Chapter 47: Talk About The League
(THE POKEMON LEAGUE DOESN'T START NOW!!!! STOP TELLING ME WHEN THE LEAGUE STARTS!!! I DECIDE, NOT YOU!!!!!!!!)
The marshland stretched before them like a wound that refused to heal. Brackish water pooled between twisted roots, and the air hung thick with the rot of things that had drowned and never quite decomposed. Every step Samuel took made a wet, sucking sound that reminded him of a mouth closing around a bone.
He'd been the one to suggest this route. The main road would've taken them three more days to circle around the wetlands, and with the League registration looming, time had become a currency none of them could afford to waste. Now, watching Nicola slap a mosquito the size of her thumb off her neck, he wondered if he'd made a mistake.
"Remind me again why we couldn't just take the ferry," Patricia said, her voice tight as she pulled her boots out of another mud pit.
"Because the ferry costs money we don't have," Briv answered for him, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"And because someone thought we could handle a shortcut through the haunted swamp," Nicola added, not looking at Samuel.
"Parts of it are haunted," Axel corrected from behind them, his Rotom flickering nervously at his shoulder. "The northern section, specifically. We're in the southern section, which is merely cursed."
The silence that followed was broken only by the squelch of their footsteps and the distant call of something that might have been a bird and might have been something else entirely.
Dariana laughed first, a surprised bark that echoed across the water. "Merely cursed. I'll add that to the travel brochure."
Samuel smiled despite himself. The tension had been thick since Aethelburg, thicker since the Gastly attack. They'd all been sleeping with one eye open, waiting for the other shoe to drop. A little levity helped.
But the marsh didn't want them happy.
It wanted them lost.
They walked for hours, following a path that existed only in Axel's memory and the occasional glimpse of dry ground. The sun crawled across the sky but never seemed to move, trapped behind a layer of clouds the color of old bruises. The air grew heavier, wetter, until every breath felt like drowning.
Samuel's Hippopotas walked beside him, its massive snout twitching at every new smell. The ground type had been quiet since they entered the marsh, its usual calm demeanor replaced by something more alert. More watchful.
"You feel it too," Samuel murmured.
Hippopotas grunted.
"What's it feel like?" Patricia asked, her Buneary clinging to her shoulder with wide, frightened eyes.
"Like something's watching us," Samuel said. "Something old."
The path led them to a clearing—if it could be called that. The ground here was solid, a raised patch of earth surrounded by water on three sides. Dead trees ringed the space like sentinels, their branches stripped bare, their bark covered in a pale fungus that glowed faintly in the dim light.
They stopped to rest.
Samuel sat on a fallen log and pulled out his pokéballs, counting them. Doduo. Bonsly. Aipom. Hippopotas. Carnivine. Five. He'd started this journey with nothing. Now he had five partners, each one a piece of his soul he'd willingly given away.
But something was missing.
He felt it the way you feel a toothache before the pain starts—a pressure, a wrongness, a space that needed filling. Five wasn't enough. Not for what was coming. Not for the League. Not for Jack.
He needed a sixth.
---
The Nosepass appeared at dusk.
Samuel was collecting firewood—dry branches that snapped too easily, as if the marsh had already leached the life from them—when he heard it. A low hum, like a thousand bees trapped in a jar. He followed the sound to the edge of the clearing and stopped.
It stood in the shallow water, its body a rough-hewn block of gray stone, its enormous red nose glowing in the fading light. Three small legs supported its bulk, and its eyes—if they could be called that—were fixed on some distant point beyond the marsh.
A Nosepass.
Samuel's heart hammered against his ribs. He'd seen them in textbooks. Rock types native to cooler regions, known for their magnetic noses and their ability to sense danger from miles away. They were stubborn. Defensive. Nearly impossible to catch if they didn't want to be caught.
This one hadn't noticed him yet.
He could try to catch it by surprise. A quick throw, a lucky aim, and the Nosepass would be his. But that felt wrong. Cheap. He'd come this far by earning his partners' respect, not by tricking them.
No. He would do this properly.
He turned and walked back to the camp.
"I need everyone to stay quiet," he said, keeping his voice low.
Nicola looked up from her rations. "Why?"
"Nosepass. In the water. I'm going to catch it."
The group exchanged glances—surprise, concern, the unspoken question of whether this was the time or the place. But Samuel had already made his decision.
"Hippopotas," he said. "Carnivine. Let's go."
---
He left the others behind.
