? Alright from the way he say it It must be some kind of technology, Just gotta go along with it.'

"I don't have one." She replied blankly, taking the boy by suprise.

"UH!? You're not sponsored? You kidding right? With that armor of yours i though you were!" He exclaims loudly making the Spartan tense up and rodent ears pick up at the movement.

She cleans her throat, trying to relax her posture back. "It's a long story." The says calmly.

"Well, you should stop by the pokémon center then, i'm sure they will be happy to help, they got free food, and housing for people in need or on the road, they also got a few info terminals if you're from another region." He explains to wich Six tenses up.

'a good way of getting the information i need, but It could also be full of guards... Don't think i have much option...'

The kid shifted his backpack, unconforteble with the silence and turned.

“Well, uh… you seem tough, but if you’re lost, I could walk you there. I gotta head that way anyway, I'm stocking up before I head to the next Route.”

She didn’t like being led.

But she needed Intel.

And the Center was her best shot.

She gave a small nod. “Lead the way.”

The boy beamed and started walking.

They weaved through the city, Six moving like a ghost despite the armor, drawing plenty of curious stares.

Spark occasionally glanced back at her, ears twitching, tail flicking like it was wired to an unspoken warning system. Even relaxed, it never turned its back to her fully.

Six couldn’t help but notice: most of these creatures, Pokémon, weren’t being commanded. They moved alongside humans, freely. Confidently. They weren’t pets, but they weren’t servants either.

'This is a partnership model. Strange.'

They passed a street where a fire-type creature with a flaming tail was helping cook noodles in a stand. She watched flames dance from its mouth onto the pan. There was no resistance from the humans, it was natural, lived and trusted...

She insticntively put her hand down just as somethig was about to hit her leg. A child almost bumped into her leg. The girl blinked up at her and smiled embaressed. "sorry, sir" She said contoring her and running off, a bear like pokémon that was trailing behind her waved before running off after her again.

The people didn’t fear her.

And yet the little yellow one still didn’t trust her.

'This city is more open than any settlement I’ve seen, and they trust strangers so easily...'

The boy turned to her smiling brightly.

"By the way, i didn't present myself, the name is Liam, Nice to meet you!" He said pointing to himself, she merely nod.

"Call me Six." She said calmly, making him raise an eyebrow.

"That's a stranger name..." 

"It's not a name." 

He didn't say anything else.

The pokémon center was a large red and white buildings with large windows for natural light. The outside was already buzzing with life as trainers and civilians walked in and out of it.

It also had no security.

Lillian didn't know if she should feel relief or pure horror.

The sliding doors opened with a pleasant chime. The interior was like something out of a dream, clean, warmly lit, almost like a hotel lobby.

A tall woman in pink curled hair stood behind the counter, typing into a holographic terminal. A soft, egg shaped pink Pokémon next to her 'the same species that was giving kids snacks on the streets' she noted, chirped cheerfully.

 “Welcome to the Greenheart Pokémon Center! Do you need help checking in?"

Six didn’t answer. She scanned the room. No security cams she could see. No visible exits other than the front. Too exposed.

"Is she with you?" Nurse Joy asked, turning to the boy.

"Not really. She just got into town and looked a little... lost."

"I see." The nurse smiled softly. "We’re happy to help travelers. Please, you can rest upstairs. Everything is free for registered Trainers."

Six’s voice finally broke the silence.

"What is a Trainer?"

Joy blinked.

"A... Trainer? Someone who trains Pokémon?"

Six tilted her head, slowly. "Clarify."

The nurse looked between her and the boy, who now looked a bit awkward.

"You’re really not from around here, huh?"

Six remained still.

The nurse’s smile faded just slightly. Her tone shifted, gently, carefully now.

"A Trainer is someone who forms a team with Pokémon, battles with them, studies them, travels with them. Most people become Trainers at 10. It’s how we bond with Pokémon and keep the world balanced."

That word again: bond.

The Idea was so alien, she was never good at that, even in Noble, most of the bonds she formed was through the shared experience on the battlefield, but to bond with creatures that can spit fire? Absolutely nuts.

But it did explain why the creatures obeyed willingly. They weren’t enslaved, they were choosing to stay besides the humans.

Willing soldiers. With loyalty.

That was dangerous.

She gave a slow nod.

“Understood.”

Nurse Joy have her a long look, not a judging one, it's the kind someone gives you when you're bleeding somewhere you can't see.

"You said you weren't a trainer, so what are you?" 

Lillian's remained silent for a moment, the question was too direct for her to divert the subject. She could lie, but then It would open more questions she doesn't have awnsers to.

So calmly she awnsered.

"I'm a soldier." 

The Nurse merely raised an eyebrow at that.

"A soldier? Like a regional peacekeaper force or the Rangers?"

"No, i mean military." Her tone was cold, controled. "I was trained for war." 

Joy looked confused. "We haven’t had a war in... decades. Not since the Kalos border conflict, and even that was political. The League doesn’t-"

"I’m not from any of your regions," Six interrupted gently.

Joy and Liam both stared.

"What do you mean?" the boy asked, clearly intrigued.

She remained quiet, what was she supposed to say to that, but at first she though she was dead. Now tho, now she knows this is real. For as unreal as It looks.

She simplely looks at Spark and the the pink walking egg besides the Nurse and stay the only thing that makes sense right now.

"They dont exist where i am from." 

Liam raised an eyebrow. 

"Pikachu and chancey?

"Pokémon."

Silence follows them, people continue with their lifes around them, but in their little Bubble talk it's like the world has stoped.

Liam is the first to break the silence.

"Well, i didn't know you had a sense of humor, Six, you almost got me there, right buddy?" He asks his Pikachu that starts to giggle.

Lillian doesn't move, it's not her job to make them belive her.

"Anyways, i really gotta get back to the road, so yeah, Thanks for the laugh!" He said turning back around laughing, talking happily with Spark.

Nurse Joy stayed quiet tho, she typed something in the terminal and turned to Six back again. "Come with me please. Chansey, take Care of the balcon please."

Nurse Joy left from behind the balcon walking deeper into the center. Six stayed behind for a moment before following, there was nothing much to lose anyways.

They walked in silence.

The hallway behind the counter was quieter than the front, lit by soft white lights and lined with doors marked with symbols and labels she didn’t recognize. Everything was too clean. Too peaceful. It set her nerves on edge.

Joy opened a door to what looked like a consultation room, minimalist, warm colors, two chairs, a couch, a small table, and a medical terminal against the wall. She gestured for Six to sit. Six remained standing.

The nurse didn’t push.

Instead, she walked over to the wall and pulled a small device from a drawer. It looked like a cross between a tablet and a biometric scanner. A soft pink glow pulsed across its surface.

"I’m not going to ask you to explain everything." Joy said calmly, "but I am responsible for mental and emotional health as well. And from what you’ve said, I need to check if you’re suffering from trauma, a disassociative episode, or memory loss. That’s part of my job."

"I’m not crazy." Six replied flatly.

"I didn’t say you were." Joy’s tone was calm, but edged with professionalism. "But you told me you’re a soldier. You speak like someone fresh off the battlefield. And this is a civilian city. You said you’re not from this world, and I believe you believe that. I need to confirm whether this belief is a delusion or something... else."

Six didn’t answer, but her hands flexed slightly at her sides.

Joy placed the device down and tapped the screen. "I’m going to ask a Psychic to assist. She won’t go deep, just surface thoughts and emotional calibration. Consent is required, but if you refuse, I’ll have to report the situation to the League’s crisis center. They’ll send someone far less gentle."

Six’s visor tilted slightly. "What if I say yes?"

Joy met her eyes, her smile soft but direct. "Then I’ll try to help you. Discreetly. You’re clearly trained, and clearly in pain. That’s not something I can ignore."

Another silence.

Then, finally, a nod.

Not the First physic evaluation she went through.

Joy tapped a button, and the side door opened. A Gardevoir stepped in, serene, tall, and glowing faintly with psychic energy. Its presence alone changed the air pressure in the room, like gravity shifted just slightly.

Six didn’t flinch. But her shoulders tensed.

"I want surface thoughts only." Joy reminded the Pokémon gently. "No probing. We’re just trying to confirm if there’s trauma or memory fragmentation."

The Gardevoir gave a quiet chime of agreement.

Six’s breath slowed. She opened her stance slightly, not relaxed, but granting permission.

The air shimmered faintly as the Gardevoir raised a hand and focused.

Then everything froze.

Its glow faltered. The Gardevoir’s eyes widened. A low, pained hum echoed in the air, not sound, but pressure. Psychic static.

She staggered back two steps, hand flying to its temple.

"Gardevoir?" Joy rushed over, catching it as it nearly collapsed.

The creature’s whole form trembled, not from fear, but from recoil. Like something had struck it from the inside.

Six hadn’t moved. But her voice was like ice.

"I warned you."

Joy stared between the two, alarmed. "What happened?"

The Gardevoir looked up slowly, eyes wide and distant, and gently projected a single, fragmented mental image to Joy, a burning city under a shattered sky, plasma fire raking across screaming civilians, and above it all, towering figures of steel and flame,  monsters, not pokemon, not human shoting plasma and killing without any Mercy.

Joy’s breath hitched, tears formed in her eyes.

"Oh Arceus…"

She turned back to Six. "You’re telling the truth."

Six’s visor tilted downward, not smug, just tired.

"I died there. Not long ago."

Joy sat down slowly, processing the weight of that.

"You… crossed over from another world. One filled with war." She looked at Gardevoir again, who gave a slow, stunned nod.

Joy exhaled slowly. Her professional mask cracked, just slightly. Lillian's packed a gente Hand on her shoulde, not the First time she comfirmed a civilian who Saw the covenant for the first time, her voice quiet. Gentle "It’s not your problem. I’m not here to start trouble. I just need to understand this place… and maybe find a way back to my people"

Joy stared at her for a long moment. Then gave a slow nod.

"Alright. I’ll register you as a refugee, you’ll get housing, food, access to the terminals. You don’t have to become a Trainer… but if you ever want to, I’ll walk you through it."

Six paused. Then nodded.

"Thank you."

The room was quiet again, but not tense.

There was, for the first time, something like mutual respect.

Joy stood up and turned to Gardevoir. "Tell no one. She’s not a threat."

Gardevoir nodded and exited quietly.

"Come on." Joy said. "Let’s get you some food. I belived you might be quite hungry"

Six noded, following her close behind "thank you ma'am"

"Please." Joy close the door behind them. 

"Call me Dalia."

Chapter Text

The automatic doors whisper shut behind them. The air smells of clean tile and subtle spice, a sanitized peace that feels entirely alien to Six.

Dalia gestures toward a quiet side room, fitted with a kitchenette and several low tables. Trainers eat here. Laugh here. Like a mess hall, if it was safe and made to accommodate elemetal creature

"Sit," Dalia says gently, motioning to a corner bench. "I’ll grab something light. You’re probably running on empty."

Lillian hesitates before sitting. Her body moves on instinct, not putting her whole weight on the furniture back to the wall, one leg braced, hands loose but ready. Every time she sat to eat back in the war, she kept her rifle within reach. Here? There were only napkins and colorful fruit bowls, it was... Unsettling...

She watches Dalia move with calm efficiency to the kitchen unit, selecting items from neatly labeled trays. "I gave Gardevoir a painkiller berry after the scan." Dalia says while working. "It got... loud in your head."

Six’s fingers twitch. "Yeah." she says flatly. Dalia glances at her over her shoulder. "You didn’t shield yourself. You didn’t know how. That kind of mental contact usually causes a recoil, the human brain doesn’t like being looked at from the inside out, first exposures tend to create migraines, so if you feel any it's because of that." Six says nothing, mostly because the dizziness of heatstroke post glassing is way worse than this an she pushed through that just fine.

The nurse returns with a tray, a cup of soft brown stew with a strange color shimmer, a small side of bread, and a bowl of fruit salad that smells almost... floral.

Dalia sits across from her. "Miltank flank Stew, good fot of protein Nanab bread and berry salad, with Payapa, Oran and Persim to help with the migraine and Cheri to help keeps the nervous system from bottoming out after a big surge.." She explained calmly. Lillian scans the bowl. Everything smells off, not bad, just not right. No MRE tang. No processed preservatives. This is real food.

She doesn't remeber the last time she ate something like that...

She removes her helmet for the first time since she arived on this world, the soft hiss of pressure releasing getting the nurse's attention. Her face was pale, like she never had a drop of sun in her life, a scar passed from her lip to her chin, her eyes were an unatural blue that almost seemed to glow in the dark, her hair a livid red cut short and still tied in a high ponetail to keep the bangs out of her view, she was beautiful in a tragic kind of way. She took the spoon for the stew and started to eat, slowly at first. Mechanically. The flavors are soft, unfamiliar, nothing like battlefield rations. Warm, rich, with just a hint of sweet bitterness. It coats her stomach like something her body almost forgot it needed.

“You’re not even chewing,” Dalia teases gently.

Six stops mid-motion. Blinks. “I haven't had... time... for real food since my team found the covenant on Reach.”

She pauses, Dalia leans back, thoughtful. “And before that?”

Six lowers the spoon. “Before that was cryosleep and ONI, the luxary of an MRE between missions is something had i missed on Reach..."

"So they starved you?" She spoke more gently now.

"no." she proceeds to eat, awnsering her between bites. "there were just bigger priorities."

"such as?" Dalia asks and Six stops looking at her like she was saying heresy.

"troopers, civilians, normal humans that need food daily?" the look on the nurse's face told her she said something wrong.

"normal humans?"

'ah, right...'

"... sorry," she said while putting the spoon down "i forgot i'm not in my world anymore, it's complicated to explain..." she said with a calm face that made Dalia feel wearded out about her chill she was speaking of her straindment in their world.

She cleaned her throat. "complicated how... exacly?" Dalia couldn't help but ask.

"super soldier biology complicated."

...

"Ah" Was all Dalia could say.

"i myself don't understand it well" The sparta continued  "all i know is that my body can cicle through nutrients more resorcefully than a normal human, even the useless mass tends to be used to help form our muscular structure, i can go for around 3 months until i start to have initial symptoms of starvation and even then it would take me a long while for me start dying from it." She says taking the breed and giving a tentative bite, it had a sweet taste with a soft tinge of bitter in the end, not bad.

Dalia raises an eyebrow "sooo, you don't poop, is that what undestood?"

Lillian paused for a moment before swallowing the breed on her mouth and awnsering. "Technicaly...? But most of my alimentation was out of MREs that are made with tech so normal soldiers don't need to make their nessecities in the middle of a firefight so i'm not sure..." She confesses.

"okay, that makes more sense... i think..." They remained in comfortable Six eating quietly and finishing it everything easily, suprisingly, as soon as she finished eating the fruit salad the slightly headache passed. She mde a mental note research more about those berries later. She layed the spoon down eyes landind on the cup whre the stew once was, curiosity takin over her. "

You said... Miltank? Is that an animal?"

Dalia smiles slightly. "Sort of. It’s a Normal-type Pokémon. Very docile. We breed them for dairy and meat. They’re also common as household pets in rural towns."

Six stares at her. "So... they’re both livestock and pets?" She asks confused about the dinamic.

"Some Pokémon are. Depends on the species, the region, the culture. Some are companions. Others help on farms. Some work construction. It’s about partnership."

Six frowns, trying to parse it. "You... eat Pokémon."

Dalia flinches slightly, not offended, but aware of how brutal it sounds out of context. "We don’t hunt wild Pokémon, if that’s what you mean. Most food stock is bred ethically, League regulations. Many species are bred with the express purpose of supplementing human diets."

"And they allow this?" She asks with uncertainty.

"They don’t just allow it. They participate. Miltank produce milk without cruelty. Combee willingly offer honey. It’s a mutual bond, one of trust. That’s why... what you saw earlier? The Chansey? She chose to work here."

Lillian processes this in silence. It's too much. The idea that these creatures not only coexist with humans, but choose to serve, to help, to bond, willingly.

This world was built on trust.

And that made it vulnerable.

Because trust could be exploited.

She stays quiet for a moment before speaking again "These berries." She gestures at the bowl of salad fruit, now empty. "They do more than feed you."

Dalia smiled, somewhat glad for the change in topic. "Yes, Oran heals small wounds, Payapa helps build a resistence against psychic attacks, Persi helps with confusion and Cheri healps with relaxing the nervous system, there’s a whole field of study around them, berry alchemy, some call it."

Six tilts her head, already calculating. "So they function as battlefield medicine."

" Dalia hesitates. "I suppose... that’s one way to look at it."

The Spartan leans back, eyes unfocused, absorbing.

She would have study it indeed.

The upper floor of the Center is quiet, lights dimmed to a warm amber glow. The carpet under their feet muffles every step.

Dalia walks calmly, clipboard tucked under one arm, glancing back at Six occasionally. The Spartan follows, silent and heavy in her armor. Her helmet is back on, her blue visor reflecting everything back to the outside.

Most rooms are unmarked, doors painted a soft peach and green. A distant sound, some pokemon chirping, echoes from a trainer’s open door. Otherwise, silence.

"This one’s free tonight." Dalia says gently, tapping her card against the scanner. The door slides open with a low chime.

The room is small but comfortable. A twin bed with plush green covers sits by the wall beneath a wide window, moonlight streaming in. A potted plant hums quietly, literaly hums, beside a desk. There’s a touchscreen terminal built into the wall, a private bathroom door off to the side, and a small drawer unit.

It’s not military. It’s not home. But it’s clean. Soft. Quiet.

Too quiet.

Six steps inside slowly, scanning corners automatically.

"No surveillance" Dalia offers gently, reading her body language. "No cameras in the rooms. It’s policy. People deserve privacy while they rest."

Six doesn’t respond. She steps to the center of the room, her steps suprisingly quiet considering the heavy armort, and does a slow, precise turn, clearing it like she would a forward base.

One window to the left. One door towords the corridor leading to the main receptio hall of the center. One vent on the ground just by the bathroom door besides the bed. The batroom was standart, a toilet, a shower and a sink, a small window was o the upper part of the shower, the frosted glass allowed natural light to come in without compromising privace, even if someone tried to peek in.

Back in the room the bed was reinforced, probably to acomodate affectionate heavy pokemon and their trainers.

But to her, it meant she could actully sleep in a bed since forever without worring if her weight would break the furniture.

The walls are too thin. The bed too soft. The lights too warm.

It's nostaugic i a unfamiliar way to her.

She turns to Dalia. "No lock?"

Dalia offers a small smile. "Only from the inside..." She pauses and montions with her head. "And my master key in case of emerencies." 

Six studies her, then steps toward the door and taps the control panel, testing it. It responds immediately, locks engaged. But no backup bar. No security override.

She sighs through her nose. "Alright."

Dalia lingers just a bit longer. "If you need anything, I’m on shift all night. Don’t hesitate."

Six looks at her. "I won’t."

Dalia hesitates again, then adds, softly. "You can take your armor off if you want. No one’s going to hurt you here."

The Spartan’s posture stiffens almost imperceptibly. She doesn’t answers to that, how do you explain to someone, a civilian above all, your armor is your second skin?... And that you need special equipament to completely take it off?

Dalia nods once and leaves, the door sliding shut behind her with a quiet thunk.

Lillia stays quiet for a moment, she thinks of everything that happened today, and how crazy this all seems. 

She looks out her window, to the unfamiliar constalations above, the lack of orbital defence or fragships patroaling the planet atmosphere made for an lack of sound she didn't knows was always there, and for a moment, she allows the silence to fill in.

Chapter Text

The sun rised over the the city buildings, Noble Six was already awake, screwdriver in hand, helmet being hold still between her legs, she was fixing the motion tracker, a single wire was out of place, she quickly reconected it and screwd the plates back into place. She made an last check up to see if everything was in order before putting the helmet back on, she felt it lock into place with vaccum pressure, armor and helmet syncronizig, she waited to confirm the motion tracker was actuly working before she put the tool away in one of her tactical pouches.

Lillian got up and stretched her limbs, she had reasonable sleep of 4 hours, longer then the rare naps she could have between missions from the last month. She coulds have slept longer of course, but she wanted to get over with acquainting herself with this new world she was throw into.

Unlocking her door she left her bedroom and walked down towords the main hall, upon arival her eyes imediataly makes general sweap of the room, confirmig hidden spots had no one hidde, behind them before walking towords the two only living beings on the hall.

The smell of warm milk hited her first, she saw Dalia behind the reception desk, mug cradled in her hands, taking small sips while reading her terminal. Chansey was finishing resupling a drawer with small spray bottles of different colors, humming a soft tune while doing it. The nurse looked up from her terminal as she aproached and gave the Spartan a small tired smile. 

"Good morning, slept well?" She asks placing her mug down on the balcon. 

Six nodded "good moring, and yes, i did." she said eyes turnig back to Chansey who waddled past her giving a happy cry in greating, to wich the Spartan responded with a nod, still a bit wearded out from the sentient creatures, but quickly adapting, as a Spartan always does.

She turns back to the woman who quickly finishes typing something on the terminal before closing it. "ahh, i can't wait to sleep" she says walking out from behind the balcon.

"Long night?" The Spartan asks noting the eyebags under her eyes.

"kinda of." she said stretching "a trainer came in with a exausted Eevee, he was trying to evolve it into Umbreon so he trained it at night until exaustion" she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose "he definely forgot the happiness part of the evolution..." 

Six tilted her head slighty "evolve?"

Dalia's head snaped up "oh right, sorry i forgot you're... you know..." she said scraching her head, "i will explain later... after i had some sleep and can think well..." 

The Spartan merely raised her hand "there is no need, i was planning on using one of the public terminals to do some research either way, just rest." she explains calmly. The nurse's posture visualy relaxed at the soldier's words.

"right, i will..." just as she said those words the employees only door opened, out came a woman really similar to Daila, to anyone else they would seem the same but Lillian wasn't anyone, her eyes quickly caught the diference between both, Dalia clearly was taller by a few inches, the other woman's pink hair was shinier than Dalia's and her eyes were slightly closer than from the nurse beside her.

Dalia sighed in relief upon seeing her "Morning Helen." 

The other nurse smilled as she aproached, "Morning Dalia, anything i should be watching out for today?" She asks eyes finally turning to Six curiously. "Oh, hello."

Six nodded towords her "ma'am"

Dalia sighed, before smilling "yes her, this is Lillian, she is a refugee staying with us until she figures herself out. Lillian this is my cousing Helen, she runs this pokemon center alongside me."

Helen eyes widened "oh i see." she turns and smiles at the armored woman. "as you heard i'm Helen, it's a pleasure to meet you, if you need anything don't be afraid to ask." she says smiling at her friendly

Six nods "nice to meet you, Helen, and i will keep that in mind." 

Helen’s smile lingered for a moment longer before she turned toward the back again. "Chansey’s already laid out breakfast in the common room. It’s mostly for the trainers, but you’re more than welcome to grab something. She even made Oran-berry oatmeal this morning."

Dalia stretched again and gave a tired laugh. "Tell her to save me a cup if she hasn’t eaten it all herself…"

The Chansey in question gave an indignant chirp from behind the counter, clearly understanding. She puffed her cheeks and wagged a stubby arm, then waddled off toward the back with purpose.

Six tilted her head slightly at the exchange. "She cooks?"

"Oh yeah" Dalia nodded. "We train most Center Pokémon to assist with recovery and basic operations. Chansey’s got a real talent for kitchen work, though. She says it keeps her calm."

"She said that?"

Dalia blinked at the tone. "Well, not said said. More like, you know... she made it known. They’re expressive enough once you’re around them for a while."

Six didn’t respond immediately. The more time she stayed here the more uprised she got by these pokemon, capable of cooking, medical work and problebly more. It still threw her off. Back home, or what used to be home, those traits belonged to trained humans, machines, or AIs. Not bipedal pink puffballs.

Eventually, her stomach answered for her. A low, mechanical groan through the armor's internal sound system. Dalia arched a brow.

Six remained unfazed. "I’ll investigate the food."

"You mean eat the food?" Dalia teased.

"I’ll determine that once I see it."

The common room was quiet, save for a soft regional radio station humming low over the speakers, a simple melodic tune playing, brass and guitar overlaid with what she could only assume was a pokemon’s lazy humming.

The table near the far window had been set up like a small buffet. A rice cooker-sized pot radiated steam from its lid, the smell surprisingly savory and sweet. Nearby, a tray of sliced breads, thick fruit preserves, sandwishes, options of juice, coffe and tea and bowls of oatmeal filled with tiny, vividly colored berries sat beside paper tags: Oran, Sitrus, Pecha, Cheri.

Six approached slowly. The layout reminded her vaguely of military field rations, but softer. Gentler. The portions weren’t rationed by calories, but by kindness.

The oatmeal looked harmless enough. Blue and pale orange bits, berries problebly, floated inside like fragments of fruit. She took one bowl for herself a sandwish and a cup of orange juice.

First bite: warm. Slightly tart, then sweet. It hit the back of her throat and spread across her palate like a balm. She blinked once.

'Not synthetic, not processed either and it seems they have normal fruits also... good to know.'

She sit down on a table, now less afraid of breaking it knowing all furnitune of the center is reinforced. She took a tentative bite of the oatmeal, it was warm, slightly tart, then sweet. It hit the back of her throat and spread across her palate like a balm. She blinked once. She didn’t realize she’d already taken another bite until the spoon clicked the side of the bowl.

Chancey waddled into the room from the kitchen, eyes brightening when she saw the empty dish. “Chan~sey!”

Six gave her a nod. “Good.”

The Pokémon beamed.

She was now infront of a terminal, sandwish in hand, as she quietly read the information available to her, taking some bites here and there, the taste of ham and cheese filling her mouth. She had made a list of topics to keep a eye out for in this research.

-Pokemon, typing and it's influences.

-Evolution theory to dummies.

_Berries and it's utilities.

-Pokemon league guide book and rules.

She decided to go in order.

First: Pokémon Typing and Its Influences

The basic explanation was easy enough: Pokémon were classified by 18 dierent elemental types, each with strengths and weaknesses that resembled a tactical wheel. Fire beat Grass, Grass beat Water, Water beat Fire. There were others, some less intuitive. Psychic was strong against Fighting, but weak to Bug. Ground could ignore Electricity. Steel resisted nearly everything except Fire and Fighting.

'They're built for counterplay. Purposefully.'

Some of the diagrams reminded her of old ONI bioschematic overlays, color-coded and tailored for combat deployment. These weren’t just animals. They were strategic assets.

She paused at one line:

"Type can influence personality, diet, even the way a Pokémon bonds with its Trainer."

She added a silent note: Typing affects psychology. Investigate further.

The next made her eyebrows twitch.

Evolution Theory (For Dummies)

The guidebook was simplified for young Trainers. She appreciated that. It explained how some Pokémon evolved naturally through experience and training. Others needed elemental stones, exposure to particular environments, or even friendship/happiness, an abstract concept somehow quantifiable enough to trigger metamorphosis.

“When a Trainer and Pokémon share a strong bond, it can help trigger certain evolutions, especially in species like Eevee, who are highly responsive to emotional conditions!”

She leaned back slightly.

Bond-based transformation. Combat enhancement through attachment.

'The Covenant had species-wide caste systems. This is... different. But not.'

The difference was that here, evolution didn’t seem forced. The system encouraged mutual care. But the potential for abuse? Her mind wandered back to Dalia's ealier words over that trainer and his Eevee.

'That definely borders abuse...'

She decided to move on, going into an subject she alredy had some small understading on.

Berries and Their Utilities

This one made more immediate sense. Medicinal plants. Natural healing properties. Simple field medicine, but scaled up for creatures that could shoot lightning and summon psychic storms.

Oran and Sitrus: healing.

Pecha: antitoxin.

Cheri: anti-paralysis.

"Some Trainers grow their own berry gardens for field use and cooking!"

The entry was cheerfully detailed, down to recipes.

She took another bite of the sandwich. It suddenly could understad the slighty spicy flavor of it.

Now things got interesting...

Pokémon League Guidebook and Rules

She expected a rigid hierarchy—military-like.

Instead, it was gamified.

A badge system. Regional Gym Leaders acting as skill checks. The Elite Four and a regional Champion at the top, rotated only through defeat in sanctioned battle.

"A Trainer’s journey is personal and shaped by their experiences with their Pokémon!"

Battles were heavily regulated. No striking the Trainer. No fatal attacks. Pokémon were healed after fights. Safety and spectacle went hand in hand.

'They built a global military structure... and disguised it as a sport.'

She sat back, watching a looping video of two Trainers shaking hands after a battle. Their Pokémon cheered beside them.

And yet these creatures could level buildings.

Her eyes narrowed. She opened a blank note field and began typing:

-Observe Gym Leaders for potential leadership or militant capacity.

-Investigate origin of League system. Who founded it?

-Who enforces the rules? What happens if someone breaks them?

She looked down at the mostly finished sandwich.

And then, for the first time since waking up in this world, she allowed herself a single thought she hadn’t let in before.

'This place is too clean for the kind of power it holds.'

Chapter Text

The pokemon center was buzzing with life this last week, trainers came and went, Lillian could feel the exitement in the in the air. Dalia and Helen moved effectively through it, like a well oiled machine working overtime.

She had just finished another hour of research, for the past week, Six has made her job in researching the basics of that world, pokemon type matches and weakness, berry biology, goverment laws, expecialy refugee and foreing rights, and bit of the geography and pokemon on the local area of the city. Her progress was methodical, efficient, and strategic, just like any good field op.

Wich takes us to the current situation.

Greenheart sat in the southern part of the Erien region, nestled between forest and open plains. It was the first major settlement trainers encountered with a fully operational Pokémon Center, direct access to two Gym cities, and a main road leading north to the capital, home of the League Tournament and the Grand Festival.

In the last two months before the annual League Season began, Greenheart transformed. What was once a tranquil community became a launchpad. The region allowed trainers a full twelve months to collect eight badges from the twelve Gyms scattered across Erien. And although they could technically begin from any certified Gym town, a peculiar tradition persisted.

Every year, a growing number of hopefuls deliberately chose to start from Route 1.

Why? Part superstition. Part ceremony. Route 1 was where many famous Champions had started their journeys, turning it into a symbol of luck and legacy. It was said the path’s gentle nature helped new trainers bond better with their starters. Others believed starting from the "first route" aligned the soul with a successful journey. Even televised interviews and documentaries reinforced the myth, the greatest started at the beginning.

That folklore, paired with the route’s easy terrain and diverse low-level Pokémon, made it the most sought-after kickoff point. Now, with just sixty days left before the season’s official start, young trainers were flooding into Greenheart to secure an early edge, scouting the route, building up their teams, or simply soaking in the atmosphere.

And amidst the chaos, Six watched and listened.

Most exacly, she was watching the two nurses, Six noticed it in the way Dalia and Helen moved, still precise, but a little too fast, a little too clipped. The usual stock carts weren’t rolling through. The storage room door was being opened and shut more often. The Nurse Joy cousins had started rationing healing sprays for minor injuries, offering half doses with instructions for careful use.

And most telling of all, there was no Chancey stationed full-time behind the recovery desk.

Lillian watched her now as the pink Pokémon bustled past her again, carrying a tray stacked with gauze and medicine bottles, the other was helping around using it's support moves like Heal Pulse and Life Dew. There was no wasted motion, but Six reconized this kind of quiet emergency before, a team running on emergency protocols.

Dalia rubbed the back of her neck, her face pinched with frustration. "We’re barely holding it together," she muttered under her breath.

Six stood by the balcony railing, careful not to stray into staff-only zones or obstruct anyone needing service. "Short on supplies?" she asked plainly, though the answer was obvious.

Dalia turned, blinking like she hadn’t noticed Lillian standing there. "Ah, yeah. The shipments come in fine, but getting them from the local PokéMart is the problem. Our Machoke, usually handles that, but he’s down with a fever. Some weird reaction to a spore-based bug bite."

Six tilted her head slightly. "And no backup?"

"None strong enough to lift those crates. Helen’s already got her hands full with the trainer influx. And honestly... the Chansey we have here aren’t built for hauling cargo."

A soft coo sounded behind her as one such Chansey emerged from behind the shelfs, cradling a clipboard in her stubby arms and looking up at the conversation with round, concerned eyes.

Six looked from the Chansey to the crates, her mind already calculating weight, distance, terrain and time.

"I can help," she said simply.

Dalia blinked. "You... what?"

"I’m familiar with basic transport operations. Give me a list. I’ll take one of the Chansey to verify inventory and credentials if needed."

"You... want to go to the PokéMart?" Dalia asked, incredulous.

Six nodded once.

"I owe you shelter. And logistics under pressure is one of my specialties."

For a long moment, Dalia just stared at her, trying to reconcile the offer with the fact that this woman had only arrived days ago, didn’t even know what a Poké Ball was a week prior, and now wanted to volunteer for supply duty.

Then she smiled. A small, genuine one.

"I’ll get the manifest." she said softly.

As Six turned to leave, the Chansey waddled to her side, adjusting the clipboard with stubby arms and giving her a determined little salute.

Lillian blinked. "You’re volunteering to come with me?"

"Chansey!"

A long pause. Then a quiet nod from Six.

"Alright then. Let’s get to work."

The city was alive, bustling with foot traffic, the chatter of trainers, and the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by Pokémon flitting through the branches above. She adjusted her borrowed satchel, the supply manifest tucked neatly inside, and glanced down at her companion.

Chansey waddled beside her, clipboard held close to her round belly and humming a soft, cheerful tune. A tiny nurse cap perched atop her head bobbed with every step. She radiated calm like a field emitter set to soothe.

The streets were busier than usual. New trainers with wide-eyed expressions clustered in groups, showing off their freshly caught Pokémon. Some trained in public parks, a girl teaching her Marill to dodge water balloons, a boy carefully instructing his Rookidee on gliding techniques. Lillian took note of it all.

This world had entire neighborhoods designed for cohabitation with creatures that could level buildings. Public benches had built-in feeding dishes. Crosswalks had flashing lights that responded to Pokémon size. It was surreal.

In the UNSC, any biological organism powerful enough to melt walls or throw lightning would be tagged and monitored, if not studied behind a thick containment wall. Here, they were handed to children with smiles and applause.

And yet… she felt none of the danger she should have. No underlying tension. No soldiers. No checkpoints. Just trust. Trust, and rhythm.

Chansey chirped and pointed with a stubby finger toward a side alley. A shortcut. Lillian nodded and followed.

They rounded a corner toward a merchant bridge, an open-air intersection where carts from the farms nearby came in with crates of food, berries, and Pokémon care goods. A tall Tauros snorted near one of the carts, stamping its hooves. A young man held its reins loosely, distracted, losely talking with a young woman.

Lillian slowed.

She could feel it before she saw it. The tension in the Tauros' legs. The twitch in its shoulders. Its breathing was uneven. She scanned the area and then saw it, a water balloon had escaped from a child's hand nearby and floated straight into the Tauros’s line of sight.

The snap came fast.

The balloon popped on the Tauros’s horn with a sudden bang.

The Pokémon roared.

Chaos erupted.

The Tauros reared, tearing the cart free from its bindings. Crates tumbled, spilling berries and glass vials of berry concentrate goods onto the stone road. Civilians screamed. The driver fell back, scrambling away as the Tauros bucked and charged forward, eyes wide, tails lashing.

And then Lillian moved.

She dropped her satchel and surged forward, instinct overriding hesitation. Her boots hit the cobblestones hard as she veered wide, drawing the Tauros’s attention away from a nearby cluster of trainers, just children, frozen in place. The Pokémon charged toward her, pure muscle and fury.

Timing. She counted its stride pattern in half-seconds.

As the Tauros lunged, she sidestepped fluidly, one hand grabbing on one of it's horns as she twisted her weight. Using its own momentum, she redirected its charge, forcing it into a stumble that took it crashing into the cobblestone road rather than through the crowd. The pokemon was eratic o the floor panting and trashing to get up.

Chansey at the driver’s side let out a soft sound, colorful notes floating from her mouth as she singed, the notes shimmered in the air, dissolving in small, glitter-like pops as they touched the Tauros, the bull's struggling slowed, until it lay still, breathing heavily but asleep.

As the Tauros finally stilled, the tension in the air began to thin. A few scattered cheers and relieved sighs broke out among the onlookers. People began picking up fallen crates and spilled goods, though many kept sneaking glances toward the woman in gray armor standing beside the sleeping beast.

A man, middle-aged, in a shop apron dusted with flour and berry stains, stepped forward, clutching a small cloth pouch. His hands trembled slightly, whether from nerves or adrenaline, Lillian couldn’t tell.

"Quite the manuver you did." he started, stopping a few feet from her. "Never seen anyone redirect an raging Taurus like that"

Lillian said nothing at first. Her eyes scanned his stance automatically, no visible threat, body language open, a bit nervous. Civilians often reacted this way after violence, either wary or reverent.

"I just redirected it." she said simply. "The Tauros wasn’t in full rage. Would have been harder to stop him without fataly wounding him otherwise."

The man blinked at her, then let out a breathless chuckle. " You make it sound easy." He held out the pouch. "Here. Pecha Berries. Fresh-picked. I, uh… I own the bakery near the station. We barter with the farms for these every week. They're are the best on these parts.”

She looked at the pouch, then at him. "Not necessary." she said.

"please." he replied, gently but firmly. "You went out of your way to protect those kids, it’s not undeserved."

There was a pause, not tense, but weighted. The friendliness in this world never did not suprise her.

Lillian took the pouch slowly, fingers brushing his calloused ones. "Thank you."

He hesitated a moment longer, eyeing her armor and towering statue, standing too upright, too still. "You're... not from around here, are you?"

A flicker passed through her eyes behind her visor. "No." she said truthfully.

He gave a short nod, as if that confirmed some suspicion. "Well... wherever you’re from, they raise ‘em brave."

Another pause.

She opened the pouch and pulled out a berry, glancing down at Chansey. The pink Pokémon chirped expectantly.

"Good job." she murmured, handing one over. Chansey accepted it with a squeal of delight, hapilly munching o the sweet berry.

The man watched the interaction, then backed away slowly. "Thanks again. Really."

As he turned to leave, Six too did, turning to her pink companion "Very well, let's go."

"Chanseey~"

The PokéMart stood at the edge of the merchant district, a larger structure compared to the standard corner stores she'd seen throughout the city. It had an open front framed by warm wooden panels and posters of smiling trainers posing with supplies. An automatic door whooshed open as Lillian and Chansey stepped inside.

The interior was clean, stocked, and brightly lit. Rows of shelves bore healing items, Poké Balls, travel gear, and displays of fresh and preserved berries. Behind the main counter, a broad-shouldered man with a bushy beard and a blue apron looked up from a handheld ledger.

Chansey waddled ahead and chirped politely.

"Well, hey there, little lady!" he said with a grin, adjusting his glasses. "Didn’t expect the delivery pickup today, but-"

His eyes landed on Lillian as she stepped forward, her visor catching the ceiling lights, the edges of her grey undersuit dusty from the scuffle earlier.

His brows lifted slowly.

"…Well, I'll be damned. Arceus above, you're built like a Machamp or something."

She paused for half a second. "Not quite. Just trained to lift more than standard infantry."

That got a blink out of him.

"Right. Okay." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You here for the Greenheart Center shipment?"

Lillian nodded and handed him the manifest. "Nurse Joy authorized me. Chansey’s here to confirm inventory."

Chansey raised the clipboard proudly and gave a soft affirmative "Chan~!"

The man gave a low whistle as he skimmed the list. "Yeah, this looks right. I’ve got your crates ready in the back, lotta heavy stuff today. Protein mixes, field kits, disinfectants, couple of specialized medicine boxes for Bug and Poison types. Machoke usually handles it, yeah?"

"He’s sick." Lillian said flatly, already moving toward the rear doorway. "I’ll handle the load."

He started to object but paused as she disappeared into the back, the door swinging behind her, a moment later, it swung open again, and she emerged carrying two of the heavier crates stacked against her chest, walking with perfect balance and not so much as a grunt of exertion.

The shopkeeper let out a laugh. "Okay, yeah. You’re hired if this soldier thing you have going doesn’t work out."

She said nothing, setting the crates down with practiced care beside the counter, not a single vial inside rattled.

Chansey dutifully began cross-checking items, humming softly.

The man tilted his head. "You’re not from around here, are you?"

"No."

"…Right. Thought so."

He handed her a small token. "This confirms the pickup. Bring it back when you return the cart. And hey, thanks. We’ve been stretched thin with all the early trainer traffic, usually they come a month before the circuit starts, not two."

Six nodded once. "I know, it's why i volunteered."

As she moved to collect the next load, the man scratched his beard, glancing at the now half-filled manifest.

"Built like a Machamp." he muttered again, shaking his head with a grin. "But works like a damn Metagross…"

The sun was lower in the sky by the time Lillian and Chansey began their return, the golden light casting long shadows down Greenheart’s cobbled streets. Their small cart rolled steadily behind them, weighted with medicine crates and berry boxes, supplies vital to the coming weeks.

Chansey walked in her usual waddle, humming softly beside the cart, her stubby hands occasionally adjusting a loose box or checking that everything stayed secure.

