Arlo then saw yawned from his bed, blinking himself awake. A moment later, Kage leaped down from the windowsill with his usual ninja-esque grace.
"Morning," Arlo said, standing up and stretching. "Hope you two are hungry." He grabbed a fresh batch of pokeblocks and poured them into their bowls. Link barked in approval, while Kage chirped and immediately started munching away. Watching them eat, Arlo's thoughts drifted toward training. Link had been with him for a month now, and his evolution was close. If Arlo wanted Link to hit the next phase, he needed to evolve him soon. But that meant proper conditions—no shortcuts, no artificial boosters maybe something that can help Link increase his potential.
Maybe Kane could help. The guy had Pokémon longer than him and the one that recommend him to a breeder. Arlo made a mental note to ping him later for advice.
Then there was Kage. Fast, sharp, precise—but fragile. Their first battle proved he could fight, but the Froakie needed real combat experience, not just casual sparring. If Arlo wanted him to grow strong enough to survive, training had to start now.
"We're hitting the Battle Brawler Club today," Arlo announced, mostly to himself.
Link gave a short bark. Kage tilted his head, blinking once before chirping softly in approval for training."Yeah, I know. Not a rest day. But trust me—if we're going into a new quest, I'd rather both of you be over-prepared than underpowered." He stood, grabbed his gear, and slung his jacket over his shoulder. Vacation could wait a few weeks. First, it was time to prep the team.
...
Arlo, Link, and Kage exited their apartment, the morning sky still dim with early light. Arlo flicked open his BrainLink interface and called for a taxi to the Battle Brawler Club in the Commercial District—specifically, 18th Astra Street. A hovercab showed up within minutes, sleek and humming, its logo flashing "ON MISSION." The door slid open with a hiss, and the trio climbed in. As the taxi lifted and sped toward their destination, Arlo reviewed their training goals in his mind. Link's new move—Thunder Fang—needed refining. Kage, meanwhile, needed to toughen up. No shortcuts.
Once inside the Club, Arlo didn't waste time. He went straight to the third floor, past the reception hall where challengers usually logged their matches. The training floor was quiet this early, only a few regulars present. Arlo chose a side training chamber—plenty of space and reinforced walls. He took out Link's Pokéball, but Link popped out before the command even finished.
"Eager, huh?" Arlo smirked. He set up the first drill in one of the private training chambers—reinforced walls, temperature controlled, kinetic-resistant flooring. Arlo stood by the control panel and tapped through the configuration options, selecting "Precision Mode: Moving Target." The dummy appeared with a soft mechanical whir—a mid-sized metallic construct on rails with simulated defensive barriers, roughly the size of an average humanoid Pokémon. A good proxy for unpredictable opponents.
"Alright, Link," Arlo called out, stepping aside as the dummy activated and began gliding across the chamber. "Time to train your Thunder Fang."
Link, standing ready a few meters away, let out a low growl. His stance lowered, body tensed. Static electricity began gathering around his fangs, small arcs snapping from jaw to fur. Yellow sparks crackled louder with each passing second as his energy ramped up. The air smelled faintly of ozone.
Then, with a flash, translucent, jagged projections shaped like wolf fangs materialized around his mouth—holographic amplifiers linked with real elemental discharge.
"Now!" Arlo commanded.With a bark, Link launched forward. His paws slammed against the floor, claws scraping slightly as he picked up speed. The dummy swerved mid-track, shifting trajectory, but Link adjusted instantly. In one swift movement, he lunged and sank his charged jaws into the dummy's shoulder plating. The impact was immediate—a loud crack! echoed through the room as sparks burst out on contact. The dummy twitched, motors whining, and smoke hissed from its shoulder joint.
"Solid hit," Arlo muttered, eyes narrowing. "Again!"
They ran the drill five more times. Each repetition required Link to adjust to faster dummy speeds and erratic movement.
Arlo alternated the dummy's patterns—zigzag, reverse drift, even a faint to trick Link's trajectory. But Link adapted. On the third attempt, his jaws clamped a full second quicker. By the fourth, the elemental charge visibly lingered longer after contact. Arlo could see the improvement in bite strength, follow-through, and recoil recovery.
On the sixth run, though, Link miscalculated the dummy's sidestep and barely grazed it with a glancing fang. He landed off-balance, stumbled, then backed away panting, tongue out and chest heaving.
