The morning came quietly, soft gold spilling through the shutters and painting long stripes across the floorboards. The room was still cool with the last traces of night air, and for a moment I lingered in that hazy space between sleep and waking. Then came the sound claws skittering against wood, a sharp little scrabble that snapped me fully awake.
Caesar was already up, wide-eyed and alert, his snout nudging insistently at the bundle of food I'd wrapped up the night before.
"Hungry already, huh?" My voice came out rough, still heavy with sleep, but he answered anyway a low, eager sound that wavered between a growl and a trill. His tail gave a twitch, betraying his excitement.
I pushed myself upright, stretching until my shoulders popped. The faint smell of salt drifted in through the shutters, mingling with the dry tang of the wooden beams overhead. Everything felt still, quiet except for him. Caesar practically vibrated with pent-up energy, as if every new day was a chance he couldn't wait to sink his claws into.
Breakfast was simple. Rice balls wrapped in seaweed for me, strips of dried meat for him. He snatched his portion the moment I set it down, tearing through with sharp little bites, tail swishing against the floor like it had a mind of its own. Watching him eat was oddly grounding there was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just raw need and satisfaction.
As I ate more slowly, my eyes drifted to the journal tucked in my pack. The corners of its pages were already fraying from use, filled with scribbles from the night before notes on training methods, half-remembered tales from travelers, and observations I'd scrawled while watching Caesar. Nothing neat or complete, but enough to serve as a map for the road ahead.
No scolding aunt today. No cautious warnings. Just me, Caesar, and the day ahead.
By the time we finished, the sun was climbing, the air sharp with salt. I slung my pack over my shoulder food, water, and that journal buried inside and stepped outside, Caesar trotting at my heels. The path toward the coast was narrow, half-swallowed by ferns and low branches, but alive with sound the crash of waves in the distance, the faint rustle of wild Pokémon slipping out of sight.
Caesar kept darting ahead, then doubling back, nose twitching, head swinging like every new scent was the most important discovery in the world. I laughed, shaking my head. "Slow down, explorer. We've got all day."
Still, I let him set the pace. Every few steps, I caught myself cataloging the terrain loose stones, sturdy branches, open stretches of sand between the trees. All of it potential training grounds, waiting to be tested.
By the time the trees thinned and the coastline opened wide, my chest buzzed with nerves and excitement. The sea glittered under the sun, bright and endless.
"This is it," I said, more to myself than to Caesar. "Day one."
He growled softly, like he understood.
His tail flicked. Mine wasn't the only heart racing now.
The tide had crept back up the shore by the time we sat down to rest, the journal balanced across my knee. Caesar plopped down beside me, still panting, sand dusting his scales.
I set my pack down in the grass, opening up the journal. "Alright," I said, crouching to meet his eyes, "no fancy new tricks yet. We'll start with what you've got, sharpen it, strengthen it."
"Every move you know, Slash, Bite, Dragon Breath, they're not random. They pull from inside you. Different kinds of energy. If we can understand that, we make them stronger."
Caesar tilted his head, tusks catching the light.
"Think of it like this," I said, holding up three fingers. "Slash? That's raw force, your body's natural power. Bite? That one channels something darker, like focusing your instincts, your hunger, into strength. And Dragon Breath?" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "That's deeper. Old energy. Harder to hold onto, but it's there, burning in you."
Caesar gave a short growl, not angry, more like a question.
"Yeah," I said with a smile. "It's confusing. But we'll work on it step by step."
I pushed myself up and gestured to the battered log still standing a little ways off. "Let's test it again, one at a time."
Caesar followed, eyes narrowing.
"First: Slash. No holding back. Continuous. Don't just swing once keep it flowing."
Caesar raised his claw, then struck. The wood splintered under the first swipe, but he kept going, claws flashing in steady rhythm until chips scattered across the sand. By the fifth strike, his motions slowed, his breaths harsh, but the look in his eyes stayed sharp.
"Good," I said, jotting down. Endurance is low, but potential for chaining attacks.
"Next Bite. But this time…" I crouched to meet his gaze. "Don't just use your teeth. Focus. Put your energy into it. Make it mean more than just a crunch."
Caesar growled low in his throat, eyes narrowing. He lunged at a second log, jaws snapping down. The crack was louder this time, deeper, as if something extra ran through the strike. The wood didn't just split it splintered in a burst, almost like it recoiled from him.
My pen flew across the page. Dark energy faintly detected. Instinct channeling is successful.
"Yeah," I muttered, grinning. "That's it. You felt that, right?"
Caesar huffed, standing taller.
"Now the hard one. Dragon Breath."
At the word alone, Caesar stiffened. He planted his feet, teeth bared, chest swelling. This time, I raised a hand.
"Wait. Don't try to make it big. Keep it steady. Small and steady. Like… holding a candle flame instead of a bonfire."
