Caesar scrambled down ahead of me, claws scraping against the stone as he picked his own way toward the beach. I followed a few steps behind, boots crunching over loose gravel where the bluff's path narrowed to little more than a goat trail. The late-afternoon sun spilled across the horizon in streaks of red and gold, painting the waves in fire, and every breath tasted of salt. Wind whipped the spray against my face, but I kept my eyes fixed on the shape below.
At the bottom, Caesar bounded across the sand like a spark waiting to catch flame, only slowing when I stopped short. There, in a thin patch of dune grass, something small and battered shifted weakly, feathers ruffled, one wing bent at an ugly angle.
A Pidgey.
Its body was trembling, but its eyes still burned sharp, alive. Even wounded, it tried to puff itself up, feathers flaring in a trembling display of defiance. Caesar lowered his head and growled, tusks jutting as if daring the bird to challenge him.
"Easy," I said, crouching low. My tone was enough Caesar stilled, though his tail lashed restlessly behind him.
And then it happened again that strange ripple inside me. Not sight, not sound, but something deeper. I could feel it. The bird's pain, sharp and ragged… but also its stubborn will. Its refusal to let go. That ember of life burned so bright it made my chest ache.
I lowered my hand slowly, palm open, voice steady. "Shh… it's alright."
Caesar tilted his head, snout twitching, curious now. He edged forward but stayed still when I glanced at him waiting, watching.
The Pidgey's trembling eased. Its eyes closed just for a heartbeat, and the fight drained into exhaustion.
Carefully, I slid my arms beneath it and lifted. Its body was hot, feathers shivering faintly against my skin, heartbeat hammering like a frantic drum. I adjusted my hold, looked once at Caesar, then turned toward the cluster of roofs and lantern lights glowing faint in the distance. Saltwind waited.
The town wasn't large. A handful of narrow streets pressed between the sea on one side and the untamed hills on the other, like it was clinging to the only safe ground it had. Salt spray clung to the stone walls, and the whole place smelled faintly of brine. Nets sagged from racks outside doorways, drying stiff in the wind. Children chased each other with sticks near the pier, their laughter cutting across the tide, while old men hunched over hulls, hammering in fresh boards by the glow of swaying lanterns. Women carried baskets of shellfish balanced against their hips, calling out to each other in that familiar, weary rhythm of people who worked the sea every day of their lives.
Pet Pokémon dotted the streets the way dogs or cats might in another world a Mareep tethered near a porch, its fleece dimly glowing in the dusk, a Zigzagoon rooting through a basket of clams, a Growlithe curled protectively at its owner's stall. Harmless enough. But no one ever forgot the line between tame and wild. The hills bred predators, and the sea carried worse. Respecting that truth was the reason Saltwind was still standing.
So when I walked through town with an injured Pidgey in my arms, every head turned. But nobody stopped me. They didn't have to. We all knew the rule drilled into us by Rangers and the League alike: a wounded Pokémon went straight to the Center.
The Pokémon Center stood at the town's heart, squat and solid, its pale stone scrubbed clean by sea air, its crimson roof catching what little light remained. It wasn't grand, nothing like the gleaming sanctuaries in Celadon or Saffron with their marble pillars and banners but it didn't need to be. This was a beacon. Part hospital, part hotel, part fortress. A place that meant survival.
The sliding doors hissed open, and the smell hit me at once: disinfectant sharp enough to sting the nose, mixed with the musk of fur and feathers. Bright tile spread beneath my boots, worn smooth by years of traffic.
The reception desk curved like a half-moon. A nurse in pale scrubs manned it, League insignia stitched at her collar, her expression calm but sharp, trained for moments like this. Behind her, I glimpsed the whitewashed corridors, machines humming, volunteers bustling with clipboards and trays of potions. Trainers filled the benches in travel gear, their partners sprawled like patients a Wingull with its wing in a sling, a weary Electrike curled at its trainer's boots, a Lotad dozing in a shallow basin of water.
I stepped forward, adjusting the faintly stirring bundle in my arms. "Rescue," I said simply.
The nurse nodded, already sliding a padded cradle across the counter. She lifted the Pidgey with careful hands, running practiced fingers along its wing before signaling for an aide.
"You did the right thing bringing it here," she said softly, her voice low so as not to startle it. Then she was gone, disappearing into the white glow of the back halls.
For a second, I caught its eyes again sharp, unblinking, even through the haze of pain. Not weakness. Not fear. Something else. A promise. Then it was carried away.
The walk back through Saltwind was quieter. Lanterns swung in the breeze, their glow stretched thin across the dark water, while the hills loomed black behind the town. By the time I reached the crooked silhouette of home, my legs felt heavy, and Caesar's claws clicked tiredly on the wood of the porch.