Lillian moved ahead, scanning the path. Though it wasn’t exactly hostile territory, she couldn’t help her instincts. She counted every pedestrian, noted open windows, and mapped the nearest exits in case of sudden danger.

Which is exactly why she noticed the movement.

A blur of pink and cream darted from beneath a bench, a shadow with twitching ears and a too curious glint in its eyes.

Lillian turned her head just as the small shape made its move.

A Skitty.

It leapt up onto the edge of the cart with shocking agility for its size, landing with a cheerful chirp. Its big, shimmering eyes locked onto the berry box. With a quick flick of its tail and a delighted purr, it's littles paws softly tried to pry the lid of the crate open.

Six didn’t move at first. She only stared, like a predator watching a prey animal do something foolish.

Then, very calmly, she spoke.

"Stand down."

The Skitty froze mid scratch, its ears perked up and its tail did a lazy question mark wiggle.

Lillian stepped closer, her boots scraping softly against the cobblestone.

The Skitty hissed playfully, clearly mistaking this for a game.

Then Chansey arrived.

Not with force. Not with shouts.

Just a soft "Chan~Chan-see!" and a warm smile.

She waddled up, gently placing her stubby hands on the edge of the cart. She didn’t hit it or scold. Instead, she offered the Skitty one of the pecha berries from her own pouch, one of the Lillian had given her after the Tauros incident ealier.

The kitten Pokémon blinked in confusion. Slowly, it let go of the crate and sniffed the berry in Chansey’s hands. With a delighted trill, it plopped onto its rump, tail swishing happily, and began to nibble the gift.

Lillian raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. "Effective diplomacy."

Chansey gave a proud chirp.

The Skitty finished the berry and looked up at Lillian with wide, expectant eyes. Its mouth was sticky, and its tail flicked with curiosity.

The spartan tilted her head slightly, she recognized the look.

"…You want another."

Chansey cooed sympathetically, but gently shooed the kitten back with soft pats, encouraging it off the cart. Lillian paused, then reached into the small pouch on her hip, the one where she’d tucked the Pecha Berries given to her.

She pulled one free, knelt slowly, and extended it toward the Skitty.

"No more theft."  she said simply. "You want something, ask."

The Skitty sniffed the berry, blinked at her with its enormous eyes, and gently took it from her fingers.

Then, tail twitching, it bounded off, but only a few meters. It stopped behind a bench, peeking out from behind the wooden slats.

Watching.

Lillian stood and resumed walking. "Let's go, Dalia and Helen must be needing the suplies."

Chansey noded softly the urse cap on her head almost falling from the move, but she professionaly put back into place. "Chansey chan~" 

The Skitty lingered in the alley’s edge, Pecha berry in its paws, eyes fixed on the fading figure of the armored woman. It kept watching her until she disapeared into the crowd, a soft confused meow left in her absence.

Chapter Text

Greenheart's Pokémon Center hadn’t slowed down since her supply run, if anything, the trainer influx had only grown. Six moved with practiced precision through the morning bustle, lifting restock crates, organizing berry cabinets, and even sanitizing equipment, all in an effort to ease the burden on Dalia and Helen, who were now rotating extended shifts due to Machoke’s illness.

They hadn’t asked her to help, but she did anyway. Efficiency wasn’t optional for her, it was just instinct.

And she owned to Dalia for keeping the other world super soldier thing quiet. So if restocking the coutyard berry dispenser was a way to repay that debt, she would do it without any complain.

The berry dispensers were simple, durable machines installed in Pokémon Centers and a few public parks across the region, particularly in cities like Greenheart, where wild Pokémon were known to wander through during calmer hours, they functioned like bird feeders, but for Pokémon.

Each dispenser was stocked with common, safe to consume berries, usually Oran, Pecha, and occasionally Sitrus, meant to provide light nourishment or comfort to passing wild Pokémon, local strays, or even companion Pokémon of trainers resting outside. It was part of a long standing outreach program by the Pokémon League to maintain positive human–Pokémon relations, especially with wild pokemon.

It also gave some of the younger, unevolved Pokémon a safe place to associate humans with food, safety, and gentle interaction.

Dalia had once told her they were a good way to encourage socialization and trust. "You'd be surprised how many trainers met their first partner at one of these feeders." she had said while loading one with sweet berries, smiling at a sleepy Hoothoot perched nearby.

It was during such task that she noticed it.

A flicker in her peripheral vision. A rustle in the bush that didn't match the wind. A sound so light it didn’t trip any of the other Center staff’s attention, but it did light up her HUD.

Lillian’s visor flashed silently, her motion tracker pinging with an anomalous signal, a grey dot of unknow entity. An oddly persistent one.

She didn’t turn towards it. Not yet.

Instead, she leaned down to place the now cleaned berry bowls under the dispensers, casually rotating her stance until the ping lined up again. Still they are always ten, maybe twelve meters back, moving when she moved., stopping when she stopped.

Following her.

She continued her tasks for another ten minutes, pretending not to notice, it was testing her seeing how close it could get without being seen. A clever one.

Finally, when she ducked behind a storage crate to retrieve a basket of clean towels, she pivoted sharply, silent and smooth.

Nothing.

Then she heard it, a tiny, barely there meow.

Her eyes flicked downward.

Pink and cream fur, shut eyes and a puffy tail.

The Skitty blinked at her from behind a wooden post, pretending to groom itself as if it hadn’t been sneaking through half the Pokémon Center grounds for the past hour.

Lillian stared at it.

The Skitty paused mid-lick, turning to look at her as if she wa sthe one following it around.

"I saw you fifteen minutes ago." she said flatly.

The Skitty let out a louder meow this time, nonchalant, as if to say 'oh? did you now?'

Lillian crouched, narrowing her eyes behind the visor. "You’re persistent."

Skitty twitched its tail and darted back into the bush like a puff of cotton on legs.

The Spartan stood, turned back to her task, and shook her head.

'Curious little recon unit.' she thought.

Six didn’t think much of it at first.

After the courtyard berry dispenser incident, she returned to her rounds, helping sort delivery boxes, sanitizing used equipament, and assisting Chansey with light organizational work. Her mind, ever alert, tracked the flow of activity like a mission log, efficient, compartmentalized, predictable.

Except for the pink blur that kept appearing in her peripheral vision.

She first saw it darting behind a planter near the recovery wing. Just a flicker of movement, a twitch of fluffy pink tail, a shimmer of cream fur in the sunlight, but always when she turned, it was gone.

Later, while changing out the bandages on a recovering Growlithe under Helen’s supervision, she caught a glimpse of pink fluffy ears just peeking out from behind the rolling supply cart. It vanished the moment her head tilted in its direction.

She narrowed her eyes.

Her HUD pinged faint motion behind her, the now yellow dot of non-hostile moving eradicately, like a pacing animal.

It followed her from hallway to hallway, always slipping behind cover before anyone else could spot it. Chansey didn’t seem to mind, occasionally casting warm glances toward whatever Lillian was tracking.

By midday, she thought the little creature might’ve grown bored and wandered off.

She was wrong.

When she stepped outside again to dispose of expired sprays in the medical bin, she heard a soft meow once again. She turned just as a warm, purring weight landed squarely in her arms.

Skitty.

It looked up at her with bright, curious eyes, gave a tiny pleased mewl, and curled up without a care in the world. Tail swaying gently and already purring, like it had found exactly where it belonged.

Six blinked behind the helmet, her posture was tense, but her arms stayed still. The cat stayed content.

"…You’re persistent." she muttered, adjusting her grip so the ball of fluff didn’t fall.

She stepped back inside, the automatic door hissig shut behind her. Chansey chirped with delight upon seeing them, and a second later Helen rounded the corner, blinking as she took in the scene. Six. Cat. Calm.

"…Did that Skitty just leap into your arms?" she asked, half-laughing.

Lillian stared at her a beat too long.

"It followed me."

Helen snorted. "I can see that."

Hearing the commotion, Dalia poked her head out from the back hallway, a stack of labeled syringes in one gloved hand.

"What’s so-oh."

Her eyes landed on Lillian, still standing in the middle of the room like a statue, arms full of purring Skitty. The pink creature’s tail flicked contentedly beneath Lillian’s chin, its eyes relaxed shut in bliss.

"…Okay, who lost a Skitty?" Dalia asked, scanning the room. "Anyone?"

Chansey waddled by with a tray of clean towels and hummed a note of affirmation, as if to say 'not ours, but definitely hers now.'

"It followed her." Helen explained, barely suppressing a grin.

Dalia raised a brow. "Jumped right into your arms?"

Lillian nodded, slow and unreadable. "It was... persistent."

The two nurses exchanged a knowing look.

"It imprinted on you." Dalia said simply, laying the syringes down and picking a clipboard. "That happens sometimes."

Six glanced down at the tiny creature curling tighter against her chest. "I thought you had to battle them first. To capture one."

Helen chuckled, stepping in to help adjust the Skitty’s position so it wouldn’t slide. "That’s just one way. Battling is how most trainers get Pokémon, yeah, it’s a challenge. A kind of language. Strength and intent."

"But it’s not the only way to build trust." Dalia added. "Some Pokémon are drawn to presence. Calm. Care. Something about you made this one feel safe."

Six tilted her head. "So it wasn’t a battle. It wasn’t a command."

"Nope." Helen said, popping the 'p'. "It chose you."

There was a beat of silence. The purring deepened.

"That’s… inefficient." Six murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Helen burst into laughter. "Well, Pokémon aren’t exactly soldiers. Wild ones play, tease, test. To them, battling’s not war, it’s a game. A way to size you up, sure, but also a way to communicate."

"Like sparring?" Lillian asked.

"Exactly." Dalia nodded. "Some of them like the thrill. Others like the bond afterward. It’s not always about winning, sometimes it’s about who they’d rather follow. And sometimes, they just decide without asking." She tapped the tip of Skitty’s tail gently. "Skitty is a hard species to get to trust you tho... what did you do?"

Lillian stared down at the bundle of fur, which opened one eye and gave a soft mrrrp. "i gave it a berry?"

"ah, you must have give it it's favorite then, real easy way of getting trust of a stray." Helen explained.

That made Six pause. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"it followed me because i gave it it's favorite berry?"

Helen leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the Skitty nuzzle deeper into Lillian’s arm with sleepy satisfaction. "Well, yeah. To a stray, that’s not just food. That’s safety. Kindness. You saw it, acknowledged it, gave it something sweet without expecting anything in return."

"there is also the how you meet factor." Dalia added, tapping her clipboard. "fist impressios matter."

Six looked down at the creature curled in her arms, breathing slow and steady. "it was trying to open one of the crates when we left the pokemart, i told it to stand down and Chasey just offered one of her berries so i did the same."

Dalia raised her eyebrows. "So let me get this straight." She paused, pointing at her with the pen. "You caught it trying to steal, gave it a verbal warning like it was a trained trooper, and then handed it a snack?"

Six nodded slowly. "I was just copying Chansey and it stopped trying to open the crate."

Helen snorted. "Of course it did. You startled it, then fed it. That’s like... stray-cat diplomacy."

"From its perspective." Dalia said, smiling, " you didn’t scold it. You didn’t chase it off. You acknowledged it alogside a pokemon that most knows mean safety, gave it a treat, and didn’t linger. That’s a pretty strong first impression to a skittish little thing like this."

"It tested you." Helen added, leaning over to scratch gently behind Skitty’s ears. "And you passed."

Lillian blinked, then looked down at the pink ball of fluff again. "I wasn’t trying to pass anything."

"No, but that’s kind of the point." Dalia said, scribbling something onto her clipboard. "You didn’t force trust. You didn’t try to win it. You just acted how you always do. Calm. Direct. No nonsense. And for this one?" She tapped her pen against her clipboard for emphasis. "That was enough."

Helen grinned. "Some Pokémon don’t need a battle to be impressed. They just need someone to feel safe with."

The Skitty mewled softly in agreement and began kneading at the reinforced fabric of Six’s sleeve like it had already claimed the spot as its own.

Six, still holding the tiny creature like it was a grenade with a heartbeat, shifted slightly. "So what now?"

Dalia grinned. "Now? You name it."

Six stiffened. "What?"

"You’ve got a Skitty imprinting on you, soldier." Helen said, arms crossed. "That’s a relationship. You either start calling it something… or it’ll come up with something for you."

"...That’s how this works?" Six asked, staring down at the purring bundle nestled against her armor.

"Welcome to Pokémon training." Helen laughed. "You don’t always get to choose when it starts."

Lillian stared at them, then looked back down at the ball of fur in her arms. It was so small, barely the size of her helmet, and yet it had chosen her?

Dalia, sensing the quiet swirl of conflict under the Spartan’s composed exterior, softened her tone.
"You don't need to name it now. We don't even know the gender yet." she said gently, tapping her clipboard. "But statistically? Seventy-five percent chance it’s a girl, just so you know."

Helen stepped closer, her expression warm but professional. "We should give her a quick checkup anyway, make sure she’s healthy. If she’s a stray, odds are she hasn’t had her vaccine cycle or parasite treatments."

Six blinked. "There’s a protocol for stray Pokémon?"

"Of course." Dalia said, gesturing toward the small examination station. "Especially in urban areas. Pokémon Centers log every stray that imprints or gets brought in. If they bond with someone like this, we fast-track the basics. Shots, ID chip, medical baseline."

Helen smiled. "Think of it like issuing a fresh service tag. Only with more fluff and less armor."

Skitty let out a quiet trill of contentment, clearly unbothered by the conversation around her.

Lillian adjusted her hold and nodded slowly. "...Understood. What do I need to do?"

"Just hold her steady." Dalia replied, already pulling on sanitized gloves. "You’ve got the easy job. She already trusts you."

They moved to the examination station. Chansey chirped and joined them, wheeling over a tray of small tools, soft wipes, and vaccine injectors. Skitty blinked once at the new setting, but didn’t budge, still nestled calmly in the crook of Six’s arm.

"She really is calm with you." Helen murmured as she checked the Skitty’s eyes and ears. "No fleas, no visible wounds. Good muscle tone for a stray, though a little underfed."

"Probably surviving off discarded snacks and farmer carts." Dalia added, prepping a small injector. "This’ll sting a bit, but she shouldn’t even flinch if you’re holding her."

Six gave a small nod. "Go ahead."

Skitty’s ears twitched as the needle slid under her fur, but she didn’t squirm. Just pressed her cheek tighter against Lillian’s arm, purring low and steady.

"Well, that settles it." Helen said, stepping back and logging the data into the tablet. "She’s healthy, vaccinated, and officially yours, if you want her."

Lillian didn’t answer immediately. She looked down at the Skitty, who had closed her eyes again, tail flicking lazily.

No mission briefing. No objective. No tactical need. And yet... it had followed her. Trusted her. Chose her.

"…She stays." Lillian said finally.

Dalia smiled wide. "We’ll update her info into the Center’s records. You’ve got time to think of a name, don’t rush it."

Helen leaned in as she walked past and smirked. "But word of advice? Don't wait too long. Otherwise, she will start responding to 'Kitty' and you’ll be stuck with it forever."

The spartan looked at her for a moment before her eyes returned to the pink fur ball in her arms, deep in though.

'A name, huh?'

Chapter Text

The pokémon center's bedroom was dark, the only source of light was the pale wash beneath the door from the corredor lights, the low hum of machine was the only sound heard at the facility. The center was quiet, sleeping.

Until now.

Lillian woke up like a tense wire being snapped. Hand going to her combat knife on her left shoulder before her mind rationalized where she was.

Soft bed under her, the strange huming Plant beside the desk where her helmet layed, the soft linger of sanitizer and cherry blossom in the air.

Her pokémon center room.

Safety.

Her breathing got less irregular, her hand slipping from the handle of her blade to over her chest, right over her heart. She could still feel the Phantom pain of the Energy Sword pircing her, the feeling of her own blood and organs boiling and exploring inside her as the result of the blade's heat. She felt the dry air of a burned Reach, the weight of the Zealot over her, but most of all, she remebers the orange burning skys of Reach.

Meow.

Her mind snapped back into place, head turning to the side to see Skitty looking at her from the edge of the bed, the pillow she had put on the chair for her forgotten as she looked at the Spartan with a worried expression on her face.

Six let her hand fall to her side on the mattress, breathing slowly steading itself. 

"Hey..." She said softly, voice hoarse from Sleep. "Did i wake you?" 

The cat didn't awnser, instead she jumped into the bed and crawled on the Spartan's chest with sturborn dificulty thanks to it's stubby pawns. Lillian's arm imediataly going under the pink cat for balance.

Skitty to her credit didn't fall, instead, she layed down, right over Lillian's chest, where her heart was. The feline used the fluffy end of her tail as a pillow, not taking her eyes from the woman's face.

Moments later, the cat feel asleep, putting softly over it's human's heart.

Lillian didn't want back to Sleep.

She didn't move either.

Instead she remained layed down, arms security around the small fur ball on her chest.

And for once after a nightmare, her mind did not wander back to Reach...

The next morning came quietly.

Sunlight came from the windows, pale and warm, cutting through the center's still Air and as If like magic the building started to make up.

By the time the hallways stired and Chansey begain their usual Morning routine, Skitty was already up, stretching and yawning the sleep away before facinho the Spartan.

Lillian petted the cat gently, her hands almost covering the pokemon's body.

"...Good Morning." She said, still somewhat unsure on how to treat them small creatures.

The creature tho, seemed to exacly what to do, as she smiled nuzzling her head against the Spartan's hand Meooow~

A Ghost of a smile formed on Six's face as she sittied up stretching stuck limbs. She got up and got her helmet, the familiar sound of the presurized seal filling her ears as she out the Mark V[B] helmet over her head.

She looked down at the pink pokémon that didn't waste time jumping on her arms. The Spartan sighed, holding the purring in one arm while opening the door with the other, the mechanism self locking once she started walking down the hallway.

The main hall was already bursting with life from early rising trainers and their pokémon quietly planing for the day ahead. 

Lillian went straight to the cafeteria, where Chansey had Just finished laying down the breakfast. 

Seeing the towering woman aproach, Chansey happily waved before returning to tensing to her duties. Meanwhile, the soldier places the cat down from her arms and took a tray. Skitty Really didn't seem pleased at that. Lillian completely ignores the cat's tantrum.

"I'm getting us food, be nice." 

The feline imediataly silenced.

'gluttonous cat...' 

Six quickly put their breakfast toghether, an Oran Oatmeal, a piece of bread, a Glass of Orange juice and for her companion a bowl of pokechow and Pecha Berry. She sat the tray down on her usual tablet, Skitty already halfway across the table sniffing the Berry with clear delight. She was about to bite down until Lillian took it and with her combat knife, sliced the Berry in cubes over the chow.

"The Chow has all the nutrients you need to survive." Six said calmly playing the bowl infront of the cat. "Eat everything." She said cleaning her combat and staring it back in the holder of her shoulder.

Skitty cave a soft meow before digging in, delightedly eating her food.

Lillian removed her helmet placing it besides her on the table before she herself started to eat. 

Every now and then, she looked up at Skitty infront of her to make sure she was eating her food and not just the berry, but It didn't turn out to be an issued as the cat seemed glad in waiting everything.

'Right. Stray.' she though to herself finishing her meal while Skitty licked the bottom of the bowl. She kept watching her for a while, her mind coming back with an issue she still had to solve.

The cat needed a name.

She never named anything before, there never was a necessity to it. At First she though If making her something tactical like Echo or Bravo, but Then she remembered herself, how she was given a number and became part of an arsenal when she was just 6, an angry and griefing child who accepted her chance in revenge.

Lillian looks back up, Skitty was now licking the crumbs off her cream colored face, putting in content with a full belly. She noticed the woman staring at her and tilted her head to the side.

No, she couldn't do that her, not after this dawn, were she layed with her and for a moment let her forget. No, she deserved better.

Her Mind worked overtime, until finally the smell of Pecha juice snapped her out of It.

"... Peaches." 

Skitty's ears picked up at her words. The Spartan smiled softly.

"Peaches... That's your name."

The now named Peaches gave a soft mewl of acceptence.

Now came the fun part, register Peaches.

Lillian stood quietly at the registration desk, Peaches curled up like a coiled spring in her arm, she would need to find a solution to her clingness soon. She needs her arms to work after all.

Dalia tapped on the screen in front of her, humming softly to herself. She glanced up at Lillian and smiled.

"So, what Name did you came up out residencial fuzzball?" She asks, preparing to scanner.

"Peaches."

"Peaches right." She says turning to type It down before pausing looking at her with wide eyes. "Wait what?" 

Lillian raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?" 

"... Peaches?" Dalia asked shocked, with a way to large grin on her face.

"...Yes...?" She said unsure, Peaches head looking up from her resting place on her forearm. 

"I... I'm sorry, it's just i  was expecting something like Shadow, Ironpawn or even Echo Five, not Peaches!" She with a disbeliving voice.

Lillian blinked once "...Why?"

"You're you." Dalia said simply, eyes twinkling. "You walk around like a Garchomp with a war record. But no, turns out you’re a big softy for pink fuzzballs who purr."

Lillian didn’t know how to respond to that. She looked down at Peaches, who flicked her tail and mewled smugly.

"…She earned it."

And the Nurse joys could only smile at that. She finished typing Peaches name on the file and cleansing the table. "Alright, put her here, i'm going to do a final scan and put a chip on her."

Peaches gave a small meow, her ears twitching at the unfamiliar tone in the nurse’s voice. Lillian glanced down at the ball of fur in her arms. The Skitty didn’t seem scared, just curious. Her tail flicked lazily, eyes following the shining metal tools Nurse Joy was laying out beside the scanner.

The Spartan didn’t move right away. She looked at the table, sterile and cold beneath the soft white light. Her eyes returned to the Pokémon in her arms, now nosing gently at her wrist as if to say it's fine.

She stepped forward.

Slowly, with care born from someone unused to gentleness, Lillian set Peaches down onto the table.

The Skitty’s stubby paws clicked softly against the metal, and for a heartbeat she looked uncertain. But when Lillian stayed close, hand resting nearby on the edge of the table, Peaches didn’t bolt. She just sat down, curled her tail around her paws, and looked up with trusting eyes.

"Good girl." the nurse said kindly, running the scanner slowly from head to tail. "Vitals are excellent. No lingering infection, no parasites, and no signs of malnutrition, just like the exams yesterday said. Honestly, she’s in better condition than most strays we get in."

Lillian didn’t say anything, but her hand remained close.

With practiced ease, the nurse took a small, pen-shaped injector and gently pinched the fur at Peaches’ shoulder. "Here we go. Three… two-"

Click.

Peaches’ ear flicked. She barely flinched.

"…and done." The nurse smiled, tucking the injector away. "Chipped and registered. She’s officially yours now."

Peaches gave a satisfied meow, hopped forward, and pressed her side against Lillian’s gloved fingers. The Spartan blinked, slowly, and reached to scratch just under her chin. 

"And here." Dalia said handling her an ID, wich Six took confused. She stared at it, it had her name in it, age, height, weight and lastly training rank that read Rookie.

A trainer ID.

She looked up at Dalia, eyes wide. "This is a mistakes, i'm putting under refugee laws, i wanted to be a trainee a supervisor should have been sendo to observe me." The Nurse Joys merely smiled.

"Nurse Joys can actully as regional supervisor to refugee taking shelter under their city and pokémon center juristiction." She explained simplely, spraying alcool on the metal table and cleansing It with a cloth.

Six stayed quiet. "You have been testing me." She stated.

"More like have been keeping an eye on you." She said putting away the equipament and standing before the towering woman. "I know that you are not a danger to us, i saw a bit of your memories with Gardevoir's help remember? If you wanted to harm anyone you would have done It already, but instead, you went out of your way to offer us help when we needed, stoped a raging Taurus from hurting a few kids, has continuously helped around the center and last but not least, wanted the trust of a pokémon..." 

Lillian looked back down at Skitty, who somehow through the explanation climbed to her shoulder, purring softly against the shoulder plate of her armor.

"…That’s more than enough proof for me." Dalia finished gently, her voice calm but firm. "You belong here, Lillian."

Lillian stared down at the ID again. The word Rookie seemed to glow brighter than anything else, a strange label to carry after a lifetime of war, survival, and loss.

She wasn’t used to being called new at anything.

But the weight of Peaches on her shoulder, the steady vibration of her purring, and the Nurse’s unwavering smile were all reminders that this was different. This wasn’t command. It wasn’t orders. It wasn’t another mission.

It was something new she never experienced.

"…I don’t know anything about raising pokémon." Lillian admitted quietly, thumbing the edge of the plastic card. "I don’t even know if I should."

Dalia smirked, leaning against the counter now that the tools were cleaned and put away.

"Join the club. Most new trainers don’t know a Potion from a Pecha the first week." she said with a small laugh. "But you’ve got something most don’t, instincts, discipline… and a little pink reason to keep going."

Peaches mewled proudly at that.

Lillian sighed softly, tucking the ID into a pouch at her waist.

"…What now?"

"Well." Dalia began, folding her arms as she tilted her head thoughtfully. "Technically, as your regional supervisor, I’m supposed to issue your basic equipment. You know, Pokédex, Trainer's Manual, a handful of Poké Balls."

She turned to the side cabinet and unlocked it with a keycode.

A moment later, she returned with a neatly bundled starter kit: several Poké Balls and a sleek digital device, the local Pokédex, of grey color, marked with the Erien Region crest.

"Congratulations, Rookie." she said, placing them on the counter. "You’re officially a trainer of the Erien League."

Lillian stared at the kit for a long moment before she slowly reached out, hand brushing over a pokeball. She picked up one of the pokeballs with a firm grip, expanding it in her hand but still dwarfed in her hand, checking its balance, just like she would a granade.

"…You still think I’m a softie?" she asked without looking up.

Dalia laughed. "Absolutely. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone."

Peaches meowed smugly again, flicking her tail against Lillian’s helmet.

"You don't need to leave yet." The nurse said, picking up her trademark clipboard. "Figure out what you want to do, the center is still open for you." 

Lillian smiled at her "Thank you, Dalia."

Chapter Text

Lillian was sitting in her bed, Peaches was under the bed doing who knows what, but she could see the little kitty moving with her motion tracker so she wasn't that worried as long as she remained close. Instead her attention was at the screen of the pokedex in her hands, its interface unfamiliar but intuitive, like any piece of tech worth trusting. The Erien crest flickered briefly before the home menu loaded, stark white against grey and blue tones. A tab was already open, blinking softly.

Registered Pokémon: 1.

She tapped it.

Peaches' profile filled the screen, an animated 3D model of a Skitty turning slowly on a transparent backdrop, ears twitching with playful energy.

Species: Skitty
Type: Normal
Height: 0.6 m
Weight: 11.0 kg
Ability: Cute Charm – Contact with the Pokémon may cause infatuation.
Moves:
-Tackle
- Growl
- Tail Whip
- Fake Out
- Sing

Skitty is known for its energetic and curious behavior. It is often found chasing moving objects, including it's own tail, until dizziness and curling into balls to nap in sunlit areas. Due to its friendly temperament, Skitty forms deep bonds with kind-hearted trainers, though it is said to be difficult to earn its trust.

Lillian frowned at the dex entry.

Then as if divine intervantion, Peaches leaves from under the bed, running in circles chasing it's own tail across the floor like it was her sworn enemy.

"...Accurate." she muttered.

She looked back at the entry, zeroing in on each detail like it was a battlefield report.

Ability: Cute Charm.

The description was short, but the implications made her blink.
"May cause infatuation on contact."

Lillian tilted her head.

"...Weaponized cuteness."

Peaches sneezed and stoped running, stumbling slightly before rolling onto her back, stubby pawns flailing gently in the air like a flipped Warthog.

A small smile formed on her face. "Right. Effective" She returned her attention towords the pokedex and clicked on the normal type icon.

 She had already studied the basics of type matchups during her first week in this world, just in case she found herself needing to handle hostile wild Pokémon, but nothing too deep.

'normal types are weak to fighting and have no super effective move against any other type being imune to ghost type attacks but with ghost types also being imune to it.'

So far, nothing new. But the next part caught her attention.

'Despite their limitations in type matchups, Normal-type Pokémon are known for their flexibility in learning a wide range of moves across many different types. This flexibility is due to their unique aura composition...'

[Trainer’s Handbook: Understanding STAB and Aura Types]

She tapped again, opening a connected Trainer Guide page embedded in the system.

'All living creatures possess aura, an internal energy that reflects their emotions, instincts, and biology. Pokémon are unique in that they can mold this aura into elemental expressions, which we call moves.

A Pokémon’s Type isn’t just about biology, it’s the innate aura frequency they resonate with most naturally. When a Pokémon uses a move that matches its own aura type, the move becomes more efficient, powerful, and stable.

This effect is what it's called a Same-Type Attack Bonus commonly shortened to STAB, and it boosts the move’s potency by around 50%. This doesn’t come from extra force, it’s because their aura doesn’t need to “convert” itself into a foreign energy.

For example:
– A Fire-type Pokémon using Flamethrower is simply focusing and releasing its natural aura.
– That same Fire-type trying to use Thunderbolt would require intense training or technical aid to shape a foreign aura, like eletric.

Normal-types, lacking a dominant elemental resonance, are considered neutral-type auras. This gives them greater flexibility in learning moves of various types, even if they don’t gain STAB from them.

In rare cases, a Pokémon can train to such a level of mastery that it mimics an aura frequency outside its native type. A recorded example includes a 'Persian' who developed STAB-level 'Shadow Ball' after years of specialized training and exposure to Ghost-types.'

Lillian exhaled through her nose.

So Peaches wouldn’t be winning battles through sheer type advantage. But versatility? That she had. With the right training, she could learn a variety of tools. Useful. Tactical.

It reminded her of how some UNSC armor modules were built as jack-of-all-trades systems, capable of integrating various field tools, though never with the raw power of a specialist gear.

Her eyes flicked down toward the pink furball, who had now begun lightly headbutting her boot in an attempt of getting her attention.

"Flexible but not specialized." she muttered. "Guess we’ll just have to build you into something unique."

Peaches meowed softly and tried to scale her shin.

Lillian didn’t stop her.

The courtyard behind the Pokémon Center was quiet in the early light, dew still clinging to the concrete of the battle court. It was a small, open space with clearly marked boundaries and several lanes for trainers to spar. The kind of place designed more for practice than spectacle.

Lillian stood at one edge of the court, arms crossed, visor retracted. She watched Peaches with a scrutinizing gaze as the little Skitty padded around in a circle, tail flicking in anticipation.

"Alright." she said softly. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

Peaches' ears perked at her voice.

Lillian pulled out the Pokédex again, reviewing the move list one more time.

-Tackle
- Growl
- Tail Whip
- Fake Out
- Sing

"Five moves." she muttered. "Four support or status-based. Only Tackle and Fake Out can be considered direct offense. Not ideal."

Still, there was potential. Peaches wasn’t built like a bruiser, but she had speed and misdirection. That could be used.

"Peaches, Fake Out."

The Skitty sprang forward, tiny paws slamming the ground with surprising force as she rushed an imaginary target. She feinted left, then sharply right, before she swirled, her tail slapping the floor in a sudden burst of motion and sound.

Smack!

The echo carried through the morning air.

Lillian raised a brow. "Quick. Good form. Needs more follow-up."

Peaches looked up proudly, her tail curling in satisfaction.

"Try Tackle."

This one was messier. Peaches bolted forward again, but the motion lacked focus. She stumbled slightly before hitting the far side of the court with a soft grunt. A moment later, she bounced up like nothing happened.

"...Lack of balance." Lillian noted. "Needs leg work. Maybe core strength training. Center of gravity is too high."

Peaches began to groom herself, cleaning a dirt spot from when she stumbled before looking up at Six again.

"Tail Whip."

Peaches perked up, turned her back, and wagged her tail with energetic little swishes, looking for all the world like she was just being cute. Lillian, however, saw something else.

"A feint. Meant to disorient, drop the guard. Same as baiting an overcommitted strike." She nodded once. "Could work well with Fake Out..."

Before she could test Sing, a voice rang out from the other end of the court.

"Whoa! Did she just use Fake Out that cleanly?"

Lillian turned her head, surprised.

A trio of young trainers stood by one of the smaller side arenas. They couldn’t be older than fifteen, probably fresh from licensing, judging by the still-shiny League-issued bags on their backs.

A girl with bright pink hair stepped forward, eyes sparkling. "That Skitty’s got serious reflexes! Is she yours?"

Lillian didn’t answer right away. Peaches trotted over and rubbed against her boot like it was obvious.

"...Yes." she said finally.

One of the boys gave a sheepish laugh. "We’re running a friendly 4-trainer knockout bracket, but Kai bailed on us. Want to join in? It’s super casual, just one Pokémon per trainer. No pressure or anything!"

Lillian blinked. "I’m not officially trained. Just registered yesterday."

"That’s fine!" said the girl brightly. "Everyone’s still new. It’s just for fun, and your Skitty clearly has experience. Come on, give it a shot!"

She looked down at Peaches. The little pink fuzzball gave her a hopeful mewl as if saying 'let's give it a try'.

It wasn’t what she planned for the morning.

Then again, very little in this world was.

Lillian gave a short nod. "Alright. I’ll try."

The makeshift bracket had already been drawn in chalk on the side wall. Lillian’s name, or rather, "Armor Lady?" as someone had labeled her, was placed into the open slot. She said nothing.

Across the court stood her opponent, a tall, lanky teen named Jin, whose partner was a scrappy looking Houndour.

"You sure you’re good with just a Skitty?" Jin asked, a little smug. "Houndour won't go easy just because it look cute, he might hurt it real bad. Sure you want it beated up?"

On the other side of field, Lillian’s visor reflected the sun light, voice calm from her speakers. "We’ll see."

"Alright!" one of the others called from the side, holding up a makeshift flag. "One-on-one, no items, until one Pokémon is knocked out or the trainer forfeits. Begin when ready!"

Peaches stepped forward, tail raised high. Houndour snarled low.

Lillian’s eyes flicked over the battlefield, measuring angles and spacing. 'First fight. No info on this Houndour’s move pool, all i know is he is a male so there is a bigger chance of Cute Charm work if he get's a physical move in. He was aggressive, already inching forward with impatience so he might end up making contact...'

She hummed before calmly speaking.

“Peaches. Fake Out. Tail Whip. Together.”

Peaches sprang forward, not directly at Houndour, but on a wide arc, paws light against the dirt floor. Her tail flicked once, twice, building rhythm. As she moved, she twisted her body mid-run, curling into a half-spin that flared her pink fur outward in a blur of motion.

Then, she struck.

With a sharp chirp, Peaches snapped her tail down with a crack like a whip against the arena floor, the sound echoing like a slap of thunder.

Crack!

The sudden burst of movement and noise created a flash of motion, pink fur shimmering, the air rippling slightly with the aura-based shockwave of Fake Out. Houndour jolted, visibly flinching from the sensory overload.

Peaches didn’t stop.

Using the momentum from the spin, she let her tail sweep again in a wide, controlled arc behind her, her tail wagged in the air in a graceful motion, low and wide, like a ribbon on the wind. The energy of Tail Whip crackled softly with it, making her look completely harmless.

Lillian’s voice followed, calm but direct. "Now. Tackle."

Peaches leapt with surprising force, slamming her full body into the stunned Houndour before he could react. He yelped as he stumbled back, scraping claws to regain footing.

Houndour skidded back, growling low in his throat. Jin clenched his fist.

"Don’t take that, Ember!"

The Houndour snapped its jaws open, launching a spray of orange flame. Peaches’ ears twitched, and Lillian responded instantly.

"Dodge left. Sing."

The Skitty swerved wide with a graceful bounce, narrowly avoiding the flame as it scorched the air beside her. The fire licked close enough to curl the tips of her fur, but she kept moving.

Then, she sang.

A soft, sweet trill rippled out, almost like a purr, carried not just on her voice but her aura as colerfull notes floated from her mouth towords Houndour. The tune shimmered, subtle but hypnotic, like a lullaby dipped in honey. Houndour slowed for a half-second, his steps faltering under the sound allowing the notes to get closer to the dog.

But it was not enough.

"Snarl!" Jin barked.

The fire pup howled, breaking the rhythm of Peaches’ lullaby with a dark wave of sound energy. Peaches flinched, skidding back, tail bristled. Her voice faltered as the Snarl disrupted her aura flow, the notes disapearing i the air in small puffs.

'That sound-based attack disrupted the channeling. Peaches isn’t durable enough for direct trades.' Lillian noted, mind scrolling through her arseal out of habit. 'We’re behind in raw power. I’ll need to outmaneuver him.'

She raised her voice.

"Circle right. Maintain spacing. Don’t engage."

Peaches pivoted, darting to the right in a tight curve, light on her paws. It wasn’t retreat, it was repositioning.

"She’s stalling." Jin called, grinning. "Scared?"

Lillian didn’t take the bait. She simply watched. Measured. Waited.

Houndour was growing impatient, just like she wanted.

“Bite!” Jin ordered.

The fire-type lunged with a bark, teeth flashing.

Exacly what she needed.

"Tail Whip on the ground!" 

Peaches spun towords the dog, tail wagging into the dirt ground starting building up a screen of dust that made the Houndour stager for a moment and ut his aim off for a bit, making him just craze her flank. She still hit the dirt hard, but rolled back to her paws with a grunt.

She was trembling now. Tired. Not down, but close.

Lillian narrowed her eyes. She could see it, Peaches was pushing herself to impress. To protect. But she didn’t have the endurance yet for a long term battle.

Lillian exhaled, and her hand raised in a small, firm gesture.

"Stand down."

Peaches blinked, confused, but obeyed.

The referee called it. "Match over! Houndour wins!"

There were cheers and claps, but Jin tilted his head, confused. "You forfeited? She wasn’t even knocked out."

"She was tired. No reason to keep fighting when she’s already given me everything." Lillian replied, tone even through her helmet.

There was a pause before someone on the sidelines before the same pink haired girl from earlier stepped forward, eyes wide.

"That Fake out and Tail Whip combo at the start was crazy!"

Lillian turned slightly. "Combo?"

"Yeah! That flare with the tail, the timing, it looked like a contest move, a simple one yeah, but definely would have taken some huge points from a openent in a battle round!" 

Another teen nodded, this one with black hair and glasses. "Indeed! You pulled that off on the first go? That’s not normal trainer stuff. That’s stage-tier precision that usualy requires a lot of prepartion to do, inpressive."

The spartan tilted her head slightly. "You mean those sparkles and light shows?"

The pink haired girl grinned. "Kinda, yeah. But it's more than just glitter. Coordinators use move combos like that, timing, direction, style, to impress judges and hit their targets. It’s about form and function together. You totally pulled it off."

The boy with glasses adjusted them, still eyeing Peaches with interest. "She moved like she was trained for exhibition. You sure you’ve never entered a contest before?"

Lillian was silent for a moment, scanning their expressions, then glanced down at Peaches, who was curled against her boot now, tail twitching, still catching her breath. Not defeated, just tired. Proud.

"No. This was her first battle." she said simply.

There was a pause. The girl knelt down slightly, voice gentler now. "Well... for a first battle, she was amazing. You both were."

"She’s disciplined." Lillian answered after a beat. "And observant."

The girl chuckled. "You say that like you’re talking about a soldier."

Lillian didn’t answer, intead she just gave a small, thoughtful nod.

The group started to disperse after that, the casual tournament moving on, but Lillian remained standing at the edge of the chalk drawn court. She watched as a new pair took to the field. No helmets. No heavy armor. Just wide smiles and eager voices.

She looked down at Peaches again.

"...Contest moves, huh?"

Peaches blinked up at her, gave a soft mewl, then rolled over with her paws in the air, tail swishing like a ribbon again.

Lillian crouched beside her, eyes behind the visor still focused, but softer.

"Let’s study that tonight. See what the point system is. If they’re judging precision and timing... maybe we can use that."

Peaches chirped, clearly not understanding, but happy at the tone.

The day had passed into late afternoon by the time Lillian found herself back in the Pokémon Center,Peaches snoozing on her lap with one paw twitching in her dreams. The room was quiet now, most of the other trainers had gone off for dinner or rest. She sat alone at a public data terminal, helmet on the bench besides her, the light from the screen casting a soft blue hue across her face.

She’d typed in only two words.

Pokémon Contests – Battle Rounds.

She’d seen the presentation showcases before, but had discarted as flamboyant trainers with flashy outfits, Pokémon dancing through fountains of light or glitter storms. It never interested her. Felt more like morale bosting thing thn anything else.

But this...
This was tactics hidden behind color.

The video played on screen. A Growlithe using Flame Wheel to cage their openent inside a ring of fire, before using Snarl making the sound attack fuse with the fire wall in rings of fire that attacked the pokemon inside.

Lillian leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

'Envioriment control and trap...'

Another clip loaded, this time a Glaceon skating across its own Ice Shard field, using the fragments like cover and movement platforms, striking between them like a ghost. The crowd cheered, but Lillian wasn’t listening to them. She rewound the footage. Watched the ear twitch. The eye flick. The breath timing.

Discipline. Drilled precision.

She opened a notepad file and began logging ideas in efficient bullet form.