"Alright, break time," Arlo said calmly, walking toward him. He crouched beside his partner and gently scratched behind his ear tufts, which made Link wag his tail weakly. "You're improving. Hit four out of six—only reason you missed was timing, not aim. That's an easy fix."
Link let out a soft bark in response, almost like a low chuckle. His body dropped into a crouch, letting himself sprawl on the cool tile floor. Sweat—no, fur condensation—clung to his flanks from the repeated exertion. His electric sac visibly dimmed, indicating energy levels dipping into low reserves.
Arlo pulled out a canteen and poured some momo milk into a portable bowl. "Here. drink some momomilk."
Link lapped it up with quick swipes of his tongue.
Arlo leaned back and watched the mechanical dummy return to standby mode. "Thunder Fang's a power move. You're not just biting—you're syncing an electric energy with your jaws mid-motion. Timing, muscle memory, and charge control... it's a triple-threat move. But once you get it locked down, it's a game-changer." He remembered seeing similar techniques used by competitive trainers on the Hub's live battle streams. Some evolved Pokémon could integrate elemental attacks so smoothly it looked like part of their biology. That was the goal. For Link to use Thunder Fang as naturally as barking.
Link rolled to his feet again, ready for another round, but Arlo held up his hand. "Cool it. You go again now, you'll only reinforce sloppy form. Rest, then we pick it up again."
The Rockruff grunted but obeyed, sitting back and watching the dummy with narrowed eyes. Focused. Driven. Just like Arlo.
With Link recovering and still catching his breath, Arlo shifted his attention to the other side of the training floor. Kage had been sitting quietly, cross-legged in a way that felt oddly deliberate for a Pokémon. His eyes had followed every movement of Link's drills like a hawk, absorbing the rhythm, the tactics, and how Arlo gave commands. The Froakie wasn't just observing—he was analyzing. Waiting.
"Your turn," Arlo said, rising to his feet and dusting his palms off.
stood immediately, gave a single sharp nod, and bounced forward, all traces of playfulness gone from his expression. He cracked his tiny knuckles like a cartoon martial artist.
Arlo smirked. "Alright, ninja-frog. Let's see what you've got." He brought up a target array on the control panel—lightweight, foam-based targets that floated and moved in erratic vertical patterns.
"We're working on your move Bubble," Arlo said, walking over to Kage and kneeling down to eye level. "Not just spamming it. I need control. Pressure. Precision. If you can't hit what you're aiming at, it doesn't matter how flashy the move looks." Kage gave a chirping grunt and braced himself."Don't just fire—aim and adapt. Watch where it's going, not just where it starts."
The first bubble salvo launched with a "foomp" noise. It was clumsy—scattered wide like a spray-and-pray SMG burst in a low-rank FPS. Most popped midair, a couple drifted high and harmlessly past the targets. Kage frowned.
Arlo kept his arms folded, not scolding, but not sugarcoating either. "Too much wrist. Keep your center of gravity low. You're used to Close Combat battle, but ranged attacks need rooted precision. Try again."
Kage repositioned. On the second set, his stance was noticeably tighter—feet angled, knees bent, arms extended with a subtle flick rather than a wild throw. The bubbles formed faster, more consistent in shape. Still missing, but at least now they were landing within the same vector.
"Better. Keep going." Arlo walked slowly around him, watching from every angle as Kage repeated the attack.
By the fifth round, the bubbles were firing in consistent arcs—tight clusters of three, timed shots instead of erratic bursts. They weren't powerful yet, but the density and trajectory were much improved. A few even burst directly on target, splashing harmlessly but visibly striking the foam drones.
"Now that's control," Arlo said, a slight grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. He reached into his belt pouch and tossed a blue-and-white pokeblock across the floor. Kage caught it mid-air with a tongue snap and chewed it quickly. A small "mmf!" of satisfaction escaped him.
Arlo chuckled. "Not bad for a little ninja."
Kage gave a smug nod and crouched into another ready stance, eager for more. His legs flexed with coiled energy, and his eyes glinted like someone loading a save just before a boss fight—ready to perfect a run. Arlo felt a twinge of admiration.
The kid had potential. Raw, sharp, untamed, but full of promise. Froakie—or Kage, as he was now—wasn't just a random starter someone abandoned. He was a fighter looking for a trainer who could actually keep up with him. Arlo now understood why the previous owner had bailed. Most rookies probably wanted a yes-man Pokémon that followed commands like a loyal dog. But Kage wasn't built that way.
