Step one to Greatness

o_o_o_o_o_

As Malachi left Professor Rutherford's class, a mix of excitement and nervous energy churned within him. His journey was beginning in earnest, and the little Slakoth draped over his shoulder felt like a tangible sign of that change. He glanced at the Pokémon, its soft fur brushing against his neck, and whispered, "You sure about coming home with me, little guy? It's like you're the official start of this whole adventure."

The Slakoth gave a soft grunt, its half-lidded eyes briefly meeting Malachi's. He smiled, taking a steadying breath as he walked down the corridor towards the grand staircase. The polished marble steps gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, and the ornate banisters cast intricate shadows along the walls.

As he descended the winding staircase, his thoughts shifted to what lay ahead—packing, leaving home, and starting a new chapter. The weight of it pressed down on him, but the presence of the Slakoth provided an unexpected comfort. That comfort, however, was interrupted by a familiar voice, laced with condescension, echoing up the stairwell.

"Well, well, if it isn't Malachi and his... unique companion," Damian's voice carried up, each word dripping with mockery. He sauntered up the stairs, his posture relaxed and smug. His grey eyes gleamed with a cruel amusement as he took in Malachi and the Slakoth. "That Slakoth looks as slow and odd as its trainer."

Malachi's jaw clenched, but he kept his gaze forward, refusing to rise to the bait. His grip on the banister tightened, though his steps remained measured. Damian smirked, stepping closer, his tone faux-innocent yet biting.

"Seriously, what's the deal with that thing?" Damian chuckled, his eyes narrowing as he examined the Slakoth. "It looks... defective. Like it's just as useless as—"

Before Damian could finish, the Slakoth moved. In a blur of motion, the usually languid Pokémon leapt from Malachi's shoulder, landing nimbly on the marble floor. Its eyes, no longer soft and sleepy, flashed with a fierce intensity. A low growl rumbled from its throat as it bared its small fangs, its claws flexing as it took a defensive stance in front of Malachi.

Damian's sneer faltered. His confident stride hesitated as he instinctively took a step back, the sudden aggression from the Slakoth catching him off guard. For a moment, unease flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a forced laugh.

"Looks like your pet's got some fight," Damian said, attempting to sound unaffected. "Too bad it won't make any difference. Just like you, it's all bark and no bite."

With a final sneer, Damian turned, his pace quickening as he continued up the stairs. Malachi exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he knelt down and gently scooped the Slakoth back onto his shoulder. The Pokémon nestled close, its body unusually warm against Malachi's neck.

"Thanks for that, buddy," Malachi murmured, rubbing the Slakoth's side. "You've got more guts than most people I know."

As he continued down the stairs, he noticed the heat radiating from Slakoth's body—a sudden warmth that was nearly uncomfortable, a stark contrast to its usual cool demeanor. The heat pulsed gently, a sign of the adrenaline still coursing through the Pokémon after its confrontation. By the time they reached the last step, the heat had gradually faded, replaced by the familiar, comforting warmth of Slakoth's presence.

The sun hung high in the sky as I stepped out of the Academy, the grand doors closing behind me with a soft, echoing thud. It felt surreal, leaving this place not as a student but as someone about to embark on something much larger. The polished marble steps leading down from the entrance gleamed in the sunlight, the intricate carvings along the railings catching the light and casting delicate patterns on the ground.

The little Slakoth perched on my shoulder shifted uneasily. His dark red eyes darted around the bustling courtyard, his gaze sweeping over the neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant flower beds. The soft gurgle of the Blastoise fountains filled the air, but the unfamiliar sounds of chatter and laughter seemed to unsettle him. He pressed himself closer to my neck, his claws lightly gripping my shoulder.

I glanced at him, a smile tugging at my lips. "It's a lot to take in, huh?" I murmured. "I get it. Big world out here."

Slakoth gave a low grunt, his fur bristling slightly as a group of students passed by, their voices loud and excited. He flinched when someone burst out laughing nearby, his claws tightening instinctively. I could feel the subtle heat radiating from him, a steady warmth that made me wonder if it was just his nerves or something more.

"It's okay," I reassured him, reaching up to gently scratch behind one of his ears. "You'll get used to it. New places, new faces—it's just part of the adventure."