-Fake Out + Tail Whip = disorientate + defense drop = potential combo point start

-Sing: vulnerable  = needs training and cover

-Tackle: close-range finisher = needs safe setup and control.

-Growl: attack drop (might work well with Sing.)

-Aura-based flow between steps = key to chaining

Peaches stirred and stretched, yawning widely. She rolled onto her back, tail swishing.

Lillian didn’t look down. She just murmured. "They don’t fight to knock out. They fight to outmaneuver. To win through control. Style as a function of skill."

Peaches purred softly in agreement, though she clearly didn’t understand her trainer though process, yet.

Lillian sat back slightly, watching another routine. This one showed a Skitty, much like Peaches, using Assist and Copycat to chain moves into an unpredictable barrage. It was clever. Chaotic. But only effective because the trainer knew exactly how to bait and space.

'So that’s what they meant by Contest-level execution. It’s not art. It’s battlefield control.'

Her fingers tapped against her visor in thought.

"...We’ll train for it. Not the lights, not the stage. Just the strategy."

Peaches mewed lazily, still upside down.

Lillian gave a tiny, half smile. "If we’re going to stand out, we’ll do it with precision."

Chapter Text

The Pokémon Center was quiet in the late afternoon, most of the rookies had left to explore the surrounding town or nurse their bruised pride after the tournament. Lillian remained seated in the holo terminal area, still doing research on how Contests work. Peaches lay curled up beside her foot, softly purring in sleep, twitching occasionally with leftover battle energy.

[Pokemon Contests- what to know as a new coordinator]

'Pokémon Contests are held in Pokémon Contest Halls and features a setup where three Contest Judges who rate Pokémon based on their performance. The main participants are Pokémon Coordinators, similarly to how Pokémon Trainers engage in battles, but Pokémon Contests are still open to Pokémon Trainers. Winners of a Pokémon Contest receive an honorary ribbon.

To honor the spirit of Contest tradition and differentiate it from the Gym League challenge, Coordinators must adhere to a region standardized Presentation Attire Code when appearing on stage. This ensures fairness, theatrical flair, and reinforces the dual identity of Contests as both competitive and artistic events.

The first round involves the Coordinator's Pokémon demonstrating its moves in an appealing manner. This is usually done through a Pokémon or group of Pokémon using moves or combining multiple moves to create visually stunning performances in order to wow the judges. During the appeal, the judges score the Coordinator's performance. Those with the highest scores proceed to the next round. The amount of people varies for every Contest.

In the second round, the Coordinators battle with others to beat each other and get rated by the judges to see how graceful the Pokémon did during battle. The battle ends when the five minutes pass and the Coordinator that has the least of the circle loses. And before the time ends, if the circle is out before the five minutes is up the one with the circle out first loses. In addition, if a Coordinator's Pokémon get knocked out/are unable to battle then victory goes to the Coordinator whose Pokémon haven't been knocked out.

If a Coordenator has obteained five or more ribbons they are classified to participate in the Grand festival where they will compete for the tittle of top coordenator. 

A Top Coordinator is a Trainer who has achieved victory in a Grand Festival, the highest level of Pokémon Contest competition in a given region.

But being a Top Coordinator isn’t just about winning, it’s about mastery over performance, strategy, and synergy. It’s a title that signifies:

-Advanced Aura Synchronization: A Top Coordinator has trained their Pokémon to such a degree that battle and performance flow like a dance. Their commands are often subtle, their timing razor-sharp, and their Pokémon’s aura control is so refined it can manifest in stunning effects,both beautiful and devastating.

-Tactical Depth: Unlike Gym battles that focus on brute strength or endurance, Contest battles reward those who can control the field, interrupt enemy momentum, and manipulate the audience and judges. A Top Coordinator has to read their opponent's intent while choreographing their own performance under pressure.

-Creative Innovation: Winning the Grand Festival usually takes signature flair, some combination of moves, themes, or techniques that has never been seen before. Top Coordinators often become trendsetters, influencing Contest styles across the world.

There’s only one Top Coordinator per year, per region. The Grand Festival is single elimination with dozens (sometimes hundreds) of Ribbon holders. Most trainers never make it past preliminaries. To become a Top Coordinator means beating the best of the best, publicly, with style and brains.

To reach the top, a Coordinator must master both phases of a Contest: the Performance Round (where creativity and aura shaping shine) and the Battle Round (where tactics, misdirection, and aura control take center stage). It's not just showmanship, it's intellectual warfare cloaked in sparkle.

Top Coordinators become celebrities, but not always for their looks or style, rather, for their techniques. Their combos are studied, their performances dissected, their strategies turned into textbooks. New Coordinators aspire to imitate them. Some even go on to become Contest judges or instructors.

While Contests and Gym Battles are different branches of the League system, Top Coordinators are often offered league privileges:

-Invitations to cross-branch exhibitions

-Permissions to operate as elite aura researchers or battle tacticians

-And even legal authority in emergencies, much like high badge Trainers

In some regions, achieving Top Coordinator status is considered equivalent to challenging the Elite Four in prestige, even if the battlefield is a stage, not an arena.'

The last part caught her attention.

"...legal authority in emergencies, much like high badge Trainers..."

Her fingers danced over the terminal, the interface responding with soft blue flickers. She pulled up an article titled:

[Trainer Badge Authority System – Explained]

'In accordance with League Ordinance 721, Trainers are granted increasing levels of operational authority the more Badges they earn, especially in regions where Trainers are expected to act as emergency responders. These privileges include:

-Legal right to intervene in wild Pokémon incidents without prior clearance.

-Authority to assist (or override, in high Badge cases) local Ranger efforts during natural disasters or attacks.

-Access to restricted transportation and supply routes normally limited to League officials.

-Expanded influence over League-affiliated infrastructure, including healing stations, weather towers, and transport hubs.'

Lillian leaned back slightly, a thoughtful hum vibrating within her helmet. It made sense. This world didn’t have UNSC chain of command, but it did have laws, and if badges acted like authority ranks, then Gym Challenges were more than tradition.

They were access. Mobility. Tactical clearance.

Freedom to act.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at that, then bookmarked the page.

Another article caught her attention as it updated with real, time trending tags.
#FacelessTrainer #TopEightReveal #MaskedFinalist

Curious, she tapped.

[The Rise of the Faceless Trainers – Identity Without Image]

'Not everyone wants the spotlight that comes with success. A growing trend across the League, especially in contest circuits and online battle leagues, is the rise of the 'Faceless Trainers.' These individuals never reveal their faces to the public, choosing instead to build their Trainer identity entirely through their performances.

Using armor, masks, voice modulation, or digital filters, they maintain full anonymity. Reasons range from social anxiety and trauma recovery to simple privacy or protection of loved ones. Some have even crafted entire personas or alter egos around their visual presentation, turning their lack of identity into part of their mythos.

While some traditionalists find it off-putting, others celebrate the practice, noting that it puts full focus on battle skill, coordination, and aura synergy, rather than looks or charisma. And yes, Top Coordinators and League Champions alike have competed under masks. It’s not against regulation.

In fact, in regions like Erien, Faceless Trainers are often admired for their dedication to their craft, many of them undergoing intense persona training to match the theatrical flair of high-level competition.'

Lillian blinked at that. Her visor reflected the image of a masked performer on stage, cloaked in shimmering black and violet, voice distorted in a low modulated tone as they commanded their Gardevoir and Arcanine in an intricate double appeal.

The camera never caught their face. Not once.

"A persona." she muttered aloud, more to herself than anyone else. "An alias. A symbol."

The idea had merit. It wasn’t weakness or deception. It was just... compartmentalization. Control. She didn’t have to expose herself, or the armor, to unwanted attention. She didn’t even need to be Lillian on stage.

She could be the armor. The ghost.

The Spartan.

Peaches stirred at her feet, yawning and stretching, then lazily rolled over to bat at the flickering hologram with a paw.

Lillian smiled slightly under her helmet. "Looks like we have more research to do."

She bookmarked both articles, along with half a dozen videos tagged under #PerformanceCombos and #SilentCommand, then finally leaned back, letting the soft hum of the Center ease into the quiet.

Outside, the sun was starting to set, casting golden light through the tall windows.

The sky was still tinged with lavender when Lillian stepped onto the Center’s outdoor practice field. The early chill hadn’t yet lifted from the air, and dew still clung to the grass. Most trainers were still asleep or indoors, making the space quiet, ideal for focus.

She set her pack down beside the bench, then tapped her wrist display.
A calm tone buzzed through her helmet. "Time: 05:43. Starting session one."

Peaches padded beside her, tail high, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Lillian crouched down to meet her gaze, voice firm but not unkind.

"We start simple. First, body discipline. Then move control."

Peaches meowed in acknowledgement.

Lillian stood, giving her a short nod. "Go. Ten laps around the arena perimeter. Then sprints."

Peaches blinked.

"Warm up. You’ll need stamina for battle. Go."

With a small chirp of understanding, the Skitty took off in a light jog around the outer fence, her steps surprisingly steady for such a small frame. Lillian watched carefully. Her gait was light but not yet balanced. Tail sometimes dipped too low. Breathing slightly erratic on turns.

She made a note in her pad:

"Improve cornering and back leg coordination. Consider weighted training or resistance bands later."

While Peaches circled the arena, Lillian sat cross legged on the stone bench, pulling up her holopad and syncing it with her Pokédex entry.

Species: Skitty
Type: Normal
Height: 0.6 m
Weight: 11.0 kg
Ability: Cute Charm – Contact with the Pokémon may cause infatuation.
Moves:
-Tackle
- Growl
- Tail Whip
- Fake Out
- Sing

She hummed in though. 'Pokemon contests are trainer battles so i can only four mover per match, and from her curently move pool only Sing could help me make a good performace entry, but then there is the battle rounds and i might lose points for not being creative enough...'

The spartan watched the Skitty pass running infront of her, thiking deeply she put down her options on her wrist display.

1- Teach Peaches new moves.

2- Catch a new pokemon to use in one of the rounds.

The second option she wasn't much keen on, she was still adapting to Peaches she didn't need another sudden change so early on.

'The contest challenges starts in 27 days, i have time to train her up and if needed i can get more research on what pokemon to catch... besides i still need to make my persona...' She tough noding to herself. She couldn't just walk i with her armor and call it a day. 'contests have dress codes that must be followed. Walking in in just armor won't do...' 

The sound of small, determined paws skittering on the field brought Lillian’s attention back to the present. Peaches had finished her warm-up, now breathing a little harder, her coat damp with effort but her eyes bright with eagerness.

Lillian gave a slight nod. "Good. Water and rest, then we begin with move repetition drills."

As Peaches trotted toward the water bowl, Lillian leaned back slightly on the bench, scrolling through a side menu on her pad. A tab blinked at the bottom of her screen. A update from #FacelessTrainer.

She allowed the video to roll inside her visor, The caption read: 'The Duelist- the first faceless coordenator presentation.' The video showed an all black figure, one shoulder draped with a cape and hea witha hood, face hidden behind a geometric chrome visor. A legend among anonymous Coordinators, the first one to ever exist. Tactician. Ruthless precision. She watched his figure for a moment before a metaphorical lamp lighted up on her head. 

"A cape."

Meow...

She looked down at Peaches who was looking at her with confused eyes.

"...Nothin for you to worry about girl." 

The next morning, Lillian stood before a mirror in the Pokémon Center’s dressing lounge, one of the few quiet, mirrored spaces used by Coordinators before stage calls. She wasn’t prepping for a Contest yet, it would still be a few weeks before that even started, but preparation was the mission.

Draped across her arm was a length of matte black fabric, reinforced with fiber mesh stitching and reinforced field training cloth. It wasn't showy. But it had weight. Presence. Something a hunter or a ghost might wear stalking through a battlefield.

With quiet deliberation, she slung it across her head. The clothe fited like a hooded mantle, scarf like cloth holding it in place, the fabric fell over her arms and back, she pulled the hood up, rising just enough to shadow her helmet.

Her visor caught the dressing room’s light and shimmered faintly, a flash of blue within the dark cowl.

She tilted her head slightly. The cape shifted around her, framing her armored silhouette with clean, dramatic lines. The kind of thing a child might imagine before a mirror with a blanket over it's head, a fairy tale hero.

For a moment, a warmth bloomed quietly in her chest. Unfamiliar. Gentle.

She didn’t know what it was. But it felt good.

Not victory, not confidence and not pride.

Something simpler.

Something that whispered from an old, quiet corner of her mind where bedtime stories once lived, where knights in silver saved people, and monsters were just puzzles to solve, not wars to survive.

A flicker of wonder. Of safety.

Almost... nostalgia...

A soft knock broke the silence.

Lillian turned, the motion making her mantle sway like a shadow behind her. The door to the lounge creaked open, revealing Nurse Dalia and Helen standing just outside, each holding a steaming cup of tea. They blinked in unison when they saw her.

"Well." Dalia said with a small smile, stepping inside, "that answers one question."

Helen followed with an amused tilt of her head. "Is that what you’re wearing on stage?"

Lillian nodded once. "It’s within the Contest dress code. It follows the Faceless guidelines, single theme cohesion, stage presence, helmet retention. Minimal flash."

“And maximum dramatic tension,” Helen muttered under her breath, clearly impressed.

Dalia approached with the calm of someone used to reading deeper currents beneath still water. "So." she said gently, "Have you figured it out?"

Lillian glanced toward the mirror again, visor catching a glint of blue as the mantle settled around her shoulders.

"Figured what out?"

"What kind of trainer you want to be." Dalia said, her voice soft but unwavering. "You’ve been researching everything, from Berry chemistry to battle regulations. But this..." she motioned to the cloak. "This feels like a choice."

Lillian was silent for a moment. Then she nodded.

"I'm doing both." she said simply.

Helen raised an eyebrow. "You’re doing the Gym Circuit and Contests?"

"Yes." Her voice didn’t waver. "Contests teach finesse. Timing. Layered thinking. It's... efficient training, controlled conditions, variable responses, rapid adaptation. And the performance discipline forces aura synchronization."

She paused, then continued.

"But the Gym Circuit teaches field command. Practical tactics. Authority."

"Authority?" Helen asked, curious.

Lillian turned slightly toward her, the cape shifting over her shoulder.

"I learned that in this region, unless you have a certain number of badges, you legally can’t intervene in crisis situations. Not without permission."

Helen’s eyes widened a little. Dalia just sipped her tea.

"I won’t wait for permission." Lillian said. "But I won’t cause problems for the people who gave me sanctuary either. So I’ll earn that authority. Badge by badge."

Dalia watched her for a long moment, then gave a small, approving nod.

"Then that makes you a hybrid. There aren’t many of those."

"There will be." Helen murmured, almost to herself. "After you."

Lillian tilted her head.

"I’m not doing this to inspire anyone." she said plainly.

"I know." Dalia said. "That’s why you will."

They stood in silence for a moment, the light from the lounge window catching the edge of her hood, casting a soft shadow across her visor.

"Will you have a stage name?" Helen asked.

Lillian stayed quiet for a moment, there where a lot of names she had though of, but only one felt right to use.

"...Noble Six."

Dalia blinked. "That isn't your old codename? From your world?"

"Yes."

Helen gave a small grin. "Fitting."

Chapter Text

Peaches really liked her new hood, perhaps a little too much.

The moment Lillian stepped into the Pokémon Center lobby, the Skitty had leapt straight from the bench, scaled the Spartan’s armored arm like a vine, and burrowed into the folds of her matte-black mantle. Now she was soundly asleep, nestled between Lillian’s neck and shoulder, purring softly with the kind of complete trust only small creatures and children were capable of.

The sound vibrated faintly through the armor plates, soft and constant. It grounded her.

Lillian adjusted the hood slightly, making sure Peaches wouldn’t slip as she moved, she haven't planed on using the hood all the time, but she didn't think the Skitty would have agreed with her, so for now, she was stuck with it. The Spartan returned her attention to the Pokédex in her hands, scrolling and marking moves that could be beneficial to teach the cat.

- Attract (compatible with her Cute Charm ability)

-Disarming Voice (Fairy type cover)

-Double Team (Evasion and confusion)

-Charm (weaponized cuteness)

-Iron Tail (good coverage against rock types)

It isn't the best move pool yet, but it was a start. Peaches had potential, and as they trained, better moves could come. One step at a time.

She was getting a feel for Peaches’ rhythm now, her timing, her instincts. It was data, it was familiar and most importantly, it made sense.

And it had to make sense, because the next step required full commitment.

The Greenheart's League Center reception desk was unusualy quiet considering the start of Contest circuit would start in just under a month. Only one attendant, a woman with neatly tied brown hair and pale blue League uniform, just clocked in for her job, pinged a green light of open desk as Six pockets her pokedex.

She woman looked up as Lillian aproaches, blinking once at the visor before offering a professional smile.

"Welcome to the League Center. I'm Cassandra, how may i help you?"

Lillian gave a short nod. "Yes. Trainer ID: Lillian-4587. Requesting specialized identification under the Faceless trainer clause."

Cassadra blinked again, this time with interest. She typed something quickly, her brows raising slightly. "We don’t get many of those this early in the season, may i have you trainer ID, please?" She asks and Lillian hands it over quiet. The league attendant quickly takes it, her fingers typing on the terminal looking at her ID and the screen back and fort before she gives the ID back "Are you taking the gym challenge or the contest circuit?" She asked profissionaly.

"Both." 

The attendent paused for a moment, looking up at the armored figure once again before quickly typing something more in her terminal. "What name would you like to go by?"

"Noble Six."

Cassandra continued to type quietly and a moment later, a small digital card printed from the embedded slot on the desk. It was matte black with a shimmer-ink League seal, and instead of a name, it simply read: Faceless trainer - Noble Six.

Beneath it, a small footnote in silver text:

Verified License ID: 4587-L. Identity sealed under League privacy laws.

"You’ll still need to present your regular Trainer ID for Gym challenges, Contest applications and inter-regional checkpoints." the attendant said, sliding it across the desk. "But showing this will allow you to go under your persona."

Lillian accepted the card, her armored fingers closing around it with quiet finality before sliding it into her inner utility pocket. Cassandra smiled politely at her. "Anything else i can help you with?"

Lillian shook her head gently. "That’s all."

"Very well. Good luck, Noble Six." Cassandra said, her voice soft but not without a note of curiosity.

Lillian nodded once more, then turned and exited the League Center.

The streets of Greenhearth were calm in the early light, the sun was already at the horizon, shops are starting to open, a delivery truck hummed by, and Pidgey cooed from a lamppost. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and blooming flowers, remnants of last night’s rain.

Lillian walked in silence, her armored boots soft against the cobblestone road. She kept a measured pace, not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to stretch her legs, to think.

Peaches stirred under her hood with a tiny yawn, then peeked out, blinking up at the city skyline. Her tail swayed lazily, brushing Lillian’s shoulder. In the crook of the mantle, her pink form blended into the folds like a soft living ember tucked into a hunter’s cloak. She mewed softly and pawed at the edge of the mantle, tugging it between her little teeth before letting it go and purring.

Lillian reached up with one hand, gently stroking the Skitty behind the ear through the hood. “You like it,” she murmured, more observation than question.

Peaches purred louder in response.

A few pedestrians passed by, a woman with a stroller, a boy walking a Growlithe, some glanced at her, puzzled or intrigued, but no one spoke.

That was fine.

She wasn’t here to be famous.

She wasn’t trying to be anything but herself, whoever that was now.

Noble Six. A name that still echoed with Reach, with war, with loss.

But most of all, she would remain carring them, Noble Team, she wouldn't forget them, and maybe marking it's name in this world would make it so they were never forgotten.

She turned down a quieter side street, a tree-lined path with benches and a small fountain ahead. The water shimmered in the early light, the sound soft and peaceful.

Peaches crawled further out of the hood, landing with a soft thump on Lillian’s forearm, then leapt lightly down into the tall grass, playing around with the tall blades moving gently on the morning breeze.

Lillian stopped walking, watching as the little Skitty enjoy herself 

No battles today.

No gunfire, no panic, no war, just sun, wind, the rustling sound of grass and the soft hum of her Mjionir.

She waited until the tall blade crumbled and for  Peaches to return to her before continuing her walk back. For the first time in a long time, she felt... not safe, not exactly. But steady.

Like maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to just rest for a moment.

They were back to the center by noon and had a light lunch. She had some simple rice balls and Peaches as always had poke chow with sliced Pecha, this time she did pick some Magikarp stripes for the kitty to snack to later.

Six went through her usual rotine, helpig Dalia and Helen with any task she could, before leaving to the battle court to train Peaches, it was a familiarity that helped her remain focussed.

Lillian looked down at Peaches who was wagging her tail lazzily to her, waiting for her instruction and crossed her arms. "You have better balance now. That is great, But doesn't mean you have stamina, today we will do 12 laps around the arena perimiter before practicing Agility and balance and finish with quick dash bursts." 

The kitty's response was give her a determinated meow that echoed faintly in the open air as she took off into a jog, her paws pattering softly against the packed earth. The sun was overhead now, casting long shadows across the court, and the faint smell of warm grass lingered in the air.

Lillian watched silently, arms still crossed. Her visor tracked Peaches' movements with the same clinical precision she used back on Reach, only this time, her focus was less on the target and more on potential.

The Skitty's gait was steadier now, more coordinated. Her cornering was smoother, tail better aligned to her momentum, though she still lost a little speed on the sharper turns. Nothing unexpected. The improvement was consistent, and that was all Lillian asked for.

"Tighter footwork." Lillian called out as Peaches rounded the far side of the arena. "Don’t let the back legs drift, drive forward, not out."

Peaches chirped in acknowledgement, her tail flicking with effort.

Lillian knelt down near the side of the court, opened her wrist pad, and made a few notes in a file labeled  'Peaches – Physical Conditioning Log.'

Laps: 12
Target Time: 10 minutes
Current Avg: 11:14
Notes: Improved stability. Consider resistance training next week. Paw traction acceptable. Work on cutting acceleration loss in turns.

Peaches rounded the final lap with a small burst of speed, skidding slightly before trotting up to her trainer and flopping over in the ground with a proud, panting sprawl.

Lillian crouched beside her, running a gloved hand along her side. "Good. Recovery time under 30 seconds, and you didn’t drop off pace. You're getting stronger."

Peaches' ears flicked, and she gave a small purr in response.

Lillian reached into her utility pouch and produced a small water bottle. She poured some into the shallow bowl and placed it down. Peaches drank gratefully while Lillian sat beside her on the warm stone edge of the court.

"Next phase." Lillian said after a moment. "Agility and balance."

Peaches perked up at that, ears twitching.

The Spartan knelt by a low wooden beam that had been set across two crates, forming a simple balance path no wider than her forearm. A few traffic cones marked a zigzag pattern on the far side. Simple. Crude. But useful.

Peaches sat nearby, tail flicking in anticipation, her eyes alert and bright.

Lillian gestured to the beam. "Up."

The Skitty jumped onto the beam with a little wiggle, she was slow, one stubby paw, then the next. The beam shifted slightly under her weight, but she compensated. At the end, she made the leap onto the ground and landed neatly.

'Natural experience from being a stray, besides being a cat of course, but some pointers could make her better...' Lillian though, and nodded once. "Again, use your tail to build your balance."

Peaches gave a small nod hoping on again, her tail held high as she gave small tentative steps.

They repeated it again. And again. Each run got smoother. By the fourth try, Peaches wasn’t just walking it, she was balancing mid-beam and adjusting her footing like a gymnast. Lillian watched closely, arms crossed, analyzing the minute movements of muscle, tail, and paw.

"Good control, 5 min break and we go to the next." She says turning to adjust the next course.

Peaches meows happilly droping down on the ground to rest. Whatching the spartan adjust the cones. When the break was over the kitty got up and walked up to the woman.

Lillian walked them first herself, armored feet weaving between them slowly, showing the pattern.

Peaches followed, hesitating at first, her shoulder nearly bumped a cone, and her rear swung wide on the third turn.

"Smaller steps." Lillian said softly, kneeling beside her. "Don’t rush. Precision, not speed."

On the second try, the Skitty flowed through the course like water. By the third, she barely even touched the ground, just light pads of movement, ears flicking with each turn, tail acting like a counterweight.

Lillian nodded, a rare warmth tugging at the corner of her mouth. "That’s my girl. Now to the last one."

The final challenge was an agility platform made of stacked crates and a flat plank angled like a ramp. Peaches was watching it with attentive eyes, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Then suddently Peaches bounded up the ramp. Her claws gripped the plank and her body arched naturally with each jump, until she stood at the top, tail high, eyes gleaming with pride.

A breeze passed through the court, catching the edges of Lillian’s hood and Peaches’ fur alike. The Spartan raised a hand and offered a small rub behind the cat’s ear.

"You're a natural... not suprising since you leapt on top of the berry crates when we first met..." She said with a found smile receaving a soft meow in response, the Skitty didn't hesitate whe she jumped into her shoulder and inside the cloth around the Spartan's neck, purring happily. Lillian smiled softly pulling out a magikarp stripe and giving to her, a reward for a well done job. "Let's see if Helen and Dalia need help. After that, Dinner, you earned it."

The familiar sound of rolling carts and low conversation greeted her as she entered the back hallway. Lillian moved silently toward the side wing where she usually found Dalia and Helen working.

Sure enough, Dalia was bent over a console at the supply room entrance, entering inventory tags with a faint frown. Helen stood nearby, unloading a crate of fresh bandages and potion vials.

Dalia looked up first. "Oh, Lillian. Done with training?"

Lillian nodded. "Peaches handled the agility drills better than expected. Just checking if either of you needs help before dinner."

Helen glanced over her shoulder and gave a quick smile. "She’s turning into a real little athlete, huh? Glad to hear she’s doing well."

“We’re nearly finished here,” Dalia said, tapping a few final entries before locking the crate seal. "If you wouldn’t mind taking this last one to the med bay, that’d speed things up."

Lillian stepped forward without hesitation and took the crate from Helen, the weight nothing to her. Peaches gave a tiny mrrp in protest at the movement before settling again with a sleepy flick of her tail.

"Thanks." Dalia added with a grateful glance. "I think you’ve officially earned your unofficial staff status around here."

Lillian said nothing, but dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement and turned, heading down the hall. The crate clinked softly with its contents as she walked, Peaches' purring steady against her collar. She carried the supply crate with quiet ease, her boots silent on the polished Center floors. She knew the way by now, left past the examination rooms, then a right into the med bay.

The room was quiet, lights dimmed slightly for the afternoon. Two Chansey worked in the corner, restocking drawers and adjusting blankets on the low cots. A young trainer’s Wurmple slept in a warm nest of towels nearby, a soft pulse of healing light flickering from a device mounted above it.

Lillian approached the supply shelf without disturbing the quiet, crouched, and slid the crate into its designated slot. The tags beeped as they registered automatically.

Peaches gave a sleepy chirp from her place tucked into the folds of Lillian’s hood, but didn’t stir.

Work done, Lillian stood and turned to go. She nodded once to one of the Chanseys, who responded with a quiet "Chan~" of gratitude before returning to its task.

Back in the main lounge, the cafeteria had already settled into its late afternoon lull. A few trainers were still eating, two young rookies comparing Pokédex notes, an older man in hiker’s gear tapping away on his RotomPhone. The usual Center quiet.

Lillian moved to a corner table, set down her tray, a trio of plain rice balls, steamed greens, and a bottle of mineral water, and unlatched a shallow bowl for Peaches. From a separate pouch she retrieved and sliced Pecha segments, setting them down with silent precision.

Peaches was already awake, nose twitching at the smell. She hopped down from the hood with a chirp and immediately began nibbling at the Pecha slices, tail curling contentedly.

Lillian took her first bite in silence, her eyes briefly scanning the cafeteria. Not out of habit or caution. Just... stillness.

A rustle of paper beside her tray caught her attention.

A flyer. Likely slipped onto the table earlier, half tucked beneath a napkin holder. She pulled it out with two fingers and flipped it open.

"Treat Your Partner Right!"
Introducing the Erien League’s Officially Certified Contest Delicacies 
Macarons • Poffins • Poképuffs!

Underneath were colorful images of carefully prepared treats, berry colored macarons with glossy tops, puffed golden poffins with precise ridges, and delicate cream swirl Poképuffs arranged like tiny clouds.

Each treat had a short description:

-Poképuffs:
Soft, mildly sweet pastries made with high moisture ingredients and fortified berry extracts. Ideal for recovery after training and as positive reinforcement in behavioral conditioning. Helps maintain hydration and digestive balance.

-Macarons:
High protein almond treats using powdered berries and egg whites. Often used to improve coat shine, claw strength, and provide a dense calorie boost during peak growth periods. Popular with breeders and Coordinators for their conditioning value.

-Poffins:
Berry based baked treats optimized for different metabolic needs. Can be made with fiber rich bases for gut health, or with energy dense ingredients for bulking during intense routines. Recipes can be adjusted for temperament, dietary sensitivities, and desired outcomes.

-Pokéblocks:
Compact, dry press supplements made from high density berry blends. Originally developed as field rations for Pokémon deployed in wilderness or long-distance travel settings. Now refined for daily training use, Pokéblocks are designed to deliver targeted nutrition in stable, lightweight form.

“What’s in it for your partner?”

- Improved coat and fur quality over time
- Reinforcement of positive behavior through taste association
- Energy recovery and hydration
- Tailored nutritional benefits depending on berry types used
- Good supplement during growth spurts, molting, or pre-evolution

Then below, a small sidebar:

Free weekend workshops on basic treat prep and berry pairing available at Greenheart League Center. Trainers and Coordenators are welcome. Next class: Friday at 17:00.

Now available at select PokéMart counters and Contest Hall cafés! Learn to make your own with our free workshops every Friday at Greenheart Center!'

Lillian scanned the details quietly. Her brow furrowed slightly at the use of technical berry terms, but she appreciated the practicality. She folded the flyer cleanly and slid it into the same pouch where she kept Peaches’ growth notes.

Beside her, Peaches licked the last bit of juice from her paw and looked up.

"Tailored nutrition alongside morale boost." Lillian murmured. "Could help during recovery windows."

Peaches gave a pleased chirp in return, almost smug.

Lillian tore a piece from one of the softer Magikarp strips and held it out. The Skitty took it with practiced delicacy, chewing contentedly.

She looked back toward the front desk. Maybe she'd ask Dalia about the workshop schedule later. If she could learn how to prep these herself, she wouldn’t have to rely on store bought ones filled with unknown preservatives or fillers.

The Spartan finished her rice ball in silence, already filing the data away.

The rest of the week passed by in a flash, the same routine every day. Wake up, breakfast, check on Dalia and Helen, training, lunch, more training, check on the nurses again, dinner, studing, sleep and repeat.

It was now 0832 AM Friday and Lillian and Peaches had just finished practicing her moves. The Spartan hummed at the last Tackle of the Kitty, no more stumbling or lost of power, way better than when they started. As the cat flooped into the dirt ground infront of her, exausted, she couldn't hold back a small smile as she kneel down and pet the pink fur on her back before placing a shallow bowl of water infront of her, Peaches tail wagging softly as the drank the water.

"You got way better, fantastic for an first week of training." She said pulling out a piece of Magikarp stripe that the Skitty gladly took. Six watched her for a moment before finally saying. "I think you're now ready to expand your arsenal." That got the cat's attention that looked at her curriously.

Lillian took out her pokedex. "i have been researching and i found a few moves that are easy to teach and work well with your fighting style." She explained clicking around the pokedex. "We are not gonna learn everything at once, it will be like we have been doing, practice until you can use it without an set back." By that point Peaches had already sit up looking at her trainer expetantly. 

Six turned the Pokedex around to the feline, showing a Clefairy use a fairy type move where her voice echoed and a pink wave with heart formed, following after the target, Peaches ears flicked upon seeing it. 

"This is called Disarmig Voice, your species actully learns it naturaly, so it won't be too hard to learn, it gives you coverage against your weakness to fighting types and it can't miss it's target." The Spartan explained to the Skitty who purred i delight. "So? Want to give it a try?" The Skitty awnsered with a detemined meow, already jumping to her feet. "Very well, now." she said, back up.

"Sing."

Peaches blinked, confused.

“Seeing her confusion Six hurried to explain. "Not the move. Just... make a sound. From your chest."

Peaches tilted her head.

Lillian knelt back beside her, adjusting the little vocal sensor on her wristpad. "You have a move called Sing. But Disarming Voice is something else. It’s not about putting the enemy to sleep. It’s about hitting them with something unexpected. Something that shakes them. You don’t need pitch. You need intent." She tapped her armored chest. "Speak from here. Make a sound that matters, to you."

Peaches blinked, fur fluffing slightly. Then, she opened her mouth-

And let out a sound that started like a mewl but ended in a strange, harmonic echo. Not quite beautiful, not quite sharp. But loud, resonant, and oddly... moving. Small pink sparks leaving her mouth and the Spartan's  visor flashed with readings. "That’s a start."

Peaches sat up straighter, as if surprised by herself before meowing in delight.

"Alright." Six said suprised by their first time progress. "Again."

Peaches as more tha happy to comply.

They ended up spending the whole rest morning training, after lunch, Lillian helped with some small duties, before leaving to the League Center.

It was still quite early, not being past 1527 PM but she wanted to sign up for the class earlier in case they had limited space. As she entered the building the same woman from last time, Cassandra, helped her with sign up as her persona, what apperantly was allowed in this kind of puplic seting where other trainers would also participate. She didn't complain tho, instead she went to wait on the waiting area, playing with Peaches with her hand, moving it around while the Skitty tried to hold it or slap it.

Lillian didn’t mind the wait. The League Center was cool and quiet, a far cry from the heat of the training court. The chairs were lined neatly in rows, the air smelled faintly of polished tile and paper, and the overhead lights buzzed with a low, almost meditative hum.

Peaches sat curled beside her on the bench, her pink fur fluffed out slightly as she batted lazily at Lillian’s gloved fingers. The game had no rules, sometimes she pounced, sometimes she just grabbed the hand and licked it, then let go again with a chirp.

Lillian let her play. She kept her other hand loosely resting on her lap, thumb brushing over the edge of her matte black Trainer ID. Faceless Trainer – Noble Six. The title still felt strange. But... not in a bad way.

Adapting. That’s what Spartans did. You assessed, you committed, and you endured. If this world didn’t have war, then she'd find purpose in something else. In routines. In battles. In care.

And if she had to learn how to cook, so be it.

Chapter Text

The classroom was brighter than she expected, clean, airy, with a long central demonstration table covered in bowls, mixers, and fresh berries sorted by type and ripeness. There was even a glass display cabinet on the far wall holding examples of expertly prepared treats: glossy Pokéblocks, colorful Poffins with neatly curled tops, delicate Macarons sandwiched with berry based filling, and artful Poké Puffs that looked more like desserts from a luxury café than training supplements.

Most of the seats were already taken by young Coordinators, their notebooks open and styluses at the ready. Whispers moved like static through the room.

"Is that really her?"

"She came all the way from the Fiore showcase circuit-"

"I can’t believe I’m going to learn Poffin techniques from her."

Lillian took a seat near the back, Peaches poking her head out from the cloth folds around her neck with a curious chirp. The Spartan ignored the chatter. The instructor might be famous, but she wasn’t here for hero worship, she was here to gather data, improve efficiency, and find a nutritional edge for her partner. Proper fueling, discipline, conditioning. Just like back in the UNSC, calories, proteins, macronutrient ratios and ad the such, if the intructor was an specialist from the area, than perfect for her.

This was training.

The room quieted as the door opened, and the instructor walked in.

Elena Virelle. Top Coordinator, nutritionist, and known for training both her Pokémon and herself like elite athletes. She wore a pale yellow jacket and half moon glasses perched on her nose. She moved with the confidence of someone who'd been under stage lights more times than most people had eaten breakfast.

"Good afternoon, everyone." Elena said with a smooth, warm tone. "Let’s get started."

Lillian sat straighter, activating her wrist pad to begin her own note log.

Elena gestured to the display table. "Today we’ll cover the four main styles of Pokétreats: Pokéblocks, Poffins, Poké Puffs, and Macarons. We’ll talk about their effects, not just in terms of Contest performance, but also how they impact mood, recovery, stamina, and even digestion."

Elena moved smoothly between the prep stations, setting out bowls of washed berries and precisely cut ingredients. "First, let’s make something very clear." she said, holding up a single, ripe Watmel Berry. "None of these treats are magic. They don’t suddenly make your Pokémon sparkle or become Contest ready overnight."

There were a few nervous chuckles in the room.

She set the berry down and looked across the students. "But they can enhance a Pokémon’s aura, its presence, its confidence, its stamina. Because a well fed Pokémon is not just stronger physically. They feel better. And that affects how they carry themselves. Especially in Contests, where grace and timing are everything."

Peaches gave a pleased purr, tilting her head at the array of berries. Lillian glanced down at her partner, watching how her ears flicked toward the instructor’s voice with full attention. She wondered if Peaches could sense the room’s energy too, like she was attuned to the rising tide of admiration and curiosity.

"And let’s not forget." Elena continued, "Your Pokémon's mood directly affects their aura. If you want your moves to look sharper, your performances more fluid, then you need to work with your Pokémon’s preferences. Some Pokémon love dry flavors, others hate them. Some thrive on bitter food, others get sluggish." She looks around the class to see if theya re all paying attention before continuing. "Understanding flavor compatibility is part of your job." she said, now facing a smaller section of the class, the few Trainers sitting in the back. Lillian among them.

"And to the Trainers in the room." Elena added, her tone gentle but firm, "this applies to you too. You may think making your own Pokéchow isn’t worth the effort, but I assure you, it’s as much a part of training as teaching new moves or running battle drills."

Lillian gave a small nod, confirming the thought she’d already had. 'Like soldiers and their MREs... a good diet keeps performance high. Consistency. Energy. Focus.'

"Diet affects growth, muscle recovery, even a Pokémon’s learning speed,." Elena continued, wiping her hands. "And while I know most of you won’t be back for the next session, the Contest circuit begins in two weeks, after all, I want to give you something useful."

She tapped her Pokédex again. "You’ll all receive a downloadable cookbook file shortly. It includes recipes for Pokéblocks, Poffins, Puffs, and Macarons, with adjustment notes based on species families and preferred stats. You’ll need to modify things, because what works for one Swablu doesn’t necessarily work for yours"

Several Coordinators clapped softly, a few whispering in excitement. Lillian silently downloaded the file Pokedex without fuss, already planning how to parse it. Nutrient breakdowns, flavor pairings, ideal cooking temperatures, it would all be in there, waiting to be analyzed and catalogued. Like a chemistry project.

Elena stepped aside to demonstrate a quick batch of Pokéblocks, blending berries into a mixer with careful timing and spinning speed.

"This is a standard technique." she explained, voice steady over the hum of the blender. "But real skill comes with knowing your partner. You’re not just making candy, you’re making fuel. Emotional and physical."

She turned, scooping the mixture into the mold before pressing it into sharp-edged cubes. "We’ll break into groups shortly. I want you to experiment. Don’t copy the textbook recipes blindly. Start thinking about your Pokémon not just as teammates, but individuals."

Lillian’s gaze narrowed slightly behind her visor. She reached down, gently scratching behind Peaches' ear. The Skitty leaned into her hand, rumbling softly, completely unaware of the growing arsenal of knowledge being built around her.

The class buzzed as Elena finished her demonstration and wiped her hands clean. "Alright, break into groups." she said. "I want at least one Pokémon active per team, start by picking one base recipe and adjust it for your partner’s taste and stat focus. You’ll have forty five minutes. Go."

Chairs scraped and voices rose as the students began to shuffle about, forming knots of Coordinators eager to show off their berry knowledge. Peaches stood on her hind legs, placing her front paws on the edge of Lillian’s seat, tail swishing in anticipation.

Lillian moved with quiet certainty, heading toward the far side of the prep stations, picking a spot away from the louder groups. She was used to working alone, but this wasn’t the battlefield. And soon enough, someone else slid into the workstation beside her, their presence just as quiet.

Another hooded figure, this one wrapped in a long, sleeveless cloak with matte black gloves. Their face was hidden behind a soft ceramic style mask shaped like a smiling theater mask, split with pale blue and gold on either side. Decorative, but not ornamental. Every line was measured, practical. A male Meowstic stood besides him with refined posture.

Lillian knew who this was immediately.

"Azure Veil." she said quietly, tone neutral but respectful.

The masked Coordinator turned slightly, regarding her. His voice, when it came, was calm and measured. "I didn’t expect to meet another Faceless here. Let alone one that recognized me."

Lillian didn’t blink. "Last year’s Solaceport Festival. Your Roserade used Sweet Scent to mask the smell of an incoming Sludge Bomb" Her arms folded. "Smart coverage. I wouldn’t have countered it in time either."

The corner of Azure Veil’s mask tilted, just slightly. "You’ve got a good memory. Most just remember the final score, not the turn mechanics."

"I remember what matters." Lillian said simply, reaching into the bowls and pulling out a set of pre sorted berries, putting them on her cut board.

Peaches peeked up at the masked figure, ears twitching curiously at the Meowstic beside him, sniffing the air around him.

