Chapter 70: Aipom, A Stronger Monkey
The training grounds behind the inn had seen better days.
The morning sun burned through the clouds, casting harsh light across the cracked cobblestones and the scattered debris of yesterday's battles. Samuel Moodsway stood at the center of the yard, barefoot, his dreadlocks tied back with a strip of colorful fabric. He wore loose pants and a sleeveless shirt that hung open at the sides, revealing the intricate patterns of henna on his ribs.
Aipom crouched on a low stone wall, its purple fur bristling, its long tail coiled beneath it like a spring. The little Normal-type watched Samuel with bright, curious eyes, its head tilted, its ears twitching at every sound.
"You ready?" Samuel asked.
Aipom chirped.
"Then let's work."
Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden ball—smooth, polished, the size of a cherry. He tossed it from hand to hand, feeling its weight, its balance.
"We've been training for weeks," he said. "You've got speed. You've got agility. You've got that tail that can do just about anything."
Aipom's tail uncoiled and waved in the air, as if to demonstrate.
"But you're still relying on single strikes. One hit at a time." Samuel caught the ball and held it up. "That's not enough anymore."
Aipom's ears drooped.
"No, no. Don't do that." Samuel knelt, bringing himself to the Pokémon's level. "You're good. You're really good. But the League is full of trainers who are really good. You want to beat them?"
Aipom nodded.
"Then you need to learn something new."
---
Samuel had spent the night studying.
He had watched footage of League battles—hours of it, his Rotom phone propped against a pillow, the screen glowing in the dark. He had studied the way experienced trainers commanded their Pokémon, the way they chained attacks together, the way they turned simple moves into devastating combinations.
He had noticed something.
The best Pokémon didn't just hit hard.
They hit twice.
He had seen it in Briv's Monferno—the way it could strike with its fists and then follow up with its tail before the opponent could recover. He had seen it in Patricia's Buizel—the way it could spin and strike in the same motion, turning defense into offense.
And he had seen it in Aipom's tail.
That tail.
That beautiful, impossible tail.
It could grab. It could throw. It could climb. It could do everything a hand could do—and more.
But Aipom had never learned to use it twice in a row.
Not really.
Not with precision.
Not with power.
"Double Hit," Samuel said.
Aipom tilted its head.
"It's a move. Two strikes. One after the other. Fast. Precise. No hesitation."
He tossed the wooden ball into the air.
"Your tail. First hit—catch it. Second hit—throw it."
Aipom watched the ball spin.
"Go."
Aipom's tail shot out.
The ball struck the tip.
It bounced away.
Aipom chirped in frustration.
"Again."
Samuel threw the ball.
Aipom's tail struck.
The ball bounced.
"Again."
Same result.
"Again."
Same.
Aipom's ears flattened. Its tail drooped.
"Hey." Samuel knelt again. "Look at me."
Aipom looked.
"You're thinking about the first hit. You're thinking about catching. But Double Hit isn't about catching. It's about momentum. First hit—knock it up. Second hit—knock it away. You're not trying to hold the ball. You're trying to hit it twice before it falls."
Aipom blinked.
"Two hits. One motion. Feel it?"
Aipom's tail twitched.
"Try again."
Samuel threw the ball.
Aipom's tail shot out.
The first hit knocked the ball upward.
The second hit—
The ball spun away.
But it had been struck twice.
Aipom chirped in surprise.
"That's it!" Samuel grinned. "That's it! You did it!"
Aipom's tail waved wildly.
"Now do it again."
---
They trained for hours.
The sun climbed higher. Sweat dripped down Samuel's back. His arms ached from throwing. His legs ached from crouching. But he didn't stop.
Neither did Aipom.
The little Normal-type was relentless. Every failure was met with a determined chirp. Every success was met with a burst of energy. The ball flew. The tail struck. Again and again and again.
First hit.
Second hit.
First hit.
Second hit.
The rhythm became a dance—a syncopated beat that matched the pulse in Samuel's chest. His dreadlocks swung as he moved, tossing the ball from different angles, forcing Aipom to adapt, to reach, to stretch.