We started down the steps, his grip still firm but less tense. The courtyard stretched out before us, its manicured pathways leading through bursts of color from the flower beds. The two massive Blastoise fountains towered above everything, their jets of water arcing high into the air before cascading down in shimmering waves. Slakoth's gaze was drawn to them, his head tilting as if trying to make sense of the imposing figures.

"Pretty cool, right?" I said, following his gaze. "They're just statues, though. You could probably take on one of the real ones someday."

He huffed softly, a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, though his eyes lingered on the fountains as we moved closer to the main path. The chirp of a Pidgey overhead made him flinch again, and he shifted, his claws briefly brushing against my neck.

"You're jumpy," I teased lightly, though my tone was kind. "But I get it. This is all new. For me too."

The gates of the Academy loomed ahead, marking the transition from the structured, predictable life I'd known to the uncertainty of what lay ahead. My chest tightened as I thought about home, about packing up and saying goodbye. A part of me wasn't ready, but there was no turning back now.

Slakoth shifted again, this time leaning into me slightly. His dark red fur caught the sunlight, the unusual coloring glinting like embers. For a moment, his tension eased, and he let out a low, contented sound.

"We've got this," I said quietly, more to myself than to him. "It's just you and me now, huh?"

As if understanding, Slakoth nuzzled against my cheek, his warmth a reassuring presence. I couldn't help but smile. His trust felt like a small victory, a reminder that even with all the uncertainty ahead, I wasn't alone.

With one last glance at the Academy behind me, I stepped through the gates, the little Slakoth perched on my shoulder.

O_O_O_O

I clutched my faded bus pass, stepping up into the near-empty vehicle with Slakoth perched around my shoulders. Despite the nerves still tingling from my encounter with Damian, I offered the bus driver—a kind-faced older man I recognized from countless rides home—a friendly nod. Slakoth sniffed at the air, his dark-red eyes flickering with curiosity at the unfamiliar interior.

We moved halfway down the aisle, finding a seat by a window. A few familiar faces from the Academy's staff were scattered among the rows, returning to our shared neighborhood. Slakoth grew restless almost immediately, his gaze darting to the shiny rails overhead. Without warning, he hopped from my shoulder onto a nearby pole, clinging with surprising strength.

"Whoa, hey," I said, laughing under my breath. I dug my phone out and started recording, a grin tugging at my lips. Slakoth swung hand over hand across the metal bars, his fur shining under the fluorescent lights. At first, the few passengers nearby watched with mild amusement—some even smiled at his playful antics.

Then he swung a bit too close to an older man in a beige cap. Slakoth tapped the brim of the hat as if to investigate, causing it to tilt sideways on the man's head.

"Hey! Get that thing off me!" the man snapped, yanking his cap back into place. A jolt of fear rippled across Slakoth's features. A couple of the other passengers recoiled in alarm; one woman cried out something about Pokémon needing to be contained.

"Dude, calm down," I shot back, though a wave of guilt tightened my chest. Slakoth, startled by the sudden outbursts, scrambled along the overhead rails and leapt back onto me, clinging to my neck in a trembling mass of red-tinted fur. He pressed himself flush against me, radiating a body heat that was equal parts comforting and searing.

"Relax," I said more firmly to the other passengers, my voice louder than I intended. "He's harmless—just curious. You're freaking him out because you don't understand."

The old man grumbled, straightening his cap, while the woman who'd shouted pushed her way to the front of the bus. A few muttered curses reached my ears, but no one advanced further, and the tension in the aisle ebbed into cautious stares.

I sank back into my seat, gently rubbing Slakoth's side. His little claws pricked my shoulder, but I welcomed the contact. "Sorry, buddy," I murmured. "They just don't get you. Don't take it to heart, okay?"

Slakoth's trembling eased. He nuzzled under my chin, letting out a soft, plaintive grunt. I could still feel that intense warmth, a reminder of the strange fire that coursed through him.

Before long, the bus lurched to a stop outside our neighborhood. I stood, carefully shifting Slakoth so he wouldn't lose his footing, and made my way to the front. The driver threw me a sympathetic look, but I could tell he was relieved the ruckus had died down.

