Chapter 46: Chimchar's A Big Boy Now
The road out of Aethelburg wound north through rolling hills and dense woodland, the crystal towers of the capital shrinking behind them with every mile. The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone path, and the air smelled of pine and wildflowers and the faint metallic tang of distant industry.
Briv walked at the front of the group, Chimchar perched on his shoulder, its flame tail flickering in the breeze. The little fire-type chattered constantly, pointing at birds, at clouds, at anything that moved. Its enthusiasm was infectious.
"He's been like this all morning," Patricia said, falling into step beside Briv. Her Buneary hopped along at her heels, its curled ears twitching at every sound.
"He's excited. First time out of the city in weeks."
"First time he's been this far from a Pokémon Center, you mean."
Briv scratched Chimchar behind the ear. "He's fine. He's got me."
Patricia smiled but didn't argue. She knew better by now.
Behind them, Nicola walked with her Starly on her shoulder, the bird's sharp eyes scanning the treeline. Dariana and Samuel brought up the rear, their Pokémon—Gallade and Aipom—flanking them like bodyguards. And at the very back, silent and watchful, walked Axel.
His Rotom hovered beside him, crackling with electric energy, its red eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Axel hadn't said much since they'd left Aethelburg. He never did. But Briv could feel his presence like a weight—a constant reminder that they weren't just traveling companions. They were allies in a war.
The war against Jack. Against the Eclipse Squad. Against everything that threatened the people he loved.
---
They made camp at dusk, in a clearing sheltered by ancient oaks. Samuel got a fire going while Dariana laid out sleeping rolls. Patricia and Nicola coordinated the watch schedule—two hours each, rotating through the night.
Briv volunteered for the first watch.
He sat by the fire, Chimchar curled in his lap, and stared into the flames. The day had been long. The road had been quiet. Too quiet, maybe. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was following them.
Chimchar stirred, its ears twitching.
"What is it, buddy?"
The fire-type lifted its head, sniffing the air. Its tail flared brighter, and a low growl rumbled in its chest.
Briv's hand moved to his belt. "Everyone," he said, loud enough to wake the others. "We've got company."
---
The Gastly came out of the trees like smoke.
There were six of them—maybe seven—their gaseous bodies swirling in the darkness, their eyes glowing with malevolent light. They didn't attack immediately. They just floated there, watching, waiting, their laughter echoing through the clearing like broken glass.
"Ghost types," Nicola said, her voice tight. "Great."
"Where did they come from?" Dariana asked, her Gallade stepping in front of her, blades extended.
"Doesn't matter." Briv was already on his feet, Chimchar beside him. "We need to drive them off."
Axel stepped forward, his Rotom crackling with electricity. "I can handle this."
"No." Briv held up a hand. "Let me."
He didn't know why he said it. Maybe it was the way Chimchar was looking at him—eager, determined, ready. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been carrying the weight of everything for so long that he needed to prove something. To himself. To his Pokémon.
To the ghosts that thought they could scare him.
"Chimchar," he said. "You ready?"
The fire-type nodded, flames erupting from its tail.
"Then let's go."
---
The first Gastly lunged.
Chimchar met it head-on, its fist wreathed in fire. The punch connected, and the Gastly screeched, its gaseous body dispersing for a moment before reforming. It retaliated with a Lick—a long, purple tongue that shot from its mouth and wrapped around Chimchar's arm.
The fire-type shuddered, its movements slowing.
"Shake it off!" Briv shouted. "Flame Wheel!"
Chimchar spun, its body becoming a wheel of fire. The Gastly was forced to release it, and Chimchar rolled forward, slamming into two more Gastly that had been closing in from the sides.
But there were too many. They surrounded him, their laughter growing louder, their attacks coming from every direction. Shadow Balls. Night Shades. Confuse Rays.
Chimchar was fast, but it couldn't dodge everything.
A Shadow Ball caught it in the chest. The fire-type flew backward, hitting the ground hard.
"Chimchar!"
The Gastly closed in, their eyes gleaming with triumph. They thought they'd won. They thought they'd broken him.