"Skitties favor Sweet and Cool." Azure Veil said lightly, observing her prep with interest. "Going for speed?"

Lillian nodded, carefully slicing a Pecha berry in cubes. "Reflex training. This is part of it."

He tilted his head. "You’re not just a fan, are you?"

"Just started." she said, measuring out the Pecha berries with military precision. "No formal battles yet."

Azure Veil hummed in thought, setting his own tray of ingredients down, more colorful, more floral in scent. "You’ve got the posture of someone who’s seen a few wars, though."

Lillian didn’t answer that. Instead, she said, "I’ve seen enough to know prep matters."

For a while, the two worked in silence, the hum of other conversations fading into the background. Azure Veil blended berries into a mousse like consistency, adjusting his ratios carefully. "You know, the masks aren’t just for flair." he said after a while. "Most people think we wear them to hide. But I’ve found it makes people see us differently. Like they forget we’re human and just see the craft."

"I know." Lillian replied, molding the softened mixture into smooth discs before placing them into the portable press. Her mind wandered back to her world, how Spartans weren't seen as humans but something closer to demi-gods than anything else, what their presence meant to humanity. "That’s the point."

He chuckled softly. "I like you already, stranger."

She nodded once. "You’re not bad either."

The spartan focused o her work, slicing the Pecha with care, soaking slices in a mix of sitrus and warm water to soften them while retaining their flavor, then grinding a base of bluk and grepa in the mortar. She added a powdered supplement mix, grounded chia and crushed bean root for protein, a trace of kelpsy for fur health, and a very fine pinch of tamato zest for energy modulation.

It wasn’t beautiful. It was dense, nutrient balanced, and precisely portioned. But when Peaches took a bite of the finished paste, garnished with a spiral of Pecha skin, her eyes widened and she gave a delighted chirp, purring as she eagerly finished the treat.

From the front of the class, Elena passed by, arms folded, observing the tables. She paused at Lillian’s, eyes scanning the Spartan’s work, the air shifted slightly as Elena approached, several students stole glances her way, trying to read her expression."Not going for flash?" Elena asked, tone curious but not unkind.

"Flash doesn’t build muscle." Lillian replied, adjusting the container where she was storing the excess. "This is for stamina and recovery. Pecha for morale, sitrus and grepa for internal balance, high-protein blend to support muscle fiber density. She’s growing, and she’s in both circuits. She needs food that matches both demands.”

Elena nodded, impressed. "You’ve done your research. That’s something most Trainers overlook. Contest preparation isn’t just about sparkle, it’s about sustainability. Pokémon can’t perform well if they aren’t well cared for. I’m glad someone in here remembers that."

Peaches let out a happy trill as if in agreement, rubbing her head against Lillian’s elbow.

Azure, meanwhile, was crafting Macarons in a pastel swirl of blue and cream. His Meowstic supervised like a noble chef, tail flicking with refined precision. "You’ve got a tactical brain." he remarked. "I like that. Maybe when you start hitting the Contests, we’ll cross paths properly."

Lillian didn’t answer right away. She watched Peaches polish off the last of her treat, then gently ran a gloved hand down her back.

"We will." She said, voice steady as iron.

The class eventually wrapped, soft conversation giving way to clean up chatter. Students packed their tools and leftover ingredients while Pokémon nibbled at finished samples or curled up near their partners. Elena gave a few final notes, reminding them to download the shared recipe compendium, and then left the floor with a few words of encouragement.

Lillian sealed the last of Peaches’ treats into a small tin, glancing once at the happy Skitty now batting at a ribbon dropped on the floor.

Azure finished boxing up a batch of pastel macarons, his Meowstic brushing his cloak as it leapt into his arms. He turned slightly toward Lillian again.

"If you ever want to trade Contest strategies..." His voice was calm, thoughtful. "I don’t do interviews or social media. But I keep a private network for Faceless trainers. Secure channel."

He slid a small matte chip across the table.

"Just in case."

Lillian looked at the chip. No insignia, no markings. She picked it up, slotted it into a discreet port on her wrist pad, and nodded once. Not a handshake. But more honest than one.

Azure gave a slight tilt of his head. "Keep your footing out there. Most people are looking for a stage. You’re not."

"I’m not." she agreed.

They parted in silence.

Lillian stepped outside into the afternoon light, Peaches trotting beside her. The plaza beyond the League Center had filled with a small crowd a ripple of excitement running through a cluster of Coordinators, Trainers, and League staff.

At the center stood a man dressed in silver and white. Tall, polished, strikingly handsome, with neatly styled hair and a clean black cape hanging from his shoulders. He was smiling. Openly. Arms relaxed, posture perfect. Calm and composed.

Lillian’s stomach twisted. She reconized that figure from her research, from her first day here, the man on the billboard, the Erien region Champion. But it was not that that made her stomack drop, no.

That smile.

The people around him leaned in, charmed and receptive. He greeted each one with ease, answering questions, laughing softly at compliments, accepting praise like it belonged to someone else entirely.

She had seen that smile before. Not on him. But on others.

Behind the mask of charm was calculation. That was a disarming smile, meant to make you feel safe, meant to make you underestimate him. The same kind of smile ONI recruiters wore when they told children they were special. When they told them they mattered. Before breaking them down and building them into weapons.

"no child should have gone for what you went through, Lillian..."

She shivered at the memory.

Peaches sat at her feet, ears flattening slightly, tail stilling.

Azure was suddenly at her side again, his voice low. "Something wrong?"

She didn’t answer right away. She just watched Logan Pierce shake hands with a young girl in a Purple Contest dress.

Finally, she murmured, "His smile’s not real. It’s the kind people wear when they’re trying to look harmless, make you feel like they are on your side."

Azure tilted his head slightly beneath his mask.

"It reminds me of someone I used to know." she added, colder now.

"I understand what you must be feeling..." 

"Someone who said they were here to help. But they weren’t."

Azure didn’t press. He simply said, "Then trust your gut."

Lillian did.

"I can't bring your parents back... But..."

And as Logan Pierce turned just slightly in her direction, eyes briefly scanning the crowd without truly seeing her, she gently pulled her hood higher and turned away.

"I can help you get your revenge, if you come with me."

She worked with ONI long enough...

"Go to where...?"

She now knew how to read them.

"To a distant planet, where we can help you become what you need to be, to destroy the Covenant."

She saw through them now.

"... Alright..."

And she wouldn't fall for them again.

Chapter Text

The dawn came quiet and gray, clouds hanging low like a curtain not yet raised. Lillian stood outside the League Center's main gate, helmet out for once, one hand holding it, the other resting on the rail, Peaches curled lazily around her boots.

She had stood there for a while now, watching trainers come and go, some leaving in pairs, others in groups, some alone. It wasn’t envy that stirred in her chest, but something quieter. Familiar. A briefing before deployment.

Behind her, the League Center bustled with its usual rhythm: healings, paperwork, calls. But something had shifted. Not in the world, but in her. For the first time since waking in this world, she had a heading.

Brightcoast City.

The first Contest of the season was still two weeks away, but reaching it meant crossing both Route 2 and Route 7, passing through Azuhollow City. She would have to travel light, travel smart, and likely travel alone.

Not that she wasn’t used to that. But then again...

She looked down towords Peaches happily enjoying the morning sun.

'-that lone wolf stuff stays behind, clear?'

Six took a deep breath,a small smile on her lips. "got it sir..."

Lillian sat alone at the back of the Greenheart League Center cafeteria, her back to the wall, a tray of untouched food growing cold beside her. The only thing she was focused on was the screen of her Wristpad and a plain notepad beside it, the surface already lined with bullet points and numbers.

Objective: Reach Brightcoast City via Route 2 and Azuhollow.

Secondary: Capture additional Pokémon.

Constraints: Travel time, 9 to 11 days, depending on training stops. Budget, ₱8,000 (Pokéyen).

The number made her jaw tighten slightly. Not because it was low, she didn’t actually know what was considered high or low in this world, but because it was finite. As a Spartan in the UNSC, they would provive everything they needed, clothes, quarters, food, equipament.

But now?

Now, she had to plan for food, shelter, tools and recovery gear. Not just for herself, but for Peaches too, and all that with just the money the league made available so new trainers have something to start out with.

Her fingers moved with familiar speed as she started a tiered supply list, organizing items by Mission-Critical, Situational, and Luxuries/To Reassess.

CATEGORY 1: MISSION-CRITICAL (Must Buy)

Priority: Survival, safety, and movement.

Duffel bag with expansion tech – ₱2,500
(Basic trainer model, heavy canvas, expansion layer rated for 3x carry volume. No stasis field.)

Rations (10 days) – ₱1,200
(Split between high-protein trail mix for her, soft and sweet energy pellets for Peaches.)

Water purification tabs (20 pack) – ₱500
(For river refills—no guarantee of potable water in Route 2.)

Basic potion kit (5 potions + burn, paralyze heals) – ₱800
(Emergency response first-aid for battles or wild encounters.)

Compact sleeping roll + weather tarp – ₱900
(Not insulated. Just enough for dry ground and cover.)

Portable charger + solar add-on (low-efficiency) – ₱700
(Keeps Pokédex functional. Can’t risk blackout.)

Subtotal: ₱6,600

CATEGORY 2: SITUATIONAL (If budget allows)

Priority: Support and creature care.

Grooming brush + fur comb (for Peaches) – ₱300
(Cheap, but effective. Helps reduce fur matting and calms Skitty.)

Mini cookset (1 pot, foldable spork, heat tabs) – ₱400
(Only if she plans to cook beyond rations.)

Blank Notepad + extra pens – ₱100
(For observations, sketches, training notes.)

Lure set (Sweet scent capsule, draw in water-types) – ₱350
(Useful in Route 2 for wild encounters.)

Optional Subtotal: ₱1,150
New Total: ₱7,750

CATEGORY 3: HOLD OFF / LUXURIES

Priority: Delay purchase. Could buy better version later.

Advanced tent – too costly (₱2,800+)

High-performance Pokéfood cooker – not essential

Scout drone – tempting, but bulky and expensive

Extra Pokéballs – she has five, enough for now

Lillian stared at the total. ₱7,750 out of ₱8,000. That left her with just ₱250 in reserve, barely enough for a single night’s stay if she had to take shelter in a League-run cabin on the road.

She closed her eyes for a moment. This wasn’t hard, it was actully quite familiar, like thosee night mid opertion were she had to rest in the middle of no where. Just this time instead of having to be carefull of insurrectionists or Covenant patrols, she would be surrouded by magical creatures that could explode a wraith with a explosion of glitter...

Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

Across the table, Peaches hopped up and placed a paw gently on the notepad. Lillian looked up. The little Skitty gave her a hopeful chirp and flicked her tail once.

Lillian allowed herself the faintest breath of a smile.

"Alright." she said quietly. "We build from the ground up." 

She remembered the path to the poke mart, mostly from her poke center devivery jobs. The same man from all those visits, Gregory as she eventualy learned, greated with the warm smile of always.

"Hey Miss Machamp, i don't think we have any deliveries to the center today." He says leaning on the balcon.

"Not here for the the center." She said calmly, eyes on her list. "I'm getting mu journey suplies." 

That caught Gregory's attetion as he humed. "well, if that is the case, go right ahead, i will be here if you need something." 

Lillia just nodded and took a cart, starting her hunt for suplies.

Aisle 3 – Trainer Gear

Her eyes locked onto the duffel bags hanging on display. Some were sleek and styled, embossed with bright colors or popular Gym emblems. Others were more functional. She moved straight for the FieldPro 3X Expansion Duffel, grey-colored, canvas texture, no logos.

₱2,500 – Weight capacity 30kg, foldout bedroll strap, expansion seal tested in light rainfall. No hard shell.

She tested the zippers, pressed the expansion switch, checked the seams.

Good enough. It would carry everything she needed and nothing she didn’t.

Aisle 7 – Rations + Survival

Peaches chirped when they passed a row of bright snack bags shaped like Pokéballs. Lillian gave them a glance. Full of sugar. Cute branding.

She steered the cart away and instead selected:

10-pack Trainer Mix - High-protein, soy-based, ₱600

10-pack Pokéchow (Pecha-flavored) - Soft chewable meal disks, ₱600

Water purification tabs - ₱500

She hesitated at the emergency tent. The cheapest one that could host her was ₱1,300 but was rated for only “light breeze.” Not good enough. She marked on her wristpad "later investiment." and moved on

Aisle 10 – Pokémon Health + Recovery

Lillian crouched beside the first-aid kits and scanned the labels.

She knew what to look for. Potions. Antidotes. A burn heal or two. The field kit was compact, meant for new trainers. Basic, but better than nothing.

₱800.

She dropped it into the duffel, noting her new subtotal.

Aisle 5 – Care + Grooming

Here, she paused.

Peaches had sat down by a low shelf filled with brushes and combs. One of the simpler ones, a rubber-handled grooming brush with a slicker side, caught her attention.

₱300.

Lillian picked it up, turned it over in her hands.

It felt strange to consider. Not mission-critical. Not about winning. But Peaches liked the attention. Trusted her more after grooming.

That trust was worth the weight.

She added it.

Checkout Terminal

Her cart was modest. Efficient. No frills. Just the essentials.

-Duffel Bag – ₱2,250

-Trainer Rations (10) – ₱540

-Pokéchow (10) – ₱540

-Water Tabs – ₱450

-Recovery Kit – ₱720

-Brush – ₱270

-Compact Sleeping Roll – ₱810

-Solar Charger – ₱630

TOTAL: ₱6,210
Remaining: ₱1,790

She stared at the numbers for a moment before looking up to gregory who had a 'i did nothing look' on his face.

"...That't not the price on the shelfs..." She spoke calmly, seeing the shopkeeper nonchantely puck her things.

"10% descount to trainers Miss Machamp, you already know that don't play dumb." He says hading the bags to her. Yes she knew that, but would be 10% to training related itens, like pokeballs and potions not things like the duffel bag and sleeping roll.  She stayed quiet though, passing her trainer ID for the tranference. Gregory quickly made the exchange and handed her ID back. "Just don’t let some rookie chuck a Pokéball at you, Miss Machamp. You blend in too well."

Six nodded quiety, taking her bags, she stared at him from behind the helmet before speaking. "Thank you Gregory." The man merelly shock his hand. "You’re more prepared than most. But remember, this world doesn’t just run on supplies. Take time to look up at the stars once in a while, yeah?"

She gave him a nod before walking out the store.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long amber rays across the Poke Center’s battle court. Lillian stood with her arms crossed, helmet resting beside her on the bench, observing Peaches intently. The Skitty stood near the center of the training circle, ears perked, body low to the ground, tail twitching in anticipation.

"Again." Lillian called out calmly. "Focus. Push it out from your chest, not your throat."

Peaches mewed softly, then inhaled and tried again. A shimmering pulse of pinkish sound wave and hearts rippled outward. It more stable than before, carrying a faint melodic chime that stirred the grass nearby. It faded quickly, but this time, it didn’t sputter.

Lillian nodded. "That’s better. You’re projecting now. Think less about making noise, and more about protecting something. Let it come from instinct, not panic."Peaches turned, giving a flick of her ears, a silent acknowledgment. The little feline had grown more responsive each day. More confident in her own abilities and trust in Lillian's teaching. The Spartan took a step closer, crouching beside her. "Disarming Voice isn’t about strength. It’s about ressonance and control, the attack will go after the target on it's own, you just gotta form it ad let it do it's job."

Peaches chirped, brushing against her leg, then trotted back to position. She tried again, this time, the pulse held its shape longer and the hearts seemed bigger ad brighther. Gentle, but firm. Controlled.

Lillian let a rare smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Progress.

Behind her, the sliding door to the building opened with a soft chime.

"Training again, huh?"

Lillian didn’t need to turn to recognize Dalia’s voice.

"We thought you might be out here." added Helen, walking beside her cousin. Both wore their aprons and lightweight jackets, still dusted lightly with flour and berry residue from the many pokemon they treated. "We brought you something." Dalia held out a bottle of water and a small cloth pouch. "Berries, for your trip, i'm sure you will find good use for them."

Lillian rose, accepting the items with a nod. "Thanks."

Peaches bounded up and sniffed the pouch excitedly, purring when Dalia knelt to scratch under her chin.

Helen glanced around the training court, then leaned on the rail. "So... tomorrow’s the day, isn’t it?"

Lillian didn’t answer right away. She looked toward the horizon, the way Route 2 curved along the river, disappearing into the rolling fields east of Greenheart. Her next battlefield. Her next unknown.

"Yeah." she finally said. "I’ve got enough supplies. Bag’s packed."

There was a moment of quiet before Helen spoke again. "You’ve only been here a little while. You sure you’re ready?"

Lillian tilted her head slightly. "Doesn’t matter if I’m sure. It’s time."

Dalia smiled gently, exchanging a glance with her cousin. "You’ve changed a bit, you know. Since you got here."

Lillian said nothing, unsure what to say to that. She wasn’t trying to change, she was just... adapting.

"We’ll miss you." Dalia added. "Peaches, too. But I think Brightcoast’s gonna get a run for their ribbons."

Peaches let out a proud mewl, twirling once and flopping dramatically against Lillian’s boots.

"I’ll keep in touch." Lillian said at last. "Probably not often. But I will."

They stay in silence for a moment until Helen laughs looking at the two women with a warm smile. "Arceus we are acting like you're already gone." Dalia joind her cousing shaking her head before looking at the Spartan. "Serously, tell us what tow you will be competing, we want to watch you perform." 

Lillian didn’t answer right away. She turned her attention back to Peaches, who was already getting into position again, tail flicking eagerly. "I will try..." She says quietly before looking back at both nurses. "i owe you two that much."

Both smilled at her before Dalia dusted her uniform. "We will leave you to train, jut don't go too hard." With that, both nurses left, Helen waving to Six before following her cousin.

Six watchd both woman return inside before looking back down to her starter "...Let’s do one more round." Lillian said softly. "Then we’ll rest. We have a big day tomorrow."

Peaches gave a bright meow in response.

Chapter Text

The light in the room was dim, a cool gray filtering in through the drawn curtains. It was early, earlier than most trainers ever left, but that was by design.

Lillian sat on the edge of the cot, helmet resting beside her, eyes scanning the open duffel laid out across the bed.

One by one, she checked every item. Not just by sight, but by weight, by feel. A quick press to test the zipper tension. A roll of a potion bottle between her fingers to confirm the seal. Water tabs, counted twice. Rations, ten for her, ten for Peaches, stacked with precision.

Peaches stirred slightly from her corner nest of blankets, blinking sleepily before curling tighter. She had learned by now not to interrupt this part. Not until Lillian gave the signal.

When everything was confirmed, Lillian zipped the duffel shut and slung it over one shoulder with practiced ease. The weight was balanced, manageable, the outer flap carried the compact bedroll, the solar charger tucked flat against the side pocket.

Helmet on.

Wristpad active.

Systems check, Pokédex linked, trainer license valid, power level at 92%. Good enough.

She let the silence hang for a moment. Not hesitation. Observation.

The room had been hers for the last three weeks. It was standard League accommodation, one bed, one table, one chair, a drawer and the bathroom. lean linens, tiled floor, neutral beige walls. Nothing more but the huming plant in the corner that she never really found out what it was.

And even in its simplicity, there were echoes. Her first sunrise here. The nights she couldn’t sleep, Reach still but hours after her arival, Peaches comforting weight on er chest the first night she imprinted on her, comforting her from a nightmare, the countles hours of research. Bits and pieces. She wouldn’t call it comfort, but it had been stable.

Now, it was time to move.

She crossed to the nightstand and rested one gloved hand against the surface, just once. Not sentimental. Just... noting the end of one phase.

"Peaches. Let’s move."

The Skitty yawned, stretched, and padded over, tail high. Lillian knelt and secured her in the cloth of her hood, the kitty quietly snugling against her shoulder.

She gave a last look inside her duffel, everyting in place.

Nothing left behind.

With that, she stepped out into the hallway.

The Poke Center was still mostly asleep, only the low hum of automated systems and the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen. Lillian’s boots barely made a sound as she crossed the lobby floor. The familiar scent of antiseptic and berry tea hung faint in the air, a strangely comforting blend.

"Going somewhere, soldier?"

The voice stopped her just short of the doors.

Dalia stood there, one hand on her hip, the other holding a steaming mug. Helen stood beside her, slightly sleepier, holding a takeout bag that smelled like Pecha scones.

Lillian paused, straightened.

"I was going to leave early. Didn’t want to cause a scene."

Helen snorted softly. "You’re not that dramatic, Lillian."

Peaches popped her head out of the cloth with a chirp. Helen immediately leaned over to scratch behind her ears.

"We figured you’d try to sneak out." Dalia said, walking closer. "But you’ve been here long enough to know we don’t let good people disappear without a proper sendoff."

Lillian gave the faintest tilt of her head. "This is a sendoff?"

Dalia offered a small smile. "More like a pit stop. For the road."

She handed over a small case, smooth League-white plastic, embossed with the Greenheart Center crest. Inside, two Revives, a bundle of homemade berry bars, and a handwritten note on top. It read, in soft blue pen, 'For when the fight gets heavy, don’t forget to breathe.'

"We can’t give you everything, but we wanted you to have a few extras." Dalia added. "League regs might limit what we supply, but no one said anything about a care package."

Lillian looked at the note a moment longer, then closed the case carefully and slid it into her bag.

Helen offered the scone bag next. "Also, breakfast."

"Thank you." It came out quiet, but clear.

Peaches purred louder, tail flicking against Lillian’s neck.

Helen chuckled. "She knows. You’re going to do great out there."

Dalia gave a small, firm nod. "Keep your eyes open. Travel light. And remember, you’ve got people in Greenheart.”

Lillian gave them a final look. Not overly long. Not dramatic.

But there was a weight in it. A quiet mutual respect.

Then she stepped outside, the rising sun glinting off her visor. Route 2 stretched ahead, a dirt path with a river running bright along its edge. Her path towords something, what? She is not sure but she feels in her gut, it's important.

The road east left Greenheart like a thread unraveling from a tapestry, smooth and packed with soft dirt, flanked by patches of worn cobblestone where the League had once reinforced travel paths. But beyond that, nature held the rest.

Route 2 began as a stretch of open meadows, dew-laced and silver in the early light. A faint mist curled off the crystal-clear river that ran parallel to the path, its surface like cut glass, catching the pale golds and pinks of the sunrise. Small cliffs framed parts of the water, rising no more than a few meters high, breaking the land into natural tiers and platforms. Wildflowers lined the slopes, their petals shifting gently in the breeze.

Lillian took her first step off the paved city threshold and into the route proper, boots pressing into damp soil. Her HUD pinged once, auto-marking her location, time, and altitude, but she barely looked.

Peaches shifted on her shoulder strap, claws lightly flexing as she peered out from under Lillian’s cloak, ears twitching at the chirps of early Flying-Type overhead. Her tail flicked once, brushing against the side of the duffel bag.

Lillian adjusted the strap slightly. The weight distribution was good. The bag rode secure, close to her center of gravity. Enough supplies for 7 to 9 days, enought till she arived at Azuhollow city to restock.

The air here was cleaner. Almost suspiciously so, Six actully re-checked the filter systems of her helmet. A far cry from the stale pressurized oxygen of UNSC bunkers or the chemical haze of Reach’s burning skies. Lillian let the quiet settle over her, not resisting it, just analyzing, cataloguing.

The terrain ahead split in two, one path hugging the riverbank, the other veering up toward a ridge. From the high ground, she'd gain a better view of the valley and the flow of the river, but the river path offered natural cover and possible access to water-types. 

'Good typing to have, strong against Fire, Ground and Rock, resistent against Fire, Water, Ice and Steel, weak to only Eletric and Grass not effective against Water, Grass and Dragon... And Water is always an usefull toll to have...' 

She keep the information for later. For now, she kept her stride steady and quiet, boots placing each step with silent precision, her hand was on her pokedex the moment she entered the route. The ping option taughting her on the screen. A software option i the pokedex were you could ping yourself for others trainer, signaling them that you were up to a official match, where trainer would battle and he lose would haveo pay the winner, a good way to win money, but then again, she didn't have much money to bet i battles with strangers in the wild she had no knowloge about...

She’d read the guidebook twice. Battles initiated through ping followed standard rules. One-on-one or more depending on the trainers. No ambushes. No overwhelming shows of force. Just trainers, testing each other’s strategy and synergy.

A low, stakes simulation of war.

Her thumb tapped once against the casing of the Pokédex.

Pros:
Peaches needed field experience. Real combat, structured, with observers, was the closest they’d get without diving straight into wild encounters. Even a loss could be data-rich. Pressure testing her reflexes. Evaluating Peaches’ instincts.

And the prize money... She wasn’t broke, not yet. But supplies dwindled fast. Her rations were calculated to last for at least 7 days for her trip, but any detour, miscalculation, or injury could halve that. A few wins could fund better gear and she might be able to buy the equipament to make her own poke food for Peaches and any future pokemon, no unknow component on their food that compromissed their streght. That mattered.

Cons:
The uncertainty. She didn’t know the meta here. Didn’t know what moves were popular among locals, what strategies were dominant. Theoretically, it shouldn’t matter, combat was combat, but this world didn’t follow UNSC logic. She couldn’t predict terrain usage, status effect tactics, or if any of these trainers used underhanded Contest-style feints mid-battle.

And then there was Peaches.

Lillian glanced at the Skitty nestled under her cloak. Still alert, still eager, but untested beyound that first friendly tournament a week ago. Peaches was smart. Agile. Responsive. But she was still new. Still learning.

Was it worth the risk?

Her jaw tightened slightly under the helmet.

No Spartan bet without intel. And she didn’t have enough.

Yet.

She let her hand fall away from the Pokédex. The ping icon remained, blinking softly, unpressed.

"Not yet." she murmured. "You haven't learned to fully control Diarming Voice and i would also like to teach youa least on emore offencive move before throwing you into another battle..." he said out loud ore to herself than to Peaches. The Skitty chirped softly. Her eyes were shut from the light coming from the horazon ahead of them, a tipical strategy of their species to protect their sensitive eyes. She purred, nuzziling her head agaist the side of her helmet, as if saying 'i undersatnd and i trust your decision.'

The Spartan Reached to scratch behind her ear before looking foword to the trail ahead, walking straight into the wildness of Route 2.

The sun had risen higher, burning the mist off the meadows in golden sheets. The air was warming, dew turning to vapor in the breeze. Lillian followed the river path until it bowed outward, carving a gentle basin into the terrain where the water lapped against a cluster of flat stones. Trees leaned close here, offering dappled shade, and the cliffs curled in behind her, a natural alcove.

She scanned the area once more. No trainers in sight. The map confirmed she was still on the official route, but far enough from foot traffic to not draw attention, perfect for camping for the day and put in some training

"Safe enough," she muttered, pulling the cloth around her neck to the side to look at the sleeping figure of Peaches on her shoulder. "Peaches." she said, nudging the Skitty with her thumb "Time to train."

Peaches blinked at her, and mewed in agreement, leaping from the Spartan's shoulder to the ground, stretching ferself up.

Lillian tapped on her wristpad, before turning to the kitty. "You've made progress, we just need a last push for you to use it flawlessly." She said crosing her arms. "So let's do this again, you know what to do." 

Peaches tilted her head, ears flickering as she let out a soft meow in response. They'd been practicing tone control the past few days, even getting a small harmless version of the attack down, but not the real deal. But now, under open skies and with the calm of the river at their side it seemed help as Peaches was more focused.

At first, it was the same, a small pink aura wave leaving her mouth, one or two small hearts forming once in a while, but then, the aura got stronger, and more hearts sarted to appear, bigger, brighter, until-

Peaches braced her paws. Her fur puffed just slightly. Her eyes closed more in focus than in protecting it from light, and she let out a high, ringing cry, not loud, but piercing, and melodical.

The air around her shimmered. A pale-pink ripple of energy pulsed outward in a clean arc, Heart shaped projectiles folowing after trcking aura until it hit it's mark on a tree trunk, the bark exploding in damage where the hearts landed in soft pink explosions.

Lillian straightened. Her HUD flickered from Peaches to the the tree as if trying to comfirm what she saw.

Peaches opened her eyes, surprised by her own success, and gave a proud energetic mewl, running in circles before jumping on the Spartan's, who wraped her armsa round the Kitty so she woldn't fall.

Six’s lips twitched in the closest thing to a smile under her helmet.

"Good." she said. "That’s one."

The rest of the day, they practiced her control over the move, focussing on the power and in releasing it faster, without Peahes needing to close her eyes. There was still a lot to do before they cn say the Skitty mastered the move, but the small progress they've made was huge enough for now.

Soon the sun dipped low, casting long golden streaks across the meadow. Shadows stretched from the cliffs like fingers, reaching lazily across the path before fading into soft indigo. The river shimmered, dark and slow now, reflecting a rippling line of stars as the first constellations bloomed in the clear sky overhead.

Lillian stood by a rise overlooking the water, scanning her surroundings once more. The cliffs provided a natural partial wall on one side, and the slope of a tree-covered ridge flanked the other. It wasn’t perfect cover, but with her back to the cliff and her campfire set low in a dug-out pit, it would do.

She unrolled the compact sleeping with practiced ease and secured to the ground. Her duffel bag sat close, sealed and latched. Rations prepped and water filtered, all accounted for. Motion tracker working to detect even the smallest bug type movement and Pokédex activated and charged.

Only then did she allow herself to sit.

Peaches padded in small circles on the roll before curling up at the foot of it, her fluffy tail flicking contentedly as she nestled in. She gave a soft purring hum, a sound Lillian had come to associate with trust.

Lillian remained in her armor, helmet off but close at hand. The breeze smelled of river moss and wildflowers, fresh and cool. It made the fire’s warmth feel more intimate, more real.

She reached out, gently running one gloved hand down Peaches’ back. The Skitty shifted but didn’t stir.

"First day down." Lillian murmured, not expecting a response. "No injuries. Mission within parameters."

Peaches' tail flicked once, as if in agreement.

Lillian stared out at the river, her thoughts stretching far beyond the horizon.

Reach’s nights had smelled like dust and ash. Even in cities, the sky had always carried a low pulse of electricity, plasma racting to atmosphere and orbital debris. There were no stars over battlefields. No songs of insect wings or chorus of tired water types. Just radioed orders and the mix of human and covenant weapons.

Here... here it was too quiet.

But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

She shifted slightly, reaching for her wristpad and opening a notepad file. Just a few bullet points, movement efficiency on foot, Peaches’ training log, inventory remaining. But at the end, she added a new line.

"Day One – no casualtes, training expanding faster than expected, Peaches might master Disarming Voice in 2 or 3 days. Keeping progress cataloged.'

She sat back, letting her body rest but not slacken. A Spartan didn’t sleep deep. Even here, even now, she didn’t expect to.

Still, as the stars spun higher and the fire burned low, Lillian allowed herself to lie down beside Peaches, her hand on the Poké Ball at her side, just in case she needed to escape and protect Peaches.

But for the first time since arriving in this world, she didn’t fall asleep remembering gunfire.

She listened to the river instead.

Chapter Text

The trail wound eastward, curving gently alongside the clearwater river, which glinted in the midmorning light like a blade drawn against sky. Dew clung to tall grasses in glittering strands, and the breeze carried the scent of pollen and something faintly sweet, honeysuckle maybe, or some local flowering vine. Birds called across the meadows, songful and unafraid.

Lillian registered it all the way she’d been taught, open terrain, good sightlines. River to the left, natural barrier, possible fallback or ambush route. Small cliffs scattered along the right, vertical advantage for flyers or ranged attackers. Breeze moving westward, good for carrying scent and sound away from her position.

It was beautiful. And entirely exploitable.

She didn’t think this cynically. That’s just how she thought. Even the wildflowers, golden and violet blossoms curling across the hillside, could signal where soil ran soft or wet, potentially dangerous for footing. The bubbles on the slow river current indicted possible water type nests.

Behind the helmet’s visor, her eyes scanned without pause. She moved efficiently, not rushing, but covering ground far quicker than the average trainer. Her gait was optimized, short recovery time between steps, energy preserved with each stride. With her Spartan augmentations, her endurance and pacing were well beyond baseline.

Peaches, for her part, clung lazily to her shoulder, only mildly annoyed whenever Lillian adjusted the duffel bag straps. The little Skitty let out a curious chirp at the river, eyes wide at a school of glimmering Finneon breaching the surface in synchronized arcs. Lillian didn't stop walking, but did let her gaze follow the movement and let her HUD tag it for future research.

After another fifteen minutes of travel, she spotted it. A tall, arched stone marker rising beside the road, painted with faded blue patterns. Near its base sat a PokéStop, a League installed resting station designed for trainers on the move.

It had everything standard a trainer needed for rest. A circular bench and collapsible table. Two charging ports and a solar power panel. An emergency call console. An overhead sign with weather reports and route maps. A filtered water tap, suitable for refilling both human and Pokémon bottles. A local trade board and QR tag scanner for recipe swaps, event notices, or travel reports

Nobody else was there yet. Route 2 wasn’t as heavily trafficked this early in the season, most trainers wouldn’t move out until the Gym Circuit opened in full, and even fewer could keep her pace.

Lillian slowed her steps, coming to a stop beside the marker. She took a long moment to scan the area, eyes sweeping from the nearby treeline to the cliff shadows across the river, finally looking up to the sky.

Clear skies. No flying threats. No signs of movement.

She unclipped the duffel bag, set it on the stone bench with precision, and tapped the water dispenser. Peaches slipped down onto the seat beside the bag and stretched, yowling once before flopping onto her back, belly up, shameless.

Lillian removed her helmet just long enough to take a sip from the filtered tap. The water was cold somewhat refreshing, problebly due to being punped from an underground reservoir.

She sat only briefly, hand reaching to caresses the Skitty's belly, but her eyes remained on their surroundings, her ever so often flicking to her motion tracker.

Peaches purred under her gloved fingers, back legs kicking lazily when she found just the right spot. The Skitty didn’t care about patrols or line of sight. She knew she was safe, which was more than Lillian could say for herself.

Lillian let the silence hold for a little while longer, she put down a bowl of water for the kitty before getting up.

She glanced toward the trade board. A weathered flyer flapped lazily at the top corner, edges curling where adhesive had started to fail. It was a League-issued notice, printed with standardized fonts and a red caution stripe.

Wild Pokémon Advisory
Species: Carvanha
Typing: Water/Dark
Reported Behavior: Aggressive in groups, territorial near deep river bends.
Trainer Danger Rating: Orange
Notes: Avoid approaching if unprepared. Travel in pairs recommended along riverside paths. First Aid kits advised. Last incident reported: 5 days ago.

Lillian scanned the rating system automatically.

Green – Passive, low threat
Yellow – Defensive when approached
Orange – Aggressive, situationally dangerous
Red – High threat, trained response advised
Black – Lethal. Authorized capture teams only.

Orange rating. Not ideal for casuals, but not an issue if you were prepared, if you had a plan or didn’t panic.

She had all of those things. Still, she made a mental note to avoid the deeper water bends if possible. And to keep Peaches away from the bank if fish started thrashing.

The river bent sharply eastward, cutting a narrow channel between the cliffs and creating a deeper pool. Lillian slowed her pace instinctively. Deep water. Reduced visibility. Limited escape routes. Textbook ambush zone.

Peaches shifted on her shoulder again, looking from over the cloth of the hood, ears twitching.

Down by the bank, she spotted them, a cluster of pale blue Ducklett drifting in slow circles. There were five, maybe six, paddling serenely. Too serenely. The surface tension was wrong, too smooth for that number of bodies. No idle splashing. No chatter. Just movement. Tight formation.

Lillian dropped into a crouch beside the tall grass, one hand already on the Pokédex camera lens.

Then the water exploded.

A jagged blur of red and blue surged from below. Carvanha. Half a dozen. Teeth gleaming, tails lashing. The Ducklett scattered with a chorus of panicked honks, wings flapping hard against the water as they tried to take off in disorganized bursts.

Except one didn’t flee.

Smaller than the others. Slower. But when one of the Carvanha lunged toward the nearest sibling, he turned sharply and slammed into the attacker with a gleaming metal wing. The hit connected with a crack, sending the Carvanha flailing.

Brave. Stupid. It worked, but it made him the new target.

The swarm pivoted, mouths wide. The runt duck thrashed desperately, trying to paddle back, but blood bloomed in the water as one bit deep into his wing.

Peaches launched off Lillian's shoulder without warning.

"Peaches!" Lillian called sharply, already reaching for her Pokéball, but the Skitty didn’t stop.

She bounded down the slope and let out a shrill cry that resonated across the water. A soft pink ripple of sound pulsed out from her chest as she used Disarming Voice. It hit the Carvanha like a shockwave. The dark-types recoiled instantly, hissing and writhing, their attack rhythm shattered. Two dove deep to escape, and the rest peeled off as the waves disrupted their formation.

The Ducklett barely stayed afloat, his wing dragging at an unnatural angle. Peaches reached him, clinging to a flat river stone, batting and meowing at the water like she wanted to drag him to shore herself.

By the time Lillian was there the Ducklett has alredy left the water, Peaches was besides the water/flying-type, tail waging i an adorable way behind her, but the Spartan knew from weeks of training it was a lurring technique, an innocent pait to get it's oponent by suprise. Six was knelt besides both in less than a secound, her hands were already moving, tactical first aid, pressure on the bleeding, clean towel from her duffel, and a portable spray bottle of potion from her hip pouch.

The duck didn’t fight her. He didn’t even flinch. He just lay there in her grip, his small chest rising and falling rapidly, watching her with one half-lidded eye. Problebly didn't have anymore strengh to fight. She wrapped his wing carefully, checking the break. It wasn’t compound, thank god. But it would need rest. And protection.

Peaches let out a proud little chirp and flopped beside the duck when she saw no sign of the water/dark-type returning, tail still flicking.

Lillian exhaled slowly.

"Tactical misstep." she murmured to the duck, smoothing back wet feathers. "But brave."

The Ducklett blinked once. Then, shakily, raised a wing and held it over his head.

The spartan tilted her head at it before shaking it and looking down at the Skitty beside the water bird. "And you missy." She said with a disaproving tone, Peaches' ears flicking up at the tone as she imediataly sited in an attention position. "That was reckless." Her voice was firm, clipped. "You acted without orders, without intel. You charged into an ambush zone, alone."

Peaches’ ears lowered slightly, tail curling close to her side. She didn’t move from her sitting position, but her eyes slid toward the Ducklett beside her, still breathing hard, but no longer trembling.

Lillian exhaled through her nose.

"You’re lucky it worked. And luck isn’t a tactic."

She turned her head again, checking the dressing on the Ducklett’s wing. He tensed, but didn’t resist her touch. Still watching her. Still... saluting?

No. That wasn’t a mistake. The wing was raised deliberately, stiff and proud despite the obvious pain. A mimic of discipline. Of loyalty.

Lillian studied him in silence for a moment.

"You’re not like the rest, are you?" she murmured. "You stayed behind. Took a hit for your squad. Could've run, but didn’t."

The Ducklett blinked once. Then, very faintly,nodded.

Lillian's gaze flicked back to Peaches.

"And you." she said again, softer now. "You saw that. You didn’t move because of instinct. You moved because you saw someone hold the line."

Peaches let out a small, warbling chirp. No smugness. Just simple acknowledgment.

The river was quiet again. No Carvanha. No fleeing flock. Just the three of them, crouched at the water's edge, surrounded by damp stone and wildflowers.

Six sighed getting up and montioning for both to step away from the water, the Carvanha were still nearby, even if Peaches has scared them off, they could still return, and she wasn't risking that. Instead, she started to plot. She checked the GPS overlay on her HUD. Azuhollow was still 187 kilometers east, tucked beyond the low ridgelines and river forks ahead. At a full sprint, she could reach it in just under two hours.

Not ideal. But doable. Especially with a wounded Pokémon in tow.

She hummed looking back down at the two pokemon. The bird was still damp, feathers ruffled. The potion had dulled the worst of the pain, but he was still clearly guarding the injured limb. 

"You did good back there." she said quietly. "Held your ground. Protected the others."

Ducklett gave a low, warbling chirp, beak tipping just slightly in her direction, cautious, but not aggressive.

She exhaled slowly, adjusting the medkit back at her duffel. "The potion’s holding. Should keep swelling down and delay infection. Bandage is tight, but..." Her eyes flicked to the dirt and silt caked around the edges of the wrap, "...you live in a wet biome. That dressing won’t last. Humidity will get under it. If not rot, then mold. Then we’re back at zero."

Ducklett blinked slowly. She watched him process it. The little soldier duck, still trying to stay upright.

"I’m not a Pokémon medic." she continued. "I know battlefield triage. That’s it. I can’t promise long-term recovery. But I can get you to someone who can."

He tilted his head.

"There’s a city two hundred clicks east, Azuhollow. Has a League certified Poke Center. Full treatment, safe habitat wing, real nurses. Not a Skitty with a voice like a bomb and a Spartan with gauze and minimun pokemon anatomy knowloge.”

Peaches, sitting a few feet away, let out a short chirp of mock offense.

