The sun was already dipping low by the time Caesar and I left the shoreline. Three hours, maybe more had slipped away in that trance of cycles and breath. The air clung damp and cool, tinged with salt, and our steps carried the hush of the tide behind us.
But something was different now. Subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable the way Caesar's steps felt steadier, the faint sharpness to his eyes, even the rhythm of my own breathing. We had touched something deeper, a current neither of us had known how to name.
And I knew then: this wasn't just a one-off. The more we sank into this cycle training moves, pushing the body, weaving in that strange aura flow the more it would compound. Each layer builds on the last. Move mastery, physical conditioning, the cycle of energy… together, they'd form something no rival could hope to match.
My chest swelled with the thought, almost giddy. If Caesar could grow like this from a single afternoon, what about weeks? Months? Years? Not just him, but every partner who joined us. Their potential wouldn't just grow it would surge, breaking through ceilings no one else could even see. When it came to raw baseline, to true foundation… we'd have no peer.
I glanced down at him, his tusks catching the dying light. He didn't know all the words for it yet, but in his eyes bright, intent, almost gleaming I could see he felt it too.
The path home wound through narrow streets lined with sagging fences and weather-worn lantern posts. Pidgey trilled from the eaves; a Meowth skulked across a low wall, pausing to eye us warily before vanishing into the alleys. Caesar padded at my side, tail swaying, his small but determined steps echoing my own. Early evening cast the town in hues of copper and indigo, the sky bruising toward night.
By the time we reached the house, the windows were dark and the gate creaked like always. Auntie wasn't home yet not unusual. She worked late more often than not, and I'd long since stopped worrying.
I slipped inside, the faint smell of pine detergent greeting me. Caesar hopped up the porch step with a grunt. "Shower first," I muttered, giving him a look. His head tilted as if he understood.
The water was quick, lukewarm. I let it sluice the grit of sand and sweat away, watching the droplets swirl down the drain. Funny. In my last life, hot showers had been something I took for granted. Here, even the simplest comfort still felt like luxury.
Upstairs, my room waited modest but mine. Bed pressed against the wall, a desk cluttered with notebooks and half-scribbled plans, and the small computer Auntie had saved up to get me. The curtains were thin enough that the sunset spilled through, laying warm stripes across the floorboards. I sat at the desk, Caesar curling on the rug, tusks gleaming faintly in the dying light.
A flick of the switch, and the screen hummed awake. Time to catch up.
The League news board scrolled endlessly tournament brackets, updates from local gyms, wild rumors that blurred fact and fiction. Pryce was still Champion, the same frozen wall he'd been for years. And beneath it all, there was always him, Lance of Blackthorn. The youngest Elite, already a legend in his own right, his Dragonite whispered about like a living emperor on the battlefield. Trainers called it unmatched, the peak of draconic power.
My gaze slid to Caesar, resting near my chair, tusks gleaming in the monitor's glow. A grin tugged at me. Emperor? No. One day, Caesar would stand higher. The thought wasn't arrogance, but certainty. With the cycles, with training, with the path we'd carved tonight… Caesar wouldn't just rival legends. He'd surpass them.
Social media was the usual clutter: highlights of gym battles, grainy clips of wild encounters, the occasional viral post of a lucky kid spotting a shiny. I searched for "Pokedex registration," even though I already knew. Just as expected, exclusivity stamped across every page. The Pokédex wasn't something you applied for; it was something bestowed, hand-delivered by Oak himself or one of the other few Professors. And the royal starters? Ha. The stuff of fairy tales. Kids like me weren't even blips on that radar.
But in the quiet spaces of my mind, there were still fragments. Faded, half-forgotten flashes from before memories that weren't supposed to belong to me. Vague outlines of evolution lines, whispers of move sets, odd details about growth that felt too sharp to be imagination. I couldn't summon it all, not clearly, but sometimes one detail would surface and refuse to let go. Like knowing that Caesar, this little Axew gnawing happily on dried meat, was destined for a shape so much greater an apex predator with blades for tusks. Even in the Indigo League's records, nothing like him existed.
Maybe those scraps of memory could be my edge. They weren't enough to make me a prodigy overnight, but if I sharpened them, pieced them together with the life I had now, maybe I could carve a path.
I shut the tab before the sting could sink too deep. No sense in wasting hope on doors that weren't mine to open. Better to carve my own path.
Time bled easily after that. A few notes, some half-hearted browsing. The house grew quiet, Caesar dozing with little puffs of breath. Hunger pulled me downstairs.
Dinner was simple: leftovers from the fridge rice and stir-fried greens for me, a bowl of dried meat and berries for Caesar. He'd long since stopped eating on the floor like some pet; instead, he claimed his own spot at the table across from me, tusks jutting as he tore through each bite with slow, content grunts.
The house was quiet in that particular way of lived-in but not bustling, shadows pooled in the corners where the small bulb above the table was the only light I'd bothered turning on. The kitchen bled into the living room without much of a divider, just a counter and a sagging couch a few steps away. The walls still bore old, faded paint, and the faint hum of the fridge filled the gaps between our chewing.
It wasn't fancy, but it was home. The kind of place where sound carried, where nothing stayed hidden for long.
It was late when the click of the front door broke the quiet.
The click of the front door broke the quiet.
"I'm home!" came Auntie's voice, warm, familiar. Relief pricke,d but it was quickly chased by something else.
Because she wasn't alone.
A man followed her in, tall and broad-shouldered, his arm already around her waist. She kissed him before they'd even shut the door. Clothes tugged, laughter low and breathless.
A low, startled rumble shook from Caesar's throat. The man froze mid-motion, eyes cutting wide to the dragon at my side the scales, the tusks, the teeth.
For a heartbeat, the whole house held its breath.
Auntie pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head with a mischievous smile. "Don't mind him," she whispered, tugging him toward the hallway.
The door to her room shut with a decisive click.
A low, startled rumble shook from Caesar's throat. The man froze mid-motion, eyes cutting wide to the dragon at my side the scales, the tusks, the teeth.
For a heartbeat, the whole house held its breath.
The door to her room shut with a decisive click.
I sat there for a long beat. Across the table, Caesar blinked at me, dried meat still dangling from his tusks. Our gazes met.
"…Well," I muttered, deadpan.
Caesar's tail gave a slow, confused swish.
A laugh broke out of me, soft, disbelieving. "Guess it's been a while since that happened."
He snorted, almost like a chuckle. The absurdity of it settled between us, warm and strangely companionable. With a shrug, I gathered my plate, motioning for him to follow.
"Come on. Upstairs."
The night pressed close against the windows as we climbed the steps, two shadows slipping back into our own world.