"See you around, kid," he said, giving a small wave as I stepped off onto the curb.

"Thanks for the ride," I replied, forcing a smile. Slakoth gripped my arm, peering cautiously at the unfamiliar street.

I headed down the sidewalk toward home, the sun dipping ever lower in the sky. Despite the minor clash on the bus, my chest felt lighter.

O_O_O_O

I stepped through the front door into a hush that blanketed the small living room. The clamor of the bus ride lingered as a distant echo, replaced here by an almost sacred stillness. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows, painting long, golden bars across the worn carpet. A quiet lullaby of a creaking fan drifted in the air, ruffling a stray page of yesterday's newspaper on the coffee table.

Slakoth perched on my shoulders like a living scarf, his dark-red fur radiating warmth against my neck. Each breath he took seemed to vibrate with pent-up curiosity and a steady vigilance, as though he, too, sensed the fragile calm. My heartbeat drummed in my ears. I glanced around for Dad, only to find his usual spot empty—he'd be at work well into the evening… as usual.

0_0_0_0

I lay on the couch, wrestling with a familiar monster behind my eyes: another migraine. Pain pulsed in my temples, a dull thunder, but I forced it aside when the door creaked open. My boy stood in the entryway, bathed in that afternoon glow, looking every bit the traveler returned from foreign shores. His shoulders were set with newfound conviction, yet uncertainty still danced in his gaze.

But it wasn't just Malachi. Clinging to him was a small creature of striking color: its fur tinged a deep, ember red. My breath caught—so unusual, so alive with a quiet flame in its eyes.

"Oh my goodness," I whispered, pressing myself upright despite the ache. "What a darling little thing."

Malachi gently guided the creature—Slakoth, I realized—onto the couch beside me. Cautiously, I reached out, allowing him to sniff my fingertips before I stroked the velvety fur atop his head. A contented rumble slipped from his throat.

"Aren't you the sweetest?" I cooed, feeling warmth surge not just from the Pokémon's body heat, but from the tender spark in his gaze. "Are you going to be a fearsome Slaking one day? Keep my Malachi safe out there?"

The words tumbled out softly, half-playful, half-prayerful. I caught the corners of Malachi's smile, a fleeting moment of gentle affection in those brown eyes of his.

He laughed then—an awkward, youthful sound that betrayed both amusement and responsibility. "He's not mine, Ma. Professor Rutherford wants me to deliver him to Professor Oak in Pallet. He's just tagging along for now."

I glanced down at the little creature, so pliant and calm in my arms. "Then why isn't he in a Poké Ball, baby?"

Malachi tucked his hands in his pockets, shoulders rising in a slight shrug. "He hates it. Goes crazy if he's inside for too long—restless, I guess. He's... different."

I studied the Slakoth's unusual coloring, the way his red fur glowed with latent fire in the shafts of sunlight. "Different," I echoed, stroking him again. "You two are alike in that way, you know. People see a Slakoth and expect a lazy, listless creature. People see you and expect... well, something ordinary. But neither of you fits the mold."

He met my gaze, confusion flickering across his features. "Ma, I—"

I pressed a cool palm to my aching forehead. "Don't try to deny it, dear. You're stubborn, as all Ardan men are. Your father was the same, and look how he clawed his way back from disaster. I'm not afraid of the dangers you'll face. What gnaws at me is this idea of you chasing a dream so big it devours you whole."

My words echoed in the stillness, broken only by the rattle of that old fan. Slakoth shifted in my arms, his eyes fluttering shut as he nestled closer. I could practically feel his heartbeat thrumming against my skin.

For a moment, Malachi said nothing. Then he inhaled, a deep, resolute breath. When he spoke, the quiet confidence in his tone made me think of a distant thundercloud rolling in—a promise of rain, of change.

"I guess I won't fail then."

A wry chuckle escaped me, though I could feel fatigue pulling at my limbs. "Arrogant. Just like your father," I murmured, but I couldn't entirely mask the pride in my voice. "Well, your lunch is in the fridge. Heat it up before it spoils."

My vision blurred as the pounding in my head intensified, and I sank back onto the cushions. Slakoth cozied himself against me, sharing that curious warmth. In the last moment before exhaustion swept me under, I glimpsed Malachi standing there, half-smiling and half-grown, a silhouette in the golden glow of afternoon.