The marsh seemed darker now, the shadows deeper, the water blacker. Samuel moved carefully, each step placed with deliberate precision. Hippopotas walked beside him, its feet sinking into the mud with soft squelches. Carnivine hovered behind, its vines trailing through the water like fishing lines.
The Nosepass hadn't moved.
It stood in the same spot, facing the same direction, as if it had been waiting for him. Its nose glowed brighter now, a deep crimson that pulsed with slow, rhythmic light.
"Alright," Samuel breathed. "Hippopotas, you're up first. Let's see what we're dealing with."
Hippopotas stepped forward, its body low and ready. The ground type let out a challenging grunt, and the Nosepass finally turned.
Its eyes were ancient. Not in the way that old things are ancient—not weathered or worn or tired. These eyes had seen centuries pass like seasons. They had watched empires rise and crumble and rise again. They had witnessed things that had no names in any human language.
Samuel felt small under that gaze.
Then Nosepass attacked.
The Rock Throw came without warning—a volley of stones ripped from the marsh bed and hurled through the air like cannon fire. Hippopotas dove sideways, but one of the rocks caught it in the flank, sending it skidding across the mud.
"Hippopotas!" Samuel shouted. "Sand Attack—go for the eyes!"
Hippopotas scrambled to its feet and whipped its snout around, spraying a cloud of mud and grit directly at Nosepass. The rock type flinched, its aim disrupted, and the next volley of stones went wide.
"Now—Bite!"
Hippopotas charged. Its jaws closed around one of Nosepass's legs, and the two Pokémon tumbled into the water, sending up a spray of black muck. The Nosepass didn't cry out. It simply struck back, its nose glowing brighter as electricity crackled across its surface.
Thunder Wave.
Hippopotas convulsed, its muscles locking up. It released its grip and splashed backward, struggling to stay upright as the paralysis took hold.
"Shit," Samuel hissed. "Hippopotas, fall back! Carnivine, you're up!"
Carnivine surged forward, its vines whipping through the air like living ropes. The grass type was faster than it looked, its movement fluid, almost dance-like. It circled the Nosepass, forcing the rock type to turn, to keep its eyes on the threat.
"Vine Whip—go for the legs!"
The vines lashed out. One caught the Nosepass around its left leg and yanked. The rock type stumbled, its balance disrupted, and Carnivine took advantage—another vine wrapped around its right leg, then its center, then its nose.
Nosepass fell.
The splash was enormous, a tidal wave of mud and water that drenched Samuel from head to toe. He didn't care. He was already reaching for a pokéball, his fingers closing around the smooth metal.
"One more—Power Whip!"
Carnivine's vines glowed green, and it slammed the Nosepass into the muddy water. The rock type struggled, its nose sparking weakly, but Carnivine held it down.
Samuel threw the ball.
It arced through the air, spinning end over end, and struck the Nosepass square in the center of its massive nose. The ball snapped open, and the rock type dissolved into red light, sucked inside with a sound like a dying gasp.
The ball closed.
It fell into the mud.
And then it began to shake.
---
The others had gathered at the edge of the clearing, watching.
Briv stood with Monferno at his side, the fire-fighting type's tail casting orange light across the water. Patricia held Buneary close, her knuckles white. Nicola's hand rested on Skorupi's pokéball, ready to intervene if something went wrong.
Dariana stood closest to the water, Shellos coiled at her feet.
Axel watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable.
The ball shook again.
Samuel's breath caught. He'd done this five times before. He knew the rhythm—the rocking, the clicking, the moment of truth. He knew that sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. That sometimes you had to fight for every second of resistance.
But knowing didn't make it easier.
The ball shook a third time.
Hippopotas limped to Samuel's side, its paralysis fading but its body still trembling. Carnivine hovered nearby, its vines drooping with exhaustion. They'd given everything for this. They'd fought a battle they could have lost.
Samuel's hand rested on Hippopotas's head.
"Come on," he whispered.
The ball clicked.
---
Silence.
Then Samuel was laughing—a raw, exhausted sound that echoed across the marsh. He splashed through the water and scooped up the pokéball, holding it aloft like a trophy.
"We did it," he shouted. "We fucking did it!"
Hippopotas let out a weak but triumphant bellow. Carnivine's vines curled in what might have been a smile. And from the shore, the others erupted.
Briv was the first to reach him, pulling him into a rough embrace that nearly sent them both into the water. "Six, man! You've got six!"
Patricia hugged him next, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "That was incredible. Absolutely incredible."