The tail was a blur.
The ball was a comet.
They collided in midair, again and again, a tiny percussion of impact that echoed off the cobblestones.
"You're getting it," Samuel said. "You're really getting it."
Aipom chirped.
"Now let's make it harder."
He pulled out a second ball.
Aipom's eyes widened.
"Two balls. Two hits each. Four total. Think you can handle it?"
Aipom's tail coiled.
Its eyes narrowed.
It was ready.
Samuel tossed both balls into the air.
Aipom's tail moved.
First ball—hit.
First ball—hit again.
Second ball—hit.
Second ball—hit again.
All four strikes landed before the balls hit the ground.
Samuel stared.
Aipom stared.
Then Aipom let out a screech of pure, unbridled joy.
---
The evolution happened at sunset.
Samuel had called for a break. He had collapsed onto the stone wall, his chest heaving, his arms trembling. Aipom had climbed onto his lap and curled up, its tail wrapped around his wrist.
They sat in silence, watching the sky turn gold and pink.
"You did good today," Samuel said.
Aipom chirped softly.
"I mean it. You learned something new. Something powerful. Something that's going to win us battles."
Aipom's tail tightened.
"We've got a long way to go. The League's in a month. We're not the strongest. We're not the fastest. We're not the smartest." Samuel stroked the Pokémon's fur. "But we've got heart. We've got rhythm. We've got each other."
Aipom looked at him.
Its eyes were wet.
"Hey," Samuel said. "Don't cry. We're just getting started."
Aipom chirped.
Then its body began to glow.
---
Samuel's breath caught.
The light was soft at first—a faint shimmer that rippled across Aipom's fur like wind across water. Then it grew brighter, hotter, a blinding white that forced Samuel to shield his eyes.
Aipom's body shifted.
Its shape stretched.
Its tail—
Its tail split.
No.
Not split.
Grew.
A second tail erupted from its body, as long and as nimble as the first. Both tails waved in the air, their tips curling and uncurling with new life. Aipom's fur deepened from purple to a richer violet. Its ears grew longer. Its face—
Its face changed.
The same bright eyes. The same mischievous grin.
But older.
Wiser.
Stronger.
The light faded.
Aipom—no, Ambipom—stood before Samuel, its two tails dancing in the air, its body humming with new power.
Samuel couldn't speak.
Ambipom chirped.
It was the same chirp—the same bright, curious sound that Aipom had made a thousand times before.
But it was different.
It was deeper.
Fuller.
Samuel's eyes burned.
"You evolved," he whispered.
Ambipom nodded.
"You evolved."
Ambipom's tails wrapped around Samuel's wrist.
Samuel laughed.
It was a broken sound, half-sob, half-joy.
"Look at you," he said. "Look at you."
Ambipom preened.
Samuel pulled it into a hug.
"Your mother would be so proud," he whispered. "Your father would be so proud."
Ambipom pressed its face against his chest.
And for a long moment, they held each other.
---
The others found them at dusk.
Briv arrived first, his eyes widening when he saw Ambipom.
"Holy shit," he said.
Ambipom waved both tails.
"Holy shit!" Briv ran across the yard. "It evolved! It actually evolved!"
Patricia was right behind him, her face breaking into a wide smile. "Samuel! That's amazing!"
Nicola followed, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. But there was something in her eyes—something that might have been respect.
Dariana came last, her Combee buzzing around her head. She stopped at the edge of the yard, her hand pressed to her heart.
"Oh, Samuel," she said. "Your baby's all grown up."
Samuel laughed.
He was still crying.
"I know," he said. "I know."
---
The evening turned into a celebration.
They gathered in the inn's common room, ordering food and drinks, toasting to Ambipom's evolution. Samuel sat in the corner, his Pokémon curled in his lap, its two tails draped over his shoulders like a scarf.
He looked happy.
Happier than Briv had ever seen him.
"You okay?" Briv asked, sliding into the seat beside him.
"Yeah," Samuel said. "I'm okay."