0_0_0_0

I zipped my duffel shut, double-checking that I hadn't forgotten anything. Clothes, notes, half-Poké Ball—it all looked in order, a tangible reminder that tomorrow, I'd be on a journey that felt bigger than anything I'd done so far. Slakoth dozed on my bed, sprawled out like the day's excitement had worn him thin. But I couldn't stop myself; adrenaline thrummed in my veins.

"Hey," I said gently, nudging his flank. "Wake up, buddy."

Slakoth blinked, stretching his stubby arms. His eyes, still tinged with that scarlet glow, flickered with confusion as he lifted his head.

"Want to go for a run?" I asked, a little grin tugging at my lips. I wasn't sure how a Slakoth—especially one with weird fire-based powers—would handle a workout, but it didn't hurt to invite him along.

A soft grunt escaped him. He hopped upright, watching curiously as I changed clothes. I tugged on a tight compression shirt, slipped into matching pants, and laced up my black running shoes. The small bedroom lamp cast slender shadows on the wall, turning this ordinary act into a silhouette dance. Outside, the sun had dipped below the rooftops, leaving the sky bruised with purple and gold.

I stepped into the narrow hallway and knelt on the worn carpet, going through dynamic warm-ups: swinging my arms in circles, lunging with measured control, loosening my shoulders and back. Slakoth lumbered over, craning his neck and tilting his head as if trying to decipher my odd rituals.

When I dropped to the floor for my usual set of pushups, he mimicked me in a hilariously endearing way—he pressed his tiny limbs down, fur bristling in concentration, but only managed a slow up-and-down that was barely half the motion. Still, he seemed proud of himself. After I'd finished my hundred pushups, I moved onto a hundred sit-ups and a hundred bicycle crunches, each repetition stoking the burn in my muscles. Slakoth continued copying me, a determined little spark in his eyes, though his version of each exercise was more playful than effective.

Wiping a bead of sweat from my brow, I got to my feet and took a few steadying breaths. Slakoth mirrored me again, stretching upward like he was some tiny, fuzzy mirror. The sight pulled a laugh from my chest.

"All right," I murmured. "Time for the real deal."

We stepped out into the night, the air faintly chilled and smelling of distant car exhaust and the lingering warmth of the day. A single street lamp flickered overhead. I glanced at my watch, setting it for a three-mile run at about a fourteen-minute mile pace—nothing too extreme, just enough to keep me sharp.

We started down the sidewalk, passing by the familiar houses of my neighborhood. Patches of light glowed behind curtains, silhouettes of families finishing dinners or watching evening TV. This had been my world for so long: cracked sidewalks, chain-link fences, the occasional rustle of a stray Meowth. Now, each step felt like an echo of what I'd soon leave behind.

A mile in, my lungs worked steadily, breath puffing in slow bursts. Slakoth bounded beside me, looking far from tired. His fur almost shimmered under the streetlights, and then I noticed something: tiny sparks dancing over his scarlet hair, flaring in brief crackles. He didn't seem bothered—he glanced at me and smiled, as if to say, What's wrong, can't keep up?

"Show-off," I teased between breaths, though awe fluttered in my chest. The sight reminded me of a flickering ember in the night, a sliver of the extraordinary swirling just beneath the surface.

We continued on, the neighborhood streets shifting from the modest row houses where kids played on stoops to a few rougher blocks—broken street lamps, graffiti scrawled on boarded-up windows, the kind of place that made me tighten my stride. Slakoth stuck close, his earlier sparks subsiding into a dull glow behind his eyes.

Halfway through our route, my pulse quickened for a different reason: a sense of being watched. My feet pounded the pavement in a steady rhythm, but there was a prickle at the base of my spine. I checked over my shoulder. Nothing. Ahead of me, a dimly lit building stood crooked at the corner, a single flickering bulb illuminating its doorway.

I slowed to a jog, deciding to double back toward home. As I turned a corner, something moved near the building up ahead, the faint silhouette of a tall figure drifting out of the shadows. The shape was unnaturally still, as if waiting, anticipating.