They were wrong.
Chimchar pushed itself to its feet.
Its body was glowing.
Briv's breath caught in his throat. He'd seen this before—the blinding light, the shifting form, the energy that radiated from every pore. But he'd never seen it happen to one of his own Pokémon.
Not until now.
The light intensified. Chimchar's body stretched, grew, changed. Its fur darkened to a deeper orange. Its tail lengthened, the flame at its tip roaring with new intensity. Its arms thickened, its posture straightened, and when the light finally faded, what stood in its place was something entirely new.
A Monferno.
The fire-fighting type opened its eyes—bright, fierce, alive—and let out a roar that shook the trees. The Gastly recoiled, their confidence shattered.
"Monferno," Briv breathed. "You evolved."
The Pokémon turned to look at him, and in its eyes Briv saw something he'd never seen before. Pride. Gratitude. Love.
Then it turned back to the Gastly.
And it attacked.
---
The battle was over in minutes.
Monferno moved like fire given form—fast, fluid, unstoppable. Its punches were thunder. Its kicks were lightning. It tore through the Gastly like they were made of paper, each strike precise, each movement calculated.
When the last Gastly fled into the night, Monferno stood alone in the center of the clearing, its chest heaving, its flame tail burning bright against the darkness.
Briv walked toward it slowly. The others watched in silence.
"Hey," he said, stopping a few feet away.
Monferno turned to face him. Its expression was different now—still fierce, but softer somehow. The mischief was still there, the playfulness, but there was something else too. Something deeper.
"You did good," Briv said. "You did really, really good."
Monferno chirped—a sound that was almost a laugh—and closed the distance between them. It wrapped its arms around Briv's waist and hugged him tight.
Briv hugged it back.
"I'm proud of you," he whispered. "So fucking proud."
---
The others crowded around, offering congratulations and praise. Patricia kissed Briv on the cheek. Nicola clapped him on the shoulder. Dariana's Gallade bowed to Monferno, acknowledging its strength. Samuel played a few notes on a small flute he carried, a celebratory tune that made everyone smile.
Even Axel nodded once, a rare gesture of respect.
"He's strong," Axel said. "Stronger than he was. You trained him well."
Briv looked at Monferno, at the fire in its eyes, at the power in its stance.
"We trained each other," he said.
---
Later that night, after the others had settled into their sleeping rolls, Briv sat by the fire with Monferno beside him. The fire-type was exhausted—evolving took energy, and the battle hadn't helped—but it refused to sleep. It wanted to stay awake with Briv. To watch the stars. To be together.
"You know," Briv said, "you're the first one."
Monferno tilted its head.
"The first of my Pokémon to evolve. Turtwig, Piplup, Shinx, Gible, Riolu—they're all still waiting. But you? You did it. You took that step."
He paused, staring into the flames.
"I hope I'm worthy of it."
Monferno nudged his arm, its expression saying what words couldn't.
You are.
Briv smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess we'll find out together."
The fire crackled. The stars burned overhead. And somewhere in the darkness, the road to the League stretched on—waiting, as it always did, for the next step.
---
The next morning, they broke camp early.
Monferno walked beside Briv, its stride confident, its flame tail leaving a trail of warmth in the cool morning air. The others had adjusted quickly to its new form—Patricia had already started calling it "Monferno the Magnificent," which made Briv laugh—but Briv could tell they were all thinking the same thing.
This was a turning point.
Not just for Chimchar—for Monferno. For all of them. They were growing. Changing. Becoming something more than they had been.
And the League was only a day away.
"We should reach the outer districts by nightfall," Nicola said, consulting a map. "The League grounds are just beyond that."
"Good," Briv said. "I'm ready."
"Are you?"
He looked at her. Her sharp brown eyes were serious, searching.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll be there either way."
Nicola nodded. "That's all any of us can do."
---
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the forest giving way to open fields and distant mountains. The sky was clear, the sun warm, and for a moment, Briv allowed himself to forget about Jack. About the Eclipse Squad. About everything waiting for them at the League.