Even Nicola—stoic, sharp-edged Nicola—cracked a smile. "Not bad, Moodsway. Not bad at all."
Dariana kissed his cheek. "Congratulations. You've built something special."
Samuel looked down at the pokéball in his hand. The Nosepass inside felt different. Heavier, somehow. As if it carried the weight of all those centuries it had witnessed.
"I need to ask it something," he said.
He released Nosepass.
The rock type materialized in a flash of light, its massive body settling into the mud with a wet thud. It stood still for a moment, adjusting to its new reality, and then it turned to face Samuel.
Its eyes were still ancient. Still unreadable.
But they were also—something else. Curious, maybe. Or perhaps simply resigned.
"Hey," Samuel said, stepping closer. "I know you didn't ask for this. I know you were here long before I showed up, and you'll be here long after I'm gone."
He paused.
"But I need you. My team needs you. And I think—I hope—you might need us too. We're not perfect. We argue and we make mistakes and we get lost in marshes we shouldn't have entered in the first place."
He extended his hand.
"But we fight for each other. And if you'll let us, we'll fight for you too."
Nosepass stared at his hand.
The silence stretched, long and heavy. Samuel felt the others watching, felt the weight of the moment pressing against his chest like a physical thing.
Then Nosepass leaned forward.
Its massive nose touched Samuel's palm, and warmth spread through his fingers—not heat, but something deeper. Something that felt like trust.
"Welcome to the team," Samuel whispered.
---
They made camp in the clearing, too exhausted to push further.
Samuel sat by the fire with Nosepass beside him, the rock type's presence a steady anchor in the chaos of the marsh. Hippopotas slept at his feet, its paralysis finally cleared, and Carnivine dangled from a nearby branch like a green, snoring lantern.
Across the fire, Briv was telling the story of Monferno's evolution for the fourth time.
"And when the light faded, there it was—taller, stronger, its tail blazing like a fucking sun."
Patricia laughed. "You've told this story so many times I'm starting to think you dreamed it."
"I lived it, Patricia. I lived it."
"I was there," Nicola said dryly. "It was impressive. You can stop now."
"I'll stop when I'm dead."
Samuel smiled and leaned back against a fallen log. The pokéball on his belt felt warm against his hip. Six. He had six partners now. A full team.
But the thought didn't bring the satisfaction he'd expected.
Instead, it brought something else—a weight, a responsibility, a knowledge that from this moment forward, every choice he made would affect not just his future but theirs. He'd chosen them. And now they'd chosen him.
He couldn't let them down.
"You look serious," Dariana said, settling beside him.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
He looked at her. At her dark eyes, her knowing smile, the way she seemed to understand things before he said them out loud.
"About what comes next," he said.
She nodded slowly. "The League."
"Jack."
"Both."
She was quiet for a moment, watching the fire.
"You know," she said, "when I started this journey, I thought I was chasing glory. Winning battles. Proving I was the best."
"And now?"
"I think I was chasing something else. Something I didn't have a name for." She looked at him. "You?"
Samuel considered the question.
"Same," he said finally. "I think I was looking for people who'd understand."
She smiled. "You found them."
"Yeah," he said. "I think I did."
---
The fire burned low as the hours passed.
One by one, the others drifted toward sleep—Patricia and Briv curled together under a blanket, Nicola sitting upright with her back against a tree, Axel apart from them all, his Rotom hovering in silent vigil.
Samuel stayed awake.
He watched the fire, watched the marsh, watched the stars that barely managed to pierce the clouds. The marsh didn't feel quite so threatening now. The shadows seemed less deep. The silence less absolute.
Or maybe it was just the fire.
Maybe it was just having someone to share the darkness with.
Nosepass stirred beside him.
"What is it?" Samuel asked.
The rock type turned its head, its eyes fixed on something beyond the light—something in the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Its nose glowed brighter, pulsing with that same slow rhythm.
Samuel's hand moved to his pokéball.
"Something out there?"
Nosepass didn't respond. But it didn't look away.
Samuel followed its gaze. For a moment, he saw nothing—just trees and water and fog. Then he caught a flicker of movement, something small and quick and dark.
A Pokémon?
He couldn't tell. Couldn't make out any details. But the shape was wrong for a bird, wrong for any marsh creature he knew.
He stood up.
"Who's there?"
The shape vanished.
Samuel waited, every muscle tense, but nothing emerged from the shadows. The marsh remained silent.
Nosepass turned back to the fire, its glow fading to normal.
"What was that?" Samuel whispered.
