The last echoes of the clash lingered in the paddock: water dripping from bent grass, the faint smell of ozone from Seadra's Dragon Breath, and the quiet creak of the wind settling back into its natural rhythm. Livia fluttered down to perch proudly on my shoulder, chest puffed, still catching her breath. Caesar huffed nearby.

  I knelt briefly, brushing a hand along Livia's wing. "You did great," I whispered, voice low enough for only her. She nipped gently at my ear in response, her feathers brushing my cheek with a mix of pride and fatigue.

  When I turned, Lady Kasumi was already stepping forward. The sun caught her silver-streaked hair, glinting. Her eyes, though, were sharper than steel.

  "Well done, Arata," she said, measured and deliberate. "You and your team fight with more synergy than many older trainers I've seen. Strong, but controlled. It's a rare balance."

  Heat crept into my face despite the effort I made to keep steady. Praise like that, from someone who radiated dignity just by standing, felt heavier than the victory itself. I gave a quick bow of my head.

  "Thank you, Lady Kasumi. I… we just try to trust each other."

  Her lips quirked, not quite a smile, but approval in its own right.

  "Trust is the foundation of all strength."

  She turned slightly, calling the maid back with a glance. The woman retrieved Seadra quietly, offering me the barest nod of respect before withdrawing.

  The tension eased from my shoulders only once the field emptied. I exhaled, long and quiet, letting the afterglow of the fight sink in. For the first time in days, I felt grounded.

  This was my world: Pokémon battles, strategy, instincts honed through practice. No matter what awkwardness came outside of it, this was my home ground.

  My stomach chose that exact moment to remind me of less noble needs. It growled loud enough that even Caesar stopped chewing mid-bite to glance up.

  Heat shot across my face. "Sorry,"

  I muttered, pressing a hand against my gut. "Guess it's… been a while since I ate."

  Kasumi's soft chuckle caught me off guard. It wasn't mocking if anything, indulgent, like she'd caught a child sneaking sweets.

  "Then we shouldn't keep you outside," she said, lifting a hand in a graceful beckon toward the path back. "Come. Let's get you fed properly."

  We returned through the rear hallways of the mansion. I didn't bother soaking in the polished wood or the sunlight spilling across marble; those sights had already been etched into me the first day. Instead, my thoughts lingered on the battle, replaying each call and counter like puzzle pieces shifting into place.

  Up until now, Saltwind had only offered passing trainers on the road, quick bouts that never pushed us too far. This, though, this was different. A real challenge, set by Rin's grandmother herself. The quiet satisfaction of holding our ground against that standard made me feel good.

  The dining room smelled faintly of roasted grains and brewed tea, brightened by baskets of fresh fruit on the table. I slid into my seat. The ache of hunger dulled as the first plates were set out light, but hearty enough to silence my body's protests.

  We'd barely begun when soft footsteps reached my ears.

  Rin slipped in through the far door, shoulders hunched as though the very air pressed too heavily on her. Her hair had been tied back hastily, but the strands fell in loose, uneven waves down her back. She wore a simple home frock, light and airy, clearly meant for indoors, but it was rumpled, the fabric creased where it had clung to her as she'd slept. She moved more slowly than usual.

  She had nearly made it to her chair when Lady Kasumi's gaze lifted, sharp, landed not on Rin's face, but her neck.

  Even from across the table, I saw those faint shadows marring the skin just above her collarbone. The kind of marks that were easy to miss unless you knew exactly what to look for. Marks that spoke of last night in ways words didn't need to.

  Rin froze, halfway through pulling her chair out.

  "Rin," her grandmother said, tone even, precise, as she poured tea into her own cup.

  "A young lady of your standing ought to remember that self-respect is the foundation upon which others build their respect for you."

  The sound of porcelain against porcelain was the only noise after. My throat went dry.

  Color surged hot across Rin's cheeks, too sharp to hide. Her fingers clenched around the backrest, knuckles paling. "Grandmother…" she began, voice breaking somewhere between protest and plea.

  "I am not scolding you." Lady Kasumi set the teapot down with delicate care. Her composure never wavered. "But you are better than careless nights and thoughtless choices. That is not how strength, nor grace, is cultivated."

  The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. They pressed down on the room heavier than any shout could.

  Rin dropped into her chair, shoulders drawn inward, lips pressed into a line. She gave the smallest nod, but the embarrassment clung to her like a second skin.

  I sat frozen, staring at my plate though I couldn't taste the food anymore. My stomach dropped, heavier than stone.

  For a moment, the pools flickered in my mind, water glowing faintly in the dark, muffled laughter, the vague shapes of people moving too close. I had dismissed it last night as nothing worth holding onto. But now, watching Rin flush under her grandmother's words, the memory pressed sharper.

  It stung, faint but undeniable. Not jealousy, exactly, more the quiet ache of youth brushing against a reminder that people lived their own choices, their own nights. I breathed slowly, steadying myself. I'd carried heavier truths in another life.