He just walked. With his friends. With his Pokémon. With the people he loved.
And he was happy.
---
That night, they camped in a hollow between two hills, sheltered from the wind. The stars were brighter here, away from the city lights, and Briv found himself staring up at them, counting constellations he'd learned as a child.
Monferno sat beside him, its tail providing warmth.
"You nervous?" Briv asked.
Monferno shook its head.
"Me neither."
It was a lie, and they both knew it.
But sometimes lies were necessary.
Sometimes they were the only thing keeping you going.
---
The next morning, they reached the outskirts of the League grounds.
The stadium loomed in the distance—a massive structure of steel and crystal, its towers reaching toward the sky like fingers grasping for the sun. Flags from every region in Elyssia flew from its ramparts, snapping in the wind.
Briv stopped at the edge of the road and stared.
"Last year," he said, "I stood here alone."
Patricia took his hand.
"You're not alone now."
He looked at her. At Nicola. At Dariana and Samuel. At Axel, standing apart but still there. At Monferno, its flame tail burning bright.
"No," he said. "I'm not."
They walked forward together.
The League was waiting.
And so was Jack.
---
The registration hall was chaos.
Trainers from every corner of Elyssia crowded the booths, their Pokémon at their sides. The air buzzed with excitement, with nervous energy, with the electric tension that always preceded a major tournament.
Briv worked his way through the crowd, Monferno close behind. He'd already registered—Patricia had done it for him weeks ago—but he wanted to see the brackets. To know who he'd be facing.
The screen was massive, stretching across the entire wall. Names flickered across it, arranged in a complex web of matchups. Briv scanned the list, his heart pounding.
There.
He found his name in the second bracket. His first opponent was a trainer from the southern islands—someone he'd never heard of. Easy enough.
But in the third round, if he made it that far, he'd face the winner of another match.
And that match had a familiar name.
Roger.
Briv's jaw tightened.
"Looks like you've got a welcoming committee," Nicola said, appearing at his elbow.
"Yeah."
"Think you can take him?"
Briv looked at Monferno. At the fire in its eyes. At the power it had unlocked.
"Yeah," he said. "I think we can."
---
They found rooms at a nearby inn—the same one they'd stayed at last year, coincidentally. Briv stood on the balcony, looking out at the League stadium, its lights blazing against the night sky.
Patricia joined him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Tomorrow," she said.
"Tomorrow."
"You ready?"
He turned to face her. Her blue eyes were soft, her smile gentle.
"I've got you," he said. "I've got Monferno. I've got everyone."
"That's not what I asked."
He kissed her forehead.
"I'm ready," he said. "Whatever happens."
---
The lights of the League stadium burned on.
And somewhere inside, Jack was watching.
Waiting.
Briv could feel it.
But he wasn't afraid.
Not anymore.
---
The next morning, Briv woke before dawn.
He dressed in silence, careful not to wake Patricia. Monferno was already awake, its tail casting a soft glow in the darkness. It looked at him with knowing eyes.
"Let's go," Briv said.
They slipped out of the inn and walked to the stadium. The streets were empty, the city still asleep. But the League grounds were alive with activity—trainers warming up, Pokémon stretching, officials preparing for the day's matches.
Briv found a quiet corner and sat down. Monferno sat beside him.
"This is it," he said. "First match. First step."
Monferno nodded.
"Whatever happens, I want you to know—I'm proud of you. Of everything you've become."
Monferno leaned against him, its warmth seeping into his bones.
They sat there as the sun rose, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.
And when the announcement came—"Trainers, report to your designated arenas"—Briv stood.
"Let's do this," he said.
Monferno's flame tail blazed.
And together, they walked into the light.
=====
The light wasn't the League stadium.
It was the morning sun cutting through the inn's grimy window, falling across Briv's face like a slap. He groaned and rolled over, and his hand found empty sheets where Patricia should have been.
That woke him up fast.
He sat up, heart hammering, and saw her standing at the window with her back to him. She wore one of his old t-shirts and nothing else. The hem rode high on her thighs. Morning light turned her blond hair into something closer to white.