Lillian glanced at the Ducklett again, voice softer this time. "Let me take you there. It’s your choice. You want to stay here, I’ll make sure the river’s clear and leave more potions behind. But if you want the best odds? Come with me."

Ducklett stared at her a moment longer, then, with a wince, stood. One wing still tucked tight, he lifted his good one and gave a short, awkward salute.

Lillian blinked once. Then stood.

"Alright, soldier." she said. "Let’s move then." She took out a pokeball and tuned towords the Skitty. "No shoulder traveling girl, i will not risk you falling off at high speed." Peaches ears flicked and she let out a soft meow before a red beam of light ingulfed her and she was returned to her pokeball. The Spartan stared at it for a moment, the last time Peaches was inside her pokeball was when she officially captured her, but even then, she imediatly released her. 

Six shook her head, no time for sentimentality now. She miimized the pokeball and placed it inside one of the tactical pockets on her chestplate. She checked her equiment before turning to the blue duck and extended her arms in gentle invitation, the Ducklett waddled into them, as she stood her HUD imediatally marked the fasted path. She adjusted her hold and the wounded pokemon and then-

She sprinted.

The world rushed, but the Spartan didn’t miss a thing.

To an untrained eye, she was a streak of motion, blurring through the forest like a misfired beam of light. But to her, everything was clear.

Trees ahead: eight paces apart, moss on the north-facing trunks. Low branches: elevation varying between 1.4 and 1.8 meters, duck, sidestep, vault. Bird Pokémon overhead, non-hostile, behavior marked. Riverbank: two klicks east, fast current, no visible Carvanha activity, noted.

Wind direction: west-southwest. Scent and sound carried behind her. No threats in pursuit. No Pokémon sign within her route vector. The air was humid, forest thick with summer growth, but she calculated her center of gravity with every stride, adjusting her gait as needed to maintain optimal speed over uneven terrain.

And she was still holding the Ducklett.

The little thing was pressed to her chest in a carry position perfected in evac drills. The wing was stabilizing well under pressure, though the field dressing wouldn’t hold forever. His breathing was rapid but strong, no signs of shock yet. Every twenty seconds, her HUD pulsed a soft reminder of the Pokémon’s vitals, just in case.

Azuhollow was still dozens of kilometers away, but at this pace, she'd make it in just under two hours. Not a record, but fast enough. The body could be faster. The armor was faster. But she wouldn’t jostle her passenger. He was mission critical.

Her legs pumped like pistons. Her breath never wavered.

When she finally reached the first ridge overlooking Azuhollow, she allowed herself a fractional pause.

The city glimmered below her, rooftops catching sunlight through the morning mist. Her eyes swept the layout like a recon drone, paths, exits, population density. Movement tracked. Civilian presence: moderate. Pokémon Centers: one. Southern quadrant. Navigable.

She blinked. Calculated. And sprinted.

Into the city, her gait shifted, slower, safer, but still fast enough to draw gasps from the few who noticed her. Children clutched their hats. A Pidgey flared in alarm. Someone cursed as she whisked past like a silent wraith.

Through alley gaps and market curves, she mapped her route in perfect arcs. Her momentum was effortless. Deliberate. Purposeful.

And when she spotted the red-roofed Pokémon Center nestled between a café and a Pokémart, she adjusted trajectory and crossed the threshold exactly 3.2 seconds later, slowing only enough not to fracture the entry tile.

The automatic doors hissed open.

And only then, did she stop.

Standing tall. Not a breath out of place. Not a muscle trembling.

Just a Spartan with an injured duckling in her arms. Nothing else there to look.

The Center was quiet for a moment, until it wasn’t.

The pink-haired nurse behind the counter looked up at the sound of the doors. Her eyes registered the armor first, tall, matte-black plates still misted with forest dew, and a duck Pokémon on the figures arms.

She gave the usual professional Nurse Joy smile.

"welcome to the pokemon center, how may i help you?" she said professionaly.

Lillian nodded once. "This Ducklett is injured. Wing punctured, possible fracture. Field dressing applied, antibiotics administered in the form of a field potion. He’s stable, but compromised."

The nurse didn’t hesitate again. Professionalism kicked in hard.

"Bring him here. Let’s get him under scan. Erika!" she called over her shoulder. Another nurse, same pink hair, same calm urgency, pushed through the back doors, already prepping a medical tray and portable scanner.

Lillian stepped forward, placing the Ducklett gently onto a padded carrier. The water-type chirped, half-hearted and dazed. His wing was carefully wrapped but dark with water and blood.

Nurse Erika leaned in. "Fracture at the joint. Puncture’s clean, no bone exposed, but... he was lucky."

The first nurse, older, a little taller, freckles beneath her eyes, met Lillian’s gaze. Her expression softened for just a beat.

"You carried him the whole way, didn’t you?"

Lillian gave the faintest nod. "One-hundred eighty-seven kilometers. No stops."

The nurse paused for a moment, the her eyes widened as in realizatio "You're the soldier that has bee helping Dalia and Helen!"

"The spartan merely nodded again.

The older Joy smiled. "That sounds about right." Then, more gently: "I’m Clarisse, by the way. Dalia’s cousin. Helen’s older sister."

"I see the resemblance." Lillian said.

"You’ve got them both wrapped around your little finger." Clarisse said with a crooked grin. "Come on. We’ll take it from here. You’ve done enough."

But Lillian didn’t step back. Not fully. She watched every motion, every vial drawn, every scan flicker across the portable display. Spartan eyes. Spartan calm. But something else underneath.

Clarisse noticed. And didn’t press.

"Stay as long as you like." she said softly, tone edging into kinship now. "I’ll send word to Dalia that you made it in. She’ll want to know."

Lillian didn’t sit.

She stood just outside the main exam area, helmet in hand, watching through the reinforced glass pane as Clarisse and Erika worked with quiet efficiency. The Ducklett had been sedated for the scan but stirred weakly every so often, webbed feet twitching as if trying to paddle midair.

The injury wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. A deep puncture, a hairline fracture on the radius, bruising across the left flank. Easily survivable, with the right care. The kind a field patch-up could never quite match.

"She really carried him the whole way?" Erika whispered once, gaze flicking up at the biometric readout. "No bike, no ride Pokémon? Just ran?"

Clarisse hummed under her breath. "Remember that Taurus incident Helen told us?" She just montioned toword the towering woman with her head.

"Still. That poor Ducklett probably had his feathers windblasted off."

Inside the room, the Ducklett let out a small, hoarse peep. One wing flopped upward in a limp, twitching salute.

Erika nearly dropped her tablet. "Did he just-"

Clarisse laughed softly. "Saluted her. Dalia told me she’s got that effect on people."

Outside the glass, Lillian’s eyes narrowed faintly. She hadn’t missed the motion. It wasn’t clean, not like before, half reflex, half haze. But it was still there. She tilted her head. Just a fraction.

And despite herself, allowed a breath to slip from between her lips.

Clarisse exited the exam room quietly and stood beside her. "He’s stable. We’re going to keep him overnight, maybe longer depending on how the fracture heals. Water-types tend to mend fast, especially the wild ones."

Lillian nodded slowly.

"You can come back in the morning." Clarisse offered. "He’ll probably be a little disoriented, but... if he remembers you, that’ll help."

Lillian’s gaze didn’t move from the glass. "He remembered me now."

Clarisse gave her a quiet smile, then added, gently, "You know you can stay here, right? Just like the others."

"I know."

No need to ask who the others were.

Clarisse patted her shoulder, right over the black plating, and left her alone again.

Lillian watched the sleeping Ducklett a moment longer before finally turning away, her gait as quiet and balanced as always, but just a shade slower now.

Not tired.

Just... considering something.

Chapter Text

Azuhollow was quieter than she expected.

Early morning sunlight slanted through low-lying fog, painting soft glimmers across the stone-paved streets and dew-laced rooftops. The town sat in a gentle basin carved out by the winding rivers, ringed with willow trees and steep, ivy-coated cliffs that gave it a cloistered, almost dreamlike quality. It was peaceful, picturesque, even.

That didn't take away her focus tho.

Lillian stood just outside the PokéCenter's side garden, arms folded behind her back, helmet clipped to her hip. Her motion tracker pinged nothing nearby except a lazy Pidove roosting under the eaves. Peaches' Pokéball sat magnetized to her belt, the Skitty was sleeping soundly inside it and the Spartan didn't want to disturb her. Instead, Six's mind wandered in deep though.

She hadn't meant to arrive here so soon.

The plan had been to travel slow, train Peaches in wild over the next two days, build up muscle memory, confidence, refine her control over Disarming Voice and teach maybe her a new move. Maybe even test her reaction speed against unpredictable encounters.

Instead, they'd sprinted the entire stretch of Route 2 at top speed, just to get one injured Ducklett to safety.

Worth it.

But now her entire timing was off.

She exhaled slowly and activated the local HUD overlay. The PokéCenter's regional map flared to life on her visor, routes, elevation, trainer checkpoints, encounter zones, marked Gym locations. She highlighted Azuhollow's surroundings and narrowed her gaze.

There were still training opportunities nearby, but most would be crowded or too close to League monitored paths. And she didn’t want Peaches encountering other trainers just yet. Not until she was sharper.

There is also the fact that she would need to get the Ducklett back to it's habitat once it healed up...

Lillian's fingers tapped lightly against her armored wrist.

New plan.

-Locate a secure, natural training ground within 5km of the city limits. 

-Scout local Pokémon species for potential sparring or catch targets.

-Rebuild Peaches’ training schedule, double up sessions, account for urban noise distractions.

-Return to check on Ducklett by mid-afternoon. Maybe bring food, if the nurses approved.

She saved the new strategy in her wristpad. Her eyes lifted back toward the fog-shrouded city ahead.

That was fine, she would adabt, after all, it's what spartans do.

The clearing was quiet. Isolated. The kind of place most trainers wouldn't bother hiking to unless they were looking for solitude or something dangerous.

Lillian had found it in under ten minutes.

A dry, open rise at the edge of a slow-moving stream, far enough from Azuhollow's edge that city noise was completely gone. The ground was patchy with soft moss and sand pockets, the occasional sunbeam piercing through the mist-thinned canopy above.

Perfect acoustics.

The Spartan stared at the expanded pokeball in her hands before pressing the buttom on it, the capsule opened in a flash of light revealing Peaches infront of her who didn't waist time streaching up. Peaches sat in the center, tail curled neatly around her paws, ears up and alert as she greated her trainer with a enthusiastic meow.

"Good morning Peaches." Six voice was somewhat soft whe she spoke. "Sorry for not releasing you sooner, but i take you had a good nap?" Lillian kneel down, scraching the kitty's chin with a finger.

Peaches purred, nuzziling her head again't the Spartan's hand i response. A soft twich formed on Six' mouth, not quite a smile, but it was close, she reached on her duffel and took out one of the threats she had made a few days ago, gently handing it the pink creature who gladly ate from her hand.

"We will train Disarming Voice a bit more, then some speed training and maybe if we have time we can start training a new move." Peaches' ears picked up from her words, licking her lips, tail twitching eagerly as she finished the treat, she looked up the Spartan eager to start.

Lillian stood, brushing moss off her knee. "Alright. Let’s calibrate that voice." She took her combat knife from her shoulder sheath and carved a target on a dead tree trunk before steping back.

"Target locked. Fifty percent power. Focus on clarity over force."

Peaches flicked her ears once, then opened her mouth.

A glittering pulse of pink light burst outward, hearts forming and following the wave of aura, Disarming Voice rippling through the air in a smooth, humming shockwave. It shimmered as it moved, it strucked the target in a bulleye, but the power behind it barelly did anything to the tree.

"you focussed to much on releasing it." Lillian said, eyig the target quietly. "You did it once remember? Don't force it out, let the aura track you target, focus only in projecting it."

Peaches mewed, annoyed but compliant.

The next few attempts went about the same, Peaches overcorrected her aim once, then underpowered another as a fluffed leaf drifted past mid-attack.

Lillian crouched next to her after the fifth try. "Again. You're rushing. Let your lungs expand. Don't push, project."

Peaches let out a small huff, then turned dramatically in place, tail to Lillian like she was insulted.

Lillian raised an eyebrow. "That attitude won't win contests either."

Silence. Then a slow, overly dramatic stretch from the Skitty, followed by her deliberately slow walk back to the center of the clearing.

Lillian resisted the smallest laugh. "You're stalling."

Another Disarming Voice. This time the pulse came out full-bodied and smooth, the bark of the tree exploding from the wood.

Six eyed it with attentive eyes, a hum leaving her throat "That's more like it."

She noted the improvement on her pad, then glanced over at the small feline now grooming her paw like she hadn’t just been giving orders.

"Alright." she said. "Again, i want you to remember the feeling of using it, until you don't need to focus too much and it comes more naturally." 

The skitty gave her another annoyed look, the Sparta merely crossed her arms. "Don't give me that look, it's important that you reconize the feeling now, understading you arseal can be all between a win and a loss." Or life and death, but she did't say that out loud.

Peaches' tho, seemed to have caught her meaning as her posture changed to a more reluctant one, she stared at the spartan before giving of a soft meow nd turning around to continue the training, her next few attempts followed the same rhythm, clean projection, tight form, and increasingly stable power. The pulses of fairy energy struck true each time, leaving crisp impressions on the battered tree bark, and Lillian could see the subtle improvements in her speed for releasig the move with every burst.

She gave a short nod. "That's enough for today."

Peaches blinked up at her, tail flicking as if expecting a critique. When none came, she let out a triumphant little trill and padded over to Lillian's feet, rubbing against her boot with a dramatic purr.

"You’re improving." Lillian said, crouching down. She offered another treat, this one earned, and Peaches accepted it with a proud flick of her ears.

Still kneeling, Lillian ran a hand gently down the Skitty's back. "You remembered the feeling now. That's good. Keep that memory close. We'll build from here."

Peaches gave a quiet meow of acknowledgment before hopping into Lillian's lap and curling into a neat little ball, still purring softly.

Lillian allowed it, just for a moment, her gloved fingers absently stroking soft fur as she stared at the rippling water nearby.

Even if this wasn't the training she'd planned for today, it had still been useful.

After a minute, she stood, Peaches hopping down with practiced grace.

"Hydration, cooldown, then we prep for speed drills." she said as she pulled a bottle from her pack and offered it. Peaches perked up immediately. She loved sprints.

The Kitty as contnt in drinking the water ad imediatly jumpig for training.

Lillian sighed looking at her with a deadpan look. "If you say soo... Starting pattern Delta-Seven. Burst, weave, retarget. Simulate evasive movement mid-performance."

Peaches crouched low.

Lillian gave a short whistle.

The clearing exploded into motion.

Peaches darted forward, tail flicking, bouncing from moss patch to rock to stump with fluid, feline grace. Lillian tracked her like a machine, watching gait changes, momentum corrections, breathing tempo. Making sure her Skitty built muscle memory.

When Peaches finally landed back at her starting point, panting but triumphant, Lillian crouched beside her again and ran a quick diagnostic check. No sprains. Good reflexive tension. Excellent stamina for her size.

She looked into Peaches' bright eyes. "You’re getting better."

Peaches chirped proudly.

Lillian glanced back toward her gear bag, then down to her notes.

"Still." she murmured, "your style is more psychological than brute force. You hit harder than you look, but what if they never get the chance to hit back?"

Her fingers hovered over a page.

Optional Move: Attract.
Psychological disruption, draws aggression away. Requires performance control, confidence, and visual manipulation. Contest-effective.

She looked back down at Peaches, who had now rolled over dramatically, fluffy belly in the air, paw twitching in a perfectly innocent display of mischief.

"...Alright. Let's weaponize that." Peaches' ears perked, tail flicking with curiosity.

"Attract isn't just fluttering your eyes and waiting for an opening." Lillian said, already dragging her gear bag closer. "It's bait. You push an aura out that locks onto the target's emotional center. It can't ignore you, not without fighting its own instincts. In essense... It’s a trap.”

Peaches blinked, head tilting just slightly, ears twitching at the word.

She tapped her own chest lightly. "Like Disarming Voice, but instead of force, you're using warmth. Something they want to lean into."

Peaches tilted her head, ears flicking at the faint breeze moving through the clearing.

"Focus on me first." Lillian said, settling onto one knee. "Picture your aura like a ripple in water, build it up to what you want it to do."

Peaches inhaled slowly, eyes locked on her trainer. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, faintly, the air between them seemed to hum, a softness in the pressure, like a warm front coming from the kitty.

Lillian hummed, nodding to her.

"...That." she said, voice low. "was the right thread. Do it again, see if you can put it out, focus it."

The Skitty closed her eyes this time, tail wagging in concentration. The hum deepened, and Lillian's traied eyes could see some small energy forming around Peaches tail, she raised her eyesbrows at the quick progress. But sudden, a snap of a twig in the treeline broke Peaches' focus, and the soft aura dissipated instantly. She mewed in frustration.

"Good start." Lillian assured her. "Tomorrow, we'll try keeping the connection even with distractions. But for now-" she scratched under Peaches' chin "-you've did amazing."

Peaches all but purred at her owner's praise.

The Pokémon Center's red roof came into view, and Lillian's stride lengthened. Inside, the air was cool and clean, carrying the faint scent of disinfectant. The hum of conversation was broken only by the occasional beeping of medical equipment from deeper in the building.

Erika glanced up from behind the counter, recognition lighting her features. "Ah, Lillian. You’re here to check on Ducklett?"

Lillian gave a short nod. "And maybe grab lunch. Peaches worked hard today."

The Skitty purred from her stop inside her hood, like she agreed entirely with that statement.

The Joy smiled knowingly before disappearing into the back. She returned moments later with a chart and a small holo-display. "Your timing’s good, he’s responsive and the wing is mending well. We'll keep him overnight, but he's past the critical stage."

Lillian felt some tension ease from her shoulders. "Good. I'd rather not have dragged him out of that lake just for him to get worse here."

Erika's expression softened. "You did the right thing. In that state, even with wild resilience, infection would've set in within days."

Lillian gave a small nod, she had though of that possibility. Peaches tho, hopped from her shoulder onto a nearby bench, watching the conversation with half-lidded eyes until a food cart rolled past the window outside. Her tail twitched hopefully.

Lillian caught the motion. "...Right. Lunch."

Erika simled again at them "Go on, Chancey must be finishing setting everything up. I will call you in case anything notig happes to Ducklett." 

The Spartan gave another nod in thanks, sighing when she felt the Skitty try to climb her cape back to her stop, Six scooped her up and put her back in her spot before walking to the canteen "Why do you jump down if you're going to come back up?" She muttered to the pink furball who only gave out a sharp meow and wagged her tail happily.

Behind the counter, Erika hid a smile and chuckle behind her mouth watching the duo sisapear behind a wall.

The canteen of the Azuhollow Pokémon Center was alive with its midday rhythm. Trainers came and went through the automatic glass doors, letting in brief gusts of cool air that clashed with the warmth inside. The scent of broth, baked bread, and fresh berry juice hung thick, clinging to the wooden beams overhead. Large windows along the wall spilled pale sunlight over rows of square tables, their surfaces nicked and polished from years of use. A bulletin board near the entrance was cluttered with flyers, everything from lost Pokémon notices to contest rehearsals, and, prominently, a glossy poster declaring “Eiren Contest Circuit – Two Weeks to Go!” in curling gold script.

Lillian slid into a quiet corner seat, the wall behind her and a good view of the room in front. Habit, more than comfort. She set her duffel down against the bench, and let the Skitty hop free. The feline leapt onto the seat with the smoothness of someone who knew she belonged there. 

"Watch the bag." She said already turning around and walking to the food, the sound of a soft meow all the awnser she had.

Approaching the food table, she quietly got a tray and analized the food, opting for a bowl of rice, grilled Magikarp and Pecha tea for herself and a bowl of kibble with Pecha and Oran for Peaches. She returned to her table to find Peaches floped over the duffel bag, tail wagging lazily behind her, her ears twiched when she heard the Spartan's footsteps, sitting up and puffig her chest proudly. Lillian merelly sighed, putting the tray down on the table and scratching behind the Kitty's ear.

"good job... now let's eat." The cat gave a pleased mrrp and jumped on the table where she imediatly began nibbling her food, tail curling neatly around her paws. 

The surrounding tables were filled with the usual mix, a pair of bug-catchers trading tips about net designs, a young couple with matching backpacks leaning over a PokéNav, and a group of contest trainers fussing over swatches of fabric and glitter.

It was the table just to her left that caught her attention.

"...still no word from him?" a young man asked, lowering his voice but not enough to keep it private. His dark jacket bore the emblem of Azuhollow Gym, though the stitching was frayed.

His companion, a woman with short-cropped hair and the windburn of someone who trained outdoors often, shook her head. "He left for that international exchange in Kalos... what, five months ago? Said he’d be back by spring. We’re past that now. And nobody’s seen him in the city since."

The man leaned forward, his half-eaten sandwich forgotten. "You'd think a Gym Leader would be here, especially with the contest circuit about to start. We’ll have more people in Azuhollow than usual, and if something big happens-"

"-we’re sitting Duckletts." the woman finished, frowning into her tea. "The League sent a couple of junior trainers to help the rangers cover patrols, but they're green. Half of them have never even dealt with wild Red class before."

"City council's getting restless." the man muttered. "They can't exactly admit we don't have our main protector without causing a panic."

Lillian ate her rice slowly, eyes fixed on her spoon but her attention sharp. Gym Leaders weren’t just badge-givers, they were part of a region's defensive backbone. In a place like Azuhollow, surrounded by dense forest and open riverways, that role mattered even more. Without one, gaps formed. Gaps that someone, or something, could exploit.

Peaches, blissfully unaware of political and security concerns, crunched down on another slice of berry before nudging the bowl toward Lillian with a soft mewl, as if to share.

Lillian set the bowl back toward her. "Eat." she murmured, voice flat but not unkind.

Her gaze drifted back to the gym emblem on the man's jacket, and then to the contest poster by the door. Less tha two weeks. A flood of visitors passing to the closest contest hall. No Gym Leader to keep the city in order. And, judging by the tension in the air, no plan B strong enough to rely on.

The Spartan finished her meal quietly, but her mind had already keep that information o the back of her head.

She quickly scraped the last of her food from the bowl and stacked her tray with practiced efficiency. Peaches had already licked her own dish clean and now sat primly beside her chair, tail curled, eyes following every movement.

"Alright, that's us done,." Lillian murmured, rising and carrying the tray toward the return counter. She placed Peaches' bowl on top and turned toward the door-

Quack.

It was soft but clear enough to cut through the background noise. Lillian turned, and her brows rose in surprise.

Ducklett stood in the open doorway from the corridor, his broken wing still wrapped neatly in gauze, head tilted slightly to one side. His good wing lifted in a little salute the moment he saw her, the same awkward, half-comical motion she'd seen back when she'd first scooped him out of the stream.

"How did you-?" She glanced past him, but no Nurse Joy was in pursuit. Ducklett just gave another, more insistent quack, webbed feet slapping gently against the floor as he waddled toward her.

Peaches' ears flicked forward, and she hopped down from her chair, trotting over to sniff at him. He puffed his chest in response, not quite defensive but clearly determined to look braver than his current state allowed.

"You're supposed to be in recovery.' Lillian said, crouching down. She reached out carefully, and Ducklett stepped closer instead of away, letting her steady him with one hand. Up close, she could see the brightness in his dumb eyes, the spark of a Pokémon who wasn't content to just lie in bed all day.

"Guess you wanted to stretch your legs." she murmured, then her tone softened, a flicker of recognition passing in her eyes. "Being stuck in a med bay... makes you feel useless after a while, doesn't it?"

Ducklett tilted his head, as if he didn't fully grasp the words but understood the sentiment. His good wing gave a little flutter, not quite a shrug, not quite agreement, before he leaned lightly against her arm.

Lillian's lips quirked in a faint, almost private smile, she remembers herself escaping the med bay sometimes to strech her legs or something else, staying stil waa never a good feeling. "Yeah... I get it."

She exhaled, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "Alright. Let's get you back before the nurses think I'm kidnapping patients." As she stood, Ducklett fell comfortable in her arms, Peaches padding on her left side like an adorable little escort.

When they reached the reception counter, Erika looked up from her datapad and smiled in surprise.
"Well, well... look who decided to go AWOL." she teased gently. "You're quite the little wanderer, aren't you, Sarge?"

"Sarge?" Lillian raised an eyebrow as she set him carefully on the counter.

Erika chuckled. 'That's what the other nurses started calling him. Always saluting with that one good wing. It stuck."

Ducklett gave an almost smug quack, as if proud of the title.

"I guess it fits." Lillian said, then her expression sobered as she glanced down at him. "But once you're healed up, you'll be heading back to your flock."

Ducklett's eyes narrowed slightly, his little beak tightening. He gave another quack, but this one was sharper, almost stubborn. His good wing lifted again in that salute, not toward the idea of leaving, but toward her.

Lillian frowned faintly. "...That sounded like a no."

Erika leaned her elbows on the counter, studying the pair. "It might be. You know, runts don't usually get much from their flock. They can't keep up in races, don't get first pick on food, and.... honestly, most end up on their own before they're grown. It's just nature's way of cutting the weakest link."

Her voice softened. "For a runt, a human carrying them to safety instead of leaving them... that's not something they expect. Not ever. To him, you're not just the person who saved him, you might be the first one who's ever chosen him at all."

Lillian looked back down at Ducklett. He was staring up at her now, eyes bright and steady, no trace of fear. Just that same stubborn persistence.

"...We'll see." she murmured scratching his feathers uder his beak.

The Nurse joy only gave her small smile before picking up the Water/Flying-Type in her arms. "I will get him back to his bed, Chansey watch over the front desk for me?" 

"Chaseyyy~"

Ducklett's little salute was the last thing she saw before he disappeared through the door.

Chapter Text

The clearing was quiet except for the rhythmic rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of insects. Lillian stood with her arms crossed, watching Peaches focus on the tree stump they'd picked as their target.  

"Alright." she said. "Control the wave, don't rush it.

Peaches' eyes narrowed, her aura building into a soft, shimmering pulse as she wagged her tail, just like they'd practiced, when a sharp, shrill cry tore through the air.  

A Spearow burst from the treeline, talons out, heading straight for Peaches. Lillian's body tensed.

"Peaches, move!" she barked.

But the Skitty was just a heartbeat too slow. The bird clipped her with a wing as it raked past, the blow knocking Peaches a step sideways.

Then it happened, subtle, but Lillian felt it. A ripple of energy pulsed from Peaches forms a small heart, warm and cloying as it hits the bird gently. The Spearow wobbled mid-flight, slowing down, its eyes suddenly soft and dreamy as it turned back toward her.

"...What the hell?" Lillian muttered.

Peaches shook off the hit, tail twitching. The Spearow hopped closer, head tilted like it had just spotted the most beautiful thing in the wolrd.

That spell didn't last, Peaches hissed, fur puffing up, and the bird blinked, confusion giving way to anger. It screeched and lunged agagn.

"Disarming Voice!" Lillian ordered.

Peaches unleashed the attack in a sharp burst of voice and hearts, sending the Spearow flapping clumsily back into the trees. Silence returned to the clearing.

Lillian's gaze stayed fixed on Peaches. That Aura she’d felt was familiar. Too familiar. She’d sensed it when Peaches first learned Attract, just controlled and deliberate. This one was instinctive, unplanned

Cute Charm  

Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. 'So they're the same kind of energy... just different triggers.'

She didn't say it out loud. Just walked back to Peaches' side and crouched down. "You alright?" She asked checking the hit area.

Peaches tho, merely purred nuzzling against her hand. The spartan sighed but smile softly, scraching behind her ear. "Good to hear, let's take a small break, yeah?"   

She reached into her pack and pulled out a small bowl, filling it with water from her canteen before setting an Oran Berry beside it.  

"Here." she said, sliding it closer.  

Peaches sat down on the grass, neatly tucking her paws under her, and began nibbling at the berry between sips of water. Lillian leaned back on her heels, eyes narrowing slightly as her mind replayed the encounter.  

The Spearow's dazed look passed through her mind, and then the exact moment it evaporated, the moment Peaches bared her teeth and went full aggression. That shift had been instantaneous. Controlled or not, Cute Charm was a weapon... if used right.  

A smirk formed in the Spartan's face. Weaponized cuteness. She had already though about that, that's why she was teaching the Skitty Attract in the first place.  

But now, her tactical brain was already piecing together possibilities. If Peaches could maintain that harmless, unassuming demeanor even in a fight, Attract would land more often, harder. And Cute Charm... the aura was the same, maybe that is why she learned Attract so easily, she already had an understanding of the Aura used for it, unlike Disarming Voice where she had no knowloge on how to use Fairy-type aura... Maybe Cute Charm wasn’t entirely random like the pokedex decription said. Maybe they could condition her to release it every time she was struck. Turn it from a chance occurrence into a reflexive counter.  

It was dirty, manipulative, and exactly the kind of battlefield advantage she lived for.  

She glanced at Peaches, who was now batting the empty berry stem around like it was a toy. Completely innocent. Completely lethal, if the Spartan could teach her how to be...  

Lillian's mind comes back to reality when she felt Peaches climbing up her lap and kneading dough with her stubby paws before curling in her lap purring. She sighed petting her softly,   

'Maybe later...'

Six's quiet moment with Peaches was broken by a soft, familiar quack from somewhere in the treeline.

She looked up, and sure enough, there was a small blue shape waddling toward them with purpose.

Sarge.

His wing was still neatly wrapped in gauze, but the way he marched forward made it clear he didn’t care about the injury. He stopped a few paces away, chest puffed out, and raised his good wing in a little salute.

Lillian arched a brow. "You're supposed to be in recovery."

Sarge ignored that completely, eyes flicking toward the treeline where the Spearow had vanished. His stance shifted, low, ready, like he was waiting for the enemy to come back.

"You followed the fight, didn't you?" she muttered. The duck's only answer was another short quack, his gaze scanning the perimeter like he was part of the watch.

Peaches yawned from her spot in Lillian's lap, unimpressed.

For a moment, Lillian considered scooping him up and marching him straight back to the Center... but then she caught the way he was looking at her. Alert. Determined. The same stubborn glint she’d seen in plenty of Spartans after being told to stay put.

She sighed. "...Fine. You can stay for the break. But you're walking back with me after."

That earned her another salute with his good wing.

Sarge waddled closer, settling himself beside Peaches as if he’d been invited. The Skitty gave him a sideways glance, tail flicking, but didn’t protest. Lillian leaned back again, letting her gaze drift between the two of them, one adorable predator in pink fur, the other a tiny waterfowl with the heart of a soldier.

Lillian sighed 'what has my life become...?'

The dirt path back to the Center was quiet, the late afternoon light filtering gold through the leaves. Peaches was draped lazily over her usual spot inside Lillian's hood, tail wagging lazily behind her, while Sarge sat tucked in her arms like a tiny, feathery passenger.

His head was turning in small, deliberate arcs, scanning the edges of the trail. Always on watch.

Six's mind wandered back to earlier that day when she had bough him back to Erika.

"You know, runts don't usually get much from their flock. They can't keep up in races, don't get first pick on food, and... honestly, most end up on their own before they're grown. It's just nature's way of cutting the weakest link."

Her voice softened. "For a runt, a human carrying them to safety instead of leaving them... that's not something they expect. Not ever. To him, you're not just the person who saved him, you might be the first one who's ever chosen him at all."

Lillian glanced down at him. He was staring straight ahead now, as if he knew exactly where they were going.

"You know..." she said quietly. "Once you're fully healed, I could bring you back yo your flock... would you even want that?"

Sarge looked up at her, blinking once, then gave a sharp quack that somehow sounded a lot like absolutely not.

Lillian smirked faintly. "Yeah... didn't think so."

Peaches, from her perch, gave a little trill, as if in agreement.

The Center's roofline peeked through the trees ahead, and Lillian adjusted her hold on the Ducklett. "Alright, soldier. Let's get you patched up, then we'll see where you fit in around here."

Sarge only gave her a small salute with his good wing.

The automatic doors slid open with their usual hiss, letting in the cooler air of the Pokémon Center. Lillian stepped inside, Peaches leaping lightly down from her hood to trot at her side while Sarge remained settled in her arms.

Clarisse, stationed behind the counter, immediately spotted them. Her brows lifted in recognition before narrowing just slightly.

"Well, well... look who wandered back." she remarked, stepping out from behind the desk. "You know you're not supposed to leave until you’ve been cleared, don't you?" Her tone wasn't harsh, more the kind of admonishment reserved for wayward charges.

Sarge responded with a short, unapologetic quack, earning an exasperated sigh from the nurse.

Lillian extended him forward, the corners of her mouth twitching faintly. "Found him out near the my training spot. Figured I'd return the escapee before he staged another breakout."

Clarisse took the Ducklett with practiced care, checking the wing with a deft touch. "Stitches are holding... no new damage. You're lucky." She glanced up at Lillian. "And so is he."

"While you’re at it." Lillian said, shifting her weight. "Think you could run a registration check? See if he's got any records on file."

That earned her a knowing smirk. "Ah, so you've finally decided to let the little guy tag along?"

Lillian shrugged, keeping her voice neutral. "Just weighing my options."

Clarisse chuckled softly, already turning toward the back room with Sarge in her arms. "Sure. But between you and me, I think he’s already made his choice."

Sarge craned his neck to look back at Lillian, eyes bright, before disappearing into the examination area.

The hum of the Center’s air conditioning was the only sound breaking the quiet of the lounge. Lillian sat with her elbows resting on her knees, pack leaned against her boot. Peaches was sprawled across her lap, paws tucked neatly in and eyes half-closed in a lazy doze.

Her gaze drifted to the wall map, a stylized layout of Greenheart's surrounding routes and the next major cities. Bridgecoast sat just west of Azuhollow, only a three-day trek at a steady civilian pace. From Greenheart, it was five days. But running full tilt from the riverbank to here had cut two days off her timetable. Spartan legs had their perks.

Which meant... she had time. 1 day a half, before she needed to head for Bridgecoast. Enough for training and, more importantly, making sure Sarge was officially cleared to travel with her.

The Ducklett had been back with Clarisse for a while now, getting the full workup, chip scan, registry crosscheck, basic health screening. She doubted anything would come up, but paperwork was paperwork, and the League liked its boxes ticked.

She leaned back in her chair, absently scratching Peaches under the chin. The Skitty purred, but her tail swayed lazily, eyes occasionally flicking to the doors at the back like she was just as curious where the duck had waddled off to.

Lillian's mind flicked briefly to Bridgecoast again. Her first contest there would mean an audience, judges, and an entirely different kind of battlefield from what she was used to. She’d need to sharpen Sarge's coordination and Peaches' control. If Cute Charm could be weaponized as she suspected, it could be a crowd-pleaser and a fight-winner.

The sound of flapped feet on tile broke her train of thought. Clarisse emerged from the back hall, a familiar blue shape waddling in her wake. Sarge looked far too pleased with himself, the smug little tilt of his head practically daring her to ask what he’d been up to.

"All clear." Clarisse said, holding a printed slip in one hand while Sarge strutted up to Lillian. "No owner records in the registry. He's officially a free Pokémon, so if you’re claiming him..."

"I am." Lillian said simply, taking the slip.

"Then he's your responsibility now." Clarisse's tone softened just slightly, switching to her usual professional cadence. "He’s in good health overall, diet's been varied, no parasites, no underlying illnesses. The wing's healed up nicely since the last check, but you’ll want to keep an eye on overexertion for the next few weeks. Muscle strength is at about eighty-five percent, flight endurance will lag behind until he rebuilds it."

Lillian nodded once, mentally noting the timeframe. "Restrictions?"

"Nothing hard. Just don’t have him flying long-distance routes yet. Keep bursts under a few minutes until he can hold steady in the air without strain. Otherwise? He’s fit for travel and training."

Sarge flapped his wings once in protest, as if the idea of taking it easy offended him personally.

Clarisse smirked, handing him over. "Guess you've finally decided to let him follow you after all."

"He decided."Lillian corrected, adjusting her arms so the Ducklett could settle comfortably.

Peaches gave a soft chirp from her perch on Lillian’s hood, tail flicking once in mild disapproval before resuming her nap.

Lillian glanced at the clock. Two days until departure. Enough to get Sarge accustomed to his new routine and maybe... start thinking about how to use him in Bridgecoast's contest arena.

They had a lot of work to do.

But first...

The Spartan glanced down at the Ducklett, studying him for a moment. His head tilted, eyes sharp but calm, waiting.

From her belt, she unclipped an empty Poké Ball, standard issue, smooth and unblemished. She turned it in her hand once before presenting it to him.

"This is yours, if you want it." she said.

Sarge eyed the sphere, then her. A brief pause, and he tapped the button with his beak. In a flash of light, he vanished inside. The ball gave a single, definitive click.

Lillian smirked faintly. "Figures." She pressed the release, and Sarge reappeared, shaking out his feathers like nothing had happened.

She crouched to retrieve her Pokédex from her pack, flipping it open. The device chirped to life, its screen lighting with the familiar League registration interface. She scanned the ball’s ID chip, and the screen confirmed,

'Species: Ducklett. Status: Unclaimed.'

'Name' the Dex prompted.

Her thumb hovered only a second before typing: Sarge.

The registration finalized with a soft tone, and the Dex displayed his profile:

Species: Ducklett 

Type: Water/Flying

Height: 0.37 m (posses totalled Runt traits.)

Weight: 3.5 kg

Ability: Keen Eye - Prevents accuracy loss.

Moves:

-Water Gun

-Defog

-Wing Attack

-Water Pulse

-Steel Wing

These pokemon are better at swimming than flying, and they happily eat their fill of weed in the water.

Notable Move Source: Egg Move - Steel Wing'

She scrolled back up, frowning slightly at the 'Egg Move' notation. "Egg move…?"

Her finger tapped the info icon, and the Dex pulled up a sidebar.

'Certain moves are passed down genetically, often inherited when a Pokémon hatches from an egg.'

She blinked. "...When a pokemon hatches from an egg."

Peaches, still draped over her hood, gave a lazy Mrrrp lazily draped on the Spartan's shoulder.

Her mind stuttered, replaying the phrase. Hatches. From. An. Egg.

Lillian's eyes narrowed at the screen like it had just accused her of treason. "You’re telling me..." she muttered slowly, "...that you-" she jabbed a finger up toward Peaches "-came out of an egg?"

Peaches yawned.

"That's not-" Lillian stopped herself, shutting the Dex and leaning back in the chair, trying to process. Spartans were briefed on alien life, she had seen her fair share of oddities when studying the covenant, but this!?

It was absurd. And somehow a little horrifying.

Erika, passing by with a clipboard, caught her exexpression "You okay?"

"... yes." Lillian asked flatly.

For some reason the nurse didn't belive her, but she didn't press it "Alright, you need anything I will be at the front counter..."

She didn't  reply, just stared down at Peaches, who only looked back with the slow blink of someone who knew a secret and didn't care.

"Right." Lillian muttered. "Fine. Eggs. Sure." She slid the Pokédex back into her pack, stood, and adjusted her hold on Sarge, who was adamant on staying on her lap now. "Let's get out of here before I learn something else I didn't need to know..."

Chapter Text

Lillian had never been one for lounging around when there was work to be done. The moment Clarisse gave her the all-clear and the “you can push him a little, just not too hard” warning, she headed straight to her training spot.

Peaches was in her usual place on Six's hood, tail flicking lazily, while Sarge rested in her arms like a little blue general being carried to the frontlines.

"Alright, soldier." she said, crouching down and setting him on the grass. "You know what's coming. Let's see what you’ve got."

Sarge puffed his chest, flaring his wings in a way that made Peaches snicker from her stop.

"Let’s start with the basics." she said pulling her pokedex out once, checking his moveset once again and quickly logging them on her wrist pad. "Alright, see that wood stump? That's your target, i want you show me your best moves, alright?" She asks receiving a sharp quack and salute from the duck "Alright then, Water Gun."

The Ducklett's beak opened with practiced precision, sending a neat stream of water straight into the center of a practice stump. Not bad. Lillian circled around, checking the angle.

"Clean. Good control." she nodded. "But let's tighten the spread. Aim as if you were hitting a moving target."

He adjusted on the second shot, stream narrower, more force behind it.

"Better."

She moved on, pointing to the clear space above them. "Defog."

Sarge launched upward in a short hop, his wings cutting through the air in fast, precise beats. A gust swirled across the yard, scattering loose leaves and making Peaches squint against the wind. Lillian grinned, there was something almost surgical about his execution.

"Alright, offense. Wing Attack."

He came down in a sharp dive, wings glowing faintly as he slashed through the air toward the stump. The solid thunk of impact sent bark chips flying.

"Not bad." she muttered, rubbing her chin. "Could use a little more follow-through."

Sarge straightened, awaiting the next order.

"Water Pulse, and I want you to shape it, not just throw it."

He gathered energy, the surface of the water sphere rippling with faint vibrations before he launched it forward. The pulse struck the stump with a deep whump, scattering droplets in a perfect radius across the grass.

Peaches' ears twitched at the sound. Lillian’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Now for the last one... Steel Wing."