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  I set my shoulders and reached for the tea, letting the steam wash the thought away. Rin was Rin: friend. That was enough.

  Lady Kasumi, as if sensing the air stiffen too much, turned her gaze toward me. Her expression softened slightly, the weight of her earlier words lifting. "And you, Arata," she said, her tone shifting warmer with practiced ease. "What are your plans for the day? Surely Rin hasn't roped you into idleness alongside her?"

  I blinked, pulled from the tangle of my thoughts. "Ah... no, ma'am. I was thinking of heading into the city. Just walking a bit, seeing what Saffron's like before I head home later today."

  She inclined her head. "A fair use of your time. Saffron has more to show than its towers and traffic."

  I nodded, grateful for the reprieve.

  Conversation after that carried lighter notes. Mira eventually joined us, her entrance nowhere near as dramatic as Rin's hair tidied, posture straighter, though the faint pallor of a hangover clung to her. Kasumi's eyes flicked to her as well, though the comment was gentler, just a reminder that recklessness dulled potential. Mira took it with a sheepish smile, sliding into her seat without protest.

  I let myself fade into the background after that, answering when spoken to, otherwise focusing on finishing the meal.

  When at last the dishes were cleared, I excused myself politely.

  The sun sat high, its warmth spilling down the polished glass fronts and busy streets of central Saffron when the car finally pulled to the curb. The driver eased to a stop with practiced precision, and the three of us stepped out in turn.

  Rin lingered for a moment, leaning down toward the open window. "Thank you," she said, voice gentler than usual, as if she remembered belatedly to show grace. The driver dipped his head, then pulled away, the hum of the engine folding into the city's constant noise.

  I adjusted my bag against my shoulder, glancing between the two of them. "You sure you don't have anything else you need to do? I don't want to drag you around if you're busy."

  Mira gave a shrug, stretching her arms as if to shake off the last of her sluggishness. "Not really. I'm heading down to Vermilion tomorrow, but until then… nothing urgent."

  "And I'll be back at the university tomorrow," Rin added, smoothing down her dress. "One day more of freedom won't hurt."

  I hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Guess you're stuck with me for a bit."

  "'Stuck,' he says," Mira muttered with a faint grin.

  The streets pulled us along, currents of people weaving around vendors and shopfronts. The air was a blend of sweet and savory, bakeries airing out their ovens, fried skewers crackling over portable stoves, the sharp hint of roasted chestnuts from a corner cart. Somewhere behind us, a busker's flute trailed faintly against the tide of footsteps.

  We stopped at a stall where a wiry old man was folding paper-thin crepes onto wooden cones, steam rising off sugared fruit fillings. Rin ordered one without hesitation, Mira following her lead. I caved after the smell hit me, settling for something simple, banana and chocolate, warm and sticky enough to melt against my fingers.

  "It's messier than it looks," I muttered, wiping chocolate from my thumb.

  Mira glanced over, smirking as she bit into hers. "That's because you eat like a kid. Tilt it, not crush it."

  I raised a brow. "Says the one dripping strawberries all over her hand."

  She looked down just in time to catch a red streak running toward her wrist. "That's artistic," she countered quickly. "Abstract food design."

  I snorted. "More like a crime scene."

  Rin rolled her eyes between us, chewing slowly. "Honestly, you two sound like children fighting over toys."

  "Correction," Mira said, pointing her crepe at me. "He's the child. I'm just dignified enough to win."

  "Dignified?" I echoed. "You almost choked on whipped cream thirty seconds ago."

  Her glare was sharp and Rin only sighed, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a laugh. The truth was, it felt easy just walking, eating, and letting the city carry us along.

  We passed fabric shops spilling bolts of color across their displays, tiny toy kiosks where kids begged their parents for Poké Dolls, and a glass-front café where half the seats were taken by people with their partners curled at their feet.

  And then I noticed it.

  At the end of the street, a massive holo-screen loomed over the plaza, brighter than the midday sun. The crowd gathered beneath it buzzed with anticipation, voices rising in short bursts of chatter. Across the display, bold letters scrolled: "Live Battle – Saffron Gym, Starting in 15 Minutes."

  The screen flashed to a wide view of the stadium floor, still empty save for the faint shimmer of psychic barriers already humming along the edges.

  I slowed, staring. "That's… happening live?"

  Mira tilted her head, licking the last of the cream from her thumb. "Fifteen minutes isn't long. We could actually go watch it in person. Public's allowed in, as long as you pay the entry fee."

  I looked back at them. "What do you think? Want to check it out?"

  Mira's eyes brightened immediately. "Why not? Beats wandering aimlessly."

  Rin lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug, but there was curiosity in her expression. "Fine. Let's see what the fuss is about."

  And just like that, the afternoon's aimless stroll had a destination.

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