"Good."
"I just—" Samuel paused. "I just didn't think I'd ever get here."
"Here?"
"To the League. To the point where I'm actually competing. Where I'm actually good enough." He stroked Ambipom's fur. "I spent so much time thinking I wasn't enough. That I was just the guy with the drums. The guy who plays music while other people fight."
Briv was quiet.
"But Aipom—Ambipom—it believed in me. It stuck with me. Even when I was a mess." Samuel smiled. "That little thing saw something in me that I didn't see in myself."
"That's what Pokémon do," Briv said. "They see us better than we see ourselves."
Samuel nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "They do."
---
Across the room, Nicola was watching them.
She sat alone, her Magnemite hovering at her shoulder, its single eye fixed on the celebration. She hadn't joined the others. Hadn't toasted. Hadn't even smiled.
Briv noticed.
He stood, leaving Samuel to his drink, and crossed the room.
"You okay?"
Nicola looked at him.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'm fine."
Briv sat across from her.
"Nicola."
She sighed.
"I'm just thinking."
"About?"
"About the League. About the Eclipse Squad. About everything." She paused. "I have a plan."
=====
Nicola's fingers drummed against the table, a restless rhythm that matched the flicker of her Magnemite's single eye.
"A plan for what?" Briv asked, sliding into the seat across from her.
"The Eclipse Squad." Her voice dropped, barely audible over the laughter and clinking glasses across the room. "They're not just going to attack us at the League. They're going to try to take us out before we even get there."
Briv felt the temperature in the room shift, though nothing had changed.
"You have proof?"
"I have patterns." Nicola pulled a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket and slid it across the table. "Three trainers who qualified for the League have dropped out in the last two weeks. All of them had one thing in common—they were considered threats to the Eclipse Squad's ranking."
Briv unfolded the paper.
Names. Dates. Battle records.
"This one," Nicola said, tapping a name at the top. "Mira Solheim. Ranked sixth in the region. She withdrew two days ago. Said she was injured in training."
"And?"
"And I tracked her down. She's not injured. She's terrified." Nicola's jaw tightened. "Someone threatened her family. Told her if she competed, they'd pay the price."
Briv's blood ran cold.
"Did she identify anyone?"
"No. But she described the man who delivered the message. Tall. Black hair. Silver eyes."
"Revan."
"Revan."
Briv's grip on the paper tightened.
"He's been busy."
"He's been systematic." Nicola leaned forward. "He's not just targeting random trainers. He's targeting anyone who could threaten the Eclipse Squad's dominance. Anyone who could expose them."
"Expose them for what?"
Nicola hesitated.
Then she told him.
---
Briv didn't sleep that night.
He lay in bed beside Patricia, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing through everything Nicola had told him. The threats. The withdrawals. The pattern that pointed to something bigger than simple intimidation.
The Eclipse Squad wasn't just a rival team.
They were running an operation.
And the League was their cover.
Patricia stirred beside him.
"You're thinking too loud," she murmured.
"Sorry."
"Don't be." She rolled over, her blue eyes catching the moonlight. "What did Nicola tell you?"
Briv told her.
When he finished, Patricia was silent for a long moment.
"Then we fight," she said.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." She reached up and touched his face. "You're the champion, Briv. You've beaten worse odds. You've faced worse enemies."
"Have I?"
"Yes." Her fingers traced his jaw. "And you're not alone this time."
He kissed her.
Slowly. Gently.
The way he had a thousand times before.
But something was different now.
Something urgent.
---
Patricia pulled him closer.
Her body pressed against his, warm and soft, and he felt the familiar stir of desire—the heat that had been building between them for weeks, pushed aside by battles and training and the constant weight of the coming League.
Not tonight.
Tonight, they needed each other.
"Patricia," he breathed.
"Shut up," she whispered.
She kissed him again, harder this time, her tongue sliding against his. Her hands found his chest, his shoulders, his back, pulling him on top of her.
Briv groaned.
He had missed this.
The feel of her skin. The taste of her mouth. The way her breath hitched when he touched her just right.
