The early afternoon sun was still hanging high, casting bright, sharp-edged shadows across the Academy’s courtyards. I spotted Flavio near the front steps of the Pokémon Center, slouched against a bench, arms crossed and expression tight.

  Melody sat beside him, her legs stretched out, her Vulpix nestled in her lap and already dozing.

  Teddy and I made our way over, the little bear hopping out of my arms and waddling toward Meli like a dignitary arriving for an inspection.

  He paused beside her, studied the sleeping fox for a moment, then gave a single, solemn nod.

  Approved.

  Then he turned toward Koa, who stood off to the side with his wings folded, looking vaguely annoyed at something invisible in the distance. Teddy approached, sized him up…

  …and gave him a single pat on the back. Not sarcastic. Not mocking. Just—acknowledgment.

  I raised an eyebrow. “That’s his version of saying you both did okay.”

  Flavio didn’t lift his head. “I can feel the lack of enthusiasm. Like he’s disappointed I didn’t walk out with a championship belt.”

  Melody chuckled, stroking Meli’s fur. “You made it close, though. Machop wasn’t easy.”

  Flavio sighed. “He read me like a book. First round, I go with the obvious—Hone Claws, then Wing Attack. It works. Koa dives in, clean hit, solid damage. I’m thinking, great, let’s do it again.”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, still not looking at me. “Turns out Max was just watching my rhythm. The second I started the same combo, he changed pace. Had his Machop intercept with Bullet Punch—fast enough to interrupt the charge—and while I’m recovering, he’s already powering up Focus Energy.”

  I winced. “Oof.”

  “Yeah. After that, Koa’s movement got staggered, and Max didn’t let up. Low Kick to clip his legs, then a clean Karate Chop while I was still trying to recalibrate. One, two. Fight over.”

  He leaned back on the bench, staring at the sky like it had personally betrayed him. “I came in like a highlight reel. Max treated it like a sparring match. Real practical. Real clinical.”

  “You’re saying,” I offered slowly, “that style alone isn’t enough?”

  Flavio gave me a sideways look. “I’m saying repeating the same combo twice in a row makes you predictable.”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding solemnly. “You are.”

  He turned his head just enough to glare. “Thanks for the morale boost, champ.”

  Melody smirked. “He's just feeling cocky. What is it now, three battles today? Three wins?”

  “Four, actually,” I said, stretching my arms behind my head. “Technically.”

  Melody raised an eyebrow, her voice just a touch too casual. “Someone’s getting overconfident.”

  I shrugged, letting the smirk fade. “I hope it lasts. Irene’s tomorrow.”

  That earned a moment of quiet.

  Melody perked up. “We beat a fire-type today.”

  That got our attention.

  “Kantoan Vulpix?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Colton was playing it safe—Ember and Tail Whip. Tried to win on chip damage. I used Disable early, shut down Ember, then wore him out. Took a while, but we got there.”

  “Smart,” I said. “I figured you’d get the hang of Disable.”

  Melody smiled faintly, but there was something thoughtful in her eyes—like she was still reviewing the match in her head.

  “What about you?” I asked Flavio. “Any takeaways?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t try to out-muscle a guy raised in a dojo unless you’ve got the toolkit to back it up.”

  Flavio fell quiet after that, fingers tapping absently against the bench. No swagger. No grin. Just the thoughtful silence of someone chewing on a lesson. Melody didn't tease him this time, either—just kept gently stroking Meli’s fur, her gaze distant, like she was replaying her own battle in her head.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  For a while, none of us said anything. Just three rookies and their partners, basking in the glow and bruises of our first real day as trainers.

  But the quiet didn’t last.

  Even Flavio, still licking his wounds, looked over with something like concern. “You ready for her?”

  I nodded. “More than I was this morning. But Shinx gave me a lot to think about.”

  Melody tilted her head. “Lily?”

  “Yeah. Lily. Her Shinx was level seven, but it kept moving—hit and run, nonstop. Thunder Shock from a distance, but it was either too slow or too weak to really hurt. Quick Attack was the real problem—she used it to stay out of reach, reset the spacing every time we got close. Constant motion. It was hard to land anything clean.”

  Flavio leaned forward, interest flickering behind his own frustration. “So how’d you win?”

  “I had to bait it. Shinx kept dodging everything, so I used a trick my sister Diana used to pull when we played tag—she’d fake like she was rushing one way, then cut the other direction and catch Teddy off guard. I had him mimic that. Faked a charge, then timed Play Rough right as Shinx tried to reposition after a Quick Attack. Caught her off balance. That was the only real opening we got.”

  Melody gave a low whistle. “So even with the level difference, it was close.”

  “Closer than I liked,” I admitted. “Teddy’s strong, but Irene‘s Electrike is probably faster than Shinx—and she is not going to hesitate. If she keeps Teddy chasing shadows, we’re sunk.”

  “Then what’s the plan?” Flavio asked.

