The morning light bled through the academy's high, slanted windows, painting the rows of desks in pale gold. Jack Sparrow — or whatever strange hybrid of him fate had coughed up into this world — had his boots propped on his desk, head tilted, eyes half-closed, humming an off-key shanty that got on Marcus' nerves immediately. His bandana tilted just a little too far to the side, his braids dangling as if mocking the straight-laced rookies around him.
"Could you… not?" Marcus hissed, tightening his Aura band around his wrist. "You're gonna get yourself killed mouthing off like that in here."
Jack cracked one eye open and gave a sloppy grin. "Ah, lad, you wound me. Not with words, no — but with the sheer lack of rhythm. Music be the soul of the sea, and if you silence it, what do you have left? A dry, dry desert of the spirit."
Marcus groaned and dropped his head onto the desk.
At Jack's feet, Totodile clapped his stubby claws together in a staccato beat, shrieking something sharp and guttural. Nobody in the room understood it — not properly. Pokémon spoke their own way, and humans had only scraps of systems to guess at meanings. But Jack had grown decent at feeling it through Aura, the weird pulse of sound and intention that translated more to sensation than words.
That felt like: Louder! Louder! Kick the desk harder!
Jack tapped the heel of his boot, smirking. "Aye aye, captain."
"Jack, for the love of the gods," Marcus hissed. "Class hasn't even started yet. Can you please try to not get thrown out in the first five minutes?"
Jack tilted his head, eye glinting with the smugness of a man who lived entirely on his own stage directions. "Thrown out? Me? Ha! This is destiny, Marcus my lad. And destiny don't wait politely."
Totodile mirrored Jack's posture, puffing his chest out and striking what he probably thought was a heroic stance. The little croc even gave a guttural growl that sounded suspiciously like Jack's own fake wrestler growls.
Jack pointed down proudly. "See? The lad's already got the spirit. He knows the way of the warrior's soul."
Marcus muttered, "Your mad..."
Before Jack could retort, the classroom door slid open with an audible snap of authority.
Rina Stone walked in.
The room fell silent, even Totodile's shrieking beat cut off. Rina Stone wasn't the type to inspire giggles or gossip. She was tall, statuesque, her dark hair pinned back in a wave, eyes sharp enough to skin you alive. Her long coat swished as she crossed the room, boots clicking in exact rhythm.
Everyone straightened in their seats. Everyone but Jack, of course.
She dropped a stack of holo-slates onto her desk, each thudding like a small executioner's block. Then her gaze flicked to Jack.
"Feet. Down."
Jack, ever the dramatist, gasped as if she'd stabbed him. "Madam Stone, to deprive me of my leg's noble perch upon such fine oak! Cruelty most foul—"
Her eyes narrowed. "Now."
Jack knows that look. He can't really tell from memories but he knew that all three Jack's have been treated such of stare.
The sexy stern lady who is clearly stacked who has a giant stick up her ass but she is hot so its all good.
She clearly knew what she was doing.
Totodile tugged on his boot. Even the little gator knew better. Jack dropped his feet with a lazy thud, stretching like a cat. "Aye, aye. The ship's captain gives her orders."
Marcus hissed at him, "She's not the captain—"
"Shut it."
Stone stood at the front, crossing her arms. "Welcome to Battle Theory and Application. I am Instructor Rina Stone. This is not a playground. This is not a daycare. This is where you will learn to keep yourselves — and your partners — alive. Some of you will fail. Some of you will wash out. Some of you will die. I suggest you decide now which category you'd prefer to be in."
Her words were cold iron, and yet they rang with truth. The academy had no illusions: being a trainer wasn't safe.
Marcus' throat bobbed. Jack grinned wider, almost delighted.
Stone gestured, and a holo-projection filled the air: a rotating sphere, pulsing with layers of light.
"The Aura Core," she said. "Every human has one. Every Pokémon reacts to one to a Trainer's Aura.
It is the measure of your stamina, your soul, and your potential. Without training, it is small. With training, it grows. With discipline, it stabilizes. With recklessness—" Her gaze flicked back to Jack, deliberate. "—it ruptures."
Rina silently regrets wearing work uniform: a light striped shirt with white sleeves and puffed shoulders, a green tie, a red-brown pencil skirt, and high heels.
[Author: Think Yoko from Gurren Laggan when she is a teacher.]
She will expel that boy from this school. If not who the number of girls he will make pregnant and if the rumors are true how many boys hearts he will break....
Granted 'boys' being subjective on some of them...
A murmur rippled through the class.