His hands found the hem of her shirt.
He pulled it over her head.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
Her breasts were small and perfect, her nipples already hard, and he lowered his mouth to one, sucking gently, then harder.
Patricia gasped.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Briv smiled against her skin.
"Language," he said.
"Fuck you."
"Later."
He moved to the other breast, his tongue circling, his teeth grazing. Patricia's hips bucked against him, seeking friction, seeking more.
"Briv—"
"I know."
He kissed his way down her stomach.
Past her navel.
To the waistband of her shorts.
He hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled them down, along with her underwear, in one motion.
She was already wet.
Already ready.
He lowered his mouth to her.
Patricia cried out.
Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling, guiding, begging. Her thighs trembled against his ears. Her hips rose to meet his tongue.
"Don't stop," she gasped. "Please don't stop."
Briv had no intention of stopping.
He licked slowly at first, tasting her, savoring her. Then faster. Harder. His tongue flicked against her clit, and she shuddered.
"That's it," she breathed. "That's it—"
He slid a finger inside her.
Then another.
She was tight. Hot. Wet.
He curled his fingers, searching, and found the spot that made her scream.
"Briv!"
He didn't stop.
He kept licking, kept thrusting his fingers, kept pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
She came with a broken cry.
Her body convulsed. Her nails dug into his scalp. Her thighs clamped around his head.
Briv didn't move until she stopped shaking.
Then he lifted his head.
Patricia was panting.
Her face was flushed.
Her eyes were wild.
"Get up here," she said.
Briv climbed up her body.
She yanked at his pants.
He helped her.
His cock sprang free, hard and aching, and she wrapped her hand around it, stroking once, twice.
"Fuck," he groaned.
"You like that?"
"You know I do."
She guided him to her entrance.
Briv paused.
"Patricia—"
"I'm on the pill. You know that. Just—" She looked up at him. "Just fuck me."
He did.
He drove into her with one hard thrust, and she cried out, her back arching off the mattress. He was buried to the hilt, her body gripping him like a fist.
"Fuck," he breathed.
"Move."
He moved.
Slow at first, letting her adjust, letting himself adjust. Then faster. Harder. The rhythm of it, the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of their bodies joining.
Patricia wrapped her legs around his waist.
She met him thrust for thrust.
Her nails raked down his back.
"Harder," she demanded.
He gave her harder.
"More."
He gave her more.
"Don't stop—don't fucking stop—"
Briv felt the pressure building.
The heat coiling in his gut.
The edge rushing toward him.
"Patricia—"
"Come inside me."
That was all it took.
He came with a guttural groan, his hips slamming into her one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside her. Patricia screamed—actually screamed—and came with him, her body convulsing around his.
They collapsed together.
Breathing hard.
Sweating.
Spent.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Patricia laughed.
It was a soft, breathless sound.
"I needed that," she said.
Briv grinned.
"Me too."
---
The next morning came too soon.
Briv woke to the sound of shouting.
He sat up, disoriented, Patricia still asleep beside him. The shouting was coming from outside—from the training grounds.
He pulled on his pants and went to the window.
What he saw made his blood boil.
---
Samuel stood in the center of the yard, Ambipom at his side, facing a woman Briv didn't recognize.
She was tall and striking, with long pink hair that cascaded down her back, and red-tinted glasses that caught the morning light. She wore a black sleeveless top and red pants with a diamond pattern that seemed to burn in the sun.
Behind her, a Ponyta pawed at the ground, flames flickering from its mane.
"Malva," Patricia said from behind him.
Briv turned.
Her expression was grim.
"Who is she?"
"Former Elite Four. Fire-type specialist. She was fired three years ago for—" Patricia paused. "For a lot of things."
"She's here for Samuel?"
"She's here for a battle."
---
Briv dressed quickly and ran outside.
By the time he reached the training grounds, a crowd had gathered. Nicola stood at the edge of the yard, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Dariana was beside her, her Combee buzzing nervously around her head.
Axel had already taken his position as referee.