The rock type didn't answer.
---
In the morning, they broke camp early.
Samuel returned Nosepass to its ball and led the group out of the marsh, following Axel's directions toward higher ground. The sun was finally visible, pale and distant, but visible nonetheless.
"Did you sleep at all?" Patricia asked as they walked.
"A little."
"Something on your mind?"
He thought about the shape in the shadows. The way Nosepass had reacted. The weird feeling that they were being watched.
"No," he said. "Nothing important."
She didn't press.
By noon, they'd left the marsh behind entirely. The ground turned solid underfoot, and the air grew warmer, sweeter. Birds sang in the trees, and the smell of wildflowers replaced the stench of rot.
Ahead, barely visible on the horizon, Aethelburg's crystal towers caught the light.
"We'll reach the city by nightfall," Nicola said.
=====
(One month before the League.)
The marsh ended the way all bad dreams end—abruptly, without ceremony, leaving only the memory of rot and the sensation of having been watched.
They emerged onto solid ground as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in bruised purples and angry oranges. The air here was different. Cleaner. It carried the scent of wild grass and distant rain, and beneath that, the faint metallic tang of a city that never truly slept.
Samuel walked at the rear of the group, Nosepass's pokéball warm against his hip. He kept glancing back at the treeline, half-expecting to see that shape again—the flicker of something dark, something wrong.
Nothing followed them.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something had.
Ahead, Briv had stopped walking. He stood at the crest of a low hill, Monferno perched on his shoulder, and stared at the horizon. The fire-fighting type's tail flickered in the dying light, casting orange shadows across Briv's face.
"We need to talk about qualifications," Briv said, not turning around.
The others gathered around him, a loose semicircle of tired bodies and wary eyes. Patricia's Buneary hopped from her arms and nestled in the grass, its ears drooping with exhaustion. Nicola stood with her arms crossed, Starly perched on her shoulder like a tiny sentinel. Dariana and Gallade flanked the group, the psychic-fighting type's eyes scanning the horizon with quiet vigilance. Axel lingered at the edges, his Rotom crackling softly beside him.
"What about them?" Nicola asked.
Briv finally turned. His expression was serious—more serious than Samuel had seen it in weeks.
"The League requires ten wins to qualify for the championship bracket. You all know that."
Nods all around.
"I've got six wins. Zero losses." He paused, letting the weight of that settle. "I'm four wins away from qualifying. And with no losses, I've got a buffer. A big one."
"Show-off," Nicola muttered, but there was no venom in it.
"What about you?" Briv asked, looking at her.
She shifted her weight, suddenly uncomfortable. "Three wins. Zero losses."
"Three wins," Briv repeated. "You need seven more. And you can't afford five losses, or you're out entirely."
"I know how it works, Briv."
"I'm not trying to lecture. I'm trying to make sure we're all aware of where we stand."
Patricia stepped forward. "Four wins. One loss." She didn't look happy about it. "I need six more. And I've already got one strike against me."
Briv's jaw tightened. "That loss wasn't your fault. That referee was corrupt."
"It's still on my record."
Dariana spoke next, her voice calm but edged with something harder. "Three wins. Two losses." She met Briv's eyes without flinching. "I need seven more, and I can only afford three more losses before I'm eliminated."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Samuel felt the weight of it pressing against his chest. He knew what was coming. He'd been dreading it since they'd left Aethelburg.
"Samuel," Briv said quietly. "What about you?"
He took a breath.
"One win. One loss."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
"One win," Nicola repeated, her voice flat. "Out of how many battles?"
"I've only had two official challenges since I started." He kept his voice steady, refused to let it waver. "I won the first. Lost the second. That's one and one."
"So you need nine more wins," Patricia said slowly. "With only four losses to spare."
"Yeah."
"And you've got a month."
"I know."
The thing about hopelessness is that it doesn't announce itself. It creeps in slowly, like water seeping through cracks in a foundation. One moment you're standing on solid ground, and the next you're sinking, and you don't realize how deep you are until it's already too late.
Samuel had been sinking for weeks.
But he wasn't drowning yet.
"I know the math," he said. "Nine wins in a month. Four losses maximum. It's not impossible."
"It's close to impossible," Nicola said.
"Then I'll do the impossible."
She stared at him. There was something in her eyes—not pity, not contempt, but something harder. Something that might have been respect.
"You're serious."
"Dead serious."
Briv stepped forward and put a hand on Samuel's shoulder. "You're not doing this alone. We'll help you train. We'll find you challengers. We'll make sure you get those wins."
