Chapter 32: An Instinct
POV - JAKE
Once again, Jake found himself in the Master Dojo’s Main Hall. The polished wooden floor glowed faintly under the sunlight streaming through the high, narrow windows. The air was crisp and carried a subtle tang of wood polish, warmed by the afternoon rays. It was the kind of atmosphere that made you unconsciously straighten yourself, though you couldn’t quite explain why.
Trixie, however, was not one for standing still—literally or figuratively. Perched on Jake’s shoulder, she batted at his ear with a mischievous grin, clutching the remains of a well devoured apple in her other paw. ” she announced cheerfully, tail flicking against the back of his neck. If hyperactivity were a middle name, she would wear it proudly.
“Cut it out, Trix. Have you ever heard of patience?” Jake sighed, looking at her sideways.
She tilted her head, eyes wide with innocence. ” she asked with faux curiosity. Then, with a sly grin, she leaned in closer, nose twitching. ” she teased, mimicking,
“No, it’s not tasty, and no, you can’t eat it,” Jake replied flatly.
Trixie tapped a paw against her chin in a parody of deep thought before holding up her apple triumphantly. With a single, exaggerated bite, she demolished what was left. ” she announced with satisfaction.
Jake raised a brow. “So, this is your idea of patience?”
Trixie nodded enthusiastically, crunching loudly for emphasis.
From Jake’s other shoulder came a high pitched, ominous growl. “!” Jekyll puffed himself up dramatically, jabbing in Trixie’s direction. Jake almost didn’t need to guess at the meaning:
Trixie perked up, twitching her ears with a bright, cheeky grin. ” she chirped breezily.
Jekyll stiffened, trembling with indignation. “” he declared, brimming with outrage. Hopping on Jake’s shoulder almost totally weightless.
Trixie peeked around Jake’s neck, eyes locking onto Jekyll’s with angelic curiosity. “” she murmured softly, tilting her head.
Jekyll froze, the question striking deep. He twitched, rag-like—though meticulously maintained—fabric rippling awkwardly. “” he stammered, then rallied himself. ” he declared with a hop, his voice brimming with forced confidence.
Trixie’s ears perked up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She tilted her head first one way, then the other. “ she cooed sweetly. She leaned closer, squinting at Jekyll’s disguise as though examining a priceless artefact.
Jekyll froze again, caught between preening and retreating. He was stiff, a peculiar blend of dignity and unease. Eventually, he stood stock still, as though awaiting a final verdict.
Trixie announced at last, with exaggerated gravitas.
Jekyll’s reaction was immediate and explosive. He flinched, then puffed up indignantly, the head of his disguise wobbling as if barely containing his outrage. “he spluttered, hopping in fury. Such foul tools are an affront to Jekyll!”
Jake raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin as Jekyll’s emotions ricocheted like a pinball.
The Mimikyu huffed, with as much composure as he could muster. He paused, then added with a pointed sidelong glare at Jake,
Trixie swung her head around to fix Jake with her own look of disapproval. she spirited, wagging a paw at him.
Jake maintained his flat stare, deadpan. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, huh?”
Trixie zipped forward, nose just a whisker away from his. “she trilled.
Jake raised an unimpressed brow. “Oh, is that so?” Before she could dart away, he reached up with both hands and grabbed her tiny cheeks, squishing them together like soft playdough. “Care to repeat that, little miss?”
He paused briefly, noticing the faint crackle of static dancing along her fur. She could obviously shock him if she wanted—though, to her credit, she rarely did anymore. Unless, of course, she wanted to wake him, grab his attention, or demand food. Okay, maybe not so rare. But not at least when they were just messing around.
Jake grinned, squishing her cheeks a little more for good measure, moving them side to side as if shaping clay. “Oh, now you’ve got nothing to say, huh?” he teased.
Unfazed, Trixie stuck her pink tongue out, defiance shining through her chipmunk-like squished face. Jake sighed to himself. For all her antics, she had a knack for lifting his spirits, even on the rough days. She was still so young, learning her way in the world. Honestly, he was not entirely certain how he would be handling this whole thing without her. A sight less stressed, that was for sure.
“Now, can you stop mucking about and behave for five minutes?”
From his perch, Jekyll shot Trixie a look of supreme contempt. “” he declared with self-satisfaction.
He smirked. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”
His eyes flicked briefly to Jekyll, who still radiated a smug disdain for his sibling. Jekyll was in a funny place, Jake thought, where he obviously knew that Trixie—and everyone else—were aware of his true identity. But almost as if by reflex, he would still leap to defend the illusion whenever it was questioned.