  I stared down at Teddy, who was now circling Meli’s sleeping form again, like he was checking if she’d somehow changed since the last inspection.

  “We need range,” I said finally. “If Electrike is anything like Shinx, we won’t get close enough to land a clean hit unless something breaks the rhythm first.”

  Melody nodded slowly. “But Teddy doesn’t have any ranged moves.”

  “He has one,” I said. “Fling.”

  Flavio blinked. “That’s not a real move.”

  “It is when it lands.”

  I stood up, my mind replaying that moment during the move analysis with Aline—the way Teddy had flung that training sphere at Nona the Audino. It hadn’t done much damage, but it landed clean, and more importantly, it worked. Fling wasn’t just theoretical anymore.

  “We tested it earlier,” I said. “Aline loaned us this little iron training ball during Teddy’s move check. He chucked it at her Audino and landed it fine. Didn’t hit hard, but the move triggered clean.”

  Melody raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I thought we weren’t allowed to use held items yet?”

  “We’re not. Not real ones, anyway,” I said. “Nothing with effects. No Berries, no Orbs, no Focus Sash or whatever. But the Center keeps a few blanks—training spheres—for move testing. No properties, just throwable objects for moves like Fling or Trick.”

  “So basically... glorified baseballs,” Flavio said.

  “Pretty much. But in the right moment? It can make a difference. Especially against someone faster than you.”

  Melody crossed her arms. “I thought Fling’s damage depends on the item?”

  “It does,” I said. “But that’s not the point. We’re not trying to win with it. We’re trying to disrupt—throw off their tempo, make them hesitate long enough for Teddy to land a real hit.”

  Flavio whistled low. “Alright, I’ll admit it. That’s not bad.”

  “Teddy’s not going to outspeed Electrike,” I said. “So we don’t play that game.”

  Melody shifted Meli in her arms, looking thoughtful. “So you’re heading back to Aline?”

  “Yeah. See if she’s got another training item I can borrow. Or if she knows where to get one.”

  We stepped inside the Pokémon Center just as the late afternoon rush was beginning—students drifting in from matches, Pokémon limping or bouncing or floating behind them, the whole building humming with movement and chatter. Chansey bustled between exam rooms, and someone’s Chatot was singing loudly from the waiting area.

  Aline stood near the main counter, tablet in one hand, her Audino—Nona—hovering nearby as she handed out small recovery berries to a clearly concussed Lotad and a Rockruff that looked way too proud of itself.

  She glanced up as we approached.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite overachievers,” she said, dry but not unkind. “Teddy still in one piece?”

  “He’s thriving,” I said. “But I wanted to ask you something.”

  Aline raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “It’s about held items. Specifically, stuff to use with Fling.”

  That made her pause. “Fling? Huh. Haven’t heard that one from a first-year in… ever.”

  “Teddy’s got it in his move list,” I said. “We tested it during the move check—you gave him that training ball, remember? He actually landed the hit. Didn’t do much damage, but it worked.”

  Aline’s expression shifted from skeptical to intrigued. “That was a decent throw.”

  She tapped her tablet a few times, no doubt pulling up Teddy’s profile.

  “Alright,” she said after a beat. “Short version: most held items—Berries, elemental Orbs, Scarves, all the good stuff—are locked until third year. League regulation.”

  Flavio groaned. “Of course they are.”

  “But,” Aline continued, “we do stock a few training items for move testing. No special effects, no stat boosts—just dummy objects. Think of them like... sparring props. Designed to be thrown, dropped, or swapped safely.”

  Melody perked up. “So no Focus Sash, but yes to budget-friendly dodgeballs.”

  “Essentially,” Aline said with a shrug. “They're called Training Spheres. Round, weighted, slightly padded. They don’t do much, but they do count for Fling, Trick, Knock Off, and the like.”

  “Do you have any we can borrow?” I asked.

  “Technically, no,” she said, then smirked. “But if you check with Instructor Jordan, he might ‘lend’ you one under the battle curriculum.”

  I nodded. “Got it. Thanks.”

  Melody tilted her head. “Hey, Aline—do Pokémon ever… get attached to items?”

  Aline paused, her smile softening into something more thoughtful. “All the time,” she said. “Some won’t evolve unless they’re holding something specific. Others just… find a favorite. I’ve seen Pokémon carry the same berry around for weeks. Some tuck stones or shells into their nests like keepsakes.”

  She leaned against the counter. “Held items are kind of like accessories. They can boost strengths or cover weaknesses. But just like with accessories—not every Pokémon can pull off the same look. Compatibility matters.”

  Flavio lit up. “So what I’m hearing is—Hawlucha needs a cape.”

  Aline stared at him. “No capes.”

  “I’m just saying,” Flavio said, completely unrepentant. “Koa would rock a cape.”

  “He’d rock a trip hazard,” Aline muttered, turning back to her tablet.