"You're up early," he said.
"I never went to sleep."
He swung his legs off the mattress and crossed to her. Outside, the League stadium was a distant silhouette against the pale sky. They'd reached the outer districts last night. The registration hall opened in three days. The tournament itself was still a month out.
A month of waiting. A month of preparing. A month of pretending everything was fine.
"What's wrong?" he asked, though he already knew.
She turned to face him. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed, and her jaw was set in that way it got when she was trying not to cry.
"I keep thinking about last year," she said. "Standing in that stadium. Watching you win. Feeling like the whole world was ours."
"It was."
"And then it wasn't." She wrapped her arms around herself. "We lost everything. Jack took our team. He took our friends. He turned half the League against us."
Briv reached for her, but she pulled back.
"I'm not done," she said.
He waited.
"I spent all night thinking about what happens if we lose again. If Jack wins. If the Eclipse Squad gets what they want." Her voice cracked. "I can't do another year like the last one, Briv. I can't."
"Then we won't lose."
"You don't know that."
"No." He stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "But I know we'll fight like hell. And I know we'll do it together."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then her shoulders dropped, and she leaned into him, her forehead pressed against his chest.
"I hate how good you are at that," she mumbled.
"At what?"
"Making me feel like everything's going to be okay."
He kissed the top of her head. "It's a gift."
---
They spent the day training.
The field behind the inn was nothing special—a patch of dirt and weeds with a few wooden targets and a ring of stones that marked where trainers could battle without collateral damage. It wasn't the League arena. It wasn't even a proper training ground.
But it was enough.
Briv worked with Monferno first, running through drills until both of them were sweating. Mach Punch combinations. Flame Wheel into Close Combat. Aerial Ace into Fire Spin. The fire-fighting type moved like it had been born in this body, its strikes fast and brutal and precise.
"Again," Briv said.
Monferno attacked the target. The wood splintered.
"Again."
It attacked again.
"Good. Now let's work on transitions. Flame Wheel into Mach Punch—no gap."
They drilled for an hour. Then two. By the time Briv called for a break, Monferno was panting and his own legs were shaking.
"You're pushing too hard," Patricia said, tossing him a water bottle.
"I'm not pushing hard enough."
She raised an eyebrow. "You just trained your newly evolved Pokémon for two hours straight. That's not enough?"
"Not for what's coming."
He drank half the bottle in one swallow. The water was warm and metallic, but it tasted like survival.
---
Nicola sparred with Dariana in the afternoon.
They used their Pokémon—Tangela against Gallade, Skorupi against Croagunk—and the battles were brutal. Dariana's fighting types were graceful, precise, devastating. Nicola's poison and grass types were stubborn, tactical, relentless.
Briv watched from the sidelines, taking notes in his head.
Gallade moved like a dancer, its blade-arms slicing through the air in elegant arcs. Tangela countered with Power Whips and Vine Grabs, using its flexibility to neutralize Gallade's speed. It was a stalemate, neither side gaining ground.
"Not bad," Dariana said when they called a break.
"Not bad yourself," Nicola said.
"Another round?"
"Give me five minutes."
They walked to the water bucket, and Briv joined them. The air smelled of sweat and dust and crushed grass.
"I need to ask you something," he said.
Nicola looked at him. "That tone. This is serious."
"Jack knows we're here by now. He has eyes everywhere." Briv kept his voice low. "We need to be ready for anything. Not just the League."
"You think he'll attack the tournament?"
"I think he'll do something. Something big. Something that hurts us."
Dariana nodded slowly. "What's the plan?"
"If I knew, I'd tell you."
Patricia appeared beside him, her Buneary in her arms. The little rabbit was asleep, its ears wrapped around its head like a blanket.
"Whatever happens," Patricia said, "we're not going through it alone. That's not a plan. That's a fact."
Briv looked at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes.
"Fact," he agreed.
---
That night, they ate dinner in the inn's common room.
The food was simple—stew, bread, a jug of weak ale—but it was hot and filling, and Briv was too tired to complain. Samuel played something soft on his flute while they ate, a melody that wrapped around them like a blanket.