Samuel stood opposite Malva, his Ambipom at his side, its two tails waving in the air.
"You're the musician," Malva said. Her voice was smooth, almost musical, with an edge of condescension. "I've heard about you."
"And you're the disgraced Elite," Samuel replied.
Malva's smile didn't waver.
"I like you already."
"Three-on-three," Axel said. "Standard rules. No substitutions."
Malva nodded.
Samuel nodded.
"Send out your first Pokémon."
---
Malva moved first.
"Ponyta," she said.
The ball opened in a flash of red light, and a sleek, equine Pokémon materialized on the field. Ponyta stood about three feet tall, its body a pale cream color, its mane and tail blazing with orange and yellow flames. It pawed the ground, its hooves clicking against the cobblestones, and snorted a puff of smoke.
Samuel considered his options.
Ponyta was fast. Aggressive. A Fire-type with access to moves like Flame Wheel, Quick Attack, and Stomp. It would be a test of endurance—exactly what he needed to gauge Malva's strength.
"Hippopotas," he said.
Hippopotas materialized in a flash of brown light, its sturdy body already digging into the ground, its powerful jaws working. The little Ground-type was calm and patient—a steady anchor in any storm.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Ponyta moved first.
"Flame Wheel!"
Ponyta's body erupted in flames, and it rolled forward like a blazing boulder.
"Hippopotas—Sand Attack!"
Hippopotas kicked up a cloud of sand.
Ponyta's Flame Wheel struck the sand and scattered it, but the attack had lost momentum.
"Now—Tackle!"
Hippopotas lunged forward, slamming its body into Ponyta's side.
Ponyta staggered.
"Ponyta—Quick Attack!"
Ponyta blurred, its body becoming a streak of light.
"Hippopotas—Protect!"
A green barrier shimmered into existence around Hippopotas.
Ponyta's attack bounced off.
"Now—Sand Tomb!"
Hippopotas slammed its fists into the ground, and a whirlwind of sand erupted around Ponyta.
"Ponyta—Flame Wheel!"
Ponyta's body erupted in flames again, and it rolled through the sandstorm, scattering it.
"Now—Stomp!"
Ponyta leaped into the air, its hooves aimed at Hippopotas's head.
"Hippopotas—Withdraw!"
Hippopotas pulled its body into a defensive crouch.
Ponyta's Stomp struck, but Hippopotas barely flinched.
"Now—Tackle!"
Hippopotas surged forward, slamming into Ponyta's legs.
Ponyta stumbled.
"Ponyta—Flame Wheel!"
Another blazing roll.
"Hippopotas—Sand Tomb!"
Another whirlwind of sand.
The two attacks collided.
The sand turned to glass.
But the momentum was still there.
Ponyta's Flame Wheel broke through.
It struck Hippopotas dead-on.
Hippopotas skidded backward.
But it didn't fall.
"Now—Tackle!"
Hippopotas lunged again.
Ponyta tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The Tackle struck Ponyta's flank, and the Fire-type collapsed.
"Ponyta is unable to battle," Axel said. "Hippopotas wins."
---
Malva recalled Ponyta.
She didn't look upset.
If anything, she looked intrigued.
"Your Hippopotas is tough," she said.
"He's been through a lot."
"I can tell."
She pulled her second ball from her belt.
"Vulpix," she said.
The ball opened in a flash of red and white light, and a small, fox-like Pokémon materialized on the field. Vulpix was about two feet tall, its fur a rich reddish-brown, its tails—all six of them—curling behind it like flames. Its eyes were dark and intelligent, and they watched Hippopotas with calm assessment.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Vulpix moved first.
"Will-O-Wisp!"
Vulpix opened its mouth and released a stream of ghostly blue flames.
"Hippopotas—dodge!"
Hippopotas tried to roll away.
It was too slow.
The Will-O-Wisp struck Hippopotas's body, and the little Ground-type cried out as burn spread across its skin.
"Vulpix—Flamethrower!"
A jet of fire shot from Vulpix's mouth.
"Hippopotas—Protect!"
