Morning arrived quietly.
Grant woke before the sun fully cleared the treeline, the world washed in pale blue and gold. The camp was still, save for the crackle of dying embers and the soft breathing of Pokémon curled close to the warmth. Dew clung to the grass, and somewhere nearby, a Pokémon chirped, a sharp, curious sound that echoed once and vanished.
Drilbur was awake.
The Ground-type sat a short distance away, claws half-buried in the soil, eyes focused and alert. It wasn't digging wildly or playing. It was listening, to vibrations, to movement beneath the surface, to the quiet language of the earth itself.
Grant watched it for a moment before speaking.
"You don't rush things, do you?"
Drilbur tilted its head, then returned its claws to the dirt, sending out a faint tremor that Grant couldn't feel, but somehow understood. This wasn't impatience. It was discipline.
Nyra stirred behind him. "It's different from the others," she said, voice still soft with sleep. "Not shy like Sew, Swadloon. Not reckless like Venipede used to be. Not emotional like Dewott."
Grant smiled faintly. "Yeah. Everyone grows their own way."
They started with Drilbur.
Grant didn't push it into flashy attacks. Instead, he asked it to move, short tunnels, precise bursts of Dig, controlled use of Scratch and Rapid Spin to maneuver rather than strike.
At first, Drilbur struggled with surface combat. Its claws bit too deep, its movements favoring downward angles. Grant adjusted, encouraging it to practice short hops, quick turns, reacting to Dewott's Aqua Jet feints without actually attacking back.
"Don't think of the ground as where you go," Grant said, crouching. "Think of it as something you can push off."
Drilbur hesitated… then tried again.
This time, it launched upward cleanly, spinning midair before landing lightly, claws skimming the surface instead of tearing into it.
Nyra whistled. "Okay, that was cool."
Drilbur chittered, pride flickering across its face before it quickly looked away.
Grant laughed. "You're allowed to enjoy it, you know."
Nearby, Dewott watched intently.
Since evolving, it trained harder than ever, but Grant could tell it was chasing something specific. Not evolution. Not power alone.
Worth.
Grant moved next to it. "We'll get there. But not by rushing."
Swadloon's Quiet Strength
Swadloon's training was slower. Deliberate.
The Bug-type still flinched at sudden sounds, still hesitated before attacking. But it no longer hid completely inside its leaves. It watched now. It listened.
Grant knelt before it. "We're learning two things today. Bug Bite… and Protect."
Swadloon stiffened at the word Protect.
Grant softened his voice. "Not hiding. Choosing when to defend."
Bug Bite came first.
Grant used berries, different textures, different scents, guiding Swadloon to snap quickly and retreat, teaching precision rather than panic. The first few attempts were clumsy. Too slow. Too timid.
Then Swadloon lunged.
Clean. Fast. Controlled.
It froze afterward, as if waiting to be punished for acting boldly.
Grant grinned. "That's it. That's you."
Protect took longer.
At first, Swadloon retreated into its leaves instinctively, but Grant stepped in front of it instead, arms spread.
"No. Trust yourself. You don't disappear. You stand."
Swadloon trembled.
Then something shimmered.
A pale green barrier flickered into existence, thin, imperfect, but there. The leaves around Swadloon glowed faintly as it held its ground.
Nyra's eyes widened. "Grant… it did it."
Swadloon looked up slowly, disbelief written across its face.
Grant felt his chest tighten. "You're stronger than you think."
Venipede's felt like fire was lit under it.
Venipede trained with Nyra.
Hard. Relentless.
She pushed it through obstacle courses, speed drills, poison control exercises, forcing it to strike and pull back, to balance aggression with restraint.
Venipede was exhausted when it finally collapsed into the dirt.
Nyra knelt beside it, concern flashing across her face. "Hey, easy. That's enough."
Venipede struggled… then suddenly glowed.
Grant felt it before he saw it, the shift in the air, the energy tightening like a coil snapping free.
Light burst outward.
Venipede elongated, its body thickening, spikes sharpening, posture rising higher and more confident.
When the glow faded, Whirlipede stood there, solid, imposing, eyes steady.
Nyra laughed, breathless. "You finally stopped holding back, didn't you?"
Whirlipede bumped her gently, pride radiating from it.
Grant watched with a smile that carried something deeper than happiness.
Growth hurts. But it's worth it.
Styles of Strength
They talked that night, sitting around a fresh campfire.
"Dewott fights with emotion," Nyra said. "Whirlipede fights with momentum. Drilbur listens. Swadloon… thinks."
Grant poked the fire thoughtfully. "None of them are wrong."
Nyra looked at him. "And you?"
He hesitated. "I'm… still figuring that out."
She didn't push. She just sat closer.
A Town of Stone and Steel
By the next afternoon, the road widened, stone buildings rising ahead of them.
A major town.
The hum of activity hit them immediately, Trainers, merchants, Pokémon Centers bustling with life. It felt heavier than the routes. Louder. Realer.
Grant exhaled slowly. "Feels like the story's moving again."
Nyra smirked. "You mean we're broke again?"
They laughed, and immediately spotted a job board near the town square.
One listing stood out:
Lost research notes recovered from Route outskirts. Simple retrieval. Reward guaranteed.
"Easy cash," Nyra said. "Let's do it."
They weren't alone at the job site.
A boy with dark hair and sharp eyes stood near a fallen satchel, examining the ground carefully. A Patrat sat at his feet, alert and focused.He seemed professional and completely absorbed in his work.
"You're here for the notes," he said without turning. "Good. Less searching."
Grant blinked. "Uh, yeah?"
The boy finally faced them. "Cheren. I value efficiency. Let's split the work."
Nyra raised an eyebrow. "Straight to business. I like it."
The task was easy, tracking, light battling against wild Pokémon guarding the area, coordination. Cheren was calm, methodical, decisive.
When they returned the notes, the reward was split evenly.
Cheren adjusted his glasses. "You two fight with intention. Not recklessness."
Grant smiled faintly. "Thanks."
Cheren paused. "We'll meet again. Unova has a way of testing those who think deeply."
As he walked away, Nyra nudged Grant. "You attract interesting people."
Grant watched the crowd swallow Cheren up.
"I think… they're all part of the journey."
And somewhere, far above the town, unseen, someone watched, quietly taking note.
The road ahead was only just beginning.