Jake figured this was part of why, all too often, Trixie ran—or flew—circles around him in their verbal sparring. She was too mischievous, too sharp, and far too persistent to let such an obvious chink in his armour slide. But in a way, Jake thought that was exactly what Jekyll needed. Trixie’s teasing forced Jekyll to confront his own insecurities without pushing him too far. She challenged him, but there was a balance to their dynamic that Jake appreciated.
Sometimes, it struck Jake as odd that, despite Jekyll’s moments of bubbling frustration, he had never actually lashed out at Trixie. It was curious, really. There were times when Jekyll’s anger flared so intensely that Jake almost expected him to snap, yet it never came to that. Jake couldn’t quite pinpoint why—perhaps he was projecting his own world’s notion of volatile ghosts onto Pokémon. Whatever the reason, the playful, combative truce that had formed between a Mimikyu and what some might dismiss as a Pikaclone had become a source of comfort to him.
Jake wondered if anyone else had ever tried this kind of approach with a Mimikyu. Probably not. Jekyll was... unique, to say the least. But the thought made Jake curious—how much of that was just Jekyll, and how much was the way he had been shaped by his unlife?
Jake considered what he knew about Mimikyu—both Fairy and Ghost, horror and play. In Jekyll, the ghost seemed to dominate. Was that simply his nature, or had isolation and loneliness drawn him further into that aspect of himself? Jake frowned. Pokémon development was rarely straightforward; their moves and abilities often revealed glimpses of their experiences. Perhaps Jekyll’s fairy nature had not had much of a chance to grow—or perhaps it was only now starting to emerge.
The idea was speculative at best, but it lingered with Jake. Mimikyu were rare, and he had never encountered another. Was Jekyll unique because of his nature, or because of what he had endured? And if this gradual change continued, could it lead to something entirely new?
“What are you doing, Jake?” A sharp voice cut through the atmosphere. “Take this seriously, why don’t you.”
Jake turned to see Ciara watching him. She stood slightly apart, arms clasped behind her back, her mustard-yellow gi matching his own. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, flawless and disciplined, not a strand out of place. It framed her tanned features, and her fierce amber eyes glowed within high cheekbones. If a young Lara Croft had swapped tomb raiding for Pokémon, she’d probably look something like this.
By her side, Kaida mirrored her trainer’s pose with admirable effort, arms folded behind her back and a stern scowl of disapproval fixed upon her face. The resemblance was uncanny, though Kaida’s attempt was cute rather than intimidating.
In the time Jake had known Ciara—especially during their shared Unseen Fist training—she had only grown more formidable. With her fear of ghosts, or at least her fear of Jekyll, behind her, her cool composure had returned in full force. If anything, she seemed more focused. There was no doubting her determination, but since Siobhan had left, there was an edge to her, like she was chasing something just out of reach.
“I wish I could claim the credit,” he said lightly, holding Trixie up so her tiny paws dangled, her eyes fixing innocently on Ciara. “But this is all her.”
As if on cue, Trixie’s bright eyes sparkled like polished gemstones. Tilting her head at the perfect angle, she let her ears droop just so, ratcheting up the charm. “?” clasping her tiny paws together in a way that could melt the coldest of hearts.
Ciara’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t,” she said sharply.
“Don’t what?” Jake replied, feigning innocence
“You know what,” Ciara snapped, gaze flicking to Trixie despite her best efforts. The tiniest crack in her stern exterior appeared as she hesitated—a fraction of a second.
Sensing her advantage like a predator closing in, Trixie stretched her arms toward Ciara, with a plaintive “?” as if pleading to be picked up.
Ciara’s lips twitched, her iron control faltering. She sighed. “Enough. Both of you.” But the faint flush at the tips of her ears gave her away.
Jake grinned, seizing the opportunity. “Ah, so this is it. I knew Trixie was my secret weapon all along.”
“!” the flying squirrel agreed, cheeks sparking with delight.
Jake’s smile widened. “Makes sense now, though. I mean, after seeing all those fluffy toys in your room.”
Ciara’s head snapped toward him. “Those are not mine,” she said stiffly, then if by reflex. “They’re Kaida’s.”
At her side, Kaida looked up in surprise, eyes wide. She shook her head rapidly, paws waving in frantic denial.
“Anyway, shut up Jake,” she said shortly. “Master will be here soon.”
Jake raised his hands in mock surrender, releasing Trixie in the process. She slipped from his grasp looping lazily around the room before landing beside Kaida. The Kubfu greeted her with a nod, they had become close friends, even if Kaida was often baffled by her antics. Jekyll remained content to be settled on Jake’s shoulder.
Jake turned back to Ciara, changing the subject. “How’d you do with the stairs?” he asked, referring to the gym trainer duties they had been rotating through.
“Been busy,” she replied pointedly, eyeing him critically.
“Figured you could use the practice.”