The barrier shimmered.
The Flamethrower struck and dissipated.
"Now—Sand Tomb!"
Another whirlwind of sand.
Vulpix dodged.
"Vulpix—Quick Attack!"
Vulpix blurred, its body becoming a streak of fire.
"Hippopotas—dodge!"
Hippopotas tried to roll away.
It was too slow.
The Quick Attack struck Hippopotas's side, and the little Ground-type skidded backward.
The burn was spreading.
Hippopotas's movements were slowing.
"Vulpix—Flamethrower!"
Another jet of fire.
"HiPPopotas—Protect!"
The barrier shimmered, but it was weaker now.
The Flamethrower broke through.
It struck Hippopotas dead-on.
Hippopotas collapsed.
"Hippopotas is unable to battle," Axel said. "Vulpix wins."
---
Samuel recalled Hippopotas.
He whispered to the ball before clipping it to his belt.
"You did good," he said. "Rest."
He looked at Malva.
Malva looked back.
"Doduo," Samuel said.
Doduo materialized in a flash of brown light, its two heads already alert, its long legs twitching with energy. The little Normal-type looked at Vulpix, then at Samuel, then back at Vulpix.
Both heads squawked in unison.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Doduo moved first.
"Quick Attack!"
Doduo blurred, its body becoming a streak of brown.
"Vulpix—dodge!"
Vulpix leaped sideways.
Doduo's attack missed.
"Now—Fury Attack!"
Doduo's heads shot forward, pecking rapidly.
Vulpix dodged.
Then dodged again.
Then again.
But Doduo was relentless.
One of the pecks landed.
Vulpix yelped.
"Vulpix—Flamethrower!"
A jet of fire.
"Doduo—dodge!"
Doduo leaped.
The Flamethrower missed.
"Now—Fury Attack!"
Another barrage of pecks.
Vulpix tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The pecks struck Vulpix's body, and the Fire-type staggered.
"Vulpix—Will-O-Wisp!"
Another stream of ghostly flames.
"Doduo—dodge!"
Doduo tried to leap away.
It was too slow.
The Will-O-Wisp struck Doduo's leg, and the little Normal-type cried out as burn spread across its skin.
"Vulpix—Flamethrower!"
Another jet of fire.
"Doduo—Quick Attack!"
Doduo blurred, dodging the Flamethrower by inches.
"Now—Fury Attack!"
Another barrage of pecks.
Vulpix staggered.
"Again!"
Another barrage.
Vulpix collapsed.
"Vulpix is unable to battle," Axel said. "Doduo wins."
---
Malva recalled Vulpix.
Her expression was thoughtful now.
"You're better than I expected," she said.
"So are you."
"Flattery won't save you."
"Wasn't trying to."
Malva pulled her last ball from her belt.
"Typhlosion," she said.
The ball opened in a flash of red and yellow light, and a massive, badger-like Pokémon materialized on the field. Typhlosion stood over five feet tall, its body covered in dark blue fur, its belly a pale cream color. A ring of fire burned around its neck, and its eyes—sharp and intelligent—fixed on Doduo with predatory focus.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Typhlosion moved first.
"Flamethrower!"
A jet of fire shot from Typhlosion's mouth.
"Doduo—dodge!"
Doduo tried to leap away.
It was too slow.
The Flamethrower struck Doduo dead-on.
Doduo collapsed.
"Doduo is unable to battle," Axel said. "Typhlosion wins."
---
Samuel recalled Doduo.
His hand was steady.
But his heart was pounding.
He had one Pokémon left.
He had prepared for this.
"Ambipom," he said.
Ambipom materialized in a flash of purple light, its two tails already waving, its eyes bright with determination. The little Normal-type had grown since its evolution—its body leaner, its movements sharper.
But there was still something playful in its eyes.
Something mischievous.
Something that said: I've got this.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Typhlosion moved first.
"Flamethrower!"
A jet of fire.
"Ambipom—Agility!"
Ambipom blurred, its body becoming a streak of purple.
The Flamethrower missed.