A faint silver sheen coated Sarge’s wings. He darted forward, striking the same stump with a sharp metallic crack that left a shallow groove in the wood.

She crossed her arms, looking between him and the mark. "Alright. I've seen what you can do."

Sarge gave a satisfied little quack.

"From here on." she continued, "we're going to sharpen those until they’re second nature. Peaches, you remember the drill, every move gets tested, refined, and turned into a weapon."

Peaches hopped down beside Sarge, tail curling smugly. He glanced at her, gave a curt nod, as if acknowledging his veteran. The Spartan felt the faintest tug of a grin behind her helmet.

Sarge stood in the patch of grass, wings slightly flared, watching Lillian point toward the practice stump.

"Okay." she said, "we’re going to work on control and presentation. Think of it like... showing off while still landing the hit."

The Ducklett blinked slowly, clearly processing the word showing off like it was a foreign insult.

"Come on, Sarge. You've got the power, now we just need polish it."

He gave a doubtful quack but squared up anyway.

"Water Pulse. Small and clean."

Sarge took a deep breath, gathered the sphere... and launched it with enough force to send half the nearby leaves scattering.

"Yeah... that's clean if we're flooding a street." Lillian said dryly. "Again, less splash."

The second try was better... until he added just a bit too much spin, and the orb wobbled off target, splattering Peaches. The Skitty gave him an unimpressed look, tail flicking hard enough to whip the grass.

Sarge ruffled his feathers and muttered something that sounded like a soldier's curse.

"Focus, Sarge. Try to... I don’t know, picture it like a marching drill. Each move sharp, exact, no waste."

The Ducklett's head tilted. That got through.

Steel Wing was next. She told him to slice the stump, not just smash it. His first pass was perfect for demolition, splinters flew everywhere. The second? Still too deep, but the line was straighter. By the fourth try, he actually left a clean cut, though he landed puffing like he’d just flown laps.

Defog... was a disaster at first. She'd asked for a narrow gust, but the first attempt sent her hood almost fly offofher. The second one sent Peaches sliding halfway across the clearing, hissing the whole way.

Sarge stared at Lillian, chest heaving, eyes saying plainly, 'Why? We could've just blasted them.'

"Because."she said, stepping forward and resting a hand on his back, "a contest isn't about taking down an opponent. It's about outsmarting them. The judges won't care if you can blow a field cleanbif you're looking sloppy doing it. They care if you show you know what you're doing... with some extra flair."

Sarge grumbled but didn't pull away.

"Besides." she added with a smirk, "if you're going to be on my team, you better learn how to make it look easy."

The Ducklett gave her a long, resigned blink… then nodded, just barely.

“Good. Now, let’s try again. And this time, try not to blow Peaches away, yeah?" 

The sharp meow that followed was all Sarge needed to hear as he gave his usual salute.

Lillian tugged her hood, holding it tightly, Peaches had decided to get on her usual spot for safety, barely looking up from over the cloth as her claws held onto it.

"Alright, let's try Defog one more time. Controlled. Narrow. No casualties."

Sarge planted his feet, wings twitching. She could see him thinking about it, less like a 'make it pretty' order, more like precision fire. His eyes narrowed.

He snapped his wings open, pulling the air tight around him before blasting it forward in a clean, focused wave. The dust lifted and swirled upward in a neat spiral, almost like a smoke signal, before fading into nothing.

Lillian stood there, genuinely impressed.

"...That was..." She paused thinking of the possibilities with that move. "Better than I expected..."

Peaches blinked in surprise. Her fur had't even shifted out of place this time. She gave the Ducklett a sharp meow.

Sarge tucked his wings with a smug little flick, head tilted in a way that screamed 'of course I could do it.'

"Don't look so proud" Lillian said, but she was smiling. "You were two disasters away from me making you practice with a fan."

He quacked, not quite a laugh, but close enough, and gave his feathers a quick preen.

"Alright, soldier. That’s enough for today." she said, reaching down to scoop him into her arms. "You've earned your break."

Sarge didn’t fight the hold, though he made a point of staring off like he was still on guard duty rather than admitting he liked it.

It was already dark by the time they made it back to the Center, Erika on the counter gave her a small wave to wich Six just nodded back before steping into the canteen.

There weren't many people in there at this time, just a bug catcher feeding a Wumple some leaves and a Coordenator inspecting her Glameow's teeth.

She sat her bag on her usual corner, letting Peaches down from her shoulder. The kitty imediataly flooded over the bag, giving her a soft meow in return.

"Guard it." She didn't stay long, immediately turning to the food counter, Sarge tho seemed confused bh still being in her arms gave out a confused Quack towards her. She stopped and stood in front of the berries dispensers and looked down at him. "Wich one is your favorite?" 

He quacked once, sharp, as if unsure why such question was even made, then craned his neck toward the berry section of the counter, scanning the neatly stacked jars like he was inspecting recruits. His gaze lingered on one, a jar full of bright, shiny Persim berries.

Lillian smirked. "Persim, huh? Practical. Figures you’d go for the neutral field-ration option."

Sarge ruffled his feathers, letting out another quack that could’ve been agreement... Or protest at the implication that he was predictable.

"Fine, fine." she said, sliding one onto her tray. "Persim for the soldier, Pecha for Peaches, and I'll stick with Oran. Balanced loadout." She then proceed to take  two kibble bowls and cut the berries over each in small cubes and then a bowl of Lechonk Tonkatsu and a glass of Rawst berry tea for herself before returning to her table.

Peaches was still flooped over the bag, tail swishing with exaggerated seriousness. She perked up at the sight of the tray, and Sarge hopped down from Lillian's arm, wings half-spread like he was preparing to secure his ration before anyone else could.

Six placed both bowls down. "Don't fight over it, each one gets their portion." She says calmly sitting down to eat her own food.

Peaches wasted no time in delicately nibbling her food, while Sarge tore into his with sharp, efficient pecks, juice and crumbs dribbling down his beak, pulling the kibble and berry apart with ruthless efficiency. Juice dribbled down the side of his bill, but he didn't stop, didn't even pause to breathe between bites.

Lillian's eyes narrowed slightly, her chopsticks stilled halfway to her mouth. To anyone else, it might’ve looked ridiculous, a duckling too eager to pace himself. But she knew better. She'd seen that rhythm before.

The runt always eats fast.

In the barracks, among the younger conscripts, there were always a few who learned the hard way, the small ones, the weaker ones, the ones who had to fight tooth and nail to hold their ground in the mess line. They didn't eat for taste, or comfort. They ate like soldiers under fire, fast, guarded, ready for someone to rip the plate from their hands.

Her jaw tightened. Of course. That's what she was seeing here. Sarge hadn't grown up with guaranteed rations or quiet dinners. He'd had to prove himself to his flock every day just to get enough.

Peaches, meanwhile, delicately nibbled on her bowl like the world would wait for her. The contrast was striking, and it put something heavy in Lillian's chest.

She set her chopsticks down quietly, her gaze never leaving the Ducklett as he worked through his meal with mechanical speed. 'That's not sustainable.' She thought, her instincts slipping back into the familiar hum of tactical evaluation. 'He’s feeding on fight-or-flight. Burns him out. Keeps him sharp in the short term, but long term? That edge will crack.'

Her fingers tapped once against the table. A decision.

'We'll need fix that. He needs to learn that no one here is going to take it away...'

Peaches gave a little purr, batting at her empty bowl before curling her tail possessively over it. Lillian almost snorted at the irony, the pampered cat already embodied the kind of trust Sarge needed to build.

Lillian leaned forward again, taking a sip of her tea, but her eyes stayed on him. She didn’t interrupt his pace, didn't try to slow him down. This wasn't the kind of thing you broke with a single correction. No, this was conditioning. Repetition, reassurance, reinforcement.

Sarge polished the bowl clean before finally straightening, feathers ruffled, chest puffed as though he’d just won a battle. He glanced at her, expectant, like he was ready for her to call 'next order.'

Instead, she only nodded once, voice calm. "Good work. Rest, you need to allow your food to properly start digesting before trying to do anything reckless."

His head tilted, eyes narrowing as though weighing her words. Then, with a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, he lowered himself, settling more comfortably than before.

The Spartan hummed in contentment with it, quietly finishing her foods before picking her tray and their bowls and putting it on the return bin.

She took her bag and montioned for them to follow her, Peaches imediataly jumped on her cape and climbed to her spot on her shoulder, meanwhile Sarge waddled besides her, following her straight to public center terminal and sat on the ground besides the seat. The Spartan's eyes lowered down to Sarge as she herself sat down, petting her tight softly.

"I wanna show you something." 

The Ducklett tilted his head, blinking up at her before giving a soft quack and hopping onto her leg, and carefully sitting down on top of it.

Lillian swiped her Trainer ID across the scanner, the terminal flickering to life with the polished interface of the Pokémon Contest network. Colorful banners scrolled across the screen, highlighting upcoming events, featured Coordinators, and performances from previous showcases.

Sarge craned his neck, eyes narrowing at the bright display as though it was some kind of battlefield holomap.

"It's not just flare." she said, tapping through the menus until a replay loaded. "This is about strategy. Control. Precision. Making every move count."

The screen filled with an arena, lights, music, a Coordinator stepping forward as their Milotic rose from its ball in a shower of glittering mist. The serpent’s scales glistened, and with a single graceful twist, it released a Water Pulse that fractured into rippling spheres, each one catching the stage lights in dazzling arcs.

Sarge's feathers ruffled, unimpressed, but Lillian’s eyes stayed sharp, watching the execution before she paused the video.

"Did you see it?" She asked seriously making him tilt his neck at her as if saying 'yes, I see the sparkles ma'am' but she just shook her head.

"Here, I will replay it." She returned the video, showing the moment Milotic's Water Pulse caught the stages lights before pausing again. "Do you see it now?" Ducklett tilted his head before giving out a confused quack.

The Spartan returned the video again, this time pausing at the right angle when the light arc was the strongest. "Can you find the Milotic?" Sarge stared at the frozen video for a moment eyes narrowing a soft yellow aura shimering on them as he give a quick affirmative Quack. Lillian stayed quiet for a moment before sighing "Right, you have Keen Eye as your ability, bad example... But think if you didn't have that, you would have been blinded by it in an battle, wouldn't you?" The duck stayed quiet for a moment thinking deeply, berhaps remembering someone from his old flook that did not have Keen Eye having his vision compromised, giving another affirmative Quack to her.

"Now think with me Sarge, if someone without Keen Eye or any other ability that allows them yo keep a perfect vision were fighting against this Milotic, wouldn't you agree with me that them would have been blinded and most likely hit by the Water Pulse?" The Water/Flying -Type stayed still until he gave a small nod of agreement.

She then showed another clip, a Growlithe using Flame Wheel to cage their openent inside a ring of fire, before using Snarl making the sound attack fuse with the fire wall in rings of fire that attacked the pokemon inside.

 "This is the video that convinced me to take the Contest Circuit. When people see a performance i see enviorement control and trap. Strategy." She explained to the duck, voice somewhat softer. The Ducklett looked up at her then back at the screen as if mesmarazed by it.

Peaches flicked her tail across Lillian’s neck, purring, eyes fixed on the screen like she was already memorizing the stage cues.

The replay cycled through yet another performance, this one a Lopunny spinning gracefully, Ice Beam leaving delicate crystals suspended in the air. The audience clapped, charmed. Lillian’s expression stayed unreadable.

She finally exhaled, voice low. "You see it now, don't you? But don't be blinded just by the strategy behind it. Trainers and Coordinators. Both of them are half-blind."

Sarge blinked at her, feathers fluffing in mild confusion. She raised a gloved finger, pointing at the frozen image of the Lopunny mid-spin.

"Battle trainers?" Her tone sharpened. "They focus too much on raw strength. Bigger beams, harder hits, faster takedowns. They train until their Pokémon can fire a Water Gun in a perfect straight line at maximum pressure, and then they stop. No creativity. No adaptability. Power without control."

She tapped the screen again, pulling up another battle clip, a Machoke hammering its opponent with Cross Chop after Cross Chop, each one identical to the last. Predictable. Repetitive. Brutal, yes. But hollow.

"They train soldiers like that too. Break a man down, build him back up to be efficient, powerful, unyielding. But strength without thought?" She shook her head. "That's just a weapon. And weapons break."

Sarge tilted his head, a quiet quack leaving his throat. Lillian didn't smile. She just tapped again, swapping feeds to another replay. This time, a Coordinator had a Bellossom performing Petal Dance in intricate spirals, filling the arena with falling petals that shimmered with artificial lights. The crowd went wild.

"And Coordinators..." Her tone shifted, softer but no less critical. "They obsess over control. Grace, elegance, making every ember fall just right, every spark land where it dazzles most. But look at it." She paused the video, freezing the petals midair. "What happens if the Bellossom runs into someone who just powers straight through? All that control collapses, because there's no strength behind it. It's fragile. Beautiful, but fragile."

Her eyes hardened as she looked down at Sarge, meeting his gaze.

"One side builds weapons. The other builds glass sculptures. Neither sees the full picture."

She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms, letting the terminal screen flicker light across her scarred face. For a moment she was quiet, almost reflective.

"I was built to be both. Power and control. That's what kept me alive." Her voice softened just slightly as her eyes fell on him again. "And that’s what i want for both of you."

Sarge blinked slowly, then gave a small, deliberate quack. His feathers ruffled, chest puffing with a quiet stubbornness that almost read as pride. Meanwhile Peaches straighed up on her shoulder, ears twitching.

"Let’s take you, for example Sarge." She leaned forward again, pulling up a battle interface and listing his moves on her wristpad. Water Gun. Water Pulse. Wing Attack. Steel Wing. Defog. Her gloved finger hovered over the first one.

"Water Gun. Most trainers will tell you it’s weak, just a starter's move. Point, shoot, repeat. But with control? You can fan it into mist to blind the opponent. You can sharpen it into a cutting jet. You can even arc it, split the stream, turn it into something no one expects. Weak move, sure. But it’s only weak if you let it be."

Sarge's eyes narrowed, feathers ruffling. He quacked again, a little sharper this time, as if already challenging the assumption.

"Water Pulse." She tapped the next move. "Most use it for power. Big sphere, big damage, maybe confuse the opponent if they’re lucky. But if you break that pulse mid-flight? You get shrapnel, smaller bursts that scatter. Distracting, hard to dodge, and they still hit. Or-" her voice dropped lower, thoughtful, "-you learn to ride the echo. Control the ripple, not just the strike."

Her finger slid to the next line. "Wing Attack. It’s more than just hitting with your wings. It’s speed, momentum, the threat of mobility. Used right, you can harass an opponent, pressure their flanks, force them into mistakes."

"Steel Wing." She tapped harder on this one. "That’s not just an attack. That's armor. That's a shield. Reinforce at the right moment and you can take hits most wouldn’t dare. Control it, and it’s more than damage, it's defense."

Finally, her finger rested on the last one. "Defog. Coordinators love it for flair, trainers ignore it entirely. But it's more than clear skies. You can strip away cover, deny the opponent their smokescreens, take back visibility. And with discipline? You can even use it to blind, to sweep the field into your control. Environmental dominance. That's a soldier's tool."

She sat back, hand falling from the screen, eyes never leaving him.

"That's what I mean, Sarge. Every move has layers. Potential. Most people never dig deep enough to see it. But i do, and I want you to reach that potential I see."

For a long moment, the Ducklett only stared, then gave a single, sharp quack, wings twitching as though already itching to try. Peaches mewed softly on Lillian’s shoulder, curling her tail against Six’s neck as if to agree.

Six's gaze flicked up to the Skitty perched on her shoulder, tail curling smugly under her chin. Peaches' ears twitched, eyes gleaming as if she knew exactly what was coming.

"And you." Lillian said softly. "You're no different." She keyed a few more taps into her wristpad, pulling up Peaches' move list across the terminal. Tackle. Growl. Tail Whip. Fake Out. Sing. Disarming Voice. Attract.

Her gloved finger traced the first one.

"Tackle. Everyone calls it the simplest move in existence. Trainers grind it into their Pokémon until it’s a blunt hammer, nothing more. But if you learn to direct it? It become sthe foundation of many physical moves." She tilted her head slightly. "It also works leverage itslef. Momentum. Knock an opponent into their own teammate. Pin someone against terrain. Strike high or low to stagger balance. Tackle isn’t just a hit, it's a push, and a push can rewrite positioning."

Peaches gave a pleased little trill, tail flicking in satisfaction.

"Growl." Lillian's tone dropped, carrying weight. "Most call it weak. Harmless. But that’s because they don’t understand it. Intimidation is a weapon. A harsh growl forces hesitation, even instinctive fear. A softer one? That disarms, makes them lower their guard. Perfect for you fighting style. You’re not just making noise, you're controlling the enemy’s mindset."

She shifted her finger.

"Tail Whip. Coordinators love this one for flair. Trainers ignore it. Both are wrong. Tail Whip is distraction. Draw the eye, shift the focus, force the opponent to react where you want. And if you sync it with another move, you create an opening. Remember our Tail Whip into Fake Out?" She let the words hang in the air. "That's not a cute silly plaything. That’s misdirection."

Peaches flicked her tail almost deliberately, as if to demonstrate, her whiskers twitching in smug agreement.

"Fake Out." Lillian’s voice sharpened, soldier’s tone back. "This is ambush tactics. Surprise and suppression. Most use it once, get the flinch, and move on. But with control and variation? You use it to reset tempo, to keep the opponent reactive instead of proactive. Done right, you don’t just steal a turn, you steal the pace of battle."

She lingered on that before tapping the next move.

"Sing." Her voice softened, nearly reverent. "It's underestimated because it looks like performance. A lullaby. But it’s environmental control. You shut down the field without lifting a claw. Even the threat of it forces an opponent to respect you. And with true mastery, you don’t even need the whole song, just a single note can break their rhythm. I witnessed it'seffect on rampaging pokemon once, this is a move you do not underestimate."

Peaches gave a smug little mewl, head tilted proudly.

"Disarming Voice." Lillian leaned closer to the screen. "We already went through that explanation when we first trained it. It's not the strongest move. Not the flashiest. But it doesn’t miss. Ever. It cuts through distraction, evasion, tricks. In combat, reliability is more valuable than raw force. When everything else fails, when your opponent thinks they’re safe, you remind them they’re not.”

Finally, her finger hovered over the last line. Attract. She went quiet for a long moment, studying the word before speaking agaiagan "Same situation as Disarming Voice, i already explained it to you. Still, this one is mocked the most. Dismissed as cheap. But influence is one of the deadliest tools a fighter can wield. To make someone hesitate, to bend their will, to turn their thoughts against themselves, that's psychological warfare. Used with control, it doesn't just distract. It dismantles."

Her gaze slid from the screen back to Peaches, who was now preening smugly on her shoulder, purring loud enough for Sarge to hear.

"You see the pattern." Lillian said finally, voice low. "Trainers strip moves down to raw strength. Coordinators polish them into fragile tricks. But both of you will learn the truth, every move is more than what it looks like. Layers, control, adaptability. You'll master them, inside and out."

She leaned back in the chair, eyes narrowing faintly as her voice dropped into a soldier’s certainty.

"That's what will set you apart." she said, voice low but steady, the words carrying the gravity of something sworn rather than spoken. "Power and control, together. Not a weapon. Not a sculpture. Something stronger." 

Her gaze lingered on the both of them, the terminal's glow painting her helmet in stark light and shadow. Sarge’s feathers were still ruffled from stubborn defiance, Peaches curled smug and warm against her neck, but to Lillian they were more than just a pair of rookies. They were possibility.

"You won't be what the world expects of you." she continued, tone sharpening like a blade being drawn. "You won't be tools to be broken or ornaments to be admired. You will be soldiers. Warriors." The word hung in the air, heavy and final, something only she could give meaning to.

She let the silence stretch, feeling the weight of her own promise before she drove it home. "And that, that will make you stronger than most. Stronger than the ones who burn out chasing power. Stronger than the ones who shatter clinging to control. You'll be something else entirely. Survivors. Fighters. My fighters."

Peaches gave a soft, smug trill of agreement, curling herself tighter against Six's neck like a crown, while Sarge gave a low, deliberate quack, as though conceding that maybe, just maybe, this strange philosophy made sense.

Chapter Text

The clinic smelled faintly of herbs, berries and metal. Lillian stood beside the counter, arms crossed as Erika carefully rotated Sarge’s wing between her hands. The Ducklett held still, chest puffed in his usual stubborn way, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of discomfort.  

"Still stiff." Erika murmured, fingers pressing along the joint. "But better than when he arived here. No strain, no swelling. He'll need another week before hard flight drills, but..." She glanced up, offering the faintest smile. "He's cleared for light use. Controlled movement. As long as you don't push him."  

Six gave a small nod. "Noted."

Sarge quacked sharply, clearly interpreting the exchange as permission to leap straight back into battle. Erika chuckled. Lillian, however, only raised a brow. "Don't get ahead of yourself." She reached out, brushing a finger down his beak until he huffed and stilled.

Peaches, perched on her shoulder, stretched lazily and gave an exaggerated yawn, as if unimpressed by all the fuss.  

By the time they stepped out into the morning light, the streets of Azuhollow were already busy with travelers preparing their own departures. Lillian shifted her bag higher on her back, eyes narrowing at the horizon where the road wound toward Bridgecoast. Tomorrow, they’d be on it. But today...  

Her stride quickened, and both Pokémon fell in with her. Sarge waddling at her side, Peaches balanced easily on her shoulder. The path bent toward the tree line, where their hidden clearing waited.  

"Here's the plan." Her voice was steady, clipped, almost a briefing. "Contests are split in two rounds. The first is presentation. That's you, Sarge." She glanced down at him, catching the proud gleam in his eyes. "You won't need to fight, just show control, presence, discipline. That's something you can do even grounded." 

He gave a single, decisive quack, as if already agreeing.  

"The second round is battle. That's where you come in, Peaches." Lillian’s hand lifted, brushing the Skitty’s back as she walked. "I'll need you fast, precise. You'll be the one wearing opponents down, disrupting them, keeping them from ever getting comfortable. That's where you shine."  

Peaches purred at the praise, tail curling around Lillian’s neck like a ribbon.

They passed beneath the canopy, the bustle of Azuhollow fading behind them, replaced by the hush of leaves and distant water. Lillian slowed, her tone softening just slightly. "We will start training today. The Contest is in 7 days and road to Bridgecoast is 3 days in civilian travel if we make stops for training, which leaves 3 more days in the city itself for a more deep training, a city that will be full of other coordinators. Competition, that might end up seeing us training there." She looked at her pokemon voice firm. "So we will use today and the next 3 days to the best we can, understood?"   

Sarge quacked and gave his usual salute and Peaches gave a sharp meow in answer.  

The clearing opened ahead, sunlight spilling across the grass in familiar golden patches.  

The Ducklett stood infront of her ready for directions meanwhile the Skitty hopped down from her shoulder, sitting besides the duck looking up at her a flicking tail, ready for action.  

Lillian stepped forward into the grass, boots crunching against the earth as she rolled her shoulders back, all business now. "We start with you, Sarge." she said, her tone sharp enough to cut through the morning quiet. "Presentation is about presence. Not just the move, but how you use it."  

The Ducklett's chest puffed out, wings twitching with restrained eagerness.  

"Show me Water Gun." Lillian ordered. "Not power. Control."  

Sarge inhaled and fired, a neat stream cutting forward through the clearing. It hissed faintly as it struck the dirt, clean but plain. Lillian lifted a hand, stopping him before he fired again.  

"Too basic. Again, but this time, fan it out." She raised her hand, fingers splaying as though shaping the air. "Mist the area, cover yourself from the enemy's view."

He blinked once, then adjusted, angling his beak higher. The jet thinned, softened, breaking into a fine spray that drifted across the sunlit clearing. Mist curled between the trees, catching the light until it shimmered faintly like morning dew.  

Lillian's lips twitched into the barest shadow of approval. "Better. That's the kind of control we need." She says, observing it with an calculated gaze.

"Now, Sarge, sharpen it." Lillian's hand cut through the air like a knife. "Jet, precise, like a blade. Make me believe that stream could cut steel if you willed it."  

The Ducklett's eyes narrowed, and he adjusted again. This time the water shot straight and narrow, a pressurized streak that hissed as it tore through the mist he’d just made. The contrast, fine haze and razor line, lingered, and even Peaches gave a little chirp of surprise.  

Lillian nodded once, firmly. "Good."

She turned, looking at both Pokémon now. "This is how we'll train. One move at a time, broken down, rebuilt. You'll master every angle until no one can predict you and you can merge both the control and strengh into one."  

The Skitty purred, ears twitching with anticipation as Sarge gave a sharp quack, already readying for the next drill.  

Lillian looks at both Pokémon her eyes landing back on Sarge. "We will work on our performance, it's better to have an idea now than brainstorm it closer to the Contest." The duck gave her his typical salute and she looked yo the Skitty. "Meanwhile I want you to train your moves, start with Tackle, merge it with your speed and Agility training, dodge and weave without losing the attack momentum."  

Peaches didn't wait for another word. She padded a few paces away, tail high, then crouched low as though facing some unseen opponent. Her ears twitched, body shifting in quick bursts as she wove left and right, slipping through invisible strikes only she could see. When she lunged forward in a sudden Tackle, her paws struck the ground clean, controlled, before she bounced back into another evasive roll.  

Not just practice, performance. Each dodge had a flourish, a flick of her tail, a sharp turn that carried just enough style to catch an audience's eye without breaking the flow of battle.  

Lillian's gaze followed her for a moment, a faint nod of approval. She didn’t need to bark orders. Peaches had already learned what was expected, precision first, presence second. Now she was layering them together, sharpening her own edges.  

Meanwhile, Sarge angled his beak again, sending out another misted spray into the air. The droplets caught the morning light, scattering it into shifting fragments across the clearing.  

The Spartan noded seeing the result. "We can use that as the opening..." She muttered seeing the light slowly dissipating. "Let's work on getting a hang of the move, then we work making it fancy."  

The Ducklett saluted her before taking a deep breath and then exhaled in a soft, controlled stream. This time the mist unfurled in an even veil, drifting upward until it hung like a thin cloud between the trees. Sunlight poured through it, bending into faint ribbons.  

Lillian watched in silence as the mist curled and shimmered, the shafts of sunlight breaking into faint rainbow arcs. Sarge held it for as long as he could, chest straining, then gave a tired little quack as the veil collapsed around him in damp threads.  

"Good control." she murmured. "Now, let's add the next layer. Steel Wing."  

Sarge blinked, hesitating. Still, he squared himself and spread his wings, feathers hardening into a gleaming sheen as he tried to maintain the mist. For a moment, light struck the metallic surface, scattering a brief, dazzling flare through the fog.  

Then his breath hitched, the mist broke uneven, and the glow sputtered out. His wings sagged.  

The Ducklett ruffled, frustrated, and gave a sharp, disgruntled quack.  

Lillian crouched slightly, watching him recover. "Hey, relax, i didn't expect you to get it on first try. Just give it another shot, yeah?" She patted his back.  

The Water/Flying-type gave out a sharp Quack before breathing in and spitting out another mist screen. The light bending into ribbons once again.  

He spreaded his wings open and slowly the shimer of Steel Wing formed, the light scathered a dazzling flare once more before he droped it breathing heavily.  

The Spartan hums quietly to herself analyzing the duck like he was an unstable weapon. "It's not lack of power." she said more to herself than to him. "It's the division. Breath steady for mist Water Gun, wings steady for shining Steel Wing. Two streams, one body. Besides it being two different aura control..." She exhaled slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. "Not something you can master in a week... until our first Contests..."

Sarge shuffled his webbed feet, lowering his head in defeat.  

"Don’t." Lillian said firmly. Her voice cut the air, sharp as a command. The Ducklett snapped his head back up, eyes wide. "This isn't failure. This is information. You can’t split focus yet. So we won't ask it of you."  

She rose again, eyes narrowing as she studied the droplets of water still lingering in the tree leaves. For a long moment, she was silent, calculating. Her eyes then lowered to her wristpad as she opens his moveset.  

_Water Gun.  

_Defog.  

_Wing Attack.  

_Water Pulse.  

_Steel Wing.  

She stared at them for a moment when a lamp lighted up on her head.  

"Alright i think i got something." She says closing the Ducklett moveset.  

The duck looked at her expectantly. Lillian merely pointed upwords. "Water Pulse, as high as you can throw above you." Sarge gave a determinated Quack and looked up, quickly charging a Water Pulse and throwing it in the air above him.  

"Water Gun, straight into it!"   

The Ducklett stoped for a moment before doing the request, a straight jet of water leaving his mouth straight into the Water Pulse, the spheric attack absorbing the Water Gun into itself and slowly growing bigger, the sunlight going through the attack and making it shine.  

Peaches stoped for a moment in the sidelines and watched the move into action, her head tilted to the side as she watche dthe giant ball of light start to fall down.  

"Now, Defog!"  

The duck flapped his wings a powerfull gust of wind hit the water attack, disistabilazing it and making it explode into large droplets of water that still reflected in the light.  

"Steel Wing!"   

His wings shined into a metalic shine that reflected the light as the droplets feel heavily to the ground. Rough, but workable.  

Lillian smiled under helmet, she knelt besides the bird as he lowers his wings breathing heavily. She places a hand on his back. "That's it, we will work to refine it better, but that's our performance. Good job soldier."   

Peaches approached them, smiling and giving him an energetic meow, as if to say 'that was great!'   

The Ducklett looked at both if them and gave out a determinated Quack kand saluted, trying to look as professional as he could. But, his waging tail gave away all his posture.

Lillian stood, looking between them both. "We'll refine it over the week. Smoother mist, tighter timing. But this-" she gestured at the fading shimmer in the air, "-is our opening. Our debut, as the industry calls it..."

Peaches gave out a happy trill in response, and Sarge, puffed his chest in pride at being the one behind it's execution.

Six put her hand on her hips and smile. "Let's take a break, than i want to see your progress, Peaches." 

The Skitty happily flooped on the grass purring in delight. Sarge looked around before sitting down besides the kitty.

The Spartan went through her bag and got a bowl, filling it with the water of her canteen and putting it between them to share. 

'I will need to get Sarge his own things soon...' She couldn't help but think watching Peaches drink the water in delight while Sarge watches her quietly, as if waiting for her yo finish before even attempting to drink it.

Lillian sighed, sitting down and opening her pokedex, seeing the money she still had. 

₱1,790

She stared at it and then looked at what she should get. She still had enough food for all of them till they arived at Bridgecoast, but then again...

Her eyes landed on an specific container, one that housed Peaches Pecha snacks. 

'Maybe it will help him realize he doesn't need to prove himself for his food...' 

She looked up, seeing Peaches relax under the shadow of a canopy while Sarge finally started to drink the water like he would never have another oportunity to if he didn't now.

Lillian watched him for a few more secounds before opening her wrist pad and making a shoping list.

_His own bowl.

_Persim berries.

_Ask one of the nurses if i can use the kitchen.

She stopped for a moment opening up his pokedex entry and silently reading it. 

'These pokemon are better at swimming than flying, and they happily eat their favotite food peat moss.'

Peat moss.

'If it is their favorite food it must have the proper vitamins he needs...'

She typed something else in her wristpad.

_His own bowl.

_Persim berries.

_Ask one of the nurses if i can use the kitchen.

_Peat moss.

Six nods satified before closing the log, looking back at the two pokemon, Peaches was still enjoying her cool of time while Sarge, tho he seemed relaxed, still kept looking around, his eyes shining slightly yellow of Keen Eye being activated.

That made her raise her eyebrow.

'So they can use it passively...' She couldn't help but though her mind wandering back to the the Skitty’s Cute Charm ability. 'Maybe it would be possible...'

The Spartan leaned back against the tree trunk, arms crossed. Her gaze slid from Sarge’s faint glow of awareness to the Skitty purring lazily in the grass. Cute Charm. The name alone made it sound unreliable, flimsy, but she knew better. Influence, even subtle, was a weapon in its own right.

"Peaches." she called, her tone shifting back into command.

The Skitty’s ears flicked up, her head lifting curiously.

"Up. Show me your Tackle training."

Peaches bounded to her paws with a trill and sprang forward. Her small body darted in tight zigzags before launching into a quick strike against a fallen branch. She hit, bounced, and landed clean, tail curling high in a flourish. Another dash, another strike, this one ending in a spin that sent her skidding neatly across the dirt.

Lillian gave a short nod. "Your speed and accuracy are sharp. And the recovery time’s improved. Good."

Peaches puffed with pride, tail flicking.

"But you’re not done."

Lillian knelt down, lowering her voice as though briefing a soldier on a classified mission. "You know how Sarge can use his eyes without thinking about it? That sharp look that warns him if anything’s coming?" She tapped the side of her own helmet. "That's passive use. Always on. No effort wasted." 

Peaches tilted her head the other way, ears twitching.  

"Your Cute Charm... if think we can get that same result, or at least make it so you can activate it at will."   

Peaches' eyes went open wide, completely uncommon for her species, and she gave a small questioning chirp, as if unsure how to simply "turn on" charm.  

The woman leaned back crossing her arms. "I have been thinking of that ever since that Spearow attacked you and got under it's effect. Did you notice the aura was identical to the aura you use for Attract?"  

The Skitty blinked slowly, her whiskers twitching, as though the connection had clicked.  

Lillian tapped her wristpad, pulling up Peaches’ entry and glancing at the details of her ability. "M urrent theory is that it's the same aura used for both. Some kind of Normal-type energy tied to your instincts. That’s why Attract came so easily. You weren’t learning something new. You were drawing from the same source you naturaly have access to."  

Peaches trilled, sitting straighter now, as though proud of the revelation.  

"We will see if we can use that to our aventage..." she said, tapping the side of her wristpad. "we're going to work on controlling your aura. Not constantly, just... when it counts."  

Peaches' tail wagged. She crouched low, alert, clearly understanding the idea even before Lillian could finish explaining, making the Spartan smirk.  

"You get it don't you?"   

The Kitty's answer was a sharp mewl.  

"Alright then." Lillian crouched in the clearing, eyes on Peaches. "First step, controlling the aura. Not always, just when you decide. Think of it like pulling the trigger on the right moment."  

Peaches crouched low, tail flicking, ears alert. Lillian held her hand up. "Think of Attract, how you feel when using it, pull the aura, but instead of releasing, keep it."  

The Skitty's ears twitched, tail still behind her. She though about Attract, and pulled the move, but instead of releasing it with her tail into the air, braced herself, as if she was about to be hit, and suddently, the characteristic pink aura of Cute Charm surrounded her before dissipating.

Six hummed nodding "Again. Keep doing it until you don't need to focus for it to happen."

Peaches crouched low, tail twitching, ears flicking, and summoned her aura again. The pink glow shimmered briefly before fading. Lillian clapped softly. "Again."

Round after round, the Skitty adjusted. At first, the aura flared unevenly, dissipating too quickly or flickering with hesitation. But after a dozen attempts, she began to anticipate the natural pull, the survival instinct of charming your enemy in not hurting her taking a stronger shape. The glow stayed longer, responding subtly to her shifts in posture, the twitch of her whiskers, the tilt of her ears.

The Sparan hummed, giving the kitty a nod. "You're faster now, good, this is an advantage to our side..."  But even as she nodded in approval, a concern nagged at her. "but it’s still practice. It’s predictable. Controlled. You’re not responding to real danger yet, and we need to train that, instinct under pressure."

Peaches stopped mid-crouch, ears twitching, sensing the hesitation in Lillian’s tone.

The woman pulled her pokedex out staring at it. "I could turn my ping on..." She muttered out loud, before shaking her head. "No, you could end up getting seriously hurt trying to bait in an actual battle zone without the proper training for it, and we don't even know if the oponent would be a male and a physical attacker for it to take effect, besides, it could take to long for someone to even appear for a battle..." 'besides the money problem...' Lillian sighed and put her pokedex back on her pocket crossing her arms in though. Peaches' ears leaning back as she too tried to think of a solution.

Sarge listening from the sidelines looked up at the Spartan then down at te Skitty and got up, waddling up beside them, and letting out a sharp quack that got both of their attention.

Lillian looked down at te Ducklett with an raised eyebrow. "Any problem, Sarge?" 

The Duck quacked again, pointing his good wing to himself, making her tilt her head. "You're... offering yourself?" 

Sarge quacked again, spreading his wing and activating Wing Attack, before letting the white aura disappear.

Lillian tilted her head in though, 'Sarge is a male and wing Attack is a physical attack... it could work... but then again.' Her eyes landed on his still harmed wing. 'I really don't want to force his wing...' 

The Spartan stayed deep in though for a long moment before sighing. "Alright, we will go with you plan, but only use your good wing, we don't need you more grounded than we need, okay?" 

The Ducklett gave her a sharp salute, turning himself to face the Kitty who gave a bright Meow as if saying "Thank you"

Lillian hummed eying the two pokemon calmly. "Alright, Sarge, move unpredictably, fast, slow, sudden bursts, make it feel like an actual battle. Peaches, focus on getting Cute Charm, alright?" 

Peaches’ eyes gleamed, tail flicking, already crouched low in anticipation. Sarge gave a sharp salute and shuffled forward, ready to start the drill.

Sarge’s first rush came sudden and sharp, his good wing glowing faintly as it cut through the air. Peaches sprang sideways, landing lightly on her paws. The aura fizzled out before it could catch.

Again." Lillian said evenly, her eyes sharp behind her visor.

The Ducklett didn’t hesitate. He swung slower this time, then snapped forward with a burst of speed. Peaches hunched as though bracing, the pink shimmer blooming around her before sputtering away again.

Round after round, the two moved, Sarge striking in different tempos, Peaches alternating between dodges and bracing stances. Sometimes the charm flickered, sometimes it stayed longer, sometimes it failed to appear at all.

Lillian stayed silent at first, arms crossed, watching. Her mind catalogued each attempt automatically, the way she had once studied Spartans under pressure. Dodges sharper. Aura more responsive. Not perfect yet. Not reliable.

Then, after another dozen exchanges, she noticed something.

Peaches darted clear of one strike, but instead of immediately trying again, she hesitated. Her tail flicked, ears pinned, body crouched. Sarge, ruffled and impatient, lunged harder to close the gap. That was when Peaches braced, sudden, sharp, and her aura burst forth, stronger than before. The Ducklett squawked, stumbling as his Wing Attack hit her this time. A small heart forming from the Cute Charm and landing on the duck, the effect taking on him.

Lillian blinked. That was different.

Sarge gave out a loud Quack, his eyes heart shaped as he spreaded his wings out in a love dumb way. 

Both human and pokemon sweat dropped at the sight of their companion with a soldier mentality acting tha way. 

Peaches gave out a nervous meow and looked up towards her trainer for guidance. Lillian merely sighed. "Use Growl..." 

Peaches ears twitching in confusion, but she complied, letting out a sharp feral hiss like sound that snapped the Ducklett from his trance, staring around in confusion sbefore realizing what happened and hiding in face on his wing.

The Skitty le out an apologetic mewl before looking up to the Spartan, as if waiting for an explanation as to how that happened. 

Lillian knelt down, resting her elbows on her knees. “Alright. That was… informative.”

Peaches tilted her head, ears flicking uncertainly.

The Spartan tapped her gauntlet as she thought it through. "Cute Charm hit him, no doubt. But the second you used Growl, it broke him out of it." She glanced at Sarge, who was still preening his feathers in embarrassment. "It wasn’t just the sound, it was the shift in how he saw you."

Her eyes went back to the Skitty. "Cute Charm makes you look harmless. Irresistible, even. But Growl?" She mimicked a sharp hiss through her helmet. "That made you look like a predator for half a second. And his instincts said, hold up, this isn’t cute, it’s dangerous."

Peaches’ ears twitched, and she gave a questioning chirp.

"Exactly." Lillian said, nodding as though answering the unspoken question. "That’s why he snapped out of it. Instinct overrides instinct. Cute Charm pulls the enemy in. But Growl... it flips the script, makes them hesitate, pushes them back." She smirked faintly. "Not a bad defense, but it kills the trance you worked so hard to set up."

Peaches sat up straighter, tail curling as though she understood.

Lillian leaned back on her heels, humming. "Though... maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That hiss of yours? Too sharp, too hostile. What if we take the edge off? A softer tone, not a warning, more like a... lull. Something that unsettles without breaking the spell."

Sarge peeked up from behind his wing at that, clearly skeptical, but Lillian only chuckled under her breath. "Don’t worry, soldier. We’re not putting you under again today. But you both just gave me another idea for training."

Peaches let out a bright mrrp, delighted with the information and Sarge gave a few steps away from her, eyes wary.

Lillian smiled slightly at them looking up towards the sky to where the sun was at. "I think that is enought training for today, let's go back to the Center get you guys checked up."

The Ducklett merely gave out a pleading quack.

The city pressed around them with the hum of midday life. Sunlight bounced off glass windows and pale stone, heat shimmering faintly on the pavement. Vendors called out from their stalls, scents of grilled skewers and fresh bread tangling in the air. Trainers hurried by with Poké Balls clipped to their belts, laughter and chatter spilling across the busy streets.