The projection expanded, showing different sizes: a glowing spark, a marble, a fist, a heart, a boulder.
"Ranks," Stone continued. "For students, your Cores will mostly be Tiny or Pebble. With time, perhaps Minor. Do not delude yourselves into thinking you will reach higher soon. Pokémon may develop faster — their survival depends on it. But you?" She tapped her chest. "You are fragile flesh wrapped around a brittle spirit. Respect your limits."
"Aura Core Size ranks," she said. "From lowest to higher: Weak → Pebble → Spark → Minor → Tiny → Small → Medium → Large → Titan. You will see almost no one above Spark in a rookie class. Minor is common. Tiny is exceptional. Anything past Tiny—Small or Medium—is unrealistic for your age right now.
The names hung in the air, glowing.
Jack leaned sideways, whispering to Marcus. "Spark, pebble, fist, heart, boulder. Sounds like a tavern brawl lineup, if you ask me."
Marcus elbowed him, whispering back, "Do you ever take anything seriously?"
"Once. Didn't like it. Never doing it again."
Stone flicked her wrist. The holo collapsed. "Today, you will demonstrate your Aura attunement. One by one, you'll sync with the crystal. It will size your Core. And it will hurt. That is intentional."
The class shifted uneasily.
Stone pointed at the front row. "Begin."
One by one, students placed their palms on the glowing crystal mounted at the front. Each time, light flared, either small or weak or faintly stronger. She called them out without pity:
"Spark. Weak. Spark. Spark. Pebble. Spark."
The tension thickened as each student took their turn. Marcus, sitting ahead of Jack, wiped his palms nervously before stepping up. He pressed his hand to the crystal. It flared faintly brighter — not huge, but noticeable.
"Tiny. Stable," Stone said, with a curt nod. "Acceptable."
Marcus exhaled hard, walking back down the aisle. Jack slapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways. "Pebble, eh? Solid as a stone, lad!"
Marcus glared. "Don't screw this up. I don't want my rival to be weak!"
I won't sleep with you.
Jack is now convicted he has a male stalker now. At least he is rich.
Jack swaggered to the front, Totodile trotting beside him. He tipped an imaginary hat at Rina Stone, who didn't even blink.
He laid his palm on the crystal.
Instantly, light seared out.
Not steady. Not calm. Chaotic. The crystal pulsed irregularly, like it couldn't decide what size it was measuring. Flashes leapt between Tiny and Minor, even brushing Fist for a heartbeat before collapsing back down. But before it flash four colors: green, blue, white, and yellow.
The whole class whispered.
Rina's eyes widened despite herself. "Medium (Foundation Stage) — Dark Black. And you have attributes."
Jack blinked. "What's attributes, love?"
Half the class choked at once, the noise a mix of sputtering coughs, muffled laughter, and the scrape of desks as a few students nearly fell out of their seats. A boy in the back actually wheezed. He really didn't know.
Rina didn't miss a beat. She smoothed her notes with deliberate precision, spine straight, and leveled a stare sharp enough to pin him through the heart. "Stop staring at my chest and listen."
That brought another wave of snickers and nervous coughs, though no one dared say a word out loud.
Rina didn't miss a beat. "Stop staring at my chest and listen. 'Attributes' are innate Aura alignments—elements your Aura resonates with. Most Trainers have none. Some have one. You," she said, crisp as breaking ice, "have four. We'll cover that later."
The words hit like a hammer. Chairs creaked as students leaned in. A girl whispered something fevered to her neighbor. Even the class clown in the second row sat up straighter, frown cutting through his usual smirk.
Jack, of course, didn't flinch. He only raised his brows, his crooked smile stretching slow across his face. "Several, eh? Then I suppose I'm awesome."
Totodile barked out a cackling laugh, snapping his jaws so loud the sound echoed like castanets across the classroom. The little gator actually slapped his tail against the floor, clearly delighted by his partner's bravado.
Rina's ears colored—just faintly, but enough for the front row to notice. Infuriatingly, her professional mask cracked for half a heartbeat, the faintest twitch of embarrassment slipping through before she slammed it shut again. The register in her hands snapped closed with the finality of a guillotine.
"Take your seat, Sparrow," she ordered, voice taut as a bowstring.
Jack swept a flamboyant bow, coat flaring, grin carved like he was born for a stage. "As the lady commands."
And with that, he swaggered to his desk, Totodile still chortling at his heels.
Rina's ears colored—infuriatingly—and she snapped the register closed. "Take your seat, Sparrow."