"Now—Double Hit!"
Ambipom's tails shot forward, striking Typhlosion twice in rapid succession.
Typhlosion grunted.
"Typhlosion—Eruption!"
Typhlosion's body erupted with heat and fire.
"Ambipom—Protect!"
A green barrier shimmered around Ambipom.
The Eruption struck the barrier and dissipated.
"Now—Double Hit!"
Another two strikes.
Typhlosion staggered.
"Typhlosion—Flamethrower!"
Another jet of fire.
"Ambipom—dodge!"
Ambipom leaped over the attack.
"Now—Swift!"
Ambipom opened its mouth and fired a barrage of glowing stars.
Typhlosion took the hit.
"Typhlosion—Eruption!"
Another eruption of fire.
"Ambipom—Protect!"
The barrier shimmered.
The Eruption struck and dissipated.
"Now—Double Hit!"
Another two strikes.
Typhlosion was slowing down.
Ambipom saw it.
"Ambipom—Agility!"
Ambipom blurred.
"Now—Double Hit!"
Another two strikes.
"Again!"
Another two.
"Again!"
Typhlosion staggered.
Its flames were dimming.
"Typhlosion—Flamethrower!"
A weak jet of fire.
"Ambipom—dodge!"
Ambipom leaped.
The Flamethrower missed.
"Now—Double Hit!"
The final two strikes.
Typhlosion collapsed.
"Typhlosion is unable to battle," Axel said. "Ambipom wins. Samuel wins the match."
---
The yard was silent.
Then Malva laughed.
It was a warm, genuine sound—the sound of someone who had just lost a bet and didn't mind losing.
"That was fun," she said.
Ambipom bounced over to Samuel, its tails wrapping around his wrist.
Samuel knelt and pulled it into a hug.
"You did it," he said. "You did it."
Ambipom chirped happily.
Malva approached, her hand extended.
"Good match," she said.
Samuel stood and shook it.
"Good match."
"You've got a strong team."
"Thanks."
Malva looked at Ambipom.
"That one's special."
"I know."
Malva nodded.
"Take care of it."
"I will."
She turned and walked toward the edge of the yard.
Then she stopped.
"Samuel."
Samuel looked at her.
"The Eclipse Squad," Malva said. "They're not just dangerous. They're desperate. And desperate people do desperate things."
Samuel's blood ran cold.
"How do you know about them?"
Malva turned.
"Because I used to be one of them."
She walked away.
---
Samuel stood frozen, Ambipom still in his arms, the words echoing in his skull.
Used to be one of them.
He wanted to run after Malva—to grab her, to demand answers, to shake the truth out of her. But his legs wouldn't move. His body wouldn't respond.
Ambipom chirped.
Samuel looked down.
The little Normal-type was staring at him, its eyes wide, its expression worried.
"I'm okay," Samuel said. "I'm okay."
He wasn't.
---
Briv appeared beside him.
He had been silent during the exchange, watching from the edge of the field.
"I heard," he said.
Samuel looked at him.
"You heard?"
"I was listening." Briv's expression was grim. "Malva. I've heard the name before. She was Elite Four, three years ago. Left after a scandal. Been off the grid ever since."
"Why is she here?"
"I don't know." Briv paused. "But I'm going to find out."
---
That night, Samuel sat on the balcony alone.
Ambipom was curled in his lap, its two tails draped over his shoulders like a scarf. The city lights flickered below, and the stars burned cold above.
He thought about Malva.
About the Eclipse Squad.
About everything he had learned in the past week.
He thought about his mother.
About the day she had died.
About the promise he had made to himself—the promise to become strong enough to protect the people he loved.
He thought about Ambipom.
About how far they had come.
About how far they still had to go.
Ambipom stirred.
It looked up at him.
Its eyes were bright.
"You're right," Samuel said. "We can't stop now."
Ambipom chirped.
"We've got a League to win."
Ambipom's tails tightened around his wrist.
"And a team to protect."
The night deepened.
The city hummed.
And somewhere in the shadows of Aethelburg, the storm was coming.