"Why?" Samuel asked. The question came out harsher than he intended. "Why would you do that? You've got your own battles to fight. Your own qualifications to worry about."
"Because we're a team," Briv said simply. "And teams don't leave people behind."
---
They walked until the stars came out.
The road to Aethelburg stretched ahead of them, a pale ribbon cutting through fields of tall grass and scattered wildflowers. The city glowed in the distance, its crystal towers catching the moonlight and throwing it back in fractured rainbows.
Samuel kept his eyes on the ground.
He didn't want to look at the city. Didn't want to think about what waited for him there—the League, the matches, the impossible odds he'd just agreed to overcome. He'd made a promise. To Briv, to the others, to himself.
But the voice in his head kept whispering the same thing.
You're going to fail.
It wasn't a hypothetical. It was a certainty, a mathematical truth. Nine wins in a month was theoretically possible but practically suicidal. He'd have to battle every day. Sometimes twice a day. He'd have to win against trainers with more experience, better Pokémon, stronger strategies.
He'd have to be perfect.
And Samuel Moodsway had never been perfect at anything.
"Hey."
He looked up. Dariana had fallen into step beside him, her Gallade trailing behind like a patient shadow.
"You're spiraling," she said.
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
He didn't argue. There was no point. She could read him like a book—probably better than a book, since the words didn't matter as much as the spaces between them.
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked. "Nine wins. I've only got five Pokémon worth battling and one that just joined my team. Nosepass doesn't even know me yet."
"Then teach it."
"It's not that simple."
"Actually," she said, "it is."
She reached out and touched his arm—a light touch, almost casual, but it sent a spark through his skin.
"Listen to me," she said. "I've watched you train. I've watched you battle. You're not the strongest trainer I've ever met—"
"Thanks."
"—but you're one of the smartest. You adapt. You find angles other trainers miss." She smiled—a real smile, not the practiced one she used to disarm opponents. "That's why I asked you to travel with us. Not because I felt sorry for you. Because I saw something worth investing in."
Samuel felt heat rise in his cheeks. "That's the most words you've ever said to me at once."
"Don't get used to it."
She dropped her hand, and the moment passed—but something lingered in the air between them. Something that hadn't been there before.
"Dariana," he said.
"What?"
"Thanks."
She glanced at him. "For what?"
"For not telling me I'm crazy."
"You are crazy," she said. "But so is everyone else in this group. That's why we're going to win."
---
They reached the city gates just before midnight.
The guard at the entrance barely glanced at their credentials—League trainers, escort pass, no weapons, no contraband. He waved them through with the bored efficiency of someone who'd seen too many travelers and cared too little about any of them.
Aethelburg embraced them with light and noise.
The canals glowed with bioluminescent algae, their soft blues and greens reflecting off the crystal towers above. Floating bridges drifted between buildings, their platforms suspended by magnetic fields that hummed faintly in the night air. People moved through the streets in a constant stream—vendors hawking their wares, trainers comparing teams, lovers holding hands beneath the lavender street lamps.
Samuel had been here before. Many times, in many lives.
But it felt different now.
Maybe it was the weight of the pokéball at his hip. Maybe it was the promise he'd made. Maybe it was the way Dariana walked beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
Or maybe it was the shadow he'd seen in the marsh, still lurking at the edges of his memory.
"We should find an inn," Nicola said, her voice cutting through the noise. "I'm not sleeping on cobblestones."
"There's one by the eastern bridge," Briv said. "Cheap rates, decent rooms. We stayed there last year."
"Speak for yourself," Patricia said. "I'm getting a hot bath and a real bed if it costs me my last pokédollar."
They moved through the streets together, a ragged band of travelers out of place among the city's elegance. Samuel kept his hood up and his eyes down, avoiding the gazes of strangers.
He didn't know why. It wasn't like anyone was looking for him.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was.
---
The inn was called The Sleeping Snorlax—a name that promised comfort and delivered mediocrity.
The rooms were small and smelled faintly of mildew. The beds sagged in the middle, and the walls were thin enough to hear the couple arguing next door. But the water was hot, and there was food, and after a month on the road, that was enough.
Samuel took the room at the end of the hall—the one with the window that faced the canal, the one that let him watch the city without being part of it.
He sat on the bed and released his Pokémon.
They materialized in flashes of light—Doduo, Bonsly, Aipom, Hippopotas, Carnivine, and Nosepass. Six partners. His entire team, gathered in a room too small to contain them.