The floorboards creaked as my aunt came down the stairs, bare except for a pair of panties. Her hair was still dripping from the shower, dark strands sticking to her shoulders, droplets sliding down the lean muscles of her arms and stomach. She didn't hurry. She never did. There was a kind of wild confidence in the way she carried herself, like the whole house bent around her stride. Scars traced pale lines across her ribs and hip, half-faded reminders of battles I didn't dare ask about.
I didn't feel anything but the usual tired annoyance. She was my aunt, and this was just… her. Wandering around half-naked as if the place belonged only to her.
She crossed the main room without so much as a glance at me, snagged a blouse from the back of the couch, and padded toward her room.
"Do you have to do that every time?" I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"What?" she called back, all smug amusement. "Walk around my own house?" She paused in the doorway, blouse dangling loose in her hand, the light catching the sharp lines of her grin. "Don't tell me you've never seen a woman before." Then, with a wink: "Oh wait. You haven't."
I stared flatly at her. "I'm eleven, you cougar."
That cracked her up. She tossed her head back, laughter spilling loud and unrestrained, scattering droplets across the floorboards. She looked more wolf than woman in that moment untamed, sharp-edged, and impossible to embarrass
Before I could retreat upstairs, a heavy thud shook the floor. Stripe padded into the room, mane still damp, his massive body filling the doorway like a bonfire in fur. Caesar froze, then bristled, planting himself at my heel. The little dragon bared his stubby tusks, letting out a growl that sounded fierce only in his head.
Stripe lowered his head, golden eyes gleaming. Then he exhaled. Just a long, deliberate gust of hot air that ruffled Caesar's scales and sent him stumbling back against my boots.
Caesar puffed up again, chest tight, eyes watering, but he didn't cry. He refused to.
I couldn't help it I snorted. "Yeah, buddy. You really showed him."
My aunt reappeared, buttoning her blouse, chuckling at the scene. "Adorable. He thinks he's ten feet tall already."
"He's not a toy," I said, sharper than I intended. "He's my partner."
Her expression shifted. Not quite serious, but softer. Curious. "Partner, huh? That's what you want, then? To start training him for real?"
I nodded, throat tight. Caesar straightened beside me, as if he understood every word.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. "You need to hear this, brat. Training isn't easy. Pokémon lash out when they're frustrated. Attacks don't always land where they're supposed to and sometimes, you're the one who gets hit. I've seen it. I've felt it." Her fingers brushed the faint scar along her forearm, though she didn't linger on it. "And wild ones? They don't care how old you are. They'll tear into you same as anyone else."
I swallowed but held her gaze. "I know."
She watched me for a long moment, then sighed. "You're stubborn. And that Axew listens to you better than most rookies can handle their starters. If you're serious…" Her mouth curved into a smirk. "…then you can start training him."
Caesar let out a proud, high-pitched cry, bouncing on his little feet.
My aunt laughed. "Just don't make me regret it. I'm not patching you up every time you get your ass kicked."
I tried to keep my expression flat, but inside, something fierce swelled in my chest. Caesar was ready. And so was I.
My aunt's words lingered in my mind as I walked to the back of the house.
Frustration. Accidents. A single slip could end with claws or fire finding me instead of a target.
She wasn't wrong. I'd seen Stripe scorch a fence post when he got riled up. If Caesar ever snapped mid-training… I swallowed. He was small now, but he wouldn't stay that way forever.
Still, there was something I hadn't told her.
I ran my fingers along Caesar's scales as he nestled against me, his breathing steady, the weight of him grounding me. Every time I touched him, that same thing happened the hum, the strange warmth that flowed from me into him. I'd felt it the day we met, and I'd felt it again tonight.
It wasn't just me imagining it. When it happened, he stilled. Calmed. Even now, I could sense it: a quiet thread connecting us.
Maybe… that's my edge. Not power, not luck. Just this.
The thought sat heavy in my chest. If I could ease him when he was upset, maybe I could guide him. Maybe I could keep both of us safe.
The last of the daylight clung stubbornly to the horizon. I glanced toward the yard, then back at Caesar. He blinked up at me, chirping softly, as if he'd been waiting for me to decide.
"…Alright," I whispered, easing to my feet. "Let's try something."
I focused on the hum, on that calming thread, and pushed not hard, just enough to test it. The warmth flowed again, and Caesar perked up, eyes flashing brighter, claws scraping the dirt as though energy had jolted through him. He let out a sharp cry, bounding forward clumsily before tumbling into the grass.
I froze, half shocked, half thrilled. "No way…"
Kneeling, I tried again, steadier this time. Caesar's next swipe cut deeper into the earth, his body moving with an edge that hadn't been there before. His gaze flicked back to me questioning, but eager.
I sat back, heart pounding, a grin breaking across my face before I could stop it.
"So that's how it works. Not just calming… it's more than that."
Caesar bounded back, pressing against my leg, warm and unshaken.
I scratched the top of his head, staring out at the darkening horizon. My aunt's warnings still held weight, maybe now more than ever, but the decision was already made.
"Tomorrow," I murmured, voice low but certain. "Tomorrow we start for real."