"Hey," I whispered to Slakoth. "Jump on my back." My heart thudded against my ribcage. Without a word, Slakoth obeyed, scrambling up and clinging tight. His warmth spread across my shoulders like a living cloak.

I crept forward, my breath coming in hushed draws, the night wind brushing my cheeks. Then the figure took one step, entering the glow of the streetlight. I froze, feeling my pulse hammer at my temples. The figure's outline sharpened—a lean frame, shoulders set in a way that felt eerily familiar. A voice broke the tense silence, calling my name.

"…Malachi?"

I recognized the timbre at once, though it felt like hearing a song from a dream I couldn't quite place. My stomach churned with apprehension. Slakoth hissed softly, claws tightening on my compression shirt.

O_O_O_O

The figure slipped out of the shade, stepping beneath the flickering light of the lone streetlamp. I blinked, my breath catching for a moment, then exhaled in a burst of relief—and confusion.

"Nate?" I said, half-question, half-greeting. He was the last person I expected to see out here. We'd run the same streets from elementary through middle school, but life had pulled us onto different tracks.

He offered a nod, crossing his arms. The hood of his faded sweatshirt shadowed his face, though I could see the lines of tension etched into his posture. "Yeah, it's me," he said, voice low, touched by the heavy accent of the neighborhood we grew up in. "Been a while, Mal."

I swallowed the knot in my throat and took a tentative step closer, Slakoth clinging tight to my back. "Man, it's been forever. How've you been?"

Nate scoffed, half a laugh, half a bitter cough. "Dropped out, y'know? Kept gettin' into fights. Now I do… street work." He gave a shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For a heartbeat, shame twisted my stomach. Nate had been a friend once, the kind of kid who'd talk big dreams between half-eaten lunches, both of us ignoring the cracked sidewalks of our reality. And here I was, on my way to graduate from the Academy.

"Uh… that's, um, that's wild," I managed, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I—I'm actually finishing at the Trainer Academy. I start my journey tomorrow."

He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing slightly. "Cool, cool. Figured a smart guy like you was gettin' out." The words dripped with something between envy and resignation.

A silence settled in before I cleared my throat. "You ever think about becoming a trainer yourself? I mean—why not?"

Nate's jaw flexed, a trace of anger in his gaze. "Hard to be a trainer when you can't follow no rules," he muttered, his voice dropping. "Got a record. They don't like givin' us punks nothin' easy."

I dared a glance at the bulge of Poké Balls clipped onto his belt. "You do have Poké Balls, though."

His expression tightened, the corners of his lips pinching down. "For protection," he said flatly, before letting out a low whistle. Almost instantly, a Murkrow swooped out of the darkness, flapping onto his shoulder. Its beady eyes glistened in the dim lamplight.

I studied the bird Pokémon, a prickle of unease crawling up my spine. "Didn't realize you could even use a Poké Ball without a Trainer ID."

Nate's stare sharpened. "You ask a lotta questions," he said, voice edged with warning. I opened my mouth, feeling tension coil in the air. Slakoth stirred on my back, letting out a faint, wary hiss.

Reflexively, I tried to ease the mood with a laugh. "Bet I could beat that Murkrow once I get my official starter," I joked, forcing a half-grin.

Nate flicked his gaze to Slakoth. "What about that thing on your back? Isn't that your mon?"

I felt the little Pokémon's body heat intensify, and in that moment, I realized how close Nate was watching, almost… coveting. "He's not mine," I said slowly, words deliberate. "Professor Rutherford told me to deliver him to Professor Oak. He's expecting him tomorrow morning."

Nate's gaze lingered on Slakoth, envy flashing in his eyes like a hungry flame. "Yeah, aight," he mumbled. The syllables landed heavily, and for a second, the street was wrapped in a suffocating silence.

I cleared my throat, shifting my weight. "I, uh… I still have a run to finish. Gotta head back."

He gave a curt nod, Murkrow ruffling its feathers. "Do your thing, Mal."

I forced a polite smile, then turned and jogged off, shoulders tense. Even as I put distance between us, I couldn't shake the prickling sense of eyes on my back—like Nate might be lingering, or something else entirely. A nervous shiver laced through my spine, and I upped my pace. Slakoth hopped off my shoulders and scampered alongside, keeping stride easily with that odd spark glinting in his fur.