Julie sat beside Patricia, the two of them discussing battle strategies in low voices. Lindsay had joined them too, her bubbly personality a strange but welcome addition to the group. She was asking Dariana about her training regimen, taking notes in a small pink journal.
Axel sat apart, as always, his Rotom flickering beside him.
Briv watched him sometimes. Tried to figure out what he was thinking. But Axel's face was a locked door, and his eyes were windows into something Briv couldn't name.
"You're staring," Patricia murmured.
"Am I?"
She elbowed him gently. "Stop. He's on our side."
"For now."
"That's not fair."
"It's realistic."
Patricia sighed. She knew better than to argue with his paranoia.
---
After dinner, Briv went upstairs.
He was tired—bone tired, the kind that settles deep and doesn't let go. But he couldn't sleep. His mind was racing, playing out scenarios, imagining battles that hadn't happened yet.
Patricia found him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
She sat beside him and took his hand.
"What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Everything."
"Be specific."
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm thinking about Jack. About the League. About what happens if we fail."
"You would list off three worst-case scenarios."
"Sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
He didn't have an answer for that.
She squeezed his hand. "You've been carrying this by yourself. Don't. I'm here. Nicola's here. Dariana, Samuel, Julie—even Lindsay. We're all here."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
He looked at her. Her face was soft in the lamplight, her eyes warm and steady.
"I don't deserve you," he said.
"Damn right you don't." She smiled. "But you're stuck with me anyway."
She leaned in and kissed him. Gently at first, then deeper, her tongue sliding against his. His hand found her waist, her hip, the curve of her ass through her jeans.
"Patricia," he murmured.
"Shut up," she said, and kissed him again.
---
She pushed him back onto the mattress.
He landed with a grunt, and she climbed over him, her hair falling around his face like a curtain. Her thighs straddled his hips, and through their clothes he could feel how warm she was.
"You want this?" she asked.
"Do you really need to ask?"
She smirked and pulled her shirt over her head.
Her breasts spilled free—full, round, her nipples already hard. Briv reached for them, but she caught his wrists and pinned them above his head.
"Not yet," she said.
She kissed him again, slow and deliberate. Then she trailed her lips down his jaw, his throat, his chest. She bit his nipple, and he hissed.
"Fuck."
She laughed against his skin. "Sensitive."
"Patricia—"
She unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. His cock sprang free, already hard, already leaking. She wrapped her hand around it and gave it a slow stroke.
"You like that?" she asked.
"You know I do."
She stroked him again, faster, her thumb circling the head. He groaned and arched into her touch.
"I want your mouth," he said.
"Bossy."
But she obliged.
She slid down his body and took him in her mouth. Her lips stretched around his cock, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, and he had to grip the sheets to keep from thrusting.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You're so good at that."
She hummed around him, the vibration sending sparks up his spine. Her head bobbed in a steady rhythm, her hand working the base, and he watched through half-lidded eyes as she swallowed him over and over.
"I'm going to come," he warned.
She pulled off with a wet pop. "Not yet."
"Patricia—"
"On my terms."
She stood and stripped off her jeans and underwear in one motion. Her pussy was bare and wet, glistening in the dim light. She crawled back onto the bed and positioned herself over his hips.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Fuck yes."
She sank down onto him.
He groaned. She was tight and hot and perfect, and when she started to move—slow at first, then faster—he had to close his eyes to keep from losing it immediately.
"Look at me," she said.
He opened his eyes.
She was beautiful. Her hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, her tits bouncing with every thrust. Her hands pressed against his chest for balance, and her lips were parted, her breath coming in short gasps.
"You feel so good," she whispered.
"So do you."
She leaned down and kissed him, her hips still working, and he tangled his hand in her hair and held her there. Their mouths moved together, messy and desperate, and she clenched around him and cried out.
"I'm close," she said.
"Me too."
She rode him harder, her nails digging into his shoulders. He grabbed her hips and drove up into her, each thrust deeper than the last.
"Come with me," she demanded.
"Always."
She shattered first.