“True,” Ciara admitted, with a smile so faint it might as well have been invisible. “I’d be bored without it, so...”
Jake tilted his head, intrigued. “Have you done this before?”
“I volunteer every year. Challengers are expected, and it’s our duty to prepare them. Plus, we sometimes have an influx of trainers wanting to challenge Master himself. It’s good experience.”
“Does Mustard battle with you in front of him?”
Ciara gave him another faint smile, but her expression grew pensive. “It is reaching the point where we’re too strong for most trialists,” she said matter-of-factly.
“How so?”
She clasped her hands behind her back. “Gym trainers are assigned based on the level of challengers expected. Right now, we’re trialist level. Soon, we’ll be ranked as competitors. If we were to stay after the final trial, we’ll face more advanced trainers.”
“Do many stay? I haven’t seen any older students around,” Jake asked.
“No,” Ciara said bluntly. “They leave once they’ve completed Master’s training. A few go into the GPL, others join amateur divisions, or they find something else.
Not that there are many students to begin with. Master’s classes are small—some years, there’s no one at all. He’s retired. He works with whoever’s here and has the fight, no matter how few. With you around, our group is probably the busiest he’s been in years.”
“I figured a man like him would always have a line out the door.”
Ciara shook her head. “This is a remote place. Not easy to get here, even if you want to. And you’ve seen how tough the training is. Not many make it this far.”
Jake considered this, crossing his arms as he glanced at her. “I suppose it’s obvious what you’re planning to do after this, huh?”
“Become Champion,” she said shortly. “World Champion.”
Her conviction was felt, words succinct. Yet, beneath the ambition, there was something heavier—Jake caught it, but this was no time to probe. “Sure you can pull that off with me around?”
It was meant as a joke, but Ciara did not laugh. She didn’t even smirk. Her amber eyes locked onto his with such intensity that he blinked. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I’ll defeat everyone in my way. You. Raihan. Leon. Master Mustard, if it comes to that.”
Jake hesitated, momentarily taken aback by the sheer force of her conviction. “Right,” he muttered. “Confident, huh?””
But Ciara did not respond. Her focus seemed to be elsewhere for once, her jaw set tight. “Hey, are you—?”
Before Jake could say anything further, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet, followed by a lively, sing-song voice. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to keep you waiting!” Master Mustard practically bounced into the hall, energy more fitting for someone decades younger. His feet barely made a sound on the polished floor as he grinned at them, eyes sparkling like he’d just pulled off a surprise twist in one of his favourite video games.
“Ah, you know how it is with last-minute challengers!” Master Mustard’s grin was wide, cheeks faintly flushed, the exhilaration of battle practically radiating off him. “And oho, what a match it was! A real nail-biter—haven’t had a thrill like that in ages!”
Without hesitation, he dropped cross-legged before them, effortlessly relaxed yet commanding attention in a way only he could manage.
“Didn’t leave you youngsters twiddling your thumbs too long, did I?” he teased.
Jake couldn’t help but mirror it. “Not at all, Master. Looks like you had a blast.”
“Oh, you betcha!” Mustard chuckled, dabbing his forehead with the sleeve of his green tracksuit. “Nothing like a good bout to get the ol’ heart racing, eh? But enough about my gallivanting—what comes next is the real treat!”
Before Jake could ask, a voice cut through the moment—smooth, warm, and brimming with confidence. “Did I hear someone talking about me?”
Jake turned instinctively, catching the casual drawl. A figure strolled into the Main Hall, sunlight glinting off the polished wood below, framed by a chance halo, as though a hero had just stepped into a grand entrance.
For a moment, Jake’s brain refused to connect the pieces. The voice, the energy—it was too familiar, too iconic. And then it clicked, recognition slamming into him like a jolt of electricity.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Mustard exclaimed, clapping his hands together with a grin. “Allow me to introduce you to a former student of mine. He was… well, let’s just say, a decent one!”
Ciara’s breath hitched, soft but audible, before she swiftly masked it.
Jake was not quite as subtle.
For the first time, Jake found himself face to face with Leon, the unbeatable Champion of Galar.
It was strange, seeing him in the flesh. The Leon Jake remembered from the games had always seemed larger than life, but distant—charisma, confidence, and that aura of inevitability every great Champion carried, dulled by the barrier of a screen. But here, now, was not just some polished, scripted figure conjured by pixels and dialogue trees. Somehow, the very qualities that had made him legendary radiated, unpolished and uncontrived, as naturally as one breathes.
At just eighteen, Leon carried a presence that was impossible to ignore—boundless and raw, like a force of nature barely contained within human form. He was taller than Jake had expected; broad shoulders and a lean, athletic frame that moved as one completely at ease in their own skin. Trademark hair—a wild cascade of deep indigo—seemed to defy control, framing a handsome face.
