The rooftops of Aquacorde Town peeked over the trees just after noon, their pale blue tiles shimmering in the sunlight like reflections off water. Rhea had seen the town on the game maps before—small, scenic, a pitstop on the way to bigger cities. But this? This was real.

  The cobbled streets. The flowerbeds by every doorstep. The sound of running water weaving between buildings.

  She’d made it.

  Her first town.

  Froakie walked at her side, his gait casual now. Ever since their talk the day before, he’d seemed lighter. Less stiff. Maybe still guarded, but the tension between them had loosened—like a knot slowly untangling.

  Rhea kept scanning the streets.

  First thing: Pokémon Center.

  Second: food. For Froakie. And maybe herself, if she didn’t colpse from dehydration first.

  She was halfway down the main street when she heard it.

  "Hey you! With the Froakie!"

  She turned.

  A boy stood at the end of the block. Tall-ish, skinny, big puffy coat way too hot for the weather, and a hat that made him look like a confused Pidgeotto. He held a Poké Ball in one hand and struck what was clearly meant to be a dramatic pose—except his elbow cracked mid-swing, and he winced.

  "I challenge you!" he decred, through gritted teeth.

  Rhea blinked. “…Why?”

  He paused, thrown off. "Because... it’s tradition?"

  Froakie raised an eyebrow.

  The kid tried again. “C’mon. I just started! You're obviously a Trainer! First real battle energy and all that!”

  Rhea sighed dramatically. “Do I look like I have energy?”

  “Please?”

  She looked at Froakie. He gave her a “Your call” look and started stretching.

  She nodded. “Fine. But if I win, you owe my Froakie lunch.”

  “Deal!” the boy said proudly. “Prepare to face the wrath of… Benoit!”

  Rhea blinked. “Benoit?”

  “It’s French.”

  “…We’re in Kalos.”

  “Oh.” He blinked. “Right.”

  They squared off in an open space between the fountain pza and a fruit cart. A few townspeople paused to watch.

  Rhea stood rexed, scanning the terrain. Ft ground. Some crates and barrels nearby. Not much cover.

  Benoit tossed his Poké Ball.

  “Let’s go, Zigzagoon! Attack with, uh… run at it really fast!”

  A brown Zigzagoon burst out of the ball and charged like a fur missile.

  Rhea blinked. “No move name?”

  “Instinct!” Benoit called proudly.

  “…Alright.” She pointed. “Froakie, Bubble, three steps back.”

  Froakie leapt backward, unching a tight cluster of bubbles mid-air. The Zigzagoon smmed right through two, yelped, skidded left—then tripped over its own momentum and facepnted.

  Benoit froze. “Uh. New pn!”

  Zigzagoon scrambled up, eyes dazed.

  “Use... spin!” Benoit shouted. “Like, do a circle thing!”

  “Is that even a move?” someone from the crowd asked.

  “It’s a concept!” Benoit replied proudly.

  Rhea grinned. “Froakie, Pound. Side approach.”

  Froakie darted right, then twisted mid-sprint to come from the left—smming a wet palm into Zigzagoon’s side.

  The Normal-type tumbled, rolled, and nded on its feet—barely.

  “Zigzagoon!” Benoit gasped. “Use… uh… tail sp! That’s a move, right?”

  Zigzagoon blinked.

  Then turned and spped its tail on the ground once. Loudly.

  Everyone paused.

  “…Technically accurate,” Rhea admitted. “But ineffective.”

  She raised a hand. “Froakie. Finish it—Bubble, again.”

  Froakie unched a final burst, and the stream of glowing bubbles collided mid-air with Zigzagoon, knocking it clean over.

  Benoit cringed.

  Zigzagoon groaned.

  Rhea crossed her arms. “Lunch, please.”

  Ten minutes ter, they were sitting near the fountain. Benoit sulked while Froakie munched on a small berry-and-protein bowl from a nearby food stall.

  “I panicked,” Benoit muttered. “I didn’t think you’d actually battle. You’ve got, like… actual skill.”

  Rhea sipped water. “You fought with heart.”

  “Which is Trainer-code for 'no strategy.'”

  She smirked. “Exactly.”

  Benoit ughed, then shook his head. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “Born nearby,” Rhea said. “But I’ve only just started.”

  He looked at her, then Froakie, who was calmly licking the bowl clean.

  “You’re gonna be good,” he said. “Like… really good.”

  Rhea shrugged. “That’s the pn.”

  The Pokémon Center was everything she imagined and more.

  Sliding doors. White tile floors. Clean, efficient yout. The Nurse Joy at the counter even looked straight out of the anime—pink hair, pleasant smile, precise movements.

  “Trainer name?” she asked.

  “Rhea.”

  “First-time registration?”

  “Yes.”

  “Welcome to the Pokémon League challenge. Please pce your Pokémon's ball on the tray and fill out the following info on the screen. Healing will take approximately one minute.”

  Rhea did as told. Froakie’s Poké Ball slid into the tray. A soft light scanned it, and gentle chimes echoed from the machine.

  Healing—real, efficient, tech-driven healing.

  She watched the process quietly.

  When the ball dinged and retracted from the tray, she clipped it back to her belt and sighed.

  Her first Trainer battle.

  Her first victory.

  Her first Pokémon Center stop.

  Step by step, she was becoming real in this world.

  Nurse Joy handed her a printed League card with her ID photo, registration number, and Kalos League logo stamped in blue.

  “Congratutions, Rhea,” she said warmly. “You're officially on the path.”

  Later, she and Froakie sat at a small table in the Center’s café.

  She slid a pte toward him—sliced poffins, a protein berry shake, and a tiny bowl of seasoned beans.

  Froakie’s eyes lit up.

  “Don’t get used to this,” Rhea teased. “We can’t afford luxury at every stop.”

  Froakie gnced at her. Then slowly pushed one poffin toward her side of the pte.

  She blinked.

  “…Thanks.”

  They ate in companionable silence.

  Trainers moved around them, some chatting, some sleeping. A kid was crying quietly near the PC corner. An older Trainer cleaned mud from their Growlithe’s fur.

  The world moved.

  And Rhea, in the middle of it, felt more alive than she had in years.

  She looked at Froakie and smiled.

  “One town down. Seven Gyms to go. You ready?”

  Froakie gave a slow nod.

  “Then let’s make this count.”