Within minutes, I recognized my block. Relief washed over me like cool water on a scorching day. I slowed to a walk, heart pounding, reeling from all the tension I'd gathered in such a short time. Slakoth looked up, his inquisitive eyes catching mine. I gave him a quick pat of reassurance.

When we reached the house, the living room light was on. I stepped inside, breath ragged, and spotted my father in his usual chair. He balanced a glass of beer in one hand, the other gripping the armrest. The television droned on, something about local news or maybe a sports recap. He barely looked at me—just a flick of the eyes toward Slakoth and a grunt that could have meant hello or annoyance or both.

Awkwardness settled in the space like a thick fog. The tension from my run, from Nate's sudden appearance, coiled in my gut. My father returned his attention to the screen, ignoring the brief meeting of our gazes.

I didn't bother explaining. With a short nod, I slipped down the hallway to my bedroom. Slakoth padded behind, no longer brimming with sparks but still watchful, as though sensing the heaviness in the air.

I closed my door and exhaled, leaning against it for a moment. The faint hum of the hallway light bled through the crack, but otherwise, it was hushed. I peeled off my workout clothes, the sweat chilling my skin, and headed straight for a quick shower. The water pounded at my tense muscles, easing some of the weight in my chest.

When I emerged, the room felt cooler, the night edging into true darkness. Slakoth waited by my bed, rubbing his eyes with one stubby arm. I smiled faintly, scooping him onto the sheets beside me.

I tried to sleep, but my mind refused to settle: thoughts of tomorrow's journey, the final exam results, the possibility of meeting my official starter—swirled in a chaotic storm. And behind those thoughts, the unsettling memory of Nate's hooded stare, the question of how he used Poké Balls without an ID, and the weird tension with Dad's wordless greeting, all tangled together.

Slakoth nestled closer, his warmth radiating through the blanket. My heart rate slowly settled, lulled by the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Eventually, the hush of night coaxed my eyes shut. The last coherent thought I had was a silent promise to both Slakoth and myself:

I won't fail you. Or me.

And then, at last, I let sleep claim me.

O_O_O_O

The alarm on my phone blared to life at exactly 6:00 a.m., wrenching me from the threads of a restless sleep. My eyes shot open, heart pounding like I'd just run a race. Slakoth, curled beside me, stirred faintly but didn't wake. With a dry swallow, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and refreshed my notifications.

A new email. Subject line in bold red:

Final Exam Placement: URGENT — from the Head Principal.

My gut lurched, and my thumb hovered over the screen in terror. Instead of opening it, I slammed the power button. A dull panic roared in my ears. I almost chucked my phone across the room—why did it feel so heavy?

"I can't deal with this right now," I muttered to myself, tossing the phone onto the bed. I stumbled to my feet, adrenaline making my legs shaky. My eyes darted toward Slakoth, still snoring softly, oblivious to my crisis.

I sprinted to the small bathroom, flicking on the overhead light that buzzed faintly. The mirror reflected my own wide-eyed face back at me. Calm down, I commanded silently, but my heart refused. I splashed cold water onto my cheeks, rubbed my face until it prickled with sensation, then brushed my teeth in frantic strokes.

The bedroom lamp illuminated Slakoth stirring as I re-entered, rummaging for clothes. With a trembling hand, I yanked on a pair of pants—backwards—and tried to shove both my arms through the head hole of a collared T-shirt. Warm laughter—a strange, guttural little growl—floated to my ears. I glanced over to see Slakoth perched on the edge of my bed, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Somehow, that small sound of mirth punctured the frenzy in my chest. I paused, one pant leg twisted awkwardly around my ankle, my shirt scrunched at my shoulders. A breath shuddered out of me, and I forced a smile.

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, you little weirdo," I said, voice catching but lighter now. Taking a moment, I carefully redressed, smoothing out wrinkles. In silence, I made my bed, folding the sheets with the precision I'd drilled into myself at the Academy's dorm practice. The entire time, my thoughts churned: What if I failed? What if the email says 'Try again next year'? Or worse…

Finally ready, I squared my shoulders, Slakoth hopping to the floor by my feet. "Let's…get breakfast," I murmured, trying to exhale the weight off my lungs.