Jake had once heard that you should never meet your heroes—the risk being you might find out what lay beneath the surface would not live up to expectations. But with Leon, that was not the case at all. Perhaps a natural-born hero, the kind who made it all look effortless. As if, by some twist of fate or grace of luck, the world itself had chosen him to be its representative from birth.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Leon gave them a faint disarming smile, easily meeting everyone’s eyes as if he knew them. “Afternoon.” He said politely.
“Jake, Ciara,” Mustard said, sweeping his arm. “Allow me to introduce Leon—my old student, and a bit of a handful back in the day!”
Leon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Aw, come on, Master, I wasn’t bad... well, most of the time, anyway.”
Today, he was out of his battle uniform. Instead wearing a simple black shirt with jeans, casual enough to suggest he was here to relax rather than perform.
The cape, of course, was there. Draped casually over one shoulder, it looked less like an accessory and more, as part of him, as if he had not taken it off since his first victory. But as Jake looked closer, he could notice wrinkles in the fabric—was it possible Leon never took the cape off? Slept in it, even? Keeping a bit of distance might be the wise choice. Jekyll seemed to agree with that sentiment with a single, unimpressed .
“Oh, I’m not selling you short, lad. But it’s a wonder you made it to Champion with how often you disappeared on me—skipping lessons like they were Double Team.”
Leon grinned. “Guess I was just eager to get out there and battle. But I still learned plenty, even if I didn’t stick around for the final trial.”
“Picked up enough to give this old man a workout! Even when it seemed like you weren’t paying a lick of attention, you somehow always knew exactly what to do.” He let out a hearty laugh, patting his stomach. “And that Charizard of yours—whew! Had me wondering if I should’ve skipped that second helping of fried dumplings last night!”
Jake stood there, trying to process what he was seeing. Leon. The Leon. Champion of Galar. One of the most famous trainers in the Pokémon world, casually chatting with Mustard in front of him. It felt as surreal as if a legendary Pokémon had just wandered into the dojo—though, he reminded himself, that too was not an irregular occurrence these days.
Quickly snapping himself out of it, Jake bowed as a student of the dojo.
Mustard noticed and let out a booming laugh. “No need for that, Jake! No formalities here—we’re all friends under this roof. Besides,” he added with a sly look at Leon, “if Leon here can actually find his way here, it must mean the stars aligned!”
“Hey now, my sense of direction’s not bad anymore. Sonia says I only get lost half as much as I used to. Besides Charizard always knows where to go”
“Well, lad,” Mustard said, “let me introduce you to my students. Two of the most capable I’ve had in years. Ciara here—been with us for quite some time. One of my most dedicated students.” He gestured toward Jake. “And young Jake here—only a few months in, but already making waves. A real innovator, this one.”
Leon’s gaze flicked between them. “So, this is the new crop you’re working on, Master? You’ve got a knack for stirring up rivals, that’s for sure. Looks like Hop’s in for a real challenge this year.”
“Not just your brother, mind!” Mustard said slyly. “You might want to keep an eye over your shoulder too, lad. Passing my trials like nobody’s business. They’ve even made it to the final one! That’s a rare feat—hasn’t happened for a good few seasons. And let’s not forget,” he added with a chuckle, “even you couldn’t quite manage that!”
For the first time, the Champion looked at Jake—really looked at him. Leon’s gaze was not just friendly; there was an unshakeable confidence that seemed to radiate from deep within. Not arrogance, nor a mask, but the certainty of someone who had never been defeated.
Someone for whom losing was not a possibility.
Jake had met formidable trainers before—the prodigal Ciara, Morgana and Mustard, perhaps of faded glory. Leon was not that. What stood before him was a trainer in his prime, perhaps at the pinnacle of what could be achieved in this world. A figure whose position carried the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of an entire culture.
But behind that confidence, there was a flicker in Leon’s eyes—something unexpected. Jake recognised it. His experience with Jekyll had made him familiar with that emotion. Hope.
A dream, perhaps, of one who might one day stand as his equal.
“Interesting,” Leon said, drawing out the word as if savouring its possibilities. He grinned. “We’ve already got her,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “And now you two? Oh, man.” He let out a short, excited laugh, hands on his hips. “This year? This year might be the best yet!”
Leon then noticed Jake’s Pokémon. Trixie, perched confidently on Jake’s shoulder, tilting her head, pouring on the charm with her best routine. Leon’s expression softened slightly before his eyes landed on Jekyll, who was doing his best to glare balefully, as if to say,
“You take good care of your Pokémon,” Leon said with a nod to Jake. “It shows.”
Then his attention shifted to Ciara, to Kaida by her side. “A Kubfu? Master Mustard does not hand those out lightly. He must see something special in you.”