Her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around him like a fist. She moaned his name, her back arching, and Briv followed a heartbeat later—emptying himself into her with a guttural groan.
She collapsed on top of him, her head on his chest.
They lay there for a long time, breathing together, their bodies slick with sweat.
"You know," she said eventually, "that wasn't just about the sex."
"I know."
"Good."
He kissed her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you too."
---
The next morning, Briv woke with a plan.
It wasn't a good plan. It wasn't a smart plan. But it was a plan.
"We need to train," he announced over breakfast. "Not just our Pokémon. Our teamwork."
Nicola looked up from her coffee. "What did you have in mind?"
"Two-on-two battles. Randomized partners. We need to learn to fight together, not just individually."
"That's actually not a terrible idea," she said.
"I have my moments."
Patricia raised her cup. "I'm in."
"Same," said Dariana.
"Count me in," Samuel added.
Even Axel nodded.
Briv looked around the table at the faces of his friends—his team—and felt something swell in his chest. Not hope. Not exactly. Something more like determination.
They had a month. A month to prepare. A month to get stronger.
A month to become the people who would beat Jack.
---
They trained every day.
Morning sessions focused on endurance—running, sparring, drills until their legs gave out. Afternoon sessions focused on strategy—battle simulations, scenario planning, studying footage of past League matches. Evening sessions focused on bonding—shared meals, shared stories, the slow work of becoming a family.
The days blurred together. Each one brought new challenges. Each one brought new victories.
Monferno grew stronger. Turtwig learned new moves. Piplup—still cautious, still fragile—began to open up, to trust Briv more with each passing day. Riolu's aura training progressed in leaps and bounds. Gible matured, learning restraint. Shinx learned precision.
The others grew too. Patricia's team became faster, more coordinated. Nicola's became more adaptable, more unpredictable. Dariana's team honed their grace and deadly precision. Samuel's Pokémon learned to move in perfect synchronicity.
Even Axel's Rotom seemed different. Calmer. More controlled. As if even Axel was beginning to trust the people around him.
---
But not everything was easy.
Two weeks in, Briv woke to find Patricia crying on the balcony again.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said. "I just—I can't stop thinking about it. Everything we lost. Everything we're fighting for."
He held her while she sobbed.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "I'm so scared."
"Me too."
She pulled back and looked at him. "You never say that."
"Maybe I should."
She laughed wetly. "Maybe you should."
---
Three weeks in, Nicola pulled Briv aside.
"We need to talk," she said.
"About?"
She led him away from the others, to a quiet corner behind the inn. Her expression was serious, and her arms were crossed.
"We haven't had sex in months," she said.
He blinked. "Is that what this is about?"
"I'm not complaining." She held up a hand. "I just—I wanted to check in. Make sure we're still good."
Briv looked at her. At her sharp brown eyes, her blond hair pulled back, her perfect body standing there with all the confidence in the world.
"We're good," he said. "We've always been good."
"Even with Patricia?"
"She knows. She's always known."
Nicola nodded slowly. "I know she does. I just—" She sighed. "I don't know. I don't do feelings. Not like this."
"Then don't. Just be here."
She stared at him for a moment. Then she laughed—a real laugh, surprised and warm.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"I know."
---
A month passed.
The League was next month.
Briv stood on the balcony of their inn, looking out at the city. The stadium lights blazed in the distance, and the canals shimmered like liquid gold. Somewhere out there, Jack was waiting. Watching. Planning.
But Briv wasn't afraid.
He had Monferno. He had Turtwig, Piplup, Shinx, Gible, Riolu. He had Patricia and Nicola and Dariana and Samuel and Julie and Lindsay. He had Axel, even if it was complicated.
He had a family.
And tomorrow, he would show the world what that meant.
---
Patricia joined him, her arms wrapping around his waist.
"You ready?" she asked.
"No."
She laughed. "Me neither."
They stood there together, watching the lights, and Briv felt something settle in his chest.
Not hope. Not fear. Something stronger.
Purpose.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too."
The lights of the League burned on.
And somewhere out there, the first battle was waiting.