The Spartan moved with measured steps, helmet on this time, the golden curve of her visor hiding her eyes. Shapes glided across the motion tracker at the bottom left of her HUD, hundreds of tiny red dots, shifting in constant flow. In the field, that kind of movement meant encirclement, threat, ambush. Here, it was just... people. Too many to sort into patterns, too dense to register as anything but noise. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from checking it every few seconds, tracking the ebb and flow of the crowd until her mind reluctantly accepted the lack of danger.

On her usual spot inside her hood, Peaches layed down lazily, using the cloth around Six's neck as a pillow. Her ears swiveled with every new sound but clearly more interested in the pastry stand they’d just passed. Sarge waddled on her other side, head bobbing like a proper soldier on march, though he quacked sharply at a honking car as if it were issuing a challenge.

The Pokémon Center finally rose at the end of the block, its red roof cutting a familiar shape against the skyline. The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss as they stepped inside, and the noise of the street dulled instantly. Cool air conditioning washed over them. The clean smell of disinfectant and berries filled Lillian’s nose, strangely comforting, like the sterile calm of an armory between deployments.

She let her shoulders ease as she crossed the lobby. Trainers milled around, some waiting at the counter with tired Pokémon, others sitting at the tables to eat their own lunches while their partners rested in Poké Balls. The cafeteria clatter carried faintly from a side hall, and the bulletin boards were crammed with battle requests, job postings, contest flyers.

Peaches immediately flopped onto the tiles at her boots with a stretch and a loud mewl, while Sarge stayed stiff at her side, chest puffed out as if standing inspection.

"Alright." she said, shifting her pack. "First things first, supplies."

She guided the Pokémon toward the center’s back hall, past the nurse’s counter and the waiting trainers, to the blue slide door that led into the Poké Mart.

Unlike Greenheart's poke center, Azuhollow had it's own pokemart inside it, due to the city's status as a gym city, the center was build to better handle suplies, considering the larger number of trainers to pass by there unlike Greenheart where they would have to leave the center to take suplies. Also perfect for traniners to do a quick run without leaving the Center.

Peaches padded happily ahead, tail flicking, while Sarge waddled beside her, quacking softly as if taking mental notes of every shelf. Lillian took a basket from the entrance and scaned the aisles through her visor. The motion tracker blinked faintly as she moved, five red dots marked out. One notecibly the store's attendant, a young girl, possibly on her early adulthood with short brown hair tucked neatly in her cap. 

Lillian adjusted the basket in her grip, eyes flicking across the rows. The first aisle was stacked with general trainer gear, rope coils, compact camping kits. She skipped those. Her budget was tight and most of it was if no.use yo her anyways.  

Instead, she steered toward the food and care section.  

Rows of neatly bagged berries lined the shelves, each labeled with bright stickers denoting flavor and effect. Oran and Sitrus dominated the lower racks, while rarer types like Lum and Chople were sealed in vacuum packs up higher. Lillian plucked a mixed bundle of Oran and Pecha, and a single bag of Persim berries.   

practical, restorative, light enough to carry. She set them in the basket with careful precision.  

Peaches had already leapt onto the bottom shelf, sniffing eagerly at a row of pastel-colored treats. Her nose pressed insistently to one jar, paining at it and looking back up at the Spartan with a soft meow.

"Peaches, don't." The trainer said opening her shopping list on her wrist pad.

The Skitty looked back, ears flattening in protest, then gave her best attempt of charming the Spartan, using her training agaisnt her trainer, a silent aattempt of a plea. 

Six exhaled through her nose, half amusement half exasperation. "We still have some of your treats from our first batch, besides I'm Sarge's later, we have enough treats."

Peaches posture imediataly took an depressive aura, but ears picked dup at the words 'making more later.'   

Sarge, meanwhile, had stopped at another display made entirely of bowls. Ceramic, steel, collapsible travel kinds. He tilted his head at them, remembering Peaches own bowl they shared from earlier that day. His feathers puffed slightly, as if unwilling to admit interest.  

Lillian noticed the glance. Without a word, she crouched, examined the shelf, and selected a sturdy steel bowl with a simple design. She added it to the basket before looking down at him. "Standard issue." she said. "Every soldier needs his kit."  

The Ducklett quacked once, sharply, chest puffing with clear satisfaction.  

She moved on, picking out feed optimized for water type Pokémon, high in grains and dried fish flakes, and then a lighter blend for Peaches, something tailored for normal-types, she made sure to search for the best one in overall health for both contest and gym training. The clerk behind the counter gave her a side eye, sweating at the sight of an armored figure analyzing every item and price like it was a lifeline.  

Lillian ignored the stare entirely tho, used to it by Marines and civilians. She had learned to ignore it and focus on the objective, even if said objective was selecting between the solo Persim berry bag or the Oran/Persim combo bag.

By the time she arived at the counter she had all she searched for, except for one thing, the peat moss.

The attendant straightened behind the register, hands a little too stiff as she began scanning each item. Her eyes flicked once to the mirrored visor, then away again, throat bobbing.

Lillian waited in silence, arms folded, until the last item slid across the scanner. Then, calm as if requesting a weapons check, she asked:

"Do you stock peat moss?"

The clerk froze. "P-peat moss?" Her voice cracked halfway through the word.

"Yes." Lillian tilted her head slightly, visor catching the fluorescent lights. "Ducklett line favor it. I want it fresh, if you carry."

The attendant swallowed, nodding too fast. "R-right, yes! Uh- we don’t keep it on the shelves since, um, most trainers don’t ask for it, but we do have a small stock in the back, for water-type specialists. I’ll... I’ll go check right away!”

She darted through the side door like a Rattata fleeing a predator, leaving Lillian standing at the counter with her Pokémon.

Sarge gave a self-satisfied quack, chest puffing proudly at the mention of his favorite food. Peaches, sitting besides the duck, let out a low chirrup that sounded suspiciously like laughter at the poor attendant’s expense.

Lillian only tapped her fingers once against the counter, patient but sharp. 

It only took a minute, though the way the girl stumbled back through the side door, breathless, one might think she’d run a whole mile. In her arms she cradled a sealed packet, clear plastic showing a dark, spongy mass inside. A label across the top read Peat Moss, Specialty Feed in neat blue lettering.

"F-found it!" she said quickly, setting it down with both hands as though it were something fragile. "We usually only keep a few portions, since… well, there’s not a huge demand, but it’s fresh, processed just last week."

Lillian picked it up, turning the package in her hand with the same scrutiny she gave weapons inspections. The moss was damp, the seal intact, and the faint earthy scent reached even through the plastic. Sarge’s head darted forward, beak tapping against it eagerly, wings twitching in restrained excitement.

The Spartan hummed. "Seems good enough." She set it with the rest of her purchases. "Two, if you’ve got another."

The clerk blinked, then bobbed her head so fast her cap nearly fell off. "Y-yes, absolutely, I’ll grab it!" She disappeared again, returning moments later with a second bundle, setting it beside the first with a relieved smile that didn’t quite hide her nerves.

Lillian inclined her head as the girl runned back and returning sweating even more then before. 

The scanner beeped twice more. Sarge let out a sharp, victorious quack, clearly proud his rations had been secured. Peaches flicked her tail lazily, unimpressed, but her whiskers twitched with amusement at her teammate’s celebration.

The scanner chimed as the clerk rattled off the subtotal. "That comes to... ₱1,420."

Lillian’s HUD flickered the number in the corner as she shifted her weight, basket now nearly empty. Her balance, ₱1,790, stared back at her like a mission timer counting down. She exhaled slowly through her nose.

₱370 left. Barely enough left to their next pit stop.

She looked down at Sarge, who was practically vibrating in place, his good wing fluttering every time his eyes landed on the peat moss bundles. He wasn’t loud about it, no squawking demands, but his restraint said everything

"Here" she said flatly, sliding her trainer ID across the counter.

The clerk fumbled, swiping it through the reader with trembling hands. The machine chirped its confirmation, and she nearly sagged in relief. "All set. Th-thank you for your purchase!"

Lillian gathered the bags, staying still for a moment when she felt Peaches climbing her cape and lay into place on her hood again, curling like a queen returning to her throne. Sarge, meanwhile, puffed his chest and gave a proud, salute, as if awaiting new orders.

Six turned to leave, the automatic doors hissing open as the cool interior gave way to the warmth of the noon air. She spared only a glance at the red digits in the corner of her HUD. ₱370. She would manage, she still had some rations to travel and poke centers don't charge as long as you are an official trainer and she could survive months without food, waiting till the next center wouldn't be a bother.

Lillian crossed back into the main lobby with her supplies secured. The familiar hum of the Center wrapped around her again, trainers talking at tables, the faint chime of healing machines, the shuffle of footsteps across tile.

She spotted Erika at the counter, flipping through a clipboard while a young trainer tried to settle a jittery Zigzagoon in her arms.

"Erika." Lillian called, stepping closer.

The nurse looked up, smiling despite the chaos at her station. "Back again already, Lillian? What do you need?"

"The kitchen." Lillian said plainly. "For berry prep." She adjusted the weight of her pack. "I’d rather not mix things in the field."

Erika blinked, then her smile widened. "Of course. Trainers don’t ask often, but we keep the annex open for exactly that. Just sign in at the door so we can track use. I’ll let Clarisse know you’re inside."

Lillian gave a short nod of thanks, then guided Peaches and Sarge down the side hall.

The kitchen was still. Stainless counters reflected the pale glow of overhead lights, and the soft hum of cooling units filled the silence. Lillian set her helmet on the counter, visor dimming as she exhaled, grounding herself in the quiet.

Peaches didn't waste time and hoped on the counter, laying down like a loaf watching Lillian as she picked Sarge up and layed him besides the Kitty.

“Alright,” she said, rolling her shoulders back. The Spartan then opens her duffel bag taking out some leftover berries from when she took the cooking class, layering all infront of her.

-Grepa leftovers.

-Sitrus peels.

-Oran scraps.

-half a flour bag.

"Let's see what we can work with..." She mutters pulling her pokedex out and opening the pokemon cookbook on. 

She scrolled through stoping by the diatary restriction of each type, her eyes reading through the list until she found water and flying restrictions.

'Water type:

Primary requirements: High hydration intake, mineral balance, and aquatic greens/mosses to maintain internal water pressure and scale/feather health.

Key nutrients: Omega-rich proteins, magnesium, and trace salts for stamina in aquatic movement.

Restrictions: Avoid excess starches and dry grains, slows water retention and reflexes.

Trainer notes: Best fed with blended mixes soaked or moistened before serving. Incorporating peat moss or kelp derivatives highly recommended.

Flying type:

Primary requirements: High-protein base to support wing muscle endurance and bone density.

Key nutrients: Calcium, light fats, and energy-quick sugars to fuel aerial bursts.

Restrictions: Heavy oils and dense starches can weigh down flight efficiency.

Trainer notes: Meals should be light but frequent, often paired with hydration supplements.'

Six tapped the counter, committing it to memory. "Hydration, stamina, protein endurance. No heavy starches. Keep it light." She glanced down at Sarge and Peaches, who were watching her quietly. She looked back at her pokedex, scrolling through the recepies, humming to herself. 

"Okay so Persim for morale and focus, it's also high in water i can use the dry peel on the batter and juice it for more hydration... Oran Berry is obvious one, but i can use the Sitrus peels leftovers instead of the Oran peels for a better kick..." she mutter taking out her wristpad and noting it down. "Peat moss... i can cut it up and use it on the batter as well... but the flour won't be enough and we need some protein and the vitamins..." 

The Spartan exhaled slowly through her nose, eyes narrowing at the ingredients. It was like staring at a tactical map without enough pieces to complete the formation.

Peaches had hopped down from her perch and was pawing insistently at her bag.

"What's wrong, Peaches?" She asked looking at her. The Skitty gave her a sharp meow and kept pawing at the bag.

"Fine fine." She pulls the zipper open and Peaches imediatly jumped inside, the bag moving erratically until the Kitty finally poped out draging something out with her.

Six took the item, seeing the water type feed she had bough earlier. Her eyebrow rose as she turned it around reading the contents.

Nutrient Group % Composition per 100g

Proteins (Omega-rich) 45%

Fats (from oils) 20%

Magnesium (minerals) 15%

Trace Salts 10%

Other Vitamins (A, D, B-complex) 10%

Six tilted the pouch in her hand, the sterile print of the nutrient breakdown staring back at her.

"Of course." she muttered. Head turning to face the Kitty. "Peaches you little genius." She said screaching under the Skitty’s chin with a finger.

Peaches simplely purred at the touch and praise, chest puffing proudly.

Six set the small tray of berries before her, the colors almost glowing under the sterile kitchen lights. She picked up a Persim, rolling it between her fingers. Its skin was smooth, slightly waxy, and gave just enough under pressure. Perfectly ripe for what she needed.

With a precise slice, she halved it, then cut into thin wedges, each piece falling into the shallow bowl with a soft plop.

She squinted down at the Oran berries next. They were tougher, fibrous, but full of concentrated energy sugars. She peeled away the pith, carefully separating the juicy pulp from the bitter core. Each segment went into the blender chamber with a practiced flick, layering flavor and function.

Next, the Sitrus peels. Most trainers would have discarded them, but Lillian saw potential. She minced the peels finely, almost to a dust, releasing a faint citrus scent that filled the kitchen. "Flavor enhancer… minor hydration… stamina bonus." she muttered to herself, placing half the aromatic shards atop the fruit mix and putting the rest to the side.

The Persim juice she’d collected from earlier slices she poured slowly into the mix, measuring by eye and instinct. The liquid pooled around the chunks, coating them, bringing the mixture to a slight gloss. She mixed everything before putting it inside a blender letting mix well. The machine hummed, a low, steady whine that made Peaches' ears lower down and Sarge's feather ruffle.

Then came the leftover flour, half a bag, coarse and light. She separated half of it into a bowl, before turning to the next ingredient. The peat moss. It looked almost incongruous next to the bright berries, dark and earthy. She chopped it finely, sifting the powder into the bowl.

Finally, the protein supplement from the water-type feed. She tore the pouch open and took out a generous amout of chow, crushing it into a fine powder with her bare hands over the dries. She mixed everything toghether before turning her attention back to the blender, turning it off.

She opened a few gabinets before taking out a strainer and placing it over the original berry bowl, separating the juice from the pulp mass. 

Sarge curiously approached, sniffing the juice before looking up at Lillian who took a piece of the pulp and offered to him. 

"What do you think of the flavor?" 

The Ducklett stared at her for a moment then at the pulp mix on her hand and took a tentative bite. He stayed still for a moment processing the flavor before letting out a delighted quack.

The Spartan hummed and nodded. "Good, we may proceed then."

She finished separating the juice and the pulp. Setting the strainer to the side as Sarge happily jumped to deal with the berry remains.

Lillian focused back on the situation at hand, slowly pouring the juice on the dry mix, gently mixing with a wooden spoon until it started taking form of a thick dough. 

Satisfied with the texture, she dusted the counter with the last of the flour and turned the dough out onto it. The weight of it landed with a dull thump. She pressed her palms into it firmly, folding and kneading it with controled strength, carefull to not press to hard and break the counter. Each push released a soft citrus tang and earthy undertone, filling the sterile kitchen with something warmer, homelike in a way that reminded Lillian of the smeel of her mom baking on the kitchen.

Sarge tilted his head, watching each motion as though memorizing the process. His wings gave a little flap when Six finally pinched off a piece of the dough, rolling it between her hands into a small pellet. She held it out to him.

"Trial round."

The Ducklett snapped it up eagerly, chewing. His eyes brightened and he let out a pleased, muffled quack, tiny crumbs stuck to the edges of his beak.

"We can make it better, but for now, I'm glad you like it." Six said, a soft smile forming on her lips.

She rolled the rest of the dough into uniform portions, aligning them on the tray in precise rows. When the tray filled, she reached for the reserved Sitrus zest and scattered a pinch across the tops. The bright orange flecks glimmered against the pale batter like sparks over steel.

The oven's quiet hum filled the kitchen, punctuated by the occasional soft crack of heat settling into the metal. Six checked her wristpad for the time, setting an internal countdown. Twelve minutes. Enough for the mixture to bind and rise, not enough to dry it out.

She leaned back against the counter, arms folded, letting her gaze wander over the scene. Peaches had settled into a neat loaf again, tail twitching lazily, eyes half-closed as if the kitchen belonged to her. Sarge, meanwhile, had stationed himself in front of the oven, staring into the glass door with military vigilance, quacking every few moments like a sentry reporting status.

The minutes stretched. She cleaned the counters, rinsed the strainer, and set the unused zest aside for garnish. By the time she returned, the oven timer gave a soft beep.

The timer beeped, and Lillian pulled the tray free, the scent of citrus and sweet berries drifting through the air. The rounds looked solid, golden around the edges, faint steam curling upward.

Sarge practically vibrated where he stood, little wings flapping as he gave an impatient quack. Peaches sat up straighter on the counter, tail curling lazily, eyes sharp with curiosity but nowhere near the Ducklett’s enthusiasm.

"Patience." Lillian said, glancing between them with a small smirk. "You’ll both get your share."

She broke one round in half, crouching to offer the softer piece to Sarge first. He snapped it up with no hesitation, chewing noisily. Within seconds, his feathers puffed and a delighted, almost triumphant quack burst out of him, wings spread wide as if the food had given him lift.

Lillian chuckled. "Figures. Right up your alley."

She turned, offering the other half to Peaches. The Skitty sniffed it with a critical little wrinkle of her nose, then took a small, polite bite. She chewed, ears twitching, before swallowing with a faint purr. Still, her gaze slid toward her bag where her favorite snack tins were stashed, tail flicking pointedly.

"Mm-hm." Lillian said knowingly, raising a brow. "Not bad, but not your thing." She scratched under Peaches’ chin, earning a louder purr this time. "Don’t worry, I’ll make your usual later."

Peaches butted her hand once, accepting the compromise before stepping back to groom her paws, leaving Sarge happily gobbling down the rest of his portion.

Lillian set two more rounds onto a plate for him, sliding it forward. "Alright, these are yours. You earned them."

She leaned against the counter, watching the contrast between them, Sarge eating like he’d been starved for days, Peaches still dainty, already content to wait for her preferred treats. Both satisfied in their own ways.

The Spartan visibly relaxed watching them.

"Mission success..."

Chapter Text

The center's cafeteria was still dim, only a handful of lights humming overhead. It was too early for chatter, too early for clatter, just the quiet tick of a wall clock and the faint whir of the drink dispensers.

Lillian sat with her tray squared perfectly in front of her, the food properly planned for her 3 day trip, a thick Oatmeal fortified with dried Oran and Leppa berries, Chancey omelet with Momo cheese and Bacon, Tauros sausages and berry Pinap tea. It was more than she ever ate when she arived on this world, but important for her plans, she could go months without food if needed, but that didn’t mean her body didn’t require its usual intake of nutrients. The meal was dense with calories and proteins that would keep her fed through the journey on route 7.

She ate with measured bites, not rushed, allowing herself to enjoy the moment of peace, more habit from her pre deployment routine than anything.

Sarge on the other hand...

The Ducklett swallowed his food with vigor, feathers puffed from satisfaction as he gulped down each mouthful, not leaving a single crumb behind. Peaches was the complete opposite, she ate her nibble happily, almost mirroring the Spartan calmness.

Lillian glanced down at them once, poping a spoonful of Oatmeal on her mouth. Before turning back to her tray, her mind running the numbers on the food she currently had separated for them. With Peache being a Stray and Sarge a Runt, she has no doubt they are used and probably could go for a few days without food, but to her that was not an option. Contest requires work beyond just steping on stage and make sparkles fly. The judges will observe the pokemon, their apperence and health, that included look for signs of neglect and abuse, even if she had prof that she didn't have the money to sustain them, that would just get both out of her hands and get name signed as an incapable trainer and problebly have trainer ID revoked. So, if she wanted to survive on this world their well being was her top priority.

She finished her meal, setting the tray on the drop-off station. Sarge was looking up at her expectantly as she knelt down, pouring some water on his bowl that he exitedly drank.

Peaches too finished her food, streaching herself and giving out a soft meow. Her bowl too was filled with water wich she drank happily.

Lillian waited until both bowls were empty before she collected them, wiping them clean with a napkin from the dispenser before putting away on ber bag.

She adjusted the strap of her duffel on her shoulder and picked up her helmet from the table, locking it in place with a hiss of pressurized air. The Spartan waited for Peaches to climb on her usual spot inside her cape, her stubby pawns dough kneading the cloth before she layed down, purring in content. Lillian then looked down at sarge taking out his pokeball, presenting it in a quiet question. He simplely quacked, giving his usual salute and standing ready with a determined look in his eyes, she noded putting the pokeball back into place.

She proceed toward the lobby, boots echoing against the tile. The Center was quiet at this hour, sterile in its calm, but two figures were already waiting by the counter.

Clarisse and Erika, both in the middle if a shift change, both nurses looked up upon seeing the towering figure walking towords them and placing the room card on the counter. 

Clarisse straightened first, recognition flickering across her tired but kind features. "Leaving already? You didn’t even let the sun come up."

Lillian gave a short nod, her voice low and even through the helmet filter. "I travel better when no one is watching."

Erika, younger and sharper in her movements, leaned against the counter with a teasing smile. "That sounds like you. Quiet exit, no fanfare."

Peaches purred against Lillian’s shoulder, the sound carrying in the still lobby. Sarge, at her heel, stood a little taller under the attention, as if proud to be seen alongside his trainer.

Clarisse glanced down at him, then back up at Lillian. "He's looking stronger. You've been taking care of them."

"That's my job, no?" Lillian replied, simple fact, no flourish. "I don't do half jobs." 

For a moment, Clarisse's expression softened. "I can see that..." She quickly recuperated her face tho. "Well, good luck Six, we are rooting for you." 

Helen nodded, a more exited smile on her lips than her cousin's. "Yeah! I better see you on the grand festival! 

Lillian’s jaw tightened beneath the visor. She didn’t answer immediately, only adjusted her duffel higher on her shoulder. When she finally spoke, her words were clipped, but not unkind. "I will try not to disappoint." 

The Spartan tapped her knuckles once on the counter, more habit than gesture, before turning towards the doors. The lobby lights washed over her armor in pale glow as she walked, each step steady, deliberate.

Automatic sensors slid the glass doors open with a hiss. The air outside was still damp with night, streets empty save for the occasional early rider or the hum of delivery trucks in the distance. It was the kind of silence she preferred, no eyes on her, no whispers following.

Sarge fell into step at her heel, feathers fluffed against the cool air. Peaches purred deeper, curling tighter into the folds of her cape. Lillian drew in a quiet breath, exhaled once "Let's move" and started down the road that would take her toward Route 7.

Behind her, the glass doors whispered shut, sealing off the warmth of the Center and the two cousins watching her go. Ahead, the long stretch of Bridgecost waited, and with it the battles she knew she couldn’t afford to lose.

The wind rolled over the plains in slow, steady waves, bending the tall reedgrass into silver-green currents. Every breath of air carried the faint tang of salt and the distant hush of the sea, like the world itself whispering beyond the horizon. The sun had climbed only partway into the sky, casting long, pale shadows that stretched across Route 7’s lonely road.

Ahead, the path wound through the open stepped, a single strip of compacted earth framed by stretches of wind-worn grass and low, knotty pines. The sound of the waves was faint but constant, just a hum under the rush of wind. Occasionally, a Wingull cry cut across the emptiness before vanishing back toward the cliffs.

Lillian walked in silence, her pace steady and unhurried. Each step landed with quiet purpose, boots crunching faintly against the grit of salt-dusted pavement. The air was different here, heavier, wetter, and though her helmet filtered it clean, she still felt its weight pressing faintly on her chest plate. Not that it affected her much, but...

At her side, Sarge trotted along, webbed feet pattering softly against the ground. His feathers ruffled with each gust, and he let out a quiet, disgruntled quack when the breeze hit too strong.

She slowed a little, glancing down at him.

"You holding up alright?"

The Ducklett blinked up, shaking droplets from his feathers where the wind had misted the air with salt. He gave a firm nod, or as firm as a Ducklett could, before puffing out his chest in a stubborn show of endurance.

A small smile formed on her lips "Very well soldier."

Still, the fact he did not gave his usual salute was sign enough to her that he was struggling, she made a note of his movements, slower steps, a slight tilt in his gait. He was built for freshwater, not brine and wind. The exposure would toughen him, but she couldn’t push too far too fast.

Above her shoulder, Peaches stirred from her perch in the hood. The Skitty’s ears twitched rhythmically, tracking unseen noises through the grass. Her pink nose lifted, sniffing at the shifting air before settling again with a faint purr, her tail swaying lazily against Lillian’s back.

"How are thing on your end, Peaches? "Lillian asked, eyes scanning the motion tracker and the open trail ahead.

The Skitty’s ears flicked once in as she gave out a soft meow in acknowledgment, half alert, half relaxed, as the trio pressed on through the endless stretch of Route 7, the wind and sea whispering in unison around them.

The path curved inland after a while, the salty breeze giving way to softer air tinged with damp soil and the scent of moss. Patches of grass grew thicker near the roadside, swaying under the weight of morning dew. A scatter of rocks marked where the coast began to bend inland. Bits of shell crunched under her boots, and the wind carried the low metallic hum of distant power lines. The distant hum of electricity was faint but familiar, the low, rhythmic pulse of a PokéStop.

Lillian caught sight of it just beyond a small rise, a rest area built for travelers. The Stop’s core pulsed with soft blue light, cycling slowly between hues as it recharged the trainers’ devices. A few benches circled the hub, and a charging terminal blinked lazily beside a vending machine and a small water trough for Pokémon. Two younger trainers sat nearby, chatting quietly over their breakfast packs, their laughter drifting faintly on the wind.

"Rest point ahead." she said quietly, mostly for her team’s benefit. Sarge quacked softly in response, his pace picking up, wings fluttering slightly as if the idea of stillness appealed to him. Peaches shifted inside the hood, poking her head out to take in the sight.

By the time they reached the benches, Lillian had already scanned the area, one way in, clear sightlines, no immediate wild movement. Satisfied, she set her duffel beside the bench and lowered herself to sit. Sarge waddled to the trough without waiting for instruction, dipping his beak into the cool water with a pleased sigh of sound, while Peaches leapt down, stretching her legs before circling to find a warm patch of sun.

Lillian set down, letting her team have a break for a while, her visor dimming slightly as she switched to a private HUD overlay, leaning forward on the bench, elbows resting on her knees, watching her HUD cycle through updates, weather, local signals, trainer activity. The route wasn’t deserted anymore, the familiar dots of movement on her montion tracker made her actively aware of that.

'There are probably a lot of trainers looking for battles...' She though, taking her pokedex out and selecting the ping locator.

The PokéNav interface gave a soft chime in acknowledgment. A few IDs nearby, ranging from rookie to mid-level. Prize pools small, a few thousand hundred max, but enough to cover for an emergency.

Her gaze shifted down to Peaches, who was still lounging comfortably beside her on the sun bathed bench. The Skitty looked utterly unbothered, tail curled around herself as she watched Sarge splash lazily at the trough.

"Hey."

Peaches’ ears twitched at the sound of her voice. She looked up, blinking slowly, curious.

"You remember on Greenheart?" Lillian’s voice stayed quiet, calm. "Your first match?"

The Skitty’s whiskers twitched. It wasn’t a memory she liked, it felt humilating that no matter what she did, that Houndour would not fall. Six had forfeited when she realized Peaches was running on sheer stubbornness instead of skill. It had been the right call then, but it still had stinged.

"You’ve come a long way since." she continued, tone neutral but not cold. "Better reflexes. Stronger conditioning. A bigger move pool"

Peaches tilted her head, blinking again, as if trying to piece together where this was going.

Lillian exhaled slowly through her nose, straightening up. "We’re low on funds. My reserves will last me fine, you both know I don’t need much." Her hand moved to the pouch at her side, flicking it lightly against her thigh. "But supplies for you two come first. Food, medicine, recovery gear. I’m not gambling that away."

The Skitty hopped down from the bench, landing softly on the ground. Her fur puffed slightly, tail flicking once, not defiance, but readiness.

"You’re sure?" Lillian asked, her tone almost softer this time.

Peaches gave a sharp, confident mrrrow and stomped one paw against the dirt, gleaming with pure determination under the PokéStop’s glow.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Lillian’s mouth. "I’ll take that as a yes."

She brought her pokedex up, the display reflecting across her visor. A single tap opened the local battle grid, digital pings scattered like stars across the map, each one an open challenge.

"Alright then." she muttered, scanning the list, she was not pinging herself up, at least not for now, there could really well have someone more with more experience and stronger pokemon looking to just get some easy money, and she would not risk that. "Let’s find someone worth your effort... not too strong, not too soft."

Lillian’s gaze flicked across the digital pings, scanning for a single-Pokémon challenger. A lot of trainers appeared but most wanted a two or three round battles, something she couldn't affort at the moment with Sarge in medical leave.

A ping near the pokestop imediatly caught her attention, Thomas Brooke, rookie Coordenator, only one pokemon, perfect.

"Found one." She said turning the pokedex to Peaches. "What do you think?" 

The Skitty tilted her head to the side, tail swaying softly as she took in the boy. The Normal-type straightened up and gave a sharp meow of agreement.

Lillian noded turning the pokedex back to her. "Very well, we will take the challenge." She said clicking on the ping, a small menu with the words 'send out challenge?' appeared, with the options 'no' and 'yes'. She looked back at Peaches, who looked at her with a determinated expression, before pressing 'yes'.

She got up looking at Sarge enjoying himself before calling out to him. "Sarge, let's go. We have a battle." 

The Ducklett looked at her, giving his usual salute before rushing over to join them. He waddled up beside Lillian, feathers ruffled from the breeze, eyes bright and alert, but clearly aware this wasn’t his turn.

Six smiled from behind her helmet, knelong down to his level. "Don't worry, you will get your battle soon, you just have to be pacient, yeah?" 

Sarge shook himself up, giving her a sharp salute and even sharper quack.

The Spartan nodded, satisfied by the action. "Good." Just as she said that, a ping ringed from her pokedex, she picked it up and opened only to be meet with the words 'challenge accepted.' Lillian hummed before closing her pokedex. "Right on time." She then turned to look at Peaches. "No turning back now."

The Skitty gave a sharp Mrrrp in awnser, clearly earger to start.

Lillian rose, Peaches tucking close to her side as she scanned the path ahead. The ping had come from just beyond a gentle bend in the road, near a small stand of wind-bent pines. She moved with quiet purpose, boots pressing against the dirt and dew-soaked grass, Sarge keeping pace at her side.

As they approached, the source of the ping came into view, a young trainer, twelve or thirteen,was adjusting the strap of their bag while holding out a Pokéball. A bright red Magby popped out with a cheerful chirp, she could feel the heat emanating from the fire type, strong, but to someone used to plasma fire it was nothing.

The trainer’s eyes widened slightly as they spotted Lillian’s towering form and the faint gleam of armor beneath her cape. "Oh uhm... Hello... Can I help you?" He asked, clearly nervous about the tall figure.

Six looked down at him, voice calm from her speaker. "Thomas Brooke? I'm Noble Six, you accepted my battle requests?" 

Thomas eyes widened, clearly not expecting the tall figure to be his challenger. "O-oh... yeah I did, uhm... should we get started then...?"

Lillian’s visor flicked over the PokéNav display, confirming the challenge had synced. "I don't see why not." she said, her tone even, unhurried. "One Pokémon, no gimmicks. Let’s keep it simple."

Thomas swallowed, adjusting the strap of his bag nervously. "O-okay… Magby, let's hit the stage!" His Magby, left from behind him rushing into the field and getting into a ready stance.

Lillian paused, visor tilting slightly as she studied Thomas and his eager Magby. Catchphases, she forgot she needed one of those. 

It's not something she needs per say, but trainers tend to have their trademark catchphrase, it is kind of an brand and everyone used it. If she wanted to blend in inside this world, she would need one.

But what to say? 

Lillian was never good with words. She followed orders reported, sometimes joked with fellow soldiers, but speak for the sake of it? It was almost alien to her.

Her mind flicked through ideas, blank at first. '"Peaches, strike!"...no. "Go, Peaches!"...too generic.'

The soft Mewl of Peaches got her out of her thoughs, she looked down at her, her tail wagging exitedly, posture tense and ready to pounce at any moment.

And for some reason, she remembered Jorge, his voice crisp and determinated "tell' em to make it count."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes still focused on the Skitty. "Peaches." she said, voice low but amplified through the speaker, carrying the habitual weight of remembering. "Let’s make it count."

The Skitty’s ears twitched at the words, tail curling tighter. There was no flourish, no cheer, no nonsense, just purpose. The kind of purpose that left a mark.

Magby stomped the dirt, flames licking the tips of its tiny fists. Its trainer fumbled a little, clearly worried about the seriousness of his opponent's voice. "Use Ember!" he commanded.

The fire-type breathed deeply, letting out a ping pong ball sized Ember that went straight towords Skitty.

Peaches darted to the side, tail flicking to balance, letting the small burst of fire slide harmlessly past. She hissed softly, agile and precise, her paws barely touching the ground. Lillian’s eyes followed the movement, analyzing angles and timing. 'That's was a strong Ember, he must have great Fire Aura control...'

"Tail Whip." She spoke simplely, Peaches posture straighter up, her tail behind her swaying gently as she walked gracefully towords the Magby.

Thomas bit his lip, eyes wide. "U-um... Magby, Flame Wheel!"

The fire type covered himslef on fire, spinning quickly towards Peaches in a fire ball. Peaches tensed up slightly watching the approaching blazing figure.

"Wait..." Lillian whispered under her breath, observing the fire-type position. "Now!" Six murmured. "Fake Out."

Peaches lunged. Her tail struck the ground with a snap, closing distance before Magby could react. Her forepaws flashed in a sharp clap against Magby’s snout, light but precise. The little Fire-type yelped, stumbling backward, flinching as the echo rang. Peaches landed gracefully, eyes gleaming. She’d baited him perfectly.

Thomas leaned forward. "Don’t fall for it, Magby! Keep the pressure on!"

Six didn't give him the opening tho, she couldn't affort to lose, and if she had to play dirty so be it. "Sing!" 

Peaches exhaled, her voice soft but shimmering, the familiar colorfull notes drifting through the field like a lullaby. The tune wove around the Magby’s huffs and growls, a single note falling on the baby pokemon's snout and exploding in soft sparkles.

Thomas’s eyes widened. "No, Magby! Fight it!"

But it was too late, the Fire-type’s eyes fluttered, stance wavering before it slumped forward, asleep amid the field.

The wind shifted, carrying the taste of salt, Magby remained on the ground, the baby pokemon kicking on his sleep. Peaches padded closer, tail curling proudly.

Thomas sighed, shoulders sagging. "Ah... guess that’s it. I forfeit." 

Lillian nodded once. "Not bad. You’ve got solid instincts, work on reading your opponent’s tempo."

Thomas blinked, surprised at the feedback instead of gloating. "Uh... thanks?"

Magby vanished in a beam of red light, its soft snoring cut short as Thomas sighed and lowered his arm. He looked somewhere between disappointed and impressed. "Well... guess that’s another loss for the record."

A cheerful quack cut through the quiet. Sarge stood by the trough, wings half-spread in salute toward Peaches, who flicked her tail smugly and answered with a soft mrrrp.

Lillian’s visor tilted toward him. "At ease, soldier."

Sarge lowered his wings but kept his posture proud.

Her PokéDex buzzed softly. A faint League logo shimmered across the screen before a notification scrolled by:

MATCH COMPLETE – Official Match Registered

Result: Victory

Trainer Rank: Rookie 5+RP (Ranking Points)

Payout: ₱720. Credited to League Account

She watched the numbers flash across her HUD, a soft chime marking the transfer.'that's why more than i expected. "So it’s automatic." she muttered to herself.

Thomas, already kneeling to check on his Magby’s ball, glanced up. "Yeah, it’s all handled through the League servers now. Before you’d have to pay out of pocket if you lost, but people abused the system or went broke chasing rank. Now it’s just a League pool. You win, you get a payout based on difficulty. Lose, you don’t get penalized... aside from the hit to your rank."

"Efficient," she said simply, watching the last of the data sync to her account. "No disputes, no delays."

Thomas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess you could say it keeps things fair. The payout scales with how official the match is, ping battles like this are small, but if a judge or gym ref logs it, it counts for more."

"Performance-based reward." Her tone was approving, but analytical, like she was logging it for a report. "Predictable system. I like that." 'And it makes thing less riskier for me..."

He smiled nervously, still a bit off guard by how formal she sounded. "Guess that explains why you fight like you’re running drills."

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she crouched and scooped Peaches up, the Skitty letting out a satisfied purrp. Sarge waddled closer, feathers fluffed with pride.

"Good work, both of you," Lillian said quietly. "We’ll log this as a successful engagement."

Thomas blinked. "You talk like a field officer or something."

"I was trained to account for everything." She straightened, shifting her duffel higher on her shoulder.

The trainer smiled, awkward but genuine. "Well, whatever it is, it works. You’ll climb fast if you keep fighting like that."

Her visor tilted slightly in acknowledgment. "That’s the objective."

The PokéDex pinged again, confirming the deposit.

League Account Updated: ₱1,090

Not much, but enough for another few days of travel.

Thomas waved lightly. "Safe travels, Noble Six!"

She paused mid-step, turning her head just slightly at the name. The wind carried the salt of the sea and the low hum of the PokéStop’s power cell.

"Yeah." she said quietly. "You too."

She turned back to the road, Sarge falling into step beside her, Peaches settling into her hood. Behind her, the PokéStop lights dimmed into the horizon, and the next stretch of Route 7 awaited.

The road stretched quiet under the low hum of her steps. The sun hung low behind the ridgeline, painting the clouds in a pale rose hue. She found a small rest stop near a half-dried stream, a patch of grass, a stone bench, and a League rest light flickering faintly overhead.

She sat down, sighing in deep though. Peaches hopped off her shoulder, landing neatly on the bench, tail swishing expectantly.

"Alright, hold still." Lillian murmured. She reached into her pack, pulling out a small grooming kit, compact, efficient, but clearly used often. "You earned it. 

The Skitty chirped in satisfaction, puffing her chest as Lillian brushed through her fur with slow, deliberate strokes. Stray strands glinted pink and cream under the setting sun.

As she worked, her visor dimmed to half opacity, and a translucent screen appeared in her HUD, data lines, battle log summaries, energy efficiency estimates.

Match Log: 0001.

Opponent: Thomas Brooke.

Species: Magby.

Duration: 4:21.

Result: Victory.

Damage received: Minimal.

Tactical performance: Acceptable.

Efficiency rating: 73%.

Her thumb paused on the screen for a moment. "Seventy-three." she muttered. "Could be cleaner."

Sarge let out a small quack from his place near the stream, as if objecting to her analysis.

Lillian smirked faintly under the helmet. "You think so, huh?"

She swiped to the next screen, League account summary, rank progression, match statistics. Rows of numbers and icons that might look meaningless to anyone else, but to her, they read like mission reports.

League Rank: Rookie

Win/Loss Ratio: 1:0

Performance Points: 5.

Next Evaluation: 600 RP.

"Structured advancement, clear metrics, decentralized command." she murmured. "Efficient. Feels like ONI designed it."

Peaches leaned against her glove, purring deep and steady. Lillian glanced down, eyes softening behind the visor. "But there’s one thing they never accounted for." She brushed the Skitty’s cheek fur back into place, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. "Charm. You can’t quantify that."

Peaches gave a proud mrrrp in agreement, tail curling into a heart shape for a moment before flicking away.

She chuckled quietly, finishing the last stroke of the brush and setting it aside. "There. Battle-ready and contest-ready."

Peaches stretched, her fur gleaming under the dim light, then hopped back into Lillian’s lap, curling into a neat ball. The rhythmic sound of her purring filled the quiet between them.

Lillian leaned back against the bench, visor dimmed low. She felt almost relaxed. Almost.

"Another mission complete." she muttered.

Sarge quacked softly, wings tucking close as he settled by the stream. The water rippled faintly, catching the sunlight just right to form beautiful halos of light.

For the first time since the battle, the silence felt... calm. No orders. No gunfire. Just wind and water and breathing, hers, Peaches’, Sarge’s.

Lillian rested a gloved hand on Peaches’ back, feeling her heartbeat beneath the soft fur. "You did well today." she said quietly. "Both of you."

Peaches purred louder, pressing closer.

Her visor flickered again, a faint line of text scrolling across the edge, Auto-log: Day 22 Region: Erien. Status: Active. Mission: Survive.

She stared at it for a long moment, the words reflected in the glass like something distant and fading.

"Yeah," she said softly, almost to herself. "Still here."

The Skitty shifted, murmuring a sleepy mrrp.

Lillian let her hand rest a moment longer, then tilted her head back to look at the clouds, strange constellations she didn’t yet know the names of. They didn’t look like Reach’s skies. That was probably for the best.

"...Let’s make it count." she whispered.

Chapter Text

"Disarming Voice, center mass." 