Ciara straightened slightly, her reply polite but clipped. “Master has been kind.”
Jake raised an eyebrow.
Mustard waved her words off. “Oh, now, don’t go giving me the credit, Ciara. That was never my decision—Kaida chose you.”
"," Kaida agreed solemnly. Ciara shot her partner a fleeting, grateful smile.
Mustard settled comfortably on the slightly raised dais, arms folding. “But enough chatter—Let’s talk about what really matters. My final trial.”
Leon gave Jake and Ciara a quick nod before moving to stand at the back of the dojo, cape settling behind him as he leaned casually against the wall.
“This trial, like the first two, has three objectives,” Mustard began, warm but steady. “Each one is a challenge, yes, but also a lesson—a way to sharpen your body, mind, and spirit for the long journey ahead. What you learn here won’t just help you in this dojo—it will follow you wherever you go.”
Mustard raised one finger. “First up, the ”
He leaned forward slightly, his voice intent. “Now, this one’s not about who’s the strongest or the fastest—nope, it’s about control. Mastery. I’m talkin’ about knowing yourself, your Pokémon, and that bond between you so well it’s like you’re moving as one. Your Wushu.”
He wagged the finger for emphasis. “You’ll show me this in two parts. First, I want to see technique—how you move, how you focus. Then comes the fun part: you and your Pokémon performing the Golden Path. Not some flashy routine, mind you—this is a test of harmony, trust, and timing. Can you anticipate each other? Can you move like you’re connected by that invisible thread?”
Mustard’s grin widened as he added, “If you nail this, you’ll earn the Belt of the Unseen Fist. That’s not just some trophy, kids. It’s proof you’ve got what it takes to take these lessons into the big, wide world.”
He let the words hang for a moment, then raised a second finger. “Next, the ”
Ciara’s brows drew together slightly, but she remained silent, eyes locked on Mustard. Jake glanced at her before returning his focus to their teacher.
“This one,” Mustard said, “takes place during the tournament. And here’s the kicker: both of you need to make it to the top four. That’s right, of you.”
Jake’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Ciara again. Her expression stayed unreadable, but the tension in the air felt thicker now. Mustard didn’t miss it.
“Now, now,” he said, chuckling. “I can see you thinking, ‘That sounds like any old competition, ol’ Mustard!’ But let me tell ya, it’s not. This lesson isn’t about winning for the sake of it. It’s you win. Pokémon battling’s a competitive field, sure—but does it have to be a cutthroat, every-trainer-for-themselves kind of deal? I don’t think so.”
He leaned forward, tone softening. “A rival isn’t someone standing in your way—they’re the reason you get better. Think of your best battles. What made ’em great? It wasn’t just you. It was the person and Pokémon on the other side of the field, giving it everything they had.
To pass this lesson, you need to elevate each other. Help your rival shine, even as you fight for your own spot. It’s not a matter tearing each other down. It’s a matter making each other stronger.”
Jake felt an uncomfortable prickle as memories of his less than honourable old in-game rival nicknames surfaced. What would he have named Ciara? “Ice Princess”? “Bossy Boots”?—or maybe something much worse? As if she could hear his thoughts, Ciara’s sharp eyes flicked toward him. She didn’t say a word, but the look was enough to make Jake clear his throat and refocus.
Anyway, helping Ciara secure her spot in the top four? Perhaps it was Jake who had the easier end of that bargain. He still had little point of reference for what level of competition was awaiting him, but all of Mustard and the Urshifu’s praise throughout the Unseen Fist training gave him a certain confidence. Jake had his advantages, and he would use them all.
Mustard raised a third finger, shifting to something deeper, almost solemn. “And finally, the ”
He stood up slowly, pacing as he spoke, his words landing heavier than before. “This is it, kids—the one that ties it all together. Every step you’ve taken, every sweat-drenched moment of training, every ounce of effort—all leads to this.”
He turned, eyes sharp now, and jabbed a finger at them. “To pass this trial, you’ve gotta win the Armorshyr Cup. Not for me. Not for anyone else. For . To prove to yourselves that all this hard work wasn’t for nothing.”
Mustard stopped pacing and let his arms fall to his sides, voice softening. “Victory isn’t just who’s standing at the end of the fight. You must rise to meet the moment. Show that you’ve taken every lesson you’ve learned—technique, honour, and everything in between—and turned it into something powerful. Something real.”
His voice dropped, commanding now. “To win this Cup, you’ll need everything you’ve learned. Trust for your Pokémon. How to fine-tune your craft—every little detail matters. Honour to respect the fight. You’re not just a trainer or a battler—you are a guide, a partner, a leader. When all of that comes together, that’s when you’ll find the kind of victory that stays with you for a lifetime.