I swung open my bedroom door without looking—only to practically collide with Dad's broad frame. He stood there, fully dressed in a collared shirt and dark jeans, Mom beside him in a neat blouse and skirt.

"Uh—!" I almost toppled back, feeling their presence like a physical barrier. Slakoth yelped quietly, ducking behind my legs. Both Mom and Dad wore tense, hesitant expressions, the kind of look you give when you're bracing for heartbreak.

"Son," Dad said, voice low, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "We…wanted to talk to you."

My instincts flared, defenses up. "Look," I said, raising my palms, "I know you're going to try to convince me not to go, but—"

Dad shook his head, cutting me off. "We know it's too late for that."

Mom offered a tentative smile, though sadness flickered in her eyes. "We just wanted to set some…conditions. If you're really leaving today."

My heart thumped, guilt uncoiling in my stomach. "Conditions?"

They exchanged a glance—like a silent conversation passed between them. Mom cleared her throat, stepping forward. "Yes. First, we expect a call or text every day, as long as you have data or connection. If you go somewhere without signal, you let us know beforehand. And come visit whenever you can, all right?"

I nodded, swallowing. A strange mixture of relief and dread brewed in my chest. "Sure," I whispered.

Dad rubbed the back of his neck, refusing eye contact for a moment. Then he looked at me, brown eyes sharp with concern. "And… don't take stupid risks, boy. If it means putting your life or your Pokémon's life in danger—walk away. Winning's not worth it if you—" He paused, jaw clenching, "—if you don't make it back."

His words weighed heavier than I could have anticipated. I gave a firm nod. "I promise."

They both leaned in then, hugging me like I was the last precious thing on Earth. Mom's arms looped tight around my shoulders; Dad's grip nearly knocked the wind out of me. The warmth of that desperate clinging burned my throat with unspoken emotion. Then, Dad slipped away, leaving Mom to hold me a moment longer. When he came back, a muted camo-patterned bag dangled from his hand—sleek, modern, and obviously expensive.

He shoved it toward me, eyes averted. "Here," he muttered gruffly. "Latest model trainer bag. Unlimited storage, all that fancy stuff. …Cost me my yearly bonus." A dry laugh rumbled in his throat. "So don't break the damn thing."

A chuckle escaped me, the tension cracking as I accepted the bag. "Dad, I—"

Mom stepped in next, pressing a small, polished metal necklace with a thin chain into my palm. A single ring with our home address engraved glinted under the hallway light. She pressed her lips together, eyes shining. "So you never forget where your home is."

My chest constricted, tears threatening behind my lids, but I blinked them away. "I—I can't thank you guys enough."

One more hug. Mom's hair smelled faintly of lavender and cooking spices. Dad's arms, though stiff, conveyed a silent pride. The echo of that moment swelled in my ears—a sense of acceptance, of finality.

"All right," Mom said, voice trembling just a little, "we made breakfast. And you'd better eat."

Breakfast turned out to be a feast: fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fresh toast, and warm oatmeal with honey. Enough to feed an entire family of five, though we were only three. We ate in a swirl of half-laughter and worried glances, Dad grunting approval at the food, Mom dabbing her eyes with a napkin. Slakoth perched on the chair next to me, occasionally swiping a piece of bacon with my permission. The mood simmered between celebration and bittersweet sorrow.

Afterward, I returned to my room, the weight on my shoulders replaced by a potent mix of excitement and lingering dread. The new trainer bag and necklace lay on my bed, small testaments to my parents' conflicting hopes. Rubbing sweat from my palms, I finally fished out my phone.

I powered it on and inhaled as the screen lit up. A jolt of apprehension shot through me. That email from the Head Principal waited in my inbox, subject line burning in bold. My heart hammered as I clicked it open.

In large, red letters:

Malachi, congratulations on placing…

The rest of the line trailed off the screen. I froze, eyes fixed on that single sentence. My breath caught, and the world seemed to still for a single, electrifying heartbeat.

Leave me a review of what you think so far. I am taking this slowly piece by piece instead of time jumping soo I hope you have the patience to join me? -FC

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