The Skitty’s cry cut through the field like a melody wrapped in steel. Her opponent’s Rattata froze under the burst of shimmering sound before collapsing with a soft thud, eyes spinning. The other trainer sighed, half-laughing as he kneeled to recall his Pokémon.

"Good match!" he called, lifting his hand.

Lillian nodded once, visor tilting slightly in acknowledgment. "You held out longer than most."

Not praise, observation. But the boy grinned like it was anyway.

The faint ping of her Pokédex followed, the automated confirmation of victory and a modest payout. She didn’t bother checking the amount. Enough to buy a few supplies. Enough to keep moving.

Peaches trotted back proudly, tail high and eyes gleaming. Her fur shimmered under the fading light, traces of energy still crackling from the last attack. Lillian crouched to meet her, a gloved hand brushing gently over her head.

"That’s it for today." she said, voice low. "You did good work."

Peaches purred loudly in response, bumping her fist affectionately before stretching and hopping into the shade of Lillian’s cape.

Sarge stood proudly at her boots, chest puffed out, his feathers still gleaming from the light of the last battlefield. He had watched every match, wings twitching every time Peaches made her move, as if memorizing the rhythm.

Now, with the day nearing its half, it was finally his turn.

Lillian watched the last of the trainers pack their things and move on. The Pokéstop’s holographic beacon cast a faint blue glow over the clearing, the air filled with the soft sound of wild pokemon deep in the wild and the distant sound of the sea.

She crouched beside Sarge, resting one forearm on her knee. "Alright, soldier," she said quietly, voice low through her helmet filter. "Let's begin our performance training. You ready?" 

Sarge tilted his head, giving a short, eager quack.

Her visor angled slightly, amused. "You remember the routine we practiced yesterday?"

He nodded firmly, wings flexing.

"Then we will work on perfectioning it, even if we don't win, doing a good job will probably define our RP lost or gain, we're at the start of the Contest season with a 4:0 win rate." She explains pulling out her pokedex to confirm their progress. "But we won't always win, so we gotta make use of our current advantage in skill to get a jump start." She has been thinking of that ever since her battle with Thomas earlier that, she had no idea if there was a way to get back to her world, but if a way existed, it was either locked behind rank or money.

The ranks are distributed in six categories, Rookie, Scout, Field, Ace, Elite and Champion, that's beside the world ranks of Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Diamond and Masters. But that's for the future, right now her focus was the Erien region ranks.

Today's battles earned her 21 RP, she needed 600 to rank up from rookie to scout rank and the number only got higher the bigger the rank you went for.

Which ment how well you did in the start could mean the rest of your career as a trainer. With her going into both Gym battles and Contests technically it was supposed to be easier for her to rise in rank, as she had more chances if gaining points, but it's way harder than that, people had exploited this in the past, so rules changed in a way that people that choose both paths would have to go through more rigorous judging, so to Contests, strategies and power are taken into account, while in gym battles, strategy and creativity are also taken into account in how you secured your win. But in retrospect, those that do get those requirements tend to be more successful than the ones that chose only one path.

Even though Lillian had chosen both due to her fighting style, this situation opened a new window. One she could exploit.

The Spartan closed her pokedex, and looked down at Sarge, the Water/Flying-type eagerly awaiting her instructions.

"Alright Sarge, we will start separate the training in parts, first we will work on the Water Pulse/Water Gun combo, we gotta make the Water Pulse stable as it's strengthened by the Water Gun."

Sarge tilted his head, feathers ruffling, eyes sharp and attentive. He let out a short quack, like a soldier acknowledging orders.

"Good," Lillian murmured, kneeling slightly to be at his level. "Remember, soldier: precision first, strength second. Knowing how your attack will land is more important than just throwing senseless attacks to knock out your oponent. You understand?"

The Ducklett nodded firmly, puffing out his chest.

Lillian nodded as well and looked at Peaches resting from her hood. "Peaches, could you use Attract to reset the moves if it doesn't turn out good? I would rather get wet than being hit by a water bomb..." The Skitty purred, letting out a sharp meow in agreement, her tail wagging behind Six's helmet.

With a burst of energy, Sarge charged forward a few steps, wings flaring slightly, then stopped in perfect alignment with Lillian as she outstretched hand. 

"Ready Sarge?" She asked receiving a sharp salute from the Ducklett, she smiled from under helmet. 'Alright then.'

"Water Pulse. Center mass, high trajectory."

A shimmering sphere of water shot from Sarge’s mouth, hovering in the air. Lillian studied it critically, noting the slight wobble in its rotation. "Too unstable. We want a perfect sphere, Sarge. Focus on the center, hold it steady. Peaches?" The Kitty's jumped on top of her helmet wagging her tail in a wild and adorable manner, hearts floated towards the airborne Water Pulse, disabling the aura of the attack and making it explode into a torrent of pink colored water. 

'Huh, we could use that on the battle rounds... good to know.' As the water disappeared, her attention returned to the bird. "Again."

Sarge quacked softly, flapping his wings to maintain balance. He tried again, this time with a more controlled release. The pulse hovered higher and steadier, sunlight refracting through the water to create a faint rainbow.

"Excellent. Now, Water Gun, straight into it!"

A clear jet of water erupted from his beak, striking the suspended Water Pulse. The sphere absorbed the jet, growing larger and glowing under the sunlight, but most importantly,  it's maintaining its form without dispersing.

"Perfect. That’s the synergy I want." Lillian’s tone carried no praise, only satisfaction at measured success. She jotted notes on her wrist pad, logging timing, trajectory, and flow. "Contests reward finesse, the judges notice how you handle combined moves. Each step counts if we want to win it."

Peaches kept watching the powered Water Pulse, she let out a small questioning mewl, asking if she should stop the move.

Lillian adjusted her visor, letting a faint HUD overlay trace Sarge’s movement at the Water Pulse slowly starting to descent. "Do it." She told the normal-type before her attention went back to Sarge. "Next step: Defog. Timing is critical. The wind must hit the Water Pulse at the apex, dispersing droplets evenly without breaking the sphere."

Another wave of pink droplets fell on the field, returning back to normal water once it touched the grass, like morning dew.

"Alright. Again." She said, eying Sarge. "Water Pulse!"

The attack formed once more, this time nearly perfect, the sphere hovered, light bending through it like a lens.

"Water Gun, reinforce it."

A clean stream hit the surface, absorbed into the pulse seamlessly. No splash, no distortion. Lillian’s visor caught the energy reading, stable, contained. She allowed herself a small nod.

"Defog, now!"

Sarge flapped his wings in practice, gusts of wind lifting the hovering sphere slightly before the winds started to take droplets of water from it that floated still in the air for a moment, like frozen drops of rain.

The Ducklett gave a sharp quack, focusing all his effort, wings steadying, water droplets glowing in the sunlight, perfectly suspended.

"Now, Steel Wing. Make it shine."

Sarge flared his wings, letting the metallic sheen catch the sun. Each feather reflected light across the droplets, scattering mini-rainbows across the clearing. The water exploded in a cascade of glittering sprays, controlled chaos, exactly what Lillian had envisioned.

She knelt beside him afterward, resting a hand on his back. "Good job, soldier."

Sarge quacked softly, chest rising and falling in satisfaction.

Lillian straightened, visor dimmed slightly, and scanned the clearing. The sun had started to hide behind the trees, casting long shadows, and the faint sound of distant wild Pokémon blended with the hum of the PokéStop.

"Without the sun to act as our light we can't have much idea of how the final product can be... But we could check tomorrow if you want to practice a bit more for the control of the moves"

Peaches purred, tail swishing, as if approving. Sarge shook his feathers, ready for the next iteration, quack sharp and determined.

Lillian crouched again, wrist pad poised to take notes, mind calculating timing, rhythm, and flow. "Alright team, formation."

They left the clearing once the light had dimmed past useful levels, the soft hum of the PokéStop fading behind them. The trail was narrow, winding through low brush that shimmered faintly under her visor’s night filter.

Sarge insisted on walking at first, but fatigue caught up to him before long. Now, he nestled comfortably in Lillian’s arms, head poking just above the crook of her elbow, eyes shining a slightly yellow aura from the use of Keen Eye. His feathers were still faintly damp from training, and he smelled faintly of salt and rain.

Peaches, as always, had claimed her usual post, curled inside the hood of Lillian’s cape, tail swaying lazily against her shoulder. Every so often, the Skitty would let out a small mewl, reacting to some unseen sound in the undergrowth.

The path ahead curved near a low ridge where sea breeze met forest air. The temperature dropped slightly; dew clung to the grass, reflecting faint points of light from her HUD.

They had been walking in silence for several minutes when Sarge suddenly stiffened in her arms, head snapping toward the treeline.

"Sarge?" she muttered, following his gaze.

He gave a sharp quack, wings twitching in excitement.

Lillian paused, scanning. She zoomed in with her visor, picking up faint color variance just beyond the slope, small, round shapes scattered among the leaves.

"…Berries?" she murmured, tilting her head.

Sarge nodded eagerly and wriggled in her hold, clearly wanting down. She crouched, letting him hop free, and followed his lead.

A short walk through the brush revealed a small patch of wild growth, a tangle of short shrubs heavy with pale blue fruit. Oran berries, ripe and untouched. A few deeper in the thicket gleamed with a reddish tint, a mix of Cheri and Mago berries sharing the same soil, rare but not impossible near coastal areas.

"Well spotted, soldier." she said, kneeling to inspect the cluster. "I didn't know wild berries grew so close to the routes..."

Sarge puffed his chest proudly, letting out a short quack. Peaches peeked from the hood, eyes gleaming with curiosity before she leapt down and began sniffing around one of the bushes.

Lillian checked the area out of habit, no tracks, no territorial markings. Safe enough.

"Oran berries..." she said, plucking one and checking it for any signs of it being inedible. "We already have plenty, but it wouldn't hurt to keep the location in mind... the Mago and Cheri thought..." 

She crouched lower, setting her duffel bag down quietly beside her. "If they can grow here once, they can grow again." she muttered, brushing away a few loose leaves to see the base of the plants.

Her wrist pad flickered to life, marking coordinates and soil composition automatically. The faint beep echoed softly through the still air.

Sarge tilted his head, watching her work. Peaches, meanwhile, had taken a liking to the reddish Mago berries, tail flicking as she batted one curiously. Lillian caught the movement just as the Skitty began to open her mouth.

"Don't even think of it." she said flatly, not even looking up. Peaches froze mid-motion, ears flattening as she backed off with a low, offended mrrp.

"Don’t give me that look." Lillian replied, finally standing and brushing off her gloves. "We test everything we find in the wild before we eat it. That’s standard procedure."

Sarge gave a low, amused-sounding quack, and she swore he was smirking.

"Yeah, yeah, don’t start with me too." she muttered, picking one of each of the Mago and Cheri berries to examine more closely. The skin glistened faintly in the filtered sunlight, healthy, no bruising. She pocketed a few of them alongside her other berries, leaving enough to still feed the wild life of the area.

"Let’s move. We’ll come back once I have a proper sample kit." She turned toward the ridge again, and both Pokémon followed, the Ducklett returning to her arms and the Skitty hopping back into the hood like a pink shadow.

She made sure Sarge was secure in her arms before getting up. Her internal clock reminded her that it would soon become night.

Lillian knew she could continue the journey, her night vision would make traversing the terrain no problem, but...

Her eyes went down towards Sarge yawning on her arms, both the Skitty and Ducklett gotta be tired from a long day of battling and training each, super powerful creatures or not, they did not have the stamina she had to continue. 

Looking ahead, she knew she had made far already, and they deserved their break. "Let's find a place to set camp." 

They didn’t travel far after that. The ridge leveled into a small bluff overlooking the sea, where the crash of waves echoed faintly through the trees. The light had faded to deep violet, the sky streaked with the last traces of day.

"This will do." Lillian said quietly, scanning the perimeter through her visor. No tracks, no movement, no signs of recent activity. She relaxed her stance and set her pack down, the muted clink of armor plates the only sound.

Sarge gave a soft quack, hopping down to inspect the edge of the clearing, while Peaches immediately padded to a patch of moss near a tree root and began kneading it like a nest.

Lillian crouched near a half-fallen log, pulling her knife from its sheath. With precise motions, she scraped off strips of bark and shaved down a few dry branches until they caught a dull edge of friction. A moment later, a small flame flickered to life, sparked from a piece of flint she carried inside her gauntlet pouch.

She fed the fire slowly, watching the flame grow until it cast a soft, warm circle of light over her and her team.

"Better than nothing." she muttered.

Her pack yielded three small pouches, water and normal type PokéChow, and a thin trainer ration wrapped in dull silver foil. "PokéChow for you two, nutrient sludge for me." she said dryly, dividing the portions.

Peaches immediately perked up, tail swishing as her bowl filled, while Sarge pecked dutifully, glancing at her every few bites like a soldier awaiting further orders.

Lillian leaned back against the log, taking off her helmet and resting it besides her knee. The breeze coming off the ocean was cool and clean, brushing against her exposed face. She took a careful bite of the ration bar, chewing slowly despite its sawdust taste.

"... never though i would find something worse than MREs..." she murmured, almost amused. Her voice softened, quiet against the hum of the fire. "Didn’t think I’d miss that of all things..."

For a while, the only sounds were the crackling wood, Peaches’ content purring, and Sarge’s steady pecking. It was... peaceful. Almost enough to forget the constant alertness drilled into her bones. Almost.

When she finished eating, she reached for her knife again, wiping it clean on a patch of cloth before driving it gently into the soil beside her, a quiet anchor, a habit from too many nights alone in strange places.

Her gaze drifted towards the distant horizon, where the sea met the stars.

"You two don’t even know how far from home I am, huh?" she said softly.

Sarge looked up, tilting his head, feathers puffed in confusion. Peaches just yawned, curling tighter in her little patch of moss.

Lillian’s mouth twitched in something that might’ve been a smile. "Yeah. Doesn’t matter. Mission’s the same either way."

She stirred the fire with a stick, embers spiraling into the night. "Survive. Adapt. Keep moving."

The wind shifted, cool and salt-heavy, and the firelight flickered across her visor besides her, and looking at the unfamiliar stars above her, she wondered if this quiet, breathing world even knew how out of place she was.

Chapter Text

The forest was quiet when she stopped walking. Only the whisper of wind through the tall grass and the distant hum of Wingulls overhead broke the stillness.

Lillian adjusted her duffel bag and took a slow breath, her visor dimming automatically to compensate for the orange wash of sunset bleeding through the treeline. The trail ahead curved downhill toward the faint glimmer of the coast, from the top of the hill she could see the faint lights of a city by the ocean, their destination, Bridgecoast City.

She stopped beside a half-fallen tree, boots sinking slightly into the damp soil. "We’ll camp here." she said simply.

Peaches let out a soft mrrp of approval from her hood and hopped down, circling a patch of moss before plopping herself onto it, tail flicking lazily. Sarge followed with a small, tired flap, landing beside her. His feathers shimmered faintly, traces of moisture from the afternoon’s training still clinging to him.

Lillian unclipped her pack and crouched, setting it down with a quiet thud. "Seven wins, zero losses, we are on 36 RP now, a good jump start." she murmured, pulling up her Pokédex. The screen glowed pale blue against the fading light. "And your Water Pulse combo held together through two full rounds today."

Sarge puffed out his chest, giving a proud quack.

"Don’t get cocky. That is what will end up making you do mistakes" Lillian said, but the faint smile in her tone betrayed her. "But i gotta give credit. You’re improving faster than I expected."

The Ducklett flapped his wings once, not as a protest, but as acknowledgment. Peaches just yawned, already grooming her tail like the results were a given.

Lillian chuckled softly under her breath and began unpacking her camp gear, soon enough she had a fire burning and their bowls out, she served them each with their respective PokéChow, making sure to hydrate Sarges food a bit before she letting them dig in.

Both Pokémon moved instantly, Sarge pecking methodically, Peaches diving in with all the grace of a small pink comet.

Lillian sat back on her heels, removing her helmet and setting it beside her. The evening breeze cooled her skin, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment, for a moment she heard the static sound of radio comm chatter, smell ozone and burned flesh in the air, explosions in the distance, emergency alarms blaring. But when she opened her eyes, it was all gone, no Alarms, no gunfire, no last minute orders, no scream of death. Just the sound of the waves, and the quiet crunch of PokéChow beside her.

Peaches flicked her ears stoping eating and looking up at her, giving a soft questioning Mewl that completely snapped her out and back into the present.

"I’m fine." Lillian said softly, her voice rougher than she meant it to be. Peaches tilted her head, unconvinced, then stood and padded closer. With a small, graceful leap, the Skitty settled onto Lillian’s lap, curling up against the armor plates as if they were a pillow.

Lillian exhaled slowly, a faint, almost tired smile tugging at her mouth. "Can'treally hide anything from you, huh?" she murmured, resting a gloved hand gently along Peaches’ back. The Pokémon’s fur was warm, steady, grounding.

For a moment, her mind drifted, to the first night she spended with the Skitty, her heart still echoing with Reach’s last screams. She remembered waking from a nightmare, only for Peaches to jump on her chest and sleep there, suddently the weight on her chest not her rifle or her guilt, but a tiny pink creature purring softly in her sleep, as if to remind her she wasn’t alone.

She hadn’t realized it then, but that was the first time she’d felt safe since the campaign of Reach. Since arriving in this world actully.

The fire crackled softly beside them. Sarge had already finished eating and was tucked near the edge of the campfire’s glow, positioned in a way that reminded the Spartan of a soldier in guard duty. The stars above shimmered faintly through the clearing, reflected in the calm sheen of her eyes.

Lillian’s hand stilled, fingers lingering on Peaches’ fur. "You really are something else." she whispered, her mind wandering back to their first day of training, the Skitty had progressed so much in so little time and still ready to improve more.

Peaches’ only answer was a sleepy trill before she nestled deeper into her lap.

Lillian stayed like that for a while, helmet off, armor quiet, the night breathing softly around them. And for the first time in a long time, the silence didn’t feel like the quiet before the storm.

The illusion didn't fool her tho. She had this feeling deep in her gut, that something was wrong with this world, not just the fact that I was full of magic monsters that people carried in small balls and ordered in battles, just... something didn't feel right. And Lillian’s instinct never failed her once.

Lillian's eyes wondered back-to-back her pokemon, her teamates, and a soft barely visible smile formed on her lips. She leaned back against the tree and allowed herself to close her eyes.

Morning came slowly, a thin mist clinging to the trees. The forest hummed faintly with the sound of early-winged Pokémon stirring, the soft calls of Taillow echoing through the branches above.

Lillian was already awake. She hadn’t needed an alarm in years.

Her eyes opened the instant the first light filtered through the canopy, her mind snapping to alertness before her body moved. For a moment, she just lay there, listening, cataloguing. Wind speed, humidity, no movement within twenty meters. Safe..

Peaches was still curled on her, just now instead ofher lap like when she first closed her eyes, the Skitty was half-buried in the fold of her cloak, tiny paws flexing as she dreamed. Sarge, ever the early riser, stood near the remains of the campfire, preening methodically, his reflection shimmering faintly in the reflection of her visor.

"Morning, soldier." she said quietly.

He quacked softly in response, not loud enough to wake Peaches, but enough to acknowledge her.

Lillian pushed herself up, stretching slightly before putting her helmet on. The motion was automatic, practiced, and she wasnt at all suprused when her armor started to make a self diagnostic. She began breaking down the camp with familiarity: coals scattered under the dirt, cookware cleaned and packed, every trace of their presence erased, just like any other of her endless nights in the field before.

She knelt to check her Pokédex, opening her pokenev app to see how long it would be till they arived at their destination.

She made a small nod to herself. "Three kilometers out." she muttered, putting the device back into it's pouch. "Let’s move."

Sarge took flight briefly at the news, wings slicing through the mist, droplets scattering like glass shards in the sunlight. His form was stable, steady even, though his wingbeats carried the faint uneven rhythm of effort.

Lillian stopped mid-step, watching him with a quiet breath caught somewhere between relief at his recovery and concern at the sudden action. The ducklet circled once, then landed neatly beside her, chest puffed out with pride.

"...at easy, Sarge" she said adjusting her bag. Then her tone softened, more command than scold. "You’re still on medical leave until we get a proper check-up. I won’t have you tearing something before the contest."

Sarge gave a small, indignant quack, the kind that sounded very much like 'I’m fine', but didn’t protest further.

Lillian exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing as she started forward again. "Yeah, I know. But I’d rather you hate me for grounding you than see you grounded for real."

Peaches on the other hand, yawned wide from her spot on Lillian’s shoulder, tail brushing against her neck in a lazy motion, as if agreeing with her trainer.

"See? Peaches agrees." Lillian said dryly, a faint smile ghosting across her lips as they resumed their pace toward the coastline.

Lillian shifted her pack higher and glanced over her shoulder at Peaches, still perched in her hood, purring lazily. "Alright, lil lady." she said, tapping the edge of her visor. "You’re walking the rest of the way. 3.2 kilometers to the city. You’ll thank me later."

Peaches blinked up at her, meowed softly in disbelief, then hopped down with a dramatic little sigh, tail flicking. She trotted ahead, pink fur catching the faint orange glow of the evening.

"That’s the spirit." Lillian murmured, half amused. "You’ve been relying too much on resting between battles. If we’re going to keep up a 7:0 streak, you need the stamina for double rounds, and we can train that while we are on the move."

Peaches responded with a soft mrrp that sounded suspiciously like a complaint, but her stride didn’t slow. Sarge gave an encouraging quack and matched her pace, puffing his chest like a proper wingman.

The trail dipped lower as they walked, the air thickening with the scent of salt and brine. From the ridge’s edge, Bridgecoast City stretched across the horizon, glass towers gleaming faintly against the dusk, the hum of distant traffic reaching them like a whisper from another world.

Lillian paused, gaze fixed on the skyline. Her HUD marked the distance automatically, overlaying neat digital numbers across the view. If they kept that oace they would arive before lunch time.

"Let’s move out." she said quietly. "We’ll rest once we’re in city limits."

Peaches meowed in acknowledgment, Sarge gave a sharp quack. Both Pokémon started walking, slowly going down the slope, the Spartan came right behind them with silent steps on the dirt road as they aproached their destination.

The noise reached them before the sight did. The low hum of traffic, the rhythmic clang of dock cranes, and the cry of Wingulls circling above the harbor.

Lillian adjusted her pack, visor dimming as the road widened and the forest thinned into asphalt. Bridgecoast City stretched ahead, sleek glass buildings along the shoreline, cranes rising behind warehouses, and a sprawl of fishing boats rocking gently against the docks.

And for a moment Lillian remembered when she first layed eyes on New Alexandria...

Peaches’ ears perked, eyes wide as she took in the sight.

Sarge gave a short, proud quack, wings fluttering at his sides as if announcing their arrival.

"Don’t start celebrating yet." Lillian said, eyeing the perimiter. "First stop’s the Pokémon Center. We might still be able to grab breakfast."

She pulled up the city map on her Pokédex. Two Centers registered nearby, one close to the contest hall by the coast, the other further inland, near the residential district.

"The coastal one." she decided. "Closer to where we’ll need to be."

The city felt strangely alive under her boots. The smell of saltwater and machine oil mixed in the air. She watched a group of trainers crossing the street ahead, laughing, holding contest ribbons, one of them carrying a Chinchou perched on her shoulder.

For a moment, she slowed her pace.

'A ribbon already...? No... the circuit started this week, they couldn'thave arived so soon from one city to another. Must be from a different run...' She though, seeing the groups disapear behind a corner, making her pick up her pace towards the center. 'Means there will be veterans competing too... i will have to watch out for them...' 

By the time she reached the Pokémon Center, the sun was low again, painting the glass front in orange. Inside, the air was cool and sterile, the scent of disinfectant mixing with something faintly floral.

"Welcome to Bridgecoast Pokémon Center." said the nurse behind the counter with a practiced smile. "Checking in or healing up?"

Lillian nodded taking out both pokeballs to hand to the nurse. "Both, I'm staying for the contest this Friday and also need a full check-up, please. My Ducklett is recovering from an wing injury, medical leave notice attached. And my Skitty has being fighting on the route to here for the few days"

"Understood." The nurse said typing something quickly on the terminal before pulling out a bedroom card and handing it to the Spartan. "We’ll take good care of them."

Sarge gave a faint, reluctant quack as he was lifted onto the counter, Peaches already jumping on besides him. Lillian’s hand lingered just a second longer than necessary before she stepped back.

Once both Pokémon were in care, she stepped aside, moving toward an empty corner of the waiting area. She pulled her wrist pad, the small holo-interface flickering to life.

Day 10

Route 7: Coastal Stretch to Bridgecoast City

_ Duration: 3 days.

_ Battles: 7 official, 2 unregistered encounters (wild).

_ Pokémon Opponents: Magby, Shroomish, Wingull, Buizel, Lotad, Sentret, Kricketot, Taillow.

_Wild pokemon observed: Wingull, Zigzagoon, Sentret, Kricketot, Pidgey, Buizel.

_ Peaches’ performance: Stable, excellent precision in current moveset, still needs a bit of work to get her ability to work at will.

_ Sarge’s performance: Improving control of Water Pulse, right wing seem to have recovered. Continued observation required.

_ Supplies used: 3x Standard Potions, half of each PokéChow rations.

_ Next objectives: Contest registration (Bridgecoast), supply restock.

The holo-text shimmered faintly in front of her, light reflecting on her visor’s edges. She reread it once before saving, thumb pausing for a fraction of a second. The report was concise, efficient, exactly the kind of thing she used to send to command.

But there was no command. Just her.

The sound of soft footsteps drew her attention, a nurse approached, smiling gently. "Both are stable. Ducklett’s wing is healing beautifully, though we still recommend limiting heavy flight for another few days. Skitty’s perfectly healthy, just a little underweight, nothing a few good meals won’t fix."

"Copy that." Lillian said automatically, then caught herself. "Thank you."

The nurse handed back the Poké Balls with a faintly puzzled look, but smiled anyway before turning away to help another trainer.

Lillian turned the spheres over in her hand, the light from the Center reflecting off their surface. "Good work, both of you." she murmured under her breath before setting them back on her belt.

"Alright." she murmured softly. "You earned your breakfast."

The Pokémon Center’s canteen was bustling with life late in the morning, the hum of the vending machines blending with the low murmur of trainers sharing stories over trays of curry or noodles. The scent of warm rice and broth hung faintly in the air.

Lillian stepped through the small crowd, selecting a corner table with a clear view of both exits, old habits again, before releasing her team.

Peaches appeared first, stretching with an exaggerated yawn before hopping onto the bench beside her. Sarge materialized next, giving a pleased little quack as the warm air hit his feathers.

"Let's get you guys some food. Peaches, guard duty." Lillian said, standing to fetch their meals. She keyed in the order on the screen, normal type PokéChow blend for Peaches, water type mix for Sarge, two Oran berries for each, a Pecha berry for Peaches, a Persim berry for Sarge and something simple for herself, a bowl of Miltank curry, bread and a glass of Oran juice.

When she returned, both Pokémon were waiting expectantly. Sarge already had his wings half-lifted, and Peaches was on top the duffel bag,  tapping her paw against the table like a child told to wait too long.

"At ease." Lillian said with the faintest edge of amusement as she set their bowls down, taking out her knife and cutting the berries over the respective Pokémon. "We don’t eat until everyone has their share."

They both waited, barely.

Once she sat, she gave a small nod, and Peaches immediately dove in, tail twitching in delight. Sarge followed, eating with his usual measured pace.

Lillian picked at her food quietly, savoring the warmth more than the taste. Around her, trainers laughed and swapped strategies, their voices a comforting murmur. For a moment, she simply watched, the scene not so unfamiliar anymore.

Her gaze fell back to Peaches, who was licking the edge of her bowl with unrepentant joy, and Sarge, who was nudging a stray pellet into place before swallowing it neatly.

"You two eat better than most soldiers I knew." she said softly, half to herself.

Peaches looked up and meowed, clearly taking it as a compliment. Sarge gave a self-satisfied quack.

Lillian shook her head, her lips twitching upward just slightly. "Alright, finish up, we have to go to the Contest Hall to sign up for Friday."

Peaches let out a contented purr and leaned into her side, fur brushing against the edge of her armor.

A small smile formed on her lips as she scratched behind the Kitty's ears. She took her helmet and put it back on, the familiar hiss of pressure locking the piece in place.

"Let's go, the earlier we do it the better." The Spartan said standing up. She picked her duffel bag, putting it on across her shoulder.

They all walked out into the lazy late morning sun, the familiar sound of Wingulls singing from affar and the scent of sea salt and oil toghether in air filtered through her helmet.

She pulled out her pokedex from one of her pouches, pulling up the city map and locking in the Hall's location.

"It's not that far," She said putting the pokedex away "Let's go."

The walk from the Pokémon Center to the Contest Hall was short, less than a kilometer through the heart of the coastal district, but it felt like stepping into a different world entirely.

Bridgecoast was awake and moving now. The streets hummed with early trainers, vendors setting up booths of accessories, ribbons, and Pokéball decals. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and sweet batter from the open food stalls down by the boardwalk.

Sarge walked at her left, feathers gleaming cleanly from the Center’s care, posture straight as if marching formation. Peaches trotted along her right side, tail raised high, glancing curiously at every passing shape and sound.

Lillian’s helmet tracked their surroundings automatically, HUD marking points of interest for later.

The building came into view near the waterfront, a sleek glass structure trimmed in pale silver, shaped like a wave crest caught mid-rise. The city emblem shimmered faintly across the façade, and above the main archway hung a large banner:

"Bridgecoast City Pokémon Contest -     Preliminary Registration: OPEN."

Lillian slowed to a stop in front of it, scanning the queue. Trainers of every kind stood in line, some young, bright-eyed, clutching newly caught Pokémon; others clearly seasoned, their partners gleaming with confidence and style.

They stepped forward into the building. The air inside was cool and faintly perfumed, soft music playing under the murmur of voices. A large holo-screen displayed the contest schedule and rules, scrolling lists of participants as registrations updated in real time.

Lillian waited her turn, eyes tracing the layout, main stage, prep rooms, backstage wings, observation seating. Everything efficient, organized. She liked that.

When the attendant at the counter finally gestured her forward, Lillian removed her helmet and clipped it to her belt before stepping up.

"Name?" the clerk asked, smiling politely.

"Noble Six." she said handing out her pokedex and her faceless trainer card. "Trainer ID 08-3176. Signing up for Friday’s Normal Rank Contest."

The clerk’s eyes flicked briefly over her armor but didn’t comment. "Understood. You’ll be competing under your registered Pokémon, correct?"

"Affirmative." Lillian replied, placing both Poké Balls on the scanner.

The device chirped twice, displaying their profiles: Sarge [Ducklett ♂] and Peaches [Skitty ♀].

The clerk smiled. "Everything checks out. You’re officially registered. Stage assignments will be sent to your Pokédex tomorrow morning, and you can use the practice facilities downstairs anytime before the event."

"Copy that." Lillian said, almost caught herself for a moment but stopped once she remembered she was under her "persona" at the moment. "Thank you."

As she stepped aside to let the next trainer through, Peaches leapt up to her shoulder, rubbing her cheek against Lillian’s neckplate with a proud chirp. Sarge let out a small quack, giving his usual salute.

"You two seem excited," she said, amusement threading through her voice. "Good. Keep the high spirit."

She glanced at the large digital display again, Bridgecoast Normal Rank, Friday, 10:00 A.M. 57 contestants registered. For now.

Lillian exhaled through her nose, calculating silently. That was a large bracket. Four rounds minimum, maybe five depending on eliminations.

"Plenty of work to do," she murmured, turning back toward the exit. "Let’s scout the stage and practice area first. We can chose where to go from there."

Peaches’ tail brushed her cheek as if in agreement. Sarge followed, head held high, wings neatly folded, as if he was in the middle of a parade.

Deeper inside the building they went the cooler the air was became, Six could still hear the low hum of electronics and distant chatter. Posters along the walls showed coordenators mid performance and sponsor ads. The scent of waxed floors and polished chrome lingered faintly.

Peaches' tail swished, eyes darting around at the glint of lights. Sarge, on the other hand, stayed close, gaze steady as Lillian moved toward the main stage.

The space opened wide ahead of them, a circular platform surrounded by tiers of seats, and above it, an intricate lattice of stage lights. Rows upon rows of LEDs and reflectors gleamed in calibrated precision.

Lillian tilted her head slightly, visor reflected the lights, her eyes scaning and quietly calculating the information infront of her. 'Light temperature: variable, angle range: 65°, programmable filters: yes.'

"Good," she murmured, half to herself. "Adjustable array... we can keep the original formation, no need to change our performance." She says, eyes starting down to the stage itself. "Still, it would be good to train on the stage itself so you can have a better surroundings idea..."

Peaches chirped in affirmation, puffing her chest as if she understood every word.

"Don’t get cocky yet," Lillian said softly, tapping a few notes into her wrist pad. "We don't know if the practice area has stages to train on, we will need to check it out."

Satisfied, she turned back toward the corridor she came from and followed the the arrow marked 'Practice Area'. The distant sound of music and Pokémon cries filtered through, laughter, commands, applause.

As she neared the entrance, the noise grew louder, the space bustling with trainers rehearsing routines. A swirl of petals from a Roselia drifted across her boots, followed by a flash of blue light as a Marill twirled through a water ribbon.

Peaches' ears flicked back, and Sarge gave a low, unimpressed quack.

"Yeah," Lillian muttered, agreeing with their unsaid words while scanning the crowded room. "Too many eyes." Her eyes however landed on the training stages, they were not as eye catching as the main one but it was a perfect space replica still. "We might need to find our own spot if we don't want people knowing our strategy."

Lillian let the noise of the practice hall fade behind her as she stepped back into the quieter corridor. Her visor dimmed automatically, adjusting from the bright rehearsal lights to the Center’s softer hallway lamps.

Peaches stretched on her shoulder, flicking her tail against her cheek as if asking, so what now?

Sarge waddled close to her heel, feathers slightly puffed from the lingering tension of the crowded room.

"We’re not risking anyone copying our routine," Lillian said, not bothering to lower her voice. Her tone was decisive, clipped, the same voice she used when closing a mission file. "Most people here are rookies. They’re still figuring out their choreography. But a few...."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, replaying the movements she’d seen.

"...a few knew exactly what they were doing."

Peaches let out a tiny growl. Sarge responded with a serious little quack.

"Exactly. We don’t give them anything extra to study."

She keyed the exit panel open and stepped back into the sunlight, the warmth brushing against her armor plates. The air outside smelled of sea spray and distant food stalls, far more pleasant than the crowded hall, yet, her mind still whispered the old warning: open area equal danger, but she did not let that show, not with so many witnesses.

The walk back to the Pokémon Center was quiet and steady. Her mind, however, was not.

She was already planning.

By the time she crossed the Center’s automatic doors and made her way upstairs to her room, it was no different from the other center rooms she had stayed, but there was no strange humming plant on the corner of this one. She sat on the edge of the bed and immediately activated her wrist pad to take notes.

"We have three days left before the contest." she murmured. "So let’s make them count."

Peaches hopped onto the bed beside her, tail curled neatly. Sarge sat on the floor, looking up with attentive eyes.

Lillian began typing.

Contest Prep - Bridgecoast City (3-Day Plan)

Day 1 - Choreography Training (Sarge Focus)

-Practice angle control for Water Pulse

-Optimize light reflection timing

-Outdoor training near the docks or open plaza

-Review stamina limits, avoid strain on right wing

-Evening: gentle cooldown swim for recovery, berry snacks for morale

Day 2 - Coordination & Battle moves (Peaches Focus)

-Reinforce possible combos.

-Practice landing transitions, spotlight responsiveness

-Test movements under changing light conditions

-Afternoon: foraging walk to relax, berry snacks for morale.

Day 3 - Light Drills + Supply Run + Full Rest

-Early morning: 20–30 min light sensitivity drills on both

-Midday: purchase essentials / potions, antidotes, Field rations (check wish list for possibilities.)

-Afternoon: no training - enforced rest

-Evening: grooming, stretching, hydration

-Both Pokémon: full-night rest for peak performance

Lillian reviewed the list twice, refining small notes, shifting one item, tightening another. The kind of planning she once did for operations, now applied to choreography and aesthetics.

Somehow... it didn’t feel strange.

She closed the pad and looked at her partners.

"Alright..." she murmured "we will start working on fixing the Water Pulse angle to better fit the stage the earlier we fix that the better."

Sarge straightened proudly.

Peaches meowed and nudged Lillian’s arm, demanding acknowledgment.

"And you." Lillian smirking "You'll get your turn after that. We will work on getting some combos for your fights."

Peaches purred in satisfaction.

Lillian leaned back on her hands, shoulders finally relaxing.

Three days.

She did bigger planning for bigger missions.

Day 1 - Sarge’s Day

Morning came cool and bright, the sky washed pale over the harbor. Lillian stood on the concrete stretch near the docks, helmet off, visor dimmed, sea wind tugging at her hair.

Sarge hovered a meter above the ground, wings beating in controlled bursts.

"Remember. Maintain the angle." Lillian instructed.

A sphere of water trembled over his beak, Sarge adjusted, brow creasing with effort.

The sun hit the water just right. A flare of light rippled outward.

"Good. Again."

Again.

Again.

Again.

Peaches lounged on a nearby crate, swaying her tail lazily, clearly enjoying being a spectator.

By midday, Sarge was panting lightly, feathers sticking to his sides. Lillian gave a sharp gesture and he stoped going on a more relaxed posture.

She guided him toward the small inlet at the docks, a calm pocket of seawater shielded by stone.

Sarge slid in with an appreciative quack, letting the cool water soothe his muscles.

Peaches joined with both paws on Lillian’s knee, meowing for attention until Lillian rubbed behind her ears.

Evening saw them back at the Pokémon Center for cooldown exercises, then berries, grooming, and lights out.

Day 2 - Peaches’ Day

The practice plaza was deserted at dawn, ideal.

"Ready?" Lillian asked.

Peaches stepped forward with a proud mrrrow, tail high.

"We start with our classic. Tail Whip into Fake Out."

Peaches posture straighter up, her tail behind her swaying gently as she walked gracefully forward with hypnotizing grace, then her tail struck the ground with a sharp snap, the sound echoing through their little area od the dock.

Perfect form, as expected from tehir oldest trick.

"Good, let do it again." Lillian said.

Again.

Again.

She guided transitions:

Tail Whip - Fake Out

Growl - Disarming Voice

Fake Out - Sing

Disarming Voice - Sing 

Tail Whip - Attract 

And lastly, they trained with her Cute Charm.

Peaches stumbled through the last one and looked mildly offended by her own failure.

"You’ve improved since our last attempt." Lillian said, kneeling to meet her gaze. "But Cute Charm on demand will take time. Don’t force it, we will get it eventually."

Peaches flicked an ear, accepting the critique like a soldier receiving orders.

Sarge watched from the sidelines, occasionally quacking unsolicited commentary.

By midday, Peaches’ movements grew smoother, her paws light, transitions sharper, her Disarming Voice catching echoes under the plaza roof.

Lillian used her wrist pad to trigger shifting light panels, simulating contest spotlight shifts.

Peaches adjusted automatically now, small corrections that made Lillian’s chest tighten with pride.

Afternoon was a decompression walk along the grassy boardwalk, where Peaches sniffed every flower patch and chased after the moving tall grass like a little predator.

Day 3 - Supply Run & Rest Day

Dawn was soft and gray when Lillian guided her team to the Center’s rooftop terrace.

"Light work only." she said.

Sarge practiced forming Water Pulse spheres without throwing them, perfecting shape stability.

Peaches practiced footwork lines and timing drills.

Twenty minutes.

Nothing more.

Afterward came supplies.

Bridgecoast’s Trainer District was waking up as she walked through: shops sliding open, salt in the air, the smell of frying street food.

Lillian moved with purpose until she found the familiar blue roof of a poke mart. The Pokémon Center one was good but it did not have one of the itens she needed.

A Mini cookset.

At the start of her journey she was sure she could survive of packed meals but things changed quickly with her making her own poke treats.

She knows she could always use the Poké Center open kitchen, but her pride would rather that she had her own equipament for that.

She was quick to restock, 5 standard potions, 2 antidotes, a burn heal since she was feeling fancy. 

And then the ingredients, her first time making Sarge's treats she had used the water-type feed to make the dough, this time she had the money to actually get the nutrients for his treats in powder form. She also got flour and a few trainer packs for herself, she could of course cook her own food now, but she would rather save her money a bit more.

Afternoon was mandatory rest.

Peaches sprawled across Lillian’s stomach on the bed, purring loudly.

Sarge slept perched on the room chair, head tucked under his wing.

Lillian sat against the headboard, helmet on the nightstand, watching her small squad breathe in quiet rhythm.

Her fingers brushed Peaches’ fur absently.

"Tomorrow’s the mission." she murmured.

Peaches opened one eye and chirped sleepily.

Sarge quacked sleepy from across the room without lifting his head.

Lillian exhaled slowly.

"Yeah." she whispered. "We’re ready."