So don’t hold back. Don’t hesitate. Don’t apologise for wanting to win. Show me—and yourselves—that you’re ready to step out of this dojo as trainers. Show me what it means to carry the Unseen Fist into the world.”
He paused, letting the words settle, then finished with a quiet smile. “That you have what it takes to become a Pokémon Master.”
Straightening slowly, he clasped his hands behind his back, eyes crinkling with a warm smile. “Now, you’ve got quite a week ahead of you,” he said lightly. “Use it well—every moment. You’re gonna need it.”
He glanced toward the open dojo doors, and for a fleeting moment, a playful glimmer lit his eyes. “Oh, and one more thing. I believe the Urshifu have something special planned for the two of you. If I were you, I’d start getting excited.”
With that, he stretched casually, gave them a cheery wave, and disappeared out the dojo, leaving behind an energy that seemed to make the room feel both larger and quieter in his absence.
Jake took a breath. A week—that was all the time he had left at the Master Dojo. He wasn’t sure whether to feel thankful or resentful that he’d landed here on Armor. By providence or coincidence, it hardly mattered; Mustard was a brilliant mentor, one of the best Jake could have hoped for. He owed him a lot. Sure, it had been challenging at times, exhausting even, but there wasn’t a moment he would trade. He had learned so much—about this new world he found himself in. About what it meant to be a real Pokémon trainer.
Jake let the thought linger, seep into his mind. By the time he made it home, would anyone recognise him? He could feel it—this place was shaping him, moulding him into something new. Adapting, evolving. Like a Pokémon. Going back would be a shock, wouldn’t it? What would his family think if he suddenly started rambling about honour, or an unexpected fascination with martial arts?
Mustard had opened his eyes, made him see things differently. Made him believe, really believe, that his goals were not just some far-off dream. They were possible. Tangible. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ciara beat him to it.
“We’d better get to work,” she said practically. “The Armorshyr Cup starts next week.”
Startled out of his reverie, Jake turned toward her. But she was already moving toward the door, leaving little choice but to follow. “No time to waste,” she continued. “If you want to stand a chance, you’ll—”
Her words trailed off as Leon approached, easy stride drawing her attention. Ciara’s lips pressed into a thin line. Without another word, she turned to Jake. “Talk later,” she said shortly, and then she was gone, striding out of the building without so much as a glance in Leon’s direction.
The champion watched her go, raising an eyebrow before turning to Jake. “I don’t think she’s a fan.” he said dryly, folding his arms.
Jake shrugged. “Ciara’s not one for first impressions,” he said. “But she means well... sometimes?”
“Good to have a rival, though.”
Jake nodded, the motion automatic, but faltered as he suddenly realised the others had slipped away, leaving him behind. Just him, Leon, Trixie, and Jekyll. The hall now felt stretched wide and hollow.
Actually, he had about a million questions, but… where the hell did he even start without coming across as a complete goof?
Jekyll sat primly on Jake’s shoulder, staring daggers at Leon. Jake was not sure if Jekyll even understood who Leon was. In some ways, Jekyll was incredibly smart—cunning and prodigious at picking up new skills. But his blinders to the outside world were ever-present, and the Mimikyu certainly didn’t keep up with Pokémon League standings. Still, the disdain was there, as if Jekyll were weighing Leon’s threat level and finding him wanting. It might’ve been funny if Jekyll didn’t look so, well literally dead, serious about it.
Leon either hadn’t noticed or was blissfully unaware. Knowing what he did about Leon’s in-game personality, Jake strongly suspected the latter.
Jake cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the stillness of the hall. “So,” he said, heading for the doors, “what brings you out here? Bit of a surprise, seeing the Champion in a place like this.”
“The World Championship’s coming up,” Leon replied easily, falling into step beside him. “If there’s anywhere to train, it’s here with Master Mustard.” He gestured to the dojo as they stepped outside. “This place is kind of like a second home. It’s where everything started for me. And it’s nice to get away from the cameras for a bit.”
Jake nodded, keeping his pace brisk as they entered the courtyard. Afternoon sunlight washed over the open space, and Trixie zipped by overhead, her gliding silhouette framed against the sky.
“Trixie,” Jake called, throwing her a warning look. “Stay out of trouble, yeah? No lightning today.”
She paused mid-flight, emoling back at him with as if she had never done anything wrong in her life.
“She’s got some personality, huh?” Leon said with a laugh.
Jake rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “She’s a menace most days. Every now and then, she does something cute enough to remind me why I keep her around.”
Trixie puffed up indignantly, cheeks full like an overstuffed Jigglypuff, and stuck her tongue out in defiance. “Case in point,” Jake muttered, waving her off.
Leon grinned. “I like her style.”