Arlo reset the target drones for erratic movement and added small flash-distraction bursts. "Next round—under stress conditions," he announced. "Let's see if you can still hit your mark with noise and motion in the mix."
Kage exhaled slowly, like a practiced monk. Then, without waiting for a cue, he launched his next bubble volley with a spiral twist, trying to curve it around a sudden flash burst. The bubbles missed—but they veered in the right direction.
Arlo blinked. "He's compensating in real-time…" He glanced over his shoulder. Link was still lying down, but watching now with a curious expression. His tail wagged slightly at Kage's performance. A quiet mutual respect was starting to form between the two.
Arlo stepped back, arms crossed again. "Keep pushing, Kage," he muttered. "We're gonna shape you into something amazing."
***
They trained like that for the rest of the week—no breaks, no excuses. Every morning, before the Battle Brawler Club even turned on its automated cleaning drones, Arlo, Link, and Kage were already there, stretching, warming up, and cycling through drills. The facility's third floor had become their personal dojo.
Thunder Fang, once a wild, crackling mess of power for Link, was now something else entirely. Arlo had drilled it into him with almost military precision. Instead of going full "Raichu cosplay," Link had learned how to concentrate the electricity at the moment of impact—no wasted sparks, no extra charge-off. It didn't just look cool anymore—it hurt. Arlo tested it on reinforced targets and reviewed the impact data. Link's accuracy had improved by 37%, and the time between charges had dropped dramatically.
"Less flash, more precision," Arlo muttered one morning after logging the session results. "Just how I like it."
Meanwhile, Kage's evolution wasn't just in the stats—it was in his attitude. His Bubble attacks had gone from wild soap sprays to condensed, pressurized rounds that hit hard enough to knock over mid-weight training dummies. Arlo added a mobility drill that involved dodging weighted spheres from random angles. At first, Kage took a few hard hits to the face—one even sent him rolling—but he never complained. He learned. He adjusted. His sidesteps became sharper, tighter, faster. He began using his frubbles mid-dodge to redirect his momentum, adding a whole new layer to his movement.
Still, Arlo noticed a weakness. Kage was fast, no doubt. But if the battle dragged on? His stamina thinned quickly. Arlo caught him panting harder, needing more rest than Link during back-to-back drills. It made sense—Kage's body type and style leaned toward high bursts of activity. He wasn't built for endurance. Yet.
"Speed kills," Arlo muttered one afternoon, handing Kage a hydration capsule. "But not if you gas out before your opponent's second wind."
So he adjusted the plan. They added interval training, alternating long sets of physical movement with power bursts. Slow and painful, but effective. Kage groaned at first, but by the third day, he stopped hesitating. The little ninja was starting to treat pain like a learning tool.
One morning, as they finished up a cooldown stretch—Arlo rolling his shoulders, Link sprawled out across the mat, tongue hanging, and Kage perched on a bench with arms crossed—someone new entered the third floor. The automated doors hissed open and Arlo's gaze flicked over out of habit.He immediately recognized the tall frame. Lance. Broad-shouldered, probably wearing the same red street jacket that made him look like he walked off the cover of a retro arcade brawler. The guy practically lived in that thing. Behind him walked a slim girl—late teens, if Arlo had to guess—long red hair tied back in a messy ponytail, a baggy black hoodie over workout shorts, and sneakers that had seen some serious mileage. She had that low-key slouch that said "I don't care," but her eyes were sharp, scanning the room without trying to look like she was.
Arlo narrowed his eyes slightly. Not another cocky prodigy. Probably a trainee. Or someone Lance was mentoring. She didn't give off hotshot energy—more like the kind who would ghost an entire tournament just because she overslept.
Lance spotted Arlo and waved. "Yo, Arlo!" Arlo waved back. "What's up, Lance?" His eyes flicked to the girl. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Barbara Riley," Lance said, motioning to the girl. "One of my protégées. Helping her train her Pokémon team."
Barbara extended a hand. "Nice to meet you. Lance talks about you like you're some Pokémon prodigy or something."
Arlo raised a brow and shook her hand. "I'm more like a guy who doesn't like losing." He nodded at her belt. "You here to spar?"
Barbara grinned. "Exactly. And since you're here, I'd love a match—unless you're worried I'll wipe the floor with you."
Arlo glanced at Link and Kage, who were both now on their feet, eyes sharp with interest.
"Worried?" Arlo smirked. "Nah. Sounds good after a one of my Pokémon need experience. Challenge accepted."