They looked at him with expectant eyes.
"We've got a lot of work to do," he said.
Aipom chattered, its tail-hand grabbing at the curtain.
Doduo's two heads argued silently, one looking at the window, the other at the door.
Bonsly began to tremble.
"Hey," Samuel said, reaching out to touch the rock type's head. "It's okay. We're safe here."
Bonsly didn't look convinced.
Nosepass hadn't moved.
The rock type stood perfectly still, its massive nose pointed at the wall, its eyes fixed on something Samuel couldn't see. It had been like this since the marsh—silent, watchful, unnervingly aware of things beyond human perception.
"Nosepass," Samuel said. "What are you feeling?"
The rock type's nose glowed—once, twice, three times.
Then it turned to face him.
Its eyes were ancient. Unreadable. But beneath that, something else flickered. Confusion, maybe. Or curiosity.
"What is it?"
Nosepass didn't answer in words. It couldn't. But it shifted its weight, moved closer to Samuel, and leaned its massive head against his shoulder.
Samuel felt the warmth of the rock type's body seep into his skin.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
He didn't know what Nosepass was sensing. Didn't know what the rock type had seen in the marsh or what it was watching for now. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
He wasn't alone.
And that was enough to keep going.
---
A knock at the door.
Samuel looked up, heart hammering. "Who is it?"
"Me." Dariana's voice, muffled through the wood.
He crossed the room and opened the door. She stood in the hallway, her hair damp from the shower, wearing loose shorts and a tank top that showed the lean muscle of her shoulders.
"You should be sleeping," he said.
"So should you." She tilted her head, studying him. "You're planning."
"I'm always planning."
"You're obsessing."
He didn't argue.
She stepped past him into the room, her eyes sweeping over his Pokémon. They watched her with varying degrees of suspicion—Doduo's heads tracking her movement, Aipom's tail curling protectively around Samuel's leg, Bonsly shrinking back against the wall.
Nosepass didn't move.
Dariana approached it slowly, her hand extended. "May I?"
Samuel nodded.
She touched the rock type's nose, and something passed between them—a flicker of recognition, maybe, or simply the acknowledgment of one ancient thing by another.
"He's scared," she said.
"Nosepass?"
"No." She turned to face him. "You."
Samuel opened his mouth to deny it.
"Don't," she said. "Don't lie to me. You've been scared since the marsh. Something happened out there—something you haven't told the others."
He looked away.
"Samuel."
"It saw something," he said quietly. "Nosepass. It saw something in the shadows. Something that wasn't a Pokémon."
Dariana's expression didn't change. But her body stilled, every muscle going rigid with attention.
"Describe it."
"I can't. It was just... a shape. But Nosepass reacted like it recognized it. Like it had seen it before."
She was quiet for a long moment.
"There are things in this world," she said finally, "that don't have names. Things that exist outside the boundaries of what we understand. If Nosepass sensed one of them..."
"Then what?"
"Then we need to be careful." She met his eyes. "You need to be careful."
"I'm always careful."
"No. You're cautious. There's a difference." She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell the soap on her skin. "Cautious people avoid risk. Careful people know which risks are worth taking."
"And which risks are worth taking?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him.
It was soft—softer than he expected, softer than anything about Dariana Brightone suggested. Her lips moved against his with a gentleness that caught him off guard. Then, just as quickly, she pulled back. "Get some sleep," she said. Her voice was steady, but her cheeks were flushed. "We start training tomorrow."
She left before he could respond.
Samuel stood in the center of the room, his heart pounding, his lips tingling, and wondered what the hell had just happened.
Aipom chattered questioningly.
"Don't ask," Samuel said.
---
He didn't sleep.
Instead, he sat by the window and watched the city glow. The canals shimmered. The towers pulsed with light. And somewhere out there, in the dark, something was watching.
Nosepass settled beside him, its massive body a warm, steady presence.
"You felt it too," Samuel said. "Didn't you?"
The rock type's nose glowed once.
"Was it Jack? The Eclipse Squad?"
No glow.
"Something else, then."
The nose glowed again.
Samuel stared at the city, at the lights that promised safety and the shadows that promised something else.
"One month," he said. "Nine wins. And now this."
Nosepass leaned against him.
"Just... tell me one thing." He looked at the rock type. "Is it dangerous?"
Nosepass was silent for a long time.
Then it nodded.
Samuel exhaled slowly.
"Great," he muttered. "Just great."
He turned back to the window.
And somewhere in the darkness, something turned back.