Stopping near his gym trainer post, Jake gestured to the space as Leon lingered beside him. “Figured you’d be off to your own training.”
Leon shrugged, still relaxed. “Master will be ready soon. Besides, it’s nice to chat for once without someone shoving a camera in my face.”
Jake quirked an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by the Champion’s easy demeanour. “You’re welcome to hang around,” he said lightly, “but just so you know, I don’t charge for autographs.”
Leon’s laugh rang out. “Wouldn’t want to break the bank.”
“Guess the spotlight gets old after a while?” Jake commented.
Jake glanced about the courtyard spotting a few tourists in the distance, snapping photos of the dojo. Locals chatted nearby, voices blending with the warm afternoon air. The moment didn’t need filling—it was the kind of peacefulness that could stretch on—but Jake had questions, and he wasn’t going to get a better chance.
Leon rocked back on his heels, looking out onto the sparkling ocean. “Not likely. I love being Champion—every bit of it. The battles, the chance to show other trainers what’s possible. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
But I want to stay at the top of my game. And, well, Macro Cosmos doesn’t always make that easy. Banquets, sponsorship dinners, speeches—it’s a whirlwind.” A casual shrug followed, his grin broadening. “Keeps me busy, though. All part of the job, right? If it helps the League and inspires trainers, I’m happy to roll with it.”
"Macro Cosmos," Jake muttered, the name sitting uneasily on his tongue.
The games had often mentioned this entity—an enormous conglomerate helmed by Chairman Rose and Vice-Chairman Oleanna. Jake had probably not been able to appreciate the magnitude of its influence through a screen. Even after just a few months here, Jake could see how deeply Macro Cosmos was entwined within the daily life of every Galarian. Not confined to a single industry, Macro Cosmos seemed to have a hand in everything— finance, rail, media, construction, energy and of course, Pokémon.
Jake had dug into its history and discovered that, in its early days, Macro Cosmos had been a fledgling construction company. It had risen to prominence by capitalising on Galar’s push towards modernity.
Much like its Earth counterpart, several centuries ago, Galar was one of the cradles of industrialisation. The region experienced sweeping advancements in production, healthcare, agriculture, and energy, reshaping humanity’s way of life in revolutionary ways. Macro Cosmos, whether through luck, foresight, or sheer ambition, had been primed to ride the wave of change.
Jake reflected on how this world had unfolded so differently from the one he knew. Here, Pokémon—and the mentality of the people—had led society down an alternative path. Climate change was not a topic of discussion, let alone a looming crisis. It was not mentioned, worried over, or even seen as a concern.
He guessed that the existence Pokémon such as Coalossal, Revavroom, or Garbodor added a level of complexity to the typical environmental concerns. Grass-types contributed to agriculture by enriching soil or speeding up crop growth. Water-types purified water sources, and Electric-types were able to provide clean energy. What’s more was that these Pokémon did not even need to be farmed for such services, it was simply part of their natural behaviour.
People still built, and sometimes excessively, but it was not viewed as controversial or wasteful. It was simply what they did. And somehow, it worked. The idea was strange to Jake, an almost impossible paradise where humanity and nature could move in harmony—not because of a grand philosophy, but because of Pokémon. Their very existence demanded balance. Then again, he supposed if humanity ever stepped too far out of line, Zygarde would probably show up to remind them—with extreme prejudice. Now that was one way to keep everyone motivated.
Jake blinked, realising he had wandered down yet another mental rabbit hole. “Right,” he muttered, “productive thoughts, Jake. Let’s try those for a change.”
He pulled Jekyll from his perch on his shoulder to his lap. The Mimikyu immediately perked up, twitching with curiosity as Jake rummaged in his bag.
"Got something for you, buddy," Jake said casually, pulling out a SpiritBox. A small, purple hued contraption, a bit like a boxy vape or hookah. Faint gold-coloured runes etched across its surface gleamed subtly in the light. Jekyll let out an eager bouncing with something akin to joy.
Jake raised an eyebrow, handing it over. He had already decided it would be best to remain ignorant of what it was made of.
Jekyll clutched the SpiritBox with reverence, and without hesitation slotted the end into the opening of his disguise. A faint, eerie mist began drifted from the box, curling lazily upward as Jekyll drew on it with a contented sigh. If this wasn’t the Pokémon equivalent of chilling out to weed, he didn’t know what was—though, to be fair, it wasn’t a drug. Probably.
“So, I heard you mention your brother earlier—Hop, right? He must be following in your footsteps. Is he into battling too?" Jake asked, trying to sound casual.