He blinked at me, then growled softly in understanding.
The air shimmered faintly again. Caesar opened his jaws and released a thin stream of energy, weak, shaky, but longer-lasting than before. It sputtered halfway, but he forced it, pushing until the last wisps of smoke faded out.
I let out a low whistle. "Better. Much better."
Caesar staggered slightly, panting, but there was pride in the way he lifted his chin.
I closed the journal with a snap. "Alright. That's our foundation. Three moves, three energies. Slash raw power. Bite instinct sharpened into dark strength. Dragon Breath the dragon inside you."
I crouched down, meeting his eyes again. "We'll build on these. Condition your body, strengthen your focus, stretch your limits. Day by day, until those moves are sharp enough to carry us through anything."
Caesar gave a low, determined roar, short but fierce, and for the first time, I felt like we'd taken a real step forward, not just testing, but training.
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The sea breeze had picked up by midday, carrying the salt tang across the sand. Caesar slumped onto his haunches, still panting from the last Dragon Breath attempt. His chest rose and fell in heavy gulps, but his eyes burned with the same stubborn fire.
"Alright," I said, tucking the journal back into my pack. "That's enough with moves for now. If you want to use them right, your body has to keep up. Power's useless without stamina."
Caesar tilted his head, tusks glinting, as if to say and what about you?
I chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I'll do some too."
I gestured to the strip of sand where the tide had receded. "We'll start simple. Run that stretch, back and forth. No bursts steady pace."
Caesar grunted but pushed himself up, claws digging into the sand. He started running, heavy steps kicking up little plumes behind him. His first lap was awkward — claws catching, tail dragging but by the third, he had found a rhythm, body flowing with each stride.
While he ran, I dropped down myself push-ups, sit-ups, nothing fancy. My arms shook embarrassingly fast, but I forced myself through a set. "See?" I muttered between breaths. "Not just you suffering."
By the time Caesar lumbered back, chest heaving, sweat clung to my own forehead. We collapsed almost in unison, me on my back in the sand, him flopping belly-first with a huff. For a moment, we just lay there, two idiots under the sun.
"Lunch?" I finally asked.
His ears perked, head lifting immediately. Figures.
I dug into the pack, pulling out a wrapped bento for myself and a pouch of prepared feed I'd picked up from the market. Pouring it into a tin dish, I slid it over. "Here. Not as good as wild prey, I know, but it'll keep you strong."
Caesar sniffed it once, then dug in, tusks clinking softly against the dish. I ate more slowly, watching him, the quiet between us filled only by the crash of waves and the occasional crunch of food.
For the first time all morning, it wasn't about training or discipline. Just… sharing a meal, side by side.
When I finished, I leaned back, staring up at the endless sky. "We'll keep building this. Bit by bit. Moves, strength, focus. You'll grow stronger and I'll keep up with you."
Caesar let out a short, approving grunt, licking the last of his meal away before curling up beside me.
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The last of the meal was gone, only the crash of waves filling the silence. Caesar rested, heavy breaths slow and even, eyes half-lidded.
I drew in a breath. "There's something I need to tell you," I said quietly. "About me."
His gaze lifted, steady, unblinking.
"You've probably felt it," I went on. "I don't understand it all yet. But I… have this power. And if you'll trust me"
Caesar's eyes narrowed in thought, then slowly he gave a small nod.
I let the words hang in the salt air. "I want to use it on you."
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, slowly, I shifted to sit cross-legged across from him. He leaned forward, massive frame folding down, until our eyes were level. My hand rose, hesitated, then pressed gently to the crown of his head.
The world seemed to narrow. The warmth started a faint ripple beneath the skin, then surged, circling between us in unseen arcs. Energy pulsed like a heartbeat, each cycle carrying something raw, untamed, back and forth. My chest tightened; I didn't know what I was doing, only that I wanted it to work.
Better. The word hammered in my skull. Stronger. Faster. Sharper. Every part of him honed.
The pulse grew steadier, syncing with my intent. Slowly, inexorably, Caesar's body responded, shoulders tensing, eyes flickering with sudden light, instincts sharpening like a blade pulled from its sheath. It wasn't a transformation, not yet but the seed was there, fed by each cycle of shared will.
When at last I let the flow fade, I opened my eyes. Caesar's were already on me. Thoughtful. Wide. Awed. He understood. Maybe not in words, but in something deeper.
I swallowed, my own voice hushed but firm.
"This… this is how we rise. Not just moves, not just muscle. We'll build you from the core out, layer by layer, until nothing can match us. Every battle, every hardship… this bond will carry us higher."
I clenched my fist, feeling the echo of that cycle still thrumming inside me.
"We'll reach the pinnacle, Caesar. You and me to the very top."
His tusks gleamed as he gave a low, resonant growl, not of protest but of promise.
And under the endless sky, I believed it too.