Leon’s face lit up, his grin practically glowing. “Hop? Oh, he’s all in! That kid’s been dreaming of this for years. He’s got the drive, the passion—the works! Sometimes it feels like looking at a younger me.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “He even took on the Cavunshyr Cup a couple of weeks ago with his best mate from our hometown. And get this—they both qualified for the GPL this season!”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
Leon leaned back slightly, his grin widening. “His mate edged him out in the final, but It was brilliant to watch. Those two push each other like crazy, always trying to one-up the other. If they keep it up, they’re going to make waves, no doubt about it.”
The mention of a best mate made Jake pause. So, there a protagonist in this world. That raised all kinds of questions. What did it mean? Were they a real person, or an automaton the games portrayed, defeating all comers without a word? Jake felt a little queasy at the thought. This was a character he had potentially played. Meeting them would be... weird.
Was it Gloria or Victor? Canonically, those were the names slapped on them when a player hadn’t picked one. But what kind of person would they be?
Jake pushed the thought aside. He rummaged in his bag. “Your turn, Artie,” he said, pressing the release.
Arthrox appeared in a flash of light, rolling to a halt beside Jake. The Whirlipede didn’t even glance at Leon, focus entirely on Jake, awaiting his instructions.
Jake crouched, retrieving a small syringe from his bag. He sighed, shaking a vial filled with a liquid fusion of iron and silica—one of the many things he had not known trainers had to deal with before arriving here. Gently, he found the right spot at the base of Arthrox’s shell and injected the supplement. Arthrox let out a faint, appreciative
Then, a shadow fell upon him.
It was not gradual. One moment, sunlight; the next, shadow. Heavy. Total. Jake glanced up, his breath catching.
Leon stood too close. Much too close. The grin remained, but the ease had bled from it. Something raw lingered beneath, unrelenting.
His eyes burned—dark, narrow, and fixed. A predator’s gaze, locking onto an intruder. Pressing down on Jake, alive with a charge that hummed in the air between them, taut and impossible to ignore.
Leon’s nostrils flared. He tilted his head, slowly, as though listening to something only he could hear. Every movement precise. Controlled. Dangerous.
“There’s something about you,” Leon said, voice low. “It’s off. Different.” His eyes sharpened further, glaring down at him. “I can feel it.”
Jake had seen Leon in the games as an affable, easy-going Champion. A country boy thrust into the spotlight, blind to the machinations of men like Chairman Rose. He had even thought it odd, before, that someone who got lost on the way to a stadium could rise to the top.
Not now.
This was not a game. Jake saw it. No—he it. Leon was not a strategist. He was not a schemer. He did not need to be. This was a man who had never tasted defeat because he had something rarer. An almost preternatural battle instinct. A bestial sense, honed not by thought, but by pure, natural talent.
Leon was smiling now, teeth bright white, canines seeming to enlarge. “I don’t know how,” he said. “I don’t know why. But I look at you, and I want to battle.”
It was not a question. It was not an offer.
Leon’s grin turned feral, a fire in his eyes that wasn’t entirely human. “I’m the best,” he said, a declaration of fact. His focus burned into Jake, leaving no room for escape. “But for some reason, it feels like are better than me.” He spoke low, almost a growl. “That is impossible.”
Jake’s mouth went dry. He opened it to respond, but no words came. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic rhythm.
The ground shook.
Before Jake could react, the courtyard exploded with a rush of wind and heat. Charizard descended like a thunderclap, slamming into the stone with a force that rattled the ground beneath Jake’s feet. Wings flared wide, flames from its tail burned fiercely, a golden edge licking through the air like sunlight made fire.
He staggered back as the force of Charizard’s landing blasted through the courtyard. Dust swirled, the sound of claws grinding against stone reverberating through the space.
Charizard rose to its full height. Taller than Jake had imagined. A monument of raw power. This was Pokémon—the strongest competitive fighter in the world.
Its scales gleamed, deep orange and battle-worn, as if forged in fire itself. The membranes of his wings stretched taut and veined like the dragon it was not.
Its eyes burned, molten gold. Locked onto Jake for a fleeting moment. It was enough. Ferocious. Searing. Ridges above them etched its expression into something eternal. Incandescent. Terrifying.
Smoke curled lazily from its nostrils. Fangs, razor-sharp. Its claws flexed, dragging faint grooves into the stone.
Jake couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
The Champion stood, framed by fire and power, cape fluttering in the heat. Intensity gone, easy grin returned. As if it had never been.
Leon rested a hand on Charizard’s flank. The Pokémon didn’t react, unwavering, as though it were an extension of Leon himself.
“I’m excited to see how far you’ll go,” Leon said lightly, almost casually. But his words were heavy. Final. He smiled wide, teeth white, canines flashing again.
“I’ll be watching you.”
Next time Jake we enter the final week of the Way of the Unseen Fist, and keep our advance up to the Armorshyr Cup tournament arc.
